#for sup jo

[bigeggeaterjustsaying]

This is what I had to contribute to the board

aggie w @bigeggeaterjustsaying

(just posting my art

[1liv]

THE KING: ETERNAL MONARCH (2020)

[leedongwook]

”Hey! Why are you sorry? Where are you going? Were are you going? Hey, we’re rehearsing here. Rehearsing a scene!”

Love to hate You 연애대전 (2023) // Episode 1

[coreancitizen]

"If it's a problem that we look identical, we can solve it by eliminating one." Everybody looks at Jo Eun Sup. "What? Why are you all looking at me?"

[grouchydairy]

Jo Eun Sup was warm, loving, and animated. He extended kindness to everyone and brought joy to everyone’s faces, even to strangers, even to strangers who looked like himself and was himself but rejected himself. He protected Lee Gon as Yeong would have, with his life, when he pretended to be the real Yeong in the alternate world, because he trusted that Yeong would uphold his end of his word and protect his twin siblings.

#TKEM

[deathdxnces]

yesterday when i was looking for fc stuff that fits modern verse i found this and this and i'll never be the same

[theunbelievableinventor]

A RANT ABOUT THE KING: ETERNAL MONARCH ENDING

I want to say that this is not a post to hate absolutely anything or anyone, I love the show, I would just like to discuss and expose the directions I wish the story had taken…

I don´t like Lee Gon with Tae-Eul

I think romance is cute? Okay, but their personalities are so different that it doesn't feel right for them to be together… Opposites attract, but I don't think they work out well in the long run, even with Tae Eul showing her more vulnerable side… They are drastically different. Don't complement each other at all… But I'm not a fan of Lee Gon x Jo Yeong either, i will talk more about this later...

After we saw Tae-eul and Sin-Jae's backstory, it honestly didn't improve my view of the Lee Gon x Tae Eul dynamic at all, but it did a lot for me to like the strange companionship between the detective and Captain Jo…

Tae-eul never seems to reflect well on the things that happen around her, she's just reacting or is being impressed constantly (correct me if I missed a scene) she doesn't reflect on Lee Gon's actions, she only cares if they will seeing herself again, but with a magic flute and a boyfriend from another dimension who claimed to 'know' her before she even knew he existed…she doesn't ask Gon any of the questions that we would expect someone in her position to ask. .. it could even be the simplest, things like "Do you really like me for me now? or are you still hoping I'll save you from that night?" "What if I'm not the one you're looking for, and it's someone from a third world? Would you like me any less if that were the case?" you know… the basics

Back to the king and his unbreakable sword, He and Captain Jo are the epitome of what you would call platonic soulmates, it's wonderful that he's the one who walks in beside Gon on the NIGHT OF HIS TRAUMA, AS HE'S THE ONE WHO'S BEEN BY HIS SIDE HIS WHOLE LIFE. They don't need to be romantically involved to want and do the best for each other. Does it have potential? yes, but I can't see it like that. Honestly, I'd rather have Captain Jo with Detective Kang than the King

I WON'T LIE TO YOU, I didn't realize it was Lee Gon himself who saved his younger version until I looked it up on YouTube, it filled me with excitement and joy! I genuinely cried of happiness, it was such a beautiful gesture of self-love that was soon crushed by the persistent idea of the series trying to making us believe that the romantic love he cultivated with Tae Eul was something "magnificent" to the point that after all is over, he used the flute that started all his troubles going after the version he met of her in one of the many universes he now has access to * rolls eyes *

I don't care about spoilers, so I didn't contain myself and did some research, and one of them was the scene of him telling the little boy, son of the now Minister, his name, and it gave me almost the same feeling as when I found out that he himself had been saved. ..

But then they used the magic flute to travel between dimensions and… Ugh, it was kind of cute to see the scene showing the aging of the two, but as it was developed, it didn't make much sense for them being together as a couple.

How would I REWRITE: the child would actually be the son of someone present at the meeting, I don't know, some former classmate of Lee Gon, family member of someone from the court, whatever his parent, who would later become the romantic partner in life of our king, this with the passage of time shown in the final scenes… And yes, Lee Gon would pass his throne to this boy, I think it would be a good way to to make a repair parallel to the great envy and feeling of rejection that Lee Lim felt… I see this child's parent as someone from the "liberal arts" as Lee Gon so often uses the term to describe many around him, I think he would benefit from being with someone like this, since we met him, we know that he has a very sensitive side despite leaning heavily on science... I think it would be a more balanced relationship than with a police officer, due to his affinity with Einstein's theories and the quality of artists to express themselves to walk through what is abstract;

About his relationship with Tae Eul: the portals would be closed forever, but he would always remember her as his first girlfriend, and the person who helped him discover romantic feelings, being a dream for a while, after getting to know her closely. Although in love, and ignoring the factor of living in separate worlds, he would know that in the long run they would not work out.

The ending would have a Lee Gon who has overcome his trauma by learning to see opportunities to be happy in the life he has.

[radialarch]

episode 5 // episode 6

jo yeong slipping out of formal speech

[elletromil]

19. One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss. for the A Conversation verse?

Am I answering this a year and a half later?

Maybe so. BUT! Better late than never :D

The title is entirely because i did promise to write this and then proceeded to fight with it for months because somehow it didn't want to get written :( But I did it :D

Hope you enjoy it darling <3

A prequel to this

The promised kiss

“Why does everyone always assume I’m in love with him?”

At the question, Eun-sup nearly chokes on the huge bite of crispy chicken he’s just taken. Weirdly enough however, he’s actually grateful for the forced delay since it gives him time to think about it instead of just carelessly replying with the first thing that crosses his mind.

To Yeong, this is obviously a very serious question. The fact that he’s even asking is proof that he genuinely doesn’t understand.

And if he’s asking Eun-sup, it means he trusts him to not only have an answer for him, but to also not make fun of him while doing so.

Sure, his doppelganger is confident and seems to generally be above the teasing done by anyone other than his King. But no matter how different they are in ways, Yeong and him are still very similar to their core. It doesn’t matter how well it is constructed, Eun-sup is able to recognize a mask of impassability when it’s being worn over his own face.

No matter how hard he tries not letting it show, this is important to Yeong.

And because it is, Eun-sup finishes chewing thoughtfully before shooting a question back. “Aren’t you?”

Yeong glares from his side of the couch, but there’s no true heat to it.

“No.” There’s a beat, but Yeong continues before Eun-sup can say anything. “I mean… I love him. I don’t think I remember how not loving him feels like. But, I’m not- I’m not in love.”

Eun-sup nods in understanding as he ponders how to best answer the initial question. But as he does so and Yeong visibly relaxes, he realises suddenly just how tense he had been in the first place. It makes him wonder just how many times Yeong has tried telling the exact same thing to someone, only to not be believed. How many times before he just gave up altogether on explaining himself.

It makes Eun-sup want to find all those people who refused to simply listen and hurt them.

But Eun-sup has already learned the hard way that this is very rarely helpful and the best you can do is to simply let go of these kinds of people.

“See, I think that’s exactly why. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you protect him out of love for him first and out of duty second.” Eun-sup has no doubt that King or not, Yeong would go to the exact same lengths to keep the man safe. He just wouldn’t need to. Possibly. The King does seem to attract all kinds of trouble but not all of it is because of his status. “People often forget that loving someone deeply doesn’t automatically make that love romantic. And once they’ve made an opinion, it’s hard to make them change their minds.”

Judging from his defeated sigh, even if it’s not exactly unexpected, Yeong had been hoping for a different answer. Eun-sup bumps against him in silent solidarity. Even if no one has ever wrongfully thought him in love with someone he wasn’t in love with, he’s had to deal with his fair share of people who thought they know him better than he did himself.

It sucks.

Unlike in the beginnings of their acquaintance where Yeong would have pushed him away with irritation, his doppelganger actually leans into the contact, going so far as to lie his head on his shoulder. Eun-sup can’t quite suppress his smile at the tacit show of trust and vulnerability. He’s glad that Yeong knows he can openly rely on him.

“I don't even want to sleep with him.”

The whiny tone, so unlike Yeong, takes him by surprise and he can't quite stifle a laugh in time.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes quickly, because even with Yeong's face still pressed against his neck, Eun-sup can feel the glare. “It’s just, you've really picked the worst person possible to use that as an argument. Not that I don’t know what you mean, but just, I’ve been in love with lot of people and I haven’t slept with any of them.”

Yeong pushes himself away at that, confusion written all over his face. “I’ve seen you and Na-ri kiss.”

Eun-sup can’t help but grin at the reminder that he can actually kiss her now. He loves Na-ri so much.

“Mmhmm, yeah, but you’ll never see us do more than that.”

Yeong’s confusion morphes into something highly unimpressed and slightly disapproving. “I would hope so.”

Eun-sup rolls his eyes and gives him a half-playful shove. “Not how I meant that.”

The confusion is back on Yeong’s face and even if Eun-sup hadn’t planned on explaining asexuality to him tonight -- or at all, really -- he’s not about to leave it just at that. It would feel somewhat unfair to Yeong when he’s just opened up on something that is obviously deeply personal to him.

Still, no matter how much he trusts Yeong, he’s had enough previous past experiences that the word aren’t easy to let out.

“Eun-sup?” Judging by how carefully Yeong says his name, he’s clearly stayed silent a bit too long.

“Sorry, I’m okay.” It’s only when he has to force what he hopes is a reassuring smile that he realises he’s been frowning. No wonder Yeong was starting to get worried. “What I’m saying is just that being in love with someone and being with them doesn’t have to lead to, to sex. I love Na-ri more than anything but we’ll never have sex because… well, I’m just… you know, not into that.”

The silence that follow is nerve-wracking.

He tries to brace himself for the questions he’s sure will follow, but mostly, he’s slowly entering panic mode. He should have known that this was not a conversation he’d be able to have without having at least a month to mentally prepare himself for and-

Thankfully, Yeong breaks him out of his spiralling into insanity before he can go in too deep.

“You mean, you don’t-” He waves a hand and he looks uncomfortable, but Eun-sup knows this face. Knows his face. (The whole doppelganger thing continues to be so confusion at times, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get more headaches about it all.) If he had to bet, he’d say Yeong is uncomfortable talking about sex itself, more than he is about Eun-sup’s revelation. Which, fair enough. It’s not Eun-sup’s favourite’s subject either.

“Nope. I don’t and never will.”

“But you kiss Na-ri.”

“Yeah,” and just like that, he’s back to smiling like an idiot again because, well, kissing Na-ri is the best thing ever. Yeong, however goes back to looking confused.

“How does that work?”

“Kissing Na-ri?” As soon as he says it, he knows it’s a stupid question, but well, by now, Yeong should be used to him getting a bit stupid whenever he has Na-ri on his mind. “You mean the, the not sleeping together?”

He gets a nod.

“Well it just… Doesn’t happen? I mean we’ve slept together to actually sleep before, but we don’t have sex. Because I’m not into that and Na-ri knows and doesn’t care and just because we don’t, doesn’t mean the rest isn’t good. And we kiss because we both enjoy that.”

They both enjoy it a lot, but he doesn’t think he needs to go into that much details about it.

“Oh.”

Even if he still looks confused, it sounds like Yeong has just understood something and Eun-sup knows better than to make any assumption, but he’s hit with the sudden realisation, that maybe, possibly, if he had been in Yeong’s shoes and fallen in love with his King at a young age and not been looking at anyone else since then, he probably wouldn’t have such an intimate understanding of himself as he does now.

And maybe, just maybe, Yeong has just made a similar realisation.

“Yeong?” He hesitates here, because he doesn’t want to push. But Yeong’s body language is still open, is still trusting. “Do you want to kiss him?”

There’s a long silence and Eun-sup can see a bit of panic starting to appear in Yeong’s eyes and he feels so bad about it all and he’s about to tell his doppelganger to just forget it when Yeong shakes his head.

“I- I don’t know. I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Eun-sup gasps in surprise at the revelation that probably shouldn’t be one. Yeong is handsome (Eun-sup has long made his peace with the fact that thinking so makes him a narcissist) and surely has had many offers over the years. But if they’re even more alike than they thought before, is it really any wonders that he didn’t accept any of them? If Eun-sup had been entrusted with Na-ri’s safety at a young age, if he had been her only true friend, would he ever have looked at anyone else long enough to fall in love with them?

He doesn’t think so.

“Wanna try?”

The words are out before he can stop himself, but he can’t bring himself to regret them when Yeong surge forward to press their lips together.

As kisses go, he can’t even say it’s one. It would be like comparing a high-five to a handshake or handholding. As in it definitely involve the same body parts, but it’s definitely not the same.

Yeong isn’t moving away though. And it should be awkward to just be sitting there, breathing the same air with their lips together in a not-kiss, but the thing is, the closeness isn’t bad at all and it would take very little to turn this into an actual kiss.

Instead of doing so however, Eun-sup leans back, just enough so they can look each other in the eyes. There’s no panic or confusion in Yeong’s eyes anymore, just something that’s close to guilt and Eun-sup knows what words are coming even without hearing them. And maybe if it was anyone else, they would need to be actually said out loud, but between them, he doesn’t think there’s actually a need for an apology. Not for this.

What he gets isn’t an apology however. Which shouldn’t surprise him, but sometimes he forgets that as much as he knows Yeong, the opposite is also true. Yeong knows him just as much. And nights like tonight just serve to deepen their understanding of each other.

“Do you want to do this?”

Eun-sup rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother answering with words. But instead of simply mashing their lips together, he takes his time arranging their limbs into a more comfortable position. He ends up straddling Yeong, with Yeong’s hands holding him at the hips, his own arms around his shoulders, fingers of one hand splayed into short hair.

He would turn the question back on Yeong, but judging by how he’s been staring at his lips since Eun-sup pushed back, it’s pretty clear that he does want this.

So this time, when Eun-sup bring their lips together, it is definitely a kiss.

And if the way Yeong moan into his mouth and doesn’t let him go until they’re both completely breathless is any indication, Yeong is just as much into kissing as Eun-sup is.

Not that it answers the question about whether or not Yeong wants to kiss his King, but Yeong doesn’t seem in a hurry to return to that topic.

Which is entirely fine by Eun-sup.

He’s never been one to pass up on kisses.

[valiantwarrior37]

one of my favorite scenes

we can say the first encounter went well

[k-star-holic]

Jo Seung-woo calls for paternity in 'Vietnamese wife assault' allegations: 'Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor's divorce'

Source: k-star-holic.blogspot.com

[1800-fight-me]

Salvation

Miguel O’hara x Female!Reader

Rating: E (Explicit)- MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: Cursing, violence, and explicit sex 

Word count: About 7.7k

Synopsis: Your lunch date with Miguel goes awry when villains break out of containment at Spider Society and you’re captured. 

Author’s note: Something about this man makes me want to write hurt/comfort sooooooo bad. So here’s some fluff, then angst, then comfort and smut! I hope y’all enjoy! Feedback is greatly appreciated! 

Important announcement!! I am no longer using a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Miguel O’hara Masterlist 

“Hey there, guapisimo,” you purred. 

“Hola,” he replied absentmindedly before he froze and turned from his screens. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice veering into scary-calm territory. 

You gave him your most dazzling smile. “Lyla told me that now was a good time for a little visit, and since I only had a half day at work today, I brought you some lunch. You can’t only eat cafeteria empanadas, y'know.” 

His grumpy composure cracked slightly, like it usually did when you were your most charming self, and the corners of his lips turned up slightly, which was the biggest smile you were likely to get from him while he was at work. 

His grumpy work persona was, in your opinion, hilarious. Everyone took him so seriously, they had no idea how loving and gentle their boss secretly was. 

Though, it had taken you quite some time to crack through his hard persona and find the sweetheart inside. 

“Lyla,” Miguel said as the dramatic platform he worked on began lowering towards you. 

“‘Sup bossman,” she said cheerily as the AI appeared above his shoulder. 

“You can’t call my girlfriend every time I’m difficult to deal with,” he said, motioning air quotes at the second half of his sentence and using a tone that was clearly a mockery of Peter B. Parker. 

You giggled and Lyla’s amusement matched yours. 

“Don’t blame me! It wasn’t my idea!” she said before she disappeared again. 

You stared up at Miguel as the platform continued its excruciatingly slow descent. 

“Are you really going to make me wait down here for-” your words were cut off as a glowing red web shot out and attached itself to your waist. The air left your lungs as he suddenly pulled you up, up, up into his arms. 

You wheezed slightly as he grabbed your waist, now with his hands rather than webs and set you down, purposefully letting your body run down the length of his as he did so. You glared as you looked up at him. 

“You could’ve just jumped down,” you said. 

He smirked, “What’s the fun in that?” 

“Oh? You’re capable of having fun now?” 

He scowled and you grinned. 

“I missed you, baby,” you said sweetly as you handed him the container of food you brought. 

He dropped it on the desk beside him and pulled you flush against his chest. 

“I missed you too, preciosa, pero no esta seguro,” he said, his voice low and stressed. 

“It’s not safe? This is literally spider society,” you replied.  

“There are still times that it wouldn’t be safe for you to be here. We bring villains here daily and I don’t want a single one of them knowing anything about you,” he said and you rubbed your hands up and down his arms in sympathy. 

“I don’t think your AI would invite me here today if it wasn’t safe.” you replied and kissed his cheek reassuringly. 

He sighed in defeat, unable to argue with your logic. 

“Stay away from where we keep the captured villains,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to your lips. 

You smiled against his plush lips and twined your arms around his neck. 

“I’m not going anywhere without you, guapisimo,” you assured him. 

He smiled and with strong hands on your waist, he lifted you up and sat you down on his desk. 

“How was your morning?” you asked and he gave you the stank eye as he opened the container and handed you one of the sandwiches you brought. 

He sat down in his chair right in front of you, the height of the desk making it so that you were actually level with him. 

He shoved a huge bite of his sandwich in his mouth to avoid answering your question. 

“That bad, huh?” you asked. 

He sighed and shook his head. 

“Why is everyone in the multiverse but you so annoying,” he practically whined as he placed a hand on your knee. 

You giggled lightly then shrugged. 

“M’just perfect I guess,” you teased. 

He looked at you as if he could devour you for lunch instead of the sandwich in his other hand. 

You bit your lip and the movement made his eyes flicker down from your eyes to your lips. 

“That you are,” he agreed, his voice somehow even deeper and a lightning bolt of heat shot through you. 

He smirked as he took in your reaction. 

“Did you come here for another reason, preciosa? Is this not just an innocent lunch date?” he asked, entirely too cocky that he knew the answer to his own question. 

You looked away in an attempt to hide your flustered expression. Your efforts were unsuccessful. 

His hand slipped up from your knee to grip at the flesh of your thigh, right under the edge of your skirt. You turned to look back at him and his expression had darkened. 

You wanted him to consume you. 

“Finish your lunch, then I’ll give you what you came for,” he promised and you contemplated throwing the food right in the trash but you knew that doing as you were told would increase the pleasure of the outcome. 

You obediently took a bite of your sandwich and he smiled. You definitely knew what you were doing when you picked this pretty sundress to wear today. 

“Tell me about your day,” he murmured as his hand wandered up and down the length of your calf. 

You began rambling, wanting to do anything to please the man in front of you, as you told him the ins and outs of your morning since he left your bed. You told him of the accomplishments of the day and perhaps a little bit of the office gossip as well. You knew he loved to hear you talk, he always asked you to take his mind off the fate of the multiverse that he was constantly stressing about. One of the things you loved so dearly about him though was that he never treated his problems and emotions as more important than yours, he always wanted to be there for you and listen when he had the time to do so. 

Then you talked about what you were the most excited about, the logistics of moving in together. He had asked you to move in with him the previous weekend after an absolutely perfect date. You’d been together for about six months and it had been absolutely wonderful, even through difficult situations due to his Spider-Man alternative identity. And though he usually spent time at your apartment, you both agreed that his was nicer and it made more sense for you to move in with him. 

“So I was thinking that I can finish packing by Sunday and then you can help me move in then?” you asked excitedly. 

“Of course, anything you want,” he said and you knew he meant it. You knew he would bend over backwards and do anything to make you happy. You could see the excitement sparkle in his perfect brown eyes as he thought of a future of living with you. 

Soon the food was finished and the desire in Miguel’s eyes had reached a point of ravenousness. His hands had continued to graze and explore your legs as you spoke and you were already dripping with need for him. 

A whisper of your name dripped from his lips, the word spoken with reverence as if you were something angelic and holy. As if you were his peace and salvation. 

And you knew his tight grip on his self control had snapped. 

He pulled you down from the desk onto his lap and finally, finally pressed his full plush lips to yours.  

You gripped his strong arms as he held you tight, and reveled in the feel of his chest pressed against yours. 

His lips moved against yours and you opened up for him, reveling in the taste of him, and indescribable taste of Miguel, of the love of your life. 

A cleared throat caused you both to look to the left. 

“Sorry to interrupt, boss man, but we’ve got a bit of a situation here…” Peter B. Parker said as he rubbed his hand on the back of his neck awkwardly and turned his blushing face away from you. 

Miguel sighed as he led you up off his lap and turned towards the other Spider-Man. 

He stood, his presence towering and intimidating. It was kind of doing it for you. 

“What kind of situation?” he bit out. 

An alarm began blaring. 

“Ay dios mio,” he muttered. 

Miguel shoved you behind him as his mask covered his face and he looked around for the danger. 

You placed your hands on his waist as you peered around his broad form. 

“There was a malfunction with the traps and most of the captured got loose,” Peter said as he shot a web and pulled himself up to the platform where you stood. 

“What?” Miguel asked through clenched teeth. 

He whipped back towards you and leaned down and gently pressed his forehead against yours. 

“Stay here,” he ordered. 

“Okay,” you replied breathlessly. 

He turned, shot a web, and swung out of the room. 

Before Peter followed him, he said. “Hey there again. Good to see you, sorry it’s under these circumstances. Would you mind watching Mayday?”

He handed you the baby before you could even nod and was soon racing after Miguel. 

“What the hell?” you breathed out. 

So much for a relaxing lunch date with your boyfriend. Perhaps he was right about it being too dangerous for you to casually visit. It was hard when you missed him so much, though. You had a relatively good day at work, but the way Miguel had woken you up softly, lovingly, and thoroughly before your alarm ever went off- well, it left you feeling rather needy for him. 

If you were completely honest with yourself, Miguel was right, your intention for this little visit might have been purely for a mid-afternoon quickie. It seemed like that was definitely not happening anymore. 

“Hola princesita,” you coo at the sweet little baby in your arms. 

She grinned widely as she wiggled around. 

“You’re so cute y muy bonita,” you said as you pinched her chubby little cheek and she giggled. 

The sound of an explosion made you jump and your wide eyes met Mayday’s equally surprised expression. You felt the urge to hide, but you were stranded on this raised platform. 

Shit. You hoped the mayhem was kept far away from you and the baby. You peered over the edge of the platform and your heart began to pound. You backed up and accidentally bumped the screen which caused some sort of video feed to begin playing. 

You whirled around and Mayday let out an adorable squeak as she saw her father on the screen. It appeared to be a live video feed of the main hall of the building, where all of the fighting was currently being contained. With one more tap, you had audio as well. 

From your viewpoint it looked like absolute chaos. 

“Lyla, what’s the progress on getting everything back online so we can contain these guys?” Miguel called out before he bit down on the neck of a rhino looking villain. 

“60 seconds out!” Lyla replied and Miguel merely grunted in response as he threw the Rhino across the room. 

You gulped as heat filled you. You were intimately familiar with those fangs… The way he moved was so ferocious and efficient. His style of fighting was very different from most other Spider-People, particularly due to the claws he used, and you felt a very physical reaction within you as you watched him. He was huge compared to the other Spider-people and even compared to many of their combatants. You turned Mayday’s head away from the screen. 

“¿Dónde está tu papá? you murmured as you ran a hand through her thick red curls. 

She made a confused noise as she looked up at you. 

“Where’s your dad?” you repeated as you fiddled with the controls and switched the camera you were watching. 

The little girl clung to you as she craned her head around to once again watch the screens. She squeaked excitedly as her father reappeared, his stupid pink bathrobe making it obvious that it was him underneath the spider suit. You grinned as you peered at her staring with wide eyes at her dad as he fought surprisingly well. You supposed she was used to the violence by now. 

You heard the sound of a door opening and you whirled around as you realized it was not from the screen in front of you, but rather behind you.

A large man prowled in, his armored outfit fitted with terrifying claws. 

“Ay coño,” you whispered and couldn’t help but grin as you heard Miguel yell the same thing at the same time through the screen behind you. 

You crouched down and attempted to hide under the desk as you quietly shushed Mayday. Luckily, the child listened to you, she met your eyes-  looking slightly scared, before she buried her face in your neck. You ran your hand up and down her back reassuringly. 

You held a hand over your mouth to quiet your panicked breathing. You could hear Miguel through the screen ordering the other Spider-people around. 

He jumped up onto the raised platform and you barely managed to hold in your gasp.

Shit. 

The man walked closer to the screens you hid under. You clenched your teeth and continued to rock Mayday in an attempt to keep her content and quiet. 

“Fucking Spider-Man,” the villian growled as he watched your boyfriend through the screen. 

“Peter! You keep coordinating, and get things finished up. I’ve got to get back to my office to make sure my girl is safe,” Miguel called out and at least five Peter Parkers replied all at the same time. He sighed in annoyance. 

Shit. You didn’t catch Miguel’s response as the man standing in front of the screens turned the audio feed off. It was right then that Mayday made a happy cooing noise as she started to fall asleep against your chest. 

Your heart stopped. 

A clawed hand snatched your ankle and yanked you out from under the desk. 

Tears filled your eyes and you gritted your teeth as you did your best to struggle while still maintaining Mayday’s safety. 

You looked up at the man above you as he pointed a wicked looking sword at your throat. 

Your already pounding heart sped from a gallop to a sprint. 

“Hello there,” he purred. 

You gulped. 

“So you’re the big one’s girl?” he asked as he pressed the blade against your skin hard enough to feel a sting. 

“No…?” you tried to say confidently but because of your nerves it came out like a question. 

Ay dios mio, you thought, you really needed to get better at lying. It was an inside joke between you and Miguel that you could never lie to him, partially due to his super senses, but the lack of that skill was certainly biting you in the nalgas right now. 

The Prowler rolled his eyes and hauled you to your feet with a tight grip on your arm. 

“You’re coming with me,” he said and you attempted to pull yourself back from him, but his grip only tightened to the point of pain. 

You held in your whimper. 

“W-wait! Let me put the baby down. Think about it, how difficult will it be to quietly escape with a baby in tow,” you babbled in an attempt to convince the terrifying stranger. 

You could see doubt in his eyes so you plowed forward. 

“She’s not my baby, I’m just a babysitter. Think about her parents and how scared they would be. That’s not what you want right? Y-you just want to scare…” you gulped, “my Spider-Man, right?” 

His jaw clenched. 

“Yes. Oh how Miguel O’hara will rage when he finds his lover is gone,” he said with a smile that made your heart sink into your stomach. 

How did he know his name? 

“Fine, put the baby down. Then let’s go,” he relented at your scared and pleading expression. 

He released his grip on your arm and you turned and gently laid a sleeping Mayday in the hammock made of Peter’s spiderwebs that was attached to the side of the desk. 

If it was another less stressful moment you would take a second to press a kiss to her little forehead and smile at the implication that Miguel was also at times an unwitting babysitter. 

With a shuddering breath, you turned back to the Prowler. He grabbed you and placed cuffs on your wrists and ankles, made of some sort of nano technology similar to Miguel’s suit. Then, he slapped a hand over your mouth and when he pulled it off, a mask covered your face and nose that prevented you from screaming. 

It filled with a bitter smelling gas and before you could react, you were pulled abruptly into unconsciousness. 

When you blinked awake you found yourself strapped to a metal chair in what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. 

You took deep breaths as you took in your surroundings, relieved that the gag/gas mask had been removed from your face. You were surprised that you were tied to the chair with a rope rather than another futuristic gadget. 

Your captor was suspiciously missing. You figured you should make the most of the time you had alone. You wiggled and jerked and yanked one of your arms in an attempt to free your hand. The rope chafed and ripped at your skin but with a few minutes of effort and only a little bit of blood you manage to pull your hand free. 

You reached up to the spider necklace around your neck and pressed the small button on the back of it three times. You sighed in relief as it made a soft beeping noise that told you a distress signal with your location was being sent to Miguel. 

The Prowler returned to the large room you were stuck in, a horrible smirk plastered on his face. 

“Now all we have to do is wait,” he said. 

Your heart dropped. This was a trap. Of course it was a trap. Why else would he have taken you other than to lure Miguel?

He pulled a chair, you cringed as it scraped against the floor, and sat down facing you, the chair backwards. 

“Alright, pretty girl, tell me your name,” he ordered as he pulled out that same wicked looking sword and rested it against your throat. 

“Gwen Stacy,” you choked out, saying the first name that popped into your head. 

He rolled his eyes and the sword dug into your skin enough that you whimpered and blood began to trickle down your chest. 

“I spent enough time at that stupid Spider Society to know a Gwen Stacy when I see one. Don’t lie to me again or this will only be worse for you.” 

You gulped, which made the pain only sharper as he did not relieve the pressure of the sword against your skin. You rasped out your name and he gave you a feral grin as he clearly believed your answer this time. He repeated it and his tone made your blood turn cold. 

“What is a girl like you doing with a drip like Miguel O’hara?” he asked. 

You licked your dry lips. You didn’t answer him, unsure as you were of what to say. Your lack of response seemed to only increase his amusement. 

“Does he love you?” he asked as he cocked his head to the side. 

You tried to shake your head but grimaced and a tear fell from your eye as the blade dug into your flesh. 

“No,” you choked out. “It’s new. We just started dating. I don’t even know if he actually likes me and-“

“I told you to stop lying!” he growled out between gritted teeth and your heart spiked at the anger in his eyes. 

He pulled the blade from your neck and slid it across your arm. You screamed as he sliced a long gash across your bicep. 

“Yes,” you sobbed. “Yes, he loves me. H-he asked me to move in with him last week.” 

“Then this will be sufficiently painful for him, won’t it?” he asked with a cruel smile. 

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling. They streaked down your cheeks even as you gritted your teeth and leveled your best glare at him. 

“What about your pain?” a familiar, deep voice asked from the darkness in the corner of the dimly lit room. 

You gasped in relief at the sound. 

You saw him crawl across the ceiling and drop down directly behind the Prowler. Miguel ripped him away from you in a brute show of strength that made you tremble. 

“That was a nice little trap you set up,” Miguel said so condescendingly you couldn’t help but huff a laugh through your tears. 

He slammed the man onto the ground so hard that he made a choked wheezing sound. Miguel’s claws dug into the Prowler’s armor and a near animalistic growl escaped his lips. 

“Miguel!” you squeaked as you saw the Prowler slip a thin dagger out of a sheath at his thigh. 

Unfortunately your reaction did nothing but distract your superhero as he looked over at you in concern and he snarled as the man shoved the dagger into his side. 

You gasped in horror as Miguel slammed the man into the ground once more, not once lessening his hold, even with the surprise and pain. 

You heard a horrible crack of the man’s head against the ground. It clearly didn’t kill him though, because despite being dazed, he continued to fight back. 

Miguel’s mask disappeared and as he opened his mouth you could see the sharp points of his fangs before he bit down on the Prowler’s neck and paralyzed him. 

Your tormenter went rigid and Miguel hauled himself off him and turned his face to the side and spit out blood with a look of disgust on his face, a much different expression from the handful of times he had bit you and had your blood in his mouth. 

You stared as the rage in his crimson gaze cooled to concern nearing the edge of panic as he took in your bloodied and disheveled state. You watched as the red in his eyes faded to the warm brown hue you were more familiar with. He breathed out your name. 

“Lyla,” he called out. 

She appeared over his shoulder, slightly less cheerful than usual as she peered at you in concern. 

“Yes?” she asked. 

He reached you and placed a gentle hand on your cheek as he knelt before you. You shuddered in relief at the reassurance of his touch. He used his claws to carefully cut through your binds. 

“Could you please call for an extraction team?” he asked.

“On it,” she said and disappeared once more. 

“Mi amor,” he said and the words dripped with heartbreak as they fell from his lips. 

You tried to put on a brave face. 

“Estoy bien. I think it looks worse than it is,” you attempted to reassure him. 

His lips turned down into a frown as he shook his head in disagreement. Gentle hands turned your head to the side so he could better assess the cut on your neck. 

He sucked in a breath. 

“That bad?” you asked timidly. 

“No, you’ll be fine. I just hate to see you in pain,” he said and there was an undercurrent of self loathing you picked up on and you reached for his hand and squeezed it. 

He pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

He pulled out a first aid kit, you weren’t sure exactly where it appeared from and assumed it was most likely something to do with the same technology as his suit which you definitely didn’t understand either. You scrunched your eyes closed, having no desire to watch as he pierced your skin with a needle. 

“Lo siento mucho, preciosa,” he lamented. 

You held in your whimper of pain for his sake as he stitched the cut closed. His ministrations were interrupted only by his ceaseless muttered apologies. He did the same with the cut on your arm as well and bandaged both as well as disinfected and wrapped a bandage around your rope burned wrist. 

“What about your wound?” you asked in concern. Miguel let you carefully patch up his wound as well, sighing in impatience only a few times. 

When you were done, he placed his blood soaked hands on either side of your face and gave you a kiss so soft and tender that you forgot how to breathe. 

“Guapísimo,” you chided and he smiled softly despite himself as he rested his forehead against yours. 

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered and he grunted in disagreement. 

“C’mon. Let’s get you out of here,” he said. You kissed him once more then made a hum of agreement and allowed him to take you into his arms. 

The extraction team showed up right as Miguel led you away from the paralyzed Prowler. 

He jumped out the sixth floor window of the building and shot a web to catch you both before your breathless scream turned into something much louder. 

You gripped him, wrapping your arms and legs tightly around him and burying your face in his neck to avoid the stomach dropping sight of the height you were swinging at. He kept one arm strong around your back and waist, holding you secure against his warm body. 

After long enough that you started to feel nauseous, he landed and squeezed your waist twice to let you know it was safe to let him go. 

You slid down his body until your feet could finally reach the floor and looked up at him. 

He looked sad, his eyes watery and his mouth turned down into a frown. 

“Gwen!” he called out, looking behind you and over your head. 

You turned, finally taking in your surroundings, and to your surprise he had brought you back to Spider Society. You supposed he wanted to keep you close for the remainder of the evening. 

“Yes?” she asked as she bounded towards you. 

“I need some time to make sure everything is sorted. Will you please take her to my quarters and let her get cleaned up before calling someone from medical to check on her? Don’t let her out of your sight until I’m back,” he ordered and glowered at her until she gulped and nodded. 

Her eyes widened as she took in your disheveled state. 

She took your hand but he held his grip on you. 

“I’ll be there soon,” he said and you nodded. He pressed one last kiss to your forehead before he let you go. 

“Are you alright?” Gwen asked you as she led you towards the sleeping quarters. 

You huffed an unamused laugh. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you said. 

“There’s blood-“ she started to say but you interrupted her. 

“Miguel already stitched me up. I’m fine,” you reassured her. 

Miguel. Oh, Miguel. You were worried about him. You knew what he’d already been through and you chewed on your lip as your concern grew that the events of this evening would throw him back into that dark place of anger and self loathing. 

You knew he blamed himself for your capture and injuries. But you were fine, really, you were fine. Right? 

When you reached the correct door, Gwen scanned her watch on the lock and Lyla popped up. 

“Hello! D’ya need me to unlock the door?” she asked. 

“Yes please,” you replied and she did with a blown kiss in your direction. 

The bedroom was sparsely decorated but clean and relatively tidy nonetheless, which you expected. You’d never been to his room here at Spider Society that he only occasionally used as he had his own apartment and more often than not stayed at yours most nights. 

There was a framed photo of you on the nightstand. A silly selfie you had sent him months ago with your lips puckered in a pretend kiss. It was so unexpectedly sweet that he would frame it and keep you close to him on nights he wasn’t in your bed that you had to blink back tears. 

God, you were emotional. You just needed to sleep. Yeah, if you slept it off you’d be fine. Sure, you weren’t used to daily life threatening danger like your boyfriend and all his coworkers, but you could bounce back. You’re fine. 

Perhaps people who are actually fine don’t have to tell themselves that they’re fine this often…

“Hey, you okay?” Gwen asked and you nodded quickly and tried to discreetly wipe your eyes. 

There were two doors in the room, other than the one you came in. You walked to the first one and upon opening it, you found that it was his closet. You grabbed a t-shirt and pair of his boxers before you strode to the bathroom behind the other door. 

Gwen followed your every step. 

“I’m going to shower now,” you said to her with your eyebrows raised. 

“Miguel said to not let you out of my sight,” she said as she awkwardly shuffled her feet. 

“I’m certain he didn’t mean to watch me shower. Nothing is going to try and kill me while I’m in there. I’ll be fine. I promise. Sit down and get comfy, I’ll only be a few minutes,” you reassured. 

She looked between you and the bed, the only place to sit in the tiny room. 

“I can’t sit on Miguel’s bed,” she said like she was scared of his reaction. 

You snorted. 

“It’s technically my bed tonight. So sit down, chica. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of big grumpy Miguel,” you said with a wink and she laughed. 

She did as you bid and you closed yourself in the bathroom. You turned the shower on and finally let more tears fall, hoping the sound would be muffled enough. Honestly, you felt like a weenie for getting worked up over a little kidnapping considering the spider people in the building who’d been through so much worse. 

That wasn’t necessarily fair to you, though. Besides dating a superhero you had a relatively mundane life in which life threatening events were not the norm so a few tears were to be expected. 

And soon Miguel would be here and you could comfort each other. You stripped your clothes off and looked at your reflection in the mirror. You were filthy, dust and stripes of dried blood coated your skin. Large bandages covered much of your skin on your neck and your arm. Your eyes looked glassy and you thought you could see bruises beginning to form in several areas. Finally your eyes landed on the life-saving spider necklace around your throat that Miguel had gifted you on your last birthday. Good god, you love that man. 

You hopped in the shower, careful to keep your bandages dry and washed the grime and dried blood off your skin. You definitely felt better as the hot water washed the day off you. 

You dressed, smiling at the way Miguel’s giant clothes truly didn’t fit you at all but made you feel so comfortable. When you returned to the room a Spider-Woman in a lab coat was standing beside Gwen. 

“Hello!” she greeted you cheerfully. 

“Hi,” you replied and passed her to sit next to Gwen on the foot of the bed. 

“Can I check your wounds?” she asked politely. 

“Go for it,” you replied. She peeled back the bandage at your neck and hummed her approval at Miguel’s work. Her response was the same at the wound on your arm. 

She disinfected and rebandaged both wounds before giving you a list of instructions on how to properly care for them in order to avoid infection, but you didn’t pay much attention. Exhaustion was taking its toll and you were sure Miguel would be overly attentive to your wounds in the coming days anyway. 

You thanked her and she nodded kindly before she left. 

“How is Mayday? And Peter?” you asked Gwen. 

“They’re both perfectly fine and safe at home,” she said and you breathed out a sigh of relief and flopped back onto the bed before burrowing under the covers. 

“Good,” you breathed out. 

“M’so tired,” you said. 

“Yeah adrenaline does that to you once it’s gone,” she said. 

“How long do you think it’ll be before Miguel comes?” you asked. 

“Probably a while. There was a huge mess after the tech malfunction and then of course he trashed his office after you were taken. Soo…”

She trailed off as you stared at her wide eyed. 

“W-we all saw the playback of you begging the prowler to leave the baby and only take you.” 

You gulped. 

“It was incredibly brave,” she said. “Peter B. was in tears and I think he’s about ready to make you her godmother.” 

You chuckled even as you had to blink back tears for what felt like the millionth time in this never ending day. 

“Miguel was…. beside himself.” 

That sounds like an understatement, you thought. Though you can imagine your reaction if he were captured and injured would be explosive as well. 

“Why does that prowler hate Miguel so much? And how did he know his name?” you asked with a yawn. 

“All I know is that he is from this world, you and Miguel’s world. He must have had past run-ins with Miguel.” she said with a shrug. 

“Hm,” you replied. 

You supposed it didn’t really matter, the most important thing was that you were safe and warm in Miguel’s bed that smelled faintly of him. Where was he? You were becoming incredibly drowsy and feared you wouldn’t be able to stay awake long enough. 

You were suddenly incredibly grateful that it was Friday and you didn’t have to worry about calling out sick from work for the next two days. Hopefully you wouldn’t look as battered come Monday. 

The door opened and you popped your eyes open in excitement, not even realizing they had drifted closed. 

Miguel leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, with a fond smile on his lips. 

Gwen scrambled off the end of the bed as he looked over to her with a raised eyebrow. 

“Thank you for keeping me company, chica,” you said fondly. 

“Of course,” she said and gave Miguel a salute before she nimbly slipped by him and out of the room. 

“Guapisimo,” you said as you reached out a hand to him. 

He took a deep breath before he strode to you, shutting the door behind him. He pressed a kiss to your lips. 

“Dame uno minuto,” he said as he turned towards the bathroom. 

“Fine, but only one minute! I’ve been in your bed missing you for far too long!” you called out. 

The growl he released in response as he closed the bathroom door behind him made your toes curl and was the exact response you hoped your words would elicit. 

You heard the shower turn on and sighed, contemplating whether or not you should get up and join him but ultimately decided that as bad as you had needed a real shower, he definitely needed time to get clean too. 

When he opened the bathroom door, hair wet, skin glistening, and a towel wrapped entirely too low around his waist you gulped. 

“That was more than a minute,” you said, but your voice was entirely too shaky for the words to hit their mark. 

He only smirked. 

He turned away from you, his broad back to you and dropped the towel before grabbing a pair of boxers out of his closet. 

His perfect ass was on display so you did the mature thing and threw a pillow at it. 

He caught it with a smirk and pulled his underwear on before chucking the pillow back at you. You huffed indignantly as it smacked you in the face. If you were totally honest with yourself though, you deserved it. 

He slipped in the bed with you, though it was small enough that he pulled you nearly completely on top of him in order to be comfortable. His shoulders were almost as wide as the bed. You didn’t mind though, as you snuggled into his warmth and buried your face in his chest. 

He ran a hand up and down the length of your back. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quiet and hesitant. 

“I think so. Are you?” you replied as you traced circles on his bicep where he held you tight. Almost too tight. Like he was afraid you would disappear. 

He grunted in affirmation but you couldn’t bring yourself to believe him. 

“Miguel,” you said. 

He sighed. 

“I’ve already argued with Lyla and she called me an arrogant asshole but I just can’t help but feel like the best and safest thing for you would be a life without me,” he said. 

“What?” you breathed out, your body suddenly tense.

“You were hurt today. He could have killed you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. 

You lifted your head from his chest and met his gaze. There were unshed tears in his warm brown eyes. 

“It would’ve been all my fault, again,” he said and a tear fell down his cheek. 

Your heart twisted in your chest at his pain, at the trigger today’s events were of his most horrific memory. 

“Mi amor, I’m safe. You saved me,” you reassured him as you gently placed your hand on the side of his face and wiped away the tear. 

“You should’ve never been in that situation. If I wasn’t so goddamn selfish I would let you go. Let you lead a safe, fulfilling, and happy life without me as a dark cloud constantly over you. I-” 

“Miguel!” you reprimanded and cut off his spiral of self loathing.  

He took a shuddering breath. 

“Escúchame, there is no fulfilling and happy life for me without you. I love you. You feel the same way about me, don’t you?” your voice became smaller as you finished talking. 

“Of course, of course I feel the same. Tu eres el amor de mi vida, mi preciosa,” he said as he gripped you tighter. 

“Then don’t. Don’t ever say something like that again. I knew what I was getting into when I chose you. And I still choose you. Occasional danger, grumpiness, and all,” you said and you both smiled slightly at the gentle teasing. 

He pulled your face closer to his with a hand on the back of your neck and crushed his lips to yours. It wasn’t gentle or teasing as some kisses with him were. No, as his tongue shoved into your mouth and tangled with yours, it wasn’t gentle. It was raw and desperate and emotional. There was a burning need in both of you for each other. 

Your hand slipped from his face to his shoulders where you gripped him tight and he moaned into your mouth. His lips broke from yours, and he said your name in a broken groan. 

In a move so fast it nearly made you dizzy, you were suddenly underneath him. He pressed his firm body against yours, his weight crushing you into the bed and making you want more, more, more. 

His lips were on yours again and you melted against him. His hands gripped the small of your waist and you whimpered with desire and began to feel yourself drip with need for the man on top of you. 

He broke his lips from yours and began to trail them down your jaw to your neck,the side of your neck that was not injured. Despite the uncontrollable heat and desire, Miguel was very careful and conscious to not touch your healing wounds. 

“Miguel,” you gasped as you shivered as he sucked on the most sensitive spot of your neck. 

He shoved the shirt you were wearing, his shirt, up and over your head before he chucked it across the room. He moaned as he pressed himself back down against you and his bare skin grazed against yours. You spread your legs and wrapped them around his waist and whimpered as his hard length pressed against your core. He kissed your lips again before quickly returning his downward trail from your neck to your heaving chest. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped as his hot mouth encapsulated your hard nipple. His thumb grazed then pinched your other nipple and you mewled for him. 

“So fucking perfect,” he grunted as he squeezed your breast in his large hand. 

Your core was throbbing, hot and wet and you couldn’t handle the lack of friction. You held on to his back and writhed underneath him, grinding your pussy against his hard cock. And suddenly even the thin underwear you were both wearing was too much. He groaned, a sound so beautiful and erotic that you shivered and your toes curled. 

“Mig, need you to take this off, please,” you panted as you did your best to slip the boxers off past his perfect ass. 

He chuckled, a cocky sort of sound before he said in a near condescending tone, “You need some help, preciosa?” 

You knew what he wanted to hear from you. 

“Sí, por favor,” you whined. 

He fucking growled. 

Miguel quickly removed his boxers before he yanked off yours as well. 

“Need you,” you panted as you saw him in all his naked glory, strong muscles and glistening skin on display. Your mouth watered as you looked down at his frankly massive cock. 

His mouth was on yours again, every inch of his glorious form pressed against yours. 

“You’re mine,” he said into your mouth and slid his length against your aching core. You whimpered. 

He reached down and lined himself up with your entrance. 

“Say it,” he ordered. 

You looked up at him, eyes wide and promised him, “I’m yours.” 

He gripped your hips and slid his cock inside you inch by glorious inch. You were so perfectly full, so safe in his arms, as he stayed still and just held you in his arms, his face buried in your neck, that tears filled your eyes. 

You tangled your fingers in his curls and said, “You’re mine too.”

He pulled back enough to look you in your eyes. 

“I’m yours. Always. Forever,” he swore. 

You kissed him, and this time the kiss was unhurried, both of you giving yourselves over completely and drowning in one another. 

Everything was him, his large body against you and around you, his scent all you could smell, his taste was in your mouth, and you were stuffed full of him, your body tingling with pleasure only your Miguel could provide. 

You both took shuddering breaths, soaking in the perfection of the moment. 

“Yo quiero mucho,” he said and kissed you once more. 

“I love you too,” you moaned as he began to move. 

He dragged his cock out of you achingly slowly, causing you to whine, before you snapped his hips and plunged himself inside you fully and deeply once more. 

You smirked, you knew he wouldn’t be able to keep a slow pace for long. You wanted it fast and hard, just like you knew he did, so you bit down on his neck which caused him to snarl. 

His pace quickened and you locked your legs around his waist, wanting him closer than was humanly possible, wanting to be consumed by him completely. Your hands roamed the broad expanse of his shoulders and back and your nails dug into his skin as he tilted your hips and continued his almost brutal pace, but now hitting the spot inside you that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

He groaned your name as you squeezed and gripped him tighter. 

“So perfect and all mine, isn’t that right, preciosa?” 

You attempted to move your hips in time with his but he gripped you tighter, pinning you to the bed and holding you completely at his mercy as he pounded into you.

“Yes, yes, yours all yours,” you whined and he gave you exactly what you wanted. 

His thumb found your clit and began to draw tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. God, you were so close, you were already so close and he knew it. 

You whined and he moaned your name in response, his pace never wavering. The stretch and length of him felt so good, so right, so perfect. 

Electricity sparked through you, your peak built and built and built. The pleasure was overwhelming. 

“Mig- m’gonna come, ohmygod,” you practically squealed. 

“Come for me, mi amor,” he said and your body obeyed his order. Your orgasm crashed over you, causing you to squeeze so tight on his cock that he hissed through his teeth. 

You had no chance to catch your breath as you continued to cling to him, his sweat soaked skin against yours and his thrusts quicker as he neared his own end. 

“Come in me, please, please, please, baby,” you begged and he groaned in response. 

He thrust one final deep thrust, pushing himself as deep inside you as possible, and filled you with his come. 

He shuddered above you and you pressed sloppy kisses to his neck, to any skin you could reach. 

You ran your hands up and down his back and he relaxed against you. 

“I love you,” he said. 

You kissed him once more, slow and sweet, and said, “I’m yours, completely.” 

“Are you sure you want all of my mess in your life?” he mumbled against your neck, beginning to sound sleepy. 

“Of course,” you said, “I’ve never felt safer.” 

And your words were true. Despite the terror of the day, you felt safer than you’d ever been wrapped in his arms, with him still inside you as you both drifted off to sleep. 

[bashvaughn]

a few months prior…

A few months prior, Sebastian and Jocalyn as a collective, had been nothing but distant, childhood memories of the past. Sweet and innocent, the budding friendship had come to a sudden and abrupt end when Josie and her family had travelled to Europe and further for some few years whilst her father and his band had completed successful tours after tours. And what was left behind was a particularly gutted 10 year-old Sebastian, having lost his best friend, and though today he didn’t grow so upset when he thought about Jo as he had done in his younger youth, his thoughts often crossed back to those times. He wondered how she was, what she looked like, and where she even was. Had she kept the necklace he’d gotten her? Did she even remember him?

He wasn’t entirely the same as he had been as a child. He was a sweet boy growing up, polite and kind, but after all these years, there wasn’t really much left of Seb Vaughn from 1988. He’d sort of just, well, vanished, one day, faded into the background. His older brother Nathaniel’s death had left a deep and empty wound in the bottom of his heart, still raw and unhealed seven years on. It had left him angry at the world and unable to express his emotions, when really, inside, there was still just that little boy who’d never really grown up, a little boy who just needed some assertion that whatever was going on inside his brain was okay. He didn’t spend much time at home, any opportunity to be out the house, he took; his relationship with his parents wasn’t exactly the best, not since Nate had died. It was hard watching your mother often breakdown once the working day finished.

Out the house. Yes. Being out the house was good. A party! He loved parties, rich kid parties were the best. They had the best sound systems, the most liquor, the biggest pools. The angry teenage boy wasn’t very popular amongst the younger students, amongst those that 1995 would class as “uncool”, as over time had turned himself into quite a bit of a bully, a thug or sorts who enjoyed taunting those less fortunate or lucky as him. But to the majority? He was rather sort after, envied in ways. Guys wanted to be him: he was the tallest kid in school, built strong and toned at 6’5” with a sharp jaw, played quarterback on the school football team, always had his brown curtained locks of hair perfectly swept back at all times. The girls wanted to be with him for all those very reasons. But sure, despite having a fling or two over the years, a couple of nights tangled in bedsheets, he strangely paid them little mind. He paid very few people any mind these days. Or anything.

He arrived as the sun had just set. A final all-out party in the school holiday before they returned back for the new academic year. One last send off. Some kid who lived just outside the city in some sprawling mansion. He walked up the steps of the house entrance with a bounce almost, pack of beer in his hand, his good friend since childhood, Brian, walking beside him. He wore a pair of blue denim jeans, a black belt secured around them, a red plaid shirt tucker inside, sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone, a tiny, silver hoop in his ear, cigarette packet in the pocket. The door wide open, he stepped inside to a house almost bursting full of students. It was loud and chaotic, full of booming music and disorganisation. The perfect party.

He was a presence amongst his peers, that could be said. Idolised in many ways despite the element of fear from some. You had to be when you’d just been made football captain for the new year after the previous one had graduated. He had a pretty intense reputation. Walking inside, he was greeted with happy cheers and welcomes from the students, the owner of the house walking over to him with a wide grin. “Vaughn, you made it!” Sebastian’s smile was never as big as anyone else, it was more of a just an upwards turn. Nodding, he greeted his friend, shoulder tapping him as a hello. “Sup, man.” He responded, ignoring the way people turned their heads a little. Turning to some of the partygoers, the house owner clapped his hands, “New captain himself, ladies and gents!” The teens nearby cheered, some downing their drinks as a toast of sorts.

Laughing quietly, he shook his head, “Touching — lemme get a drink, man.” He beckoned towards the large, open kitchen ahead, beginning to hear over in search of a clean red cup.

Sebastian was, however, obliviously unaware that there was also another big revelation in attendance tonight. A unexpected storm that arrived back with an awestruck greeting from students all around.

[soraviie]

he's a friend of a friend.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader  ━ navigation

━ about: don't know, neither this nor that ━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: yes f2l is cool but have you ever wondered about the precarious drop of a friend of friends? Strangeness mixed with knowing, seeing and talking in passing, wondering maybe you should speak more. Maybe nothing would happen but what if. What if.

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: All he quite discerns of the matter right now, is that his hands are clammy. Namjoon comes to stand in the empty doorway, momentarily glimpsing at your back, before uttering -

"'Sup."

Those...those were not the words he meant to say. You glance over your shoulder, meeting the long-limbed figure with a tired, polite smile.

"'Sup," you take back and Namjoon slowly comes to stand near you. The hot summer air has chilled into a warm evening and the cicadas are yowling in full spring while the rest of your friends are sitting around the campfire, swapping stories and laughter. You were washing away the dishes in silence. He wonders why.

"You need any help?" he asks, hoping you'll agree, hoping you'll toss him a bone to wield as an excuse.

"Ah, you can dry the washed ones if you want," the tone of your voice leaves much to discover. Maybe because he doesn't truly know you. A friend of a friend is not a stranger but also not family. An awkward gamble played between two social roles, tugged perfectly in the middle. Not friends, not strangers. Acquaintances.

"So, how have you been?" he questions further.

In the silence, the only sound is the rhythmic ticking of the clock and he feels that signifies the divide between who he wants to be and who he is. But what does he want to be? To you, that is. Slyly, he peeks at you from the corner of his eye. Your lips, your brows furrowed in a wrinkle of concentration. He quickly turns away. Namjoon doesn't know what he wants. All he knows is that lately whenever you came into his mind, he felt...fuzzy, for lack of a better term. And in spite of also lacking free time, he had clawed tooth and nail to be in this gathering of friends. Especially after you affirmed you'd be here.

"Eh, same old, same old," you laugh, cavillous. "Working away. You?"

"Same," he chuckles but with hardly any humour.

"You must be tired," you reckon with a hum and he takes the plate out of your outstretched hand.

"Why do you say that?"

"You're sulking when you think no one's looking," you explain, in your own mind, wondering whether you're breaching some invisible boundaries. Maybe he didn't want to be reminded of that.

"Are you looking?"

"I just notice."

The plate smashes against the kitchen tile and the atmosphere eases. Though Namjoon is not happier because of it.

"I'll get the broom," you laugh, looking at the broken ceramic and taking a step away. "I thought they were overestimating your...capabilities."

"No, no, they've been correctly estimated," demurely, he scratches behind his ear. You've been watching him. Have you then seen him watching you as well?

When the plate is disposed of, with a promise to act dumb when questioned about its absence, Namjoon lingers at the bottom of the stairs as you go up the rented guest house. Retiring early for the night, you said.

"Wait, I'm gonna rest too," he calls out and bounds up the steps to where you were standing.

"There are spare pillows in my room," you offer conversationally, trailing next to each other. It's weird. But good weird, you think. "You want some?"

Namjoon decides he needs an exorcism for the flash of impure thoughts briefly running through his mind. And despite having two very good pillows on his own, he agrees. Taking a seat on your bed is...it makes something inside him tingle and shiver. He's on entirely new territory, eager to explore but scared of being shot at from a proverbial bow.

"How long will you be staying?" he inquires. He's full of questions when it comes to you.

"Not quite sure," you reply. "I was offered a new job. Here. And I don't know what to do about it."

Namjoon's head snaps upwards. Moving. Here. Permanent. Geographical moving also meant you'd move into a much closer tight-knit circle of friends he met on the regular basis. Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, his heart is hammering.

“You want to gather thoughts together?”

YOONGI: Ask anyone and they wouldn't dare to even presume this would happen. And you do mean anyone - a medium, a priest, a prophet, all of the above - no one could possibly see this coming.

Min Yoongi, The Min Yoongi, was in the same zoom call as you. Out of respect and also due to the fact that you hardly knew the man, your gaze was kept solely on your notepad. An open page sits there beneath your hand, diligently receiving the inked words. Monday. Away. Shane. Cordially. Bastard.

But damn did he look good.

Although you hoped to all of higher power, he remembered nothing of last year. Recalling your life’s greatest humiliation, you want to smash this keyboard against your skull and knock yourself out. Although that doesn’t happen. More so to simply not draw any more attention. If you were a truly outstanding person this year, karma could repay you and make you invisible. 

You stumbled through the front door of your friend's home with perhaps a minuscule amount of leisure and free-mouthedness one would deem too much for an upstanding citizen.

The scorching sun had finally sunk beneath the horizon and eager to wash away both the torrid heat and the annoying work call thrust in the middle of your vacation, you'd been perhaps too liberal with the liquor but you meant no harm.

You truly did mean no harm.

"Whose the little guy?" you tossed a hand towards the stranger standing at the bottom of the stairs. When he turned around, you squinted and went Occam's razor on the situation. Which one was more probable - you were drunk during your vacation or a renowned idol and producer of a world-famous k-pop group, Min Yoongi, was sipping a milkshake out of your own personal mug?

"As if," you laughed out loud and then promptly passed out on the couch, face smushed into the fabric in what could only be described as an expression that could only be made within a fever dream.

Turns out the truth was stranger than fiction. A fact you were reaffirmed many, many times as you'd spent the rest of the vacation absolutely stunned at the revelation that one of your friends was bosom pals with a superstar. The same superstar whose first impression of you was…that. Safe to say you’d evaded him like the plague for the rest of the trip. 

“______________,” a friend calls out over the line and you jerk at the sound of your name. Thank God Yoongi was not looking, far too preoccupied with his phone. “Are you coming?” 

“Eh, I don’t know,” you drawl. “Because I have to be at work longer than you do, I won’t be able to drive with you and, to be honest, taking a solo trip in the mountains? No, thank you. I'm not made to fight wilder beasts. I bruise like a peach.”

Just then your phone dings with a message from an unknown number. 

I can pick you up.

You frown at the screen.

It’s Yoongi.

A pause. Somehow transmitting the awkwardness through the endless void of digital silence.

Suga of BTS?

“I’ve got a work thing, give me a second,” you lie without blinking, turning off both the camera and microphone. 

Smooth

Yes, I know who you are

Both messages arrived on the respective phones simultaneously.

Well, as I said I can pick you up. I won’t be able to make it on time as well. 

Right. Or wrong. Or perhaps merely...confusing.

Why would you do that?

Is there something wrong with doing "that?"

For every response, he seems to have a question, and for every question a rebuttal. You don't yet know whether that's something to be enjoyed or annoyed by. He doesn't give you time to ponder, anyhow.

Turn on your camera, Sae is asking for you

Before your brain can wholly grasp the situation, your fingers already brush up against the buttons on the keyboard and you're forced to stare at your own dumb-founded expression.

For a second, you meet Yoongi's gaze through the monitor. He seems to be in deep thought...or perhaps hungry. You don't know him, that's the problem. But maybe you can get to know him, or you simply won't. A hitched ride will remain only that, with no further bound expressions of familiarity. When you glance at Yoongi again, his head is faced downwards, fingers numbly scrolling up and down. As if he was still in the text conversation, flicking through it solely to appear busy.

"Oh, please, come," Sae pleads. "It's been so long since you hung out with us. You and Yoongi are practically tied to your jobs. Oh, please, please, please!"

We'll just both have to endure it T-T

You didn't peg him for a T-T type of guy. Min Yoongi turned out to be full of surprises. You do hope they're the good kind.

"Okay, I'll...find a way. To get there."

If Yoongi hears you omit his proposal, he doesn't display it in the slightest.

Text me where and when, comes his succinct order and both the conversation and the zoom call appear to end there, leaving you leaning back into the chair and wondering how he even got your number. Just then, in a manner both alarming and yet characteristic, the last ding lights up your phone like a lighthouse in the dark.

If you're wondering how I got your number, I asked Sae :)

JIN: Arguably you've known him for a very long time. So long in fact many friends had faded and new ones had the time to appear. However, you've never known him so driving by three ads of his face plastered presumptuously across the marble high rises of elite society doesn't garner much reaction or interest. Even when you stumble upon his ad whilst flicking through anything to numb your mind for the evening, you watch it but don't obsess over it. But you do watch it.

Some of his ads are fun, that's all.

"He's shy," your friend had tiptoed to whisper in your ear as you pointed out that the guy nursing a glass of champagne awkwardly in the corner was in fact Kim Seokjin who had modelled a perfume you bought. "Please, don't bother him too much. People harass him too much as it is."

You could agree to that and hadn't bothered him too much or rather at all. Those very few times you spoke with Jin were in passing - between dinners of mutual friends or in the clumsy lingering pauses when you found yourselves the only two present in the room.

Which is why this was oh so suffocating. Pressed thigh against thigh, you had to squeeze between twenty other people to take a picture. He's a bridesman, you're a groomsmaid. A cliche with a twist. Like anyone needed those today.

It seems that you've amassed some bad karma as throughout the whole event, the word "squeezing" is etched into the forefront of your mind. Squeezing to get past someone, only to have Jin either in front or the back. Squeezing to push your chairs closer as the rowdy migrating crowds flock to each other like birds during spring. Squeezing to get into the queue to congratulate the happy couple, squeezing to escape the many children, the annoying cousins, the inebriated uncles...

A wedding is a tight-packed event is the lesson to take home here.

Finally having escaped all the constrictions, fleshy or otherwise, you draw a heavy sigh of relief, shivering in the cold flowing from the swaying sea. Another friend married off, another ten questions of when will it be your turn. As if these prospects just announced themselves...

"Excuse me, may I join?"

You blink. For a second guided by fuzzy logic, you glimpse at the sky, pondering shouldn't a divine voice sound more intimidating and assertive but then you turn and find Jin standing some distance away. Even in the dark, you could spot his thumbs twiddling, riddled with anxiety.

"Sure," courteous, you reply. Jin traverses the sand, slightly wobbling from left to right. Drawing a heavy sigh of relief, he drops to the ground as though all the strings that kept him upward were abruptly cut all at once.

Deafening is the sound of waves crashing against the shoreline.

For a lingering second, Jin gazes at the dark horizon, before nuzzling against his knees.

"I'm sorry," he mutters all of a sudden and you frown at his statement. "You're...you're the only other person I know here, so I clung to you the entire day. Must have been annoying."

"It's okay," you brush off. "I get it."

Silence settles once more.

"Why are you not out there?" demurely, he hums, throwing a head back to the pulsating, multi-coloured shell of a guest house trembling with bibulous celebration. "You're usually front and centre at these kinds of things."

Despite finding it strange that he knew such detail, you keep the confusion behind your teeth.

"I'm not feeling it," you shrug, also shrinking into yourself as the chill of the night soaks through the sand. "Work has been really tough and my went missing-" realizing that you were speaking to him as a friend, you stopped. "Nevermind, you don't have to hear it."

"It's okay," he echoes, casting you a soft, empathetic smile, permed curls flitting in the faint breeze pushing grey clouds in an out of the moon's glow. People weren't lying, he really was handsome even if both his nose and ears had gone exceedingly pink.

Wind rushes through the air and with it carries the unmistakable stench of alcohol.

"Are you drunk?" flatly, you state and he rocks back and forth, sporting a supposedly innocent expression.

"A bit," he puts two fingers together. "Needed some courage."

"Alright," you drawl, rising to stand and he glimpses up at you. He doesn't at all seem intimidating as his fame made it seem. "Let's get you to bed before you'll get the idea to go ass bare into the ocean."

He embraces your offered hand with an offended pout.

Trailing up the narrow path to the guest house, you begin to tremble and immediately feel a jacket draped on your shoulders. Jin was looking away when you glanced at him in question.

"We should meet more often," he mutters near incoherently, entirely fixated on the ocean, though in the soft glow of the outdoor lighting you can spot that his eyes ever so slightly travel your way.

HOSEOK: Warily you glimpse at the blank hallways that stretch around you like a maze, littered with doors leading nowhere. You're going to die in here. Get lost and starve to death.

"__________?"

Hearing the questioning lilt of that voice, you shrink into yourself and wonder if it'd be feasible in any sort of way to pretend you can't hear him. But he draws a bold dash across your hopes with a single casual sentence.

"Hey, __________!"

Turning around, you clutch the water bottle like a shield. Hoseok struts towards you, his manager trailing behind. They exchange a few words and the other man slides past you with a polite, yet curt nod of the head.

"Hello, Mr Jung," your eyes naturally flit to anywhere, fucking anywhere, but the blinding smile spreading across his lips.

"Ah, ___________, still so official," he complains. You're not quite sure if there's a sentiment behind those words or if it's just something he thinks he needs to say. Regardless, you're much too intimidated to delve into it and as such count your prayers to get out of there as fast as possible.

After a stilted pause during which you can't force yourself to speak, he at last wonders out loud.

"What brings you here?"

Travel. Vacation. Hoseok-less promised vacation that Nall promised you'd have.

"You can see the Bean!" you remember her saying. "Lounge around in a hotel! Wander the Windy City!"

"What about your BFF?"

She had only thrown a hand at your concerns.

"Hoseok and I will be busy working through the routine," she scoffed. "We won't have time to hang out."

Maybe they won't but Nall could forget her water and whine for food, which meant you had to fetch both at the end of the day. Fetch both and run into Hoseok.

"Ah, Nall brought me along," you scratch at your nape, catching a whiff of the jumper's sleeve. Yeah, this was definitely not of the first freshness. "And she forgot her food and water, so I'm here to deliver it."

You jingle the bag as if to prove yourself. Hoseok laughs at that.

"Sorry," he sputters, pushing a palm in front of his mouth. "It just sounds like she's your puppy."

You smirk ungainly with him.

"I'll bring you to her," Hoseok drawls, feet turning back. "She's still in the practice room."

"Thank you," quietly you bid, shuffling next to him. At first, he seems bouncy but the longer you walk, the more you notice the way his shoulders slump. The darks under his eyes.

"Are you...nervous about your performance?"

He laughs again, but to your ears, it sounds forced. Quite a lot forced.

"I'm excited," he reiterates but for some reason, you persist.

"They don't cancel each other."

Hoseok was never your friend, mostly due to your own blame but how was it possible to ever not feel...cheap beside him. Your clothes, your hair, your likes, your days, everything about it was normal and he was decidedly not so. You were simply on two different levels and the way to bring them together was to exit from the game altogether. Nall sometimes remarked that he would ask about you but those times were usually in passing. This hasn't happened before. You never met him alone.

"Suppose they don't," he mutters, briefly appearing much more sullen, almost sunken. A shell. "It's just very..." he huffs a short breath full of wordless frustration. "Overwhelming."

"Nall says you make it overwhelming," you mumble and his eyes snap at you, instantly making you avoid his gaze.

"What do you say? Honestly."

You think about it.

"I think that it doesn't much matter how your performance will turn out because you're not going to be satisfied by it anyhow."

Hoseok makes a low sound at the back of his throat, pushing his hands deep into his pockets.

"And what would you do?"

"I would..." you fall into silence as well. "I would actively disregard all critique. Push it to later, and for now, concentrate on just being in all of this," you gesture at the building, of course, meaning in actuality, the festival. Hobipalooza, as Twitter, coined it. "Trust yourself, trust your fans and remember that sometimes the moment for critique comes after something is done."

You almost want to add the cowardly "but that's just what I think". After all, what were you risking putting yourself out there? Nothing much, nothing deadly. Nothing that could compare to thousands of eyes starved to get nothing but perfection and ready to examine your every single movement in one of the most stressful moments of your life.

Now you can't help but feel silly giving such "advice". It wouldn't be too grand of a surprise to see Hoseok roll his eyes in annoyance but he wasn't. He was glaring at the floor. Abruptly he stops and you fret he's going to curse you out or cast a cold shoulder but he does none of that, instead pointing at a door you've halted by.

"She's there," he states quietly and you madly scramble to get away, only to freeze when Hoseok calls out your name. Again.

"Thank you," he offers a weak smile which you return and then turns on the heel, trailing away, wrenched in deep thought. You could tell even from the curve of his back. With a sigh, you open the doors and bring down the very thunders of judgment upon Nall's head. For making you endure this torture.

Leaving the studio, you both waddle with some speed, eager for fresh air.

"Dress comfortably on Sunday," she remarks casually, pushing open the entrance doors, whilst absent-mindedly chewing a piece of chicken. It bobbed in her left cheek. "Hoseok just texted to offer you a VIP pass."

JIMIN: Everyone had gone dead silent. Like others, you turn to examine the stranger but seeing the shrunken stature, agitated and unwillingly placed in a spotlight, you quickly turn to frown at the hotel carpet.

"You should have told us."

Naturally, Em is the first one to do the scolding, and on instinct, you scoff.

"Well, I told you I'd bring the needed plus one and here he is," feebly, Malia gestured at the masked man. Didn't do him much good as you all realized who he was in the whooping span of 35 seconds.

They squabble amongst themselves for a while, until the decision is laid on you, eyes turned to hear your judgment. You were the last domino, whatever side you swing on, that will bound to happen.

"We needed one person, he's here," numbly, you shrug. "Nothing more to it."

Em appears displeased as all hell. Her face contorted in an expression of thinly veiled resentment but you couldn't care less. She could hitchhike far away from your group if she hated to be here so bad.

"He will be recognized," she hissed in the corner, earning a dirty glare from Malia and some others. "And then we'll have to muck up the mess!"

You stop by your friend, giving her the entrusted document folder without a word. Though unspoken, she understood the "talk later" without ever needing extra clarification. The guy glued to her side, Jimin, meets your gaze and blinks slowly. A hesitant "thank you" comes from underneath his mask.

"No problem," you reply cooly and head out.

No, the rest of the crowd didn't much like Jimin, and Jimin didn't much like them either which meant that you were saddled with him. You were with Malia and she was with him. It was an indisputable package.

"So are you...together?" you ask her cautiously as you two were the last one's outside the tents, chatting absent-mindedly around a dwindling campfire. Immediately she stutters, a grimace seizing her features.

"What? No!" she cries out, seemingly scandalized beyond any belief that you would even suggest such a thing. "We're just friends. Nothing more."

"Then why did you bring him here?"

Her lips purse and she reaches to gruffly poke the cindering wood with a stick.

"I don't know..." she trailed off. "He's never had much of stuff like this. Normal stuff, you know, and one day I was raving on and on about what fun it is - the nature, you, everything - and he had this faraway look in his eye and I..." she sighed. "I felt bad. So I invited him to gift that sense of normalcy. If for a little."

Malia was always so kind-hearted. Whenever you began to feel like Jimin was all one of your best friends could see, you recalled her words, summoning each letter to the forefront of your mind and then letting the matter be. And it wasn't like Jimin was a heinous travel companion. Quite the opposite. He helped you out whenever he could, even without asking but the conversations you had were scarce, limited mostly to single words instead of sentences. But life is funny, though you don't think highly of her sense of humour.

"I'm sorry," the receptionist bid once again and you sag on your bag, drenched in ice and thoroughly drained. "All the rest of the rooms truly are full."

The math was simple and judging from the skirting glances passed around the lobby, everyone knows that. Two unlucky bastards would have to sleep in the campervan. And while you wouldn't have to share a bed, the space in that foul machinery was so small, you might as well have. Just thinking of the airless, claustrophobic space parked outside gives you a nauseating shiver, in spite of sensing in your heart, or the sixth sense, that it'd be just your luck to end up there. You draw matches.

Two losers.

You and Jimin.

Awkwardly you glance at each other before turning away. Malia loved Jimin and you like two siblings but even her gaze flitters somewhere around the wooden beams of the ceiling.

The dinner proceeds with lingering tension. You shower, partake heavily in the buffet, drink hot wine and just before lights out, miserably slump to the campervan. When you yank the doors, Jimin, who'd you not seen for some time, recoils as if shot. You cast him a tight-lipped smile only to halt in confusion.

"I...made a bed for you," he explains, shuffling to the side.

"I...Thank you. You're very kind."

Jimin smiles, brightly, broadly, so much that his eyes disappear into thin lines of happiness.

"You've gone completely red!" he cries out amidst peels of laughter, pointing incriminatingly at your face and immediately you find your gaze lowering. Escaping him.

"I'm glad my internal temperature amuses you," you drawl and he laughs harder.

TAEHYUNG: "Just trust me!"

"Ah, yes, the pinnacle of reliability. Yelling "trust me" after every two steps."

Jae casts a displeased side-eye at your grumbling figure, shivering like a stranded leaf in the wind. The loose clothing did little to protect you from the sudden onslaught of unwanted elements, and despite wholeheartedly agreeing with Jae to go to the snottiest brunch of all time, mostly for a change of scenery, it didn't hinder you in the slightest - from complaining your heart out that is.

"He should be here any moment," Jae mutters, jumping up and down from cold like a delirious flamingo.

"Why can't we just take a taxi?" you cry out when a punishing wind strikes your back.

"Because it's expensive! And besides," Jae began to erratically wave towards a stream of cars coming down the road. "He was driving around anyway."

"What for?"

"Says it clears his head."

By sitting in traffic? But before you could dispute it any further, a car does roll to the side of the street where you stood waiting. You had to admit it was a nice car, though you couldn't say much more than that. This was Jae's strangest of friends, bearing no name or workplace as far as you knew. You'd never understood why Jae, a reputable blabbermouth, felt the need to be so goddamn cryptic but the issue also didn't capture enough of your attention for you to pester him. You let it be. Currently facing the ominous darkness of two tinted windows, you swallowed. And maybe shuffled behind Jae to peer dubiously when the car doors opened.

"Hey man," Jae leant down, wearing a broad, dazzling smile. "Thanks for helping us out."

"No problem."

Bizarre, you could swear you knew that voice. Something about it tickled an acquainted nerve. Naturally, as you stood there wondering, Jae was already sticking a foot in the backdoor with no inhibition whatsoever. You attempted to follow him only to be shocked in stupor when Jae casually tossed out:

"Hey, can they sit in the front? Carsick traveller here."

"Of course."

As a form of retribution, you elbow him in the ribs, hard, and begrudgingly climb into the passenger seat, only to have your entire muscle system stiffen and ears ring as you fixate on anything but the driver.

You were positively going to rip Jae an entirely new set of holes.

"You don't mind some music, do you?" Kim Oh Christ Taehyung questions oh so considerate and Jae affirms that he doesn't. You can't even manage a stutter. Maybe if you don't look at him, he won't exist...

"So, __________, are you feeling better these days?"

Elegant. The goal is to sound elegant, put-together and most of all, n o n c h a l a n t.

You squeak a breathy, high-pitched laughter.

"What?"

Why not just unbuckle the seatbelt and drop yourself out on the road? Surely, would hurt less.

You hear Jae press his entire face into a seat to muffle his laughter.

"Oh," Kim The Fucking Taehyung, blinking at you, befuddled. "Jae was just saying that you'd been sick for some time."

You wither away with a smile. They'd been talking about you. Kim Taehyung knew about your cold. Why not?

"I'm fine now. Thank you for asking."

He nods, with a hum, then turns up the volume.

"Do you like this song?" he converses with ease you can only envy. Your cheeks burn and you find enough belief in your heart to pray that soon he won't be so friendly. You tune into the melody, before shaking your head.

"I haven't heard this one. Not my type probably."

"Oh," Kim Thee Taehyung deflates visibly by the wheel, rubbing the back of his neck with one palm. "It's my song."

You should have just stayed home. No, no, you should have just never woken up. Maybe you should have never been born.

"Oh," dully, you echo. "I mean it's a nice song! I just...listen to other genres."

Well, at least Jae finds this very amusing. The rest of the car ride is spent in relative silence, with only a few, well-meaning questions: where are you going? Do you need a ride home? Jae agrees but you think firmly to yourself that even walking back home would be a more viable option.

At last, Kim The Taehyung rolls up to the obnoxious brunch place Jae wanted to burn his funds through and faster than a bullet, you bend your head his way, squeak a mousy "thank you" and jump out of the car, wondering if somewhere amidst the pose you managed to flash him. Maybe you should just move. Like to Mars. Enrol in one of those space programs. Jae bids his friend, Kim The One and Only Taehyung, a warm goodbye, expressing his own gratitude for such help on this fine Saturday morning. Just before he leaves, Taehyung finds your gaze and waves.

"See you soon, _____________! You're funny."

JUNGKOOK: "Get your fucking stompers off my carpet!" you groan, the second you find that husk of a black dot, sprawled all over your furniture, a handful of chips reaching towards his mouth.

"So unhospitable," Jungkook tuts and you roll your eyes. If a year ago you would have questioned why a k-pop boy was snacking and watching your TV then right now it was just a part of a deeply harrowing weekly routine.

Kiya pokes her head through your open bedroom with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, we just needed a place to escape the paparazzi."

"And get pre-drinks," you note, sternly gazing at the various bottles littered all over your precious coffee table. Kiya can only laugh and disappear at that. With some amazement mixed with judgment you watch as Jungkook shovels the food into the bottomless pit that most people called mouth.

"Don't worry about it," Kiya huffed, blowing strands of her sweaty hair from her eyes. You dropped the box onto the floor of your empty apartment. Your own place. Who would have thought? But who also had the bright idea that they didn't need a moving agency! They could get on their own. Well, ten strangers later and you were still only halfway through. Bodies pressed against the narrow hallway, catching breath and mercy like they'd been through a war. All of them were friends of friends, with the last one running late. Kiya insisted that this guy would be your salvation, he could lift anything and was insanely competitive to also succeed or :

"Sprain an ankle trying!" Kiya laughed but you found no humour in her sentence. At last, a smooth and breathy voice greeted people around him by the entrance, and without wasting any time, the stranger perched your full-length mirror on his back, making his arduous way up the stairs.

"He's a madman," you gasped.

"He also accepts the payment in food, so we're going somewhere to eat later on," Kiya poked you by the side, gesturing to free the space for her atlas of a friend.

A year later, you bore just about the same opinion about Jungkook. The guy truly was a madman. But as annoying as he was, you still were thankful that he had hauled half of the furniture up two flights of stairs that day.

"So, Grumpy," he poked with his knee as you sat down. "You coming to my show?"

"Undecided."

"Oh, come on," he whined loudly and you glared at him, seeing some of the chips stain your precious sofa. "Just because you look like Grumpy The Dwarf, doesn't mean you have to act like him too."

You can't kill Korea's national pride, you repeat it like a mantra in your head. You can't kill Korea's national pride.

After a dizzying wave and a stupid row of giggles, Kiya and Jungkook waltz away from your home, leaving you sighing and exhausted on a Friday evening. Maybe you should have joined them...But the second you drown in more comfortable clothes, the thought of leaving dissipates from your mind.

As nameless movie drones in the background and the silence of the night is filled with the rhythmic chopping of your knife, you try to convince yourself that you're not lonely. You're striving, as they say. You're cruising through life, with a stable, clean home and a stable job. Many people had much less, you were lucky. But the crushing solitude, makes your fingers halt and suddenly you feel thoroughly appalled by the simple process of making yet another meal to eat with no company. Perhaps you should get a cat? Perhaps go straight to two?

A quiet rap by the door interrupts the ever-reliable routine and you cautiously paddle to see who'd come by your door, only to scream when a big eye reflects into your peephole.

"Oh, what do you want?" you berate him but there's something different about Jungkook. For one, he's red like a ripened tomato, and secondly, his expression was unexpectedly sincere.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," says he, swaying slightly and slurring his words. "You don't look like Grumpy the Dwarf. I meant to only tease but then I thought about it and it may have been a little rude."

"It's okay," you drawl in vague comfort as he guiltily scuffs the tip of his shoe against the ground. "Is that everything?"

"Yes! No!" he pouts in a frustrated manner. "I came to clean."

"To clean?"

Clearly disorientated he blunders into your home, squinting at the sofa.

"I made a mess here," he mumbled. "I ought to clean it. Where's the vacuum?" he began to spin around which foreseeably ended up with him kneeling on the floor, head caught between his trembling hands.

"Damn, this carousel is crazy," you hear him mutter to himself.

"I just think he doesn't quite know how to talk to you," Kiya, truly shockingly being the more sober one, reflects as Jungkook snores on the floor. Rolled to the side, courtesy provided by you. She'd barged in, deep in the throes of a crying frenzy, yelling that Jungkook was kidnapped and it was all her fault, and the Korean government will sentence her to death. Yet when the initial panic wore off and everyone's ride home was organised, she was once again the elegant, collected angel you'd known her as. Jungkook was...well, slumbering on your floor, blissfully unaware of the world around him.

You both sat around him, eating grapes and partaking in some much-needed late-night talk. "Like sometimes he tries to be really cool which comes off as aggravating. Despite being an idol, he's still human you know, and he wants to be liked."

Kiya takes a sip of her water, a picture definition of refined behaviour even if one of her lashes were hanging by her cheek.

"Why does he want to even talk to me?" you ponder, checking if he was still breathing. By the unflattering tractor sounds rising from his face, it was safe to assume yes.

"He thinks you're cool," she shrugs. "Hence why he tries to emulate that."

"And sorely fails," you shake your head at him and Jungkook stirs, blinking tearily at your figure. "You keep sleeping, honey. Don't worry about a thing."

Naturally, the sarcasm goes right above his head and with a polite, obedient nod, he's knocked out again.

When with some extreme difficulty, you manage to hurl him into the backseat of his company's car, he drunkenly grasps your palm into a handshake.

"Let's be friends, okay," he offers, barely stringing together any coherent sentence. Kiya glances at you, clearly guilt-tripping at this point but Jungkook wasn't a bad guy. At least, you didn't think so. Thus you shake his large and bizarrely soft hand and promise okay, you'll be friends.

He giggles at that, nose scrunching up in an expression of pure happiness.

Maybe he wasn't the coolest around you, but he wasn't a bad guy. Not even a bad friend, you reckon.

© soraviii/soraviie 2022-2023

[valiantwarrior37]

Another favorite 🤣💀

"I didn't realize until now, but I'm pretty handsome." "You really didn't know? How could you not know? I'm sure people around you would've told you all the time." "Why didn't you tell me?"

[galatially]

❝𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭❞

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 x 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞!𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 — my gaze lingered, waiting for you to notice me; how far would bucky barnes go to get the attention of his favorite tutor?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 3.5K

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝟏𝟖+, strong language, thigh riding, oral (fem receiving), idiots in love

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — my old page did not deserve the fics i had written for it, lol. because this was fucking cute

“…hello? James?” 

Fingers snapped in front of his line of sight. He blinked and saw your brown eyes in front of him, your full lips fixed into a frown. 

“You asked me here, remember? I have my own midterms to study for.”

Bucky smiled, broad and smug. “You know you love bein’ around me, Y/N/N.”

“Please stop calling me that. Only people from home call me that.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair. “Can I call you sugar?”

You gave him a flat look. “You can pay attention to this study guide I spent all night drawing up for you.”

Bucky blew out a breath, turned to the notes in front of him, and studied. For ten minutes. He looked over at you. The tip of your tongue peeked from between your plush lips as you scrawled out notes with one hand and flipped through your textbook with the other. 

When had he ever been so entranced by someone before? 

“Looking at me isn’t going to help you pass your Calculus II midterm,” you chided. 

“I’m hungry. You?”

You set down your pen, a thick brow arched. “If we break for food, will you let me study?”

A wolfish grin stretched across his face. “Among other things.”

“Fine.” You slammed your textbook shut and gathered your things. “Meet me at Daly’s in fifteen.”

Bucky nodded, a grin tugging at his lips. “See you in fifteen.”

Fridays at Daly’s were your least favorite nights.

The small pub couldn’t have held more than one hundred people but everyone seemed to want to pack in like sardines. Whiffs of cologne, floral perfume, and body odor intermingled with the smell of bar food and alcohol. 

You sat at the bar, nursing a glass of pear and apple cider, eyeing the door for signs of Bucky. You raised your phone and surveyed the screen: half past eight. 

He was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago! 

You sighed and took a sip of your drink. 

“Hey, Y/N/N.” 

Your childhood friend, Steve Rogers, took the stool beside you, his blue eyes bright. 

“Hey, Stevie,” you said, smiling. “What brings you here? I thought you had a study group tonight.”

He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “We’re taking a break to get some food and then heading back to my dorm. What about you? You not tutoring tonight?”

“I was. But my student wanted food and now he’s late.” You rolled your eyes. “I don’t even know why I agreed to this.”

“You even got dressed up,” the blond remarked. 

Your face warmed. “No, I didn’t!” Compared to what you normally wore, your fitted black jeans and lacy crop top were dressier. And maybe you dusted your favorite highlighter along the apples of your cheeks and swiped some of your trusty lipgloss on your lips. 

You didn’t do it for James Barnes. Far from it. 

“I just felt like getting a little cute, Rogers! Is that so bad?”

He put his palms up, a smirk on his lips. “I’m just saying you look mighty fine for someone you view as just a student.”

You took another sip of your cider. “I don’t think anything of James.”

Steve’s brows furrowed. “James? As in Bucky Barnes?”

“Why does everyone call him Bucky? That’s such an odd nickname.”

“It’s short for Buchanan,” a voice answered. 

You and Steve turned and saw the man in question standing behind them. His brown eyes were hard as they looked between the two of you. “It’s my middle name. Everybody calls me Bucky.” He tipped his chin to Steve. “‘Sup, Rogers?”

“Yo,” Steve said, throwing him a two finger salute. He stood up from his barstool and turned to face Jo. “Text me later, okay? Let me know you got home okay.”

“I can get her home just fine.”

You shot Bucky a glare. “Yeah, okay, Stevie. Have fun with your study group.”

Steve pressed a kiss to your temple and gave a short nod to Bucky before disappearing into the crowd of coeds. 

“You and Rogers, huh? Didn’t peg you for the type,” Bucky said.

You narrowed your eyes. “And what type is that, James?”

“The girl that falls for the blond-haired, blue-eyed, all-American type.”

“Not that it’s any of your business who I spend my time with, Steve and I have been friends since grade school. He’s practically my brother.” 

His face softened. “I’m sorry, sugar. I didn’t know.”

You shrugged. “You never asked.” You knocked back the rest of your drink and slammed a ten dollar note on the bar. “Good night, James.” You slid off of the barstool and pushed past him. 

A hand gripped your wrist. “Y/M, wait. I’m sorry. I know I’m late but I can explain.”

You didn’t need an explanation, you didn’t care. Why should you? You weren’t even really friends. Glorified acquaintances at best. But despite yourself, you turned to face him, a dark brow raised. “Well? Spit it out.” 

“I was nervous.” Under the dimmed lights, you saw his cheeks turn red. “Can I be totally honest with you? I don’t need your tutoring.” 

You frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I signed up for your study sessions to get closer to you.” He took hold of your hand and threaded his fingers between yours. “I’ve been trying to find a way to get you to notice me and I figured that getting your help with a class was a good way.”

“Why go through all of that trouble, though?”

“Y/N.” Bucky looked you up and down. “I like you.”

Your jaw went slack. Did you hear him right? “You…like me?”

He tugged your arm and pulled you into his chest. His right thumb skimmed along the curve of your bottom lip. “I was pissed when I saw Rogers talking to you. Looked like you two were close.”

“We are,” you said, your voice hoarse. 

“Closer.”

You shook your head, your earrings hitting your cheeks. “Steve’s like a brother to me and I’m a sister to him. He’s dating a girl named Sharon from back home. She’s a Sociology major.” 

“Good to know.”

Bucky’s touch scorched your skin. When did his his free hand go to the small of your back? You couldn’t remember the last time a guy’s touch made you feel this way, if ever. But here you were, in James Buchanan Barnes’ arms in the middle of a dingy pub. 

“James, I — ”

“Have I ever told you I love when you call me James?” A slow smirk made its way onto his lips. “You make it sound so sensual. Sexy.” Your mouth dried. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, dazed.

“You’ll see.”

You had never put much thought to how Bucky’s dorm would look but you were surprised to see that he and his roommate were clean and organized.

Before you could say anything, his mouth slanted over yours. He buried his fingers in your curls and lightly tugged. The moan that left you was swallowed by the kiss. You fisted his shirt collar and yanked him forward. His kiss was sloppy, teeth and skin and tongues clashing together. 

“James.” His name was breathy as it left your lips. Your eyes flicked between his eyes and his mouth and that turned him on. Your chest rose and fell in exaggerated breaths. “What are we doing?”

“Something we should’ve done a long time ago.” Bucky kissed you again, harder than the first time. You moaned into the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you onto his lap. Your clothed pussy ground against his thigh, your wetness dampening his pant leg. 

“You all wet for me, baby?”

“Yes, sir,” you teased, your voice husky. 

Bucky groaned and scooped your up into his arms and carried you to the bed. “Call me sir again and you won’t be able to walk for a week.” 

Your jaw went slack. You’d never heard him talk to you like that. So rough and authoritative. You put a hand on his chest. “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?”

Your brown eyes searched his. “If we do this, we can’t be just friends. You know that, right? Everything changes.” 

“Oh, Y/N/N.” Bucky stroked the side of your face. “I’ve never wanted to be just friends with you.” He kissed you again. Both pairs of hands fumbled to remove their clothing as you ground your wet mound against his clothed thigh. “Gettin’ eager, huh, sugar?”

You pulled back, a half smile on your lips. “Are you even Southern?” 

“I’m an army brat,” Bucky answered, “But I spent more time in Kentucky.”

“Huh.” You smiled. “You should tell me more about your childhood sometime.”

“Sure. But right now, I’m fuckin’ desperate to be inside of you.” His eyes lingered on your plush mouth. “And I’m curious to know how many times I can make you cum.”

You made a guttural sound in the back of your throat. Your head was spinning; no one had ever spoken to you like this before. From your few sexual encounters in university, you found that most men advertised themselves opposite of how they were. You’d find yourself left unsatisfied and had sworn off of flings in lieu of tutoring and classes. 

You’d been sitting on Bucky’s lap for mere minutes and you were ready to give yourself over to him tenfold. 

“Well?”

You blinked. “What?”

“How many times do you want to cum?”

You rested your head into the curve of his shoulder. “You can’t just ask me questions like that, James.” 

A shudder rippled through Bucky. “Why not? I want you to feel good.”

You nipped at the skin peeking out from beneath his shirt collar. “I want you to feel good, too.”

He groaned and flexed his thigh. The friction made you throw your head back and a loud moan to spill from your mouth. “Fuck, baby, you sound like sin.” He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to the column of her neck. He nipped and licked at the satin skin, chuckling when you hissed in pleasure. 

“Fuck.” 

You ground your wet cunt against his hard thigh, your grip on his shoulders tightening. Bucky’s hands found your hips and helped your build up a rhythm. Your breasts bounced as you rode his thigh and soft grunts and groans jumped from your honeyed mouth. You started moving faster, signaling you were close. “Fuck, James, I’m going to cum.”

Bucky tightened his hold on your hips. “You gonna cum from ridin’ my thigh? I haven’t even been inside yet.” He held you still and you whined, your brown eyes glaring and blown out. “I want to taste you.”

You eyes widened some. “What?”

He flipped them over and made quick work of your skin-tight jeans. His rough hands trailed along your hipbones and pelvis, tracing light circles in her skin. Your eyes screwed shut and you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. His lips replaced his fingers and you sucked in a sharp breath. You fisted tufts of his hair when you felt his warm breath on your cunt.

Bucky kitten-licked your sensitive bud and you arched your back off of the bed. He loved how responsive you were. He looked up at your writhing form and chuckled. 

“Your pussy’s weeping for me, sugar.”

“Stop teasing me,” you whined. He licked a stripe up your slit and you yelped. “James!”

“Keep saying my name like that, sugar. Let the neighbors hear.”

Neighbors? You were so far gone you didn’t care if the whole campus heard you. You just needed his mouth. Your head was spinning and your body tingled. 

“I swear to God, Bucky, if you don’t fuck me — ” 

Your words left on a moan as his tongue dove into your creamy center. You’d never gotten head like this, fast and hard. Bucky pinched and rolled your clit between two fingers and you gasped, squeezing his head between your thighs. “Oh, fuck! Fuck, yes!”

His laughter vibrated against your pussy. He’d been dreaming about what you’d taste like. His fantasies did you no justice. You were sweet like honey and he couldn’t get enough. He threw your legs over his shoulders and took hold of your hips to still you. Your moans were frenzied and throaty, echoing off of his dorm room walls. He felt your belly tighten and added two fingers as he sucked and lapped at your cunt. 

“Fuck, Bucky, I’m cumming!” A broken mix between a sob and a moan left your mouth and you went limp.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to catch your breath,” he said, smug.

You threw an arm over your face. “I can’t. No more.”

Bucky moved up your body. “Oh, baby. We’re going all night.”

Bucky had woken alone many times in his life. But waking up beside the imprint of what was your body burned something hellish in his chest. 

“Yo, Barnes!” His roommate, Sam Wilson, pounded his fist against the door. “I need to get changed for my next class! Tell your guest to find her own room!”

Bucky groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Come in, you idiot! ’S just me.”

The door opened with Sam’s head creeping around it. His brown eyes gave a tentative scan of the room before pushing the door and striding into the room. He looked his roommate up and down. “What’s that on your face?”

“What?”

“That look. Like somebody just kicked your damn dog in front of you.” Sam threw his shirt over his head and went to rifle through his wardrobe. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Bucky said on a sigh. 

“Bullshit. I’ve never seen you so hurt.” Sam draped a towel over his shoulder. “What, your little flavor not like you in the daylight?”

Bucky threw a pillow at him. “Shut the fuck up.”

“What! I’m just askin’ a question!” Sam turned to face him, shower caddy in hand. “Whatever that girl did to you last night wasn’t what you needed.” He rolled his eyes and left Bucky alone in their room. 

“It’s what she did this morning,” Bucky said to himself. 

After not hearing from you for two weeks, Bucky had gone to the tutoring center to question you. Why were you ignoring him? Was the sex too far? Why did she leave him that morning?

He knocked on the glass window and saw Maria Hill, the librarian and director of the tutoring center, sitting at her desk. Her bespectacled blue eyes found his, a wide smile stretched along her lips. “James! I haven’t seen your name on the sign-in sheet in a while. What’s up?”

“Hey, Ms. Hill.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Have you heard from Y/N? I don’t have her number but she’s been ignoring my messages and I was getting worried.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought she put the bulletin on Blackboard.” Bucky raised a brow. “She’s been sick the past two weeks. Her roommate, Wanda, has been getting her coursework for her.”

“Oh.”

Ms. Hill gave him a small smile. “If you want to check on her, go talk to Wanda.”

Bucky nodded. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I’d find her, would you?”

“I’m sorry, no.” She pursed her lips in thought. “But I think her friend Steve would.”

“Hey, Bucky.”

There was no plausible reason for Bucky to have disliked Steve Rogers as much as he did. Well, he knew the reason. From what little Bucky knew about him from you and Sam, he was a nice guy. He was the football team’s running back, he tutored like you did, and vice president of Lambda Kappa Tau. Though he was too boy next door for Bucky’s taste, they could be great friends if they’d spent a night at Daly’s together. 

The local diner, Rusty’s, was quiet this afternoon.  Bucky had seen Steve on shift a few times he’d come in with you for breaks but they rarely spoke. “Hey, R — Steve. I’m sorry to interrupt you while you’re at work.”

Steve waved him off, a broad smile on his face. “No problem. What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask if you’ve heard from Y/N lately.”

Steve sighed and shook his head. “Last I heard about her was a Snapchat message from Wanda last week. Said that she was banning contact to Y/N until she got better.” He lifted a shoulder. “We’ve texted a few times since when she’s awake but I haven’t seen her, no.”

Bucky hummed. “Well, at least I know she’s not ignoring me.”

“Ignoring you? What’d you do?”

“Nothing!” Steve raised a brow. “We just — we had a thing. A moment, really, last Friday.”

“After that night at the bar.”

“Yeah. I mean, I thought we were fine. But thinking back, maybe I came on too strong.” Bucky put his face in his hands and groaned. “I fucked up.”

“Look,” Steve sighed, “I can’t speak for Y/N but I’ve known her since fourth grade. She’s not someone that runs away from issues or people.” He chuckled. “Besides, she never fakes being sick. She’s too much of a workaholic.”

Bucky snorted. “Tell me about it.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve heard from some of the guys on the team that she was worse than some of their hardest professors. Though I don’t know why you were one of her tutees.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re in my buddy, Piet’s, STAT301 class. From what I’ve heard, Biostatistics is no walk in the park.” 

“If you’re talking about Maximoff, tell him he owes me coffee and a new notebook.”

“I will,” Steve said, laughing. A blonde came up beside Steve and motioned to the table across from where both men stood. “Let me finish up here. Thanks, Nadine.” He turned back to Bucky. “I’m going to give you Wanda’s number. Text her to see if Y/N willing to have visitors.”

“Thanks.” The right side of Bucky’s mouth quirked up. “You’re an all right guy, Steve.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Bucky. Maybe after you and Y/N figure your thing out, we can all hang. Me, you, Y/N, and my girlfriend, Sharon. It’d be nice.”

Bucky clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “I’d really like that.” 

“Y/N/N?”

From beneath your duvet, you poked your head out. “Yeah?”

“You’ve got a visitor. One of your students.”

You groaned. “Tell whoever it is that I’m indisposed, Wanda. Give them the number of my replacement.”

“You hiding from me, Y/L/N?”

Despite the pounding in your head, you jolted forward at the voice. Leaning against your doorway stood James Buchanan Barnes in all of his sexy glory. Suddenly, you were aware of your own state of dress: bloodshot eyes, oversized bonnet atop your head, and a low cut tank top with no bra. 

You squared your shoulders and narrowed your eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to go through three people to find you,” he said. “You had me worried.”

Your face softened. “You don’t need to worry about me, James.” You gave a weak chuckle. “I’m just a little tired, is all.”

“Your roommate said that you overworked yourself.” He crossed the room and turned on your bedside lamp. In the soft glow, his brown eyes were soft as they took you in. His large hand cupped your forehead. “You still have a bit of a fever. Have you eaten today?”

“I just woke up,” you admitted. 

“Have you been drinking water?”

“There’s a water bottle in front of my side dresser.” You put your hand over his and moved it to your cheek. “I’m sorry I made you worry.”

Bucky smiled. “’S fine. I like taking care of you.”

You chuckled. “Don’t count me out just yet. Before you came, I was awake for three hours.”

“Bravo.” He moved his hand away from you face. “I want to talk about last Saturday. If that’s okay.”

You pulled your brows down. “What about it?”

“You left. No note, no text. You just left me alone.”

Your eyes flicked to your bedroom door. “Can you shut the door, please? This sounds like a private conversation.” 

He nodded and strode across the room, closing the door. When he turned to face you, you’d pushed your duvet off of your body and moved to the middle of your bed. 

“Come sit down.”

“Sugar — ”

“Please, Bucky.” He sighed and moved to sit beside you. “You told me that you liked me and I never answered.”

“You didn’t.”

“Well, I do. Like you, I mean. I don’t know why I never said anything.” You smiled at him. “Though the sex solidified it for me.”

“So to clarify: you like me, too, and you weren’t avoiding me?”

“Why would I avoid you? You’ve literally seen me naked!”

Bucky threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know! I thought that I did something or that you didn’t feel the same way.”

“Of course I like you, you clown.” You rested your head against his shoulder. “So much.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your temple. “Enough to go on a real date with me?”

“Are you going to be on time?”

“For you, I’ll be early.” 

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — i'll say it once, i'll say it again: brown 👏🏽 eyed 👏🏽 bucky 👏🏽 supremacy 👏🏽