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aurumalatus · 3 months ago

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𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 2.1k

genre/warnings. princess!reader, knight!kinich, slight enemies to lovers (not really, they just argue but idk the term for that tbh LOL), pixelprincess!au

summary.

ever since he became your personal guard, you've found kinich to be a royal pain in your ass. you've always assumed he felt the same, until the night of your matching ball. now, you're not sure what this burning in your chest means after all.

author's note. this is a drabble as part of a universe that i'm calling pixelprincess (knight!kinich x princess!reader). i don't really have a full fic planned for this or anything, i just have a bunch of small headcanons about them and i love aus so feel free to scream about them with me HAHA. thank you for reading! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

If there’s one thing you can definitively say about Kinich, it’s that he’s not stupid.

Honestly, you could say a lot of things. You’ve heard the rumors just like everyone else, about the fearsome Captain of the Guard who passed training within a single day. They whisper that he holds a dragon’s power in his heart, a fact that strikes fear into any nation that dares encroach upon your territory. His reputation precedes him, and he’s somewhat of a mystery to the general public—most of them envision him as a hero, the key to the nation’s defense.

If there’s another thing you can definitively say about Kinich, it’s that sometimes, you wish he was stupid.

The castle always feels larger during the summer, when the sunlight bathes the interior with gold and the halls bustle with movement during the day. Guards and aides rush in every direction, though none of them seem to spare a glance in your direction; there’s simply far too much to pay attention to today.

The maids are replacing the vases with fresh flora, Brilliant Chrysanthemums and Saurian Claw Succulents that make the room seem brighter, discussing which configuration looks the best. You know them all, of course; growing up within the castle meant that these women had practically raised you. Even as an adult, it’s hard to escape them when they feel like pinching your cheeks and reminiscing on old times.

Sensing the coast is clear, you crack the door open another millimeter, carefully slipping into the hall and blending in with the crowd. The maids, luckily, don’t notice, still fussing over petals and stems. You’d calculated this time exactly—right now, the guard patrol should be across the castle, checking the entrances before the ball tonight. If your information wasn’t wrong, then you should have just enough time to make it to the servants’ passages, and then out to the garden—

“Oh?”

The familiar voice makes you murmur some choice curse words under your breath. Of course, the dark-haired man in front of you is always several steps ahead of everyone. He’s leaning against the stone wall, looking entirely too pleased with himself, as if he knows something you don’t.

“Princess,” Kinich greets, bowing his head despite how you wave him off—you’ve never been one for formalities. “What are you doing here?”

“Just taking a walk.”

You move at a brisk pace past him, but Kinich is faster—he always is, the annoying bastard. Before you can turn the corner, there’s the blade of a greatsword blocking your path. No matter how much you see it, you’re always surprised by the size of the damn thing—you’re shocked he can even lift it as it is. A half-smirk rests on his lips when you gasp.

“Taking a walk away from your lessons? I do believe your teacher’s room is in the opposite direction.”

The annoying thing about Kinich is that he truly knows everything, including your schedules. He’s thorough to a near fault, though you suppose that that’s exactly the kind of person who would be fit for Captain of the Guard. Still, you duck under his sword, unwilling to make eye contact.

“Lessons are tomorrow. I have other plans today.”

Kinich falls into step beside you, and the halls are suddenly clear of people—the crowd parts before you, a stubborn rock among a rushing river. You’re unsure if it’s due to your status, or due to your temper—it’s a well-known fact in the castle that Kinich can get you wound up quite quickly.

“And what might these other plans be?”

He always has too many damn questions, you think. Silently, you curse your father for assigning him to you. A series of attempts on your life last year had made him paranoid, and he’d been quick to promote the strongest knight as your personal guard. Back then, you’d been fooled just like everyone else into thinking that Kinich was some kind of serious, straight-laced hero. Instead, you’d since discovered that he was seriously annoying.

“Can I guess?” he asks, deftly dodging past the maids carrying bundles of tablecloths and the waiters carrying sky-high stacks of platters.

“No, you can’t. In fact, you can’t even ask. I should have you executed for that.”

Kinich raises a brow, amused. “The Queen would never let that happen.”

And, unfortunately, he’s correct. Your mother absolutely adores Kinich as if he were her own son, and it irritates you to no end—especially when she heavy-handedly suggests that you make him your groom. The door to the back stairwell falls into view, so you break into a jog as you reach the end of the hall, but he’s right on your heel.

If I can just make it to the stairs…

Kinich steps in front of you again, not allowing you an inch further, and you nearly scream in frustration.

“If I didn’t know any better—”

You scoff. “And you, in fact, don’t know anything—”

“—I would say that you’re trying to avoid going to the ball.”

And, once again, you wish that just once Kinich would let something fly over his head.

Utterly defeated, you collapse into one of the plush chairs nearby, fanning your face. Kinich stands over you, a bit tense, as if he thinks you’re going to try to run again. You won’t; at this point, you’re too tired.

“So what if I am?” you finally admit. “You always complain about them anyway. I find it a little unfair that you’re allowed to and I’m not.”

As great as he is at his job as a guard, Kinich isn’t so great at facing the public, despite how popular he is among them (particularly the women). Whenever he can, he avoids social events like the plague, often volunteering to run perimeter duty as a precaution rather than attending with you. You, unfortunately, don’t have that luxury.

Kinich sighs, resting his weight on his sword. “I don’t complain, it’s just annoying when everyone is so loud and—”

You snap your fingers, interrupting and pointing at him accusingly. “You hear that? What you were just doing? That’s called complaining.”

Realizing he was caught in the act, Kinich rolls his eyes. “How very profound of you. If you put that much effort into your escape routes, maybe you would’ve made it this time.”

Your gaze narrows. “How about I stick a profound fist up your a—”

“Kinich? Is that you?”

The booming voice makes you both straighten up instantly. Kinich smoothly sheaths his sword, saluting to the king as he makes his way down the hall. You’re far less graceful about it, gathering up your skirts messily and quickly curtseying to your father.

“Your Highness,” you both echo.

If your father notices the tension between the two of you, he doesn’t say so; he looks as jolly as always, even more so because of the event today. He’s the social type, a trait you unfortunately did not inherit.

“Just the two people I was hoping to see,” he laughs, a full-bodied sound that booms from his chest. “I’m glad that the two of you get along so well.”

To your irritation, Kinich smirks, while you offer your father a thin-lipped smile.

“Of course,” you lie, sneakily jabbing your guard in the ribs. He coughs. “We get along like a house on fire.”

“That’s good,” your father says, nodding encouragingly. “You’ll both do well later tonight then.”

Your heart drops at the thought of attending the event. You know how long your parents have been planning this, and how long they’ve been practically begging you to find a companion. It’s all a long-winded scheme to find you a princely partner, and not one that you particularly appreciate—a great majority of the princes you’ve met are far too full of themselves. You truly have no interest in any of them.

Kinich, however, pointedly clears his throat at your father’s wording.

“Both of us?” he asks, enunciating slowly. “I’m not sure I follow, sir.”

You perk up in interest—that detail had been lost on you.

“I invited several princes from neighboring nations today,” your father says, eyeing you with a pitying stare. You try not to feel offended. “I want my daughter to find someone suitable for her, no matter who that may be. Still, I was hoping you could attend with her this time? I know it’s not your favorite, but I would feel uncomfortable with her being around so many strangers alone.”

Kinich’s smirk falters, and he suddenly falls still. You wonder if he’s irritated by the prospect of attending the ball at your side.

(Distantly, you wonder why the thought of that makes you feel a bit ill.)

The silence grows awkward, and you rock on your heels, searching for something to say. Your guard looks a bit lost for words, likely because he wasn’t prepared for so much social interaction today. You can’t really blame him—if you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t be thrilled either.

“Actually, Your Highness, that won’t be necessary.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull at Kinich’s reply, but you hurry to control your expression, unwilling to give anything away to your father. The king raises a brow.

“And why is that?” he asks.

Kinich gnaws on his lip, an action that is wholly unlike him—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him appear nervous about anything in his life. Still, he meets your father’s gaze head on, coughs once, then says:

“The princess isn’t feeling well. I think it’d be best if she didn’t attend the ball today.”

He nudges your foot just as your father’s gaze drifts to you, and you thank your lucky stars that you did inherit your mother’s dramatics. You throw a hand over your forehead, fanning yourself aggressively.

“Since this morning,” you explain, looking as pitiful as possible, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Thank the archons Kinich was here, otherwise I might’ve fainted earlier.”

And you really do feel guilty when your father’s eyes well up with tears of worry.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he cries, then turns to one of his aides in a panic. “Call the doctor! Have him attend to her immediately. And announce that she’ll be absent from our festivities tonight.”

You force yourself to hide your smile at his announcement. Your eyes flicker over to Kinich, but for once, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit amused—in fact, he still looks troubled. Your father fusses over you for a bit longer, asking a series of questions about what you’d eaten and who you’d been in contact with. You answer as honestly as you can—the least you can do—and then he directs Kinich to escort you back to your room.

The hallway seems to empty out quickly after that display, and then it’s just you and your guard. For some reason, he seems to avoid your eyes. He doesn’t speak, merely offering you his arm, and after a moment, you take it.

“So, what changed your mind?” you ask, unwilling to let him sit in silence. He looks displeased by your question, but answers anyway.

“Nothing,” he says, expression blank, “I just didn’t think you should go to the ball tonight.”

The tips of his ears are flushed red, you note. Liar.

Still, Kinich keeps countless secrets that you’re sure you’ll never know, and you suppose it doesn’t really matter why he decided to let you off the hook tonight. Really, you’re just grateful you’ll get to sleep peacefully with no stinking princes breathing down your neck. The thought makes you smile as you finally reach your bedroom door.

“Well, what a shame it is,” you sigh sarcastically, turning the knob, “I could’ve been dancing the night away with the love of my life. Now I might never meet him.”

The corner of Kinich’s lip twitches.

“As if,” he replies gruffly, a touch too fast. “You wouldn’t like any of them anyway. They’re not nearly capable of handling you.”

Your eyes narrow, irritated by the implication. “And you are?”

He raises a brow in response. “Aren’t I?”

It comes out uncharacteristically soft. A switch seems to flip in the room, and you suddenly start feeling sick for real—it’s too hot, too quiet. Kinich’s stare weighs on you heavily, and you get lost in the depth of it. You freeze where you are, bedroom door half-open, and you can almost pick out the meaning in his words when he turns away, clearing his throat.

“Goodnight, princess,” he murmurs over his shoulder. “Sweet dreams, and…get well soon.”

He makes his exit without another word, and you wonder if he’s still working tonight. Is he still going to guard the ball? The perimeter? What if one of the other princesses takes a liking to him—

You huff, deciding you don’t care and slamming the door shut. The ball is bound to be a drag, and you find Kinich annoying, you think as you fall into bed. You’re happy about this arrangement. Overjoyed, even.

Yes, you find Kinich very annoying.

…Don’t you?

#genshin impact x reader #kinich x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fluff #kinich x you #kinich #genshin impact #adeptus ink #pixelprincess!au

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navybrat817 · 1 month ago

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Finding the Positive

Pairing: Chop Shop Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky didn't have the brightest outlook on life until you came along.

Word Count: Over 1k

Warnings: Established relationship, bit of backstory, fluff, reference to smut, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Inspired by a sweet nonnie ask and part of my Jaded to Joy AU, which began with Double Shift. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics and gorgeous Bucky edit by the amazing @nixakimbo. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When you met Bucky, something slowly changed inside him. Before you came along he tried his best to stay positive for Becca, but seeing her struggles with her illness and the stress she was experiencing from medical bills still clouded his heart a little. She deserved a bright future, not a financial burden. Taking a job at the chop shop only darkened his outlook more, leaving him a bit jaded in the process.

A couple of the guys were in the same boat as him, doing what they could to get by or try to build a better life. The rest seemed to get off on taking advantage of others. It made him feel sick. And wasn’t he complicit to everything by working in a place like that? He wasn’t hurting people physically, but he worked with stolen vehicles and parts. It affected people. And he wasn’t that excited at the prospect of opening his own honest shop because why get his hopes up?

But then you showed up in his life like a blazing sun, radiating warmth and hope. You found reasons to smile on bad days, which made no sense to him. He knew you were struggling, that things in your life were far from perfect. So how did you carry yourself as if the weight of the world wasn’t weighing you down?

“I try to look for something positive every day,” you told him. “Even if it takes almost all day to find it.”

It may have sounded corny coming from others, but you said with such sincerity and conviction that he wondered why he hadn’t tried to do something similar. If Becca found reasons to smile and so did you, why couldn’t he? Why wasn’t it that simple?

“So, you don’t see the negative?”

“No, I see the negative and I allow myself to feel it because ignoring it won’t do me any good. I just don’t allow myself to dwell in it,” you explained, nudging his shoulder. “Being positive doesn’t mean I’m happy every single moment of every day. I’m still learning, still growing, and still looking for the sunshine even on the dark days.”

“And what happens one day if you can’t find the sunshine?”

You gave him one of your brightest smiles. “Then I’ll have to be my own sunshine, won’t I?”

It was inspiring. Life wasn’t easy for you, but you refused to let it get you down. Your attitude on your worst days was still better than Bucky at his best. While he would never see the world through rose-tinted glasses, your outlook made it look a little brighter. And while he allowed himself to vent or feel anger, he didn’t stay in that headspace. He took your words to heart and made sure to look for something positive.

You were in the kitchen when he got home from work and he was content to watch you at the stove with a soft smile on his face. The blend of spices made him smile more when he realized you were cooking one of his favorite meals. You were so thoughtful, so beautiful, and you saw the best in him. He’d never be able to give you a fancy house, but he’d give you a better home one day.

“Hey,” you smiled over your shoulder, his heart skipping a beat. He captured the image in his mind and tucked it away for when he’d need a reminder of the good things in his life. “How long have you been standing there?”

He strode across the room and rested his chin on your shoulder once he was close enough. Wrapping his arms around you, he turned his face and breathed in the sweet scent of your perfume. Soft yet surprisingly powerful, just like you. “Long enough to find my positive for the day.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell me about it,” you said, resting a hand over his as he began to sway you back and forth.

“Well, work sucked and I’m pretty sure one of the guys tried to steal the lunch you made me,” he told you, smiling when giggled. He kept his hand over yours when you tried to grab a cooking utensil. “But I finally got that overtime pay and it was more than what I expected.”

He didn’t like working the extra hours if it meant being away from you, but the money helped, and he wouldn’t have to do it much longer. It was for a better future, a brighter future. One that he was building with you.

“That’s great!” His heart skipped a beat again when you turned your head far enough to brush your lips against his. “That’s a huge positive.”

“It is,” he said, helping you stir. He was a decent cook, but a novice compared to you and you always managed to put together delicious meals on a budget. “I started thinking about us working at the shop together. Me working on cars and bikes, you in the office making sure things are running smoothly.”

“And sneaking into the office for a quickie?” You pressed your hips back against his, making him groan and grit his teeth when you did it again. You were the best kind of tease. “I know you, Bucky.”

As tempting as it was to put you on the counter and feast on your delicious cunt, there would be plenty of time for that after dinner. “I know you, too, and you’d welcome that,” he said, nipping between your neck and shoulder.

You gasped, shutting the stove off. “I would,” you agreed as you leaned back against him. “I think that’s my positive of the day; thinking of us working together and creating more memories.”

He shut his eyes. Having someone so loving and uplifting wanting to spend time with him blew his mind. It seemed too good to be true, but it wasn’t. This was his life.

“I’m looking forward to it, baby,” he whispered.

He was looking forward to every moment with you, even on the days where it would take longer to find the positive.

No nickname yet for this reader, but I adore them. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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psychedelic-ink · 9 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘

ㅤㅤjoel miller x plus size!f!reader

genre: romance, flowershop au, jackson era, minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: you own a small flower shop in Jackson, when Ellie comes to visit, your life inevitably becomes tangled with the man who cares for her; joel miller.

warnings: age gap, piv in the middle of a flower field, no one sees, praise kink, some angst because joel, oral (fem receiving)

a/n: hello everyone! it's been a while and honestly, life has been kicking me in the gut lately with everything its got.

This originally was a commission, reader had a name and I've been working at it for months but sadly the person who commissioned be backed out last second saying they weren't interested anymore meaning I'm not getting paid for this work. Again, it's on me. Admittedly I've been slow on commissions due to my living situation and work and I should've taken half the payment upfront but trusting it was a joel fic I didn't really take extra precautions.

I decided to share it anyway, and the person who commissioned me said that I could. Any kind of writing has been hard for me to do lately and I really like how this one turned out. But since now I'm not getting paid for this work I decided to take out readers name and make some changes to the overall plot that I was given.

Sadly, I can't take any more commissions at the moment before finishing the ones I have left, but I'd be grateful for any kind of support you guys can give. I need to move out this summer (if I don't, I don't have a shadow of a doubt that my aunts will tell me to leave anyway) and I've been trying to save up as much as I can. Everything just has been a lot lately and I'm feeling anxious about my decisions and lost.

Again, any kind of support is greatly appreciated even tho I know I don't deserve it at this time:

my kofi

**dividers by @saradika-graphics 💜

You unlock the door to your quaint flower shop, the antique bell that you found and Tommy fixed chiming softly in greeting. Stepping outside, you're immediately embraced by the warmth of the morning sun, its golden rays dancing playfully on your skin. The air carries the unmistakable scent of spring, a delicate blend of fresh blossoms and earthy notes that fills your lungs with every inhale.

Dressed in a flowing dress, you feel perfectly in tune with the season as you begin arranging the colorful array of flowers on display outside your shop. The fabric of your dress sways gently in the breeze, a soft symphony of movement that mirrors the graceful dance of the petals.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and tilt your face towards the sky, basking in the gentle caress of the sun's rays. Above you, the cerulean expanse is dotted with fluffy white clouds, their shapes shifting and morphing with each passing moment.

With practiced hands, you arrange the blooms with care, each stem finding its place in the intricate tapestry of colors and textures. The vibrant hues of the flowers contrast beautifully against the backdrop of the weathered brick walls of your shop, creating a scene that's both inviting and enchanting.

As you work, you can't help but smile at the thought of the joy these flowers will bring to those who pass by. It’s been hard adopting to a new and broken world, but ironically, you have found your passion. Something to make you eager to get up in the morning. Of course your heart still ached for those you had lost, the suffering, but working on flowers, something living and growing and adapting just like you managed to lighten the weight on your heart. Whether it's a simple bouquet to brighten someone's day or a thoughtful arrangement for a special occasion, your creations have a way of spreading happiness and light wherever they go.

With the last of the flowers arranged to perfection, you step back to admire your handiwork, a sense of pride swelling within you. With a contented sigh, you turn to head back inside, ready to greet the day with open arms and a heart full of gratitude.

That is, until, you hear a surprised gasp.

“Holy shit—”

Turning around at the sound, you're met with the sight of a familiar face. A young girl you've seen around town quite frequently. You haven’t officially met her yet, but you know her name: Ellie.

Realizing that the young girl has never visited your flower shop before, you understand the source of her surprise. With a warm smile, you approach her and greet her by name. "You're Ellie, right? Tommy's niece?"

Ellie nods enthusiastically, her eyes bright with excitement. "Yeah, that's me! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I've just never been here before. The flowers are... fucking amazing—"

She suddenly claps a hand over her mouth, looking towards you apologetically. The gesture makes you laugh.

"I'm glad you like them," you reply, feeling a sense of satisfaction at her reaction. "Feel free to take a closer look if you'd like."

Her eyes light up at the invitation, and she eagerly follows you inside the cozy flower shop. The atmosphere inside is warm and inviting, with shelves lined with potted plants and bouquets of flowers in various stages of bloom. Sunlight filters through the windows, casting a soft glow over the space and illuminating the vibrant colors of the blooms.

As you lead Ellie further into the shop, you can't help but notice the curious glances she casts around, taking in every detail with a sense of wonder. The air is filled with the subtle fragrance of flowers, a delicate scent that lingers in the air and adds to the charm of the space.

"So, Ellie," you begin, breaking the comfortable silence as you approach a display of freshly cut flowers, "Anything you like? I’d be more than happy to gift you some."

Ellie's eyes sparkle with excitement as she looks around the shop. "Really? But there’s so many, how can I even choose?"

"Well, you're in luck," you reply, gesturing towards the colorful blooms around you. "I can just make you a bouquet of everything. Just pick out your favorites."

Ellie's gaze drifts over the display, her expression thoughtful as she considers your question. "Hmm, that's a tough one, they all look so fucking cool," she muses, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration. "How about sunflowers and. . . daisies? There's just something about them that feels... I don't know, hopeful, I guess."

You nod in understanding, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Sunflowers are a wonderful choice. They symbolize warmth, happiness, and positivity. Definitely a fitting choice for someone as vibrant as you, Ellie."

She grins at the compliment, "Thanks,. So, what about you? Do you have a favorite flower?"

“That’s a tough one, but I’d had to say daffodils. They just make me feel right at home. . . even though home has become a difficult word.”

She doesn’t answer you, at least not in a way that you would expect. She nods and says,

"Let's add some daffodils to the mix too. If that’s okay.”

“If course it is. I said any flower didn’t I?”

With Ellie's choices in mind, you set to work gathering the blooms she selected, expertly arranging them into a vibrant bouquet. Your hands move with practiced precision, the gentle rustle of petals and stems filling the air as you weave the different flowers together.

Each blossom is a work of art in its own right, vibrant hues mingling together in a harmonious dance of colors and textures. Sunflowers, with their golden petals reaching towards the sky, stand tall and proud at the center of the bouquet, symbolizing warmth and happiness. Daisies, with their delicate white petals and cheerful yellow centers, add a touch of innocence and purity to the mix. And finally, the daffodils.

Beside you, Ellie watches with rapt attention, her eyes shining, "It's so pretty," she remarks, her voice filled with awe.

You smile at her words, feeling a sense of pride swell within you at the sight of her delight. "Flowers have a way of bringing joy and beauty into our lives," you reply, your voice soft with reverence. "They remind us to appreciate the simple things and to find beauty in the world around us."

Finally, the bouquet is complete, a stunning masterpiece that radiates warmth and joy. You present it to Ellie with a flourish, a sense of satisfaction washing over you at the sight of her delighted expression.

"It's perfect," Ellie exclaims, her eyes shining with excitement as she admires the bouquet in her hands. "Thank you so much. This is amazing."

"It was my pleasure," you reply, your heart swelling with happiness at her words. "I'm glad you like it. And remember, if you ever want to learn more about flowers or need some help with anything, you know where to find me."

Ellie nods eagerly, her enthusiasm infectious. "Definitely. Thanks again. This means a lot."

As Ellie turns to leave, a sudden thought seems to strike her. She pauses, her hand on the door, before turning back to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Hey," she begins, a playful smile dancing on her lips, "do you need a flower assistant? I mean, I’d be nice to work here, and you seem really cool."

"Well, Ellie," you reply with a teasing grin, "If you're serious about helping out around here, I'd be more than happy to have you on board."

Ellie's eyes widen,. "Wait, really?" she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You mean it?"

You nod, your smile genuine as you reassure her. "Of course. I could use all the help I can get, especially during busy times. And besides, it'll be fun having you around. Consider yourself officially hired as my flower assistant, Ellie."

A grin spreads across Ellie's face, her eyes sparkling with excitement at the prospect of working alongside you in the flower shop. "Wow, I don't even know what to say," she admits, her voice filled with genuine gratitude.

"No need to say anything," you grin. "Just don’t be late."

As Ellie nods, a sense of anticipation fills the air, signaling the beginning of a new chapter in both of your lives. With a shared sense of excitement and determination, you and Ellie set to work, ready to take on whatever challenges and adventures the future may hold for your blossoming partnership.

The next day unfolds with a golden hue, promising another beautiful day in Jackson. As you prepare for the day ahead, a sense of excitement tingles in the air knowing that you'll be mentoring Ellie, your newfound flower assistant. Ellie arrives earlier than you expected, her eyes oozing with sleep.

"Good morning, Ellie," you greet her with a warm smile, gesturing for her to come closer. "Ready for your first day?"

Ellie grins back, nodding enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I’m just not used to waking up so early."

With a chuckle, you lead her to the work table, where several potted plants await repotting. However, before diving into the day's tasks, Ellie's curiosity gets the better of her.

"How do you find all these flowers?" she asks. "I mean, with the infected and everything, it must be hard."

"I have a few spots outside of Jackson where I like to go to collect flowers. There's a field not too far from here that's brimming with all sorts of blooms."

Ellie's eyes widen and you can tell she's intrigued by the idea of venturing beyond the safety of the town's walls. "That sounds amazing," she breathes, her voice filled with wonder. "Do you go there often?"

You nod, a fond smile playing on your lips as you recall the countless trips you've taken to the flower field. "Yes, whenever I need to restock or find something special," you reply. "But I've also started growing some flowers myself. It's a work in progress, but it's been rewarding to see them bloom."

"That's so cool," she exclaims. "I'd love to see the field sometime, if you're up for it."

With a grin, you nod, "I'd be happy to take you," you reply. "But for now, let's focus on getting these plants repotted. We'll save the field trip for another day."

As if on cue, the shop door swings open, and a customer steps inside, a worn backpack slung over their shoulder. They approach the counter with a friendly smile, their eyes scanning the colorful array of blooms on display.

"Good morning," you greet them with a smile, your attention shifting to the customer. "How can I help you today?"

The customer returns your smile, reaching into their backpack to retrieve a small item wrapped in cloth. "I have something to trade," they explain, placing the item on the counter before you.

You unwrap the cloth to reveal a delicate piece of jewelry, a handmade necklace adorned with intricate beads and charms. It's a beautiful piece, clearly crafted with care and attention to detail.

Ellie watches with interest as you examine the necklace, her curiosity piqued by the exchange taking place before her eyes. "What are you trading for?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

You glance at Ellie with a smile, impressed by her keen observation. "Well, Ellie, sometimes customers trade items in exchange for flowers," you explain, turning back to the customer. "It's a way for them to get something they need while also supporting the shop. As for how I decide what the flowers are worth, it's based on a few factors—like the rarity of the flowers, the time and effort it took to grow them, and of course, their beauty."

With a nod, you accept the necklace, carefully placing it aside before selecting a beautiful bouquet of flowers to offer in exchange. As the customer leaves the shop, their smile brighter than before, you can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you've made another person's day a little bit brighter.

“Ellie, I’m not sure me bargin’ into your new workplace is the best introduction,” Joel says.

“You’ll be fine,” she says, dragging Joel by the arm. “Besides, weren’t you the one grumbling about not liking me spending all my time with a stranger? What else was I fucking supposed to do?”

Joel lets out an elongated sigh. “Language.”

He can’t see it, but he knows she’s rolling her eyes at him. The tiny, rundown flower shop soon comes into view and Joel can’t help but think of all the improvements he could make: the crooked step, the splintered door, the moss growing from the bottom of the woody exterior—

This shop won’t last next winter, he thinks with furrowed brows. And even though he’s been skeptical about Ellie spending all of her time here, he’s seen the improvement in her mood. Things just haven’t been the same since their return from the hospital, he couldn’t shake the distant feeling between him and her no matter how hard he tried. It had become something even he couldn’t fix.

But then, one day, she’d come home with the most beautiful bouquet of flowers he’d ever seen, with a wide smile plastered across her young face. Then she mentioned the keeper of the shop. Ever since then, his interest had been piqued.

Approaching the shop, he notices a figure outside arranging flowers, your silhouette bathed in the warm morning sun. You appear younger than he anticipated, your beauty catching him off guard. The way your dress contours your curves adds to your allure, a sight unexpected yet captivating. A gentle breeze tousles your hair as you work, momentarily leaving him speechless.

Contrasting his hesitation, you bound up to the shop with your usual cheerfulness. "Hey there!" Ellie calls out. The woman turns at her greeting, a genuine smile gracing her lips as she sets down the flowers. "Good morning!"

He hangs back, observing as Ellie effortlessly initiates a conversation with you. Your interaction flows with ease, suggesting a familiarity beyond your brief acquaintance.

While you chat, an unsettling feeling settles within him. There's an inexplicable pull towards the shop owner, despite his attempts to resist. Watching Ellie interact with you stirs a strange longing within him, leaving him more unsettled than before.

Before he can dwell on his thoughts further, Ellie snaps him out of it. "Joel, don’t be a stranger! Introduce yourself, she's the one I've been telling you about."

With a sigh, he steps forward, his approach cautious. As your eyes meet, a peculiar sense of recognition passes between you, as if you've crossed paths in another life.

"Hi," he manages to say, his voice gruff yet not devoid of warmth. "I'm Joel."

As he clasps your hand, a spark ignites between you, a connection unfurling with each passing moment.

“Joel?” you say slowly, as if tasting his name in your mouth. “Joel as in Tommy Miller’s brother?”

Your hand feels soft and delicate as it clasps his own, and he can't help but notice the subtle tremor in your fingers. It's a small detail, but it speaks volumes, hinting at a vulnerability that he hadn't expected from this beautiful stranger.

"Yeah, that's me," he responds with a nod, offering a friendly smile in return. "Tommy's my brother."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Joel. Ellie speaks very highly of you."

As you exchange pleasantries, he finds himself drawn to the warmth in your gaze, a warmth that seems to seep into his very soul. There's an openness about you, a genuineness that he finds both refreshing and disarming.

While you talk, he can't help but be captivated by the way your lips move, the gentle cadence of your voice. It's a strange sensation, this sudden fascination with a woman he's just met, but he finds himself unable to look away.

Your conversation is interrupted by Ellie's playful interruption, and he reluctantly tears his gaze away from you, feeling a pang of disappointment at the thought of leaving your side. But as they follow Ellie into the shop, he can't shake the feeling that meeting you has stirred something within him, something that he can't quite articulate.

Entering the shop, he can't help but notice even more things wrong– the creaky floorboards, the peeling paint, the flickering lights overhead. It's evident that the place is in dire need of renovations.

Despite the less-than-ideal surroundings, Ellie's excitement is contagious, and he finds himself getting swept up in the moment. She points out various flowers, their vibrant hues and delicate petals bringing a welcome burst of color to the dreary environment.

"These lilies are my absolute favorite," Ellie exclaims, thrusting a handful of flowers towards him with a mischievous grin.

He can't suppress a surprised sneeze as the pollen tickles his nose, and they both dissolve into laughter,and momentarily, all his concerns seem to fade away.

But just as they're catching their breath, you enter the room, your presence once again capturing his attention. There's something about you that intrigues him, a warmth and kindness that draws him in effortlessly.

A sheepish smile spreads across his face as your eyes meet. You return the smile, your gaze gentle and understanding, and for a fleeting moment, it feels as though you're the only two people in the room.

“Who helped you fix the place up?” Joel asks you as Ellie runs off to change the water of the vases. “

"Tommy actually," you explain. "He's been a tremendous help, especially with all the repairs."

Joel’s brows knit together and he ignores the way your smile falters as he speaks, “Well, leave it to my brother to do a shit job. This shop won’t last next winter.”

“O–Oh. . .” you hug yourself, thumbs moving along the contours of your arms. His heart sinks in, leave it to him to make someone feel bad.

“Not to say it can’t be fixed,” he continues abruptly. “I can help you out. Wouldn’t want Ellie’s new favorite spot to get buried under the snow.”

“Really?” you gasp, smile returning. “You would do that?”

“‘Course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I just. . . I just wasn’t expecting such an offer thank you. It means the world to me.”

Suddenly Joel feels stiff from how deeply you stare at him, and then he realizes how close they are, only a breath away between their lips. He turns his head, grunting, “Don’t mention it,” a stuttered breath leaves him. “Really. Don’t.”

Your growing smile surprises him, as does your not backing away.

“You got it, Mr. Miller.”

Watching Joel work on fixing the roof of the shop, you can't help but feel a flutter of warmth stir within you. His muscles ripple with each movement, his arms bulging with strength as he lifts heavy beams and hammers nails into place. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, catching the sunlight and creating a halo of light around him.

You find yourself mesmerized by the sight, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him. His white tank top clings to his chest, damp with sweat, and the short-sleeved flannel he wears hangs open, exposing the tank top underneath. Every movement sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a flush of heat rise to your cheeks.

The sound of his grunts fills the air, low and guttural, and it sends a thrill through you that you can't quite explain. There's something primal about the way he works, a raw energy that draws you in and leaves you feeling breathless.

You watch as he reaches up to adjust a beam, his muscles flexing with the effort, and you can't help but imagine what it would feel like to run your hands over his warm, sweaty skin. The thought sends a shudder coursing through you, and you quickly look away, feeling flustered and embarrassed by the intensity of your thoughts.

But no matter how hard you try to focus on something else, your gaze keeps drifting back to Joel, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And as you watch him work, you can't help but feel a strange sense of longing stir within.

But for now, all you can do is watch and admire from afar, content to bask in the warmth of Joel's presence as he works tirelessly to repair the roof of the shop. And as you watch him, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over you.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself with determination as you clutch the bowl of freshly picked black mulberries and raspberries in your hands. With a quick glance up at Joel, who is perched precariously on the ladder, you gather your courage and make your way outside.

"Hey, Joel!" you call out, your voice tinged with nervousness as you approach the ladder. "I brought you some fruit and iced tea. Thought you could use a break."

Joel looks down at you with a grateful smile, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "Thanks. That sounds great."

As he descends the ladder, you can't help but feel a surge of excitement mingled with nervousness. With each step he takes, you steal glances at him, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of him.

But it's when he reaches the bottom of the ladder and stretches upwards to take the bowl of fruit from your hands that you feel your breath catch in your throat. The movement causes his tank top to ride up slightly, revealing a sliver of his stomach, and you swallow thickly at the sight.

As Joel settles down to enjoy the fruit and iced tea, you find yourself drawn to the empty spot next to him on the porch. With a nervous glance in his direction, you take a seat beside him.

The warmth of the wooden porch beneath you contrasts with the cool breeze that sweeps through, and you can't help but feel a sense of calm settle over you as you sit beside Joel. The silence between you is comfortable, broken only by the occasional sound of birds chirping in the distance.

“Lovely day, ain’t it,” Joel takes a bite of the freshly picked black mulberries, the deep purple juice stains his lips, a stark contrast against the ruggedness of his features, and you find yourself mesmerized by the sight.

The juice glistens in the fading sunlight, tracing a vivid trail along his lips as he savors the sweetness of the fruit. Each movement of his jaw seems deliberate, each bite a study in pleasure as he indulges in the simple pleasure of the moment.

A soft breeze rustles through the trees, lifting strands of his hair and sending them dancing in the golden light. But your gaze remains fixed on his lips.

The silence and sight makes you light-headed and eager to say anything, no matter how idiotic it might be.

“Aren't you a little old to be doing this much heavy lifting?”

“Aren't you a little too young to be lookin’ at me like that?”

Your shoulders rise, blood rushing to your head as you look down. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest. Butterflies flutter madly within you, the wings tickling the insides of your stomach. You only swallow. “Your lips are stained from the mulberry.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

He takes another one, biting down with his lips, he finds your gaze. You watch a tiny drop go down his chin. The two of you are close. So incredibly close. It’s been like this since he started working on the shop. A pull that is too hard to ignore.

“Well,” he breaks the silence. “Better finish up before the sun sets.”

Joel stands and your heart breaks a little. You blink from where you’re sat, staring at him, yearning for him.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t want you trying to find your way home in the dark.”

“You know, I could’ve come here on my own. I always do.”

“I know. Just wanted to make sure you have someone lookin’ after you.”

“For someone to be known as a grump, you’re quite a softie.”

“I’m leavin’.”

“No—!”

Your fingers close around his arm, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you find yourself frozen in place, your pulse quickening as you realize just how close you are to him.

Joel's gaze meets yours, and you can see a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your heart race even faster. His eyes drop to your lips, lingering there for a moment before snapping back up to meet your gaze. You notice the hints of a fading smile, “You were joking,” you say slowly, letting go of him.

“That I was, wildflower,” he doesn’t move away and neither do you. Your breath catches within your throat, the moment stretching between your two like rubber. Before you can say anything Joel’s eyes flicker to something behind you and he smiles. “I think we’re here.”

As you turn around, your heart skips a beat. The field of flowers stretches out endlessly, a sea of color and beauty that seems to go on forever. The grass has grown taller since the last time you were here, swaying gently in the breeze and creating a soft, rhythmic rustle that fills the air.

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the landscape and setting the flowers ablaze with color. Reds and yellows, blues and purples, a riot of hues that dance and swirl in the gentle breeze.

You take a step forward, the grass crunching beneath your feet as you walk further into the field. The scent of poppies and blue hyacinths fills your nostrils, sweet and intoxicating, and you can't help but close your eyes and breathe it in.

The wind sweeps across the field, sending waves of grass rippling in its wake. The sound is soothing, a gentle whisper that seems to carry you away on a tide of tranquility.

For a moment, you forget about everything else – the worries and the doubts, the uncertainties and the fears. All that matters is the beauty of this moment, the beauty of this place, and the beauty of being here with Joel.

With a rush of emotion swirling within you, you turn to Joel, your heart pounding in your chest as you meet his gaze. He's still standing close, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.

Without thinking, without hesitating, you lean forward and press your lips to his. At first, Joel is taken aback, his body stiffening in surprise. But then, he caves, his lips moving against yours in a slow, tender rhythm.

His hands come up to cradle your face, his touch gentle yet firm, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go. You feel his tongue on your bottom lip and open up for him eagerly, the taste of him feels like electricity shooting through you. Heat pools between your legs, Your breasts tingle with the mere thought of having his hands on them, nipples aching and hard.

Joel breaks away briefly, then closes the distance again. Small hisses against your swollen lips over and over until neither of you can breathe. He hungers for it almost. And so do you. “Joel,” you whisper, eyes cloudy. “Please.”

“Is that what you want, wildflower?” he drags his nose down the side of your cheek, facial hair scratching delightfully against the sensitive skin of your neck. “For me to fuck you here? Right out in the open?” his voice trembles. “Like animals?”

“God, yes—” your insides clench. “I would want nothing more. Been thinking about you since the day I met you, your hands, your mouth, you as a whole.”

His hands drop to your ass and he gives the tender flesh a strong squeeze, “You want me?”

“I do.”

You suddenly find yourself on the ground, the grass tickling your exposed legs and arms, the skirt of your dress rolled up to your waist. Joel’s weight is a welcoming comfort on top of you, another gust of warm wind blows. With a groan, he pulls down the sweetheart neckline of your dress, exposing both your breasts. While holding one, he kisses the other, drawing the stiff nipple into his mouth. He sucks harshly, your body jolting with pleasure. The soaking mess between your legs grows.

“Joel,” you moan, back arching. “Fuck—”

He swirls the tip of his tongue around the nipple and grazes his teeth against it. Calloused fingers play with the other. Your mind is swimming in pleasure. He brings the skirt of your dress further up and traces his lips down the fabric, when you look down, you see him between your legs, his eyes darker than normal as he stares into your soul. The tips of his fingers dance along the elastic of your panties, asking for permission.

You breathe out a yes, barely audible, but he nods and tugs the fabric down. When he latches his mouth on to you, the world stops. His mouth feels divine. His tongue delves between your folds, the bridge of his nose rubbing against your clit. You shudder against him and he moans into you. The reverberations of the sound force a gasp out of you and you swear you feel him smiling.

His fingers trace patterns along your thighs, teasing and stroking as his mouth works wonders between your legs. You're on the edge, the pleasure building up with each flick of his tongue. You reach down and bury your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, guiding him where you need him the most.

Joel picks up the pace, his tongue moving faster, his fingers slipping inside of you. You can feel your body starting to tighten, the coil in your stomach about to unravel. You grip onto him tighter, your hips bucking against his mouth, and with one final flick of his tongue, you come undone.

You cry out his name, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. Joel continues to lightly lick and suck, drawing out your pleasure until you're completely spent. He makes his way back up to your lips, kissing you deeply as you both catch your breath.

“That was…” you trail off, unable to find the right words for the mind-blowing experience you just had.

“Amazin’,” Joel finishes for you.

You nod, still a little breathless. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your body against his. Joel's hands roam over your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You can feel his erection against your thigh, and you know that he needs release just as much as you do.

“Been so long since I’ve tasted somethin’ this sweet,” he rasps. “Thank you.”

You hear the blood rushing in your ears, “You’re the sweet one,” you mumble, tenderly touching the scratchy surface of his cheek. “So sweet.”

He smiles and as he kisses the curve of your palm, shuffles above you, starting to get up. A deep frown forms between your brows. “And where are you going?” you pout, wrapping your arms around him. You feel the outline of his length as he lowers himself once more, the tips of your noses brushing against one another.

“I thought you wanted to gather some flowers.”

“Not yet,” you murmur, eyes glazed. “At least, not before feeling you inside me.”

“Fuck, darlin’,” he lets out a whimpering breath, grinding himself against your bare cunt. “You really know how to get a man goin’.”

“Prove it.”

His eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t quite describe. His breath stutters, then, without even looking, he unbuckles himself, never breaking eye contact. Joel’s hair ruffles with the wind, yet he doesn’t even blink. The head of his cock catches against your clit, ripping a moan from your throat. He fills you with one sloppy thrust, the length of him stretching you enough to have your eyes rolling to the back of your skull.

“Joel—Oh my god—”

“That’s it, good girl, takin’ my cock so well. Feels good?”

Slack-jawed, you nod. He goes deeper. “Want you to feel me for weeks, wildflower. And I want you to think of me every time you come to this god—” thrust. “—damn” thrust. “—field.”

You can only moan at his words, his hands grip your lovehandles, squeezing and pulling you closer to him every time he rocks forward. His head falls into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin, he sucks. Your body convulses, shaking against him.

Sparks ricochet through every limb of your body as you feel the heat pooling in your core. Joel moves his hand from your lower back to cup your breast, his fingers teasing and plucking at your nipple. The pleasure ricochets through your body, making you feel like you're on fire.

“Come for me, darlin’.” Joel growls into your ear, his voice rough and primal. “Come on my cock.”

His words send you over the edge, your body shaking and convulsing beneath him as he continues to thrust into you relentlessly. The world blurs around you, all your senses consumed by the feeling of Joel's body against yours.

"Joel—" you moan, your voice lost in the wind as you reach your peak.

He groans in response, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release. After one final, deep thrust, he pulls out and spills over your stomach, his body shaking against yours. You both ride out the waves of pleasure until finally, you collapse against each other, panting and spent.

You lay in the flower field, a tangled mess of limbs and sweaty bodies. Joel's arms are still wrapped tightly around you, his face buried in your neck as he tries to catch his breath. You run your fingers through his hair, feeling the warmth of his body.

"I've never felt anything like this before," you say quietly, almost to yourself.

Joel lifts his head to look at you, his eyes softening. "Me neither, wildflower. Me neither."

As the sun begins to set, you both lay there, entwined in each other's arms. The field has become a symbol of something more than beauty. And as long as those flowers bloom, you know your love for each other will continue to grow.

A week.

A week without hearing from him, seeing him, touching him.

A painful week.

It’s almost as if he never existed. As if the moment in your favorite field was nothing but your imagination. The only reason why you know it's real is because Ellie still comes by every day, and despite knowing it’s impossible, you still feel him deep inside. It only heightens whenever you have to travel back to the field to gather flowers for the shop.

You watch as Ellie places more daisies into a vase. She’s been her usual self, joking around, telling you about all the details of her life. It’s hard not to ask her about Joel and how he’s been.

Some nasty part of your mind whispers words of discouragement, telling you he only wanted you for your body, for your charm, and got what he wanted. Your heart clenches. It might be true. You were young after all, emotional, broken. He’d already gone through all that, killed to stay alive, for loved ones, gone through grief—why would he want to take on another’s problems as well?

“Hey, Ellie?”

She turns to you, eyes slightly wide due to the rasp of your voice, “Yeah boss?”

“Can you watch the shop for a second, I have something I need to do that I forgot about.”

You don't wait for her nod as you exit the shop. You know he’s home. He has to be.

Luckily it doesn’t take you long to reach their house, your knock is loud and swift. You know you’ve taken him by surprise by the expression when he opens the door. His mouth is slightly ajar, his brows knit together.

“What are you—”

“I came to talk,” you brush past him, heading inside. Joel lingers at the door but soon after follows you inside anyway.

He sighs, “What do you want to talk about?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what's to come. "Us," you reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you. "I need to know what happened, Joel. Why you've been avoiding me."

Joel's jaw clenches at your words, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to meet yours. "I ain't good for you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "You deserve better than someone like me."

You feel a surge of anger rising within you at his words, frustration bubbling up to the surface. "That's for me to decide, Joel," you say, your voice tinged with defiance. "I'm not some fragile flower that needs to be protected. I can make my own choices, and right now, I choose you."

Joel's expression softens slightly at your words, but there's still a hint of sadness in his eyes. "You don't know what you're saying," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm a mess, a broken man with too much blood on his hands. You deserve someone who can give you the world, not someone who can barely keep himself together. You’re young. You still have so much ahead of you—"

“No! That’s not what I want. I want you, you’re the only person who’s made me feel like. . . like myself. . .before. And wanted.”

Your voice begins to shake, you see the hesitation within his body, hod his hand slightly moves forward to hold you, to touch you, but he doesn’t.

“I can’t do this to you,” his hands slide into his pockets, he gestures to the door. “Get out.”

The blood freezes in your veins, your eyes grow wide, your chest constricts, “What?”

“I said to get out,” he repeats, a little louder this time. “Get out, please.”

And you do.

“You need to get your shit together.”

“Language, Ellie, dammit.”

She glares at him from across the table. It’s an early morning, earlier than he’d liked. He’s been feeling hallowed out ever since your visit. He could see the hurt in your eyes, the betrayal. He knew that he’d broken something when avoiding you, something tender and not so easily fixable.

But what was he supposed to do? You were young, he didn’t want to trap you, didn’t want you to throw the best years of your life for an old man like him.

Briefly, he squeezes his eyes shut. His head hurts. All he can think about is you, your body, how eager it was to take him, the delectable curves he couldn’t get enough of.

He misses your taste on his tongue.

“She’s miserable too, you know.”

Joel’s eye snap wide open. “Who?”

“You know who,” she shakes her head. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but she’s definitely upset and so are you—Just fix it. Don’t be an asshole”

He let’s out a sigh, she’s right. He needs to fix this somehow. Joel stares at Ellie, her words hitting him harder than he expected. He hadn't realized just how much his actions had affected not only you but also Ellie. The weight of his own guilt settles heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the mess he's made.

"Yeah," he mutters, his voice rough with emotion. "I know."

He runs a hand through his hair, the tension in his muscles making every movement feel heavy and strained. He knows he needs to make things right, to somehow find a way to mend the rift he's created between you and him.

But how? How could he possibly make things right after everything that's happened?

"I'll talk to her," he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll fix it."

Ellie nods in approval, her expression softening slightly as she looks at him. "Good," she says, her tone gentle. "Because I don't want to see either of you hurting anymore."

She was right and he knew it.

“The shop’s closed today,” Ellie says as he grabbed his jacket. “I don’t know where she is.”

But he did. He knew exactly where you would be. The place he tasted you, the place he felt your body against him.

Joel's heart sinks as he approaches the flower field and sees you sitting there, your shoulders hunched over as you hug your knees to your chest. He can hear your sobs from a distance, the sound echoing through the quiet morning air.

For a moment, he hesitates, unsure of what to do or say. But then, with a heavy sigh, he pushes aside his doubts and makes his way towards you.

As he draws closer, he can see your whole body trembling with the force of your emotions. His heart aches at the sight, knowing that he's the cause of your pain. He kneels infront of you, gently touching your wrists.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's me, Joel."

You startle at the sound of his voice, lifting your head to look at him with tear-streaked eyes. For a moment, there's a flicker of surprise in your gaze, followed by a wave of raw emotion.

"Joel?" you choke out, your voice thick with tears. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to find you," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I couldn't stand the thought of you hurtin’ like this."

"I thought... I thought you didn't care," You sniffle, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand.

Joel reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch light and tender. "I care more than you know," he says. "I made a mistake, a big one, and I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I just didn’t want you to. . .I didn’t think I deserved someone like you."

"I missed you," you admit softly, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

Joel's heart clenches at your words, a rush of emotion flooding through him. Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as you bury your face against his chest.

"I missed you too, wildflower," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "And I promise, I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy."

He hears the smile in your voice.

“You already do.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #plus size!reader #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic

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sonarspace · 3 months ago

Text

UNDERCOVER HEAT (FT. TOJI)

synopsis. undercover mission, heated brownies, and a halloween party—what could possibly go wrong? wc. 5.4k. content. detective au. aphrodisiac intake. ōral sėx. șex (missionāry, doggy, prone bone). and more i just can't remember lol. an. first time writing a toji fic. i hope it doesn’t disappoint 🙏🏽. very tired so if anything doesn’t make sense just pretend like it does.

“you look like you just stepped out of a comic book,” toji says, his dark eyes sweeping over your form as you navigate the crowded room.

“you’re one to talk, bruce wayne,” you shoot back, smirking as you elbow him playfully in the ribs. his confident grin widens, but the flirtation is cut short when you remind yourself of the real reason you’re here.

the two of you are on an undercover mission, blending in as partygoers to gather intel on a notorious drug lord rumored to be making a deal tonight. your focus is to blend in, stay low-key, and keep watch for any suspicious activity.

yet, the tension between you feels just as dangerous as the mission.

the crowd is wild, people in masks and costumes dancing under the flashing lights, the music vibrating through your chest. you stick close to toji, keeping an eye on the room while trying not to be distracted by how good he looks in that suit, his tie slightly loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, his tattoo peeking through.

as you both move through the party, a table laden with snacks and drinks catches toji’s eye. he slows, raising an eyebrow as he picks one up, inspecting it with mild curiosity.

“weed brownies,” he says, offering it to you with a teasing smirk. “c’mon, loosen up. we’ve got time.”

you arch an eyebrow. “we’re on duty, toji,” you try to remind him.

“just half,” he urges, nudging it toward you. “it’ll help you relax a bit. you’re too uptight for this.”

with a reluctant chuckle, you accept half, sharing a knowing glance before you both take a bite. the sweet flavor melts on your tongue, and you try to suppress the nagging feeling that you might regret this decision.

he grins, finishing off his half before leading you further into the crowd. at first, you don’t feel any different. you remain sharp, alert, your eyes scanning the room.

as the night wore on, you both felt the effects start to creep in—the heat started to build within you, and every glance at toji made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

a warm, insistent pulse that’s building deep inside you, spreading through your veins with every beat of the music. you glance at toji, and your breath catches in your throat. he’s closer now, his dark eyes fixed on you with a new intensity. his lips part slightly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, and you can feel the air between you thickening.

“this feels... different,” you murmur, shifting slightly as the heat pools low in your abdomen. the fabric of your bodysuit suddenly feels too tight, too warm.

“yeah,” toji says, voice lower than before, almost rough. his hand brushes against yours, and you flinch, hyper-aware of how close he is. “weed doesn’t feel like this.”

you glance around nervously, suddenly aware of the pounding music, the dancing bodies pressing against you. the lights seem brighter, the air heavier, and when you look down at the table again, your stomach drops.

there, right next to the tray of brownies, is a small sign.

“aphrodisiacs.”

“toji,” you hiss, pulling him closer. “those weren’t weed brownies.”

he reads the sign, then looks back at you, realization dawning. “fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his dark hair. “you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

the heat is overwhelming now, pooling in your core, making every nerve in your body sing with need. and toji—he’s so close, his body radiating warmth, his woody musk filling your lungs, making it impossible to think straight.

your hand drifts down to his arm, gripping the fabric of his suit as you step closer, your body pressing against his. the desire is overwhelming, and you can’t hold back. you start to move, swaying your hips in time with the music, grinding against him with deliberate movements.

“toji...” you whisper, voice thick with need, “i can’t...”

he groans, his hands finding your waist, fingers digging in as he pulls you against him. “keep it together,” he murmurs, but his grip tightens, drawing you impossibly close. “we can’t let this ruin the mission.”

“i know,” you breathe, the words barely escaping as you press yourself against him, your body instinctively seeking friction. every pulse of the music drives you further into a frenzy, the heat pooling between your thighs, craving more.

“god, you’re driving me insane,” he admits, his voice low and rough, the desire in his gaze igniting something carnal within you. “we can’t—”

his lips ghost over your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. “we really shouldn’t…” but his hands are already wandering, sliding over your waist, his touch burning through your bodysuit. instinctively, your hands find his chest, pressing against him as your body moves in sync with the music in the background.

“don’t stop,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the thrum of the music. your body arches into his, craving more, wanting nothing but to lose yourself in the moment.

his control slips—just for a second. the space between you becomes charged with an undeniable need. toji leans in, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth, so close to closing the distance when—

he stiffens.

his eyes snap to something in the crowd, cutting through the haze. your own gaze follows his, heart still pounding in your chest, blinking away the daze of desire when you spot the drug lord making his way toward a back room, a sleek black briefcase in hand.

“shit,” toji curses under his breath, his voice hardening with frustration. his grip on you loosens slightly, his hand sliding down to grab your wrist. “we’ve got to move.”

you blink up at him, still half-lost in the daze of desire, your body protesting as he tugs you away from him. “toji…” you murmur, your lower lip jutting out in a pout as you’re pulled back to reality. the tension between you is still sizzling and stopping feels like torture.

“later,” he growls, though there’s a flicker of frustration in his eyes too. his hand tightens around yours, dragging you through the crowd, weaving between costumed partygoers, until you’re following the drug lord into the darkened hallway.

the sounds of the party fade behind you, replaced by the faint murmur of voices. toji pulls you close, pressing a finger to his lips as you both inch closer to the door. the drug lord is talking to someone inside, their voices low and serious. you strain to listen, trying to make out the conversation, but your mind is still clouded by the way toji's lips felt on your skin, almost kissing you.

a creak in the floor makes your heart skip a beat. the drug lord’s voice halts, and you hear footsteps approaching the door. panic surges through you, your pulse spiking as you realize you’re about to be caught.

but before you can react, toji’s hand is on your face, rough yet urgent as he grabs your chin and turns your head toward him. without warning, he crashes his lips against yours in a desperate, searing kiss, swallowing your gasp of surprise. his lips are warm and soft, a stark contrast to the tension that crackles between you. the world blurs around you, the tension from before exploding as his mouth moves against yours with a ferocity that leaves you breathless.

you can barely think—barely process anything other than the feel of his lips, the way his hands grip you like he can’t let go. his fingers cradle your face, thumb brushing your cheek, grounding you even as the kiss threatens to pull you under. the kiss is both a cover and a release, a way to escape the reality of the mission and the overwhelming need that’s still coursing through your veins. each brush of his mouth against yours sending your senses in overdrive.

the door opens, and the drug lord’s gaze sweeps over you both. for a split second, his eyes linger, suspicion flickering in his expression, but toji doesn’t stop. his body shields yours, pressing you against the wall as his lips move hungrily against yours, keeping up the act—and maybe indulging just a little in what he’s been holding back.

after what feels like an eternity, the drug lord turns away, satisfied that you’re just another pair of partygoers caught up in the chaos of the night. the door clicks shut behind him, and toji finally pulls back, both of you gasping for breath.

his forehead presses against yours, both of you panting, hearts racing. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the weight of the kiss—hanging between you.

“well,” you finally murmur, your voice shaky but playful, “that was one hell of a distraction.”

toji smirks, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth where his kiss smeared your lipstick. “don’t get used to it,” he mutters, though the look in his eyes says otherwise.

just as you catch your breath, the door swings open again. toji’s instinct kicks in, and he pulls you close once more, capturing your lips with his in another kiss. his hands weave through your hair, deepening the kiss, his tongue pushing against yours, and in reflex, your body arches against his.

“nice costume, kitty,” the drug lord’s voice cuts through the air as he walks past, glancing at the two of you. “ah, lovebirds, wrap it before you tap it,” he adds with a smirk before sauntering away. toji pulls back slightly, his grin still lingering on his lips, and you can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all—caught mid-kiss while undercover.

your fingers instinctively brush over the scar on toji’s lip but he halts your wrist with a firm grip, his eyes narrowing slightly. “we should follow him,” he says, his voice strained. a flicker of irritation crosses his face, and you wonder if you’ve crossed a line.

you trail behind the drug lord as he exits the club, your heart racing. he climbs into his sleek car, and just as he drives away, toji pulls you back, shielding you with his body. “the team will follow him. mission’s over.” he says.

he steps away for a moment as he quickly relays the information on his radio, tension radiating from him as he waits for the valet.

you feel a chill in the air and your wrap your arms around yourself. toji returns, draping his jacket over your shoulders without a word. “i’ll drive you back,” he says, and you nod gratefully.

the silence is heavy in the car as he drives. “i’m sorry,” you finally murmur.

“for what?” he glances at you, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“for not keeping my hands to myself and touching your face.” you fidget, feeling the weight of your actions.

toji exhales slowly. “it’s fine.”

toji’s hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary, the muscles in his jaw flexing. the tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife, the faint hum of the staticy radio doing nothing to ease it.

“i’m not pissed,” he repeats, his voice even, but you can tell he’s holding something back.

“really?” you press, shifting in your seat to look at him. “then why does it feel like you’re pissed?”

he finally exhales, the kind of breath that sounds like he’s been holding it in for far too long. “fine,” he mutters. “maybe i’m pissed because i can’t fuck you the way i want.”

the confession hangs in the air, heavy and raw. your breath catches in your throat, heart racing as your body heats up at the words. “how... how do you want to fuck me?”

toji’s lips twitch into a half-smirk, his eyes still fixed on the road. “we’re not doing this,” he murmurs, but the low rasp in his voice betrays him.

“why not?” you challenge again, leaning closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “we both took that aphrodisiac… you want this just as much as i do.”

your hand drifts over to his thigh, inching higher toward his groin, and his breath hitches. he grabs your wrist before you can go any further, his grip tight but not painful. “don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart.”

but the way his gaze darkens with lust tells you he’s more than ready to finish whatever you’re starting.

toji pulls up in front of your place, the car rumbling softly as it idles. the air between you is still charged, thick with the unspoken tension that's been hanging between you all night. you hesitate for a moment, biting your lip, before glancing at him.

"you want to come inside?" the words slip out before you can stop them, and you can feel your pulse quicken.

he turns to look at you, his gaze heavy-lidded and unreadable. there's a beat of silence, then he shuts off the engine. "are you sure?" his voice is low, almost a growl, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

you nod, swallowing hard as you open the car door and step out, feeling the cool night air on your skin. he follows you, every movement deliberate and controlled, as if he's holding back the flood of want simmering just beneath the surface.

inside, the air feels different—warmer, more intimate. you kick off your shoes, turning to face him, heart racing in your chest.

you turn to him, nerves fluttering as you ask, "want something to drink or—"

before you can even finish, toji's lips crash against yours, cutting off your words. his hands slide over your waist, pulling you closer against him, the intensity of his kiss stealing your breath. the short dress you’re wearing bunching under his grip. there’s a desperation in the way his lips move against yours, like he's making up for all the restraint he had to hold onto earlier. your heart pounds in your chest, and you can feel the heat of his body searing into you as he presses you against the wall.

"just you," he growls against your lips, voice rough, as if he’s been holding it back for too long. "i only want you."

"then take me," you murmur, the words barely a whisper before he’s on his knees in front of you, so sudden it makes your breath hitch.

his hands slide up your stocking-clad legs, fingers gripping the back of your thighs, the warmth of his palms seeping through the thin fabric. “you don’t know what you’re asking for,” he mutters, but the way he looks up at you through his dark lashes nearly makes your knees buckle.

you would've been on the floor, legs in the air, if it weren’t for his hands holding you steady, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. his palms glide higher, slipping beneath the hem of your dress.

“you sure you want this?” he asks, his breath warm against your skin as his lips graze the inside of your thigh. your breath catches, and all you can do is nod, legs trembling from the way his fingers tighten around you like he knows he’s about to make you fall apart.

his lips glide over your thighs, teasing the sensitive skin beneath the sheer fabric of your stockings. he doesn’t pull them off just yet; instead, he removes your heels, leaving your feet bare and vulnerable. taking the opportunity, you press against the tightness in his pants, and the deep groan that escapes him makes you chuckle sweetly.

that sound seems to ignite something in him, and he pushes your dress up higher, giving him an unobstructed view of your lower half. “you’re asking for it,” he growls, his breath hot against your skin as he kisses over the black tights, pressing his lips firmly against you, making you feel every bit of his desire.

you can feel yourself getting wetter with each press of his lips. “toji,” you breathe, your body instinctively arching towards him.

as your fingers reach for your stockings, eager to remove them, toji grabs your wrist, holding your hand firmly at your sides. “not yet,” he murmurs. his lips resume their path along your thighs.

you squirm but he keeps you pinned, his hands anchoring your wrists to the wall. “let me take my time,” he whispers, kissing softly over the fabric, each press of his lips sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

after a moment, he pulls away, standing tall and towering over you. he undoes the button of his pants, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “on your knees, pretty girl,” he commands, his voice low and sultry.

your heart races at the drop in his voice, and you can’t help but comply, sinking to your knees in front of him. “you’ve been teasing me all night,” he says, his tone low and gravelly. “now it’s my turn.” he steps closer.

with one hand, he cups your chin, tilting your head back to meet his intense stare. the other hand rests on his waistband, fingers grazing the fabric teasingly. “you know what i want, don’t you?”

you squirm slightly, pressing your legs together for some friction as you breathe out a soft, “yes.” toji’s smirk widens.

you take a moment to admire him, heart racing as you gaze at his cock, standing tall and proud. it’s a deep shade of crimson, flushed at the tip, glistening slightly with anticipation. the girth of him makes your mouth water, and you can't help but grow wetter at the sight, a rush of heat pooling in your core. the veins running along his shaft pop with every heartbeat, driving you wild.

your fingers wrap around him, feeling the warmth and weight of him in your hand. you start slow, stroking him, taking your time to learn every inch. leaning in, you press a teasing kiss to the tip, swirling your tongue around it, tasting his salty potent arousal.

toji's head falls back with a low groan, and you can’t help but feel a thrill run through you. maybe it’s the aphrodisiacs working, but you’re feeling bold. with a steady breath, you take him deeper, feeling him press against the back of your throat. your nose brushes against the soft, trimmed tufts of hair on his pelvis, and you keep him in your mouth for a few moment, enjoying the warmth and weight of him.

he can feel the way your throat tightens around him, sending waves of pleasure through both of you. toji grips the wall in front of him, his breath hitching as he fights the urge to buck forward. “fuck,” he moans, his hand moving to cradle your face, holding you in place as he pulls out just enough to let you breathe.

“it’s okay,” you whisper, locking your eyes with his. “you can fuck my throat.” a small smile plays on your lips as you watch toji's expression shift.

“you sure?” he asks, his voice full of caution, searching yours for reassurance.

you nod, as you pull him closer. with that, he presses back against your lips, and you take him fully, feeling him slide across your tongue. you grip the back of your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he begins to thrust gently, mindful of your limits. your throat tightens around him, and you can feel tears forming in your waterline as the pleasure builds, each push making your body feel like its on fire.

after a few moments, you pull back, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. he helps you stand, kissing you hard, tasting himself on your tongue. his hands move under your thighs, hoisting you up effortlessly as you both stumble backward, trying to find the way to your bedroom.

“right,” you mumble against his mouth, and he nods, tongues tangling as he blindly navigates, the need to feel your skin against his guiding him.

as toji stumbles into the hallway of your bedroom, he accidentally knocks down a few frames on the wall, and you can’t help but chuckle against his lips. the sound breaks the tension, making him grin against your skin as he slips into the bedroom. he falls forward, both of you bouncing onto the bed.

his smile widens as he moves his lips to your jaw, nipping playfully before gripping your chin and tilting it up, exposing the soft skin beneath. with a teasing kiss, he leaves a mark that only the two of you will know about. he presses more kisses down your throat.

“as much as i like this outfit, kitty,” he whispers against your skin, “i think i’d like what’s underneath even better.”

you bite your lip, glancing up at him with a smirk as you tug the straps over your shoulders. “sure you want to ditch the whole ‘bruce wayne’ persona so soon, toji?” you tease, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

he laughs, grabbing your legs and pulling you down the bed, his hands moving over your body tugging the dress along with your black stockings and pretty black lace arousal coated panties. “you wanna be one of bruce wayne’s one-night stands, kitty?”

“bruce wayne and catwoman don’t have one-night stands,” you say playfully, tilting your head at him. he raises an eyebrow, a smirk creeping onto his lips. “oh? what do they have then?”

“a complicated relationship,” you reply, returning his smile.

“well then, let’s make this complicated,” he says, a wicked glint in his eyes as he leans closer, his breath warm against your skin.

before you can respond, his hands find their way back up your thighs, fingers slipping between your legs. he groans lowly, your arousal coating his fingers like he's dipping them in a jar of honey. “you’re so wet, kitty,” he murmurs, pressing his fingers harder over your core, a teasing pressure that has you trembling.

your legs part on their own, a silent plea for more, and he gives it to you, slipping two fingers and sinking them deep into your warmth. your core eagerly takes him in, slick and pulsating around his fingers as they press in until his knuckles are snug against your clitoral hood.

he curls his fingers inside you, almost touching against that soft spot. “you take me so well,” he groans, watching your body react to every curl, every thrust, a twisted grin tugging at his lips as your wetness coats his hand.

he pulls his fingers out of you slowly, and you can’t help but whine at the sudden emptiness. “need to feel this clenchin around my cock instead,” he murmurs, voice low and rough.

your breath hitches as he stands up, stripping off the rest of his clothes. he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a condom, and you raise an eyebrow, your voice laced with teasing. “communal dick?”

he lets out a mock gasp. “refined dick, actually,” the corners of his mouth twitch upward, “only the finest get the honor.” his grins grows as he steps between your legs again. “and tonight, it's all yours.”

toji tears the condom wrapper open, his eyes never leaving yours. “and just so you know,” he says, rolling it on, “my dick’s very picky about who it gets hard for.” his voice is dripping with that familiar cockiness, making your pulse quicken.

he aligns himself with your entrance, the head of his cock brushing against your soaked folds. “lucky me then,” you whisper, the words barely escaping before he pushes inside, filling you completely in one slow thrust.

toji groans as he sinks into you, feeling the way your walls grip him tightly around him. “fuck, you feel so good,” he mutters, his voice roughened. a moan slips out as he starts to move, slow at first, letting you feel every inch of him as he pulls out and thrusts back in.

“such a perfect fit,” he growls, gripping your hips, his thrusts becoming faster, deeper. each time he pushes inside, it feels like he’s molding your insides to the shape of him.

“harder,” you gasp, wrapping your legs around him, urging him on.

toji grins down at you, his eyes dark. “needy little thing, aren’t you?” he teases, but he doesn’t make you wait, slamming into you with more force. your moans get louder, your body trembling as pleasure builds inside you, and he watches with smugly.

toji can feel the aphrodisiac kicking in, making everything feel more intense. your skin’s on fire, every touch sending you closer to your orgasm. “can feel it working, huh?” he smirks, enjoying the way you squirm under him.

you nod, breathless, biting your lip as you arch your back, wanting more. every nerve in your body is lit up, and the way he moves inside you has you craving him even more.

toji’s grip tightens on your hips, his thrusts becoming more intense, as if he’s riding the same wave of heightened arousal. “you’re so fucking wet for me,” he growls huskily.

his hands find your waist, flipping you effortlessly onto your stomach. you feel the cool sheets against your heated skin. he positions himself behind you, a wicked grin plastered across his face as he takes in the view of you sprawled out beneath him, the way your ass perks up invitingly, the soft flesh just begging to be gripped.

his hands move over your curves, fingers squeezing your ass as if to test the softness beneath his palms. he relishes the way your skin feels, warm and supple, as he kneads it gently. “so perfect,” he growls, unable to resist the urge to give you a playful smack, relishing the sound it makes and the way your body reacts.

you arch your back, pushing your ass further back against him, eager for more of his touch. the little whimper that escapes your lips makes toji’s breath hitch. “more,” you plead softly, and he can’t resist the temptation. he delivers another sharp slap to your ass, the sound echoing in the air as a flush of heat spreads across your cheeks.

he leans forward, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “you just can’t get enough, can you?” toji’s hands glide back over your skin, rubbing over the reddened marks he left behind. he positions himself once more, his hardness pressing between your legs, tantalizingly close to where he was just moments ago.

when he finally pushes in, you glance back over your shoulder, a challenge dancing in your eyes. “i thought you’d be more rough,” you tease, and he chuckles, dropping his head into your back as he presses a kiss there, tugging your hair back gently, pulling you up against his chest. “you make me wanna be soft, take my time,” he murmurs against your ear. his thrusts become hard yet slow, pressing right against that sweet spot deep inside you.

his groans slip into your ear, and you shut your eyes, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, savoring the sensation of him filling you completely.

punctuating his words with a thrust that sends you reeling forward. you’d fall face-first into the mattress if he didn’t have his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you in place.

as he drives into you, he pushes you to lay flat on the bed, his weight pressing over you as he continues to move back and forth. you can feel a trickle of sweat run down your back, his pace unrelenting as he keeps you at the edge.

his hand slips to your front, fingers working over your clit. “i need you to cum for me,” he urges, and the intensity of his words sends a rush of warmth through you. your body responds eagerly, building to that peak he’s coaxing from you. with a particularly hard thrust, you cum around him, crying out his name.

toji pulls out, flipping you onto your back. you grip his shoulders, pulling him down to you as your mouths crash together in a messy kiss. lips sliding together as your tongues tangle, tasting each other with urgency.

you push him onto his back, taking the reins as you ride him. he chuckles softly, his back hitting the mattress. his hands grip your hips, guiding you as you bounce on him, the sensation driving him wild.

the sounds of your mouths meeting are loud and wet. your hands fist into his hair, tugging him closer, deepening the kiss with every desperate press of your lips. he groans against you, the vibrations making your pussy clench, and you can’t help but kiss him harder, eager to feel every bit of him.

toji pulls back, his breath ragged. without breaking eye contact, he starts kissing his way down your body, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses from your lips to your neck, and further down.

as he makes his way to your stomach, he dips lower, inhaling your sweet scent as he reaches your core. he pauses for a moment, relishing the sight of your slick thighs glistening with remnants of your pleasure. he dives in, his tongue flicking out to taste you, and a low groan escapes his lips as he savors the tangy sweetness of your cum.

“fuck, you taste so good,” he hums as he cleans your arousal with his tongue. he licks and sucks, the sound of his mouth working against you filling the room. his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open as he buries himself deeper into your sweetness, not wanting to miss a single drop.

“you’re a fucking masterpiece,” he breathes against your skin, pausing just long enough to give you a wicked grin before diving back in. each flick of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge. his dedication makes your head spin.

each flick of his tongue pushes you closer to the edge, the heat coiling tight in your belly. already sensitive from cumming once before, the familiar pleasure reaches a peak again. your body quivers in response, thighs trembling as you grip the sheets, trying to anchor yourself against the onslaught of sensations.

“toji,” you moan, breathless and desperate, your voice barely above a whisper. he responds with a low growl, his fingers tightening around your thighs as he feasts on you, drinking in every last drop.

that sweet tension snaps as you come undone, your body clenching around nothing, pleasure radiating outwards like ripples on water.

“that’s it, baby,” he murmurs against your core, his voice thick with lust as he licks you through your high, coaxing out the last remnants of your pleasure. the vibrations of his voice only deepen your bliss, drawing another soft whimper from your lips.

he rises from his place between your thighs, his body looming over yours. without a word, he lines himself up, pressing the tip of his cock against your slick entrance.

“ready for more?” he rasps.

you nod eagerly, and he pushes in, filling you completely. the stretch feels heavenly, igniting another wave of heat deep within you.

“that’s it, take it,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly, holding you in place as he drives into you relentlessly. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed with your breathless moans and his low growls of satisfaction.

toji’s pace quickens, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge, and you can feel him chasing his own release. his breaths turn ragged, every grunt and groan resonating deep within you. “so close,” he hisses, sweat glistening on his skin as he leans down to bury his face in your neck.

he lets out a deep, guttural moan that reverberates through you. soon, he spills inside the condom, his hips stuttering against you as he groans your name. the sensation of him filling the condom mixed with the way his cock twitches against your g-spot sends you spiraling over the edge once more.

but neither of you can stop. there's this unspoken agreement to keep going, diving back into that intoxicating dance. your bodies move together, the bed creaking louder with each thrust, slamming against the wall in a frantic rhythm. every thrust, every moan fills the air, and you lose track of how many times you both cum, riding that blissful high again and again.

the room is heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, and as you finally collapse against each other, a soft laugh escapes your lips.

“think we might need a break,” you say, breathless and a bit giddy.

toji chuckles, his fingers brushing over your skin, “yeah, maybe just a short one.”

likes, comments & reblogs are highly appreciated !

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yaniluvs · 16 days ago

Text

⋆.˚ ⚾️ ⌇ 승민 : AS WE ARE ── a usual noon after uni, at your usual spot at one of the unoccupied fields of the small town. however, one day, it turned out you weren't the only person finding calm in the field anymore.

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𓍯 baseballcapt!seungmin ʚଓ fem!reader ：（ 𝒾 ）7.6k ── ༯ TWOSHOT (?) uni au, slow paced & slow burn, curiosity, fluff, strangers to friends to ???, small town, angst, language, skz ensemble, very long, y/n is a foreigner/mixed ethnicity. ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY . /ᐠ.ꞈ.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ baseball seungmin. i repeat, BASEBALL SEUNGMIN >3< !! had this sitting in my drafts for way too long. so there may be more part(s) to this, because i certainly cannot put 15k+ words at once.. (╥﹏╥) . skzhop is out, and i'm in love with this song ever since the tour began, and the teaser. so here's a fic because i was desperate. also lowkey have mixed feelings about this fic, maybe it's too slow and uninteresting? (｡>﹏<) don't know, but well still hope you enjoy reading ! comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated ! happy reading <3

the town was as calm as ever, the streets bathed in the soft, golden glow of a sunset that seemed to stretch on forever. the fading light brushed the buildings with a warm, almost nostalgic hue, casting long shadows that whispered of days gone by. it was one of those places where time didn’t hurry. you could almost feel the hours stretching out like elastic, letting the moments linger and settle into your bones.

people moved through the streets slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, some with their heads down, lost in their thoughts, others with eyes up, catching the last rays of the day.

the air was still, but it carried the faint scent of fresh grass and distant wood smoke. a few birds called out from the trees lining the streets, the kind of birds that didn’t seem to mind the quiet, the kind that you could almost hear thinking. the small shops, with their cozy little displays, looked like they could have been frozen in time—hand-painted signs swaying gently in the breeze, windows fogging up as the night began to cool. you could hear the distant chatter of a couple walking home, their voices blending into the soft rustling of the leaves.

even the cars, few as they were, rolled down the narrow streets at a leisurely pace, their tires humming softly on the asphalt. there was no rush, no hurry here. it was one of those rare places where people stopped to chat at the corner, where you could hear the laughter of children spilling from an open window, where everyone seemed to know everyone else, even if they didn't.

everything moved in its own rhythm here, the world spinning a little slower, like the way a good song seems to linger long after it’s finished. it wasn’t that there was nothing to do; it was more like there was no need to rush toward anything. life just seemed to breathe at its own pace, savoring the small moments, the everyday details that most people would overlook. and in this quiet, peaceful town, those little moments mattered the most.

she liked it that way. she appreciated the quiet, the simplicity of it all. it gave her space to think, to breathe, and to write.

that evening, the notebook in her bag felt heavier than usual. she was late to her usual spot—an old wooden bench with a matching table under a canopy of trees at the edge of the town’s recreational grounds. it wasn’t much, just a small patch of greenery with an equally small baseball field. the bench faced away from the field, toward the trees and the town beyond, but she had always been drawn to the way it felt tucked away, like her own secret place.

by the time she arrived, the sky had begun its shift to dusky purples and soft blues. she slowed her steps when you saw someone in the field. it was rare for anyone to be here at this hour.

a supposed guy stood near the netted boundary of the baseball field, his posture relaxed but focused as the fading light of the day cast long shadows across the grass. his black hair, slightly messy and fluffy, curled around his forehead in soft waves, contrasting with the sleek black cap pulled low over his eyes, hiding much of his expression. though not particularly tall or imposing, there was something effortlessly attractive about him—something that drew the eye without trying.

his left hand was occupied with a well-worn black glove, snug against his fingers, the leather creaking softly as he shifted his grip. he tossed the baseball into the air, its white surface catching the last of the sunlight before it descended, spinning in his palm with a fluid grace. with a practiced snap, he caught it again, the sound of the leather cracking as it hit the glove.

his movements were calm but precise, like someone lost in the rhythm of repetition, tossing the ball once more into the air. this time, with a slight tilt of his head, he threw it toward an imaginary target. it sailed through the air, its flight perfect, before hitting the ground with a faint, echoing thud. yet, even as he went through the motions, his gaze drifted, as though his mind was miles away, distracted by thoughts that had little to do with the game.

she hesitated. she hadn’t expected company.

she moved toward the bench anyway, settling into the usual spot. the boy hadn’t noticed her yet—or if he had, he just didn’t show it. his focus was absolute, each throw measured and deliberate. she pulled out her notebook but found herself glancing at him more instead of writing.

he moved like someone used to just.. being. there was something almost distant in his movements, a depth she couldn’t quite place. she tried not to stare, but the way he kept practicing, as though he was trying to lose himself in the rhythm, held her attention.

finally, she gave in to the curiosity, like always. she set the notebook aside, picked up the novel she'd been reading, and flipped it open. but even as she read, her gaze kept drifting back to him.

the boy threw another pitch. the ball ricocheted off the fence with a dull thud.

"do you always practice alone?"

her hesitant yet curious voice cut through the quiet like a feather brushing the air.

the boy froze mid-motion, his arm still raised from the throw. slowly, he turned toward her. his cap shadowed most of his face, but she could see his brows furrowed in confusion. he didn’t seem angry, just surprised—like he wasn’t used to being spoken to, let alone noticed.

"usually," he replied after a moment. his voice was quiet, slightly rough around the edges but not unkind.

she smiled faintly. "it must be peaceful," she said, voice as soft as the breeze that rustled through the trees. "just you and the field."

the boy tilted his head slightly, studying her. for a long moment, he didn’t respond.

"sometimes," he said finally, his tone nonchalant. he adjusted the brim of his cap and turned back to the field, tossing the baseball into his glove.

she watched him in silence, her curiosity growing. there was something about him—something quiet but heavy, like he was carrying more than he wanted to share.

"you’re.. good, at it," she spoke again after a while.

he paused, glancing over his shoulder at her figure. "at what?"

"pitching," she replied simply.

this time, he didn’t look away so quickly. his eyes lingered on her, studying her with a hint of skepticism, as if trying to figure out if she meant it.

"it’s just practice," he said, finally breaking the silence.

"practice makes perfect," she said lightly.

his lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile but didn’t quite manage it. instead, he shrugged and turned back to his routine.

she picked up her book again but kept sneaking glances at him. she didn’t know his name, didn’t know why he was here or what kept him coming back to this empty field, but something told her, that she would see him again.

and that thought—unexpected and soft—made her chest feel a little lighter.

the evening deepened, the world around them growing quieter, the coolness of the night settling over the ground. y/n had returned to her novel, but her eyes followed the boy more often than her fingers turned the pages. she wasn’t sure why she stayed so focused on him, why his presence intrigued her so much. maybe it was the rhythm of his movements or the way he seemed so lost in his own world.

the boy threw the ball again, a sharp and clean arc that hit the fence with a satisfying thud. he stood still for a moment, watching the ball bounce weakly and roll to a stop on the grass. then he went to retrieve it, his footsteps slow and heavy.

when he straightened and turned back toward the center of the field, yani spoke again.

"why here?"

he stopped mid-step, his body slightly stiff as he glanced at her. "what do you mean?"

she closed her book, setting it carefully on the table. her voice remained soft, as though afraid to disturb the peace of the moment. "i mean, why do you practice here? the town doesn’t even have a real baseball team, right?"

the boy’s brows furrowed, and his grip on the ball tightened. "it’s quiet," he said after a pause.

“and well.. this is probably the only maintained baseball field here.”

“a-ah, right. guess i didn’t think of that.” she awkwardly smiled.

she tilted her head slightly, curious about the underlying weight in his tone. "still, quiet can be nice," she agreed. "but do you want it to be quiet?"

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he looked down at the ball in his hand, turning it over slowly. then, almost too softly for her to hear, he murmured, "it’s better that way."

the words hung between them, laced with something she couldn’t quite name—resignation, maybe, or exhaustion. she studied him for a moment, her gaze lingering on the lines of his face, the way his shoulders seemed to carry the world.

"do you like it?" she asked, her voice gentle.

he looked up at her, his expression unreadable. "what?"

"baseball," she clarified. "do you like playing it?"

his lips parted as if to answer immediately, but he stopped himself. he glanced back at the field, his gaze distant. "i used to," he said finally.

she frowned slightly. "used to?"

he shrugged, the motion heavy. "i don’t know. i guess i still do." he hesitated, as though debating whether to say more. "it’s… complicated."

she didn’t push. instead, she rested her chin on her hand, watching him with quiet curiosity. "it must mean something to you if you’re here every day," she said after a moment.

his head snapped toward her, his expression sharp for the first time. "how do you know i’m here every day?"

y/n blinked, startled by the sudden edge in his tone. "i don’t," she admitted quickly. "i’ve never been here this late before. i just assumed…"

the boy stared at her for a moment, his gaze narrowing slightly as if trying to gauge her sincerity. then, with a soft exhale, he looked away. "sorry," he muttered.

"it’s okay," she said, her tone even softer than before.

for a while, neither of them spoke. the boy resumed his practice, and the girl opened her book again, though her mind wandered.

when he finally broke the silence, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant. "why are you here?"

"here?"

"yeah," he said, gesturing vaguely toward her bench. "at this time. you said you don’t usually come this late."

she smiled faintly. "i lost track of time," she admitted. "i was at uni, writing, and didn’t realize how late it was until i looked outside."

"you write?" he asked, his tone more curious now.

she nodded. "mostly in my notebook. nothing fancy. just thoughts, sometimes stories."

he tilted his head slightly, as if considering her answer. "why here, though?"

"it’s peaceful,"

his gaze flickered to her for a moment before he turned back to the field. "yeah," he said quietly. "it is."

the minutes stretched on, the silence between them no longer uncomfortable. she found herself stealing glances at him again, wondering about the story behind his tired eyes and quiet demeanor.

eventually, the boy pulled off his glove and tucked it under his arm. he picked up the baseball and walked toward the bench, stopping a few feet away.

"i’m seungmin," he said, his voice low but steady.

she looked up at him, surprised but pleased by the introduction. "y/n," she replied, her tone warm. "well, actually, y/f/n. but everyone just calls me y/n."

seungmin’s brows lifted slightly. "y/f/n?" he repeated, the unfamiliar name rolling off his tongue awkwardly but not unkindly.

she nodded, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "it’s… a little hard to pronounce."

he didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at her with a quiet intensity. then, unexpectedly, he said, "it’s nice."

she blinked, her blush deepening. "thank you."

seungmin nodded once, then glanced at the sky. "i should go," he said, his tone reluctant.

"okay," she said, her voice soft.

he hesitated for a moment before turning to leave, his footsteps slow and deliberate.

she watched him go, her chest feeling oddly warm. she had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time they spoke. and for the first time in a while, she found herself looking forward to tomorrow.

the night deepened as she finally packed up her things. the notebook went into her bag first, followed by her novel. she cast a quick glance at the baseball field. it was empty now; seungmin had left without another word after their brief exchange.

she slung her bag over her shoulder and began walking down the narrow path that led out of the recreational grounds. the cool air brushed against her skin, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and earth. she didn’t feel like going home just yet, even though it was late. there was something about the stillness of the town at night that made her want to wander.

the streets were quiet yet full of a few people here and there, as they always were after dark. a handful of lights flickered in the windows of small shops, and the occasional sound of a distant dog barking broke the silence. the old cobblestone streets felt comforting beneath her feet, and the familiar, worn-down charm of the town enveloped her like a warm embrace.

she passed by the tiny bookstore she frequented, its lights dimmed for the evening. she slowed, peering through the glass at the rows of books stacked neatly on wooden shelves. it was one of her favorite places, but tonight, she didn’t feel like going in.

instead, she walked further into the heart of the town, where the smell of roasted chestnuts lingered in the air from a street vendor’s cart that had long since closed. her thoughts drifted back to seungmin—the quiet boy with the tired eyes.

he had been so distant, so closed off, and yet… there was something about him that made her curious. she found herself wondering if he’d return to the field tomorrow, or if tonight had been some sort of exception.

eventually, her wandering brought her back to the residential streets. the houses here were modest but cozy, with little gardens that overflowed with wildflowers in the summer. she stopped in front of one of the smaller homes—a single-story house with a tiled roof and a little swing in the front yard.

the warm glow of light spilled out from the windows, and she could see the silhouettes of her grandparents moving inside. y/n smiled to herself as she stepped through the front gate.

“y/n, you’re late!” her grandmother’s voice called out the moment she opened the door.

“i know, sorry, gramma,” she said with a sheepish grin, slipping off her shoes. “i lost track of time.”

her grandmother appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. she was a petite woman with kind eyes that crinkled at the corners when she smiled. “you shouldn’t be wandering around alone at night,” she scolded gently, though her tone was more worried than angry.

“let the girl breathe,” her grandfather said from the living room. he was seated in his favorite chair, a book resting open on his lap. “she’s young. young people like to roam.”

“i know that, but—” her grandmother shot him a look before turning back to their granddaughter. “it’s not safe.”

“it’s our town, grandma,” she said softly, setting her bag down by the door. “nothing ever happens here.”

“that doesn’t mean you should be careless,” her grandmother replied, though the worry in her voice had softened.

her grandfather chuckled, closing his book. “your grandma forgets that she used to sneak out of her parents’ house to meet me when we were young. remember that?”

her grandmother’s face flushed a faint pink, and she swatted at him with the dish towel. “that’s different!”

she laughed, the sound light and melodic. she loved moments like this, when her grandparents bantered like a young couple. they’d been married for over fifty years, and yet they still looked at each other with the same kind of warmth and affection that she imagined only existed in movies.

“are you hungry, dear?” her grandmother asked, turning her attention back to her. “i saved some stew for you.”

“starving,” she admitted, her stomach growling faintly as if to emphasize her point.

her grandmother smiled, motioning for her to sit at the kitchen table. “i’ll heat it up for you.”

as she sat down, her grandfather joined her, pulling out the chair across from her. “so,” he said, folding his hands on the table. “what were you doing out so late? writing again?”

she nodded, pulling her notebook out of her bag and setting it on the table. “and reading. i went to the grounds like always, but i stayed a little longer tonight.”

her grandmother set a steaming bowl of soup in front of her and raised a brow. “why longer?”

“there was.. someone else there,” she said casually, picking up her spoon.

her grandfather’s brow lifted. “someone else? that doesn’t happen often.”

“exactly what i thought,,” she agreed, stirring her soup. “he was practicing baseball. i think his name was.. seungmin..?”

her grandmother hummed thoughtfully as she sat down beside them. “is he a friend of yours?”

“not really. i just talked to him a bit.”

her grandfather leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. “well, if he’s practicing baseball alone, he must be dedicated. or stubborn.”

“yeah,” she chuckled softly, “he was good at pitching, though, even if it was all alone. though.. there was something about him– he seemed a bit distant,”

“maybe he was lonely?”

“maybe..? but i don't think he wanted.. company. at least he didn't seem like it.”

she glanced at her grandparents, at the way her grandfather’s hand rested over her grandmother’s on the table, their fingers lightly intertwined.

“do you think.. distant people want to be left alone?” she asked quietly.

her grandmother tilted her head, studying her with a thoughtful expression. “sometimes,” she said. “but not always. sometimes, they just don’t know how to ask for company.”

her grandfather nodded. “or they’re afraid of being hurt.”

her chest tightened slightly at their words. she thought of seungmin again, of his quiet replies and the way he’d said, it’s better that way.

“do you think he’ll come back?” she asked softly, more to herself than to her grandparents.

her grandmother smiled. “if he does, maybe you’ll be the company he doesn’t know he needs.”

she looked down at her soup, her mind drifting back to the empty baseball field. she didn’t know why she cared so much about a boy she’d just met, but a part of her hoped her grandmother was right.

and maybe, she’d have another chance to talk to him tomorrow.

the school courtyard was buzzing with the usual morning chatter—students gathered in clusters, discussing assignments, weekend plans, and the latest town gossip. y/n preferred to stay out of the bustle, so she slipped through the gates quietly, her guitar case slung over her shoulder.

her steps were light and deliberate as she made her way to the benches near the main building. it was her usual spot, tucked under the shade of a large tree where the morning light filtered through the leaves, creating dappled patterns on the ground.

she set her guitar case down carefully, adjusted her bag, and took out a small notebook. it was her sanctuary before the day’s classes began—a moment to gather her thoughts and jot down melodies or ideas.

“still writing your ideas away, y/nnie?”

the deep voice startled her, though it carried a warmth she recognized instantly. she looked up to see felix standing nearby, his hands tucked into the pockets of his blazer. his light blond hair fell slightly into his eyes, and a small smile played on his lips.

“maybe.. it's called sudden inspiration,” y/n replied softly, chuckling back.

felix chuckled, his voice low and soothing. “blah blah, same thing?” he dropped his bag onto the bench and sat beside her, leaning back with an air of easy calm. “so, what’s the plan for today? more serenading the trees with your guitar?”

y/n laughed, shaking her head. “not today. i’ve got a quiz later, and i promised myself i’d focus on studying.”

felix raised an eyebrow, his expression teasing. “you? worrying about a quiz? you’re probably already over-prepared.”

“maybe,” she admitted, her voice soft but carrying a hint of amusement. “but it’s better than being under-prepared.”

“fair point,” he conceded, glancing at her notebook. “what’s that? a new song?”

y/n hesitated for a moment before nodding. “just some scribbling. i don’t know if it’ll turn into anything yet.”

felix tilted his head, genuinely curious. “can i hear it sometime?”

“maybe,” she said, her tone playful. “if i ever finish it.”

felix smiled, leaning back against the bench. the two of them fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with unnecessary words. y/n appreciated that about felix—he didn’t push her to talk more than she wanted to, and his calm demeanor matched her own.

the warning bell rang, breaking the stillness.

“guess it’s time to face the day,” felix said, standing and slinging his bag over one shoulder.

y/n nodded, gathering her things. “see you at lunch?”

“of course,” he replied, giving her a small wave as he headed toward his classroom.

y/n watched him go for a moment before making her way to her own class. the halls were already filling with students, but she kept her head down, focusing on the soft melody still playing in her mind.

as she entered the classroom and took her seat by the window, she felt a sense of calm settle over her. the morning had been kind to her so far, and she was determined to carry that peace with her through the rest of the day.

after school, y/n packed her things and left the classroom with a light heart. the day had gone smoothly—no unexpected quizzes, no overwhelming assignments. she wasn’t one to feel bogged down by studies anyway; she took things in stride, balancing her love for learning with the simple joys of life.

her classmates were still lingering in the halls, some chatting in groups, others heading to cram school or their part-time jobs. y/n, however, had a different destination in mind. she slung her bag over her shoulder, her guitar case in hand, and stepped into the soft afternoon sun.

the streets were quiet as usual, the warm light casting long shadows on the cobblestones. y/n hummed softly to herself as she walked, her mind already drifting to the peace she always found at the field. she loved how the small town seemed to pause during this time of day, giving her a moment to feel completely at ease.

when she reached the recreational grounds, her gaze immediately swept toward the baseball field. it was empty, just as she had expected. the chain-link fence glinted in the sunlight, and the grass inside looked lush and green, untouched since yesterday.

she let out a soft sigh of relief.

placing her guitar case down at her usual bench by the trees, y/n settled in and opened her notebook. she had planned to study a little—reviewing notes for an upcoming essay—but the quiet of the field had a way of pulling her toward more creative pursuits.

instead of her school notes, she found herself flipping to a blank page, her pen poised over the paper as she searched for the melody she had been humming earlier. she tapped the pen lightly against her chin, letting the rhythm of the breeze and the rustling of the leaves guide her thoughts.

the minutes ticked by, and she found herself smiling faintly, not from anything in particular but from the simple pleasure of the moment. here, with the sunlight filtering through the trees and the town’s quiet hum in the background, everything felt just right.

after scribbling down a few lines of lyrics, she glanced toward the field again. she wondered, briefly, if the boy from yesterday would return. seungmin, she remembered. he had been so quiet, so distant, but there had been something about him that lingered in her mind.

shaking her head, she focused back on her notebook. it didn’t matter if he showed up or not. this was her time, her place, and she was perfectly content to spend it alone.

for now, the field was hers, and she intended to make the most of it.

as she continued her thing, the faint sound of footsteps on the gravel path caught her attention. curious, she glanced toward the baseball field, and her gaze landed on a figure she recognized immediately.

seungmin.

he wasn’t wearing his cap today, and his hair caught the sunlight as he walked toward the field, his usual baseball glove in one hand and a ball in the other. he moved with a quiet confidence, his posture relaxed but purposeful.

y/n blinked, momentarily surprised. he wasn’t usually here at this hour. she debated for a moment whether to say anything or let him pass unnoticed. but then, she thought about how reserved he had been the day before and decided to break the silence.

“came early today?”

her soft voice carried across the space, and seungmin’s steps slowed. he turned his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting hers with a flicker of recognition.

for a moment, he seemed caught off guard, but then he nodded, his expression neutral. “yeah.”

y/n tilted her head, her curiosity getting the better of her. “why?”

seungmin shrugged, looking away as he tossed the baseball lightly into the air and caught it. “no reason.”

she studied him for a moment, noting the way he avoided meeting her gaze. there was something almost… guarded about him. “it’s nice to have company,” she said lightly, hoping to make him feel less self-conscious.

seungmin glanced at her briefly before walking to the field. “don’t mind me. just doing my thing.”

y/n chuckled softly and turned back to her notebook, her pen tapping gently against the page. she couldn’t help but keep an eye on him, though. he moved with precision, practicing throws toward an imaginary batter. his form was sharp, his focus unwavering, and it was clear he wasn’t just idly passing the time.

after a while, she spoke again, her voice cutting gently through the quiet. “are you preparing for something? a tournament?”

the question made him freeze mid-throw. his posture stiffened slightly, and he stood still for a moment before lowering the ball.

“no,” he said, his tone flat. “it’s just a hobby. a way to pass the time.”

y/n frowned slightly, sensing the subtle shift in his mood. the energy around him seemed to dull, his earlier ease replaced by something heavier. she wanted to ask more but thought better of it.

instead, she offered a soft smile. “you’re really good for it to be just a hobby.”

he turned to look at her, his expression unreadable. “thanks,” he said simply, his voice quieter than before. then, as if to change the subject, he added, “what about you? always writing in that notebook?”

y/n’s smile widened slightly at the question. “most of the time,” she admitted. “it helps me clear my head.”

“what do you write?” he asked, his tone casual but with a trace of curiosity.

“songs,” she said, her voice soft but sure. “sometimes poems. whatever comes to mind.”

seungmin nodded, tossing the ball gently into the air again. “that’s… cool.”

they fell into a comfortable silence after that, with y/n returning to her notebook and seungmin continuing his throws. despite his earlier reticence, he didn’t seem as distant now.

around 3:30, y/n noticed a few figures approaching the field. she tilted her head, watching as a group of boys made their way toward seungmin.

“hey, cap!” one of them called, grinning as he waved.

seungmin turned, his demeanor shifting slightly. he gave a brief nod of acknowledgment and tossed the ball toward the boy, who caught it with ease.

y/n blinked, caught off guard. cap?

the group of boys—about six or seven of them—seemed at ease with seungmin, chatting and laughing as they warmed up on the field. y/n watched quietly, realizing this was a side of him she hadn’t seen before.

“you have a team?” she asked, unable to hide her surprise.

seungmin glanced at her, his expression unreadable again. “yeah. we play here in the evenings.”

“oh,” y/n said, her tone soft. “i didn’t know.”

“you’re gone by then,” he pointed out, his voice matter-of-fact.

she nodded, her gaze drifting back to the group as they continued their playful banter. they seemed close, their energy lively but grounded.

“well,” she said after a moment, closing her notebook and standing. “i guess i’ll leave you to it.”

seungmin’s brows furrowed slightly, though he said nothing.

y/n slung her bag over her shoulder and picked up her guitar case. before leaving, she offered him a gentle smile. “see you around, seungmin.”

he nodded, his gaze following her briefly before returning to his team.

as she walked away, she couldn’t help but feel a new curiosity about the quiet, guarded boy who seemed to carry more than he let on.

y/n adjusted her guitar case, deciding she wasn’t quite ready to go home. she checked her phone, seeing a message from felix confirming their usual plan to meet at the café. a smile crept onto her lips as she quickened her pace, the familiar path to the cozy little spot etched into her mind.

the café sat tucked into a quiet corner of town, its faded brick façade and wide glass windows giving it a rustic charm. y/n stepped inside, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the faint aroma of baked goods welcoming her.

felix was already there, seated near the window with a cup of tea in front of him. he glanced up as the bell above the door chimed, and his calm expression softened into a small smile.

“right on time,” he said, his deep voice carrying a note of teasing.

“i’m always on time,” y/n replied, her tone light as she slid into the chair across from him. she set her guitar case beside the table and leaned back, letting the café’s warm atmosphere envelop her.

felix raised an eyebrow. “is that what you tell yourself when you’re five minutes late?”

“okay, once. that happened once.”

felix chuckled and sipped his tea. “how was the field today? same as always?”

she hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “pretty much. though… there’s this guy who’s always there. seungmin. i didn’t expect to see him earlier than usual.”

felix tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “seungmin? the baseball guy?”

“yeah,” y/n said, fiddling with the edge of her notebook. “he’s quiet. keeps to himself. but i found out he has a team. they usually play in the evenings.”

“interesting,” felix murmured. “maybe he’s a future pro in disguise.”

y/n shrugged, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “maybe.”

after finishing their drinks, the two friends decided to roam the town. the streets were alive with their usual charm—small shops lining the cobblestone paths, vendors selling trinkets, and the faint hum of conversations blending with the distant rustle of trees.

eventually, they arrived at their usual street food spot, a tiny stall nestled in a busy corner where the smell of grilled skewers and noodles filled the air.

felix handed over the cash for their order before y/n could protest. “my treat,” he said firmly.

“you always say that,” y/n replied, accepting the steaming skewer of fish cakes he handed her.

“because it’s true,” he said, taking a bite of his own food.

they found a small table nearby and ate while chatting about their day. y/n shared stories about her classes, and felix listened with quiet interest, occasionally offering his own dry, witty remarks that made her laugh.

as they finished their food, y/n’s gaze wandered across the street, where a group of boys had gathered around another street food stall. her breath caught for a moment when she recognized seungmin among them.

so it is a small world.

he stood slightly off to the side, holding a skewer in one hand while his friends chatted and laughed around him. though he wasn’t as animated as the others, there was a faint, almost imperceptible smile on his face—a subtle ease in his demeanor that softened his usual guardedness.

y/n couldn’t help but smile internally. there was something oddly endearing about seeing him like this, surrounded by his friends, blending into the lively rhythm of the town.

“earth to y/n?” felix’s voice broke through her thoughts.

she blinked, turning back to him. “sorry, what?”

felix followed her gaze briefly and raised an eyebrow. “someone you know?”

“kind of,” she said, her voice soft. “that’s seungmin. from the field.”

“ah,” felix said, a note of amusement in his tone. “seems like he’s not as much of a loner as you thought.”

y/n smiled faintly, not replying. she watched as seungmin’s friends laughed at something one of them said, their voices carrying over the street. though he didn’t laugh with them, seungmin’s expression wasn’t as distant as usual—he looked… at ease.

for a moment, y/n considered walking over to say hello, but she quickly dismissed the thought. it didn’t feel like the right time.

from her point, she could see him more clearly now than she had at the field. he was at the edge of the group, his hands in his pockets and his expression composed but not cold. while his friends laughed and gestured animatedly, seungmin offered occasional comments, his voice quieter but not entirely detached.

her lips curved into a faint smile. there was something intriguing about the way he carried himself—not quite aloof but not fully immersed in the chaos of his friends either. he seemed comfortable yet separate, as though he existed in a world slightly apart from everyone else.

she watched as the group stopped near a food cart selling roasted sweet potatoes. one of the boys elbowed seungmin, clearly joking about something, and though seungmin didn’t laugh, his lips twitched upward in the briefest of smiles.

y/n’s heart warmed at the sight. it was such a small thing, but it made him seem less distant than he usually appeared.

realizing she’d been staring, y/n quickly looked back at felix, as they walked out of the stall.

the morning sunlight spilled gently into the cozy kitchen, illuminating the worn wooden table where the family gathered. y/n sat cross-legged on one of the chairs, sipping on her cup of hot tea. her hair was pulled back into a lazy braid, still slightly messy from sleep. the kitchen smelled of freshly cooked pancakes, courtesy of her grandma, who was bustling near the stove with her usual cheerful hum.

her grandpa, seated across from y/n with his morning paper, folded it down just enough to peer at her. “so, young lady,” he started, his tone casual but with a glint of mischief in his eyes, “what are your big plans for today?”

y/n shrugged, tearing a small piece of her pancake. “nothing much. probably read, maybe play guitar for a bit. why?”

“well,” he said, setting the paper aside with exaggerated care. “your old man here was thinking… how about we wash the car together? it’s looking mighty sorry out there.”

y/n smirked. “you mean you want me to wash the car while you supervise?”

he gasped, feigning shock. “what kind of slander is this? supervise? me? no, no. it’s teamwork, kiddo. bonding time.”

her grandma chimed in with a snort, flipping another pancake. “bonding time, huh? more like you’ll do half the job and then mysteriously need a break.”

“hey now!” he defended, raising his hands. “who said i wouldn’t pull my weight? besides, i’m offering quality fatherly wisdom while we work. isn’t that worth something?”

y/n laughed, shaking her head. “alright, alright, gramps. i’ll help. i was planning to wash my bike anyway.”

“atta girl,” her grandpa said, leaning back triumphantly. “we’ll get started after breakfast, then.”

“finally!” he exclaimed when he saw her. “thought you’d decided to ditch me for a second there.”

“relax, gramps,” y/n said, grinning as she tucked one earphone into her left ear. “i’m here, aren’t i?”

they rolled up their sleeves and got to work. y/n filled a bucket with soapy water while gramps grabbed the hose. mellow acoustic music played softly in her ear, a comforting backdrop to the task at hand.

“so,” gramps started, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn patch of dirt, “what’s the deal with that baseball kid you keep mentioning? seungmin, right?”

y/n paused mid-scrub, narrowing her eyes at him. “why do you keep bringing him up?”

“just curious,” he said innocently, though the teasing grin tugging at his lips betrayed him. “seems like he’s a topic of interest lately.”

“he’s just someone i see at the field sometimes,” y/n replied, focusing a little too intently on the car. “not that interesting.”

“uh-huh,” grandpa said, not convinced. “you should bring him over sometime. i’ll teach him how to really swing a bat.”

y/n laughed. “you don’t even play baseball, gramps!”

“oh, you know too less young lady,” he mumbled with a dismissive wave. “anyway, finish up the roof while i grab something from the shed. your grandma thinks i forgot the wax.”

y/n shook her head as he walked off, muttering under his breath about how many things grandma likes to remind him of.

with grandpa gone, y/n slipped the other earphone in and turned the volume up. the soothing strums of guitar and mellow vocals filled her ears as she focused on scrubbing every inch of the car. she moved methodically, dipping the sponge into the bucket and humming softly to herself. the sunlight caught on the small beads of water dripping from the car, casting tiny rainbows onto the pavement.

she was so absorbed in her task that she didn’t notice the figure walking down the street.

seungmin.

hold on, seungmin?

he’d been heading home after a quick errand, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder, when his gaze fell on her. at first, he thought it was someone else. but as he slowed his pace, he realized it was her.

y/n, standing there in the sunlight, completely immersed in what she was doing. her loose tee shifted slightly with her movements, and her messy bun framed her face in an effortlessly pretty way. the music in her ears left her unaware of his presence, and for a moment, seungmin just stood there, watching.

she looked different from the girl he usually saw at the field—less polished, more relaxed. but it suited her.

he debated for a second, then called out, “came to scrub cars now, huh?”

y/n startled, pulling out one earphone and spinning around. when she saw him, her eyes widened in surprise, her voice squeaking. “seungmin?”

“you missed a spot,” he said, pointing to the car with a faint smirk.

y/n looked at him, then down at the car, and deadpanned. “did you come all the way here just to tell me that?”

“was passing by,” he said with a shrug, though the truth felt far more complicated.

“well, since you’re here,” she said, holding out the sponge with a grin, “care to help?”

seungmin hesitated, his expression torn between amusement and disbelief. “not a chance.”

“figures,” y/n said, rolling her eyes playfully. “you baseball types are all the same. no multitasking skills.”

he raised an eyebrow. “pretty sure scrubbing cars isn’t a skill.”

“then you should try it,” she challenged.

before he could respond, gramps peeked out from the doorway, watching the scene with a grin. “who’s that?” he called, pretending to be oblivious.

“just a passerby, gramps!” y/n yelled back, glancing at seungmin with an amused smile.

gramps disappeared back inside, leaving them to their banter.

“you’re weird,” seungmin said finally, though his tone lacked any real bite.

“thanks,” y/n replied with an awkward laugh. “it’s part of my charm.”

"they won't let me live it down," she whispered exaggeratedly yet subtly, glancing back at the door her grandpa had just walked through, to get inside.

"i see," his gaze followed hers. "well, i'll let you carry on then,"

he shook his head, his smirk softening into something almost fond before he turned to leave. “see you around, car girl.”

y/n watched him walk away, her cheeks warm as she turned back to the car.

y/n stood there for a moment, still holding the sponge in her hand as seungmin disappeared down the street. a small smile tugged at her lips despite herself, her cheeks faintly warm. she shook her head to snap out of it and went back to scrubbing the car, the music in her earphones still playing softly.

just as she was finishing the final rinse, she heard the familiar shuffle of her grandpa’s shoes coming back into the garage. he had the tin of car wax in one hand and a slightly smug expression on his face.

“well, well, well,” he started, drawing out the words as he leaned against the car. “was that the young baseball kid you’ve been talking about?”

y/n groaned immediately, her cheeks heating up again. “gramps, stop. he was just passing by!”

“sure he was,” gramps said, his voice dripping with teasing skepticism. he crossed his arms, eyeing her closely. “funny coincidence, don’t you think? this small town, this exact street, just happening to walk by while you’re here looking like… well, like you do right now.”

“grandpa!” she exclaimed, spinning around to splash a little soapy water in his direction.

“alright, alright!” he said, dodging the splash but grinning from ear to ear. “but you can’t blame me for being curious. he seemed like a decent kid, though he could use a bit more enthusiasm in his voice. not much of a talker, is he?”

“not really,” y/n admitted, sighing as she wrung out the sponge. “but he’s… nice. i think.”

before grandpa could press further, gramma appeared at the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron as she took in the scene. “who’s this you’re talking about?” she asked, her sharp eyes darting between the two of them.

“oh the boy,” gramps said casually, but his grin betrayed him. “the baseball kid y/n’s been bumping into, at the field.”

gramma’s eyebrows shot up. “oh? he’s come to visit now, has he?”

“no!” y/n exclaimed, exasperated. “he was just walking by, and gramps decided to make a whole scene out of it.”

gramma chuckled as she came closer, inspecting y/n’s work on the car. “sounds to me like gramps is just jealous. wasn’t he a baseball boy himself back in the day?”

y/n blinked, turning to look at her grandpa. “wait, what? you were?”

gramps cleared his throat, suddenly looking a bit bashful. “well, i wouldn’t say baseball boy, exactly…”

“don’t let him fool you,” gramma interjected, her voice full of pride. “he was one of the best players in town back in his day. made it all the way to the intertown tournaments. brought home trophies too!”

“trophies?” y/n asked, her jaw dropping. “grandpa, why didn’t you ever tell me this?”

he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “didn’t seem all that important. it was a long time ago, kiddo.”

“not important?” gramma scoffed, smacking his arm lightly. “you still have those trophies sitting in the attic. he was the talk of the town back then.”

y/n stared at her grandpa in amazement. “wow, that’s so cool! why’d you stop?”

gramps hesitated, his usual playful demeanor softening. “life happened,” he said finally, his voice quiet. “family came first. had to make some choices, you know? i met your beautiful grandmother.”

y/n nodded, sensing there was more to the story but not wanting to push. “still, i had no idea you were so good at baseball. that’s… amazing.”

gramps brightened a bit at her words, a small smile tugging at his lips. “well, maybe i’ll teach you a thing or two one of these days. can’t have that baseball kid showing me up if he ever comes around again.”

gramma chuckled, shaking her head. “you two are impossible. now, finish up here before the sun sets. and y/n, don’t let him skip out on the waxing this time.”

“hey!” gramps protested, but he was already reaching for the wax.

as y/n worked on her bike nearby, she couldn’t help but glance toward the street again, wondering if seungmin would pass by a second time. her grandpa’s quiet hum and her gramma’s occasional comments from the kitchen filled the air with a warmth that made her heart feel full.

even as she focused on her tasks, seungmin’s image lingered in her mind—his slightly awkward but oddly endearing presence, the way he smirked just enough to show he was teasing.

she shook her head, smiling to herself. her grandparents were going to have a field day if they caught her thinking about him again.

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esouliie · 4 months ago

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that’s when i could finally breathe.

(wandanat x reader)

summary | you didn’t know having the best surgeons in the world as girlfriends usually meant being the loneliest person.

tags | hurt/comfort, poor mental health, hospital au, wanda is so gentle with reader, fic is inspired by taylor swift!!

Summer had always been your favourite season. The heat of the sun, the taste of ice cream melting on your tongue, and the sensation of warm sand beneath your feet—it was when you felt most alive. Your wardrobe was a testament to this: light dresses, miniskirts, and shorts that flattered your sun-kissed skin. But now, it had become your favourite for a different reason. It was summer when you first moved in with Natasha and Wanda. Their beach house was like that of a dream, larger than anything you’d ever lived in before. It stood tall and proud on the beachfront, its white shell-coloured walls and soft blue accents blending seamlessly with the surrounding environment. Inside, the house was open and airy, sunlight flooding in through the large windows, which offered an unobstructed view of the shimmering ocean. The seagulls' calls echoed in the distance, a constant reminder of the peaceful life you'd found here with your girlfriends.

You remembered how that first week had been pure bliss. The three of you had spent days "christening" each room, the laughter and love you shared echoing off the walls as you tangled in each other’s embrace. During the day, you would lounge together on the beach, Natasha daring you to swim out farther into the ocean while Wanda kept a watchful eye, her smile soft and affectionate. It was everything you’d ever dreamed of—a home filled with love, a future filled with endless possibilities.

But that summer felt like a lifetime ago.

The days passed in a blur, each one blending into the next. You went through the motions, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in a fog you couldn’t seem to shake. Natasha was out more often than not, her career as a cardiologist taking her away for long hours, sometimes even multiple days at a time. Up to becoming the next Head Chief of Surgery, she was a force of nature at work, tirelessly moving from one critical case to the next. Wanda, a neonatalogist, was around more often, but recently her presence was like a ghost in the house—she was always preoccupied, her thoughts wrapped around the delicate lives she fought to save every day. Her latest case being quadruplets with their own unique life threatening disorders that required assistance from doctors all over the hospital. You could see how exhausted she was, her eyes sunken beneath her glasses for when she’s been straining her eyes too much.

And you understood the importance of their work, you really did. They were saving lives, making a difference, and that was something you had always admired about them. But lately, admiration had been replaced with a growing emptiness that gnawed at you. The house felt colder, larger, and the silence between you three had become almost unbearable. Meals together were rare, but even when they did happen, you felt like you were dining alone. You sat at the table, picking at your food, barely tasting it, while Natasha and Wanda exchanged brief conversations about work—medical jargon that you used to find fascinating, but now only served to remind you how far apart you were growing. You wanted to speak, to tell them how you were feeling, but the words never seemed to come. Instead, you would just nod, smile when appropriate, and try to pretend everything was okay.

It wasn’t.

Tonight was supposed to be different, though. It was the night before your semester started again, and they had promised to be home early for dinner, with no work talk. You had spent the afternoon preparing a meal, something simple but special—your way of bringing back a piece of normalcy, a piece of the life you missed so much. As the clock ticked on and the evening slipped away, hope slowly faded. You sat at the dinner table, the food untouched, candles flickering softly. The silence was deafening. No texts, no calls—just empty chairs where Wanda and Natasha were supposed to be. You forced yourself to eat, each bite tasting like ash in your mouth. You kept glancing at the door, hoping to hear the familiar sound of their voices, the comforting click of the door unlocking. But the only sound was the distant crash of waves and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

By the time you realised they weren’t coming, tears were already blurring your vision. You cleaned up in a haze, your movements mechanical. You packed away the uneaten food for them when they come home, put the dishes in the sink, and blew out the candles, the scent of melted vanilla wax mingling with the salt of your tears. You didn’t even bother with dessert, your appetite gone along with the last shred of your hope for the night. This was it. Your relationship slipping away from underneath you. Heading to bed, you felt like a ghost drifting through the house. You crawled under the covers, curling up into yourself, the loneliness a cold weight on your chest. Sleep didn’t come easy, and when it did, it was restless, filled with dreams of empty spaces and silent room.

Weeks passed like this, with you becoming more and more of a shell. Your thoughts spiraled downward, a mixture of poor mental health, the overwhelming work load from school, and the crushing loneliness that came from being around the people you loved who seemed to be slipping away. They didn’t notice. Or maybe they did, but there was always something more pressing—an emergency at the hospital that had them leaving in the middle of movie night, or a case that couldn’t wait as they left you lonely at the dinner table. And so, you sank further into yourself, your once vibrant spirit now dulled by the weight of it all.

One afternoon, Wanda came home early – a rare occurrence that would have made you happy, once. She walked into the house, the usual tension in her shoulders softened by a rare quiet day at the hospital. She called out for you, her voice echoing through the silent rooms, but you didn’t respond. Maybe you were still at school she initially thought, but something tugged at her, an intuition she couldn’t ignore, and she followed it outside.

The sight of you on the beach, sitting alone with your knees pulled to your chest, caught her off guard. The waves lapped at the shore gently, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside you. You didn’t hear her approach; you were too lost in your thoughts, the tears streaming down your face as you sobbed freely, salt stinging as the wind whipped at your skin.

“Hey,” she whispered, kneeling beside you, her voice gentle but laced with concern. You looked up, startled, and quickly wiped your tears, but it was too late. She had already seen them, “why are you crying?”

You tried to find the words, but they were tangled in your throat. Wanda reached out, her hand cradling the back of your neck, before wiping away a stray tear you missed. That simple touch was enough to make you crumble. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Wanda’s eyes softened, her usual composure cracking as she realised just how much she had missed. “Do what, honey?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Everything. All of it. I feel like I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to stop it. I know you and Nat are busy, I understand and I’m so proud of you both, but my head won’t stop telling me all these things, that you don’t love me anymore, and I’ve been so lonely, Wands- I miss you,” you hiccupped, “and Natty.”

You met her gaze finally, noticing the gloss of her own eyes as she holds back her tears. Her heart broke at your words, guilt washing over her like a tidal wave. She had been so consumed by her work, by the endless demands of her job, that she hadn’t seen what was happening right in front of her. She pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as if trying to piece you back together.

“My baby,” she whispered into your hair, trembling as she kept her emotions at bay, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice you were hurting. I love you. So much.”

You wanted to tell her it was okay, that you understood, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just cried harder, the weight of all the loneliness, all the pain, finally spilling out. You clung to her, the warmth of her embrace a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you had been feeling for so long. “It’s not your fault,” you choked out, “I hid it from you guys because I didn’t want to be a burden. You both have so much going on, I didn’t want to add to that.”

Wanda shook her head, pulling back enough to look you in the eyes, delicate hands cupping your cheeks. “No, sweetheart, you’re never a burden. We’ve been so focused on work that we’ve neglected the most important thing to us —you. I promise you, this stops now, okay?”

You went to reply, a rebuttal already ready at the edge of your tongue, when Wanda’s phone rang. The sound cut through the moment like a knife, and she sighed, pressing a long kiss to your forehead, before pulling away out to check who was calling. Her eyes softened as she looked at the screen, showing you a picture of the three of you together. It was one of your favorites—a candid shot of you asleep with your head on Wanda’s lap, her fingers playing with your hair, while Natasha grinned at the camera, her arm wrapped around the both of you. “It’s Nat,” Wanda said, her voice gentle. She stood up, keeping one hand on your shoulder. “Stay right here, baby. I’m just gonna tell her she needs to come home, okay?”

You nodded, watching as she stepped away to take the call, her voice low and urgent. You could hear bits and pieces of her conversation—something about coming home right now, about how you needed them both. It made your heart ache, but in a different way this time. Wanda returned a few moments later, her expression determined. “Nat’s on her way,” she said, taking your hand and pulling you up to stand with her. “Let’s go inside, alright? We’ll wait for her together.” You let her lead you back inside, the warmth of her hand in yours a small comfort. As you sat down on the couch, Wanda wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. The two of you sat in silence, the only sound the distant crash of the waves and your favourite tv show low in the background.

That evening, when Natasha returned, the three of you sat together. She listened intently as you and Wanda explained what had been happening, her eyes filled with regret as she realised how distant she had become. How she could’ve been a better girlfriend to you. She reached out, taking both your hand and Wanda’s, her grip firm and reassuring. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, my love.” Natasha said, her voice raw and broken, “I promise to do better by you. I love you. We’ll figure this out together. I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re alone in this. We’re a team, remember?” Wanda squeezed your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, before she said, “We’ll always be a team.”

And they meant it. The following weeks, they took time off from work, dedicating their days to you, to each other. It wasn’t a magic fix, the path to healing rarely is, but it was a start. You spent your days together, and when you weren’t in classes, you were rediscovering the small joys that had once been the foundation of your relationship. Walks on the beach, movie nights curled up on the couch, late-night talks that stretched into the early hours of the morning, slow kisses under the stars as you undressed each other, declaring your love to one another once again.

At night, you lay in bed between them, their arms wrapped around you, the weight on your chest finally began to lift, the crushing pressure easing as you drifted off. The path ahead was still uncertain; you knew there would be hard days, especially as they were soon to return to work, but for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again. And upon your girlfriend’s chest, you realised you didn’t have to carry the burden alone, because they were here with you.

You weren’t alone anymore, and that made all the difference.

#my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #— 🫐 : wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #elizabeth olsen #wandanat x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you

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milf-harrington · 1 year ago

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i read a fic yesterday (return of the king) where Steve swapped with Eddie at the last second at the end of s4 and ended up being the one who died and had to be left behind and then he came back as a vampire and it just got my brain TICKING.

So role-reversal AU where steve is the one who comes back basically kas-ified as is the common trope with eddie, but where eddie goes to steve, steve goes to robin.

lets say, for funsies, that they managed to kill vecna and max only ended up hospitalised for a broken elbow and a twisted ankle (from falling on it), so everyone has the time and space to grieve.

Steve’s death hits Robin the hardest because he was her person. He was her i-wish-we-could-just-merge-into-one-being. Her ride or die. Her soulmate. And he’d been taken from her, torn apart and left to rot in the very world he’d tried so hard to protect her from.

The others give her space to let her mourn quietly in her bedroom, dressed in steve’s clothes and listening to his music like if she just tried hard enough she could still merge them together and let him use her lungs to breathe, her heart to pump his blood, her head to share his thoughts. that she could single handedly go from a me to a we.

And then, one day, Robin starts acting weird. She doesn’t know the Wheeler’s phone number and on her way to find it in the phone book, she found the Munson’s first, and when Eddie picks up it’s too a very chipper Robin asking for a lift to the shops where she proceeds to buy an alarming amount of red meat and refuses to answer any questions.

And she’s just- happy. She’s weird and happy and keeps calling Eddie to ask him about Dungeons and Dragons lore and if he can take her to the library or to the butcher and if he can let her borrow his jumper please? I get cold easily. And then she just keeps stealing clothes, from everyone. Sometimes she asks, sometimes she’ll just take a jacket off of the back of a chair and act like nothing happened, sometimes she just sneaks off to go rooting through washing baskets.

Then comes the day she invites Eddie over, probably a week or so after her initial journey into Weird-Ville, nervously rambling about nothing right up until she closes the front door behind them and runs into Eddie’s back because Eddie’s just spotted Steve-fucking-Harrington peering at him from around the corner.

Apparently, a not-exactly-dead-anymore Steve crawled through Robin’s window one night and has since taken up residence underneath her bed.

“He was kinda- not all there, at first.” She tells him, chopping a steak into cubes and dropping them into a blender. Steve, winged and fanged and tailed, leans against the counter and watches her with sleepy eyes. “But we’ve been working on it.”

After the initial pants-shitting shock of having her dead best friend re-appear as a creature of the upside down, Robin had simply accepted it and moved on. Happy to have Steve back no matter what it looked like.

And what it looked like was blending raw meat, and reading together in the bathroom to bring back his ability to talk, and stealing clothes for the veritable nest Steve was building in her closet. The next step in her plan to re-domesticate her best friend, had been to introduce him to another person: Eddie, evidently.

Steve promptly spends 5 minutes being a feral little creature, scenting Eddie within an inch of his life like he’d done to Robin, and then attempting to plant him in his nest like a little ornament.

Just. idk. feral kas!steve seeking out robin for safety, who slowly re-introduces him to his humanity and then his future boyfriend.

#stobin #platonic soulmates #also a bit of #steddie #as a treat (for me)#monster steve harrington #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #this has been plaguing me all day #fic ideas

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jenscx · 3 months ago

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APPLE CIDER — nakamura kazuha

you’ve fallen in love with many things, like the mango ice-blend down the street, the weather after a rainy day and the puppy that you see on your morning walk. but nothing’s been easier to fall in love with than yunjin’s roommate.

tags fluff, sprinkle of angst, kinda crack fic, non-idol au, jealousy, non-established relationship, falling in love, my puppy zuha agenda, mentions of lesserafim and ive members, squint for annyeongz, basketballer!zuha that appears for one sec, mentions of drinking, cursing

wordcount 10.9k

you’re well-accustomed to yunjin’s antics. she constantly gets you into trouble, either embarrassing you or just involving you in her pranks. like doing silly tiktok trends on your friends or random strangers. you still feel a shiver of mortification when you recall the situations you’ve been roped into.

yet, as yunjin’s self-proclaimed best friend, this might be the worst thing she’s ever done.

the girl had forced, or in her words, heavily encouraged you to find a new roommate this semester. you think it’s because she’s tired of you nagging her for not doing the dishes. anyway, despite your reluctance, you managed to befriend someone from your social politics class and become her roommate. chaewon was like a breeze of fresh air from yunjin. sure, yunjin was your best friend, but it felt incredible to have some peace and quiet in the apartment for once.

chaewon was constantly out for practice with her cheer team which gave you some alone time to just unwind, something that you didn’t have the luxury of when dorming with yunjin. despite the newly formed distance between you and yunjin, the latter had still managed to see you almost every day. she was dorming alone because her previous roommate left the school, causing administration to give her the whole apartment. what would normally be a gift, was a punishment for yunjin, who could not survive a day without human interaction.

hence, she insisted on coming over to your dorm almost daily. it was common to just find her lazing on the couch when you came back from classes, or seeing her back at the kitchen counter, cooking something.

which brings you to your current situation of standing out in the sun, groceries in hand, in front of yunjin’s door. it was a whole other building from your block and the weather was particularly harsh today. you tap your foot impatiently, teeth gnawing on the inside of your cheek. the paper bags were heavy, filled with a variety of ingredients that yunjin demanded you buy. apparently she was hosting some sort of dinner. you had no clue what the girl was doing half the time.

yet, with the designated role of yunjin’s best friend, you had to skip out on lunch with chaewon to visit her dorm. sighing, you call yunjin’s phone again, but to no avail. as it rings, you press the doorbell again. why wasn’t yunjin answering? she literally told you to come earlier but was she even at home?

groaning, you thump your head against the door. as it hits the wooden frame, the door swings open, and the force nearly makes you topple over.

“motherfu—”

“oh my god, i’m so sorry!” you immediately halt in your curses. this wasn’t yunjin’s loud, boisterous voice. it was smooth and sweet. and in a different language.

you tilt your head up, almost gasping at the stranger. your body was crouched down, but even from below, you could tell she was tall. maybe almost as tall as yunjin. her doe eyes were wide with shock and her glossy lips were parted. stunned in silence, you hastily get back up. clearing your throat, you bow your head slightly, “i’m so sorry.”

as you lift your head, you realise something.

the girl only had a towel wrapped around her.

blood rushes straight to your head. you feel your entire body burn with embarrassment as you look away swiftly.

“uh— sorry,” the girl mumbles, “who are you?”

you gulp, still facing away, “i’m looking for huh yunjin.”

“oh, i’m her roommate,” she says. you turn back to her, gaping. since when did yunjin have a roommate? that girl had some explaining to do.

“you can come in,” the girl stands aside, her dark hair still dripping, “i’ll just, uh, go change.” you nod stiffly before walking in. the apartment hasn’t changed much from the last time you came. yet, there was a new addition to the framed photos perched on the shelves. you place the bags of groceries onto the kitchen island and walk back to the living room. as yunjin’s roommate heads into her room, you observe the photograph.

it holds a background of cherry blossom trees and standing in front of the wood is a young girl, reminiscent of yunjin’s roommate. if you had to guess, she would probably be eleven or twelve in the photo. even when she was young, she was already pretty. you couldn’t deny that fact. from her crinkled eyes to the curve of her lips, you wondered what her parents looked like to be able to birth such a cute kid.

the sound of a door creaking open pulls you away from the photo. yunjin’s roommate was now dressed in an oversized t-shirt that reached the top of her knees. a small towel was flung over her head, draping her hair.

you decide it’s now an appropriate time to introduce yourself.

“sorry for barging in like that,” you grimace, holding out a hand, “i’m y/n, yunjin’s friend. she told me to come over and i wasn’t expecting to see someone new.”

the girl nods, “i’m kazuha, nakamura kazuha.” her korean sounds a little hesitant and you note it off as her being a foreigner. she added, “yunjin’s roommate.”

“ah, i didn’t know she had a new roommate,” you say sheepishly. it was definitely yunjin’s fault here but you still didn’t want a pretty girl’s first impression of you to be so ridiculous.

“it’s okay,” kazuha says thoughtfully, “i moved in… maybe three days ago?”

no wonder yunjin hasn’t said anything to you.

“i see.”

silence falls between you two and kazuha strides to the couch, flopping onto it.

“do you want to sit?”

it’s cute— the way she offers. as if it’s your first time coming over. despite your amusement, you humour her and sit down, a distance away from her.

“are you from japan?” you decide to ask. it’s a good conversation starter in your opinion. if the cherry blossoms didn’t indicate her ethnicity, the startled japanese that escaped her previously was a dead giveaway.

“mhm,” she hums, “i’m from osaka.”

this piques your interest.

“oh, i heard that people from osaka are funny,” you state. it was probably from an instagram reel that yunjin had shown you weeks ago.

kazuha shrugs, “i think i’m okay.”

somehow, even though she didn’t mean for it to be funny, you still find yourself chuckling uncontrollably. kazuha stares at you, probably weirded out, but too nice to say it.

“sorry,” you apologise again, “it’s just the way you said it.”

she frowns, “maybe i’m funnier than i thought.”

“yeah,” you smile, “you are.”

kazuha peers blankly at the unmoving tv screen, suddenly finding the black void to be very interesting. you decide to break the tension once again by asking, “do you know when yunjin’s coming back?”

“uh, no. i told her i was going to shower. she just left,” kazuha replies in broken sentences.

you sigh, defeated. checking your phone again, there’s a flurry of texts from the girl.

y/n 🤓 [4.16pm]:

open up

hey.

girl open up rn

hello??

are u srs

i’m gna break down ur door

yunjin 😍🥰 [4.47pm]:

OMGGG DONT DO THAT

im COMING

WAIT A MIN

ARE U WITH MY ROOMMATE?

glancing at the messages again, you decide it’s probably useless to reply and you turn off your phone, choosing to focus on the restless girl next to you. leaning back on the couch, you take the opportunity to admire her features. even in your haste, you managed to spot the sharpness of her collarbones and jawline. now, facing away from you, you could evidently see her broad shoulders and the bobbling of her throat when she swallowed.

damn, god did have his favourites.

“what are you majoring in?” you ask.

kazuha flinches slightly before answering, “dance.”

“oh, that’s…” you mumble lamely, “cool.”

she smiles, “what about you?”

she has a pretty smile too.

“bio medical.”

“you don’t look like a science person,” kazuha remarks. you can only raise an eyebrow. did she mean you look dumb? as if sensing your inner thoughts, she continues, “you look like you major in the arts.”

as you’re about to say something, the front door barges open, revealing a sweaty and panting yunjin who looks like she just ran a marathon. you scrunch your nose at the girl who only points an accusing finger at you, “choi y/n, you left me on read!”

raising your hands in mock innocence, “that’s not a crime.”

“it is when you’re corrupting my sweet zuha here!” yunjin exclaims, almost throwing herself over the coffee table into kazuha’s body. the girl jolts and swerves away as yunjin collapses on the couch.

“ew, you’re getting your sweat everywhere,” you huff, smacking yunjin on her back, “and i wasn’t corrupting anybody. i’m trying to have a nice conversation, right kazuha?”

the mentioned girl only nods hesitantly, her eyes wide and full of surprise. yunjin moans, “she told me she was going to shower and the next moment you text me. my roommate was naked and vulnerable and you’re a raging homo. i was connecting the dots!”

your entire face heats up as you recall the humiliating experience, probably worse for kazuha who looks like she’s about to faint.

“you didn’t connect shit!” you scoff as yunjin climbs onto you, gripping your hand. pushing her off and dusting your clothes, you flick her forehead, “i bought your things for you, so hurry up and pay me back.”

yunjin pouts, “isn’t my presence payment enough?”

you give kazuha the stink eye as she stifles a laugh.

“no,” you deadpan, “pay up.”

your best friend merely sighs and pulls out her phone, transferring you fifty thousand won.

“anyway,” yunjin turns to kazuha cheerfully, “wanna stay for dinner, roomie?”

through an extremely awkward and silent dinner which mostly consisted of yunjin talking, you learn that due to some flight issues, kazuha could only attend school at its midpoint. even from a glance, you could tell the girl was timid and shy but the language barrier only further strained her social skills. additionally, she had been forced into rooming with yunjin. the shocked expressions she carried whenever yunjin did something strange only attested to her unfamiliarity with the girl.

despite their lack of closeness, yunjin still somehow manages to carry the conversation smoothly. you juggle between checking on kazuha and admiring your best friend’s ability to be so shameless.

“zuha,” yunjin mumbles through a spoonful of rice, “do you like blackpink? or are you a bts fan?”

you scoff at yunjin’s obsessive question. it was so evident that she wanted to ensure kazuha was a fan akin to her.

kazuha, however, brightens up and instead exclaims cheerfully, “i’m a blink!”

you can only guffaw at the incredulous look yunjin carries.

“me too,” you say, filling in the previous silence due to yunjin’s despair, “i like jisoo.”

“really?!” kazuha gasps, “my bias is jennie!”

as you converse with kazuha about blackpink’s unfortunate absence, yunjin only grumbles and stuffs her face full of food.

it’s been a few weeks since you first met kazuha. yunjin constantly invites you over rather than going to your dorm because she needs her two favourite people in the same space or whatever. you’re pretty certain she said the same thing to chaewon the other day. the older girl had also been introduced to kazuha, albeit begrudgingly because according to chaewon, anyone that spends time with yunjin willingly was probably a spawn of the devil. you don’t necessarily disagree.

you spend your day studying and going to classes, and your nights playing mario kart and monopoly with your friends. yunjin had proudly declared friday to be the designated game night and somehow, chaewon managed to persuade another person into joining. just when you thought you would survive the hangouts, with the newest addition of sakura, who always beats yunjin and chaewon in video games, your chances of being able to hear diminishes every night. it’s something you can connect to kazuha with. the presence of the older japanese has gradually caused kazuha to warm up.

it’s a little silly how shy and sheepish the girl was at the beginning, but now after spending time with everyone, it’s normal to hear rapid fire korean erupt from her mouth. you often find her indulging in arguments with yunjin about the best ice cream flavour or which dog breed was the cutest. yunjin vouches for golden retrievers while kazuha vouches for samoyeds. you think they both remind you of puppies— overeager, almost towering puppies with too much energy.

if yunjin was loud, unashamedly herself, kazuha would be the opposite. you would see her staring into space, muttering to herself. it’s endearing watching how her eyes light up as sakura explains the basics of super smash bros to her. you learn that she didn’t have much of a free childhood, having to attend ballet lessons instead of going to sleepovers and playing video games.

“so you’ve never played super smash bros?” it’s funny the way kazuha cowers at the sight of sakura, who’s grasping her shoulders and shaking her intensely. as kazuha recovers, she mumbles feebly, “no… i didn’t even know it existed.”

her response only lights a fire within sakura who vows to make kazuha the best super smash bros player to ever exist. after her, of course. and somehow, it become a routine to also find sakura and kazuha huddled up in front of the television on the floor, both insistently smashing the buttons on the joycon. sometimes you stay and watch their games, other times you head into yunjin’s room to study. most of the time, you stay for dinner. chaewon has become expectant of your message popping up, reminding her that you won’t be home until after dinner. it’s normal that you would end up staying the night at yunjin’s now. yet, the close proximity with her roommate doesn’t aid you in your quest to befriend her at all.

almost every time you see her, it’s like meeting a distant relative. awkward. stifling. you’re always unsure of what to say. sometimes you wish you could run your mouth like yunjin, blabbing about random nonsense without any shame. but it’s difficult to talk to kazuha alone. at least in a group environment, you would have someone else to rely on.

you’re lounging on the couch again, biting the tip of your pen as you read through the numerous textbooks and notes for your upcoming test. too engrossed in your revision, you don’t notice the door swinging open.

hence, when a gush of hot air breezes past your ear, you jump. the fear dissipates any form of hesitance you have. swirling around, you clutch your chest as you reprimand, “don’t sneak up on me like that!”

kazuha only stares at you with wide eyes, a smug smile plastered across her face. you’ve seen her with that expression countless times now, always during game night when she wins second place in mario kart.

“are you studying?”

“yeah,” you scoff, still trying to calm your racing heart. your thick, black-framed glasses have almost slid down your nose entirely. pushing them up, you sigh, “back from practice?”

the girl nods. another new development. instead of joining the dance team— which you’re certain kazuha would be amazing in, she decided to join basketball with yunjin. a strange decision, no doubt, but the way yunjin speaks about kazuha during games makes it seem like she’s the next lebron. unfortunately your busy schedule hasn’t wavered at all, so you couldn’t attend any of their games this semester.

“yunjin tackled me today,” kazuha pouts. you allow yourself to pat her head encouragingly, “isn’t that a foul?”

“she said it was an accident,” the girl shrugs. it’s kind of believable. yunjin is clumsy and you have been on the receiving end of her tendency to fall on you. perhaps that was mistaken as a tackle.

you ruffle her hair, not minding the sweat dripping down from her bangs at all. it’s a little attractive seeing kazuha all sweaty.

“maybe it really was an accident,” you comment. kazuha’s face immediately turns sour. for a girl that is able to maintain her cheery look most of the time, seeing the drastic change in her facial expression makes you panic.

“ah… i meant…”

“why are you taking yunjin’s side over mine?” kazuha asks and god— you feel sorry for using his name in vain, but oh my god, kazuha whines. you’ve never seen her this way before.

you resist the urge to coo at her, knowing that she would only take it as an insult to her pride.

“yunjin’s clumsy,” you state, “and she wouldn’t harm you intentionally.”

kazuha turns away, still sulking, “i guess…”

she looks like a puppy who just received a scolding and if she had dog ears, they definitely would be drooping down now. you internally giggle at her cuteness.

“forgive the giraffe this one time, okay? i’ll scold her if she tackles you again,” you say, smiling. kazuha swerves back, nodding fervently, “yes, please do that.”

even though there’s barely an age gap between you and kazuha, you still feel a ravangeous need to protect the girl, as if she was a baby. sometimes you forget that kazuha’s not used to the culture here and you get to admire the childlike curiosity in her eyes. it’s an interesting sight to see, like she was experiencing her first life. you wonder, in the back of your mind, if you ever existed in her past ones.

there’s a lingering silence left after, almost a twinge of awkwardness in the air. you’re not sure what else to say to kazuha. but maybe she doesn’t feel the same— her body, lax, as she heads towards the washroom, humming what seems to be the melody of ‘playing with fire’. you laugh internally at her fanatic side. even if it’s not as overbearing as yunjin’s, kazuha definitely still is a dedicated fan. one time, you had to wake kazuha up from her nap, only to discover that her walls were lined with posters. maybe yunjin and kazuha bonded so easily over their love for their idols.

you hear the distant ruffling of the shower curtain and then the sound of water droplets splashing against the floor. leaning back into the couch, you try to resume your revision, eyes swarming over the textbooks sprawled all over. your efforts are fruitful, at first. at least you understand most of the content but eventually, your eyelids grow heavy and the muscles in your hand ache. taking a deep breath, you bring a sole textbook up, reading the paragraphs of definitions and explanations.

soon, your breathing turns slow and there’s an overwhelming need for your eyes to close. darkness fills your vision as your body slackens, sinking deeper into the softness of yunjin’s couch.

there’s a distant shuffling sound, far away from your ears. as you dream about emptiness, a warm embrace is thrown over your body, enveloping and engulfing your limbs in a tight hug.

sometimes you think that kazuha doesn’t like you. it’s a harrowing worry that creeps its way into your heart when kazuha sends you a hesitant smile after you had offered to go to the library together. it made sense to you— she needed to research something and you needed to complete your thesis. but that stupid smile followed by, “no, it’s fine. i’m meeting someone,” nearly breaks your heart. it’s a stupid feeling caused by an even stupider reason.

by no means are you jealous that kazuha’s going out with someone else, it’s just her rejection of you heading to the library together. why else would kazuha say no if she didn’t like you? was it that she couldn’t even bear the ten minute walk to the library? you had only swallowed harshly, trying to tide your tears over by looking back down at your textbook. yunjin’s in the kitchen, singing joyfully while she bakes a cake for whatever reason; you might have heard her mention that it was for somi’s birthday or whatever. thus, you can’t hide behind yunjin now.

you’ve never been so upset and bothered by a rejection before. and it was just a trip to the library together. yet, the feeling buries itself in your stomach, dragging it down into a bottomless pit while you bear it.

“have fun,” is what you reply. it’s dry but you can’t really bring yourself to act all excited and happy. just as kazuha’s about to leave, backpack in hand and her hair tied into two cute braids, she takes one look at you.

“are you okay?”

the concern in her voice feels uncomfortable, sheathing under your skin and prickling your veins.

“why wouldn’t i be?” you respond. kazuha only shrugs and waves goodbye while you resort to moping on the couch.

when yunjin calls for you to taste the cake, she doesn’t mention the hint of dried tears clinging below your eyelashes, only wrapping an arm around your shoulder and feeding you the dessert.

but she breaks the spell immediately when she blurts out, “cheer up, honeybun.”

“who the fuck is honeybun?” you retort, disgusted, momentarily forgetting about whatever had just transpired.

you hate early classes. the sun is barely up and you’re already trudging into the classroom, eyes barely open. it’s irrefutable that you got a ton of sleep last night, or last afternoon, but now you’re heading into the lion’s den. due to your unpredicted loss of consciousness, you didn’t have the time to watch any of the tutorials uploaded previously and hence, you didn’t know a single bit of the covered content.

just as you settle into your seat, yujin, one of your classmates, slides into the seat next to you.

“were you studying last night?” she asks. you only feel worse about your dark, sagging eyebags even though you got plenty of rest.

“yeah, kind of,” you answer noncommittally.

yujin sighs, running her fingers through her bangs, which are quite long now, “i think i’m screwed for this quiz.”

you slowly turn your head, a frown on your face, “…quiz?” the realisation sinks in, just like how your head slams onto the table. yujin, startled, quickly asks if you’re okay but all you can think about is the looming thought of the blaring red zero on your paper.

“i didn’t study anything!” you moan, voice muffled by the table. yujin winces, “well, at least we’re failing together.”

you flip over, staring at yujin. she seems a little different today. her previously long luscious hair had been trimmed to a shoulder-length shaggy cut. you recall that she had been dumped by her girlfriend, your senior, kim minju and yujin had gone through a phase of reinventing herself because— no way in hell am i going to let an aquarius ruin my life, yujin’s words. the more you think about it, the more sense it makes. after becoming single, yujin embarked on a self-discovery journey which you would describe as going to every single party and getting shit-faced. her previously brown hair was dyed back to jet black because apparently girls liked black hair now, according to yujin. you didn’t question it, but chaewon, who was also a friend of yujin’s, had nodded encouragingly and maybe you’re the only one who doesn’t get it.

the yujin you’re seeing now feels different.

“you like someone new?” you blurt out. yujin’s face turns into one of astonishment before becoming flustered.

“i— where, how— what do you mean?” she splutters. her nervousness only reveals the truth and you lean in closer, “who is it? are you over minju now?”

yujin covers her face and groans loudly, attracting the attention of neighbouring classmates who only glare at her.

“don’t tell anyone, okay?!” yujin demands, “not even chaewon unnie.”

“sure, i’ll keep it a secret.”

she turns around, checking if anyone was eavesdropping before whispering lowly, “jang wonyoung.”

you’re not super shocked. yujin definitely has a type.

“wow. good luck to you then,” you say, referring to the horde of fans the popular girl has. yujin only pouts before nudging you, “what about you? got your eye on anyone?”

your usual reply would be, “no, too busy.” you didn’t have time to daydream about anyone now and your social circle was small too. there wasn’t a high likelihood of you ending up with a crush. maybe eye candy at most. you had no one to even like. literally no one. you think in your head if there’s anyone that has caught your attention in particular. your mouth moves to respond robotically to yujin.

but something stops you from responding that way. a pictorial flash in your mind, just for a fraction of a second. you blink owlishly, and the image’s gone.

“maybe,” you say quietly instead, thinking about bright doe eyes and cherry blossoms.

kazuha’s first instinct when she hears a series of knocks and shouts from outside the apartment is to answer the door. her hastiness causes her to momentarily forget that all she had on was a towel wrapped snugly around her body, fresh out of the shower. she unfortunately doesn’t hesitate when her hands tug around the door knob, revealing a girl who nearly falls in.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry!” kazuha shrieked as the random girl toppled over, almost hitting her bare chest.

and due to her stunted ability to converse in korean, kazuha couldn’t express herself too well, opting for short replies rather than accidentally saying something wrong. hence, she chose to sit beside you, who she just learnt is her roommate’s best friend, without speaking a word. perhaps you were perturbed by the silence and decided to ease the tension by asking kazuha some basic questions. yet, when faced with your curious, bright eyes, kazuha had no words to say.

this went on for a few days. the first few times you came over, kazuha only watched you from her room (not in a creepy way! she was just shy) and never initiated a conversation. she managed to talk to you once. just once. alone— when you had stumbled into their apartment while kazuha was just finishing her workout. you mentioned that there was a storm going on outside and if you went back home, you would be drenched. kazuha would never want anyone to be sick and thus, she lends you her freshly washed clothes to wear since yunjin’s clothes were too big.

because of your height difference, kazuha’s clothes are still a little oversized but she thinks you look really cute in the university sweater. she had managed to strike up a conversation about your classes, learning that you didn’t really talk to anyone outside of your small social circle and most of your friends were introduced by yunjin. kazuha expects it, the taller girl was easily the most extroverted person she knew and the social butterfly had a ton of friends around campus. yet, kazuha’s still surprised that you didn’t have many friends— you were a really nice and pretty girl, so why wouldn’t people want to be friends with you? she chalks it up as them being intimidated by you, her being a victim as well.

but don’t worry, she’s no longer intimidated by your presence, just a little shy! sometimes you ask to walk together back to yunjin’s dorm, now unofficially yours as well considering the fact that you spend most of your days there instead of your own. kazuha has heard multiple calls from chaewon, demanding to know where you were and if you got kidnapped. she’s not extremely sure why you decide to spend both your weekdays and weekends in their dorms but she has humoured the thought that perhaps you and yunjin were dating. it would certainly explain why you looked so comfortable latching onto the taller girl and when it’s someone like chaewon touching you—

kazuha shakes her head, knowing that thought was incredulous. yunjin herself had told her so firmly and openly that nothing would ever happen between you and her but kazuha still held her doubts. most of the time, kazuha’s unable to reply to your remarks or quips, merely mumbling, “okay,” in the lamest possible way ever. she hates the way your smile drops ever so slightly and the furrow in your eyebrows but she genuinely has no idea how to talk to you.

like that one time, kazuha remembers vividly. lisa’s new song had just dropped and the moment your eyes met hers, you instantly started rambling about the music video. because of her vigorous training beforehand, kazuha barely heard a word you said and she wasn’t that confident with korean either to register the rapid-fire words battering at her.

“wait— can you stop?” the words had come out blunt and direct, definitely not her intention, but your facial expression had softened and you nodded bashfully.

kazuha didn’t want you to stop talking but apparently her words had the opposite effect since you had gotten up from the couch and sauntered off into yunjin’s bedroom.

left alone in the living room, she doesn’t realise that she basically chased you away due to her fatigue, not until you emerge from yunjin’s bedroom again to leave the apartment entirely.

“where are you going?” she blurted out.

you shrugged, “back to my own dorm. i wanna see chaewon.”

kazuha didn’t know what else to reply with, so she just left it as that. hours later, when yunjin comes back from eating dinner with the rest of the team (something kazuha has skipped out on to go home early instead), she gets a light scolding to think before she speaks. kazuha knows now that her words were careless and insensitive but she doesn’t want to blame it on the language barrier.

or maybe that other time when you initiated going to the library together. kazuha already made plans with this other girl in her class called minji and she didn’t want to invite you without minji’s approval first. so the best idea at hand was to reject your invitation, right?

wrong.

the dimmed look in your eyes causes guilt to gnaw in her chest and she instantly regrets her decision. the text message of you lying on yunjin’s shoulder, sent by her roommate, passed out and sleeping, only drives the feeling further. minji had nudged her, asking if she was okay. but kazuha merely nods, not knowing what else she would be— if not okay.

she gets this emotion sometimes; not overwhelming her body but it’s sort of like a quiet hum that keeps her in a trance. she doesn’t know what to call it but she realises it’s been happening around you lately. maybe kazuha just likes the comfort you bring, like an older sister. but it doesn’t feel the same with others. sakura, the closest person kazuha can call family, the feelings that come with her are like a warm embrace. it envelopes her into the feeling of being back home. home as in japan. with her lulling words of kazuha’s mother tongue, it transports her back to osaka.

or like with yunjin, who kazuha considers as one of her closest friends. she can’t call yunjin her best friend since she’s sure that spot is heavily guarded by you but yunjin definitely matters a lot to her. yunjin keeps her safe. she makes her feel comfortable. like a pet, almost? that one family dog that kazuha wishes could stay with her forever.

chaewon, kazuha thinks she’s like an older sister. protective and possessive, even though kazuha doesn’t know her very well. chaewon makes sure to take care of her and whenever she sees kazuha in the hallway, there’s a sweet smile on her face. the older girl also manages to always ask if kazuha has eaten or not, which kazuha appreciates greatly since she easily forgets her meals.

but with you, kazuha doesn’t understand anything. she can’t read you easily compared to yunjin who wears her heart on her sleeve. she knows when you’re upset though, and most of the time, it happens because of her. it’s difficult for her to predict your emotions. you make her feel risky. like she’s dangling on the edge of something, ready to fall any time now.

she gets this feeling when she leaves you alone on the couch. she gets this feeling when you leave her alone on the couch. somehow the couch is always involved.

she gets this feeling when she spots you walking out of the lecture hall, someone’s grip on your elbow and her body fitting snugly to yours. kazuha doesn’t know what to say. she just stares as you laugh at whatever the girl says. the girl’s tall, kazuha notes. her short dark hair framing her face perfectly and giving kazuha a good view of how attractive she is. her eyes are crinkled into an eye smile and her dimples are as deep as the ocean.

you don’t notice kazuha since she’s standing by a corner, wondering if she truly meant to witness this intimate scene between you and someone else. kazuha wonders if that girl is your girlfriend. she wonders why you always hang out at their dorm, despite having a girlfriend. she wonders if yunjin knows and has met your girlfriend.

(not that she’s jealous or anything! she’s just interested in your life! as a friend!)

that same night— a friday, kazuha might add, their friday, game night friday— you don’t show up. she’s been waiting for half an hour now, her eyelids heavy and about to close when yunjin hears her phone ping. kazuha snaps out of it as yunjin reads loudly for everyone to hear, “y/n said she’s not coming. something about having plans already.”

kazuha resists the urge to pout while sakura and chaewom both groan audibly.

“she couldn’t have said that sooner?” sakura grumbles while she starts the mario kart round, her joycon moving rapidly to select the stage. just as the light turns green, kazuha glances at your empty seat and suddenly, she gets that feeling again.

“must be yujinie,” chaewon remarks and kazuha suddenly strange. despite being in her own home, she feels unfamiliar. who is this yujinie? why did chaewon know her too? did everyone just know your girlfriend before she came? kazuha bites the inside of her cheek as she passes the finish line, a few seconds after sakura. in the background, she hears yunjin and chaewon arguing. it all becomes muffled once she stares at the untouched bowl of popcorn you would usually be eating.

she doesn’t know if it’s normal to feel this way— like her lungs are collapsing in on themselves and she can’t breathe properly through her nose. it is normal to feel this way? about a friend? were you even considered to be a friend? maybe an acquaintance at best? kazuha has no clue what’s going on. all of her emotions and feelings feel out of reach and she’s gasping for control.

“zuha, are you okay?” a warm hand lingers on her shoulder. kazuha looks up from her spot on the carpet. it’s sakura, whose face is full of concern while yunjin and chaewon are still bickering.

“yes, i’m fine,” kazuha tries to smile and she even responds in japanese, being as sincere as possible. sakura nods before saying, “you can tell us anything, okay?”

(“i did not cause you to become twelfth— you just suck at mario kart!”

“say that to the thousands of blue shells you threw! you knew i was in front of you!”)

kazuha sighs, “it’s okay. i can deal with it.”

she doesn’t think she wants sakura to know of her feelings yet. not when she doesn’t know anything herself.

the athletes running up and down the long expanse of the basketball court never fails to amaze you. their stamina is extraordinary, having to sprint laps like that would surely have you gasping for air. if you had to go through such a routine, it would definitely have you on a hospital stretcher at the end of the day.

your eyes trail to the group of girls, huddled together with enormous sign boards covered in an assortment of decorations. you recognise some of the names, mostly since yunjin likes to babble about her teammates. one even had yunjin’s name and a cut out of her face glued onto it— you would definitely make fun of her later for it.

“hey,” chaewon slides smoothly into the seat next to you, “how was class?”

you groan immediately just thinking about the horrendous tutorials you had to endure in the morning. at least it was a morning class which gave you the leeway to come watch yunjin’s first game of the season. and kazuha’s too, but you haven’t seen much of her recently. after what you would call the library fiasco, you decided that being angsty and upset over a simple rejection was too immature and childish. hence, it would be best for you to step away for a while, lest you say something rude to kazuha because of your inability to control your own emotions.

“choi y/n! kim chaewon!” your head swerves to face the court. yunjin’s hand is outstretched and waving excitedly at you two. guffawing, you wave back while chaewon rolls her eyes, “does she have to say our full names like that?”

just as your hand falls, kazuha walks up to yunjin, conversing with her in hushed whispers. yunjin instantly jumps, jogging away from the benches and towards the centre of the court. your heart accelerates when the doors bang open. the other university team strolls in, all with their chins high, dignified and confident. you can only hope that yunjin holds the same conviction. you don’t really pay attention to the other team warming up and luckily, you had brought your textbooks along. using the spare time, you skim through your notes again, until chaewon nudges you.

everyone on court was in position and once the whistle blows, yunjin jumps upwards, reaching out for the ball. your eyes widen as she basically levitates in the sky for a good five seconds— you didn’t know yunjin could jump so high. even with her height, she was two heads taller than the opposing player. cheers sound out from the stands and you can’t help but shout yunjin’s name.

you watch intently as yunjin dribbles the ball down the court, passing it between her teammates. just as she’s about to finish a layup, the opposing player leaps forward, blocking her attempt. chaewon lets out an undistinguished groan as yunjin scrambles to regain possession of the ball. suddenly, a blurry flash of blue, your school’s team uniform colour, passes by and snatches the ball. kazuha strides all the way to the other side with precision and grace, dodging all the defenders agily.

you remain mum when everyone else cheers for the rookie. within seconds, kazuha jumps, flicking the basketball towards the net. you hold your breath and only exhale when it swoops in. the stands erupt into hoots and hollers. the game continues with back and forths, both teams evening out with their scores despite the early lead. however, the balance doesn’t persist for long, since midway through, just when kazuha is about to score a three pointer, one of the opponents dives in to tackle her. you instantly jump out of your seat, eyes wide with worry as kazuha gets shoved to the floor, a loud thud echoing throughout the gym.

“dude— is she allowed to do that?” you ask chaewon in disbelief. chaewon shakes her head, her face equally full of concern. there’s an outcry of anger from the supporters, booing at the opposing team. kazuha’s still on the ground, her arm twisted unsightly.

“what a bitch!” chaewon yells as the offender smirks at kazuha, strutting away to sit down on a bench while her teammate runs into court. your eyes follow the bright red jersey, the back depicting the name ‘shin’ in bold white font along with the number nine. the foul play earns your team a penalty shot but kazuha’s taken off court to be assessed for injuries.

despite the ongoing game, you can’t take your eyes off kazuha. her limp body, defeated and disappointed, resting against the wall causes sorrow to engulf your heart. you hate how upset she looks. even chaewon’s shrieks and screams can’t distract you. soon, kazuha leaves the gymnasium entirely and you can’t help but want to go after her.

“oh, c’mon yunjin! that was an easy shot!” chaewon shouts, causing the girl mentioned to turn around and glare at her. the ball had rolled off the rim effortlessly and your heart stopped as the score tied once more. it was already in its last quarter and if your team had any hopes of winning, they would need to step up their game. as the seconds ticked by, the chance of victory dwindled and you could see the moral fading away from your team.

yet, out of nowhere, yunjin somehow manages to score a three pointer that flings your team into the lead.

“huh yunjin!” you holler as the stands rise to clap and cheer. chaewon does the same and the game ends with the team lifting yunjin’s lanky body up in the air, seemingly awarding her with the title of mvp. your best friend grins as she shakes the opponent’s hand and you swear she grips number nine’s hand a little tighter. while the team finishes up thanking the opponents, you head down from the stands towards the infirmary, leaving chaewon behind.

the hallway leading to the infirmary feels endless as your legs trudge through. you couldn’t sit still throughout the match but yunjin came first as much as you wanted to check up on kazuha. and anyway things were awkward now— it would make sense for you to remain in the stands.

swinging the doors open, you whip your head left and right, searching for the young japanese girl.

“y/n?” kazuha blurts out. she’s laying on one of the beds, arm wrapped in a cast that’s slung around her shoulder, “d-did we win?”

you want to laugh in disbelief at how kazuha cares more about the match than her broken arm.

“ninety two to eighty nine,” you repeat the scores, sitting down on one of the chairs next to her bed. kazuha frowns, “that’s not a huge difference.”

“no, but at least you won.”

the girl’s shoulders turn slack and she gazes at you with a downcasted expression, “barely. i thought yunjin would be able to pull ahead.”

“she scored the winning shot,” you offer half-heartedly, which at least manages to cheer kazuha up a little. she smiles reluctantly before furrowing her eyebrows at the cast again, “i can’t play for the rest of the season.”

you nod, “of course not.”

“that’s— ugh,” her head falls against the propped pillow, “that’s annoying. i’m gonna miss so much—”

“hey,” you interrupt, “you just have to focus on resting now. don’t think about what you’re missing out on.”

kazuha pouts. she pouts— and it’s maddening the way the sight of an upset kazuha tugs at your heartstrings. how was it possible for someone to have that much control over your emotions?

a moment of silence passes slowly as kazuha’s eyelids flutter shut. she must be tired, you infer. despite the little time she spent on court, the girl suffered a serious injury and required rest. just as you decide to stand up, kazuha’s voice halts your movement.

“why didn’t you come to game night?”

she sounds timid and worried, almost like the kazuha you met at first. you haven’t heard her this anxious in a long time.

“game night?” you repeat, tilting your head.

“y-yeah… on friday… we waited for you,” she trails off, willing herself to stare at the clenched fists bunching up the blanket resting on her lap rather than you.

you’re reminded of the night that you spent with yujin, coming up with different ways and strategies to woo jang wonyoung even though you knew she was too pussy to do anything.

“i was out with my friend,” you explain, “sorry for making you guys wait up.”

kazuha frowns. you hold back from reaching out to relax the furrow between her brows.

“yujin?” she asks, voice strained.

“mhm. do you know her?”

she shakes her head.

“well— yujin does robotics, so you probably never crossed paths before. she’s a good kid though,” you smile fondly, thinking about the girl. kazuha can’t stop herself from glaring at the adoring look in your eyes. you had seemingly brightened up at the mention of your friend and kazuha hates how she feels out of place even though it’s just you and her talking.

this whole situation should be familiar. you’re her roommate’s best friend. she should feel fine and comfortable carrying a conversation with you but she doesn’t.

“i think you guys would get along well,” you say, “she likes playing genshin— don’t you like it too?”

kazuha stuns. how do you know that she plays genshin? out of everything that you had to know about her, liking genshin impact was not one of kazuha’s get to know me facts! you probably thought that she was a loser now! only losers play genshin! she internally wails at the prospect of it.

“hmph… maybe,” she mumbles, the tips of her ears reddening. kazuha’s lucky that her long hair hides her embarrassment. you laugh at her response and kazuha gets that feeling again.

suddenly, your phone rings, indicating a call. you fish your phone out, grimacing at the contact before answering.

“choi y/n!” kazuha hears yunjin’s voice unabashedly shouting. she stifles a laugh as you wince.

“yes?”

“where are you?! we’re meant to be celebrating!”

your voice turns stern and steely (kazuha’s heart stutters in her chest a little), “i’m with your roommate, or did you forget that she got injured?”

“i— kazuha! oh shit, wait for me!”

the moment you end the call, kazuha lets out a giggle. yunjin was just so silly. she can’t think of a better roommate to be honest. even if she has the memory of a goldfish. kazuha has a lot to thank yunjin for, and as she gazes at you, grinning shyly at the reduced tension in the room from yunjin’s mere phone call, she suddenly feels a wave of gratitude.

thank you yunjin for giving her this opportunity to befriend you.

your blooming friendship with kazuha has ascended from mere acquaintances to a contender for yunjin’s best friend spot. the previous icy disposition prevalent had disappeared almost instantly after that basketball game. you spend most of your days on kazuha’s bed, not the living room couch. at first, it was because she had to watch this scary movie, courtesy of a bet made by chaewon, and she couldn’t do it alone. yunjin would be equally useless, so you took up her offer.

unfortunately she didn’t inform you that chaewon’s bet consisted of watching the whole trilogy at night. hence, you were subjected to watching three horror films at midnight. kazuha couldn’t really stay quiet and it wasn’t as if you could tape her mouth shut. so, you decided to help her by giving her your hand to squeeze whenever a jumpscare came on screen.

however, this situation was extremely bad for your heart.

the warmth emitting from her hold was enough to make you blush. not to mention the way her body would cave in, seeking comfort. the mere presence of kazuha made goosebumps rise along your skin.

your heart weeps in disappointment when kazuha’s touch leaves your skin, her hand flying out to cover her eye while her other rests in the cast.

(not because you wanted kazuha to keep touching you! covering her eyes was just a cowardly move! as chaewon’s roommate, you had to ensure that kazuha would adhere to the rules!)

anyway— through this one night, kazuha had somehow managed to get nightmares from the horror movie. you wondered how that was possible when she barely watched it. maybe a little. through the gaps in her fingers perhaps. due to this recurring nightmare that kazuha had, she couldn’t get any sleep at all. the next day you visited her dorm, she looked like a zombie.

hence, your disastrous plan of staying the night with kazuha to make sure she was safe from any ghosts!

it was the foreigner who brought it up at first, all shy and bashful and you couldn’t reject that sheepish expression. but maybe you should’ve, since instead of just being by her side at night, somehow you would end up cuddling. the cuddling wasn’t really bad… it was just that kazuha was handsy. incredibly so. you would wake up in the morning, hair tousled and drool across your cheek, and kazuha’s entire body would be embracing yours, like a koala. you weren’t too sure if the conscious kazuha would even do such a thing and you chalked it up to her sleeping habit.

every morning, you would have to carefully detach yourself from kazuha before heading to class, making sure not to wake the girl up. especially with exams round the corner, she definitely needed her sleep. if you weren’t watching movies, you would be studying. sometimes kazuha moans about music theory, stating that she should have just studied science and other times you grumble about ecology, wishing you took arts instead. eventually, a few weeks after that fateful movie night, kazuha finally got her cast removed and was back to feeling brand new. you had celebrated by watching high school musical and drinking, which was definitely the cause of your killer hangover the next morning.

“zuha! where’s my hoodie?!” you shriek, fighting against your pounding headache and rifling through the piles of laundry stacking up beside kazuha’s bed.

the girl groggily sits up from her sheets, eyes bleary, “huh?”

the sun’s barely out but you have an eight am class to get to and now you can’t find your hoodie! it’s your favourite one too! a black adidas hoodie! and if you don’t bring it to your morning class, you’ll freeze to death in the theatre! the hangover doesn’t help either.

“where is it? i brought it over last time,” you ask, facing the sleepy girl again. kazuha rubs her eyes, frowning, “i think in my closet?”

ignoring the urge to coo at her, you stride towards her closet, searching through. eventually, you do find your hoodie, all the way at the side, shoved in with a bunch of other clothes.

exclaiming in glee, you hurriedly pull it over your head and grab your bag.

“okay, bye zuha! love you!” you blurt out, kissing the top of her head and sprinting out of the dorm despite yunjin yelling for you to stay for breakfast.

it’s only when you reach your class that you realise what you’ve done. sweat dripping down your neck, you collapse in the chair, eyes wide and mouth agape at your own shamelessness.

“oh my god…!” you shriek as loudly as you can, muffled into the thick fabric of your hoodie. yujin slides into the seat next to you, blinking in surprise. you turn to her, distressed.

“are you…” she makes a bunch of vague gestures with her hand, “you look ten seconds away from having a stroke.”

you bury your head into your palms, fingers digging into your hair. yujin makes a noise of indignation.

“yujinnie, prepare my funeral for me.”

“what?!” the younger girl grabs your shoulders, shaking you roughly, “you’re dying?!”

“ugh, no!” you push her away, “i did something stupid.”

yujin stares at you before huffing, “if you’re just gonna sulk—”

“i kissed zuha on the cheek and said love you when i was leaving!” you splutter out. her eyes turn as wide as saucers, lips parting in surprise. “zuha? yunjin’s roommate? since when did you get so chummy with her? are you dating?”

you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek in humiliation when you recall kazuha’s stunned expression, frozen on the bed.

“so… why’d you…” yujin stutters, “kiss her?”

groaning, you flop back onto the desk, limp with mortification. it’s almost a repeat of the incident when you first met kazuha. somehow, everytime you hung out with her, you would find a way to truly embarrass yourself. but maybe this one triumphs all other times.

“i don’t know! i was really hungover and she just looked super cute after waking up! i think it’s because we spent the night together so we got a little too domesticated… and it was just an instinctive reaction to do that! she was so pretty… and maybe i’m kind of in love with her but that’s not the point!” you whine.

it had never been stated so outrightly before. that your whole heart rested in the palms of kazuha. you had no idea when this crush, or adoration, for her started and it very well could have blossomed the moment kazuha opened that door for you. all you knew was that your love for her was like a tsunami, endless in its barrage. it explained all the feelings you felt for her; from jealousy to affection. she made you feel a whole spectrum. you wanted to know everything about kazuha. her likes, her dislikes, why she chose basketball over dance, why she enjoys video games so much (not as much as sakura though).

“you’re in love with her? girl what.”

“i know! oh my god— how am i gonna face her now?”

yujin guffaws, shoving your limp body away, “you’re such a mess. shut up and focus before you fail this semester. think about this later.”

you nod. yujin was right! you shouldn’t think about this now. it wouldn’t do you any good. currently, all you should think about is the looming examinations that will decide your future.

yet, the thought of kazuha still remains clear in your mind. halfway through the lecture, you nudge yujin’s side, whispering softly, “do you think zuha got uncomfortable with me doing that?”

yujin frowns, pushing her glasses up, “probably a little… unless she likes you back.”

unintentionally, a scoff escapes you. kazuha liking you back? no way. she wouldn’t even touch you with a ten foot pole if it wasn’t for her own comfort. the mere thought was preposterous. how could someone, as sweet as kazuha, as caring as kazuha…

she was the kindest girl you knew. you had forgotten all about the misfortune you faced at the start with her, writing them off as misunderstanding the girl. it was so apparent that kazuha had a heart of gold. and perhaps it was too easy for you to fall for someone like that. someone gentle and loving. maybe the furthest her love for you would be as a friend. you couldn’t assume that her actions were romantic. it would make more sense for them to be platonic.

you cuddle with yunjin too. you kiss chaewon on the cheek as well. you’ve spent nights talking to sakura. nothing about the things you’ve experienced with kazuha was strange or abnormal. well, except for the outrageous heart rate you had during those times.

sometimes when you wake up first, you prepare breakfast for yunjin and kazuha. and most of the time, when you’re flipping pancakes, firm arms wrap around your waist and a giant embraces your back. it would always be kazuha’s face that meets yours when you turn around. her goofy grin as she eyes the pancakes hungrily. you could imagine the ears flapping on those brown locks and the tail wagging excitedly behind her.

almost like an enthusiastic puppy that sees its owner for the first time. kazuha was innocent like that. she deserved a good person to take care of her. one that doesn’t have to contemplate their worth to her. maybe she does like you, but that would be a diabolical decision to make.

you sink further into your chair.

“you good?” yujin asks.

kazuha should not like you back.

“y-yeah. i’m fine.”

it wouldn’t be so bad if she did though.

truth be told, kazuha wasn’t really sure what changed overnight. she just had almost the best sleep of her life and suddenly, it’s the morning and you’re rushing out the door. the lingering warmth of your lips still resides freshly on her cheek and a delicious tingle sends shivers down her entire body as she remembers it so dearly. don’t even get her started on the way her heart had jumped in her throat when you said ‘love you’ to her. it was mystical the way she reacted to such words.

yet, it seemed like you had done a whole one eighty. instead of returning back to her like you should, kazuha never received any indication of you dropping by their dorm. she had eagerly waited for your arrival after your class and you were nowhere to be found. if anyone saw her then, they would immediately state that she looked like a wet dog. kazuha didn’t know what she’d done wrong. only that yunjin was equally bewildered.

“do you think i did something?” kazuha asks again over dinner and yunjin can’t really stand to be exasperated when her roommate stares so sadly at her food, not even eating.

“maybe she’s just in one of those phases again. it’s nearing exam season,” yunjin shrugs even though there’s insecurity in her answer, “she might just be busy.”

kazuha nods and it feels as if she’s trying to convince herself rather than acknowledge yunjin’s words.

“i’ll tell you if i get any news from her though,” yunjin offers and it brightens kazuha up enough for her to finally take a bite of her dinner.

things don’t really change even after a few days. yunjin just has a pitiful expression on her face when kazuha asks again and everything’s starting to look dull. she still has no clue what transpired in this situation. maybe it really was that morning when you kissed her. how could you be the one avoiding her if you kissed her first? kazuha huffs, stomping her feet as she thinks about it. she should really be focusing on her thesis right now but her mind likes to wander and more often than not, the main protagonist in her brain is you.

the fact that you don’t share any subjects together only further wedges a gap between you and kazuha barely spots you in the hallways. based on what chaewon’s told her, you’ve only been staying in your room, even avoiding going to the library or cafes in fear that kazuha might be there! now that was just too over the top. the next time kazuha sees you, she’s going to explode.

additionally, to add to the things that do not quell kazuha’s frustration, you’ve become increasingly close to this yujin girl. kazuha currently has all her friends on lookout, searching for your whereabouts and almost all of them have reported sightings of you with this tall girl with dark shaggy hair and kazuha knows that’s ahn yujin. back when she still had you to cuddle, you would sometimes bring up yujin despite the scowl on kazuha’s face. the mere mention of her name was enough for kazuha’s blood to boil so imagine seeing you with her! when you were meant to be cuddling with kazuha! life was so unfair.

kazuha wants to pull out all her hair when she finally sees you for the first time in weeks and no surprise, yujin’s latched onto your side like a hopeless dog.

(she ignores how she may have, very well, looked the same once.)

she watches pathetically as you stroll by, not even sparing a glance at her and maybe if she listened close enough, she could hear her heart shattering into shards. now kazuha just feels silly. she’s tried everything (no, not really, it’s an exaggeration) for you to notice her but nothing seems to work. maybe she’ll just corner you in your dorm room, where you can’t escape.

at that very moment, a lightbulb flickers on.

kazuha sprints, her long legs striding towards the direction of the dormitories, eyes blazing with a newfound determination.

kazuha [3.14pm]:

pls lock urself in ur room

just for a few hours

chaewon [3.15pm]:

is this about yn?

okie sure~

kazuha [3.15pm]:

thanku (´▽｀)

the moment she reaches your dorm, she’s panting heavily and she needs to rest her body against the hardwood door to catch her breath. no doubt she reached before you and as she knocked, chaewon grimaces at her but still opens it wide enough for her to enter.

“good luck,” is all she says before clicking her bedroom door shut. kazuha has a few minutes to spare, so she takes a good look around your apartment. for the amount of time you spent in hers, she hasn’t done the same. it’s an unfamiliar territory that kazuha has to become well-versed with. a whole wall was filmed with polaroids and pictures, all taken throughout your college life. her eyes fall from one of yunjin to a blurry film photo. it’s a little hazy but the people inside are still clear enough to be identifiable. kazuha knows that’s her. and the person she’s wrapped around is you.

she doesn’t remember this photo being taken but the surroundings are evidently her dorm, so it could only mean that yunjin took the photo. but for you to get it developed… kazuha hasn’t understood the significance of her friendship to you until now. it’s slightly jarring to be frank but a sense of relief settles within her.

her head swings back when the door clicks open.

“oh.”

you stare at kazuha with widened eyes.

“sorry, chaewon unnie let me in.”

you clear your throat, coughing slightly, “ah, yeah. i just… wasn’t expecting for you to be here.”

kazuha cocks an eyebrow at you, “not done avoiding me?”

“uhm, what… haha, no… i wasn’t avoiding you.”

“really?”

you nod stiffly, “yup. just busy. busy with schoolwork. y’know, biomed’s a hard curriculum.”

“of course,” kazuha states, “let’s catch up now then. you have free time, right?”

there’d be no use denying that to kazuha, so you accept your fate by sitting down on the couch. the fabric feels foreign after spending most of your days in yunjin’s dorm.

“so… what’s up?”

“explain why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“i just told you i haven’t…”

the look kazuha gives you says, ‘come on,’ and you sigh, knowing that there wasn’t any way out of this. at best, you would be able to move on without ever speaking of this again, and at worst, you would be thoroughly humiliated. at least it was just the two of you now, so maybe your embarrassment wouldn’t be as bad?

“well, uhm,” you look away from kazuha’s intense gaze, “for starters, i was really embarrassed after that incident in the morning…” your voice trails off awkwardly as kazuha’s eyes light up in recognition.

“why? it wasn’t weird for me.”

“no? it wasn’t?” you ask, surprised. kazuha shakes her head and it gives you the slightest bit of confidence.

you try to keep your voice steady, “okay but other than that, i kind of… i haveamassivecrushonyou.”

“what?! say that again,” she demands, now facing you directly and you shut your eyes, already feeling the tips of your ears heat up rapidly.

“i kind of have a massive crush on you. i’m sorry! if i stayed friends with you it just felt like i was taking advantage and i wouldn’t want to do that to someone i like.”

she doesn’t respond for a few seconds and instantly you think she’s gotten up and left. surely this would be weird for her, right? her roommate’s best friend suddenly saying that she’s been crushing on her— why did you even say that out loud to her?!

when you open your eyes, you find kazuha staring at you with a flabbergasted expression that quickly morphs into exhilaration. she lets out a breathy laugh, one that echoes in your ears endlessly, “i’m so happy.”

“what?” you ask, confused.

she repeats slowly, “i’m so happy.”

“…why?”

kazuha rolls her eyes playfully, “i have a crush on you too. why do you think i said i didn’t mind the kiss? or your profession of love?”

you blush furiously, “that was not a profession of love. more like a slip of the tongue. never going to happen again.”

she shakes her head, a grin gracing her lips, “well, it was really cute.” kazuha leans in close, mockingly poking at your maroon-stained cheeks, “are you flustered? did your heart flutter because of me?”

swatting her hand away, you scoff, “don’t flatter yourself too much.” it’s an incredible contrast of your true feelings.

“i really thought you didn’t like me,” you pout, thinking of all the times kazuha would unintentionally reject you.

the japanese girl winces, “not my best moment but i do like you, if that wasn’t clear enough. so, are we dating now?”

you place your palms against her broad shoulders, pushing her away slightly before she sends you into a heart attack.

“o-okay.”

“hm? what’s that? i didn’t hear you.”

“shut up, zuha.”

“hey, i thought you liked me. why are you being so mean?”

later on, when chaewon finally emerges from her room, she finds two figures cuddled up on the couch, both clinging onto each other. her first instinct is to cringe, and her second is to snap a photo to replace the one currently on the wall.

🎙️ author’s note: not super fond of the ending but it’s literally 3am and i can’t be bothered sorry guys maybe i’ll change it one day but i need to sleep now. hope you enjoyed the fic nonetheless!

#lesserafim x reader #lesserafim #lesserafim x fem reader #nakamura kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha x fem reader #nakamura kazuha x fem reader

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senascoop · 4 months ago

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꒰ DREAMSCAPE MASTERLIST >

WELCOME to the DREAMSCAPE MINI ENHYPEN series— a collection of seven unique fanfics that blur the lines between fantasy, crime, comedy, and romance. Each story dives deep into intricate plots, so if you were hoping for simple FLUFF or SMUT, you might want to look elsewhere. But if you're here for thrilling twists, complex characters, and captivating worlds, you've come to the right place! BUCKLE UP; it's going to be a wild ride!

WORD COUNT MIGHT RANGE FROM 10K—30K,

MINORS, please steer clear of the SMUT fanfics. However, don't worry—you’re more than welcome to dive into the fluff stories! They’re just as captivating and enjoyable, offering all the heartwarming moments without the mature content. Enjoy responsibly!

IF YOU’RE INTERESTED IN ANY OF THESE FICS, PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHICH ONE YOU'D LIKE TO BE TAGGED IN!

JUST REPLY WITH THE PREFERENCE, AND I’LL MAKE SURE TO KEEP YOU UPDATED. THANKS!

﹙ 🕊️ ﹚ ぃ ──── SHE HAS LOST EVERY CASE, HOW COULD SHE WIN MINE?

EXCUSE ME !

READ HERE

SUSPECT ! HEESEUNG × LAWYER ! AFAB READER

MATURE THEMES , LAW BASED & SMUT !

Heeseung is unexpectedly thrust into the center of a murder investigation, accused of killing an old school friend. The truth, however, runs deeper than it appears, leaving everyone questioning whether he's truly the suspect. Enter you, his defense lawyer, notorious for losing every case you take on. Against all odds, you're handed Heeseung's case, and let’s just say…it’s a recipe for disaster for both of you. As you dig deeper, unraveling layers of deception, you’ll have to confront your own doubts and insecurities. Will you be able to prove Heeseung's innocence, or will this case be another tally in your string of failures?

﹙ 🧊 ﹚ ぃ ──── DID I REALLY DESERVE TO BE CAUGHT UP WITH SUCH A TROUBLE?

OOPS, WRONG ERA !

READ HERE

TIME TRAVELLER ! JAY × STUDENT ! AFAB READER

20TH CENTURY AU , SLIGHTLY FUTURISTIC & FLUFF !

Jay was the epitome of a perfect student—charming, intelligent, and utterly dedicated. The only catch? He was a time traveler from the future, marooned in the 20th century and trying to blend in as a normal teenager. When you discovered his secret, you seized the opportunity. You blackmailed him into becoming your personal homework and assignment writer, using his advanced knowledge to help you ace your classes. Jay’s attempts to navigate high school life while fulfilling his unexpected new role provided endless amusement and challenges for both of you.

﹙ ☁️ ﹚ ぃ ──── WHY WOULD YOU SHOW UP WHEN I MOVED ON?

WINDS CHANGE !

READ HERE

EX ! JAKE × EX ! AFAB READER

ANGST & SMUT !

It's been five years since you and Jake called it quits, each going your separate ways. Life seemed fine—until the dreaded wedding invitation arrives from an old friend. Reluctantly, you decide to attend, only to find Jake, your ex, waiting there like a storm on the horizon, ready to turn your calm into chaos. With unresolved feelings and past memories looming, the wedding becomes a battlefield of witty exchanges, accidental encounters, and a slow unraveling of what truly ended between you two. Are the winds of change blowing in favor of a second chance, or will they only serve to remind you why you broke up in the first place?

﹙ 🍁 ﹚ ぃ ──── I KNOW IT'S MY FAULT, BUT I WANNA MAKE IT BETTER!

GET WELL SOON シ︎

READ HERE

RACER ! SUNGHOON × ORPHAN ! AFAB READER

MENTIONS OF CRIME & ACCIDENT , OVERALL FLUFF & CRACK !

You’ve always considered yourself a good person—kind, forgiving, and patient. But Sunghoon tested every bit of that. One reckless, drunken drive was all it took for him to flip your life upside down, leaving you temporarily confined to a wheelchair. The inconvenience was more than just physical; it was a wound to your pride and independence. Sunghoon, however, refused to walk away from his mistake. Guilt-ridden and determined to make amends, he became a constant presence in your life—covering your medical bills, offering you emotional support, and sticking around even when you wished he wouldn’t.

﹙ 🦄 ﹚ ぃ ──── CAN'T YOU TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF BY YOURSELF?

LIKE PINK !

READ HERE

GUARDIAN ANGEL ! SUNOO × CLUMSY ! AFAB READER

FANTASY & PURE FLUFF !

You’ve always believed you were cursed with the "unlucky girl syndrome." From tripping on flat surfaces to losing your keys every other day, it seemed like misfortune followed you everywhere. But was it really a curse, or just bad luck? You never quite figured it out. When a guardian angel was sent from above, you hoped your luck would finally turn around. Instead, you got Sunoo—a messy, clumsy, and utterly unhelpful angel who seemed more like a walking disaster than a divine helper. All you could think of was asking God for a refund, because with Sunoo around, your life was about to get a lot more chaotic… and maybe a little brighter, too.

﹙ 🔥 ﹚ ぃ ──── I KNOW A TRICK TOO!

SIZZLES OF HIM ᯾

READ HERE

CLASSMATE ! JUNGWON × AFAB ! READER

FANTASY ELEMENTS , MAGICAL AU & SMUT !

There was always something about your quiet, mysterious classmate Jungwon that piqued your curiosity. You couldn't quite put your finger on it—until the day you accidentally peeked into his room and saw him hovering mid-air, surrounded by sparks of electricity. It all made sense then; he wasn't just your average student. Little did he know, you were hiding a secret of your own—one that mirrored his in more ways than one. Two forces of nature, each with powers as different as night and day, destined to collide. As they say, opposites attract, but in your case, they might just ignite.

﹙ 🍫 ﹚ ぃ ──── THIS MIGHT SOUND CRAZY BUT TRUST ME IT'S TRUE!

TIED UP IN YOU !

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PHONE GUY ! NIKI × STUDENT ! AFAB READER

CRACK & PURE FLUFF !

Niki was a good guy, no doubt about it. The only problem? He was your phone. How, exactly, did your phone transform into this strikingly handsome guy? It was baffling, frustrating, and, honestly, a bit overwhelming. Here you were, trying to navigate a world where your device had somehow become a charming, infuriatingly attractive human being. And to make matters worse, he was as stubborn and endearing as any person you'd ever met.

﹙ 🍒 ﹚ ぃ ──── THANK YOU FOR READING!

SENA’S NOTE— I’m not sure when I'll finish these seven fics, but I hope it’s soon. I’m unsure if anyone will be interested, but this was a preview of what’s coming.

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theetherealbloom · 1 month ago

Text

IF THERE'S NOTHING LEFT - CH.1

Chapter One: Be The Light, When All The Lights Go Out

Summary: You, a skilled healer, are brought to Rome by Senator Gracchus under the pretense of treating gladiators and Roman elites. You work with General Marcus Acacius to fight against the cruel reign of the twin emperors. Through danger and shared hope, your connection becomes a source of strength as you both dream of freeing Rome.

Paring: General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Age-Gap(ish), Ancient Rome, Canon-Typical Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, War, Romance, Politics, Alternate Universe, Eventual SMUT, Slavery, Sexism, Misogyny, Guilt, PTSD, Rebellion, Empires, (Very Light) Strangers-to-Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Crowds, Shouting, Animals, Duels, Loose Historical Fiction,

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF… I NEEDED TO START THIS FIC. RRRAAAAAHHHH. Also, Marcus and Lucilla are NOT married in this fic/AU lmao. I might get some terms wrong since I can’t find the complete script yet (pls help) so I'll be editing this as time passes. And I’m like… not a historian so lol.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: If There's Nothing Left by NIKI

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

A DAY BEFORE THE RANSACKING OF NUMIDIA

ROME, 200 A.D. — DAY

The air in your clinic was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of sweat. Shouts and groans from the injured filled the space, their voices blending into a cacophony of pain that would have broken a lesser person. But not you.

You moved with the precision of a master sculptor, your hands steady as you sutured the gaping wound on a gladiator’s shoulder. Blood seeped into the linen bandages you’d prepared, but you didn’t flinch. Your focus was unshakable, the outside world forgotten as you worked to save the life in front of you.

General Marcus Acacius stood in the shadows of the doorway, his imposing frame unnoticed amidst the chaos. His dark eyes were fixed on you, the healer who had garnered whispers throughout Rome. He had heard of your work, of course—how you treated anyone who came through your doors, from nobles to slaves, without regard for their station. It was rare to see such defiance of societal norms, rarer still to see it done with such quiet grace.

He watched as you leaned closer to the wounded man, murmuring words of reassurance.

“Stay still, brave one,” you said softly, your voice low and soothing, cutting through his pain like a balm. “The worst of it is over. You’ll be back in the arena soon enough, though I’d rather you didn’t return at all.”

The gladiator managed a weak chuckle, wincing as you tied off the last stitch. “You speak as if I have a choice.”

Your lips curved into a wry smile, though sadness lingered in your eyes. “Perhaps one day you will.”

Marcus found himself captivated—not just by your skill, but by the quiet authority you wielded in the room. It was rare for him to see someone move with such purpose, commanding respect without ever raising their voice.

“You risk much, treating slaves and gladiators,” Marcus said, his voice deep and cutting through the din like a blade.

You didn’t look up, finishing your work before addressing him. “And you risk much, General, entering a place like this.”

There was no fear in your tone, only a calm defiance that piqued his curiosity. Marcus stepped closer, his boots echoing on the stone floor.

“I’ve seen many healers,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “None with hands as steady as yours. Nor one who speaks so freely.”

You glanced up at him then, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that momentarily silenced the chaos around you. He was a striking figure, his presence commanding and his face marked by years of war. But it was his eyes that caught you—the deep well of pain and weariness they carried, hidden beneath a veneer of stoicism.

“Perhaps that’s because most healers know when to hold their tongue,” you replied, arching a brow. “But I’ve found that truth tends to have a healing quality of its own.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile. “And yet, truth has also been known to end lives, particularly in Rome.”

You returned your attention to the gladiator, checking the bandages one last time. “Then it seems we both walk a fine line, General.”

Something about the way you said his title felt less like deference and more like acknowledgment. It wasn’t fear or awe that guided your words, but a quiet understanding of who he was and the power he held.

Marcus watched as you moved to the next patient, a young boy with a deep gash on his leg. Despite the blood staining your hands and the weariness etched into your features, you treated the boy with the same care and kindness you had shown the gladiator.

“Why do you do it?” Marcus asked suddenly, his voice softer now. “Why risk your safety for those Rome has deemed unworthy?”

You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder. For a moment, the question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

“Because someone has to,” you said simply. “If I don’t, who will?”

The honesty of your answer struck something deep within Marcus. He had spent years justifying his actions as a soldier, telling himself that the violence he carried out was for the good of Rome. Yet here you were, defying the very structure that upheld his world, all for the sake of compassion.

As Marcus continued to watch you, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was witnessing something rare—something that Rome, in all its grandeur, could not crush. For the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of hope.

You broke the silence first, turning to face him fully. “Shouldn’t you be with your army—overseeing the ships and preparing to ransack Numidia, yet another city, all for the so-called ‘Glory of Rome’?” You arched a brow at him, shifting your weight onto one hip with a subtle air of defiance.

The corner of Marcus’s mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. “Perhaps,” he replied, his voice low, “but I find myself drawn elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” You tilted your head, your tone edged with skepticism. “Surely the great General Marcus Acacius has more pressing matters than standing in a healer’s clinic.”

“Perhaps,” he repeated, stepping closer. “But standing here, I begin to wonder if those pressing matters might pale in comparison to what I’ve found.”

Your breath hitched, but you recovered quickly, letting out a soft laugh. “Flattery from a general. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“It’s not flattery,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “It’s truth.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Careful, General. If you keep talking like that, people might start to think you have a heart.”

“Perhaps I do,” he said, his tone quiet, thoughtful. “And perhaps it’s found something worth fighting for, beyond Rome.”

Your breath caught at his words, your heart pounding in a way you hadn’t felt in years. But before you could respond, Marcus turned and walked toward the door, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet.

“I’ll return,” he said without looking back. “There’s still much I need to learn from you.”

And as he disappeared into the sunlight, leaving you alone in the quiet of your clinic, you couldn’t help but feel that your world had shifted—just a little, but enough to make you wonder what might come next.

ROME, 200 A.D. — AFTERNOON

The light of the afternoon sun streamed through the tall, arched windows of Senator Gracchus’s residence, casting golden patterns across the polished marble floors. You moved with practiced ease through the grand room, gathering fresh bandages and jars of ointment from your bag while keeping an ear to the Senator’s usual musings. Today, however, your mind was elsewhere.

“Did you send him to me?” you asked, your tone casual but your curiosity evident. You didn’t look up as you sorted through your supplies, your hands deftly organizing the salves and herbs.

“Send who?” Senator Gracchus replied, reclining on his plush lectus, the deep crimson cushions making him look more regal than his age might suggest. His tone was light, but there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He was far too clever to play coy without reason.

“The General. General Acacius.” You paused, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before returning to your work.

The Senator’s lips curled into a knowing smile as he raised his chalice of wine. “Ah, Marcus. I may have mentioned your name in passing conversation.”

You froze for a moment, your brow furrowing. “In passing conversation?”

“Of course.” He swirled the wine lazily in his cup. “I simply spoke of a brilliant healer who mends not just bodies but spirits. It seems the good general decided to see for himself if the rumors were true.”

You let out a soft huff, shaking your head as you resumed unpacking your things. “Well, he approached me today.”

“And how was he?” Gracchus asked, leaning forward slightly, his expression both intrigued and amused.

“He seemed…” You hesitated, your hands stilling as you searched for the right words. Memories of the encounter flickered in your mind—his commanding presence, the intensity in his eyes, the way his words seemed to linger long after he’d spoken them. “Alright, I suppose,” you said finally, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance.

Gracchus chuckled softly, setting his chalice down on a nearby table. “Alright, you suppose? My dear, you’re a terrible liar.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” the Senator began, his tone teasing, “that you’ve just met one of the most formidable men in Rome, and yet here you are pretending he didn’t make an impression.”

Your cheeks warmed slightly, though you refused to let it show. “Impression or not, I don’t see how it’s relevant. I’m here to heal people, not… whatever it is you’re insinuating.”

“Oh, I’m not insinuating anything,” Gracchus said with a sly grin. “But let me give you a piece of advice, my dear. Men like Marcus Acacius don’t walk into someone’s life without a reason.”

“Perhaps he was just curious,” you said, turning away to mask the flutter of nerves that crept up your spine. “Or bored.”

“Curiosity doesn’t often bring him to clinics,” the Senator mused, leaning back once more. “Boredom even less so. Whatever the reason, I’d wager it has little to do with medicine.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “If this is your way of playing matchmaker, Senator, I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“And here I thought you’d appreciate a distraction,” Gracchus said, raising his chalice once more. “But very well. Consider the matter dropped.”

For now, you thought, knowing full well that Gracchus wasn’t one to let things go so easily. As you busied yourself with preparing his treatment, you couldn’t help but replay the moment you’d locked eyes with Marcus Acacius, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t quite name.

Alright, you supposed. But deep down, you knew it was far more than that.

A FEW WEEKS LATER…

OSTIA, PORT OF ROME — DAY

The sun blazed high over the port, casting a golden glow over the triumphant scene unfolding below. The air was alive with the sound of celebration—the roar of the crowd, the rhythmic chanting of his name.

“Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!”

You stood at a distance, hidden in the shadows of a towering marble column, your gaze fixed on the man at the center of the spectacle. Marcus Acacius, the war hero of Rome, returned victorious. His white chariot, pulled by majestic horses, moved with deliberate grace through the throng of citizens who waved laurel branches and tossed flowers into the air.

The general himself was a vision of Roman splendor, adorned in white and gold, a flowing cape billowing behind him like the wings of an avenging angel. He waved politely to the people, his expression calm and composed, though you suspected a storm brewed beneath that veneer.

As the chariot came to a halt at the steps of the grand Temple of Mars Ultor, young girls dressed in flowing white tunics and crowned with fresh flowers scattered rose petals in his path. He ascended the steps with measured strides, the marble beneath his feet gleaming in the sunlight.

You stood among the other servants, the weight of a velvet pillow in your hands anchoring you to the moment. Atop the pillow rested a crown of golden laurels, shimmering with the promise of empty glory. Senator Gracchus had arranged for you to present it, an honor you neither wanted nor could refuse. Your palms were damp with nerves, but it wasn’t fear of the crowd or ceremony that unsettled you. It was the cruel spectacle of it all—the emperors reveling in their power while Rome decayed beneath their feet.

Marcus reached the top of the steps, standing before the twin emperors. Geta, younger and deceptively charming, gestured to the approaching general. Caracalla, brooding and sharp-featured, watched with an intensity that made the scene feel like a predator sizing up prey.

Marcus placed a fist over his heart in the Roman salutatio, nodding first to one and then the other. “Emperor Geta,” he began, his voice steady. He turned his gaze to the other. “Emperor Caracalla.”

“General Acacius,” Geta replied with a wide, practiced smile.

Marcus straightened, his tone humble yet firm. “I have taken Numidia in your names. Your dominion may yet eclipse that of every emperor who came before you.”

Caracalla smirked, gesturing lazily to you with a flick of his hand. “Crown him with laurels, brother.”

Your heart leapt as all eyes turned to you. You stepped forward, forcing yourself to keep your movements measured. Bowing your head slightly, you presented the pillow to Geta. He took the crown, sparing you no more than a dismissive glance, and you retreated quickly, blending back into the shadows as the ceremony continued.

Geta placed the golden laurels atop Marcus’s salt-and-pepper curls, his smile widening as the crowd erupted in cheers. The senators clapped politely, their faces masks of approval, though you wondered how many of them truly celebrated the general's return.

The procession moved inside the temple, where the grandeur of marble columns and gilded statues loomed over the gathering. You lingered near the edges of the hall, half-hidden among other attendants. Your eyes were drawn to Marcus, who stood surrounded by Rome’s elite yet seemed entirely apart from them.

Geta approached Marcus with two chalices of wine, his gait almost casual. “In honor of your conquest, there will be games in the Colosseum,” he said, handing one to the general.

Marcus accepted it with a polite nod, though his expression remained neutral. “I require no games in my honor. Serving the senate and the people of Rome is honor enough for me.”

He raised the chalice to toast, but Geta pulled his cup back with a sharp laugh. “You are too modest, Acacius. It does not suit a general as accomplished as yourself.” He clinked their glasses together before Marcus could respond, his tone dripping with mockery.

“The glory is yours, not mine,” Marcus replied, his words measured. “I only ask for respite from war. To spend time with…” His voice trailed off as his gaze flickered briefly—so briefly—toward you.

Your breath hitched, the moment so fleeting that you questioned whether it had happened at all.

Caracalla, lounging nearby, smirked. “Time for what, general? Gardens and poetry? Or something sweeter?”

Geta ignored his brother, moving to a table where a long ceremonial sword rested. He lifted it, examining the blade with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “There are victories yet to come, Acacius.”

He turned back toward the general, raising the sword as if to knight him. Lightly, he tapped Marcus’s shoulders, then paused, the blade hovering near his neck.

“Persia. India. Both must be conquered.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, Geta pressed the edge of the blade against Marcus’s neck, the sharp metal breaking skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood.

Marcus didn’t flinch, though his expression darkened. His voice was low, steady, and cold. “Rome has so many subjects. She must feed them.”

He swatted the blade away from his neck, a flicker of defiance passing between him and the emperor.

Caracalla’s laugh rang out, sharp and cruel. “They can eat war!”

Geta let the sword clatter to the floor, the sound echoing across the hall. “Your triumphs will be celebrated, General Acacius,” he said, his tone pointed. “As a tribute to the greatness of the Roman people.”

He extended his hand, adorned with gaudy rings, and Marcus had no choice but to bow and kiss it. You saw the flicker of disdain in his eyes even as his lips brushed the emperor’s hand.

From your shadowed corner, your heart ached for him. For the man who bore the weight of Rome’s sins with a quiet dignity that deserved so much more than the cruelty of its rulers.

IMPERIAL VILLA — NIGHT

The villa perched on the outskirts of Rome exuded a quiet elegance, its columns and arches glowing under the pale light of the moon. The night was thick with fog, curling like tendrils of smoke through the cypress trees that lined the estate. A gentle breeze carried the scent of rosemary and lavender from the gardens, mingling with the faint hum of nocturnal life.

Inside, the villa was equally serene. Lucilla, ever gracious, had agreed to host you at the request of Senator Gracchus. The senator had claimed it was “more appropriate” for you to stay under her care, given the delicate balance of Roman customs and the constant scrutiny of the twin emperors. In truth, you suspected it was also for your safety. Lucilla’s influence, though quietly wielded, was a shield few dared to challenge.

The villa was warm and inviting, a haven amidst the chaos of Rome. Yet, even as you settled into your temporary quarters, a restlessness stirred within you. You missed the simplicity of your small home, the steady rhythm of your work. Here, despite Lucilla’s kindness, you felt like a guest in gilded captivity.

Meanwhile, Marcus Acacius found himself battling his own restlessness. When he learned you were staying with Lucilla, the knowledge sparked an idea he could hardly ignore. Though he was no stranger to the villa—it was a place he visited often as a long-time confidant of Lucilla—tonight, his reasons for coming were far from casual.

He rode through the foggy night, his steed's hooves echoing against the stone-paved road. The air was cold, biting against his cheeks, but he barely noticed. Two of his guards flanked him, silent and watchful as shadows.

When he reached the gates of the villa, a sentry stepped forward, his spear raised in a show of duty. “Halt! Who goes there?”

The torchlight illuminated Marcus’s face, and recognition dawned on the guard. His stance shifted immediately. Placing a fist over his heart, he bowed. “General.”

“Open the gates,” Marcus commanded, his voice steady but not unkind.

The heavy iron gates creaked open, and Marcus dismounted his steed with practiced ease. A stable boy rushed forward to take the reins, bowing quickly before leading the horse away. Marcus adjusted his cloak, brushing off the dampness of the night, and stepped into the villa’s grounds.

Inside, Lucilla greeted him in the atrium, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders and her sharp eyes glinting with curiosity. “Marcus,” she said warmly, though there was a knowing lilt to her tone. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Marcus replied, his lips curving into a polite smile. “I was nearby and thought it prudent to pay a visit.”

“Nearby?” Lucilla arched an elegant brow. “Unless the general has taken to wandering the countryside aimlessly at night, I suspect there’s more to this visit than proximity.”

Marcus didn’t answer immediately, his eyes scanning the villa’s hall. It was quieter than usual, the stillness broken only by the faint crackle of torches and the murmur of distant voices.

Lucilla stepped closer, her expression softening. “She’s in the east wing,” she said, her voice dropping slightly.

Marcus turned to her, his gaze sharp. “Who?”

Lucilla smirked, crossing her arms. “You didn’t ride through the night for me, Marcus. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You always see through me, Lucilla.”

“It’s a gift,” she quipped, then gestured toward the hallway. “Go. But don’t wake the entire villa with your heavy boots.”

Marcus inclined his head in thanks before making his way toward the east wing. The soft glow of oil lamps guided his path, casting flickering shadows on the walls. As he approached your quarters, his steps slowed.

You were seated by the window, a soft blanket draped over your shoulders, gazing out at the misty garden. The stillness of the night felt fragile, like it might shatter at the slightest sound. The dim light of the oil lamp beside you softened your features, though weariness lingered in your eyes.

A soft clearing of a throat broke the silence, low but deliberate.

You turned quickly, your heart skipping at the unexpected intrusion. “General Acacius?”

He leaned against the doorway, his armor traded for a plain, white tunic and dark cloak that suited the quiet of the night. His lips curled into a faint smirk. “My lady.”

“I am no lady, General,” you corrected, your brow arching slightly.

“Marcus,” he said, stepping into the room with a deliberate grace. “And I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t,” you replied, though the confusion in your voice was evident. “What brings you here at this hour?”

For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words. Then, with a slight shrug, he said, “I wanted to ensure you were settling in comfortably. Lucilla’s hospitality can be... unique.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “It’s generous, though I can’t help but feel a bit out of place.”

Marcus nodded, his expression thoughtful. “This villa has always felt like a sanctuary. But I know it can be difficult to find peace in unfamiliar surroundings.”

For a while, silence stretched between you. The weight of the world outside the villa—Rome’s cruelty, the constant tension—seemed to press lightly against the walls, but here, in this moment, the quiet was soothing.

“Did you really ride all this way just to check on me?” you asked, a teasing note in your voice that broke through the stillness.

His lips twitched, the beginnings of a smile warming his face. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

You tilted your head, studying him carefully, your gaze soft but sharp. “I might.”

He stepped closer, the flickering light of the lamp catching the faintest glimmer in his dark eyes. His expression, though tempered by years of military discipline, held a warmth that made your heart skip.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

The room seemed smaller suddenly, the air charged with something unspoken. You cleared your throat, shifting slightly, your hands clutching at the fabric of your skirts as if to anchor yourself.

“I thank the gods that brought you back home safe,” you said, your voice quieter now, tinged with something deeper.

Marcus’s gaze didn’t falter. “Thank the army,” he replied humbly. “They protected me.”

You nodded, acknowledging his words. “You must be hungry, then?”

He raised a brow, clearly amused by the shift in the conversation, but he didn’t resist. “It has been a long ride.”

Turning, you glanced toward the servant standing silently near the doorway. You offered her an apologetic smile, and she nodded in understanding before quietly leaving the room to fetch food and drink.

As the door closed behind her, you turned back to Marcus. “It’s the least I can offer after you came all this way.”

His lips twitched again, his faint smile now fully formed. “You’ve already offered more than you know.”

You blinked, tilting your head in quiet curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“Your kindness,” he said simply, stepping closer still. “It’s rare in Rome. Even rarer in my world.”

Your cheeks warmed under his steady gaze, and you quickly turned your attention back to the window, hoping the dim light would hide your reaction. “I only do what anyone should.”

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “but not everyone does.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a flutter through your chest. When you finally looked back at him, he was closer now, his presence commanding but not overwhelming.

“You’re too generous with your praise, Marcus,” you said, though the words felt light, almost teasing.

“And you’re far too modest,” he countered, the smirk returning to his lips.

The sound of footsteps approaching signaled the servant’s return, breaking the charged silence between you. She entered with a tray of fruit, bread, and wine, placing it on the small table by the window before bowing and retreating once more.

You gestured toward the table, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Please, sit. You’ve had a long day.”

Marcus inclined his head, his expression grateful as he took the seat opposite you. The light from the lamp flickered between you, casting long shadows on the walls.

As you poured wine into two cups, the flickering lamplight caught the soft curve of your profile, drawing his gaze. Marcus watched you, his expression thoughtful, warm, and just a little too intense.

“You should know,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “this isn’t just about ensuring you’re comfortable.”

Your hands hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing their task, but the air in the room seemed to thicken. You glanced up at him, your brow arching as you placed one of the cups in front of him. “Have you finally come to your senses and decided to arrest me? For treating those the Senate deems unworthy of saving?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, a wry, fleeting almost-smile. “No.”

You leaned back slightly, folding your arms across your chest, your head tilting in mock suspicion. “Then perhaps you’ve come to lecture me? To remind me how dangerous it is to meddle in things beyond my station?”

His gaze softened, the warmth in it almost unsettling. “Do you think so little of me?”

The teasing edge in your posture faltered for just a moment before you quickly recovered, glancing down into your own cup. “You’re a General, Marcus. You’re loyal to Rome. To the Senate. My work…” You shrugged, trying to sound casual despite the weight in your voice. “It doesn’t exactly align with the ideals of your empire.”

Marcus reached for his cup, his hand brushing briefly, almost imperceptibly, against the edge of yours. “You’re right,” he said finally, his tone unreadable.

Your gaze snapped to his, surprised. “I am?”

“You don’t align with the empire,” he continued, taking a slow sip of the wine. “You stand above it. You see its flaws and still choose to fight for what’s right, even when it’s dangerous. Even when it puts you at risk.”

The words struck something deep within you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. You hadn’t expected that—his understanding, his admiration.

“And you don’t find that... infuriating?” you asked, trying to mask the tremor in your voice with a wry smile.

“Infuriating?” he echoed, setting the cup down. “No.” His gaze held yours, steady and unyielding. “It’s extraordinary.”

A sudden heat rushed to your cheeks, and you turned your attention to the fire crackling softly in the hearth. “You’re far too kind, General.”

“Marcus,” he corrected gently, leaning forward.

“Marcus,” you repeated, the name tasting unfamiliar on your tongue, though not unpleasant.

He smiled faintly, as if satisfied. “And I’m not being kind—I’m being honest. Too few in this city have the courage to act as you do. Even fewer have the heart.”

You looked back at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity and finding none. The man before you wasn’t the untouchable war hero paraded through Rome’s streets. He was something quieter, something deeper.

“And what about you?” you asked softly. “Aren’t you tired of all this? The battles, the politics, the endless expectations?”

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his features. “More than you could ever know.”

The quiet confession hung between you, delicate and heavy all at once.

“Then why not walk away?” you pressed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He gave a low, humorless laugh, running a hand through his curly hair. “And go where? Rome would never let me go, even if I wanted to. And…” He hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to you before settling on the fire. “There are reasons to stay.”

Your breath caught at the implication, but you forced yourself to keep your tone light. “Duty, I suppose?”

His eyes met yours again, darker now, more intense. “Something like that.”

The weight of his words pressed against your chest, and you found yourself wondering if he could hear the sudden quickening of your heart.

“I’m not sure I understand you, Marcus,” you said quietly, the teasing edge gone from your voice.

“Good,” he replied, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’d hate to be predictable.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, shaking your head as you finally took a sip of your wine. “You’re certainly not that.”

The room fell into a companionable silence, the crackling of the fire and the distant chirping of crickets filling the space. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight of the world seemed to lift, if only slightly.

“Thank you,” you said after a while, your voice soft but sincere.

He tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”

“For coming,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “For… for seeing me. Not just tonight, but—” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “For seeing me as more than what Rome would make me.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, the guardedness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something unspoken but undeniable. “It’s impossible not to.”

The words wrapped around your heart, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe them.

“At times, I wish you would abandon all of this,” you said softly, your voice trembling with honesty. “The wars. The blood. The service to men who deserve none of it.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching before he answered. “I’ve made my choice,” he said, his tone resolute, but there was a flicker of weariness in his eyes. “I can live with it. But my patience with them is at an end.”

You glanced toward the far corner of the room, where Leta, the ever-watchful servant, lingered. Offering her a kind smile, you said, “Leta, you may go to your quarters now. We’ll need nothing more this evening.”

Leta hesitated, her gaze flickering between the two of you, but at your gentle nod, she smiled and curtsied, before slipping out, leaving the room steeped in a quiet intimacy.

Marcus exhaled deeply, as if the act of speaking had been weighing on him. He set his cup down on the nearby table across from you, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as though bearing the weight of Rome itself. “To hear wives and mothers mourning their dead on that beach of Numidia…” His voice was low, rough with emotion. He scoffed bitterly and ran a hand through his hair. “No more. I will not waste another generation of young men for their vanity. If I fight another campaign…” His gaze hardened, a fire igniting in his eyes. “It must be to depose them.”

Your breath hitched at the words. “You’re telling me this… why?” you asked carefully. “We’ve met only briefly. Why would you trust me with something so dangerous?”

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “Am I wrong to assume that Senator Gracchus and Lucilla have been whispering thoughts not unlike my own? That Rome deserves better than two tyrants playing at being gods?”

You hesitated, your lips quirking slightly to the side as you considered your answer. Finally, you gave him a small nod. “You’re not wrong. The whispers grow louder with each passing day.”

For a moment, the room was silent save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth. You licked your lips nervously and took a steadying breath. Meeting his eyes, you asked, “When will your troops arrive?”

“They’ll land in Ostia in ten days,” he replied, his voice low and firm.

You nodded, your mind already calculating the implications. “How many will be loyal to you? To you alone?”

“All of them,” he said without hesitation. “Many of them owe their lives to you, as I’ve heard it. Your words of wisdom, your care in the camps—they remember. Soldiers don’t forget kindness, especially in a world so devoid of it.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you pressed on. “The emperors have lost the people’s support,” you said, your voice heavy with conviction. “The citizens are weary of their madness, their tyranny. What is the dream of Rome if our people are not free?”

Marcus let out a long sigh, the weight of the truth settling over him. “A dream deferred,” he murmured. “But not lost. Not yet.”

The silence that followed was charged, the enormity of what lay ahead pressing upon both of you. You searched his face, seeing the resolute determination of a soldier but also the quiet yearning of a man who had seen too much, endured too much.

“And what of you?” he asked, his voice softer now. “If the tide turns, if the gods will it… what would your dream of Rome be?”

You hesitated, the question catching you off guard. “A Rome where compassion isn’t a weakness. Where the people, not the emperors, hold the power. A Rome where no child grows up in fear of a tyrant’s whim.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the hardened lines of his face eased. “That’s a dream worth fighting for,” he said quietly.

You gave him a small, tentative smile. “And worth surviving for.”

The words lingered in the air between you, a shared understanding forming in the flickering light. Neither of you dared to say it outright, but the unspoken promise was clear: whatever lay ahead, you would not face it alone.

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navybrat817 · 21 days ago

Text

Hold You Tight: Part 14

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 13 | Series Masterlist | Part 15

Chapter Word Count: Over 5k

Chapter Summary: The manager of The Red Room gives you a little advice regarding your situation with Bucky.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, backstory, reference to stalking, hopelessness. inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! I realize some of this may feel like filler, but it's happening for a reason. Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Ray kept a close but respectable distance as he took you to his car. It was similar to the vehicle he drove Bucky around in, but a slightly different shade of black that wasn’t as flashy. You should've spotted it sooner, but you weren’t exactly looking for it, were you?

“Have you just been driving around following me all day?” you asked once you were in the car.

“I followed you on foot, too. I’m good at blending in,” he said, giving you a sideways glance as he buckled up and made sure you were buckled up, too. There was no boasting in his statement, just truth. “It wouldn't surprise me if I’m the one asked to stay nearby when you join your friends on Saturday.”

“But perhaps if she really does want to go and you’re unable to accompany her, boss, someone could discreetly keep an eye on her.”

With his looks and massive build, he shouldn’t be able to blend in so easily. How many people paid that close attention to their surroundings though? You hadn’t before. You needed to be on guard more. And what was that going to do to your stress levels?

At least it would be Ray watching if he was asked and not one of Bucky’s other friends.

“Well, I hope watching me drink wine doesn't bore you,” you said, glancing out the window as he drove off, watching the cars and people go by. “How did you get so good at what you do?”

“Making sure you're safe doesn't bore me,” he said. Ironic considering his boss put you in danger. “And I think that’s a story for another time.”

Ray said he had been working for Bucky for a few years. You wondered just how they met. There had to be a story there. “Do you ever think about walking away from it?” you asked curiously, bringing your gaze back to him while he kept his eyes on the road. “I mean, you have a life outside of this, right?”

Did he have family? Friends? A loved one? He had to have a hobby at least. Something.

He tapped a finger on the steering wheel. “Do you think one simply walks away?”

“No, I guess not,” you replied. It was unlikely that you would ever escape, but you didn’t know how it was for people who willingly ran in circles with men like Bucky. You still had a lot to learn. “But I’d like to think there’s hope for you if that’s what you want.”

“I appreciate the hope and I don’t want you to lose that,” he said, sparing you a sad glance. “But you should place it elsewhere.”

Where exactly would you place that hope when Bucky continued to infect everything in your life?

You nodded once, feeling a bit sad for him, too. He just seemed different from the others Bucky surrounded himself with. “Sorry for the questions.”

“Don't apologize,” he said, tapping the steering wheel again. “It’s nice that you care enough to ask.”

You smiled to yourself, content to sit in silence after that. Grabbing your phone from your bag, you aimlessly scrolled through your messages and stopped at Bucky’s name. There were no new messages, but would he send something at the stroke of midnight? And if he was in a mood without you around and Ray eventually told him that Zemo introduced himself to you, what would he do?

“We’re here,” Ray said after a minute, parking his car in front of a tall, sleek building and getting out. He held up a hand to stop the valet from opening the door for you, opting to help you out himself. “This way.”

The sleek theme continued as you went into the lobby and you understood why it was called The Red Room. The color was everywhere, balanced out by a mix of black and gray and soft lighting. The nearby sofa and chairs looked high-quality, as did the art. It appeared to be an oasis of luxury and a place for a well deserved break.

You stopped Ray before you got to the desk. “How much is a room? I get paid tomorrow, but…” You had some money in savings you could transfer over to cover what was surely an expensive cost.

“You haven't checked your account today, have you?”

Taking out your phone with a furrowed brow, you quickly logged into your bank account. An embarrassing squeak came out when you saw the amount, your eyes wide as you looked between your phone and Ray. That had to be some sort of mistake. There was no way…

Bucky.

“He put money in my account?” you whispered, double checking the amount to make sure your eyes weren't deceiving you. Why did he do that? “I can't…”

“He did and he won't take it back if you try,” Ray confirmed. “Regardless of how much you now have, if my boss found out that I suggested you stay here and made you pay he’d have my head.”

“Well, what’s the point of having this money then?” you pressed.

Not that you intended to use it. Spending even a dime of it would likely encourage Bucky to give you more. Or was it a test to see if you would spend it? Would he know if you did?

Maybe, just maybe, you could get Addison and Brady a nice wedding gift.

“To make sure you're taken care of in every possible way,” he said, gesturing to you to move forward.

“Welcome to The Red Room,” a woman in a black dress smiled, Ingrid from the name on her tag. “Do you have a reservation?”

“We do not,” Ray said, sliding a card over. “And I’ll need to speak with Natalia regarding a room, please.”

“Natalia?” Ingrid’s smile didn’t slip, but a hardened look took over her eyes and you suddenly felt uncomfortable. “I’m afraid that’s-”

“It’s fine, Ingrid. I’ll be happy to take care of them.” A redhead in a similar black dress walked over, her heels echoing on the marble floor. She carried herself with grace and power and looked like she could snap your neck without breaking a sweat. So did Ingrid for that matter. “Why don’t you go on break?”

“Of course.” Ingrid’s smile was back on her face. “Enjoy your stay,” she added, gliding away.

“Raymond. Good to see you,” Natalia said, her voice warm as he gave her a nod. “You’ll have to excuse Ingrid. She gets a little protective when anyone asks for Natalia. You know you're one of the only men around who still calls me that.”

“It’s your name, is it not?” he asked, though her tag read Natasha.

“Indeed it is. Maybe one day you’ll call me Natasha,” she said, cocking an eyebrow at you. You didn’t think she was judging you, but you still felt a little self conscious under her gaze. “I wasn't supposed to meet you until later. I also expected Bucky to be with you when that happened.”

You held your breath before you remembered that Ray said the manager had worked with Bucky before. “So you know who I am,” you said. For Bucky to preach about your safety, a lot of people were aware of who you were. “Does everyone know who I am?”

The corner of her lip quirked up. “Not everyone,” she said, turning her attention to Ray. “Why is she here early? Did something happen?”

“She needs a place to stay for the night and she’s not to be disturbed. That includes my boss.”

She raised an eyebrow again. “Understood. I’ll give her suite 213 and put you just across the hall.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard before she slid the card back to Ray. “Follow me.”

“Isn’t a suite a bit much?” you asked. And for Ray to pay for that, you had to pay him back somehow.

She paused to stare at you. “All of the rooms here are nice, but the suites are a bit more spacious. It’ll give you room to breathe while you relax,” she gently spoke. “You look like you could use some rest.”

Did she know the extent of what you had gone through? You weren’t claustrophobic but with Bucky smothering you, breathing and rest didn’t come to you as easily. “I appreciate that,” you said. A spacious area would feel nice.

She nodded, pressing the elevator button. “You’re also welcome to book anything in the spa at no charge and whatever you’d like from the restaurant or room service menu is on the house.”

You gaped at her. “So because I’m Bucky’s girl, you’ll just give me these things for free?” you asked, noticing that she stood on one side of you and Ray on the other. “I mean, I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, but there’s no need for the special treatment.”

Everyone so far in Bucky’s circle fawned over you. But what had you done to earn anything? Nothing. All you did was catch the eye of a powerful man.

“Nothing in life is free. There’s a price for everything,” she said above a whisper. “And I know you’re not ungrateful. You’re just not used to it.”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to it since you grew up with the belief that you had to work for what you were given. “You asked why I was here early. When exactly was I supposed to meet you?”

“Not to spoil the surprise, but Bucky booked a dinner reservation and our best suite for a romantic evening.” She gave Ray a glance, who didn’t look too pleased. “I think he plans to tell you the day of, if I had to guess.”

“Wonderful,” you muttered, a shiver running through your body. You weren't an idiot. If Bucky booked a suite for the two of you, he’d expect you to sleep with him.

“I thought you were good at keeping secrets, Natalia,” Ray uttered.

“I’m very good at keeping secrets that are actually worth keeping, Raymond,” she retorted.

“I’m glad you told me,” you said. In her defense, you asked a question and she gave you an almost direct answer. “Besides, it’s just another thing to add to the list of ‘surprises’ for today. Bucky having Ray follow me. Meeting Zemo.”

“Zemo?” She didn’t give anything away, but she gave Ray another look. This guy didn’t seem to have a lot of fans. “You met Zemo? When?”

“He introduced himself to me at the park just before we came here,” you replied.

She pursed her lips when the elevator door opened. “I can’t wait to hear how Bucky responds to that.”

Your stomach sank. You saw what he did to John after he insulted you. Zemo likely wouldn’t fare much better, but he also seemed to be a bigger player in whatever went on in the city.

“Will you let me do a sweep before she goes in?” Ray asked before Natasha could open the door.

“No one has been in this room and no one knew you were coming here, but I know you'll be chewed out if you don’t,” she said, stepping aside for him.

“You’re not planning to bug the place, are you, Ray?” You didn’t want to think he would, but you had to ask.

He didn’t look offended by the question. If anything, he seemed to understand your concern. “This is meant to be a safe haven for the rest of the day. I won’t take that from you,” he promised, shutting the door behind him. It was nice to have him somewhat on your side, even in the smallest capacity.

The hall was eerily quiet as you stood alone with the redhead. Your gaze darted back and forth, expecting Bucky to waltz in and tell you that this wasn’t a haven at all. That he’d drag you to the suite bed and do whatever he pleased.

“I’ve been told you have a kind heart,” Natasha said, bringing your attention back to her. “That’s good for Bucky.”

“Is it?” you asked, looking down the hall again.

“Relax,” she urged. “You don’t have to feel nervous here. You’re safe.”

“You work with Bucky, so I’m naturally going to feel nervous and suspicious,” you said. You wouldn’t apologize for that. “How much do you know about me?”

“A man named Jake who does security and surveillance works for both Bucky and I. When Bucky needed him for an extended period of time, I was naturally curious as to why. He gave me just enough pieces to put the puzzle together.”

“So you know I’m trapped,” you said. She had to know it wasn’t a consensual relationship.

“More or less,” she said.

“And let me guess. This Jake guy specializes in bugs and listening devices?”

“Hmm. So you know about the bugs,” she said. Bucky was all too proud to share that when you asked. “Jake does specialize in those and you might meet him at some point. If and when you do, don't blame him for doing his job, please. Not everyone gets to choose their line of work.”

“Well, I wish he would’ve stopped him,” you said. You could blame this guy, but it wouldn't do you any good. Like Natasha said, he may not have had a choice.

“If it’s any consolation, he wasn’t pleased when he realized he was helping bug an innocent person's place, but he has a sister and niece to consider,” she said, giving you a hard stare when you opened your mouth. “And before you ask because I know you’ll ask, I can’t help you.”

You tried not to get upset at her immediate denial to help. “May I ask why not?”

She sighed, toying with the delicate gold necklace around her neck. You wondered if the arrow charm was symbolic. “The women who work here… We didn’t exactly have the best upbringing and we didn’t have much freedom, even as adults. Including my sister,” she explained, a haunted look taking over her eyes momentarily. “But Bucky stepped in some time ago and helped us. Without him, I wouldn’t have been able to open this place or give us normal life. I’ll be forever in his debt for that.”

“He helped you?” you asked. Marc mentioned that he donated to the local hospital and charities, but this was something else. Was this a normal hotel or some kind of refuge?

“He did. When he isn't doing bad things, he actually does some good,” she answered, still toying with her necklace. “In all the time I’ve known him, there have only been two things I’ve ever heard him say he wants and you’re one of them. If I help take you away from him, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“So you won’t help me, but it’s really more like you can’t,” you guessed. She was essentially in Bucky’s pocket and had to think of the women under her employment and her sister. She couldn’t put them in danger. “No one will help me.”

“Barnes isn’t the kind of man you win a fight against. It’s better for most to stay on his good side than to be his enemy,” she said, putting a hand on your shoulder when you hung your head. “Hey. I’m not telling you to just lay over and accept your new relationship for what it is, but I don’t want you to be surprised when people keep telling you ‘no’ when you ask for help.”

“Everyone just looks the other way and that isn’t…” You bit your lip to keep from screaming.

“It isn’t fair. I know,” she whispered. Her sympathy didn't make you feel better. “I won’t make excuses for him because what he has done is awful, but he isn’t entirely evil. He’s… flawed. We all are.”

Would Bucky be so flawed if people didn’t enable him or look the other way? “Do you think I’ll get used to belonging to him? I keep fighting it, but…” Doors kept getting slammed in your face in terms of help and that hope continued to fade. Was it time to accept the inevitable?

She considered your question. “I can’t say if you’ll get used to it, but there’s a careful balance between embracing a circumstance while maintaining your own boundaries. You need to find that.”

“But I have no boundaries thanks to Bucky,” you argued. He took them away.

“Maybe not now, but you could get some back down the line. He isn’t a man most people win fights against, but he’s still just a man. Use what you know about him and sway him. You have a little more power than you think.”

You thought back to the club when Jax flirted with you. Bucky worked himself up, but your touch and soft demeanor helped calm him down. “I guess I could try,” you said. It seemed easy enough, but he was so good at swinging things in his favor that you had a hard time believing you had a chance.

“And it isn’t much, but I can offer you a space here to use on occasion if you need time away from him. I know you don’t believe he’ll let you use it, but I think you can convince him and you deserve a safe haven,” she said, smiling a little when she handed you a card. “I could even have one of the girls teach you some self defense if you’re interested in any lessons.”

You turned the card over. There was only a phone number listed and a black widow spider. “I appreciate the offer, Natasha,” you said, tucking it in your bag. It wasn’t freedom, but it was something. And whatever Natasha’s full story was, your heart went out to her. “Can I ask what the second thing is?”

“Excuse me?”

“You said Bucky has only wanted two things in the time you’ve known him and I’m one of them. What’s the other thing?”

She shook her head. “That’s for him to tell you.”

Ray came out of the room a moment later. “All clear. Not that I expected anything less from you and your staff, Natalia,” he said. It earned him a small smile as she passed his room card over. “I’ll be just across the hall if you need me.”

“And you can ask for me personally if you call the desk,” Natasha added.

“I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine,” you said honestly. As long as Bucky didn't show up. “I’ll just order some wine and food, curl up in bed, and finish reading my book.” You didn’t need much else.

“Are you sure?” Ray asked.

“I’m sure,” you smiled softly. He had done enough by bringing you there. “Thank you both.”

They each gave you a sympathetic gaze as you stepped inside and shut the door behind you. The red, black, and gray theme continued in the tastefully designed suite. It was the nicest hotel room you had ever been in. Too nice for someone like you.

Setting your bag down and removing your shoes, you went right to the bedroom with your phone and book. The large bed looked comfortable and inviting. Sighing as you stretched out, you stared at the ceiling and tried to reflect on what had recently transpired.

Natasha. She couldn't directly help you and she had her reasons, but she might be a good ally. She was at least in the camp that you deserved some sense of freedom and offered you a small form of sanctuary. It was better than nothing.

Ray, you still couldn't figure him out. Like Natasha, he wouldn't directly help you. Bucky said he was loyal and didn't let emotions cloud him. He seemed to care to an extent though.

You froze when a message popped up on your phone. It wasn't from Bucky though. It was from your coworker, Kate.

“Hey, girl! You know Clark? Pretty blue eyes. Super hot. He stopped in and asked when your next shift was.”

Your stomach twisted in knots. Why was he asking? “Hey. What did you tell him?”

Kate messaged back quickly and your stomach twisted up more. “Told him you’d be in tomorrow and he looked happy until Mrs. Crandle announced that you have a boyfriend?! Girl, WHAT?! I need all the details!”

You groaned and hid your face in the pillow. Mrs. Crandle meant no harm, but this was the last thing you needed. Maybe Clark wouldn't come around after hearing that. “I’ll tell you about it during our next shift together.”

You didn't look at your phone for the rest of the afternoon. Instead, you lost yourself in the pages of the book and only took a break to order a drink and meal from the room service menu. And true to Natasha’s word, no one disturbed you. The food was left outside of the door once ready. Natasha even had a nice pair of pajamas sent up for you.

It was a quiet and relaxing rest of the day.

But as the sun went down and you got ready for bed, you held up your left hand and looked at your bare ring finger. A shuddering breath left your lungs as you imagined a ring around your finger. How happy your friends would be that you found love. How happy Bucky would be to have you tied to him forever.

Glancing at the empty side of the bed after your delicious meal, you wondered how it was going to be sleeping next to Bucky. Was he a cuddler or would he want his own space? Would he hog the covers? You would find out soon enough, wouldn't you?

But for today, he left you alone. He kept his promise. Yes, he sent Ray to watch you, but he hadn't shown up or reached out. He actually gave you some space instead of smothering you. And with you in the suite, he didn't have eyes on you.

Who knows? Maybe his mood improved and he had a good day without you. One could only hope.

“Good night, Bucky,” you whispered, closing your eyes and getting the sleep you craved.

A loud knock on the door woke you. Slowly opening your eyes with a groan, you wondered what time it was. Your body alarm clock said it was too early. Stretching, you made your way to the door and stopped when you heard raised voices outside.

“Get the hell out of my way, Natasha.”

You gasped when you heard Bucky’s voice, the quick anger rushing through you making you clench your fists. God, you knew it. You knew he’d show up.

“Don't make me put you on your ass, Barnes.” Natasha didn't sound afraid at all. What was it like to not have fear? “I’ll repeat myself in case you didn't hear me the first time: My instructions were that she wasn't to be disturbed and that includes you. So unless you're checking in, I suggest you leave. The fact that you’re even on this floor after I promised no one would bother her-”

“He was up here to speak with me,” Ray cut in.

“And I did. Now I need to see her,” Bucky said, the desperation in his voice making your heart ache.

“Boss, it’s two in the morning.”

“Exactly. You need to let her sleep. It’s the least you could do,” Natasha urged.

“I promised her the day to herself, but that day is up and I have to see that she’s okay,” Bucky argued. You were lucky he didn't knock on your door at 12:01. “I just need to see her with my own eyes.”

The bugs at your place would've given him access to whatever he wanted, but he didn't have that in the suite. It was probably driving him crazy. He sure as hell sounded out of sorts.

“Wow, an entire day. How generous.” You almost laughed at Natasha’s snark. It was appreciated. “Is this about Zemo? I know he saw her at the park, but he hasn’t been around here. We both know I’d never allow him to set foot in the door without a very good reason.”

“I still need to deal with him and he’ll be lucky if I don’t kill him with my bare hands,” Bucky growled, making you tense up.

“You have enough blood on your hands, but what’s one more body?” Natasha asked, the conversation reminding you once again that Bucky was a killer. “Look, I’m not going to disturb her and neither should you.”

“Natasha-”

“No. You played this wrong, Barnes. You could've chosen a compassionate route of courting her and eased her into this, but you intimidated her from the start and made it so she won’t ever be free of you. Maybe you're more like your father than-”

The sound of something colliding with the nearby wall made you jump back from the door, your heart thudding. It took a moment to get your bearings before you threw the door open to make sure Natasha was okay. The redhead, Ray, and Bucky all looked toward you and no one had a single mark on them. The wall beside the door, however, had a fist sized hole.

“Kotyonok,” Bucky smiled the second he saw you. He looked like he hadn't slept much. Good. Now he knew how it felt.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, not having it in you to scream, cry, or anything else. “And did you just punch a hole in the wall?”

He chuckled sheepishly, brushing off his gloved hand. “Yeah, I did that.”

He was unbelievable.

“I’m so sorry he woke you,” Natasha said, putting out an arm to stop Bucky when he stepped forward. “Back up, Barnes. You’ve seen for yourself that she’s fine.”

“Yep. I’m fine.” You gestured to yourself and yawned. “Can I please go back to sleep?”

“Can I come in for just a minute?” Bucky asked, a touch of guilt in his eyes when you narrowed yours. He was pushing his luck when all you wanted to do was go back to bed. “Please?”

“Apologize to Natasha for damaging her property,” you demanded. He had no right to do that.

“I’m sorry, Natasha,” he sincerely stated.

Natasha’s mouth parted before her cool expression took over again. “Thankfully no one else was on this floor, so you hopefully didn't disturb anyone else.”

Bucky's eyes were still on you, full of longing. “May I please come in?”

You mulled over it. Technically he still kept his promise and let you be for a day. You could be angry later that he showed up so early. For now, you needed sleep.

“Come in,” you said, surprising everyone, yourself included. “It’s fine,” you assured Natasha and Ray.

The redhead nodded after a moment and lowered her arm, but the bodyguard shot his boss a subtle glare. “You know I'll have to bill you for the damage,” Natasha told Bucky.

“I know,” he said. He could afford it.

“Thank you, Ray. Natasha. I hope you both get some rest, too,” you said, letting Bucky into the suite and shutting the door.

Bucky let out a breath as he looked you over, but didn't move any closer when you backed up. Of course he had to invade what was meant to be your haven for the night. Strangely, you weren't as nervous as usual to have him so close. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you mumbled, crossing your arms when he slipped his jacket off. “You really couldn't wait until after sunrise to see me?”

“I’m sorry. I was up late at the club and Ray said you were here and… I missed you,” he explained, his expression soft.

It was kind of nice to be missed. “I’m sure you did,” you yawned again. “King of the loopholes,” you added under your breath.

He ran a gloved hand through his hair. “And I’m sorry about Zemo. I should've known he would-”

You shook your head quickly. “Nope. Not having this talk when I'm still sleepy,” you said, heading toward the bedroom. It was too heavy of a discussion to have in the middle of the night. “Take your shoes off. We both know you aren't leaving.”

He looked surprised all over again when you looked back at him. “You’re letting me stay?” he asked, a smile on his face like you handed him a gift. “You aren't telling me to leave?”

“Stay or go, up to you, but I'm going back to sleep,” you said, curling up on the bed. “And if you sleep next to me, don't you dare let your hands wander.”

“And you’re letting me lay with you,” he said, the mattress dipping beside you. “You’re being very agreeable.”

“You’re lucky I’m choosing to be nice instead of kicking your ass or letting Natasha kick your ass for disturbing me and my sleep,” you said, tensing up when he spooned you, his arm wrapped tight around you and his breath warm against your neck. “We have some things to talk about when I wake up.”

Ray following you. Zemo. Natasha’s offer. Bucky’s mom. Your relationship.

“We can talk about whatever you want,” he whispered, nuzzling you gently as your eyes shut. “Did you miss me yesterday?”

“No,” you mumbled.

Your reply didn't stop him from chuckling. “Not even a little bit?”

You sighed. “If I say ‘yes’, will you let me sleep?”

“I will,” he answered.

“I missed you a little,” you said, snuggling further into the pillow. He placed his hand over yours and you blamed your tiredness for why you didn't tense up again. “Now sleep.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your neck, but didn't push any further, thankfully. “Thank you for letting me hold you.”

Your heart clenched. He sounded so happy just to be around you, just to be in your space. You were his everything.

“You’re welcome,” you mumbled, drifting off not long after.

Your last thought before you fell asleep was that you hoped Bucky would behave himself.

Lovelies, I think we all knew Bucky would show up the first chance he had. What do we think of Natasha? Is she being truthful that she can't help or is she biding her time? Will Bucky behave? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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