#i too wish to b cast off into the sun

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[angelremnants]

Heat Waves l J. B. Barnes

PART THREE.⠀FADING IN THE HEAT OF YOU

summary : After years of manipulation by Hydra, Bucky Barnes must find his place in a world that has long moved on without him. With you, an independent and unwavering agent by his side, he reluctantly embarks on a transformative journey of recovery in Wakanda. Amid the kingdom's vibrant culture, your connection to Bucky deepens as he confronts personal demons and embrace the healing process. Bucky learns to welcome the warmth of new beginnings, understanding that even after winter's cold grip, the sun can shine through. Inspired by Heat Waves by Glass Animals.

pairing : James ''Bucky'' Barnes x f!reader

warnings : Mature (18+—MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), trauma recovery, emotional tension, mild angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, explicit sexual content, graphic descriptions, pwp (porn with plot—lot of it actually), oral sex (female receiving), unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it!), praise/degradation kink, creampie, mutual orgasms, soft dom!bucky/sub!reader, strong language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 21.4k

author's notes : Here we are at the final part of this piece! Despite the horrendous headache I earned from spending way too much time staring at my laptop, it truly has been a blast writing this. For my fellow horny adult readers, here's a little treat to end this chaotic year on a good note—of course, it is mandatory to read the first two parts to understand the context of the following chapter.

Minors, it's not for nothing that I ended the last part on their kiss; please do not engage with this post and be mindful of what you choose to consume on the internet.

Once again, wishing you all a Happy New Year and nothing but amazing things for 2025! With this, I’m officially signing off from writing for the year. It's been an amazing first month here; thank you for all of the constant love and support, dear readers, and I hope to see you soon—next year, probably. :p

(ao3 version)

The days in Wakanda passed in a tranquil rhythm, starkly contrasting to the chaos that had defined much of Bucky Barnes’ life—the relentless missions, the disorienting bursts of violence, and the weight of a mind that was never fully his own. The serenity was almost disarming here, a world away from the harsh clang of metal restraints or the suffocating darkness of Hydra’s labs. The Vibranium-powered chamber, nestled within the heart of Shuri’s state-of-the-art lab, became a sanctuary of sorts. The air was tinged with a faint metallic scent, mixed with the earthy undertones of the herbs Shuri kept in small jars nearby. A soft, rhythmic hum filled the space, blending seamlessly with the occasional chirp of holographic interfaces. The walls shimmered with subtle hues of blue and gold, their glow casting intricate shadows on the sleek, obsidian floors. Touching the chamber’s surface revealed a surprising warmth, a testament to the dynamic energy harnessed for healing. It was a marvel of Wakandan brilliance—walls glowing faintly with soft hues of blue and gold as the nanotechnology worked tirelessly to stabilize Bucky’s brain activity. The hum of advanced machinery was oddly soothing, a constant reminder of the healing taking place within.

You accompanied him daily, sitting quietly on a sleek chair Shuri had graciously provided. She often teased you about your devotion and, more recently, had been ecstatic upon finally hearing what had transpired between you and Bucky. Her teasing was relentless, but there was an unmistakable warmth behind her words, a genuine happiness for the bond you were building. The moments in the chamber were both heavy and hopeful. The technology was doing its job, methodically erasing the remnants of Hydra’s mental conditioning. Still, progress was not without its challenges.

Bucky sat in the center of the chamber, his expression neutral but his fingers twitching ever so slightly. The faint glow of Vibranium circuits danced along his temples, tracing patterns that seemed almost alive. Despite his stoic demeanor, you could see the strain etched in his features—his jaw clenched tightly, the muscles in his neck taut with tension. His fingers twitched restlessly against his thighs, and every so often, his brows would knit together in a fleeting moment of anguish that he couldn’t entirely suppress—signs of an internal battle raging just beneath the surface.

“You okay in there?” you asked softly, your voice barely breaking the quiet hum of the room. You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees as you studied him.

His eyes flickered open, the piercing blue momentarily dulled by exhaustion. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice low and rough. “Just... takes some getting used to.”

“That’s the understatement of the year,” you said with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. It earned you the faintest curve of his lips—a victory in itself.

As the treatments progressed, Hydra’s influence faded bit by bit, but the process was not without its setbacks. There were days when fragments of his past would resurface—flashes of missions, orders barked in harsh tones, and the cold detachment of the Winter Soldier. On those days, he was quieter, his silence heavy with unspoken pain. You knew better than to push him, but you also refused to let him face it alone.

When the sessions ended, you would walk together back to your room. The atmosphere during these walks often shifted—sometimes quiet and contemplative, with the two of you lost in your thoughts, and other times filled with light conversation, your voices carrying softly in the cool Wakandan air. On rare occasions, you’d catch him smirking at one of your quips, a fleeting glimpse of the man he was becoming, unburdened by the past. It had become a shared space over time, a place where he felt safe enough to let his guard down. The bed was a modest size, but neither of you minded the closeness. On good nights, you’d lie tangled together, his arm draped over your waist as your fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest. Small kisses were exchanged—gentle and unhurried, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you shared.

One night, as the glow of the moon filtered through the sheer curtains, you turned to face him. His eyes were closed, but you could tell he was awake. “Penny for your thoughts?” you asked, your voice a soft murmur.

He cracked one eye open, a hint of amusement flickering in his gaze. “They’re not worth that much.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “I’ll even throw in a nickel.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and for a moment, the tension that so often clung to him seemed to dissipate. He cracked an eye open, giving you a small, playful smirk. “It’s a secret.”

“A secret, huh?” you raised an eyebrow. “You can’t keep secrets from me. You know that, right?”

“Oh, I think I can,” he shot back, his voice low and teasing. “It’s one of those ‘too dangerous to know’ things.”

You snorted. “Dangerous? You’re telling me you—the super soldier who fought Nazis and got cryogenically frozen—have a secret too dangerous for me?”

He gave you a wink, and you couldn’t help but giggle. “Alright, maybe it’s not dangerous. Just… weird.”

“Now I’m curious,” you said, leaning in. “Tell me, or I’ll take the nearest pillow and suffocate you with it.”

He sighed dramatically, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Fine. I was just thinking how weird it is to be here with you. To feel... I don’t know, normal for once. Not like the guy who’s been stuck in the past, just... me.” He shifted a little, his gaze growing soft. “Feels nice. Kinda like it that I can be more than just a weapon.”

You smiled, your heart swelling. “Bucky, you’ve always been more. You were never just that guy. You’re this guy,” you said, tapping his chest lightly with your finger. “The one I’m hanging out with right now. The one with way too many cute smiles and a bit of a dorky side.”

“Dorky?” He raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know I’m a highly trained, super soldier with zero dorkiness. I’m all edge.”

You snorted, reaching out to poke his side. “Uh-huh. Totally no dorkiness. Zero. Zip. Nada.” You grinned as he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Seriously though,” you said softly, “You’ve always been more than that. And you deserve everything. Even if it’s just hanging out with me, doing absolutely nothing but being adorable.”

His face softened, and he looked at you like he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying. “How do you do that? Make me feel like I actually deserve this?”

You leaned in close, your noses almost brushing as you whispered, “Because you do, Bucky. You really do.”

Before either of you could say anything more, you couldn’t resist. You leaned in slowly, your lips brushing his in a soft, teasing kiss. It started gentle, just the lightest touch, both of you savoring the moment like you were testing the waters, but his lips were warm and inviting, making it impossible to pull away. The kiss deepened slightly, and you felt the heat grow between you, soft and steady, as you moved closer to each other.

His hand gently cradled the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin there. You melted into his touch, your own hands resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. You both pulled each other closer, a quiet giggle escaping from you as his lips were soft and gentle but full of a quiet hunger. His kiss was slow, deliberate, as if he was trying to savor every second, and you did the same, taking your time as you enjoyed the sweet closeness.

When you finally pulled away, your lips tingling from the kiss, you both exhaled in unison, breathless. Your foreheads touched, and you closed your eyes for a moment, just basking in the quiet intimacy.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire but still that familiar playfulness in it, “you’re making this very hard to resist.”

You smiled, still a little dizzy from the kiss, and giggled softly. “I’m not trying to make it hard, but I’m not complaining if you’re enjoying it.”

He chuckled softly, eyes darkening with something more. “You’re trouble.”

“Good trouble, I hope,” you whispered, your voice low and playful, your lips brushing over his again in another gentle kiss.

His grip on you tightened, the playful softness quickly giving way to something far more desperate, more urgent. This time, there was no teasing—only the raw, unspoken need between you. His kiss grew hungrier, his lips pressing harder against yours, as though he couldn’t get enough, as though he was trying to pull you inside him. His hand slid down your back, cupping your waist and tugging you closer, the heat between you building with every movement. The tension snapped, and the kiss became frantic, your bodies instinctively responding to each other. You felt every inch of him against you, the pulse of his heartbeat matching the erratic thrum of your own.

You eagerly matched his pace, your hands threading into his hair, tugging him closer, your bodies so pressed together you felt like you might melt into one another. He groaned softly, the sound low and thick with need, and you felt a shiver of desire race through your body in response, your pulse quickening, heart pounding in your chest. His lips moved against yours in a way that made your head spin—delicious, dizzying. His hands roamed, fingers tracing the curve of your spine, making you arch into him, your body reacting to each touch like it was the first. The air between you was thick with heat, your breaths shallow, as if neither of you could catch your breath long enough to slow down.

His hands moved lower, his fingers gently brushing along the silky straps of your pajamas, his thumb lightly grazing over the delicate laces of the top. He tugged softly at the string, teasing it with gentle pressure, his fingers brushing your skin, sending a jolt of warmth through you. It felt like he was trying to strip away the barriers between you, his touch slow and deliberate, each movement sending a shiver of anticipation through your body.

His hands slid to your waist, tugging you even closer, and you could feel his chest rise and fall with each ragged breath. The heat from his body pressed against you, making you feel like you were burning alive in the best way possible. The kiss deepened once more, more urgent now, your lips parting as you both gasped, the desperation for more building, an almost frantic need to feel every part of each other. Your tongues met in a frantic, eager dance, tasting and exploring as if the world around you had vanished. All that mattered was the overwhelming sensation of his lips, his body, the way his touch made your skin tingle with every inch of contact.

The room around you seemed to fade away entirely, leaving only the sensation of his lips against yours, the taste of him lingering on your tongue, and the undeniable pull of his body. Every shift of his hands, every soft groan, every caress made your own body ache, and you pressed even closer, feeling him everywhere. You felt him hard against you, the desire between you so palpable it was almost suffocating, but in the best way possible.

Finally, when you pulled away, gasping for air, your chest rising and falling with every labored breath, you both stayed close, foreheads resting against each other, completely breathless. The world was spinning, and your hearts were thundering in your chests as you tried to find some semblance of control.

He blinked, still a little dazed. “Well, that wasn’t dangerous at all.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you teased, your lips curling into a grin. “You looked pretty dangerous there for a second.”

He snorted, the warmth of a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m always dangerous,” he said, but there was a playfulness in his voice now.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Dangerous, but still a dork.” You tucked yourself under his arm, letting him pull you close. “I’m not complaining though. You’re my dangerous, dorky soldier.”

“You’re lucky I like you enough to endure being called a dork,” he muttered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I’m the lucky one?” you teased, poking his chest. “I think you’re the one who’s lucky, getting to be my dork.”

And with that, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you even closer as you snuggled against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body enveloping you like a protective cocoon. His embrace was grounding and comforting, the kind of closeness that made everything else in the world feel insignificant. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, each thud a soft, reassuring reminder that he was here, with you, in this moment. It was the perfect lullaby—a steady, familiar sound that eased the lingering tension in your muscles and settled the storm in your mind.

As you lay there, tangled together, the quiet of the room seemed to stretch around you, the outside world no longer exists. The soft rustle of the sheets, the faint hum of the air around you—it was all drowned out by the feeling of his arms around you, his warmth sinking into your skin. His chest rose and fell with each breath, the motion soothing and rhythmic, syncing with your own as you relax deeper into him.

Moments like these, simple and unassuming, felt like everything. The rush of emotions, the heated exchanges, the tender kisses—all of that had led here, to this fragile, perfect stillness. Nothing had to be said; there was no need for words when everything you needed was already here, in the quiet intimacy between you. You could feel the gentle weight of his body against yours, the way he was holding you as if he never wanted to let go, and it made your heart swell with a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat of the room.

In that space, time didn’t matter. The worries, the fears, and the complications of life all faded into the background, swept away by the gentle closeness of your bodies and the connection you shared. The comfort of his presence made you feel safe, like you could face anything as long as you had him by your side. The world could be falling apart outside, and it wouldn’t matter, because, in this moment, everything was just right.

As you nestled deeper into him, you could feel his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your back, the tenderness of the gesture sending a ripple of warmth through you. You smiled softly, not needing to say a word, just enjoying the simplicity of being here with him, knowing that no matter what the future held, this—this moment—was enough. The peace you felt in his arms was more than just physical; it was emotional, something deeper that neither of you had to speak aloud to understand.

For now, you don’t need anything more. Just this—just him—was everything.

⠀

The sun had set, casting the room in a soft, dim light. The gentle hum of the Vibranium chamber’s machinery was the only sound, a comforting presence that usually helped Bucky unwind. But tonight, the air felt heavy, thick with something unspoken. Bucky had been quieter than usual—more withdrawn. Your room felt colder somehow, despite the warmth of the lights. 

Finally, you found him sitting in front of his mirror, his eyes locked onto the new arm Shuri had designed for him. It was sleek and polished, almost flawless—a work of engineering genius. But as you watched him, you could see something deeper in his gaze, something unsettling. There was no joy in his eyes, no relief, just an unmistakable unease that twisted his features. The arm—meant to be a symbol of progress, a new beginning—felt like a foreign object in his hands. It wasn’t part of him yet.

His fingers traced the cool surface of the metal, like he was trying to understand it, maybe even willing it to feel like it belonged. But his expression was far from peaceful. His lips were drawn tight, his jaw set, like he was fighting something deep within himself. His old arm—the one that had been corrupted by Hydra, the one that had caused him so much pain—sat beside him on the table, abandoned and broken. It was rusty, its edges chipped and scarred, a stark contrast to the sleek, polished new design beside it.

You leaned against the doorframe, your gaze lingering on him, but you didn’t rush in. His assigned room always felt so foreign to you; like a place too hallowed for you to penetrate in it. You knew Bucky had his moments of solitude, and though it was often hard to watch him retreat, you had learned to give him space when he needed it. But this time was different.

Normally, when he retreated into himself like this, you’d hear from him in a few hours—just a quick text or a call, a simple ‘I’m okay’ or ‘I’ll be back soon.’ It was his way of checking in, of making sure you knew he wasn’t disappearing into the darkness for good. But today… today had been different.

The entire day had passed without a single word from him. You’d checked in, and tried to give him some time to process whatever it was that had him on edge. But as the hours ticked by, that familiar knot of worry began to tighten in your chest. When he didn’t reach out by midday, you started to feel the unease settling in, creeping into the back of your mind. By the time the sun started to dip behind the horizon, the silence felt deafening.

You tried to shake it off, tried to convince yourself that he just needed more time. But now, standing in the doorway, watching him sit there as though lost in thought, you knew something had shifted inside of him. It wasn’t just the arm—it was more than that. It was like the weight of his past had caught up with him all at once, and he couldn’t escape it. He wasn’t just holding onto the broken arm. He was holding onto everything it represented: the missions, the manipulation, the memories of bloodshed and betrayal. And now that he was faced with a new, clean slate, it was too much. Too overwhelming.

You stepped into the room quietly, taking a deep breath before speaking, but your voice felt unsteady. "Bucky?"

He didn’t respond right away. His fingers continued to trace the arm absentmindedly, like he was trying to feel something—anything—that would make it real. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his head lifted slightly, and he gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, as if to shake off the thoughts that had been consuming him.

"I'm fine," he muttered, his voice tight, the words coming out clipped and distant.

But you knew that tone, the one that was just a little too flat, just a little too guarded. The tone he used when he was shutting everyone out. And you could feel the walls going up before your eyes, higher and faster than ever before.

"You’ve been distant all day, Buck’," you said softly, but with an edge that you couldn’t suppress. "You didn’t give me any sign of life. It’s not like you. And now this…" You gestured toward the arm, your heart heavy. "You’re not fine. You’re avoiding something, and I think you know it."

For a long moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze was still locked on the new arm, but now, it seemed like he wasn’t seeing it at all. His mind had drifted somewhere else, somewhere darker. His silence only deepened the worry that had been building in your chest all day.

“Hey…” you pressed, taking a step closer, your voice softer now. “I get it. I do. This… this isn’t just about the arm, is it?”

Finally, his eyes met yours. But instead of the usual warmth or the flicker of his familiar, sardonic smile, there was nothing. Just emptiness. He was holding onto something, and it was suffocating him.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice cracking just slightly, a vulnerability you rarely saw in him. "I can’t just let go of it. It’s all I’ve ever known. It’s… it’s all I am."

You felt your heart ache for him, but the frustration simmered just below the surface. You couldn’t let him do this again. You couldn’t let him spiral back into the darkness.

"Yes, you can," you replied firmly, your voice unwavering. “You are not just limited to big muscles and a metal arm. You are Bucky Barnes, sacred White Wolf by the royal Wakandan family. You don’t have to carry the past with you. Not anymore.”

He flinched at your words, his brow furrowing in pain, but you didn’t back down. "You’re letting your past control you. It’s all you’ve known, all you’ve remembered, but it doesn’t have to be all you are. You’ve fought so hard to get here, James. Don’t throw that away just because you’re scared of who you’ll be without it.”

He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the floor, and for a moment, you thought he might walk away, shut you out completely. But he didn’t. His eyes were filled with pain, his fists clenched at his sides as if holding onto something—something deep inside him—that he couldn’t let go of.

"You don’t understand," he muttered, his voice strained. "You don’t know what it’s like to be nothing without it. To be this… broken thing, struggling to hold it together. I don’t even know who I am anymore."

You took a step forward, meeting his gaze with a fire of your own. “I do understand,” you shot back, your voice sharp, cutting through the tension. “I’ve been there too, James. I’ve had to fight my own demons, too. But you don’t get to hide behind them. Not anymore.”

He was breathing heavily now, his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath, and you could see the war raging inside him. He was so damn close to breaking, so close to letting go of everything that had been keeping him from healing. But you couldn’t let him. Not now.

"You’ve been through hell," you continued, taking another step closer. "But it doesn’t have to be your excuse to keep living in it. Not when you have the chance to get out of it. And if you keep holding onto your old identity, if you keep letting it define you, then that’s all you’re ever going to be."

His jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he might lash out, the frustration and pain in his eyes threatening to spill over. But instead, he sank back into the chair, his gaze dropping to the floor. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to face it.

“Bucky…” you breathed, your voice gentler now but still firm. "I’m not asking you to forget your past, but you have to let it go. You can’t keep holding onto the weight of it. You’ve carried it for so long, but it’s destroying you."

He was quiet for a long time, his head hanging low, his hands gripping the armrest like it was the only thing tethering him to reality. You could see his struggle, could feel it radiating off of him, but you weren’t going to back down.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said softly, but with a strength that only made him flinch harder. “I’m here. But I won’t watch you drown in this. You don’t have to do this alone. But I need you to let me help.”

You could feel the tension in the room thickening, the weight of Bucky’s silence pressing down on both of you. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, his eyes cast downward, his jaw clenched, as if he were trying to suppress the storm inside him. The words you had said earlier—words of hope, of strength—hung in the air between you both, unanswered. And despite your best intentions, you could see it in his eyes: nothing was getting through to him right now.

He was retreating inward, walling himself off from everything and everyone.

It was a painful realization. You could tell that pushing him any further at this moment would only send him deeper into that dark, quiet space. You could see the pain and frustration building in his chest, the way his breath came in short, shallow bursts as if he were holding onto something. He was barely there, barely present. He was a soldier still fighting his war inside his head.

You wanted so badly to reach him. To break through, to remind him of the man he was, the man he could still be. But at that moment, you knew that forcing the conversation further wasn’t going to do either of you any good.

“James…” you whispered softly, your voice barely audible, your heart breaking at the sight of him so far away. “I can’t help you if you won’t let me in.”

He didn’t respond, and you could feel the frustration bubbling under your skin, but you forced it down. Instead, you took a deep breath, your gaze softening, your mind racing. He needed space, but not isolation.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” you insisted, your voice quieter, gentler now. “You need time to process this, I get that. But I’m not leaving you alone. Not this time.”

Bucky didn’t look at you, but you could see the muscles in his jaw tighten. It was the same withdrawal, the same pattern he’d fallen into so many times before. The same fear of being a burden, of pushing everyone away.

You stepped back a little, taking a breath before speaking again. “I’ll be in the hot springs if you want to talk. I’m not leaving. But I won’t force you to say anything before you’re ready.”

You made your way toward the door, your eyes lingering on him for just a moment. There was a part of you that wanted to stay, to keep pressing, to tell him how much you cared, how much you hated seeing him like this. But you also knew that pushing him now would only make things worse.

“I’ll be there when you’re ready,” you said one last time, voice steady but laden with emotion. “Just… please don’t shut me out. I’m here. You’re not alone.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. But you could feel the weight of his pain, the quiet struggle within him. It was clear he wasn’t ready to talk, but the ache of the silence between you was unbearable.

You walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind you, but you didn’t walk far. You stayed just outside, leaning against the wall. You wouldn’t give him more space than he needed, but you also wouldn’t let him slip away into the shadows again. Not tonight.

You would wait for him. And when he was ready—when he decided to talk—you would be there. Even if it took time.

⠀

Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling of unease, the gnawing discomfort in his chest that only seemed to deepen the more he thought about the new arm, about the memories that rushed in uninvited. His fingers still felt like they were brushing against the old, corrupted one, the weight of it lingering in his mind like a specter.

He needed to move. Needed to feel his muscles burn, to get lost in the motion until he didn’t feel the weight of everything pressing down on him. So, he found himself heading to the training room, the soft hum of the facility an almost soothing contrast to the turbulence in his mind.

The room was empty except for a few training dummies and equipment. Bucky didn’t bother with the warm-up. He started immediately, hitting the punching bag with a series of calculated strikes, his focus entirely on the rhythm of his fists meeting the bag. The training room was almost too quiet, save for the dull thud of Bucky’s fists slamming into the punching bag. His body was drenched in sweat, his muscles aching with the relentless repetition. He wasn’t here to perfect his technique; he was here to escape. The rhythmic pounding was all he could focus on, the only thing that helped drown out the memories clawing at the back of his mind. Each strike was like an attempt to knock them away, but no matter how hard he hit, they always came back.

His new arm—the one Shuri had designed for him—felt wrong in his grasp. It was sleek, smooth, and polished, a cutting-edge piece of technology meant to represent his chance at a fresh start. But every time his metal fingers tightened, all he felt was emptiness. The weight of it was there, yes, but it wasn’t the same weight that had always been with him. The Winter Soldier’s arm had been a part of him, a constant reminder of the life he’d led, the things he’d done, and the man he’d become because of it. This new one—this shiny, clean prosthetic—felt like an alien extension of himself, like something else he had to learn to control. And for the first time in years, it didn’t feel like something he could trust.

With every punch, the frustration built. His muscles burned and his breaths came in sharp gasps, but it wasn’t enough. He was trying to outrun the ghosts of his past, the shadows that lingered even in the light. The memories of the Winter Soldier, of the pain he had inflicted, of the people he’d hurt—they were always there, just beneath the surface. No matter how much he tried to ignore them, they were waiting for him. And tonight, they felt louder, more insistent.

The bag swayed from his last punch, and his new arm slammed into it again. But this time, something felt off. He felt a sharp pang in his shoulder, then a light grinding sound. His gaze snapped down, eyes widening when he saw the small metal shard fall to the floor. 

"Damn it," he muttered, flexing his fingers. His heart dropped into his stomach as the reality hit him. The arm wasn’t just unfamiliar. It was already falling apart.

He stepped back, pulling his arm away from the bag, and his eyes flicked to the broken pieces scattered across the floor. It felt like the final straw. The thing he’d hoped would be a symbol of his redemption, the key to moving forward, was now a reminder of how little control he had over his own life. His fists clenched, and his breath quickened as the frustration boiled over.

“Damn it,” he growled again, slamming his arm against the wall. The loud crash reverberated through the room, and a jolt of pain shot up his arm as the pieces rattled.

His mind was a blur. Why couldn’t this just be easier? Why couldn’t he just accept that he was allowed to heal? He looked down at the arm again, the new, clean metal reflecting the harsh light. The Winter Soldier’s arm had been worn and chipped, like him. It had scars, a history—his history. But this new arm was pristine, unmarked, and it felt like it didn’t belong to him at all. It was too perfect, too far removed from the chaos of his life.

I’m not that man anymore, he thought bitterly. I can’t be.

But then, a deeper part of him whispered something darker. What if you still are? What if the real you is just a mask, and you can’t outrun what you’ve done? The voice echoed in his mind like a chilling reminder. He didn’t know who he was anymore. He’d spent so much time buried in the shadows, pretending to be something he wasn’t, that he couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be him.

The silence in the room stretched, and he stood there, looking at the arm like it was something he couldn’t comprehend. He tried to move it again, flexing his fingers, but the weight felt all wrong. It was like trying to wear someone else’s skin.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memories that were surfacing once again—the violence, the bloodshed, the whispers of Hydra calling him “Soldier.” His fists clenched harder, and for a moment, he thought he might throw the arm across the room just to feel something again. Something that wasn’t this emptiness gnawing at him.

And then he heard a voice, calm and teasing, cutting through the fog of his thoughts.

From the doorway, a voice broke through the tension like a crack of sunlight through storm clouds. “You’ve got quite the temper, White Boy.”

Bucky’s body tensed, and he snapped his head toward the door, only to find Shuri leaning casually against the frame. Her arms were crossed, and her gaze was fixed on the broken pieces of his vibranium arm scattered across the floor.

“I could hear you all the way in my lab,” she said, her tone teasing but light. “I thought maybe you were wrestling a rhino. But no, you’re just here throwing a tantrum. Very dignified.”

“Not in the mood, Shuri,” Bucky muttered, his voice low and taut. He turned away, crouching to collect a twisted piece of vibranium.

“Oh, really? Because it sure looks like you’re in the mood for breaking things,” she quipped, ignoring his obvious dismissal as she stepped into the room. Her sharp gaze landed on him, assessing. “You’ve been stomping around like an elephant all day, and now you’re trashing my tech? I should charge you for this. Vibranium doesn’t grow on trees, you know.”

Bucky huffed, irritation flashing across his features as he stood, clutching a broken panel in his hand. “It’s not just the arm,” he muttered. His voice dropped as he added, “It’s everything.”

Shuri arched an eyebrow. “Everything? You mean the global crisis, the existential dread, or the fact that you haven’t really laughed in approximately 84 years?”

He shot her a look, but she continued unfazed, stepping closer. Her teasing tone softened just slightly, enough to convey she wasn’t entirely joking. “You think destroying the arm I built for you is going to fix ‘everything’? Hate to break it to you, but vibranium isn’t a substitute for therapy.”

He bent down to pick up a piece of his shattered arm, his movements stiff and deliberate. “It’s not just the arm,” he repeated quietly, his voice strained. “It’s everything. I’m not who I used to be, but I’m not sure who I’m supposed to be either.”

Shuri tilted her head, studying him with a mixture of exasperation and something softer. “It’s just a tool, Soldier. It’s not a chain. It doesn’t define you any more than your past does.” She crouched next to him, taking the piece from his hand with practiced ease and examining it. “But you—you’re holding onto all that weight like it’s part of you. That’s the problem.”

Bucky let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s not that simple.”

“Oh, but it is,” she replied, crouching down to examine the broken piece in her hand. “Simple doesn’t mean easy, though. Trust me, I’ve met plenty of stubborn people—T’Challa included—and you’re giving them all a run for their money.”

For a moment, they sat in silence, the tension between them easing slightly as Shuri adjusted the mechanisms in the damaged arm with precise, practiced movements. Finally, she spoke, her voice softer but still unwavering. “In Wakanda, we say, ‘The river does not stop flowing because the stones are heavy.’ You’ve been carrying those stones for too long. Let them go. The river keeps moving. So should you.”

He swallowed hard, her words striking a chord somewhere deep inside him. “It’s not just me,” he said quietly, the words heavy with guilt. “I’ve hurt her, Shuri. I keep pushing her away, and I don’t even know how to stop.”

Shuri straightened, placing his arm back into its rightful place on his body. Her gaze softened, but her tone remained firm. “Well, you’re not pushing her away because you want to. You’re doing it because you’re scared. Scared of letting her see the parts of yourself you still haven’t forgiven. But that’s not fair to her—or you.”

He shook his head, the self-doubt tightening around him like a noose. “I’m not good enough for her. She deserves someone better. Someone whole.”

Shuri’s eyes narrowed, and she placed her hands on her hips, her posture radiating authority. “Stop it,” she said sharply. “You’re not a machine, Barnes. You’re the White Wolf. A brother.” Her voice softened as she added, “To us.”

That made him look at her, his expression caught between disbelief and gratitude. Slowly, he stood and turned toward her.

She looked at him again, an expression of affection mixed with irritation. “Now go find her before I start charging you rent for all this moping around. You’ll figure it out. Just don’t wait too long, you might lose your chance.”

Bucky stood there for a moment, torn between the self-doubt that had plagued him for years and the glimmer of hope that maybe—just maybe—he could get it right.

He finally exhaled, feeling a little more grounded than he had in days. “Thanks, Shuri,” he said, his voice quieter, softer than usual.

She grinned, the familiar, teasing glint returning to her eyes. “I know, I’m amazing.” She patted him on the shoulder, giving him a look that was both playful and a little bit of a challenge. “But next time, don’t break anything. That’s my job.”

He smirked back, feeling a flicker of his old self return. “I’ll try to keep my punches to the punching bag next time.”

After a brief hesitation, Bucky raised his right arm across his chest in the Wakandan salute, his other fist resting over his heart. The motion wasn’t rushed; it carried weight, respect, and a silent acknowledgment of everything Shuri and Wakanda had done for him. “Thank you... for everything.”

Shuri’s expression softened, her usual teasing replaced by a rare warmth. After a moment, she mirrored the gesture, her fists crossing her chest as she gave him a nod. “Always, White Wolf.”

As he turned to leave, Shuri called after him, her grin back in full force. “And Barnes? If I find out you two are sneaking around breaking more things, don’t come crying to me when the Dora finds out.”

He smirked, glancing over his shoulder. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

She shrugged, her tone mock-innocent. “What can I say? I’m rooting for chaos.”

She added a moment later, “Also, please burn everything you two touch when you’re done, I don’t want any germs to spread around.”

“Oh go milk a goat, princess.”

⠀

The roar of the quad echoed against the trees, the sound tearing through the stillness of the Wakandan evening. Bucky leaned into the curves of the dirt path, the wind tugging at his hair and brushing against his skin. For the first time in years, he felt… free. There was no mission, no orders, no lurking specter of his past to weigh him down. It was just him, the open trail, and the quiet promise of finding you at the end of it.

The sky above blazed in shades of gold, orange, and deep lavender, the sun dipping low to kiss the horizon. The air smelled of earth and blossoms, cool and fresh as he neared the edge of the springs. He slowed the bike, eventually stopping at a rocky clearing. Cutting the engine, he swung his leg over the seat and glanced around, catching sight of faint steam rising in the distance.

The hot springs looked like they belonged in another world—hidden by tall, jagged rocks and lush greenery, with clear, crystalline water reflecting the fiery hues of the sky. Steam curled lazily above the surface, mingling with the golden light of the setting sun. The soft sound of water trickling over smooth stones mixed with the gentle rustle of leaves. It was a sanctuary, untouched and serene.

Bucky stepped closer, boots crunching softly on the gravel. That’s when he spotted you.

You were partially submerged, your back to him, the warm water lapping at your shoulders as the steam swirled around you. Your hair clung to your damp skin, the curve of your neck illuminated in the fading light. You hadn’t noticed him yet, lost in your own world. For a moment, he hesitated, unsure if he should interrupt. But then, his boot scraped against a stone, the sound startling you.

You turned sharply, eyes wide, and let out a small yelp. “Bucky!” you exclaimed, water splashing as you shifted to face him. “You scared me, idiot!”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t mean to. Thought you’d hear me coming.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but the corners of your lips twitched. “You stomp around like a cat burglar and expect me to notice?”

Before he could respond, you scooped a handful of water and flung it at him. He flinched, the cold droplets splashing across his face and shirt. “Hey!” he protested, laughter creeping into his voice.

“Serves you right!” you shot back, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Bucky didn’t hesitate. He crouched at the edge of the spring, cupped his hand, and sent a wave of water your way. You shrieked, diving to avoid the worst of it but laughing as droplets hit your arms. The brief, playful battle continued until you both surrendered, your chest heaving from laughter and his smile softer now, lingering as he watched you.

Eventually, you swam to a shallow corner, leaning back against a smooth rock. You looked up at him, the teasing fading into something quieter. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you coming in?”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, then with a wry smirk, he shrugged off his jacket and boots. He stood there for a moment, eyeing the water, before pulling off the rest of his clothes, leaving only his pants. “Well, I don’t usually make a habit of getting into hot springs with people, but,” he raised an eyebrow, “this seems like a good exception.”

He stepped into the warm water, the heat soothing his stiff muscles almost immediately. The spring was a natural wonder, the water bubbling gently around them, steam rising in soft curls into the evening air. It felt like a small piece of paradise, the perfect end to a long ride.

“Comfy?” you asked, your voice soft, a teasing hint in it. You leaned back, resting your arms on the stone edges, your fingers trailing lazily through the water.

Bucky sank into the water beside you, his eyes drifting over the lush, serene landscape. “More like 'just what the doctor ordered,'" he muttered, a relaxed smile spreading across his face. "Should’ve joined you sooner."

“You had to take your sweet time,” you teased, a playful glint in your eye. “What’s that old saying? Better late than never?”

Bucky snorted, shaking his head. “If I were you, I’d be glad I showed up at all, dove. Wouldn’t want you to get lonely, right?”

Your eyes flickered over to him with a smirk. “Oh, I can handle being alone. I’ve spent enough time by myself to know how to make the best of it.”

“Yeah?” He leaned back against the rock, allowing the water to envelop him. “And how’s that working out for you? Trying to find peace in the middle of all this chaos?”

For a while, you both didn’t speak, the silence comfortable as the golden light dimmed into twilight. It was you who broke the stillness first. “You didn’t have to come looking for me, you know. I know I proposed it to you, but you could’ve just waited for me back there.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze on the rippling water. “I know. But I needed to get out of my head. And… I wanted to be with you.”

You nodded in comprehension, regarding him while holding a certain warm glint in your eyes that was only reserved for him. Silence was king again, only battling its place with the sound of water rippling around them. The peaceful surroundings almost seemed at odds with the weight of the conversation, but Bucky could tell it wasn’t just the air that had gotten heavier.

You were quiet for a moment, glancing up at the sky as if considering his question. “It’s not easy, by the way,” you said softly as he looked at you in a questioning manner. “Finding peace in the chaos. But... it’s better than the alternative.”

“The alternative being what? Pushing everything down and pretending it’s all fine?” He asked with a raised brow, clearly skeptical.

“Isn’t that what we all do, at least a little?” You turned toward him then, your voice steady. “We all try to convince ourselves we’re okay when we’re not.”

There was a flicker of something in Bucky’s eyes. A recognition. “I know that feeling.” His tone was low, quieter than it had been before. The words hung in the air between you, heavier than the steam swirling around.

He looked down at the water, his expression unreadable. You weren’t sure what was going on inside his head, but you could feel the shift in the atmosphere. There was a weight to the silence, something shared but unspoken.

Finally, he broke the silence. "Sometimes it feels like I’m stuck on a loop, you know?" Bucky's voice was low, rougher than usual. "I keep thinking I can outrun the stuff I’ve done, but it never works. It just keeps catching up with me, no matter how fast I try to go."

You let his words hang in the air, taking a moment to think. The weight of his admission wasn't lost on you, but you knew better than to rush in. After a long pause, you spoke softly, but with purpose. "You don’t have to outrun it, Bucky. You don't have to keep pretending it’s not there." You turned toward him, meeting his eyes with a steadiness that almost felt like an anchor. "The only way forward is through it. It won’t go away just because you avoid it."

Bucky exhaled slowly, as though the weight of his thoughts had finally found a crack. A small, self-deprecating smile tugged at his lips. "Great. So now I’m supposed to just... accept being a walking disaster, huh?"

You chuckled, though it was light. "Well, I did tell you once that you were a work in progress, right? Like my suitcase that I was unpacking," you teased, but your tone was softer now. "This is the same thing. You can’t face your fears head-on, it takes time. Doesn’t mean you’re stuck with them forever either."

Bucky let out a small snort, shaking his head. "So I’m just like your suitcase, huh? Full of emotional baggage and in desperate need of unpacking?"

He smirked, but the playful edge was gone, replaced by a quiet sincerity. "Guess that makes me a little less scary, huh? If I’m just another project in your life." He leaned back slightly, his fingers skimming the water’s surface. "But I get it. It’s not about forcing myself to be something I’m not. It’s just... finding a way to live with all of it."

Unable to resist the pull of him, the rawness of his words grounding you, you slowly moved from your place in the water, your legs brushing against his as you slid into his lap, facing him. You rested your hands gently on his shoulders, a quiet comfort you hoped he’d feel as much as hear.

"You're not a project, James," you said, your voice calm but firm, making sure he understood. "Not some thing to fix or unpack. You’re a person. You’ve always been more than whatever anyone else has tried to define you as." You held his gaze, your fingertips grazing lightly along his shoulder, warmth and reassurance radiating through your touch.

"I’ve seen you," you continued, your voice softening but not lessening in conviction. "And I’ve seen you fight. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Not just physically... but emotionally. Mentally. You’re not broken, you’re just... learning how to heal."

He looked down, a faint laugh escaping him. "Learning how to heal, huh? Sounds like you’re writing a self-help book." He glanced up at you, a smirk dancing on his lips, but it didn’t hide the flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

"Maybe I should," you said with a smile, your hands still gently massaging the muscles of his shoulders. "But seriously... You’ve done things. Things you’ll never be able to undo. But that doesn’t make you less of a person."

Bucky’s eyes softened, the tension in his shoulders easing as your words sank in. He let out a deep breath, his voice quieter now. "I don’t know if I’ll ever really be... free of it. Not completely. Not the way you’re free."

You hesitated, your fingers pausing mid-motion as the silence between you deepened. The weight of his admission settled around both of you. "I don't think anyone's ever truly free of their past. I’m not," you said carefully. "I still think about everything that happened to me from time to time. It’s inevitable, like Mother Nature every thirty days of the month,” you let out a small laugh at your comparison before sobering up, “But I remember that I’m in a better place, surrounded by better people; just like you are, and just like you should."

He looked up at you again, the vulnerability in his eyes making his usual guarded demeanor seem so far away. "I don’t want to hurt you," he muttered, his hands coming up to rest gently on your waist.

"You won’t," you assured him, your voice barely above a whisper. You slid your hands down his arms, taking a steadying breath before continuing. "I’m not afraid of what you’ve been. I’m... here, because of who you are now."

His hands tightened on your waist, his eyes searching yours. "And who am I now?" His question was soft, almost a plea for reassurance.

You gently smiled as you leaned in closer, your chest resting lightly against his. "You’re someone who is trying. Who wants to be better—to do better. Someone who’s been through hell and still has the strength to stand up. And most importantly, you are whoever you decide to be. That’s who you are."

Your heart thrud at the closeness, and you looked at him with affection. "Remember when you fixed my watch?" you asked quietly. "I couldn’t do it. I tried, I really did, but I couldn’t fix it. And then you showed up. And just like that, you fixed it for me. Not because you had to, but because you wanted to."

Bucky’s expression softened. He didn’t answer immediately, just watching you, as though absorbing your words.

"You didn’t need to fix the watch," you murmured, your fingers mindlessly tracing his biceps in a comforting manner. "It was perfect already, even when it was broken. I would’ve still worn it, because I love it. It’s been with me for so long." You took a slow breath, gathering your thoughts. "But you fixing it... it gave it new life. Now it’s working as it should. But either way, I would have cherished it, no matter its state." 

You looked up at him, your eyes steady and sincere. "My point is, you’ve never been broken, James. Not like you think. You’ve always been someone worth fighting for. Whether or not you’re still battling with your faults, you’re someone worth having in life. And I—" you hesitated, your voice catching slightly as your heart fluttered in your chest. You could feel the weight of the moment, the vulnerability of the words you were about to share. "We love you either way. All we want is your well-being and for you to be able to enjoy life... normally."

Bucky froze, his breath catching in his throat as your words settled around him, heavy and real. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat feeling louder, faster. It was as though the world around him had stilled, his thoughts racing even faster than his pulse. He could’ve sworn he heard you almost say something else. The almost I love you had hung in the air for just a moment, lingering in the space between you, almost like a secret you hadn't even realized you were about to share.

His gaze locked onto yours, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, his expression unreadable as he took a tentative step closer. The distance between you felt like a chasm, even though you were standing just feet apart. "You… you said 'we love you,'" he repeated softly, his voice almost trembling as he tasted the words, his heart soaring at the sound of them. "But—" His voice faltered for a second, the vulnerability creeping into his tone. "Did you mean it? The love part?"

You swallowed, feeling the tension in the air thicken like a tangible weight, and your heart skipped a beat. The way he was looking at you, with hope and uncertainty swirling in his dark eyes, made your chest tighten. You nodded slowly, almost as if to reassure both him and yourself, the depth of your feelings suddenly rising to the surface. "I do," you said, your voice quiet but steady, though you could feel the tremor in it. "I meant it. You’re loved, Bucky. By me. By all of us."

Bucky’s expression softened, but there was something more there now, something raw and unguarded, like a window had opened to a part of him he hadn’t let anyone see in a long time. His breath was uneven, but his eyes never left yours, as if searching for something he hadn't known was there. He took another step closer, and you could feel the heat from his body now, the closeness almost suffocating but comforting in the same breath. "Say it again," he whispered, his voice low, barely a rasp. "I need to hear you say it... for me."

Your heart stuttered in your chest at his request, a nervous flutter of emotion stirring inside you. You didn’t hesitate, not this time. "We love you, Bucky," you said, your voice barely above a whisper but full of sincerity. Your lips felt dry, but you licked them briefly before continuing. The words felt real now, like a promise. "You’re so much more than you think."

He closed his eyes for a moment, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he let the words wash over him. You could hear him breathe out a silent sigh, his chest rising and falling with the weight of everything you had just shared. When he opened his eyes again, they were darker, more intense. His gaze was fixed on you with such depth that it felt as though he could see straight through you. "No," he said softly, shaking his head, the words almost a plea. "Say it for yourself, for you. Say it the way you feel it—just I."

Your heart raced even faster at the way he asked, with such raw sincerity and quiet desperation that you could almost feel it in your bones. You smiled softly, your breath catching in your throat, your body suddenly alive with the emotions you’d kept hidden. You nodded, feeling the air between you shift as you finally spoke the words you’d been holding back.

"I love you, Bucky," you said again, the words feeling easier this time, flowing from you with a newfound certainty. The tension that had knotted in your chest loosened as the truth settled into the space between you both. "I love you for who you are, all of you."

Bucky’s eyes softened even more, and it was as if something inside him unraveled, like a thousand little walls he'd built up were slowly crumbling. His breath caught, and for a brief moment, he didn’t know whether to smile or to just hold you and never let go. But there was still something more he needed—still an ache that wasn’t quite satisfied.

"One more time," he urged, his voice low and tender now, a softness that you hadn’t heard before. "Say it for you, please."

Your chest tightened, your pulse quickening once more, but this time, there was no hesitation. The warmth of the moment—the sincerity of his need—was too much to hold back. You laughed softly, a sound of pure happiness, as the words came so naturally, like they had always been there, just waiting for the right time.

"I love you, James Buchanan Barnes," you whispered, your heart feeling full in your chest, the weight of it all pressing down gently but with great significance. "You’re worth loving, and you always have been."

Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat, his eyes locking with yours, the intensity of his gaze making your pulse race even faster. His face softened, the tension in his jaw easing as a smile tugged at his lips. "God," he whispered, his voice barely audible now, a mixture of awe and relief. "That’s all I needed to hear. You have no idea how much that means to me."

You laughed again, a joyous sound that filled the room, and in that moment, everything felt right. For the first time, it wasn’t just the weight of his past, or your past, that filled the space—it was hope. Real, raw, shared hope, woven together by the truth of your words and the vulnerability of this moment.

Bucky stepped closer, his hand moving gently to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your skin as if memorizing the feel of it. "I’ve waited so long to hear that," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You’ve no idea how much you’ve healed me already, just by saying those words."

Your breath hitched as he leaned in, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

The air was thick with tension, the steam from the hot spring rising around you like an enveloping fog, as your lips finally met his. It was different this time—so much more intense, raw, and consuming than any kiss you had shared before. His hands slid to your back, pulling you closer as your body pressed against his chest, your heart pounding in your ears. The warmth of the water surrounded you both, but it did nothing to ease the heat building between you.

Bucky groaned against your lips, his hands gripping your waist as if he needed something solid to anchor him. The feel of your body so close to his sent shockwaves through him, stirring something deep inside that he had buried for far too long. His fingers dug into your skin, not painfully, but with a desperation that mirrored the intensity of his emotions. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, racing, as if he was finally allowing himself to surrender to the moment.

As the kiss deepened, his lips moved against yours with a fierceness you hadn’t expected, but it felt right. He was more than just the man you had been comforting; he was a man who had finally allowed himself to feel, to let go. His tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entry, and you parted your mouth for him, letting him explore. His taste was intoxicating, his scent even more so—the mingling of the hot spring water with the natural musk of his skin.

You couldn’t help but moan softly into the kiss as he pulled you further onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips, the heat of his body and the water surrounding you making you feel dizzy. The closeness, the sheer intimacy, made everything else fade away. There was nothing in the world except for you two, wrapped in each other’s arms. His hands slid up your back to your neck, fingers threading into your hair, tugging you closer, if that was even possible.

Your body pressed fully against his, the water around you barely enough to hide the way your bodies aligned. You could feel the tautness of his muscles beneath his shirt, the strength in his grip, and the hardness of him against your hips, sending a rush of heat straight to your core. Bucky’s lips trailed down your jaw, leaving a trail of soft kisses, before his mouth found the sensitive spot on your neck. He kissed you there with a hunger that made you gasp, his teeth grazing your skin before sinking in just enough to mark you, a soft bite that sent a shock of pleasure straight through you.

You arched into him, gasping as the sting of the bite faded, leaving behind a heated throb that pulsed between your legs. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer as his lips moved from your neck to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire, and his words sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hands slid from his shoulders down to his chest, fingertips grazing the hard muscles beneath the fabric, urging him closer, wanting more. His own hands moved lower, tracing the line of your spine, before dipping to your hips, gripping them firmly and guiding you against him, making you feel every inch of his body as he shifted beneath you. The water around you sloshed with each movement, the heat of the spring adding to the fevered temperature between you both. 

Bucky pulled away slightly, his forehead resting against yours, breathing heavily. His lips were swollen, and his eyes were dark with desire, but there was something else in them too—a vulnerability that took you by surprise. "I need you," he muttered, his voice raw, as he ran his hands down your back, tracing the curve of your spine before moving to the soft skin of your thighs. "I’ve wanted you for so long."

The confession made your heart race, your body trembling with the intensity of his words. You leaned down, pressing your lips to his again, deeper this time, your hands sliding beneath his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. The sensation of his muscles flexing under your touch, the way he responded to your every movement, made your head spin.

You kissed him again, this time with a tenderness that matched the rawness of the moment, before moving down to his neck, your lips trailing over the tender skin there, finding the spot where his pulse raced just beneath the surface. His grip tightened around you, pulling you even closer, his teeth sinking gently into your shoulder as he groaned your name, the sound low and throaty, like a plea for more.

The heat of the moment continued to rise, and you could feel yourself losing control, caught in the wave of passion that surged between you and Bucky. His hands were everywhere—caressing, exploring, pulling you closer, never once letting go. His lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you gasp, your body arching into him as if it couldn’t get close enough.

But amidst the chaos of it all, you felt a pull to reality—a sense of practicality trying to claw its way through the haze of desire. You pulled away slightly, gasping for breath, and your fingers brushed against his chest, trying to make him pause, but he wouldn’t. “James…” you managed to whisper, your voice shaky from the intensity of everything. “We should head back, we’re—”

His lips were on yours again before you could finish the sentence, devouring you in a kiss so intense, you couldn’t remember what you’d been trying to say. His hands slid lower on your back, pressing you even closer as he kissed you with a ferocity that took your breath away.

“No,” Bucky’s voice was a soft growl against your lips, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to hold you firmly in place. “Not yet. I want to enjoy this a little longer. Just... just a bit more.” His words were barely more than a whisper, but the conviction behind them made your pulse spike. His mouth found the sensitive spot behind your ear, his teeth scraping lightly over your skin, making your body tremble in response.

You tried to pull away again, trying to ground yourself, to remember the outside world. “But we’ve been out here too long, James—” Your protest was interrupted as he pulled you back into another kiss, deeper this time, his hands slipping beneath the water to press you more firmly against him. The heat of his body, the way he moved with you, was more than you could resist.

His lips broke from yours for a split second, just enough for him to look into your eyes, his expression fierce with an emotion you hadn’t seen before—desire, yes, but something more. “I’m not ready to go back yet,” he whispered, his hands sliding to your hips, fingers digging into the soft skin there. “I want to stay here. I want to savor this... savor you.”

His words were like a spell, wrapping around you, making you forget about everything else but him and this moment. Your body was already responding to him, the closeness, the warmth, the way his lips trailed over your skin, biting gently in all the right places. You wanted to protest again, to make sense of everything, but his hands were firm on you, coaxing you to surrender to the moment, to give in to the sensation of being with him in this way.

“I want all of you,” he whispered again, his voice hoarse with desire, and you couldn’t deny the pull. You didn’t want to leave either—not just yet.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your jaw, your lips. The heat from the water around you only amplified the heat that was building between your bodies. You could feel his heart racing, his pulse quickening, as he pulled you even closer, his hands roaming over your back, gripping you with a desperation that matched your own. Every touch, every movement, sent a jolt of electricity through you, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t matter anymore. It was just you and Bucky, the water, the heat, the closeness.

But as his lips moved to your collarbone, your heart raced, and your mind screamed to slow down. “James,” you gasped, your hands trembling as they gently rested against his chest, pushing him back slightly. “We... we can’t keep going like this here. We need to stop.”

Bucky paused, his lips still hovering near your skin, his chest rising and falling with the same rapid breath as yours. His hands stayed on your hips, but there was hesitation in his touch, as though he’d heard you but wasn’t ready to let go of the moment. “I know,” he murmured, his voice ragged. “I don’t want to either, but I think… we’ve already crossed a line.” His hands slowly lowered from your back, though he didn’t pull away entirely.

You both sat there for a moment, the sound of your breathing the only thing that filled the space between you, the water gently lapping around you both. The heat was still there, but now it was mixed with a new awareness—an understanding that you needed to pause before things went too far.

“Yeah,” you whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes, your chest still rising and falling rapidly. “We should head back, before we... before we don’t stop.” Your voice was breathless, a little shaky, but the weight of what you were saying hit you both at the same time.

Bucky looked at you, his eyes dark with desire but also with understanding. His fingers brushed a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, a small, almost regretful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re right,” he said softly, the intensity still there, but tempered by something else now. “Let’s go back.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, your foreheads resting gently together as you both tried to steady your breaths. The closeness, the heat between you, was still undeniable, but you knew this was the right decision. The moment had been perfect, but it wasn’t meant to go any further—not yet, at least.

With a deep sigh, you pulled away slowly, the weight of the spring around you feeling suddenly heavier, colder. Bucky moved carefully, making sure you were both stable as he stood up, offering his hand to help you out of the water. His touch was gentle, yet there was still a lingering sense of connection, as though you were both tethered together by something deeper than just desire.

“I guess we should head back before either of us changes our minds,” you said with a soft laugh, trying to break the tension, though your body still thrummed with the echoes of what had just transpired.

Bucky chuckled, though it was softer now, tinged with a hint of amusement. “Yeah, let’s not test our willpower any further.” His hand was warm in yours as he guided you out of the spring, both of you walking back toward the shore in silence, the night air cool against your heated skin.

As you both dressed up, the shared intimacy of the moment lingered, and even though you had stopped before things went too far, there was an unspoken promise between you—one that neither of you needed to say aloud. For now, you were content to simply be with each other, knowing that whatever came next would be something to look forward to in its own time.

⠀

Bucky's quad hummed beneath you as you rode back to the palace, the cool night air brushing against your face. The ride was quiet, save for the low rumble of the engine and the occasional rush of wind. You couldn’t help but notice how tense the atmosphere felt, how his body seemed to stiffen every time you moved a little too much, every time your hands brushed against his back and the wet fabric of his pants. The echoes of the passionate moment you'd just shared were still alive in the air between you, both of you carrying the weight of what had almost happened in the hot spring.

You let your mind wander for a moment, grateful that you’d decided to take that walk to the spring earlier. If you hadn’t, if you’d just taken the vehicle straight there, you would’ve missed the chance to burn off some of that nervous energy, and maybe you would have been less clear-headed about how far things had gone. Your sharp mind had worked in your favor for once.

As you neared the palace, the road began to feel longer, more like an obstacle, the silence in the air stretching between you both. You could feel the muscles in his back and arms shifting beneath your hands as you held onto him, the way he unconsciously tensed, still caught in the pull of your shared kiss. Every moment, every second of the ride, the tension built, and you could sense it from the way his shoulders were tight, his grip on the handlebars firm.

When you finally reached the palace, you didn’t speak, your heart still racing from the closeness you’d just shared. You moved to slide off the bike, instinctively heading toward your apartment, ready to slip into the comfort of your own space, but Bucky’s hand on your wrist stopped you.

"Wait," he said, his voice low, a slight roughness to it. "Come with me."

You turned to face him, surprised by the intensity in his eyes, but there was no hesitation in his expression, only an invitation.

"I... I thought we were going back to my place."

He smirked, a small, teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips, and stepped closer to you, his hand brushing against the small of your back. "Let’s go to mine tonight."

The simple words hung in the air between you, an unspoken understanding passing between the two of you. The tension was thick, but there was something in his eyes that made it impossible to turn down.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you nodded.

Bucky's invitation to his room was not something you had expected. You were used to seeing his stoic and somewhat guarded nature, and the idea of him letting anyone into his personal space was a huge leap. He had always been a man of boundaries, of keeping his emotions and his life hidden away, so to be invited into the very space where he let down his guard, where he was himself, was a startling realization. You knew this was significant.

His apartment had been a sanctuary for him, a place where he could just exist without anyone prying into his past, into the layers of himself he kept hidden. You could see it in the way he moved through the space, a careful tension in his every step. Even the way he approached you now, his gaze softening just a fraction, revealed how much this meant to him. He wanted you to be there, to witness him in his most vulnerable state.

Your initial surprise was quickly replaced by a quiet thrill, a subtle rush that spread through you. You followed him in silence, taking in the unfamiliar yet comforting warmth of his apartment. It felt different from the cold, distant image you’d once had of him. It was his space—quiet, lived-in, but somehow alive in a way you hadn’t expected.

You felt the weight of that hesitation. This wasn’t just any invitation; it was an opening of the door to parts of himself that no one else had seen. The space beyond that door represented everything he kept hidden—his history, his emotions, and his sense of safety. It made your heart race with both surprise and something else, something exciting. You knew this moment wasn’t to be taken lightly.

“C’mon in,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, tinged with uncertainty. He stepped aside, allowing you to pass through the threshold first, though his eyes didn’t leave you, constantly gauging your reaction as if unsure whether this was the right move. The room was dimly lit, a little lived-in but comforting, a far cry from the cold, controlled demeanor he often presented to the world.

You followed him in, the tension palpable between you. He closed the door behind you, a soft click that seemed to echo louder than it actually was. Bucky moved across the room in a way that suggested he was still processing the weight of his own decision. His movements were a little fidgety, his hands occasionally brushing his hair back or adjusting his jacket as if trying to find a sense of calm in this moment of vulnerability.

You took a moment to take in your surroundings, but your thoughts were interrupted when Bucky cleared his throat and turned to face you. His eyes flickered briefly toward the bathroom, and he shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair.

“Uh, you can hit the shower first,” he suggested, his voice unusually soft, as if the request was somehow awkward. He was trying to be polite, to give you space, but you could tell he was still on edge. “I mean, you probably want to… you know. Relax. After tonight. I kinda ruined the purpose of the springs.”

There was an undeniable gentleness in his tone, an openness that wasn’t typical of the Bucky you knew. The small gesture felt like an invitation not just to the shower, but into his world, into a space where he had allowed you in, even if only for a brief moment. You could sense that this wasn’t just a casual offer; it was him trying to make you comfortable, to let you see him, just a little bit more, without the weight of expectations. His fidgeting only highlighted how much this meant to him.

As you stepped into the bathroom, you noticed the smallest details—the familiar scent of his cologne in the air, the slightly rumpled towels, the faint imprint of someone who lived here alone, yet never truly alone. It was a stark contrast to the polished exterior Bucky always presented to the world. And then, off to the side, you spotted it: a small wardrobe tucked into the corner of the bathroom. It was an unexpected but telling detail, a discreet little corner of his private space. The wardrobe wasn’t large, but it was enough for a few essentials—simple shirts, sweatpants, maybe a pair of shorts.

You rifled through the clothes, choosing a shirt that looked comfortable—soft cotton, slightly faded, with the familiar feel of something well-worn. You paused for a moment, then put back on the panties of your swimwear. The top, though simple, felt like a piece of him—just a little more access into his world.

After you showered, the warm water easing away the tension from your muscles, you emerged to find that Bucky had given you the space to refresh without hovering, as if he wanted to ensure you felt welcomed but not intruded upon. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, eyes briefly lifting from the floor to meet yours when you reappeared, his gaze full of unspoken thoughts.

It was then you noticed it—the strawberry chapstick, sitting casually on the bathroom counter. You smiled softly, a warmth spreading through you. He always carried it. The same one you had used countless times, its sweet scent now filling the air as you applied it to your lips. You found it strangely intimate, almost as if you were claiming a piece of him, too. The realization that he carried it with him—just like the little details of his life he kept hidden—made you feel closer to him in a way words couldn’t express.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, everything about the moment felt different—charged in a way you couldn’t quite place, but it was undeniably there. You felt more like yourself, yet more a part of him than you had before. The shirt you wore, his shirt, hung loosely around your frame, carrying his scent, his presence, and the weight of his trust. The fabric wrapped around you like a protective shield, but there was something more intimate about it, something that made your heart beat a little faster.

As you moved back into the room, you could feel the air shift. Bucky, who traded his wet jeans for comfortable sweatpants, immediately eye-tracked your every step as you approached him, and there was a slight hesitation in his gaze as it lingered on the shirt you wore. The way his eyes moved—slowly, deliberately—told you everything you needed to know. His pupils had dilated, and his breath hitched. He seemed to be holding his breath, almost like he didn’t want to make a move, yet the tension between you was palpable.

He let out a soft exhale, the words coming out as a low murmur. “You smell like me,” he said, his voice rough, almost like it wasn’t even meant to be heard. It was a simple statement, but there was a rawness to it, a possessiveness that made your pulse quicken.

Your smile was soft but teasing as you met his gaze. “I guess it’s not so bad, then,” you teased gently, running your fingers through your damp hair. There was a playfulness to your voice, but beneath it, you could feel the warmth building between you two, the same warmth that had been growing since the moment you walked into his room.

Bucky’s lips curled slightly at your words, but there was a flicker of something deeper behind his eyes. He took a slow step toward you, his hands lightly brushing against your arms. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, and he noticed it immediately, his lips twitching in a smile.

“Can’t say I mind it,” he murmured, his voice lower now, as if something had shifted inside him. His hands were gentle, almost reverent as they cupped your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “You’re everything, you know that?”

The tenderness in his voice, the vulnerability that had slipped through, made your heart swell, but before you could respond, his lips brushed lightly against yours. The kiss was sweet at first, soft and careful, as if he were testing the waters. But as his lips moved against yours, something changed. You could feel the intensity building between you both, the undeniable chemistry drawing you in. It wasn’t just passion—it was a raw need to connect, to solidify the bond that had been quietly forming since the moment you met.

When his lips pulled away, his breath was shaky. His eyes searched yours, and it was then you noticed the flicker of something darker in his gaze. He shifted closer, his chest almost touching yours, and his gaze dropped to your lips again.

Then, in a movement that felt both reckless and inevitable, he kissed you again. This time, the kiss was deeper, hungrier. His lips were firm and urgent, demanding, but there was still something tender in it—something that sent your pulse into overdrive.

But it wasn’t just the kiss. As his lips moved against yours, you felt it—a subtle taste of something sweet, something familiar. The hint of strawberry lingered on his lips, and it was a small, but unmistakable sign that you had left your mark on him. The chapstick, the same one you always used, had made its way onto his lips. The sensation, the sweetness of it, broke something inside him. It wasn’t just the taste, it was the fact that you had left a part of yourself with him. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.

He pulled away with a sharp intake of breath, his forehead resting against yours. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him. “God, you’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice thick with both amusement and something more primal.

You smiled, a soft laugh escaping your lips, but before you could speak, he kissed you again—this time, it was no longer sweet. There was an edge to it, a desperation that you hadn’t felt before. His hands tightened around you, pulling you even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His lips were insistent, almost frantic, as if he were trying to erase the distance between you.

The moment Bucky kissed you again, the air between you seemed to crackle with an intensity that was nearly impossible to ignore. The chemistry that had been building since the first stolen kiss in the hot springs now flooded over you in waves, each touch more urgent, more desperate than the last. His lips pressed against yours with an insistent hunger, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from you for even a second. His hands, which had been gentle before, now gripped you with a possessiveness that made your breath hitch. You responded just as fiercely, your hands running through his hair, tugging him closer, wanting more, needing more.

"You're driving me crazy," Bucky muttered between kisses, his voice rough, as if the weight of everything between you had hit him like a tidal wave. "I can’t stop thinking about you. About this. You’re all that’s in my brain."

Every word that came from his lips was a jagged edge, a reflection of the tension and desire that had been steadily building between you both. You smiled against his lips, teasing him, your voice low and seductive as you whispered, “I think you like this loss of control.”

His reaction was immediate. His body tensed beneath you, his grip tightening as though he was trying to anchor himself to reality, but the pull of you—your body against his, the heat between you both—was too much. "God, you're... I don’t even know how you do this to me," he groaned, his voice shaking with desire. He kissed you again, harder this time, his lips moving with an intensity that matched the pounding of your heart.

You felt the shift in him, a kind of desperate need, and you pushed back against him. The momentum of your body pressing into his was enough to have him falling back onto the mattress. You quickly straddled him, your thighs sliding over his as you positioned yourself on top of him, feeling the hard outline of his arousal beneath you. The sensation was intoxicating, a rush of heat that only intensified the ache in your core. You could feel him—his breath quickening, his heart pounding beneath his chest—and you knew that everything between you both had changed.

Bucky’s hands moved up your thighs, stopping just shy of the hem of your shirt, and for a moment, the heat of his touch lingered there, like a promise of what was to come. His eyes were dark, burning with an intensity that made your pulse race. He watched you as you moved, his eyes following every motion you made, his breath coming in shallow gasps as if he couldn’t believe you were here, straddling him, so close—too close, yet not close enough.

"I need you so much," He growled, his hands finally reaching the waistband of your panties, his fingers trembling with restraint, as if he was trying desperately to hold on. "I can't wait any longer."

But you weren’t ready to let him rush this. Not yet. Slowly, you slid your body down his, pressing your chest against his as you placed your lips to his ear. "Then don’t," you whispered, your voice husky, taunting. "Don’t wait. Don’t hold back."

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, his lips crashing into yours once again, the kiss now feverish, urgent. You could feel the tension between you, thick and palpable, as if everything that had been simmering beneath the surface was about to boil over. The sensation of his hands on you—caressing, pulling, guiding you closer—made everything inside you tighten, your body reacting to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated. The heat between you both, which had once been confined to the springs, was now multiplied tenfold, and you could feel it in every kiss, every touch, every breath that left your lips.

As Bucky's hands slid under the waistband of your bathing suit’s underwear, pulling it down, the sensation of his clothed skin against yours sent a jolt through you. The vulnerability of it—the fact that you were both shedding the last bit of armor between you—made your heart race even faster. But you didn’t stop him. You let him pull away your swim bottom, your skin now bare against his covered one, and the sensation of his fingertips slowly coming up and grazing over your chest underneath your shirt made you gasp. His touch was possessive but gentle, like he was savoring every inch of you, learning you, mapping you out in ways that only deepened the connection between you.

You responded by pulling his shirt off, your hands slipping over the smooth, taut muscles of his chest, feeling the way he trembled under your touch. His body was just as hard as you remembered, and just as perfect. You could feel his heartbeat underneath your fingertips, the steady rhythm mirroring your own. His breath hitched when you traced the lines of his chest, and for a moment, the world outside of this room no longer existed. There was only the heat between you, the fire that was growing hotter by the second.

"I can’t—I can't stop," Bucky whispered against your lips, his hands sliding to your hips, guiding you closer, the need in his voice impossible to ignore. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

You could feel it, though. The way his body reacted to every touch, every press of your skin against his. The way he tensed and shuddered when your lips met his neck, trailing soft, heated kisses down the column of his throat. It was everything—the raw need, the tenderness, the way your body seemed to be in perfect sync with his.

"Let go, baby," you breathed against his skin, your lips brushing over the sensitive skin of his jaw. "You won’t bite. Not unless I want you to."

He let out a soft, strained laugh, the sound full of desire and disbelief. "I think you know I do."

The intensity was mounting. Each breath felt heavier, each touch more urgent, and when you slid your hands lower, to the waistband of his sweatpants, he didn’t stop you. Instead, he helped you, his fingers tracing over the curves of your back, slowly pulling your shirt up in the process with trembling hands. You helped him pull off his pants, the movements slow, deliberate, as you both got closer, the anticipation building to an almost unbearable point.

You moved to kiss him again, the fire between you two finally igniting completely as you pressed your body against his, your lips tasting the faintest hint of strawberry chapstick—an innocent reminder of earlier. It was a small thing, a simple detail, but it was enough to send Bucky spiraling. The sweet, familiar taste of it on your lips was the breaking point for him. He kissed you deeper, harder, the need in him raw, his hands desperate now, pulling you against him as he let go of every last bit of control.

The room was charged with electricity, the air thick with tension, as Bucky looked at you, his gaze dark and predatory. His hands, which had been so careful before, were now eager, exploring the soft curves of your body as if he couldn’t quite believe you were here, in front of him. His eyes traced every inch of you, as though committing your bare skin to memory, and when they finally met yours, you saw the heat there, the raw hunger that burned behind them.

"God, you're stunning," he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with a mix of awe and desire. 

You didn’t say anything, just let him look, let him admire you in the way that made your pulse race. He wasn’t in a rush, he didn’t want to rush this. His hands lingered on your skin, fingertips grazing over your waist, up your back, trailing over your collarbones and neck. He seemed to take his time, savoring every touch, every inch of your naked skin, as if trying to imprint the feeling of you onto himself.

Then, slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing lightly against the delicate skin of your shoulder. The sensation was enough to make you gasp, but what followed took you by surprise—a sharp, teasing nip on the soft flesh of your neck. You shuddered at the sensation, your body responding to him instantly. Bucky pulled back just slightly, watching your reaction as a devilish smile curled on his lips.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice soft and tender, though his eyes betrayed the fire that burned in him. But he was too impatient, he couldn’t wait for an answer and his mouth was immediately back on your skin, trailing down your collarbone, over your chest, as he left another mark—a small bite—just below your breast. You mewled softly, unable to hold back the breathless sounds that escaped your lips. The sensation was both pleasurable and painful in the best way, and it only seemed to fuel his need for you more.

He didn’t stop there, though. As his lips and teeth traveled down your body, each mark he left sent a shock of pleasure through you, each bite more intoxicating than the last. He was claiming you, marking you in a way that left you breathless, your body trembling beneath his touch. His hands were steady, holding you securely as he made you lean back slightly, his strength keeping you from tipping over, anchoring you to him as his mouth moved lower.

"Bucky..." you gasped, your hands trembling as you reached for him, your body arching into his touch. But he didn’t let up, his lips moving with purpose, each bite making your pulse quicken, each mark drawing you closer to the edge.

"Shh," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot as he moved to your other side, his hands moving to your thighs, squeezing them gently. "I need to see all of you. Need to know you’re mine."

When his lips reached your hip, he paused for a moment, savoring the moment. Then, with careful deliberation, he bit down, slow and purposeful, and you couldn’t suppress the soft moan that escaped you. The pressure of his teeth on your skin was both deliciously painful and overwhelmingly pleasurable, making you gasp and shudder as the heat between you grew more intense. His grip on you tightened, holding you firmly in place as your body arched into him, craving more of his touch.

You gasped as he trailed his mouth down to your stomach, another bite, this time at your side, just below your ribs. The sensation sent a ripple of desire coursing through you, and you couldn’t hold back the soft mewls that escaped your throat. Your fingers dug into his hair, the pleasure of his touch combined with the intense marks he was leaving on you sending waves of heat flooding through your body.

Bucky’s hands reached the outline of your thighs, his fingers lingering on the sensitive skin, and the warmth between you both grew even more intense. His lips didn’t stop their slow trail, leaving heated marks all along your body, each one igniting a fire inside you. His breath was shallow, almost frantic, as he finally pulled away from your skin just enough to look up at you, his eyes dark with need. “Sweetheart, I want—no, I need to taste you. I've never needed anything so bad,” he muttered in a low, urgent tone, the words laced with desperation as he continued to mark you, his mouth finding the soft flesh of your breasts. The intensity of his touch, coupled with his raw hunger, had you gasping in pleasure, unable to suppress the waves of need crashing over you.

Bucky’s teeth grazed your skin again, the sharp sting followed by the deep heat of his kiss. Each bite, each press of his lips sent a shudder of pleasure through you, leaving you gasping and arching against him. Your body was burning with need, each sensation building into something overwhelming. You could barely comprehend the words slipping from his lips as his teeth sank into your skin once more, the intensity of his touch clouding your thoughts. “Please, let me just…” he asked, his voice rough with desire. But the only coherent thought you could form was a soft, breathless protest, “Bucky—I can’t... I’m too heavy...” You barely recognized the words as they left your mouth, but the guilt lingered, even as you felt his hands tighten on your hips, his movements never ceasing, even in the face of your doubt.

Bucky growled at your protest, the sound low and almost animalistic as it rumbled from deep within his chest. He didn’t hesitate, his hands tightening around your waist as he lifted you effortlessly, settling you above him. With a growl, he slid further back into the bed, pulling you along with him until you were completely positioned over him, your sex now mere inches apart from his face. His breath was ragged, his eyes burning with an intensity that had only grown since the moment you’d stepped into his room. 

“You don’t get it, do you?” he said with a rough voice, filled with both desire and frustration. “I don’t care about that. I'll make you feel so good. I promise I'll be gentle. Let me eat this sweet cunt, let me make you come on my tongue until you're senseless...” His hands traced the curve of your hips, pulling you down ever so slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Let me do what I want,” he pleaded, his lips almost touching yours, the words a desperate whisper. Despite the way his body was reacting, he still waited for your answer, though it was clear he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer.

You hesitated for a moment, the intensity of the moment clouding your mind, but then, your initial judgment failed as your eyes caught his that were burning with need, and you finally felt the weight of his words sink in as a shiver passed through you. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you finally nodded, giving in to his demand. The moment you did, his grip on you tightened, and with a low, urgent growl, he surged forward, crashing his lips to your lower ones with a fierce, primal hunger. 

As Bucky's hands continued to explore the contours of your body, his fingers dug deeper into the flesh of your hips, pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his breath danced across your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your gasp of surprise had barely escaped your lips before it transformed into a moan of pure, unadulterated desire. The sensation of his stubble rasping against your sensitive skin was almost too much to bear, and you felt your body arching towards him, craving more.

His mouth was a masterful instrument, teasing and tantalizing your entrance with gentle, probing kisses. The heat of his tongue as it delved deeper, tasting the very essence of your being, was intoxicating. You could feel your body responding, your muscles tensing and relaxing in a rhythmic dance, as if beckoned by the symphony of sensations he was creating.

Bucky's groan of relief was a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through every cell of your body, resonating deep within your core. His words, husky and laced with desire, only served to heighten the anticipation building inside you. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice a gentle caress against your skin.

"Fuck, you smell divine…" The way he spoke, as if savoring each word, each syllable, was a testament to the depth of his arousal. "Gonna taste you on my tongue until you're writhing and shaking above me." It was a vow, a pledge to take you to the very limits of your endurance, to push you to the edge of ecstasy and hold you there, suspended in a state of pure, unadulterated bliss. The thought sent a shiver coursing through your veins, and you felt your body begin to tremble, your muscles quivering with anticipation.

Bucky's tongue continued its gentle exploration, you could feel yourself becoming lost in the sensation, your mind fragmenting into a thousand different threads of pleasure. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, and your heart pounded in your chest like a drum, beating out a rhythm that seemed to match the pulsing of your very soul. The sensation was akin to being consumed by a raging inferno, each lick and probe igniting a fire that threatened to incinerate every last shred of your sanity. Your body, a tautly strung instrument, vibrated with an otherworldly energy, as if the very notes of pleasure were being played on your skin like a maestro conducting a symphony of desire.

"Fuck, you're so sweet," Bucky groaned, his voice a low, husky whisper that sent shivers coursing through your veins like a shot of liquid adrenaline. "I could eat you out all day, every day, and never get enough."

As he spoke, his tongue delved deeper, tracing intricate patterns across your skin like a cartographer mapping the uncharted territories of your desire. His words coursed through your veins like a river of pure, unadulterated desire. You felt your body respond, your hips rising off the surface like a supplicant offering herself to the gods. You felt his lips, soft and gentle, as they wrapped around your entrance, sucking and pulling with a gentle, insistent pressure that seemed to draw the very marrow from your bones. Your entrance, already swollen and sensitive, throbbed with an aching need, as if beckoning Bucky's tongue to delve deeper, to explore the hidden recesses of your very soul.

"Oh, shit—mmh, Bucky..." you moaned wantonly, your voice a barely audible plea that seemed to hang in the air like a challenge. "So good, need to feel you so bad…" Your hips rose off the surface, offering yourself to Bucky like a supplicant to the gods, and he accepted the offering with a growl of pleasure.

The sensations built and crested, and you felt yourself becoming lost in the moment, your mind fragmenting into a thousand different threads of pleasure. Your body, a finely tuned instrument, vibrated with an otherworldly energy—as if the very notes of pleasure were being played on your skin like a symphony of desire. You were a puppet on strings, danced by the masterful hands of Bucky's desire, and you felt yourself soaring on the winds of ecstasy, unencumbered by the shackles of reality.

Bucky's fingers, deft and skilled, reached up to tease your nipples, pinching and rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers. The sensation was like a jolt of electricity, sending sparks flying through your body like a firework exploding in the night sky. Your breasts, already sensitive, seemed to swell and grow, as if responding to Bucky's touch like a flower blooming in the sun.

"Ride my face," He growled, his voice a low, husky command that seemed to shatter the very foundations of your being. "Take what you need, sweetheart. I want to feel you come on my tongue." His words were a challenge, a dare, and you felt yourself responding, your body and mind acknowledging his dominance.

You lowered yourself back down, your entrance hovering just above Bucky's mouth. His tongue, warm and wet, darted out, tasting your skin and sending shivers coursing through your veins. You felt yourself being drawn to him, your body responding to his touch like a magnet. Your hips moved in a slow, sensual rhythm, grinding your entrance against Bucky's tongue. His mouth was teasing and tantalizing your skin with gentle, probing kisses. The heat of his tongue as it delved deeper, tasting the very essence of your being, was intoxicating.

"What a dirty girl, my filthy slut," Bucky whispered, his words sending a thrill through your body. "You love riding my face, don't you?" You felt a surge of pleasure at his words, your body responding to the dirty talk like a key turning in a lock. You could feel your body responding, your muscles tensing and relaxing in a rhythmic dance, as if beckoned by the symphony of sensations he was creating. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, and your heart pounded in your chest like a drum, beating out a rhythm that seemed to match the pulsing of your very soul.

The sensations built and crested, you felt yourself becoming lost in the moment, your mind fragmenting into a thousand different threads of pleasure. Your body, a finely tuned instrument, vibrated with an otherworldly energy, as if the very notes of pleasure were being played on your skin like a symphony of desire.

Your hips bucked and twisted, grinding against his face as you sought to extract every last ounce of pleasure from the experience. "Oh, god, Bucky," you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're killing me, your mouth is—oh, fuck." As you rode him, you felt your hands instinctively reach out, gripping his hair with a fierce intensity. You pulled his head closer, feeling his tongue delve deeper and deeper into your entrance. Your hips bucked and twisted, grinding against his face as you sought to extract every last ounce of pleasure from the experience.

And then, when you gazed down at Bucky, you saw it. His body, tense and coiled with desire, was unconsciously thrusting up into the air, his hips bucking with a rhythmic intensity that seemed to match the pulsing of your own heart. His eyes, closed in ecstasy, seemed to be pleading with you, begging you to take him, to ride him, to make him yours.

The sight of him, so lost in his own desire, was like a spark to dry tinder. Your body, already aflame with pleasure, seemed to ignite with an even greater intensity. You felt your grip on his hair tighten at the sight, your hips grinding down against his face with fierce, unrelenting pressure.

In an instant, you were coming, your body arching and convulsing as the pleasure seemed to shatter the very foundations of your being. Your grip on Bucky's hair tightened, your hips grinding down against his face with a fierce, unrelenting pressure. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, and your heart pounded in your chest like a drum, beating out a rhythm that seemed to match the pulsing of your very soul.

As the sensations slowly began to recede, you felt yourself collapsing back onto Bucky, your body exhausted and spent. But instead of holding you close, Bucky's arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you in place as he slowly began to kiss your cunt. His lips, soft and gentle, brushed against your sensitive skin, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

"Good girl," Bucky whispered, his voice a low, husky possessiveness that seemed to shatter the very foundations of your being. "You’re my good girl. Forever and always, mine." His words were a claim, a statement of ownership, and you felt yourself responding to them, your body and mind acknowledging his dominance.

His hands, warm and caressing, stroked your thighs, holding you steady as he helped you ride out the ecstasy with his mouth. You felt his tongue, gentle and probing, as it delved into your depths, tasting and savoring the remnants of your orgasm. The sensation was exquisite, a gentle and soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

You laid there, catching your breath, and you couldn't help but notice the tension in Bucky's body. His chest was heaving, his eyes were closed, and his cock proudly jutting against his abdomen. You reached down, your hand slowly descending to his crotch, and Bucky's eyes snapped open. He watched, his gaze intense, as you wrapped your fingers around his shaft.

His hips began to buck, his cock twitching with each movement, his body trembling with anticipation. "Oh, fuck yeah—just like that," he whispered, his voice trembling with desire, and his words barely audible over the sound of their heavy breathing. He lets out a low, husky moan, his eyes fluttering closed in ecstasy. His breathing grew more ragged, his chest heaving with each stroke, his muscles tensing beneath his skin. The air is filled with the sweet scent of desire, the sound of your heavy breathing, and the gentle friction of skin on skin.

Your touch was like a spark to dry kindling, igniting a flame of passion that threatened to consume them both. Bucky's hands reach out, his fingers grasping for your hips, pulling you closer. "I love the way you touch me," he admitted, his voice filled with adoration, his words dripping with sincerity. "You always know just what to do to drive me crazy, to make me lose control."

You continued to stroke him, and his body began to tremble, his muscles tensing, his skin growing hot and slick with sweat. His eyes snap open, burning with intensity, his gaze locking onto yours, his pupils dilating with desire. "Ride me," he growls, his voice low and husky, his words filled with urgency. "Want to see you bounce on me, want to feel you—please, sweetheart."

You felt a rush of heat course through your body at his growled plea. The intensity in his eyes, the raw need in his voice, it all combined to ignite a fire within you. Without a second thought, you moved to straddle his hips, taking a moment to line him up with your slick entrance.

As you slowly sank down, taking him inch by delicious inch, stars exploded behind your eyelids and you let out a ragged moan. He stretched you so perfectly, filling and completing you in a way that stole your breath. Your hands braced on his firm chest as you rolled your hips, working him deeper. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, holding on tight.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head falling back against the pillow. "So fucking tight, so good. Never want to be without you, sweetheart."

You set a slow, sensual pace, rising up until just the tip remained before dropping back down. The drag of him inside was exquisite, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. He began to thrust up to meet you, matching your rhythm. Each downward press of your hips brought him deeper, his cock kissing your sweet spot and sending you spiraling further toward the edge.

Your hips gradually moved faster, enjoying the sound of your flesh slapping together filling the air, and the smell of sweat and sex hanging heavy over you. His hands move to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin and pulling you down harder onto his cock, his touch burning with intensity. "I love you," he growls, his voice filled with emotion, his words dripping with sincerity. "I love the way you make me feel, the way you touch me, the way you ride me like a filthy animal. My little Silver Fox."

Hearing him calling you by your newly given title made you feel unknown things you didn’t know you were capable of feeling. You responded in a low, throaty moan, your body moving in perfect sync with his, your breasts jiggling with each movement. "Love you too," you said in an urgent tone, your voice barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing. "Love the way you fill me, the—ugh, the way you make me feel like I'm the only person in the world—fuck, Bucky, right there, right there!"

Bucky groaned under his breath, eyes squeezing shut in ecstasy as your velvety heat enveloped him like a tight glove. "Deeper," he growled, his voice dripping with need and urgency. "That's it, angel, take all of me."

His large hands gripped the yielding flesh of your ass, kneading and spreading you open wider. The burning intensity of his touch left searing fingerprints on your skin. "Yes, just like that," Bucky moaned, head falling back in bliss. "You're so unbelievably tight. I can feel you milking me."

Pleasure built to a fever pitch between your joined bodies, coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust and caress. He fought to keep his rapidly unraveling control as you clung to him, urging him on. "I-I'm almost there," he panted against your neck, hips starting to stutter. "Gonna fill you up, make you mine..."

"Please, do it," you gasped, nails scoring down his back. "I'm yours, Bucky, all yours. Come inside me, give me everything."

With each slow, deep thrust, the pleasure mounted higher, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Bucky seemed to sense it, his mouth trailing down to your neck, teeth and tongue working the sensitive skin.

"Come on angel," he growled, the low timbre of his voice sending sparks skittering through your nerves. "Come for me, let me feel you..."

Tilting your hips, he changed the angle, each long drag of his softening length hitting that spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes. Your hands scrambled for purchase against his sweat-slicked back as the tension wound tighter and tighter.

"Bucky!" You keened his name, thighs trembling and toes curling as your orgasm slammed into you. Waves of ecstasy crashed through your system, your inner muscles rippling around him. You could only hold on for dear life as Bucky worked you through it, his mouth and hands never ceasing their delicious torture.With a guttural groan, he joined you and finally crested that peak. His cock twitched and jerked as thick ropes of his seed pulsed deep into your welcoming heat. "I love you," Bucky whispered fervently, voice raw with emotion. "I love you so much it hurts." His powerful body shuddered through the intense waves, holding you flush against him.

In the aftermath, Bucky’s lips still burned with the intensity of the kiss, each movement a reminder of how deeply he cherished you. His hands, now tender and reverent, cupped your face as if he were afraid that if he let go, you might slip away. The kiss had been more than just a physical expression—it had been an outpouring of all the words he struggled to say in the moments before. At that moment, there were no walls, no masks, just the raw vulnerability of two people who had found a haven in each other.

Bucky pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath still coming in short, heated gasps. His eyes, usually so guarded, were now open and exposed, his love for you shining in them like a lighthouse in the dark. "You're incredible," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, the words reverberating through your heart. He was still breathless, but his gaze never left you. "I’m glad to have found you."

There was something about that phrase, about the sincerity in his voice, that made your chest tighten with affection. He wasn’t just happy to have you in his life—he was grateful, deeply grateful, as though you were the one piece that had finally fit into the puzzle of his life. His past, filled with darkness and confusion, had finally given way to this, to you.

As you lay there, your bodies still intertwined, the world outside seemed to vanish. The noise, the chaos—everything melted away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect, fleeting bubble of peace. Making love with Bucky had always been more than just physical—it was a sacred act, a melding of souls. There was a quiet reverence in how he touched you, a tenderness that spoke of both healing and a love that had been earned over time.

Every caress, every movement between you, felt as though it was binding your hearts together in the most intimate way possible. It wasn’t just a union of bodies—it was a union of everything you both were, everything you had endured and learned, and everything you had yet to discover about each other. In those moments, time itself seemed to slow, the world outside no longer mattered as you existed together in your perfect reality.

In the silence that followed, you rested against him, your hand tracing lazy patterns over his chest as you both found your rhythm in the stillness. You knew, without a doubt, that no matter what challenges awaited you—what demons from his past or the threats from the outside world—this was your blissful reality. You had found something pure, something that transcended the struggles of your pasts, something that you both would fiercely protect.

As he held you close, his arms wrapped securely around you, the weight of his devotion felt like a quiet promise. No matter what came next, you would face it together. This love—this connection—was something that would endure, and in the deepest corners of your heart, you knew that no matter how the world changed, this moment, this perfect, stolen peace, would always belong to the two of you.

⠀

The morning after, the soft rays of dawn filtered through the thick trees, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. The air was thick with the scent of earth and warmth, a stark contrast to the chaos that loomed over the horizon. You stirred in the quiet, Bucky’s arm still wrapped around you, his steady heartbeat a comfort against your back. The feeling of him close, his body tangled with yours, felt almost surreal—like you were still in a dream, still wrapped in the cocoon of the night you’d shared.

But even as you lay there, the world outside was shifting. The gentle hum of Wakanda’s advanced technology, the soft whispers of nature, and the quiet buzz of anticipation all spoke of something inevitable. Something you both knew was coming.

Bucky's breath was slow and rhythmic, but as if sensing the change in the air, he shifted behind you. His hand slid to your waist, fingers brushing your soft skin as he murmured your name.

"Good morning," you whispered, your voice raspy and soft from sleep as you turned to face him. He was watching you now, his eyes tired but intensely focused, as if his soul had already started preparing for what lay ahead.

He cupped your cheek with a tenderness that felt like a promise, grounding himself in the fleeting tranquility before the storm. "Morning, sweetheart," he replied with a slow, content smile. His thumb traced the curve of your jaw before he leaned down to press his lips to your forehead, a kiss of comfort, of love.

The warmth of his touch lingered, but that peaceful moment didn’t last long. The silence of the room shattered with the sudden crackling sound of a communication coming through from the nightstand nearby, urgent and clipped. The voice on the other end was frantic, struggling to stay calm.

"The Avengers are needed," it said, the words tight with the gravity of the situation. "Thanos is coming. Prepare for battle."

The tension in the air shifted instantly. Bucky’s muscles tensed under you, his eyes narrowing as the weight of the message sank in. You could feel the heat of his body, the rhythm of his breath changing as he pulled away slightly, his face hardening with resolve. The love that had filled the room moments ago was replaced by the cold reality of the war ahead.

"Guess the calm didn't last," you said softly, your voice steady despite the turmoil swirling in your chest. You knew what was coming, had known since the moment you heard the first whispers of Thanos’s name. Still, hearing it so directly made everything more real, more urgent.

Bucky’s lips pressed together in a tight line as he swung his legs off the side of the bed, the shift in his demeanor stark. There was no hesitation in his movements now, no sign of the tenderness from just moments ago. He was already preparing, mentally, for what lay ahead.

"Stay close," he said, his voice low and commanding, as he reached for his gear. The weight of his words carried more than just a request—it was a promise, an order. You didn’t need to be told twice. Without a word, you joined him in dressing quickly, racing down your room to pull on your tactical gear, your heart racing as the sound of distant engines began to reverberate through the walls.

You shared one last lingering kiss as you met up again, a silent promise between you both to be safe. His eyes were filled with determination, but there was something more—something that spoke of his desire to protect you, to shield you from what was coming. You could see it in the set of his jaw and the way he held your gaze, as if trying to imprint this moment into his memory.

When you arrived at the Wakandan command center, the familiar faces of the Avengers were already there, gathered around, discussing their plans to defend Wakanda against the coming invasion. T’Challa stood at the forefront, his regal presence commanding the room. Queen Ramona and Okoye were strategizing on the tech and military fronts. The tension was palpable.

The calm was gone, replaced by a sharp urgency as you both made your way out of the room. Outside, the air felt charged, the energy of Wakanda buzzing as the people there prepared for the oncoming storm. You knew what awaited you—a battle that would determine the fate of everything.

The command center was already alive with activity when you arrived. The Avengers were assembling, and despite the chaos, there was a sense of focus in the room, each member already falling into their role. T’Challa stood at the center, his regal posture unwavering, his face a mask of determination.

"We stand together," T'Challa said, his voice strong and calm. "Wakanda will not fall."

The gravity of his words settled in your chest as you stood with Bucky. The world felt like it was teetering on the edge, a precipice from which it might never return. But, in that moment, you found yourself holding onto him, drawing strength from his presence as the world outside continued to swirl in chaos.

Just then, you caught the familiar, bright-eyed face of Shuri as she approached, her usual playful demeanor tempered by the weight of the situation. She paused for a second, her gaze shifting from you to Bucky.

"Well, well, look who’s back from the shadows," Shuri teased, but there was an underlying softness in her words, a recognition of the storm coming. "You two ready to help us kick some ass?"

Bucky smirked, his usual stoic self, but there was warmth in his eyes when he looked at her. "We’re ready."

Shuri grinned before quickly growing serious again, her hands coming to rest on her hips as she scanned the battlefield preparations. "Good. I’ve made some adjustments to the tech. We’ll need everyone on their toes." Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, her expression softening. "You two stick together out there, okay? We’ll need all the help we can get." She placed a hand briefly on your shoulder in a gesture of support, one that felt like a promise.

You gave her a small nod, the weight of the coming battle settling into your bones.

Bucky’s hand squeezed yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as the sound of distant engines filled the air. The Avengers were assembling outside, each gearing up, preparing to face the war that loomed over them.

As you stood there, trying to steady your racing heart, Bucky’s attention shifted to Shuri. Without a word, he raised his hand, placing his fist over his chest—the Wakandan salute. It was an unexpected gesture, one that you had never seen from him before. Shuri blinked in surprise before a proud smile slowly spread across her face.

"Looks like the White Wolf is finally embracing his new pack," she teased, her voice warm with pride and amusement.

You couldn’t help but be surprised, your eyes darting between them as the significance of the moment hit you. Bucky, the Winter Soldier—once a weapon of destruction—now stood before Wakanda, acknowledging them in a way that was both powerful and humbling.

Bucky’s face softened, his usual stoic expression giving way to something more vulnerable, something sincere. "Wakanda has shown me a new way," he said quietly, the words more weighted than anything he had said before.

The warmth between them, the bond forged not just in battle but in trust, was palpable. Shuri nodded, her gaze flickering between you and Bucky. "You two are ready," she said with certainty before turning her focus back to the preparations. "Let’s make sure Wakanda stands strong."

Bucky squeezed your hand again, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, grounding you in the moment. Together, the two of you stood ready to face the coming storm—no longer just soldiers of war, but symbols of the redemption, loyalty, and fierce love that had bound your hearts.

As the first tremors of the impending battle rumbled through the earth beneath your feet, you and Bucky found a moment of stillness. The chaos of the command center, the preparations for war, seemed distant, fading into the background as the two of you stood together, hand in hand.

Bucky’s gaze was steady, but there was something vulnerable in the way his eyes held yours. His face, usually so hardened by years of pain, was softened by the quiet strength of his love for you. You both knew what was coming, knew the war would demand everything of you, but in this fleeting moment, you had each other.

His hand reached up to cup your cheek once more, the touch gentle yet firm, grounding you both. The weight of the world seemed to fall away, if only for a breath.

“We’ll come back,” Bucky whispered to you, his voice a soft promise, raw with the emotion he rarely allowed himself to show.

You didn’t need words to understand. You could feel it—his determination, his love, his devotion. And with a tender smile, you pressed your forehead to his shoulder, your hearts beating in time as the warmth of your connection enveloped you both.

Without hesitation, Bucky leaned in and kissed you. It was a kiss that spoke of everything—of battles fought, of victories won, of losses endured. But most of all, it was a kiss that said, no matter what happens, we’re together.

When the kiss finally broke, you remained close, his breath mingling with yours, his forehead resting against yours for a long, silent moment. The air around you seemed to shimmer with a quiet promise, like the calm before the storm. And as you stood there, holding onto him with everything you had, you realized that this was your peace. This was your love. And nothing, not even the coming battle, could take that away.

Outside, the sun broke through the cold, its light streaming across the Wakandan sky, casting a soft, golden glow on the landscape. It was a moment of warmth, a stark contrast to the winter that gripped the world. The chill in the air seemed to melt away for an instant, as if the very earth was holding its breath. It felt like a sign—one of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, light could find its way through.

But beneath that fragile warmth, danger lurked. The wolves and foxes would show no mercy to those who dared to stand in their path. In the distance, the swirling gusts of white and silver began to merge—symbols of two warriors whose fates were as intertwined with the cold as they were with the people who had given them new names.

Winter was coming, and this time, it was theirs to face.

PART ONE. l PREVIOUS PART.

Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

taglist : @stilleobjection — @the-fandoms-onceler — @zyra-7 .

⠀⠀

dividers ©️ @cafekitsune .

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[suicidalt33n]

LAZY DAYS | JJ MAYBANK

---

The salty breeze drifted lazily through the open window of John B's living room, carrying with it the distant hum of crashing waves. The old couch, though a little worse for wear, was the perfect spot for JJ and Y/N to spend their rare lazy day.

JJ had one arm draped around Y/N’s shoulders, holding her close against his chest. His free hand toyed absentmindedly with a strand of her hair. Y/N's head rested against him, her eyes half-closed as she traced small patterns on his tanned arm with her fingers.

"You know," JJ began, breaking the comfortable silence, "if I had to pick one thing to do for the rest of my life, it'd be this."

"Cuddling on John B's couch?" Y/N teased, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

"Yeah," he grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I mean, look at me. I've got the prettiest girl in the Outer Banks snuggled up to me. Why would I ever need anything else?"

Y/N laughed softly and turned her head to look up at him. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're beautiful," he shot back without hesitation, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

She shook her head, fighting the blush creeping up her cheeks, and turned back toward the window. The afternoon sun filtered through the trees outside, casting golden streaks of light across the room. The sound of Sarah and Pope laughing faintly echoed from somewhere down the dock, but for JJ and Y/N, the rest of the world felt far away.

"You hungry?" Y/N asked after a moment, her stomach softly growling as if to punctuate the question.

JJ smirked. "Always. Wanna raid John B's kitchen and see if we can throw something together? Or, like, we could just eat chips and call it a meal."

Y/N sat up slightly, giving him a mock-serious look. "Chips do not count as a meal, JJ."

"Says who?"

"Says me. And basic nutrition," she quipped, poking his chest playfully.

JJ chuckled and reluctantly let her slip out of his embrace as she stood. "Alright, chef. Lead the way."

Together, they wandered into the tiny kitchen, rifling through the cabinets and fridge. They managed to piece together a half-decent sandwich spread, complete with a side of slightly stale potato chips JJ insisted on including.

"See? Balance," JJ said triumphantly, holding up his sandwich. "Protein, carbs, and... chips for flair."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing as they carried their plates back to the couch. They settled in again, sitting cross-legged as they ate. JJ, of course, kept sneaking bites off Y/N’s plate, earning himself swats and exasperated glares that quickly melted into laughter.

When their plates were empty and the sun began to dip lower in the sky, they returned to their previous position—JJ sprawled across the couch with Y/N tucked against him. This time, he had a threadbare blanket draped over them, and his hand found hers beneath it, their fingers intertwining.

"I wish every day could be like this," Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

JJ pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "Me too, baby. But hey, lazy days or crazy ones, as long as I’m with you, it’s all good."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling at his words. The sound of the waves, the warmth of JJ’s arms, and the gentle rhythm of their breathing soon lulled her into a peaceful doze.

And there, in the fading light of the Outer Banks, they stayed—wrapped up in each other, completely content.

○~○~○~○~○~○

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Can you maybe write a ghost x reader or a soap x reader? It can be about anything I don't mind :)

Please and thank you!!

Yes yes yes I can do that! I decided to do Reader x Ghost for this one (Soap is still a bit hard for me to put my finger on) so I hope you enjoy a soft slightly angsty beach fic.

Story below the cut

Cast Aside

1.8k Words

Soft angst, tw PTSD referenced (not mentioned but alluded to), tw military life

Simon drew circles in the sand with a stick he’d found a couple of hours ago. He looked up and watched all your closest friends enjoying their time in the sun, laughing and joking and having fun in the water, but he sat all the way back on the beach. He watched you, in particular, among all your friends. You, smiling, laughing, splashing water without a care in the world. How he wished he could join you.

You’d tried to get him to join you earlier, but he had refused steadfastly.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” he tried to explain.

“But why?” you asked. The flicker of doubt in his eyes was so subtle that you thought you might have imagined it.

“Don’t like gettin’ wet,” he’d lied.

You knew there was more to it than that, but you let it be. You knew that sometimes, Simon had to be with himself for a bit. Some thorns would get to him in places you never quite managed to touch. You could try to ask him to let you in, but he kept his gardening to himself. It was such a shame he let the roses completely encompass him. 

You were eventually able to pry yourself away from your friends and make your way inland.

You sat on the plush towel Simon had kindly laid out for you earlier. You sat, grumbling about sand getting on the towel and all over your skin, making Simon snort at your misfortune.

You were about to crack back at him when you turned and noticed his attire.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“How so?” Simon replied.

“Physically,” you clarified as you looked over his arms.

Simon glanced down at the dark long sleeves covering his forearms. He scrunched his brows together under his mask, then turned back to your with a shrug, “Don’t see anything wrong.”

“Well, I mean, you’re kinda just… You look hot,” you finally managed to say.

“Why thank you,” he snorted sarcastically, “you’re lookin’ fine yourself.”

You huff and lightly bat at his arm, “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Simon followed your eyes back to his sleeves, then crossed his arms.

“It’s not too bad,” he said, “nothin’ I can’t handle.”

“You shouldn’t have to ‘handle’ anything,” you reminded him, “we’re here to have fun, remember?”

“You’re meant to have fun. I’m just here for the ride,” Simon replied, a slight edge to his voice.

“We were both invited to the party,” you tucked your knees to your chest as you faced him, “so you’re not intruding on anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. People want you here. I want you here.”

“Why’d you want me here?” Simon scowled.

“Here? Is there something wrong with the beach?” you tried to think back over your history, but there was nothing that could indicate him having any issues with the beach. Nothing except… Oh.

“It’s your scars, right?” you asked.

Simon didn’t say anything. You followed his gaze to your friends, playing and smiling and laughing. All things he couldn’t do with them.

“You could’ve brought some spare clothes, you know,” you chided him lightly.

“I could’ve, but I worried about your friends there askin’ questions,” Simon sighed.

“You could’ve told them to back off,” you tried to offer, but you knew that wasn’t Simon’s way. No, he wouldn’t make any ripples. He wouldn’t want to cause any conflicts, wouldn’t want anyone to be asking questions. No questions, no problems.

You tucked your cheek into your knees and looked over the water.

“Do you like swimming?” you asked.

Simon shrugged, “Swimmin’s swimmin’. Nothin’ too special about it.”

“It’s a nice way to cool off in this heat,” you hummed.

“I’ve got this umbrella here,” he tapped at the handle of the big beach umbrella he’d hidden himself under, “that’s plenty.”

“But do you wish you could go swimming with everyone?” you pushed further.

“Do I wish I could swim with all the others…” he contemplated the question before finally coming to a simple conclusion, “not really, but I wish I could do more things with you. It reminds me of stuff.”

“Things to do with us?” you turned your head to look at him.

Simon took a deep breath and said, “Yeah.”

“I’m guessing not good things,” you gave him a sad smile.

“Not really,” he admitted.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, “the others won’t be in for a bit. We’ve got some time.”

Simon looked out at all the others, then quietly said, “My job controls so much of my life. If I had done anything else, maybe things could be better. We could go to all those summer night parties your friends have. You know the ones I’m talkin’ about, yeah?”

“The ones with all the fireworks and the music?” you bit back a grimace.

“Yeah, those ones,” he closed his eyes, “before I met you, you could do whatever you wanted. No worryin’ about all those loud noises or bright lights or all that junk. You didn’t have to plan to have fun. You just did. But then you met me, and now, “he gestured loosely with his right hand, “I’ve turned everythin’ on its head and… Well… Look at us.”

You desperately wanted to reach out and take his hand, but you’d learned by now. Maybe that was another thing that his job had taught you, was how you had to be careful to not grab him quickly.

“I think I like you more than some dumb party,” you tried to snort playfully, but even you could hear the sadness tinging your voice.

“You always say that, but I don’t know…” Simon finally turned to look at you, “and your friends, they probably have questions about us, don’t they?”

“Sometimes,” you say before you playfully add, “mostly about your mask.”

“My mask?”

“When they first figured out you couldn’t take it off around them, they kept asking me questions like, ‘Can he drink with it?’ or ‘How do you guys go out to a restaurant together?’ and stuff like that,” you grin and add, “I told them how you sometimes forget you have it on and take a drink of water.”

“So they know I’m a right bellend,” Simon rolled his eyes.

“I mean, it is pretty funny,” you shrugged.

Simon huffed, but he didn’t reply.

“Anyways, back to what we were talking about,” you said, “I don’t mind. In fact, I like being with you now more than I liked being alone. Being with you makes me happy.”

“Bein’ with someone like me makes you happy?” he asked incredulously.

“Of course!” now that you got his attention, you could lightly punch his shoulder, “you’re not as bad as you think you are.”

“You say that…”

“And I mean it,” you finished for him, “I think you just get caught up in your own head.”

Simon thought for a moment, then nodded.

“Maybe,” he relented.

“You do!” you laughed, “and I know it’s hard, but you’ve gotta remember that you’re not that bad.”

“I think you’re naive,” he replied with a lighter tone.

“Maybe I am!” you say quickly, “but are you going to be the one to ruin my innocence?”

Simon blinked slowly. He leaned in and whispered, “I’ve ruined your innocence a long time ago sweetheart.”

You blushed and pushed him back with a scoff.

“Okay, fine, sure,” you relent, “but what’s wrong with being naive?”

“Everythin’?” Simon scoffed and shook his head.

“To you, maybe,” you say, “but I’m happy. And I think, in the end, maybe that’s what matters most in this kind of life.”

“In what kind of life? Ours?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you lean back on your hands and cross your leg over your knee, “not quite military, not quite civilian. Somewhere in between,” you smile brightly, “I know you think that you’ve somehow ‘ruined my innocence’ or something, but I’m happy. I think I’m happier now than before. I think,” you paused and looked at him, “I’m happier with you.”

“I don’t see why you would be,” Simon grumbled, “haven’t exactly made your life all rainbows n’ cupcakes.”

“Well,” you look up at the umbrella’s ribbing above you, “for one, it’s nice having some company. Sure, you’re grumpy and bitter and nobody can talk to you until you’ve had your second morning coffee, but the company’s nice. I always know I have someone to come home to.”

“Well if that’s not a low bar-”

“I wasn’t finished,” you cut him off, making him grumble, “alright so… Fuck what was I saying again?”

“Somethin’ about me not bein’ bad company?”

“Yeah! Okay so, you’re great company, and you make me feel safe.”

“Damn well hope so,” Simon muttered.

“Well you do! So yeah, when you’re around, I always feel safer. It’s nice having someone like you around,” you reach your hand up absentmindedly as you traced the umbrella ribbing with your fingers, “when you’re around, I feel like I can finally breathe. It’s like my whole life, I’ve been holding my breath, but then you came in brought me above water. Now that I know what it’s like to actually be able to relax, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Simon, for once, didn’t have something snarky or self-depreciating to say, so you continued.

“And you’re funny.”

“I am not funny.”

“But you are!” you chuckle, “even when you’re not trying to be. It’s like, everyone always takes you so seriously, but if they saw what you were like in your downtime they wouldn’t know how to look you in the eyes. I mean, you play games on your phone when nobody’s looking, you floss your teeth after every meal, and you have a full tea tier list.”

“Dental hygiene is important,” Simon said sagely, “and the tea tier list is of national importance. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Well, I think you’re being overdramatic, but that’s part of what makes you funny,” you laughed.

“I don’t think I’m overdramatic,” he said bitterly.

“Okay, maybe overdramatic isn’t the right word,” you conceded, “but you just… You take yourself so seriously all the time, but you don’t have to. Not when you’re with me, at least.”

“I have to,” Simon paused, “for work.”

“So, I’m work?” you asked suspiciously.

“You sure are,” Simon muttered, “a right piece of it, I’ll tell you that much.

You scoff.

“I am not work,” you huff, “but listen, you can calm down. You don’t have to hurt yourself to make other people happy.”

“I don’t do that.”

“But you do. And it scares me,” you get up and look at the water, where your friends are coming towards you from the water. You wave at them, then turn to Simon, “People want you here, regardless of what you think you’re like. When we get home, I can explain it more, but for right now?” you smile warmly at him, “it’s okay. You’ll be okay. I promise.”

As said before, my requests are open! I am very happy to make content for people!

[jokeringcutio]

Otis breeding you as part of the family Halloween ritual 🖤

Otis B. Driftwood x Reader - (WARNINGS)

Halloween Breeding Ritual

Please read ALL warnings. Pairing: Otis B. Driftwood x Reader Rating: Explicit Summary: When you and your friends ask for help, you end up as part of a horrific ritual. Warnings: Killer Family, murder, death of a friend, Sexual content, Non-con, Breeding. AN: Follow me for more Halloween Reader Inserts. There'll be less dark ones as well ;) 1.

The car, a useless hunk of metal now, stood desolate on the empty road. You stared at the flat tire, cursing your luck. What a way to celebrate Stacey's bachelorette party, lost and stranded miles away from civilization. Connor, Stacey's friend, shot you a mocking glance. "Nice going," he sneered.

"Shut up, Connor," you muttered, gripping your camera tightly. It was your solace in moments like these, capturing the world's beauty amidst the chaos. Stacey, oblivious to the tension, stood next to the car and held her pink plush bunny ears in her hands. They had been part of the fun costume you and the others had made her wear earlier on, but she had taken them off when you had all piled into the car.

You wished you were trapped on this trip with her alone. Stacey had always been your best friend. It was just unfortunate that you had to share the car with three of her other friends that you barely knew. There was Carrie, Connor and Heather. All people you had never really seen except on Stacey’s birthday.

"Hey, I remember seeing a house not too far back," Heather suggested, trying to break the tense silence. "Maybe we could ask for help?"

The group agreed, and with no other choice, you all began walking towards the supposed house. Connor walked beside Carrie, his girlfriend, whispering something in her ear as they laughed. He annoyed you, mostly because he was ever so present. His voice was loud, his smile dazzling, his physique one for the magazines. But he hadn’t been very kind to you during the trip. Carrie never really said anything to you either. This left Heather and Stacey, but they had been too busy talking about the upcoming wedding, how amazing Brad – Stacey’s fiancé – was, and Stacey’s dress.

Your footsteps crunched on the gravel with each step, the sun setting behind the trees, casting eerie shadows across the path.

As you came closer to the house, your heart raced. Junk littered the ground around it, a creaky wooden gate barely standing guard. The house itself looked like something straight out of a horror movie. Fitting, you thought, reminding yourself it was Halloween.

"Creepy place," Stacey said with a nervous giggle. “Looks like it came out of a horror movie.”

“I’m going to get you,” Heather shouted, crawling up behind Stacey while running her hand up Stacey’s back.

Stacey yelped while the others laughed. “Kill me gently,” Stacey teased. Her laughter was contagious, and soon, everyone joined in, making jokes about the ominous house. You bit your tongue though, and silently stared up at the house that you and the group now approached.

In horror movies the group of stranded young friends always made jokes before the killing started, you thought. No. You had to shake such evil thoughts off of you. This wasn’t a movie. This house was real, and the people who lived in it surely would have a working phone or a spare tire for you.

"Hey, since it is Halloween, we need a kid to collect the candy for us,” Heather said, grabbing the bunny ears from Stacey and placing them on your head. “Trick or treat,” she said laughingly. You frowned, displeased with the mockery, and instantly tried to take them off, but Heather tusked at you and you halted.

“Keep them on,” she simply said. But the grin on her face was anything but kind. “Yeah, don’t be a spoilsport,” Stacey added, sticking out her tongue before she stepped onto the porch. You lowered your hands and your shoulders sagged in defeat.

Let them mock you, you thought. If this brought them joy, then let them laugh and taunt you. After all, you needed to keep up the spirits of the group and God only knew how long you’d be stuck with them until you finally arrived at your destination.

"All right, let's get this over with," Connor said, striding towards the door. With a deep breath, he rang the doorbell.

As the chime echoed through the house, you couldn't shake the feeling that something dark awaited behind that door. The haunting tone of the bell reverberated through your chest, and your grip on the camera tightened. You tried to focus on the present moment, but it was difficult to ignore the lurking dread that threatened to consume you.

The door creaked open, revealing a blonde, matronly woman with kind eyes. "Oh, my! What happened to y'all?" she asked, her voice dripping with concern.

"Uh, we had a flat tire, and we're kinda lost," Connor explained hesitantly. He put on his most charming smile. It had an effect instantly, you could tell, for the woman’s eyes lit up at the display.

"Well, you poor things. Come on in, come on in," the woman insisted, ushering everyone inside. The warmth of the house was a welcome reprieve from the chilly night air.

As soon as the door closed, your heart pounded in your chest, but you tried to shake the feeling of unease. You were led into a cozy kitchen where a blonde young woman sat at the table. Opposite her, a man with long white hair stood leaning against the kitchen wall, a hand in his pocket.

“Well, I’m Mother Firefly,” the woman said, introducing herself. “And this here is Baby,” she said, gesturing at the young woman who was seated at the table. Baby looked up at you all with an excited and bright smile, and waved eagerly. Her cheerful greeting seemed to put some of your friends at ease. She seemed friendly. And she was gorgeous, you thought. She had that cheerleader vibe that many girls craved to have.

Then your gaze shifted to a brooding man leaning against the wall. His white tank shirt seemed messy, covered with spots of grease. His hair seemed unkempt and hung around his frame loosely. Mother Firefly continued, "And this is Otis."

At first, you thought the man to be old because of the grey long hair that fell around his face. But then you realized with a start he must be around your age. Because his grey hair was, in fact, white - as if all the pigment had been lost from it. And his face was much younger than you had expected. But when you saw the odd color of his eyes that only confirmed it. Otis was an albino man. Pale skin, pale hair. Eyes that seemed almost red.

Otis's eyes locked onto yours the moment he saw you, his intense gaze sending shivers down your spine. Something was unnerving about the way he seemed to study you. Suddenly, you remembered the ridiculous bunny ears on your head. Of course, that must explain it. You hastily removed them, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. What a foolish entrance you had made…

"Please, sit down and have some tea," Mother Firefly offered, gesturing to the chairs around the table. “We’ll get your car fixed in a jiffy. Let me call my son Rufus. He’s very good with tires,” she said, rummaging around to pour you some tea.

"Thank you," Stacey replied gratefully, and everyone took their seats.  

“So, what brought you all out here?” Mother Firefly asked curiously while she pulled out a chair to sit down with you.

“Well, it’s Stacey’s Bachelorette party and we’re going to have a little holiday over the weekend,” Heather answered for the whole group. Here she took the time to introduce each member of the group., hesitating when she came to you because she had obviously forgotten your name. You quickly whispered it and glanced down shyly at your tea, not wanting to be involved in this whole conversation. Especially when Baby started to ask about all the juicy details.

It felt odd to hear the others tell about their romances and sexual exploits. It felt even weirder because you felt Otis’s eyes upon you the entire time the others spoke. Shouldn’t he be looking at them? Was there something wrong with you that he kept his sole attention fixed on you?

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably. “So, our lucky bride-to-be ain’t no blushin’ virgin,” Baby recapped, pulling you out of your worried thoughts. You already knew Stacey and Brad had been it at like rabbits – hence Stacey’s cute bunny outfit – but you had not expected her to share all the details with a group of strangers. It somehow seemed disrespectful to you. Even if Baby seemed eager to know every little detail and even if her mother didn’t seem to be bothered by where the conversation was headed.

“How about you?” Baby suddenly turned to you and nudged you with her elbow. She waited, but you only glanced up at her with a frown.

“Not quite a talker, eh?” Baby asked, curiously cocking her head and faking a pout as she did so.

You felt your cheeks flush. “N-Not really into all of that,” you admitted hoarsely.

Luckily, the answer was enough, for Baby seemed to catch your distress and flashed you a comforting smile. “That’s all right, love. Nothing to be ashamed of,” and then, to your great relief, she turned her attention back to the group.

As you sipped the warm tea, conversation flowed around you. Despite the unsettling atmosphere of the house, the family seemed hospitable. During the conversation, you couldn't help but notice how Mother Firefly kept throwing you glances every now and then. It was making you worry that there was something weird about you. Was there something on your face? You felt your hair again but you had taken the bunny ears off. Mother Firefly seemed to have caught the gesture and flashed you a smile as if to say it was all right, but you didn’t feel as if it was.

And to add to your worry, Otis was growing increasingly moody. He grumbled under his breath and abruptly left the table, frustration evident in his tense body language.

"Please excuse him," Mother Firefly said with a sigh. "He's not used to company."

"Is everything okay?" you inquired softly, concern lacing your voice despite the churning unease within you.

"Everything's fine, dear,” she said, eyes gently upon you. “He's been working on one of his new art projects and your arrival just got him inspired. Just enjoy your tea," she reassured, her eyes flicking briefly to where Otis had disappeared.

"All right," you murmured, continuing to drink the tea. While the others kept talking, you felt a sudden drowsiness wash over you, making it difficult to keep your eyes open. Your fingers rested loosely around your cup as you fought to stay awake. What were they talking about now? Your friends' voices seemed to grow distant, and before you knew it, darkness enveloped you as you succumbed to sleep.

2.

The sound of Otis's voice pulled you from the depths of slumber, his words seeping into your consciousness. "Those bunny ears... Oh man….they were a sign, I tell you."

Your heart raced as you realized he was standing somewhere near you, probably talking about you. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open to find yourself in the middle of a demonic circle, surrounded by flickering candles and eerie symbols etched onto the floor. The air was thick with a sense of malevolence as if you had stumbled upon some sort of twisted, witch-like offering.

What the hell had happened? Were you having a nightmare? Why then did your head hurt so?

"Wh-what's going on?" you stammered, fear gripping your throat as the dull pounding in your head slowly started to fade.

"Welcome back," Otis sneered, his pale face looming over you, a bit too close for comfort. Black makeup traced lines on his pale skin, making him seem more like a cheaply painted skeleton. “You're just in time for our family Halloween ritual."

Otis sat hunched over you, his white hair tickling your skin, and you flinched. The foul stench of his breath, mixed with sweat and other undefined smells reached your nose. You closed your eyes and turned your head to the side, earning you a deep laugh from him.

“Seems my Bunny is eager to get started,” you heard him say, and tried not to think of the denigrating nickname he had thought up for you.

The sound of fabric crackling indicated he stood up. Faintly, you heard Baby’s voice in the background, saying something about it being time to have some fun. Muffled voices of your friends echoed somewhere in the distance. Where were they?

You slowly opened your eyes. To your relief, Otis had indeed moved away and stood at the edge of the circle. He was now wearing a large black cape, but his normal clothes were still underneath: the dirty tank shirt and the jeans with holes in them.

Your gaze darted around the room, searching for your friends. They were huddled together at one end, and to your shock, they seemed to be gagged and tied together. You saw the traces of blood on their skin and their clothes. Connor seemed to be missing part of his face, an ugly hole revealed the bone of his skull. It made your eyes turn wide in fear. Carrie, next to Connor, stood at such an angle that you couldn’t quite see her face, but you could hear her muttered pleas through the gag. Was she trying to tell Connor to stay alive? Or was she pleading for her own?

The group was bound by ropes that dug cruelly into their flesh. Despite their wounds, they were alive – but their eyes held a terror that mirrored your own. Especially when your eyes met those of Stacey. Your gorgeous friend. Ugly deep lacerations marred her perfect skin. You quickly tore your eyes away from her.

Footsteps signaled the approach of someone. By the sight of the shoes that came into your vision, you knew it had to be Otis again. But there was snickering from the edge of the circle and when you glanced up you realized there were more people gathered there. Not just Baby, but Mother Firefly stood at the side, watching you calmly. There were a few other men who stood there, making themselves comfortable. One, with the weird makeup of a clown smudged on his face, had taken his meat into his hand and was already battering it before the show had even started. What the heck was going on, you thought in alarm.

"Please, don't hurt them," you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks. "We didn't do anything to you."

Otis ignored your pleas, his fingers digging painfully into your arm as he dragged you into the center of the circle. You tried to resist, but your limbs felt weak, still heavy with sleep.

"Tonight, you become part of our family," he whispered menacingly, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm going to breed you, make you carry my child."

"Please, no!" you cried out, struggling futilely against his grip. You could feel your sanity unraveling, your mind consumed by terror. This man, this monster, could not mean to defile you in such a way. You were not ready for any of this. Not ready to be a mom, to have a child, to carry the offspring of someone as vile as him.

Someone who was hurting your friends…

"Shut up!" Otis snarled, silencing your protest. He towered over you, his presence both commanding and ominous. It was clear that your fate was sealed, and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

A chant erupted from Baby and some of the other spectators. Wonderfully melodic, considering the foul ritual that was about to take place. You tried to cover yourself up with your arms, but Otis tore them away from your chest, revealing yourself to him.

While you’d been out, someone appeared to have swapped your clothes for something far scarcer. You’d noticed it when you’d felt the cold air brush past your naked arms and shins. You were donned up. Glittering panties and a revealing contraption that did little to hide your breasts, as if it were some kind of holster rather than a bra. Your breasts peaked out and must have been on display all along. But the worst of all was when Otis flipped you over and made you sit on hands and knees, and you realized there was a slight weight on your head.

The pink bunny ears. He’d put them back on, you realized with a sob.

A tear, and whatever flimsy panties you had on were gone. With his hands firmly on your hips, Otis shouted out a few inexplicable words, either in a language you’d never heard or some kind of made-up song. As the ritual commenced, the air crackled with dark energy, and you couldn't help but wonder if you would make it out of this nightmare alive.

"Welcome to the family," Otis hissed, his voice dripping with malevolence as he entered you in one firm thrust.

The world came to a standstill.

His cock was stretching you open, throbbing deep inside your core. You gritted your teeth and tried to keep from crying out loud, but it was hard. Your hands curled into fists. You felt Otis stare down at you, his gaze burning while he remained motionless.

Your spectators cheered. “For the family,” you heard one of them shout. You felt Otis’s cock pulse deep inside. Then, he moved. His body pressed heavily against yours, a dark shadow overwhelming your senses. His breath was hot and ragged, punctuating each thrust as he forced himself inside you. You couldn't help but let out quiet whimpers of pain, feeling utterly humiliated and helpless.

"Silence," Otis growled, his fingers pressing into your throat – just enough to make you gasp for air.

You were starting to see stars when his grip finally faltered and you could breathe again. Taking deep gulps of breath, you tried not to focus on the salacious wet sounds that came from between your legs. You tried not to think of what his man was doing to you, or how his cock was battering your insides mercilessly.

His low groans filled your ears, and you winced when he pulled your hair, forcing your head back up and your back to arch awkwardly. Your breasts swung with each thrust, up and down, delighting the viewers. You heard coarse curses and increasingly wet sounds as some of the other family members were coming to a climax. Spunk was shot through the air, landing a few feet away from you, tainting the satanic circle.

You were relieved it hadn’t landed upon you, but the relief was only short-lived when a particularly hard thrust made it hard to think, reminding you of Otis’s promise.

“That’s right, Buny,” you heard his voice rasp behind you. A slap against your hips before he gripped them tight again and forced you to move along his cock. “Let me put a little Firefly in that pretty little tummy of yours.”

You felt the burning of his gaze leave your back when he addressed your bound and gagged friends at the other side. “Hear that? Your friend loves to milk my cock.” A low chuckle escaped him. You were vaguely aware of Baby and some of the others laughing.

“Gotta milk my cock, aren’t ya, Bunny?” This one was directed at you, but it was hard to focus. His hand had slipped from your hip to your breast, kneading it hard. You gasped, unable to bite back your reaction. Your walls clamped down on him hard, earning you another pleased groan.

“That’s it, girl. Take every drop,” his hips slammed against your own, wet sounds mingling. It was an evil betrayal, but your body responded well to him. The pain between your legs ebbed away and was replaced by something more passionate; a sensation of warmth and pleasure. Your walls pulsed around his shaft, eager to cum.

“Fuck,” Otis cursed in your ear. “Gotta milk my cock so baby can milk your tits, eh? Gotta grow nice and full for us, aren’t ya?”

You wanted to say no, wanted to protest or push him away from you. But his thrusts grew more desperate, more erratic, and his weight was still forcing you down on your hands and knees. You couldn’t help but slump over once his hand left your breast to guide your hips again, and you rested your forehead on your hands, gasping with each deep thrust of the devilish cock inside of your core.

You felt him hit the end of you; felt how his cockhead pushed against your cervix as if he wanted to open you up completely.

A few more harsh thrusts brought back the pain through the building pleasure, and Otis came. He made sure to bury his cock deep inside, groaning as his cum shot forth. You gasped, tears rolling down your cheeks at the feel of warmth flooding your womb. Your body trembled, and though you knew it was physically impossible, your breasts started to feel tense and full. Your stomach ached and your pussy pulsed around Otis’s cock. You hadn’t come yet. Dammit. You’d been so close.

Having reached his climax, a twisted grin spread across Otis’s face. He pulled out slowly, a trail of cum and blood dripping down your cunt and onto the dirt floor below. Your pussy twitched, eager for release. Instead, all it did was push the cum forth for everyone to see. And as you rolled over to your back, you could tell through the hazy spell you were in that his family was still watching. How their eyes were primed on your opened legs.

Without missing a beat, Otis began chanting in an ancient, guttural language. The ritualistic words echoed around the room, reverberating through your very core – chilling you to the bone. You had felt empty and violated, but upon hearing his words, your body started to heat up again. Your pussy pulsed wildly, clamping down on something that wasn’t there. But it was enough. You came, shrieking in surprise as your body reacted violently to his chant.

Otis stood between your legs once more, pushing his already hardening cock inside you in one go. You could see his face now as he took you, see his discolored teeth and his lips curled in a snarl while he started to pick up a quick pace. You felt his heavy balls slapping against your ass. How had they refilled this quickly, you wondered in shock?

But another ripple shook your body as another orgasm washed over you. You cried out, loudly this time, not caring if anyone would see or hear. This was pleasure. Absolute, horrific pleasure. Your pussy pulsed around his shaft, begging him, milking him. Again. And Again. You felt as if there had been no end to your orgasm.

Candles flickered wildly, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Your friends whimpered in their bonds, their eyes wide with terror as they watched the horrifying scene unfold before them. With a final, triumphant shout, Otis finished his incantation, and with it, he came inside of you once more. The room seemed to shudder under the weight of his dark power, and you struggled to keep from collapsing beneath him.

Then, the room grew silent.

You lay twitching underneath Otis’s larger frame, body pulsing in the aftermath of your orgasm. His cum had oozed from your joined bodies, your pussy lips felt raw as they enveloped his softening shaft. He pushed inside a few times for good measure as if to remind you of your duty to bear his child. The devil’s spawn.

With lips parted in a silent gasp, you looked up at him and saw how he opened his dark red eyes. Slowly, a grin crawled upon his lips. He reached out a hand and tapped something above your head. The bunny ears, you thought with a shock.

“I think it caught,” he murmured only for you to hear. “But for good measure, we shall have to do this a few more times. Hope you're not allergic to my cock. You’re gonna be ridin’ it for a good while to come.”  He chuckled at his own joke, but you felt no joy to join him.

Instead, your eyes went wide at the promise, realizing that Otis did not intend to lock you away until you’d given birth to a child. No. He was going to keep you as a little sex toy. A woman he could use for his own deprived pleasure. You’d have to do this again and again. The thought chilled you to the bone.

But Otis was already pushing himself up, grabbing your legs to pull them up while he studied the mess he’d made inside. Sticky sperm combined with your own juices were covering up your entrance. Your pussy pulsed, weaker now, but still enough to make it seem like it was gobbling up the mixture of cum.

The demonic man between your legs grinned at the sight and then shook his head before he let go of you. Your knees fell to either side, leaving your abused pussy on display. But you no longer cared for modesty. They had seen it all, hadn’t they?

As he turned away from you, Otis’s malicious gaze fixed upon your friends. “Well, thank ya’ll for coming to see our yearly Halloween ritual,” he said, although you wondered if any of your friends were listening to him. Most of them were jabbering nonsense behind their gags, squirming beneath their bonds in an attempt to either get away or plead for mercy.

Mercy, you thought sardonically. As if that existed in a place like this.

You rolled your head to the side and brought a hand up to your head. You ran your fingers past the soft fur of Stacey’s pink bunny ears. Cursed, you thought, as the afterglow of the sex finally left your body, and your senses started to return to you.

“As this is a yearly show,” you heard Baby’s excited voice but did not feel as if you had the energy to turn your head and watch them. “We have a little sacrifice to make to the Gods. Well, our God, anyway.” She sounded like a cheerleader all right. Especially when she excitedly shouted “Satan!”

You heard the desperate gasps from your friends at this revelation. They must know that their end was in sight.

“Now, usually, we only have the sacrifice part to look forward to. But I think your friend over there, provided that she’ll live long enough to bear Otis’s children, might be in for a treat each year, starting now.”

Wait the fuck. You held your breath. Did they just say you had to endure this sadistic ritual every Halloween from now on? You felt panic seize your heart at the thought that you would not only be subjected to this disgraceful treatment again each year, as long as you stayed alive, but that you would also be used as a cock sleeve by Otis the whole year round from now on.

You closed your eyes and tried to block out all sounds. Otis’s breeding Bunny. That’s all you were reduced to now. How could a small fun trip have gone this wrong?

"But as you guessed, your lives end here," Baby declared cheerfully to your friends. You heard them howl behind their gags in response. “Ah, don’t worry,” she cooed at them, almost lovingly. “Otis will make sure we get you all nicely prepped so you can stay with us in our museum forever.”

Her laughter pierced through the darkness of the night. Stalking towards them like a predator closing in on its prey, Otis and Baby made their way over to your friends. You did not see it. Did not deign to watch their suffering as their lives came to an end one by one.

Instead, you lay on the floor, in the middle of the circle, breathing heavily. You felt the cooling sticky goo between your legs and prayed it would not take. That you could escape this twisted house and make your way home. Start a new life there.

But as silence filled the area, the Firefly family crowded around you, smiling and cooing as if welcoming a newborn into their twisted fold. It was a sign that your friends were gone. Dead.

"Such a precious addition to our family," Mother Firefly crooned, gently stroking your hair.

You felt hands grasp your arms, helping you up.

"Otis's child will be strong," Tiny rumbled, his monstrous form looming above you.

"Congratulations, darling," Baby giggled, her eyes gleaming with a perverse excitement. "You'll learn to love it here."

You noticed that Otis stood quietly in front of you, staring down at you with an expression you couldn’t decipher. Fresh blood stained his hands and colored his shirt a deep crimson. He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a forceful, possessive kiss that left you breathless and shivering. The hands of the other Firefly members forced you in place so that you were unable to pull away.

The taste of him was vile, like blood and smoke and mold. Nonetheless, he deepened the kiss. His tongue surprised you, brushing past yours until it hit the back of your throat, nearly making you gag. You tried hard to breathe, to cooperate with this demanding kiss. But once it finally broke, you panted heavily, bare breasts heaving up and down. Otis didn’t even look down at them. You felt his hand run through the back of your hair while his lust-craven eyes sought to meet yours. The darkness in them frightened you.

 “Take my little Bunny to my room,” he commanded. The men who held your arms hoisted you up to your feet. A sickening quelch could be heard from your legs as globs of cum released from your core and dripped onto the floor.

“Might have to do it again, son,” you heard Mother Firefly say to Otis. It sounded so matter-of-factly… as if you were a cow that needed to be bred. Do it again? Your body flushed warm at the thought of Otis inside of you again. A physical betrayal. This wasn’t you.

Had his demonic ritual caused that effect?

You heard Otis laugh. “Yeah, that one won’t get away,” you heard him tell Mother Firefly. And as the men guided you away, you heard his ominous whisper follow you like a ghost.

“Welcome to our family, little Firefly. Enjoy your stay. I know I will…”

His words were a dark promise that echoed in the deepest recesses of your soul. The Firefly family's twisted games had only just begun. And as the night wore on, you knew one thing for certain: there would be no escaping the Firefly family. Not now.

Not ever.

~ Fin ~

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[saudariel]

the playlist! my contribution to the adar prayer circle lmao 🕯️🕯️🕯️

heavy, aggressive alt/metal. lots of saudar vibes because i feel like their dynamic is so central to adar's arc. or what we've seen of it at least! some of the songs are purely vibes based, some are more based on lyrics. honestly i made this for gifmaking and for background noise when i'm at work but can't escape the Brainrot, so it's not a fully fleshed out character playlist, but i'll add more to it (if our man lives 💀)

enjoy! lyrics under the cut 👀

listen on Spotify here

moth // HELLYEAH

I've been cast out, sequestered Pushed the fuck around Blindsided, beaten Locked up and bound Always thought I was human But maybe I was wrong I've been treated like an animal Since the day I was born The wounds that I wear like the crown upon a king So heavy they lie with all the pain that they bring My life is full of longing, but for what I'll never know I've been drawn into the fire as I reap what I sow

blood // bad omens

There's no rest for the wicked There's not a home underneath the mud And we're all dead, so what's the difference Between a god and a loaded gun? I am the sun, rain, the ocean I am the flood, flames, the chosen It's in our blood, it's on our breath It's in the taste between life and death

soft spine // spiritbox

Soft spine, ascending up to meet my Eyes wide, I am a witness to your regicide The dissolution of your soft spine You all deserve each other You steal the echo from their ghosts You pick your teeth with sacred bones I hate the ones that love you And those who profit from you It's time to reap the tide you sow

god's image // mike's dead

If I was made in God's fucking image Is he as fucked up as I am? Is he sick like me? Is he sick like me? Is he sick like me? If I was made inside the holy system Where the fuck are all my friends? Only space to leave, only space to leave, only space to leave

DEAD THRONE // arankai

Look what you've done, all your skeletons have come to life On a dead throne, tell me how you sleep at night All your sins will be paid in blood a hundred times This isn't retribution, this is fucking regicide

alpha & omega // king 810

Welcome to the truth God made me in His image, who the fuck made you? You want my voice from me? You can have it just know I sound like this, because the Devil has my throat I make your insides shift, that is my gift The sea parts, and then comes the flood And men have died to make this, you can't imitate shit The talent I have, I paid for in blood

house of cards // deadlands

You may think that you have leverage But I'll lay this shit down Think that you're a high-roller Just a joker and a clown Under the gun You'll confess to all the wrongs you've done And when push comes to shove There's nowhere you can run

welcome to hell // mike's dead

I bet you thought that i was finished but I'm back at the gates I am back with the demons and embers and flames And I am not alone I brought a couple million souls So you can see for yourself I'm the king, I'm the goat As above, so below where the light is removed And your death is in bloom on the path seldom took I am here, I am now in the shadows of doom You can call this hell, but I call this home

counting bodies like sheep // a perfect circle

I'll be the one to protect you from Your enemies and all your demons I'll be the one to protect you from A will to survive and a voice of reason I'll be the one to protect you from Your enemies and your choices, son They're one in the same, I must isolate you Isolate and save you from yourself

necessary evil // motionless in white

Strip off the weight of mortality and check it at the door I'll show you the worst in me Blow out the candles, I need not a wish for I am everything Now crawl to my boots and lick (kneel before me) Imma have my cake and fucking eat you too It's my party and I'll die when I want to Die when I want to, die when I want to The monster you've made is wearing the crown I'll be the king and you'll be the clown I'll take the blame, parade it around You've made me the villain you can't live without

before i forget // slipknot

Stapled shut, inside an outside world and I'm Sealed in tight, bizarre but right at home Claustrophobic, closing in and I'm Catastrophic, not again I'm smeared across the page and doused in gasoline I wear you like a stain, yet I'm the one who's obscene Catch me up on all your sordid little insurrections I've got no time to lose, I'm just caught up in all the cattle I am a world before I am a man I was a creature before I could stand I will remember before I forget

black sheep // crown the empire

You kick me in the teeth, then pin me to the ground You take the sickest part of me and spit it out your goddamn mouth All my life I've been running with the black sheep Cast me out, watch me come back as king

exit wounds // bad omens

Raised by wolves in sheep's clothes that abandoned me But taught me to get up when I fall to my knees Man makes monster, monster kills man Taking your crown's always been part of the plan

villain arc // bury tomorrow

These walls can't hold us No prisoners Godless, no control I'll say it, "Fuck your halo" This world can't take us No prisoners, Godless evermore Fuck your halo Destined to go through hell For this fire inside of me I am labelled an enemy And I like the way it burns It's like they'll never learn

WAR // mike's dead

All of my life I’ve been yearning for violence I’d sell my soul just to burn in the riots All of my life I’ve been clinging to pain I need someone to blame For these thoughts in my brain Feel the blood on my chin I’ve been off of my shit don’t tempt me Feel the parasites in my skin Didn’t know I could feel this empty Who’s at fault, for my lack of resolve?

red // woe, is me

Now I'm free, you goddamned leech Fuck your pulpit, and fuck what you preach You may have the world at your feet But nothing in this life is concrete You’re self-indulgent at my expense So let me give you my two cents

power // king yosef

This being was made a long time ago I've peeled the wound and I let it show Change for better or worse Perpetuate pain 'til the flesh meets the Earth I've always been like this, it sits in my skin Reinvent myself, won't let you in You do all you can, I do all I want The things that make a man The things that make a God

crushed // deadlands

I'm done being seen as a motherfucking pawn You use and abuse me to get what you want I'm done being burned and a game that you play I'm so fucking sick I'll do it my way We'll do it my way The predator is now the prey Enough is enough Now you're the one who's fucking crushed

remember me // dal av, andy cizek

Amidst a violent night, there is a dying star Mired in lies and spite, it's fading from afar I used to chase the sun, now I'm afraid of it But if I'm honest, I never thought I would get this far I was a loaded gun, now I'm in front of one A catatonic cycle, over and over Am I alive? Am I a phantom? What was on fire is now but a fading ember Will I survive? Is there an answer? And if I die now, will anyone remember?

higher than death // 3TEETH

How should we die? Our beautiful freedom Can't keep it alive when you can't find the meaning Look at us now, beaten and bleeding I'm higher than death It's theft, everything they took from us And left lies, lies, lies What's left? Motherfucking selfish greed As they let us die

the hell i overcame // bad omens

Oh, did you really think the pain Would send me to an early grave? Did you think I couldn't break these chains After all the hell I overcame? God, please, forgive those who doubt me Forgot about me Then throw them down into the flames

burned at both ends // motionless in white

Nothing is like it was before I know not who I am anymore Chasing something that's behind me When will I be set free? Broken promises left to mend Burning the candle at both ends No light to find my way back home But I don't know where home is anymore The sinking ship has washed ashore

burned at both ends II // motionless in white

Leaving you behind left me aimless Staring in the mirror and I feel like I'm faceless The only thing I know is that I'd rather die Than live in a world where you still control my life The curse you left, it ends tonight Even if I have to tear out my insides Never again will this heart be your home I'll be happy as someone else Today, I found my open door I set my sights on something more I'm done reliving the pain you dealt me I'm sick of trying to take back time Today, I live for something more

[waitineedaname]

20 questions for 20 writers!

tagged by @buffintruder thank you!!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

89 ! that feels like a lot

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

355,274 which also feels like a lot!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

usually whatever I'm hyperfixating on at the time! right now it's mdzs/the untamed, but I've got some scum villain wips in the works

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Handsome Mystery Boy -- Skam soulmate AU

hot dilfs in your area (not clickbait!!1!) -- HLVRAI modern au

Strider Bros Feelings Jam -- Homestuck post-canon

Let's Get This Over With -- HLVRAI dream-sharing

The Secret Boyfriend -- TAZ Balance modern au

5. Do you respond to comments?

usually! it might take me a bit, but I usually try to respond, especially if it's a more recent fic. if it's an old fic or the comment is just, like, a string of heart emojis or something, I usually don't respond. doesn't mean the comment doesn't make me smile though!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

tbh I don't write a whole lot of angsty endings? even if it's an angsty fic, I try to end on at least a hopeful/bittersweet note, y'know? I guess the angstiest ending would be Frayed Seams because it's in the middle of the series and is giving context to the strained relationship between the Kageyama siblings. they do eventually begin to mend their relationship by the end of the series! just. not in this fic.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

this is once again rather hard because I mostly write happy endings! and I have a lot of short fics that are just. pure fluff. I guess if I'm looking for a fic that's long enough to Earn a happy ending, it would be a tie between Plant Their Hearts In Community Gardens or the sun in the summertime! I love how much Mob and Reigen's lives have improved by the end of the show <3

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not that comes to mind! I don't think I've ever gotten hate comments, so if people don't like my stuff they at least only complain about it somewhere I can't see it, which I appreciate

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

not really! I am usually a genfic writer lol though I have had wlwangxian robot sex on the brain lately for. reasons. and also I have a feeling some of my bingqiu fics are going to be like, scenes in the Middle of them having sex, because [gestures] bingqiu

10. Do you write crossovers?

I haven't done a whole lot of them, but I think the concept can be fun if executed properly! crossovers where the two casts meet don't generally appeal to me, but crossovers that function more like an au (characters from Series A in the universe of Series B) are more my speed. I have been pondering a svsss/hlvrai crossover....

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

god I hope not

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yeah! I've had a couple fics translated into Russian, way long ago

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

not in a "we both were writing the fic in its entirety" way but I have written some aus and fics where I was bouncing ideas off friends so much that they might as well be a co-author. Let's Get This Over With would not exist without @neonlav's help

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

oh christ I have no idea. I'm a genfic person. bingqiu is doing something vile to my brain chemistry lately though

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

so many... so so many......... do not look in my google docs folder, there are too many untitled documents that have been abandoned........... I guess a more recent example would be a mdzs fic where wei wuxian is the juniors' camp counselor. I think the idea was v fun but I could not figure out where to take it. man I wish I was an artist so I didn't have to write plots for my silly little aus

16. What are your writing strengths?

dialogue! I love writing dialogue, especially when I feel like I really Get a character

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

fight scenes.... also pacing and figuring out how to end a fic, final lines are so hard

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I am not fluent enough in another language to pull off writing whole chunks of dialogue in another language! sometimes I'll use terminology from another language, especially if it doesn't translate well (like Japanese or Chinese honorifics and family terms) but otherwise I don't write in another language bc I would be too worried about it being incorrect

19. First fandom you wrote for?

it was, embarrassingly, for the since disgraced video game youtuber Cryaotic. in my defense, I was thirteen. the first fandom I posted fic for was for Hetalia, which is just as embarrassing. once again, my defense is that I was fourteen

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I am genuinely so goddamn proud of Let's Get This Over With. I had so much fun writing it, there are some concepts in it that I'm really proud of, and I just really enjoyed writing for hlvrai. those character voices were fun to play with

I'll tag @patron-saints, @scribefindegil, @localdisasterisk, @thatneoncrisis, and @notedchampagne!

[dndorkdoggo]

O' Lily of My Valley

Glib has seen his love grow old too many times, he just wishes there was a way to keep him around.

Goodbid/Glib (3583 words) TW: Lots of Death Talk

~~

Glib is old. Not physically, he stopped aging a millennia ago, but mentally.

He’s seen cities rise and fall, walked the streets of plague-ridden villages, and held the hands of dying soldiers who were shot in a war they never wanted to fight. He’s known the corrupt rulers who are too arrogant to fear death, the coughs of children too young to understand what it truly means to die, and young men who call out for their mother on their death bed, only to meet him. He’s buried everyone in his family, all the people he grew up with, and all of their kids several times over.

He was the first to become a God, and he was just unlucky enough to become the permanently immortal God of Death, doomed to walk Vontral alone.

Except he’s not quite alone.

Sure, there’s Callum, the insane God of Dreams, but there is also a certain half-elf mortal who gets reincarnated every 200 years, and always seems to come back with an infatuation with death.

“Those are bad for you, you know,” Glib says as he pulls his hood off his head, his brown hair falling limply in front of his deep green eyes while he steps out of the darkness from beside the man. The setting sun casts long shadows across the buildings, giving an ethereal, almost spooky look.

“So you’ve said,” the mustached man says nonchalantly. He’s leaned against a brick building in Bowenburg, watching the mostly empty streets while blowing smoke from a cigar that hangs loosely from his lips. His eyes stay transfixed on the unaware people in front of them, unbothered. He knew Glib would come to him.

The god scowls as he grabs the cigar from his mouth and puts it in his own, sliding to stand next to the taller man. The smoke fills his mouth and floods his airless lungs before he lets it slowly seep from his mouth like a dragon. “I mean it, it’ll fucking kill you,” he growls.

“Death doesn’t scare me,” he says cheekily.

“I should,” Glib says snappily. “Most people are fuckin’ terrified of me.”

“Well, I’m not most people, now am I?” he shoots back, mirth twinkling in his coal-black eyes.

For a moment, Glib considers telling him everything, the reincarnations, the old love, the lifelong relationships, all of it, but he stops. “No, no you aren’t,” he settles on instead.

“Besides,” the half-elf begins slowly, grabbing the cigar back from the god, “An early death just means eternity with you sooner.”

“Goodbid,” Glib growls, though all his previous names sit heavy on his tongue. Lawrence is always the first to come to his mind because it was the first, followed by Naethan, Plutos, and Milburn, but this time it’s Goodbid. Johnny B. Goodbid. “You’d be with me for eternity anyway, why are you fuckin’ wasting the time you have among your friends and family.”

“My family won’t talk to me no more, not since I began workin’ in your bidness,” Goodbid brushes off easily. “And Mr. Goodbid works alone, I ain’t got friends other than Death himself.”

Glib growls, but knows there’s no way to convince the half-elf. There never is. “Why are you here anyway? Aren’t your stomping grounds Riftreach and east of it?”

“Yeah, but I heard a rumor of this dope ass horse that walks the town at night.” The taller looks at him with a cheesy grin. “And I want him.”

“Her,” Glib corrects, “And you can’t be serious, you came all the way out here to try to catch a horse?”

“What? I’m a man of style and that white horse is stylin’!” Goodbid jokes. He snuffs the end of his cigar on the brick wall as the sun disappears over the horizon.

“Let me get this straight, your plan is to what? Stake out here until a pretty white pony comes prancing through town and then you are going to try and what? Catch her?” he questions, his irritation at the plan slipping into his words.

He has to admit that it does sound like something that he would do.

Every iteration of him always loved horses, and Milburn, the reincarnation before Goodbid, had a gorgeous brown and white horse that he lost on the coast just east of Bowenburg. The horse was given to him by his father the Friday before his death, so Milburn named her Friday and treated her like royalty, often better than he even treated himself, so losing her was the worst thing imaginable for him. For nearly ten full years, Milburn searched for that horse day and night, begging Glib every night to promise him that Friday hadn’t died yet and that there was still time. The search for her killed the half-elf, but the horse never did die. Well. The horse, unless she gained immortality through magical means, died sometime after Milburn, but Glib pointedly refused to check because an angry part of him would try to take his wrath out on an innocent horse who got spooked in the middle of the night and ran off.

Distantly, Glib wonders if Goodbid’s infatuation with this infamous white horse is the past echoing through him.

“Hey now,” the mustached man begins, bringing the shorter out of his train of thought, “I thought you promised me you ain’t a mind reader!”

“Goodbid,” Glib groans, using a bit of irritation to mask the fear that he would lose this reincarnation to horse hunting as well.

He laughs. “What? I think it’s an excellent plan, thank ya very much.”

The Death God levels a flat look at him before shaking his head and stepping back towards the shadows, drawing his hood up.

“She doesn’t come out until about two,” Glib explains. “You might want to sleep until then.”

Without hesitation Goodbid sits down in the alleyway with his back to the brick wall.

“What- no- I meant-” the Death God sputters.

“I ain’t gonna spend money on a bed if I’ll just have to kill the staff that sees me,” Goodbid, ever the penny pincher and hitman, reasons. “I ain’t exactly supposed to be in Bowenburg.”

“And the better option is to just sleep in the alleyway?” Glib questions, gesturing to the many ways that he could be spotted and captured.

Goodbid just smiles up at him. “But my guardian angel wouldn’t let that happen, would he?” he asks cheekily, already settling against the wall and closing his eyes.

“I’m not your fucking guardian angel!” the shorter retorts, but it doesn’t come out as hostile as he intended it to.

“Then why are you always here for me?” Goodbid questions, sleep edging into his voice.

Glib is silent for several minutes, as he watches the other’s chest rise and fall until it evens out into sleep before he answers. “Because you’ve always been here for me.”

Despite himself, the human mutters a small spell that would redirect anyone’s attention away from the alley, fulfilling his role as guardian angel as he settles against the opposite wall, alternating between watching the half-elf sleep and watching the empty streets of the college town.

A chill settles in the air after a while, causing Glib to drape his cloak over the sleeping man to keep him from shivering in his dreams before he tilts his head back and bathes in the cold air as it blows across his icy skin. He lets his eyes drift up to the sky and traces over the stars that have been named and renamed by every new generation of scholars.

He thinks about old times when he and Lawerence- no, it was Naethan then- used to star gaze. The half-elf would name the stars and constellations easily before asking Glib for their old names, and in every language the old god could think of.

He stares silently at the sky until his mind inevitably wanders into the song that seems to live within his brain.

“Lily, o’ lily of my valley won’t you stay the summer long?” he sings softly, remembering the first time he sang it to Goodbid.

“Fall leaves me tired and winter is cold without the sweet ring of your bells to keep my body warm.”

Although he had been Plutos at the time.

“Your lips are poison and your love leaves me dizzy, o’ lily of my valley, won’t you just kiss me?”

He had been so nervous to show him the words, worried he’d understand what it actually meant.

“Summer grows near, your time comes to an end, and until springtime, I can’t kiss you again.”

But Plutos was none the wiser.

“Lily, o’ lily of my valley can’t you stay this summer long?”

He had asked Glib to sing it to him whenever he was upset, like a lullaby.

“Lily, o’ lily of my valley, I will miss you while you’re gone.”

And he had it sung to him on his deathbed.

“Beautiful song,” Goodbid says groggily as he sits up, causing Glib to jump.

“Jesus!” he hisses.

“Nope, just Goodbid, but I’ll give it to ya, Mr. Death, you were pretty close,” Goodbid teases.

Glib swallows the uneasy feeling of being called “Mr. Death,” but it’s not like this Goodbid knows any better. Glib stopped telling them his name in hopes that one day he would remember on his own.

“What time is it, anyway?” the half-elf asks, stretching like a cat, the Death God’s cloak pooling in his lap as it falls off his shoulders. “Do I got time to catch a few more Z’s?”

Glib looks back to the sky, tracking the moon. “No, your internal clock was fucking spot on,” the Death God mutters. “It’s nearly 2 a.m. exactly.”

“Well, hot-diggity-dog!” he says with a manic grin. “Well, let’s get on movin’!” He stands up, straightening his clothes and mustache as he throws the cloak back over the short man.

“Mustache, do you even have a clue where you’re going?” Glib says as he steps out of the alley behind Goodbid.

“Not even a little,” he says as he weaves through the streets. “But I’m sure I’ll know it when I see it.”

“Goodbid,” Glib growls. “Tell me you actually have a-”

As if cued in by Glib’s annoyance, the sound of hooves clopping on the stone roads draws both their attention.

Before the Death God can stop him, Goodbid is racing towards the noise. The Death God follows close behind him, muttering swears in every language that he knows -which is all of them- as the tall man almost certainly runs headfirst into a guardsman on horseback.

They burst into a plaza, illuminated sparsely by floating magic lights, but standing in the center is a beautiful white horse with a long flowing mane that ends in electric green. She is larger than a normal horse and has an otherworldly calm about her. She stands patiently, white hair covering most of her eyes, before she turns and calmly trots away.

The pair stands gobsmacked for a little too long before Goodbid is back to running after her. A feeling washes over Glib that tells him something is amiss here. This horse has never allowed herself to be seen so clearly by anyone before, only flashes of white hooves and green tails trotting between streets. The fact that she let them see her leaves a funny taste in the old god’s mouth.

“Goodbid!” Glib hisses as he too runs after them. “Something isn’t right!”

“Not now, Death!” Goodbid whisper-shouts back. “We’re hot on her tail!”

Glib makes an annoyed sound but resolves to ignore his discomfort as they weave through the streets. They’re right behind her, step for step, and seemingly gaining on her, until they burst back into the open plaza from before, and the white horse is nowhere in sight.

“Damn it!” Goodbid swears. “I thought we had her!”

Glib scans the streets as he mutters, “This is probably for the best.”

Goodbid sighs dramatically. “Why can’t I have a snazzy horse?” he jokingly pouts, though Glib can spot the genuine disappointment in his face.

“Because I don’t think that was a normal horse,” Glib explains looking back up at the taller. “Trust me, something was up with her.”

“Well, now, I personally think a bounty hunter riding a ghost horse would be even cooler than a bounty hunter riding a pretty white horse-”

“Goodbid-”

Their little “argument” is cut short by the sound of hooves, though this time they are moving much faster and growing louder instead of softer.

The pair look around frantically before spotting the white horse barreling at them with her head low.

“Shit, shit, shit-” Glib screams as the massive horse hooks her head between Goodbid’s legs, throwing him onto her back and biting into the Death God’s cloak, lifting him easily off the ground.

A white and green mist forms around them as the horse continues barreling forward before in a flash of white -and a wave of nausea- they are suddenly somewhere else.

It resembles a weird amalgamation of Riftreach and Bowenburg, with the sleek style of Bowenburg buildings and the layout and height of Riftreach. The streets are impossibly clean and the sky is blindingly white, bathing the entire area in the same otherworldly glow that surrounds the horse.

Glib roars in anger, more at the audacity of the animal bringing them here than the fact that they are actually here. Thick black fog begins to billow from his cloak as his skin turns ghostly transparent, revealing his skeleton. His eyes become unearthly black as a sickly grey and poisonous purple swirl around his hands, but before he can fire off any of the spells he has, the horse drops him flat on his back.

“That will not be necessary,” the horse says, her voice carrying that same ethereal calm that surrounds her.

“You fucking talk?!” he shrieks, rage still boiling in his blood.

The horse gives him a flat look. “Yes, I am Friday, the Goddess of Fate, and I can talk.”

“Friday?” Glib echoes, bewildered. He stares expectantly at the horse for answers, but she offers none. Surely this can’t be the same horse, but the name is too convenient.

Goodbid awkwardly slides off her back and helps Glib stand up before half-hiding behind him. “Ms. Friday, this ain’t some kinda punishment for trying to catch you, is it? Because I didn’t know you were a sentient horse, and I do treat my horses quite well-”

“No, Mr. Goodbid, it is no punishment, I just needed to step in to make sure what needed to happen, happened,” she says to silence his ramblings.

“And how’d you reckon that?” Goodbid asks, a naturally curious man.

“Your vanity and love for horses would surely draw you to Bowenburg if you heard of an impossible-to-catch white horse,” she explains simply.

Goodbid is silent for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Well, now, I guess there’s no use in arguin’ with a goddess of fate now is there?”

Friday laughs, though it sounds more like church bells ringing. “No, no, there is not, I know what is fated to happen so I know what has already happened.”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds about right,” Glib sighs.

“So, what are we here for then?” Goodbid questions. “You say you brought us here to make sure fate don’t change, but I don’t see much changin’.” He gestures around them before looking more closely for seemingly the first time. “And, uh, where is ‘here’?”

The goddess shakes her head. “Walk with me,” she says simply, as she begins trotting towards a large building at the end of the street.

“Well, you heard her,” Goodbid says after a moment of vaguely confused silence before he begins to march after her, Glib reluctantly following.

“This is a place known as the Order Realm,” Friday explains. “It is much like the Death Realm that your friend there comes from.” Goodbid looks at Glib before turning his attention back to the horse. “The Primordial of Order once lived here, but was killed by their creator, the Nothing. Butinstead of letting their power be destroyed, they and their seven siblings -in their respective realms- created thrones which would distribute power to any mortal who sits in them.”

They have reached a tall white cathedral with green and grey stained glass windows. Friday easily trots up the stairs and into the building, walking towards a strange-looking chair at the far side. It’s made of metal and gears with tubes full of green liquid running up and down the sides.

“The four possible powers of Order are Fate, taken by me; Peace, taken by an older God named Vaktaan; Knowledge, taken by a man named Aldor; and Law,” she stops speaking as she reaches the throne before looking at Goodbid. “Who is meant to be claimed by you.”

“Me?” Goodbid asks, stopping nearly ten feet away from the chair. “Why me?”

Friday gets a pensive look to her face, well, as pensive as a horse can be. She looks at Glib, but only for a moment before carefully saying, “Fate works in mysterious ways, and you are fated to be with another immortal.”

“Ain’t no way an immortal would choose to be with me,” the half-elf counters. “I’m just Mr. Goodbid.”

Glib snickers at that, earning a confused look from the taller. “You have no idea, do you, Bid?”

“Mr. Death, are you telling me that you’ve been holding information back from me?” Goodbid asks, sounding more betrayed than accusatory.

Friday steps in to save Glib needing to explain. “He has only withheld information that you would discover in due time, as you have every time.”

Goodbid stares at her for a long moment. “What do you mean ‘as you have every time’?”

“Sit on the throne and everything will become clear,” she says, gesturing at the chair with her head.

“Why should I trust you?” Goodbid counters, resting his palm on the hilt of his short swords. “You’ve done nothin’ but kidnap me and my friend and talk in damn riddles.”

“Goodbid,” Glib says. “Trust her, sit on the chair.”

“I thought you had a bad feelin’ ‘bout this!” The hitman snaps back.

Glib tries to stay calm as he explains. “I had a bad feeling because you came to catch a magic horse with no plan and we were actively being led into a trap to get us here.” They hold intense eye contact for another few seconds before Glib says, “You’ve said it yourself, you aren’t afraid of death.” Another few seconds of silence before the death god growls, “Sit on the throne.”

Goodbid looks between Glib, Friday, and the chair for another few seconds before hissing, “Fine, what’s the worst that can happen?”

He walks over to the throne with a clearly fake confidence and sits down on it, crossing his arms.

For about three seconds, nothing happens, but then the gears begin turning, and the sound of metal clicking rings through the air. The liquid in the tube swirls and pumps faster before metal arms on either side of the chair clasp down onto him. The room fills with blinding white and green light.

“What the shit?!” Glib yelps, stepping forward, mind racing on ways to get the half-elf free before all the noise comes to a stop, and the metal arms slowly retract.

Sitting in the chair is still the half-elf, though his suit is now white with a green tie and pinstripes. He looks around, mildly confused, flexing his hands as he tries to adjust to the increase of power.

“I’ll leave the two of you alone,” Friday says, as she turns and begins walking towards the doors at the far end. “You’ll have much to speak of.”

“So,” Glib says, drawing his attention to him once the horse is gone. The light of recognition dances in the taller’s eyes, yet it’s different from five minutes ago. “How do you feel?”

“Glib?” he says instead.

The human’s stomach drops, and butterflies erupt, the contrasting feelings nearly knocking him off his feet.

“No,” the death god says, deep in denial as hope blooms in his chest. “No fucking way you remember.”

The half-elf grins at him, though it’s not the typical smile of his persona. It’s a genuine smile that softens his eyes in a way that makes the human’s heart speed up and time slow down. “Glib Murphy,” he says slowly, as if savoring the way the name fits in his mouth. “I remember you- well, I remember everything, but most importantly, I remember you.”

“Lawrence?” Glib says quietly. The hope spreads like fire through his veins and settles like hot coals in his hands. He wants- no- needs to lay his hands on the half-elf, but he can’t bring himself to move, as if he is afraid that if he moves too quickly, or speaks too loudly, this moment will shatter and his Lawrence will return to being “Mr. Goodbid”.

“That’s the name, Mr. Murphy.” He holds open his arms as he adds, “And I hope you’ll wear it out.”

Glib’s legs are moving before his brain comprehends it, and he crashes headlong into the taller’s open arms.

“I swear to fucking god if you die and I lose you for another two-hundred fucking years-” Glib says into Lawerence’s new white suit.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Glib,” he soothes. “I’ll stay the summer long.”

[angelbvn]

courtesy of jinn for giving me this delicious prompt!!!

“ummm umm popular girls in a car blastin music??”

i am now gonna cast my headmates for what they would be doing in this scenario :>

Kaz - the demoted DJ. kaz would of started as the dj (probably in the passenger seat) and then eventually would have A) drank and passed out or B) go yelled out till he threw the controller for the music to someone else :> (he would soon regret this)

Nex - the driver. nex is always the driver, with a triple shot expresso in the cup holder and headphones in they were listening to their own music and ignoring everyone else in the car. now nex appreciated kaz’s music taste though it wasn’t her favorite. so when he got rid of the remote they were a little relieved…. or so they thought.

AJ - the crackhead. honestly…is probably snorting something off the window or arm rest in the car. probably reached for the control of the music but failed miserably because he began to sneeze uncontrollably cus he was actually snorting salt / pepper and not drugs.

Toru - the high laugher. is absolutely crying of laughter the whole car ride (someone must have spiked his drink *cough kaz*) toru somehow manages to get the remote and promptly begins playing every bad bitch tiktok audio he can think off. rolling the windows down, sticking his head out of the sun roof like a dog and screaming the lyrics ( AJ most likely doing the same )

Megumi - the one who wishes they weren’t there. most likely would be shoved in the middle of toru and AJ trying his best to shrink in on himself and disappear. probably sinks to the floor of the car and sits there like a rock scrolling on his phone prying to god toru and aj get hit by a flock of pigeons and die.

EHEHEHEHEHEEEE this was too fun omg.

[cartiswafu]

**Title: "Hearts Under Guard"**

**Genre: Princess x Bodyguard Romance**

---

**Story:**

**Chapter 1: A Princess's Dilemma**

In the magnificent kingdom of Eldoria, Princess Aria gazed longingly out of her tower window. The sun shone brightly over the lush gardens, and the laughter of children playing in the courtyard echoed through the castle walls. At 24, Aria had grown weary of the constraints of royal life. Despite her title, she felt trapped in a gilded cage—a life of duties, meetings, and strict protocols. Her only solace was in the kitchen, where she could create culinary delights that filled the castle with warmth and comfort.

But with every passing day, her desire for freedom grew. She longed to explore the world beyond the castle gates, to experience life as a normal young woman. Yet the weight of her responsibilities and the ever-watchful eyes of her bodyguard, Jake, kept her tethered to her royal duties.

Jake was the epitome of stoicism, a man of few words who exuded an air of strength and protection. His cold demeanor often made him seem unapproachable, but beneath that exterior lay a fiercely loyal protector. He had been assigned to Aria since she was a teenager, and over the years, he had become her shadow. While she saw him as an obstacle to her freedom, he saw himself as her unwavering shield.

**Chapter 2: The Forbidden Outing**

One fateful afternoon, Aria hatched a plan. She would sneak out of the castle and experience a taste of freedom. Dressed in a simple cloak, she made her way to the stables, her heart racing with excitement. But as she mounted her horse, she felt a familiar presence behind her.

"Your Highness, where do you think you're going?" Jake's voice was low and firm, sending a jolt of frustration through her.

"Just a ride, Jake. I need a break from all of this," she replied, gesturing to the castle.

"You know it’s dangerous for you to be out there alone," he countered, his eyes narrowing.

"Please, just this once?" Aria pleaded, her eyes sparkling with determination.

After a moment of silent contemplation, Jake sighed, his resolve wavering. "Fine, but I’m coming with you."

**Chapter 3: A Day of Freedom**

As they rode through the vibrant fields of Eldoria, Aria felt a weight lift off her shoulders. The wind tousled her hair, and she laughed freely for the first time in ages. Jake, though stoic, couldn't help but feel a flicker of warmth as he watched her revel in the beauty of their surroundings.

They spent the day exploring hidden glades and picnicking by a serene lake. Aria shared her favorite recipes, and to her surprise, Jake revealed that he, too, had a passion for cooking. As they prepared a simple meal together, Aria felt a connection growing between them—a bond forged in laughter and shared moments.

**Chapter 4: Revelations of the Heart**

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the landscape, Aria and Jake found themselves sitting side by side on a grassy knoll. The air was filled with an unspoken tension, and Aria's heart raced as she caught Jake's gaze lingering on her.

"You're different out here," he admitted, his voice softer than usual. "You seem... happier."

She smiled, the warmth in her heart blooming. "I feel free. I wish I could be like this all the time."

Jake's expression shifted, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his stoic facade. "You deserve to be free, Aria. But my duty is to protect you, even if it means keeping you from what you want."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and Aria's heart ached at the realization of how much she had come to depend on him. "You protect me, but I want to live, Jake. I want to find love, to experience life."

**Chapter 5: The Shift in Dynamics**

As the days turned into weeks, Aria's outings with Jake became a regular occurrence. Each adventure brought them closer, and the lines between princess and bodyguard began to blur. Jake's stoicism cracked under the weight of his growing feelings for her. He found himself captivated by her kindness, her unwavering spirit, and the way she brought light into his otherwise guarded life.

But with every stolen moment, the fear of the consequences loomed larger. Jake was aware of the social divide between them—a princess and her bodyguard. He feared that his feelings would only complicate their already delicate relationship.

**Chapter 6: The Festival of Hearts**

The annual Festival of Hearts in Eldoria was a time of celebration, love, and joy. Aria had dreamed of attending the festival since she was a child, but her duties often kept her confined to the castle. This year, however, she was determined to experience it, and she enlisted Jake's help.

As they entered the bustling market filled with vibrant colors and the sweet aroma of food, Aria's eyes sparkled with excitement. She pulled Jake along, her laughter echoing through the air. They danced together, shared sweets, and enjoyed the festivities, forgetting their roles for a moment.

But as the night wore on, they found themselves standing under the twinkling stars, the atmosphere charged with unspoken feelings. Aria turned to Jake, her heart pounding. "What if we could be more than just princess and bodyguard?"

Jake's heart raced, torn between desire and duty. "It’s not that simple, Aria. Your status—"

"I don’t care about status!" she exclaimed, her voice firm yet filled with vulnerability. "I care about you."

**Chapter 7: The Confession**

The weight of her words hung between them, and in that moment, Jake's resolve shattered. He stepped closer, his intense gaze locking onto hers. "I care about you too. More than I should."

As if drawn by an invisible force, their lips met in a tentative kiss—a kiss that ignited the sparks of all the unspoken emotions they had harbored. It was a moment of bliss, but reality crashed back as they pulled away, the implications of their actions settling in.

**Chapter 8: Consequences of Love**

In the days that followed, the kingdom buzzed with rumors of their growing closeness. Aria's parents, the king and queen, soon caught wind of the whispers. Concerned for their daughter's reputation, they summoned her for a meeting.

"Aria, we’ve heard troubling things about your relationship with Jake," her father began, his tone stern. "He is your bodyguard, not a suitable match for a princess."

Aria's heart sank as she argued for her feelings, but her parents remained firm. "You must end this before it tarnishes the royal name."

**Chapter 9: The Rift**

Devastated, Aria confided in Jake. "I can’t lose you. I won’t let them dictate my happiness."

Jake's heart ached for her, but he knew the risks. "You have a duty, Aria. I can’t be the reason you lose everything."

Their love became a painful secret, and the distance between them grew. Jake focused on his responsibilities, while Aria felt the weight of her royal obligations suffocating her spirit. The joy of their outings faded, replaced by a lingering emptiness.

**Chapter 10: A Choice to Make**

With the royal ball approaching—a pivotal event for Aria's future—she knew she had to make a decision. She could either comply with her parents' wishes and marry for duty or fight for the love she had found with Jake.

On the night of the ball, Aria donned a stunning gown, but her heart wasn't in it. As she mingled with nobles, she felt Jake's watchful presence, a reminder of the love she yearned for. When the clock struck midnight, she excused herself, her heart racing as she found Jake in the gardens.

"I can't do this, Jake," she confessed, tears glistening in her eyes. "I can't pretend to be someone I'm not."

Jake stepped closer, his expression fierce yet tender. "Then don’t. Choose love, Aria. Choose us."

**Chapter 11: The Stand for Love**

With newfound determination, Aria returned to the ball, her heart set on reclaiming her happiness. She approached her parents, ready to confront them about her feelings for Jake.

"I refuse to marry someone I don’t love," she declared, her voice steady. "I want to be with Jake."

The room fell silent, and her parents exchanged stunned glances. "You must understand the implications of this choice," her father warned.

"I do," Aria replied, her resolve unwavering. "Love is worth fighting for."

**Chapter 12: A New Beginning**

In the wake of her declaration, the kingdom buzzed with mixed reactions. But Aria stood firm, supported by the love she and Jake had fought for. Slowly, her parents began to see the sincerity of her feelings, and they realized that true happiness could only come from within.

As the months passed, the kingdom gradually accepted their unconventional love story. Aria and Jake became a symbol of hope—reminding everyone that love transcends titles and expectations.

Together, they faced the challenges of royal life, blending their passions for cooking and adventure. Their journey was not without obstacles, but with each obstacle, their love only grew stronger.

In the end, Aria learned that true freedom came not from escaping her responsibilities but from embracing who she was—both a princess and a woman in love.

As they stood together, hand in hand, under the stars, Jake whispered, "You were never meant to be confined. You were meant to soar."

And with that, Aria knew that she had found not only her love but her true self—free, fierce, and forever cherished.

---

*Note: 12,000 words(i think💀)

[staytheb]

Just A Little Bit; Falling For You - Chapter Two: party

Word Count: 6,887 Summary: The cousins attend their friends’ birthday party and end up having fun with friends and interacting with their Love Interests before leaving. previous chapter || next chapter

updated: 6.1.24

"It's so freaking cold, man." Serena complained while shivering.

"And it's too eary for this, especially on a Sunday."

The quartet were currently on the rooftop of their home, co-owned by their fathers, while overlooking the city of their quiet neighborhood as they awaited for the early morning sunrise some time after seven. Linna and Melanie came into their sisters' bedrooms to coaxed the two into watching the first Seoul's sunrise of the 2023 new year and to wish on for some good vibes to began their new year, too. The four returned home late last night after hanging out with their friends and so the older pair were quite grumpy about being woken up earlier than wanted while the younger pair had too much energy to continue to sleep in despite wanting to.

"It's because you're not wearing a puffer jacket, but a thick hoodie, and probably didn't even grab any heating packs." Melanie deadpanned.

"Also, we're watching the sunrise which happened to fall on a Sunday, too."

"I know, but still, I had a thermal sweatshirt underneath last night, but took it off later on and just slept with just my shirt instead." Serena explained, groaning.

"Anyway, this hoodie was also the first one I saw that was closes to me and put it on right away without thinking of anything else because two people wouldn't stop rushing us about it."

She cast her eyes onto the younger two, still shivering.

"Also, I misplaced my hot packs and didn't feel like searching for it as well as my puffer jacket."

All four wore hoodies, sweats, socks, and slippers to observe the tranquil scenery around them despite the chilly weather save for Serena as the other three also had on their puffer jackets to withstand the cold early morning weather.

"Here." The trio offered each of their heat packs to Serena, which she graciously took.

"Thanks."

"Anyway, why are we watching the sunrise again?" Kierra questioned with a yawn, uninterested.

"Because it'll be our first Seoul sunrise for the first day of the year." Linna explained.

"I mean, we always slept in on the new year back home so this should be added to our memories compare to previous years."

"I have enough memories." The older two chimed, yawning.

"Oh, just stay and then we can go back to sleep for a while after it's over." Melanie told them with her phone ready to capture the view.

Linna did the same thing before casting the other two with a weird look.

"Yeah. I thought y'all like the whole scenery thing."

"We do, but it's too early for this shit." Kierra responded with another yawn as Serena nodded, also yawning.

"Yeah, for reals."

However, amusing thoughts swirled around Serena's head as a slow smile graced her face.

"Anyway, here's to a new year of y'all chasing after your boys and making even more memories with them."

She threw her hands in the air, happily.

"Yay!"

The other three glared at her.

"Shut up."

"Oh, be quiet."

"Wow, don't even start that."

Serena giggled.

"Why not? It's fun."

However, she frowned after hearing their words and the fun wasn't all that fun now.

"Let this be the year Serena has her own boy problems!" Melanie wished into the morning air.

"Yes, let Serena get a taste of her own medicine!" Linna chimed in soon after.

"And let that boy be Lee Heeseung, please!" Kierra added, laughing.

"Y'all are hella annoying." Serena commented as the trio told her the same thing.

"So are you."

"You're the one that started it."

"Takes one to know one."

A moment later, the sun slowly rose a few minutes before eight and they wished each other a happy new year, remembering that they haven't done it yet.

"Happy 2024 New Year!"

They talked about the new year and such while they continued to watch as the colors in the sky changed with an awe look before heading inside after taking a few more pictures. The older pair return to their rooms to get in another two hours of sleep while the younger pair went about getting ready for work unlike their sisters even though they worked at the same time.

"Will there be anything else for you, sir?" Linna asked the young man after inputting the last item onto the system.

The person flashed her a not-so-charming smile, but Linna wasn't impressed by it despite the young male constantly flashing her one every so often since enterting Simplistic. She found another person's smile even more charming than this guy and in no way would this guy win over him.

"Yeah, can I have your number?"

Linna remained calm while responding.

"Unfortunately, we're not allowed to do that while working."

She flashed him a feign polite smile while repeating her previous question.

"So, will there be anything else for you, sir?"

This still didn't deter the man from his pursuing.

"Do you attend Hyebi University?"

Linna sighed, not wanting to confirm or deny it as she wasn't interested. She just stared at him as he continued.

"How about a date afterwards?"

He flashed her another smile, but it made Linna become even more uncomfortable from his constant pursuit despite indirectly dismissing him on several ocassions. Luckily, Kierra overheard the whole conversation and intervened in the end. Kierra replaced her on the register while Linna asissted Melanie with the drinks.

"Hello, sir. Will there be anything else you'll like to order?"

"Hey, I was still talking to her."

"Yeah, and now you're talking to me."

Kierra flashed him a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. She hoped he got the message.

"So, will there be anything else for you tonight?"

The man re-directed his attention onto Kierra instead with that same non-charming smile.

"Would you like to go on a date with me after work?"

"Sir, either you pay for your food or I'll have to ask you to leave."

Apparently, he didn't get the hint and now Kierra had to change tactics. Heeyeol had been in the office since opening, speaking with several people over the phone while leaving the quartet on their own. Eunchan wouldn't be in for another hour and so had to deal with it on their own.

"So which will it be?"

The same smile remained on her face as the young man grumbled incoherently before pulling out his phone and tapping it against the machine.

"Thank you."

Kierra flashed him another smile.

"Your number is twenty-two and your order will be out shortly."

He avoided eye-contact with her while taking his number tent and hurried off to the furtherest table from the counter. Kierra held her smile before turning around with an annoyed look. Luckily there wasn't another customer in line. She clipped the receipt on the line before gazing over at her sister and cousins.

"Either me or Minseo will run his order out to them. He's number twenty-two."

The trio nodded, understandingly with Serena scoffing.

"I swear, some people are just so annoying."

"For reals." The other three agreed as they all got to working on the rest of the order.

A moment later, the door chimed indicating a customer had either entered or exited, and it was a young woman. They greeted, but she completely ignored them. The female made her way towards the young man from earlier. She kissed him on the cheek before taking a seat from across him, holding his hand, happily. Linna shook her head as not long ago he had flirted with her and her sister despite having a significant other.

"If you two lose, then you'll have to give us kisses on the cheeks." The cousins' friend, Nicholas, declared, smiling.

"If you win, then we will give you kisses on the cheeks."

"What's up with you and kisses, Nicholas?" Serena remarked with a laugh.

"Don't you have admirers that you can do all that stuff with?"

The cousins attended their friend's, Saerom, birthday party a few days later as they always missed out since going back home during this time and would return closer to the next school term. Currently, Kierra and Serena were playing their nth drinking game for the night against Nicholas and their other friend, EJ.

"You know you and Hayoun love my kisses."

Nicholas blew them another playful kiss as Serena smacked the invisible kiss away.

"You're such a flirt."

"Only for you and Hayoun."

He shot Serena a knowing look as Serena shook her head.

"Get real. You should be giving those kisses to someone else."

"Who?"

"That's for you to figure out."

"Meanie."

"Mmhmm. Because she's gonna move on if you keep this up."

"Who is 'she' though?" Nicholas probed, but Serena shook her head.

"Not telling. Anyway, if Hayoun and I win, then you two have to give us piggy-back rides back to Girls' One's house instead."

That house were lived in by Woojoo, Sujin, and a few others as Girls' One was one of the nicknames of the homes of their female friends to tell which house was who for easier comprehension. Girls' Two was the other house that they were partying at the moment. The same went with their male friends in a similar manner of Boys' One and Boys' Two.

"Oh, are y'all staying with them tonight?" EJ asked.

"Mmhmm. Their place isn't as packed as this house." Kierra stated.

"Also, it'll be late to go back home after this since we're all drinking."

"Then EJ and I will just have to win then to get them deserved kisses."

Nicholas swung an arm around EJ's shoulders.

"Right?"

"Yeah." EJ agreed half-heartedly, but laughed nevertheless as he looked at the female duo.

"Now let's finish this game."

"Fine by me." Serena responded while shooting her ping pong ball, making it in.

"Whoo!"

The cousin high-fived as Kierra readied herself to shoot and also made it in a second later.

"Drink up!"

The male duo drank with the others around them while cheering for either team, wanting to see which one would win. Soon the pair won with Kierra making the last cup, causing the two males to down the rest of the remaining cups.

"Yay!" The cousins cheered as Serena faced Nicholas.

"Will you be able to carry me later?"

"Yeah...no." He responded with a giggle as he leaned onto a giggling EJ as well.

"Can you?" He asked his friend as EJ shook his head.

"I don't think so either."

The two let out giggles and just as they were about to drink some more, Serena took their cups from them.

"No more. We'll finish these."

Both Kierra and Serena drank both cups despite Nicholas trying to grab his cup back.

"I said no more, Nicholas."

Serena blocked him from reaching for his cups.

"But I'm not done yet, Park Minseo."

"No."

"Ugh, fine. Meanie."

"Good. Y'all need to sober up."

"Me, too." Kierra chimed in.

"I need to sober up, too. I can feel it hitting me now."

"Come sober up with us then."

EJ motioned for her to join them, but she dismissed him.

"Nah, I'm done for tonight and who knows if Nicholas will try to give me kisses in the process."

Kierra shot Nicholas a playful look as he grinned at her while wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer to him.

"Do you really think so lowly of me?"

"Yes."

The two shared a giggle as Nicholas leaned his head against hers.

"You always play so hard-to-get."

"No I don't."

"Yeah, you do, especially evading one particular person I know."

Kierra's brows furrowed.

"Who?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me who Minseo likes."

Kierra chuckled.

"She doesn't like anyone."

"Oh, don't lie. I know she does." He remarked as he leaned even closer.

"Then tell me about the person that I should focus on that likes me."

"I'm not telling you because you should learn that about yourself."

"Oh, c'mon." He begged, but EJ intervened.

"C'mon, Nicholas. Let's go chill over there."

"But Hayoun needs to tell me what she knows."

"Nah, EJ, take him."

"Okay, okay."

EJ giggled as she pulled his friend away as the pair bid the cousins a wave.

"Alright, now are they done playing their own beer pong game?" Serena said as glanced to the other tables.

"Oh, there."

Kierra pointed to the furthest table from them.

"They're going up against Fuma and K and apparently are winning against them."

The cousins got closer and watched their sisters finished the game against the male duo.

"No!"

"Yay!"

Came the two different responses.

"Hey, Minseo. You saw that Youngseo's elbow passed the table when she threw that last shot!" K called out to Serena.

"Right? You saw that, right?"

"Hey, I did not." Melanie disagreed.

"And don't bring her into it since you lost."

"Because she always takes my side that's why."

"Only because you're too clingy." Serena remarked as K pouted.

"Hey, don't say that. No, I'm not."

"C'mon, K. Let's just drink up and play another game." Fuma said as he handed K his cup of the remaining drinks on the table.

"Okay. Let's play another round."

The two males cheered as they giggled.

"No way, you two." Linna declined.

"I ain't playing another round with y'all."

"Yeah." Melanie chimed in, agreeing.

"You two are too tipsy."

"No we're not." The two denied while giggling some more.

"Yeah, y'all go over there and sober up with EJ and Nicholas." Serena ordered the two as she grabbed their cups from out of their hands.

"Now, these are mine."

She blocked them from reaching for the cups as Kierra helped to shoo them away to join the other two to sober up.

"Go chill and then we'll talk about another round."

"Okay, okay, but another round for sure when we sober up." K repeated as the cousins nodded while the two went to join Nicholas and EJ.

"Yeah, yeah."

"How are you feeling after drinking some more?" Melanie asked her sister as Serena finished the two drinks.

"Peachy."

Serena flashed her smile, knowing her sister knew she wasn't, while setting the cups onto the table and faced the younger two.

"So, are we done for the night?"

"Yeah." The younger two replied.

"But I think I need to sober up before we go though." Melanie said as she rubbed the side of her head.

"I'll get you some water or snacks to help you." Linna offered as she walked off first.

"And I'm gonna use the toilet." Kierra said as she, too, followed after her sister.

"Okay, so you," Serena pointed at her sister while pointing to the other side of the backyard, "Go chill with the others, needing to sober up."

"Yeah, yeah." Melanie dismissed her sister while already making her way towards that direction.

As for Serena, she pulled out her phone to message the others about leaving soon, not sure if they were ready to go or not. However, in the process she had turned around to walk off somewhere yet had taken a few clumsy steps. A hand immediately came out to steady her.

"I guess you're clumsy off the ice, too."

A giggle followed.

"Or is that just the effects of the alcohol, Park Minseo?"

Serena briefly glanced at the person to see Heeseung, noticing a red flush upon him.

"I guess to both, maybe?" She answered with a small smile.

"However, I noticed that you're way drunker than me, Lee Heeseung."

"Nah." He giggled as she eyed him.

Heeseung giggled again before admitting a few seconds later.

"Okay, maybe just a little though."

Heeseung chuckled as Serena smiled.

"Anyway, thanks, Heeseung."

"You're welcome, Minseo."

Heeseung flashed her a warm smile while letting go of her upper arm. Serena unconsciously rubbed at the spot that his hand was just at with her free hand, feeling weird about it, and remembered that she was supposed to contact the others upon seeing her mobile phone. Before she could excuse herself, Heeseung spoke first.

"So," He began as Serena tilted her head out of curiosity in wondering what Heeseung wanted to say to her.

"Hmm?"

"I shouldn't have agreed to a game with those two." Melanie muttered, slightly annoyed while rubbing her temples.

"Then again, Jiyeon wanted to play before school started up again."

A soft chuckle left her lips.

"Of course, it's my fault for drinking more than I should have though."

She continued rubbing at her head while slowily making her way to the others when a water bottle popped up in front of her, causing her to stop in her tracks.

"Oh, what the?" She said, startled.

"Sorry, Youngseo, I didn't mean to frightened you."

The familiar voice came as she saw that it was Jake that offered her the drink.

"I watched you playing earlier and for your safety got you some water to help you out."

Melanie still seemed hesitant, but noticed that the bottle itself hasn't been opened either.

"Um, thanks."

She shyly smiled as she took the offered drink as Jake smiled in return.

"Welcome."

His face became amused upon seeing Melanie struggle with opening the water bottle. He wanted to offered his help, but saw how determined she seemed in wanting to open the bottle by herself and didn't intervene. She suddenly felt like she was being watched intently and looked up to see Jake's eyes upon her. She flashed him an awkward smile, but then shot him a suspicious look.

"You didn't do this on purpose, did you?"

Jake laughed with a shake of his head with a firm look and hands in the air.

"No, no, I did not."

He cast her with a smile.

"I swear, Park Youngseo, that I didn't do anything to the bottle."

She still gave him a suspicious look as he laughed in disbelief.

"No seriously, Youngseo, I didn't tamper with it."

"Okay, good."

She decided to trust him while offering the bottle back towards the male.

"Then could you help me out?"

"Sure."

Jake helped Melanie as she thankfully took back her drink.

"Thanks, Jake."

"You're welcome again."

She flashed him with a quick smile before taking a sip of water as he looked about them before focusing his eyes on her again.

"I didn't realized that we had a lot of mutual friends between us."

"Um, yeah, me either."

Melanie closed the bottle while looking about them as well before focusing her eyes onto Jake.

"Then again we definitely had different schedules that never crossed paths."

"Yeah, you're right, you're right."

The two stood there in silence before Jake spoke again as Melanie tilted her head.

"So..."

"Hmm?"

"What should I grab for her?' Linna contemplated as she arrived at the coolers filled with refreshments.

"I did say I'll grab her water, but soda wouldn't be bad either."

Just as she made to grab either option, her eyes spotted a bottled of orange juice instead.

"Ooh, she'll like that better and so would I."

Linna grabbed two of the same orange juices before closing the cooler's lid. She stood upright again while trying to open one of the bottles to drink out of it, but for some reason was having trouble opening it.

"Seriously?" She muttered to herself, annoyed.

A cough sounded from behind her.

"Would you like some help, Jiyeon?"

Linna whipped around upon hearing a familiar voice.

"Oh, Sunghoon, hi."

Her heart thumped against her chest upon laying eyes on him, but focused back to what he had asked her.

"If you could, please."

She casually handed him the bottle as Sunghoon smiled while opening it easily, and handing it back to her.

"There you go."

"Thanks."

She happily took back her drink and took a swig out of it before thanking him again.

"Thank you again, Sunghoon."

"No problem, Jiyeon."

Linna took another drink and later closing it as she felt awkwardly shy being this close to Sunghoon, and so she tried to maneuvered around him to leave.

"Um, anyway, bye, Sunghoon."

"Hey, Jiyeon, wait."

Sunghoon blocked her way as she backed up a step to keep some distance between them.

"Um, yes?"

"So..."

"Ah, I feel so much better." Kierra mused to herself, already feeling sobered as she left the bathroom.

She turned the corner, but ended up tripping and falling on to her hands and knees against the hardwood floor. She and the other person groaned as Kierra sat on her knees and looked over her shoulder to see a still sleepy Jay with his back against the wall.

"Seriously?" She muttered as she turned around on her knees to face the male.

"Jay."

It seemed he hadn't heard her and Kierra felt like he had just fallen back asleep. She stared at him with a small smile and a shake of her head.

"I guess you haven't changed much, huh?"

Still, Kierra didn't want to leave Jay like this.

"Jay?"

No response. She leaned closer and placed her hand onto his arm to give him a slight shake while speaking in a soft, but firm tone.

"Jay. Jay, c'mon, wake up."

Still, Jay remained unbothered and Kierra rolled her eyes while shaking him hard.

"Yah. Park Jongseong."

Kierra was on the verged of actually smacking and hitting the male to wake him up, but luckily he stirred away. His eyes fluttered open to see Kierra in front of him.

"Hmm? Hayoun?"

He said her name in such a sweet and soft tone that it tugged at her heart, but she shook those thoughts away.

"Okay, finally."

Kierra leaned away as she eyed him.

"Were you really just gonna stay sleeping right here in the hallway?"

"Um, no?"

Kierra shook her head as he wasn't there when she entered and wondered how he could have fallen asleep right here in just a minute or two. Then she recalled that was one of his special skills in falling asleep within a minute.

"Did you have too much to drink tonight?"

"I don't think so." He answered, still drowsy.

"Are you sure."

"Yes."

Kierra knew he didn't sound so sure and so did Jay, but continued to be confident in his answer.

"Well, I think you should go home." She suggested.

"You must be tired or had a little too much. I mean, you don't live that far away from here, right?"

"I don't and I'm fine, Hayoun."

"Right. Sure you are."

"I am."

Kierra gave him a look as he returned the same look back.

"Seriously, Hayoun. I'm fine."

"Okay, fine. You're fine and I'll just leave you alone then."

Kierra huffed as she made to stand back up, but Jay hurriedly reached out a hand to stop her without a second thought, pulling her towards him and causing her to fall against him in the process. Although a quick second, but felt like forever for Kierra as she stared in shock at Jay with him doing the same thing.

"Hayoun, I'm sor-"

"Apology accepted. Don't worry about it, Jay."

Kierra used his upper body to push herself away from him, not wanting to hear anything else and just wanting to get away as soon as possible. The whole thing was making her brain blank out yet her emotions were making her feel all sorts of way

"Um, I gotta go. Stay safe and get home and then fall asleep in your bed." She advised him despite initially wanting to make her escape.

"Bye."

She quickly stood upright and ran off, a bit clumsily, before Jay could apologize once more. He ran a hand through his hair while leaning against the wall in defeat.

"Why did I even do that in the first place?"

However a soft look graced his features upon the concerned words she had said just a few seconds ago.

"So, um, how did you and Sunoo become close?" Sunghoon asked, catching Linna off guard.

"What?"

"I mean, like, how did the two of you become such good friends?"

Sunghoon stumbled upon his question with another question as she found it adorable, but refrained herself from showing that after recovering from the first question.

"Um, well, besides through Woojoo, of course, but Sunoo and I got close through our hobbies and interests." Linna answered with a small smile.

She and Sunoo hung out a lot during their high school days and even now into their college life alongside the others with movie nights, cafe trips, and whatever the others felt like doing, too. However, she and him had a lot of play dates as Sunoo always found fantastic places to check out whenever they found the time to do so.

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, just curious as you two hung out a lot during the two outings at Lotte World."

Linna tried not to let his words sink in too deep and casually tried to find reasoning with it and her next words.

"He and I did hang out with the others a lot, too, though."

"Um, yes, true."

Sunghoon had no idea why her answer bothered him. Before he could ask something else, he noticed Kierra coming up to them after exiting the house.

"Hey, sorry, Sunghoon, but Jiyeon and I gotta go. Bye."

"Um, bye Sunghoon." Linna bid him goodbye with a small wave as she allowed her sister to pull her away.

"Bye."

Sunghoon also waved slightly as a sigh left his body while he watched the two head towards the corner part of the backyard.

"So, Youngseo, what made you stay in town instead of going back home for the winter holiday?" Jake asked with a cute look.

Melanie hadn't noticed how adorable Jake appeared to be until now. Then again, she did admit to her cousin and friends that he was cute and all, but at the time she was just trying to play along with them. Now she knew that she was seeing him in a different light than before and needed to not do that. She dismissed the thoughts and hoped that her face didn't show anything differently to Jake.

"A change of scenery is all."

She flashed him a smile. Despite the past few years that they've known of one another, Melanie has never told Jake that she also grew up outside of South Korea and that she knew English. Of course, the situation for it never really presented itself for it. Melanie knew that Jake assumed she was from another province and not from overseas. Then again, the cousins did have a so-called aunt that was a close friend of their fathers that used to live in Sokcho though.

"I just wanted to see how Seoul would be like during this time around instead."

Although the cousins could've stayed and attended school back home, they all opted to travel and studied overseas and settled in South Korea compared to Thailand. The latter being their mothers' homeland, but their mothers weren't comfortable with them traveling alone. However, thanks to the so-called aunts and her three sons, the quartet had others that can watch over them if needed which set their parents' hearts at ease to allow them to study abroad. 

"Oh."

Was all that came from out of Jake. Melanie wasn't sure how to take that though as she wasn't sure if he was upset at her words or expected something else. Then again, a sweet smile was still evident on his face.

"Um, how about you?" She asked a moment later, making conversation.

"Don't you usually go back home, too?"

Jake, too, would go back home for the holidays, but Melanie never really kept tabs on the guy and just heard stuff in passing.

"I do, but this time around I thought to stay in Seoul instead of going back to Brisbane."

Jake flashed her another smile and just as she was about to ask a question of her own, she suddenly felt two arms latched onto either side of her.

"Hey, you two, but sorry, Jake, we gotta go." Kierra interrupted the pair with a somewhat apologetic look and tone.

"Yeah, Jake, sorry. Bye." Linna bid him a quick bye as she tugged on Melanie's arm to signal her cousin to do the same thing.

"Uh, yeah, Jake. Sorry. Thanks for the water and have a good night."

Melanie waved goodbye as she was pulled along by her cousins to find her sister. Jake watched the trio with an amused smile and waved goodbye as well although a slight pout appeared upon his face a few seconds later.

"So, how close are you to Nicholas, EJ, and K?" Heeseung asked as Serena raised a brow.

She thought to herself on why this was the question that he had wanted to ask her.

"Um, well, we were classmates and attended the same high school." Serena answered honestly as a laugh left her lips.

"Since then, those three and a few others have just been appearing in my life."

Heeseung didn't know what was funny, but a small chuckle came out of him anyway.

"Ah, okay."

"Mmhmm. Um, how do you know them?" Serena repeated his question back to him, not really thinking.

Heeseung chuckled.

"We're also high school classmates, played on the same basketball team, and now attend the same university."

"Funny that we had them as classmates in high school, but never saw the other with them though."

"Yeah, but it's so weird that we never hung out together despite having mutual friends, too."

"Mmhmm, yeah."

Truthfully, despite all the mutual friends amongst them, the real reason was that Serena hardly socialize and only did enough to live through high school and so far in her university years. She hated the attention from others and disliked fake people, not wanting to be associated with them. Still, Serena was lucky she grew close to some good people and remained in good graces with others that didn't rub her the wrong way. Then again, she had Kierra a majority of the time as they hung out more, but for some reason the two of them always attracted people when they didn't want to and just became friends of sorts in the end. They were nothing like their social butterflies of a sisters which added even more to their so-called social circle even if they more or less grew to become friends over time.

"Yeah, what a small world." She commented, but then Kierra's words from the other day sprung up.

She inwardly groaned about the stupid invisible string theory. However, she hoped that her face remaiend stoic and didn't looked weird to him.

"By the way, Minseo, d-"

Heeseung was interrupted when Serena's cousins and sister showed up.

"Sorry, Heeseung, but we all gotta get going." Kierra interrupted him without knowing as she flashed him a smile.

"We're all just feeling a little tipsy and need to walk it off."

"Yeah, bye!" The other two agreed as they rushed Serena along.

Serena cast Heeseung with an apologetic look while giving him a slight wave with a slight head bow. Heeseung held up a hand to wave back as for some reason he felt disatisified with his interaction with Serena. Anyway, the four text their friends, letting them know that they ended up leaving earlier. Luckily, they had the house's passcode. The four later talked about what had happened while also teasing one another in the process, saying it seemed like a cliche drama plot of sorts.

"So, there's fifteen minutes left and we're good on pre-closing." Melanie stated while looking around.

There were no customers in the store and the latest one had just left a few minutes ago.

"Minseo and I finished the load of dishes from earlier, too." Kierra informed as she and Serena smiled.

"Yeah, there were a lot of them. Did not expect to get that rush two hours ago."

"I know right."

"Well, we're all good now." Linna assured with a bright smile.

"And all we have to do is do some last minute cleaning of equipment and dishes, and then we're good for the night."

"Mmhmm. We'll sell whatever we have on hand and if we don't, then Seohoo can take them back home." Serena remarked as their childhood friend and co-worker, Baek Seohoo, glanced at her.

"Why do I have to take them back?"

"Your mom and brothers wanted something."

The mother in question, So Eunmi, was the so-called aunt and a close friend of their fathers, and she now resided in Seoul alongside her three sons. Seohoo being the youngest of her three sons.

"Oh, right. I forgot."

"Mmhmm."

Melanie looked around them again, remembering what she wanted to discuss with them.

"Since it's Seollal and Heeyeol gave us the okay for it, I was thinking we can briefly do ramen and tteokbokki instead of the rice balls." She mentioned.

"We can also do rabokki, too."

This was the quartet's first Seollal as they went home for the winter holiday. So, they enjoyed the quiet and calm Seoul since many went back to their ancestral home for the three-day holiday.

"Ohh, that sounds good."

Seohoo nodded, approving of the idea.

"I'm all for it."

"What about hwachae instead of ice bars?" Linna inquired.

"Or we just keep the ice bar, too.

"Ooh, that sounds good, too. Let's keep both." Seohoo exclaimed, happily.

"What else? I mean still keep the bottled and canned drinks as those are easy to work with, right?"

"Yeah." The cousins replied.

"Oh, let's add some sausages so that we can add that to the rabokki." Melanie chimed in, already craving the meal.

"Actually, let's just add the rice ball back as it works well with the corn cheese." Kierra said, changing her mind.

"The customers would also like eating them alongside the ramen and tteokbokki, too."

"Okay, cool. I'll re-write the menu stand with the updates and message Heeyeol about the changes, too."

Serena walked off to do just that as it was easier to work in the back without the customers seeing.

"I'll go and update the P-O-S with the items so we don't have to do it early in the morning."

Kierra flashed them a smile while she made her way to the back office to access a computer to do so.

"What should we do?"

Seohoo looked from Linna to Melanie.

"We can make a list of all the items we're gonna need for tomorrow to make sure we have enough ingredients." Melanie suggested as Linna nodded.

"Yeah, and we can do some parital shopping after work or super early in the morning, too."

"Oh yeah, sounds like a great idea." Seohoo agreed with a nod.

"Just let me know if you want me to take care of it instead or a majority of it."

"We will."

The trio went about the rest of closing and helping the other two if needed.

"Alright, Jungwon," Sujin announced to get her brother's attention as she stood on the makeshift stage within the restaurant the party celebration was being held at.

Sujin and Jungwon's parents rented out a section of the restaurant for Jungwon's birthday party celebration with few interruptions from other patrons.

"Tell me that I'm the best sister for getting you the best birthday gift ever!"

"You're the best!" Jungwon excitedly yelled as the others within his party cheered.

"Whoo!"

Besides the immediate and some extended family there at the event were Jungwon's six close friends. Sujin only invited Woojoo as it was her brother's birthday and didn't need to invite others to it as she already got the cousins to come as entertainers due to them being a K-POP cover group back in high school. Woojoo was the only one that knew the cousins were here to perform for Jungwon's celebration. The quartet weren't keen on returning to those days, but felt like it would be a good deed to do as Jungwon was a friend and Sujin begged them for entertainment purposes. So, this was more of a compromise as the four always missed his birthday in the past since they were back home until this year.

"Of course I am, anyway," Sujin continued on.

"I invited some special people to give you awesome stages."

Sujin motioned towards and announced the quartet as the four were standing off to the side in their black and yellow outfits, matching their so-called group name.

"Please welcome, The Bumblebees!"

The four casually came onto the stage while waving at the crowd while hoping that they wouldn't be recognized at all. Their outfits consisted of shoes, sweat pants, hoodies, face masks, and snapbacks to overall conceal their identities. The only thing you could make out for sure were their hands, hair, and possibly their eyes if they adjusted their hats another way to reveal them. Sujin was the one who came up with their name as they were her favorite. She bribed the four with snacks and drinks for a whole month in doing this favor for her since the cousins were reluctant to participate.

"1, 2," Serena began as they finished as all four, "We're The Bumblebees!"

The four didn't introduced themselves individually, knowing they wouldn't stick around for long, as the attendees and other restaurant goers cheered loudly with Sujin being the most enthusiastic.

"Once again, The Bumblebees, and enjoy!"

Sujin quickly stepped off of the stage, allowing the spotlight to shine on her friends while making her way off to the side to control the music for them. The quartet gave her the signal to start as they got into position. They rearranged the choreography of the songs to fit their team of four as they have already done these songs in the past based on other choreographies they've learned from others online and through the female dance team of their school. Once they finished there were loud cheers and applause as Sujin joined her friends.

"Whoo!" She cheered alongside the others.

"Please give another warm applause to The Bumblebees!"

The audience cheered and clapped once more.

"Now, we'll have to say goo-"

Jungwon interrupted his sister.

"Wait. Can I make a request?"

Sujin looked at the quartet before Linna motioned with an arm for Jungwon to proceed to what the request was.

"What is the request?" Sujin asked her brother.

"Can I ask them to do All I Wanna do, but with me joining?"

Both Kierra and Serena immediately replied, not wanting to partake in such an activity.

"No."

"Well, there's your response." Sujin responded before speaking again.

"We'll now sing the birthday song and that will end our entertainment for this evening."

Sujin led everyone in the birthday song as a cake was brought out and placed in front of Jungwon. Once the song ended did he blow out the candles. Before anyone else could asked the four questions, they waved goodbyes and dashed off while laughing. Ni-Ki stared after them curiously as finding the sound of laugher familiar, but didn't ponder on it longer as he soon became interested in the mentioning of cake.

"So, who wants a piece of cake?"

Upon hearing the cake bit, both Linna and Melanie made their way over to the table and each stood on one side of Woojoo.

"Could we have some cake to go, too, please?"

Serena and Kierra joined the trio a second later after having to use the toilet.

"So, we'll be outside as you two grab your pieces." Kierra informed the younger two as they bid Woojoo and Sujin goodbye while wishing Jungwon a happy birthday.

"Can you take mine? I need to use the toilet." Melanie said as she dashed off in a rush.

Linna casually watched her cousin run off before focusing her attention onto the delicious looking cake. When she finally got hers and Melanie's slices, she was too happy and in thought about it, Linna turned too quickly and ran into another body causing the cake to smear hers and the other person's clothing.

"I am so sorry." Linna immediately apologized as the other person calmly told her it was also his fault.

"No, no. It was my fault."

Linna's brows furrowed upon recognizing the voice and glanced up to see Sunghoon.

"Park Sunghoon?"

She didn't realized she said his name out loud.

"Ah, yes." Sunghoon confirmed with a sweet smile.

"Do I know you...?"

"Ah, no." She denied.

"You don't have worry about that."

Linna side-step around him, nervously, lying as she didn't want the confrontation at all.

"Once again, I'm sorry about this whole thing."

Sunghoon reached a hand out as if to stop her.

"Ah, wait a minute."

"No, no, no." Linna repeated as she evaded his hand and ran off while softly yelling a 'sorry' behind her.

A sheepish laugh left his lips as Sunghoon stared at her retreating figure until it turned the corner. He looked down at his clothes as a sigh left his lips, wondering if his friends had any spare clothes for him to wear for the mean time. On the way home, Linna explained about the cake incident as Melanie asked where her piece of the dessert was upon not seeing any in Linna's grasps. The trio teased her some more, but Linna just groaned in embarrassment about it all.

[okruchlodu]

Yennefer thanked him, and reached for the reins as he set about securing the child upon his saddle. She nodded in agreement silently once they were ready to push onwards, and pointed towards the glow of magic lighting up the sky, tearing her gaze away from them and staring up into the unnatural fire streaking the skies, moon-drenched and blinding, gleaming like the blade of a sword. Something dark rose in the pit of her stomach, filling her veins with its sharp, cold chill, but she did not deign express it. She sighed and swiftly followed the witcher, spurring her horse north to where –above the already blue smoke and streaks of the dawn– hung the brightest star of the Winter Maiden.

Soft, calm wind swelled and pulsed around them, carrying in it the scent of the rain that had no doubt fallen here, too, the night before, and as they rode forth, Yennefer tried to keep up with the witcher's pace, despite the pain flaring through her chest with every step onwards. She well knew they had not much time left if they meant to salvage what they could of what the child had once been; she did not want them to ride along forest tracks for days either, for fear of the shadows they held deep within their gullies and groves ( laden with dark secrets and, surely, whatever darkness had been courting them ) - not for herself, but for the girl. Already, she felt her body numb and cold, drained off its pulse. Chaos flowed through her veins, a never-ending stream of pulsating, swelling Force from the amount of spells that she had been constantly casting for what felt to her, weeks now. Yennefer would not deign admit it, but she could imagine that there was not much strength left in her; if something came for them, again, she did not want Eskel to have to fight for the both of them. She resolutely gathered what energy was left within her and pressed on, hastening her pace and coming to ride now next to the wolf, her eyes often drawn to the child, lingering with worry as the girl often tossed her head against his chest, shivering, her mouth pressing into a hard line.

Their travels north were harsh; through glades and steep, narrow trails, had they to ride, through shallow backwaters stinking of rot and stagnation, and thick wetlands teeming with fog (eerie, silver-bright and not natural) following the grey-white wall of hard, dark mountains that framed the trail towards Kaer Morhen, their snow-capped summits glistening bright and gold in rare moments when the sun pierced the darkness hung over Kaedwen, and when a severe frost descended in the late hours of the evening, Yennefer could scarce now feel her hands.

She impatiently stirred her horse onwards, and came to ride close to the cliff from which unfolded a view over the perilous, dark trails that led in the depths of the woods that enveloped Kaer Morhen. There was a deep chasm with a waterfall roaring at its foot, open like a mouth hungered for everything passed near it. The sorceress, half numb and dizzied, blew into her frozen hands, wishing desperately that she could cast some spell to warm herself; but she did not want to waste her energy on frivolities. Soon, she thought through the unnatural silence that fell over them, pierced only by the harsh gurgling of the falls and the stirrings of the woods around them- soon, they would no longer have to suffer in this dreadful chill.  ❝ — Eskel... ❞ she called out to him, and reached for her saddlebags, drawing her velvet cape round her shoulders,  ❝ —have her drink this. ❞ she tossed a vial containing something pale-blue and gleaming in its glass container; she had no doubt that he was warm enough to share his heat with the child and keep her from freezing to her death, but she would be loathe to risk it (she was so small; so very small, the thought kept rippling through the fog that blurred her whirling thoughts, over and over again). Then, a little breathlessly, ❝ by the gods, I know not why they had to build your lair in the shadow of death itself... Are we not almost there? ❞ Yennefer asked with hope and impatience drenching a dark, velvety voice, fleetingly recognizing the path they had now taken. Somewhere far away into the mountains, a wolf's howl —made strange and terrifying by the sharp winds that carried it over the slopes — pierced the air. Yennefer shuddered with fearful apprehension, chilled to the bone. She felt the cold air ripple and pulse, wondered what lurked in the dark ravines down below. They had to make haste. Surely, they could not be but a breath away from the keep, now, and would reach it before dusk fell fig-blue overhead. They had to.

@wanderingwolfwitcher

"Fair enough. We'll make it a last resort only. Recover as much as you can in the meanwhile. With luck we can get ahead of anything else this demon attracts our way... got a head start, at least."

Eskel's deep, calm voice agreed at last, listening to the raven haired Sorceress closely and taking the time to go over and help her up on to her horse carefully, making sure she was secure there, before taking the child back down towards Scorpion. His viper eyes remained alert along with the rest of his enhanced senses, mapping out their surroundings, making sure nothing was of yet following them. The medallion was nearly useless in the present, in such close proximity to the demon... constantly going off, it wouldn't be able to detect new threats most likely. He would have to do it the old fashioned way, the way he had done it before he had earned his medallion in the Trials. Reaching the war horse, he put the child up front and climbed up behind, taking up the reins in one hand, while one arm wrapped around her kept the girl in place on the saddle.

Surveying the land, then looking back to Yennefer, the Witcher nodded her way, no more words needing to be said, before starting forward towards the northern trail leading up Kaer Morhen Valley, into the Blue Mountains. Within moments the two of their horses were up and away from the village, though he had the feeling more threats lie ahead, with how much blood had been spilled in the Blue Mountains over the years, and what the demon was capable of summoning. They would cross that bridge when they got to it... fight only when needed, and stick to outrunning the storm. Choosing one's battles carefully was always a sign of wisdom, and one of the many lessons he had been taught growing up and out on the Path. Not that it had stopped him from fighting the Ruehin in the first place. That he had survived, much less got the girl away from it still felt like a dream... but his task remained, the battle not yet over. The exorcism awaited.

@okruchlodu

[my-precious-treasure]

A Cat’s Nap

Savanaclaw Masterlist

In which you find Leona napping. Written for @sociallyawkwardcorgi on behalf of Leona’s b-day.

The ground is hard beneath you and you groan as you roll over. Slowly opening your eyes, you’re met with the soft light of the setting sun. The foliage around you casts strange shadows across the walls and floor of the greenhouse. You stretch while sitting up and pop things back into place.

“Hmm. . .did I really sleep all afternoon?” Blinking lazily, you watch the world outside the insulated glass walls for a moment. The clouds drift slowly and the trees sway gently in the breeze. Part of you wishes you could stay there forever, but you know you have work to be done.

Begrudgingly, you rise from the floor and meander towards the exit. Before you can reach it though, you notice another figure on the floor a little way off the path. Curiosity gets the better of you and you find yourself wandering over to them. As you get closer you finally realize it’s Housewarden Leona.

Being part of Ramshackle Dorm, you don’t interact with him much and when you do, he’s always been rather. . .unsociable. You can’t deny that he’s a little rough around the edges; he’s caused his share of problems for you and Yuu. But somehow, you still get the feeling that he doesn’t have a bad heart. Maybe he just needs a little shove. Or maybe you just give him too much credit. That isn’t really your problem, though.

As you crouch down beside him, you can’t help but stare. He really is beautiful. His dark ash-brown hair always looks so shiny and frankly, it’s not fair how long his lashes are. Without thinking, you find yourself reaching out to touch him. As you brush a few stands from his face you note that his hair rally is soft.

You aren’t entirely sure what possesses you to pet him, but as you do, his ears start to twitch slightly. Gently you place your hand behind one and scratch lightly. To your surprise, Leona begins chuffing quietly while still in slumber. You stifle a laugh at how cute and unassuming he is.

Without warning, his hand reaches up and catches yours. He slowly cracks his eyes open to look at you and you almost get lost in their emerald gleam.

“What do you think you’re doing, herbivore?”

“Ah. . .sorry. I just thought you looked so pretty while sleeping.” You can see a faint blush spread across his tanned skin. He huffs and glares at you.

“Who gave you permission to touch me?”

“I suppose I gave myself permission. Sorry, it was a bit rude.” You can see amusement hidden in his eyes as he watches you.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. But touch me again without permission and I will end you.” You blink at him before bursting into laughter. You just can’t take him seriously after seeing him sleep so peacefully until a moment ago. He growls at your response.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. But the offer stands if you choose to ask.” Shifting your weight, you smile down at him and stand to take your leave.

“Where are you going? You disrupted my sleep. You owe me.”

“Hmm?” You cock an eyebrow at him and his blush seems to grow.

“. . .Stay.” You snort slightly at his soft demand and instead of leaving, you find your self situated against a tree with his head in your lap. Your hands run through his hair once more as you lull him back to sleep.

The ground doesn’t seem as hard as it did earlier and the warmth of the twilight on your face is just too relaxing. The weight of Leona’s head like a blanket. Your hands begin to slow as his soft snores become your lullaby. You think that one more nap won’t hurt anyone as you close your own eyes once more.

Tag List: @breadforhowl @raekwon88 @kkat808 

[telemna-hyelle]

Sweet is the Sound of Falling Rain (Zelink Week Day 3: Rainy Days)

Oot Zelink, from my totally 100% Canon secret marriage storyline

@zelinkweekofficial

It was a shame, Zelda thought, that such a lovely day had to be to wasted on an event like this. It was a lovely morning in early summer: the sun shone brightly, unhindered by the odd fluffy white cloud that drifted lazily by. A pleasant breeze stirred the leaves and kept the sun’s warmth at a comfortable level.

Unfortunately, the company wasn’t half so pleasant. Zelda had taken advantage of the lovely weather to host a party in the palace gardens, in order to talk with her various nobles, officials and visiting diplomats in a more relaxed manner. Such meetings were important, a good way for Zelda to breed goodwill while keep abreast of the goings on and opinions of those with power both within and without Hyrule.

Sadly, the more casual atmosphere meant that certain people (single men, young or otherwise) felt it was the perfect time to approach her. Prince Ralf of Labrynna was just reluctantly moving off to speak with someone else, which was unfortunate. Of all her suitors, Prince Ralf was the most likeable; always respectful and earnest enough in his affections that Zelda felt a little bad for him. Her affections, after all, were quite fixed elsewhere.

Sadly, his departure left Zelda open. The Queen saw movement in her periphery, turned, and clenched her jaw to hold back a groan.

Councilman Cole was a particularly odious little man who had been determinedly pursuing her for years. He had never attempted anything untoward yet, but something about his words and the look in his beady little eyes never failed to make Zelda feel like a butterfly he wanted to pin to a card and hang on the wall.

Link hated him with a passion.

I suppose it’s for the best that he’s busy today. Zelda thought as Councilman Cole came to a stop in front of her. So Link won’t have to struggle with the temptation to send Cole flying.

She extended her hand, somehow managing to keep her face impassive as Cole bent over it for far longer than politely necessary. As always, however, he backed off the moment before the contact became unacceptably long, which kept him safe from retaliation.

Zelda gritted her teeth. She almost wished he would linger for a moment longer, so she’d be justified in blasting him into a wall.

“Your most incandescent majesty!” The man was saying, his voice gratingly sweeting, like bread soaked with far too much honey. “What a pleasure it is to see you again. I hope you have not been suffering too much in my absence.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I have been managing quite well.” Her word were chilled enough that it would send the average unpleasant noble bowing and skittering away.

Chancellor Cole, sadly, seemed to be made of sterner stuff. He took a small step closer. Zelda carefully eased back.

“Of course, of course, I should have expected that,” He was saying, his tone even more cloying than before. “As always you soldier on, despite the burden of bearing the crown alone.”

Zelda cast a desperate gaze around the garden, hoping that someone would come to the rescue—but Link wasn’t here today.

Someone save me from this situation. She cast a pleading gaze heavenward.

A raindrop landed on her nose, immediately followed by a flash of light and an ear-splitting boom.

Dark clouds instantly overtook the sun, and rain feel down like a curtain dropping suddenly, immediately drenching the entire garden.

Zelda smiled brilliantly at Councilman Cole and the drooping state of his once-impeccably crafted moustache. “We shall have to table this conversation for a later time, sir. I’ll let you know once there is an opening available for you.”

And then, she was darting off through the gardens, calling instructions to startled servants and guests. And then, before anyone could stop her and invite her in for tea and conversation, Zelda stepped through a side door into the castle. The lock clicked shut behind her, and Zelda took the moment to lean against the door and breathe.

The thick stone of the castle walls muffled the rumbles of thunder and rain, while the high ceiling of the hallway carried what sound there was through the air. The effect was like a blanket of rain and thunder wrapping softly about her, the rhythmic noise nearly soothing and calming as her own lullaby.

She let out a sigh, letting the stress and anxieties caused by the councilman and his ilk seep from her shoulders. Then Zelda picked up her skirts and ran to her tower bedroom.

She slipped through the door and found Link right where she expected him to be—seated comfortably on the windowsill, staring out at the rain and idly playing on his ocarina. The tune struck her as oddly familiar, though she couldn’t recall ever hearing it before. It almost sounded like it could be a song she knew played backwards, but this wasn’t the time to analyze music.

“Link!”

Link, who had doubtlessly been aware of her entrance but had been intent on his music, lowered the ocarina and grinned at the address—just in time to catch Zelda as she flung herself across the room and into his arms. His noise of surprise was immediately cut off as Zelda’s lips found his, her arms twining about his neck. Link didn’t stay surprised for long; the next moment he was returning Zelda’s sentiment with equal enthusiasm, hands hastily stuffing the ocarina in his pouch before reaching up to tug Zelda closer.

After a minute Zelda leaned, grinning up at him. “My hero.”

Link smirked, reaching up to snag one of her hands and bring it to his lips. He pressed a kiss against her knuckles and winked. “I live to serve, my queen.”

Zelda’s grin dissolved into laughter. She leaned against his chest, shifting so she could see his face. Link’s fingers intertwined with her own, his thumb stroking the back of her hand idly. Zelda sighed in contentment, snuggling just a bit deeper into his embrace.

“I thought you would be gone until tonight.” She said at last, gently arching one inquisitive eyebrow. “When did you return?”

A slight scowl pulled at Link’s brows. “Just in time to see that creepy little man try and weasel up to you again. Since I’m not allowed to punch him….” He paused, sending Zelda a hopeful look.

Zelda bit her lip to hide a smile. “No, Link, we can’t go about punching our subjects. It’s not what a good ruler does, you know.”

“it’s not like I’m the king yet, you know.”

“Yes, you are.” Zelda raised her other eyebrow. “We might not have held your official coronation yet, but by virtue of marrying into the royal family, you became royal yourself.” She poked him. “Besides, even if you weren’t king, that doesn’t mean you can go around punching people.”

“Aw.” Link shifted, tucking Zelda’s head underneath his chin. “Not even when it’s a rat in human form who keeps bothering my wife?”

Zelda chuckled softly. “I promise, the instant he slips up and crosses the line, you can punch him.”

“I don’t want him to cross the line at all.” Link grumbled, squeezing his wife protectively. He let out a sigh. “I suppose there’s nothing for it then. I better stick by you all the time and make sure nothing happens.” He smirked. “I can see a lot of thunderstorms in our future.”

The queen laughed. “Speaking of such things, how long will this storm last?”

“I put enough magic into it to make it last until after sunset.” Link said cheerfully. “No more Councilman Cole for you to deal with today.”

“Excellent. Though discretion is the better part of valor.” Zelda mused, shifting slightly in his arms, sliding her hands up his chest to her shoulders. “Perhaps you should make your resolution to stick by my side effective immediately.”

“Oh?” There was a grin in Link’s tone. “And what shall we do, stuck in a room all by ourselves on a rainy day?”

“Hmm.” Zelda pressed a kiss to his temple, murmuring softly in his ear. “I can think of a few things.”

“Your majesty,” Link said, turning his head and catching Zelda’s chin in one hand. “I like the way you think.”

And as the room was filled with the brilliant flash of lightning passing by, he kissed her.

[tooruluv]

Katsuki Bakugou x F!Reader ( part 1 )

❝ ...and then there’s you. ❞

description: you and bakugou have hated each other since childhood. through the constant bickering, fighting, and actual fist fights... you had no idea that you had been writing to him.

genre: angst, soulmate au where you have a notebook that you can write to your soulmate in

word count: 3.8k

warnings/notes: strong language, lots of angst, aged up characters, bakugou being bakugou, reader has an air manipulation quirk created as part 1 of 3 for my winner of my tooruluv2kparty contest @katsulovee​ <33

teaser | part 2

| masterlist

“ ‘cause when the sun goes down, someone’s talking back ” - talking to the moon, bruno mars

┏━━━━━⋇⋆⋆⋇❦⋇⋆⋆⋇━━━━━┓

The storm only escalated, casting the sky in deep blues and greys. Loud rain clattered against the roof of your apartment building, the ceiling of your top floor apartment being the only thing that separated you from the pour. 

The rain may be cold, but you were on fire.

You had been livid all day, positively outraged by the man who seemed to always be in your way. He was the most arrogant, most opinionated, and most… loud-mouthed person you ever met. You were screaming from the inside out, burning with rage.

Groaning, you sprawled out on your bed.

Katsuki Bakugou was the biggest fucking issue on the planet. His absurd need to be the best at everything he did, his cold demeanor and venom that spews from his mouth -- you wanted nothing more than to punch him directly in the throat. 

With a deep breath, you flipped open your Soulmate Journal. 

The world was such a strange place, full of quirks and criminals and heroes and villains. To add on top of that, when you turn thirteen a journal just… appears. And whoever is your soulmate can read everything you write. Once they read it, they can reply or talk to you that way and the ink disappears. There are plenty of rules that go along with it, like if you turn thirteen before your soulmate does, the ink is red until they receive their own journal. Or how the journal itself is indestructible. Or the biggest rule: you cannot write any given name. 

When you’re thirteen, your life is full of hope and wishful thinking. Almost everyone at that age is excited to start writing to their Person, the one who they were supposed to be created to be with. You were surprised when you opened yours to find nothing written.

You assumed that you were a bit older than your soulmate, but that was quickly shut down as you wrote in black ink. Your soulmate hadn’t written anything. 

It took two months for him to write back. Two months of your excessive writing and nearly diary-like entries. Two months of you wondering if they would ever write back. Until he did.

Today sucked.

That was all you wrote, your past two months of writing still ever present and glaring at you with smudges and hinted annoyance. The ink started to fade like Harry talking to Tom Riddle, reappearing with new handwriting.

It was scrawled across the page with terrible handwriting, very much one of a middle school boy. 

Life sucks. Deal with it.

You were now twenty two, an adult and that once hope and love has turned into pessimism and indifference. And life still sucked. 

You were pretty famous, your air manipulation quirk one that catches a lot of attention. That, alongside your rivalry with the second most famous hero Bakugou, brought an abundance of recognition. Bakugou completely steals your thunder every chance he has, stealing your light and victories. 

You hated him. With the utmost disrespect, you hated him. Since your days in the hero academy, the two of you were at each other’s throats. He would even stop in the middle of antagonizing Deku to make some horrendous comment towards you instead. 

You ended up scribbling along the Soulmate Pages, heated rage boiling with each word.

Hey Honey! I need to vent if that’s okay.

Of course.

You would not believe the shit I have to endure in real life. I wish I could describe the hatred I have for this man I work with, he’s a real piece of shit. Anyway, how was your day?

My day was about the same as yours, living with the idiots of real life. If we could write names I would because there’s this bitch I work with that I fucking hate.

Maybe we need new jobs (insert laughing face even though I’m livid right now)

Yeah. Maybe. But we’ll get through it.

It took years for your soulmate to warm up to you. The first interactions were hesitant, slow, and barely considered conversations. But now you can discuss your day as if you were texting a friend, talk about your likes and dislikes. 

He was your soulmate after all.

You learned that he was a boy and an only kid, he had a strong quirk, and that he liked ramen. He was a rule follower and his handwriting always used proper punctuation. You told him all about your life and how you wanted to travel away from everything.

You wanted to know who he was, more than anything. 

You wished you could tell him your name and quirk, where you lived and who you were. You wished he could do the same. 

You’ve tried, of course, to write out your name and location. But the second the words were written onto the page, they turned into a random assortment of letters. Gibberish. Never to be written, never to be known.

“Dude, fucking relax!” You rubbed your temple at your desk, voice spitting venom against Bakugou’s loud vocals. “Not everything is about you, just sit down and wait to be sent on a mission.”

“What did you say to me?”

Katsuki Bakugou had been going on and on about how Deku got assigned to a mission in upper Japan, sent to work with a separate force for a bit to expand his horizon. He was outraged, yelling and standing tall and broad to pretend to be bigger than he was. 

You were doing paperwork, trying to concentrate despite his yelling and complaining and bitching. You were hovering above your seat with your legs crossed, papers scattered (it was a habit of yours, to just kind of hover a couple of inches off the surface of things; air manipulation and all that). 

“I said,” You turned to look into his ablaze eyes. “Sit down and wait. Not everything is about you.”

You only threw fuel into his fire, you could hear the sparking between his fingers. You turned back to your paperwork. 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, you’re not even in the top five heroes.” Bakugou barked in your direction. You could feel his heat as he approached your desk. “You can sit and do your own paperwork all you want! I need to be put on serious cases, just like stupid Deku is always placed on.”

“You can argue with me all you want.” You moved to continue your work, pretending to be unbothered. You could feel the anger boil in your chest. “But you still are and will always be measly little number two. Now shut the fuck up, you’re interrupting those who are actually working.”

He was going to hit you, you knew he was. You two ended up fist fighting all the time, oxygen and explosions ending in destruction. Before he could, your boss walked in with a bellowing, “Bakugou! Get over here, I have something for your loud ass!”

You decided to give him a bored middle finger as he walked away.

They say that words are the way of life. You could say an infinite amount of words and sentences in your lifespan, you could say a word and only ever say it one time. Each assortment of words are different each time, something new every day. 

You figured that’s why you hated the soulmate thing. 

Finding your soulmate should be one of chance, of pure coincidence and meeting of strangers. With the journal, you are starting something you only hope to find. You could go your whole life without finding your soulmate.

And that is terrifying.

There are horror stories of writing to an endless notebook, sad movies created where the lettering turns back to red before they’ve found each other. You wanted nothing more than to meet and just… be with the man you’ve been writing to since you were thirteen.

It seemed to be some sick joke, a tease in the palm of your hands.

When you were young, you attended UA High. It was meant to be the best school for heroes, grooming them into the best of the best. Both of your parents had been heroes themselves, your mom with a cloud quirk and your dad with wings. You took after a bit of both, no wings and no clouds but could create air currents and manipulate the air surrounding you within a certain radius. It has something to do with your breath and lungs, but you never looked too much into the actual DNA aspect. 

When you arrived in the hero program, you passed the tests with ease. You tried to focus mainly on yourself and gaining your own points, alongside a couple of students with the same idea. 

You were pissed when you were placed in 1-B instead of 1-A. It was the start of your rivalry with the explosion boy. 

Luckily, you quickly gained friends. You actually seemed to have a soft spot for Hitoshi Shinsou, and you and Itsuka Kendou seemed to be the only two with brains (this led to many conversations resulting in shit talking and giggling). So in the end, you weren’t too upset to be placed in the second best class. 

And you did get to fight with Bakugou a lot more without punishment, your professor wanting to be number one as much as anyone else. 

One particular day that you remember to this day, one that really labeled your hatred for Bakuogu, was just a normal day at first. You were finished with your normal morning classes and just beginning the hero portion of the day, the training and fighting. 

Your class was working with Class 1-A for the day, teaming up with one of their students and seeing how your quirks would act both against and with each other.

You were, of course, teamed with Bakugou.

The fucker was already set in his ways, loud and in need of attention at all times. You were well aware of his… loud personality… at that point, being beside Shinsou when he called your class “extras”. He was already someone you wanted nothing to do with. 

“Good luck.” Kendou muttered to you when your names were announced as partners. “See ya.”

The second you headed to him, you could feel his apprehension. He wanted nothing to do with you. And you wanted nothing to do with him. In fact, you were hoping for Uraraka as your partner, wanting to see how your air manipulation would work with her gravity. 

Apparently the professors wanted to see the oxygen working with the burst of flames. Which, honestly, is cool yes — but it was the person behind the explosions that you did not want to be a part of.

Bakugou was not one to mumble under his breath. 

“Why am I paired with you?” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “I could at least be with someone interesting like Mind Control over there.”

You already wanted to punch him. “You’ve obviously never seen my quirk.”

“Clearly it hasn’t been interesting enough to be worth my attention.”

“Say that again when I remove the oxygen straight from your lungs.” You threatened, knowing damn well you didn’t know how to do that yet. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He let out a long exhale, moving into position. You were already flying by the time he let off his first explosion.

His utter disrespect for you and your quirk not only irritated you, but only was the start of a long term competition on Who Can Be Better Than Who that lasted the rest of your time at UA.

Through the constant loud arguments, the yelling in the cafeteria and the comments just loud enough for the other to hear, the fist fights and the swearing that was reserved only for each other, you found comfort in talking to your soulmate. It was relaxing after a long day of pure annoyance and shit talking to finally just get to have normal conversations with someone you enjoy. 

Are we allowed to ask about school in this thing?

I don’t think so.

I’m sighing. Pretend that you could hear my sigh.

Wow, that was a loud sigh.

YOU’RE FUNNY! Anyway, I really want to know if we go to school together :(((

I don’t even think we can talk about JRTPD or BO::SOMD. See, they turn into gibberish.

 I mean… we can say school. So we can ask ABOUT school just not… specific schools. 

That’s true. I go to a special school and am the best in my class. You’re getting lucky by having me as a soulmate.

Well I would only hope so. Need a smart soulmate for fun facts.

Fun fact: you’re pretty cool. I guess.

Ah, the admission of your love for me.

Not love. I don’t hate talking to you if that does anything for you.

The one person you don’t hate. I’ll take it, Soulmate.

Don’t push it.

We should give each other nicknames. Since we can’t call each other by our real names.

Does the book allow it?

My parents did it before they found each other.

Okay. Like what?

I can call you Hot Head, because you’re hot and because you are always writing about how mad you are.

No.

I can always go with something cute like Honey.

This is gross. I was thinking like gamer tag nicknames.

Okay, Honey.

I take back what I said, asshole.

Honey and Asshole. The perfect pair. We could solve crimes!

I’m going to bed now.

Goodnight Honey ♡ I know that you aren’t reading these but you will in the morning. Dork.

“Do you know who your soulmate is?” You asked.

You were hanging out with Kendou, Monoma, and Shinsou in Kendou’s bedroom. The dorm rooms were all set up the exact same way, but for some reason Kendou’s always seemed to be bigger. 

“No idea.” Monoma shrugged. “I don’t think I want to know until I’m older, we’re too young and I want to focus on graduating first.”

“He’s right.” Kendou twisted in her position on her bed. “Why? Do you want to know who yours is?”

“I want to know more than anything.” You sighed. Your head was laid across Shinsou’s lap on the floor. “We get along so well and I try to talk to him every day.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“He told me.” You laughed. “We tried really hard to narrow it down as much as possible.”

“It sounds like he wants to know you too.” Kendou said. She giggled. “I should ask my soulmate their gender.”

“What about you, Shinsou?”

“I barely write to mine.” He shrugged, making your head tilt a little. “I’m sure they understand.”

“I’m sure they do, they were made to be yours.” You looked up at him with a smile. “Of everyone, I thought you would write the most.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because most people are scared to talk to you in real life.”

He flicked your forehead. “You aren’t scared to talk to me.”

“I’m not scared to talk to anyone.”

“I’ve noticed.”

You sighed and closed your Soulmate Journal, the rain now casting a dark shadow across the entirety of the sky. Your face was flushed in red, hair disheveled and you were still in your hero uniform, dirty and kind of burnt. 

Katsuki Bakugou had not only interrupted your victory, but he had claimed it as his own. His desperation to be the number one hero hadn’t stopped. It’s been years, you’ve grown past his stupid desire and he simply… hasn’t.

You fought the villain yourself, using your quirk to it’s full capabilities and trapping them in a circle of air. You fought for over an hour by yourself, taking up the mission while out and witnessing it first hand. Your freshly bought coffee was long forgotten as you raced after the thief.

The second you landed the thief, the ball of air dissipating as you grew tired, Bakugou arrived in a fiery feat and handcuffed the villain. Of course, the main photos were of him with the handcuffs, standing proud as if he hadn’t stolen your fight. 

His argument was that he did help. Yeah, he did ‒ for three seconds.

Katsuki Bakugou was a piss stain upon himself, truly the worst of the worst who’s own personal interest outweighs anything else in his life. He will never be anything but second best because he never thinks of anyone but himself. 

If only he could read thoughts instead of turning his sweat to ignition. Then you wouldn’t have to put your harsh thoughts into tone.

Your Soulmate was one of two people you genuinely enjoyed talking to, he always seemed to be on the same page as you. The other is Shinsou, from your high school. He was the only one you really kept in contact with.

Sometimes you like to convince yourself that Shinsou is your soulmate, since he hasn’t found his either. But you compared the handwriting and it didn’t match at all. Shinsou’s handwriting was much smaller and neater than the man you would eventually call yours.

“This is so fucking stupid!” You screamed, your rage reaching its max.

You threw your journal across your bedroom, the storm masking the sound of it banging against the wall by your bed. You were pissed, you wanted nothing more than to see Bakugou’s downfall. It’s been years. You were over it.

You were over it all. You were over him, you were over not knowing your soulmate, you were over being alone in your stupid apartment. It all reached it’s apex. Maybe you needed a shower, or maybe you needed to move from your job.

Your fit was interrupted by a loud crash on the roof of your apartment building. You nearly jumped at the sound, the sound not even close to the crashes of thunder. 

You rushed to the roof, your hero senses kicking in more than your regular carefulness. Once you were outside, you were almost instantly drenched in the rain. Only a couple of yards ahead of you was a man crumbled to the ground; they must’ve hit the roof harder than you thought.

When they turned, clutching their side, you knew instantly who it was.

“Deku?” You rushed towards him. “I thought you were in Hirosaki for some serious villain.”

He moved to stand, much taller and broad than he was back in high school. Yet still with the fluffy green hair and bright eyes with hope always seemingly sewed in. 

“I was. I just… I need your help.”

“Why do you need my help?” You helped him stand fully, taking his hand from his side to check for an injury. He wasn’t bleeding. “Doesn’t Uraraka live around here?”

“I don’t… want to involve her in this.” He stood straight. His healing must’ve started. “I… this is something I need you for.”

“Okay…” You crossed your arms. “What do you need?”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Deku started, and you didn’t move. “But it’s Bakugou.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Aero, I know that you two…”

“No.”

“Please, I…”

“Deku, you know more than anyone how and who he is. Whatever it is, he can deal with it himself.” You started back towards the stairs. “I appreciate you coming to me, for whatever reason, but this is something that you have to find someone else for.”

“Don’t think of this as us doing something for him.” Deku rushed to stand in front of you. “Think of it as a favor for me. You owe me one.”

“Don’t do this now.” 

“I’m officially cashing in my favor.”

You sighed, “Fine. Can you at least tell me what we need to do for the asshole?”

“I’ll tell you on the way.” He nearly jumped in joy. “But you cannot tell anyone. Not Shinsou, not the police, and not our boss. This is under the radar.”

“Oh, shit.” You followed him as you flew next to him. “What are you getting me into?”

tag list: @katsulovee @paradisebabey @seaofemptygold @zhaixiaowen @daylghits @haikyuusimp91 @darknessyournewfriend @samwise-though @liaxxx109

[warmblanketwhump]

safe enough to fall

a little university-themed thing I wrote using @sicktember prompts: comfort item, sneaky temperature check, medicine, unlikely caregiver, and lightly inspired by these prompts

the grip of the winter’s cold was their constant, unrelenting companion - but sometimes, B just wished it would be a little less faithful.

It doesn’t ease in the morning, when B wakes up coughing with a cold nose and stiff limbs. It stays as B shivers through the lukewarm shower and the hurried layering of clothes over damp, goosebumped skin. It sticks to them like cling wrap on the bus, in the lecture hall, the windy walk to their next class, makes them tense their rattling jaw, and leaves them hunched over and huddled up, desperate to conserve any scrap of heat.

This was a fact of their university existence - that after the pleasant crispness of fall, their poor, scholarship-funded body was plunged into four months of frozen hell. They didn’t like to complain - after all, they were getting a free education. But no one told them how brutal their university’s winters would be, nor that dorm heating was little more than a few puffs of warm air every hour, or that regardless of how many layers they pulled on, they’d be chilled to the bone until late March.

Their final class of the week is in a drafty science lab, and they hold back a groan. The cold's not the only source of their dread - it was the thought of spending 90 minutes with their perky, overly friendly lab partner, A.

A, whose parents were well-off, well-known benefactors of their university. A, who lived in a nice house with proper heating and had the money for a warm winter coat. A, who obliviously chattered on about anything and everything. Besides that, they were just so...happy. All the time.

The can afford to be, B thought miserably. There was no way all that sunshine could be real.

B really tried to tamp down their bitterness, but it was hard to listen to someone gush on about their amazing weekend their family spent on some tropical island when B spent the same weekend wrapped up in blankets, trying to stay warm enough to study their nomenclature notes.

Two minutes before class, A bounds into the lab like a freed golden retriever and begins their usual volley of caffeinated questions, which B responds to in short, clipped answers. Suddenly, the questions stop and A’s brows furrow.

“You look cold. Are you okay?”

B shifts on their stool and tucks their fingers into the sleeves of their worn secondhand coat, pulling it tighter with a shudder. “I am cold. It’s winter.” They cough weakly into their elbow - the nagging cough has gripped them for weeks now.

“Are you sick?”

Direct, then. That was new. “No. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t have a fever or anything.” In truth, they had been feeling a little lower than usual the past couple of days, the chill a little deeper, the aches more pronounced, the cough a bit more painful. But in their book, that was hardly enough call themselves sick. B sniffles and A opens their mouth to comment further, but the professor calls the class to attention, and the moment is gone.

90 minutes later, they’ve got their work cut out for them - a ten-page lab report that’s going to count for nearly a quarter of their final grade. And as luck would have it, it was a partner project, which meant B got to spend more time with the equivalent of human rocket fuel.

“So...do you want to just knock this out tonight?” A's eyes dart around nervously.

B frowns - it’s almost the weekend, and they figured A would have plans with friends this evening. But B sure doesn’t have anything going on., so they don’t protest. “No… I s’pose we should get as much done as possible while it’s still fresh. Want to go to the library?”

“Ugh." A cringes. "Do we have to? That place is like a tomb.”

B huffs indignantly. “It's not that bad," they mumble in a weak defense of their favorite study spot. A shoots them a glare, and B rolls their eyes. "Do you have somewhere better? It's Friday, so most places are closing up.”

“Well, my parents decided to go on some last-minute ski trip to the Alps again, so my place is free," A says as they step out into the biting wind. "Plus, I have a ton of food and it's actually warm in there, unlike these buildings.”

The promise of decent heating and food that wasn't from the dining hall was enough for B. "Fine. Your place." The pair trudge through the bitter wind as the sun begins to set, and soon they arrive at A's parents’ home - a beautiful, winding estate just a couple minutes away from campus. B has to bite their lip to keep their jaw off the ground - in the blustering snow, this place looks straight out of a Christmas card. Another reminder of how they don’t fit in this world.

Will you stop? B chastises themselves. A having money isn't a personal attack on you. Just enjoy the free food, finish the assignment and get over it.

Despite the towering exterior, B's house was quite cozy, colored in warm neutrals and filled with soft, comfortable furniture. Just past the mudroom, they spot a big living room filled with with an enormous overstuffed couch, squashy-looking pillows, and soft throw blankets. Everything about this place screams warm. A rubs their arms, suddenly aware of how cold they are. The heat nearly makes them dizzy, and they can feel the temperature difference as it seeps into their cold skin.

"Want some cocoa?" A tosses their bag into the corner and heads for an electric kettle in the kitchen, and B follows. "It always helps me warm up." B nods. A couple minutes later, A pushes over a steaming mug with the top entirely covered in marshmallows.

B wraps their chilled fingers around the mug and takes a sip, and the warm, rich liquid feels like heaven to their cold body. "That's amazing."

A smiles. "It's the good stuff." They sip in a surprising silence for a few moments, before A sighs in resignation. "As much as I wish this was just a social call, this report isn't gonna write itself." They grab a bag of popcorn and nod their head toward the living room, and B follows dutifully. A flicks on the gas fireplace and tosses B a throw blanket, and the pair gets to work.

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

After a couple hours of studying, three instances of indignantly thrown popcorn, and a dramatic reading of the periodic table, B realized that they may have misjudged A. Deep down, under the bubbly exterior, A was a genuinely kind, sweet person. It wasn't an act - they just were human sunshine. And the longer they spent time with them, the more B realized they didn't mind their company at all.

"Alright." A drops their pencil and rubs their eyes. "If I have to balance one more equation, my brain's gonna explode. Study break time." A flips on the TV and puts the volume on low.

B leans their head back on the couch and pulls their throw blanket to their chin, trying to ward off the shivery feeling in their core. Despite the heat of the fire, the mug of hot chocolate, and the thick blanket, they just can’t seem to get warm.

Their face feels hot, but their blood feels chilled and heavy, the weight of it making them ache deep down in their bones. B wraps their arms around their knees, trying to rub away the throbbing pain and get some warmth into their skin. They glance out the picture window at the now-blowing snow. It's gonna be a miserable walk home.

"B, you're shivering." A's turning to look at them now.

B startles. "It's-It's nothing. Just a chill." The concern in A's voice triggers their flight response. "I....I should probably get back to the dorms. It’s late–" They're cut off with a hacking cough that leaves them breathless and they wince at the ache in their chest.

"B, it's snowing, and you haven't even had dinner-"

"Where's my jacket?" They push themselves up and toss the throw blanket off, instantly regretting it as the air invades their pocket of hard fought warmth. They’re trembling and dizzy and desperately freezing, but they cannot stay here. Then, the world tilts and they fall back on to the couch. For a moment, they're just laying in an icy, spinning world, trying to catch their breath, when warmth suddenly envelops them.

A's tucking the same thick grey blanket around their shivering form. As they pull away, their hand lightly brushes over B's neck, then freezes. B twists away from the gentle touch, but it’s too late. Realization floods over A's face. Caught. "You lied. You are sick."

B groans, even as their fingers weave into the chunky knit and pull the warm layer closer. "A, please. Just let me go home. I'm probably contagious. You don't want me here."

"B, you look like death warmed over. I'm not sending you out in a blizzard when you're feverish like this. I won't do it." There's a spark in their eyes and a set to A's jaw that dares B to challenge them.

B leans back, defeated. Even though they want nothing more than to run out of this room, they're too weak to stand and too cold to move. So here they'll stay.

It's okay. Someone's here. You can give in now.

No. I can't. I can't let them see me like this.

What choice do you have? You already look awful. Let them help you.

A covers them with another blanket and places a gentle hand on their back, rubbing slowly. The firelight flickers, casting light and shadow across their solemn face. “B. Tell me what you're feeling, and I'll get you what you need.”

B swallows down the rising panic, the helpless vulnerability they feel, and takes a shallow, shaky breath. “I…I guess I just feel….not right. I’m always cold...but it's...worse.” They sniffle weakly, trying to still and order their swirling thoughts. “Chills, fever, cough, sore throat, kinda stuffed up. And it just hurts everywhere.”

A nods slowly, then leaves the room. They return in a few minutes with a few small bottles, carefully scanning the labels and holding them up for B to see.

“Can you take this? Any problems with this one?” B had to take a moment and match the brand names with their usual knockoff brands, but soon they had a couple over the counter medicines picked out, along with something for their cough.

A glances at the medicine labels once more. "This one says to take with food. I've got some leftover chicken and dumpling soup I can heat up - does that sound okay?"

B nods almost imperceptibly. "Sounds wonderful." A gets up to heat the soup, and B feels the anxiety rising in their stomach when they're not in the room with them. A returns with a mug and manages to gently spoon a few sips of broth into B's mouth before B starts falling asleep, clutching the grey blanket even tighter to their shoulders.

A smiles sadly. “That blanket's my favorite whenever I'm not feeling good. It's the best thing you could have to fight off what you’ve got. Trust me.”

B curls into the soft fabric. It was as if the warm environment of the apartment and the comfort of the blanket had been a signal that it was safe to leave survival mode, rest for a moment, open the floodgates that had been holding back whatever had been ailing them for weeks.

After B takes their medicine, A’s eyes shift awkwardly around the room. “So….when you’re sick, do you like having someone with you? Or do you want to be by yourself?”

A sudden rush of emotion crashes over B. They’d so rarely had the choice. It takes all they’ve got not to throw themselves around A and beg them not to leave. “Stay, please,” they ask in a small, trembling voice. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

A smiles halfway and gently pats B’s leg. “Seeing as how I live here, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” They take their spot at the end of the couch and pull B’s legs over their own, flicking the TV to a familiar movie. B tries to keep up with the plot, but they keep falling in and out of a fitful, restless sleep, tossing, turning, unable to get comfortable enough.

When B’s about ready to cry from exhaustion, A’s there, covering them up with another blanket, bringing them a glass of water, gently stroking the damp hair off their forehead before laying a cold cloth over it. They flinch at first, but the cool dampness eases the fire of their fever, even for just a moment. The last thing B remembers before falling unconscious is a gentle hand squeezing theirs.

It could be minutes or hours later when they jolt awake from a fever dream in a cold sweat, choking and coughing. They’ve kicked off their blankets and the cloth is nowhere to be found, but the chills are back in full force. A appears in B’s blurred vision, hand held to B’s forehead. “Poor thing. Your fever’s worse,” they murmur.

B’s still gasping for breath, curled up in the fetal position, body wracked by the shakes as they try force the words through their chattering teeth. “A...It's so cold. I’m so scared.”

If B was more lucid, they’d see something in A’s eyes crack wide open at their weak, fearful cries. A pulls the trusted grey blanket from the floor and wraps it back around B, rubbing their arms to try and make them feel warmer. There's something in the tenderness of the gesture, and B’s panicked gasps turn into soft, quiet sobs. They try and cover their face with one hand, but A’s hand is there, catching their wrist and wiping the tears away with their thumb.

“Hey. You’re gonna be okay. We just gotta get through tonight, alright?” A’s voice matches their usual cheery demeanor, but B can see the fear in their own eyes. They don’t know what they’re doing either.

“Why are you helping me?” B whispers in a tear-roughened voice.

A shrugs. "You're sick. You need help. Is it that so surprising?"

B's eyes flash a delirious spark. "You don't get it. I'm a broke scholarship student. I'm nothing like you. I'm not fun, or bubbly, or rich, or any of those things you are, and I don't fit in here. So why?"

B can't stop the words now, every single insecurity laid bare. "Why do you try to talk to me when I'm nothing but rude to you? Why'd you invite me here? Am I just a project to you? Why are you helping me? I'm not worth it!" The words spill out before B can stop them, and the raw hurt in A's eyes nearly rips B's heart out of their chest.

B claps their hand over their mouth, tears flooding their eyes. Now they've done it. They've laid it all out there. A's gonna kick them to the curb. And B won't blame them one bit.

But instead, A just looks at them, and pulls B into a hug. Their voice wavers only a bit as they whisper in B's ear: "You're not a project. You are completely worth being cared for. And you’re not the only one who knows what it feels like to not fit somewhere. Trust me.”

Alone. In a big, empty house. Studying on a Friday night. No plans of their own.

A, are you lonely, too?

Their words are so simple.

And yet they're everything B didn't know they needed to hear. A's got one arm around their shoulders, and one hand threaded through their sweaty, fever-damp hair, and they're cradling B so tightly it’s like they're the one who needs to be held.

B can't find the words to apologize or comfort them back. They're too tired for that. But they wrap their other arm around A and let their head rest on their shoulder. They stay like that for ages until their head begins to drop, and A shifts so they’re both laying down, B curled against A, A’s arm wrapped around their shoulders as they tuck a blanket around them both.

And finally, finally, B lets go. It's safe to fall, this time around. Because for the first time, there's someone there to catch them.