#i just want something soft and heavy but also comforting

[ineedpaigebuckets]

Hello. Can you write a comfort Pazzi fic about Paige's first days in the W? Perhaps one set after yesterday's game, where she's happy her friends are there, but she's missing Azzi. She come home tired and beat up, wanting to talk to Azzi, who shows up by surprise and takes care of her. Some vulnerable moments maybe where Paige talks about the adjustment and how hard she's working and how her body is best up from the intensity. Azzi, maybe giving her a massage or bath, and some "gentle ish" sex, where they both are soft with each other, but Azzi really, really takes care of her. And Paige finally has her person with her in Dallas, and someone just to talk to and share the moment with.

yes ma'am (it's kinda like filthy be warned)

home, now

the door clicked shut behind her with a quiet finality. paige stood frozen in the entryway, her keys still dangling from her fingers, the strap of her duffel bag sliding off her shoulder and thudding softly to the floor. her legs felt heavy—like concrete—and her arms hung limply at her sides. she had never known her wrists could ache like this, or that the simple motion of pulling her hair out of a ponytail could feel like too much.

the game was over. the adrenaline had worn off hours ago. the high-fives, the lights, the press. her friends had been in the stands—she’d seen them, smiling and screaming her name, and it had helped for a moment. she’d smiled back. waved. she’d even felt proud.

but now the silence of her apartment pressed against her chest like a weight. she was proud. she was also exhausted. and sore. and just… lonely.

paige didn’t cry. not really. not when she left uconn, not when the draft happened, not even when she stepped on a w court for the first time. but now, here, in the soft dark of her living room, with bruises blooming across her thighs and a dull ache pulsing in her knees, she blinked and felt something wet catch on her lashes.

she rubbed at her face, dropped her keys onto the counter, and dragged herself toward the couch—only to stop short.

the lights were on in the kitchen.

and there, standing by the fridge in a hoodie too big for her and socks pulled halfway up her calves, was azzi.

paige froze. stared. didn’t breathe.

��hey,” azzi said, like she hadn’t just rearranged the entire universe by being here.

“what—what are you doing here?”

“you sounded tired on the phone yesterday. and our schedule finally lined up. so… i flew in. got the spare key from your agent.” azzi walked toward her slowly, like she knew paige might crumple if she moved too fast. “i just wanted to be here when you got home, but im really sorry i couldn't make it to the game.”

paige let out a sound—something caught between a laugh and a sob—and stepped into her arms like she hadn’t seen her in months. because it had felt that long. longer. her head dropped to azzi’s shoulder, her face buried in the space between her collar and neck. azzi’s hands circled her back instantly, one sliding up to her hair, fingers gentle.

“i missed you,” paige mumbled. “i don’t even know how much until right now.”

“i know,” azzi whispered. “me too.”

they stood like that for a long time—until paige’s legs started to shake and azzi was guiding her to the couch, pulling her down gently, cradling her like something precious. azzi helped her out of her shoes, then crouched down in front of her, fingertips brushing over paige’s knees like she was cataloging the pain by feel.

“rough night?” azzi asked softly.

paige huffed. “rough month.”

“talk to me.”

paige swallowed. her throat felt thick. “everything’s faster. harder. i knew it would be. but knowing and living it are two different things. i’m trying. i swear i’m trying. but my body… it’s so tired. i’m so tired.”

“you’re doing amazing,” azzi said, brushing hair from her face. “and you don’t have to be strong for me. not here.”

paige’s eyes fluttered shut. “i just needed… you.”

“you have me,” azzi said, kissing her temple.

they ended up in the bathroom, quiet except for the gentle hum of the tub filling. the light was soft—just the dim glow above the mirror and the flicker of one candle azzi had somehow found and lit while paige was in her haze.

paige leaned against the counter, hips resting against the cool marble, eyes barely open. her sports bra clung to her ribs, damp from sweat, and her shorts were loose but felt suffocating after the game. azzi moved around her with quiet purpose, barefoot, hoodie sleeves pushed up to her elbows.

“arms up,” she said gently.

paige obeyed without speaking. azzi pulled her bra over her head with care, folding it and setting it aside. then the shorts, sliding them down slowly, her fingers brushing paige’s skin. nothing rushed. nothing greedy. just presence. reverence. a kind of knowing only built through years of quiet, quiet love.

when paige was fully bare, she didn’t cross her arms or shy away. she just looked at azzi, eyes a little glassy, like she might cry if azzi wasn’t already holding all the heavy things for her.

“in,” azzi whispered.

the bath was warm. not scalding. just enough to pull the tension out, to coax her tired body into letting go. paige stepped in slowly, wincing at first, then sighing deep once she sank beneath the water. azzi got in behind her, pulling paige between her legs like she belonged there. like she always had.

paige’s head rested against azzi’s collarbone, and azzi’s hands started moving—soft circles over sore shoulders, her thumbs pressing gently at the knots by her neck.

“just breathe,” azzi murmured, mouth close to her ear.

paige exhaled shakily, chest rising and falling in uneven waves.

“hurts?” azzi asked, fingers pausing at a particularly tight spot near her spine.

“yeah,” paige said. her voice was hoarse. small. “everywhere.”

“i’ve got you.”

slowly, azzi let one hand drift down, tracing the line of paige’s arm beneath the water. her fingers dipped below the surface, brushed over her ribs, then lower—along her thigh, where bruises were blooming like violet fingerprints. she cupped one gently, her thumb brushing over it like she could take the pain into herself.

“you’re working so hard,” azzi said. “i know it feels like you have to do it all alone. but you don’t. not with me.”

paige tilted her head, cheek brushing azzi’s jaw. “i didn’t know how much i needed you here until you were.”

“i know,” azzi whispered. “you carry everything.”

“sometimes i wish i didn’t have to.”

“then don’t. not tonight.”

azzi’s hand slid across her stomach, slow and steady. not demanding. just there. grounding. the water lapped gently around them, and azzi kissed the top of paige’s head, then her temple, then lower—along her jaw, soft lips pressing into the places where the tension lived.

paige let her legs float open slightly, the smallest movement, but azzi understood. she always did. her fingers found the inside of paige’s thigh beneath the water, just resting there at first, as if to ask are you sure? and paige’s breath caught, then steadied, and she shifted back into her, answering in the way her hand found azzi’s thigh and squeezed lightly.

“okay,” azzi said, so soft it was almost a breath. “just let go, baby.”

and paige did.

she let azzi touch her, slow and steady, the way only azzi could—like her body was a language she already knew by heart. azzi’s palm moved beneath the water, slipping over soft skin and settling between paige’s legs, but even that didn’t feel like the start of anything rushed. it felt like an extension of the care she’d been giving all night. like an offering. like safety.

azzi’s fingers moved slowly, parting her carefully, like she was trying to memorize every reaction. her other arm stayed locked around paige’s waist, holding her steady. anchoring her. her mouth never left paige’s skin—cheek, shoulder, collarbone—kisses placed gently between each breath, each soft sound.

paige’s breath hitched as azzi’s fingers circled her, a slow rhythm that built with no urgency, just intention. her hips shifted, a subtle roll forward that told azzi everything she needed to know. she tightened her arm around her, guiding her through it.

“you’re okay,” azzi whispered. “i’ve got you.”

paige whimpered—a broken, beautiful sound—and azzi kissed her temple, lips lingering.

“you’re doing so good,” she murmured. “just relax.”

paige’s eyes fluttered shut, her body melting into the space azzi had made for her. everything ached—her knees, her wrists, her back—but not here. not like this. azzi’s touch washed it all away, slow and sure and patient, until all that was left was heat building low in her stomach and the soft press of skin and water and love.

when she came, it wasn’t loud or frantic. it was a quiet unraveling, a slow release that crept up on her like dusk. a soft surrender. a breaking open in silence.

it started in her chest—a tight coil of exhaustion, pressure, emotion that finally, finally gave way. her breath stuttered, shallow and uneven, then deepened into a long, trembling exhale as the feeling washed through her, full-body and fierce. not overwhelming, not this time. just consuming in the way that made her feel known. real. touched in places that had nothing to do with skin.

her legs shook beneath the water, gentle but visible, the kind of tremble that started deep in her core and radiated outward in soft, involuntary pulses. her thighs twitched as the warmth swelled low in her belly, a dull ache that unspooled into pleasure slow and deliberate—like her body had been holding back too long and was finally, mercifully, allowed to feel something that didn’t hurt.

her knees knocked faintly against azzi’s, and her breath caught—shallow and sharp—then spilled out in a shaky moan that barely made it past her lips. her stomach clenched, not with effort but release, every muscle around her hips fluttering beneath the water as she let the feeling crest, then crash. not fast. not overwhelming. just steady. consuming.

her body curled slightly, instinctively, the water rippling around her. she reached behind without thinking, fingers fumbling through the bath until they found azzi’s thigh—smooth and strong and steady behind her. she gripped it—not tightly, not desperate, but with this quiet urgency, like she needed to know something was there. something real. something grounding when everything inside her was liquid and shaking and breaking open at once.

her palm flattened there, splayed wide over azzi’s skin, and in that moment she felt everything. the tension in her own shoulders finally starting to ease. the rush of blood behind her ribs. the softness of the water against her chest. the heat between her legs, still pulsing in slow waves. azzi’s breath at her ear. azzi’s hand still cradling her gently, not pushing, just holding her through it.

azzi didn’t speak. she just held her tighter, fingers easing their rhythm as paige’s body trembled once, then again, then stilled. her mouth was pressed to paige’s temple, breath warm against her hairline. she whispered something too quiet to catch, but paige didn’t need words.

the warmth between them was more than the bath. it was the way azzi wrapped around her like a second skin, like protection. it was the way her hands knew when to keep moving and when to stop. the way her touch never asked, only gave.

paige let her body fall completely limp in azzi’s arms, muscles softening like she hadn’t let herself relax in weeks. her spine curved against azzi’s chest, head tipped back onto her shoulder, neck long and exposed in a way that felt like trust.

her eyes stayed shut. her breathing was unsteady still, little aftershocks in her ribs. but her face—usually so guarded, so tense—was calm now. raw and flushed and peaceful.

she didn’t say a word, didn’t need to. everything was already spoken in the way her body curled back into azzi’s like instinct. like belonging. like home.

and azzi just held her, fingers still moving gently, easing her through every wave until she stilled. until her body was slack and heavy in azzi’s arms, her breathing deep and slow and clean for the first time in days.

“there you go,” azzi said, pressing a kiss to her cheek, her temple, her wet lashes. “i’ve got you. you’re home now.”

they stayed there, naked and quiet, water cooling around them, but warmth pulsing steady between their bodies. and for the first time since the season started, paige didn’t feel like she was bracing for the next hit.

she just felt held.

they stayed like that long after the water cooled, azzi holding her like something precious, like her being here was the only thing that mattered.

and maybe, for tonight, it was.

when the bath was over, they moved to the bedroom. paige’s skin was soft and warm from the heat, her limbs loose with exhaustion. she didn’t say anything when azzi kissed her—just kissed her back slowly, gratefully, like she needed to memorize the shape of her again.

and when azzi touched her—soft palms over tired muscles, mouth against her chest, her stomach, her thighs—paige let her. she didn’t feel like a wnba player or a public figure or someone who was supposed to be fine. she felt like a person. her person’s person.

they ended up in bed without really speaking, towels loose around their bodies, hair damp against their shoulders. the light was low. the sheets cool. and when azzi kissed her again—really kissed her—there was nothing hesitant about it.

it was different now. not soft, not slow.

it was need.

paige felt it in the way azzi’s hands roamed lower, bolder, like she wasn’t afraid of breaking her anymore. like she finally believed she wouldn’t. and paige met her there—hips lifting, teeth catching azzi’s bottom lip, hands fisting in the towel still slung around her waist before pulling it off completely. she was done being careful.

because this wasn’t about relaxing anymore. this wasn’t about rest.

this was about remembering she was alive.

and when azzi touched her—soft at first, but building, pressing deeper, harder—paige burned for it.

heat bloomed under her skin, spreading fast, fast, fast. her breath stuttered in her chest as azzi’s fingers traced the slope of her waist, her ribs, the dip of her stomach—each touch grounding and electric all at once. her back lifted off the mattress, body curving instinctively into every point of contact like she’d been starved for it. like this—her—was the only thing that still felt real.

azzi’s mouth followed the line of her torso, open and warm, tongue flicking across her skin in slow, purposeful drags. paige could feel every pass of it—how her stomach jumped when azzi dipped into her navel, how her thighs tensed when azzi’s nails scraped lightly up their insides, how her nipples tightened under the rush of breath when azzi grazed past them again, not stopping, teasing, building.

and when azzi finally pressed her hand between paige’s legs, sliding in slow, deliberate strokes, paige gasped—sharp and breathless, her hips jerking up to meet her touch like a live wire had gone off inside her. slick heat surged through her, low and insistent, her thighs falling open without hesitation now, surrendering to the rhythm azzi set, one that was fast becoming frantic.

everything that had been quiet in her all week—the ache in her shoulders, the hollow in her chest, the dull numbness from forcing smiles through days that demanded too much—came roaring back as want. feral. full-body. her fingers twisted in the sheets, jaw slack as a moan slipped loose, shameless and low, and azzi groaned softly in return, like she felt it too.

“that’s it,” azzi murmured, voice dark and reverent, breath hot against the inside of paige’s thigh. “just like that.”

and paige gave in—hips rolling up to meet azzi’s hand, her mouth falling open as the pressure built sharp and fast. her body moved without thinking, chasing it, aching for it, driven by instinct and hunger and the sheer relief of being allowed to want something this badly. to be wanted this badly. to not be composed or collected or fine—but fucked open and undone, and seen in the fire of it.

every nerve in her body was screaming, raw and awake again.

and god, it felt so fucking good to feel.

pure, physical, full-body want.

“azz,” she breathed, eyes fluttering shut as azzi’s mouth moved down her chest, her ribs, her stomach. “please.”

and azzi didn’t ask what she needed—she already knew. her hands were steady, her mouth unrelenting, and paige’s body answered with sharp gasps and a tremble that wasn’t gentle this time. it was raw. it was desperate.

paige clutched the sheets like she needed something to hold onto. like she might come apart if she didn’t. and maybe she did. but azzi was already there, anchoring her, pulling moans from her throat like she wanted to hear them, wanted to feel how wild she could make her.

and god, she was wild.

it wasn’t quiet now. it wasn’t delicate. it was fast and hot and dizzying, and when it hit her—when she came this time—it felt like a snap. like a match strike. her back arched off the bed, and azzi held her there, let her ride it out, let her make noise.

paige didn’t cry, but it was close. the kind of climax that felt like a reckoning. like something crashing through her chest. her whole body was shaking, fingers tangled in azzi’s curls, thighs trembling as she finally fell back against the bed, slick with sweat and flushed all over.

azzi crawled up beside her, mouth kiss-wet, hair sticking to her cheek. and she looked at paige like she was hers. not like an athlete, or a name on a jersey, or a girl who needed to be taken care of. but like a woman who was fire and fury and feeling, who had come back to herself tonight and let someone witness it.

“you good?” azzi asked softly, brushing paige’s hair from her face.

paige let out a long breath. her lips were parted. her eyes still half-lidded, dazed.

“yeah,” she whispered. her voice was hoarse. “yeah, i’m good.”

and she smiled—not polite, not tired.

real.

hungry.

“you’re gonna kill me,” azzi gasped, breath shaky, fingers curling weakly in paige’s hair.

paige smiled against her skin, slow and dangerous, lips brushing the edge of azzi’s ribcage. “good,” she whispered. “you deserve it.”

azzi had taken care of her. had held her through the unraveling. but she wasn’t tired. not really. her chest was rising fast, yeah, and her lips were kiss-swollen—but she hadn’t been wrecked yet. hadn’t been touched like she touched paige. and paige needed that. needed to feel her come undone. to see the heat in her face shift into something wild, something messy, something ruined.

she pressed azzi back into the pillows, hands moving low, deliberate, greedy. azzi’s breath caught, her thighs parting almost automatically, her body too honest to lie.

“baby—” she tried again, but it was thin, breaking. “you don’t have to—”

“shut up,” paige murmured. “let me.”

and then she was everywhere—mouth, hands, hunger. kissing down azzi’s stomach, biting gently at the skin just above her hip, dragging her tongue over every sensitive place she remembered from long nights and low light. she was slower than shefelt, but deeper. pressing her weight into each movement like she wanted to brand azzi with it. like she needed to make her feel it tomorrow. the next day. every time she tried to walk.

“god,” azzi breathed, her voice gone low and wrecked already. “paige—”

but paige didn’t answer. she just kept going. sucking, licking, curling her fingers just right until azzi’s thighs were shaking, until her hips jerked and her hands slammed into the headboard, fingers gripping the slats like she was holding on for dear life.

paige didn’t stop when azzi begged. didn’t stop when she came, the first time—high and sharp and with a broken cry into the crook of her arm. didn’t even slow. just kept going, mouth soft but relentless, fingers deep and confident, coaxing sound after sound out of azzi’s throat until she was writhing, legs clamped around paige’s shoulders, breath a wrecked mess of “please” and “fuck” and “i can’t—i can’t—”

but she could.

and paige proved it.

with her mouth first. slow, then fast. tongue teasing at first, then deep, purposeful, pressing into azzi like she wanted to ruin her. like she meant to. her hands held azzi open, thumbs dragging soft, dizzying circles over her hips while her tongue licked through slick heat, again and again, until azzi’s back arched and her hand flew to the sheets and pulled. the kind of grip that begged for mercy. the kind of grip that meant don’t stop.

and paige didn’t.

she sucked and licked and curled her fingers into azzi when she started shaking—just two at first, then three, slow but deep, hitting the spot that made azzi cry out and snap, hips lifting off the bed, thighs trembling around paige’s shoulders. the third orgasm tore out of her like a sob, like it had been dragged up from the root of her.

but paige didn’t stop there.

she eased her through it, just enough for the tension to break, then started again—lips sticky, chin wet, eyes wild with it. she shifted her angle, kissed the insides of azzi’s thighs, then went back to her center like she couldn’t stay away. her fingers didn’t falter, didn’t slow. her mouth sealed over azzi again with that same steady rhythm, building it up again, and azzi bucked, already too sensitive, already wrecked.

“paige—” her voice cracked, high and hoarse. “please.”

paige just groaned, the sound low and almost possessive. “you can take it,” she said, mouth brushing wet over her. “i know you can.”

azzi came again, harder—hips jerking, legs locking, both hands shoved into her own hair like she didn’t know what else to hold onto. tears welled in her eyes, spilling out at the edges when she gasped paige’s name like a prayer she couldn’t stop saying.

and still—still—it wasn’t over.

paige climbed up her body, kissed her face, her throat, bit at her collarbone, and said, “one more.”

“i can’t,” azzi choked out, voice shredded.

“one more,” paige whispered, breath hot in her ear. “let me, baby. please. i need to.”

and somehow, azzi did. she let her.

paige moved her leg over azzi’s thigh, bodies sliding together, flushed skin on flushed skin, slick and wet and raw. she lined them up, pressed in, slow and devastating, her hips grinding just enough to pull a choked moan from azzi’s throat.

it was too much. and exactly right.

azzi clawed at paige’s back, her body lifting to meet her, rocking helplessly as paige proved it with every roll of her hips. every kiss. every breathless whisper of “i love you” against her ear.

azzi shattered again—legs trembling, thighs slick, voice gone—and this time, she didn’t even make a sound. just a breath, a sob, her whole body seizing beneath paige, then going utterly limp. twitching.

and paige finally stopped.

her mouth pressed to azzi’s cheek, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth. her hand stroked through her hair, whispering “you’re okay, you’re okay, i’ve got you,” over and over until azzi could finally breathe again.

azzi’s arms tried to lift, then dropped. spent. tears still clung to her lashes. her lips parted, eyes unfocused, voice slurred when she mumbled, “you win.”

and paige smiled. soft. proud. completely in love.

“i know.”

azzi didn’t move for a long time. not even a twitch. she just lay there, breathing shallow, lips parted, her entire body slack beneath the damp sheets. paige hovered above her, catching her own breath, chest rising and falling with quiet pride and something even deeper—something like awe.

eventually, azzi stirred.

“you’re a menace,” she croaked, voice absolutely wrecked, the smallest smirk tugging at her mouth. “i’m gonna have to be stretchered into the next team meeting.”

paige grinned, not even a little bit sorry. “you’re the one who showed up unannounced.”

“to take care of you,” azzi groaned, dragging a hand across her face. “and now i need my caregiver.”

“well,” paige said, shifting down and kissing her belly button, “consider it mutual destruction.”

azzi let out a hoarse laugh. “i can’t believe you kept going. i think my soul left my body on orgasm number four.”

“number five,” paige corrected. “but who’s counting.”

“you were,” azzi said, eyes fluttering shut as she grinned. “sicko.”

paige rolled to the side and gently pulled azzi with her, wrapping her up in her arms. azzi was limp but pliant, head falling against paige’s collarbone. their skin was sticky, overheated, slick with sweat and everything else, and still, neither of them pulled away.

“you good?” paige murmured into her hair.

azzi made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a hum. “i’m alive,” she said. “barely.”

“wanna rinse off?”

“i can’t walk, bro.”

“so dramatic,” paige teased. “you’re an elite athlete.”

“not anymore,” azzi groaned. “i’ve been retired by your mouth.”

paige laughed, full and warm, and kissed her temple. “okay. i’ll carry you.”

and she did—half-lifting, half-guiding her into the bathroom again. the lights were low, the air warm. paige ran a soft stream from the showerhead and let it trickle down azzi’s back while she held her steady, soaped her up gently, kissed the slope of her shoulder every time azzi leaned too heavily into her.

“this is actually nice,” azzi murmured, finally able to stand on her own as paige rinsed her arms. “i think i forgive you.”

“think?”

“jury’s still out.”

once they were clean and dry, paige tugged azzi back into bed, this time under the covers. she made sure to lotion her shoulders, run her fingers through the knots in her hair, kiss the soft spot behind her ear just because she could.

“you okay now?” azzi whispered after a while, voice drowsy.

paige looked over at her, and something in her chest softened, like all the fight had gone out of her.

“yeah,” she said quietly. “i am now.”

“good,” azzi said, tucking herself into paige’s side. “i don’t ever want you to have to go through something big without me again.”

paige kissed the top of her head, pulled the blankets up around them. “then don’t leave.”

“wasn’t planning on it.”

and they drifted like that—bodies tangled, skin warm, every ache eased by the presence of the other. there was nothing left to prove. just this. just them.

safe. loved. home.

[pucking-rowdy]

[3.1k]

blowing smoke (3/?)

pairing: luke hughes x childhood best friend!reader, ethan edwars x fem!reader summary: your reconciliation with luke starts to affect your relationship with ethan in unrepairable ways.

warnings: underage drinking, cheating notes: sorry this took forever!! my semester is finally over who cheered!! also i had no idea how to summarize this part so sorry that the summary sucks

part one | part two

unedited

the hughes' house always felt like a time warp during the winter.

slow mornings with pancakes and snow-frosted windows, movie marathons that stretch into late afternoons, and quiet evenings where the hum of a hockey game on tv fills the background of naps on the couch with the boys. the days seemed to blend together.

it's been three days since that night in the kitchen with luke.

three days since luke rested his head on your shoulder like it meant something. since you didn’t text ethan back right away. since you started to feel that pull again, the one you’d spent so long trying to bury under other boys and forced laughter and the lie that things hadn’t already changed.

you hadn't talked about it, not really.

you’ve caught him watching you more. lingering glances across the living room. sitting next to you at breakfast even when there were other open chairs. finding reasons to be near you, like everything was still normal.

it's subtle, but you caught it.

you’re in the basement now, sprawled on the couch with a throw blanket around your legs. luke's sitting beside you, legs stretched out, half-watching the mighty ducks playing on the screen.

the silence stretches, but not uncomfortably. luke leans his head against the back of the couch, and his voice comes out of nowhere.

“i heard from emma today,” luke says, his voice low as he glances toward you.

you sit up slightly, surprised by the sudden thought. “oh? how’s she doing?”

he shrugs, though you catch the way his jaw tightens. “she’s fine. i think she’s just frustrated with me.”

you nod. “she’s always frustrated with you.”

luke laughs softly, but it’s hollow. “yeah, well… i don’t blame her. i haven’t exactly been the easiest person to read lately.”

"you’re not the only one, you know,” you say quietly. your words hang between you two, like something heavier than just casual conversation.

luke looks at you, his gaze intense. “yeah,” he mutters, glancing away again. “maybe I’m not the only one who’s been… confused.”

your chest tightens. you want to ask what he means, but you don’t. The words are just too heavy on your tongue.

instead, you shift uncomfortably on the couch, crossing your arms as you watch the flickering light of the tv screen. “i think everyone’s a little confused right now,” you say, more to yourself than him.

“yeah. i guess we’re all just trying to figure it out.”

the silence stretches, comfortable but full of things left unsaid. luke leans back, his arm brushing against yours, and for a brief moment, it feels like everything might just settle into place again.

“so, about ethan…” luke says suddenly, his voice soft.

you swallow, unsure of where this is going. “what about him?”

"are you...happy with him?" he asks. his voice is calm, but there's an underlying tension that makes you wonder if the question was more than just his curiosity. it's like he's waiting for something, bracing himself for what you might say.

you don't hesitate.

"yeah," the words spill out easier than you expect.

the air shifts. luke takes a breath, letting it out slowly as if that's what he'd been expecting you to say.

"yeah," he says, "that's all that matters then."

you don’t know what to say to that. a part of you wants to reach out, to tell him that everything’s okay, that this doesn’t change anything. but something inside you knows that it does change things, in ways you’re not sure either of you is ready to admit.

the silence drapes over you both again, a heavy blanket you can’t shake off. luke leans forward, running a hand through his hair in a familiar way.

“i’m not good at this,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “not good at… talking about stuff. not good at… this.”

you feel a pang in your chest, a mixture of sympathy and something else, something that feels too much like longing to ignore.

“i know,” you reply softly, your voice steady. "you never have been."

“i just don’t want things to change, you know? but I think... I think they already have.” He turns to look at you then, his gaze almost searching, almost pleading. “i don’t mean to make it harder, but it’s like... i can’t stop thinking about it.”

your heart beats a little faster at his confession, and for the first time, you feel the full weight of what you’ve both been avoiding. there’s something unspoken between you, and it’s not just about ethan or emma. it’s the way luke’s eyes linger on you. something's slipping through your fingers, something you can’t name.

"i don't want things to change either."

luke’s eyes soften, and for a second, the distance between you both feels like it might close. but then he shifts, standing up, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he looks away.

"guess we'll just have to figure it out," he says.

"yeah," your voice is soft as he turns to leave, "guess we will."

and with that, the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you alone with the lingering tension.

-

the snow hasn’t melted yet.

it clings to the edges of the sidewalks and the metal railings outside your building, gray and half-frozen, a stubborn reminder that winter isn’t entirely over, even if classes are starting again, even if life is supposed to go back to normal.

your dorm room is just how you left it: a little stale, a little cold. emma isn’t back yet, which gives you a moment to breathe, to sit on your bed and settle.

you pull your phone out of your pocket and glance at the screen. a few unread messages. one from ethan, a few hours old: "you back on campus yet? want to grab coffee later?"

you should feel excited to see him, and maybe part of you is. but there’s a weird kind of ache in your chest that lingers.

luke hasn’t texted you since he left the basement that night.

outside your window, students are hauling suitcases up the steps and brushing snow off their jackets. campus is waking up again, loud and fast and familiar. you don’t feel entirely present, like you’ve left some part of yourself sitting on the hughes’ living room couch.

there's a knock on the door, sharp and quick.

you startle, sliding off the bed to open it.

it’s not luke. of course it’s not.

it’s ethan, his cheeks red from the cold, holding two paper cups of coffee. “hey,” he says, smiling. “figured you'd be back by now.”

you let him in. he presses a warm cup of coffee into your hands. it's made just the way you like it, and your heart clenches at the thought of ethan memorizing you.

"i missed you," he grins, clutching your empty hand as he sits on your bed. you smile softly back, hoping it looks genuine.

"i missed you too."

and maybe that's true.

but when he kisses you, your eyes flutter shut and the first image that comes to your mind is not of him. it’s the soft plush of a basement couch. the flicker of a hockey game on tv. the sound of a voice you've been hearing for days:

“guess we’ll just have to figure it out.”

you don’t know what to do with that yet.

so you let ethan kiss you, slow and full of adoration.

his hand traces lazy circles over your back as you lay on his chest, listening to him talk about practice starting up again, how coach already sent out the conditioning schedule, how rutger forgot his skates over break and is now “a menace to society until UPS comes through.”

you laugh, soft and real. it's easy to let ethan fill the silence, because he's always been good at it, always known how to crack a joke and make things feel lighter when your chest is heavy.

eventually, the conversation dies and he looks at you carefully.

"are you okay?"

you nod a little too quickly.

"i mean it. you've been a little quiet since i came in. is everything good?" he presses, voice softer and filled with a quiet concern.

"i'm just tired," you say, forcing a smile, "long drive."

he nods slowly, like he wants to believe you.

-

you’re back in the rink.

the bleachers are mostly empty, save for a few other girlfriends and stragglers scattered around. you pull your scarf tighter around your neck as you watch the boys skate drills, the sound of blades slicing ice oddly comforting.

ethan catches your eye a few times, tossing you a wink, a grin, mouthing something you can’t quite catch. it makes you smile.

you sit in your usual spot, legs curled beneath you, the chill of the metal bleachers settling in slowly. most of the boys are filtering off the ice now, tugging off gloves and bumping each other on the way to the tunnel.

luke's still out there.

he skates slow laps, his helmet off and damp curls sticking to his forehead. eventually, he skates towards the bench and his eyes meet yours for the first time. surprise flickers across his face for a moment.

"you looked good out there," you offer. it's true, he always looks good on the ice.

"thanks," the blades of his skates scratch against the concrete as he shifts his weight.

"you okay?"

his jaw tightens, "i don't know."

“i miss being your person,” he says, the words falling out of him like he’s been holding them in too long.

“i miss it too,” you admit.

he just nods.

the ice crew starts to enter at the other end of the rink, the loud whirr of the zamboni humming to life.

“you should go. it's freezing in here,” he says, trying for a light tone that doesn’t quite land.

you don’t move.

“luke,” you say gently, but he shakes his head.

“i know,” he says, and finally looks at you again. “we don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”

you jump a bit as an arm wraps around your shoulders. ethan gives luke a nod, speaking softly in your ear. "ready to go?"

you nod, your eyes still locked on luke.

luke gives you the faintest smile, tired, but real. “see you tomorrow?”

“yeah. tomorrow.”

-

you're lying on ethan's bed, feet dangling off the edge, scrolling on your phone as you try to ignore the muffled music and laughter from downstairs.

his room smells like him. clean laundry, spearmint gum, and the faint, lingering trace of his body wash. the comforter beneath you is slightly rumpled. there’s a red bull can on the nightstand. a hoodie draped over the chair.

it’s quiet up here. safe, almost. but your chest still feels tight.

the door opens with a creak and ethan steps inside. he’s holding two bottles of gatorade, and a half-eaten sleeve of oreos tucked under his arm. his hair’s still a little damp from his post-practice shower. he looks warm and familiar and unfairly beautiful.

"there you are," he says softly. "you okay?"

you nod, not trusting your voice. he flops down beside you, handing you a blue gatorade. he opens the oreos, offering you one without taking his eyes off the ceiling. “so what’s the real reason you ghosted the party? avoiding the mark and rutger beer pong rematch?"

you laugh and nod. he nudges your shoulder, "you missed some quality entertainment."

you bite into the cookie slowly. “just needed air. it’s loud down there.”

ethan makes a dramatic mm-hmm sound like he’s analyzing your soul. “you’re emotionally dodging. classic tactic. i can see right through you.”

“can you?” you ask, raising a brow.

he turns toward you, propping himself up on his elbow. “yep. i took a psych elective, remember? c’s get degrees, baby.”

that pulls a real laugh out of you. he grins at you, like he’s trying to make you laugh just a little longer.

but then it fades, just slightly. his expression shifts.

"i’m not trying to make you talk about stuff,” he says, voice gentler now. “i know it’s… a lot. whatever it is.”

you look at him, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite touch your eyes. “i know, eddy. i just… need a little space to figure it out.”

he nods, his expression softening with understanding, though there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes. he doesn’t press, just sits there with you, quiet and patient.

“okay,” he says finally, his voice warm but laced with something you can’t quite place. “whenever you’re ready, i’m here.”

you smile softly, nudging him with your shoulder. he smiles back, pressing a kiss to your cheek. you let out a breath, relieving the tension in your chest for just this moment.

-

the bar is buzzing with energy, packed to the brim with teammates, friends, and fans celebrating the big win. the sound of clinking glasses, laughter, and music fills the air as the team takes over one corner of the bar, trying to drown out the exhaustion of the game with loud cheers and round after round of drinks. the night is still young, and everyone is in high spirits.

you’re at the bar with luke, leaning against the wooden counter, your second vodka redbull in your hand. the tension between you two momentarily forgotten thanks to the alcohol coursing through your body. your eyes drift over to the group of guys across the room, all of them laughing, exchanging stories from the game, their voices blending together like background noise.

luke, his hair messy and a grin plastered on his face, is already a little tipsy, and you can tell by the way his arm hangs loosely over the back of your chair. it feels easy, comfortable, like this is what you’ve always done: hang out with luke after a big game, celebrating together.

"you played so good tonight," you lean over, making sure your voice carries over the noise.

luke shrugs, his grin playful. "wasn't just me. whole team showed up tonight," he takes a sip of his drink. "but i'll take some credit if you're offering."

you roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. there's something infectious about his energy tonight, something that draws you in. you've spent enough time with luke to know that his confidence, even while drunk, has a way of sinking its claws in you.

a few rounds of shots later, you find yourself laughing harder than you should, leaning into luke’s side more than is probably appropriate, but it feels nice. it feels normal.

"come on, let’s go dance,” luke suddenly suggests, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the dance floor, where a few of the guys are already showing off. you let him drag you, not bothering to protest as you giggle, your feet stumbling slightly from the drinks in your system.

on the dance floor, the music is loud and the beat heavy, the room pulsing with energy. you and luke move in sync, your laughter mixing with the music. his hand is on your waist now, and the closeness feels familiar. something shifts in the air between you two. there’s an electricity now, a pull that wasn’t there before. it’s the alcohol, maybe, but it feels different tonight.

luke leans in close, his face inches from yours. you glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat as his eyes lock onto yours. without thinking, you reach up, brushing your hand against the side of his neck. The touch is gentle, tentative, but he leans into it, his lips almost brushing against yours.

then it happens. his lips are on yours, soft but urgent, as if he’s been holding back for far too long. you kiss him back, a little hesitant at first, but it quickly deepens, the taste of alcohol and the buzz from the night mixing together.

you don’t know when exactly it happened, but you’ve crossed a line that can’t be uncrossed.

when you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, a little dazed. you blink, trying to regain some sense of clarity.

then, from the corner of your eye, you catch movement. you turn just in time to see ethan standing by the bar, his eyes locked onto the two of you. his expression is unreadable, his jaw tight.

he doesn’t move, doesn’t approach. he just stands there, staring, like he’s been frozen in place. the weight of his gaze hits you like a punch to the gut. you can’t tell what he’s thinking, but the hurt in his eyes is unmistakable.

"shit," you mumble, tearing away from luke.

luke follows your gaze, his face falling as he spots ethan.

"fuck," he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

before you can do anything, ethan turns and walks out of the bar, his shoulders stiff, his back to you. you watch him leave, the door swinging shut behind him with a finality that feels like something you can’t undo.

“i think... i think i should go,” you say quietly, your voice tight. “i need to figure this out.”

luke nods slowly, his lips pressed into a thin line. “yeah. you should... take care of that."

with a final glance at him, you make your way toward the door, your heart heavy, your head spinning from the mix of emotions and alcohol.

the air outside is sobering, biting at your skin as you step out into the dim parking lot of the bar. you spot ethan almost immediately, his back to you, shoulders rigid and hands deep in his pocket as he stands by the curb.

"ethan," you say quietly, almost pleading. that's all it takes to make him turn to you. his eyes meet yours; there's something hollow and wounded beneath them.

"so that’s what we’re doing now?” he asks, his voice steady but low, like he’s trying not to crack. there’s no accusation in his tone, just disbelief, the kind that stings more than if he’d yelled.

“i didn’t mean for it to happen,” you say, the words tasting useless.

“but you let it,” he snaps back. “you didn’t stop it.”

and he’s right. you could’ve pulled away. you could’ve stepped back. but you didn’t.

“i’ve been here,” he says, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “trying. showing up. and you still-” he stops himself, shaking his head. “you still look at him like that.”

"stop holding onto me if you’re not going to stay,” he continues, not cruel, just tired. “i deserve more than being the thing you settle for when you’re not sure.”

you nod slowly, swallowing the lump in your throat, "you're right. i'm sorry."

he doesn’t wait for anything more, turning and walking off in the direction of his home, leaving you behind. and this time, you let him go.

[karikitdemonrp]

-----

Core let out a heavy sigh then continued to breath through his mouth, though he let out a noise of disgust. "Eeeugh, I can taste it." He muttered, but it was better than smelling it by a long shot so he kept breathing like this. He listened to Kohaku's voice, feeling his once tense muscles relax a bit at his lover's soothing tone. Core's tail swayed a bit as he just listened, happy Kohaku was trying his best to sooth the kitsune.

When the scent of his favorite bath blend entered his nose, having just taken a sniff upon hearing the mixture being poured, Core's tail want from swaying to a gentle wag. He was looking forward to this bath now. He felt safe now, happy, content, despite that lingering smell of durian.

As Kohaku spoke again, talking about how Core didn't have to worry and that it was okay given the situation, Core felt himself slowly letting go of his worries. Not completely, he still had this feeling he was failing since these things weren't getting done, but he was trying to let go so he could relax fully. "Heh... Usually I'm the one pampering you, my warrior." He said through breaths. "It sucks, being so sensitive to smells and such like this..." He frowned slightly. "But, I'm so lucky I have you with me... Your knowledge on demons and on how to kill them has also led you to knowing how to help take care of one, weirdly enough." He laughed at the irony, but sighed softly as Kohaku spoke again, enjoying that gentle squeeze the demon slayer gave to the kitsune's shoulder. It felt comforting, grounding, something Core could focus on besides the smell.

Once Kohaku moved Core's hand from his eyes, the kitsune flinched a bit as light poured into his vision. At first his vision was a bit blurry and wobbly, but as he focused on Kohaku, it became a bit more clear. He focused on Kohaku's words, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. When Kohaku finished talking, Core let out a soft, airy purr. "I'm so lucky that I have you." He chirped, feeling his muscles relax fully. "You know just what to say to help me relax." The kitsune sighed, thinking about the village. "Thankfully there at least a few who are more accepting of me." Core muttered softly then looked at the bath with a smile. "I really appreciate that you're doing this for me, Kohaku. It means a lot." The kitsune then looked back at Kohaku and gave the demon slayer a kiss on the cheek.

=K

Kohaku crouched down beside Core the moment they were through the door, his brow furrowed in quiet concern as he helped the fox settle against the wall. His hands were careful, gentle, brushing over Core’s cheek with his thumb while the other adjusted the fox’s hair so it wasn’t sticking to his damp forehead.

“You’re doing great, love,” Kohaku said softly, voice like the breeze before rain—steady, calming, full of care. “Just keep breathing through your mouth, slow and easy. We’re almost there, okay? You’re safe. You’re home.”

He stood only long enough to go start the water, making sure to add Core’s favorite bath blend—the one with the soft herbs and delicate petals that didn’t bother his senses. He even cracked a nearby window just a little, letting a cool breeze filter in to help flush out the lingering durian stench that had clung to their clothes like a curse. As the water began to fill the bathhouse with gentle steam, Kohaku turned back, kneeling once more beside his lover.

“You don’t have to worry about the clothes or the list or anything right now,” he said firmly, but not unkind. “You took a hit to the senses. That’s not something you just bounce back from. You're allowed to let someone take care of you too, Core.” He placed a warm hand on Core’s shoulder, squeezing gently, grounding him.

When Core spoke of the villagers and that aching desire to just belong, Kohaku felt a flicker of something sharp in his chest. Not anger—though he had plenty of that for the way Core was treated—but hurt on Core’s behalf. The kind that came from seeing someone you love try so hard, only to be pushed away for things outside their control.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “It is a pain. A stupid, unfair pain. And I hate that you’re the one bearing it.”

He reached out, gently pulling Core’s hand away from his eyes, lifting his chin just enough so their eyes could meet.

“But Core,” Kohaku said, soft but steady, “you don’t have to change who you are to be accepted. They’re the ones who need to change. And whether they do or not—you’re not alone. You’ve got me. And I’ll stand beside you every time. Even if the whole damn village turns its back.”

[bluebnny]

Ace NSFW headcanons

content: G/N reader, smut, but not super explicit. It's very soft and romantic. Basically the title says it all, just random headcannons of how i imagine ace would be in bed. (Actually, i could have gone a bit more heavy on the smut and left some other stuff out, but what can i say. I'm a yapper. And i love him.) Mentions of aftercare. MDNI!!

warnings: NSFW, other than that, nothing.

a/n: i started writing the same thing for law, then got a bunch of good ideas for ace and ended up finishing that first, that's why law is mentioned a few times. Lmk if you would like a more specific scenario or one shot of this :) i would love to write that. Dividers made by me. As always, i hope you enjoy <3

word count: 1.382

Ace is a total slut, but in a “low sex drive” kind of way. I think he’s quite flirty in a way that everyone just accepts as non-romantic, because it isn’t really. He’s generally a very chill guy, and although he’s confident in his body and knows how to use it, he doesn’t feel the need to often.

His flirting comes across as light-hearted teasing more than anything else, since he’s not the type to boldly pursue the people he flirts with. On the contrary, he’s usually the one leaving others wanting more.

I think his abandonment issues have left him with a deep need for validation. He used to deny it and put up a tough exterior, pretending like nothing ever got to him, never asking for more from people. But that all changed when he joined the Whitebeard pirates.

It made him fully understand for the first time how good it feels to be loved unconditionally. Over time, he learned that asking people for love will get him more of it, not less. And something in him clicked.

After that, he completely changed his approach to relationships, whether they be platonic, romantic, sexual, or something else.

Instead of rationing out his affection and hoping it will keep him safe from hurt, he now gets his validation by proving to himself over and over again that people love him for who he is.

And he does that by displaying his emotions as openly and sincerely as he can. Opening himself up fully, delivering every part of himself on a silver platter for others to take, wearing his emotions on his (obviously proverbial) sleeves, and then watching all his love be not only accepted, but mirrored back at him tenfold. That’s the greatest feeling for him.

It’s scary at first. Terrifying, even. But a weird part of him becomes addicted to it. Kind of like people do with gambling. There’s a euphoria in daring to expose himself while knowing he won’t be rejected. Like bungee jumping for the adrenaline kick. He finds an irresistible thrill in it.

It’s his playful way of asking people to love him back, and that also translates into your sex life, where those coping mechanisms come into full play.

Ace is the kind of guy to ask for your consent every time, even if you’ve already been making out on his bed for an hour. He will flat out refuse to go any further unless you explicitly tell him that you want him to, almost having to beg from how aroused he’d already made you. Other than obviously wanting you to feel comfortable, he loves it when you tell him how much you want him.

Therefore, he would absolutely relish in your pleasure, drinking in your moans, trying to see what new heights he can push you to. How you react to him, and only him. And if you're vocal and ask him to take care of you, to make you feel good, to fuck you? It makes him go insane with lust.

Ace is definitely the type to take his time. Like I said I think he would have a lower sex drive, and therefore not initiate super often. When you do sleep together, however, it takes at least 3-4 hours, usually longer.

He savours it, wanting to see you in pure ecstasy for as long as possible, knowing he’s the one to make you feel this way. He relishes in every one of your moans, every twitch of your body. He doesn’t know what turns him on more: the fact that he alone gets to see you like this, or the fact that you’re like this because of him.

Ace would be very eager to take the lead during sex but isn’t the type to be rough. On the contrary. He would be very intense, but in an intimate, loving way. Ace somehow manages to treat you with extreme tenderness, while also making you fall apart over and over again from the intense pleasure he’s giving you.

That’s because he deals with his insecurities in a different way than Law. Ace doesn’t use sex as a way prove he’s in control somehow. For him, it’s not a way through which to display his confidence, but to gain it.

He also won’t make you insecure if it takes you a bit longer than him to cum. He can do this forever, plus just seeing you in pleasure turns him on an insane amount. You’ll end up going multiple rounds anyway, so there’s no hurry.

It never feels that long, though. Something about being in bed with him makes you completely lose all sense of time. Maybe it’s the way he seems to be putting all his other thoughts on hold when you’re intimate. Like you’re the most important thing in the world. Focusing solely on you in a way that makes it impossible to think of anything else.

It’s like you’re under a spell. Something in the way he holds back nothing, showing you every way he can how you make him feel, puts you in a trance.

Ace doesn’t subconsciously use sex as an excuse to let loose but actively seeks it out. I think he’s less emotionally repressed than Law and would therefore be a lot more honest with himself about most of his feelings. He’s more than willing to allow himself to be genuine with his desires.

That’s why during sex; there’s a lot of closeness. It’s like he’s trying to touch all of you at once. His hands roaming your body, thumbs rubbing circles into your sides, his hips never leaving yours for too long. All the while, his mouth is busy kissing every part of your face, neck, and shoulders that he can reach, only stopping to mutter words of encouragement into your ear.

You two aren’t very loud, so people walking right outside the room while you’re going at it would be none the wiser. But that’s not to say you’re silent either.

The air inside the room is filled with soft panting. Ace whispering into your ear how much he loves you, how amazing you are, how beautiful you look. And you, moaning back as coherently as you can manage that you feel the same way, that he makes you feel so good, and that you need all of him.

And despite the absolutely filthy things he’s doing to you, something about the way he treats you makes it feel as innocent as holding hands with your crush for the first time. The way he’s always making sure you’re comfortable, the way he brushes his hand through your hair, the tender look in his eyes, and the softness in his voice when he asks you for the nth time that night if you think you can take another round, or if you prefer to stop.

It's utterly intoxicating. You had never been treated like this before meeting Ace, always thinking you preferred it a bit rougher since that was what you had grown accustomed to. But you can definitively say that your mind has been changed.

Even when you’re done, however long that may take, his loving demeanour doesn’t falter. No matter how spent he looks, he won’t let himself rest longer than a moment before he’s back on his feet, bending down to carefully pick up your exhausted form.

He places a quick peck to your forehead before carrying you to the bathroom, where he helps you get cleaned up. Sometimes you even shower together after. He’s always so sweet with you, helping you stand when your wobbly legs refuse to carry your full weight, and making you drink a glass of water, even if you insist that you’re not thirsty.

He helps you walk back to bed but might also just carry you if your legs aren’t fully back yet (don’t worry about him, he gets a huge boost out of it lol).

Same as before, he also checks in with you after sex to make sure you enjoyed it as much as he did. He knows you did, you’ve been moaning it into his ear for hours, after all. He just wants to hear you say it one more time before he drifts off to sleep.

Hope you enjoyed it! feel free to send me requests, or write a comment, it would make my day <3. This is my fic, please don't repost :)

[ghostofviriena]

Stay Until Morning

~ Idia Shroud x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, SFW, Fluff, Wholesome, Nighttime Vulnerability 🧸

The nightmare hadn’t even been the worst part. It was the waking up afterward.

Your limbs felt heavy with a kind of fear that didn't belong to anything tangible. Like your body had been running for hours and your soul had barely caught up. Eyes snapping open, room too dark, air too quiet. You could still feel the phantom grip of something chasing you— something faceless, gnawing, cruel.

It was stupid, just a dream. A bad one. And yet your skin was clammy with sweat, your breath was shallow, and the space between your dorm sheets felt more like a coffin than a bed.

You sat there, wrapped in your blanket like a shield, staring at the door. Something inside you was cracking, trembling— not with drama but a sheer of exhaustion.

You haven't been able to sleep well lately. The past week had been a blur of classes, assignments, Housewarden drama, social tightropes, and unsaid things weighing down on your chest like stacked of bricks. Nobody really noticed when you started nodding off in History of Magic, or when your laugh got a bit quieter, or when you stopped showing up at the dining hall for dinner. But your dreams noticed as they turned darker, heavier, and gruesome.

You needed to clear things out of your mind, not just out of your bed but out of this silence.

Your feet hit the floor before your mind caught up. The blanket stayed wrapped around you like armor. You wandered in autopilot, and when the world came back into focus, you were standing in front of the Ignihyde dorm.

Of course. Of all the places on campus, of all the people here— it had to be him.

You knocked once. Twice. Not loud. Not urgent— just there.

The door hissed open, its glow spilling into the corridor like moonlight through a data stream.

Inside, Idia Shroud blinked at you, caught mid-game, his glowing hair dim and his headset askew. He looked more surprised than alarmed, controller paused in mid-air.

“Uhm.. hey?”

Your throat tightened. You couldn’t lie. Not to him.

“Sorry to bother you, I.. I had a bad dream.”

Idia stared at you for half a second longer, then quietly rolled back from his desk. He stood slowly, tugging the blanket from his own shoulders and gesturing toward the nest of pillows on the other side of the room.

“Then stay,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I’ll keep watch.”

The soundscape of Idia’s room was strangely alive.

Behind him, multiple screens floated in soft hues. A muted anime played on one— some magical girl show, judging by the glittery transformation sequence still stuck on loop. Another screen was cycling through a slow, lofi pixel-art RPG soundtrack, full of soft chiptune notes and the patter of in-game rain. From his desk came the occasional digital ping as notifications from the games he left open, idle menus that also never slept.

And then, there was Idia himself. Occasionally, you’d hear him mumble— half to you, half to the air.

“Uh, should I pause this?” he’d whisper. “No, too quiet... Uh, maybe turn the anime down… no, wait, the transformation jingles are kind of soothing, right?”

You didn’t say anything. You just curled deeper into the nest, blanket still clutched tight, the softness of his room slowly peeling off your panic layer by layer.

He sat cross-legged near the foot of the couch, fiddling with a handheld console but not really playing. His hair glowed in low flickers.. like a nightlight that didn’t want to overwhelm.

“You know.. you looked, uhm..” he started, then stopped. “..You looked like you were gonna disappear.”

Your breath hitched.

“I guess I know that look,” he said, voice soft. “From mirrors, from mornings I couldn’t get out of bed. From when I’d stay up 48 hours just so I wouldn’t have to close my eyes.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his approach.

“I used to wish someone would keep watch while I slept,” he continued, eyes focused on the game menu. “Like a raid party, y’know? Someone pulling aggro while I rested. Guess I never thought I’d get to be that for someone else.”

You blinked. “You are.”

He went still, then his voice cracked a little.. like his next words had been buffering for years.

“Well, if anything tries to mess with your dreams tonight, I’ll.. critical hit them. One-shot and zero mercy.”

The room changed.

Not physically, but emotionally. The quiet wasn’t oppressive anymore— it was gentle. The hum of electronics was a lullaby, not a warning. The anime’s glittery voice acting faded into background ambiance, and Idia’s subtle keyboard taps were rhythmic and soothing. Even his random muttered curses at menu lag: “Ugh, how is the UI still this bad?”— felt strangely domestic, normal even.

You started to feel something rare. Not tired, but safe.

Idia didn’t ask any more questions. He didn’t demand explanations, he didn’t try to fix anything. He just stayed— like the NPC in your favorite game who always waits in town while you go through the dungeons or even grind one of the stuff that you'll need for your builds.

Eventually, you rolled onto your side, facing him. “Hey, Idia?”

He looked at you, startled. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.. thank you for this.”

His ears tinted pink. He turned quickly back to his console. “N-no prob.. partner.”

You smiled as the tension in your chest loosened, the exhaustion that had been dragging you down for days melted quietly into the pillows.

And for the first time in too long, your eyes fluttered closed. Somewhere, between the soft music, anime jingles, and the clicking noises of Idia's keyboard, you fell asleep.

And Idia Shroud kept watch, just like he promised.

[multiheadcanons]

MERCS AND LUSH ITEMS

scout: scout likes the collaborations more than he likes the actual standard catalogue of the store. but i know he was in there for the minecraft collaboration. he got the diamond block and the lava block. he momentarily considered getting the dirt block, and then he decided that’s a little excessive. he also did get the ender dragon egg. he was also a frequenter during the tmnt collaboration! the only thing he would actively stay away from is the shower jellies. he does not like how they jiggle.

soldier: soldier loves the shower jellies! they’re fun to play with in the shower, and they don’t get him egregiously lathered up. just enough that he’s like a greased up pig. otherwise, he will go towards the shower tablets. particularly the awake one. it does its job, and it’s invigorating, and it doesn’t touch his body. which is great. soldier is very finicky about his soap, he doesn’t like liquid soaps, and his own bars are unscented. he just doesn’t like having a strong smell. but there’s something about those shower jellies… they beckon to him, almost.

pyro: pyro would be so mad it’s a seasonal scent, because pyro would love love love the sugar fairy scent in all its forms. it is sickeningly bubble gum sweet, and they would just love it. maybe more on others than themselves, but nobody on the team would be willing to indulge that. and there’s not many forms of it that they can use! their skin is too sensitive for the soaps, and they can only sit in a tub with a bath bomb for short periods of time before their skin starts to dry out. but dammit, they’re willing to do it, if only for the moment. a more reasonable direction to steer them to is sticky dates.

demoman: demo loves honey i washed the kids. it’s sweet, but light, and leaves him feeling soft with the shea butter base. demo does not like anything with a particularly heavy or overwhelming scent. he opts for softer and lighter smells, and then he drenches himself in it. demo would also be the one to put pyro on sticky dates. if he wants to use sticky dates he wakes up earlier to take his shower, just to give it more time to wear off. he would be very interested in the posh chocolate shower gel. he would love the thick texture of it. he’d be willing to look past the sweetness of the scent.

heavy: heavy is not a big fan of all of the strong scents. it’s a lot. it’s an olfactory assault. but, he does have one exception. he will grab a face mask. he likes how natural they are, and nobody would ever make fun of him if they walked in on him with a clay mask on. they might even join. he just looks very comfortable. and you don’t get skin like his without washing it a couple times! but otherwise he doesn’t particularly care for anything they have in there.

engineer: engineer would also not prefer all of the sweeter scents, or even the fruity scents. but, with the smokier scents he’s at least willing to stop and smell. he’d probably buy the charcoal soap once. and then go buy it somewhere more convenient at a better price. not that he didn’t like it, a similar product can just be gotten elsewhere for a better price point. hell, it might just make him take a little tour through the hobby of soap making. see what he can whip up, himself!

medic: he would love the hair care selection. i know this because i love the hair care selection. particularly he would use the shampoo and conditioner bars. he is very particular about body wash, so he stays away from those, but he does take care of his hair. he particularly likes the wasabi shan kui shampoo. it’s nice and icy, leaves him feeling awake. occasionally he will use a minor amount to wash his face just to feel that tingle on his cheeks. and he would buy at least one black rose bomb, if only to sit in the water and lose himself in the murk and the glitter.

sniper: sniper would absolutely drift towards grass. he would bring it to his nose, give it a hesitant sniff, and buy it in bulk. and i know that because i regularly use the grass body wash. you smell like dog that rolled in grass. he would love that. he wouldn’t be willing to spend the money on the spray perfumes. but he’s willing to buy that wash. it’ll wear off faster, and he genuinely feels like he’s sitting in lawn clippings. he’s gonna eat that up. he would also buy the outback soap, if only for the name.

spy: i want to go to lush with spy… so bad. so so bad. spy and i could go toe to toe with our lush collections. and i would only want him to go with me if only to talk him into getting one of the wax bars so i can give him a back massage. i’m not freaky for spy he would just be the only one who would let me use it on him. and if im nice enough and i give him a good enough back massage he might return the favor. he will always go towards the soaps. his particular favorites are ro’s argan and goddess. the scents are thick, and i feel would lay on his skin like a blanket and mix well with his natural scent as he starts to sweat in battle.

[glowettee]

Hey mindy!!( *・ω・)ノ

I love your page and I usually look to it for inspiration and motivation or just good vibes! Recently I've been struggling and feeling daunted by my study workload :(( (´～｀) and I just wanted to ask if you have any advice or tips for feeling overwhelmed?

✧ whispers for when studies feel too heavy ✧

hey lovely!! ♡ (⋆ˊ•͈⑅•͈ˋ)⋆

omg first of all thank you so much for your sweet message!! it literally makes my heart so happy that you find inspiration here~~ ✧ 

feeling overwhelmed with studies is something i know allll too well (currently drowning in my own last assignments as we speak lol) so please know you're not alone in this at all!! academic burnout is literally the worst but i promise we can work through this together!!

so here's the thing about feeling overwhelmed with studies that nobody really talks about... it's usually not just about the workload itself but how we're approaching it mentally!! our brains can make mountains out of molehills when we're stressed and suddenly everything feels impossible??

here are some tips that have genuinely saved me from academic meltdowns:

• get a separate notebook where you literally just scribble out every single thought, worry, assignment, deadline that's floating in your head. our brains get so cluttered with all these floating tasks that we can't even think straight!! once it's on paper, your mind can actually relax because it doesn't need to keep remembering everything. i do this every morning and it's changed my life.

• when you're super overwhelmed, identify the ONE task that's making you feel the most dread (we all have that one assignment that makes us want to crawl under the covers). break it down into ridiculously tiny steps. like... not "write essay" but "open document," "write one sentence," "find one source." the smaller the better!! trick your brain into starting.

• most study advice says to block out huge chunks of focused time but that's literally setting yourself up for failure?? instead, try 25 minutes of focused work followed by a 15 minute break (not the standard 5!). the longer break actually helps your brain process information better. and be honest about how long things take you!! if readings always take longer than you think, schedule accordingly.

• at the end of each day, write down EVERYTHING you accomplished, even tiny things like "responded to one email" or "read 3 pages." we're so focused on what's left to do that we never acknowledge how much we've already done!! this creates a feeling of progress rather than endless tasks.

• create different audio environments for different types of work. i have specific playlists for writing (instrumental only), reading (ambient coffee shop sounds), memorization (baroque classical), and planning (soft piano). your brain starts to associate each soundscape with a specific type of focus!!

• find a study buddy who doesn't even need to be studying the same thing. just knowing someone else is working alongside you (even virtually!) reduces procrastination by like 80%?? there are literally websites now where you can work with strangers and it's so helpful for accountability without the distraction of chatting. just make sure to be safe! and if you choose to find an irl study buddy, just make sure you feel safe/comfortable with them.

• instead of starting with today and planning forward, start with your deadlines and work backwards. this gives you a much clearer picture of what needs to happen when!! most people plan from today forward and that's why we end up in deadline crunches.

remember that overwhelm happens when we try to hold everything in our heads at once!! your brain literally cannot process all those tasks simultaneously. the goal isn't to do everything at once but to create systems that let you focus on one thing at a time while trusting that the rest is accounted for.

also!! please remember to be gentle with yourself?? academic pressure can be so intense but at the end of the day your worth isn't tied to your productivity or grades. take little breaks to just exist and breathe. make yourself a cute drink. light a candle. put on lotion. tiny moments of care make such a difference when you're in the thick of stress.

sending you so much love and strength!! you've got this and i believe in you completely. feel free to send more asks if you need specific help with anything!! we're all just figuring it out together one day at a time <3

xoxo mindy <3

[obvithe-bestsoph]

hi can you do number 65 with pau cubarsi (make it very sad but good ending) thank you

No. 65 | "I don't want to live forever." PC2

masterlist requests

prompt list (if you request a prompt, please request a player for it as well!) warnings: bad mental health. (angst to comfort)

You’re not even sure when you started unraveling.

It wasn’t one big thing. It never is. It was little things piling up. Like receipts in a mum’s handbag - appointments missed, texts left on read, promises you made to others, and yourself, that you couldn’t keep. And through it all, Pau was there. Good. Kind. Loving. 

Which almost made it worse. 

Because the more he held you through the chaos, the more you felt like you were failing at being someone worth holding onto. 

He’s home late tonight. Again. You don’t blame him, of course. You never do. He has training, matches, interviews, team meetings, physio, recovery. His life is on a strict schedule. No room for spontaneous breakdowns or panic attacks or days when your brain feels foggy and weird. 

But you still wish he were here. 

The living room is dark. You’ve left the lights off. The TV’s been paused for the last 45 minutes, something upbeat you put on for background noise, but now it’s frozen on some random scene of a sitcom you’ve never heard of. Your dinner is cold on the table. The curtains are still open, even though it’s long after dark.

You haven’t moved in a while.

It feels like if you move, everything will fall apart. 

The key turns in the front door lock, and you flinch. Even though you’ve been waiting to hear that sound for hours. 

“Amorcita?” His voice is soft. Familiar. Comforting. A tug in your chest.

You don’t answer right away. 

He steps inside, drops his bag, and then walks into the living room. He spots you immediately, curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, eyes glassy.

His face shifts - confusion first, then worry. “Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?”

You try to shake your head. Try to smile. It doesn’t work.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “I just… I feel weird. Like I’m full of noise. But also like I can’t feel anything.”

He crouches down beside you, careful not to touch you before you say he can. “Can I sit with you?”

You nod. 

He sits down and tucks himself between you and the couch, long limbs wrapping around you, his chest warm and firm against your back. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just rests his chin lightly on your shoulder. 

You close your eyes.

“You know those days…” you start, voice wobbly and thin, “where you’re not exactly sad, but everything just feels… heavy?”

“Sí,” he says quietly. 

“And you can’t really explain why, because nothing happened, nothing’s wrong, but your whole body feels like it’s sinking?” “Sí, amorcita. Ho sé (i know).” 

You let out a shaky breath. “I’ve been trying to be okay. For you. For me. For everything. But I’m so tired, Pau. I feel like I’m failing at being a person.”

He presses a slow kiss to the side of your head. “You’re not failing at anything.”

“It feels like I am.”

“You’re overwhelmed. That’s not the same thing.”

You go quiet again. 

Then, so quiet you almost hope he doesn’t hear it, you say:

“I don’t want to live forever.”

His arms tighten around you, immediately, like your words sent something painful through him. 

“Don’t say that,” he murmurs. Not harshly. Just… scared.

You shake your head quickly, trying to explain. “No, I don’t mean… I’m not thinking like that. I just mean- I just don’t want to feel this way forever. I don’t want to be in this place forever. I want out. I want peace. And right now it feels like it’s never coming.”

You feel him exhale behind you. His breathing is steady, grounding. His voice is low and sure. 

“I know it feels like that now. But it’s not forever. You won’t always feel like this.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve seen you on the other side of this. I’ve seen you laugh until you can hardly breathe. I’ve seen you run barefoot through the house in only a towel, mid-shower with conditioner still in your hair, all just because you forgot to turn off the stove. I’ve seen you cry at a TikTok and then immediately watch funny cat videos like an old lady, as if that fixes it.”

You let out a small, broken laugh. 

“There you are,” he says gently. “My girl.”

He shifts a little so he can look at your face, eyes searching yours. 

“You don’t have to be okay tonight,” he says. “Or tomorrow. Or even next week. But you have to stay. You have to let me stay with you.”

You blink fast. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this. With me like this.”

“I want to,” he says. “You’re not a burden. You’re my home. Even when all the lights are off. Even when it’s messy. Even when everything in your head feels too heavy to carry. I still want to be here. Because I have nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You look at him, really look. His jaw is tense. His eyes are red-rimmed and teary, but he’s not crying. His thumb strokes the back of your hand in small, slow circles like he’s trying to will you back to yourself.

“Don’t leave. Please,” you whisper.

“Never.”

And somehow, in that moment, it’s enough. Not a fix. Not a cure. But enough. 

You’re still not okay. But now you’re not alone either. 

He pulls a blanket around the two of you and turns the TV off without asking. Then he shifts you both until you’re lying tangled together on the couch, your head on his chest, his hand resting on your hip. 

His heartbeat becomes your anchor. 

Neither of you speaks for a long time. 

But just before you drift off, you hear him whisper;

“I’m here for you, vale? Always.”

And for the first time in hours, you feel the noise in your head quieten slightly.

[i-like-anything-water]

Adult!Chloe having a mental breakdown after losing her job (again) and just wanting to disappear finds herself in a coffee shop run by her former best friend Adrien. Adrien, former model now turned cafe owner and soon to be father (idk who I should pair him with), is glad to see his friend after no communication for years.

"Sorry, didn't realize you were already closing up shop."

Adrien smiled warmly, the same smile he had always given her as kids, "Yeah, but my life never closed up for my friends. Hot chocolate with a slice of lemon cake, right?"

Platonic ChloDrien as adults with Chloenette in the background as the romantic ship (obviously).

[honeyblackberries]

In the back seat (18+)

caleb x fem reader/mc smut

minors dni | inspired by diet pepsi by addison rae | cross-posted to ao3

word count: 1466

cw: simp caleb, soft dom caleb, he also likes to bite, pantie freak caleb, reader enables him, praise, oral (fem receiving), p in v, responsible car sex <333 (don't get freaky in a rental car irl), irresponsible intercourse (caleb doesn’t wrap it before he taps it), porn with feelings, porn no plot because idk how to write plot but i also can’t really write porn so maybe this is a secret third thing, no set pov.

names used: pips (pipsqueak but cuter), good girl, pretty girl, my girl

If Caleb is being honest with himself this moment is something straight out of his teenage fantasies. Driving along the coast with you in the passenger's seat, listening as you sing along to a song that’s been on repeat for the past half hour. Hair softly blowing in the wind as the late afternoon sun glows behind you like a halo.

You’re an angel he thinks, how else could you bless him with such a gift on one of his rare days off. The keys to his dream car—with the disclaimer that it was only a rental during his visit to Linkon—and that short sundress… His gaze unconsciously drifts from the road and onto you.

Maybe wet dreams are a better description for this. The way the hem of your dress rides up your thighs while you shift to find a more comfortable position, cotton panties peeking out underneath it.

Your eyes meet his and Caleb feels his pants tighten.

Today was supposed to be a well deserved break from all the demands that come with being the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel. Something relaxing. Yet he can’t help but feel inclined to the complete opposite. Back ramrod straight and hand, previously loose and confident on the wheel, now gripping it so tight that his knuckles strain.

“I'm happy you’re here,” you say sweetly and he has to stop himself from acting like a horny dog. “Is there anything you wanna do before we head home?”

“Eat you out,” he thinks dreamily.

“..What?”

Shit. Shit. How could he say that out loud!? He’s an idiot, a depraved fool—

“Well, okay.”

He almost crashes the car.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to—I mean—I didn’t mean to say it out loud,” you laugh at him and he isn’t sure whether to be mortified or turned on.

“Pull over.” He does.

Caleb doesn’t realise it but despite the less than innocent circumstances his silly reaction makes you smile. Happy at the expression that settles on his handsome face. How his eyes light up in a way you never really see anymore, giddy and unrestrained.

‘Cute,’ you want to tease, but he’s already rolling the tinted windows up. Undoing his seatbelt and moving into the back seat. Oh how could you keep him waiting when he’s just so eager? You undo your own seatbelt and amusedly follow along. Moving to get on top of him.

“Don’t hover pips,” he instructs—in that know-it-all voice he’s used since you were kids—and you don’t get the chance to consider it. Not when his hands trail under your skirt to grab your thighs and impatiently bring you down onto his face.

“Fuck you smell so good,” his nose presses right against your clothed heat. He inhales deeply. “I could get off just from smelling you, just from smelling these,” his lips part to let teeth graze the thin fabric of your panties.

“I can keep 'em when we're done, yeah?” His hot breath makes a shiver run through you in anticipation. His tongue licks down the centre where a wet patch starts to form. “I’ll cook dinner in return.”

You want to argue that he always cooks dinner. But you want what he’s currently offering more.

Your small hum of agreement is all he needs.

Safe to say, Caleb does mouth at you like a dog. Desperate, hungry, tongue heavy and slobbering. You have to push yourself against his chest to keep steady. The toned muscles there flexing as he eats like he’s been starved.

“Good girl, sittin’ so pretty for me,” his praise is barely understandable. Voice muffled and lower than a moment ago.

One of his hands leaves your thighs, his fingers moving to the fabric separating you. He teasingly pulls it back and lets go, a light snap against your skin. You flinch and he chuckles in response. He then pushes it to the side to expose you bare to him. Continuing to lick, this time with the addition of his thumb rubbing directly against your sensitive bud.

“Delicious,” he moans at the taste and sucks at your clit for more.

You’re not sure how long you last before everything crashes down all at once. Your orgasm racking your body and leaving you trembling. Dripping right into his open mouth.

The way your breath hitches and small whines you make when you cum always remind him how he could spend the rest of his life between your thighs. Forever wanting you pliant in his hold like this.

As you start to feel yourself coming down from the high, Caleb lightly bites at your tender flesh, making you yelp. He places a soft kiss in apology, even though you both know he isn’t sorry in the slightest.

In an act of revenge you start to reach for where he needs it. Fingertips barely brushing the large tent in his pants before he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Next time pips, I’ll go crazy if I’m not inside you soon.” At that you’re suddenly flipped around, back pressed against the leather seat. Wedged in the cramped space afforded to you between the car and his large body.

Caleb looks down at you with a wide grin. The lower half of his face damp with your arousal and his own saliva.

“Let me put it in?”

Even when he’s like this the words come out as a question. He’ll only do it if you let him, only if you want it half as much as he does. His silver necklace dangles in front of you and reflected in it is your lips, curled up into an affirmative.

Caleb wastes no time. Hurriedly undoing his pants and freeing his hard leaking cock. Leaning over you with one hand beside your head as the other grasps his reddened tip and nudges you panties to the side with it. Lining himself up he sinks into you slowly.

“You’re heaven,” he yaps, already pussy drunk. "You feel like heaven, ugh—like you were made for me. Weren’t you?”

He shakes his head at his own words, as if a better explanation came to him. Then he resolutely bottoms out inside you.

“No, I was the one made for you.”

“Caleb—” you whine at the feeling of being so full. Arms moving to wrap around his torso, not sure if to hold him closer or push him away.

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to fight off the orgasm that would have had him cumming from the way you say his name. Testingly, he pulls out slightly just to push back in. Repeating shallow thrusts to get you comfortable.

“More,” you beg.

“Of course,” he kisses you and you can taste yourself on him. “I aim to please.” His pace quickens, becoming rough. You can’t help but clench at the immediate change.

“Oh shit—loosen up pretty girl.” You try to.

Over and over you feel his cock try to make your cunt give in to him, and when he feels the grip of your walls ease up slightly he angles his hips to hit deeper.

You claw at his back, the fabric of his shirt catching under your fingers. The feeling of him too much.

“You like that huh?”

The car windows are fogging at the spike in body heat, neither of you letting up until you both get your fill. The sounds of shallow breathing and skin against skin the only thing that can be heard.

Caleb bites your lip when he kisses you in between thrusts. Like he wants to devour you in every way possible.

“I’m—close,” you bury your face into his neck, trying to ground yourself.

He nearly slips entirely out of you. Hips starting to lose their rhythm, a sign that he is too.

“I know—fuck—cum with me.”

Your release comes first, and he doesn’t last long after.

“That's my girl.”

His movements slow as he spills into you. A white ring forming around the base of him as a mix of both your cum tries to leak out. He grinds a few times to make sure it stays then collapses on top of you.

The two of you remain like that for a few minutes, relishing in the feeling of your chests pressed together as you cool down. Caleb’s cock slowly going limp inside you.

His hands move to cradle your face, gently stroking your cheeks as he kisses all over with cherishing lightness.

“I love you.”

“Love you too Caleb.”

Then he has to go and ruin the moment.

“Panties please,” he holds out his hand. Asking for a treat.

You sigh, the post-nut clarity kicking in. “I’ll give it to you after I wash it.”

“Don’t wash it.”

“...”

a/n: rip need everyone to know this was initially supposed to be a sylus fic. also what do we think do we like me actually trying to make the layout nice/not write in all lowercase??

[wolvietxt]

𝓢ILENT 𝓣REATMENT.

pairings : frank castle x fem!reader warnings : argument, crying, hurt / comfort, happy ending, established relationship au, shouting, implied size diff (like my fav trope if you can’t already tell) silent treatment  summary : after an argument with frank, you both end up giving eachother silent treatment, until the tension gets too unbearable for you in the car. wc : 4.5k a/n : i got a req for this a few days ago but i think i deleted it or something i can’t find it now💔 but it was from an anon so thank you for this one because i loved writing this ALSO!! thank you to everyone who leaves feedback + little comments on my frank fics i notice it happens more when i write for frank and it’s the absolute sweetest

the air in the apartment felt heavy, charged, like a storm was brewing right there in the middle of the living room. frank was pacing now, his big hands flexing at his sides, his jaw tight enough that you swore you could hear his teeth grinding.  

you didn’t fight - not like this. not with him raising his voice and you trying so hard not to let yours crack. it wasn’t how things usually went. frank was tough, sure, rough around the edges in a way that didn’t really go away even when he was at his gentlest. but with you, he was softer. he made an effort to rein it in because he’d told you once, in a rare moment of vulnerability, that he didn’t want you to ever be scared of him. and you never had been.

but tonight, he was angry. angrier than you’d ever seen him at you, and the worst part was you weren’t sure how it had even escalated to this.  

“so what?” frank barked, spinning on his heel to face you, his broad frame taking up what felt like the entire room. “you think i’m just gonna sit back and let this slide?” his voice was sharp, cutting, and it made you flinch, even though you knew deep down that he’d never in a million years actually hurt you. “you think that’s who i am?”  

you held your ground, even though your heart was pounding against your ribs. “it’s not about letting it slide, frank,” you said softly, your tone calm, measured - a stark contrast to the heat in his voice. “it’s about not making it worse. escalating doesn’t fix anything.”  

“escalating?” he repeated, his voice rising, almost incredulous. “this isn’t escalating, this is handling it. you don’t just let people treat you like crap n’ walk away. you should know that’s not how it works.”  

“sometimes it is,” you said quietly, refusing to match his volume. “sometimes walking away is the only thing you can do. not everything has to be a fight.”  

“bullshit.” the word came out harsh, and the bite in it made your chest tighten. frank rarely swore at you, and when he did, it was never like this, never with this kind of edge.  

your hands trembled slightly, so you folded your arms across your chest, not in defiance but as a way to steady yourself. “frank, please. i don’t want to argue about this.”  

“yeah, well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before you went and tried to handle this on your own.” he threw his hands up, his frustration spilling over like a dam breaking. “you didn’t even tell me, and now i’m supposed to just sit back and be okay with it?”  

“i didn’t tell you because i knew this is how you’d react,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.  

his face twisted, a mixture of disbelief and something else - hurt, maybe. but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a hard, almost cold expression. “damn right this is how i’d react,” he shot back. “because i give a shit. because i don’t want you getting hurt or screwed over or whatever the hell else might happen if i’m not there to step in.”  

“i know you care,” you said, your voice still soft but firm. “but you can’t control everything, frank. sometimes things happen, and you just have to let them go.”  

he let out a sharp, bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “letting it go gets you hurt. letting it go gets you walked all over. i’m not gonna let that happen to you.”  

his words were loud, forceful, like he was trying to hammer them into your head, but they only made your throat tighten more. “i can handle myself,” you said, your voice shaking slightly despite your best efforts.  

“can you?” he snapped, and the doubt in his tone stung worse than any of the yelling.  

you flinched, your eyes dropping to the floor. “that’s not fair,” you whispered.  

“yeah, well, life’s not fair,” he shot back, his tone still razor-sharp.  

silence fell between you, heavy and suffocating. you could feel the sting of tears threatening to spill, but you refused to cry - not in front of him, not when he was like this, which he never had been before. you’d seen flashes of it occasionally, never once directed at you. so instead, you turned on your heel and walked out of the room, your steps quick but steady, your back straight even though every part of you felt like curling up into yourself.  

you didn’t look back, but you could feel his eyes on you as you left.  

the door clicked softly as you shut yourself in the bathroom, leaning back against the cool wood as you tried to pull in a steadying breath. it felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs back in the living room, and now the weight of it all was crashing down on you.  

you stared at the tiled floor, your arms wrapped around yourself like that might somehow hold you together. your chest felt tight, your eyes stinging with unshed tears, but you bit down hard on your bottom lip, refusing to let them fall. not yet, anyway.  

you weren’t used to this - not with frank. he could be sharp, blunt, even infuriatingly stubborn sometimes, but he was never cruel. not to you. in the years since you’d met him, since the whirlwind of your relationship had gone from cautiously circling each other to something real and steady, frank had always been your safe place. he was intense, sure, but his intensity had always felt protective, grounding, like you could lean on him no matter how bad things got.  

so why did it feel like he was the one knocking the ground out from under you now?  

you pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes, trying to will the tears away. it wasn’t fair to pin all the blame on him, you knew that. this argument wasn’t entirely about frank’s temper, or his need to protect you - it was about your own unwillingness to let him.  

the issue had started small, just a casual remark you’d made earlier in the week about someone you worked with - someone who’d been taking advantage of your kindness. you hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but frank had picked up on it immediately, and the more you’d tried to brush it off, the more his protective instincts had kicked in.  

at first, it had been sweet, his quiet grumbles about how people didn’t deserve to treat you that way, how you needed to stand up for yourself more. but somewhere along the line, it had turned into this - a full-blown argument where neither of you seemed to be able to see the other’s side.  

you weren’t blind to why he was upset. frank had been through more than most people could even imagine, and the idea of someone hurting you - or even disrespecting you - lit a fire in him that he couldn’t always control. but the way he handled that fire was what made your chest ache. it felt suffocating, like his need to protect you was overshadowing the fact that you didn’t want - or need - him to fight your battles for you.  

you let out a shaky breath, the first tear slipping free as the weight of it all settled heavier on your shoulders.  

frank had always been larger than life to you - not just physically, though his sheer size and strength made you feel small in comparison, but in the way he carried himself, the way he seemed to command every room he walked into. it was part of what had drawn you to him in the first place, the quiet confidence that bordered on intimidating until you saw the softness he tried so hard to hide.  

he’d always been gentle with you, even when his hands were so calloused and rough, even when his voice was so gravelly and low. it made the harshness of his words tonight cut deeper, the sharp edges of his anger something you weren’t used to being on the receiving end of.  

you wiped at your face quickly, straightening up as you tried to pull yourself together. you hated crying - especially over arguments like this. it made you feel weak, even though you knew it wasn’t, and the last thing you wanted was for frank to think he’d broken you. he’d never stop beating himself up over it.

still, you couldn’t bring yourself to go back out there yet. not with the way his words were still echoing in your mind, the frustration in his voice still ringing in your ears.  

you stayed there for a while, letting the quiet of the bathroom wrap around you like a blanket, giving yourself the space to breathe and feel without the weight of frank’s presence bearing down on you.  

meanwhile, in the living room, frank was pacing again. his hands were on his hips, his brows drawn together in that way they always did when he was deep in thought - or pissed off.  

he knew you were upset. hell, he wasn’t an idiot, and he’d seen the way your eyes were brimming with tears before you’d turned and walked away. it wasn’t the first time he’d pushed too hard, but it was the first time it had been directed at you, and it was eating at him in a way he didn’t want to admit.  

but the anger was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, and he couldn’t seem to let it go. it wasn’t directed at you - not at all. it was at the situation, at the asshole who’d made you feel like you had to handle everything on your own. but frank wasn’t exactly good at untangling those things, at separating his frustration from the people he cared about most.  

he scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a low growl of frustration as he dropped onto the couch. his mind was running in circles, replaying the argument over and over again, each word sharper than the last.  

the silence in the apartment felt deafening, and for a moment, he considered going to find you, to try and talk this out. but he stopped himself, his jaw clenching as he forced himself to stay put. you needed space - he knew that much, even if it went against every instinct he had.  

he sat there for a long time, the tension in his body refusing to ease as he stared at the spot where you’d been standing just minutes before.  

the car keys sat on the counter, untouched, while the clock crept closer to the time you were supposed to leave. it had been a whole thing - this charity function a few towns over. someone important to frank had invited him, and even though it wasn’t the kind of event he’d normally go for, he’d said yes because it mattered to them.  

you had said yes because it mattered to him.  

but now, with the argument still heavy in the air, the thought of sitting next to him for almost four hours felt like trying to breathe underwater. the quiet that lingered between you wasn’t the natural kind you often enjoyed. it was thick and suffocating, and neither of you seemed ready to cut through it.  

you stood in the bedroom doorway, watching frank tie his boots like the act itself had wronged him. his movements were sharp, jerky, and his mouth was set in a grim line. you weren’t sure if it was guilt or frustration written in his expression, but either way, it left your stomach in knots.  

he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, yanking it on with a force that looked like it made the seams strain. his head turned slightly toward you as if he was about to say something, but then he thought better of it, his eyes dropping to the floor instead.  

you didn’t move, didn’t speak, just hovered in the doorway as he brushed past you toward the front door. the weight of it all - the argument, the way he hadn’t looked at you since - pressed down on your chest like a boulder, and your throat burned with more unshed tears.  

when he held the door open for you, you walked through it wordlessly, your gaze fixed on the floor.  

outside, the crisp night air felt sharper than it should have, like even the weather was conspiring to remind you how raw everything was. frank locked the door behind you without a word, and the sound of the lock clicking into place made you flinch.  

he didn’t notice.  

the car ride loomed ahead of you like a punishment, the thought of sitting in that confined space together for hours making your palms sweat. but there was no way out of it, not without causing more problems.  

frank climbed into the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles went white. he started the engine without looking at you, the low growl of it filling the space where words should’ve been.  

you slid into the passenger seat, keeping your hands in your lap and your gaze fixed on the window. the city lights blurred into streaks as the car picked up speed, but you weren’t paying attention to where you were going. your mind was stuck on everything that had been said - and everything that hadn’t.  

he’d been angry. louder than usual, harsher, the words tumbling out of him like he didn’t know how to stop them. but you knew frank. you knew the fire in him wasn’t because he didn’t care - it was because he cared too much, and it scared him sometimes.  

still, knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.  

the silence in the car was unbearable, the kind that made you want to fill it just so you didn’t have to sit with the weight of it anymore. but frank wasn’t giving you an inch, his eyes glued to the road and his shoulders hunched up like he was trying to shield himself from the world.  

you stole a glance at him, your chest aching at the sight of his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. he looked tired - angry, yes, but tired too, like the argument had drained him in ways he didn’t want to admit.  

your own emotions were bubbling up, threatening to spill over no matter how hard you tried to keep them in check. your hands trembled slightly in your lap, and you clenched them into fists to try to stop it, but it didn’t help.  

you didn’t even realize you were crying until a tear slipped down your cheek, cool against your flushed skin. you brushed it away quickly, hoping frank wouldn’t notice, but you doubted he’d even glanced your way.  

the road stretched on, dark and empty except for the occasional glow of headlights from oncoming cars. the longer the silence dragged, the heavier it felt, like it was wrapping around your throat and making it hard to breathe.  

eventually, the ache in your chest grew too much to bear. you didn’t know what you wanted - comfort, maybe, or some kind of reassurance that everything would be okay - but the urge to reach out was overwhelming.  

your hand hovered hesitantly over the center console, your fingers trembling as you debated whether or not to do it. it felt like crossing some invisible line, like putting yourself out there in a way that left you completely vulnerable.  

but then you glanced at frank, at the way his brow furrowed and his jaw tightened, and something in you broke.  

with tears brimming in your eyes and a small, helpless pout tugging at your lips, you let your fingers reach up to grasp at his. the touch was so light it was barely there, but it was enough to draw his attention.  

he glanced down at your hand, his gaze softening instantly as he took in the way your fingers trembled and the sheen of tears in your eyes, the wet tracks of tears that’d already fallen etched on your face.

“ah, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice rough but laced with a tenderness that made your heart ache.  

his hand moved to cover yours completely, his fingers curling around your smaller ones in a gesture that felt both protective and grounding. his thumb brushed over the back of your hand in slow, deliberate strokes, and the tension in your chest eased just a little.  

you sniffled, blinking quickly to clear your vision as you looked up at him. his expression had shifted, the hard lines of his face softening as he met your gaze.  

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.  

frank let out a heavy sigh, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as he pulled the car off to the side of the road. the tires crunched against the gravel as he put it in park, and before you could ask what he was doing, he was out of the car.  

your breath caught as he rounded the front of the vehicle, his movements deliberate but not rushed. he opened your door, the cool night air rushing in as he crouched slightly to meet your eyes.  

“c’mere,” he said softly, his tone a stark contrast to the anger that had been there earlier.  

you hesitated for only a moment before unbuckling your seatbelt and letting him pull you into his arms. his embrace was warm and solid, his arms wrapping around you in a way that made you feel small and safe all at once.  

“’m sorry, baby,” he murmured against your hair, his voice rough with emotion. “shouldn’t’ve yelled. shouldn’t’ve made you feel like that.”  

you buried your face in his chest, your own arms slipping around his middle as you let out a shaky breath. “i’m sorry too,” you whispered.  

“you don’t gotta be sorry, you did nothing wrong. my sweet girl’s just nice to everyone, isn’t she?” he cooed, his hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his thumb brushing gently against your temple as he peppered hard kisses over your face. “we’re okay?”  

you nodded against him, a small, shaky smile tugging at your lips. “we’re okay.”  

he pressed another kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment longer than before. but instead of pulling back completely, frank’s lips trailed down, brushing lightly against your temple, then your cheek.  

your breath hitched, your hand tightening around his shirt as he hesitated, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. when your eyes flicked up to meet his, there was something unspoken between you - an ache, a pull that neither of you could ignore.  

“frank…” your voice was barely a whisper, and it only made him lean in closer.  

his hand moved to cradle the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his lips finally found yours. the kiss was slow at first, soft and careful, but there was a heat behind it, a depth that made your stomach twist in the best way.  

he kissed you like he needed you, like he couldn’t get close enough no matter how tightly he held you. his other hand slid to your waist, pulling you against him just enough to make you feel the strength behind every touch, every movement.  

when he pulled back, it was with a low, rumbling breath, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady himself. “you’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he murmured, his voice rough and tinged with something deeper.  

your cheeks flushed, your heart racing as you tried to find the words, but all you could do was nod, your fingers still gripping the front of his shirt.  

he pressed one last, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth before stepping back. “c’mon,” he said, his tone softer now, his thumb brushing your cheek one last time before helping you back into the car.  

as he slid into the driver’s seat, his hand found yours again, holding on tightly. this time, neither of you let go.  

the rest of the drive was quiet, but not in the same way as before. frank kept one hand on the wheel, the other holding yours firmly in his grasp. his thumb moved in slow, lazy circles over your knuckles, a silent apology with every stroke.  

you felt the tension melting bit by bit, your chest no longer tight with the weight of everything left unsaid. instead, there was this warmth - a softness between you that hadn’t been there earlier. it was unspoken, but it was enough to ease the ache in your heart.  

“we’ll stop soon, yeah?” frank broke the silence, his voice low and softer than usual. “get you somethin’ to eat.”  

your lips curved into a small smile, your first real one since the argument. “i’m okay,” you murmured. “we don’t have to stop.”  

“nah.” he glanced over at you, his eyes lingering for a second longer than they should’ve. “you didn’t eat much earlier. ain’t lettin’ you sit through this thing hungry.”  

the tenderness in his voice made your cheeks heat, and you squeezed his hand lightly in response.  

it wasn’t long before frank pulled off at a small diner on the side of the road. the neon sign flickered against the night sky, casting a warm glow over the parking lot.  

“c’mon,” he said, cutting the engine and stepping out.  

before you could even reach for the door handle, frank was already there, pulling it open for you. his hand was outstretched, waiting for yours, and when you slipped your fingers into his, he gave them a gentle squeeze.  

inside, the diner was quiet, the hum of conversation and the clatter of dishes filling the space. frank led you to a booth in the corner, his hand never leaving yours until you slid into your seat.  

“what’re you in the mood for?” he asked, his eyes scanning the menu even though you both knew he’d end up ordering the same thing he always did.  

you shrugged, your fingers playing with the edge of the napkin in front of you. “maybe just some fries.”  

frank frowned, lowering the menu to look at you. “you need more than that.”  

“frank, i’m fine - ”  

“i’ll get you somethin’ else too,” he cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument.  

you bit back a smile, knowing better than to push him when he got like this. instead, you let him order for both of you, his gruff voice somehow softer when he spoke to the waitress.  

when the food arrived, frank nudged the plate closer to you, his eyes narrowing slightly when you hesitated. “eat, sweetheart,” he said gently.  

you rolled your eyes but grabbed a fry anyway, earning a satisfied grunt from him.  

as you ate, the tension from earlier felt like a distant memory. frank had a way of grounding you, of making you feel like no matter how bad things got, everything would eventually be okay.  

after the meal, frank walked you back to the car, his hand settling on the small of your back as he guided you outside. the night air was crisp, but his touch was warm, steady, and it made you lean into him just a little.  

“y’alright?” he asked once you were back in the passenger seat.  

you nodded, looking up at him with a soft smile. “yeah. i’m okay.”  

his eyes lingered on yours for a moment, and then, without a word, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. it was quick but tender, and when he pulled back, his hand cupped your cheek for a second longer.  

the drive to the function was quieter this time, but it wasn’t the heavy silence from before. it was comfortable, the kind of quiet where words weren’t necessary because you both knew everything was okay now.  

as you pulled up to the venue, frank cut the engine and turned to you. his expression was softer, his usual rough edges smoothed out in a way that made your heart ache.  

“you look beautiful,” he said, his voice gruff but sincere.  

your cheeks flushed at the compliment, and you glanced down at your dress, suddenly feeling shy. “thank you,” you murmured.  

he leaned over, his large hand settling on your knee as he pressed a quick kiss to your temple. “‘m gonna keep tellin’ you that all night,” he added, his lips quirking into the faintest of smirks.  

the warmth in your chest grew, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. “you don’t look so bad yourself,” you teased, your tone light.  

he chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, and you swore it was the best thing you’d heard all day.  

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he said, opening his door. “let’s get this over with.”  

as you stepped out of the car, frank was already by your side, his hand finding yours once more. he held it tightly, his grip firm and reassuring, and when he glanced down at you, there was something in his eyes that made your breath catch.  

it was love - raw and unfiltered, the kind that didn’t need words to be understood.  

and in that moment, you knew that no matter what, you and frank would always find your way back to each other.  

ᰔ frank castle : @stvr-dust, @uncertified-doc

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[vamplvs]

SLEEPY HCS WITH THE THUNDERBOLTS

INCLUDES -> yelena belova, bob reynolds, john walker, bucky barnes WARNINGS -> literally all fluff! no need to fear angst here (there is some minor swearing tho); walker calls the reader beautiful, and bucky calls them 'doll' NOTES -> y'all i feel crazy about thunderbolts. i haven't had a writing kick like this in YEARS. also, no one hate me for john in this one, he's my problematic wife, ok? also i want wyatt russell bad. anyways, my requests/asks are open! and as always comments and reblogs are much appreciated <3

YELENA BELOVA. — sleepy movie night? you got it. there's snacks, blankets, a random movie, and so many cuddles.

"are you sure you don't want to go to bed, love?" yelena mutters to you. the tv softly glows in front of you both, whatever period piece was playing long forgotten. you've been curled around her side since the movie began, but now your arm is draped over her and your head has fallen to her shoulder.

"no, i'm up," your voice is rough from sleep, but you pick your head up anyways and stretch. "see?" yelena rolls her eyes at your loopy, exhausted smile.

"whatever you say," she replies with a teasing smile.

"mhm..." you adjust your position under the blanket so you can be sitting upright next to her. but the blanket is just so soft and yelena is so warm, and before you know it, it's only a few minutes before you're curled against her once more.

yelena works hard to stifle her laugh when you fall asleep, but she lets you stay there. the movie plays on dully—the man in it has made some apparently irredeemable mistake that the woman he loves will no doubt forgive him for. yelena leans her head against yours, swearing that she'll get up once the movie is over so the two of you can sleep in a proper bed.

the next morning, when bucky is getting coffee he sees the two of you curled up on the couch and can't help but smile. it's nice seeing that yelena's found someone she trusts.

BOB REYNOLDS. — both of you are up late at night, entirely unable to sleep. you because you're working on tech for the thunderbolts new avengerz, and bob simply wandering the tower at night.

bob doesn't exactly sleep well these days, not after the mess with the void. it isn't unusual to find him roaming the tower at odd times, and this time it's your turn to run into him.

you're working in some old lab that you assume was tony stark's back in the day. your back aches, your fingers raw from tinkering with yelena's widow equipment, and you can hardly keep your eyes open. it's a miracle you haven't electrocuted yourself already.

"you're still up?" a voice softly speaks from the hallway.

your heart nearly stops right there and then. "holy shit!"

"sorry," bob steps into the dim lights of the lab, his hands up in a show of peace. "i didn't mean to scare you."

"no, no, it's fine! you're fine." you smile at him. "what are you still doing up, sweetheart?"

"i can't sleep," his response is sheepish.

you stand, stretching your arms above your head, and walk over to him. "let's see if we can do something about that." you pull him along by the hand, fingers entwined.

by the time you both get to bed, your eyes are heavy with sleep. you pull bob closer to you, letting his heartbeat lull you gently to sleep. the comfort of your body against his, a reliable weight to keep him still and grounded, has him dozing in no time.

JOHN WALKER. — he's the one up, unable to sleep. you're fast asleep and he just takes in everything about you. maybe it's the slight frown you have in your sleep, or the way your hair falls into your face just a little, but he's captivated.

john lays opposite of you on the bed, just tracing your features with his eyes. he takes everything in slowly: the flutter of your eyelashes, the curve of your cheek, the curl of your lips. you're so beautiful, and honestly, john has no idea how he got so lucky.

with his track record, it's a miracle you-

"why'd you stop?" you mumble, still half asleep, interrupting his train of thought entirely. his hands, which had been tracing patterns softly over your skin, have long been still.

"didn't wanna keep you up," he mumbles back, and you crack open an incredulous eye at him.

you grumble something under your breath that john can't quite catch before pulling yourself closer to him.

"it was nice," you say, sleep already calling your name. so john continues.

he traces abstract patterns from the nape of your neck to your shoulders to your back. he feels the way your muscles loosen beneath his touch and the way your breath evens out.

and you know what? fuck his track record. if he got lucky enough to be graced by you, he damn well won't mess it up.

BUCKY BARNES. — this time it's you who can't sleep, and it's a good thing bucky has a tendency to stay up obnoxiously late reading his novels despite his other old man tendencies.

a soft knock comes from the door, startling bucky from his book. it's too late for anyone to need him urgently for anything, so he's almost inclined to ignore it until your voice rings through the door.

"bucky? you still up?" you're tentative, almost wary, as you ask for him.

"yeah, doll, i'm up." he sits up, ready to open the door for you when you walk in wrapped in a blanket.

"can i stay with you?" you mutter, still standing a ways away from the bed.

without saying a word, he pats the spot next to him on his bed and leans back against the headboard, leaving enough space for you to curl up next to him.

"what're you reading?" your voice is muffled by his shirt and the blankets wrapped around you.

"the hobbit. mind if i keep reading?" you shake your head, listening to the steady beating of his heart.

"it was at this point that bilbo stopped. going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. the tremendous things that happened afterwards were as nothing compared to it..." bucky's voice rumbles soft in his chest, gentle despite the intensity of the moments he read out to you.

[mannien]

I Don't See Your Mistakes, I See You | Bucky x f!reader

Pairing: Thunderbolts*Bucky Barnes x enhanced female character

Summary: A peaceful evening in Brooklyn turns into emotional chaos when Bucky comes home and brings unexpected guests.

Word count: 9k

Warnings: Thunderbolts* spoilers!, established relationship, enhanced female character with magical powers, third person narration but no name is called, swear words, angst, soft comfort, slow burn, sexual tension, heavy petting, dry humping, (not porn but +18 minors pls stay away!), teasing, flirting, protective and tired Bucky, mild wound description, talk of magical powers, depression, references to past trauma, English is not my first language

Note: Watching Thunderbolts* got me heavily daydreaming about Bucky and his new friends! It's also been a very therapeutic experience to write this for the past 2 weeks (yes, that long). I hope at least someone will enjoy it!

(Edited)Tagging @loving-barnes @kinanabinks @real-jane @cheekybarnes @marvelstoriesepic @aquaticmercy @witchywithwhiskey @sergeantbarnessdoll @mercurial-chuckles @navybrat817 and @captainsimagines because when I think of writing, I immediately think of you! I won’t tag you again if you don’t want it, just wanted to share my inspo with you

            The late afternoon carried an ambiance of comfort. The smell of cooling air after a slightly warmer day; the soft hum of the city somewhere in the distance, broken by a clutter of local shops closing down nearby. The sun already hid behind the tall horizon of Manhattan, but the city was still very much alive. 

            The apartment in Carroll Gardens was like a safe haven. Nested in the middle of a quiet neighborhood, close to the park and surrounded by families or people who crave a respite in the middle of a crowded city. A quiet street of brownstones and aged trees led to a renovated block, slightly modernized to facilitate to the everchanging world, yet still full of soul, of Brooklyn heart, of the things that brought Bucky the most peace.

            The long-stretching Thursday was coming to an end, but her night was only beginning. A quick and effective plane trip from D.C., an overly expensive taxi drive from the airport, and you made it to your second home. 

Or first, depending on the day of the week, time of the year, time of their lives.

            The home in Washington was where legislations, reports, and analyses were read. Where congressman and strategic liaison ate quick breakfast and indulged in a late-night dinner on a commitment-free evening. Walls were bland, countertops marble, and kitchen big enough to fit a multigenerational family. Something that felt closer to a temporary solution rather than a home for years. Only a couple of personal touches here and there – misplaced accessories, loose change, a piece of jewelry she took off once and forgot to put back on. A pair of colorful mugs, because she refused to drink from plain whites that came with the interior. Bucky’s suits and tuxedos were there, fitted to perfection, dry-cleaned and delivered straight to the door, only a couple blocks away from the center of the country’s government life. A place where she managed not to kill only one succulent, because the time spent inside these walls was not dedicated to hobbies. This is where they worked, where they came back after their long days – Bucky from the Capitol Hill, and her from the Agency. 

            But the home in Brooklyn? 

            Not ideal or picture-perfect. With mismatched furniture in their bedroom, because they couldn’t agree on one style, yet somehow creating their own world. A soft, off-color sofa, deep and slouchy, remembering many movie nights and hushed conversations. Soft lighting, making the bookshelves glow with colors of many loved and exchanged titles. Spare blankets thrown over bedding and chairs. A place where they laughed, cried and loved. A safe haven for the time they need to breathe, be in peace, be themselves. With a kitchen that hosted a few too-many gatherings for Bucky’s liking, but that proved to them that they can live a normal life. 

            Entering the building of their Brooklyn home felt like a ray of sunshine after months of gloomy winter. Unlocking the door was a warm hug. 

            The apartment was empty, but the familiar walls spoke to her in their own way. When she breathed deep enough, she could sense the good, soft comfort of a judgement-free space. The empath in her recharged in a place full of hers and Bucky’s things and memories. She quickly fell into a routine that brought her so much ease. She took a shower, to take off the smell of office buildings and public transport, put on a quick laundry load, and slowed down. 

            Slowing down was as close as she could get to relaxing, when she hadn’t heard from Bucky in two days. Three, if we count the whole day he was held up in meetings, before he shared with her a change of heart, a new plan, and promised to be back soon. She knew he had reasons, had a hint of what this might entail, and just waited, trying to carry on. 

             The soft glow of the semi-open plan kitchen welcomed her. The floors were soothingly cool against her bare feet, grounding in the moment. With hair still wet from the shower and seeping through the shoulders of Bucky’s old t-shirt, she fixed the waistband of her leggings and exhaled some of the tension that was still left and strong in her body. 

            The quiet whirring noise of the washing machine died down in the background when garlic and shallots started sizzling on the pan. When she occupied her hands, her mind could focus more and wander less. She tried really hard not to look at her phone, and really poured her heart into making a hearty meal. A therapeutic resolve, some might say, but it really was one of the healthy outlets she could use so that her magic doesn’t go on an uncontrollable rollercoaster of anxiety. She stirred in two cans of the good tomatoes from the Italian shop two streets away and let the sauce simmer. With the dinner slowly cooking away, she leaned on the kitchen island over a notepad and a bright screen of her laptop, reviewing some of the files from the last intel she requested, before the CIA went through a major lockdown due to events that Bucky was supposedly notinvolved in. She knew better than to read too much into it, so she focused on the facts – the data logs, mission reports, and a side of agency’s new recruits’ evaluation, that she was actually being paid for. 

            Long minutes passed, the sauce sizzling away and pasta water ready in the pot. She was rinsing her hands when she felt it – an emotional tug at her heart. A sprinkle of tension pulling her magic through the veins, making her aware of her heartbeat and suddenly perked up attention. She stopped the music playing from her laptop and turned off the stove, listening in. She was hyper sensitive, but lacked the enhanced hearing of a super soldier, so the silence that followed only frustrated her. She closed her eyes and tried to listen to her senses, but a heavy bang at the door startled her instead. She visibly flinched, loose sparks flying around her fingertips at the intrusion. 

            Another harsh movement against the door and before she could even react, it burst open, the handle hitting the wall in the hall. She spun around and felt the heat trickling down her fingertips, right when a familiar voice rung out through the apartment.

            “Hey, it’s me. Not alone. Don’t hex anyone.”

            Right when she exhaled, she felt how tight her chest had been a second earlier. The sparks swirling around her hands died down with the flow of his voice, and she briefly touched her chest, taking one more grounding breath. 

            “I swear, if you scare me like that one more time…” She walked out to the hall and saw him. A bloody bruise on his cheek, dusty forehead and a trickle of either dirt or dried blood down the side of his neck. His tactical shirt cut in a few places, definitely by something sharp and she hoped not by a knife. Left shoulder lifted in slight discomfort and right palm of his hand flexing uncomfortably. But he was standing, breathing, and looking at her with a tinge of relief. 

            He was most definitely not alone – the crowd behind him was bigger than she could have expected:

            John Walker, scrunching his forehead so hard that at least one of these wrinkles could become permanent. 

            Yelena, assessing her surroundings with caution and desperately needing a band aid to her temple. She let go of the forearm of a guy whose picture covered half-a-page in the files that she briefed through mere minutes earlier. 

            Red Guardian, blocking off almost the entire entryway, smiling in awe and in a suspiciously cheerful nature.

            Ava, leaning her side on the door, limping and tugging at the neckline of her suit with desperation. 

            When her eyes were quickly assessing the situation, Bucky stepped closer to her and exhaled with visible remorse.

“I should’ve given you a heads up,” he said, voice low, eyes scanning her face. “I know we planned a quiet weekend. Things just went sideways fast.”

She lifted her hand to his chin, angling it gently to examine the gash above his stubble. The blood had dried in a jagged trail down his neck. “You need patching up.”

“We need to lay low and figure out our next step,” he said, though his eyes stayed on her more than the group behind him. His tone held that familiar thread of guilt — like he’d brought more than dirt into their home.

            She did pay attention to what he was saying, but not more than to the exhaustion visible around his eyes, the tension that he carried in his muscles and nerves that trickled from behind him, from the group of guests he brought. 

            “When you said you know someplace safe, I thought you meant like a safe house,” John pitched in, taking measured steps forward, still cautiously watching his surroundings as if it was a trap. 

            “It is a safe place, and it is a home. Anything else you need to fit the description?” Bucky turned back and gestured them to move forward. He made sure to close the door with the secure lock and offered Ava his arm to offload her weak side. 

            Some of them knew who she was, but she offered her name anyway, just to stick to the friendly pleasantries. They needed security, she could feel it. She invited them in and made a beeline for the heavily equipped first aid kit hid in the bathroom. 

            She carried the large box and a few towels in to the table, laying the kit out. Bucky gestured for Ava to sit down and helped her find the antiseptic and sterile bandages. 

Yelena leaned over the table with a surprised look on her face.

            “That’s not an ordinary first-aid kit.”

            “You’re in a house of people who refuse to go to urgent care,” she piped in with a lightness to her voice. She took a look at Yelena’s gash on the temple and sprayed an antiseptic over a gauze. “and in case you didn’t notice, he is the type to attract knives and bullets.”

            “Yeah, I know the type.” Yelena replied, nodding in thanks for the help. 

            “If you want to clean up, bathroom is down the hall,” she pointed to the corridor and already started walking that way. “I’ll get more towels.”

            She got accustomed to tuning out people’s feelings. It took years of practice as an empath. But the moment a group of troubled, battered and bruised fallen heroes entered their home, her mind was struggling. So, she switched into action mode, preferring to be of service and of help, rather than linger around and fight the feelings that creep in. She piled the spare cloths on the dresser in the corridor and made sure Yelena got the right door – which she did, because she immediately let out an impressed whistle. 

            Taking a moment to breathe in the empty hall was a mistake – she started spiraling. She didn’t understand why. Bucky is home. He is safe. He trusts these guys, because he brought them in. Why is my mind screaming?

            The apartment became too loud. Not in volume, but in energy. Something was stretching her mind to stay open, and she couldn’t contain the input of feelings. She didn’t dare pull on the threads – they weren’t hers to play, not tonight. But something definitely triggered her soul – something powerful and unknown. A new source of energy that she hadn’t felt before. 

            She moved. Mechanics and focus were a taming tactic, so she settled on a kind attitude and acts of service. A large pitcher filled with water, ice packs that were always on the top shelf in the freezer, and almost all of the glasses they owned. She set them all on the table. The heat on the stove put back on, water slowly coming to boil under the pan. 

            When she carried a bunch of napkins to the table, Bucky was closing the first aid box. She looked up to his face and still saw the bright red scratch atop of his cheekbone. That woke her up from the haze.

            “No, no. You’re getting cleaned up.” She tried taking the box from him, but he pulled it behind him too quickly. 

            “I’m fine.” He said it too calmly and too confidently, so it riled her up. Steered her hears away from whatever ate at her, and made her narrow her eyes at him. 

            “Fuck fine, you’re bleeding.” She tried reaching out for the box again, but took a hold of her hand instead. He shook his head lightly and let their gazes meet for a silent conversation. 

            “I am fine. Later, I promise.” He softens his voice, squeezing her palm briefly in reassurance. It makes her release a heavy breath and finally nod in acceptance, understanding that she won’t be able to push him now. 

            “We’re waiting for pasta to boil. Dinner should be ready soon.” 

            That sparked interest. While she was still looking up his gorgeous eyes, trying to find comfort in his presence, the word dinner seemed to have perked up almost everyone in the room. 

             A packet and a half of spaghetti was carefully thrown into the boiling water, barely fitting and almost overflowing the pot. People started moving, matching the rhythm of the bubbling heat on the stove. Someone dragged a chai and moved the table to fit more people; the clinking noise of jackets taken off and weapons meeting the floor echoed through the walls almost naturally. A few relieved exhales followed, mimicking a moment of peace for the loud minds. 

            “Can I help you with anything?”

            The question startled her, pulling at the invisible trigger of her anxiety even harder, making her drop the spoon. The quietest guy, Bob, shyly lurked into the kitchen. His eyes were kind, soft, almost scared, but something dangerous and dark tingled her fingertips when she paid too much attention. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

            The harsh noise of the metal spoon against the tiles kept on ringing in her head, but she tried to shake away the feeling. The unnerving moment stretched until Bob took a cautious step forward, probably in worry, and Bucky walked into the room, intentionally. 

            “Yeah, um…” She started to break off the static that clouded her brain in weird, dark clouds. “The plates are just above you,” she pointed to the cupboard and started moving towards him to help.

            “I got it,” Bucky stopped her, and pulled the door open instead. He looked to her with quiet concern painted on his face, lips pursed. The unusually tall stack of plates was laid on the counter near the stove. She focused on trying if the pasta is soft already, adding spices to the sauce and stirring more than necessary.

            In the fleeting moment of quiet cooking, Bucky stayed with her. Eyed her for a moment, resting his hip against the counter and switching his attention between her determined movements, aggressively boiling pasta and focused eyes that watched the steam blow away from above the pot. He moved closer, his side meeting hers, and rested his hand gently on her waist, enveloping her in a cautious embrace. The heat that travelled from his body made her eyes flutter and upper back lean into his side, resting some of her weight on him. The thread of anxiety loosened where he held her. He was leaning in, the way he always was when he wanted to kiss her head, but his breath only escaped near her forehead, interrupted. 

            “It smells like you’re actually gonna feed us,” Yelena appeared, hair slightly wet and skin visibly cleaner, even the gash on her temple was smaller once the dust was not sticking to it. Bucky moved away towards the fridge, and her fingers subconsciously wandered over the countertop to find the oven mitt and safely drain the pasta. 

            “Well, it looks like it,” she gently poured the pasta into the pan with bubbling sauce and blew air over her hands, feeling the heat from the steam prickle at her skin. “I don’t expect you all had a shawarma on your way here,” she glanced at Bucky, who has already taken out cheese and still fresh enough salad mix from the fridge, but was still fidgeting to find a quick snack. “I’m not going to eat by myself and have you watch me. That’s creepy.”

            “Ah! That’s a good home with a good hostess. Whatever else would you need from a safe house?” Alexei’s loud voice shook the walls and made Bucky sigh with exasperation. 

            “Your hands to set the table,” she smiled, holding out a handful of forks and knives. He took them with a small bow and a hand salute, and it weirdly fit to his huge posture, bright red costume and a crooked smile. 

             With focused precision, she laid out hearty, more or less even portions of pasta for their guests. 

            “You are so calm for a person whose night just got ruined by a bunch of strangers with guns and knives,” Ava wondered in curiosity from her spot at the table and showed a shadow of an honest smile when a steaming bowl was set in front of her.

            Others were already coming in to the table and grabbing a bowl, only John was still standing off to the side, his eyes cautiously eyeing the corridor to the bedrooms, lurking in to get a peek of what is on the pictures hung on the wall. 

            “Walker,” Bucky’s warning made everyone look up at him in curiosity, “if you’re so desperate to snoop around, there are spare chairs in the entryway closet.” It made the others snicker or hide a chuckle. 

            “I’m not snooping around,” he mumbled like a stubborn child. Before she carried in the last two portions – a bigger one for Bucky, smaller and just enough for her - John was already carrying in four folding chairs, a confused grimace still glued to his face. “I just- I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be disrespectful or anything,” he turned to her briefly with a somewhat apologetic tone. She only raised a brow and took a seat at the last free corner of the table, next to Bucky.

            “Usually when you say you don’t want to be disrespectful, you already are.” Yelena chipped in, blowing on the pasta wrapped neatly around her fork. 

            “No, listen –“he hesitates, rubbing his eyes in frustration. She could feel the bubbling confusion threatening to slip out from his aura, and it made her hide her smile. She should not laugh at their guests, even if it was John Walker. “it just doesn’t make sense. Why would Barnes bring us to a place like this?”

            “Like what?” Bucky raised his eyebrow, which could pass as a warning, but she could see a tint of amusement in the way his lip twitched.

            “I don’t know, this feels too… cozy,” He gestured vaguely around the living room. “I didn’t expect you to hide away at a place that has colorful pillows and scented candles.”

            Ava snorted, “You thought he sleeps in a cell?” 

            “No,” he replied almost too quickly, defensive mode kicking in. “It just doesn’t fit the general description, I guess.” He shrugged, then looked from the flickering candle on the countertop, to the soft lights that shined near the corner of the living room. “I thought you would crash somewhere between government reports and military bases.” He said the last sentence directly to Bucky across the table. She could feel his chest rising heavier than before, so she laid her hand on his thigh, massaging in calming rhythm. 

            “That’s not really a nice thing to say to someone who trusted you and invited you to their home.” She said calmly, with a tint of a kind smile on her face, looking carefully to Bucky. Her sentence made him loosen up, exhale a breath and almost chuckle. Almost, because it died down in the awkward series of coughs from the team, and earned a wide-eyed stare-down from John. 

            “Wait, hold on—” 

            “You really didn’t see that coming, Walker, did you?” Ava cut him off between bites.

            “You’re a clueless boy, John Walker,” Yelena mused, and then turned to her. “This is really good, by the way. Do you have any hot sauce?”

            “Yeah,” she nodded and almost got up, but Bucky beat her to it, putting away his napkin and steadying her on her chair with a warm hand on her shoulder.

            “I’ll get it.” 

            John watched Bucky retreat back to the kitchen like a hawk, the gears in his brain working overtime. Then he looked back to her, like he tried really hard to match two puzzle pieces together. 

            “I know you.” He said bluntly, which made her smirk. 

            “Do you?” She asked from above her bowl, twirling the fork around another string of spaghetti. She tilted her head, almost in a challenge, surely in amusement. 

            “You were there when we fought in Riga,” he started, his eyes focused like in a distant memory, “and then in New York… Shit, yeah. You were with Sam and Bucky there.”

            “And you were acting like authority, yelling and breaking things.” She blew on another bite of pasta before eating with composure. The unnerving feeling danced around the table, she could still feel it, but John provided her enough of a distraction to lower the tension in her chest.

            “Ha, I wish I could see it!” Ava’s chuckle lifted the atmosphere.

            Bucky came back with a bottle of sriracha and passed it to a brightly smiling Yelena.

            “Okay, alright – as far as I remember, you weren’t exactly a definition of peaceful, either.” John held up his hands in defense. “I mean, you were waving your fingers with this weird energy, making people dizzy.” John doesn’t let go, but at least manages to sit down at his waiting spot and take a hold of his fork. “You were giving very strong ‘weird glitter witch’ vibes.”

            Bucky chose to walk around the table to his seat. His stride didn’t break, but only faltered for a millisecond, when his open palm flicked into Walker’s head with dull force.

            “Hey!” He held his hand up and recoiled. Bucky was already sliding into the chair. “What was that for?”

            “For the weird glitter witch.”

            She bumped her knee into Bucky’s and sent him a grateful look. She put down her fork and cleared her throat, before speaking up with a measured tone. 

            “I like glitter. My magic shines like sparkles when it’s visible, look,” she turns to Alexei right next to her and lifts her hand above the table. She let a tingle of emotion to travel through her body and stop at her fingertips. A few light sparks started to dance around her nails, swirl around like calm beacons of energy, delicate enough to mesmerize whoever watched. 

            “Oh, that is pretty.” Alexei widened his eyes and leaned closer, admiring the spark of magic.

            From next to John, Bob spoke up with curiosity and fascination. His voice resonated with calmness, but it made her hand tremble with something unknown. “What else can you do?”                   

            She pursed lips and tried to choose her next words wisely. Looking to Bucky and seeing no hesitation from him, she took a breath and continued.

            “I’m an empath.”

            “So, you mess with people’s heads. I thought so.” John nodded to himself, but his face was not dismissive anymore.

            “Do you really?” Yelena perked up, more curious than wary. 

            “Not exactly,” she started, letting the sparks die down. With elbows now resting on the table and soft focus, she looked at John and just listened. “Right now, John is curious and very defensive. He’s angry at himself for…” she pauses, filtering what to display for others, and what could be too private. “…some of the things that happened today. And you hate it that the clasp on your jacket is broken.” She smiled up at him gently, trying to not add on to the overwhelming situation. 

            The table was silent for a moment, broken only by a soft clutter of a fork against the plate. Ava whistled under her nose and avoided eye contact. 

            “You do that to everyone?” 

            “No.” She shakes her head lightly and feels Bucky’s fingers rest on her thigh in quiet comfort. “I control it. I know when there’s a lot of emotions bubbling up in a room at once, but I won’t listen in without consent. Well, not unless my line of work requires it.”

            “The most accurate intel I’ve ever worked with.” Bucky said quietly, and the fond look in his eyes wrapped warmly around her heart. 

            “And you make a very good pasta. Impressive, for a last-minute host.” Yelena’s nod of appreciation was enough for the conversation to die down a tone, and everyone to continue their dinner.

            She took a deep breath, playing with the last few strings of spaghetti in front of her, letting the twinkles of magic settle in her body. At least Bucky’s arm was still brushing hers, reminding that he’s back home. 

            They clink of plates slowly died down, everyone resting more comfortably and enjoying the moment of peace. Exhaustion was written all over their faces; some deep in thought, others slowly scrapping off the outer layers of their suits. 

            Bucky’s arm laid atop of the back of her chair, fingers brushing her shoulder briefly. It made her look up to him, notice his irises already shining. She reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear. Her fingertips brushed the stubble of his cheek for a fleeting moment, before they locked gazes in a silent conversation. He nodded towards the group – a movement barely noticeable, but she could feel it against the palm of her hand. He exhaled a heavy breath and she knew what it meant – they needed shelter. She could only agree to that, so she sent him a sad smile and let him kiss the inside of her hand.

            “If you want to avoid being chased by Valentina, her strike force or reporters, I suggest you stay the night,” Bucky cleared his throat. Someone sighed, someone nodded pensively, but she only looked at him with patience and curiosity. “I guess we could fit everyone, right?” He looked back to her, to which she immediately nodded. 

            “How do we know they won’t knock on your door in the next five minutes?” Yelena asked, pushing away her plate. 

            John immediately agreed with that, “Exactly. I mean, she’s Val, right?” He looked around the table, “nothing should surprise us anymore.”

            “Well, if she has a reason to, I’m sure she will try hard to find you,” She spoke up carefully, but kept on eyeing Bucky. A slight raise of her brow told him that she has questions, but whether they should be answered right now or later, she left for him to decide. “but she won’t succeed here. We made sure it’s a secure home. Only a handful of trusted people can find it.” 

Bucky pursed his lips and nodded. 

She couldn’t shake the feeling that a lot more happened than they managed to share. She kept her eyes on Bucky’s face, watching as it scrunched in confusion at a comment that someone made. The way the corners of his eyes dropped told her that he had a long day, and endured more than he was prepared for. With the omnipresent unnerving feeling of anxiety that drifted around the table, she felt even more braced and worried, struggling to not let anything inside her consciousness. Keeping her magic at bay after a bunch of neurotic, special people faced something difficult, was harder than she wanted to admit. Already zoned out of the conversation, she stood up slowly and grabbed a few plates to start cleaning up. Bucky watched her, but was still talking back to John and Alexei about something, so he didn’t manage to stop her. 

Ava and Bob helped. She was mid-rinse, still holding the dirty pan, when they came in with two stacks of dirty plates. 

“You should be careful with that wound,” She pointed to her bandaged side, but knew better than to stop a hurt agent who wanted to feel useful. “There are some more pain meds in the box if you’ll need them during the night. Just… take it easy.”

“Thanks,” she showed half of a smile, “I’ll be fine.”

She let them take over the dish duty and paid attention to the notorious buzzing that resonated from the countertop. Her long-lost phone laid on top of a closed laptop, screen facing down, but vibrating as if it was ready to burn a hole in everything nearby. 

Four missed calls and a long list of new text messages.

SAM WILSON: Call me back. 

SAM WILSON: We need to talk.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: You need to see this

Then, a stream of breaking news alerts and notifications. Against the better judgement, she started scrolling through all of the key words and headlines. Her heart rate sped up and her mind started tightening in a mix of worry, confusion, fear and disbelief. 

DARK CLOUD ATTACKING MANHATTAN 

DISRUPTIONS AND DISAPPEARANCES IN THE CITY. WHAT CAUSED THE MASS PANIC?

THE NEW AVENGERS ASSEMBLED.

VALENTINA DE FONTAINE: ‘THE NEW AVENGERS!’

DID CIA PLOT THE TRAGEDY TO UNVEIL THE TEAM OF FUGITIVE HEROES?

“You didn’t know what happened before we arrived, did you?” Yelena’s voice broke the nauseating screams in her head and made her look up. Cheese grater and an empty glass in hand, her eyes were almost sympathetic. Ava and Bob looked at each other but didn’t speak up. 

“No.” 

Even though her response was quiet and measured, it sparked a burst of fearful emotions to try and kick into her soul with a crashing effect. She couldn’t pinpoint the source, but with Yelena turning back to wave Bucky over, nothing would make sense. It could be a combination of everything, so she didn’t look for the cause of overwhelming feelings. She only looked up at her partner, walking into the kitchen with a worried look on his face, eyes resembling those of a scared puppy. 

“I was going to tell you later,” he started, taking slow steps and looking briefly to Yelena. She didn’t back off, but just leaned on the opposite wall and pretended to help with the clean-up. 

“Tell me what?” She didn’t know what was she expecting, but she needed something. She showed him the screen of her phone and let him look through her notifications, speaking for themselves.

“There’s a lot more to the story than the news is covering.”

This feeling, again. A simmering tension, pulling at her emotional strings harder than anything that Bucky’s words could cause in that moment. Sparks shone in her eyes as she quickly looked around the room, uncomfortable enough to break up the conversation. A particularly louder clank of a dish in the sink and that’s when she noticed it – Bob’s staring. Not dangerous, but fearful. Scared, but also fierce and with underlying certainty. He looked away quickly, but not enough to lose her attention. 

“What’s up with Bob?” She suddenly asked, and the weight of emotions sounded like shrill cry. Everyone looked up at her and then to Bob, who straightened up and dried his hands on the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m okay…” 

“Bob’s just fine.”

Him and Yelena replied at the same time. Bucky sighed in defeat. She felt cornered, attacked by everyone in the room by asking just that question, so she took a breath to calm down. She could read the room. 

“That didn’t sound nice, I’m sorry.” Apologizing seemed to have a calming effect. Yelena leaned back on the wall, losing her braced stance. Ava continued to put away the dirty cutlery into the dishwasher, the world moved on. 

“You said you’re an empath,” Bob started quietly, with a shadow of a kind smile. “Maybe you could, you know…”

“Not happening,” Bucky suddenly cut him off, stepping one step in front of her, like a predator ready to pounce. He then turned back to her with a determined look, “you are not reading him.” 

“Why not?”

“Because you aren’t.”

“Huh,” she breathed, “thank you, honey, that explains it all.” 

That shut him up. With squared jaw and soon-to-be pleading eyes, he didn’t have any immediate response. He started to understand that he might not win. 

“Bob,” she turned to him, forcing a gentle tone. Bucky’s eyes were burning holes in her face but she just let him. “Are you sure you’ll be fine with this?”

He shrugged, but took a moment before speaking up again. “How does it work?”

“To make it easy on the mind, I would touch your hand and just… feel whatever you feel right now. I might see the emotions that drive you, or how they manifested for you recently. You won’t feel a thing.”

“You might do, though.”

Yelena’s comment made her turn her head. 

“How so?”

“I’m a little enhanced, too.” Alexei’s boisterous laugh echoed through the apartment at Bob’s response. “But-but I won’t do anything to hurt you, I promise.” He added immediately. 

“This is a terrible idea.” Bucky shook his head, disappointed. 

But she did it. She crossed the short distance to Bob and reached out, waiting for him to take a hold of her hand. When the palms of their hands clasped around each other, darkness filled her mind. 

She felt it all. The darkness. The Void. The fear of a regular guy who just wanted to be better. The overwhelming dark cloud, turning the minds of thousands of people into their darkest memories. She could seeall of it. She was everywhere with him: in the lab in the Philippines; in Utah, feeling the first spark of something hopeful; in the old Avengers tower; on the streets of New York in the spotlight of cameras, giving way into something too forceful to fit inside her mind. The overpowering depression and its camp set up in Bob’s mind. The depths of it stretched onto everyone who came into their home today. Disturbing images of people struggling, fighting their old demons. A soul-crushing image of screaming Bucky, tied up to a chair. 

Then, something strong pulling her in – a weave of power different than hers. Pulling her into a very specific scenery from her childhood, where the sight of her mother was the first alarming point. She was slowly losing control of her magic and giving way to Bob’s powers, and it took a toll on her. Dark fumes wanted to hide her sparks flowing through her blood, and she couldn’t let it happen. The only way was through pulling his darkness in and shifting it into something better, so she focused on the beauty of being an empath. She imagined taking care of a broken mind, tending to a hopeless soul, giving reassurance and caressing the thoughts. She didn’t want to be trapped in a memory she knew as long gone – she pushed away, let the darkness slip, imagined a stream of golden power that could light up every room and pushed it away, towards the heavy train of thoughts. 

She let go of his hand as soon as the light gave her enough strength to pull away. The eyes of everyone in their apartment were focused on her; Bob stood there, as if nothing happened, still shyly looking up at her with an expectant look. Tears were streaming down her face and she looked around, trying to ground herself in the walls of their home. Bucky was immediately next to her, steadying her frame against his side, letting her rest. The silence stretched for a very long moment, until she managed to find her voice again.

“I’m so sorry for what happened to you, Bob.”

The rest of the evening carried on with more of a quiet understanding. After they finished cleaning up, spare pillows and bedsheets were pulled out of the depths of the hallway closet. Bucky was in charge of setting up the pull-out bed in the living room and the extra mattress on the floor, and she worked in the peace of the guest bedroom, fluffing the fresh sheets and adding an extra blanket on the armchair. It was comfortable enough for a mid-reading nap, so it had to suffice for a few hours of sleep. 

When she carried the last of the decorative pillows that could help someone sleep better into the living room, some guests were already setting camp in their sleeping spots. Alexei started to doze off in the armchair so the voices – if any – were now a bit more hushed. 

She noticed Yelena in the corner of the room, standing still, eyes focused on the wall where a few pictures were stuck to the corkboard. The makeshift office corner was full of papers, files and random things that they didn’t clean up the last time, but that didn’t matter. The picture of Natasha was the sole focus, radiating happiness from her captured smile and the tight embrace that they had on each other. The took it during one of their cheer-up movie nights, two years into their new reality after Thanos had snapped his fingers. Another shot from the same night, but with Steve in the frame too, was right next to it. 

“She talked a lot about you, you know?” She was careful with her words, but poked Yelena’s hard to read exterior anyway. “She never really stopped looking for you during the blip. The same way I always kept looking for him,” a finger pointed at a slightly bigger picture of the couple, Bucky hugging her from behind and looking down at her with love painted all across his face. “Steve was the only one to actually try and move on, before we found a way to get everyone back.”

Yelena’s eyes didn’t leave the picture of her sister, when she finally spoke up. “She called you Sparkles. Didn’t say much, but enough for me to understand that you kept her company in times she least expected it.”

Her face scrunched in grief, but only for a fraction of a moment. Neither of them moved, just stayed still with heads full of memories that spoke without words. She didn’t have to look into Yelena’s mind to know that grief has started to mix with grace. It reassured her, knowing that her friend’s sister is finally coming to terms with some of the more difficult truths. Natasha would want her to find peace.

“The bed in the guest room is still empty, you can still beat Walker to it if you make it before he leaves the bathroom.” She said after a moment of silence. A corner of Yelena’s lips twitched upwards and she simply nodded, sneaking away to find respite in the more convenient sleeping arrangement. 

Most of the lights in the living room and in the hall went off. A peaceful quiet was broken only by random murmurs of movement around the apartment. Their home was full, a questionable mix of characters, preferences, and assassin skills sizzled in their safe space, but there was an odd familiarity to it. Something that she sometimes felt hanging in the air back in the Avengers compound. 

Before entering their bedroom, she hovered by the doorframe for just a second. She could still feel the tension hanging low between her and Bucky, the unspoken heaviness was starting to lift slowly with the layer of exhaustion that took the reins of their bodies. 

The bedside lamps were on, and a trickle of light traveled from underneath the bathroom door. Their bedroom felt like a soft embrace, even though her heart was still probed at with a stick of emotions. Darkness threatened to loop around her veins, especially when she sat down on the bed and opened her laptop that still had classified files open, screaming at her. Her fingers tapped on the mousepad until they reached the last documents that were sent to her: the designs behind the Sentry Project. Eyes scanning the page, her hands shook with nerves. 

The water in the shower was still running when she stopped reading. His shower was now longer than usual. With something forceful still squeezing her heart in discomfort, she let go of the intelligence, files and access passwords. She closed everything she worked on earlier and put her laptop away, desperate to ease her consciousness into something easier. Something she missed in all of this. 

She softly knocked on the door that would usually stay creaked open when they were alone. Her knuckles made a rather quiet sound on the wood, so she thought he did not hear her, but then a very low “Yeah?” travelled through her ears.

He was in the shower, standing still under the forceful stream of water, his back to her, arm resting on the wall for support. His head hung low, tilted only slightly when she came in, enough to recognize her presence. He didn’t turn back to her. Didn’t stop the shower or make any move to finish it.

She stripped of her clothes, leaving a pile on the tiles next to the door. Without thinking, she stepped into the shower. Tried not to hiss when she felt how cold the water was. It made her hurt for him, so she reached his body in no time. Wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight, her lips finding the skin between his shoulder blades. He was tall, stood strong, muscles almost ripped at the seams, and the tension in his body pulsating with each breath. Her hands travelled higher, to his chest, finding the spot where she could feel the steady beat of his heart. He exhaled with something that reminded her of relief and covered her hand with hers, intertwining their fingers. Her lips kept on pecking his wet skin until she also breathed, inhaling the familiar scent that followed her every time they were close. Her mind, gentle touch and kisses begged, Come back to me.

One of her hands wandered off to the shower knob, twisting it until the water warmed up at least a little bit. His muscles softened almost instantly, his skin giving way for her fingers to hold his skin tighter.  

“You’re freezing,” she mumbled, caressing the skin of his chest, letting her hands rub on his skin up to the shoulders and down his arms, just to help him get rid of the goosebumps quicker. 

“Got lost in thought for a minute,” his voice was softer around the edges now that they were alone. He got a hold of her hands and slowly detached them from his skin, taking measured steps in place to face her instead. 

Lukewarm water streamed down their bodies, scars lined up on his torso glistening under the shower. Her hands traced his chest and arms with subtle movements, until she reached his head. Wet hair flopped down the back of his head and she run her fingers through it, gently massaging the scalp and taking out any remaining bubbles of shampoo that he didn’t manage to rinse out. He hummed in soft contentment at the drag of her nails, his hands landing on her waist for grounding. 

“Cold shower and poorly washed hair?” Her voice was soft, but with a tint of something bright and warm. She tilted his head under the stream for the last good rinse and rested her hands on his cheeks, caressing his rough stubble. “I might think it you wanted me to come and save you from your poor washing habits.”

He breathed out a small laugh at that, light enough to mistake it for a gasp of air. 

“You got me, baby.” 

She leaned in to his chest, landing a kiss above his heart and feeling the way his hands started to weight more on her hips. 

“I do,” she murmured into the bruised skin. “always.”

She tugged him out of the shower and passed him a fresh, fluffy towel. They both dried each other slowly, and then stood close when they brushed their teeth. She slid back into her underwear, pulled the same t-shirt over her head and grabbed the small tubes of ointment and antiseptic from the drawer. 

She made sure there is enough light on his side of the bed, but not too much to disrupt their tired haze. She pulled out the covers so they could slide right in, and sat down on the side of the mattress. He came in to the bedroom a minute later, clad only in his black boxers, excess water shaken off from his dark hair. 

“Sit down, Mr. Soldier.” She pointed to the bed and sent him a barely-there smile, mocking the name Alexei kept on using all evening. He shook his head in disappointment, but climbed in bed and rested his back on the headboard nonetheless. 

“He thinks I got the ‘fancy stuff’ with the Hydra serum.” His low voice leaked annoyance, but his face was too tired to show it, too. 

“Well,” she breathed out a chuckle. She went up on her knees on the mattress and walked up to him, climbing over his lap. “I think you are my fancy stuff.” 

That put a brief, but cheeky smile on his face. He took a hold of her hips and helped her land in a comfortable spot on his thighs, but never let go of her body. His warmed-up hands traveled underneath her shirt and set camp on her skin, moving around ever-so-slightly, but never breaking contact. 

She leaned to his torso to inspect the bruises that were already formed over his ribs, checking for any cuts. There was an already closed-up gash on his side, wide enough to think that a sharp object was pushed into his skin, and then pulled out quickly. The line was faintly pink, healed nicely because of the serum, but still enough of a tell that recently something caught him off guard.

Bucky watched her in silence. Eyes scanning her focused face, looking down at the delicate inspection of her fingers, and the caring and focused way she watched him, reserved only for him. 

“I should’ve told you sooner,” he whispered at some point, when her focus switched from his chest to his face. She held his chin gently, inspecting the scratch above his cheekbone. She sat back on his thighs and worked with the ointment tube, pushing out the right amount on a cotton swab. “I should’ve told you that the situation changed. Not just barged in with a group of strangers. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t say anything at first. Her eyes still focused on dripping the antiseptic on the right spot beneath his eye. 

“You’re allowed to do your thing. You can bring people home,” she started gently, while the cotton swab precisely rolled over the torn tissue. “Just…” she sighed, straightening up and putting away the medication. “Seeing how severe the situation was, what unveiled and how messy it will be now…” Her mind kept going back to every image that Bob showed her earlier. “I just wish I knew sooner.”

“I know. I’m sorry, doll.”

“I didn’t even know you were hurt until I saw your face.” She whispered with a sad smile, caressing his clean cheek. He leaned into her hand and sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “I wasn’t watching the news, I had my notifications off - except for yours, of course,” she kept on talking, feeling her chest swell with the accumulated worry and affection. “and then Bob showed me everything. I saw the pain you were in,” she gulped, trying to contain her emotions. He tugged on her hips to bring her closer, letting her fall forward and rest her forehead on his. “It’s been a minute since you were out in the field. I guess it scared me.”

Bucky took a deep, shaky breath, his fingers flexing on her skin, slowly drying hair loosely falling over his ears. 

“I didn’t think it would escalate this quickly.” he whispered right into her lips. His flesh hand traveled up to her face and caressed her cheek, wiping underneath her eye to take away the first tear that threatened to drop. 

“I know.”

“And now with Valentina claiming us as the New Avengers?” He mused, letting out a dry chuckle. He kissed her nose affectionately and let them breathe together. “This definitely wasn’t on my campaign.”

She smiled at him then, locking their gazes in a comfortable stare-off. She could feel her magic start to turn blue, the same color as his eyes. Something that happened whenever their hearts were on their sleeves, and where they both were feeding off each other’s love. 

“Sam needs an explanation. He called so many times.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, a fake seriousness flashing across his face. “good luck with that.”

She gasped at that, smacking his arm playfully.

“What? He called you, not me. My phone was dead.” He smiled. She started to climb off his lap but he stopped her, sitting up and tugging her in for a very tight embrace. “No, don’t leave me. I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“You better do it before I do.” He tucked his face into the crook of her neck, kissing her skin and smelling it deeply. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Bucky looked up at her, eyes shining, smile threatening to break. 

Finally, she relaxed into his body, leaning in with purpose. Her nose touched his gently, before their lips connected in a gentle, loving kiss. Her hands hugged his shoulders and tugged him closer, deepening the kiss and breathing in his scent. Bucky let out a quiet sound from the back of his throat as they pushed toward each other, with more relief than desire at first. Then, with each of the caress against the other’s lips, with each tug of his hair and delicate scratch of her fingernails, the need grew. 

She kissed him like she almost lost him, and he kissed her back like he never wanted to let go. Her thighs firmly wrapped around his hips as she moved impossibly closer, earning another groan from his wet lips. She smiled into his mouth and he bit her lip in response, grazing his teeth across tender skin and teasing her with purpose. 

“I thought you were tired,” she murmured against him.

“I am,” he agreed, “but I missed you more.”

His breath got heavier. Their mouths kissed harder, hungrier, chasing each other like careless teenagers who have just realized how magnetic it is to make out with someone you love. Her hips rolled forward, out of habit, causing a whimper to shake her lips against his. He held her tighter, vibranium palming and kneading her ass, the other hand moving freely under her shirt. Magic trickled at her fingertips, making each of her nervous ending even more sensitive to the feeling of his body against hers. Another move of her hips, a raspy groan from Bucky’s throat, and—

A creak of the floor, movement on the pull-out sofa, or maybe even a footstep towards the kitchen. A quiet sound that made them stop, freeze in their embrace. Her hand travelled to his chest, letting his heart beat hard against her fingertips, catching a breath. 

“Don’t,” he almost begged, leaning in again to kiss her neck in places that make her shiver. “If we stop now, I might cry.”

A breathy laugh escaped her mouth. She tucked her face into his shoulder, holding him close. 

“If we can hear them moving, they will definitely hear us, baby.” She whispered, peppering his jaw in short and chaste kisses. “We’re enough of an entertainment to Walker.”

Bucky groaned in response, wrapping his arms around her waist tightly and rolling them over. With a huff, she landed on top of her pillow and spread her legs enough to let him lay between them. He caged her head with his arms and leaned down for another kiss.

“Don’t talk about Walker when you’re making me hard.”

She chuckled quietly, letting his nose travel along the side of her face. Warmth enveloped her whole body and she wished they could stay like this forever. With no care in the world about politics, agendas, no missed deadlines or events to attend. No one else around them, just her and Bucky, tangled in the sheets of their Brooklyn home. 

“Hey,” he nudged her cheek and searched her eyes. They looked at each other for a few moments, engraving this moment in their memories. “How was your day?”

“You’re asking that now?” She lifted her eyebrow in question, gently caressing his face and tucking away the loose hair that threatened to cover his eyes.

“Now is perfect.” He mumbled into her cheek, leaving a wet kiss behind. “It’s just me and you.”

She sighed, trying to focus and gather her most mundane thoughts of the day. 

“They put me in the middle seat on the plane from D.C.” 

Bucky fake-gasped at that, “How dare they?” 

“I know, right?” she smiled at his disappointed face. “but I survived in that middle seat. Can you believe it?”

“Impossible,” another kiss to her cheek, before he rolled over and landed on his side, his legs tangled with hers, tugging her as close as possible so they could still stare in each other’s eyes. “What else happened?”

He listened to her until her eyelids turned heavy. Until her lips started moving slower and slower, pushing forward one last time to touch his skin. He covered them with the sheets and held her close, watching as a single blue spark flew away from her fingertips, fading into the night. Her breathing evened out, arm still tucked in his torso. A quiet ‘I love you’ mumbled to each other in a sleepy haze, like nothing else mattered. 

[kooktrash]

infrunami ✮ jeon jungkook

summary: you’ve made great friends throughout the years but none like jeon jungkook. he’s there for you when you need him and although at times when things get complicated between your feelings and thoughts… there’s one thing for certain. you both have been wasting time acting like there’s nothing between you.

✮ genre/au: friends to lovers. y/n[afab, she/her] x best friend jungkook

✮ 18.7k

warnings: smut. f2l. slice of life. besties jk and y/n. slight jealousy vibes. idiots to lovers. lot of sexual tension. everyone knows they like each other. for the smut [no protection sorry yall]. heavy makeout. slight dry humping. grinding. doggy style. soft dom vibes jk. whiny y/n. jk gets jealous but never admits it. they both talk to other people bc they’re in denial.

song inspo: infrunami—steve lacy, my kind of woman—mac de marco, no. 1 party anthem—arctic monkeys, love between—kali uchis

Friendships in your twenties, you’ve learned, come in various forms.

There were people you’ve known since you were a teen and people you’ve only just met. Some who know everything about you and some who only get a piece of you. You’ve got the ones you meet up with on a random Thursday to run an errand because you haven't seen each other in so long—and you have the ones who seem to always be knocking on your door. Having people who wanted to be around you was one of the best things you’ve ever experienced.

“You’re late.”

He raised his shoulders in a shrug as he picked up the helmet that was strapped onto the back of a black motorcycle, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Part of you gave up on acting upset as you let him slip the helmet over your head. You took his backpack off his shoulders and shoved your things inside before putting it on your back.

“Thanks for the ride,” You hooked a leg over the seat, straddling the bike as you fixed yourself up behind him. The helmet fit snugly around your head and you held him around the waist comfortably, “I’ll buy you a meal.”

“You promise?” Jungkook asked with a teasing smile as he kicked up the stand and brought the engine to life, “I’m craving steak.”

“Just don’t break my pocket,” You patted him softly, checking your phone one last time, “I swear if they don’t give me my car back I’m going to throw a fit.”

“Maybe next time don’t park in a restricted area,” He said lastly, driving off with youn. Your friendship with Jungkook was different from the others. He was your best friend.

Not in the way Mirae was or even Taehyung but he was up there. He’s the one you’d have knocking on your door because he’s bored or bothering you during the middle of the night. He’s also the one you call because you know he’ll answer.

You don’t remember exactly how you two met but it was some time during college, an after party maybe? Campus? Not likely. He was infamous for never showing up. Whatever, it was beyond the point. The point is that somewhere along the way you made friends with an overly clingy man who spent too much time at the gym or gaming in his bedroom when he wasn’t at work.

No, you’re not dating him nor do you want to. He’s kind of just… your overly good looking friend who would do anything for you.

“I forgot my lunch at home so I’m starving,” Jungkook pushed past you to get inside the small barbecue place he dragged you to. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and follow. He’s taken his backpack back to set it on the chair next to his and you sat across from him. It was a familiar place to eat and the menus took up an unnecessary amount of space so he took them both without question.

“What if I wanted to try something new?” You asked with a slight scoff, pretending to be annoyed but he saw right through it.

“You don’t, you’re too picky. You’re just going to get the same thing you always get,” Jungkook said with another shrug before giving you a menu back anyway, “But fine, browse a little.”

“Chill on the attitude,” You joked, looking over the menu with disinterest.

“How do either of you manage to be here at least once a week?” The server grumbled as he approached the table, “And that’s on a good week.”

“Hey, I haven’t been here in like, four days?” You said, second guessing yourself and looking at your friend, “He’d live here everyday if he could.”

“True, Jin is one of the best cooks I know,” Jungkook confessed, making your server roll his eyes.

“Please, Jin’s rarely here since the new place opened up but don’t worry, I’ll pretend to believe you,” he snatched the menus away from you both, “And like you don’t get the ‘Family & Friends’ discount. What’ll it be? The usual?”

Jungkook turned to you with an amused expression, eyebrows raised as he waited to hear your new order. He even had the nerve to rest his chin in the palm of his hand and the server waited with a bored expression.

You sunk into your seat, “The usual.”

“Damn, we should’ve bet on it,” Jungkook grimaced as he took his phone out of his pocket to scroll through his socials, “So how was the meeting? It took a while didn’t it?”

“Don’t even get me started on it, I can already tell they’re going to be a handful. I might pass them onto Mirae,” You told him honestly, “She can handle them better than I could.”

“It’s because you’re hot headed,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He felt your hard stare and he couldn’t help but smirk, “You know you are.”

“Says the guy who almost got into a fight because of Overwatch,” you threw your straw wrapper at him but he caught it and chucked it back at you.

“First of all we were in a tournament and I could’ve won some money,” Jungkook said defensively, “Any sane person would react the same way.”

You raised your brows pretending to be convinced and stared off into space. After your meal and you footed the bill like promised, Jungkook drove you to your apartment.

“Let me know if you need a ride to the garage tomorrow,” Jungkook said as he took the helmet back and you retrieved your things from his backpack.

“What are your plans tonight?” You asked curiously as he got back on his bike.

“I don’t know, a friend of mine asked me to go have drinks with him so I’ll probably do that,” He told you honestly, “Why? Wanna watch ’Love, Death & Robots’ again?”

“Just curious, be safe and don’t drive,” You reminded him.

A grin widened on his face, “Will you pick me up if I drink too much—oh right, you don’t have a car… awkward.”

“Asshole,” you hit him playfully, making him sway but he kept himself steady.

“I’ll call for an Uber or something, night.”

There’s not a specific moment that made you and Jungkook become good friends. You sort of just clicked right away. In the beginning there might’ve been a slight tinge of attraction but it was the kind you felt for a stranger walking past. It wasn’t anything either of you wanted to pursue and ended with a good friendship. You learned a lot from each other and somehow managed to co-exist together.

In the beginning nearly all of his friends thought you were into him. They tried to put it into his head that you had a thing for him but it never went anywhere. Jungkook never made a move on you and after a while everyone just accepted it.

This is what friendship looked like. You didn’t have to sleep with each other. You were like one of the guys… aside from the obvious. Now everyone just takes you as you are, a good friend of his with no sexual feelings involved.

“You just got off work?” Yoongi asked as Jungkook finally joined him at the bar, “I thought I was going to have to drink enough for the both of us tonight.”

“Don’t you wish,” Jungkook chuckled, taking a seat and the drink his friend ordered for him, “But no, I was having dinner and had to drive Y/n home.”

“Oh, how is she? Haven’t seen her in a while,” Yoongi asked.

“Her car got Towed at my apartment for parking in someone’s spot a couple days ago. She’s pissed,” Jungkook answered knowingly, “But she’ll survive. What’d you ask me over here for?”

“Oh, I’m talking to this girl who’ll be here soon and she’s got a friend with her.”

✮

Two hundred dollars down the drain all because you parked somewhere you weren’t supposed to. It puts you in a bad mood for a couple days. You weren’t necessarily short on cash but that didn’t mean you wanted to waste it to get your car back.

“Don’t touch me I’m sad,” You mumbled into your desk as your coworker hovered a hand over your back ready to comfort you.

“You didn’t get it back?” Jimin asked, opting to sit on the edge of your desk instead.

“I did, that’s why I’m sad,” You nearly cried, “I’m never staying at anyone’s apartment but mine ever again. It’s too expensive and there’s never enough parking anywhere.”

“Poor you, I know what’ll cheer you up though,” Jimin said with a scheming smile that had your head raising skeptically, “You, Mirae and I out for dinner and a couple drinks after work.”

“I’m pretty sure I just said how much money I spent!” You rolled your eyes making him do the same.

“I’ll pay, silly,” Jimin said, “You look like you could use a drink.”

You were a victim of peer pressure, and for pressure you needed very little of it. All it took was both of your friends reminding you how much fun it would be before the FOMO set in and you joined them.

“You’re so easily persuaded,” Mirae said with a laugh, “Min didn’t even have to beg this time.”

“I’m going through a tough time right now,” You said playfully, reaching across the table for another portion of fries, “Thanks for taking those clients.”

“Yeah yeah, but if I need any favor you better be the first one to grant it,” Mirae pointed a stern finger at you and you nodded eagerly.

“One Wish coupon with your name written on it, noted,” You tapped your head a couple times before shooting her a Thumb’s Up. Your coworker [turned close friend] rolled her eyes with a smile as she raised her glass, “Ready to chug?”

“Oh fuck no,” Jimin groaned, staring down his nearly full glass, “Are we drinking-drinking or are we drinking?”

“Baddie Baddie Shot O’Clock,” you nudge his arm, “Don’t be scared now. You asked for this.”

“We have work tomorro—fuck it, let’s do it,” Jimin said while you and Mirae began a chant ready to take the drink.

There were a couple… a few drinks involved for all of you. It was supposed to be something casual but that never seems to be the case when you’re with your work friends. They’re a good time all the time and sometimes a nice break. Aside from Jungkook, they're some of your closest friends. They know you in a different light than he does. With Mirae you can talk to her about anything and with Jimin he‘s a good time. He doesn’t tease or scold you the way Jungkook does… he lets you have fun.

Not to say Jungkook doesn’t but it’s different and you don’t know how to explain why.

jungkook: hungryyyyyyyyy

jungkook: hungryyyyyyy

jungkook: HUNGRYYYY

you: lower your voice smh

“Is that Jungkook?” Jimin asked, stealing a fry for your plate, “What’s he doing? Ask him to meet us.”

“No, I’m mad at him,” You said with a huff, thinking about the expensive towing bill. You weren’t actually mad at him but more about the price you paid today. Jungkook is the one who told you it was fine to park there and the one night you do, your car gets towed. It’s never happened before and it’s technically his fault. His stupid landlord is an asshole and therefore you’re never stepping foot at his place again.

you: and actually I’m mad at you

jungkook: 🤓 why

you: 200$ 😞

jungkook: :(

you: you better buy me a spot if you want me to come over again

jungkook: hell no

You put your phone face down and looked at your empty glass, wiggling your brows at your two friends, “Another?”

jungkook: hungrryyyyy

Jimin rolled his eyes even as he let you go to the bar and order more. While you were gone he got on his phone and began to type. Mirae looked over his shoulder, “Who are you calling?”

“Jungkook.”

Jungkook knew Jimin well enough to have his number saved. They weren’t close but he’s met him around you before and the guy’s cool. When he called Jungkook assumed it had something to do with you and answered.

“Hey man, what are you doing?”

“Starving,” Jungkook groaned, staring at his empty fridge, “You?”

“Come to JJ’s, Y/n is here and we’re having a few drinks. There’s some food,” Jimin said as he looked up at you.

“Jungkook’s on his way,” Jimin told you once the call came to an end but you barely shrugged in response.

When Jungkook arrived you greeted him like normal and he bumped you further into the booth before immediately digging into your plate. He even had the nerve to ask which drink was yours before taking it, “I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Why do I feel like that’s a lie?” Jimin asked, trying to pass Jungkook the menu so he could order something for himself, “How are ya, buddy?”

“Alright, busy with work,” Jungkook said with a shrug, “It’s been back to back sessions lately and I think I need a break.”

“Have you been going to the chiropractor?” You asked worriedly. Jungkook sneered, turning to look at you, “I thought you were mad at me.”

Your jaw nearly dropped as you scoffed. He’s here eating your food and giving you attitude? It’s obvious he’s joking but it’s annoying. You crossed your arms over your chest and slumped back, “You’re here eating my food, asshole. Fine I won’t talk to you then.”

“I have been going to the chiro,” Jungkook says to you, “Thanks for worrying.”

“I wasn’t worrying,” You rolled your eyes looking across the table at Mirae as Jungkook and Jimin talked like they were good friends.

“Okay I know what I’m using my wish coupon on,” Mirae said suddenly, “You’re going with me to the movies.”

“Yay, what are we watching?” You asked more interested now.

“I don’t know. The guys haven’t chosen the movie yet,” Mirae said as she got on her phone and went to add you to a groupchat.

“What guys?” Jimin asked curiously, making Jungkook turn to look as well.

“My friend’s boyfriend and his friends,” Mirae explained briefly, “They've been wanting to go see this horror movie but it always feels awkward when I tag along with her, her man and his friends.”

“Sounds like a group date,” Jungkook said to you, watching your excitement slowly turn to dejection and for some reason it made his heart beat faster.

“It kinda does,” You agreed.

“It’s not like that. They’re actually kind of cool but I still want someone to talk to,” Mirae told you, “They’re cute.”

“Let me see a picture,” You reached out for her phone.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Jungkook asked Jimin who aggressively shook his head no.

“Not since the last one, I think she broke my heart,” Jimin pretended to sniffle, “You?”

“Nah, kinda? No,” Jungkook shook his head, “Whatever it is, it's nothing serious.”

“It’s never serious,” You corrected, “I don’t know how he keeps track of them all.”

“Don’t make me out to be a slut,” Jungkook placed his hand over his chest. Easy banter went on for the rest of the night. It was casual and comforting to spend time with those close to you on a random week night. It reminded you of how good things can be and why you liked being with them. Jimin was fun, careless, considerate. Mirae is full of welcomed attitude and charm. Jungkook is comfortable and protective, always around and ready to meet up for anything. They made things feel easy.

When you date a guy you want him to fit in with your friends and that is hard to find.

✮

Jungkook has always been a laid back guy. Despite whatever struggles he’s had, he’s always taken them with a strong head on his shoulders and people to support him. He comes from a loving family and close friends he’s known for years. He’s been in relationships and talking stages that changed him and did his military service as early as he could. He had a plan for himself and when he decided to go to college he didn’t expect to meet you.

It’s not like you had a huge impact on him or anything but he didn’t expect to meet someone he can get along with so easily. He thought he already had his lifelong friends picked out. How did you manage to force your way into his close circle and introduce to people and things he wouldn’t have known otherwise.

You’re his best friend and don’t let any of the guys hear him admit that. They already give him too much shit about you.

“Are you going for Y/n?” His friend asked a few days after he met up with you and your friends for dinner. He’s been up to his usual routine during the week and has barely gotton to see or talk to you.

Jungkook and his friend just had a two hour gym session that left them both jittery and out of breath as they sat in the locker room packing up their belongings. He pulled his helmet out and carried it next to him as he shook his head no, “I’m not driving her around anymore.”

“She got her car back? That’s good,” Taehyung said. You didn’t have it for almost a full week and during that time Jungkook was helping you get to and from work. Since then you’ve had your car and haven’t had a reason to call him up—not that it mattered or anything.

“Wanna get on the game later?” He asked.

“Sure, I’ll shower and have dinner then hop on.”

The two split ways and Jungkook got on his bike to rush home. His evenings didn’t contain much excitement as they did during his college days but they were alright. He’d do exercises after work, head home and wash up, make dinner or go out, and hang out. If he was seeing someone it would look slightly different but he doesn’t usually let it get that far.

It’s not that he’s scared of commitment or anything, he just doesn’t feel the need to be dating at the moment. He’s perfectly content with the way he lives and if he were to get serious with anyone it would have to be someone who understands him. Yes, he does the occasional hook up or fling but they’re never more than that. He’s bad at seriously dating. He’s got to feel truly comfortable with someone.

After his shower, he stood alone in his kitchen thinking of what to make for dinner when he checked the time on his phone. It was almost nine and he’s yet to hear about how your night has gone. The movie was set at six so you had to rush after work to meet with Mirae and all her people but the movie should’ve ended by now. Why haven’t you told him how it went if it’s over now?

Maybe he should just ask.

jungkook: is the movie over

You probably won’t respond if your phone’s on ‘Do Not Disturb’ so he didn’t expect a response.

you: yeah

jungkook: was it scary

you: ehhhhhh not really

jungkook: what r u doing now

you: they wanted to get food after

jungkook: and here I am cooking for myself

Without question Jungkook took a picture of it all, sending it right to you with a message that said;

jungkook: ur favorite

you: 👀 is that an invite

jungkook: depends, r u gonna actually come over or hang out with ur new friends

you: idk one of them is reallllyyyyyy cute

jungkook: stay with them then

You looked at everyone you were with curiously. The movie had ended a bit ago and you were walking to the nearest restaurant talking. Mirae was right, the guys were cool and her friend was nice but it was a lot of effort on your part to be social. One of the guys was particularly cute and he spent a little more time with you than anyone else but did that really mean anything?

“I think I’m gonna call it a night,” You said, thinking about the early morning you have tomorrow and how everyone seemed ready to grab a few drinks. Mirae looked at you, “Really? You’re not even hungry?”

“Not really,” You lied with a shrug, “Are you gonna be good?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You said goodbye to them all, sharing information with the cute friend and split ways. On your way to Jungkook’s he let you know parking spot 97 was good to use and despite arguing with him about it you took his word.

“If I get towed again we’re not going to be friends anymore,” You told him once you let yourself into his apartment, immediately being greeted by Bam whose tail whipped back and forth behind him with excitement.

“It’s my spot, Goofy,” Jungkook said, casually throwing on a shirt once you were in. Up until now he’s been cooking shirtless from his shower.

“Your spot is 98,” You reminded him, watching the way he rolled his eyes and turned the stove off.

“Didn’t you tell me to rent you one?” Jungkook asked, pulling the pot off the stove and onto a cooling rack, “Grab bowls.”

“You actually did it?” You asked with a smile, “Bless your kind soul.”

He brushed you off as you did what he asked and went straight to the end of the peninsula countertop where you could sit and eat. Jungkook didn’t bother sitting down, choosing to eat standing up behind the counter and looking at you with curiosity.

“What?”

“How was the date?” He asked.

“What date?” You scoffed, “You mean the movie? One, it wasn’t a date and Two, I told you it was alright.”

“You didn’t drink, did you?” Jungkook asked, ignoring the attitude behind your words. You rolled your eyes, “I wouldn’t have driven here if I had been. I left before we made it to the restaurants. Why so curious tonight?”

He shrugged, the plate completely empty and he began to wash it and what he used to cook. When you finished and offered to help he told you no and washed your stuff too.

“I’m so full, have I ever told you how good of a Cook you are,” You said as you threw yourself onto his couch, a grunt leaving your lips when Bam nearly tackled you down.

“I wouldn’t mind hearing it again,” Jungkook said, rummaging through his fridge and smiling widely, “Want a drink?”

“I’m driving.”

“You can just crash on the couch, it’ll be fine,” Jungkook shrugged, carrying over a couple glasses and a bottle of Soju.

That was enough convincing for you to sit on the floor beside him as he set things down on the coffee table. You took the remote and played some movie in the background as he poured the small glass.

“You’re a bad influence,” You joked as you took the first drink like it was a pre-starter and he did the same, “We’ve got work tomorrow.”

“You only go in for a couple hours, I know your schedule, don't forget that,” Jungkook pointed a teasing finger at you, plopping down on the floor with his legs crossed, “I’ve got a beginner’s session around 10am and a few private classes after. I’ll be the one regretting it tomorrow, not you.”

“Yet you’re still the one asking for more,” You said playfully, reaching for the familiar green bottle and pouring a little more in his glass. You didn’t notice the way Jungkook’s gaze flickered down to your exposed waist when you leaned over the coffee table to grab it. The waist of your underwear showed just slightly underneath and he was surprised to find out it was black and lacy making his eyebrow quirk with curiosity. When you sat back down he looked away, pretending to be focused on the movie, “You dressed up for your date?”

“It wasn’t a date,” You said with a groan, sitting back a little closer to him than before and he didn’t bother moving away, “And look at what I’m wearing. Does it look like I dressed up?”

A knowing smirk pulled at his lips as he raised the glass to his lips, “I didn’t realize you wore lace so casually.”

Your brows furrowed with confusion, realization dawning on you just moments later and without thinking you pushed at him playfully, “How’d you know?”

Jungkook laughed, hand sliding down your back where your shirt rose and he didn’t hesitate to reach for the thin fabric nearly pulling on it just to feel you squirm. You couldn’t help but whine, moving away, “Freak.”

“Says you,” Jungkook said, keeping his hand on you, “Come on tell me, how was the date.”

“Why are you insisting it was a date?” You asked, taking a big gulp and turning to face him, “You never hear me asking about your little flings or whatever you like to call them nowadays.”

“But if you asked me I’d tell you, I wouldn’t be all secretive about it like you are,” He said with a shrug of his shoulders, “Hurry up and drink more.”

“Don’t pressure me,” You rolled your eyes but did as told, “And I did tell you. I said one of them were cute over text, remember?”

“Hardly,” He shrugged looking away with a bored expression, “Cuter than me?”

You didn’t say anything making him smile, “I’ll take that as a no.”

“He was alright, pretty cute and nice,” You finally said but Jungkook wasn’t listening anymore. His attention had drifted to the way you leaned against him with your side against his fitting perfectly beside him. It was obvious your words fell on deaf ears but you didn’t seem to mind either. You turned to face him, convince him that the guy you met was just cute but it wasn’t worth it. You’ll probably never see the guy again and if he does want to text, it most likely won’t lead to anything.

“What?” He asked, catching your stare.

“You’re drunk,” You pointed out his red cheeks and ears, “Already?”

“No.”

“Then why are you blushing?” You asked with a teasing smile going to poke his flushed cheek when he grabbed your hand suddenly. You both had been casually drinking since you sat down but it isn't until now that you can feel the alcohol take effect over your body. You blamed it for the way you were looking at your friend at the moment.

It was hard to see him as just Jungkook, right now you can only see him for how attractive he was. He’s gotten way more muscular lately and with the added tattoos it’s hard to ignore it. When you walked into his apartment earlier and found him shirtless it was hard not to look at his abdomen. You don’t remember the eight pack or his biceps that big. Without thinking you placed a hand on his chest, taut muscles tense underneath your touch.

Jungkook couldn’t help but let his breath hitch when your hand trailed down his rib cage suddenly, “What?”

“You’ve gotta get a new hobby, you’re going to get too bulky,” You said jokingly, feeling his muscles. He was taken back to have your hand on him but he didn’t back away, “But you like it.”

Not bothering to wait for a response, he lifted the end of his shirt displaying a smooth trail of muscle down his torso and prominent V-line that you tried not to eye too hard. Your hand slipped down without much thought to your actions and lifted your brows in surprise. His skin felt hot to the touch and part of you wanted to keep running your hand over him but you knew better. It would be weird if you did. It’s not like he’s just some random guy…

“I need to pee,” You blurted out, rushing to your feet and kicking his leg playfully, “Put your shirt down.”

“Might just take it off for you,” Jungkook teased, biting his lip watching you walk away.

When you were alone looking at yourself in the mirror it was easier to tell how you felt. You were past tipsy and buzzed but not fully drunk. Your vision was slightly blurry and when you stood straight you felt dizzy but it was the good kind of dizzy.

“What next?” Jungkook asked when you came out of the bathroom, hair up in a clip now and makeup wiped away with some wet wipe he had in the bathroom. He had to do a double take at your new appearance but he didn’t mind the change. You looked comfortable and he can see the clear look of buzz on your face that he’s sure matched his, “Or are you calling it already?”

“Calling what?” You sat back down next to him, stumbling into him a little and he helped you with a hand on your waist guiding you down. Neither of you seemed to care for the fact that you were partially sitting on his lap.

“Calling it a night,” Jungkook said, shifting you closer to his front, “You’ve taken off your makeup, put your hair up… you look ready for bed.”

“I thought you wanted to drink,” You said, suddenly aware of how close the two of you were and his lip piercing had a slight shine from the light reflecting off of it.

“Not if your date tired you out,” Jungkook said with a knowing smirk when you rolled your eyes, leaning into him a little more. He didn’t care who you met up with tonight but he knows it’s getting on your nerves and sometimes he loves to push your buttons, “You probably would’ve preferred to stay out with them since one of them was… what’d you say? Cute? Nice?”

“If you think that, why'd you ask me to come over?” You asked slightly irritated now.

He shrugged, grinning now when he felt you relax in his hold, almost straddling him, “Technically, I did say you could stay with them.”

Your eyes narrowed, hands on his chest ready to push yourself off him, “Fine, I got his number. I’ll see if they’re still ou—“

“No,” He whined, arms tightening around your waist, “No, you’re already here and you’re drunk now. You can’t leave, be a safe driver.”

“Are you trying to manipulate me to stay?” You couldn’t help but laugh, arms circling around his neck. He felt your breath tickle his ear and for some reason it made a shiver run down his spine.

“Depends, is it working?”

It was.

It had been since the beginning. Jungkook didn’t need to do much to get you to hang out with him and he knew that. It’s the same way around. It takes little for Jungkook to beg you to spend time with him. You’re his best friend.

And as his best friend… sometimes… sometimes he wonders how your lips taste. He doesn’t remember when his hand moved from your waist to your neck, or how he moved it to tilt your chin up until your lips were brushing against each other. All he remembers is how close you were to kissing and all he needed was one push, one sign that you want this too and he’ll go for it.

You nearly fell into it too. You can blame the alcohol or the fact that Jungkook is incredibly hot despite only seeing him as a friend but you wanted to kiss him too. You would’ve.

Key words: Would Have.

“Open the door, you Fuck!”

You practically threw yourself off him as someone pounded on his door and it took you a second to reel in what was about to happen. Jungkook couldn’t move for a second, trying to understand why you got off of him so quickly when he heard it again.

“Jungkook, I checked your location, open up,” His friend yelled, knocking on the door, “I’m going to piss myself, let me in!”

“Coming!” Jungkook shouted, sounding annoyed as he got up to unlock the front door. You pulled yourself onto the couch, fixing your shirt that had risen when his hands had grazed your waist and stared down at the empty bottles of Soju.

“Tae—“ He couldn’t finish his sentence before his friend was pushing past him and running straight for the bathroom, waving hello to you before disappearing. He stood at the open door trying to wrap his head around what just happened.

The two of you were drinking, messing around and almost kissed? Almost? If Taehyung hadn’t come barging in would you have done it? Would you know when to stop? Would you stop anyway?

“Fuck, I was in the cab on my way home and he would not pull over,” Taehyung said once he was done with his business, “I was like ‘Listen dude, my friend lives around here so drop me off or I’m going to puke in your backseat’.”

“I thought you had to pee,” You chimed in when he sat down next to you, acting like he had been there the whole time.

“I thought so too but it came up the other way instead, what are you guys doing? Drinking?” Taehyung asked looking down at the coffee table, “Ugh I can’t even think about it, don’t play APT with Jin hyung, he talks too fast and wins everytime.”

“Maybe he was just speaking gibberish but you couldn’t tell,” Jungkook said, arms crossed over his chest looking unimpressed, “So… is the cab still out there waiting or…”

“Nah, I’m just gonna crash here—“

“Great!” Jungkook scoffed, “Sleepover at my place, first Y/n… now you… it’s like we’re in school…”

“Well I would’ve gone home if you didn’t ask to drink,” You told him trying to ignore the fact that you almost kissed but it was hard to ignore the way he bit his lip at you, “I could still call an Uber.”

“Nah, Taehyung can,” Jungkook said, sitting on the armchair across from you.

“Whoa, you’re the first person I thought of, why kick me out now? I’m drunk, Kook, be nice to me,” Taehyung pouted, leaning against your shoulder, “What’d you do? Why’s he so grumpy?”

“Don’t blame me, you’re the one that came pounding on the door so late at night,” You said playfully, shoving Taehyung off. He was more Jungkook’s friend then yours but you’ve hung out around him enough to feel comfortable with him.

“So? I always do that—Why?” Taehyung turned abruptly, “What were you guys doing?”

“Drinking,” Jungkook said, “You wouldn’t want to since yknow… Jin got you drunk… you probably want to call it a night…”

“Nah, I puked a little earlier so I’m fine now,” Taehyung said, “Plus I haven’t seen Y/n in a while, what are we watching?”

“Actually, I’m tired,” You told him with a small yawn, “I think I’m calling it a night.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Taehyung asked.

You laughed, “No, I’m just saying I’m tired.”

“Go to my room,” Jungkook said with a sigh, thinking about what the two of you were about to do before he stormed in, “I’ll stay out here with him.”

When you left, Jungkook threw a pillow at Taehyung’s head, making the other groan, “What?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook huffed , “Now I gotta sleep on the couch.”

Taehyung smirked, feeling more sober now as he put two and two together, “Or you could go follow your girlfriend…”

“We’re no—we’re not dating,” Jungkook thought about how you almost kissed and his face flushed red, “For fuck’s same, go get the extra blankets and pillows. I get the big couch—“

“But I’m like a centimeter taller than—“

“This is my house!” Jungkook yelled, throwing himself on the couch and covering his face with one of the pillows, “Or get an Uber back to yours.”

“Jeez, you’re rude tonight. I always come over when I’m drunk,” Taehyung laughed knowing how annoyed Jungkook was, “Just say you were going to get freaky with Y/n.”

“I wasn’t!”

✮

It took you a full day to come to terms with what happened the other night at Jungkook’s. The two of you had been drinking and almost kissed, almost.

There’s no way to deny it. You were close to kissing.

If Taehyung hadn’t shown up out of the blue, would you have done it? Would he have slept in the same bed as you? What would you do or say if he asked?

There’s always been an underlying sense of tension between you but you tried not to think about it. You told yourself that nothing was ever going to happen. It was just how friendships with someone you found attractive was.

A loud sigh left your lips, dropping your head against your keyboard and letting an endless stream of spaces fill the word document. Soft fingers pulled your head up to slide the keyboard out making you look up at the person who did it. Jimin sat at the end of your desk, “I was just sitting in my office wondering why my friend hasn’t gone to distract me today. What’s up with you?”

“Morning, can’t focus,” You told him.

“How’d the showing go?” Jimin asked, trying to find something that could get you talking.

“They liked it, it’s a little over their budget but I think we’ll close the deal on it,” You said.

“Good, what about the other night?”

“What about the other night?” Your question sounded rushed and made him look at you with peaked interest. He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked.

“With Mirae and the movie,” Jimin said. He watched you release a breath you weren’t aware you were holding and pressed you for more, “Did you talk to any of the guys?”

“Yeah… um, I did,” You sat back, chair swiveling out as you turned to face him, “His name’s Namjoon. I got his number and he texted me yesterday before the showing to wish me luck.”

“So what? Are you and Mirae gonna ditch me when you guys find someone? Who are going to be my drinking buddies when you’re off with your boyfriends? She told me all about the other guy, I’m starting to feel pushed aside,” Jimin spoke in a ramble making you roll your eyes.

“Relax, it was the first time I met him. Mirae, yeah she really hit it off with the other guy,” You said.

Jimin just nodded, taking in your words and finally deciding to bring it up, “Mirae said you left early though.”

“Yeah, they wanted to go out to eat but I wasn’t hungry…” You said.

“Bullshit, I checked your location, you went to Jungkook’s pla—“

“Okay! What’s up with all the stalking lately? First Taehyung, now you—we share locations so that you know I’m safe after a night out,” You pointed a finger at him, trying to deflect some of the questions away from you, “And yeah, I did go to his place. He made food and I didn’t want to go eat with all of them anyway.”

“Interesting excuse, so what? Did you guys fight or something? You know I understand you’re close friends but you’re not close friends like we are.“

“That’s not tru—“ You cut yourself off thinking about how you almost kissed Jungkook and as much as you love Jimin, you’ll never find yourself kissing him, almost!

A loud groan left your lips as you dropped your head against the keyboard again and Jimin watched the aggressive keyboard smash type out gibberish. This time it was his turn to roll his eyes and he stood up, “We both know that’s a lie but fine, I’ll let you be.”

You don’t remember how the rest of your day went aside from the fact that you were distracted the entire time. Right now you have three different clients you’re currently helping buy their first home and the last thing you need is to be distracted right now.

Jungkook is your friend and until he makes it clear that he is interested, you’re just going to move on. Well… even if he was interested, what does that mean? Does that mean you’re into him? It’s all so confusing.

He took a deep breath, leg threatening to bounce with anxiety as he counted the reps his current client did between sets.

“Kook, man, you’re killing me today,” His client said with a deep huff, nearly collapsing on the floor as he set the weight down, “I thought we’d be taking it easy after the last session.”

“I don’t know why you would think that,” Jungkook said, “Take a breather and do another fifteen.”

Even as he said that, he switched places with Hoseok and prepared himself to do a set. His client watched him with his mouth open in confusion, “It’s what you said! You said we’d be taking it easy today since last time was so much. I’m still a sore man, please don’t do this to me.”

”You’re right, I did say that,” Jungkook huffed, counting in his head as he did bench presses, “Next session we’ll take it easy.”

“Fuck, I need a new trainer,” Hoseok groaned, chugging back water and pacing back and forth.

“You’re at my gym! You’re lucky we’re friends, don’t say that,” Jungkook stood up and motioned for Hoseok to go, “Now you're doing twenty.”

“Rude,” Hoseok said, “What’s up with you anyways? You seem on edge today.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook said looking down at his gym bag where his phone currently was, “But uh, just out of curiosity… if someone hasn’t talked to you in a couple days, what does it mean?”

Hoseok couldn’t help but chuckle, “Come on, how old are we? That’s what you’re stressing about?”

When Jungkook didn’t laugh it off Hoseok got a little more serious, “Depends on the person. Girlfriend? Family member? Stranger?”

“Not girlfriend—just friend,” Jungkook clarified quickly.

“Friend?” Hoseok looked at him curiously, “Friend with the occasional benefits or Friend you’re currently upset with?”

“Neither, just friend,” Jungkook shook his head, “I mean… like actual, genuine friend and… fuck, I don’t know.”

“Who?”

Jungkook didn’t say anything but it wasn’t hard for Hoseok to connect the pieces, “Y/n?”

To that, Jungkook nodded meekly.

“I mean… it’s normal to not talk everyday. We don’t talk everyday, I send you like a hundred Instagram reels a day that you don’t see me crying about,” Hoseok said, skipping from 15 to 17 and hoping Jungkook didn’t catch the reps he didn’t do, “Which by the way, you could at least bother to react to every now and then.”

“Sorry, you’re right, I’m overthinking it,” Jungkook said, “And you’re not done, you skipped ahead.”

“Fucker,” Hoseok cursed under his breath and hurried to do them properly before he could take a break, “But honestly, what’s up with you and Y/n? Aren’t you ‘just friends’?”

“We are,” Jungkook bit his lip nervously, “I don’t know I’m being weird. I’ll just ask her what shes doing later.”

“Being weird about what?”

Jungkook looked at him with wide, rounded eyes like he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t have and the words came out in a shy whisper, “Nothing.”

✮

Over the night Jungkook reached out to you. He sent you some stupid text about a new tv show he’s watching that he thinks you could get into. It wasn’t anything serious or anything but it brushed past what happened. It was normal.

Things were normal and clearly nothing had happened that night so you were overthinking for no reason.

“You don’t want to go?” Mirae asked, watching you stare at your reflection for the hundredth time trying to find something off about your appearance.

“I do, we’re going, don’t worry,” You looked around, “I just need perfume.”

“Where’s Jungkook?” She asked, standing up for you to give her some too. You checked the ETA on your Uber before answering.

“Huh? He’s probably already there, I don’t know. Let’s go downstairs, the Uber’s pulling up,” You told her as you quickly grabbed your things and began to walk out your room. Your friend followed suit, “And then we’re going out with Namjoon and Jisoo, right?”

The only reason Mirae agreed to come with you was so that you could go with her and the guy she likes later. A couple days ago Jungkook let you know that Taehyung was going to have a few friends over to watch some MMA fight on tv and drink. You still felt awkward seeing him in person and he knew you had no reason to say no so there was no point in trying. In the end you asked Mirae to join you and after begging, she agreed. She had plans with one of the guys from last week and found it perfect to have you tag along after.

You’ve been to Taehyung’s place once or twice before — usually with Jungkook — but it was different to walk in without him.

“Look who finally showed up,” Taehyung said with a smile as he opened the door for you and Mirae, “Hi Y/n, and Mirae right?”

The two have met before but it was brief and awkward so you were surprised he even remembered her name but they greeted each other politely anyway. You looked around, surprised to see a lot more people than you anticipated, “Doesn’t look like a couple friends, Tae.”

“I’m a social being,” Taehyung said with a hand to his chest, “Jungkook is somewhere around here. I thought you’d be coming with him and then got stuck waiting around for you to show up.”

“I need a drink first.”

Jungkook was across the room talking with some people you didn’t know. It wasn’t hard for you to see that the one closest to him was a pretty brunette with a soft smile and big eyes. She talked with him the most and you had no idea who she was. For all you know he could’ve come with her tonight or just met her and really hit it off, you’re not sure, and you’d rather not know.

He barely knew the girl but Yoongi introduced her to him a while before you got to Taehyung’s place. He had been staring at his phone anxiously waiting for a text that never came and the next thing he knew, Yoongi was having him meet Sera. She was pretty and easy to talk to, paid attention to him even when others talked and stood by him wherever he moved to. It was alright, he didn’t mind the extra attention but it wasn’t… that interesting.

Sera said something in his ear that he had to lean down to hear properly but in all honesty he wasn’t listening to begin with. If anything it reminded him of when you whispered in his ear but it didn’t feel the same. His eyes scanned the people that arrived over time, occasionally drifting to the door and stopping once he saw you walk in. You wore a short black dress that accentuated your legs and it was hard for his eyes to remain on your face. Mirae was dressed similarly and you both looked out of place in a good way.

“How do you know Taehyung?” He heard Sera ask and he answered with little eagerness, watching you talk with his friend and head for the drinks.

“We met a few years ago when I first moved to the city,” Jungkook said, looking down at her trying to focus but his mind had gone elsewhere. Turning to Yoongi he said, “I’m gonna go say hi to Y/n.”

Yoongi could try and keep him around but there was no point. Jungkook was walking off before anyone could stop him. He left Sera alone with the others so he can talk to you. Since you last seen each other and had the ‘Almost Kiss’ he had only texted you. You’ve both had a busy week with work and nerves probably kept you apart.

He didn’t like that. He didn’t want to overthink anything. He just wanted to talk to his friend.

“What are we drinking?” He asked with an overly gracious smile, slipping himself between you and the counter so you were forced to look at him.

“Depends, what have you had?” You asked, immediately feeling yourself tense for a second before you realized who it was.

“Nothing too strong just yet,” Jungkook admitted, “I’ve been waiting for you all night.”

He greeted your friend quietly before looking back at you and where you stared off at, “Really? I’ve been here for a while, I figured you would’ve noticed earlier if you’ve been waiting all this time.”

He could sense the small sarcastic tone in your voice but there was nothing strange to it. You usually talked this way with him, always sounding close to flirting or jealous or… interested in him. It was confusing at first but overtime he’s learned to ignore the tone or offer it back. It works for your friendship.

“I might’ve gotten a little distracted,” He couldn’t help but smile, “What time did you get home last night?”

“Early,” You said with a shrug making his brow arch, watching you pour yourself a mix of rum and coke.

“Then why didn’t you text me back?” He asked.

“I did—well, I was going to,” You began to say, feeling yourself on the edge of smiling as you thought up an excuse, “I forgot.”

“Right…” Jungkook rolled his eyes looking over at Mirae instead, “You both look nice, did you just have dinner or something?”

“No, we’re meeting up with some guys in a bit,” Mirae said without much thought and you snapped your eyes to her. She looked up, catching the way Jungkook’s smile dropped a fraction lower and shifted her gaze toward you. Your glare was enough to tell her she shouldn’t have said anything.

“Guys? The one’s from the movie? What are you doing? Going out?” He asked, attempting to sound indifferent. It’s not like he can say anything. He doesn’t know why it doesn’t sit right with him but it didn’t. He didn’t even know the guy but he knew you thought he was cute. Jungkook knew you were talking to him at least a little and that you wore a dress for him tonight.

“Take this,” You offered Jungkook the drink, “And we’re going out for a little bit but I think it’ll be a casual night.”

“Super casual,” Mirae laughed nervously, looking around, “Where’s the bathroom? I’ll be back.”

Before you could follow after her, he stood in front of you.

“So who were you talking to? Have I met her?” You asked, clearing your throat awkwardly. It was an attempt to take some of the heat off of you because this was feeling like an odd interrogation. Anyone passing but might think it’s a lover’s quarrel but it wasn’t.

“I’ve barely met her,” Jungkook said, “It’s Sora… Sua… Sera? Something like that, I don’t know. A friend of Yoongi’s I met the other night.”

“Cool,” You looked back to find her talking with someone else now.

“What about the cute and nice guy you’ve been going on about? You’re seeing him again tonight?” Jungkook asked, taking a sip from the cup and leaning against the kitchen counter. He had a good view of you standing a couple feet away and he had to resist the urge to pull you closer.

“I have not been going on about him, there’s nothing going on,” You told him with an exaggerated sigh, leaning into him absentmindedly and feeling his hand on your side keeping you steady, “I asked Mirae to come with but she had plans with them after and just asked me to tag along.”

“Alright, you don’t have to explain it.” Jungkook said, sounding like he was brushing you off but not meaning to. Obviously he was happy you were here and talking to him but he didn’t want to hear more. It was beginning to sound like you were explaining yourself to him. Making yourself sound better after he asked you about Namjoon. He doesn’t even know why he asked you about that guy, he doesn’t care.

“Alright, I won’t,” you crossed your arms over your chest looking away from him, “Don’t ask me about anyone then.”

Jungkook had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from responding. He didn’t have anything to say because all he wanted was for you to tell him a little more about Namjoon. Why did he act like he didn’t care when he did?

Without bothering to ask anything he was scared to know about, he turned away from you and looked back at the people he was standing with before. You walked off to find Mirae, a little annoyed with Jungkook for reasons you couldn’t understand and needed to get away. Whatever, you almost kissed and considering he hasn't said anything about it it’s clearly not on his mind. If that’s the case why does he act like he cares about who you talk to only to stop you when you explain yourself?

When he joined Yoongi and the others again he acted like he didn’t care that you wandered off away from him. He didn’t seem bothered when you left later that night without saying goodbye and didn’t check his phone once for a text from you.

He can’t explain why but he doesn’t know how to feel about you. For so long now it feels like you’ve just been a close friend to him. You’re someone he calls when he’s bored and thinks of when he finds something funny. You get him like a friend, you don’t expect much either. You’re more like the guys he’s friends with, and you’re not like the girls who’ve tried to get with him. He doesn’t know how to explain it but he likes having you around and the last thing he wants to do is complicate things by catching feelings.

Especially when he doesn’t know how you feel and he’s too nervous to ask. It’d be crossing the line. You’d probably be grossed out if he expresses interest in you. He’s seen how quick you are to stop being friends with a guy who approaches you like a friend but wants to be with you.

He’s already done too much by almost kissing you.

“Y/n, good to see you and don’t you look pretty,” Namjoon said later that night, hugging you in greeting when you met up with him and Jisoo. The club you’d gone to after Taehyung’s was lovely and packed with people everywhere that it was hard to find him in the first place. He brought a surprising smile to your face but you’re not sure how to feel about him just yet.

“Thank you, thank you, dressed up just for you,” You told him playfully, leaning against the bar when Jisoo asked for your drink order. Namjoon was attractive and charming but… there’s something holding you back even if you flirted with him absentmindedly. Was there much weight to your actions? Did you actually care to get to know him better?

“I like it, how’s your night been?” Namjoon attempted small talk. It was what your conversations usually consisted of. Even the first night you met you only talked about the movie and when Jungkook texted you, you talked about your friends too.

He’s told you a little about himself and you’ve told about yourself but not enough. Your mind always seemed off somewhere else.

Time passed by without wondering about Jungkook, using Namjoon as a distraction but it didn’t work for as long as you hoped. When your night had dulled and your friends dared to call it the end, Namjoon looked at you for an invitation to your apartment that you never gave him. You went your separate ways and left on your own.

It was past 3am and you should’ve gone to bed, not gotten on your phone to find someone to talk to.

“Hello?”

“Are you sleeping?” You asked, falling on your bed and sinking into the pillows.

“Was trying to, what’s up?” Jungkook asked with a small yawn that had you debating if you should hang up and let him sleep instead.

“Nevermind, you’re tired I shouldn’t have called,” You began to say, looking around for your phone charger to connect it before you end the call.

He sat up in bed, checking the time and sighing, “But you did, are you still out with your new friends?”

“Jungkook!” You whined, rolling onto your stomach and staring up at your dimly lit ceiling.

“I’m kidding,” He laughed softly, voice a little raspy from being half-asleep but he couldn’t help but press you again, “But are you?”

“I just got home but I’m not tired. I’m bored.” You admitted.

“What should I do about that?” Jungkook smiled, imagining the way you roll your eyes.

“I don’t know…” You bit your lip in thought. You really weren’t tired but that didn’t mean you had to drag Jungkook around.

“Want me to come over?” He finally asked.

“It’s late.”

“I think we both know that.” He rolled his eyes, already getting out of bed so he could throw some clothes on, “Do you?”

“What would we do?” You asked, leaving your bedroom so you could get the front door unlocked for him.

He put his phone on speaker as he slipped on a pair of sweats and threw a hoodie over his head, “I don’t know, we both don’t work tomorrow. Maybe watch a movie?”

“At this hour?” You asked. You could hear Jungkook huff, sitting on the edge of his bed unsure what to do, “You really want to come over?”

“Maybe, you did ditch me tonight—“ Jungkook started, getting cut off by yet another whine.

“No I didn’t! You know what, come over so we can talk,” You told him.

“I’m already getting dressed, chill out.”

It took only around ten minutes for Jungkook to come around and he walked into your apartment with a shake of his head. You must’ve left it unlocked earlier and he didn’t like that. What if someone broke in? He locked the door behind himself, kicking his shoes off by the heels you wore tonight. The only light he could find came from your bedroom and he didn’t hesitate to let himself in.

“What have I told you about leaving your door unlocked?” His words were barely heard over your scream of terror as you walked out of the bathroom dressed in a t-shirt and pajama shorts.

Once the scare wore off you said, “Relax I left it open for you.”

“Sure you did, I bet it was for your new fri—ow!” He groaned dramatically when you hit his arm playfully. He laughed at your annoyance and threw himself on the bed, “I’m kidding. What’d you go do anyway? Did your dress leave him swooning?”

“You’re so annoying,” You sighed jumping down next to him, “Just say you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?” A scoff left his lips.

“Sounds like it,” You looked for your remote, “What do you wanna watch?”

“I’m not jealous. If you want to go hang out with another guy then do what you want,” Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly, “We’re just friends, anyway.”

You raised a brow in confusion and surprise by his tone with you, “And if I wanted to don’t you think I would be doing that right now?

“I mean you did earlier when you left,” Jungkook said annoyingly.

“Go home if you’re going to argue with me,” You told him, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest with frustration.

“Hell no, I drove over at this hour, I’m sleeping here,” As if to make his point more clear, he made himself comfortable on your bed.

“Not if you’re going to act mean.”

“I’m not!” Jungkook scoffed, leaning up with your pillows, “I’ll stop, whatever, fine. Don’t kick me out, it’s so late. I drove all the way here for you.”

“It’s like a ten minute drive,” You groaned when he pulled on the end of your hoodie, “What?”

“This is mine,” Jungkook looked at the gray apparel, “I don’t remember giving it to you.”

“You didn’t, but you left it in my car,” You tried to pull back but it was no use. Jungkook wasn’t letting you move away.

“So? Doesn’t mean it’s yours. I want it back—“

“I’ll wash it,” You pulled your covers up to hide yourself underneath but there was no point. A smirk appeared on his face, “I want it now though.”

You didn’t say anything as he pulled you closer, falling over him a little. His hand slid down your waist keeping you against him, too close to be appropriate for two friends.

“What are you gonna do? Take it off me?” You dared to ask, making yourself comfortable against his chest. Part of you knew you shouldn’t be laying in bed like this with your friend.

“Should I?” He asked in a low whisper, fingers slipping up your back just under the hoodie where he could feel your bare skin. You didn’t wear anything underneath and it made him want to explore more.

You didn’t say anything or bother to push his hand away. You kind of liked his touch, it was gentle but his fingers were rough from all the time he spends at the gym. Your body lay on his, leg nearly hooked around his waist and looking down at him with curiosity.

Jungkook could make out small fragments of makeup you couldn’t get all the way off. There was still a small outline of lip gloss and your lashes were dark and long. Your cheeks still had a hint of blush but even in this state you were pretty. He can’t get the image of you in that dress earlier out of his mind.

You were oddly close to him and found yourself in the same predicament as last time. Your lips only centimeters apart from his and a need to close that space. Jungkook parted his lips in a breath, catching the way you looked at him and his hand had slowed down its caress until it was tracing a soft line against your spine.

He felt the shift of your upper body when you tried to lean up, almost closing the space but hesitant still.

You wanted to kiss him. He can tell and he wanted to kiss you just as bad. This time around there were no interruptions so what was stopping him from leaning into you too?

“How much did you drink tonight?” Jungkook found himself asking before he could stop himself. It wasn’t the right time to ask but he wanted to know if this was just something that happened when you were drunk or could it happen sober too?

“I don’t know, I stopped drinking like a while before I got home,” You leaned back, brows furrowed together, “Why? You drank tonight too?”

“I went home a little after you left,” he admitted. It was around midnight when you left Taehyung’s to go with Mirae and those guys. He’d barely managed to survive at the party much long after that and called it an early night. You’d been out longer than he had.

“Okay…” You pushed off of him, feeling his arm loosen around you, “That was kind of random.”

Jungkook knew he should have stayed quiet. He should’ve just kissed you and see where things could’ve gone but he had to ruin it. He had to ask you something that was eating at him.

All he’s been able to think about lately is possibly kissing you and this time around he ruined it all on his own.

“Y/n,” He poked your side to get your attention but you had your back to him, turned on your side and tuned him out.

You felt stupid for even attempting to kiss him. He pushed you away after what felt like him flirting with you and it was embarrassing. He just sees you as a friend so you have to stop doing this.

With a huff of frustration, he stretched himself out on his side of your bed and stared at the night landscape on your flatscreen. In a few short moments it’d go into sleep mode on its own and the room would go pitch black.

You must’ve been tired, worked up or even a little buzzed still but you fell asleep long before he did. You’d been so tired you didn’t notice when your cell phone fell onto the bed in the space between you and just as he felt himself close to sleep, the screen lit up the room.

Jungkook planned on ignoring it, not caring who might’ve texted but something in him told him to look. Plus, you’d be mad if you woke up in the morning and your phone wasn’t charging. He picked it up, eyes squinting at the bright light and read the notification.

namjoon: did u make it home safe ????

Here he was sleeping in your bed while another guy texted you. How dumb is he?

You flirt with him but you don’t want him, simple as that and he doesn’t know if he could take it anymore. After some contemplation, he carefully got out of your bed and rounded to your side. He found your charger and connected your phone before he left your bedroom quietly and went home before you could wake up.

✮

Your office felt oddly cold that following Monday. You spent Sunday holed up in your bedroom trying to figure out what happened over the weekend and you’ve somewhat come to terms with it when you texted Jungkook and he chose not to respond.

You weren’t in the mood to work but there was nothing you could do about it. The clients you were supposed to meet with postponed the lunch meeting to later in the day so really, you could go home for a while but you also didn’t want to. It would make you think about how you almost kissed Jungkook and how he pushed you away and left in the middle of the night like you were some one night stand or something.

“I’m not going out anymore,” You told Jimin as you walked into his office, “I make poor decisions when I’m under the influence and I’m done.”

“Why? I thought you went out with Mirae,” Jimin said swiveling his chair out from under his desk top, “Which by the way, fuck you both for no invite.”

“It was last minute,” You told him, leaning against a shelf, “And I regret it.”

“Why?”

“Stop asking me questions, I can’t explain it,” You whined, covering your ears dramatically which only made your friend roll his eyes.

“You storm into my office complaining and I’m not allowed to ask questions? What happened to a positive work environment?” Jimin asked with a scoff.

“It’s hard to explain, it was great when I was with Mirae and Namjoon and Jisoo but…” You bit your lip nervously.

“But what?” Jimin waited. He knew how your night went because Mirae filled him in on everything. He had known you went to Jungkook’s friend’s place to pregame and if it wasn’t the group you were with that left you stressed it had to be Jungkook. You think you’re so secretive about the trials and tribulations of your ‘friendship’ with him.

“Nothing,” you sighed out, checking your phone. Maybe you just needed to give it a few days for the embarrassment to go away and you’ll be fine again.

Jimin looked at you expectantly, deciding to take a different route for his questions, “So how was it with Namjoon? Mirae is all Heart Eyes for Jisoo.”

“Huh? Oh, no it’s nothing like that,” You told him honestly, “We talked yesterday and I don’t know, I think it’s obvious we’re good as friends right now.”

“So no feelings at all?” Jimin asked, watching you shake your head, so he kept pushing, “Really? Have you actually thought about it though? I thought he’d be someone who’s your type or something.”

You stayed quiet, not bothering to hear him out as you let your mind run rampant. Namjoon is attractive but he’s just a friend and he knows that. If you were not emotionally available you might have given him a better chance but right now you know you feel something for Jungkook. It’s stupid considering he clearly doesn’t want you but it would be unfair to Namjoon if you used him to get over the other.

✮

It took over a week for Jungkook to get the courage to talk about you. He wanted you, he wanted you so bad but there was something holding him back. He’s mad that you’re possibly interested in someone else and he’s pissed that he ruined your chance at kissing. He’s annoyed with himself for many reasons and the only thing he thought to do was distance himself from you.

There’s no point in asking to hang out all the time if you’ve got someone you’re interested in, you'd probably rather spend time with.

Throughout the week he found himself joining his other friends and whatever they did instead of seeking you out like usual. If they thought it strange no one had the nerve to question it. It was obvious there was something going on between you and considering Jungkook’s been on edge nobody wanted to push him to know more.

On Tuesday he met up with Yoongi for dinner and surprisingly enough some other people showed up—Sera (the girl from the party) being one of them. She talked to him the most like last time and it was clear she was very interested in him. He was flattered but that was it. He was too stuck on you even when you weren’t talking.

By the time the weekend rolled back around, Jungkook let himself be dragged to another night out. Yoongi and some of his other friends got him out for a couple drinks at a few bars. He didn’t mind it, but it was weird when Sera and others showed up. It felt oddly like a set-up and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“So you don’t think she’s hot?” Hoseok asked as he waited at the bar with Jungkook for the round of drinks he’d just ordered. Jungkook looked back at the group finding Sera looking at him but he just looked away.

“She’s… she’s alright,” Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know, not really my type though.”

“Why? Because she’s not Y/n?” Hoseok asked with a scoff that made Jungkook roll his eyes. Out of everyone Hoseok was always the main one to point out his relationship with you. It all started when Hoseok made a comment months ago about how he thought you were hot and Jungkook was a little too quick to shut it down. It was weird for him to think of two of his friends going out or talking and Hoseok took that as a sign that Jungkook wanted you… which wasn’t true.

Anyway, the point is, Hoseok always brings you up around him and tonight was no different.

“Where is she anyway? I feel like I haven’t seen her around in a while,” Taehyung said, appearing out of nowhere holding a drink of his own.

“You saw her last weekend,” Jungkook told him.

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen her with you,” Taehyung clarified but Jungkook didn’t seem to care anymore. Hoseok nudged Jungkook and with a drink, “Let’s go talk with Sera and maybe you can introduce me to her friend.”

Taehyung let the other two leave and without thinking he grabbed his cell phone and dialed your number.

You were hanging out at Jimin’s place after finishing some work with him and Mirae when Taehyung called, “Hello.”

“Hey Y/n, where are you? What are you doing?” Taehyung asked looking back at Jungkook who looked tortured to be sandwiched between Sera and Hoseok.

“At a friend’s place, what’s up?” You asked looking between your friends who looked back at you with curiosity.

“Come to JJ’s Bar, we’re all here,” Taehyung kept it simple. In all honesty, he genuinely likes having you around. You’re funny and like Jungkook in a way. When Jungkook brought you around it was surprisingly easy to befriend you and you’re someone he likes seeing. He thinks you and Jungkook should get together some day—if you haven’t already. He doesn’t understand why it hasn’t happened yet when you both clearly want to and okay, he might’ve cut in on that first night but he swears he was drunk. He didn’t mean to and since then you’ve been distant from each other.

He’s been trying to invite you since Jungkook wants to be too stubborn to admit he wants you around.

“Who’s we? Yoongi? Jungkook?” You asked, beginning to gnaw on your bottom lip, “Let me think about it.”

When you hung up, Jimin was the first to speak, “I can drive you.”

“I don’t know… I haven’t really been talking to Jungkook this weekend,” You admitted to making Mirae roll her eyes.

“We know, but it’s obvious you want to. You’ve been depressed all week,” She said, trying to convince you to be honest about your feelings. Neither one of you wants to admit what’s going on between you so you just keep going around it. You’ve been off for a couple weeks now and everyone can see it but you two.

At the bar Jungkook was bored. He wasn’t in the mood to drink or be out with everyone but he dragged himself along because he had nothing better to do. He wasn’t going to stay home staring at his phone or getting FOMO because he missed his friends. He doesn’t want to be here but he doesn’t want to be home.

Frankly, Jungkook knows where and with who he wants to be but he’s too stupid to pick up his phone and call you.

“Jungkook, be honest, are you seeing anyone?” Sera finally asked as she noticed him stare at his phone screen. The bar was dark with colorful lights here and there, packed with people and he was more interested on his phone. She’s done everything she can to get him to notice her but it feels like she keeps falling shorts. He talks to her, close to flirting but never all the way, yet she can’t tell how he feels. Well, no, she can tell he’s thinking about something else but everyone tells her he’s single. She remembers seeing you at Taehyung’s last weekend, it was the most interested he looked in anything but the two of aren’t… dating [?] so what was his deal?

“What?” He turned with surprise written on his face. Sera was blunt and it caught him off guard.

“Well, I think you’re hot and I want to get to know you but I don’t know where your head is at,” Sera said loudly over the music. He was flattered but…

“You actually came!” Taehyung greeted you warmly, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug as you found him and the others. You hugged him back and looked at everyone, not remembering him mentioning any of the other women here—or the one Jungkook was talking to.

“Y/n,” Yoongi said hello, “Do you want a drink?”

“Um…”

“I uh,” Jungkook blinked in disbelief as he looked at you just a few feet away from him. He didn’t know you’d be here, how? “It’s complicated.”

He tried to sit there and focus on Sera but it was hard. He didn’t want to just ditch the girl out of the blue but you haven’t spared him a single glance. It’s like you’re here for his friends but not for him and he didn’t like that. You’re supposed to be his friend not theirs.

You stood back, nervous to greet him. You barely know the girl but what if it’s someone he’s interested in? What if you’re just supposed to be someone he calls when he’s bored and flirts with when no one’s around? What if you’ve read too much into it and let your feelings get involved? You debated approaching him or not especially considering how he left you alone in bed after pushing you away from a kiss. Was it a mistake coming here? What’d you even hope could happen?

“Jungkook,” You waved, hoping you didn’t sound too nervous or bothered while also not sounding too enthusiastic in case that was a girl he was after. You just needed to sound friendly. That’s it.

Sera looked between you with peaked curiosity. She’d notice his attention had left her a while ago but now she sees why. Jungkook didn’t bother looking back at her as he stood up, making his way over to where you stood.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” He said shifting his eyes around, “Who invited you?”

“I can’t hang around your friends anymore?” You asked bluntly, “What do you mean who invited me?”

“I just… I didn’t kno—should we get a drink?” His voice shook with anxiety as his hand slipped down your back to lead you to the bar. He wasn’t doing anything wrong talking to Sera but for some reason he didn’t want the two of you around each other—especially after she just told him she was interested.

“I’ll probably leave, I don’t want to be somewhere I’m not wanted,” You said bitterly, trying to step away from him but he didn’t let you get far from his arms.

“I want you here, of course I do. I just wanted to know who texted you,” Jungkook told you looking at his friends and the only one that was smiling, “Taehyung?”

“Yeah, he asked me to come but if it’s going to be a problem I’ll just leave,” You kept saying.

“Why would it be a problem? I’ve been meaning to text you but—yknow, um,” Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly, leading you away from the group. It’s not that he didn’t want you around them but he was only comfortable with you right now. He didn’t need everyone hearing him.

“Alright, you don’t have to explain it,” You brushed him off, turning to the bar and debating if you wanted a drink or not. You weren’t in the mood to but now that you’ve seen Jungkook with another girl, you might.

“Kook, Y/n, want a shot?” Taehyung asked, trying to get you both to go back with everyone.

“I’m driving,” Jungkook said. He had a small sip earlier but he’s not here to drink all night then get stuck Ubering--especially not now that you’re here. What if you go home with him [he means take you home].

“Y/n?” He turned to you only and you contemplated. Jungkook bit his lip in thought, tempted to say no on your behalf but he wanted to know what you’d do. Taehyung invited you tonight and last weekend too, why? He’s happy you’re here but why is Taehyung the one making a move?

“I’m good, I’ll get something else,” You lied, turning away from the group. Part of you wanted to leave then and there but Jimin dropped you off and you’d need to call him back.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate to follow you to the bar but you didn’t try and order anything. He even asked if you wanted something but you didn’t, “Jungkook just be honest, should I leave? I know you said you want me here but I don’t know… if you wanna hang out with your friends or, yknow, other girls I don’t want them to get the wrong idea. I just came because I wanted to talk but… I don’t know.”

“Is it because of Sera? Y/n, I don’t like her or anything. I want you here, I’m sorry for not inviting you,” Jungkook tried to reassure you but you weren’t really listening.

“This isn’t about her, it’s you. You’re the one being confusing, Kook,” You admitted.

“Me?” He looked genuinely taken back, “How?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as a shield between you knowing he’d try and pull you closer like he usually did. You weren’t the type to argue with someone in public but you were a little annoyed.

“Are we friends? Because if we are don’t try and kiss me then ignore me for days and go out with someone else—“

“Are you serious right now?” He asked, “That’s what you’re mad about? You’ve been doing that to me for the past few weeks with your friend Namjoon.”

“What? That’s not true, I’ve told you every time I was gonna hang out with him. You only call me when you think I’m with someone else,” You told him bitterly.

“You don’t honestly believe that. I call you more than you bother reaching out to me. You only call me when you need a ride or you’re drunk and bored,” Jungkook said, standing a foot away from you so you could hear him better, “You flirt with me and I think there’s something there but then you brush me off or go with someone else. I’ve been trying to make things more clear but you make it so hard.”

“I make it hard?“ Your jaw nearly dropped, “Alright this is stupid. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

He knows what you’re doing and he doesn’t want to play along. Any time the two of you talk about something a little too complicated you start to backtrack in order to avoid it. No, if you wanted him to be honest you had to let him. After the first night you almost kissed, you didn’t message him for a couple days. He’s the one who reach out to you. This time around he’s the one that left because Namjoon was on your phone and he didn’t know what to make of it. He should’ve asked if anything was serious between the two of you but he was too cowardly to do it and left instead. Maybe you were mad he didn’t reach out but why didn’t you try? Yes, you came here hopefully looking for him but the second you see him talking to someone else and confront him about it suddenly you’re shutting down?

Who’s leading who on?

Yoongi saw most of your interaction from across the bar. You weren’t full on arguing but it’s obvious the two of you had things you wanted to say but didn’t know how. After a while he didn’t want to just sit back and ignore it. He at least wanted to know if you were both alright.

When he made his way over he tried asking you again if you wanted a drink or if Jungkook wanted to join him outside. You took that as a sign to make an escape for a moment and rushed to say, “I’m going to the restroom.”

Jungkook was stuck between following and waiting for you or going with Yoongi but his hand trembled with nerves and he needed fresh air. His friend offered him a smoke and he took it reluctantly knowing you’d hate the smell of it on him. Even when he’s sort of upset with you he can’t make himself do something you don’t like.

“What are you guys fighting about?” Yoongi asked taking the cigarette Jungkook rejected and lit one for himself.

“It’s stupid,” Jungkook mumbled under his breath.

“Clearly not when you look worked up,” Yoongi said, “Tell me.”

“There’s been a couple times that we almost kissed and I thought she was talking to someone else but now she’s acting upset with me and I don’t know why. I’m not doing anything, the other night we almost kissed again but I couldn’t bring myself to do it and then the guy texts her. I didn’t know Taehyung asked her to come and now she thinks I don’t want her here and probably thinks I’m into Sera but I’m not,” Jungkook began to let it all out, hands running through his hair nervously.

Yoongi couldn’t hide the look of surprise on his face over the fact that you guys had never kissed before. It was sort of a running joke between all of them that you’re both secretly hooking up but it appears not to be the case. You both had been good friends until then and all the bottled up emotions are finally begging to be let out. It made him chuckle over how dumb it was.

“Did you bother to ask her about him? Actually ask and not make assumptions like you always do?” Yoongi asked, “Because honestly, I think you’re both into each other and don’t know what to do about it.”

“You don’t get it hyung, I can’t just ask Y/n that…” Jungkook groaned with frustration, “I’m being so pathetic, aren’t I?”

“A little. You pay for a parking spot specifically for Y/n and she’s not even your girlfriend. You want her to be so just talk it out.”

“I’m gonna talk to her,” Jungkook bit his lip, watching Yoongi finish up and ask him if we was ready to go back in. When he did, you were standing there talking to Sera and he wasn’t sure what it could be about.

Honestly, it was nothing to worry about. She saw you looking clueless after your restroom break and introduced herself as one of Yoongi’s friends. Although you wanted to ask her about Jungkook she didn’t even bring him up. When he went up to you both but placed a dominant hand around your waist.

It answered what Sera already knew, that he was claimed for even if neither of you said it. His heart was with you.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked suddenly, “For the other night?”

“No, I’m confused,” You let him turn you in his arms so that you faced him, “I thought you wanted to kiss but then you stop it and when I wake up you’re gone. It’s fine if you just want to be friends but don’t lead me on like that.”

For a moment he wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t think you’d say it so bluntly but you did. You’ve been thinking about those Almost Kisses you’ve shared just as much as he has. He just didn’t expect you to be thinking he was leading you on. He thought you were leading him on.

“I’m not… Can we go and talk somewhere?” He asked, trying to take your hand in his but you rejected his advance. Once again you probably looked like a couple arguing and it was so stupid.

“I just wanna go,” You told him and to keep you from leaving he pushed his keys into your hands.

“Let’s go then,” He said. You looked at him with a small smile, feeling somewhat upset with him but also unsure what to do. Part of you wanted to leave on your own but you also wanted to hear him out.

You pushed them back into his hand with a sigh, “No, you’re here with your friends, I shouldn’t have even bothered.”

“Y/n, I don’t care I wanna leave with you, let’s go,” He turned to his friends, not bothering to get closer as he began to wave, “I’m gonna call it a night guys, Y/n’s taking me home.”

“Kook,” You couldn’t help but whine. He just smiled, leading you out the club and you learned he wasn’t kidding. He really was making you take him home in his own car, hoping it’d keep you from parting ways with him tonight.

“I didn’t know it seemed like I was leading you on,” Jungkook said, almost sounding bitter at the thought of it. He slumped back in the passenger’s seat staring out at the dark city lights trying to process what you time him not too long ago.

You didn’t say anything and that made him turn to you, “You’re the one that’d ditch me for that Namjoon guy.”

“I didn’t ditch you, every single time you asked me about him and I tried telling you how it was, you’d stop me,” You reminded him, thinking back to every time he’d bring up someone else and ignore every time you told him it wasn’t anything serious, “And how was I not supposed to think you were leading me on? One second you act like you want to kiss and the next you’re pushing me away.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong about how I acted but it was because I was jealous. You knew I was jealous I just kept acting like I wasn’t and look at where we are now. You’re mad at me,” Jungkook shook his head, “And I want to kiss you. I think about kissing you all the time and that night—those nights… I regret not doing it but sometimes I can’t read you.”

“I never know where your head’s at. One second you’re in my arms and I think there’s something between us but then you… I don’t know, I feel like you know I’ll always be around,” He admitted, looking out his window to avoid your sudden stare.

The rest of the ride was silent and though Jungkook could tell there was a lot on your mind you weren’t saying any of it. He feels more assured now knowing that you felt the same way he did but it’s like going in circles talking about this. He just wants to get you in his arms and act like you both haven’t made it more complicated than it needs to be.

When you parked his car in the lot of his apartment, you turned the engine off and turned to face him, confused on what to do now. Do you sleep over or get yourself a ride home? Jungkook had pushed his seat back to get more comfortable but now it felt like you were farther from him than he liked. You looked back to find him already staring at you. His eyes fell to the way you nervously licked your lips and he couldn’t take it anymore.

The sound of his belt unbuckling caught you off guard you almost missed how he leant forward so suddenly you nearly pulled back. His lips collided with yours with such need that you met with equal eagerness. He slipped his hand down your hair toward your neckline keeping you from pulling back. Jungkook doesn’t know how to describe the kiss.

It was good, better than he imagined but was it the kiss or just you? Was it the fact that was finally getting a taste of you? You leaned forward, bumping into the middle console to kiss him a little harder, tongues meeting in a wet, tender way that had you gasping lightly. If this was what was on your mind for so long, you now knew why. Kissing him felt good, felt different and you didn’t want to stop.

“Inside,” He tried to say between kisses but he found it hard to pull away. The word just came out in an airy whisper, struggling to find sound.

He pulled back with a small groan, hand in your hair and forehead pressed against yours as he tried to catch his breath, “Let’s go inside, please?”

Your small nod was enough for him to storm out of the car, rounding to your side and helping you out of the car, leading you up. Up the stairs he stopped every now and then to plant a small kiss on your shoulder or neck, arms around your waist.

“Don’t like when you’re mad at me,” Jungkook said, unlocking his door and taking you in, “And I was jealous about Namjoon, so stupidly jealous because he texted you and I saw it on your phone an—“

“There’s nothing going on between us,” You assured him, “And I was never mad at you. I thought you didn’t want me—“

“Crazy, you’re crazy to think that,” Jungkook cupped your face in his hands, “You’re the only one I want and I’m sorry I didn’t make it more clear.”

You smiled, arms around his neck as he hoisted you up so he could kiss you better and walk toward his living room, “Me too.”

He carried you to the couch, taking a seat and pulling you onto his lap with ease. You didn’t hesitate to make yourself comfortable, leaning down to kiss him as his hands moved up your waist. He let you take the lead for a little bit, head tilted to the side when you kissed near his ear making a small smile appear on his face. His ears were sensitive and everyone knew that. Whenever you tried whispering something in his ear, he’d practically have to shove you away or it’d make goosebumps form on his skin. Now you’re kissing up his ear lobe and he was sinking into the couch pulling you with him.

A light frown left his lips when he felt you nip at his lobe with your teeth and his head fell forward, nearly bumping your shoulder making him tug on your neckline to kiss your exposed collarbone. You lifted his chin with a light finger touch and met him with a kiss. His hands slipped under your top, feeling along your smile like he’s done before. He likes to feel how warm you are under his fingertips, like to feel your natural curves. You liked the way his rough hands felt against your sides when he ran his hands up, nearly touching your chest before tracing them back down.

Jungkook couldn’t hide his growing erection when you pressed down against his lap. It didn’t help that you were licking along his bottom lip tugging on it with your teeth until you were tongue kissing. He sat straighter, hands itching to rip your top off. He’s seen you in sultry outfits that made his head turn everytime and he’s interested to see what was under.

“Kook,” You sighed softly, pulling away from the sloppy kiss to catch your breath. Your lips felt number and swollen and his did too. He was so damn kissable and you can’t believe you haven’t done this yet. What were you so worried about all this time? He looked at you with these spark in his eyes and lip between his teeth, hands around your waist and bulge pressed against you. You looked down at his lap, shifting back a little before grinding forward again. A deep groan caught in his throat when you did it and he looked at you hopefully.

“You’re so hot,” Your hands ran along his lean shoulders down toward the bottom of his shirts and helped you yank it off of him without a second thought. You’ve seen him shirtless countless of times, in person and on the phone. You’ve felt his body when he’s rolled over in his sleep to cuddle and it doesn’t ever leave your mind how attractive your friend is. You remember when he first started getting his tattoos done and when he first started boxing. He got so much stronger and his tattoos just got so much hotter.

You leaned forward, kissing softly against his neck, hands feeling up his abs and hip bucking into him. His hands guided your hips against him, hard dick feeling constricted in his jeans and when you kissed near his pecs he released a light moan.

“Stop, you’re going to drive me insane if you don’t,” He groaned, hands pulling on your top.

“You want me stop?” You asked, grinding down on him. You were starting to feel needy and aroused. If he wanted you to stop, maybe you should before you take it too far.

“No,” Jungkook finally yanked your top off you, catching your lips with his, tongue searching the inside of your mouth, “Don’t want you to.”

His hands wandered south, inching up the small fitted skirt you wore tonight. Last time he saw you in something revealing was when you’d gone off to see Namjoon wearing a dress. He remembered eyeing you closely wishing you weren’t leaving and wondering if you’d dressed up for someone else. Now you’re grinding down on him with your skirt bunch around your hips, bucking into him with a thin pair of panties on and it drove him insane. His jeans were in the way of letting him feel your head against him and he couldn’t take it. A small squeal left your lips when he swiftly turned you to lie on the couch, trapped underneath him with your legs around his waist.

Jungkook kept his hardened dick in his pants, pressed between your spread legs as he kissed down your neck, leaving love bites behind while his hands began to trace your sides. You breathed heavily in anticipation when he tugged your bra down exposing your breasts over the cups and he didn’t hesitate to keep going. His touch was eager as he licked between them, cupping your right boob with his hand while kissing the other. He sucked your hardened nipple into his, humping his erection against your clit. You released a small moan when he ran his tongue around your bud, lost in himself Jungkook groaned when you pulled on his hair softly.

You snuck a hand between your bodies and reached for his belt. The jeans felt rough against your wet panties but it also felt good to have something to bump into. In all honesty, you liked grinding against him but you need more.

Now.

Jungkook lifted his body up slightly, not bothering to break away from worshiping you in kisses and helped you unbuckle his belt.

“You want it?” Jungkook asked in a husky whisper, throat sore and lust in his eyes. You nodded your head watching him sit back on his haunches, using his skilled fingers to undo it the rest of the way and tug the zipper down. He kicked them off without much or a care for the things on his coffee table and with his other hand, he held your hips, “Say it.”

A soft whine left your lips as you got the hint and turned onto your stomach, your head so close to the armrest of the couch and knees digging into the cushion below you. You’ve been in this living room a hundred times but never thought you’d be in this position. He pulled your panties down with ease, not bothering with the skirt as he pulled it up so it was around your waist and gave him a perfect view of what you looked like bent over. He couldn’t help but place a hand on the round of your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

Jungkook was pathetically desperate for you and couldn’t find it in himself to pull away enough to pull his briefs all the way down. Instead, he lowered them enough for his hard cock to spring free. You hadn’t said anything yet, seemingly stuck in a lust filled daze, arms using the side of the couch for support. He could see the slick lining your pretty cunt and he needed to be closer. He lined his member up with your files, grinding against you and feeling your wetness coat his member in arousal.

You released a moan, arching your back into the couch and ass back on him, “I want it.”

His cock twitched with need when you said it in your usual whiny tone. The tone you use when you call him late at night because you’re bored or annoyed with him. Jungkook nodded his head even though you couldn’t see him, he used a hand on your hips and the other in his length to catch the small hook of your entrance. You were so unbelievably wet that his dick was covered, it made guiding the tip of his cock against your wet pussy better.

“You’re so wet, baby, fuck,” Jungkook groaned, palming your ass as you waited so prettily for him to just fuck you already.

He can tell you were getting impatient by the way you shook your hips side to side and he couldn’t help but smile. Feeling warmth burst through his chest he leant over your body, resting his arm next to yours and kissed your neck. Without another word, he pressed his face against your hair and thrusted forward. With just the first thrust, you felt the stretch of your walls around his girth. It hurt for only a few seconds as you took him in and you lifted your head, stopped by how Jungkook hugged you from behind.

“Oh,” You gasped turning your head to look at him and he caught your open lips with a tongue kiss that made you relax against him. It took him a moment before he pushed the rest of his length into your tight pussy with a grunt.

Once he felt you relax, he tried to sit back, thrusting into you with care trying to adjust. You pushed back against his length, meeting his thrusts until you caught a steady rhythm and Jungkook’s fingers dug into your hips, watching the way you looked as he fucked you from behind in his living room. You felt so good to him. Your walls tightened around him deliciously making his head tip back losing himself to the feeling. “Right there.”

At this angle with your back down and ass up, his dick felt your innermost walls clench, he felt the curve of your pelvis and your butt felt soft.

“Fuck,” your head fell against the arm rest trying to keep up with your pace but he was bigger than you ever could’ve thought of. You’ve felt a hint of it before but to have him inside you making your body shiver with need it was hard to focus on your movements. Jungkook could feel you slow down as you felt the pleasure build up inside you. It brought him back to attention and with more assertive energy, he placed a hand on your ass and the other on your lower back, making sure you stayed in position so he could fuck you.

Your jaw dropped when his strokes changed making him reach deeper inside you. This position always made you feel dirty in a good way and left you a moaning mess, letting him slam his hips into you. Swear beaded his forehead, fucking you chasing his and your pleasure.

“So good, so fucking good,” He groaned, arm circling around your waist and lowering more of his hips into you. The tip of his cock hit that good spot deep inside that made you want to clench your eyes shut.

“Koo,” You tried to get out more of his name but it was harder to hold yourself together, fucking back onto his dick with eagerness, needy whimpers leaving your lips. You pushed against the armrest trying to stand up a little, itching to be closer to him.

You didn’t even need to tell him anything, he pulled your back against his chest until your were nearly sitting back on his dick, grinding against him, taking every inch he gave you. He placed a hand on your navel, keeping you flush to his body, dropping needy kisses on your neck knowing it’d leave love bites in their wake.

Your orgasm began to build up inside you, so close to popping and it made you a little more pliant to take whatever he gave you. You fucked yourself back onto him while his other hand groped your tits, listening to his whispers of need in your ear telling you how good you’re taking it.

“Just like that, cum for me,” Jungkook said with a deep rasp to his usual delicate tone. It’s like he wanted to walk you through it and fuck, it was working.

The moment your cunt clamped down around his dick leaving him to hiss through gritted teeth, he knew you were going to cum. He let you fuck yourself to release, whining in his arms and legs shaking as he held you up.

He slowed his hips, keeping himself to the hilt inside you feeling the way your orgasm made your body tremble for him. Your pussy was dripping around his length and he was tracing soothing lines against your spine as you fell back to the couch trying to catch your breath, “Good girl.”

His words had a clear effect on you still as your pussy twitched, making him smile. He never took you as the type to like pet names but he knew you liked to be praised. Well, he knew you hated being scolded but usually you listened to him when he did. Now he knows praising you feels a lot better.

Jungkook sucked in a tight breath as he began to pull out his aching member, worried you’d be feel uncomfortable right now. The need to cum was so heavily set into his body but he wasn’t stupid. He knew he wasn’t wearing any protection and though there’s a chance you’re taking anything, he wasn’t going to risk losing himself inside you. A little whine left your lips as he slipped out and you couldn’t help but look back at him with furrowed brows.

“You good?” He asked with concern, caressing your side lovingly. You didn’t say anything, turning to sit up and wrap your arms around him. He groaned when you rubbed against his cock on accident and you looked down at it immediately.

He caught your stare and smiled, “Can we finish this somewhere else? The couch is a little too small…”

You laughed, “There’s more?”

You were teasing him and you both knew it which only made him roll his eyes playfully. With a swift move, he lifted you up, carrying you to the bathroom catching you by surprise, “You didn’t think we were done yet did you? What about me?”

✮

A MONTH LATER

“You guys are so bad at hiding it,” Mirae said as she sat in the packed booth of your friends, all watching you hold hands under the table. You looked at her with feigned innocence, shoving Junhkook’s hand off your thigh.

“Hiding what?” You asked, looking at everyone around. Taehyung sat on one end, Yoongi next to him, Jimin there and Mirae too. They all looked equally unimpressed but your act but it was somewhat funny.

Jungkook tried to hide a grin but he was so bad at it. He smiled at you warmly, “Told you.”

“It’s your fault, I bet we could’ve hid it a little longer if you didn’t smile,” You tried to say but even you didn’t believe yourself. Jungkook didn’t even bother to look guilty as he broke out in a laugh. Yoongi chuckled, looking at the way Jungkook’s cheeks flushed red when you looked at him a little too long.

“I knew the second Y/n stopped coming to work all moody because she wasn’t talking to Jungkook,” Jimin pointed out and Mirae agreed quickly.

Hoseok sighed, “I knew when Jungkook stopped giving me killer workouts at the gym. I almost broke my shoulder.”

“Whoa, I’m a great personal trainer,” Jungkook put a hand to his chest, “Don’t come at my profession.”

“I’m not, I’m pointing out the fact that you were always moodier when you didn’t see Y/n,” Hoseok argued.

Jungkook couldn’t even deny it so he didn’t try. Instead he place his hand back down on your thigh and leaned into you to share the dinner menu, “Are you gonna try something new? You’re picky.”

“I might want to expand my horizons,” You looked over everything with a concentrated expression.

He raised an amused brow at you, surprised when the server came around and you actually did try something new. He let the others go before him and when it came to being his turn, he ordered your usual.

“Are you switching it up too?” The server asked, all too familiar with the two of you and your eating preferences.

“It’s in case she doesn’t like it,” He admitted with a sly wink in your direction. You hit his arm playfully and turned toward your friends who glared at you grossly.

“I’m losing my appetite,” Jimin teased, looking at Mirae as she texted away on her phone, “You?”

“Kinda, I don’t know, Jisoo just asked what I’m doing,” Mirae said.

Jungkook looked up with slight interest. He tried not to be the jealous type but… Jisoo is friends with Namjoon. He’s met the guy now and he’s not that bad but he’s also way taller than him with a bulkier physique.

“What is he doing? Tell him and his friends join us,” Jungkook said suddenly making her furrow her brows at him.

“He wants to see Namjoon again, I think he’s got a little crush on him,” You told her, making him shrug.

“The guy is built,” he said, “I just wanna know what pre-workout he takes.”

“And to think you spent all this time not liking him because you didn’t like Y/n talking to him,” Taehyung said, feeling the need to bring up the awkward part. You glared at him but he only smiled mischievously.

“Hey, let’s move on from that,” You said leaning against Jungkook who pulled you closer, “We’re all just friends.”

“Except you two, so can you just say you’re dating already and we can go on with the usual?” Yoongi asked impatiently.

“I thought you said we were bad at hiding it,” your boyfriend sat up, pulling you into his arms giving you a tight hug and looked at his friends, “But fine, this is my best friend and girlfriend.”

“Whoa, I thought I was your best friend now. Y/n can’t have both titles,” Taehyung scoffed, sitting up, “I practically brought you two together. I mean yeah I was fucked up that first night but once I caught on I was the one always inviting Y/n over.”

“I’m the one who told Jungkook to get his head out of the gutters and talk to Y/n,” Yoongi said with a raised finger to state a point.

“Not to join in on the fight but… I also tried getting Y/n to talk about Jungkook and drove her to JJ’s the other night,” Jimin leaned forward to say and suddenly they were all arguing over who brought the two of you together.

It was stupid but friendly and it made you laugh with amusement.

“I’m not the jealous type, right?” Jungkook asked you as he thought about what Taehyung said earlier instead of their current banter, “I didn’t care that you talked to Namjoon… I just, y'know I didn’t want you to like him, there’s a difference.”

His face looked confused in a surprisingly cute way for your motorcycle riding, tattoo covered boyfriend and it made you smile. “Of course you’re not the jealous type.”

Jungkook smiled back warmly, leaning into you for a quick kiss.

When your food arrived you regretted ordering it just like he knew you would and he switched you plates like he knew he would. Aside from the obvious displays of affection nothing else changed for the two of you. Or at least you don’t think it did.

He still came over whenever he felt like it and you bothered him at any hour of the day. When he wasn’t sleeping in your bed trying to keep you from going to work he was checking his phone for a text from you throughout the day.

You’re not sure if it’s because he was your friend first but your relationship with Jungkook was a perfect mix of love and affection with ease and playfulness.

Your best friend was the one for you and he’d been right in front of you the whole time.

::.

NO PART TWO

two fics in two months??? who do I think I am 😜

honestly I kinda liked this friendly little vibe. I wanted more angst but idkkk. they kinda gave toxic but not like super hide red flag toxic. they’re in their twenties yall 😭

I’m preparing for this angsty yandere fic for Taehyung so I wanted to something a little softer, slice of life vibe

anyways like always, love feedback so tell me what you think!

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @saweetspoiled @babycandy111 @jeonninja @skzthinker @beautywine @lilliankoo @lesoleile @burnahtsw @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @whoa-jo @sunnikthv @kochycooky @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @annabtsangels @hyunjinswifeee @bangtans-momma @butterymin @kaiparkerwifes @junggukjeonfreakinwife @ily4jknity @ryuzakiswife-blog @futuristicenemychaos @honeybunnykoo @aindrila @cherrymoonlight t @parkinglot-nights @llallaaa @crooked-haven @butterflykpoplover @sakuragongju @ackward-maknae @investedreader @junggukjeonfreakinwife [also if you’ve tried joining masterlist but haven’t been added it’s bc I’m only allowed to tag 50 people! I usually try and warn when I’m going to post so I recommend turning on my post notifs when you know a fic is coming sorry 😭]

[honeyatsu]

I can't have what I want (but neither can you) | Bob Reynolds

Bob Reynolds x F!Reader

Summary: You don't know how to explain the feeling when you see Bob and Yelena together. You don't understand it, and you don't like it. You think maybe you're not a people person, maybe you're better off being on your own. You take matters to solve this problem your own way, but everyone doesn't agree with your logic.

Stand-alone. One-shot.

"'Cause I know we be so complicated But we be so smitten, it's crazy I can't have what I want, but neither can you"

Warnings: 18+MINORS DNI. Minor spoilers for Thunderbolts! Smut (my first time writing smut deserves a warning itself tbh)

Not proof read/edited. Maybe later. Idk. I hate editing.

a/n: I am so obsessed with this man...I just couldn't not write a fic. He has been rotting my brain since I saw Thunderbolts and I don't see my obsession ending soon lmao....also my first time fully writing smut. I tried.

ao3 | masterlist

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The sound of laughter echoes around the living space as both you and Bob are scrolling through the endless selection of movies, making fun of each-others movie preferences. The light from the city is reflecting through the window glass, it’s a beautiful night and the two of you wanted to spend it indoors while everyone else in the Tower tended to their own business.  

It’s one of those rare quiet and peaceful nights at the Towel. You decided why not take advantage of it, hauling Bob out of his room and inviting him to a movie night (a movie night that doesn’t involve unnecessary commentary or spoilers).

“We’ve gone through an entire collection of romcom’s…do you not watch anything else?” Bob teasess as he nudges your shoulder, a small grin spreading across his face. You roll your eyes, tossing the remote to his lap. 

“Okay, drama queen. You pick.” 

Bob chuckles, causing his knee to press lightly against yours. He’s warm – you notice with every light tough to the shoulder, whenever your bodies lightly brush against eachothers, he’s always warm. Being close to him is no different from wrapping your body with a freshly dried blanket. Months since the New York incident, your downtime has been spent with Bob. You found comfort in him, his quiet smile and haunted eyes enticing you. He was both gentle and strong, it was impressive. Bob was the only person who made this new life you’ve all been pushed into feel like a home. 

After what seemed like endless scrolling, Bob lands on Warm Bodies. “Zombie movie. I think this one’s a winner.” 

“God help us,” you groan. “This is still romance.”

“Sure, but it’s with zombies.” 

You hum in response, sinking your body further into the large couch and glance back at him. You offer him a shrug – accepting the film of the evening. 

The sound of the movie beginning echoes through the surround sound, and it’s all you're able to hear as the two of you focus on the screen in front of you. That is until the moment was interrupted by the elevator door’s ding. 

Heavy footsteps make their way towards the couch, not shying away from being the only loud thing in the room besides the TV. You turn your head as they approach, it’s Yelena. 

“Movie night?” she asks, a grin spread across her cheek. She’s in a grey sweatshirt, her blond hair is pulled back by a headband. 

You turn your head back, nodding in response. 

“Nice,” she makes her way to the other side of Bob, dropping her body next to his. “What are we watching?” 

“Something with zombies, y/n says they fall in love.” he replies, turning to her with a wide smile – his soft eyes gazing over at her, his half-laugh expression you try to believe is just for you. 

It’s uneasy, the feeling at the bottom of your stomach. It’s doing more flips than you do during a mission, your arms crossing quicker than you realize how you’re reacting. It’s completely illogical, there’s no reason for you to feel this bothered.

But you watch them, you see the way she nudges his arm, how he doesn’t pull back. With you, Bob seems almost hyper-aware of his proximity to you, but with Yelena, it’s almost as if physical boundaries don't exist. He is completely comfortable with her. You begin to watch him watching her, how his eyes follow her subtle movements, how captivated he stares at her as she laughs – confident and magnetic. Why did he never look at you like that? The thought sneaks its way to your head, you can feel your heart rate slowly begin to increase. Something is pulling tight in your chest.

You don’t understand it, but you sure as hell don’t like it. 

“I’m actually kind of tired,” you say quickly, standing up before you are able to finish your sentence. 

Bob diverts his attention towards you, “Already?”

You lower your head, nodding sheepishly. The walk to the elevator feels as if it’s a few miles away as opposed to a few feet, each step feeling as if you’re walking in slow motion. 

Behind you, you hear bodies shifting. 

“You sure?” Bob mildly shouts, his voice dripping in confusion. 

When you finally make it inside the elevator, you pretend not to hear him. The sound of your finger pressing the button rapidly becomes the loudest noise – the desperation to be anywhere but the common room being obvious. When the door finally closes, it’s quiet but your thoughts seem to be so loud. There’s a mix of emotions and ideas going through your head, but you're unsure how to make sense of any of it. 

As you push open your bedroom door – it feels heavier than usual. The shallow light of your lamp shining too bright, and your bed looking like the ultimate safe space. 

You’re not used to this feeling – it’s beyond foreign and it startles you. Not even the most dangerous mission can make your stomach churn the way it does when you see Bob watching Yelena. It’s been like this for weeks at this point, your breath becomes shallow when they share an inside joke together. Your heart races more than you’re used to when you see Yelena place her hand on his shoulders. There's a nauseating feeling that takes over when every moment with them, you feel like a third wheel to their friendship. They share a specific bond, and a friendship like there’s can’t be replicated. They’ve been through too much, know each other too well. 

It’s way more intimate than any kind of friendship you and Bob have. 

But you’ve known this. This isn’t new. Their friendship wasn’t some kind of secret, it’s been this way since you joined the New Avengers and it’s been this way since before you were recruited in.

But recently, you haven’t been fine. You try to convince yourself that you’ve been sick, but the feeling of unease only happens when you’re around them. 

You just don’t know why. 

You're settled in bed, it’s dark, and you want to be asleep. You’d do anything to be asleep. The weight of the blanket over you should be comforting, but it just makes you feel too aware. It’s fabric grazing over your skin, the rustle of the sheets whenever you shift in place. While your room is dark, the light from under the door can’t seem to escape your focus. The realization that the movie night you planned is now happening without you. 

You try telling yourself that this is ridiculous. Why did you leave? Exactly what was the problem? Bob and Yelena are close friends, but they’re also your friends. They’re your team and co-workers, you all live under the same roof now – so why was your brain doing this to you? 

A soft tap on your door pauses your thoughts, your name being softly said against the other side. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat, for a few seconds, you actually forget to breathe.

It’s Bob. 

He stops tapping your door before he says, “Can I come in?” 

You don’t respond, keeping your body still. You hope the lack of any sound, any proof that you’re awake would cause him to walk away. To leave you and your thoughts alone. 

“I’m coming in.” 

You make a small noise as you hear the door slowly creak open, quickly pulling the cover over your head. Your body is still as you hear footsteps slowly approach you. 

For a moment, you think of getting up. Explaining yourself and wanting to offer an apology, ending the movie night before it even really started. But you lay there, still and motionless, pretending to be asleep. 

It feels like there’s someone hovering over you, you hear the sound of shifting on the ground. You imagine Bob standing over you, fidgeting as he contemplates whether to wake you or let you rest. Luckily for you, he takes a step back, you hear his footsteps slowly begin to sound further away before he lightly shuts the door. 

A loud gast escapes you, from the breath you forgot you were holding. You kick your sheets off you, releasing the sticky hold it had on you due to your sweat.

You’re unsure what you got yourself into, or how you got there in the first place. You just want things to be as they were, you want to feel normal again.

You have got to do something about this. 

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You don’t mean to avoid him – that wasn’t the plan. 

At least not at first.

You just needed some space, some perspective, some time to breathe and allow yourself to be level headed. 

It was just easier to be all of those things without Bob. And without thinking about how he looks at Yelena, and without wondering if he’s ever looked at you that way (and to you, that’s wishful thinking). But, who cares. They’re friends. You’re friends. You’re all friends, there’s nothing wrong with that. 

And yet, the ache lingers. The feeling you got before sneaks its way into your body whenever you share your space with them. 

It was subtle at first – you skipping out on team meals. You’re not in the common room often anymore, you prefer to spend your evening locked up in your room or training by yourself in the training room. 

And it’s peaceful. 

There’s no aching feeling in your chest, there’s no butterflies flying freeling in your stomach, there’s no feeling of uncertainty or disappointment. You tell yourself, maybe you’re off being alone. Perhaps, you’re not someone who functions well in teams, you’re probably just naturally a lone wolf. 

And no one questions it, you hardley figure anyone even notices the fact that you’ve lightly pulled away. 

Well, at least most of them.

You can’t help but see the quiet looks Bob sneaks at you during meetings. You try to ignore the way his smile lighty drops when you answer him too quickly, or when you look too eager to leave. He stopped trying to sit next to you or stopping by your room when he’s bored. 

It hurt more than you thought it would. 

While you realize that this was the plan, this was your intention, you wanted space and you got it. But it still hurts. 

These days, the only thing that helps is being in your room or the Tower’s gym.

You decide today is one of those days. The world outside was too loud, just like in your head. You needed something to focus on, something to ground your body and allow your mind to be still. 

The Tower gym offered it all – empty, nothing louder than the echo of a weight dropping to the ground. It was the kind of noise you needed, it was the release your body was begging for. This was the place where you could move your way through the internal noise. You could sweat it out. Punch those intense feelings away. 

The current victim of your frustration was the punching bag, each strike against it vibrates up your arms like lightning. You finally felt like yourself again, the feral rhythm of your fists, the feeling of your strength, how accurate all your hits were. It reminded you of how accurate and sure of yourself you always used to be. 

You feel your sweat drip down your chest. Your hoodie was tied around your waist, your sports bra sticking onto you like a second layer of skin. It was incredible – you didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to think. 

You didn’t want to think of how you managed to fumble your forming friendships. Or about how even being forced into a team, you manage to isolate yourself from everyone. Not about how Bob looked at Yelena like she hung the stars herself. Not about how easy it is for him to welcome her into his embrace, or how unguarded he is around her. You didn’t want to think about how your chest had pulled so tightly at the sight, you felt like you could barely breathe. 

“Woah,” a voice called out from the entrance of the gym, loud and sharp enough to separate you from your focus. “I never want to be on your bad side.” 

You pause mid-swing, averting your gaze to the doorway. You find John Walker leaning against the frame, sleeves pushed up and his arms crossed. He lets out a light whistle, a half smirk spread across his face. 

You wipe off your forehead with the back of your wrist, becoming too aware of your apperance.

“If you annoy me enough, you might become the new bag.” You say, and gratifyingly, Walker lets out a rare laugh. 

“Mind if I join you?” He asks while stepping inside. 

You reply with a shrug, turning back towards the mats. “It’s a free gym.” 

He drops his bag and follows you, silently joining your workout. 

In no time, it led to the two of you on the sparring floor, bodies intertwined and slamming into each other. The first few minutes of the spar was silent, just heavy breathing and grunting surrounding the two of you. It was the kind of silence neither of you mind. 

“Who pissed you off?” and then, Walker spoke. 

You don’t reply, trying to force yourself out of his hold. 

“C’mon, y/n.” he hisses, nudging your knee with his, holding onto you. “Your going at it like this is personal.”

Twisting your body, you manage to escape his hold. You stumble in front of him, landing on your knees. You shoot him a glare, “This is how you make friends?” 

He flashes you a toothy grin, “I mean, it’s working. Isn’t it?” 

You roll your eyes, but a chuckle manages to escape your lips. Walker offers you his hand, helping you up from the ground. 

You stretch your body for a second, rolling your shoulders before responding back to him. “Let’s spar. Talking optional.” 

Walker takes a step back, raising his hands in the air as if he’s surrendering. “Optional? That’s a shame. You have such a nice voice.” 

You scoff at his antics as you stepp into stance. He follows suit, preparing for the first most. You begin to stab at him once, then twice, and he braces it well. His arms are strong and hands steady, not holding back. It wasn’t long before you started picking up the pace, the sound of shuffling feet and strikes drowned out any of the previous spiraling thoughts you had. 

Walker ducks one of your strikes and smirkes as you lightly stumble. “You sure you not training for a match with anyone specifically?” 

“If you keep talking, I might be.” 

His laugh is loud and smile is wide, “Feisty. I like it.”

You can’t help form a grin across your face, and before you know it, you let out a full body laugh. Breathless. Genuine. 

You dodge another playful jab and attempt to shove Walker backward. He managed to catch your wrist mid-shove, and twisted it softly. It messes with your momentum, causing you to stumble into his chest, letting out a quiet yelp. His hand settles at your waist, pulling your bodies closer together. 

“Woah,” he teased. “If you wanted to dance, all you had to do was ask.” 

“I’ll make sure to lead.” you winked at him, pushing him back playfully. 

“So you’re one of those.” 

The two of you laughed, and for a moment, it was nice. This was the first time in weeks you weren’t spending your free time alone. It was simple. Flirty. Harmless.

 It was fun. 

Until the door opened.

The sight makes your stomach drop for reasons unknown to you. 

It was Bob. 

He stood at the doorway, his broad shoulder tense, arms to his sides and fingers lightly fidgeting against one another. Even under the low gym light, he was golden. 

He stood there silently, not saying a word. His eyes were too busy locked on the scene in front of him. 

Your body is pressed against Walkers, his hand still hovering near your hip. Your cheeks are flushed, your in your sports bra, your smiling like before and laughing like Walker was God's gift to Earth. 

Bob’s face was unreadable. He was too still, too quiet. 

“Hey,” you managed to choke out, still a little out of breath. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” 

Bob didn’t look at you, his eyes still laying on Walker's hand on your body. “Didn’t realize I was interupting.”

Walker shifts, hands still on you. He doesn’t notice your body tensing up or your breath becoming staggered. “We’re just messing around. You want in?” 

Bob’s eyes flicked to you, and for a second, you think you see his brown eyes quickly shift to gold. You can’t put into words the emotion going on behind his eyes, but it isn’t just irritation. 

“No,” Bob says flatly. “I’m good.” 

With that, he turns his body and walks out. 

“Uh…” Walker finally releases you, helping you find your balance as your bodies seperate from each other. “Did I miss something?” 

You shook your head slowly, trying to prevent your body from freezing or your mind becoming a frenzy. The gym that was once your safe space is now added to one of the places you are going to have to avoid. There’s a weight in your chest that is settling like concrete the longer you stand there. 

“I’m gonna shower.” You say softly before leaving to your last sanctuary: your room. 

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

The halls of the Tower always manage to feel too long when you don’t want to be found. 

You try to take the short way to your room, quickly leaving the bathroom as soon as you finish your post-workout shower. You try to ignore the uncomfortable dampness of your hair, or the chill spreading through your body under your over-sized nightwear. The only thing you want more than anything is to be alone in your room. You want to shake off the unnerving weight pressing down on your ribs. You feel guilty without having a reason to be. You feel like you did something wrong. You tell yourself that you might just be flustered, Bob just happened to catch you off-guard in a compromising position. It could have been anyone, and you’d probably feel the same way. It didn’t mean anything. 

But then you remember his eyes. How he looked at you (even though he was trying not to). He didn’t just look irritated or disappointed. But something else. 

You managed to finally turn to the last corner – but then you were stopped short. 

He was there, leaning against the wall outside of your room. Your sanctuary. The place that was supposed to be safe. 

His arms are crossed, head down like he’d been waiting on your arrival for some time. His hair caught the soft glow of the overhead lights, casting warm shadows across his cheekbones. You can see his chest rise and fall at a steady pace, like he’s focusing on it. He looks so calm on the outside, but you knew him too well. 

His jaw was tight. His posture was tense. If you didn’t look close enough, you’d miss the slight frown forming from the corner of his lips. 

“Bob..” 

He looked up slowly at the sound of your voice. 

“Hey.” His voice was quiet, but not soft as it was once before. It wasn’t gentle or warm. It was just quiet. 

You shift awkwardly, looking down at the droplets falling to the ground from the ends of your hair. You’re determined to look anywhere but at him. “Did you need something?”

“I think we need to talk.”

You sigh, slowly nodding your head. You slowly go past him, still not looking up. You unlock the door, stepping inside as Bob follows behind you, then closes the door behind him.

The lamp was the only light on in your roon, an amber gold hue shining a dim light around the two of you. You stand near the bed, holding your damp towels awkwardly. Bob stayed close to the door, like he didn’t have permission to come closer. 

The silence seemed to stretch on forever, the two of you sneaking glances at each other, waiting for the other to speak first.

Then, Bob lets out a deep exhale. “Are you mad at me?”

The question hurt. Hitting you like a punch to the gut. 

“No..why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs, his voice slowly growing sharper in frustration. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No I haven’t –”

“Yes, you have,” he interrupts. “You ditched me on movie night, which was your idea. You stopped hanging out in the lounge. You sprint out of a room when I walk in. And then today…” his voice trails off, his jaw twitching before he begins to speak again. “Today I saw you. I saw you all over Walker.” 

You swallowed, the feeling of guilt crawling over your body again. “We were just training.” 

Bob nodded slowly, finally looking you in the eyes as if he was looking for answers. “Right. Just training.” 

“Bob…”

“I’m not mad,” he said between breaths, trying to calm himself. His voice is quiet again. “I just..I don’t understand what I did. If I even did anything. Did I bother you or something?”

Your throat tightens. Your fingers fidget against the towel in your hands, finding comfort in squeezing something. “No. It’s not that.”

“Then what?” His voice cracks with something raw, something new. “Was I around you too much? Talk to you too often? Did I..make you uncomfortable? Whatever I did…I…I think you need to tell me.” 

“You didn’t,” You said quickly, trying to ease his mind. You toss the towels in a bean bag not too far from you. You slowly begin to take a step forward. “Bob, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you pulling away from me?”

Your mouth opens lightly, but nothing comes out. How can you explain a feeling you don’t understand? How could you explain what you’re going through without shattering the friendship you’ve built? How can you tell him I hate seeing you smile at her like that without sounding crazy? 

While being so deep in thought, you don’t notice how Bob was currently looking at you. Really looking. Like he was searching for answers from your face.

Your silence and worrisome look on your face broke something in him. It’s as if he was finally able to connect the dots that have been in front of him all along. 

“You’re…jealous?” He asks, both you and himself. “That’s what this is?”

You flinch – the word you’ve been avoiding like the plague finally making it to the surface. “I’m not–”

“You are,” he takes a step forward. “You’re jealous of…Yelena?”

Your heart pounds against your rib cage, your ears become hot and you feel your body tense. This isn’t what you wanted, this wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have. 

“Why?” He asked. “Why does it bother you?”

You shake your head. You don’t want to say anything, but it spills out against your will. “Because – because I see how you look at her. How you smile at her. How comfortable you are with her. And I know you care about her. And I know I shouldn’t care, it’s stupid and petty, but I do care. I hate that I care because it really doesn’t make sense and –” 

Your voice broke, eyes widening as you just realized what you’ve said. You press your hands to your face, hoping to disappear. This was all too overwhelming, the adrenaline rushing too fast to know what to do with it. 

“I didn’t..I dont want to feel this way,” you whisper through your fingers. 

Bob was quiet for a second. A part of you hopes he’s so repulsed, so turned off that he just walks away and avoids you the same way you’ve been avoiding him. 

“What way?” He asks softly. 

You dropped your hands, heart in your throat. Your voice is working before your brain is, your thoughts and feelings finally being exposed to both you and Bob. 

“I think I’m in love with you.” 

You said it, quickly and softly. They were barely there, if Bob wasn’t listening carefully, it could’ve been missed. But as quiet as you were, it rang like thunder against the windowstill. 

You see Bob staring at you, stunned and speechless. 

You begin to rush to fill the silence, coming to terms with what you just confessed. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did. I thought it would just go away. I wanted it to go away, or at least for it to stop hurting. But then today, I saw you and you saw me, and God – I'm just so sorry. I dont want to ruin anything –”

“Stop,” he said quietly. 

You froze, afraid and relieved. It was finally out there. You finally admit to yourself what you’ve been going through, and now he knows too. But you were afraid that you would lose him, and that him not knowing would have been better.

Bob takes two steps forward, slowly as if he is waiting for you to tell him to stop. He cups your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks. His eyes were shining, warmed and in awe at the sight of you flushed in front of him. 

“You didn’t ruin anything.” He says.

Then he kissed you. 

It was slow, as if he’s been waiting to do this forever. Like he’s savoring this moment, wanting to remember how your mouth felt against his. 

You melt into him, hands clutching the front of his shirt, trying to pull him closer. 

Your lips part with a soft sigh, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time.” He whispers against you. “I didn’t think you felt the same.” 

You let out a shaky left, still gripping to his shirt. Slight tears cling to your lashes. “We’re both idiots.” 

“Maybe,” he whispered while pecking your forehead. “But we’re idiots together.” 

You kiss him again – this time deeper, more certain, more hungry. His arms wrap around you fully, pulling your body close to his. This time he was less hesitant, less shy. 

Your hands tangle in his hair as he gently backs you towards your bed. There is no rush in the way he touches you, only devotion. It’s as if he was memorizing every breath, every sound coming out of your mouth, every shiver. 

The back of your knee hit the mattress, and he pauses. Slowly parting his lips from yours.  

“You okay?” He murmured against your lips. 

You nodded, breathless. “More than okay.” 

He gives you his soft smile that beams across his face, it makes your chest ache. Oh, how’ve you missed him. 

His hands are careful as they slide under your shirt, fingers brushing up your sides, tracing your skin with feather-light touches. Goosebumps bloom across his skin, finally being able to feel you. He slowly peeled the shirt over your head, slow and unrushed, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“You’re perfect.” he said, his voice low and awed. 

You begin to tug at his shirt in response, “So are you.”

He chuckled at your playfulness, letting you pull his shirt off. 

You take a quick look at him, the way his hidden muscles flex at every movement, the definition across his chest. You can't help but have your hand trace along his chest, adoring evey inch of him. 

You look up to see him looking at you as if you were the only thing in the world he could see. 

You slowly lean back on the bed and he follows, settling over you gently. He braces himself on his forearms as he kisses you – slower, lazier, like he never wanted to let the moment end. 

Your legs tangle beneath him, his hands trace lines down your arms and outside of your thigh. You let out a soft gasp as his lips travel to the edge of your jaw, then the side of your throat, and the line of your collarbone. 

“Tell me when to stop..” he whispers between kisses.

“I won’t” you whisper. “I want this..I want you.”

His breath hitches at your response, his grip around you tightening. His hand trails down your body, before finding your most sensitive area. At first contact, your hips shift lightly, causing Bob to press down slightly firmer. He circles you – slow and soft, the pleasure causing your head to tip back. Bob begins to place kisses ontop of your exposed throat, wet and firm, like he was trying to leave a mark – like he wants to prove to everyone that you belong to him. 

His circles catch up to your moans. Every gasp and whisper results in him pressing harder, circling faster. 

“You’re doing so good,” he whispers into your ear. “You sound so perfect.” Your back arches at his soft praises, there’s a heat building up between your legs. He has you wrecked and he hasn’t even entered you yet, you’re a whimpering mess who is struggling to ask for more. 

Bob places a kiss back to your mouth, it’s sloppy and desperate. He’s moaning into you, your reaction to his touch is making him insane. It’s not enough – he wants you a wreck, he wants you to beg and plead, he wants you to want him the same way he’s been wanting you. 

His fingers dip lower, and he feels you. Soaked, warm, you're throbbing at his touch. It takes everything in him to not choke at the sensation, he focuses on your whimpering to keep him at ease. You arch deep into his fingers, thrusting into him for friction. 

“Oh my g-god…” you manage to breathe out. Bob hisses as your nails dig into his back, his fingers following the rhythm of your hips. Your moans slowly begin to get louder, your pace on his fingers increasing. 

“You can cum for me,” Bob whispers into your ear, as if he’s giving you permission to release. 

And you do, whimpering his name, your hips dropping to the mattress. He is still slowly pumping in and out of you, still pleasuring you as you come down from your high. 

You let out a disappointed sigh when his fingers leave you, but you’re quickly surprised when you see him put his fingers in his mouth – tasting you. He moans as he savours the taste of you, of what he’s done to you. 

He lowers his head, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him close, slowly separating your thighs, thrusting up against him. You feel him, he’s hard and his tip is brushing up against you. 

“I want you…” you whisper against him.

“God…you drive me crazy.” he whimpers out.

After trailing soft kisses around you, he slowly begins to ease into you. The world around you shrunk – the only thing existing is breath, skin, and heat. 

It started off slow and tender, his movements careful as if this could end any moment. He begins to murmur your name like a prayer, rocking into you with patient rhythem. He was paying attention to every reaction you had, making sure to keep note of everything he did that felt good to you. 

“I’ve got you” he whispers into you, your moaning against him as his hands grip at your hips, pushing himself deeper inside you. He groans as he feels you gripping him, your slick causing the sound of your skins slapping to echo around the room. 

“You feel so good around me…you feel so good,” his cheeks are flushed. His thrusts begin to stutter, no longer feeling controlled like before. Bob is allowing himself to lose himself into you, gripping you harder and kisses sloppier. “I’m – oh, I-’m –”

You kiss his jaw, rocking your hips in return. The feeling of your clit rubbing against him and his fullness thrusting overwhelming you, causing your second orgasm to approach.  

“Me too…keep going…gonna cum for you,” you manage out, before you whine out multiple “fuck’s” as you cum around him. Feeling you finish while he was inside you was all it took for Bob to cum with a broken gasp, releasing all of him inside of you. He continues to pump into you slowly after you both cum, kissing you through the shuddering aftershocks. 

He gets off of you, plopping himself besides you. You curl into his arms, your bodies warm and hearts full. He presses a kiss at the top of your forehead, caressing your shoulder with the hand that's to your side. 

“I never want you to ignore me like that again, I won’t let you.” He confesses.

You hold onto him tighter, apologetically. “I won’t. I promise.”

And for the first time, the ache in your chest was gone. The endless months of doubts and feelings of uncertainty no longer existed. 

The only thing left was Bob, and finally feeling like you belong.

[joelsgoldrush]

“give me the first taste” | 10k

logan howlett x f!reader

part 2 of “GUILTY PLEASURE”

"Your hungry flirt borders intrusion / And I'm building memories on things we have not said / Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly, my love / Give me the first taste / Let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever / Darling, just start start the chase, I'll let you win." The First Taste by Fiona Apple

SUMMARY: From the moment you first laid eyes on Logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. But if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. As your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. angst. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. age-gap (reader is 25). once again wade saves the day. domestic!logan. soft dom!logan. logan calls reader “kid”. they watch (500) days of summer. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. thumb sucking. throat fucking. multiple orgasms. unprotected p in v. creampie (i would say i’m sorry but i’d be lying)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: jeez. hi guys!!! hope you’re doing alright. this is the 2nd part to “guilty pleasure.” writing for these two has been a total rollercoaster, but god was it worth it. as i always tell you, english isn’t my first language, so if you come across any mistake and you feel like letting me know, there’s no problem. thank you so much for all the support you’ve been giving my posts. i’m happy strangers out there take the time to read my silly stories :)

A girl and a mutant walk into an apartment…

Actually, you’re still trying to come up with the rest of the joke. But one thing’s true: Logan’s about to set foot in your place.

You curse under your breath, putting both your hands to work as you struggle to open the door. “Fucking swollen wood. I hate humidity,” you mutter, glancing back at Logan, who frowns as you keep trying different maneuvers to get the door to function properly.

It’s a shitty situation overall. And having that gorgeous man practically glued to your back isn’t helping in any way. You can tell he wants to give you a hand, but you’re not having it—women in STEM or something of the sort.

“May I—” he starts, though you cut him off before he can finish.

“I’ve got this. Just need to—” you say, ramming your shoulder into the door with enough force to make it finally give away. Almost stumbling over the carpet but managing to catch yourself, you sigh in relief. Meanwhile, Logan stands still, scrutinizing you until you gesture for him to enter. “Welcome to the smallest apartment in New York City. It's nothing fancy, but it’s got everything you need for a comfortable stay on a budget. Make yourself at home!”

Logan narrows his eyes, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips before stepping inside. Each of his movements seems to be premeditated as he tosses his jacket onto the couch, surveying the room. A portrait of when you were a kid, probably six or seven years old, catches his attention. He tilts his head, picking up the picture to examine it more closely, and then flashes you a lopsided grin. “How cute.”

“Well, I’ve changed a lot,” you take the picture from his hands, returning it to the shelf where he had gotten it from. 

“Well,” he echoes, mocking your tone, “your beauty certainly hasn’t.”

His eyes bore into you as you meet his gaze. What amazes you most is that he’s being completely honest. In a heartbeat, you look away, wondering what’s gotten into you. Usually, you’re not this awkward—you’ve learned how to take compliments over the years, knowing how to smile just right, to flutter your eyelashes. To blush and giggle in command. Those were the tools that helped you to survive countless first dates—your dearest aces up your sleeve.

There’s no use denying that they remained just that: first, failed dates. You hope you never have to go back to dating apps after this.

“Are you hungry? ‘Cause I’m starving,” you say, trying to walk away from him, although he’s faster, catching your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he urges you to make eye contact with him, his voice perplexingly soft. “Is everything okay?”

You nod so vigorously that you nearly strain your neck. “I’m fine, I swear. I just never get past this point.”

Inching closer, he presses his lips together for a split second, his brows furrowing in confusion. “You lost me there.”

“Guys who come into my apartment don’t tend to call back,” you admit, a flush creeping up your face, cheeks getting hotter. “I happen to believe it’s a curse, though I’ve kissed, like, a hundred toads so far and it still won’t break.”

“So y’think you’re gonna scare me off,” he raises an eyebrow, grinning. His rough fingers become gentle as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s sweet. Should be the other way around.”

Wow. You two are a match made in heaven.

As you detach yourself from his embrace and head to the kitchen, you decide to look for something edible in the fridge, finding different trays of food from days ago, none of which look appetizing or suitable for feeding the Tin Woodman standing behind you.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable metallic sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing rings in your ears, forcing you to spin around. The image that unfolds before you is peculiar, to say the least: he’s cornering your cat against the door.

Why is he about to fight a cat?

“Please don’t kill him?” you take a step in his direction and scoop the little ball of white fur into your arms. Logan stares at both of you, eyes squinted and brows knitted. “I’m sure he’s the cutest feline you’ve ever seen. Have mercy on him.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“Earnest wasn’t aware of your existence either,” you reply, scratching along the animal’s back. He purrs beside your neck, his yellowish eyes never leaving Logan’s. “Earnest, this is Logan. He has claws just like you.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that,” Logan warns you, retracting his claws with a sigh. You can’t help but wonder if he ever feels tranquil, at peace. “Y’know, you’ve doomed him to bad fortune with that name. Is he at least toilet trained?”

“Are you hating on The Importance of Being Earnest?” you ask, expecting a retort, though apparently the play’s title doesn’t ring a bell for him. “Oscar Wilde?”

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, kid?”

Now’s your time to roll your eyes, setting the cat down and letting it run away. He likes to hide in the bathroom—don’t ask why, because not even you know the answer to that. You flick your gaze up back to Logan, placing your hands on your hips. “See, you gave him trust issues.”

“He’ll survive. Don’t they have seven lives?”

This is the perfect conversation to have with someone who just ate you out thirty minutes ago: how many lives do cats have. Jesus.

At some point, Logan flops onto the couch, stretching out. You shudder as you hear him crack his neck, the popping sound getting on your nerves. He pats the empty side of the sofa, spreading his thighs until he’s almost taking up all the space. “Come here.”

Putting aside all your thoughts, you accept the invitation. You sit down, motionless, and his arm grazes the cushion behind your head, pulling you closer to him. You rest your cheek on his chest, letting out a deep sigh, one that you’ve been holding in since you got to the apartment. Is it possible that he knows you craved this? This proximity, this kind of affection. To be held—it’s been your only wish for months. He drums his fingers on your shoulder blades, then starts rubbing your back ever so lightly.

Far from dozing off, you feel alive.

It’s hard not to lose track of time and space when you find yourself immersed in the warmth he offers, and that’s when you realize how deeply you’re falling for this man. “Logan?” the mere thought of asking him what’s been on your mind terrifies you. The last thing you want is to ruin things—or whatever it is that you have. He hums, a low, heavy sound in his throat, indicating you to continue. “I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

You lift your face from his chest and look him in the eye. The city’s still alive outside, with music and chatter sneaking in through the window. Everything seems to be perfect, and you wish you could stay like this—just staring at him as if he were a painting in a museum, and you the critic who can’t stop writing articles about its beauty.

Okay, that was… weirdly specific. 

Logan tries to hide his smile as you peck his lips repeatedly. For a moment, you almost forget what you were going to ask him in the first place. But then he’s ready to listen, and you a wave of nausea washes over you.

“I know that we came here to… engage in adult practices.”

“Fucking, you mean.”

“I didn’t want to be that straightforward, but yeah,” you say, shaking your head as to rearrange your thoughts. “Would you mind if we stayed like this?” to emphasize your point, you kick your shoes off and put your legs on top of his lap. He observes the whole sequence without daring to utter a word. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to try that too. I truly do. But… right now, all I want is to cuddle,” he’s still silent, making you even more nervous. “I’m sorry. Is that okay with you?”

His whole body engulfs yours, your cheek coming to rest once again in its original position. You can feel the rhythmic beating of his heart, each breath he takes, the air he exhales dampening your nape. Logan peppers your neck with chaste kisses before pressing his lips to your temple. His voice comes out strained, partially muffled by your hair. “Who do you take me for, huh?” he’s right there, beside your ear, fucking everywhere. There isn’t a single centimeter of your exposed skin that he isn’t touching, marking as his. You don’t give him an answer, in part because you’re unsure of what to say. He takes your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Let me take you to bed.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“I know,” he mutters, standing up with you in his arms, one arm beneath your knees and the other one under your shoulders. Logan’s not used to being this cautious, this patient with someone he’s known for less than two weeks. You see it in his eyes when he lets his guard down—something that has cracked, a shell that’s been broken.

As he places you gently on top of the covers, he lingers for a moment, crouching beside the bed and searching for your lowered gaze. His fingers are warm as he tilts your chin up. “I didn’t come here just to have sex with you. That was a possibility, of course—but it’s not the main reason why I’m here,” he rasps, words accompanied by the light brush of his lips against yours for a quick, brief kiss. “I care about you. A lot. I’m fine with whatever we do as long as I get to be close to you,” he grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He then goes back to his usual bossy self, his demeanor changing. “And I don’t want to hear you apologizing for not wanting to have sex ever again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re making jokes?”

“I can’t have serious conversations,” you confess, observing the look of pure confusion on his face. “It’s true. I once spoke at a funeral and they cut me off forty seconds into my speech.”

Logan laughs at your sudden confession, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Rising to his feet, he begins to unbutton his flannel, pausing after the first few buttons are undone, waiting for your approval. “Do you want me to stay tonight?” 

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

His words don’t hide any real threat—that you know.

You stifle your laughter, shedding your clothes. Instead of going to the bathroom to change, you toss your work clothes carelessly to the floor, opting for an old pair of pajamas that are the complete opposite of sexy. They surely have seen better days.

Logan’s eyes trail over you, taking his time to analyze the faded lettering on your wrinkled shirt. “Keep calm and eat pizza?” he reads aloud.

“Hey. I bought it when I was seventeen.”

“You could use a new wardrobe.”

“Well, what about you?” you tease, toying with his belt. “You’re gonna sleep like this in my bed?”

“Can’t wait for me to get my shirt off, huh?” he grins, that all-too-familiar smile on his lips.

You play along, folding your arms over your chest. “You think so highly of yourself.”

Without breaking eye contact, Logan unbuckles his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. He then shrugs off his flannel, leaving him in just his briefs and vest. You scan his body, and the room suddenly feels a hundred degrees hotter, the air between you thickening. Logan notices your reaction, chuckling. “Don’t get too excited. This is all you’re getting today.”

“I think I’ve already heard that before.”

“Kid.”

You raise your hands in surrender, showing him your palms and mouthing ’sorry’. Approaching your bed, you pull back the covers and slip into it. When you see Logan still standing there, you frown. “Where are your manners? Come here. I’m very impatient.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t make you wait long. He proceeds to get under the sheets beside you, occupying that side of the bed that’s always been empty. As you both settle in, facing each other, you can’t help but giggle, your contagious laugh getting to him. “What now?”

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your index finger, a featherlight touch that has him closing his eyes. In the soft glow of the night, with the city’s distant sounds filtering in, he looks breathtaking. “I mean it.”

“Do you have an off switch?”

“I’m… not sure. Let’s find out tomorrow.”

“You need to sleep,” he pulls you onto his chest with firm but gentle hands. He intertwines his legs with yours, holding you close.

“Wait. I have a game to play.”

“It’s late.”

“Please?”

He sighs. “Okay.”

“We have to make confessions until we fall asleep.” 

“You just want to talk—that doesn’t even qualify as a game.”

“It does in this universe,” you reply, feeling his chest rumble with a chuckle as you settle more comfortably against him. “I’ll start: remember the first night you came to the bar?” he hums in acknowledgment. “It wasn’t Burger Night. We don’t serve food. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I knew. You don’t have a kitchen down there, baby,” he falls silent, taking his time to come up with a confession of his own. “I have a fear of flying.”

“Really? You, of all people?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be judged.”

“Oh, don’t be such a crybaby,” you tease, burying your face further into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He shivers slightly where your nose touches his skin. “I like you. It’s kind of scary, and I’m sure saying something like this probably goes against the rules of dating 101, but I do. I feel safe with you, like—like this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Almost as if the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together, you think to yourself, though the words stay unspoken.

You’ve come to learn that Logan’s not a man of many words—he’s more of the “show, don’t tell” kind of guy. So when he makes you lift your face, you’re not surprised by the way he kisses you: hungrily. Passionately, like a starved man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. A soft whimper gets lost somewhere in your throat as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, languidly stroking yours.

“We didn’t brush our teeth,” you whisper against his lips, laughing when he groans in exasperation.

“You love having the final say, don’t you?”

“I’m being serious, Logan. Cavities are a real issue for me.”

“You can always get new teeth.”

“But my morning breath—”

“It’ll stink anyway, and so will mine,” he responds, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat once he settles into his ideal sleep position. “Good night.”

“Night,” you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. Despite your efforts to ignore it, being cradled like this feels incredible. You can’t believe you went twenty-five years without it.

Just as you’re about to drift off, curiosity strikes. “Can you get tattoos?”

“Bub, I was actually falling asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” you mumble, feeling a bit sheepish.

More silence.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“What was the Great Depression like?”

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his voice gruff as he shifts lightly. “It was fine. Now go to sleep.”

And you do, but not for long. An abrupt coldness wakes you up, eyes wide open, feeling disoriented. It’s still pitch black outside, far quieter than when you first fell asleep. The clock on your nightstand reads it’s 3:17 am, though it feels like you’ve only been in bed for five minutes.

Then you see him—he’s twitching in his sleep on the far side of the bed, his painful grunts reaching your ears. Most of what he says is unintelligible, but there’s one word he keeps repeating over and over again without fail: “No.”

You don’t usually have nightmares. What’s the best way to wake someone from one? You’re still thinking when he starts mumbling again, his voice thick with distress, and now he’s throwing his arms in the air as if he were fighting off something—or someone—in his dreams.

Pressing your hands to his cheeks, you attempt to hold his face steady. He clenches his fists, his breath quickening the more he battles whatever’s haunting him. “Logan,” you whisper at first, subtly shaking his shoulders, but his eyebrows stay furrowed, deep in his nightmare. This time, you tighten your grip, fully sitting on top of him. “Logan. Logan! Wake up!”

Without warning, you’re on your back, pinned against the mattress. Logan’s straddling your hips, caging you in with his body, the weight of his adamantium skeleton pressing down. Your hands are trapped beneath his, and you watch as he clenches his jaw, teeth bared in a way that looks painful. His eyes are so dark and wild you barely recognize him, prominent veins throbbing in his neck with each labored breath he takes.

“Logan,” your own voice sounds unnatural, forced, as you do your best to bring him back to reality. “It’s me. You’re alright.”

That seems to get through him. Logan stares at you in disbelief, his eyes softening as they take in your terrified expression. He abruptly pulls away, retreating to the nearest wall. He’s gasping for air, slamming his eyes shut, his legs trembling. The only sound you can hear is his rapid breathing. You get up from the bed, taking a step in his direction, but you don’t manage to go any further since he stops you with a shout.

“Stay right there!” he’s growling, pointing his finger at you. “I’m serious. Don’t come any closer.”

“Logan…”

“Please, no!” his voice increases in pitch, not being able to meet your eyes. “Please. Just stay there.”

You comply, not wanting to upset him any further. Sitting back on your knees, you try to appear calm. A man so strong, capable of things you can’t even understand. A weapon turned against himself now stands before you, pushing you away as if his presence were poisonous. He slumps to the floor, the fabric of his vest soaked with sweat.

Once he’s fully conscious, you cautiously crawl toward him, watching his every move. On a random day, this might have been funny for both of you, but right now, there’s no room for laughter. Logan shakes his head, his shoulders tensing when you reach out to hug him, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. It takes him a couple of minutes, but eventually, his body sags against yours. For a while, neither of you speaks. You just thread your fingers through his hair, hoping the closeness will help soothe him. “Feeling better?” you whisper in the shell of his ear, and he pulls back to look you in the eye. You caress his cheek, his stubble rough against your skin. “Welcome back.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first thing he says, covering your hand with his. One by one, he kisses your knuckles, still shaking his head. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You had a nightmare—it’s not like you could control it.”

“But I could’ve hurt you,” he says, lowering his gaze to your wrists, where his fingerprints have left their mark. “God. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

“Wait!” you grab his arm, your mouth setting in a hard line, stopping him from leaving. “Don’t run away from me, not now. Don’t push me away, Logan.”

“I could’ve done something much worse.”

“But you didn’t. It was a nightmare, baby. You didn’t know,” you kiss his forehead, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Please, stay. Let’s try to get some more sleep.”

“What if—”

You hold his face close to yours, your noses brushing. “You won’t hurt me.” 

This time, he lets you keep him close, the roles now reversed. You can see him fighting his exhaustion, not wanting to fall asleep. But the more you play with his hair, the harder it is for him to stay awake.

“I’m alright,” he says, seemingly reading your mind. It’s hard to tell whether he’s reassuring you or himself.

“I know,” you knead his shoulder, aiming to ease the tension knotted there. “You better sleep, or I might start rambling again.”

A faint, tired hum escapes him, at long last allowing his eyes to close. “I like hearing you talk,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your collarbone, drifting off soon after that.

You continue to hug him, feeling the weight of his body gradually relax against yours as his breathing evens out. The room is quiet, but your mind is far from it: a tornado of emotions swirls within you—concern, relief, love, and something else you can’t quite decipher. It isn’t until sleep finally claims you too that your brain stops going a hundred kilometers an hour.

The most surreal Sunday night of your whole life.

“So… when will you let me see Lolo again?”

Wade’s question makes you stop mid-pour, flicking your eyes between the drink and him. A few seats away, you hand a glass to Adam. Returning to where Wade’s currently sitting, you dry your hands on your apron. “Why are you even here?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, and he gives half a shrug. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t holding him against his will.”

“He’s been crashing at your place almost every night. You have your own methods, woman,” he raises one finger, then quickly adds another, pointing at your shirt. “Two methods, in fact.”

At that, you laugh mirthlessly, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m surprised anyone would willingly date you.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts, taking a tentative sip of his beer and leaning back in his chair.

You glance at him while you wipe down the bar, looking for something to occupy your hands. “He’s not my boyfriend—yet.”

Wade mimics a punch in his chest, just where his heart’s supposed to be, though you’re starting to question whether he has one. His lips form a small, exaggerated pout. “That must hurt, doll. You got yourself into a situationship with a goddamn fossil. Good luck getting out of that.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, rolling your eyes. “We’re cool this way. There’s absolutely no need for a title.”

“Okay, let’s rehearse that one more time because you look like you’re about to cry,” he lifts an eyebrow, drawing nearer. “You want the title, right?”

“I don’t.”

He props his chin on his hand, laughing at you. “Yes, you do. You can’t fool me.”

“I said I don’t.”

“I said I don’t,” he mocks you, kicking his legs and puckering his lips.

You can’t help but throw the towel down on the counter with irritation, giving in. “Okay! Of course, I want the fucking title.”

“There she is!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in a triumphant gesture. “Glad we’re speaking the truth now,” he tilts his head to the side, noticing your sudden silence. “Hey, drop the long face. I’m sure he’s been thinking about it. In order to understand Logan, I usually compare him to elders over ninety.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your tone a mix of mild annoyance and curiosity.

“Just think about it! Senior citizens didn’t date for too long in the past. They’d go straight from strangers to lovers. Take my grandparents, for example: in the span of one year, they met at a party, then got married, and had five kids. Do you really want to have a litter of Logan’s grumpy, hairy puppies?”

“Wade, that’s not even possible.”

“The point is,” he continues, finishing his beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Logan’s rusty in this area, alright? I’d bet a thousand dollars he probably dated Cleopatra.”

“How did you pass History in high school?”

“I never graduated, but keep that between us,” he lifts his shoulders, shrugging. He spins the empty bottle, contemplating his next words. “You should tell him how you feel and what you want. That’s what works best for Vanessa and me. It’s easier that way—you can’t expect him to just guess.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. “I just wish he’d realize it on his own.”

“Well, sometimes you need to give the other person a bit of guidance. I’m just laying out the basics of a relationship here. Did your parents hate each other or something?”

The irony of it all. “They got divorced when I was little.” 

“Oh, god,” Wade sighs, rubbing his temples before glancing at you. “Let me get this straight: Mommy and Daddy weren’t exactly the poster children for love. And you also happen to be a bartender. Anything else, honey? Please tell me you’re at least getting laid, because otherwise, I’m going to feel tremendously sorry for you and your mental health.”

Just then, you hear your name being called. Smiling at Wade, you mumble: “Saved by the bell.” Once you’re back from taking some orders, Wade jumps to his feet, coming around the counter to hug you.

“Dude, what’s the matter with you?” you ask, loosely returning the hug. 

“You’re a fucking survivor,” he whispers in your ear, genuinely sounding concerned. “I don’t know how you do it—you seem so put together. I would’ve lost it by now. A life without sex sounds awful.”

“Jesus, Wade! Get off!” you stretch your arm to punch him in the back, earning a groan from him. “Back to your seat, gentleman. I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“I’m a certified sexologist. Your secret’s safe with me,” he declares with a smirk, gesturing to his empty beer. “But first, I’m gonna need more of this tasty apple juice.”

��I hope you’ve got some cash on you,” you say, getting him another beer. “Why do I get the feeling Logan would kill us if he knew we’re talking about this?”

“Isn’t that what makes it even better?”

Swaying on your feet, you scrunch your nose, momentarily lost in thought. “He won’t let me touch him. I don’t know if it’s me that does something wrong. We do have our… moments, but he takes care of himself. And usually in the bathroom.”

Wade goes white in front of you. “How long has this been going on?”

“Over a month.”

“Oh. That’s bad, like, really bad.”

“Thanks! I’ll be sleeping on the highway tonight. You can always join me.”

“Doll, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed, alright?” he waves his hand dismissively, then sets his palms flat on the counter. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but talking to him is your best bet. This isn’t something you can just brush under the carpet. You’re like a goddamn radio—put it to good use.”

Just as you’re about to reply, you spot Logan entering the bar. You raise a hand in greeting, waving at him. He meets your gaze and smiles briefly, and so your eyes drift to Wade’s, shooting him a warning look. “If you keep this to yourself, I won’t charge you for today,” you mutter through gritted teeth, to which he answers by pretending to zip his mouth closed.

Logan takes a seat next to him, ignoring his presence. Instead, he focuses entirely on you. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, homey.”

“Hiya, Wade,” Wade greets himself with a mock cheer, patting his own back, which makes you laugh. He turns to Logan and his whole face lights up. “I’m afraid to tell you I can’t sleep when you’re not around.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Get your shit together.”

“You’re the worst roommate ever! Can’t believe you got yourself a girl and completely forgot about your bro,” Wade murmurs under his breath, just as his phone rings. “Thank God. I’ve got to go. My love nugget’s calling,” he announces, heading for the door. Before leaving, Wade blows the two of you a kiss. “I hate you both, but I also love you. Peace out, my friends!”

Logan and you exchange glances. “He’s a funny guy, isn’t he?”

“You could say that,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. Logan intends to deepen the kiss, but you pull away after a couple of seconds. He frowns, clearly confused. “That’s how you greet me?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a giggle. “My tip jar is practically empty, and I hate to say it, but it’s your fault.”

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not,” he plants a quick kiss on your cheek, making you smile. “You have classes tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, at 9 am,” you almost grunt, not feeling too enthusiastic about it. “I’m gonna need your help. I can’t sleep through my alarm, okay? The professor said tomorrow’s class is an important one. Midterms are right around the corner, and I can’t take the liberty of failing them.”

“That won’t happen,” he assures you, and you believe him. “I can be of help, don’t worry. You won’t oversleep.”

Oh, Logan. Sweet, lying Logan.

Turns out you ended up oversleeping. Twenty-five years on this earth, and you still haven’t learned not to trust a man, even if his puppy-dog eyes silently beg you to do otherwise. The thing is—you love them. You love men. And you’re especially fond of the one currently sleeping in your bed.

The first rays of sunshine hit your face, waking you up. You attempt to raise a hand to shield your eyes, but moving any limbs feels like a Herculean task. A warm body is pressed against your back, one veiny arm draped over your stomach. Logan remains fast asleep behind you, his steady breathing succeeding in making you feel at ease. You reach back, running your fingers through his messy hair, and he grumbles in his sleep, instinctively pulling you closer.

What a nice, domestic morning. Yep, you’re getting used to this. And nope, you don’t regret it, not even in the slightest bit.

Though there must be a mistake, because you’re preeeeetty sure you had something important to do. 

Oh. You have classes. Had—past tense.

You reach for your nightstand, blindly groping for your phone. The charger is lying on the floor, the plastic of it all damaged. Perhaps Earnest had chewed on it while you were sleeping? You gently pry Logan’s arm off you, sitting up, and your bleary eyes land on something barely peeking out from under the bed.

It’s your fucking phone. The screen is completely shattered, with three distinct holes in the middle of it. Three holes, how strange! You can’t help but wonder who might have left them. Clutching your pillow, you whack Logan in the face with it. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

He groans, trying to take the pillow away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

“I wish I had a UNO reverse card because I should be the one asking you that!” you jab your finger into his chest, showing him the ruined phone. “You broke my fucking phone!”

“What?” he asks, voice laden with sleep, still disoriented. He holds the phone, carefully scrutinizing it. “I think I don’t know how to hit the snooze button.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I believe you’ve made that very clear,” you huff, tossing the phone aside as you flop back onto the mattress. The clock on your nightstand says 11:05 am, and you cover your face with your hands, taking a deep breath. “Next time, when it goes off, just wake me up and I’ll do it.”

Logan settles beside you, resting his head on his forearm as he watches you. “I’m sorry, bub. I’ll get you a new one.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur, sighing. This is your free ticket to be a menace. “I should’ve known dinosaurs and phones would never get along. My bad, pal.”

You don’t even get to see his reaction because he starts tickling you, the room filling with your laughter. Squealing, you try to wriggle away, but his fingers dig into your ribs, expertly finding your most ticklish spots. Your giggles escalate into breathless laughter, your eyes squeezed shut as you desperately attempt to push him away. He’s relentless, chuckling when his own laughter bubbles up. 

“L-logan, stop!” you gasp between fits of laughter, aiming to grasp his hands.

“We dinosaurs love tickling people. Sorry, sweetheart,” he manhandles you until you’re perched on his lap, fisting the fabric of your (his) shirt. Leaning forward, he captures your mouth in a heated kiss. “I’m sorry about the phone,” he slurs the words against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your neck. You tell him that it’s okay, trying to find a comfortable position on top of him, and that’s when his thigh presses against your core, your eyes widening at the unexpected sensation. Logan’s no fool, noticing the way your breath hitches. “What’s wrong, baby? You woke up needy?”

“No, I just—” you trail off as he does it again, his strong thigh coming in contact with your clothed cunt. You search for leverage by placing your hands on his shoulders, glancing at him. “Logan.”

“I’m all ears,” he rests his back against the headboard, the tent in his boxers impossible to ignore. “You want to get off on my thigh,” he states with certainty. It’s not a question—it’s a full-on statement. He knows what you want, what you crave. “Come on then. Grind against it.”

You do as he says, not caring to think twice. You start moving, rubbing your wet pussy against his muscular thigh. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, and soon, you’re whimpering his name, your hands trailing down his abs. Why hadn’t you tried this before? It feels fucking amazing.

From his position, Logan stares at you, his lips slightly parted, eyes clouded with lust. Your arousal drenches your panties, soaking through them, the fabric clinging to his coarse leg hair. He glances down at the mess you’re making, his grin widening as he takes in the sight. “Goddamn, woman. I’m gonna make you clean it off, I swear to God.”

“Need your help,” you whisper, lowering your head, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. The coil tightening inside you is almost unbearable. A kiss is what you lean in for, desperate for more, though Logan appears to have other plans. He fists your hair, pulling at your nape and yanking your head back. The roughness of the movement pulls a moan from your lips, your mouth parched like a desert. 

“Eyes up here, okay? You look at me when I make you come,” his raspy voice makes you feel tingly, each word sending shivers down your spine. His hands fiercely grab the flesh of your hips, guiding you, helping you grind harder against his thigh. You think you’re on the verge of drooling when you catch the way his abdomen flexes, working to push you toward that long-awaited release. “That’s it, there you go,” he rasps, relishing the sounds he’s eliciting from you, each of your gasps feeding his desire.

Time slows as the warmth in your belly finally erupts, your eyes fighting to stay open through the aftershocks of your orgasm. No actual words leave your mouth, just a string of whines and moans, some carrying Logan’s name. He swallows every single sound you make, everything you give him, grunting as your legs tremble and shake atop him.

He lets you collapse onto your back, your breathing gradually evening out. “I think I saw fireworks behind my lids,” you confess, your mouth dry, expecting Logan to flop onto the mattress beside you. But he doesn’t. Through your blurry vision, you contemplate as he positions himself between your parted legs, getting dangerously close to your cunt. “Logan, what are you— Oh, fuck,” you moan mid-sentence when you feel him pulling your panties aside to lick a slow strip through your folds, collecting your arousal. He points his tongue, dipping it into your entrance, and you wince, squirming. “Santa Claus, is that you?”

Logan grins against you, closing his mouth around clit for a moment. He then shifts until he’s eye-to-eye with you, two of his fingers sliding into you in one smooth motion. “Give me another one,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping under your shirt to play with your nipples, pinching them. 

You never imagined two fingers could bring such intense pleasure. You just lie there, taking it like a good girl, as Logan sometimes call you. “Please, I need you,” you cry out, your fingernails scraping against his torso.

“I know, darlin’. I’m right here,” he rasps against your temple, moving his fingers in and out of you with more enthusiasm. But what he doesn’t understand is that you need all of him. Your hands itch to touch him, to feel the weight of his cock. The corners of his mouth turn up as he watches you struggle to find words. “Wish you could see yourself like this. Such a pretty girl, so gorgeous like this,” his fingers keep grazing that bundle of joy deep inside you, and he goes in for a kiss, the sour taste of your slick invading your taste buds. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Need to stretch you real good before fucking you with my cock.”

Bingo! That last sentence does it for you, and you come for the second time in the morning, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. You hide your face in his neck, mouthing at his Adam’s apple. He hasn’t trimmed his beard in days, and it shows because you can now feel a burning sensation on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“You’re allowed to break all my phones from now on,” you suggest, only to hear Logan’s laughter in your ear. He snakes a hand through your hair, shoving it back away from your face. You feel him kiss your sweaty forehead, and as you press yourself closer to his body, something hard nudges your hipbone.

Absentmindedly, you trace the waistband of his boxers with your index finger, your eyes snapping to his face. Logan freezes on the spot, and it’s almost as if he’s stopped breathing. Without a word, he rises from the bed, his movements sudden and almost mechanical. You watch him, puzzled, as he heads toward the bathroom, the intimacy of just moments ago being abruptly replaced by a dreadful silence.

“Logan, is everything okay? Do you need something?” you ask and he pauses at the bathroom door, his back to you. For a brief second, you think he might actually open up, but when he turns around, his expression is neutral, masking whatever thoughts are running through his mind. At last, he flashes you a quick smile.

“I’m fine,” he says, his tone gentle but distant. “Just gonna take a shower. Then we can have breakfast together, right?”

You nod, his words easing the growing sense of frustration gnawing at you. He disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of running water soon follows. You sink back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You take your pillow and bury your face in it, letting out a muffled groan. There’s something he isn't telling you, something hidden deep beneath his usual gruff exterior. Although you try to piece together the fragments of his behavior, they don’t quite fit.

The minutes drag on, and the sound of the shower becomes a distant, constant background noise. You close your eyes, visualizing your happy place, but your thoughts keep spiraling. All you can do is wait—wait for him to come back and act as if nothing had happened.

Logan’s right there, just a few feet away—yet in moments like these, he feels miles apart. It’s one of those days in which, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to bridge that distance. 

It had all started with you asking Logan “Have you ever watched (500) Days of Summer?”

Of course, he had refused to watch the movie at first, and of course, you had threatened him with phoning Wade to let him know that Logan wanted to have a sleepover. That had done the trick.

You had asked for a day off at the bar, and surprisingly, your boss hadn’t objected. That turn of events led to this moment: sprawled out on the couch with Logan, the two of you watching the final minutes of your favorite film. Logan takes a long drag of his cigar, eyes trained intently on the screen. He’s only wearing sweatpants, which had caused your attention to drift from the plot a few times. The fact that you managed to sit through the entire movie without needing to pause it makes you feel particularly invincible.

Hey.

You again.

Yeah. I, uh, was just wondering if maybe after this, if, um, you— you want to get some coffee or something.

Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sort of supposed to meet someone after this.

Okay.

“That poor fella,” Logan murmurs, taking a slow sip of his beer. You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, a contented smile playing on your lips. His fingers absently stroke your hair.

“Just wait,” you say, pointing to the screen of your laptop.

Sure.

What’s that?

Why not?

Okay. Well, then I’ll just, uh— I’ll wait for you.

We— we’ll figure it out.

We’ll figure it out.

“They’ll figure it out!” you exclaim, but Logan quickly shushes you, his attention unwavering.

My name’s Tom.

Nice to meet you. I’m Autumn.

When the movie comes to an end, you’re met with Joseph Gordon-Levitt breaking the fourth wall, staring straight at the audience as if he knows he’s about to get himself into a mess with another girl named after a season. You sit up, your eyes eagerly searching for Logan’s. “So? Did you like it? I’ve watched it seven times now. Can’t understand how it gets better each time.”

Logan closes his mouth around his cigar, inhaling deeply before answering. “Yeah, it was pretty good,” he says, his hand finding your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Summer’s a bitch, though.”

“I respectfully disagree,” you tell him, grabbing his beer and giving it a try, only to grimace at the taste. Shuddering, you set it back down. “Why don’t you like her character?”

“Well, for starters, she did Tom dirty. Played with him like he was a damn rag doll.”

You raise an eyebrow, hugging a cushion closer to your chest as you lean back into the couch. “He knew from the beginning she didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Summer was clear—Tom just though he was smart enough to change her mind.”

“They acted like boyfriend and girlfriend the whole movie,” he scorns, placing his cigar down into the ashtray with a bit more force than necessary.

Is your first argument going to be over a movie? Exciting.

“Logan, they weren’t even official.”

“But she made it seem like they were,” he insists, the frustration in his voice growing.

“They were in a situationship—the perfect example, really. That’s not the same as being a couple.”

His gaze dips to the floor, brows knitted in a deep frown. “I think you’re relying on the technicality that they never used those titles. I mean, they did everything together. Isn’t that what normal couples do?”

Lord have mercy.

“Logan, who am I to you?” you inquire, crossing your arms over your chest.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes, the question clearly catching him off guard. “You are—what? I don’t understand. Is this some kind of mind game you’re playing?”

“It’s actually very simple: if someone were to ask you about me, what would you say? Am I a friend? A bartender?” you inch forward, holding your breath, your tone faltering slightly. Meanwhile, Logan’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. “A fling? Your girlfriend? You complain so much about Summer, yet you can’t even name what we have.”

The living room falls into a heavy silence. Logan blinks slowly, his forehead creasing as he processes your words. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because these are the kinds of conversations we need to have. I understand you don’t want to have them, but I do.”

“Fine. Then tell me what it is that you want,” he asks, his mouth snapping shut when he sees you snorting in response.

“I don’t— I don’t know! To know how you feel, if possible?” you stand up from the couch, taking the cushion with you. You grind your jaw, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Why is it that every time I try to touch you, you push me away?”

He scrunches up his face, mirroring your movements and rising from his seat. “Bub, can we please talk about this tomorrow—”

“No! You don’t get to make all the choices, that’s not fair. Deciphering you isn’t easy, Logan. I’m not asking you to tell me everything you’ve been through. I just wish I could know how you feel about me. I can’t stand in front of you and pretend I don’t mind where this is going, because I’m more than sure I’m falling in love with you. “

“You can’t. You shouldn’t,” he says, his expression hardening. He turns his back to you, running his hands over his face in frustration before heading to the kitchen.

“Well, what were you expecting?” you follow him into the kitchen, finding Earnest on top of the fridge, beholding the scene with a curious gaze. “You basically moved in here, gave me a free trial of what life with you might be like, and now you have the audacity to appear surprised when I tell you I’ve caught feelings?” salty tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you spread your arms wide in exasperation. “Oh, but you’re right. How could I’ve been this stupid, to fall for the damned Wolverine!” you laugh bitterly, expecting him to break eye contact, but he doesn’t. “You think you’re so bad, so broken. Guess what: you’re not, because I love you, and I couldn’t care less about your past. You may think you’re unlovable, but you’re not, you hear me?”

For a heartbeat, the world seems to pause. And so he says:

“You are the most exasperating person I know.”

“Wow. Thank you so much!” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You run a hand through your hair, infuriated. “That makes me feel better!”

“Let me do the talking now,” he says, taking long strides toward you, and the proximity makes you lower your head. “You’re not getting the final say today. Just because I’m not over-sharing my feelings all the time doesn’t mean I don’t have them! In fact, I do. I may not express them openly, but they exist. And I wish you could see inside my head! You’d be delighted at how much time I spend thinking about you,” you cackle at his words, rolling your eyes. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “There hasn’t been a single moment since the day we met that I have stopped wanting you. Your voice is like a goddamn radio that, no matter what I do, I can’t turn off. It’s like I’m infected by you, and I hate it!” his eyes burn with a mix of anger and affectionpur, his pursed lips softening as he continues. “No good ever comes from caring this much about someone. So excuse me for being scared of ruining the only good thing that’s happened to me in years!”

You hit him with the cushion—not with enough force to make him hurt, but enough to make a point.

“Drop it, kid.”

“I’m—” you hit him again, “not—” and again, “stupid. I know what I’m getting myself into,” as you attempt to raise the cushion once more, Logan takes it from your hands, throwing it on the counter. Your shoulders sag, trying to find the strength to keep going. “And I know for a fact,” you add, glancing at his conflicted eyes, “that the easiest thing for me would be to walk away from you, but I can’t. It’s too fucking late.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do! These are my feelings, okay? Mine, not yours. You don’t have the right to decide who I love and who I don’t.”

Logan’s eyes squint, scanning your face. “You’re… obnoxious.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“And I—I love you,” he confesses, his nostrils flaring with emotion. Opening your mouth to say something, you close it moments later, your gaze locked on his. “You could take what you said, pretend as if I didn’t exist, and I wouldn’t say a thing, y’understand? I would move cities if you asked me, because I love you that fucking much, and I want you to be happy.”

You reach for his hand, briefly intertwining your fingers with his. Looking at him through your eyelashes, you rub your fingers over his stubble. “And what if my happiness comes from being with you?”

Logan lets out a harsh breath, his arm curling around your waist, pressing his chest to yours. “I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect boyfriend. I’ll probably makeplenty of mistakes.”

“Fine with me.”

“And you’ll be mad at me. A lot.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure it’s mutual.”

Both of you laugh then, and you’re taken aback when he brushes his nose against your cheek, silently seeking permission to kiss you. His lips move hungrily against yours, trailing his hands down your spine, pulling you closer. He breaks the kiss and laughs at your eagerness when you chase after his mouth. You end up perched on his lap as he settles into one of your kitchen chairs. Logan stares into your eyes, his gaze drifting lower. “I won’t push you away this time. Not anymore.”

That’s your cue to finally do what you’ve been yearning for weeks. You fall to your knees in front of him, shaky fingers that graze the hairs on his happy trail. The bulge in his sweatpants is close to your face, and your mouth waters at the thought of having him between your lips. “Can I?” you ask, your voice a touch higher. 

He draws a long breath, tilting his head slightly. “You may, baby.”

You pull at his sweatpants and boxers, sliding them down his legs just enough to free his hard cock. As you take a look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, the sight overwhelming. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips, that musky scent of his hitting you.

A whimper escapes you, and Logan hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, darlin’. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he cants his hips up, causing your movements to stutter. “You can take a bit more, can’t you?” his question ends with a guttural grunt, his fingers tightening on your hair. “Gotta show me how much you want this.”

Logan takes all that you give him. You lower your head further, taking in another inch of him. Sex’s supposed to feel good, but this? It feels even greater. And he’s not even inside you yet, you hear a voice murmur in your head. The hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you sneak a hand between your bodies, grasping him by the base. You swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair..

“Thaaaat’s it, honey. Just like that, want you to choke on it,” he grumbles, running his mouth just the way you like. The tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat and tears fill your eyes. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure. Logan’s gaze is intense, and he stares into your soul, his chest heaving. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Dick got your tongue?”

You’ll definitely get back to that joke later.

“Will you—can you—”

“Come on, beautiful. I don’t have all day.”

God, you love it when he’s mean.

“Fuck my throat,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips. “We both know you can be nicer.”

The fucker makes your pulse race. “Can you fuck my throat?” you ask again, more insistently. “Please.”

He guides himself into your mouth, smirking as he watches how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “How polite of you to say please. Some good manners you’ve got.”

You whimper around him, your body responding to the rhythm he sets, fully immersed in the intensity of the moment. And for a while, you drift away, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. It’s almost impossible not to compare him to your past hookups. You try to recall at least a single instance when another man made you feel this way, but no memory surfaces.

Time seems to stretch and warp. You don’t really know when it happens—he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, examining you. “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with that sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. Defeated, Logan shakes his head, pressing his finger against your tongue. “I was planning on coming on your mouth, but I think I’ve got a better idea.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re in your bedroom. Not even a metaphor—he picks you up and basically runs to your room, closing the door behind him. You prop yourself on your forearms, trying to process what’s about to happen. Logan, already naked, climbs onto the bed after you, He kisses you slowly, tracing the curves of your body. “You still want this?”

“I do. I’m just… nervous, that’s all,” you admit, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s been two years of celibacy for me. Will it fit?” you ask, glancing down at his cock, and Logan stares at you in confusion. “Also, how many girlfriends have you had? Just curious.”

“I don’t think this is the time for that conversation.”

“You’re right,” you agree, lying back on the mattress, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Were they pretty?”

“Bub.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” he replies with a smirk. “Focus on me, okay?”

Despite your tries to crack jokes at the worst possible moment, things escalate pretty quickly. Logan’s got three fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. He’s already made you come once with his mouth—to get you more relaxed, he had said. Wanting sounds slip past your lips as he doesn’t miss the chance to hit that spot that makes you squeeze your legs together. The tip of his nose drags long lines up and down the skin of your neck, mouthing at your jaw.

“I’m ready,” you mumble after some minutes, reaching for his cock and stroking him. “Let’s break the bed.”

“You’re lucky you’re this cute,” he says, catching your lips in a kiss. “Condom?”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“You don’t have any?”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want you to use one.”

The way his gaze darkens doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hand guides your face toward his cock. “Get me wet,” he commands, and you oblige, sucking him into your mouth. You hum around him, unable to contain yourself, and you hear Logan chuckling above you. “Can’t believe this is what it takes for you to shut up. Gotta keep your mouth full all the time.”

Once he’s satisfied with the way you’ve slicked him, he positions himself over you, caging you between his arms. Logan pins you down with his body, his hot breath mingling with yours. When you stare into his eyes, all you see is pure love, and your heart swells with affection. “Will you fuck the bad jokes out of me?”

Logan laughs, rubbing his length along your folds, grazing your clit for a fleeting second. “I sure as hell will,” he assures you, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks into your eyes for approval. “Ready?”

“I was born rea— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head breaches you, your eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. “Fucking mutant dick.”

“You’ll love it, believe me,” he husks next to your ear. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. Logan pulls out, and then fucks into you with a little more force.  “How are you still so tight? You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’ve got no idea, but you feel—amazing,” you gasp, latching onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. “Oh, god. I can feel you in my stomach.”

“I know, baby, I know. Can feel it too,” he curls one of his hands around your throat, keeping you in place. From his position, he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips, he sucks hard. “You were desperate enough to get on your knees in the damn kitchen. You’ll be good now too, am I right?”

“Yes. Yes. I can be good,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading. “Anything you want. Just don’t stop.”

“I’m not stoppin’, princess. Don’t worry,” his mouth curves into a wicked grin as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. His hand on your throat tightens slightly, just enough to make you feel the pressure, grounding you in the moment. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs against your chest, his voice laden with need. 

Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Logan’s grip on your neck loosens as his hand slides down to grasp your hip. He squeezes your tender flesh, pulling you harder against him, as if he can’t get close enough. The bed creaks under the intensity, but you barely notice, too far lost in the rhythm of his movements.

“You’re perfect, all I’ve ever wanted,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him repeat, more to himself than to you, his voice stranded as he tries to hold himself back, letting you chase your own release first.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening with every skilled flick of his fingers. You’re sure you must look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, though the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Logan, I’m—” you croak, the wind being knocked out of your lungs with each relentless thrust. “I think I’m gonna come.”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you, let go for me. I’ll take care of you, baby, I swear,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall. Your body obeys him, a shuddering release tearing through you, moaning Logan’s name and gripping him like a vice. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, driving you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, contemplating how wrecked you look. “Tell me where—please, sweetheart.”

“Inside.”

“What?”

“I said inside. Come inside me, Logan.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. Logan buries himself to the hilt, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls with his thick seed. Beside your head, his claws unsheate, tearing into the pillow. He ruts against you, his body trembling and writhing against yours, already apologizing for the pillow incident while pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

When Logan collapses beside you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you eagerly. You return the kiss, wincing as you feel a bit of his cum slip out of you, rolling down your thighs. He stares at your glistening cunt without an ounce of remorse, and you close your legs. “That’s private.”

“It wasn’t very private a minute ago.”

“Logan?”

“Tell me, bub.”

“Knock, knock.”

He must truly love you, because he plays along: “Who’s there?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream who?”

“Ice cream for you all night long.”

“Guess I didn’t succeed in fuckin’ the bad jokes out of you,” he teases softly, letting his head fall back on the bed. “But it’s fine. I’ll just have to keep tryin’.”

This is the story of how you end up dating a man who’s two hundred years old. But it’s also the story of how that same man learns to let his guard down and open his heart. So, remember this, kids: the sky’s the limit, especially when it comes to love—and yes, even when it involves dating mutants.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)