#i have to focus up here to move around and talk and things

[firewasabeast]

crash that helicopter, let chimney and tommy talk, and let's get buck and tommy back together!

“Hang on, Tommy! We got ya, Bud. Just hang on.”

A part of him wondered why they were even bothering. He knew his chances the second he decided to change course and crash into the ground.

Actually, he knew before then. He knew the second the gun was put on him and he was told to fly. There was no alternate ending for him.

He was going to die today.

That’s when he decided he might as well take the rest of them with him.

Now, familiar hands were on him, touching his body. Reaching underneath him to feel along his spine, strapping a brace around his neck, sticking needles into his arm, all while asking him questions he couldn’t quite form answers to.

“Can you feel this, Tommy?” Hen asked. She was poking at his foot.

He could feel it. He could feel everything. He could feel too much.

“Y- Yeah,” he choked out.

There was a strong taste of metal in his mouth. Something wet on his lips, running down his chin.

Through blurry eyes, he could see Howie and Hen share a look. Then Hen was grabbing some gauze and wiping his mouth clean.

“We’re nearly done, Tommy,” Chimney said, and Tommy was impressed by how steady he kept his voice. Howie was meant for this job, for this life. His ability to keep people calm even as they knew they were taking their final breaths was a gift. Tommy wished he was able to say as much before he died. “We’re getting your leg set before we go.”

“S’fine,” he muttered out. “I… okay.”

A tear fell out of the corner of his eye, but he wasn’t crying. At least, he wasn’t meaning to cry. It was more from the pain than anything else. He felt like every bone in his body had been crushed. Like all his organs had been rearranged and squeezed with a vise.

There was a loud wheezing sound happening, and he was pretty sure it was coming from him.

Slowly, his eyes began to close, and the pain started to fade a bit, until a harsh rub on his chest had him gasping and his eyes opening up wide.

“Stay with us, Tommy,” Hen instructed, wiping at his mouth again. “Almost there.”

“Is… I don’t… Ev- where’s…” Tommy’s arm flailed out beside him, his brain a jumbled mess. He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to say, but he knew he needed to say something.

“What’s that, Bud?” Chimney asked, placing pressure somewhere low on his abdomen.

“Ev… Where’s E- Evan?”

Another shared look between Chim and Hen.

“Buck is-” Hen paused, looking just past Chimney. “He’s actually coming over right now, Tommy.”

Tommy went to shake his head no, but the brace prevented it. He didn’t want Evan to watch him die. He just needed them to tell him something, if he could think of what that something was.

“No,” he breathed out, voice barely audible. “N- No, d-”

“Tommy! Tommy, I’m here. You’re okay, I’m here.” Buck was panting, kneeling down beside Tommy and leaning forward so he could look right at him. “I- I’m here. You- You’ll be fine, Tommy.”

He was trying to be strong, Tommy could tell. Trying to blink away the tears that filled his eyes. Trying to keep his voice from breaking.

Tommy couldn’t have that. He didn’t want to see Evan sad. He never wanted to see Evan sad.

He tried to reach for Evan, but his hand wouldn’t quite move the way he wanted it to and it ended up just flopping up and down.

Understanding, Buck took the hand in his and held onto him. “We’ll b- be taking you to the hospital real soon, Tommy. They’ll g- get you fixed right up.”

Tommy had to focus on his words. See them in his head and work to get his mouth to open and his voice to work the way he needed it to. “S’okay,” he gasped out. “S’okay.” He could feel more tears pouring from both corners of his eyes. A steady stream that he had no control over. Still, he kept talking to Buck. “E… Evan, I- I’m… okay. Don’t w- worry.”

There was so much he wanted to say. So many things he wanted to tell Evan before it was too late.

I’m sorry I ever left.

I’m sorry I was too scared to be honest with you.

I’m sorry I thought we were more than what we were.

You made me so happy.

I love you so much.

Thank you for being my last.

None of that would come out though. Not when he was coughing, choking on the blood that was gurgling up in his throat.

“We gotta go now,” Chimney decided, and everyone sprang into action.

Tommy remembered them lifting him. He remembered groaning out in pain. He remembered Evan holding onto his hand tighter.

Then, there was nothing.

*****

There was a pressure weighing his body down. A heavy, thick pressure.

It wasn’t painful.

A little warm, if anything.

Made his body feel half numb, but in a good way.

His finger twitched. His eyes did too.

It took a second but, eventually, he was able to crack them open.

He was in a bed, elevated slightly, sheets up to his waist, the room white and sterile.

He was alive.

How the hell was he alive?

“There he is,” a familiar voice said beside him. His eyes drifted toward the sound, and there was Howie, standing right beside him with a wide smile on his face. “About time you joined us.”

“I…” God, Tommy’s throat felt like sandpaper.

“Buck’s gonna be pissed that you woke up the first time he leaves for ten minutes to go eat lunch in the cafeteria.”

Tommy’s brain was foggy. “Wh- What?”

“You’ve been out for a day and a half, Man,” Chimney informed him. “Scared the hell out of everyone, by the way. Coded three times on your way in. I think you’ve broken a record for body parts that required surgery.”

Tommy blinked a few times, trying to comprehend the things Chimney was telling him. “Can I… water?”

“Oh, yeah!” Chimney grabbed the little styrofoam cup off the tray table and held the straw to Tommy’s mouth. “Go slow. Not too much.”

Slowly, Tommy drank on the water. He swallowed down three sips before pulling away. “Thank you.”

“Need anything else right now? In any pain? Need a nurse?”

Tommy shook his head. “No, thanks.” He glanced around the room, noticing five different bouquets lined up along the window sill. There was a teddy bear in the middle, and a piece of construction paper taped to the wall that was covered in different colors of hearts.

He knew the picture had to come from Jee. The rest though… he couldn’t think of that many people who would send him stuff.

“Wh… What happened?”

Chimney grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it closer to the bed, then took a seat. “You’re a dumbass who played hero,” he replied. “Crashed your helicopter on purpose to prevent a terrorist attack.”

Oh yeah. Now Tommy remembered.

“D… Did they-”

“You’re the only survivor, Tommy.”

“Oh.” Tommy didn’t really feel one way or the other about those men dying. Not when they were planning on killing hundreds, if not thousands, of people anyway.

He raised a finger toward the flowers. “Who?”

Chimney glanced back. “Oh, those? Uh, Bobby and Athena sent one, Hen and Karen, Eddie, Ravi, and then Maddie and I got the ones on the end. The picture there is courtesy of Jee, and the teddy bear is all Buck. Said it’s an inside joke or something about bears, I did not ask beyond that.”

A grin briefly appeared on Tommy’s face, but it quickly disappeared. “You didn’t h- have to-”

Howie rolled his eyes. “Don’t even start. Harbor is setting up a food chain, by the way, once you get home they’ll be bringing stuff by.”

“That… That’s nice.”

Chimney sighed, looking back towards the door before he continued. “Listen, Buck’s gonna come bursting through the door any second, so I’m gonna fast forward through the small talk and get to it. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but I know love when I see it. He loves you, Tommy, and I know you love him too.”

Now was really not the time. “Howie-”

“No. I know things were said between the two of you. Maddie and I aren’t great at keeping secrets, especially from each other. Whatever Buck said to you that day, he didn’t mean it. Just like I’m sure there are some things you said that you didn’t mean.”

Tommy looked away from Chimney, opting to stare out the window.

“Okay, maybe you did mean it. Maybe you really think so little of yourself that you think there’s no way anyone could ever love a guy like you.” Chimney leaned forward, moving so he was in Tommy’s direct line of sight. “But let me tell you something about you, Tommy. You’re a good person, whether you believe it or not. You’re there for people. You show up. You were willing to die just so other people wouldn’t get hurt. Even as you thought you were dying you were trying to console Buck and make sure he was okay. That’s the Tommy I know.”

Tears filled Tommy’s eyes. His lip trembled slightly. He tried to keep it together.

“I know that Buck hasn’t left you for a second until today, and he only did that if I promised to stick to your side like glue. No bathroom breaks,” Chimney continued. “I know that there were five men holding him back at the scene of the crash. He had direct orders from the chief that he’d be suspended or worse if he so much as tried to get near you, but he did it anyway. That’s a man who has loved his job more than anything else in the world for as long as I’ve known him, but he didn’t give it a second thought when it came to you.”

Tommy swallowed hard. A tear fell down his cheek.

“You’re loved, Tommy. And not just by Buck. See those flowers?” He pointed back to the bouquets. “The smallest bouquet is like fifty dollars. That’s insane. You’re loved.”

Tommy let out a laugh at that. But before he could respond, the door opened and Buck hurried inside.

“You’re awake!” he exclaimed, eyebrows furrowing. “Chim!” he pouted. “I told you not to let him do that.”

“Like I can help when he wakes up!”

“I can close my eyes,” Tommy offered, voice still gravelly and eyes feeling heavier by the second. “Pretend to... wake up again.”

“No, I- that’s not…” Buck let out a breath, his body relaxing. “Tommy.”

Tommy smiled sleepily. “Evan.”

“I- Do you need anything?” he asked, stepping closer. “Has the nurse come in yet? Did Chimney give you water? Are you in pain? Do you-”

“I- I’m fine, Evan,” Tommy interrupted. He looked over his heavily bandaged body before returning his gaze to Buck. “Well… maybe fine’s the wrong word.”

Buck couldn’t take his eyes off of him. “I’m, um, I-” he cleared his throat. “We were worried about you.”

“Thank you, Evan,” Tommy responded, holding his hand open for Buck to take, “for staying w- with me.”

Buck closed the remaining space between them in an instant. He took Tommy’s hand in his, sitting down carefully on the side of the bed. “Nowhere else I’d wanna be, Tommy.”

“Well,” Chimney spoke up, “seeing as you both forgot I existed, I am going to go.” He reached out gave Tommy a pat on the shoulder. “See ya later, Man. Try not to break anymore bones while I’m gone.”

Tommy smiled. “Thanks, Howie. See ya.”

When Chimney left out of the room, he shut the door behind them. Buck waited until it clicked shut to speak. “Tommy, I,” he breathed out shakily, his eyes red-rimmed, “I know you’re tired. You… You need sleep, but I- I want to, um, I’d like for us to talk when you feel like it. If that’s okay,” he added quickly.

“Yeah, Evan.” Tommy gave his hand a little squeeze. “That’s okay.”

Buck grinned. “Okay. You look tired. You should, um, you should rest.”

As much as Tommy wanted to stay awake, his body was not getting the memo. “You’ll be here... when I wake up?”

Buck nodded. “Of course.”

“Good." Tommy's eyes began to close, but his grip on Buck’s hand remained. Half asleep, he mumbled, “Don’t le- let go, m’kay?”

Buck wrapped Tommy’s hand in both of his, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the knuckles. “I won’t, Tommy. Not this time.”

[urcoolgf]

what’s your deal? pt. 7

pairing. childhood bsf¡rafe && reader

content. fluff

summary. just a cute fluff chapter of you and rafe getting used to being together (enzo will be dealt with in the next part, just give them this cutesie moment)

SERIES MASTERLIST

you and rafe had spent all day together. it was nice– things weren’t back to normal, they were better. you and rafe were currently curled up on the couch– it was about 8pm, but your dad requested you don’t go out too late tonight because of his ‘family plans’ for tomorrow. you didn’t mind, and you didn’t think rafe did either. you had turned on some movie that was actually interesting– not to rafe though. all he could do was look at you, his right arm slung around you while his left hand played with the hem of your shorts.

sometimes his right hand would aimlessly explore your hair, running his fingers through your scalp. it felt nice– not only did you have your best friend back, but now it was something different. rafe just seemed… happier– like a weight had been lifted. you weren’t sure how long he had felt the way he did, but– sitting here, right now, curled into his chest while his fingers roamed all over you– you were glad he had confessed. you never expected this, but now that it was here, you couldn’t imagine it being any other way.

“y’wanna do somethin’ fun?,” rafe’s soft voice cut through the low hum of the tv, looking down at you.

“my dad wanted us to stay here tonight,” you replied plainly, not taking your focus off the screen.

“i know… but ‘m jus’ really in the mood for one of those soft pretzels from the gas station down the road,” that caught your attention– he knew those were your favorites, and you hadn’t even gotten one yet. your head snapped up to look at the mischievous smirk spreading across his face. a similar one took place on your lips because of it.

“okay fi–,” before you could even finish, rafe was off the couch. he reached down to grab your waist, and throw you over his broad shoulders, your soft giggles filling the air.

he finally set you down near the door so you could both put on your sneakers. both of you quietly walked out the door, careful to close it softly since your dad's bedroom was nearby.

—

the walk to the gas station wasn't too long– maybe 10 minutes– so, you pulled out your phone, shuffling your playlist titled 'Sounds like love'.

Disco by Surf Curse poured through the speaker of your phone. rafe just looked at you– wide smile on his face like he had never seen something more beautiful. you slipped your phone into his pocket, grabbing his hands, and beginning to move to the beat. you were walking backwards at this point, dragging rafe with you. he had no complaints– a genuine laugh left his lips, and you had never seen him so happy. it warmed your heart.

admire all of you

but fire burns me, too

can't stop that disco getting through

can't stop that disco wanting you

'cause there's nothing like it, locking my eyes with you

rafe held his arm up, spinning you like a dancer. your laughs were like music to his ears, and he swore life couldn’t get any more perfect than this. he motioned for you to jump on his back so he could carry you the rest of the walk. songs continued to play from his pocket until you arrived. you didn’t talk, just rested your head on his shoulder. your arms slung around his torso while he held you up by your thighs which were wrapped just above his hips.

you gave him quick kisses on his cheek or neck while he carried you.

“thanks for the ride, ray,” you whispered into his ear, giggling before you could finish your sentence.

“anytime, princess,” his signature smug smirk present on his face.

once you had finally made it to the gas station, rafe set you down easily, and the two of you made your way inside.

you grabbed the pretzels out of the mini heated carousel (i have no idea what they’re called), and then made your way over to the slushie machines. you never really got to have slushies except for when you were here. you and rafe had gotten them every vacation since you were kids– when you were little, rafe even taught you to mix the different flavors: cherry and coca cola to make cherry coke, cherry and blue raspberry to make… well you weren’t exactly sure, but it tasted good.

after rafe paid the cashier, you headed back outside. rafe wasn’t ready to let this moment go yet. he shoved the pretzel into his mouth, handed you his slushie, and motioned for you to get back on his back.

“rafe, you can’t carry me! you have a pretzel in your mouth, idiot. eat it first. then you can,” you laughed, scolding him like you were his mother.

“fine. but, if you don’t get on my back do you promise to follow me?,” he had a childish look on his face, like he was genuinely expecting you to promise him.

“follow you where?,” your brows furrowed together. you weren’t even supposed to be out now, and rafe wanted to stay out even longer?

“doesn’t matter. you can’t ask questions. promise?,” his hopeful face made you melt. you just couldn’t say no to him.

you nodded your head, raising your arm to tell him to lead the way.

you followed without complaints. eventually he finished his pretzel, and once again, wanted you to get on his back.

“fine! fine! you’re so weird,” you laughed, holding your hands up in joking surrender before hopping onto his back. his hands cold against your thighs from the slushie cup he was previously carrying.

you were only on his back a little longer. the sun was beginning to set just as you guys had arrived at rafe’s destination.

“here we are princess,” he said, plopping you back down on your feet. he had led you to the beginning of a forest of some sort.

“and where exactly is ‘here’?,” your puzzled expression made him chuckle slightly. he just took your hand in response, guiding you toward the path through the trees.

once you came out the other end, there was a tiny beach– it couldn’t have spanned more than 50 feet. it was clean, but obviously secluded. the sun cast a light right above the water, the pinks and oranges of the pre-sunset sky reflecting off the calm ocean.

“ray…,” you began, but you didn’t really know what to say. it was gorgeous.

“beautiful innit?,” he turned toward you, big smile on his face. the sun cast a perfect glow onto the side of his face. you admired him for a moment before turning back to the water.

“yeah,” you sighed, eyes glued to the image in front of you. you had seen many sunsets before, but something about this one felt magical. rafe moved to sit on the sand, patting the spot next to him, urging you to join him. of course, you did. he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to him.

the two of you watched as the sun set. the hand that was slung over your shoulder placed itself on the side of your face, making you turn your head towards rafe.

“hey,” he whispered, leaning in towards you.

“hey,” you whispered back, a small smile forming on your lips.

“‘m gonna kiss you now, ‘kay?,” he asked, but it wasn’t really a question– more of a warning.

“mkay,” you nodded lightly. a smirk took over his face before he leaned fully into you, colliding his lips with yours. it was so strange– not because it actually felt weird, but because it felt natural, as if you had done this for years. as if your lips had been made for his.

he pushed a little deeper, testing how far you would let him go, exploring new territory. you let him. his tongue pushed through your lips, making contact with yours and your world stopped. you moved your hands to the sides of his face, pulling him impossibly closer before moving them to the back of his neck. your manicured nails raked lightly against his warm skin.

you eventually pulled from each other, both staring as if you couldn’t believe what just happened. rafe leaned forward once more to give you a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“let’s go home, baby,” he said quietly. you just nodded in response, standing and dusting as much sand off you as you could. rafe grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to spin around so he could swipe the sand from the backside of you– he definitely just wanted to touch your ass, but you weren’t complaining.

you grabbed your phone out of rafe’s pocket, playing your music and slipping it back in his pocket before hopping on his back once again. he didn’t even have to tell you this time, you just wanted to.

a soft song began to hum through the air.

spring into summer, and the winter’s gone

i try to hold on to it, but the current’s too strong

somebody finds me in the state i am

love you like i mean it when i know i can’t

you rest your head on his shoulder the same way you did on the way to the gas station, taking in his scent, the feeling of his skin against yours, the lingering sensation of his lips.

hold it against me, cool to the touch

nobody knows what it’s like to be us

somebody finds me in the shallow end

love you like i mean it just because i can

“i like this song,” rafe said unexpectedly, turning his head slightly to try and look at you.

“yeah?,” you asked, a curious smirk on your face, “it’s ours then.”

“nobody knows what it’s like to be us,” he noted to himself.

“nobody knows what it’s like to be us,” you repeated, moving your head from his shoulder to place a kiss to his cheek, and move to wrap your arms over his shoulders.

by the time the song ended, you had arrived back home.

you took your phone out of his pocket, adding the song to a new playlist.

‘Feels like love’.

an: i didn’t realize it had been a few days since my last update on this little series– apologies! also not proofread…

© 𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐆𝐅. est. 2025

TAGS .ᐟ @yktayy9669 @drewsswifeyy @drewrry @frankoceanluvr11 @dearestmillls @icaqttt @lynoriax @hpboysslut2707 @stoned-writer @angvl3tears

[unknown-cold]

It's weird that people who claim to understand Vi's personality don't notice that she's changed and evolved for the better. And I'm talking about Vi's hatred of enforcers.

I see a lot of posts criticizing Vi for this. They don't know that one of the messages the Arcane writers want to send us is forgiveness and moving on. Holding on to the past, hating and holding a grudge only makes things worse for a character and increases her pain and problems, as we saw with Jinx and her intense hatred of Piltover, as well as her hatred for Caitlyn increased her suffering, problems and making terrible mistakes. The same thing with Caitlyn, her intense hatred for Jinx made her lose people around her, and increased her suffering and making mistakes as well.

So I don't understand why people want Vi to keep hating the enforcers, I get that they killed her family and locked her in a prison, but seriously guys this is not Caitlyn's fault, Caitlyn was the first person to treat her kindly, Caitlyn didn't care that she was from Zaun, or that she was a stranger and different from her, Caitlyn was the first person to show Vi love and care in a very long time, Caitlyn was the first person to show her that there are good people in Piltover.

The show wants to show us that we shouldn't judge people before getting to know them first, and not because of a bad experience. Stopping my whole life and living in hatred and resentment towards the people who wronged me, this will destroy my psyche.

I know that moving on isn't easy sometimes, but we have to do it for a better future for ourselves and the people around us. And that's exactly what the characters in the show did. Caitlyn gave up her hatred for Jinx for her love for Vi. Caitlyn knew that continuing in the cycle of violence and hatred would destroy her. The same thing happened with Jinx. She gave up her anger towards Vi after she joined the enforcers, in order to be reunited with Vander. She also gave up her hatred towards Caitlyn after she learned that Cait was a good person and not the bad enforcer as Jinx thought her to be in S1. Of course, this was after Jinx saw that Caitlyn helped them.

Caitlyn's desire to help Vander changed her mind. and not only Vander's help and Ambessa's betrayal but also something more important that I'm sure made Jinx change her mind about Caitlyn and later say "you deserve to be with her" to Vi, was when she saw that Caitlyn didn't come to kill her.

This and also for me it was Caitlyn's forgiveness. People overlook this moment so much, but pay attention to Jinx reaction when Cait is walking away after their conversation in the bunker. Jinx who minute before was sure that Cait is here to kill her, has her eye widen to the size of the saucer. When Caitlyn says "hating you I've hated myself" and then walks away Jinx is surprised and Jinx is not kind of a person that is easily surprised.

And I believe that Jinx’s reevaluation of Cait isn’t based solely on something about Jinx herself, but that she has seen her being good and selfless in other regards as well.

(and yeah I indeed wished they would delve deeper into Vi and her trauma instead of a 3-minute music video in ep 5, but what can we do? This is what we got) And tbh it's not that bad, the show was so good and enjoyable. It just needs to focus on the details and read between the lines, as well as rewatching the scenes more than once, because the writers tried to tell the story as well as possible in a short time.

After that, who knows? Maybe Vi joining the enforcers is a good thing for her to help her people, and also to be by Caitlyn's side as her deputy, when Caitlyn is sheriff. Like Cait and Vi will try to fix the enforcers system and make them serve the greater good for both cities.

[nevarrhoe]

mea culpa (m.m) - 5

SUMMARY: "mea culpa" (exclamation - noun/legal term)

used as an acknowledgement of one's fault or error.

↪ in which matt murdock accidentally falls in love with the district attorney's daughter.

warnings: smut !! p in v, she/her pronouns used for reader

series master list

any minors caught interacting will be blocked and reported

It didn’t take long to get used to life without Matthew Murdock.

He’d been important to you and then he wasn’t. People came and went all the time - you had ex-boyfriends and ex-best friends and a multitude of relationships that had been significant until they weren’t. You wouldn’t go as far as calling Matt your boyfriend but that didn’t erase the fact there had been a connection. That was what you missed most: having somebody who got you the way he did. And it was funny, because the string of insults he’d thrown your way during your last conversation proved him to be everything but someone who understood you. It had been a weak moment for you both and maybe if there had been more at stake - if you’d been the same age, or things were more serious, or your lives more intertwined then you could have moved on from it. That was just it though: it was just a fling. And it had to end eventually. 

Two weeks later, you’d fallen back into your natural routine of shopping and drinking and enjoying a privileged existence. Now, however, you were spending more time at the office: not necessarily helping your father, but just running errands and doing paperwork. You told yourself over and over that it wasn’t anything to do with what Matt had said. Say it a few more times and maybe you’d start to believe it. 

“So Harrison is single again,” your best friend’s voice filled the void of your father’s office. She was sat on the edge of your desk, filing her nails whilst you did your paperwork. “His ex-girlfriend cheated on him so he’s selling his place in London and moving back here. I can give him your number if you want.”

You tried not to visibility flinch at the mere thought. Even though your affair with Matt had proved to be anything but successful, the idea of ever going back to a guy your own age was a little too much. What was the point? They were all immature, trust fund babies who couldn’t fuck properly and definitely wouldn’t treat you right. And you weren’t looking for commitment - not at that point in your life. You just needed someone who could make you laugh and make you orgasm. That had seemed impossible to find. At least until Matt.

“Mmm,” you hummed. “No, I’m good. Harrison and I never really got on that well.”

“Oh, come on!” she groaned. “He’s hurting right now so you know he’ll probably put out-”

“- I’m not interested!” you cut her off. “I’m just not really looking for anything right now. I wanna focus on work.”

“Doing paperwork for free at your dad’s office doesn’t count as work,” she huffed. 

“Yeah, whatever,” you muttered. “I have an appointment now anyways, so if you could make yourself scarce I would really appreciate it.”

“Fiiiine,” she grumbled. “Are you coming to cocktails tonight at the Rainbow Room?”

“I’ll see.”

She stood up and sauntered out of the room - just in time, actually, because your 4PM appointment was waiting right outside. You tried not to visibly react to seeing Matt; somehow, you’d avoided crossing paths with him around the courthouse thus far. It was bound to happen eventually but you felt a lot worse about it than you initially thought. 

“Mr Murdock,” you greeted him, holding your professionalism until the door was closed and your friend was out of earshot. When she was, you faltered slightly. He had a strong presence after all. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Matt took a deep breath, putting aside his cane. 

“Look, Matthew, I can reschedule this appointment when my father’s back in town, or when his assistant can take it instead-”

“- I scheduled it for today on purpose, actually,” he admitted. “I wanted to talk to you.”

You scowled. “And did you consider that maybe I don’t want to talk to you?”

“Yeah, that was definitely a possibility I thought about,” he said. “But you are talking to me, so that gives me hope.”

You paused for a second - Matt did have a point. If you truly hated him, you probably would have ignored him from the get-go. You were furious with the man, without a doubt, but some part of you still held onto the way he’d made you feel before the fuck up. He’d said all those things in the heat of the moment, but you couldn’t shake the fact he still said them. 

“I’m getting on with my life,” you said. “I’m over it. You should do the same.”

“I tried,” Matt replied. “I already regretted the things I said-”

“- why?” you cut him off. “You had a point, Matt. I’m a spoilt little rich girl and you’re a working class lawyer. We’ll never see eye to eye or understand each other. No amount of good fucking will change that.”

He hesitated for a second. “I think you’re wrong.”

“Oh?”

“You were right about the Thompson case, though,” he admitted. “The defendant changed his plea last week.”

“Right,” you murmured. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, me too,” he shrugged. “I’m more sorry about the things I said, though. I take my job very seriously and there are times where it gets in the way of other important things - more important things.”

“I’m a girl you slept with a few times. I wouldn’t hold myself in that high regard.”

He gave you a small smile. “You should - I’m not here to declare my love for you or ask for your hand in marriage but I didn’t realise til you weren’t in my life that you meant more to me than a silly argument.”

“I do?’

“You do,” Matt replied. “All those things I said…none of them matter. I might be right, I might not be, but even if you’re the most spoiled, aloof rich girl in this city, you’re the girl I’d choose over any other.”

You stood up and crossed over to where Matt was stood - he reached out for you as you met halfway, large hands taking your waist as you crashed your lips against his. You’d missed his palms; they were calloused and rough and rugged but fuck, they held you so well. Same for his lips. He bit them when he was anxious so they were always a little indurated but they felt right against yours. 

After that little speech of his, things felt a little more…intense. It had just been a fling before but now it felt like something more.

“You sure do how to sweet talk a girl into forgiving you, huh?” you murmured against him. 

“I really don’t,” Matt replied, and you felt his chest shake slightly as he chuckled. “I practiced that speech like fifty times on the way over here.”

“It worked,” you smiled. Taking a step back, you locked the office door and then tangled your hands with Matt’s, leading him over to the sofa on the other side of the room. “But I think we should talk things through a little bit.”

Matt took a seat opposite you. “Yeah, of course.”

“We need to set boundaries,” you explained. “We’re very different people and I just…I need to know that we can deal with those differences if they come up again, you know? We can’t argue it out every time and now that we’ve established this is a little more than a one night stand-”

“- you don’t have to decide what it is yet,” he cut you off. “I know things are different for you - you’re younger and your entire life is different from mine. When you do know, you just say, okay?”

You smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Of course, I appreciate that.”

“And I know that we’re different,” Matt said. “I like that about us. If it does come up again, we’ll dealt with it. Not like the first time we dealt with it, but we will.”

He pulled you into another kiss; this one was a little deeper, a little more passionate. There was no guesses on where it was leading, and you had to quickly remind yourself that you were still in your father’s office. Not that you hadn’t fantasised about this multiple times. You weren’t opposed to it - not by any means - but you worried Matt might have his reservations about getting off in such a public place.

You almost said something, but when he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you onto his lap, any worries quickly dissipated. Previously, neither of you had worked this fast. There was normally build up - a bit of teasing and fliritng, even if you both knew where it was going to go - but after two of nothing, neither of you cared much for foreplay (in both a literal and metaphorical sense). 

Matt pushed you back onto the sofa so you were laying flat, attaching his lips to your neck. You almost let out a moan, until he clamped a large hand over your mouth. Thinking ahead, as always. He didn’t waste any more time in taking off your blouse and skirt. He was a little more careful than usual, being aware that you’d have to put them back on after.  That didn’t stop him throwing them across the room. There was a little more fumbling and finally his shirt came off too. 

“Matt,” you murmured. “Those marks on your chest-”

“- they’re nothing,” he growled. 

“Matt.”

The lawyer huffed - he wasn’t about to get cockblocked after two weeks of not seeing you. 

“I fell,” Matt muttered. “I was drunk and I fell. Will you take that story?”

“I will take it simply for the sake of the fact your boner is pressing against my thigh,” you replied. “But I’ll have questions later-”

“- works with me.”

He went back to work, lips on your neck, then collarbone, and chest, and then your neck again. The marks he’d left on you after your last fuck had faded and he was determined to leave more. He was still careful though, making sure they were in places no-one else would see. If you went into this meeting with no visible hickeys, you’d have to leave without them. Y’know, for continuity. 

You moved your hands down, fiddling with the buckle on his belt until it came loose and you were able to reach a hand down and brush it over his dick. He shivered when you did: even though he had the feeling of you memorised - your hands, your mouth, everything - it was still something he had craved over the last few weeks. 

Matt grabbed you again, and you let out a squeak as he flipped you over. He was underneath now - you still in control no doubt, with one hand on your throat and the other on your ass - with you on top. That had become one of his favourite positions. It gave him easy access to everything. 

Placing both his hands on your ass cheeks, he pulled you forward and slipped inside you. It took you a minute to revel on the feeling: after all, this time an hour ago, you weren’t sure you would ever feel this good again. And some petty part of you still wanted to punish Matt, so you held out on moving for as long as you could. It was easy enough until he grabbed you by the throat again, pulling you towards him so that your foreheads were pushed together.

“Ride,” he demanded. 

You did as he said, moving your hips back and forth. Your groans were simultaneously, but both surpressed given the…envrionment. Normally, you were noisy as fuck and Matt would encourage it. At the moment, you couldn’t work out if him squeezing your throat every time you let out a groan was praise or punishment. Either was fine. 

Matt’s free hand moved about, sometimes on your ass, sometimes on your tits, and ever so often lingering on your clit. If he’d had more time, he would have teased you more but given the noise and time constraint, he kept it simple. That was funny to you, because his idea of simple was still a thousand times more mindblowing than any other man you’d ever been with.

He hit the right spot over and over and it wasn’t long until you could feel something building up in the pit of your stomach. That might have been a new record. You could barely think straight as you rode him, hands leaving bright red scratches up and down his toned arms. It was only egging him on.

Even when your high hit you, completely disabling your ability to think and ripping through your frontal lobe like a bucket of cold fucking water, Matt kept going. He wasn’t far off, and the load moan you let out when you came brought him even closer. 

“You need to be quiet,” he teased, hand squeezing your throat as you let out another groan. 

Matt followed not long after you. Rather than covering his mouth, he buried his head in your shoulder, teeth pinching at your bare skin as he let out a low grunt. You tangled a hand in his hair, arm wrapping around his neck to bring him up into a kiss. 

“You’re amazing,” he murmured. “Is it safe to say that we’re all good?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “You’re forgiven.”

[inadaydream99]

The Office Dynamics

A/N - I had so much fun writing these! Each of these are inspired by characters and scenes from The Office

Disclaimer: this does not represent any of the members in real life and is for entertainment purposes only!

Chan

The Late-Night Desk Conversations

While chan has to stay late every night to keep on top of his copious amounts of work, you choose to stay. Not because you’re so dedicated to your role, but because it’s an excuse to hang out with him. And so, it’s become part of your daily routine to be the only two left at work after hours.

As expected, it’s just the two of you once again, the glow of your computer screens and the sound of the rain tapping against the office windows. You break the steady silence with a yawn, stretching dramatically, which makes Chan glance your way. “Need a bedtime story?”

You smirk. “What, like The Tragic Life of an Overworked Employee?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re hilarious. Remind me why I put up with you?”

You grin. “Because if I weren’t here, you’d have no one to make fun of your disastrous caffeine addiction.”

It’s moments like this that make your heart flutter. It’s just so quiet, easy, and comfortable.

There are times when you can tell he wants to go, but he always lingers by your desk a little longer, as though he’s waiting for something… maybe he’s hoping you’ll ask him to stay… like right now. There he is, loitering. And you weigh the thought for a second as it crosses your mind.

Your fingers hover over your keyboard, pretending to still be focused on your work. But the words aren’t making sense anymore, and neither is the way your heart beats just a little faster when Chan doesn’t immediately grab his things to leave.

Instead, he stretches again, arms reaching over his head, his sweater riding up just slightly before he lets out a soft sigh. “Alright,” he says, but he doesn’t move. He just looks at you, eyes flickering with something teasing yet unreadable. “Tell me, how much more suffering do we have left?”

You glance at the document in front of you, but really, you’re stalling. “Depends,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Are we talking about tonight’s workload or the existential kind?”

Chan chuckles, shaking his head. “Both, obviously.”

You exhale dramatically, tapping your pen against your desk. “Well, tonight’s suffering is about… thirty more minutes if we really focus.” You pause, then add, “Existential suffering? Probably lifelong.”

He lets out a low laugh, and the sound does something dangerous to you.

“See, this is why I like being around you,” he muses. “You make my impending burnout entertaining.”

You smirk. “Happy to help.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the rain outside and the occasional clatter of keys. Chan, now sat back in his chair and not making any real move to leave, spins his pen between his fingers before finally speaking again.

“You know,” he starts, quieter this time, “you don’t actually have to stay late every night.”

You blink at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone.

“Says the guy who practically has his name engraved on this desk?” you counter, trying to keep it light.

He smiles, but there’s something softer in it now. “I mean it. You could go home. Get some sleep. Not stress over this job like you do. I’d still be here.”

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? You could go home. You could leave him to his late-night habits, his empty office, his half-drunk cups of coffee and his relentless need to be the last one standing. But you don’t. You never do.

Maybe he knows that. Maybe that’s why he stays by your desk longer than he needs to.

You could say something. Ask him why he always waits until you’re done before packing up. Ask him why he notices your yawns, your stretches, the way your fingers slow on the keyboard when you start getting tired. Ask him why he lingers.

But instead, you just smile.

“Yeah,” you say, looking back at your screen. “I know.”

Minho

The Post-It Note Pranks

Your daily routine with Minho consists of endless banter, stolen glances, and… a Post-it note war. A little unusual, yes, but it’s been happening for so long that neither of you can remember how it started… only that you’re both incredibly competitive and stubborn.

Today’s round begins when you stick a note to his monitor: Try to look less busy today.

It doesn’t take him long to retaliate with one on your keyboard: Try to do actual work today.

And so the war escalates. You retaliate with a note on his stapler: I licked this.

So Minho counters with one on your favourite coffee mug: I spit in this. (He didn’t. Probably. Hopefully.)

The next morning you arrive to find a hundred yellow notes covering your desk, each reading: I win.

You huff, turning to the culprit. “Minho-”

But then, from the corner of your eye, you spot a pink one hidden under your keyboard. Sheepishly picking it up, you read: By the way, you look really pretty when you’re annoyed.

Well, that made your heart skip an unexpected beat.

You continue to stare at the note, your heart pounding a little too fast for your liking. Then your eyes flitter to find Minho, still watching you, with his chin propped on his hand and that infuriatingly smug smirk on his lips. He quirks a brow, waiting for your reaction.

Feeling irritation at his clear attempt to fluster you into submission, you grasp a pen and scribble a reply before closing off the few steps to his desk and sticking the note right onto his forehead.

He blinks up at you, momentarily stunned, before peeling it off to read: That’s cheating.

But he simply chuckles, the sound low and amused, and you’re too aware of how close you’re standing. His eyes flick from the note back to you, and for a second, the office noise—keyboards clicking, printers whirring, distant voices—fades into the background.

Then he leans forward slightly, just enough to make your breath hitch, and murmurs, “You’re just mad because you liked it.”

You scoff, crossing your arms even as heat creeps up your neck. “In your dreams.”

He hums, twirling the note between his fingers. “Maybe.”

Before you can fire back, he casually sticks another Post-it onto your wrist. You glance down, expecting another teasing jab.

Instead, it’s just a simple message: Lunch?

You hesitate for only a second before rolling your eyes and scribbling your response. When you slap the note onto his desk, he barely has time to grab it before you’re already walking away.

He flips it over and grins.

Try to keep up.

Changbin

The “Fake Dating” Bet

You and Changbin are always fake-flirting in the office. It started as a joke - dramatic declarations of love, exaggerated winks, calling each other “babe” just to get reactions.

But then your pesky colleague Jisung bets that neither of you can keep it up for a full week without actually catching feelings.

You and Changbin just share a smug side glance. Challenge accepted.

Day one and you’re already getting alarmingly used to it: Changbin leans against your desk, smirking. “Morning, darling. Did you miss me?”

You roll your eyes. “Tragically, yes. My heart aches without you.”

The problem? You do miss him. You do feel your heart race when he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. And by day two, when he casually pulls you into a side hug and murmurs, “You know… we’re really good at this,” you wonder - what if we weren’t faking?

Day Three: You’re officially losing it.

Changbin’s hand finds the small of your back as he guides you through the office, and instead of rolling your eyes or making a joke, you nearly lean into it. When he calls you babe in that lazy, affectionate tone, your stomach does an embarrassing summersault.

Jisung is watching. He’s always watching, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he observes every lingering glance, every subtle touch. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to.

“You’re getting soft,” you murmur to Changbin when you’re alone in the break room. You mean it as a tease, but it comes out quieter, more uncertain than you intended.

Changbin raises a brow, stepping closer. “Am I?”

He’s so close. The air between you crackles with something that wasn’t there before—except, maybe it was, and you were just too busy pretending to notice. Although, you don’t step away. And neither does he.

Day Four: You’re so screwed.

You tell yourself you’re overthinking it. That this is just the nature of the bet. That Changbin isn’t actually looking at you differently, and your heart isn’t racing faster than usual when he throws an arm over your shoulders and keeps it there, fingers idly tracing patterns.

Then, after a long day, you find yourself walking out together. It’s dark, the city buzzing with life, and Changbin hesitates before speaking.

“You know this is the last day, right?” His voice is softer than usual, like he’s testing the weight of the words.

You nod. You’ve been thinking about it all day. Tomorrow, the bet is over. And then what?

Before you’re able to spiral, Changbin reaches for your hand. Not dramatically, not for show—just a gentle brush of his fingers against yours, hesitant but hopeful.

“We don’t have to stop,” he murmurs.

You should laugh it off. Call his bluff. Make a joke about it. But instead, you allow his fingers to thread through yours.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I know.”

Hyunjin

The Office ‘Secret Handshake’

You and Hyunjin have a dumb, overly complicated handshake that started as an inside joke but has now become a thing that everyone knows about and finds incredibly annoying.

It’s all dramatic finger snaps, spins, and an unnecessary over-the-head high-five at the end. Everyone rolls their eyes when you do it, but neither of you care.

Until one day, during a particularly boring meeting, when you glance at Hyunjin from across the conference table. Without a word, you start subtly miming the first move under the table.

Hyunjin bites his lip to hold back a laugh before mirroring your movements. You both manage to get through the whole sequence without breaking eye contact, even as Chan - your long-suffering team leader - sighs, “I know you two are doing that stupid handshake.”

After the meeting, Hyunjin nudges you, grinning. “Maybe we should make it our thing for real.”

Your heart skips. But before you can question him on it, he sends you a wink and strolls away.

You stand frozen in the hallway for a second, replaying Hyunjin’s words in your head. What does he even mean? The handshake is already your thing. It’s dumb, ridiculous, and completely unnecessary—but it’s yours. Unless…

Your thoughts short-circuit for a second, the thought coming into your mind and destroying your rationality.

By the time you’re able to shake yourself out of it, Hyunjin has long disappeared, but you can still hear his whistling from down the hall - sounding so casual for someone who’s just wrecked your entire brain.

And it’s not until mid-afternoon when you see him again.

Acting on impulse, you grab onto his sleeve just as he passes you in the break rooms entrance. “Okay, what did you mean earlier?” You try (but miserably fail) to sound casual.

Hyunjin just looks at you with a slow, knowing grin spreading across his lips. “What does what mean?”

You narrow your eyes, knowing that he’s acting sheepish because he thinks it’s funny. “You know.”

He tilts his head, pretending to think, then suddenly steps closer. The break room is luckily empty, but still, the space between you feels too small. “Are you asking if I meant us?”

Your breath hitches, the air becoming so thick you feel like you’re about to suffocate. He watches you for a moment, his confident stare burning into you - trying to read every emotion and thought that flickers behind your eyes. “Because I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it.”

Your brain short-circuits again.

There’s no way he isn’t enjoying this - he has that glint in his eye, the one he gets when he’s teasing but also dead serious. And the worst part? You can’t even think of a good response because you want more, too.

Before you can properly process it, Hyunjin reaches for your hand and, with a dramatic flourish, initiates the first move of your handshake. Automatically, your fingers snap into place, muscle memory taking over. The spin, the sync, the final over-the-head high-five - it’s all the same. Except now, as your hands linger just a second too long at the end, Hyunjin’s gaze doesn’t waver.

“So?” his voice is softer now. “Our thing?”

Your heart pounds, but you can’t fight your grin.

“Yeah,” you smile, lacing your fingers through his before he can pull away. “Our thing.”

Jisung

The Office Supply Heist

Jisung has a bad habit of stealing things from your desk - pens, sticky notes, even your stress ball. Every time you call him out, he plays dumb. “What? Maybe you’re just bad at keeping track of your stuff.”

But you’ve finally had enough. So you set a trap. Leaving a small notebook and pen on your desk, you write on the first page I know what you’re doing - so when he flips it open he’ll see.

Sure enough, Jisung swipes it within the hour.

When he flips the notebook open and sees the message, he bursts out laughing. “Okay, maybe I take your stuff. But only ‘cause it’s yours.”

You cross your arms. “That’s the worst excuse ever.”

Jisung shrugs, twirling your stolen pen between his fingers. “Or… it’s the best one.”

You roll your eyes, but secretly? You kind of love it. Nonetheless, you scoff, shaking your head as he continues twirling the pen like some kind of smug magician. “So what, you steal my stuff just for fun?”

He smirks. “It’s more entertaining than ordering office supplies like a normal person.”

You narrow your eyes. “You do realize the company provides free stationary, right? There’s literally a whole cabinet full of it.”

Jisung tilts his head, pretending to consider this. “But those don’t have the same charm. Yours are just… better.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “That makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” he counters, grinning. “It’s like stealing fries off someone’s plate. They just taste better.”

“That is not the same thing!”

Jisung just shrugs, tapping the pen against his chin. “Agree to disagree?”

You shoot him a glare before holding out your hand expectantly. “Give it back.”

He hesitates, twirling the pen one last time between his fingers. “Hmm. Nah.”

“Jisung.”

“What?” He leans back in his chair, completely unfazed. “They’ve got sentimental value now.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “They’ve been in your possession for thirty seconds.”

“Yeah, and in those thirty seconds, they’ve become my favorite stationary.”

You lunge forward in an attempt to snatch the pen first, but Jisung is faster, jerking his hand away just in time. Laughing, he tucks the pen into his pocket before grabbing the notebook and standing up. “Tell you what - if you want them back, you’ll just have to come steal them from me.”

Before you can argue, he winks and strolls off toward the break room, leaving you sitting there, half-annoyed, half-amused. You sigh, shaking your head. This is not over.

Felix

The “Accidental” Coffee Dates

Felix always seems to be in the break room at the exact same time as you. Suspiciously so.

“Wow,” you say one morning, entering the break room at the same time you do everyday to retrieve your first cup of coffee. “What are the odds?”

Felix blinks innocently, but his cheeks tinge just the slighted bit pink. “What do you mean?”

“You definitely time your breaks to match mine.”

He grins sheepishly, “Maybe I just happen to also need a beverage at precisely -” he pauses to check his watch, “10:03am?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? So you don’t just come in here to check what mug I’m using so you can steal it from me later? Because somehow they always end up on your desk?”

Felix smirks. “Well, maybe I don’t want a whole coffee and I just like sharing yours.”

Well, that makes your heart stutter.

Felix watches in amusement, waiting for whatever sassy comeback you’re coming up with. He’s never flirted with you so blatantly before, but it’s clear he’s trying to figure out if you’re into him too.

You hesitate, your fingers tightening slightly around your mug. The break room feels smaller somehow, quieter, the usual hum of the coffee machine and the distant chatter of coworkers fading into the background. Felix is still watching you, his smirk softened into something more patient, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll take the bait.

Your mind races through the past few weeks - the way he always seems to find a reason to linger when you walk in, how his “accidental” coffee thefts have become a running joke, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

Maybe it really was time to stop pretending this was just about caffeine.

You take a slow sip of your coffee, then tilt your head. “So, what you’re saying is… we should just only share one cup from now on?”

Felix grins, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his expression. Surprise, maybe. A little anticipation. “I mean, if that’s what you’re offering.”

You tap your fingers against your mug, considering. “Mmm. I don’t know. Feels like a dangerous precedent.”

“Dangerous?” He leans in slightly, elbows resting on the counter. “How so?”

“Well,” you muse, pretending to think it over, “first it’s coffee. Then maybe it’s lunch. Next thing I know, we’re getting dinner, and suddenly people start thinking it’s a thing.”

Felix hums in amusement, nodding as if this is a very serious concern. “Sounds risky.”

“Very.”

He takes a step back to fully assess you, folding his arms. “And would that be such a bad thing?”

There it is. The shift from playful to real, the challenge hidden beneath his casual tone. He’s putting the question out there, giving you a choice. Your heart instantly kicks into overdrive.

You could brush it off, keep playing the game. Or you could take the leap.

You exhale, setting your cup down on the counter, exactly halfway between you. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Felix’s smile is slow, knowing. Then, he picks up your cup, slowly lifting it to his lips, taking an exaggerated sip before handing it back. “Guess so.”

Your fingers brush as you take it, and just like that, the game changes.

Seungmin

The Mutual Roasting Sessions

Your entire relationship with Seungmin revolves around mercilessly making fun of each other. It’s just how it’s always been between you, so effortless and lighthearted. And you know he’s as addicted to it as much as you are.

For example, yesterday when you walked past his desk, you caught a glance at him scribbling something, working away like a maniac and couldn’t resist: “Seungmin, you literally have the handwriting of a serial killer.”

“At least I write things down. When’s the last time you actually met a deadline?” He’d quipped after you, throwing you a quick glance that revealed just a hint of his smirk.

Okay, you admit, that was fair… you do have a habit of being a little late with deadlines.

But were you about to let him get away with it? Absolutely not. However the next day, you were mid-roast when Seungmin had suddenly leaned in closer, smirking. “You know, if we ever dated, our love language would just be insults.”

Your first response was to let out a snort, followed by an “If we dated?”

Oh, you’d regretted that right away. It’d only taken half a second to notice the way his smirk faltered. But Seungmin had been thrown off by your reaction for just long enough to let slip the flicker of something real behind his eyes.

“Shut up,” he’d muttered, looking away.

Then later that same day, you’d caught him sneaking a glance at you, and suddenly, the teasing didn’t feel so lighthearted anymore.

Which brings you to present day and, for the first time in forever, Seungmin seems off his game. It’s subtle, but you notice it - the way his comebacks aren’t as sharp, the way he hesitates a fraction of a second too long before responding. The way he keeps sneaking glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

If the other day hadn’t happened, you would have found it funny, the King of merciless teasing suddenly being flustered? Hilarious. But now, you can’t help feeling awkward - wishing you’d not made a joke out of him before.

In an attempt to restore your normal dynamic, you try to test the waters. The next time you see him, you make a show of stretching before dropping onto the seat beside him with a sigh. “Man, I don’t know what I’d do without you, Seungmin.”

He raises an eyebrow, suspicious. “Finally admitting I’m the best thing in your life?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpan. “I mean, who else would insult me so consistently? I’d have to pay someone.”

His mouth twitches like he wants to smile but refuses to give you the satisfaction. “That’s true. You’d be lost without me.”

There it is again - that tiny hesitation, the way his gaze flickers to your lips before snapping back up. You should let it go. You should let the moment pass. But you’re insistent.

Instead, you tilt your head, feigning curiosity. “Hey, Seungmin?”

“What?”

You lean in slightly, just enough to close some of the space between you. His breath hitches.

“Were you serious?” you ask, voice quieter now. “About… the dating thing?”

For a second, Seungmin does nothing. Then, he scoffs, but it sounds a little forced. “You think I’d actually want to date you?”

You don’t even flinch. “I think you wouldn’t have brought it up if you didn’t at least think about it.”

Silence. A long, charged pause where neither of you move. Then-

“Shut up,” he mutters again, looking away.

But this time, when you catch him sneaking another glance at you, he doesn’t look away so fast. This time, he holds your gaze for just a second longer. And this time, you maintain eye contact with him, trying to prove that you’re not as against the idea as you’d initially made out to be.

Jeongin

The ‘Fake Office Enemies’ Game

You and Jeongin pretend to be workplace rivals for fun. You’re not sure how, or why, it started. All you know is that you’re both on the same strange wavelength and just get so much fulfilment from it.

“You got the last blueberry muffin?” you gasp.

Jeongin smirks, taking a slow, deliberate bite. “Should’ve been quicker.”

So you decide to take it up a notch, escalating things by dramatically declaring, “Jeongin is my nemesis!” in front of the entire office.

To your surprise, he steps closer, grinning. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

You hesitate - too aware of how close he suddenly is. His smile is still teasing, but there’s something softer in his eyes. Something almost fond.

“…I’ll get my revenge,” you say weakly.

Jeongin hums, tilting his head. “Looking forward to it.”

The game, it seems, just got a little more complicated.

You tell yourself it’s nothing - just another moment of playful rivalry, the same as always. But as you settle back into your seat, trying to shake the heat lingering on your face, you can feel Jeongin’s eyes still on you.

The rest of the office drones on, people returning to their work or previous discussions, but your mind is elsewhere. You’re too aware of Jeongin sitting just across the room, the way his fingers drum idly against his desk, the occasional amused glance he sends your way like he knows something you don’t.

When lunch finally rolls around, you make a quick escape, heading toward the break room for a moment to collect yourself. You shouldn’t feel this flustered - this has always been a game. A silly, harmless, pretend-rivalry game.

But the way Jeongin had leaned in earlier, the way his voice dropped just slightly, the way his smirk had softened at the edges… It didn’t feel like just a game anymore.

You shake your head, reaching for the coffee pot, only to find it completely empty.

A familiar voice hums from behind you. “Looking for something?”

You turn, already knowing what you’ll see. Jeongin, holding the last fresh cup of coffee in his hands, lifting it to his lips with that signature smirk.

You narrow your eyes. “You did that on purpose.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says innocently, taking a slow sip.

Your hand twitches at your side. “You do realize this means war?”

Jeongin tilts his head, pretending to consider your words. “Hmm. Does it, though?” His gaze flickers down to you, the teasing light still in his eyes, but something else lingers there too. Something almost expectant.

You don’t know why your heart speeds up at that look.

Before you can come up with a witty retort, he steps forward, lowering his voice just enough that you can feel the shift in the air between you. “You’re taking this rivalry thing pretty seriously,” he muses, tapping a finger against the coffee cup. “Almost like you actually care about beating me.”

You scoff, folding your arms. “Of course I do. What kind of nemesis would I be if I didn’t?”

He grins, leaning in just a fraction closer. “Oh? So if I stopped playing along, you’d miss it?”

Your breath catches. It’s a simple question. A playful one, really. But for some reason, you don’t have an answer ready.

Jeongin watches you carefully, the smirk on his lips softening ever so slightly.

For the first time since this game began, you feel like you’re standing at a line. One you hadn’t even realized existed until now. And you have no idea what happens if you cross it.

“…I’d just find someone else to be my office enemy,” you say finally, forcing a casual shrug.

Jeongin clicks his tongue. “Ouch.” But there’s no real offense in his voice, just that same easy amusement, the kind that always makes it hard to tell exactly what he’s thinking.

Then, before you can react, he lifts the coffee cup and presses it into your hands.

Your fingers wrap around the warm ceramic instinctively, blinking up at him in confusion. “What—”

“You can have this one.” He grins. “Consider it a peace offering.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re plotting something.”

“Maybe.” He winks. “But you’ll just have to wait and find out, won’t you?”

And with that, he turns and strolls out of the break room, leaving you standing there, holding the coffee he’d stolen for himself.

Your so-called enemy just let you win. And you don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he did it, or the fact that you kind of liked it.

[shortnspidey]

CHAPTER FOUR: UNSHACKLED

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Stark!reader || WC: 4K

WARNINGS: Talks of past trauma, minor injuries, tiny bit of fluff, long overdue hurt-comfort

A/N: How are we feeling with all the Thunderbolts/Doomsday announcements?! I’m so excited!! Now without further ado, here's the next chapter! Hope you guys enjoy! <3

previous chapter || next chapter

➩ main masterlist

➩ series masterlist

Upon hearing the faint, rhythmic beeping of medical monitors, your eyelids fluttered open slowly, the light too harsh against the blurry haze in your vision. Your body screamed in protest, aching like every muscle and bone was protesting being awake. Despite the pain, you pushed through the fog, using every ounce of strength to prop yourself up on what felt like an unfamiliar cot.

The effort was too much, bad idea!

Almost immediately, the world around you tilted and spun violently, as if gravity itself had shifted in a cruel game of its own. "Woah, be careful," A voice, thick with an accent you couldn't quite place, called out sharply. You blinked rapidly, attempting to focus, and slowly, the figure of a young woman came into view. Her face was gentle, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern. She hovered close, almost like she was ready to catch you should you fall again.

You met her gaze, your mind still foggy, but there was something about her presence that felt oddly reassuring. She was probably around your age, her features soft but hardened with something unspoken, as though she had seen far too much already. "Where am I?" Your voice was rough, barely a whisper, as confusion still swirled around in your mind. "Wakanda," She muttered softly, her tone gentle yet confident. "You are safe." The words barely registered. Wakanda? The name triggered something deep in your mind.

Yet it quickly dissolved as your thoughts wandered back to the last thing you could remember. Bucky, Steve, your dad, that video, Zemo, a gun. The images flashed one after another, each one a sharp stab to your chest. "I... What happened? How—?" Your breathing quickened as you tried to clear your mind, pushing the fog aside to focus. "You have a minor concussion, a broken wrist, and a few fractured ribs," The girl interrupted gently, her eyes never leaving you as she assessed your every movement, waiting for signs of distress.

"But nothing more serious. You are lucky." Her words felt like a fragile assurance, but they didn’t ease the tension gnawing at your insides. Before you could stop it, the question spilled from your lips. "Bucky… and Steve… are they okay?" Your heart hammered in your chest, a mixture of hope and dread clashing inside you. Before she could respond, you saw a shadow moving in your peripheral vision. Instinctively, your eyes snapped toward it, and there he was—Steve. His figure stood framed in the doorway, and with just his presence, the tight coil of fear in your chest began to loosen slightly.

A wave of relief washed over you, but the exhaustion still weighed you down. Without thinking, you pushed yourself up from the bed, your legs unsteady beneath you, but you didn’t care. You limped toward him, the sharp ache in your side forgotten as you reached for him, enveloping him in a tight hug. "I've got it from here." His voice cut through the moment, low but commanding, as he spoke to the girl in the room. She hesitated for a second, but then, with a nod, she quietly left, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving the two of you alone. As you pulled away, the breath caught in your throat.

His face was now marred by a series of dark, blossoming bruises. You swallowed, trying to suppress the nausea that crawled up your throat. "What happened?" He offered you a faint, reassuring smile, the kind that didn’t quite reached his eyes. "My dad did that, didn’t he?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper, the bile rising in your throat as you forced yourself to speak the words. The weight of them settled heavily in the room, and for a second, you couldn’t breathe. "Nothing I can’t handle," He muttered, but there was a tremor in his voice, a crack that betrayed the bravado. You wanted to believe him, but the doubt lingered.

You hesitated, eyes searching his face as a fresh wave of fear surfaced in your chest. The one question you’d been avoiding bubbled to the surface. "Zemo, is he—" Steve’s jaw tightened so sharply you thought it might crack. "He won’t hurt you or anyone else again." His words were low, firm, but something in the way he said them made you feel like there was more to the story. However, you decided to drop it for the time being. “Is Bucky okay? Please tell me my dad didn’t manage to get his hands on him.” You whispered, the tremor in your voice betraying you.

Your breath caught in your throat as the thought of Bucky lying hurt or worse at the hands of your father's blinded rage. A tight knot formed in your stomach as you waited for an answer, your chest tightening with every passing second. “You could see for yourself.” Without hesitation, you nodded, your body moving almost on autopilot. You allowed him to gently guide you, his hand steady on your arm as he carefully maneuvered you down the dimly lit hallway toward a room you didn’t recognize. Each step felt like an eternity, but you followed, desperate to see for yourself that Bucky was alright.

When you finally reached the door to the room, the sight before you felt like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from your chest. Inside, Bucky sat slumped on a medical bed, his posture defeated, as though the weight of everything that had happened, everything he had endured was too much for him to carry. His face was marred with deep, dark bruises across his jaw and under his eyes. His usual, sharp features were softened by pain, and the once unshakable Winter Soldier now looked vulnerable, shattered even. You winced, the sight of him so broken sending an ache through your chest.

But it was his left arm or, more accurately, the lack of it brought up more questions. Your mind screamed with confusion, and a sense of helplessness that only deepened as your eyes shifted around the room. In the center of the space, a cryo-chamber stood ominously, the metal casing reflecting the harsh lights of the room. It was a chilling reminder of what Bucky had been subjected through. Almost as if sensing the shift in your gaze, Steve's eyes followed yours, and without a word, he urged you forward toward Bucky, the weight of unspoken understanding passing between the two of you.

Only then did Bucky stir, lifting his head with a slow, painful movement. The moment his eyes met yours, your heart broke. “You sure about this?” Steve’s voice echoed through the room softly. Bucky’s laugh was a dry, hollow sound, a forced exhale that barely escaped his chest. "I can't trust my own mind," He muttered, his words heavy with exhaustion and defeat. His attempt at a smile faltered before it even began. "So until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head, I think going back under is the best thing," He paused, his gaze drifting to you, settling there, and something flickered in his eyes.

"For everybody." A cold shiver ran down your spine, and you swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. But you couldn’t ignore the part of you that still clung to the hope that there was something, anything that could bring him back, that could save him from the darkness of his own thoughts. “Steve," You found your voice, and it was softer than you had intended, trembling with an emotion you couldn’t quite name. "Do you think I can talk to Bucky alone?" Steve gave a subtle nod, his face unreadable as he silently left the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click that echoed louder than anything. In the silence that followed, Bucky braced himself, his body tense, rigid.

He knew the look in your eyes too well, the look of someone who had every right to be angry, to lash out at him for the things he had done, the choices he had been forced into. And he was sure, so sure that as soon as you were alone, you’d finally do what he feared most. You’d strike him, unleash the fury he’d deserved for too long. But when you finally moved toward him, it was not with the anger and fury he anticipated. Instead, you sat down next to him, the space between you barely enough to count. The proximity made him stiffen, his heart hammering in his chest, the air thick with the tension of everything unsaid.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at you directly, so he stared at the floor, steeling himself for whatever was coming. But when you did meet his eyes, it wasn’t with hatred or disgust. It wasn’t even with pity. Instead, there was only softness, tenderness, a quiet understanding. And then, without hesitation, you placed your hand on his, on his flesh hand, the one that hadn’t been replaced, the one still capable of feeling warmth. Your touch was gentle, but it carried more than just comfort; it carried a message that Bucky wasn’t sure he deserved but needed more than anything.

You squeezed his hand lightly, a small, simple gesture, but it was enough. For the first time in years, Bucky didn’t flinch at the touch. His body, usually so conditioned to retreat from even the slightest form of contact, melted into your warmth. The walls he had so carefully constructed over time, built out of fear and trauma, seemed to crumble under the simplest act of kindness. He could feel the warmth of your hand seep into his skin, calming the storm that raged inside him. "Bucky," Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it felt like a lifeline.

His eyes flickered from your face to where your hands were joined, a silent question in them. He could hardly believe what was happening. How your simple touch was making him feel something other than numb. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, everything else faded away, the room, the pain, the guilt. It was just you and him. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to believe, just for a moment, that maybe there was still a chance for something good to come from all of this.

"Bucky," You repeated again, softer this time. It was almost as if you were pulling him out of a fog, trying to anchor him to the present. His eyes were distant, somewhere far away, and for a moment, you wondered if he could even hear you. But then, after a long, aching pause, his cerulean eyes slowly lifted to meet yours. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the layers of guilt and shame that he couldn’t quite shed. The soldier, the man, and all the ghosts he carried within him, the pain was written all over his face.

And in that moment, you knew you had to say something that would shatter the walls he had so carefully built around himself. You needed him to hear you, to believe you, even if it was the hardest thing for him to do. "I want you to listen to me very carefully," You coaxed, your voice steady but laced with an emotion that made your chest tighten. Your hand still holding his, trembling slightly tightened its grip. It wasn’t a forceful move, but it was a silent plea, an unspoken promise that you would be there, that he wasn’t alone. "And I will say these words as many times as you need me to, until you believe me."

Bucky’s breath hitched as your words sank in, but still, you could feel the weight of his skepticism, the doubt that clouded his thoughts. He had heard too many lies, too many things that weren’t true about who he was. And yet, you pressed on, because you knew you had to. "None of what happened was your fault." The words hung between you, thick with an emotion that made it hard to breathe. Saying them was one thing. Believing them, hearing them from someone else was another. But you couldn’t hold back now. Not after everything he had been through.

"You, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, are and will always be an innocent man who did nothing wrong." A small shudder ran through him, and his eyes flickered with a storm of conflicting emotions. There was disbelief, shame, but also something deeper something that looked a lot like hope, even though he couldn’t fully reach for it yet. The words, though true, seemed to weigh him down more than they lifted him, as if he didn’t feel worthy of hearing them. As if his past had branded him forever, leaving a scar that no one could erase, not even you.

And then, almost as if he couldn’t bear the tenderness in your voice, he spoke, his words raw, vulnerable, and laced with guilt. "You should hate me." The sentence hung between you both, thick and suffocating. It wasn’t a question. It was a confession, a truth he carried like a burden. His voice cracked, just slightly, betraying the jagged edge of pain buried within him. “I’ve done… things. I’ve hurt people, people I cared about…” His eyes dropped to the space between you, avoiding your gaze, as if ashamed to meet your soft, understanding eyes.

But you refused to look away. You wouldn’t let him shrink into the darkness again. "No, Bucky," You whispered, shaking your head, your voice firm, steady despite the overwhelming tide of emotions crashing over you both. "I don’t hate you. I could never hate you." Your voice was filled with an intensity that made your breath catch, the truth of it sinking deep into your own soul. "I will never hate you." Your eyes locked with his, your gaze unwavering, as if to silently say that you weren’t going to let him carry that burden alone.

Not anymore.

Bucky swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling with every shaky breath. The vulnerability in his eyes, the fragile hope that flickered there, was something you would never forget. He had never allowed himself to be this open with anyone, especially not when it came to the parts of himself he felt were broken beyond repair. But there you were, holding him together with your words, with your mere presence. "You’re not a monster, Bucky," You added softly. "And as long as I'm around, I won’t let you believe that."

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. The kind of silence that wasn’t heavy, but full of everything that had yet to be said. Bucky’s gaze softened, just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there could be forgiveness. Maybe he wasn’t as lost as he had thought. "Thank you." The words were soft, a little unsteady, but sincere. It was a rare vulnerability, the kind that was hard-earned and even harder to give.

As if guided by an unknown force, Bucky’s fingers tightly curled around yours, and for the briefest of moments, the world seemed to stand still. It was him who initiated the touch, a gesture that carried with it a thousand unspoken words, an offering of trust that he had withheld for so long. And as his hand gently pressed against yours, a flutter of warmth and something inexplicably light spread through you. However, the moment was short-lived. Bucky’s fingers slipped from yours, the warmth of his touch fading as he gently let go. It was a small, deliberate movement, but one that sent a subtle pang through your chest.

Before you could fully process the loss of that connection, Steve re-entered the room, his presence pulling you both back into the reality of the situation. “You ready, pal?” Steve’s voice was casual, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken, in the way he looked between you and Bucky. His eyes caught the soft flush on both your faces, and you could see the flicker of amusement he was trying unsuccessfully to hide. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but he quickly masked it with a more serious expression, as though he didn’t want to intrude on the delicate moment that had just passed between you two.

Bucky’s eyes flicked to Steve, the briefest hesitation in his gaze, before he nodded slowly, deliberately. With a final glance in your direction, he turned away and walked toward the Cryo chamber, his footsteps soft but purposeful. As he approached, the chamber hummed to life, the metallic walls shimmering in the faint light. The cold, mechanical hiss of the doors opening seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, a sharp contrast to the warm, fragile connection that had just been forged only moments ago.

Bucky stood at the threshold for a moment, the weight of everything he'd been carrying settling into his posture. Then, without another word, he stepped inside. The gust of cold air enveloped him in a rush, the wind sharp and biting, but his expression remained unchanging, serene, almost tranquil. The whirring of the chamber grew louder, a steady, mechanical sound as the freezing process began. For a moment, you could almost see it in his face the way he surrendered to the cold, allowing it to swallow him whole. He looked at peace, the turmoil that had once defined him slipping away.

You couldn’t say how long you stood there beside Steve. Time felt like it had slipped away, leaving nothing but the quiet hum of the Cryo chamber in the background. After all, Steve had just gotten his best friend back, only to lose him again, only this time to a sleep that might stretch on for days, months, or even longer. The silence between you stretched, thick and palpable, until Steve finally placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. The gesture, simple as it was, anchored you in that moment. With a slight nod, he led the way, and you both exited the room, walking in silence down the hallway.

As you moved further down the hall, the glass gave way to a breathtaking view that overlooked all of Wakanda. The vibrant landscape stretched endlessly below, the jungle below alive with color and the city shimmering in the distance. For a few moments, you both stood there allowing the weight of everything to settle over you. You watched the horizon, lost in thought, until the sound of footsteps broke through the stillness. Your gaze instinctively shifted, meeting the piercing eyes of King T’Challa as he approached. His posture was regal, confident, yet there was a kindness in the way he regarded you.

"Miss Stark," He greeted, his voice as smooth and measured as ever. You straightened, instinctively reaching out to shake his hand. His gaze lingered on you for a moment before moving to Steve. Steve didn’t even flinch, his eyes still fixed on the view outside. "Thank you for this," Steve muttered, his voice low and earnest. T'Challa nodded. “Your friend and my father, they were both victims. If I can help one of them find peace…” You watched as Steve’s gaze finally shifted from the window, locking with T’Challa’s.

"You know if they find out he's here, they'll come for him." T’Challa’s response was calm yet held purpose. “Let them try.” In that moment, you realized that this place was not just a refuge for Bucky, but a place where, perhaps, even the most broken of souls could find peace. "So you're a fugitive," Your voice cut through the quiet. You swallowed hard, trying to push down the rising panic, but the uncertainty clawed its way to the surface. "Where does that leave me?" The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t think anyone would answer.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel the tension knotting in your stomach. There was no chance of reaching out to your father now, not after everything that had happened in Germany and Siberia. No, you were alone now. You had known that this moment was coming, but now that it was here, it was more terrifying than you could have anticipated. One of your greatest fears, the thing you had tried so hard to avoid, was finally real. You officially had no safety net left. "Hey," Steve coaxed almost as if sensing your inner turmoil.

“You’re not alone, as far as Ross' concerned you weren't involved in any of this." His words were meant to soothe, to ease the panic that was slowly suffocating you, but it wasn’t enough. Before you could muster any response, the familiar voice you'd heard earlier pierced the silence. “Y/N Stark, NYU transfer studying abroad for the remainder of the semester.” You whipped around to the sound of her voice, as everything started to slowly click into place. You hadn’t been able to see it before, but now, with clarity, you realized who she was. Shuri, princess of Wakanda.“I never had the chance to apply to NYU.” Your voice came out in a disbelieving whisper, your mind still trying to piece together how this all fit.

“You’re not the only one who can hack into other people's phones,” She declared smugly, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her lips. Oh, you liked her already. She handed you something, and you took it instinctively, your hands trembling slightly as you unfolded it. Your eyes scanned the words, disbelief taking root in your mind. An official acceptance letter from the Department of Psychology at NYU. Your dream school. It was almost too much to process, too perfect, too unreal. But the reality of the letter was in your hands, in black and white.

“They won’t come looking for you,” She insisted, her voice firm, reassuring. For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. This wasn’t just about a school or a chance at a degree. This was about a future, one that no longer seemed impossible, one that you hadn’t even dared to hope for in years. Your Mind-Weaver was still just an idea, a prototype in desperate need of a better name. But now? Now it didn’t feel so far out of your grasp. “After all, we’re going to need your assistance,” Shuri coaxed, her smile warm and purposeful. “When you aren’t studying, that is.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Anything. Name it.” The words came out before you could stop them. It was the least you could do after everything they had done for you, after how they had practically saved your life. “When Sergeant Barnes wakes up, he’s going to need a new arm,” She stated matter-of-factly, her gaze steady as she looked at you. “Care to live up to your reputation?” The weight of her words settled in your chest, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the crushing pressure of your last name holding you back.

In that moment you weren’t “Tony Stark’s Daughter”. There was no legacy to live up to in that moment, no expectations suffocating you. You were you. And you could feel the spark of hope flickering inside of you, growing brighter with every passing second. As you turned to face Steve, the look on his face was more than just reassurance. Maybe this was exactly what you needed, what you had always needed. To be somewhere you could be yourself, without the weight of family history pressing down on you. Maybe, just maybe, Wakanda was the place where you could find peace.

thanks for reading! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3

[theallianceofcelestials]

has WH lunar or WH bloodmoon (or all three) had a ptsd episode/ panic attack around each other/ eclipse?

if so, (and you want to) may we please have a Drabble?

Around each other? Yes! Around Eclipse? Probably as well! Though he probably didn't try helping them at all in the beginning when they didn't trust him

Also, I have no idea how a panic attack or PTSD episode actually look like, haha, but I'll try my best

Bloodmoon feels as if their chest is constricting in on itself, squeezing painfully until the vents they take in don't reach whatever they have for lungs.

The more air they take in, the more the world begins to spin, simultaneously becoming hazy and turning sharp with focus. Everything sounds like it's coming from underwater, but also as if it's shouted right in their audials.

They grab onto their chest, because there's something wrong. There's something very wrong, but they don't know what that is!

They have no idea what's going on. The outside world is nothing but a terrifying, unknown blur before them now, too washed away to make any sense. There might be something moving, but they're not sure. They're too focused on the growing, sharp pain originating from their chest to pay attention.

Why is this happening?

They're back with their parents in the house, but they're also looking at a looming skull above them, opening its jaws so wide it should be impossible.

It feels like they've ran a lot, like they've just started dashing out of the village and didn't stop until... until... until something

The pain in their chest worsens, somehow blocking what minor air made its way in, and they hunch in on themselves, panting and gasping in the hope at least a little bit will make it in, but it doesn't feel like it, it feels like they're dying, like they've been thrown to the ground again, and they really wish someone would be beating them instead because at least they could handle that

Something touches them, and they jump, their optics snapping open to take in whatever's before them, something reddish and black, and just those simple colours make the knot in their chest relax the tiniest bit. It's enough to make the world clear enough to see the blurry outline of their mother.

"Blo-oon h- -e?"

They just stare at him, realising whatever touched them is now wrapped loosely around their wrist, gently tugging occasionally as if to take their hand away from where their claws have dug into their own chest.

Strangely, the more they focus on their mother, the better they feel. The sharp coiling pain in their center is beginning to slowly unclench, letting them greedily gulp up some much needed air.

A hand, at least they think it's a hand, is pressed against their forehead, and it's blessedly cold. When did they get so warm?

"Bloo-moon, ca- h-ar me?"

It's more understandable this time, and they give a nod. Eclipse before them seems to relax slightly too, giving a big sigh of relief.

"I'm goi- to hug yo- -ow. Is th-t alri-t?"

They think about it, before giving another nod. They don't think they can talk right now. They're too busy venting in air.

Mom moves forward slowly, gradually pulling them into a soft hug, which they notice they can easily break away from if they wanted to. However, they'd rather press their head into his chest, going limp once they can hear the soothing inner machinations of the witch's systems.

They close their optics, ignoring the way how the world rapidly gets blurry then focused again. It's much easier to cope with whatever's happening without seeing.

"Alright, you're fine now. I'm here."

A hand slowly, very slowly, begins caressing their upper arm, and they really appreciate just how lightly their mother is touching them right now.

"Can you think about three things you're hearing?"

They can hear their mom, which they think is the most important thing of all. However they can also hear a bird singing nearby, and a cricket croaking already.

"If you've finished that, could you think about three things you're feeling?"

Mom, the grass beneath them, and the dress mom's wearing tickling their face.

"Once that's done, is there anything you can smell?"

Mom, the fresh scent of rain, and whatever dinner is.

"I'm going to pull away now, alright? Just enough so I can see if you injured yourself. I'll still be holding you"

They give a nod, feeling ridiculously thankful for the hands that're loosely holding their arms. They have a feeling they should open their optics, but they aren't ready for that yet. Just... not yet.

"It seems like your claws came out, which is not surprising. The scratches you gave yourselves however are light. We'll take care of them once you're calmer."

They grimace in slight discomfort as the stinging of the wounds makes itself known, but there's nothing for them to really do about it. They feel too shaky still.

"Lunar was very worried about you, and he's waiting in the house right now. Should I tell him once we head in to leave you be for a bit?"

They nod, leaning back against their mother. He doesn't say anything more, just holds them.

[hardlightvoid]

They decanted #23 today. It was rough to watch: they always cry like an infant when they open their eyes. That first breath, a harsh sucking gasp, before the world comes into focus. The technicians bearing down on them. Whole process doesn’t take more than twenty minutes from decanting to vivisection. I mean, they’re sedated, but still. My tank’s at the inner edge of the ring so I get a good view of the whole thing. I don’t like it. Whoever my original is, they’re not a fan of blood.

Doctor Kynes comes and sits with me afterwards. She was the first person I saw when I opened my eyes in the tank, a stocky woman with a tight blonde ponytail and flat grey eyes. She folds herself criss-cross applesauce and rests the side of her head against my tank. I watch the lights play over her hair: blue, green, teal.

“Hey, 45,” she says. “Rough one today, huh?”

Yes. They took liver, lungs, kidneys, and spleen from #23 and the sedation did not hold all the way through. Tends to happen with the redheads for some reason, and the lab’s on a budget, so there’s only a certain amount of anaesthetic allotted.

“Car crash. Pulped the original quite badly. The doctors can’t even tell if the organs will take, but the family requested it.” She sighs. “Too much money, too little sense. Not like yours, hmm?” She knocks gently against the glass with her knuckles. “No. You’re a special case.”

I know. She tells me all the time. I focus very, very hard, and succeed in twitching my fingertips. Kynes glances up to the screen that displays my vitals. “Hey, knock that off. I don’t want to decant you early.”

It’s a solid threat. I still again, letting the slow rhythm of the fluids in my tank move me. The fresh liquids enter through a slim hole at the top and exit down the chute at the bottom, the same chute I’d exit through if I needed decanting. It’s got the same chilling effect as the door to the lab, which is situated somewhere behind me and beeps with every opening or closing. Kynes taps my tank again. “Your original’s doing fine. Don’t worry.”

Then she leaves, which happens every night, although she tends to be the last to go. I know her better than any of the other technicians. Kynes handles tanks #40 through #50 and in her three years here she’s not had a single copy fail, which is what they call it when a clone dies. I’m glad she’s looking after me. Doctor Thomas, who monitors #10 to #20, has four copy fails in six years. I’ve seen him work. He’s sloppy. Doesn’t watch the gas mix and doesn’t fit the masks right on the baby copies, so they end up breathing in too much oxygen or too little, and when they’re decanted they just flop around horribly or don’t move at all.

The nights go really slow. I tend to twitch around a bit so the machine doses me, and this way I sleep. Kynes says all the copies are sleeping, but they’re not. I’ve looked at another one with its eyes open before and it’s looked back at me. I can tell when they’re seeing. They don’t have that weird emptiness of vivisections.

Kynes comes in at eight, an hour early, and right away I can tell something is wrong. She comes up to my tank and puts her palms flat on the glass. Breathes.

I wish I could put my hands up, too, mirror hers. I wish I could ask what’s wrong. She’s got that pinch between her eyebrows she gets when she’s not resting enough.

“Hey, 45,” she whispers.

Am I being decanted? Is this the day it happens? My heart rate monitor beeps and she glances up, then back down to me. “It’s okay. You listening?”

I curl both index fingers. She’d taught me how to move my fingers so we could talk. Sort of. I’m limited to yes-no, maybe-help, nothing I want to say, like Where do you go when you leave, and, Why don’t you take me with you, and, What’s my original called?

“She’s in the hospital again. It’ll be fine, it always is. Just wanted to tell you. You’re a good listener.”

My original. That’s the only thing that makes Kynes sound like that, a tight hollow voice. Who is she? I want to ask. Who is she to you? Does she know you like me?

“She doesn’t even know you’re here,” Kynes whispers. “My secret.”

Her secret. I’m her secret. I can’t ask how I’m a secret when the whole lab knows I’m here, or why my original doesn’t know I exist, or how she can afford me when the technicians always complain about not having enough money. Only people with lots of money can afford a copy. We’re expensive to grow and keep. Most people, Kynes says, use lab-grown tissue, but our originals can afford a whole body.

The day-to-day going ons of a laboratory from the perspective of the clone in a vat.

[syn4k]

ok give me like two hours to write a oneshot about lag-induced chronic pain and its effects on players (specifically in minecraft)

[konveeart]

Summary of Art 2024 before NY's?! Crazy!! Happy Holidays~

For the last 4 years (more mindfully and successfully the last two), instead of yearly goals/ resolutions I've been setting "mindsets". Making art is a process of expressing my soul burning bright, with whatever fuels it at the time, so taking care of my body and mind has been essential in keeping the relationship healthy, happy and on the dance floor. I am pretty sure I've noted somewhere what I wanted to do this year project wise (or it was so intense it got printed on my brain), which was finish at least one project and find my answers on what it means to me to "want" and "have to". The latter is still a wip, but more on that on the DW entry under the cut, hehe~

::Quick Summary

January, February, March: Mostly messing around doodling and half-jokingly working on skull-anatomy because I was busy out of my mind studying & working on a long project || April: Project working, moved to my village to focus, played The Sims2 after over a decade, paperwork hell, streaming nights~ || May: Major win!! project finish, Convention Time! || June: Moved out & patiently building energy lvls again.. 🐚 || July: Picked up the pencil & drew a bunch of Sephiroths in my sketchbook, read books, physio </3 || August: Going on a skull-spree!! (also still a wip but I'll learn to draw faces no matter what!!) || September: Chaniartoon Fest, sketches, paintings, wips, making buttons for the first time and as if all weren't enough-- baked banana bread(s) and went off to get the Open Water cert. after so many years (／ˍ・、) || October: drawing for my friends gives me life and is the best thing I've done this month ♥ || November: con prep, back to class while simultaneously working, zine work, dog-sitting!! || December: work, zine, homework, loads loads LOADS of music?! ♥ (((*°▽°*)八(*°▽°*)))

Thank you for a "do-it-scared" year 🌱 Some kind of leap-of-faith on it's own.. ✸ Wishing everyone health & strength to overcome any challenge 2025 has in its sleeve. May you indulge in what makes you happy ♥

Fun facts:

Started reading literature this year. Had a blast (and got blasted, in multiple ways).

In one of my dives (scuba) I threw up in the sea in front of a tourist boat, those that have glass bottoms. No one will forget that at the centre. I got the reputation now.

David Wojciechowski & Victor Fritzsche - Gato was the album that carried me through January - February and you should absolutely give it a listen if you haven't yet, and if you have, listen to it again!!

I wrote a dreamwidth entry with everything I think is relevant (but also might not be). It can be be relatable though, so I'm happy to leave it out there.

[scientia-rex]

A lot of younger people have no idea what aging actually looks and feels like, and the reasons behind it. That ignorance is so dangerous. If you don’t want to “be old,” you aren’t talking about a number of years. I have patients in their late 80s who could still handily beat me in a race—one couple still runs marathons together, in their late 80s—and I lost someone who was in her early 60s to COPD last year. What you want is not youth, it is health.

If you want to still be able to enjoy doing things in your 60s and 70s and 80s and even 90s, what you want to do, right now, is quit smoking, get some activity on a regular basis (a couple of walks a week is WAY better for you than nothing; increasing from 1 hour a day of cardio to 1.5 will buy you very little), and eat some plants. That’s it. No magic to it. No secret weird tricks. Don’t poison yourself, move around so your body doesn’t forget how, and eat plants.

If you have trouble moving around now because of mobility limitations, bad news: you still need to move around, not because it’s immoral not to, but because that’s still the best advice we have. I highly recommend looking up the Sit and Be Fit series; it is freely available and has exercises that can be done in a chair, which are suitable for people with limited mobility or poor balance. POTS sufferers, I’m looking at you.

If you have trouble eating plants because of dietary issues (they cause gas, etc.) or just because they’re bitter (super taster with texture issues here!), bad news. You still want to find a way to get some plants into your body on a regular basis. I know. It sucks. The only way I can do it is restaurants—they can make salads taste like food. I can also tolerate some bagged salads. On bad weeks, the OCD with contamination focus gets so bad I just can’t. However, canned beans always seem “safe,” and they taste a bit like candy, so they’re a good fallback.

If you smoke and you have tried quitting a million times and you’re just not ready to, bad news. You still need to quit. Your body needs you to try and keep trying. Your brain needs it, too. Damaging small blood vessels racks up cumulative damage over time that your body can start trying to reverse as soon as you quit. I know it’s insanely, absurdly addictive. You still need to.

You cannot rules lawyer your way past your body’s basic needs. It needs food, sleep, activity, and the absence of poison. Those are both small things and big asks. You cannot sustain a routine based on punishment, so don’t punish your body. Find ways to include these things that are enjoyable and rewarding instead. Experiment. There is no reason not to experiment—you don’t have to know instantly what’s going to work for you and what won’t, you just need to be willing to try things and make changes when things aren’t working for you.

You will still age. Your body will stop making collagen and elastin. Tissues you can see and tissues you can’t see will both sag. Cushioning tissues under your skin will get thinner. You’ll bruise more easily. Skin will tear more easily. Accumulated sun damage will start to show more and more. Joints will begin to show arthritis. Tendons and ligaments will get weaker and get injured more easily, as will muscles. Bones will lose mass and get easier to break. You’ll get tired more easily.

But you know what makes the difference between being dead, or as good as, in your 60s vs your 90s? Activity, plants, and quitting smoking. And don’t do meth. Saw a 58-year-old guy this week who is going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t quit whatever stimulant he’s on. I pretended to believe it was just the cigarettes, and maybe it is, but meth and cocaine will kill you quicker. Stop poisoning yourself.

Baby steps; take it one step at a time; you don’t need to have everything figured out right now. But you do need to be working on figuring things out.

[kateschi]

back in action

synopsis: being the wife of bakugou katsuki comes with multiple benefits, one of which is a front-row seat to his scrumptious back.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i know at least 2/3 of you have seen that figurine

you swear there’s no better sight in this world than katsuki bakugou’s back.

not the view from your honeymoon suite in santorini, not the sparkling ocean from your vacation in okinawa—hell, not even the perfect strawberry shortcake you baked last weekend.

no, none of that compares to the sheer beauty that is your husband’s ridiculously broad, wonderfully sculpted, unfairly muscular back.

the way his muscles shift under his skin when he moves? art.

the ripple of strength as he stretches? divine.

the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his shoulders after an intense workout? a masterpiece.

and, as if the gods of attractiveness hadn’t blessed him enough, the scars that mark his skin only add to his allure.

each one tells a story of battles fought and won, of heroism that the world praises but he humbly shrugs off. to you, those scars aren’t just symbols of strength—they’re proof of his resilience, his dedication, his heart.

so, yes. you are absolutely obsessed with your husband’s back, and no, you don’t care how shameless that makes you.

“katsuki,” you call from the couch, chin propped up on your hands as you shamelessly watch him rummage through the fridge.

he’s in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, the waistband hanging dangerously low on his hips, and his shirt? nowhere to be found.

a completely intentional choice on his part, because he knows exactly how weak you are for him like this. “did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got the best back in the entire universe?”

he pauses, a carton of orange juice in one hand and an eyebrow raised in your direction. “you tell me that every damn day.”

“well, I mean it every damn day.”

he rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother hiding the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you’re such a weirdo.”

“damn right,” you shoot back, grinning when he snorts. “come here. let me look at it properly.”

“what, my back?” his expression is one part exasperation, two parts amusement as he shuts the fridge and leans against the counter, arms crossed. “the hell do you need to ‘look’ at it for?”

“because it’s a work of art, obviously,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “and I haven’t had my daily dose of admiring you yet.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face like you’re the most exhausting person on the planet, but he still walks over to you without another word. you can tell he’s secretly enjoying this, though.

“alright, idiot. knock yourself out.” he turns around, presenting you with the full, glorious view of his back.

your eyes immediately light up. “oh my god, it’s perfect.”

“it’s a back,” he deadpans.

“no, no, no. it’s the back,” you insist, reaching out to lightly trace your fingers along the curve of his shoulder blades.

he tenses slightly under your touch—his body always reacts before his mind can catch up—but quickly relaxes as you continue your impromptu “admiration session.”

“you’ve got no idea how unfair this is,” you mumble, running your hands down the defined lines of his lats. “how am I supposed to focus on anything when you look like this?”

“you’re ridiculous.” he’s shaking his head, but you can hear the way his voice softens, the way the edges of his usual gruffness smooth out when he talks to you like this.

it’s a few days later, and you're lounging on the couch, flicking through your phone when you hear him coming from the hallway, the sound of his footsteps heavy and deliberate.

katuski’s been in the gym for a couple of hours, and you can already hear the deep exhale he lets out as he moves closer, his breath still heavy from the workout.

"guess who's back," you say, looking up just in time to see him walking into the living room, wearing only a towel around his waist, his body glistening with sweat from his workout.

he pauses for a moment when he sees your face—wide-eyed and full of admiration, already zeroing in on that perfect, chiseled back. his muscles tense as he moves, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

"really?" he says, voice dripping with disbelief. "you still on about this?"

“can’t help it,” you say, setting your phone aside and leaning back against the cushions, fully prepared to watch him, unashamed. "I’m just amazed that someone like you exists in the world."

katuski rolls his eyes, but there's a soft chuckle that escapes him, betraying his indifference. "yeah, well, quit starin'."

"I can’t help it," you reply, your voice a playful purr as you look him up and down. "I mean, who else looks this good after a workout?"

he tilts his head to the side, his signature scowl starting to form, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“quit actin’ like I’m some kinda showpiece, alright?” he grumbles, though you can hear the lighthearted edge to his voice.

you laugh, clearly enjoying yourself too much. "sorry, can’t help it.”

later that week, you and katuski are out on patrol, both suited up in your respective hero uniforms.

it's business as usual—rescuing civilians, stopping some petty criminals, and making sure the city is safe.

the sun’s setting, painting the skyline in beautiful oranges and purples, but you're still laser-focused on one thing: his back.

it's a total accident—really, it is—but when you're standing next to him after you’ve just subdued a villain, you can't help but sneak a glance at the broad expanse of his back.

you feel that familiar pull to reach out, to trace the powerful lines of his shoulder blades again.

“don’t even think about it,” he warns, his voice low and gruff as he catches the glint of mischief in your eyes.

you smile innocently, taking a step closer. "what? I was just going to—"

"not here. we’re in the damn public," katuski growls, his sharp gaze snapping to yours as his fingers tighten around his gauntlet. "you really think I’m gonna let you paw at me in front of everyone?"

you laugh, unbothered by his obvious annoyance. "I’m not pawing at you, I’m admiring you. there's a difference, katsuki."

his jaw tightens as he glares at you, his usual frown deepening. "that’s the same damn thing."

you can’t help but grin, even though he’s clearly not having it.

but, deep down, you know that katuski secretly loves it. sure, he’s tough and grumpy in front of the public, but you both know how soft he gets when you're alone, how he indulges you without hesitation.

so, you take one last daring step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, letting your fingers brush along the fabric of his uniform.

he’s about to bark at you to stop, but you just flash him a quick, mischievous grin, and that’s all it takes for him to roll his eyes, muttering under his breath, "unbelievable."

and katsuki was right in his reprimand cause you were breaking the headlines the very next day.

for all the wrong reasons.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[monstersholygrail]

In a Free Use City, your knowledge on the subject of your job isn’t always what’s most important. And in your case, it’s the least important. You were actually known as quite a ditz in the Free Use City Offices.

You worked in the tech department surrounded by a bunch of hot and nerdy guys who spoke in yours you couldn’t even begin to understand. You were just happy to be there and they were happy to ogle you and press against you whenever you asked for their help with any simple task.

They thought they had the upper hand on you, thinking they were so clever. But you had them all on a leash. An entire department at your disposal to give you pleasure whenever you wanted.

Your favorite man to bother was IT Robot. He got his work done fast and spent the rest of the day goofing off. The easy air around him made him approachable and the way all his shirts fit snugly against his bulging pecs made you drip with need.

You can’t help but spare him another glance before hesitantly returning your gaze to your own computer, the screen filled with the program you still haven’t figured out. Great, now you were confused and horny.

“Need me for something?” IT Robot’s voice suddenly purrs into your ears. His steel-like grip grabbing onto your plush hips and pulling you back into his hard chest.

His body molds to yours so perfectly it has you tingling all over. Arousal gushing and soaking through your panties. He turns you on so bad even when he barely did anything but it was like your body was out of control. As if it could be programmed just for him when he was the robot.

“Help… I hurt,” you say with a pout, your mind turning to complete mush whenever you’re around him.

IT Robot flashes you with that charming lopsided smile of his, heavily amused by the puddle you melt into whenever he talks to you.

“Where does it hurt, huh? It hurt here?”

He caresses your soft belly with an appreciation that borders on worship before one hand slips beneath your skirt, nuzzling his fingers between your soaked folds.

“Or here?” He asks while the other gives a little pat on your head.

A low whine escapes your lips as he rolls his fingers over your clit, your hips jerking into the touch. And that’s all it takes to have IT Robot plunging three of his fingers deep into your cunt, making you gasp and tremble in his arms.

“That’s what I thought… Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll fix the issue right away. It’s what I do after all.”

Your vision blurs as you dive into the pleasure head first. Choking out harsh moans as IT Robot’s fingers move inside you with precision like he has an entire map of your pretty pussy printed in his head. His fingers move in a blur as they pump themselves inside you, hitting all the right places that have you seeing stars. Each curl of his fingers sends your pussy fluttering and clenching down around him.

“Squeeze me tight, honey, ngh c’mon! Don’t think about a thing, just focus on being my pretty baby. My good girl.”

His words send the last thoughts in your head flying out the window, reducing you to nothing but his perfect little fuck toy. Your body relaxes without having to worry about a thing, allowing the ecstasy to overwhelm you.

IT Robot chuckles again as that fucked out expression fills your features. He flattens his palm so that it rubs hard against your clit with every snap of his fingers. With a few quick movements it has you falling over the edge and exploding all over his hand. Your vision flashes white as your orgasm rolls through you and you can’t find the strength to move any of your limbs after.

But that’s alright, IT Robot will take care of you, his fingers slipping out of your pulsing cunt with a pop, and giving your temple a soft kiss. He doesn’t bother cleaning up his hand dripping with your cum as he starts typing on your computer, solving the issue with the program you were using, and successfully helping you with both your aches.

“There, there. I’ve got you, pretty. Just keep feelin’ good. All because of me,” he whispers in your ear. Planning to spend the rest of the day doing all your work for you.

[arpicityandneed]

My Turn

18+ f!reader. best friends steve and bucky. dirty talk. bisexual steve. bisexual bucky.

~

"Tell me again where you want it baby." Your new husband had you in his lap thumbing your clit while you rode him. Your thighs were shaking but you were desperate, tears of frustration on your pretty lashes as you balanced yourself with both hands on his shoulders.

"Inside, Stevie, please?" His hands were roaming over your body possessively, gripping the fat of your ass and thrusting his soaked cock up into you with every down stroke of yours.

"Don't make the sweet thing cry Stevie." Bucky groans as he palms himself through his slacks, waiting his turn for once in honor of your wedding night. Usually he and Steve would've flipped a coin or fought for who got to bully their way inside your pussy first.

"I'm not gonna Buck, she's just so pretty when she begs. My wife." Steve's baby blues were dancing with mischief as Bucky cursed.

"You met her first by accident, Rogers. I'm older-" Bucky started growling the same damn argument they'd been having since they decided they wanted a baby and therefore a wedding. (They were too old fashioned for anything else.)

"Boys, can we argue later?" You cut in breathlessly, and Steves arm wrapped around your waist. Your only warning before he took over- fucking you up and down his shaft like a rag doll as he groaned,

"Alright baby. I gotta do right by my Mrs don't I?" With the smuggest grin you'd ever seen his balls twitched, and spurt after spurt of cum filled you fluttering walls.

"Goddamnit, Stevie." You would've comforted your other boyfriend if you could focus. But Steve's thumb was rubbing your clit as you seized up, coming hard and milking his cock for all he had to give.

You collapsed against his chest.

"You gonna be good for Bucky baby? You got one more in you?" Steve murmured gently as he rocked you on his softening shaft, his cum leaking out of you and drenching his balls in your combined juices.

"Mhm. Want him inside too." You smiled as you kissed him, soft and sweet like you had several hours earlier in front of all your friends and family.

"My turn." You hadn't heard him move but you weren't surprised when you were lifted and bent over the massive bed, Bucky was hardly a patient man once he had the green light.

"Fuck sweetheart, you're dripping." Bucky's voice was hoarse. But Steve, who was laying down close enough for you to tongue at his soft cock, just snorted.

"Don't complain like you don't love it, jerk." Steve guided his shaft into your mouth and murmured softly, "Clean me up baby."

"'M not complaining punk, it's a compliment." You moaned around Steve as Bucky took one good lick of your stuffed pussy before straightening and dragging his cock head through the mess. "Your cum tastes better inside her by the way."

"Shut up, you love my cum anyway you can get it, Barnes."

"Maybe." One smooth thrust and you were full once more, and Bucky goes from teasing his boyfriend to cursing how good you feel. "I gotta say doll. You're kind of a slut."

"B-Bucky!" Your scolding would be more effective if your pussy didn't clench around him from his words and the memories flooding you brain of watching Bucky swallow down Steves cock.

"Greedy fucking pussy-" His moans were loud, shameless. "Back me up here Stevie."

"He's not wrong sweetie. Youre an absolute slut for us. But just us, yeah?" Steve sounds proud. Proud that on his wedding night his wife is being tag teamed by him and his best friend.

Fuck.

You were going to cum, hard and Bucky- the smug bastard- wasn't going to let it happen quietly.

"Someone likes being reminded how needy her pussy is. Clenching down so hard on me doll." Bucky fucked different than Steve. Harder, filthier. His hands were dragging you back onto his fat cock until the audible slap of his hips against your ass echoed around the room. He was getting close you could tell. His heavy balls were slapping against your clit, aching to add to the cum already slicking him inside you. "Should've waited till after the honeymoon to let me fuck her Steve."

His hand snaked around to find your clit and with quick tight circles over your swollen nub you came apart with a cry.

"Yeah, Buck? And why's that.." Steves eyes were narrowed like he was annoyed at being told what to do, but you knew the truth. His cock was growing hard in your mouth again. Bucky thrusted hard inside you before he started to unload, grinding into you as if to make sure his seed took first.

"Cause now we're never gonna know who knocked her up first till the baby's born."

[goatgoesmbe]

poly!141 x f!reader idea

Where everyone is a loser, except for Gaz.

And you.

Gaz got all the rizz, he was definitely the one doing all the work to get them all together. It took a while, and it was agony for him. Long conversation of awkward flirting, quiet glances where they would look away if their eyes met, and don't even ask him about the sex.

But.. somehow, everything worked out in the end.

Then came you, the pretty thing who had just got recruited to the taskforce. You, who immediately became the talk of everyone on base, the cute medic that got everyone courting left and right. The new primadona.

Just like everyone else, Gaz had an eye for beauty. And it seemed like his lovers had the same idea from how they turned from a pragmatic, respectable soldiers to a pathetic, blushing mess just from your presence alone.

And just like before, it made sense for Kyle to be the one who would pursue you. To charm his way into your heart (and pants), before introducing you to everyone else.

Because Price thought approaching you to talk about work count as flirting. Thinking what was important was spending more time with you, no matter what was the reason. Hoping you'd eventually notice his feelings concealed in the questionable amount of paperwork handed to you.

Ghost would follow you around from a safe distance. Staring at you with that look. The kind of unsettling look he usually directed at his target, like you were an enemy's operative instead of a potential partner. Gaz didn't understand what his lieutenant's plan was, maybe he was trying to communicate with you telepathically? Gaz didn't know.

Soap was- well.. either he would embarrass himself so bad, or you would report him to the higher up for sexual harassment.

And with that, it made sense for Gaz to make the move. He was the best candidate- no, the only reasonable candidate for this.

He knew he was attractive, and charming. So this would be easy, right?

Nope.

What he didn't know was, you were so used to having casanovas trying to woo you. So it got boring after a while.

You preferred to be the player instead of the pawn. And so, you simply brushed off all of his advances. Because your type of man was actually the pathetic kind.

And so, Gaz could only watch as you took the drink he bought for you before approaching the others who tried (and failed) to act casual, like they weren't spying at all.

Price was focused with his phone in his hands.. which was upside down.

Soap was.. inspecting a wall like he was at an art exhibition.

While Ghost just stood still as if no one could see him if he didn't move.

...

If he was being honest? Gaz was a bit offended. It was kind of his first time facing rejection. But as they said, there was a first for everything.

And of course, he didn't make a scene, didn't give up on the game because well why should he?

He wasn't disappointed. Because in the end, whoever you chose first, you'd end up with all of them. They were a package after all.

a/n: despite whats written here- the fic is actually gonna focus more on Gaz x reader lolol- some kind of multichap porn rival to lover (?). well I said that but the porn with Gaz wont happen til the very end- does that make sense. probably wont write more than 2 short chapters

[jaeyunnz]

"Work Break Seduction."

ni-ki + f¡reader — ♡ 18+

WARNINGS — dom!ni-ki, sub¡reader, dirty talk, making out, cussing, rough sex, riki eats out reader, unprotected sex (stay safe dont do it.) pet names.

both characters are of age. (20+) not proofread, sorry if theres any errors. this is quite long but worth the read i promise!

Reader recently went into a new college and grew a school crush on Riki. Though he plays hard to get, your able to break his nonchalant demeanour.

Note : Riki was mostly requested, so enjoy. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

Your parents recently moved to a different town, which meant transferring to a new college. It wasn’t as bad as you expected, though you didn’t really know anyone there—but that was fine. At least your childhood friend, Jess, was with you.

A few weeks passed, and you found yourself constantly drawn to a boy—Riki. Girls flocked to him, yet he always brushed them off or rejected their advances. No one seemed to know much about him. He was distant, only ever seen around small groups. But that only made him more intriguing. The mystery surrounding him pulled you in, making you want to learn more about him.

The problem? He avoided everyone—including you. The only times you ever spoke were during school projects, and even then, the conversations were brief or short talk.

This morning, once again, you found yourself paired with Riki. It didn’t bother you as much, but you could tell he wasn’t thrilled about the idea. “Alright, your partners have been chosen. Get to work, project’s due in two days,” the teacher announced. You scanned the room for Riki, and then your eyes landed on him. He was leaning back in his chair, his posture casual and almost lazy. You knew you had to make the first move and approach him, or he’d likely ignore you the entire time.

You hated that you always had to be the one to approach him—it made you feel almost desperate. Yet, here you were, getting up and walking toward him. He watched as you pulled out your chair and sat down beside him. “Hi,” you said, glancing at him for a brief moment. He responded with a small nod, his usual way of acknowledging you.

You settle into the seat, trying to ignore the awkwardness that always seemed to hang between you two. The silence stretched for a moment, neither of you making any effort to start the project. You glance at him, but he’s already looking at his phone, clearly disinterested. Then, you let out a soft sigh, wishing he’d at least pretend to care. Finally deciding to break the silence. “So, uh… how do you want to split this up?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

He shrugs without looking up. “You can do whatever,” he mutters. You bite back a small frustration. Damn, you knew he wasn’t one for much conversation, but it always felt like pulling teeth to get him to participate. Yet, there was something about his indifference that kept you intrigued, even if it was maddening. “I guess I’ll start with the research,” you say, hoping for a bit more input. He doesn’t respond, but you take that as your cue to begin.

The next hour passes in relative silence, except for the occasional rustling of papers and the tapping of his phone. You focus on your work, trying not to pay attention to how he barely acknowledges your presence. Though you’re starting to get irritated by how you’re doing all the work while he’s just sitting there—eyes glued to his phone, doing nothing at all, you can’t bring yourself to get truly mad. Not when he looks this… handsome.

Should you try to start another conversation, hoping he might actually respond? You really wanted to get to know him better, maybe even get him to show a little interest in you, too. Fuck it, might as well, you really like him. "Prom is coming soon, you going out with anyone?" Thats the first thing that came to mind, it was a bit personal, but your curious. Maybe you can shoot your shot?

He finally lifts his head up from his phone, placing it on the desk and locks eyecontact with you. "Nah. Not interested in that typa stuff." For the first time, he actually seemed engaged, and it left you a little thrown off balance. "Why not?" You say, he gives you a shrug. "Why are you asking anyway?" He raises an eyebrow, your slightly taken by surprise when he asks, trying to make yourself sound less interested. "I'm just trying to conversate with you, I mean your quiet as fuck."

He lets out a deep, small chuckle that sounds rich, causing you to snap your eyes at him. Shit, he's really talking to you? "Yeah, well you could've asked me anything," he taps the desk with his fingertips, "But that was apparently the first thing that came to mind?" He rests his arm over the head of the chair, scanning your body for a moment which causes a small faint redness appear on your cheeks. "A bit bold of you, I'll give you credit for that."

You slightly roll your eyes, "How was that bold? I simply asked if you had a prom date or not." He finally sits up straight in his seat, running his hand through his short black hair which catches your attention. "Really?" He chuckles a bit, looking around the classroom.

You raise your eyebrow in slight confusion before he meets your gaze again, "C'mon now. You don't think i've noticed you staring at me?" Your eyes widen, he leans in closer and suddenly your heart starts to pound unbelievably fast. "Every single time we have a class together, I see you." his cold fingertips trails up your thigh, "Your into me? Aren't you? I mean thats why you asked me such a question." Your body freezes, shivers running down your spine.

How the fuck did he know?

"Thats not..." unable to finish your sentence with his hand making contact with your thigh. "Not true?" He says, his hands creeping down to pull your chair closer to him, the both of your knees brushing against eachother. His eyes dart down to your lips, a teasing smirk appearing on his face. Before you can say anything, the bell rings, interrupting the intense moment.

"We can uhm... finish this project later?" He leans back against his chair, acting totally careless about what just happened between you two. "Meet me at lunch." Is all he says before leaving the room. You know your face is beet red, but you dont even wanna see how you look right now. So then you start putting away the paper work into your bag, packing your stuff as he leaves the room, not looking back at you once. For a moment you just stand in the now empty class with a blank mind, trying to process everything that happened.

At lunch, you find yourself sitting at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria, just as he asked. Your heart races a little, unsure of what to expect. You glance around, half-expecting him to bail, but then you spot him walking toward you, looking as casual as ever.

"Hey," Riki says, sliding into the seat across from you. His eyes briefly meet yours before he looks down at the table. "Hi," you reply, trying to sound casual even though your nerves are on edge. There’s a moment of silence between you two, the kind that always seemed to stretch on forever. You want to fill it with something, but words feel like they’re just out of reach.

Finally, he speaks again. "So, what’s your deal?" You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?” He shrugs, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a split second before looking away again. "Like, why are you always tryna talk to me. You barely know me." His bluntness takes you by surprise, but somehow it doesn’t feel as cold as you thought it would. It’s almost… honest.

You take a deep breath. "I don’t know. You’re just different, you know? It’s hard to ignore." He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "I'll take that as a compliment I guess."

"I mean yeah, like you’re this whole mystery. I just want to figure you out." For a second, he looks like he’s about to say something, but instead, he leans back in his seat, his gaze lingering on you a little longer. You feel like he’s reading you, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s trying to figure you out too. Then, without warning, he leans forward, closing the space between you. His hand brushes against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

"Well," he says, voice low, "maybe you’ll find out soon." Before you can process what’s happening, his lips are on yours. It’s sudden, soft at first, but the intensity quickly builds, and everything else fades away. The warmth of his mouth against yours leaves you breathless, and for a moment, everything feels completely different, like this is where you’re supposed to be.

When he pulls away, you’re left dazed, trying to catch your breath. He looks at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s a hint of something—something you can’t quite place. "You okay?" he asks, his voice a little rough. You nod, still in shock, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah. I think I’m more than okay." You bite your lower lip slightly, blushing profusely.

You both sit there for a moment, the air thick with tension and a thousand unspoken words. Your heart is still racing, but now, it's not from nerves. It's from the overwhelming feeling that something has shifted between you two. He doesn't move away, instead, his eyes search yours, almost like he's waiting for something.

Your mind is swirling, but your body seems to take over, leaning in closer, lips barely brushing against his. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his presence pulling you in with a force you can't resist. Without thinking, you kiss him again— this time deeper, more urgent. His hand finds its way to your cheek, his thumb gently grazing the skin as he pulls you in, his other hand sliding to your waist. Your heart hammers in your chest as he kisses you back with a hunger you didn't expect.

It's nothing like the first kiss-this one is raw, a mix of desire and need. You feel his fingers trace the line of your jaw, his touch almost desperate, and it sends a rush of heat through you. Your hands instinctively find his shirt, tugging him closer, as if you can't get enough of him.

His lips move with yours, more demanding now, and you match his intensity, breathless and wanting more. You can't explain it, but everything about him feels right-how he holds you, how his lips mold against yours, like this was always meant to happen. His hand slides down your back, pulling you even closer, and you can feel the heat building between you two. The kiss deepens, and everything else disappears-there's only him, only this moment.

When Riki pulls away, both of you are panting, eyes locked, faces inches apart. "You sure about this?" he asks, his voice husky. You nod, trusting your voice.

You're sure. You want this. You want him.

Without saying another word, he tilts his head toward a washroom near by the cafeteria. Afterall you both can't do anything with people around, so that was the only option. You get up, your heart beating even faster as he follows behind you. He pushes you into one of the stalls, locking it behind you.

He slowly turns around, pushing your back against the wall and his lips are on yours again, and this time, it feels like the beginning of something that neither of you can pull away from. The kiss continues, deepening with each passing second. His hands move, exploring, pulling you closer as if he can't get enough of you either. The way he holds you makes everything else fade into the background-the noise of the cafeteria, the people walking by the washroom, it all feels distant and irrelevant.

You feel his breath against your lips, a slight tremor in his touch as his fingers trace the curve of your back. Your own hands slide into his hair, fingers threading through the strands as you pull him in even closer, wanting more of him. You can taste the faint trace of mint on his breath, and it only makes you crave him more.

Riki slowly pulls away from the kiss, the both of you breathless. Finally his hand slides down your thigh, inching under your skirt. "Can I?" He grunts out as you nod at him almost instantly. "Starting to think you've wanted this for a while now," he chuckles, slipping his hands underneath your skirt and groping your ass, a small moan escaping your lips. "S-shut up will you?" He smirks, his lips trail down, leaving wet kisses down your neck. 

You press your lips tightly together, glaring at him playfully. You can't help but feel a surge of need. It's like you're both fighting the same battle, giving in to something that's been building up for weeks. Suddenly you find your hand guiding his further up your skirt.

Riki doesn't hesitate, immediately shoving your hand aside and tearing your panties apart with his hands. He gets down on his knees and buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking at your dripping folds without warning like a starved man. Your eyes roll back to the back of your head, looking down at him in slight surprise. "Fuck, you're so wet." He growls against your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs.

He groans as he feels your fingers gripping his hair tighter, your delicious moans spurring him on. He alternates between long, teasing licks and quick flicks against your clit, savoring your sweet taste. His hands squeeze your ass, pulling you harder against his face. "F...fuck ah mmph.." Your back arches against the wall, clawing at it slightly as you try to keep quiet, not wanting anyone to hear.

He hooks his arms around your legs and throws them over his shoulders, opening you up even wider. He laps his tongue greedily around your clit, determined to make you come on his face before he allows himself to enter you. "Mmh." He groans against your pussy, your body shaking slightly from the vibration. "A-ah Riki..." The stall gets filled up with slurping sounds along with your quiet desperate moans.

He slightly pulls back, looking up at you with half closed eyes. Your breathing heavily, sweat dripping down your forehead. "Riki or daddy?" He licks his lower lip slightly, smirking a bit as he sees your widened eyes. "I..I am not calling you that weirdo." He tilts his head back, "Hey hey, it was just a suggestion."

"I'll think... about it." You whisper embarrassed, turning a light shade of red when he lets out a quiet chuckle. "Thats my good girl." Your legs slightly tremble at the name, butterflies forming in your stomach before he spreads your legs wider, feasting on your pussy like it's his last meal. He growls against your cunt when you reach down to grip his hair. Your about to reach your climax and he knows it.

"I-I'm gonna-" you whine out, the sound echoes around the empty washroom. Riki snaps his mouth against your clit, sucking hard. "Come on my face, baby." His tongue laps up your juices, going fast and hard against your sensitive nub. "Give it to me." His words are more than enough for you to reach your high, finding yourself cumming all over his face, your thighs shaking violently while you try your hardest not to scream from the pleasure.

He feels your body convulse with your climax. He spreads your legs wider, pushing them back almost painfully, allowing him deeper access. His tongue goes wild, licking and sucking every last bit of your juice. He growls softly against your pussy before pulling back, licking your release off his lips. You suck in a moan, looking down at him.

Riki's cock is aching against his jeans, begging to be free. "P-please." He hears your soft beg. He unbuckles his belt slowly, eyes darkening. "Do you want my dick?" His voice is deep, seeing you slowly nod your head. He pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion, freeing his throbbing cock. He strokes himself slowly, letting you admire his impressive size. A droplet of precum pearls at the tip as he grunts. You stare intently, gulping at his length, "You're..."

He steps forward, turning you around and lifting your ass up, rubbing the head against your sensitive entrance. "Yeah? Think you can take it?" His voice is thick with desire as he pushes the tip just slightly inside you, a loud gasp escaping your mouth. "So far for being quiet." Riki says teasingly as you glare up at him playfully, swallowing hard. "I-I'm trying my hardest," He chuckles while pushing in slightly more, filling you with just the tip. "Am I too big?" He grunts, your hands going up to grip his shoulders tightly.

"I-I can take it.." you whimper out. "You sure?" He feeds you another inch, making you wince slightly. He watches your face closely. "Tsk, you're only halfway there." He pulls back slightly then pushes in another inch, hitting a new spot inside you which causes your mouth to open wide. "You really can take my whole dick? Don't wanna hurt you." His voice drops lower.

You just nod, desperation taking over you. "Good girl." He praises darkly, then grips your hips tightly and slams his hips forward, impaling you completely on his massive length. For a second, your vision gets blurry, the pleasure overwhelming. "Fuck!" He roars as he bottoms out inside you, gripping on your hips tightly. You let out a loud straining moan before hearing someone walk into the washroom.

The both of you freeze, and Riki doesn't move inside you just yet. Your slightly panicking but he doesn't seem to care because he begins to grind his hips slowly, letting you feel every inch of him. Your mouth opens wide, but he quickly covers it with his hand, leaning down and whispers against your ear, "That pussy just swallowed every inch of my cock like such a good girl." His hands grip your thighs roughly, pulling you open wider. You swallow hard, whimpering against his palm. "Shh, don't wanna get caught do you?"

Finally that person seems to leave — and Riki's hand leaves your mouth. His thick shaft drags in and out of your tight, soaked pussy at a brutal pace. Each thrust makes you wince and whimper, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. He pounds into you relentlessly, the sound of his skin slapping against your ass filling the room. "F-fuck ah.. Riki-" You roll your eyes back, your mind becoming blank.

He can feel your gentle scratches against his back as he pounds into you, his hands tightening on your thighs. "Fuck, baby. This what you wanted? My dick destroying your insides?" You nod, opening your mouth to speak but words come out as moans instead. He pulls your hips further up to get deeper inside you. He leans forward, his mouth finding yours in a harsh, bruising kiss as he continues to rut into you.

He groans loudly into the kiss as he feels your pussy clench tightly around his throbbing shaft before breaking the kiss, panting heavily. "Shit, you're squeezing me so fucking tight." He adjusts his angle, deliberately targeting your G-spot with every powerful thrust.

Your trying to grip on the walls, but your fingers slip. "G-gonna cum..." His eyes darken with lust at your words, his thrusts becoming even more forceful. "Cum for me, baby. Milk my dick with that tight cunt." He reaches down and circles his thumb over your clit, applying pressure in time with his thrusts.

And with that, He feels your release bathe his length, making him groan loudly. Your pussy pulses around him tightly, almost painfully. He pumps into you erratically, losing his rhythm. He lowers his head and watches as your fluids coat his shaft, making it glide easily in and out of your body.

He pants heavily, finally unleashing his pent up load deep inside of your wet cunt. Your back arches against him as he does so, the both of you letting out loud moans from the feeling. Then he pulls out slowly, his cock glistening with your juices. "Fuck." He holds your waist and you tremble, putting your whole body weight on him since your struggling to stand.

The bathroom stall feels too small now, the air thick with the weight of what just happened. You’re both still breathing heavily, and there’s a quiet, almost uncomfortable stillness between you.

He leans back against the wall, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to process everything. You do the same, your mind racing a little. It’s strange how quickly things shifted, how in the span of just a few minutes, everything between you changed. You glance over at him. He’s still looking at you, his eyes soft, his expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of you speaks. You’re both just sitting there in the aftermath, unsure of what to say next.

"So… that happened," you murmur, trying to break the silence. He lets out a small laugh, but it’s low, more to himself than anything. “Yeah. Guess it did.” His voice sounds different now, less guarded, but there’s still that underlying tension. You’re not sure if you’re relieved or nervous. A mix of both. "I didn’t expect it to happen like this, especially here." He looks around the cramped stall, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Neither did I. But… it’s not the worst place, I guess."

You roll your eyes, half-smiling. “So… what now?” you ask, the question hanging in the air between you. He pauses, clearly thinking it over. Finally, he looks at you, his gaze steady. "I don’t know. But I don’t want it to be a one-time thing." You can’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through you. "Neither do I."

💘: thank you so much for all your support on my storiesss!! i didnt expect anyone to like them, so thank youu!!!🥹💕💕 ill get to the rest of the requests soon, im currently busy w school so itll take some time, thanks for your patience🫶