#instead i can just quit that fixes it too

[mwphisto]

So.

Lads reaction to mc being in such a position that their ass is stuck up in the air

LaDs: You did this on purpose, right?

~ All Contain Smut, the consent is dubious for these - never explicitly asked for or stated & they are all in pre-established relationships.

~ All love interests x Female Reader

A note from Soul: Thank you for this idea! Sorry it's taken so unbelievably long to get around to it! I hope it was somewhat worth the wait ;-; I also hope I took your prompt the right way lmao if not... I can always try again!

Xavier can’t help the low chuckle that slips past his lips when he sees you stuck between the tv stand and bookshelf. You’re whining, wiggling your ass as if that will do anything other than tempt him. “How did you manage this, my star?”

The second you slump in defeat, his laughter grows a little stronger. “I was trying to fix all the cables you have back here and I got stuck! If I move too fast the tv will fall. Can you just hold the tv for me so it’s stable?” Reasonable enough, but you’d be a fool to think Xavier would ever let this perfect opportunity pass him.

You expect to hear him shuffle closer, to see his hand from your peripheral vision perhaps. Instead, you feel his hands encompassing your ass. “…Xavier?” The tv teeters as you try and turn your body around, effectively keeping you in place.

“C’mon, tell me this isn’t the perfect opportunity.” You feel it then, his fingers hooking in your sleep pants and tugging them down alongside your panties in one go. “My star, why are you already wet?” How on earth does he expect you to answer that?

“Xavier! Quit playing!”

“Playing? I’m not playing.” His fingers are spreading you apart, watching the arousal ooze from your entrance. "If anything, my star, it seems you're the one playing around." A small smirk is pulling at his lips as he watches your cunt clench around nothing.

"J-just..." But you had nothing proper to say, fingers clenching around the bunch of wires you had foolishly tried to organize. "Don't knock your tv over in the process..."

And you swore he moaned, the warmth of it spreading over your exposed cunt as he placed a wet kiss to your dripping center.

"I'll make it worth your while, my sweet star."

Zayne has seen you in quite compromising positions before, but this one? Oh this one takes the cake. "Z, is that you? Can you help!" You had lost hope in your quiet escape a while ago, accepting your fate of being ass up with your head down in the washing machine.

"My love, how did you even manage this?" Though, it's quite muffled from where your head is at. "I was trying to get the last sock stuck to the bottom, I reached too far and lost my balance and... yeah." Your feet were barely touching the ground, not enough leverage to push yourself back and get stead on the ground.

Zayne suppressed his laugh, eyes dragging over your pitiful stance. All the while, he was making a mental note to buy a washing machine that opened from the side rather than the top.

"I'm afraid my services require a fee." And your bewildered squeal was enough for him to tug at the sleep shorts that had been riding up your ass with each struggled wiggle. "One that needs to be paid before the services can be done, of course."

"No way! Get me out of here first and then I'll pay you!" But slender fingers were already squishing and squeezing your bottom, a pleased hum slipping past your lover's lips. "My love, you know this opportunity is too good." The stain that appeared as Zayne pressed two fingers over your covered center only proved him right.

"Z, please! I swear all the blood is rushing to my head!" But he only laughed, hooking his fingers under the thin strip of fabric covering your center. Pulling it away from your heated sex to see the arousal clinging to the fabric, keeping it connected to you. "I beg to differ, it seems you certainly have enough circulation to..."

But you kicked your legs with a squeal, embarrassed and aroused at the same time. "Just get me out of here!"

"In due time, my love."

Rafayel was nearly doubled over laughing when he found you. "Cutie, how did you accomplish this feat?" You couldn't see him, of course, but oh could you hear the amusement in his voice as he spoke. "You should be thanking me, Raf! I saved your sculpture!"

But, in the process, you knocked over several canvases... and perhaps his beloved ladder he always sat upon. Which didn't hurt when it landed on you. It actually was cushioned by the fallen art pieces on top of you. But, now? You're stuck.

"Cutie, I'm pretty sure you can wiggle your way free." Though, he certainly doesn't mind the view you are presenting him with. Your ass is wiggling a bit but you can't shimmy free with the wet sculpture in your hands. "If I do, it'll ruin the sculpture! It's still wet!" Even now, you could see your fingers creating indents where you held.

"That's... fine." Though, Rafayel would be lying if he said that didn't give him several inappropriate ideas.

How ruined would his newest sculpture be if it was the only thing you had to hold onto while he fucked you stupid? Oh, now he really had to find out. "Let's make it a different sort of art piece, yeah?

Before you could question him, you felt his hands circling your thighs, spreading you apart as he tugged your bottoms to the side. "Rafayel, what are you- shit!" He was nudging your entrance, the dull head of his cock collecting your arousal and smearing it around.

"You sure this wasn't on purpose? You're already so wet..." You felt the urge to question how he was already hard. But you knew your lover well, this position wasn't all that innocent either. On your knees, back arched, ass up? It was like dangling a treat in his face.

"Don't be ridiculous, just get me out of this mess please!" A last ditch effort as you felt him center himself at your entrance. "Oh I will, after I've had my fun..." and he's pushing in, reveling in your desperate whine as he pictured your fingers digging into the clay.

Sylus can't quite believe his eyes when he enters one of his many armories. "This is... an interesting tactic to get my attention, kitten." He had merely gone to investigate the crashing sound he heard, assuming it was one of the twins and not... you.

"Sy! T-this wasn't an attempt to get your attention! I'm genuinely stuck!" A case of weapons had fallen on top of you when you bent down to look at a particular gun he had hanging low on the wall.

Now, you're quite literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. "Ah, well... you've certainly garnered my attention regardless, Kitten."

Your dress was bunched around your waist, revealing your cotton panties to his hungry stare. Mentally, Sylus was thankful neither twin went running at the sound of your chaos. Or else, they would have gotten a view meant for him and him alone.

"I take it you are needing my help." But his tone is a bit far away, as if he is too dazed to really put effort into his words. It's totally not due to the wet patch on the center of your panties, no not at all. Definitely not due to your wiggling hips, or your plump ass begging to be smacked. No, not even your thighs pressing together as you squirm.

No, Sylus was much... stronger than that. (wrong)

"Yes! Yes please! I really can't find a way to free my-Sylus?" Your entire body stiffens, not out of distain but out of surprise. His nose is warm as it trails over your lower back, his hands hot as they still your wiggly hips. "Remember that time you couldn't help yourself while I was on my back under my motorcycle?"

Oh. Oh no... you remembered very well. You couldn't have helped yourself then even if you wanted too. The way his shirt had ridden up his stomach? His arms bare and muscles flexing as he worked on the underside of his bike? Yeah, no. You had straddled him so fast it nearly gave you whiplash. Sylus hadn't even flinched...

"I think..." and something hard and bulging is pressed directly over your covered center "...it's time I returned the favor, no?"

Caleb was convinced he had seen too much porn. No, his mind was utterly tainted, ruined, a wasteland ruined by consumption of the adult video industry. Because there was no way this was happening to him... to you... and he was getting hard.

"Caleb? Is that you?" You want to turn back and look, but you are unironically stuck under the kitchen sink. Somehow, you wedged yourself too deep, stuck between the wooden base and the piping of his sink. "Got a little carried away while cleaning... I'm stuck."

Clad in one of his shorts and a pair of his boxers, Caleb felt like a kid on Christmas morning. His sweet pipsqueak, his perfect princess, he could slap a bow on your ass and he'd consider you the best gift he had ever received. "Yeah, yeah I can see that."

"I just need you to guide me a bit, I think I can get out if you do that- what the hell?" You had attempted to move back but you could feel his evol cling to your skin. "Caleb! Now isn't the t-time!" But his nose was nuzzling your center, and every complaint fizzled out.

"Oh, c'mon. I can't give up this opportunity, pips. You looked too cute with your ass in the air like that..." He can feel you shudder, feel you still feebly attempt to push back but for a different reason.

"Caleb... my back is starting to hurt..." but you were already going slack-jawed. His tongue licking over your covered cunt before his fingers yanked his boxers down of your hips. "All the more reason I should make this pretty pussy feel good, no? You made a mess of my boxers, pips. Your pussy leaked all over them..."

Your cheeks burn as you hear him inhale, sniffing in the heady scent of your musk. You have a funny feeling he won't be washing them before he wears them himself... "Such a pervert, Caleb..."

"Yeah, yeah. But I'm your pervert."

[simspaghetti]

Took me a while, but I finally sourced the mods I use for Late Night gameplay - you can find the rest of my EP lists all linked here under ‘Modpack Lists’ :)

Firstly, an important note about Bridgeport performance & mods:

Bridgeport is a notoriously unreliable town, I personally only got it to load once I had a big mod cleanout, but I know other people haven't had problems with this, so it seems to be luck of the draw tbh - if you're going to be playing in Bridgeport, I'd recommend limiting your mods to the bare essentials as much as possible - make sure you don't have a whole bunch of script mods installed at once, as that appears to be a contributing factor, and uninstalling resource-heavy mods such as NRAAS Storyprogression has helped others as well - anyways, good luck & I hope you're able to get it to work!

And as always, if you have any other suggestions of mods I should add to this list, please let me know!

With that disclaimer out of the way, onto my modpack for Late Night! ⬇️

EllaCharmed's Fixed Bridgeport

I've heard mixed things about the world fixes, but Bridgeport is so buggy I couldn't get it to work no matter what I tried (I think my mods folder is too big) - some people said this fix worked for them and it's worth a try if you're having issues!

NRAAS Overwatch

This mod is an essential in any sims 3 save - but especially in Bridgeport as cars / sims tend to get stuck way more often!

Faster Elevator Moving / Loading

This can help reduce lag in cities with elevators as normally they take an age

LN Camera Fix

This fixes the issue with the camera in high-rises going all over the place when you're in tab mode, and allows you to control it better - it also removes camera drift & increases the camera lower / maximum placement This mod is incompatible with Aikea Guinea's lower/no drift camera mod - but it has all the same features as that mod, so you can just replace it!

Ani's SimDrinks / 'Get Drunk' Mod / Drunk Walk Version / PhoebeJaySim's Drunk Mod

Gives your sims moodlets / reckless impulsive interactions / mood buffs depending on how much 'juice' they have at the bar, which makes clubbing much more fun imo - the only thing about Ani's mod that's kind of unrealistic is that the moodlets last 24 hours! But for me, the entertainment factor of my sims turning up to work still drunk from the night before is pretty funny, so the length of the moodlet doesn't bother me :P

The 'Drunk Walk' version makes sims walk with the 'pond walk' from Seasons when they have the 'drunk' buff (I'm not sure if seasons is required for this to work, but it might be!)

PhoebeJaySim's Mod is newer and it has quite a few more interactions available!

LazyDuchess's Lot Population Mod

This one is an essential for any town really - but it's especially good in Bridgeport as it means the clubs and so called 'hot spots' actually have other sims in them instead of being completely empty

New Dance Routines Mod

Adds in new dance interactions for sims, using animations from the sims 4 - sims will do these actions autonomously so it adds in a bit more variety for nightclubs

Subway Charge

Does what it says on the tin, sims now have to pay a variable amount for a subway journey based on their age

Less Space Needed for playing Bass

Very small fix that reduces routing issues with sims playing the bass

No Stretch 'Children Can' Series

As well as adding a bunch of interactions from other EPs, this mod also allows ur kiddos to play the instruments that come with Late Night, which is my favourite use of this mod (as it makes no sense to me that kids can't learn the piano until they're teenagers!)

Better 'Lifestyle of the Rich & Famous' LTW

Updates this LTW to make the money goal higher and adds in a 5-star celebrity requirement - making it much better for Late Night gameplay

Celebrity Difficulty Mod

Makes becoming a celebrity variably more difficult depending on what version you choose - this also makes the celeb system less annoying as your sims have much less of a chance of accidentially becoming famous This mod also alters what actions are seen as 'disgraceful', so getting divorced or having a child out of wedlock will no longer make your sim be banished from society

Bouncers want bigger bribes

This list is becoming 'how to make your sims lives harder' but that's just how I like to play my game lol I love a struggle - anyway this mod does what it says on the tin - bouncers want higher bribes so your sim genuinely won't be able to get into an exclusive lounge if they're broke (which makes gameplay much more realistic)

Only Papparazzi / Occult can 'Eat Cake' from Cowplant

This mod is really silly, but I love it because it means you can pop a cowplant outside your celebrity houses to act as a bodyguard against paparazzi - which I think is just a really fun feature bc paps are annoying asf and there's not really another way to protect against them lol

🦇Vampire Mods:🦇

sHoNi's Vampire Overhaul

I personally use Bite, Minor Things and Thirst - it alters some things about vampires that used to be small annoyances for me (eg: you now don't have to ask to bite sims, you can just attack them - which makes much more sense!)

Nraas Vampires & Slayers (Storyprogression Module)

Contains a bunch of new 'personalities' for NPC vampires, this basically makes them a bit more dangerous / impactful to the gameplay of your town as NPCs will convert other sims to be vampires etc

Dead People Don't Glow

This stops vampires having that visual 'glow' override that can look kind of weird and yellow/greenish - this mod has been said to work for some peoples games and not others, I have no idea why that is, but it works for me on the most recent patch! I'd recommend putting it in your 'overrides' folder instead of your main 'packages / mods' folder as that appears to make a difference for some if it's not working

Silent Vampire Run & Powers

Turns off the noise for some of the vampire effects - which can get obnoxious / annoying after a while if you're playing with a main sim who's a vampire

Human lifespan for supernatural sims

Some people love the fact that vampires (and other occults) are basically immortal in TS3 - I'm not one of them as I usually play vampires in households with other human sims and it annoys me that they don't age, this mod makes it so that they live a normal lifespan :)

NectarCellar's Vampire CC: Default Replacement Bite & Accessory Fangs

This is not a mod - but I couldn't help but put this CC in here because it really improves the look of Vamps imo!

[loganficsonly]

an independent woman ☘ 9 (end)

˚₊‧⁺˖✮ ch 9: epilogue ✮ ˖⁺‧₊˚

masterlist

worst!logan x fem!reader, 2.1k

SUMMARY: As Logan learns to live instead of survive, he finds himself in the extremely dangerous position of sharing an apartment with you—Wade's friend. Extremely dangerous because Lord knows he can't keep his feelings a secret forever... not when your room is five steps away from his.

SERIES WARNINGS/TAGS: english is not my native language, no use of y/n, reader is a working adult (mid-late 20s) with a slightly written out personality, friends to roommates to lovers, slow burn, secret crushes, mentions of alcoholism and AA

CHAPTER WARNINGS/TAGS: logan is a lover boy, nudity and implied sex

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i'm a sap so i've started reflecting on this series and the experience of writing it lol maybe i'll post that sometime. thank you SO MUCH to everyone that's supported this fic i love you <3

also i think it's freaky how my other fic the cure really fits into this series, i'm treating it as a side story lol

“Looks like things are going well,” Laura hums. 

Logan looks over at her as he sips on a canned cola.

The afternoon sun rays hit the bench they’re sitting on, a little bit too warm, almost blinding. Cicadas buzz in the background, and the faint smell of elm permeates in the air. They can hear a bunch of kids somewhere, their shrill laughter floating above a game of soccer. Regular consequences of hanging out at Tompkins Square Park in mid-July.

But neither father nor daughter move. Fugitives like them have kept to the edges of the world far too long to take moments like these for granted. Sunshine. Air. 

Peace.

“What do you mean?” 

The younger woman rolls her eyes at him. Universal code for ‘quit the bullshit’.

“Come on. You and her.” 

She tilts her chin over in your direction.

You and Wade are playing catch with Mary Puppins in a field of grass in the distance. From where Logan is, the dog looks like a matted hopping rain cloud. Vanessa hovers nearby, filming the moment on her phone.

It was Wade’s idea to come here. Something about wanting to heal his inner child by having a day out with his family. You quickly got excited at the plan, and Logan liked it when you smiled, so he didn’t say no. 

He finds the sight of you distracting. How you’re dressed casually in a top and a pair of shorts that look like they’re made of a material so soft and worn, cooing over Dogpool as she brings you back the battered tennis ball.

It’s the sun’s fault. The light outlines your skin like a halo. You look like you’re glowing.

“What about it?” he replies, peeling his eyes away from you and back to Laura. His tone isn’t avoidant. If anything, he almost sounds playful. Like a dare. 

Laura lets out a snort. 

“Please, it’s pretty damn obvious. You look a decade younger these days.”

Logan smirks. “Just one?” 

“Cracking jokes like that? Two.” 

She perches her elbows on top of her knees, leaning forward in her seat.

“She’s good for you.”

Logan doesn’t answer, but his mind responds almost instantaneously, projecting images of private moments of you and him in the apartment that is now his sanctuary. Slideshow after slideshow of collected memories.

That time you kiss the inside of his wrist after he fixes a loose valve under the kitchen sink, a soft and wordless ‘thank you’. Your legs draped across his lap, shifting a little as you laugh at something inane on TV. Whispers of his name beneath the covers, skin against skin, your fingers bringing him closer, always on him somewhere like you can’t stand being apart—his hair, his shoulders, his arms…

Like a wishing well in the woods, you gave him something deep and lasting and magical.

Drinking from it has made him even thirstier.   

Laura looks over at him, catching the way his gaze softens. There’s that faraway look, one that tells her he’s not quite sure how he got to be here. He thinks nobody notices.

You think you’re slick, too, but Laura sees how you no longer protest when Logan gets your bag or umbrella when you walk into a room. How you barely put up a fight when Wade banned you from washing dishes at his place. The change is subtle, gradual, but enough to pick up between gatherings.

Like you’re learning the language of being, without explaining why you have the right to. 

As someone who got banished to the Void, of course Laura sees it. 

The silence settles. Logan is the first to speak.

“Yeah. She is.”

Laura blinks, head turning to see him. He’s still looking at you.

“Don’t fuck it up,” she smiles goodnaturedly.

He huffs, hiding his face behind the rim of his drink.

“I won’t.”

You and Wade are fussing over Mary Puppins. He’s patting her butt while you scratch behind her ears, as if the dog ordered a full-service massage.

“Sooo, when were you gonna tell me?”

You resist the knee-jerk impulse to freeze. That sing-song voice means trouble.

“Tell you what?” you feign ignorance.

“That you and Logan are a thing. Even Al can see that—and I don’t need to remind you she’s blind.”

You think you’d be the worst person to ever be put in an interrogation room, because you sigh, not even putting up a fight. Any attempt at deflection would probably be pathetic.

It’s not as if you and Logan are deliberately keeping your relationship a vaulted secret. The two of you just happen to agree to be subtler in group situations to avoid unnecessary attention, and… well, the sort of chaos that Wade might bring when he stumbles upon this kind of knowledge.

But this is Wade you’re talking to. ‘Friend’ seems too small a word to summarize him. You gave him tips on how to get rid of blood from his clothes, sat with him on days that were too sad. He made you open up—one of the first people to do so since you moved to the city.

He also gave you Logan, in a way.

And it’s not like you can lie to him convincingly. Even if you could, you kind of don’t want to, either. 

You shoot Wade a look that gives him enough to latch on.    

“Oh my fucking god, you bitch!” he squeals. “I need you to spill all the tea!”

“What’s there to spill? You figured it out,” you say coolly. Maybe staring at Dogpool’s tongue will help quell the flutter in your stomach.

“You know, last month, he told me he was going to move out,” Wade replies.

Your eyes snap up to his. 

“It was during that mission with the TVA. Went to this different universe—which was fucking sick, by the way, everything was black-and-white—and you wouldn’t believe what we saw.”

“What?”

“You. With a really cute boyfriend that’s not Logie Bear. The way it rattled him, I figured he had feelings for you—I mean, I figured that out a long time ago, but his reaction really was the nail on the coffin.”

You blink. You did not know anything about this. Your hand stills, unconsciously pulling away from Mary Puppins. She immediately finds it a disservice and darts over to where Vanessa’s standing, leaving you and Wade sitting on the grass.

“And?”

“I teased him about it, of course. He insisted he didn’t have feelings for you and was going to move out anyways.”

Your heart jumps.

“Then I punched that lying slut in the face.”

“You what?”

“And now he’s your boyfriend! You’re welcome,” he bats his eyelashes, grinning with glee.

You choke out a laugh of disbelief. “I… did not know this.” 

“Which is why I’m telling you—I take full credit for getting you two dumbasses together.”

“Hey! Who’re you calling a dumbass?”

“‘Of course I like him, Wade, it’s just not like that, you know?’” Wade mocks, purposefully launching a poor imitation of your face. You feel your face burn, embarrassed enough to put a hand over your face when you recognize your own words once upon a lunch. 

“Please don’t.”

“Fine. At least tell me you’ve seen him shirtless.”

You swallow. Then tersely nod once. He lets out an overly dramatic sigh, flopping his arms like a deflating tube man.

“FINALLY. Did it change your life?”

“Yes.”

The two of you share a smile—yours shy, his a little scandalous. There’s silence. You catch his gaze soften.

“You’re good for each other, honeybee. You know that, right?”

Yes. Yes, you do. You feel it in your bones. That kind of certainty isn’t something you feel very often in life. But it’s there, every day you wake up next to him, every night you sleep next to him. How he lifts the constant weight of needing to justify your existence. How he reassures you that you’re free to be without needing to prove why you’re worth it.

He makes you believe in another kind of liberty. A new kind of independence. 

You look over to where he’s sitting with Laura and find that he’s already looking this way. 

“And you’re a great friend, Wade. You know that, right?”

“The best there is, boo.”

You left the park at sunset, parting ways with Laura first. Wade and Vanessa continue to walk with you—it’s a couple more blocks before they need to turn into a different street. 

Logan and Wade are several steps behind you and Vanessa, silently tuning in and out of a conversation about how middle management is just glorified babysitting. The pink sunset blanketing the city gives way to a wistfulness that’s hard to put a finger on, the kind that looks out the window and whispers ‘there goes another day’. 

“Oh.” 

Wade blinks, turning to Logan.

The older man digs his hand into his pocket before tossing something in the air. Wade catches it in both his palms.

“For you,” Logan murmurs.

Lightweight aluminum. Red.

Wade stops in his tracks, fingers tracing the embossed letters on the surface of the chip. The street lights help him read the words. 

To thine own self be true.

1 month.

Eyes meet—Logan’s already looking back at him. The message in that gaze is loud and clear.

Thank you.

“Wade told me something,” you say quietly.

Draped on Logan’s naked chest, you’re just as bare, thumb mindlessly caressing his midriff. He strokes your hair gently as if mirroring your gesture.

Something in your voice says your mutual friend already knows. Not a single adamantium bone in him finds that surprising. In fact, a part of him is glad—he no longer has to hold his hands back whenever they feel like touching your waist.

“Mm?”

“You saw me. In a different timeline.”

He blinks, then nods, surprised at how long ago that night feels. The memory is buried, but if it’s quiet enough, he can still recall everything: the look on your face, the twinkle in your voice as you laugh while walking down that brick pavement, your lover in hand. 

He watches as your eyes continue to stare into his, dreamlike. 

Are you thinking about it? The possibility of happiness with someone else, someone out there in the vast threads of alternate realities who’s more deserving of you?

He’s changed, he realizes, because the thoughts don’t bite him like they used to. Debilitating self-doubt diminished into mere curious musings, thanks to time and your constant streams of affection.   

Then you smile and—oh, that look on your face turns out to be for him. You don’t even ask about it: who you’re with, if you’re happy, questions that come with the multiverse.

You kiss the space right above his heart.

“I’m glad I’m here. With you,” you whisper, all soft and sweet, and his heart cracks all over again. 

You keep getting away with making him ache. He’s not complaining.  

He moves you closer to him before kissing you slow, nose brushing yours. Your hands find his shoulders.

That’s when he feels it. Hears a ghost of it, the three words, mouthed against his lips.

I love you.

Funny how things work. How one day a man in a red leather bodysuit dragged him out of a dive bar and into a chance at redemption within a world that’s not his. How he ended up with the most miraculous stroke of serendipity on his lap that led him to mixing his laundry with yours. To distracted movie nights and domestic dinners. To holding you in his arms like he finally gets to keep something he fought tooth and nail for. 

Funny how you thought he was sick of you, when he’d be happy to only think of you forever.

You part from the kiss first and he sees you look at him, expectant gaze wavering a little. He curls his lips into a smile—he made you wait. You’ve gotten better at making your wants clear, even if it’s left unsaid.

As if to reward you, he kisses your forehead, then leans down, nose brushing yours. He whispers against your skin.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” 

And then you exhale like your world is alright again.

Logan hears you first before he sees you enter the apartment. You’re sighing, looking a little haggard compared to when you left for work in the morning.

He makes his way to the door, but before he can help you with your bag, you’re already walking towards him, a smile on your face. Like you’re ready to breathe him in deep.

“I’m home,” you greet, voice light. He hooks your bag onto his elbow before holding your waist in both hands, pulling your body closer to his and slanting his face as he leans down. 

You melt into the kiss.

“Yes, you are,” he hums, a breath apart, before pressing his lips onto yours again.

His home, that is.

taglist: @squishyfruitloop @britttzy267 @tezooks @ddwnghead @dear-detested @duckyyyx @hits-different-cause-its-you @mrfitzdarcyslover @snowlycanroc @teresas-lisbon @fidgetingbee @poopie-poopie @thedosian-trix

[frozenmoonshine]

What the TR character you're crushing on says about you?

Having been a part of this fandom long enough, I have noticed some patterns...

⚠�� This WILL trigger (some of) you, 'cause I WILL be exposing and calling you out! It's gonna get real below the cut, so read at your own risk. ⚠️

F reader/hetero dynamic; the reader is toxic; crack

🚨 Disclaimer 🚨

Please don't take any of this seriously in any way, there is no offense meant whatsoever! I love all of the TR characters, and I'm myself guilty of simping for quite a few of them, so no judgement here at all. I wrote this for shits & giggles and the sole purposes of humor and entertainment, like I always do. So, have fun with it, and if you also manage to have a laugh at it, I'll consider my mission completed! Peace 🩷

P.S. I really hope none of this actually resonates with your real life experiences, but if any of it does, here's a piece of big-sisterly advice - please value and love yourself more, and reexamime which trauma responses make you act in that way.

MIKEY, KAZUTORA, SANZU

You either A) suffer from a terminal case of I-can-fix-him-itis, or B) your coddling, nurturing, mothering instincs are running amok. Most likely it's both at the same time - you see the red flags as a call for aid instead of warning signs of danger.

TAKEMICHI, SHINICHIRO

You go for a kind but pathetic, golden-retriever-energy man, who's okay with being at your beck and call at all times. You're actually just a control freak who thrives on bossing others around because you're afraid of letting go.

NAOTO

You're boring as hell and have the personality of unseasoned boiled chicken. You probably have a thing for authority figures, and your deepest, darkest desire is to be handcuffed to a bedpost, so that's why you think police officers are sexy. You'd never in a million years admit that to anyone, not even to yourself, 'cause it would ruin your slyly crafted 'innocent good girl' personna.

DRAKEN

Oh you lil' homewrecker, you're into taken guys! A guy being married or in a relationship has never stopped you from pursuing him. You don't believe in 'off limits' either, and would gladly date your best friend's ex, or even try to steal her crush. Nasty business!

BAJI, KOKO, INUPI

You get turned on when a guy is clearly not into you. You're just twisted like that. You see how kind-hearted he is towards his friends and close ones, and how dedicated he is to his purpose, so you wait in hopes that he might spare some of that for you too, but deep down you know he doesn't give a damn about you, yet that makes you cling even harder.

MITSUYA, CHIFUYU, AKKUN

You're sane and you know a keeper when you see one. You might play it too safe at times, but better safe than sorry, amirite?

HAKKAI

You have a corruption kink and draw sadistic pleasure from torturing the innocent souls.

PAH, PEH, ANGRY, MOCCHI

You see beyond the appearances. You go for personality and good heart. You long for a genuine connection and don't care about the surface-level stuff. Not! You're just a hipster who thinks it makes you so, so cool that you're forcing yourself to be into "unconventionally attractive" guys!

SMILEY

You're either just as much of a chaotic gremlin as he is, or you're a sub-category of the I-can-fix-him gang.

HAITANI BROTHERS

You have no taste of your own, you just ride any hype train that is trending at the moment. You're most likely chasing a specific "aesthetic" you saw on TikTok instead of knowing what you like. Either that, or you're just desperate for external validation so badly that you would willingly allow a guy to treat you like shit as long as he's considered attractive enough that it'd make your girlfriends jealous of you for getting to date him.

IZANA

You're likely just as toxic as he is, if not even more than him! You think abuse is affection and trauma bonding is intimacy. You may have more than one mental disorder, sooo, yeah... birds of feather flock together.

KISAKI, MADARAME

For the love of me, I cannot figure out what might be wrong with you! But something definitely is. Big time. Better get it professionally checked before it's too late.

HANMA, TAIJU, SOUTH

You're most likely 160 cm or shorter, so you don't care about any red flags as long as the guy's tall enough. If you cannot see the red flag 'cause it's waving way too far above your eye level, that's the same as no red flag, right? Right?!

MUCHO, KAKUCHO, BENKEI

Okay, I hear you, girl! Your type is the 3S - strong, silent, and stoic. And honestly, nothing wrong with that!

WAKASA

Emotional unavailability is your criptonite! You're also very superficial, so you deliberately ignore the red flags for pretty faces, and choose F boys only to later complain how all men are trash.

TAKEOMI

If you're a teen or in your early 20s, this just screams Fatherless Behavior™️! Like, girl, dial those daddy issues down, we're going deaf over here... If you're a full-fledged adult with developed prefrontal cortex, well, sorry to break it to you, honey, but you just have a really, really poor taste in men.

[angstama]

04 ; spaces between us | l.jn

pairing: dad!lee jeno x f!reader (ft. na jaemin)

genre: angst, slight fluff

synopsis — three years after divorcing jeno, you've found a careful rhythm in co-parenting your son jun. the old fights about his work schedule and emotional distance have faded into polite exchanges and shared custody arrangements. but when small moments of connection start to feel like second chances, you begin to hope that maybe you could try again. though, it all falls apart when jeno asks to introduce jun to his new girlfriend. suddenly, you're forced to confront a devastating truth: the man who claimed he "wasn't good at relationships" during your marriage has apparently learned how to love properly—he just needed someone else to do it with.

a/n: hiiii lovelies!!!!! thank you so much for your patience in waiting for chapter 4 :") i am personally MOST EXCITED for chapter 5 bc omg drama :")))) also i received so many asks for angst reccs and im taking some time to compile them so do give some time! meanwhile, thank you so much for all the love! tds4 was so good and im so excited to see them again in bangkok dkfhksdjsd i got noticed by jeno and mark LFGGGGGGG IDKFJS anyways love you guys so so much! see you in chapter 5 🤍🤍🤍

sbu m.list | previous | next chapter

the drive to jeno’s place felt like a slow crawl through a storm with each second thick with the weight of your spiraling thoughts. anxiety pooled in your stomach, tightening with every passing streetlight. your mind was consumed with jun. was he okay? but underneath that worry ran a quieter, more complicated fear: what jeno must be thinking. that you had ignored him. that you were irresponsible. that you’d been too busy… with jaemin. the thought made your chest ache, and the silence in the car only made the guilt louder.

you spotted jeno’s apartment building as jaemin pulled up to the curb, its familiar grey-bricked facade somehow colder than you remembered. “i’ll wait here,” jaemin said, glancing over at you. his tone was easy, but his eyes searched your face like he wasn’t sure whether to let you go in alone. “i’ll be fine,” you said, unclipping your seatbelt. “i’m not planning on staying long.”

you knocked, knuckles grazing the door of jeno’s apartment with a tension that had been mounting since you saw his name light up your phone fifteen times. 

the door swung open faster than you expected.

jeno stood there, jaw tense, eyes scanning you from head to toe. “seriously?”

you blinked. “what?” that’s when you heard it — the unmistakable sound of a car door shutting behind you. you turned just as jaemin was getting out of his car, stretching a little from the driver’s seat, his usual calm coolness intact.

jeno’s expression hardened. “so that’s why you didn’t answer my texts?”

you opened your mouth, caught somewhere between explanation and defense, but jeno was already stepping forward, his voice raising—not quite shouting, but cutting sharp. “i had to cancel everything because you couldn’t bother to pick up your damn phone. soomin fell. i needed to be there, but instead i had to stay with jun because i didn’t know where you were. i didn’t even know if something happened to you.”

you recoiled slightly at his tone, anger flaring to match his.

“you’re kidding, right?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “you’re mad because i didn’t drop everything so you could run to your girlfriend?”

“she's injured.”

“she’s not dying,” you snapped. “and what do you mean by you had to stay with jun? jun is your son."

jeno doesn’t answer right away. his eyes fixed on jaemin like he’s still trying to figure out what his presence here means. his silence feels heavy, stretched thin between everything unsaid. “it’s not about that—” he starts, voice tight.

but you cut in before he can say more.

“you know,” your voice wavered, soft but sharp around the edges, “back when we were still married… i got the flu so bad i couldn’t even stand. i was shivering on the floor trying to hold jun, and you left — said you had deadlines. said it couldn’t wait.” you laughed, bitter and small. “but now? now you’ll drop everything for soomin. because she slipped?”

you hated how pathetic it sounded, hated even more how honest it was. the bitterness sat on your tongue like something you couldn’t swallow down, no matter how hard you tried. maybe it wasn’t just about today — maybe it was everything. the way he seemed to keep showing up too late, and never when it mattered most. the way it always felt like someone else had to come first before you. even now.

and after everything — after you thought things between you were finally steady, manageable — it just felt like the distance was growing all over again. like the two of you were slipping through the cracks in a space you swore you had learned how to hold.

jeno looked stunned for a moment—genuinely thrown. but then he glanced over at jaemin again, his jaw clenching. “i don’t know what’s going on between you two, but—”

“there’s nothing going on,” you threw your hand up in frustration. “but even if there was, it still wouldn’t erase the fact that you only seem to be capable of being the man i needed back then… now. for her.”

silence.

jun’s soft footsteps echoed behind jeno as he padded into view, clutching his stuffed pikachu. “mommy?”

you exhaled slowly, reaching for him. “hey, baby. ready to go?”

he nodded into your shoulder, sensing the tension but too young to name it. you kissed the top of his head, gaze flicking up one last time to jeno—who looked like he wasn’t sure if he was more guilty or angry.

“say goodbye to daddy, jun,” you reminded gently, your voice soft but steady. because no matter how complicated things had become between you and jeno, you never wanted that to touch the way jun saw his father. jeno was still his dad — and jun was still the most important thing in his world.

jun hesitated for a moment, his little hands tightening around the fabric of your shirt before he slowly slid off your lap. he padded over to jeno, arms outstretched, and wrapped them around his father in a small but firm hug.

“bye bye, daddy…” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. then, after a beat, he added, “i hope aunty soomin doesn’t feel too much pain.” jeno froze, arms instinctively wrapping around jun, but his heart sank.

he must’ve overheard everything.

the argument. the raised voices. the tension that neither of you managed to hide. and now, jeno’s son — his sensitive, thoughtful boy — was trying to make sense of it all, shouldering guilt that never should’ve touched him in the first place. and in that moment, it didn’t matter how right or wrong jeno felt. it just hurt.

you watched as jun made his way back to you, his small steps slower than usual, head still bowed. without thinking much of it, you bent down to scoop him into your arms, your fingers brushing through his hair with a gentleness you reserved only for him.

"come on, buddy,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple. “uncle jaemin's going to drive us home, okay?"

you tickled his cheek lightly, earning a quiet giggle that settled something in your heart, even if just for a second. you didn’t notice the way jeno’s eyes flickered, or how his jaw clenched at the sound. you were too focused on grounding yourself—for jun’s sake.

jaemin had been leaning against the car, arms crossed casually, though his gaze remained fixed on you. as you approached, his eyes briefly shifted to jeno—his expression unreadable, but his smile long gone.

he’d caught the tension in your body from yards away, the stiffness in your shoulders, the unspoken weight you were carrying. even if he hadn’t heard what was said, he knew. and more than that—he saw the way jeno kept glancing his way, like his presence alone was something unwelcome.

jun peeked out from your shoulder, still tucked securely against you, and offered a shy wave.

"hello, uncle jaemin," he mumbled.

jaemin’s features softened immediately. he stepped forward, voice light and playful. “aigoo, hello junnie,” he cooed, reaching out to ruffle jun’s hair gently.

the small exchange was innocent, affectionate—but jeno’s face twisted at it, his brows drawing together tightly.

it wasn’t the words. it was the ease. the comfort. how naturally jun said uncle jaemin.

and for reasons he couldn’t admit out loud, it unsettled something deep inside him.

the car ride was quiet at first.

jun was tucked in the backseat, humming to himself as he stared out the window, legs swinging slightly. you sat in the passenger seat, head leaned gently against the window, fingers resting near your lips—lost in thought.

jaemin drove in silence for a while, giving you the space he figured you needed. the only sounds were the low hum of the engine and jun’s occasional murmurs from the backseat as he traced shapes onto the window with his finger.

still, the weight in the car was palpable. so jaemin tried—tried to cut through the tension the only way he knew how.

because if he could make jun smile, maybe it’d make things a little lighter for you too.

“hmm… jun-ah,” jaemin started, glancing at the rearview mirror with a playful tilt to his voice, “did you finish building your new deck to beat me yet?”

jun’s ears perked at the familiar topic, and his whole face lit up with excitement. “yes! uncle jaemin, i added all the new cards you told me about! do you want to play with me?”

jaemin grinned. “of course. but how about this?” he threw a quick glance at you before returning his eyes to the road. “there’s a carnival happening nearby—tons of games, snacks, probably some overpriced cotton candy. what do you think if your mommy and i take you there first, and then we go back and have our ultimate card battle?”

jun gasped, audibly delighted. “really? mommy, can we go? please?” he leaned forward in his car seat, eyes wide.

you blinked, surprised not just at the idea but at the way jun was practically vibrating with joy. and the way jaemin looked—soft, casual, like this wasn’t some grand gesture but just something he’d do.

you shot jaemin a wide-eyed glance, your hands lifting in disbelief as if silently asking, what the hell are you doing?

he just shrugged, utterly unfazed, the picture of calm mischief.

you mouthed a firm, no, narrowing your eyes at him. but jaemin tilted his head toward the rearview mirror, subtly nodding at jun—who was practically glowing with excitement, kicking his little legs and grinning ear to ear.

your shoulders sagged. you sighed, defeated, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “...one hour. and no cotton candy before dinner.”

jun let out a triumphant cheer in the backseat, and for the first time since you stepped into jeno’s apartment that morning, you let yourself relax—just a little.

the car rolled to a stop just outside the fairgrounds, a soft glow of colorful lights already illuminating the dusk-kissed sky. laughter and music drifted through the air, warm and nostalgic, the kind of atmosphere that felt like a brief escape from the heavy week you'd just had.

you stepped out of the car, folding your arms with a half-exasperated sigh as you turned to face jaemin. “jeno isn’t gonna like this,” you muttered, eyebrows raised in warning.

jaemin only looked at you, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smug grin. “who’s jeno?” he asked, all faux innocence as he circled to the other side of the car.

you let out a sharp breath, caught between a scoff and a reluctant laugh. “you’re unbelievable.”

he gave you a wink before opening the back door, his tone instantly softening. “come here, champ,” he said, reaching in to unbuckle jun from his seat.

“uncle jaemin!” jun beamed, arms shooting up excitedly.

jaemin lifted him with ease, cradling him against his side like it was second nature. “you ready to crush those games and win every prize in sight?”

“yes!” jun squealed, kicking his legs midair, already buzzing with energy.

the carnival lights flickered above like stars that decided to come down for the night, and the scent of fried snacks and spun sugar clung to the air as you weaved through the crowd with jaemin and jun. jaemin didn’t even blink whenever money was involved—he insisted on paying for every booth, every snack, every ride. “i make more than enough to spoil one kid for one night,” he’d said casually when you tried to protest. 

the three of you stopped at a basketball booth, where oversized stuffed toys lined the shelves, taunting every passerby with the illusion of an easy win.

"this one!" jun pointed excitedly, his little finger jabbing toward the rack of orange basketballs. "i wanna play this one!"

"you sure, champ?" jaemin asked, crouching beside him. "this one’s kinda tricky."

"i can do it!" jun puffed out his chest, all confidence and charm, the very image of jeno when he got too sure of himself. that made something tug in your chest.

jaemin chuckled softly. "all right, then. let’s show this hoop who’s boss."

he paid the attendant and handed a ball to jun, who immediately took the most chaotic shot known to man—it bounced off the backboard with a hollow thud and nearly ricocheted into a stranger’s cotton candy.

"woah!" jaemin laughed, catching the next ball before it could roll too far. "that was… really something, champ."

"i missed," jun said, deflated.

"what? no way," jaemin said with a mock-serious face. he leaned in, stage-whispering like it was the biggest secret in the world. "you just scared the hoop. i saw it shake a little. that means you're too good. the basket’s intimidated."

jun’s eyes lit up. "really?!"

"obviously," jaemin nodded solemnly. "i’ve been playing basketball for a long time and i’ve never seen a hoop tremble like that. you’re basically a prodigy."

you watched them from the side, arms crossed, biting down a smile. jaemin looked completely ridiculous hyping jun up like that, but your son was beaming so wide you thought his cheeks might cramp.

"okay okay, let me try again!" jun said, gripping the ball with new purpose.

"lemme help." jaemin positioned himself behind jun, guiding his small hands on the ball. they both tossed it together—it barely made it halfway to the hoop, but that didn’t matter.

"that was amazing," jaemin announced, ruffling jun’s hair as if he’d just nailed a three-pointer in the finals. "we’re basically unstoppable now."

he leaned toward the bored teen manning the booth and said, “how much for the dinosaur plush?” while jun wasn’t looking. a few folded bills later, the neon green stuffed toy was being handed discreetly to jaemin, who turned around with a gasp of mock surprise.

“jun! look what i just found. i think the hoop felt bad and gave us this as a peace offering.”

jun’s face lit up brighter than the booth lights, and he squealed as he hugged the dinosaur with both arms. “he’s so squishy! i’m gonna name him... dino-nim!”

“excellent choice,” jaemin nodded, looking more than pleased with himself.

you shook your head, stepping in closer with a sigh. “you’re such a bad influence,” you muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

“and generous,” jaemin quipped, that trademark smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “don’t leave that part out.”

you rolled your eyes, lips twitching despite yourself as you reached for jun’s hand. “come on, dino-nim,” you said playfully, giving jun’s plush a little pat as he beamed.

jun happily took your hand, swinging it as the two of you strolled ahead, his laughter bubbling like soda fizz. behind you, jaemin fell into an easy pace, hands in his pockets, watching the two of you with an expression you didn’t quite catch—but if you had, you might’ve noticed the softness there.

as the three of you approached the ferris wheel, jun’s eyes lit up with the kind of wonder that only children seemed to have — full of untouched magic and joy. “mommy, can we go on that one? please?” he asked, already tugging on your hand with excitement.

you glanced up at the massive wheel, the lights blinking lazily in the early evening glow, and then back at your son’s face. “you sure you’re not scared?” you teased.

jun puffed up his cheeks, shaking his head adamantly. “i’m brave now. uncle jaemin said i was.”

you looked to jaemin, who simply gave you a small shrug and an innocent look. “he is brave,” jaemin said, feigning seriousness. “besides, you’re the one who agreed to the carnival. you’re in too deep now.”

you let out a laugh, soft and tired in a way that made your chest ache a little. “fine. ferris wheel it is.”

jaemin handed the ride operator the tickets — again, without letting you pay — and the three of you piled into the little carriage. jun was squished next to you, his small hands gripping both your fingers like they were his anchor.

as the ferris wheel continued its slow climb to the top, the three of you suspended against the dusky skyline, jun leaned against the safety bar between you and jaemin, nose nearly smushed against the glass as he marvelled at the blinking lights below.

"you know," jaemin said, stretching his legs out slightly in the cramped carriage, "i think i’ve officially won today.”

you gave him a sideways glance. “won what?”

“best day planner. fun architect. child entertainer extraordinaire,” he listed smugly. “and you were what? just moral support?”

you scoffed. “please. if anything, i’m the MVP here. you were just the wallet.”

“and yet the wallet is the reason your kid’s currently convinced he’s a carnival champion,” jaemin shot back, nodding toward jun who was humming happily to himself. “so you’re welcome.”

“the only thing you championed today was bribery,” you muttered under your breath, recalling how he paid for the giant plushie prize they didn’t even win.

“strategic investment,” he corrected. “plus, dino-nim? totally worth it for that smile.”

a comfortable silence settled between the two of you as the ferris wheel reached its peak. below, the carnival lights twinkled like stars, and jun pointed out each booth excitedly like a tour guide. the city sprawled out around you, vast and untouchable, but for a moment, it felt like the three of you existed in a pocket of time — floating just above reality.

and damn, how badly you wished jeno was here to see this — not just the view from above, but jun’s eyes lighting up at every twinkling light, his quiet laughter echoing in the sky. not just the city sprawled beneath you, but the way this small moment somehow felt like everything you'd ever hoped parenting could be.

jaemin pulled up outside your apartment building, the headlights casting a soft glow on the quiet curb. in the back seat, jun was fast asleep—mouth slightly open, arms limp, completely knocked out from the night’s excitement. you unbuckled your seatbelt just as jaemin turned to glance at you, then over his shoulder at jun.

“i got him,” he said gently, already getting out of the car. you watched through the window as he opened the back door, crouched down, and scooped jun onto his back with a natural ease that surprised you more than it should’ve. jun stirred slightly but stayed asleep, arms draped around jaemin’s shoulders.

you walked a step behind them, quiet, listening to the soft shuffle of jaemin’s footsteps and the occasional hum he made, as if to soothe the boy still dreaming on his back. when you reached your door, you unlocked it quickly and held it open, letting jaemin inside.

he knelt to place jun gently on the couch, careful not to wake him. you grabbed a blanket, draping it over jun, your fingers lingering at his cheek for a second longer.

you turned to jaemin, wanting to say something— yet unsure of what to say either.

so instead, you offered a tight-lipped smile. “thanks for tonight. really.”

he nodded once, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. “it was fun,” he said lightly, eyes searching yours for a moment. “jun’s a cool kid.”

you nodded. “he thinks the same about you.”

jaemin pulled away from the curb slowly, headlights fading down the street, and for a moment you just stood there in the doorway, listening to the low hum of the night and the soft, even breaths of your sleeping son on the couch behind you.

but just before he’d left—just before you could close the door—jaemin had lingered. his hands were still in his pockets, shoulders slightly raised as if bracing himself to say something. there was a pause. not quite hesitation, but not confidence either.

you tilted your head, sensing it. “what?”

he shrugged, feigning casual. “nothing. just remembered i have a… dinner thing. with someone.”

your brows lifted. “a dinner thing?” you echoed, half-teasing.

he smirked, stepping back with that infuriatingly casual swagger. “yeah. a very formal, high-stakes date—with my leftover pizza and some truly awful reality tv.”

you let out a short laugh, crossing your arms. “wow. don’t let me keep you from such a prestigious evening.”

he shot you a mock salute, grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “i wouldn’t dream of it.”

“see you monday, jaemin,” you said, already nudging the door open.

“counting down the seconds,” he called back, turning toward his car.

in the car, jaemin leaned back into the driver’s seat with a long sigh, letting the silence settle before starting the engine. his phone buzzed on the passenger seat, screen lighting up with a name and a string of messages:

[8:11PM] [unknown number] hey! still on for dinner tonight? 😊 restaurant's at 8:30, right?

[8:17PM] [unknown number] jaemin?

[8:35PM] [unknown number] hey… are you still coming?

he picked up the phone and stared at it for a while, thumb hovering over the screen. the clock at the top now read 9:01PM.

he sighed again, this time with a soft smile, and tossed the phone into the back seat without responding.

he wasn’t exactly sure when he made the decision—maybe back at the carnival, when he saw how jun clung to your hand and beamed every time jaemin knelt down to his level. or maybe on the ferris wheel, when you leaned slightly toward him as the wind tugged at your hair, eyes alight at the view. or maybe even earlier than that, when he carried a sleeping boy on his back and heard you laugh tiredly as you opened your door.

all he knew was that the idea of having dinner with a stranger didn’t sound half as good as spending time with you and jun.

he drove off into the night with the windows half down, wind in his hair, a quiet song playing on the radio.

not that he minded missing the date anyway. not even a little.

the conference room was a pristine box of glass and marble, drenched in cold daylight. you sat beside jaemin at the long lacquered table, posture steady, voice sharp in your throat. the opposition sat across—jewel corporation’s ceo, mr. han, flanked by his attorneys. beside him, a woman—their vice ceo, though you hadn’t caught her name—remained perfectly still. composed. elegant in a sharp, clean suit, not a hair out of place. she leaned slightly forward, resting her clasped hands on the polished wood table.

you had your file open in front of you, notes scribbled in the margins. jaemin sat beside you, composed, one leg crossed over the other and fingers drumming lightly on the table. he looked every bit the picture of calm, but you caught the subtle flicker of his eyes to yours—a silent cue. ready?

you gave the tiniest nod.

"we’ve reviewed your client’s revised proposal," their lead counsel began, her voice cool, practiced. "but a $52 million settlement? that’s an inflated figure, even factoring in reputational damage."

you leaned forward, fingers laced. "it’s proportional to the environmental harm caused and the communities impacted. we’re not talking just fines and cleanup—we’re talking years of displacement, toxic exposure, and a PR disaster you’re still trying to mop up."

"not to mention," you paused, "your own internal memos acknowledged liability. should we enter this into discovery, we’d be happy to revisit the leaked bylaw 8.4 amendments and that conveniently-timed reclassification of waste materials."

mr. han’s brows lifted. “$52 million is excessive. our metrics—”

“your metrics don’t live near contaminated water sources,” you cut in, eyes narrowing. “your metrics don’t account for the families displaced, or the whistleblower you tried to silence last spring.”

you cleared your throat as you flipped to the next page in the binder, gaze steady and voice firmer than ever. “$52 million. non-negotiable.”

there was a beat of silence.

“that’s a steep ask,” their legal counsel finally said, his voice careful.

jaemin, seated next to you, hadn’t spoken much during the meeting—but you could feel his presence, steady as a mountain. he sat with his usual relaxed confidence, one arm resting across the back of his chair, his other hand idly turning a pen between his fingers. he let you take the lead, just like always, but you knew he was listening to every word. calculating. watching.

when their counsel pushed again—"surely your client understands this could drag in court?”—jaemin finally leaned in slightly.

“we’re very comfortable with that,” he said smoothly, with the kind of quiet certainty that could make a room go still. “but we figured we'd offer this as a gesture of efficiency.”

his tone was cordial. borderline polite. but it was a warning, and everyone in the room heard it.

you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of the woman’s mouth. not quite a smile. more like a silent acknowledgement.

that was the moment you knew: she wasn’t here to play games. and despite her composure, she had just taken measure of both you and jaemin—and stored it away for later.

"we'll discuss this internally and get back to you," she finally said, the first words she uttered since sitting down. her voice was smooth, low, and carried the weight of someone used to being listened to.

you gave a curt nod and reached forward to stop the recording, the quiet click of the video camera marking the official end of the deposition. the tension that had been thick in the room slowly began to dissipate, replaced by the shuffling of papers and chairs.

the woman across from you—elegant, composed, and impossibly unreadable—stood without a word. but before she turned to leave, she glanced at you. it wasn’t hostile, not quite. but there was something in the way her eyes scanned over you—measured, sharp, almost disdainful—that left a cold knot twisting in your gut.

she didn’t say anything. she didn’t have to.

and then she was gone, her heels echoing down the hall like punctuation marks.

you exhaled slowly, leaning back in your seat. the room was quiet again, just you and jaemin left in the aftermath.

“god,” you muttered, rubbing your temple. “one down.”

“and what a show it was,” jaemin said lightly, though his eyes were still fixed on the door she had just exited. “she didn’t like you.”

you shot him a sideways look. “thanks. didn’t pick up on that at all.” you were packing up when you suddenly remembered that the camping trip that will be happening over this weekend and you'll finally meet soomin. the woman who will be evidently a part of your's and son's life though a part of you wished she could just remain in jeno's life and away from you. but you also wanted them to get along, if she makes jeno happy then jeno deserves this.

“what are you doing this weekend?” jaemin asked, glancing over his shoulder as he flipped through some papers but clearly not paying them any attention. his mind wandered elsewhere—specifically, back to that day at the fair with you and jun. he’d never admit it out loud, but he’d been replaying moments from it more than he cared to admit.

“i do still have a match with jun we didn’t finish,” he added casually, like it was just about the game, though it wasn’t.

you paused for a second, gaze flicking up from your screen. “well, that’s too bad,” you muttered, voice flat, a trace of bitterness slipping through. “jun’s off on a family trip this weekend. with his dad and… his girlfriend.”

you didn’t need to explain further. the word “family” hung heavy between you both, tasting almost foreign in the way it now referred to a version of your life that no longer included you.

jaemin looked up at the change in your tone. subtle, but enough for someone like him to catch it. “so that means you’re free?” he asked, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.

you hesitated, suddenly aware of how quiet the office had gotten. “i guess,” you said with a shrug. “though i might be hanging out with renjun and chenle.”

his brow lifted ever so slightly. “chenle? as in, our old classmate chenle?” he tilted his head, a glint of curiosity lighting his eyes. “interesting.”

you gave him a look, immediately catching on. “don’t even start.”

jaemin smiled, already reaching for his phone like he was penciling something in. “that’s fine. i’ll come too.”

you blinked. “what?”

“i’ll join.” he repeated smoothly, as if it had been your idea all along.

you stared at him in disbelief. “nobody invited you.”

he leaned back in his chair with all the smugness in the world. “and yet, here i am—inviting myself. that’s initiative.”

you narrowed your eyes. “aren’t you supposed to be a busy man?”

and it was true—na jaemin was a busy man. people were always trying to get a piece of him, to earn his time, his attention, a spot in his orbit. but the only place jaemin wanted to be was near you—though he’d never admit it out loud.

he’d always been a little addicted to your presence, even back in university when the two of you were constantly butting heads. you drove him insane, challenged everything he said, always two steps ahead with that sharp mind and sharper tongue. but underneath all that rivalry, jaemin admired you deeply—your brilliance, your fire, your relentless drive.

and if he was honest with himself, it was you who pushed him to become the best version of himself in this field. you were the competition he never wanted to lose to, and somehow, that rivalry turned into something quieter. something softer. something he was still figuring out.

“i am.” jaemin nodded. “but that’s the beauty of it. i have associates to be busy for me.”

“you’re unbelievable,” you scoffed, though the corner of your mouth betrayed you with a reluctant smile.

“and yet… you’re still smiling.”

“no, i’m not.”

“you are.”

“shut up.”

“i’ll see you saturday,” he grinned, already turning back to his laptop like the matter had been settled.

you rolled your eyes, but your heart felt just a little bit lighter.

// to be continued...

taglist: @chaoticstrawberryland @bbykaixx @strawberrytyong @desiree-lee @mybearcollective @dilflover44 @kangshinwoolovin @kgneptun @firydst @httpsxnox @justineasian @sunflowerhae @huangberryyy @stelleduarte @luvleenono @ccoristu @gomdoleemyson @tinted-skies @dior-15 @socollectionmoom @blackberrywonie (if i missed out your user pls lmk!!!!)

[pinkinkpetals]

We Live For Them

Thunderbolts* Oneshot

Summary: Things take a turn for the better the night John finds Yelena standing on the edge of the Watchtower.

TW: Mentions of suicidal thoughts and depression

Word count: 1.3k

As John steps out of the shower, he immediately regrets pushing himself as hard as he did during the afternoon’s training session. A dull fire licks through his muscles with every stretch and shift—not quite painful, but sharp enough to make him wince.

Steam curls around him, drifting out past the bathroom door as he towels off and moves through the motions of getting ready for bed. He pulls a hoodie over his head, only to slide it right off. It’s too hot–the air in his room still feels heavy, like the steam followed him and decided to stay.

His eyes flick to the digital thermostat glowing blue and red on the wall, the illuminated 74° practically begging to be turned down. Tempting, but Ava’s voice plays in his head before he even stands up: “Nobody. Touch. The thermostat.”

He sighs through his nose. Last time he’d gone against her wishes, she’d actually threatened to “phase through his body and rip his heart out of his chest”. It wasn’t an idea he took lightly. 

Fresh air it is.

After throwing on a grey t-shirt, he slips out of his room and into the hallway. The tower is still and dark, save for a dim security light humming down the hall. Everyone else has either passed out or is hiding in their bedrooms.

John makes his way up the stairwell, footsteps silent against the concrete. When he pushes open the rooftop door, the breeze hits him first–cool and restless. 

Then he sees her.

Yelena stands on the edge of the ledge, arms crossed, shoulders curled in a little tighter than usual. She doesn’t look tense, exactly. She looks… still. Like she could tip forward and let gravity do the rest without a sound. 

Something sharp twists in his gut, and words spill out of his mouth before he can turn around and walk back downstairs.

“Not exactly the safest place to clear your head,” John says, voice steady but not quite unkind.

Yelena jolts–barely–but it’s enough for him to see that she didn’t hear him coming. Very unlike her. When she turns around, the light catches her face, and that’s when he notices–her eyes are glossed over. Not red from the wind or exhaustion, but from holding back tears. Fresh tears.

She blinks hard and straightens up like she’s fixing her posture for inspection. “What the hell, Walker? Can’t you see the roof is taken?” Her voice is accusatory, but John doesn’t take it personally. He stays silent as she wipes under her eyes with the heel of her palm, sharp and fast like she’s annoyed with herself for it.

John lifts his hands slightly, like he’s waving a little white flag. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your brooding moment. Just needed some air.”

Yelena doesn’t look at him. Her jaw tightens, arms folded across her chest like armor. “I’m not brooding. I’m reminiscing–there’s a difference,” she mutters, voice quieter than he expected—too soft for someone trying to sound dismissive. The wind almost carries it away.

John studies her for a beat. There’s something off in the way she’s holding herself—shoulders stiff, eyes avoiding his like they might give too much away. She doesn’t look angry. She just looks… empty.

He nods toward the rooftop door. “My only other option right now is dying of heatstroke in there,” he says, jerking a thumb back over his shoulder. “Figure I’ll take my chances out here. Worst case, you push me off.”

She turns a little, not fully, just enough to glance at him. There’s a flicker of surprise, barely visible before it’s gone.

“What makes you think I want company?”

John gives a small shrug as he lowers himself onto the ledge beside her. “I don’t. But if I’m gonna die tonight, better it be a quick fall than slow cooking in my sheets.”

Yelena’s mouth twitches, just barely. He can tell she’s weighing whether or not to push him off the edge. But instead of arguing, she says, “Fine. But if you fall, that’s on you.”

With a sigh, she steps down from the ledge–just enough to sit on it instead of standing. Her legs sway off the edge, bare feet dangling over a thousand feet of open air. She doesn’t look at John when he shifts to face the same direction as her.

For a while, they sit in silence. Below them, the city hums quietly—traffic is sparse at this hour, headlights flickering like stand ins for stars in the light polluted sky. Eventually, Yelena breaks the silence. 

“Before we met, I jumped off of a really high tower in Malaysia for a mission. I thought I was being dramatic. Like–‘oh, cool spy thing, all adrenaline, very chic.’” She lets out a hollow exhale. “Part of me hoped the parachute wouldn’t open.”

John doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t look at her, either. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Been there.”

Yelena glances sideways, something shifting behind her eyes. “You too?” 

He nods once. “After Lamar–my bestfriend–died. Felt like the only thing I knew how to do was survive. And when Olivia left me, I couldn’t figure out why I was still trying.”

She turns her face towards the wind again. Her hands grip the edge a little tighter. “I keep thinking, if my sister could throw herself off of a cliff to save the world, what does that make me? Standing here like a coward.”

“You’re not a coward, Yelena,” John says, more forcefully than he expected. Then, quieter, “We’re all just… grieving.”

Yelena blinks hard. He watches her jaw work, like she’s chewing on the edge of something sharp.

“I keep having dreams where she’s speaking to me,” she whispers. “Telling me to move on. That she didn’t die for me to waste what’s left.”

John swallows. “Lamar used to say something similar. Said if he ever bit it, I better not go full Rambo. I didn’t listen.”

Yelena finally looks at him, eyes glassy. “Neither did I.”

The silence passes through again, the small moment where the living can mourn their dead in peace.

“I thought I had to keep it all together,” Yelena says. “The cool and badass person I once thought I was.” She pauses. “But… I’m tired.”

John nods slowly. “No one ever tells you that being human feels a lot like being a failure. S’ just something you gotta learn to deal with.”

She sniffs, wiping quickly at her cheek. But he saw it. The tear. Yelena looks embarrassed, suddenly hyperaware. “Don’t tell anyone about this, Walker.”

“I won’t,” he agrees quietly. 

“I mean it,” she adds, her usual edge back in her tone. “I’ll kill you.”

John chuckles a single huff of air. “Nice to have you back, kid.”

After a beat, Yelena speaks again, softer this time. “It’s probably stupid, but… sometimes I feel like I owe it to her. To live. Even if I don’t know how to.”

John exhales slowly. “I get that. It can feel like you have to be better, like you have to prove they didn’t die for nothing. But maybe… maybe it's enough to just keep showing up.” He fixes his gaze on a spot on the horizon, where the midnight sky paints the darkness a deep blue.

“Do you think they’d be proud of us–Natasha and your friend?”

John gives a tired smile. “I think they’d be pissed we’re this miserable.”

That earns a real laugh from Yelena–short, reluctant, but real.

“I miss her so much,” she says, her voice catching. John nods in agreement. “I miss him everyday.”

The wind eventually picks up around them, the city lights reflecting in their eyes. Yelena lets out a breath and slouches on the ledge, lightly tapping John’s arm with the back of her fingers.

“We’re not dead yet,” she murmurs.

“No,” John says, sparing a glance in her direction. “I guess we’re not.”

Notes: I’m so sorry for the angst my candy hearts and paper flowers, I just got a Yelena Funko pop and my love language is writing a fic dedicated to diving into her character’s emotional depth :(

[steelxwounds]

her fingers stilled against the glass like the weight of his words had rooted them there. she didn’t look up right away — didn’t need to. the truth in what he said settled between them like ash, quiet and soft and undeniable. you don’t ever mean for it to happen, but that’s what it does to you. yeah. that was it. a breath slipped from her lungs — not quite a sigh, not quite relief. just release. “losing little parts of yourself,” she echoed, low, more to herself than to him. her eyes finally lifted, meeting his with a steadiness that didn’t try to mask how much it meant to hear someone say it out loud. “that’s the part no one warns you about. the slow kind of grief. the kind that doesn’t come all at once but chips away when you’re not looking.” she sat back a little, not retreating — just settling, grounding. leon’s smile wasn’t performative. it wasn’t pity, either. it was rare — someone who understood without trying to make it poetic or palatable. delaney could count the number of people like that on one hand. most of them weren’t around anymore. “maybe stubbornness gets a bad rap,” she said after a beat, a flicker of wryness in her voice. “maybe that’s what keeps people like us going when grace runs out.” her mouth quirked, something between a smile and a grimace. “noble was nice. but stubborn… stubborn gets you through the nights where you lose sleep over someone’s what-ifs.” he didn’t flinch when it got heavier — didn’t look away when the words turned into something too close to the truth. and that mattered more than she could say. so instead, she just gave a small nod — like she was filing this away, tucking it somewhere safe. “you’re right,” she said, and it wasn’t something she said often. “it was the right decision. even on the days it feels like a mistake. even when you wonder who the hell you’re becoming in the process.” the clink from earlier still echoed somewhere in the back of her mind — not ceremonial, not obligatory, but real. like a trench pact in a bar that smelled like whiskey and regret. “i don’t always talk like this,” she admitted, softer now, thumb brushing across the damp ring left on the table. “not because i can’t. just… i got used to being around people who wanted you fixed before you even finished the sentence.” her gaze cut back to him, sharper now but not unkind. “you didn’t do that. and that’s rare.” a long pause. then, a near-whisper — honest in the way only late nights and shared weight can be. “you don’t seem like the kind of person who talks much either. but if you ever need someone who doesn’t ask for a polished version of the story… i’ll be here. same bar. same ghosts.” she raised her glass again, but this time didn’t drink. just held it between them like a reminder — of the people they’d been, the ones they’d lost, and the unspoken understanding that some things weren’t meant to be fixed. “cheers.”

leon  waited  patiently,  allowed  delaney  the  time  that  she  needed  to  collect  her  thoughts.  he  wasn't  in  any  sort  of  rush  to  get  out  of  there  or  hear  her  answer.  he  was  content  with  sitting  there  at  the  bar.  it  allowed  him  the  time  and  space  to  decompress  in  an  environment  that  had  just  enough  noise  to  drown  out  the  thoughts  that  plagued  his  mind.  he  liked  stopping  by  every  so  often,  it  gave  him  exactly  what  he  needed.  he  was  surrounded  by  people  who  likely  shared  that  sentiment,  and  it  was  comforting  to  know,  even  if  he  didn't  typically  strike  up  conversations  with  them.  he  tended  to  keep  to  himself,  but  he  wasn't  entirely  opposed  to  small  talk.  he  nodded  in  response  to  her  statement,  easily  understanding  where  she  was  coming  from.  ❝  it  can  sneak  up  on  you  like  that.  you  don't  ever  mean  for  it  to  happen,  but  that's  what  it  does  to  you.  sometimes,  it  just  gets  to  be  a  lot,  and  before  you  know  it  …  you're  losing  little  parts  of  yourself.  ❞  he  recalled  his  first  loss.  he  also  remembered  every  single  one  that  came  after.  he  wasn't  numb  to  it,  he  just  knew  how  to  carry  himself  in  a  public  setting.  to  some,  he  might've  seemed  cold  and  distant,  but  in  reality,  he  was  just  putting  on  a  facade.  he  couldn't  let  it  show  that  his  career  did  get  to  him  on  occasion.  ❝  perhaps  it's  a  mixture  of  both,  ❞  he  suggested,  offering  her  a  warm  smile.  ❝  i  suppose  that  in  a  way,  yeah.  that's  exactly  what  we  did  agree  to  do.  however,  i  think  it's  important  to  remember  that  we  made  it  this  far,  and  clearly,  despite  the  bad  days  .  .  .  it  means  the  right  decision  was  made.  even  on  the  days  where  you  find  yourself  doubting  it.  ❞  even  he'd  fallen  victim  to  those  days.  he  just  didn't  like  to  talk  about  it.  he  preferred  to  just  carry  on.  leon  wasn't  the  type  to  want  to  get  sentimental,  didn't  enjoy  putting  himself  out  there  where  he  could  easily  be  perceived  by  an  observant  individual.  ❝  exactly,  ❞  he  agreed,  a  firm  nod  following  the  statement.  ❝  to  those  lives,  ❞  he  replied.  leon  furrowed  his  brows  at  her  words,  head  canting  slightly.  ❝  you  don't  need  to  thank  me  for  that,  ❞  he  assured  the  woman.  he  knew  what  it  was  like  to  have  people  try  and  fix  things.  they  just  didn't  understand  that  some  things  couldn't  be  fixed.  or,  rather,  that  not  everyone  was  always  seeking  out  a  way  to  have  things  fixed.  ❝  some  things  don't  require  fixing.  sometimes  …  all  you  really  need  is  someone  who's  been  where  you've  been  and  can  understand  where  you're  coming  from.  i  know  what  it  feels  like  to  just  …  want  someone  to  listen  to  you  and  be  there.  y'know  ?  ❞

[brick-van-dyke]

It's gonna be 39C (102.2f) and we don't have an aircon fuckkk I hate Australian summers. Especially since, at least here, it's humid af as well.

[depresseddepot]

this is a very unique fear but I'm worried they're going to take my full time position away and try to make me part time again

[marionettesgarden]

THE MANAGER DESERVES A RAISE! | saja boys x reader

SYNOPSIS. through some stroke of luck, you ended up being the manager of a demon boy band. from teaching them about phones and social media to managing their idol activities. did you sign up for more than you bargained for?

CONTENT. crackfic, fluff, lighthearted, gn!reader, one use of (y/n), ambiguous reader, mystery centric (for now), brief mention of needles and piercings, saja boys being saja boys

WORD COUNT. 922

AUTHOR'S NOTE. i've been so obsessed with this show and the songs lol i just HAD to write something (also bc i literally didn't see a single xreader fic on ao3 when i wrote this)! i also want to write more and kinda make this a compilation of minifics bc i also do have an overarching plot for this as well and theyre so fun to write!

“Abs, just sit still.”

The manchild blatantly ignores you, too focused on spinning the chair around and twisting and turning just to see how his stomach flexes in response.

Your eye twitches and you contemplate whether this plan really needed all five of them. Surely a four member boy group would do? 

A hand pats your shoulder and you glance over at Mystery furiously pointing at himself.

“You want to go first?” you ask unsurely.

“Mmh, mmh!” he responds.

Your face drops, unamused. “I know you can speak, Mystery.”

His lips pull up into a shit eating smirk as he raises a hand, twisting it so the back faced you, and. . .

. . . flips you off.

You short circuit, mouth agape before whirling around to the rest of the group who were busily tapping away at their phone (you don’t want to remember how many tears were shed and how many lives–phones–were lost just trying to teach them).

“Which one of you taught him that?!”

Tap, tap, tap.

Some chronically online, brainrot, AI generated meme blasted from Baby’s phone, giggles erupting from the couch he and Romance lounged on as they scrolled through whatever inane app they were on. Jinu wasn’t any better as he wrestled with his bird and Abs was. . . Abs.

Breathe in. Count to five. Breathe out.

You turned back to Mystery, gesturing to the set of chairs–spinnable, of course, Gwi-Ma was paying for it after all–as you pulled a cart over. 

As he sat down, content from showing you just how much of human culture he was learning about, you tugged his chair closer to yours as you plucked up a hollow needle with a gloved hand.

“I hope you know that I’m not letting that slide.” You smile cheerfully, the needle glinting threateningly in your grasp. He nervously gulps and you could feel his gaze fix on the instrument. You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, no, I’m not going to do anything to you right now. But I hope this haunts you every day, even in your dreams, that I could be enacting some plan to get back at you. You won’t know when, you won’t know where, it might be in the bathhouse, or it might not. But know that I will be getting my revenge.”

Mystery’s lips grew still. Behind his bangs, his eyes furiously darted around, to his members, the needle, you, the chairs–wow, they were really nice chairs–then to your face. Oh, nevermind, you were still looking scary. He instead focuses on his bandmates, the people he’s suffered with, bled with, for one last glance at something that would calm his distressed heart before he died in the very near future. 

The sound of random and, quite frankly, unfunny videos blasting from the couch as Baby and Romance cackled, several clicks and flashes of light as Abs took photos of his abs, and Jinu cursing as his bird pecked him again for daring to touch his hat were the last things he witnessed before he closed his eyes. 

Mentally sending two giant middle fingers to each and every one of his members, he shed a silent tear as he began planning his funeral. Hydrangeas, he wanted hydrangeas at his funeral.

“. . . aaand there! All done. How d’ya like your new piercings?” You handed him a mirror and discarded your gloves, eyeing the other boys for your next target.

“It’s nice.” he answered, tilting and turning his head to observe the new jewelry dangling about.

“And?” you pressed.

“And what?”

You let out a sigh, shaking your head as you waved a dismissive hand despite the pang of disappointment welling in your chest. They were demons and soon-to-be idols on top of that, you really didn’t know what you were expecting. You just had to see this plan through, help Jinu manage the team, and, once they defeated Huntrix, you’d be free. Forming any relationship with them outside of ‘convenient helper’ was unnecessary, no matter how desperately you missed inane conversations, inside jokes, and late nights spent trying whatever oddly flavored ramen all of you found.

“Hey, I’m next, right?” 

You blinked, pushing those thoughts back as Romance plopped down on the chair in front of you. A little confused, you glanced over to the couch to see Mystery sitting by Baby now.

Did he. . . ?

No, Mystery was definitely not being nice. It was just a coincidence. He wasn’t being nice and just shooed Romance over so that he could lounge on the couch that they all had an odd obsession with. 

“Yup. Here’re the piercings I have. Since you all heal so fast, you can get pierced with the prettier ones.” you explained, tugging the cart closer as you handed him a mirror.

He flicked his hair, an annoying action he’s picked up from all the idol videos you’ve been showing them, and casually leaned back in the chair. “Obviously, the fans would eat up anything I wore. Just pick whichever you like, cutie.”

You swore you could hear Mystery laughing to himself as you held back a barely restrained scream of frustration. Yeah, definitely not just being nice.

Your phone buzzed beside you as you laid in bed, tucked in and just about to go to sleep.

Mystery

Your good sat You’re good at piercing They look nice That you Thank you

(y/n)

no problem!! ur welcome :)

Suddenly, simple conversations don’t seem all that impossible anymore. Smiling to yourself, you fall asleep with your phone clutched tight to your chest and pleasant dreams of a life you had given up.

divider by @huraxy

[finallychaoticeffigy]

Yandere patient x psychologist reader

You can't believe it. How were you assigned to work with the most dangerous patient in the hospital when you just started working a few months ago.

You shook your head "Sir there must be some kind of mistake here, I don't have enough experience to work with him"

Your boss chuckled putting down his coffee at the nearby table as he looked at you "I know it's been only a little while since you started working here, but i believe in your abilities y/n"

You stared at the door , guards behind following you. Room 13, every psychologist would rather quit than to be seen here. Last time he tried to run away, he killed over 9 guards with just a fork. But like your bosses say you have the abilities so it's only worth a try.

You opened the door. You saw a huge man with a straitjacket on.

"Hi" you greeted, putting down your things at a table. You turned to the guards "Leave us, I'll just call when there's an emergency. They nodded as they closed the door.

The patient, or should i say Darius looked at you. His eyes softened. "H-hey" you looked at him with awe . According to his documents he doesn't speak a word to anyone. So that simple word shocks you.

"Come closer...please" He softly utter making you think. Is he trying to get you to come close so he can also stab you with a fork? Even with a straitjacket on , you never know what happens next. Oh well you can't really talk to him when you are this far, unless you shout that is.

You came close to him. You get a better look at him. Jesus this man is beautiful, you thought. Even though he's a murderer psychopath who looks like he could crush you with his pinkie. He's sitting down but you can already tell he's tall as hell.

You then explained the things he had to do to get better. "Don't forget to drink your medicine at the right time." You fix your coat and stand up ready to leave.

"Wait, leaving already?"

"Yes, our time is over" you explained

"oh...Will you come again tomorrow?"

"Totally" you picked up your papers and left

It's been a month since you have been assigned to Room 13. And dare you say ,you two have gotten a bit close. He's not as cold as you thought he was. Actually, he seems clingy and sweet, but you're still not completely comfortable with him.

"Am back" You gave him a small smile. He quickly turned to you and beamed "Y/n !! Come and hug me please" He softly pleaded.

It's kind of weird how he would want to always get in contact with you but you brushed it off. I mean you do work in a mental ward , people here are naturally weird.

As you get closer to him you notice his straitjacket looks a bit out of place. Your suspicion was confirmed as he suddenly lunged at you.

"Hey ! What are you doing Darius get off " you tried to hit him but he's just too strong, heck he even broke his straitjacket.

"Mmmh you always smell divine baby, You have no idea how long I've waited for you to be in my arms" He commented as he licked your cheeks down to your lips.

"No get off! Help someone! " You screamed feeling terrified at his actions. His arms wrapped tightly around you as he also began to suck and lick all over your neck and he moaned in delight.

"I love you Doc , i love you so much i could die, I just wanna kiss you, lick you, suck you and love you forever." He smiled at you , his other hand moved down to your waist and softly squeezed it.

It continued on for a few minutes , the most terrifying moments of your life until the guards came to sedate him.

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

You were given a week of vacation to make up for the traumatic experience you've been through.

You entered the hospital to get some of your things when you noticed how uncomfortably quiet it was.

You suddenly stopped at your track. Is this a prank? You don't think so. You let out a scream as you saw multiple bodies with blood, gut out.

You know those stupid characters in horror movies when instead of running through the exit they ran upstairs instead.

You used to get so annoyed with that , but who knew that's what you'll also do. You didn't think . You just ran through your office .

You collapse on the floor as soon as you close the door. With trembling hands you began to type.

"911 what's your emergency" the other line calmly asked.

H-hello , th-theres been a massacre at the xxhospital. I saw so many dead bodies please we need help" You cried feeling terrified for your life. You still have dreams, you can't die.

" Maam i need you to stay calm , please go to a safe plac-"

"Hello!" You began to panic as the line on the other side was cut off.

"Y/n" you heard a voice outside calling you

"Doc... please come out , i know you're there" He cooed as he began to bang on the door and twist the knob.

You could only cry , not knowing what to do. "Go away !"

"Fuck y/n even your shaken voice is cute. I love you more and more now"

You ran under your table hoping this nightmare could all go away.

Just then you heard the door break down. No..No this can't be, is he in?

"Baby..." Softly said and yanked you out under the table .

You protest and kicked him which was obviously useless as he began to hug you suffocating you,almost.

"Aww. You look so vulnerable right now Y/n, i could just eat you up" The huge man chuckled at you breathing heavily, you swore you could see heart forming in his dark eyes.

"You're mine.. Everything about you " He picks you up still hugging you tightly.

"Now let's get out of here and live together for the rest of our lives"

----------

English is not my first language so my apologies if my grammar is not perfect

[narnian-neverlander]

Jason Todd with a significant other who is kind and patient with him, but is also the most blunt person he’s ever met - and not in the same defensive, snarky way that he is. No, blunt as in brutually honest and without a filter about everything, including your relationship.

And yeah, considering communication and sharing his own feelings aren’t exactly his strong suits, he’s glad for it, cause if there’s something not sitting right with you, at least he’ll know immediately and can work on it. He’s used to always having to fix things, after all.

But then there’s the other things you say like it’s no big deal. He’s not sure what to do with any of that, cause he’s just not used to someone being on his side, someone quite literally shouting his self loathing and doubts into submission for him when necessary. What he does know is you’re about to put him in an early second grave, cause he swears his heart just about gives out with the stuff that comes out of your mouth at times.

“This is your home now, too, why wouldn’t you have your own space in the closet?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, I asked Alfred to give me the recipes for your favorite dishes; I won’t have you be the only one who cooks around here.”

“Wait you actually think I’d be turned off by your scars? You’re normally such a smart, observant man, how the fuck are you this oblivious??”

“Of course I worry when I don’t hear from you for days!! I’m not telling you to call me every hour, but put a freaking note on the fridge next time you leave the country god damnit!!”

“So I know you just got back from patrol and are probably tired, but before you take off all your gear, how are we feeling about you bending me over the kitchen counter in full costume, yes or no?”

“Jason Peter Todd, you’re not setting another foot down those stairs until I’ve had my goodbye kiss!”

“Don’t you fucking dare pull the whole ‘I’m putting you in danger, you’d be better off without me’ crap; you’d have bled out two times in the last month alone if not for me, so get your dramatic ass in bed before I put it there myself.”

If all of that weren’t enough, Jason will most definitely never forget the time you’d stared down Batman, not Bruce Wayne, but the literal fucking Batman, cowl and all, the figure that strikes fear into the hearts of hardened criminals and super villains alike, and had told him to maybe spend some more time down on the streets instead of above them before he lectures him about morals again, otherwise you’d shove his stupid cape so far up his ass, he’d be tasting Kevlar for weeks.

And maybe, just maybe, ever since then, Jason is inconspicuously sneaking glances at rings any time you two walk past a jewelry store.

[deathbxnny]

Arcane characters when someone flirts with you. | Viktor, Jayce, Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Sevika x Gn!Reader

I am the brain rot. The brain rot is me.✨️

Content: pre season 2 Viktor/Jayce!, Jealousy, pitfighter Vi, established romantic relationships, angst, threats of violence/death threats, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He always struggled with self-esteem issues, mainly due to his sickness and disability that made it difficult for him to do much. A part of him forever will believe that you could easily do better than him, yet that doesn't stop him from getting terribly jealous anytime someone gets too friendly with you. Especially when they can see him standing next to you clearly being your partner as well.

But despite his insecurities, he doesn't allow anyone to harass you either on his watch. He lets you defend yourself for the most part until he has enough and lets his more sassy side handle the flirtatious person for you. He may not be able to do anything in a physical way, something he very much would rather avoid. But his tongue is sharp, and it takes little to make them quickly scurry away with a nervous apology for the disturbance.

He'll never admit to being jealous, however, and denies any teasing accusations you send his way. But he'll secretly ask for reassurance as he starts feeling embarrassed over his insecurities rather quickly after. A couple of hugs and kisses from your side will fix that right up, though.

》JAYCE

He has a reputation to keep up. And so, technically, he should always handle things professionally no matter what. People are watching him after all, and his public image can not be tarnished under any circumstance... or so he says. Things change in his mind when they are about you. In general, people know who you are and who you belong to since he rarely shuts up about it.

But every now and then, someone who is somehow unfamiliar with this concept will come up to you and attempt to woo you right in front of his very eyes. Now, Jayce tries to let you handle yourself, but doesn't hesitate to step in either if the person doesn't get the hint. His rather intimidating frame and position as a councilor help him out Immensely with this. He chases them away with a tight smile and a kiss to your head, as he casually asks how he can oh so graciously help them.

Once they leave, he'll pretend not to hear you, of you teasingly asking him if he was jealous. Him? Jealous? Hah! Impossible... okay, maybe a little. But don't tell anyone that.

》VI

As a pitfighter, Vi doesn't hesitate to get violent with anyone who comes close to the only good thing she has left in her life, which happens to be you. She's extremely protective and makes sure everyone gets the hint regarding who you belong to. But alas, there are always the couple strays that refuse to comprehend that fact and therefore attempt to "steal" you away from her. Something that never ends well for anyone.

Her temper is shorter than it used to be, and that becomes quite clear when she's quick to loom over the person that was pestering you. She knows that you can handle yourself just fine, too. But that doesn't stop her from grabbing their shoulder and asking them if she can help them out instead. Or maybe they want to talk it out in the pit? All the same to her, but the message is clear. She'll win if it comes to you every time, and that's enough to make the person scurry away in terror.

You'll definitely have to calm her down and reassure that you had everything handled. She's just looking out for you, though, and doesn't want you to get hurt, too, like everyone else in her life. The last thing she wants is to mess up again, so her overprotective tendencies will probably never lessen. Not that you kind anyways.

》CAITLYN

Your role as her partner is crystal clear to absolutely everyone in Piltover, especially after she takes over the troops as their new ruler. She's much more cutthroat and cold than she used to be before her mothers death, which made her extremely overprotective of you and your safety. She may even be suffocating at times with her security measures, but she finds it absolutely necessary. This also means, however, that those who try becoming a bit too friendly with you are always at risk of facing her wrath.

She doesn't hold back with her dismay and is quick to stand before you with a dark, stern glare directed at whoever was flirting with you beforehand. Caitlyn doesn't care if you can take care of yourself or not either. She'll take full advantage of her new position and power too, not hesitating to give the person that was pestering you a professionally worded threat that leaves them as pale as a ghost.

Admittedly, it's hard to tell if she's jealous or just worried in her own way. Before her mother's death, it may very well just be her being a bit jealous... but with her current position, she may also just be afraid to lose you too deep down. And she couldn't handle that.

》JINX

After Silco's death, Jinx's temper is milder than before due to her deteriorating mental health (if there was anything left of it to begin with). She's a lot calmer when handling situations and seeming more calculated than before, but that certainly doesn't quell the extreme abandonment issues in her at any rate. If anything, they've become much worse than before. This means that she'll cling to you and snap at anyone who nears you. No one is allowed to steal your attention away from her. No one can take you away from her. She just won't allow it when you're all she has left.

And so, she won't hesitate to use her gun on anyone who is pestering you. A death threat or two usually gets the point across anyway. Jinx will also let you handle yourself first, however though, knowing you can easily do that. But if things do get out of hand, she will step right to scare them away at best. She'd never kill anyone infront of you after all. She doesn't want to scare you away.

You'll have to reassure her of your loyalty a lot afterward, however, as her insecurities and issues can make her spiral fairly easily. Giving her a lot of attention and love makes everything go away, though, luckily.

》SEVIKA

She's very secure in your relationship and trusts you perfectly fine, which is why she rarely ever gets jealous. Why should she, anyway, when you'll always come back to her at the end of the day? Besides, people in the lanes know who you are and who you belong to, and most importantly, what will happen to their faces once she bashes them in if they ever harass you too much.

With that said, though, she typically lets you do your own thing and chase the person away yourself first before bothering to step in. If things get out of hand, then she'll suddenly be right behind you and tower over whoever it is that's not getting the hint. Blowing smoke right into their faces, she'll ask them if they have a problem, and if yes, then they should take it up with her outside. Although everyone knows she's the only one back afterwards. This usually does the trick.

Don't expect her to ever say that she is jealous, though, and hopes you know better, too. She knows you're loyal, as she certainly is for life and therefore doesn't worry about a thing regarding the strength of your relationship.

No one is better than her anyway.

[just-aake]

Friends Don't Kiss

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Friends spend time together. They share inside jokes, quiet moments, maybe even late-night movies. And sometimes…they kiss. That’s normal. Right? At least, that’s what Natasha keeps telling herself.

Warnings: fluff, light angst

Words: 4140

“Would you kiss me?”

Steve chokes on his coffee, spluttering mid-sip. He coughs violently, thumping his fist against his chest as he tries to catch his breath.

Across the kitchen, Natasha doesn’t flinch. She stands coolly with a mug in hand, one hip leaning against the compound’s countertop, her expression unreadable.

“You know,” she adds, far too casually, “as a friend.”

Steve finally manages to recover, blinking at her like she’s grown a second head. 

“I’m gonna need a little more context.”

Natasha shrugs, gaze fixed somewhere past him. 

“Just making a point. I’ve kissed you before. We’re still just friends.”

“That was different,” Steve says slowly, carefully, like he’s not entirely sure where this conversation is headed. “We were on the run. It was for a mission.”

“Right,” Natasha nods quickly, seizing on that. “Exactly. So sometimes a kiss doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Steve sets down his coffee, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Did you kiss someone, Nat?”

She scoffs immediately, a sharp breath meant to dismiss the question, but her shoulders stiffen, betraying her.

“No,” she says too quickly, brushing past it. “Why would you ask that?”

Before Steve can press further, the kitchen door slides open.

You step in, pausing just briefly when your eyes meet hers. A flicker of something passes between you—then it’s gone, replaced by your familiar, easy smile.

“Morning,” you say, grabbing an apple from the counter before sliding easily into the space beside her. “You two solving world peace already?”

Natasha’s grip on her mug tightens. Her pulse trips over itself at your closeness, at the casual brush of your shoulder against hers.

“Morning,” she mutters, not quite meeting your eyes.

“You’re up earlier than usual,” Steve returns your greeting while watching both of you now with a curious gaze, noticing the subtle shift in the air. 

You shrug lightly.

“Decided to turn in early last night,” you respond before turning to Natasha. “Sorry, I didn’t see you when you got back, Nat.”

Natasha shakes her head, brushing off the apology.

“It’s fine,” she says simply. 

But it’s not. Not really. She had looked for you last night when she came back from her mission, hoping for your usual smile at the hangar. Instead, FRIDAY informed her you were already asleep. She’d swallowed her disappointment and told herself it didn’t matter.

Natasha takes another sip to keep herself occupied from further conversation. Unfortunately, it seems you have no intention of letting her do that.

“Can I have some?”

Natasha glances at you with a raise of her brow, and you give her a small smile as you nod at the mug in her hand.

“There’s more brewing,” she responds, gesturing to the coffee machine in the corner.

You don’t move her gaze from hers.

“I know,” you grin. “But I want yours.”

Natasha sighs, long-suffering but fond, and hands it over.

You take it with a bright smile in thanks, drinking the last of it with satisfaction.

Natasha watches you as you finish, her lips twitching slightly into the ghost of a smile before she can stop it.

Something about that simple exchange makes the room feel smaller. 

Steve observes you two quietly, picking up on the subtle tension that hums under the surface like a taut wire. You and Natasha have always been close. That’s not new. But something feels different now.

“Well, I’m heading to the training room,” you announce, handing Natasha back the mug and tossing the apple in your hand once before catching it again. “See you two later.”

You’re gone before either of them can respond.

The silence that follows stretches.

Steve leans against the table, watching the doorway you disappeared through before turning his eyes back to Natasha. 

“So,” he says, voice even, “something you’d like to share?”

Natasha scoffs, rolling her eyes as she pivots to rinse out her mug. 

“This has nothing to do with her.”

Her tone is dry and dismissive. But her mind betrays her.

She remembers the way the two of you had been curled up on the couch in the common room just a few nights ago. 

A rare, quiet evening with no missions, no alarms, just shared stories and laughter over absurd field mishaps. Your knees touching hers. Her arm draped along the back of the sofa. 

You leaning closer, head tilted back slightly as you laughed, completely at ease.

Natasha remembers the way her fingers twitched with the urge to touch you. 

How, without quite realizing it, her hand lifted to cup your cheek. 

The moment stretched, her breath caught, and then she leaned in.

The kiss was soft, hesitant in the way that Natasha had not fully comprehended what she had done.

When she does, she goes to pull away when you suddenly kiss her back.

Your hand had come up, anchoring against her shoulder, the other sliding to the back of her neck as you deepened it, slow and sure. 

Then, the elevator chimed.

And the moment shattered.

Instinctively, Natasha pulls back, jumping to her end of the couch by the time the other team members come into the room. 

Next thing she knows, you were swept up by a conversation with Wanda while Natasha sat there frozen, lips parted, heartbeat wild, her hand brushing over her mouth in disbelief. 

The warmth of your kiss still lingering on her skin like a brand.

You never brought it up again.

Neither did she.

And now, days later, she finds herself standing in the kitchen convincing herself that friends kiss sometimes. 

That it doesn’t have to mean anything. That it didn’t mean anything.

“Sure, Nat,” Steve says slowly, watching her a little too closely now. “A kiss doesn’t have to mean anything...”

Natasha relaxes slightly, but before the relief can take hold in her mind, Steve continues nonchalantly.

“…unless you want it to.”

Natasha doesn’t respond. Her jaw sets just slightly as she stares into her empty mug. Then, with a sigh, she curses herself for even asking Steve.

His words just brought up a flurry of new problems for her.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

She did it again.

She’s doing it again.

What started as a simple spar at your request had quickly escalated—one move leading to another, until she had you pinned flat on the mat. Her knees straddled your hips, hands locking your wrists above your head with effortless control.

You were both breathless, sweat-slicked skin flushed from exertion.

Then you smiled up at her, teeth flashing, that same teasing spark in your eyes that always got under her skin, and Natasha couldn’t look away. Couldn’t think past the heat in her chest. Her gaze dropped, lingering on the curve of your parted lips as you panted beneath her.

And before she could stop herself, she leaned in.

The kiss wasn’t hesitant this time. It was hungry, claiming, as if making up for every second she hadn’t let herself think about the feel of your lips since that night on the couch. Her grip loosened, hands sliding from your wrists to your sides, fingertips brushing over the sliver of skin just above your waistband.

Like before, you didn’t pull away.

Instead, your arms curled around her shoulders, pulling her closer with a quiet urgency. 

Her mouth moved against yours again, and again—slow, deliberate, until your breath caught and you exhaled her name in a moan that made something in her pulse stutter.

“Natasha…”

Her name on your lips.

It cracked through the haze like a whip.

And she freezes.

Reality slams back in, fast and merciless. 

Natasha pulls away suddenly, breathing hard as her eyes search yours. Her hands lift, hovering like she wasn’t sure where to place them anymore.

“Shit,” she mutters, shaken. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

You blink at her, dazed and confused, lips still parted.

But before you can say anything, the door slides open.

“Damn,” Sam’s voice calls out as he steps into the training room, towel slung over his shoulder. He pauses at the sight, then lets out a low whistle and smirks.

“Give her a break, Romanoff. She’s already red in the face.”

Natasha straightens back instinctively, only to realize the flush on your face wasn’t from exertion.

You let out a breath of laughter, dragging a hand through your hair. 

“I’m fine,” you say, voice light, easy. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your palm lightly taps Natasha’s thigh—a subtle, casual cue.

She blinks at you, still hovering above, startled by how calmly you are taking all of this. Then she shifts, climbing off with fluid grace, but her mind still reels. 

Why weren’t you reacting differently? Why were you acting like what just happened between you two was normal for friends?

You push yourself to your feet and turn to offer your hand down to her.

Without hesitation, she takes it.

Your grip is warm and steady as you help her up. Before she can say anything, you brush your hand over her shoulder, flicking away the dust from your earlier scuffle. Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, you pat her cheek twice, a gentle, reassuring touch.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you repeat, softer this time.

And then you walk off coolly and composed, leaving her standing there.

Staring.

Processing.

“What the hell…” Natasha mutters under her breath.

Sam moves beside her, picking up a dumbbell nonchalantly like he hadn’t just walked in on something.

“Hey, Sam?” she asks, still staring after you. 

“Yeah?”

“Friends can kiss, right?” she asks. “Like… that’s a normal thing friends do sometimes?”

Sam pauses mid-curl and turns to look at her with a slow grin. 

“What kind of friends you got, Romanoff?” he chuckles. “’Cause I’d love an introduction.”

Natasha doesn’t respond.

Her eyes are still locked on the door you disappeared through, her thoughts a whirlwind of tangled lines she couldn’t figure out how or if she wanted to untangle.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The movie plays on, its flickering light casting soft shadows across the darkened room. But Natasha isn’t watching it.

She’s trying to. Or at least pretending to.

Her eyes are on the screen, but her mind drifts, tangled in thoughts she can’t quite sort through. The question loops endlessly in her head like a broken reel.

Can friends kiss? Should friends kiss? Did it mean anything?

You shift slightly beside her, and the motion draws her out of the haze. Then comes a soft sound—a small yawn, muffled behind your hand. 

Natasha glances down at you.

Your head rests gently against her shoulder, your body curled comfortably into the side of hers. You’ve been like that for most of the movie—close, warm, familiar. Nothing new for the two of you. 

But now, it feels different. Everything feels different.

She tilts her head toward you slightly. 

“We can stop here if you want,” she offers, her voice low. “You’re tired.”

You shake your head with a sleepy smile, eyes barely open. 

“It’s fine. It’s almost finished anyway.”

Natasha studies your face for a moment longer, searching for something beneath your words. Then she relaxes, leaning her head against yours again, letting the rhythm of your breathing soothe her.

But only a few minutes pass before she feels your body grow heavier against her, your breath evening out. She shifts subtly to glance at you, and sure enough, your eyes are closed, mouth slightly parted in sleep.

A quiet exhale escapes her lips.

She lets the laptop finish playing the credits, then carefully reaches over to close it, setting it on the nightstand without disturbing you too much.

As she leans back again, her eyes linger on you, peaceful and completely unaware of the storm still quietly waging inside her.

She hesitates.

You’d probably sleep better in your own bed. Less risk of a sore neck.

“Hey,” she whispers, brushing her fingers lightly against your arm to wake you. “Want me to carry you to your room?”

You stir, eyes fluttering open, still half-lost in sleep. You look up at her, your gaze soft and unguarded.

“Can I sleep here?”

Natasha stills.

The way your face is tilted toward hers makes her heart stutter. You’re so close, lips parted slightly, your breath warm against her cheek.

Her fingers tighten against the sheets.

She should say no. But she doesn’t.

“…Sure,” she says instead, voice barely audible.

You smile in that sleepy, content way that always makes her chest ache, and shift to lie back more fully on the bed, your head finding the pillow beside hers like it’s always belonged there.

Natasha stays seated for a moment, just watching you. Studying the soft lines of your expression. The trust etched so easily into every part of you.

Then your eye cracks open, lazy and amused, and you pat the empty space beside you.

“Come on,” you murmur. “You should sleep too.”

Natasha swallows.

She moves beneath the covers slowly, cautiously, like the sheets might burn her. The moment her weight settles, you immediately scoot closer, nuzzling into the curve of her body with a comfort that’s almost too much.

She freezes.

Her arms hover mid-air, unsure where to land. Her instincts war with her confusion about the situation.

But then you sigh softly, and it eases something in her. She lets her arms wrap around you, tentatively at first, then fully. Her hand rests lightly against your back.

Your body fits against hers like it was always meant to.

Her heart beats too loud. Her thoughts race too fast.

But your breathing, soft and steady, grounds her.

You’re not overthinking this. You’re not avoiding eye contact or spiraling like she is. You’re just there. 

Maybe she is overreacting.

So she presses her lips to the top of your head, just barely a kiss, light and reverent.

And tells herself it’s fine.

That it’s just something friends do.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The corridor outside the tech lab is mostly quiet, the hum of machinery muffled behind glass walls. Natasha had only meant to drop by to check on some routine data upload from her last mission, but she slows as she rounds the corner and catches sight of you through the glass.

You’re leaning against the counter in the lab, your stance relaxed, familiar. A quiet, polite smile plays on your lips as you speak to one of the newer lab techs, who is a little awkward in their stance and clearly trying to flirt.

Natasha pauses at the entrance, something instinctual anchoring her in place. 

“I just figured,” the technician says, nervously fidgeting with their hands, “maybe we could grab a coffee sometime?”

Natasha blinks. Her fingers tighten unconsciously around the datapad in her hand.

You let out a soft chuckle, not unkind. 

“That’s sweet,” you say, your tone warm but edged with gentle finality, “but I’m actually already seeing someone.”

Natasha frowns, her heart skipping heavily.

Since when?

The lab tech falters only slightly, nodding good-naturedly.

“Ah. No worries. It was worth a shot.”

“We could still be friends,” you offer kindly.

They chuckle lightly as they gather their things, nodding in agreement.

“Well, if they mess up,” the tech jokes, “you know where to find me.”

You smile again, a brief lift of your brow.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They leave, footsteps fading down the hall.

Natasha stays frozen for a beat longer, her brain racing as she tries to understand. A strange, unfamiliar tightness lingers in her chest, something sharp and green and burning low.

Why didn’t you ever tell her you were seeing someone?

The question echoes through her like a bruise, throbbing harder the longer she thinks about it.

A few seconds pass before she finally moves, stepping into view from where she’d been half-hidden around the corner. Her approach is quiet, boots soft on the tile, but you look up at the sound anyway.

“Nat, hey,” you greet, still casual, like you hadn’t just said something that made her stomach drop unexpectedly.

Natasha crosses her arms across her chest.

“Were you ever going to introduce me to them?”

You blink at her, brow furrowing.

“Who?”

“The person you’re seeing.”

There’s a flicker of confusion in your expression, your head tilting slightly as if trying to piece together something obvious that you’ve somehow missed.

“That’d be…difficult,” you answer slowly.

Her heart skips again—this time not from surprise, but from something closer to hurt. 

“Why?” she presses, a little sharper now. “You don’t want them to meet your friends?”

Your mouth parts slightly. You study her, eyes narrowing faintly, not in anger, but in realization. 

“Is that what you are?” you ask quietly. “Just my friend?”

Natasha hesitates. Her arms tighten around herself, defensive.

“I thought I was,” she says with a shrug that tries too hard to be casual.

The silence that follows isn’t long, but it feels like it stretches forever.

You nod slowly, the movement small and almost imperceptible. 

“Right,” you murmur. “My mistake.”

And even though you smile, easy and familiar, there’s a flicker behind it. Something small and wounded that vanishes just as quickly as it appears. Like it costs a little more this time to offer it.

“I thought we were something more.”

Natasha’s lips part in stunned silence.

You shake your head slightly, not in denial, just…regret. 

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”

Before she can find her voice, before she can reach out and ask what you mean—what she means to you—you step past her.

“I’ve got to prep for my mission,” you say quietly. “I’ll see you after, Nat.”

And then you’re gone.

The hallway seems impossibly still.

Natasha doesn’t move.

She just stands there, frozen in place, her eyes still on the space where you’d been just seconds ago.

I thought we were something more.

The words echo in her chest like a hollow ring of glass about to break.

Natasha presses a hand lightly to her sternum, as if she could push the ache away.

But it lingers. Deep and burning.

She knew it.

She knows it now more than ever.

Friends don’t kiss.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The hangar is nearly silent at this hour, long past the time anyone should still be awake.

But Natasha is.

She leans against a metal railing in the far corner of the bay, arms crossed loosely, her mind racing in quiet loops. The empty stretch of concrete around her does little to ease the restless energy in her body. She’s been replaying your last conversation for hours now, trying to decipher what it meant, what you meant.

The distant hum of turbines pulls her attention up.

The Quinjet descends slowly, its engines quieting as it settles onto the landing pad. Her spine straightens involuntarily. She catches herself smoothing her palm against her thigh, like she’s bracing for something.

The ramp lowers with a hiss, and then there you are.

You spot her the moment you step down.

Your steps falter just a bit, surprised but not displeased. Your expression shifts into something soft and unreadable before you offer a faint smile.

“Hey,” you greet lightly. “You’re still up?”

Natasha picks up on the subtle wariness in your voice. Not distrust, just a layer of confusion she knows she put there.

“I wanted to talk,” she says, quieter now, her arms unfolding slightly. “If that’s okay.”

You pause. Then, after a breath, you nod.

“Yeah… we probably should’ve had this talk before I went around thinking we were something other than friends,” you joke, a little self-deprecating, but not cruel.

Natasha winces, her mouth twitching. She knows she earned that.

You exhale and tilt your head toward the hallway. 

“Come on. Let’s talk in my room. I need to get this mission stink off me.”

She follows without hesitation, grateful for the return of your usual teasing tone.

“Yeah, you do,” she quips back.

You gasp in mock offense, throwing a look over your shoulder. 

“Wow. Brutal honesty? No mercy, huh?”

Natasha just smirks. “Would you prefer lies?”

“Only the flattering kind,” you call as you enter your room.

Natasha follows in after you with a small chuckle. She sits at the edge of your bed, hands in her lap, waiting as you disappear into your bathroom. She hears the rush of water from the shower and feels oddly tense like she’s waiting for a mission to start, but this one requires emotional precision she hasn’t quite mastered.

When the bathroom door finally opens, and you emerge, a towel draped around your shoulders, skin still damp and fresh from the steam, Natasha’s thoughts short-circuit for a moment.

Her gaze catches on the curve of your neck, the soft line of your collarbone—

She tears her eyes away, scolding herself silently.

This is exactly how things got so muddled.

You shoot her an amused look as you dry your hair with the towel. 

“You gonna stare all night or talk?”

Natasha clears her throat, suddenly focused on her hands again. 

“Right. Sorry. I just…wanted to ask something.”

You toss the towel aside as you nod.

“Ask away.”

She hesitates. 

“Why…why did you think we were dating?”

You blink, surprised at the question. Then you let out a soft breath and sit beside her on the bed.

“Well,” you begin, voice easy but edged with a thread of honesty, “months ago, you asked me to go to the Avengers Festival with you. We spent the whole day together. Just us.”

“I thought you’d enjoy it,” Natasha replies quietly.

“I did. And I was even more excited when I thought you were asking me out on a date.”

You glance at her, gauging her reaction.

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line. 

“Only it wasn’t… to me.”

“Right,” you say, a hint of disappointment in your tone before you continue with a sigh. “But then you invited me to that new restaurant for dinner the next night.”

“You mentioned it once. I thought you’d want to go.”

“I did mention it. To Wanda. I didn’t expect you to remember something I had said in passing.”

Natasha lowers her gaze. 

“I do,” she murmurs.

You smile faintly. 

“Then came movie nights. Every week. Just us.”

“You hadn’t seen any of the classics. I thought it’d be fun.”

“And it was,” you say before teasingly adding as you lightly nudge her shoulders. “Especially learning you know all the lines.”

There’s a pause. Then your voice softens.

“Then…you kissed me.”

Natasha’s breath catches.

“Twice,” you continue.

Her eyes flick to yours.

“Three times,” you correct with a small smile, “if we’re counting the one where you got nervous and bailed halfway through, settling for the top of my head instead when you thought I was asleep.”

Natasha swallows, stunned into silence.

“Well?” you ask gently. “You gonna explain? Because last time I checked…”

You shift toward her, slow and deliberate.

“…friends don’t kiss.”

She searches for an answer. Any answer. But none of them feel true. Not the ones she told herself, not the ones that let her avoid the real thing.

“These past days I've been trying to convince myself that kissing didn’t have to mean anything,” Natasha admits, voice small. “That I could just…”

She trails off.

“Avoid what you actually felt?” you offer, your tone gentle, not accusatory.

She meets your eyes then, and something in her cracks. 

“Maybe I just didn’t want to admit I wanted something more. Because if I did…and you didn’t…”

“I did,” you interrupt softly.

Your hand lifts to her hair, your fingers brushing a few loose strands back, tucking them gently behind her ear.

“I do.”

Her breath trembles.

You stroke her cheek with your thumb, grounding her.

“No more mixed signals, Nat,” you say with a playful edge, though your eyes are sincere. “You’re gonna have to be more direct, or I’ll start thinking I made it all up.”

She doesn’t hesitate this time. Her hands slide to your waist as she pulls you closer, steady and sure.

“Tomorrow night…will you go out with me?” she murmurs.

You grin, raising a brow.

“On a date?”

She nods, smiling now too.

“On a date.”

You lean your forehead against hers.

“Then I’d love to.”

There’s a beat of stillness, warmth blooming in the quiet between you. Then Natasha’s gaze flicks behind you toward the bed and back at you, one brow rising.

“Can I stay here tonight?”

You raise an amused brow.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

You smirk playfully.

“Because, in case you’re unsure…” you whisper, tilting your head closer to hers. “…friends don’t typically sleep with each other either.”

Natasha’s eyes sparkle, a soft smile forming on her face.

“Then it’s a good thing,” she says, drawing you in, her voice a low murmur at your lips, “that we’re not just friends anymore.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: a little something as I procrastinate on my series 😅 thank you for reading!

[chronicowboy]

Eddie isn't sure what he's expecting when Buck meets him at the airport. Red-rimmed eyes, splotchy face, hunched shoulders probably. Not this. Distant eyes, blank face, straight-backed. He'd been braced to catch Buck as soon as he landed, had spent his whole flight locking every bit of his own grief away to be thought about at a later date, let the guilt pool in his chest instead.

I should've been there, I could've -

He'd been ready to catch Buck, but it's Eddie who falls into Buck's waiting arms. Eddie who tears up. Eddie who clutches at the back of Buck's shirt like a scared child. And it's Buck sweeping his hands up and down Eddie's back, holding him together, murmuring:

"It's okay. I've got you. It's not your fault."

Eddie doesn't cry in LAX. His grief is a private thing. Always has been. He locks it into his bedroom and lets it out behind closed doors. But Buck is the safest space he's ever had, so he lets himself break a little. Lets himself shake apart under Buck's hands until he can ground himself with a deep breath at the junction of Buck's neck and shoulder. Until he can stand on his own.

Buck looks at him, eyes searching, deepest of furrows between his brows, so devastatingly gentle. And Eddie kind of wants to fucking scream at him for being okay. He'd needed to take care of Buck. He'd needed to have something to do. But now Buck is looking at him like he can fix him, and Eddie wants him to. So badly. But Buck knows Eddie's grief is for South Bedford Street, not LAX, so all he does is lead Eddie out to the parking lot.

It's a silent drive. Buck tells him the details of the funeral. Clinical. Sparing. And Eddie watches Buck's knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. Listens to the creak of leather under an unyielding grip. And he sees it then. The countdown over Buck's head, ticking away steadily. He's grateful in a way.

They pull up to the house silently. The engine falls quiet. And they stare at the door. The door Bobby had appeared on the other side of just a few months ago for a goodbye dinner. At the house. The house Bobby made coffee in when Eddie couldn't stomach being alone. At the home. The home Bobby helped him build in every way.

Buck gets out of the car. Eddie follows. Buck unlocks the door. Eddie locks it behind them. Buck disappears into the kitchen. Eddie pauses.

Can't quite separate Bobby from kitchens in his mind. And it's not like Bobby ever cooked anything in Eddie's kitchen, but there's some stupid grief-crazed part of his brain that thinks he'll find Bobby at the stove for a last supper. A parting gift to Eddie. Because Bobby was always too good. Too generous. Too understanding. When it came to Eddie.

When he finally makes it in there, Buck is stood staring into the fridge. Vacant. Eddie joins him, presses their shoulders together as hard as he can without knocking Buck away, and looks at Buck's fingers curled loosely around two beer bottles. Eddie knows it's not the early hour staying his hand.

It feels wrong. To find comfort in alcohol at Bobby's expense.

Carefully, Eddie unpicks Buck's fingers from the bottles and watches as Buck's arm falls limp to his side with such weight it bounces off his hip. Swings once, twice, stops suddenly. Eddie grabs the water filter. Closes the fridge.

"Sit down," he whispers. Sure, steady.

Buck sits down.

Eddie grabs two glasses. Fills them with water. Leaves the filter on the side. Who cares? Who fucking cares? Takes the glasses over to the table in shaking hands. Spills only a little. Sits opposite Buck. Stares into his cup.

"I didn't say it back," Buck rasps eventually.

Eddie picks his head up with great effort. Ony manages it because he wants to see what hurt he's caused. Their missing medic. Absent in their hour of need.

"What?"

"B-he-he told me he loved me." Buck's eyes go wide. Horrified. Haunted. Hollow. "He t-told me he l-loved me, and I could-couldn't say it back be-because that would mean..." Buck chokes a sob into his hand. "I thought we'd fix it. I-I-I thought we'd find a way. We-we always do. I couldn't say it-it. I didn't want t-to let him go. And now, he's..." Buck's face crumples first. Then, the rest of his body follows, folding in on itself in the chair until he looks almost as small as Christopher had the first time he'd ever sat at this table. "He's d-gone, and he doesn't know I love him."

"He knows, Buck." Eddie's hand curls into a fist on the tabletop. Doesn't know what to do. For all he'd been ready to hold Buck together, he's not sure how. "He knows you love him, Buck. You told him every single day."

"But I never said the words!" he snaps. Pure rage. Pure guilt. He looks up at Eddie. Blue eyes wet and red and wild. The rage and the guilt seeps away, leaves only pure grief. "I never said the words."

He sobs then. Doesn't choke it down. Lets it out. Eddie reacts like it's instinct even though he's never done this before. Just somehow knows in his bones what to do when it comes to Buck.

He stands, rounds the table, slides a hand into Buck's hair, one on his shoulder, pulls Buck's face into his stomach and holds him there, holds him together. Buck's fingers tangle themselves in Eddie's belt loops. A lifeline. And Eddie holds him tight as he can.

"All the times you cooked for him. All the times he cooked for you. The two of you cooking together. You had your own language, Buck. He knows you love him."

And all Eddie hears is: you're gonna stand there with a hundred-something bodies on you and tell me I'm not fit for duty. Did Bobby know Eddie loved him too?

Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Eddie drops his cheek to the top of Buck's head. Stops holding Buck together and starts holding on. Buck's hands grasp at his hips, twist into the back of his shirt just like Eddie's had at the airport.

And all Eddie hears is: I just want to make sure you don't think you have to lose everything before you can allow yourself to feel anything.

[marisolls]

051525. KAGEYAMA TOBIO. hopelessly whipped for u.

“should i go for the usual or something daring?”

it’s girls’ night. mandatory. and kageyama tobio doesn’t know what to do with himself.

you look at him through the vanity mirror. behind you, he’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, leaning a little too far forward while you swatch different shades of lip gloss on your wrist. and he’s thinking, how the hell am i supposed to survive this?

“daring,” he says after a beat. “you haven’t seen your girlfriends in a while, so…”

“that’s true.” you choose your favorite—something in between usual and daring. you seem absorbed in the way you carefully prep yourself, despite how messy your table looks. it’s a soft kind of focus nestled in the silence. a comfortable weight tucked in the moment of each other’s presence. you move in such calm precision.

it’s the same care he uses when taping his fingers before a match, or lacing his shoes twice, or massaging you thoroughly on a late evening.

he watches you. watches the way the light hits the soft curve of your cheek. the way your fingers press and sweep and blend. and all he can think is,

i want to learn how to do your makeup. just to know what it feels like to hold your face in my hands that long.

“like what you see?”

your voice pulls him out of his thoughts. you glance back at him through the mirror—smiling, coy, cheekbones high and eyes expectant. you always know how to get him going.

“yeah…” his words barely hold any constraint. completely awestruck by you.

the sound of your laughter echoes through his chest. reverent. you stand, popping the lid of your mascara closed and sweeping your hair over your shoulder before you make your way to the closet, dress already hung and waiting. his eyes follow.

you don’t notice the way he’s gone quiet behind you—or maybe you do, but you’re used to it by now. humming a little to yourself, you slip your dress off the hanger, allowing the feeling of his gaze trailing toward your exposed nape, the arch of your back, the way your waist slopes.

even after all this time, he can't quite wrap his head around the fact that you're his wife—that this beautiful woman is his. no matter what you do, you're always glowing.

how is that even possible?

you slip the dress on, the fabric hugging you in all the places he aches for. aching for your softness that comes from the weight you’ve gained over the years. you give yourself a little twirl in the mirror, so much grace in your movement. he’s so far gone.

he mutters, barely audible, “how the hell are you mine?”

you walk over to him with slow, easy steps until you’re standing in front of him. he makes room for you, locking you between his knees.

“tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, hm?”

his hands find purchase on the dip of your hips, palms spreading across fabric and then, without even meaning to, slipping under. his warm touch sends your skin aflame, permeating. thumbs grazing like he’s memorized to.

he tilts his head lightly to the side, feeling every shape of you, gaze never leaving yours. he’ll proudly show you instead.

you chuckle softly as your hand cups his cheek. he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut a moment too long.

“you know you can’t have me tonight,” you whisper, brushing your nose against his.

“i know,” he murmurs, voice low and raw. “but let me pretend.”

his lips nearly brush yours, so close—when your phone buzzes loudly on the vanity.

you freeze.

he groans instantly.

“shit.” you scramble for the phone. “hi? yeah—yeah, i’m ready, just—give me like ten minutes?”

kageyama groans again, dropping his head against your belly. “ten minutes.”

carding your fingers through his hair, you see his shoulders droop with evident sulk. “five.”

you scramble—barely managing to shove your phone into your bag while he fixes your dress for you, smoothing out any creases he’s left.

he follows you to the door, half-heartedly trying to block the way. you spend three minutes giggling as you press a kiss to his lips, slow and warm. he chases after it when you pull away.

“be good,” you murmur, breathless and stunning as you reach for the doorknob.

“i’m never good when you leave like that,” he mumbles.

you wink. “you’ll be fine.”

and then you’re gone.

he stands there a long while, staring at the door.

god, he loves you.

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