#it doesn’t look like it’s going that direction but | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phantomspiderr · 2 days ago

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Redamancy

Joaquin Torres x f!reader

The aftermath of sleeping with your best friend is never good—feelings grow where they weren't supposed to, and it drives a wedge in your relationship. Then things change...

warnings: 18+ mdni, fluff, to me joaquin is a very touchy person, little angst(?), overuse of the L word, cocky!Joaquin, mentions of sex, smut, no physical description of reader except being slightly shorter than Joaquin, petnames, mentions of eating and food, mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions/description of reader having a panic attack, platonic sam wilson

wc: 8.3K

━━━

“We should really stop doing this,” you pull your shirt over your head and look at Joaquin. He’s still wrapped up in the sheets, his hair a mess of curls and an amused expression gracing his face. He leans on one elbow, body turned in your direction as he watches you dress yourself.

“Why?” He almost laughs as he says it, and you feel your chest tighten at the sound.

“Because-“ you actually can’t think of a reasonable way out of this, other than outwardly telling him you can’t keep doing this. “Because you shouldn’t be so distracted.” The lie slips out so easily, but you can't find it in you to look him in the eye when you say it.

“I felt pretty focused last night.” He smugly spoke, a goofy grin appearing. He really wasn’t making this easy.

“You have better things to focus on, y'know, like saving the world.” You quip back, turning away from Joaquin, unable to glance in those chestnut eyes any longer. You distract yourself by pulling on your pants, acting as if that’s the reason you turned away and not because he has never looked more attractive than in this moment.

“I can focus on two things at once, you know? I’m very talented.” You can’t help the chuckle that leaves you; his overconfidence always seems to bring a smile to your face. You remember that shy little kid that you’d always share your lunch with, the one whose confidence grew after puberty when the girls suddenly started flocking to him. You can still see a glimpse of his former self every so often, but you love it when the confident man he’s turned into oozes out.

There’s a deafening silence after he speaks, and you don’t know how to leave now. You’d convinced yourself it would be easy to break off the whole sleeping with your best friend thing. You thought he’d be fine with going back to being just friends.

“Hey,” Joaquin’s voice is softer than before, coaxing you into looking around at him. There’s concern etched into his features as he sits upright, “If you don’t want to do this anymore, that’s okay.” You bite down on the inside of your lip and swallow down the lump forming in your throat.

“I just think you have a lot going on right now, Mr Falcon.” You’re deflecting, trying to play off the hurt in your voice and forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Joaquin smiles at you using his new title, but it fades just as quickly as it appeared. “I should probably go.”

“You don’t have to leave.” His reply comes before you’ve even finished.

“I have that thing and I have to do some stuff, so I should,” you know that he can see right through you. You’ve been friends long enough to be able to read each other like a book. This isn’t how you usually act around each other; it’s odd and uncomfortable, but since you realised you had growing feelings for him, you haven’t been the same.

It started simple, you worried about him every time he was on a mission, wondering if he’d come home in one piece or not. Then you felt tingly every time he sent a text to say he missed you. After a drunken night, you two had slipped into bed together, and suddenly you weren’t just friends. That began the craving for his touch. Not even in a sexual way, you just wanted to feel his hand on your back, his presence beside you, his head in your lap. You thought about him all the time, too. What was he doing, where was he, did he think about you? But it wasn’t until one of your friends mentioned the way you always lit up when you spoke about him that it all clicked. Instantly, you knew, after over a decade of friendship—and months of occasionally sleeping together—that you were completely head over heels for Joaquin.

“I’ll- I- see you later,” you scoop up your remaining belongings that are strewn on the floor, haphazardly moving toward the door. Joaquin is moving behind you, softly calling your name as you beeline for the exit. You don’t even stop to put your shoes on, just grabbing them and swinging the door open. Joaquin’s right behind you, just out of arm's reach, and you know he knows something is wrong. You can’t bring yourself to look at him any longer, knowing every second you look, you fall a little bit deeper. The door shuts before Joaquin can reach you, the solid wood separating you both. You stood with your back against the door, taking deep breaths before snapping yourself back into reality.

You are so fucked.

━━━

A week goes by, and you’ve barely spoken to Joaquin, let alone seen him. You use the excuse that Sam whisked him away for a few days to go on some scouting mission, but now you have no choice but to face the music. The day after they arrived back, Sam had invited a group of people, you included, to his place for a late afternoon barbecue, and you knew Joaquin would be there.

As you're out on the deck chatting to this woman you’ve never met before, you see him, he saunters in full of confidence with a smile on his face. You can’t help but think about how much you’ve missed him, and it’s only been a week. Your eyes keep moving between him and the woman you’re desperately trying to focus on as she tells you something about her kids… or her cats? Joaquin is welcomed by a few people as he enters the garden, and he briefly stops to exchange pleasantries before moving on. He grows closer, and now you can’t quite drag your eyes away from him. You fight the urge to excuse yourself and immediately go to him like you usually would, but there’s a hidden tension between you both, and it keeps your feet planted where they are. Your attention snaps back to the woman in front of you when you register the tail end of her question.

“You know what I mean?” You’re so glad she was too absorbed in her story to realise you weren’t paying attention.

“Uh Huh, yeah!” You nod enthusiastically.

“Speaking of my husband, I'd better go check that he’s not drinking all of Sam’s beer. It was nice meeting you!” The woman walks off in the direction of the kitchen, and you find yourself looking out to where you last saw Joaquin, but he’s nowhere to be seen. You sigh and lean against the railing, looking down at the gathering of people below. Knowingly searching for that familiar face.

“You look exactly like a girl I know!” Suddenly, Joaquin is by your side, startling you as he casually leans his back against the railing. “Unfortunately, she went awol about a week ago, but you… You’re the spitting image.” You feel a heat grow from your chest and move upward to your face. He finally looks at you, a bright smile on his face, and sheepishly, you spin the ring on your finger. You can’t bring yourself to respond or even look at him, feeling terrible for your lack of communication. “Hey,” Joaquin nudges you with his elbow, and your head turns slightly in his direction, “I missed you.” That brings a smile to your face as well as an eruption of butterflies in your stomach.

“I missed you, too.” Joaquin’s smile grows, and he lifts an arm out, signalling for you to fall into his arms like you always do. “I’m sorry for going awol,” you easily slip your arms around his waist as he tightens his around your shoulders. It’s like you can feel the tension disappear the longer you hold each other.

“It’s okay, just don’t disappear like that again.” Your whole body shudders when you feel his lips on your temple, it’s almost like he knows what he’s doing to you. You’re convinced he can feel the way your heart is racing, so you pull back, keeping a smile plastered to your face.

“I’m glad you managed to survive a week without me.” Joaquin laughs at your words, and it seems to relax you. He keeps his arm securely around you and pulls you in the direction of the kitchen.

“Another few days and I would’ve been a goner.” It’s your turn to laugh, and the sound makes him grin, his hand squeezing your shoulder, “Come on, I need a drink.”

Just like that, you both fall back into stride with one another, laughing and eating, then drinking until the sun goes down.

“I think he’s had enough,” Sam laughs as you all watch Joaquin stumble into the doorway on his way into the kitchen.

“You’re the one who bet him $20 that he couldn’t shotgun a beer three times!” You point at Sam, laughing too.

“It was twice! The kid’s just a lightweight.” Joaquin appears by your side, a goofy grin plastered to his face when he locks eyes with you. You can see just by the look in his eyes that he’s tired.

“I am not a lightweight!” Joaquin’s mind slowly catches up, and he waves a finger at Sam, causing the few people in the room to chuckle.

“Okay, well, prove it.” Sam slides another beer across the kitchen island, and your much less impaired reflexes stop it from slipping off the counter entirely.

“Weren’t you just the one who said he’d had enough?” You quip, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

“I don’t feel good.” Your head immediately whips around to Joaquin, concerned by his claim. His face scrunches up, and a hand comes up to his head.

“Why don’t you go lie down?” Your hand reaches out to rub his arm, and he just groans in response. “Come on, I’ll take you.” You help him turn back the way he just came, his body swaying so much that you wrap your arm around him. “If he’s sick, you’re cleaning it up, Wilson!” You call out over your shoulder as you assist Joaquin to Sam’s spare room, a room you’ve crashed in a handful of times before. Sam hollers back a few expletives as you exit, but you choose to ignore him. Instead, your focus is now fully on Joaquin. He’s like a dead weight as he sinks more into you the further you walk. He’s all encompassing; the heaviness of his arm around your shoulders, the heat of his body, the strong scent of his aftershave, it’s almost overwhelming.

“Why did you drink so much?” He’s practically whining when you sit him down on the bed, his body swaying slightly. Cautiously, you remove your hands from him.

“I had to.” You kneel in front of him and start undoing the laces of his shoes, but he is completely unwilling to assist you. He keeps his feet planted on the floor, making it difficult to get the shoes off.

“You didn’t have to do anything.” You giggle when you look up to see his brow furrowed and his bottom lip jutted out.

“I did,” he whines again, “had to forget.”

“You’re not making sense,” he sounds like a small child who isn’t willing to share all the details of why they’re upset. You do your best to manoeuvre his legs up onto the bed now that you've got his shoes off.

“I love you,” Joaquin whimpers as he finally helps to move his body to lie down. Meanwhile, now you’re frozen, just blinking at him, unsure what to do. “I love you so much, but I don’t think you love me.”

You’re about a second away from calling Sam in here to clean up your puke. Joaquin’s words render you speechless while he remains unbothered, just snuggling into the pillow, ready to rest. Your mouth opens as if to talk, but only a shaky breath comes out. You stutter out his name but get no response; the man just voiced a deep, dark secret and then fell dead asleep. A sigh leaves you as you look at him, so peacefully unaware that he’s changed your entire life with one simple sentence. You pull a blanket from the bottom of the bed to cover his body and take another look at his face. For a moment, you allow yourself to indulge, your fingers reaching to brush against his cheek. He rubs his face against the pillow like a cat before letting out a deep sigh and relaxing again.

“The bird brain must come with the suit.”

━━━

You’re startled awake by a hand on your shoulder, your eyes blinking a few times before Joaquin’s smiling face isn’t blurry. It takes your mind a minute to fully wake up, Joaquin’s words filtering through slowly.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” He crouches down to be eye level with you. A sleepy smile crosses your face. “What are you doing sleeping on a very uncomfortable-looking chair?” You take a second to remember what led up to this moment, memories flooding back.

“I was keeping an eye on you. I must have fallen asleep.” You straighten your back, feeling new aches as you stretch. “You were pretty drunk last night.” There’s a grin on his face that you mirror.

“Yeah, I have a headache to prove it,” he chuckles.

“Did you-“ he cuts you off before you can even finish.

“Yes, I took the Advil and chugged the water.” You settle back in the chair, although you don’t relax as you feel Joaquin’s hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing back and forth. It makes your heart rate spike. “Thank you for taking care of me, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know that’s what makes me so nice,” you say in a cheery tune, and without thinking, your hand reaches up to smooth back some of the hair that had fallen in his eyes. Joaquin lets out a satisfied sigh when your fingertips press against his scalp.

“Oh, keep doing that,” he manoeuvres his body to sit at your feet, easily making space for himself between your legs and placing his head in your lap. “‘feels good.” You obey his request, combing your fingers through his hair and enjoying the way his eyes shut softly at your touch. You stay locked together like this for a moment before your brain ultimately begins overthinking. Like he can sense it, Joaquin speaks up, “Why didn’t you just sleep in the bed? It’s not like we haven’t done that before.” He keeps his head planted in your lap, his eyes still shut, he looks so relaxed, but your head swims with anxiety.

“I told you I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You try to keep your voice steady, convincing yourself that you wouldn’t have rather slept right next to him last night instead of this crappy little chair.

“So you would’ve slept with me given the choice?” You choke on nothing but air, and Joaquin peeks an eye open before a short chuckle escapes him.

You clear your throat and put on a snarky tone, “I like you better when you’re sleeping.”

━━━

“Please come to dinner,” Joaquin whines, clapping his hands together like he’s praying. “You know that my mom loves you, and you can be my buffer.”

“Buffer for what?” You laugh at Joaquin’s dramatic flair, “Actually, no! Your mom has come here to visit you, not me.”

“Please, you know she’s going to grill me about my personal life and all this new Avengers stuff.” He now waves his hands in the air, making sure to punctuate every word, “plus she’s been asking about you, so it’s a win-win situation.” You look at Joaquin, pretending to think it over, but your facade fades when he gives you a comically wide smile. You can never find it in you to say no to him, especially when he looks at you like that.

“Fine,” you playfully roll your eyes when Joaquin overexcitedly begins celebrating, “but you’re making tamales!”

You’re stunned when Joaquin’s lips come in contact with your cheek, but you play it off with a small chuckle.

“You got it!” Joaquin starts walking backwards, the biggest grin on his face as he points at you, “I’ll see you tomorrow at 6!”

━━━

“Hey!” Joaquin immediately pulls you over the threshold into a tight hug. You barely manage to breathe out a small hi before he’s dragging you into his apartment and presenting you in front of his mother. You pretty much get the same treatment from her; she squeals your name before rushing out of the kitchen. Her arms are around you in a second, and you giggle at her welcome. Immediately, she begins asking you questions, not even allowing you a second to answer before she’s onto the next. She directs you to sit on the couch next to her, and she keeps your hands cupped in hers.

Joaquin’s mother has always treated you as if you were one of her own. When you were younger and you’d come over to hang out with Joaquin, she’d ensure you were always fed before leaving. She always included you in family outings or Sunday dinners. She was like a second mother to you, and you were always grateful that she loved you so sincerely.

“Ma, come on, if you’re gonna ask a question, you’ve got to leave room for an answer.” Joaquin interrupts only for his mother to tut and wave him off. You grin when you see Joaquin roll his eyes and shake his head as he moves back to the kitchen.

“You look good, cariño.” One of her hands strokes your face before cupping your cheek, “Oh, te he extrañado.” You smile so much that your cheeks hurt. You’ve been around Joaquin and his family long enough to have picked up more than a few words in Spanish, and you’ve become somewhat okay at following a conversation in the language. Joaquin interrupts again, calling for his mom to help in the kitchen. She sighs and mumbles to herself, asking how he manages to survive without her, before she moves off to help.

Only seconds later, Joaquin comes through the kitchen door, his hands raised in surrender, and you can hear his mom telling him off for something.

“I am not allowed in the kitchen anymore.” He plops down beside you on the couch, resting an arm behind you.

“What did you do?” You stifle a giggle because you can still hear his mom muttering loudly.

“I may have burnt her rice a little.” He winces when he says it, and you laugh, remembering the day his mom made him make multiple pots of rice until he got it right. Joaquin complained for a week straight about his arms aching from all the work.

“You’re never going to be allowed in the kitchen again,” you both laugh, and your head absentmindedly rests back against his arm as the noise dies out. Your heart thumps in your chest at the way he looks down at you. For a second, it feels like you’re being drawn together, an invisible force pulling you both in. You can’t help it when your eyes flicker to his lips; it’s been too long since you’ve kissed him, and your mind berates you for giving that up. You swear he can read your mind because now he’s looking at your lips, and you're convinced he’s getting closer.

“Come sit!” You both jump apart like two teenagers caught with the bedroom door shut as his mother's voice sounds through the apartment, “The food’s ready.”

You feel happy, and your appetite is sated. You’ve always enjoyed being around Joaquin and his family. It’s a side of your friend that not many get to see. He’s shyer in his mother’s company, not so cocky and over the top but still very much himself. He tells wild stories, going into great detail, and he manages to command the room whether there are 2 or 200 people. But he’s still just that shy kid at his core, the one who clams up when his mom brings up how unorganised his apartment is or how he needs to visit home more often.

“Mi corazón, when are you going to find a nice girl and give me grand babies?” Joaquin’s mom suddenly blurts out as he refills your glass. He almost spills the drink all over the table at the shock of his mother's words.

“Ay mami, not this again!” Joaquin groans, a hand coming up to scrub over his face.

“What?” She looks at you confused before opening her mouth again, “It doesn’t have to be a girl. You want to meet a nice boy?”

“Ma!” The pair delve into their native language, arguing about the topic while you sit with a hand covering your mouth. Joaquin takes one look at you and you almost lose it, stifling your giggles behind your hand.

His mother says your name and instantly stops your amusement. “You would both make beautiful grandchildren.” Your eyes go wide, looking at Joaquin and seeing a look of embarrassment wash over him. It’s not the first time someone has said something like that about you both, insisting that you’d both be a good couple, that you should be together. They even did it one time when Joaquin had just introduced his family to his girlfriend of 6 months years ago.

Joaquin’s chair scrapes against the floor, and in an instant, he’s on his feet.

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough!” His hand grabs the almost empty wine glass that sits on the table in front of his mother. He picks up more dishes as she begins to protest, and they argue more. You decide to help with clearing the table, really just trying to avoid being brought into the conversation again. The pair don’t seem to notice you slip away from the table and go towards the kitchen. You can still hear them arguing in the other room as you begin to place the dirty dishes into the dishwasher.

“She’s going to kill me if she sees you doing dishes.” Joaquin stands in the doorway, holding more dishes in his hands. “It’s the least I can do,” you say while continuing to fill the dishwasher. Joaquin begins assisting you until all of the dishes are put away.

“Thank you,” Joaquin holds out an arm, hooking it around your shoulders and pulling you into him. You sink into his hold, your arms coming around his waist. It’s almost like you feel his body relax the second you’re pressed together. “You don’t have to thank me for doing the dishes, I told you it’s the least I could do.”

“I’m not talking about that.” His other arm circles around your shoulders, and now he hugs you tightly. His chin comes to rest on the top of your head, “I mean, just thank you. For being here, for everything.” You pull back to look at him, and suddenly you’re hit by an overwhelming feeling. It leaves you frozen, looking up at Joaquin’s bright eyes that stare back at you. There’s a second where his gaze falls downward; had you blinked, you would’ve missed it, but you didn’t, you saw the way he looked at your lips. Now you’re copying him, glancing at his lips, and your breath hitches when you feel his hand come in contact with your cheek. Fingers slowly and deliberately brushing against your skin, your lips part, and a shaky breath escapes you. Joaquin’s eyes keep darting across your face, and your mind races at the close proximity. Your hands slide around to rest on his sides, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if to anchor you to him. You both seem to move in slowly, foreheads gently pressing together, and Joaquin nudges his chin towards yours. His lips barely brush yours, breaths mixing for a few seconds. It’s like he’s waiting for you to decide, like he wants to know if you want this too. It would be so easy to kiss him right now, but what would that mean? Guilt begins to wrack through your body. He doesn’t know that you know, you don’t even know if he meant what he said at Sam’s house.

“I-I,” You stutter out, preparing yourself to ask him if he meant it, but your lack of conviction throws Joaquin. He pulls away from you almost instantly, and you feel a shiver run through your body.

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t even look at you when he says it, and you feel your heart splinter. “No, no, I just need to-” You’re cut off when Joaquin’s mom enters the kitchen, and you both instantly act like what just happened didn’t happen.

“I cannot believe you would leave your precious mami alone at the dinner table.” She remarks, tapping her hand against Joaquin’s cheek. “I left you your wine glass, didn’t I?” Joaquin quips, directing his attention to his mother now. He slips an arm around his mother’s shoulders and turns her back out of the kitchen. They fall into a conversation and leave you standing, lost in your thoughts, alone in the kitchen.

You’ve messed up, and you don’t know how to fix it.

━━━

You waited until his mom returned to Miami to attempt to bring up the topic of that night, but every time you tried, Joaquin seemed to change the subject. He then seemed to be avoiding you; his messages grew further apart, and his reasoning for not hanging out became less believable as the days went on. It soon turned into weeks of not seeing one another, and your heart ached. You wanted things to go back to normal.

“You ready?” Sam’s voice filters through your thoughts, and you look up at him, a half-hearted smile on your face when you see his hand outstretched toward you. Your head nods as you take his hand and stand from your chair.

Sam had been invited to a big fancy charity gala, and he had asked you to be his plus one, something that you cautiously accepted. It was a big deal to be seen alongside the Captain America, and you knew that Sam had asked you because it would be good for his public image. That and people knew you were both close friends, and nothing more, minus a few stray publications that liked to stir up drama at any given moment.

“You look good.” Sam compliments you once you’re both in the car, and the driver takes off for your destination, you turn to smile at your friend. “Thanks, you don’t look half bad yourself.” Sam swipes his hands against his lapels, clearly feeling himself in that moment.

The rest of the car journey is quiet, just the sounds of the street outside and the radio that quietly lulls through the speakers. It’s completely the opposite when you step out of the car; there’s a carpet to walk on, and photographers line both sides. Nerves creep in when you take in the sea of people and all the flashing lights, but Sam’s there to help you along. You’re glad when his assistant only makes you stand in a handful of photos; you can already see the headlines that those specific tabloids will make up by morning. You mostly get to stand on the sidelines, watching Sam pose for pictures, and you actually begin to enjoy yourself. You get a laugh out of Sam’s natural charisma when he answers questions in interviews or when he tells the cameras to get his good side. You’re almost done with the carpet when you hear commotion behind you, your gaze falls to the source, and you’re surprised by what you see. Joaquin stands tall in a stunning forest green suit, and you’re genuinely left speechless. Cameras snap pictures of him, then there’s a commotion again when he lifts a hand out to the side, and your smile falls when you see a beautiful woman emerge from the crowd of people on the carpet. She stops at Joaquin’s side, tucking herself under his arm, and they look into each other’s eyes a little too longingly. They pose for pictures together, her hand comes to rest on his chest before she tucks away a stray curl from the side of his face. They appear to exchange words before she giggles at whatever was said, and suddenly, you feel sick. You can’t seem to drag your eyes away from the pair as they move up the carpet together. You feel a tightness spread through your chest, and your clothes suddenly feel like they're restricting your ability to breathe. You can feel all the joy drain from your body, and suddenly the ground feels as if it’s crumbling under you.

“You alright?” Sam’s hand cups your elbow, pulling your attention to him, and you try to open your mouth to say something, but you only manage to take in a stuttered breath. Your hands feel shaky, and your eyes sting. Sam doesn’t wait for an answer when he sees your distressed state. He’s subtle in the way he manoeuvres you inside, out of the paparazzi's beady eyes. You’re not even sure where you’re going, eyes glued to the ground as your head swims with thoughts.

“Take a deep breath.” You can hear Sam’s voice, but it feels far away. “Hey, eyes on me.” You look up, overwhelmed to see you’re somewhere else, somewhere unknown. Then your eyes find Sam’s, and he instructs you again to take a deep breath. This time, you try. Sam follows suit; you mirror each other, taking deep breaths until Sam sees you coming back to yourself. “What’s going on with you two?” You’re taken aback by the question, your gaze falling downwards. He doesn’t even have to say his name for you to know who he’s talking about.

“It’s nothing.” You mutter quietly, wringing your hands together as if the nervous tick wouldn’t give you away.

“You just had a panic attack at the sight of him. It’s not nothing.” Sam speaks sternly, and when you look up at him again, his eyebrow is raised; there’s no chance you’re leaving here without telling him the truth.

You can’t look at him when you speak, tears welling in your eyes again. “I’m in love with him.” Sam’s the first person you’ve admitted that to, and if you weren’t in your current predicament, you’d maybe feel slightly relieved by the admission. Sam goes to respond, but you cut him off, feeling the need to give him all the information. “And we’ve been sleeping together.” Sam can’t hide his surprise at that confession, and you find yourself tripping over your words, unable to stop the word vomit. “I mean, we were until I told him we should stop. And then you remember your barbecue a few weeks back?” Sam nods, listening to every word. “Well, when I put him to bed, he told me he loved me, but he was drunk, so he didn’t mean it right?” Sam tries to interrupt, but you just keep going. “Then I think we almost kissed the other week, but I stopped him because I felt guilty for not talking to him about what he said at your house. We’ve barely spoken in the last week, now he’s here with-with.” You can’t bring yourself to admit it, to say he’s moved on to someone else, that he looks happy without you. “ I messed up, I messed up so bad, Sam.” Your head falls into your hands, and embarrassment seeps into your mind. This was not the time or place to have such a breakdown.

“Are you done?” Sam waits a beat to ask his question since you interrupted his prior efforts to speak. You can’t even will yourself to speak again, fearing you’ll make this all worse. So, you lift your head, sheepishly looking at Sam before nodding. “You two are the most oblivious people I’ve ever met, and I’ve met a lot of idiots.” His hand rests on your shoulder, and he cranes his neck down to force eye contact. Your brows join together at his words, but he pauses your stream of thoughts. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” Sam pats your shoulder before turning away from you and leaving abruptly.

Now that you’re left alone, your eyes scan the foreign room. It’s just a small side room, close enough to the foyer that you can still hear the roar of people on the carpet and in the building. It’s dimly lit, but you can make out the few pieces of art hanging on the walls and some scattered pieces of furniture. You find a chair tucked into an alcove near the door, and sit, your foot nervously tapping against the marble floor. The wait feels never-ending. You’re not even sure where Sam was going, what he was doing or why he had you wait here. Did he just want you to get yourself together so you could go out there and do what you were here to do?

The clicking of your heel stops the second you hear the door open. “Careful, man, do you know how expensive this suit was?” You swear your heart stops when you hear Joaquin’s voice. You will the ground to open up and eat you whole, the last thing you want is for Joaquin to see you like this. The pair fully enter the room, and Sam closes the door behind him. “What was so important that I couldn’t finish my conversation?” Joaquin’s voice dies out when his eyes lock on yours, and that sick feeling washes over you again.

“You,” Sam points in your direction, “up.” You listen to his instruction, standing from the chair as they approach you. Sam has a hand wrapped around Joaquin’s bicep, directing him toward you. Joaquin says a few words, but Sam stops him, holding a hand in the air to silence him. He drops both his hands at his sides before he speaks again. “You two need to talk. Figure out whatever is going on here.” Joaquin keeps his eyes on Sam, looking at him with confusion, which makes Sam roll his eyes. “You are in love with him.” Sam gestures at you, then Joaquin. “And you are in love with her.” He does the opposite now. “Now figure your shit out.” Sam immediately turns and begins to step towards the door. “Where the hell are you going?” Joaquin raises his voice. “Well, I’ve got a better chance with your date than with mine. So, I’ll be out there mingling.” He says matter-of-factly before turning away again and leaving the room permanently.

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. It’s so uncomfortable to be like this with your best friend. The silence is eating you alive. Joaquin hasn’t even looked at you since Sam’s proclamation.

“You two looked good together.” You cringe the second the words leave your mouth, and you look anywhere but at him, even when you know his eyes are finally on you again. “She’s not- She’s just someone from work. I got paired with her for the gala. It’s just a publicity stunt.” Joaquin replies quickly, and you catch him fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket. “She’s nice but she’s not…” his sentence trails off, and your eyes finally fall on him. He looks even better this close up; it makes your thoughts falter. “Not what?” You cautiously ask, slightly scared of the answer. There’s a moment's silence before he finishes his thought. “Well, she’s not you.” He breathes out, and with your eyes on him, you see the nervousness written all over his face.

“Did you mean it?” The words come out before you can fully register them, and your heart races the closer you are to the answer. ��Mean what?” Confusion crosses his features at your question, and you have to swallow down your fear. You’re in this now; it’s now or never. “You told me you loved me, and you didn’t think I felt the same.” Joaquin’s eyes widen, but you continue. “You were drunk, and if you didn’t mean it, that’s okay.”

“I meant it.” He interrupts, not allowing you to finish whatever you were going to say. Silence envelops you both again. Your mind races, never once had you entertained the idea that he would be in love with you. Not even after he had admitted it to your face. Now you’re unsure where to go from here.

“I have loved you for a long time.” You look at him with wide eyes, Joaquin’s now the one trying to look anywhere but at you. “When you didn’t mention it that morning, I convinced myself it was a dream.” His eyes are glassy, and you can feel your stomach sinking. “I thought when you cut things off, that you didn’t feel the same. I thought-“

“Stop thinking.” You’re rushing toward him before you can convince yourself otherwise. Your hands go to his face, and finally, after so long, your lips are pressed together again. You’re rushing through it, whereas Joaquin’s slow. His hands hesitantly rest on your hips, and you can feel how tense he is just by being near him.

“Wait.” You pull your face away the second you hear him speak, but your hands stay put on either side of his face. You’re still close enough to feel his breath on your face. “What does this mean?” Joaquin sounds so meek, and if this were any other situation, you might have laughed. Instead, you look at him and try to convey the emotions that you feel for him. When that doesn’t seem enough, you open your mouth to speak. “It means I love you, too.” Joaquin’s the one who surges forward this time, he kisses you with fervour now. It knocks all the air out of your lungs, and you cling to him like never before. His arms slip around your back, pulling you flush against him now. The kiss quickly becomes passionate, your tongues mingling as your chests heave. Your hand slips into his hair, messing up the styled locks immediately.

“Hold on.” Joaquin retreats again; he sounds out of breath when he speaks, and your hazy brain becomes confused. Was this not what you both wanted? “No, no. Just give me a second.” He kisses you again as if he can see the panic in your eyes, but you’re still confused when Joaquin moves away from you. A chill hits you now that his warmth isn’t encompassing you. You watch as Joaquin goes to the door, opening it just enough for his head to fit, and he looks out as if he’s surveying the area. Then he’s shutting the door again, and there’s an echoed click before he turns back to you.

“What are you doing?” You ask curiously as he approaches you. “Something I should’ve done a long time ago.” The moment he’s close enough, he reaches for you, arms securing around your waist. His hands rest on your back as he dives in for another kiss, this time with the confidence you’re used to. Your hands come up to rest on his chest, under the lapels of his jacket, and you're pushing the clothing off his shoulders somewhat absentmindedly. Joaquin dominates the kiss easily, slipping his tongue into your mouth as he walks you backwards. You bump into the arm of the chair you had perched on earlier, and you break apart momentarily to giggle as Joaquin apologises. His hand comes up to hold the back of your head just before your back comes in contact with a wall. Your lips part once again, both panting as you observe one another.

“Is this okay?” Joaquin’s confidence falters momentarily, but you don’t allow his doubt to creep in. Immediately, you nod your head before speaking. “This…This is all I’ve thought about for months.” A grin spreads over his face, and his head falls to your shoulder as if he’s suddenly gotten all shy. “Months, really?” His breath hits your neck and causes a shiver to run through your body. Then, as you open your mouth to speak, he presses his lips to your neck, and your breath hitches this time. You make room for him, your head lolling to the side as he continues to kiss along the column of your neck. “Probably since that first night you kissed me.” Your words come out ragged as his hands move along your body with newfound confidence. “Really?” His head raises, and he looks down at you. There’s a dark glint in his eyes, a look you’re somewhat familiar with but haven’t seen in quite some time. You nod your head hastily before you’re dragging him back in. One hand pulls him by the back of the neck while the other tugs on his dress shirt. Your lips are on his once again, you part only for a moment to speak. “I think it’s obvious that I want you. Now, are you going to do anything about it?” It��s Joaquin’s turn to pull you in; he kisses you with passion as his wandering hands attempt to manoeuvre your clothing. Gasps fall past your lips when only moments later, his fingers expertly slip into your underwear. Joaquin pulls his head back, a smirk plastered to his face as he takes in your reaction to his touch. He breathes heavily as he watches the way you keen for him the second he slips a finger into you. Your whole body rises, hands clinging to Joaquin as he finds the perfect rhythm. It’s a blessing and a curse that he already knows all the ways to please you, and he seems to take great joy in that fact. His name slips out of your mouth, mixed with a choked moan.

“I’m here. I’ve got you.” He kisses your cheek, then along your jaw until he makes his way back to your neck. He slows his hand and eases another digit into you. Your breathing stutters, and instinctively, your leg raises, knee resting against his hip. Joaquin’s free hand moves along your thigh, holding the flesh firmly in place. The new angle has Joaquin’s palm grinding against your clit and the feeling becomes overwhelming when he picks up the pace. His fingers rock into you quicker now, and you pull him closer, your arm now wrapped around the back of his neck. You had tried to muffle your moans, biting down hard on your lip, but eventually they began to slip through the cracks. You had to clasp your hand over your mouth to suppress a particularly loud moan. “Is that it, baby? That feel good?” His voice is muffled, vibrating against your neck. He pulls back after he says it, a dark look in his eyes. An embarrassingly piercing noise escapes you when your eyes fall on his face. A few stray curls fall into his eyes, and impulsively, your hand moves up to push them back. Your fingers barely press against his scalp, but it’s enough for his eyes to flutter shut for just a second, his pace faltering too.

“I love you.” The words slip out when your eyes lock with his, and you watch a smile grow on his face. Joaquin shifts forward, a chaste kiss pressed to your lips. “I love you.” He reassures before kissing you again, and that’s enough to bring you to the precipice. Your hand grips his shoulder agonisingly tight while the other slips into his hair. The groan he lets out when your fingers accidentally tug on his curls sends you straight over the edge. You tug him forward, pressing your head into his neck as your body is wracked with pleasure. This time feels different to all the times before, something about the confessions of love that made this orgasm feel more intense than the others. Your mind feels dizzy, your fingers ache from how hard you’re gripping onto him, and the blood pumping in your ears is deafening.

“I got you. I got you, angel.” Your mind had gone blank, but Joaquin’s gentle voice slowly pulled you back. He quietly shushes you when you whine as he gradually slips his fingers from you. “It’s okay, baby. Just hold on for me.” Lazily, you lift your head until it rolls back, thudding against the wall. Immediately, Joaquin’s brows pull together, and the hand that was resting on your leg comes up to the back of your neck. “Hey, careful!” A dopey grin appears on your face as you look up at him. He catches you staring, and the concern that was just etched into his features disappears instantly.

“You love me.” You’re beaming when you speak, your brain still in a hazy post orgasmic state. His lips curved upwards, and his light chuckle echoed in the room. “Yeah. I really do. And you love me.” His thumb brushes against your cheek, and there are a few seconds where you both just stare into one another’s eyes. “Always.” You both lean in, lips brushing together until a loud banging pulls you apart. You both look at the source before Joaquin turns back to you. “Stay there.” He presses another kiss to your lips before he moves away. The lack of his presence sobers you up instantly, your logical brain kicking in. Your hands move quickly to fix your ruffled clothing as Joaquin unlocks the door and opens it to reveal Sam. Joaquin had tried to only open the door a fraction, but Sam’s able to push it open further without much effort.

“When I told you to figure your shit out I didn’t mean trigger the security to a possible safety risk.” The colour drains from your face at Sam’s words. “So, you just didn’t want me ruining your fancy suit, is that what it was?” Sam laughs, smoothing out the shoulder of Joaquin’s suit jacket that now has considerable creases in the fabric. Heat creeps up your neck the more Sam teases. “Clean yourselves up and keep it in your pants until you get home.” Sam looks between you both, pointing a finger at Joaquin for the latter part of his statement. “Unless you want SWAT breaking down the door next.”

Finally, the ridiculousness of the whole situation catches up to you, and you have to cover your mouth as you giggle. Joaquin and Sam look at you for a second before letting out chuckles themselves. Sam slaps a hand down on Joaquin’s shoulder, “I’ll see you out there.” Then he’s gone, and Joaquin clicks the door shut again.

“Stop laughing, " Joaquin says, chuckling as he approaches you. Joaquin’s words only make you laugh more. It’s only when he stops in front of you once again that they die out. His hands slip onto your waist, and his head falls onto your shoulder. Instinctively, your fingers find their way into his hair again, and he just allows you to hold him tenderly for a moment.

“I missed you.” His voice is barely a whisper, but you hear it. Your heart aches for just a moment, you had both wasted so much time. You repeat his words back to him before placing a kiss to the side of his head. Joaquin straightens his back, looking down at you again. There’s a look of joy spread across his face, it’s infectious and soon enough, you’re grinning as you look in his eyes. Joaquin leans in to place a single kiss on your lips before he pulls away. You watch with amusement as he adjusts his trousers before he offers his arm to you. Happily, you link your arm through his, and you take a second to look at him again. “Eres tan hermosa,” he smiles softly as his free hand comes up to hold your cheek, and suddenly you feel shy. Your gaze falls away as you lean further into his hand, and Joaquin moves to kiss your slightly pouted lips. He takes his time with the first kiss, then changes to give you a few quick pecks.

“You know my mom’s going to lose her mind when she hears about this.” Joaquin chuckles as he pulls away, his hand falling from your face. You giggle in response before a wave of panic hits you. “Please do not tell her about how this happened!” Your eyes go wide, and it takes a second for Joaquin to register what you mean. Then he’s laughing, “No! No way! Definitely not.” Now you’re laughing, finding his amusement infectious. “Okay, good.” Joaquin takes a step, and you immediately follow, but you halt right as Joaquin’s hand rests on the door handle. You mumble about needing to fix his tie before freeing your arm from his. Your hands delicately flatten the shirt beneath his jacket before adjusting his tie. He keeps his eyes on your relaxed face the whole time, his hands coming to rest on your waist as you fix his collar.

“I love you.” The words come out of his mouth with ease, a tender smile on his face. Your eyes move up to his, and this time, you feel butterflies in your stomach when you look at him. You push up on your tiptoes so your lips touch his again. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to you saying that.” Your feet rest back on the ground,d and you go back to Joaquin’s side, looping your arm back through his. You reach for the door handle now, slowly swinging the door open before you both step out.

Suddenly, you feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted. Joaquin’s presence beside you feels so natural, like he was always meant to be there. He looks at you with nothing but love in his eyes. There’s something so precious about the way your heart feels when he looks at you now. You don’t have to second-guess your feelings or the way you act around him. He makes it so easy to feel like this is the way things have always been; his hand in yours, a secret kiss when he thinks no one is watching, or a few whispered compliments, it all feels like it’s meant to be.

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strawberrystepmom · 1 day ago

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dante x f!reader. established relationship, light angst with a happy resolution. | wc: 1.9k, reading time: ~7 minutes

“If you go this time, don’t come back. I don’t want you here.”

The words blow through Dante’s memory like a chilly wind, not unlike the one that is sweeping through the nearly deserted city streets tonight. His jacket’s collar is popped over the bottom portion of his face to obscure him from the eyes of anyone who may be looking than it is to fight against the cold, his hot blooded nature coming in handy on nights like these where he has to keep himself warm.

He’s had a lot of those nights lately and they make him wander the streets aimlessly if he isn’t working. He’d call it a patrol if someone asked but he knows the truth about why he does it.

Your part of the city is a bit nicer than his despite there only being a few blocks separating them. He wanders around looking at nicely kept shop windows, all of which keep normal business hours, closed and locked and tidy. A tidy neighborhood meant for tidy people. He’s sullying this like he does everything else.

Sighing, he shoves his hands deeper into his jacket pockets and walks toward your apartment complex with his face pointed forward. Seeing his own reflection would only solidify how terrible he feels right now, certain the outside is reflecting the inside which is a mess since you told him you didn’t want to see him again.

Your reasoning makes perfect sense. You aren’t just a warm occasional bed or a nice meal or the owner of the only place that feels like it has light left in it in the entire world, you’re more and you deserve to be treated as such, which is far more than Dante can do for you as he is right now. Unfortunately, he made a promise to you after you first met that he’d always keep you safe, no matter what.

Dante doesn’t break a promise. Not anymore.

Punching in your personal code for the door of the apartment building where you reside, he raises a brow curiously noticing you still haven’t changed it. The first time he tried it and he worked would be the last, he promised himself. Then he returned the next night and did it again. And again. And again. And now, weeks later, he’s punching it in without even looking over his shoulder.

0127 - the date of the night the two of you met for the first time.

Looks like you aren’t quite ready to move on yet yourself. It would be foolish to hope maybe you’ve softened your stance toward a man who doesn’t deserve such grace so he squashes the flame that the number stokes in his heart.

He takes the narrow, metal stairs two at a time to decrease the chance someone will hear his heavy footsteps and peek out - it is 2 o’clock in the morning after all. There’s no telling what you’ve told your nosy neighbors if you’ve told them anything and he is loath to think that the noise complaints they made about the two of you specifically, about giggling and lovemaking both, continued because you’ve brought someone else into your life. He’d like to think he knows you better than that and you wouldn’t but lonely hearts do crazy things to feel full for even a little while.

Standing in front of your door, Dante thinks better of this for the first time since he started. What if someone else is in there? Even worse, what if you aren’t home? Will he traverse through the city for the rest of the night to find you?

Yes, of course he will but thankfully as he reaches for the doorknob, the subtle scent of you drifts around the door. Not in the way all people’s homes kind of smell like them but you, direct from the source. Not arousal, not fear, just you.

He breathes a sigh of relief and reaches to lift the little placard you keep on your door welcoming guests in, unsticking the spare key from its secret hiding place. He slips it into the lock and it unlatches as always.

You hear it from your bedroom. The locks components slide over one another then you hear the door open quietly. Your guest is attempting to hide the little squeak from the hinges by keeping their foot beneath the bottom one and shutting

There is one singular person who knows both where the spare key is kept and how to keep the door quiet. Chuckling quietly, you curl into your bedding and shift to lay on your back so that you can watch what’s happening through the open bedroom door. You silently thank whatever is out there, shutting your eyes tightly for a millisecond before footsteps reverberate through your quiet apartment again confirming what you already knew.

Dante. He’s come back.

The footsteps continue for a few moments and stop in the kitchen. You hear the jingle of your keys being swept out of the way on the counter, wondering what he could be reaching for.

It’s the picture of the two of you on the counter, the one you just took off of the fridge last night. It made you ache to look at while retrieving a glass of water so you pinched it off of the fridge and put it aside. He pinches it in the same way, frowning softly.

It isn’t too late to turn around and walk out, he thinks. But he came all this way and needs to get a good look at you just to make sure you’re okay.

Placing the picture down on the counter, he steps as quietly as he can in boots across the wooden floors. He’s held your hand and danced with you through these rooms during happier times and you’ve listened to him talk about his pain freely during the hard ones.

Why does it feel like this may be the last time he ever memorizes himself as a fixture in your place, your life?

Dante’s footsteps still as they approach the edge of the living room that then continues on to your bedroom. The door separating the rooms is rarely closed unless you have someone over and it’s open tonight, as always. He sighs and takes a few more steps, walking past the couch and tipping his head to look over the doorway.

“I know it’s you.”

Shit. Of all the things he’s thought about since coming here, never once did he think that you may be awake. A more idealistic part of him hoped for it, maybe, but now that it has happened he freezes in his tracks and comes to rest, standing across the room from you. It feels like a world apart.

“I never should have come,” he states simply, coolly though it’s a facade to hide his pounding heart. The possibility that you’ll deny him again races through his head and now that he has been caught doing his nightly ritual, there’s a chance things could end up even worse than they have been lately. It’d be what he deserves.

You let silence linger for a moment, working up your courage to say what you’ve been thinking since that unfortunate evening that ended with him simply nodding and leaving, shutting the door behind him and erasing his presence from your life since.

“And I never should’ve said something that I didn’t mean to you.”

You sigh, using your left index finger to bend the right middle one backward, your eyes glued on the stretch of the digit rather than the only eyes that have ever made you feel seen that look at you across familiar darkness.

“There’s one place you will always belong, Dante and it’s here.” Nodding, you swallow. “With me.”

He says nothing, statue still in the darkened doorway. The big window in your living room backlights him in shades of late night neon, the reflection of a reddish halo above his snow capped head. A little part of you thinks you’re dreaming, saying all the things you’ve kept to yourself over the difficult few weeks that have passed to an apparition of a man you’d give anything to see again at this point. Perhaps your sanity is the first of those things you’re freely giving yet this feels real. So you keep speaking.

“And I want you here even if you don’t believe it. Even if you think I’m mean or crazy or you don’t love me…”

The air in the room shifts.

“Don’t say that.”

His silhouette slips through the door, past the creaky floorboard.

There are many things in this world that he can tolerate but you doubting his feelings is not one of them. Heavy footsteps ring through the room. Your discarded clothing that should’ve been put in the hamper becomes a victim to muddy boots that should’ve been cast off at the door despite his haste to see you.

“I love you.”

The words come from the side of the bed, Dante kneeling at the side of it though he’s practically lying across it with how low it rests above the floor. Your eyes finally focus in the darkness, allowing you to clearly make him out for the first time in a while.

He’s as sharp and beautiful as ever yet haunted, dark circles indicating sleepless nights giving him away. Stubble dots his chin and cheeks, your palm graced by its sharpness when you reach out to cup his jaw. Your mouth bunches in on itself, quivering lips hiding while your sniffles give you away.

“I’m so sorry. I’m such a selfish brat and you don’t deserve it.”

You burst into tears, a sob wracking your body. A balloon of sympathy bursts inside of Dante and he reaches for your hand that rests on his cheek, covering it and weaving his fingers over yours.

“We all say things we aren’t proud of,” he mutters.

It’s a covert acceptance of your peace offering because he knows you’d overreact to a direct one. It’s also a plea for you to stop talking badly about yourself. He has been through enough, the last thing he wants is to listen to this, this painful self flagellation.

“Yeah but I don’t want to be so afraid of losing you it makes me hurt you either.”

You are so precious he cannot even begin to fathom that you see yourself as anything lesser. He smiles softly.

It’s the first time he’s felt like doing so for weeks.

“Then I’ll just keep reminding you that there’s nothing to be afraid of. There are no monsters that I can’t handle for you.”

You silently point downward with raised eyebrows, the faintest hint of a smile flickering across a handsome face when he realizes you mean the tiny space just beneath your bed.

“It’d be a little hard for a monster to slip under there but yeah, exactly. Not the ones under your bed.” He raps his knuckles gently against your forehead. “Not even the ones in your head.”

You reach up to wrap one of your hands around his fist, warm tears sliding down your cheeks when you close them. The two of you remain like that for a few moments, simply enjoying the warmth of the other's presence. You swallow the lump in your throat and look up at him.

“We aren’t perfect apart but I know we’re perfect together.”

Dante nods, leaning in to press his forehead against yours.

“I can’t help but agree with that.”

#dante x reader #dante x you #dante sparda x reader #dante sparda x you #dmc x reader #dmc x you #kendall writes #danken

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cookiieduh · 2 days ago

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Just like candy .ᐟ

.Can you really blame him? You’re just too sweet—it’s not his fault he can’t get enough!

.pairings.ᐟ choso x reader, geto x reader, gojo x reader.

.cont.ᐟ MDNI, fem!reader, cunnilingus (duh), JJK men get pussy-drunkkk, fingering, edging, praise, dirty talk, pet names, light dacryphillia, overstimulation, hint of dumbification, not proof-read, porn with litch no plot, light bondage perhaps, dom and sub dynamic (geto),

.extra.ᐟ whew… jumping straight into it lol. part two with the other JJK men. soon.

CHOSO KAMO٠ ࣪⭑ hold on tight .ᐟ

“Mmph, babyyy,” Choso mumbles deliriously against your cunt, the vibrations of his husky, almost whiny, voice against the sensitive flesh making you bite back a squeal.

He has you sprawled out across the mattress, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs as he holds them apart, preventing them from quivering shut in attempts to quell the onslaught of his crazed tongue.

“C-Cho, s’too much!” you choke out, head barely raising before immediately falling back, as if there was a magnetic pull between your cranium and the pillow. You writhe under the press of his upper body, legs shaking beneath his palms because he just doesn’t. Let. Up.

“C’mon, baby. Please, jus’ a little more,” He pulls back for a second, blown out eyes meeting your glossy ones as his warm breath puffs over your abused sex.

Maintaining eye-contact, Choso’s tongue lolls out once more, just barely grazing your clit.

Light taps and swirls until the little kitten-licks grow bolder, flicking between that sensitive bundle of nerves to those puffy folds. His fingers continue to press into your thighs, kneading the muscle as he continues the assault.

He’s been going for so long, is his jaw not aching?

Well, it is. But, hey, any ache is worth seeing you melt into a puddle right before his eyes.

“Ngh—oh, fuuuck!” Your chest heaves with dry sobs, boobs bouncing hypnotically as you twitch. You can feel your boyfriend smile against your sore pussy before licking another stripe up the swollen folds.

Choso laps and laves at your cunt like a man possessed, never giving you even a second of reprieve. Honestly, you’re not sure how much more you can give him.

One of your hands slides up to squeeze your breasts as your back lurches off the bed, the other flying to thread through your lover's messy, black tresses.

“You’re so, mmh, squirmy,” you can hear the smirk in his voice as he moans lowly against your slit, giving it one last messy kiss before he pulling away to take in the view you’re presenting him with: Hair beyond mussed by your endless thrashing against the pillows, shirt ridden up to the base of your throat, red marks blooming on the plush of your tits after grabbing them so tightly.

What a beautiful mess.

Chin glistening, Choso grins as you, utterly whipped and entirely pussy-drunk. “Think you can give me oneee more, baby?” He rasps, head dipping down to rest against your stomach. He plants kisses just above your navel, and you think that this might be your chance to catch a break.

Much to your dismay, you thought wrong.

Choso continues to trail kisses across the soft skin of your tummy, grip loosening around your thighs, only to trail further up. Another desperate mewl is pulled from your throat as his index finger meanly skims circles around your clit, avoiding giving the nub any direct attention.

You want to cry.

“You s-said, jus’ a lil’ more,” you whine, tears gathering at the edge of your lashes after throwing your head back for the nth time this evening.

The only response you get is an amused snort. His fingers continue to evade the place you need them most, purposely, torturously.

“Looking so pretty when you’re all messy f’me.” He murmurs adoringly, wholly ignoring your rebuke that rings hollow to even your ears.

Choso watches your body jerk with a mix of fascination and fascination, observing the way you buck your hips, seeking something more than the way he barely dips his fingers in and out of your slick entrance.

It’s the sweetest torture once he finally slips the digits inside your silky cavern, curling them so suddenly, so forcefully, that it makes you see stars behind your tightly shut lids. “Oh, there she is.” Choso simpers lazily as he pumps his middle and ring fingers in and out, grazing that spongey spot inside just right, sending you pummelling towards another earth-shattering orgasm.

Tears are trailing glistening paths down your flushed cheeks as your calves lock around his shoulders, thighs spasming, pussy clenching, as you cum for the who-knows-how-many-eth time tonight.

Finally, after leaving you thoroughly fucked-out by his fingers, he slowly eases them out. You feel sore all over, and the sudden emptiness makes you cringe. You raise your head just slightly to look down as Choso, the satisfied, hazy smile he sports as he stares down at your ruined pussy. Your cheeks burn.

His eyes flit up to meet yours as he rises to his knees. “Gorgeous,” he breathes, leaning down to press a kiss against the drying tears on your cheeks.

“You’re perfect, sweetheart. So perfect.” He litters another few pecks against your jaw before capturing your lips with his own. You taste yourself on his tongue as it breaches the seam of your mouth, making your breath hitch in your throat.

He pulls back, your gaze drifts down.

“Cho-” you begin, eyes zeroing in on the stiff bulge tenting his grey sweats, a small, damp patch where he’d felt his own dribble of bliss from lapping at your syrupy folds. It was as if he enjoyed giving you head more than you enjoyed receiving it. “Do you want to—?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He cuts you off with another smooch, attempting to quell your concern and growing sense of guilt before rising.

You’re still pouting when he looks down at you, eyes lidded so sultrily.

"Baby, I'm serious. Don't worry--hahh--!" he cuts himself off with a breathy sigh as you reach for him, palm pressing against the thick outline of his rigid length.

All soreness in your body is immediately forgotten by his airy response. Now you're tugging down the waistband of his pants, the dazed glaze in your eyes becoming hungry once his throbbing cock is freed, hot and heavy in your hand.

Somehow, you manage to switch previous positions--boneless but absolutely determined to return the favour. Your boyfriend's pliant, strong legs shifting further apart as you lean in closer, breath ghosting over the flushed tip of his lengthy dick.

"Now it's your turn."

𓂃⋆.˚

SUGURU GETO٠ ࣪⭑ it’s addictive .ᐟ

Here you are, spread out over your superior’s lap, his thick fingers plunged deep into your gummy walls.

“Sugu,” you breathlessly whine, head reclined against his shoulder as your chest rises and falls with steadily increasing rapidity. "Don't tease." Your hips buck, and thighs would threaten to close around his static hand if it weren't for his other that kept your knees pried open.

"That's part of the fun, though, lovely." Geto's cheek brushes against yours, lips grazing the shell of your ear in a way that's so purposely seductive. He's kept this game up for a while, successfully reducing you to a desperate, mewling mess.

"It's not fun when you're doing nothing." A trace of frustration bleeds into your treble admonishment. That's when you make the mistake of reaching down to cover his hand with your own, attempting to coax him into doing something. Anything.

As if to provoke, he barely scissors his fingers open in your clingy heat, making you gasp, thighs just begging to close against his hand that keeps them pried apart.

"Good girls listen, they don't rush or demand. They take what's given to them." The cult leader murmurs sweetly from behind you as he continues to slowly, agonisingly, stretch you out. "Good girls get rewarded," he dips his head down until his warm breath grazes your ear.

"But bad, disobedient girls--they get nothing." he whispers, as he continues to press the pads of his fingers against your slick entrance - never pushing deeper, never giving the stimulation you're practically keeling over for.

A choked gasp is pulled from your throat when he slips his digits out completely, leaving you cringing at the sudden emptiness.

"Suguru!" you almost want to growl in frustration, chest heaving with desperate, impatient breaths as you all but throw your head back against his shoulder.

Your hands practically fly to your poor, neglected pussy, seeking to do give it the proper attention Geto had been purposely avoiding.

"Not so fast, gorgeous." he swats your hands away just as you barely manage to circle your clit, grabbing both your wrists with one hand, he wrenches them behind you, grabbing the cotton rope you've come to know so well from the side table, tying them behind your back.

"Please!" You hate how pathetic you sound. Suguru revels in it. "I'll be good, I s-swearrr!" A dry sob rips through you. But actions speak louder than words, and right now, you're rubbing your thighs together, seeking any modicum of friction to quell the burning arousal between your legs.

"You can start by keeping still." You can literally hear the smug in his voice, picture the exact curl of his lips he's more than likely sporting at the feeling of your wrist twisting beneath the soft but securely tightened rope.

It takes everything in you to stop your trembling, to stop pressing your thighs so tightly together.

"mhmmm." Suguru hums his approval, the low, resonant sound making you all the wetter. Watching you rigidly spread your legs, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to whatever touch he decides to inflict, makes Geto feel an almost sadistic sense of delight.

"Eyes on me, sweetie." He simpers, free hand coaxing your chin to face him. Only inches apart, he leans in, pressing one, then two--you stopped counting by the third--kisses to your lips. Small, teasing pecks dissolve into lengthy, sultry smooches.

Before you can even catch your breath, he's easing his middle finger in, barely plunging past the entrance. "only one finger and this greedy pussy's already sucking me in," He smirks against your lips, pressing and raising the pad of the single digit in time with your ragged pants.

You don't utter a. Single. Word. Holding back every gasp, every mewl. You're not about to risk breaking the spell of his touch by asking for more--not when he's finally giving you what you want, what you need.

"Oh, look at you," Suguru snickers tauntingly, finger finally breaching that tight ring of resistance. "Trying so hard to keep quiet, huh?" He snorts, making your cheeks burn hotter.

After a few slow pumps of his fingers, he finally slips in another, pace increasing only slightly as he watches your reactions through lidded, amethyst hues.

Your eyes begin to drift closed, back arching just barely off his chest. He uses the moment to his advantage, free hand slipping up from your mid-thigh to firmly pat against your touch-starved clit.

You jolt, eyes flying open as you let out a small yelp of surprise from the sudden stimulation. "Oh--!" The single syllable falls from your lips as you tense, anticipating another hit that's sure to come.

And it does. Multiple, actually.

With each mean tap, your sex only grows slicker, melty walls clenching so deliciously, so sweetly around Geto's thrusting fingers.

"It's like she's trying to pull me in." His breath brushes against your neck as he leans forward to rest his chin on top you shoulder, watching you cunt milk his digits for all their worth.

He's doing it on purpose--he has to be. She? He's referring to your pussy as if it's its own separate identity? fucking weirdo, but, god, if the embarrassing choice words weren't it working.

Wetter, slicker--your cunt is practically squelching as his fingers plunge into you with increasing vigour. They curl up, hitting that spongy spot justtt right.

You're close, devastatingly so.

"Think m'gonna cuuuum," You whine, your arms practically fighting against the ropey restraints as you seek some way to anchor yourself before your impending orgasm wholly devours you.

"Yeah, you do that." Geto breathes out, far more enamoured by how your greedy cavern resists letting his fingers leave each time he pumps them in and out.

His other digits continue circling, tapping, flicking--and whatever he can come up with--your clit, never giving the swollen, over-sensitive nub a second of reprieve.

You wildly jerk forward, hands flattening against his front as your climax hits you like a freight train, coming with a sharp cry of "SUGURU--!"

But his ministrations don't slow, and they don't speed up either. He continues driving you through your peak with the same steady rhythm, the overstimulation making your legs quake around his arms.

"It's not my fault; she just doesn't want me to let go." Geto rasps against your neck, still peering down at the mess he's made of you. Finally, his pleasurably painful assault on your quivering pussy begins to slow.

He gives your sensitive mound one last light slap for good measure before he eases his fingers away from your swollen folds--only to bring them to your lips.

"Suck." The single command is enough to get your lips parting, soft tongue swirling between his middle and ring fingers as he lightly presses them down against the pink muscle.

Your wrists are still tied behind your back, rubbing just a little raw as palms push against the wall of muscle that is his abdomen.

He plants a single, tender kiss on your sweaty temple, slipping his fingers out of your mouth before untying the rope that had bound your wrists together.

"Did so well f'me, sweetheart." He flashes you a lazy grin, looking so satisfied at the way he's left you all boneless and melty in his lap. You flinch when his hands land back onto your thighs, relaxing when all he does is knead the pillowy flesh.

And then it comes.

"Think you can take my cock, too?"

𓂃⋆.˚

SATORU GOJO٠ ࣪⭑ anywhere, everywhere .ᐟ

“Gojo!” You hiss sharply. “Are you crazy?”

“Ah, ok, so it’s Gojo now.” Satoru teases, already hiking your skirt up your thighs, sinking to his knees. “Y’know, I think I like it more when you call me ‘toru.” He smiles coyly, the words spoken so sultrily that it makes your cheeks heat.

"I. Don't. Care." You whisper-yell, even as your fiancé dips his head between your thighs. "We're supposed to be in a meeting--!" Your voice pitches to an embarrassing squeak at the word. All he does is snicker, pearly whites splitting his grin as he looks up at you.

"So? They can wait." He says with absolutely no sense of urgency. "Plus, you're just too sweet to resist, especially when you look at me like that." and by 'that', he means the way you're scowling down at him.

He's insatiable, really. Annoying too. Making you pretend you needed to take an important call before following you out of the room a minute later to--by his own words: 'see if you were okay'.

"What if someone comes to check up on us?" You urge him to see reason, even as you spread your legs further.

Admittedly, it's not entirely comfortable to be half-leaning against a hardwood desk in an empty classroom, but the awkwardness of your position is soon forgotten as he licks a languid stripe over the front of your panties.

"Then they better enjoy the view." He shrugs easily, licking another stripe before his index comes up to press your slit through the material. You know he's only joking, but there's still a sense of unease warring with the steadily growing arousal as he keeps teasing.

"Well--make it quick then." You sputter, heat pooling in your gut as you feel yourself growing slick under his dextrous touches.

"Of course, sweetie." He coos, voice dripping with feigned saccharinity, warm breath ghosting over the clothed slope of your pussy before digits dig into the waistband, pulling it of and letting the garment drop to your feet.

You gasp when his fingers spread your puffy folds apart, eyeing your twitching hole with an intensity that makes your face burn all the more.

You hate to admit it, now more than ever, but he's a vision. Tousled white hair pushed back by his blindfold, stray snowy strands escaping the makeshift headband, framing his features in a way that's so unfair.

Flashing you one last toothy grin, Satoru surges forward, tongue immediately flicking over your exposed clit.

He lets out a breathless laugh when your hips buck from the contact, mindlessly seeking more of that heavenly sensation from the assault on your sensitive nub.

"easyyy," He chides smoothly, vocal vibrations against your quivering sex making you gasp. His forearms dig deeper into your thighs to stop your skittish squirming while his fingers continue holding your lips apart.

"ngh, S-Satoru --!" Your hands fly to the back of his head, caught between pulling him closer or pushing him away as his tongue continues lavishing your jutting bundle of nerves with boldly growing licks and swirls.

Aww, that’s what it took to be back on first name basis with your fiancé? Cute.

Spurred on by your airy sighs and sharp breaths, he flattens his tongue, licking a up a long strip before sucking your swollen peak into his mouth, lashes batting as he looks up at you.

You can't get too loud--knowing how thin these damn walls are, you'd better hold back or someone really is going to 'enjoy the view' after walking in on you both.

But the pressure of his pursed lips suckling is almost too much to bear.

Mouth hanging open, head lolling back as you hike one of your twitchy thighs even higher up, your hips roll senselessly up against his handsome face, grinding your sloppy pussy harder against those sculpted features.

"F-Fuck-" You tremble, fingers tugging at his ivory strands even tighter, making him moan lowly against your bared, weeping cunt. Another shudder ripples through you as your peak approaches, and you bite back something louder.

You come with a stifled mewl, legs shaking, one hand jerking back to steady yourself against the desk. Back arching, keeling forward, you let out a plethora of shaky gasps and pants.

Satoru releases your thoroughly suctioned clit with a pop, pulling back, plush lips gleaming with the gloss of your arousal. “Fast enough?” He asks, voice a little raw from disuse. He’s looking far too smug, too proud, by the fact that he made you come so quickly.

Before you can retort, he pulls back completely, still on his knees with his neck craned back to watch your stuttered reactions before azure irises flit down again. Your mouth opens as if to bite back, but soon snaps shut when he lets out another breathy chuckle.

“You’re twitching.” His blown-out gaze jumps back to your headed cunt, the way your fluttering whole clenches around nothing. Six eyes or not, you really can’t hide anything from him. God, he could probably feel your heartbeat thrumming beneath the flesh.

With fingers still holding your pussy-lips apart, his middle finger trails down to skim along your slit before dipping inside. Your back lurches forward, head dropping down as he wastes no time pressing against that spot—the one that makes stars explode behind your tightly closed lids.

“Such a sweet little pussy,” Satoru murmurs, entirely enthralled. “Squeezing me so tight.” He purrs teasingly, meeting yours briefly before they flutter shut as he goes in for another taste.

His finger eases in and out of you, massaging your gummy walls so sensually you feel like you might explode. It’s soon followed by another before his tongue lolls out to work over your swollen peak once more.

Suddenly, he switches the positions, tongue prodding at your cinched entrance while his thumb feverishly circles your clit. “Taste fuckin’ heavenly,” his voice is muffled as his tongue continues to push deeper inside, prodding in and out with quickened strokes.

One hand hooks beneath your knee, coaxing it to rest over his shoulder as he shuffles closer to you.

The attendees had to be getting suspicious by now, when you're so lost in the sensation of your soon-to-be-husband's mouth, you can't seem to muster any regret.

“Please, ‘toru,” you breathe, head falling forward as he continues to delve his tongue deep inside your silken cavern. “I need to—ngh, oh—!” Your quiet, hushed moans making his lips curl into a smirk, still pressed into your sobbing folds.

“Oh yeahhh? You need it?”

You hate him so bad.

His fingers slip down from your clit to press into your melty core while his lips mash against every inch of your perfect, puffy pussy. And you’re falling apart on his tongue for the second time in what had to have been only ten minutes.

Legs shaking doubly as wildly as before, you let out a choked cry—one that’d no doubt be heard from when all attendees were waiting for your return. “Too m-much!” You squeal as he drives you through sensory overload.

You have to literally wrench his head away just to get him to stop eating. There’s a pussy-drunk grin curling his lips as you struggle to focus on him through the hazy fog of overstimulation.

You’re just about coming down from your high, his long, slick fingers dragon-clawing the meat of your thighs. He finally moves to stand, but the moment he’s extended back to his full height, he’s pushing you back up against the desk with his front, arms braced on either side of you as he leans in closer.

“I sure they won’t mind if we take a few more minutes.”

a/n: running on two hours of sleep and too tired to proofread. Toji, Sukuna and Nanami next. hopefully.

226 notes · View notes

melanchoire · 2 days ago

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can u plz do a toxic Megan fic or wtv like not the typical toxic but the type that would fit HER ifyk what am yapping abt Omg im so bad at describing this im so sorry but i would love it if u tried !! Thank u ! 🙏

cw: fingering.

megan gives me the vibe of a jealous, toxic girlfriend. ot the typical, sickly type you’d rather keep at arm’s length and wouldn’t get involved with her for anything, but the kind of jealous girlfriend who would easily identify with those red text videos — and her gnarly expressions make me believe that she is one of those who try with all her might not to lose her head over the slightest inconvenience in her relationship but she is biting her tongue to avoid saying something she'll regret later, saying a simple “it’s okay, i’m not mad.” when her smile doesn’t reach her eyes that seem like they’re going to pop out of place <3

although she is definitely the type who wouldn’t hesitate to make a scene 😭 i see her as one of those girlfriends who stare at you when a woman walks by because she wants to know if you’re going to look in her direction or something, and even though you only look at her because she passed by you and there is nothing wrong with that because you’re not seeing that stranger with different eyes, megan doesn’t see it the same way! almost the instant that girl finishes walking past you she would immediately say something like “do you know her?” but the way her eyes look at you screams at you that she is just waiting for a response of denial

but she knows how to take care of things, how? fingering you until you understand things as they are and she makes sure everything is as she wants 🥰 cooing something embarrassing like "whose pussy is this?" while hammering two fingers deep inside you to the point that your eyes can’t stay in place and tend to roll to the back of your head <3 she knows you can’t answer because you can only gasp and whimper because of how she rots your brain, but megan doesn’t stop until she is calm

#megan #megan x fem reader #megan x reader #megan smut #megan skiendiel #megan skiendiel x fem reader #megan skiendiel x reader #megan skiendiel smut #katseye #katseye x fem reader #katseye x reader #katseye smut

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woniwontons · 1 day ago

Text

dead end - CHAPTER FOUR

bob reynolds x therapist!reader

summary: after being assigned to monitor bob reynolds’ recovery inside the new avengers tower, you try to keep your fears hidden. but between quiet training sessions and unsettling therapy logs, you start to realize he’s watching you more than he should—and that something inside him never stops whispering.

w.c: 4.2k

warnings: psychological thriller, inaccurately depicted mental illness, emotional manipulation (by void), nightmares, slow burn, possessive themes, combat violence, unreliable realities, hallucinations, murder, domestic bob, gore/bloody void, like a lot of blood & violence, running away in the woods

chapter nav: one | two | three | four | five (coming soon)

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°｡⋆

Your calendar had no color-coded blocks. No assignments. No meetings. Just one blank space stamped across the interface: DAY OFF.

It didn’t feel like relief though, just a boring day ahead of you.

You made breakfast and sat in the lounge with a coffee you barely tasted. Read the same paragraph in your data log five times without processing a single word.

Still, you could focus on nothing but the questions in your mind.

By noon, you were moving on instinct, feet carrying you to the gym without direction. You knew who would be there at this time.

You found Bucky where you usually saw him: stretching in the corner, his hoodie peeled down to his waist and gloves half-fastened. His expression didn’t shift when he saw you.

“You’re off today,” he said simply, gesturing to your plain clothes.

“So are you.”

“Not really,” he muttered, going back to the resistance band in his hands.

You sat on the bench across from him, watching the line of his shoulders tense and relax with each pull. A few beats passed in comfortable silence before you spoke.

“Can I ask you something?”

His hands paused mid-stretch. “You just did.”

You offered a dry smile. “About the people who worked with Bob before me.”

He exhaled through his nose. “What about them?”

You hesitated. “They didn’t last long.”

He rolled his wrists. “That happens.”

“What kind of happens?”

He looked at you then—flatly. “The kind that gets people reassigned. Burnout. Not getting along with him. The usual.”

You tilted your head slightly. “You and the team haven't ever experienced that around him, have you?”

“I’m not an empath,” he said, almost too easily. “I don’t absorb what I don’t need to.”

You watched him carefully, waiting for the twitch, some flicker of discomfort. But Bucky Barnes was good at hiding his emotions for everything. Better than good.

“You don’t think there’s something unusual about it?” you asked.

“No more than usual.”

He clipped the band back to the wall and stood, wiping his hands with a towel.

“Sometimes things don’t work out,” he said, voice neutral. “Doesn’t mean there’s a conspiracy.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re not curious?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

But he didn’t meet your gaze.

And when he turned to grab his water bottle. "Please just don't go looking for trouble, y/n," he added quietly, "for your own good."

It hung in the air longer than it should have, with a surprising level of concern and care.

You stood a moment later, nodding like the conversation had satisfied something. Like you were any closer to the truth.

You walked away with your jaw tight and your throat dry.

No one was going to tell you anything.

You weren’t trying to go anywhere.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway, as you walked the endless hallways of the tower. No destination. No objective. Your shoes padding across the floor. Doors passing on either side like silent, judgmental witnesses.

Maybe it was just your nerves. Maybe it was the way your own thoughts had started to echo louder than sound. You’d been craving something you were unsure of. A reason to feel more. But the deeper you wandered, the more hollow everything seemed.

At some point, your footsteps slowed.

And when you looked up, you realized where you’d stopped.

The hallway was empty. The lights overhead flickered once. And in front of you—just a few feet away—was his door.

You hadn’t been here since that first night, and you froze.

The panel glowed the same:

SECURITY OVERRIDE IN PLACE — MONITORED ACCESS ONLY

But again, no guards or cameras.

And for a moment, you felt it—the pull. Not from the Void. From something subtler. Like gravity. Like muscle memory.

You stepped closer.

Your hand hovered just inches from the lock pad, like you already knew the passcode to enter.

You didn’t even know why. You just—

CLICK.

The lock disengaged.

The door hissed slightly, then opened.

And standing there, backlit in soft white light, brown hair tousled, expression still -- was Bob.

Neither of you spoke, but he didn’t look surprised to see you. If anything, he looked relieved.

"You came," he said quietly.

You let your hand drop from the lock pad. “I didn’t mean to.”

He smiled faintly, stepping past the threshold and into the hallway with you. “Doesn’t matter. You still did.”

The door sealed shut behind him.

Silence stretched between you, but it didn’t feel cold. Just cautious.

You both stood there a long moment before Bob leaned against the wall beside you, folding his arms. "Did you speak with Bucky or Yelena?"

"I spoke to Bucky, but all I got was a whole lot of nothing," you huffed in frustration.

Bob nodded, "So back to square one? Maybe there's a different explanation for all of this."

"I'm confident about what I saw," you stressed, "Do you think it has something to do with the nightmares?"

Bob's jaw tensed slightly. "The nightmares, you're still having them?"

You swallowed, his response throwing you off. "You don't remember them?"

He paused.

"No."

You turned your head. "The Void takes all of your memories?"

His voice was quieter now. “There are gaps. Long ones. I know I’ve said things I don’t remember saying. Felt things I can’t explain. I used to think it was the Void blocking things out.”

"How can I stop him from," you started, before being cut off.

"You can't stop it, none of us can once it starts," he said sadly, "I'm sorry."

You exhale a breath you didn't realize you were holding before nodding slowly, taking in his response. He stared down at you then, his eyes scanning over your facial features, over every tick of non-verbal response. The guilt eating at him, making him feel so useless.

"It isn't your fault, I'm sorry for involving you."

He scoffed before suddenly picking up your hands, clasping them in-between your own. "Don't apologize. I've never felt bad for listening to you, please, if you have anything to get off your chest. I'm here for you."

You gazed up at him, feeling your heart rate speed up. Brows furrowed in confusion, you bobbed your head in agreeance. "I appreciate that."

"I appreciate you."

You told yourself you were just passing by.

That your feet brought you here again out of habit. A wrong turn. An aimless loop through the admin level. But as you stood just around the corner from Dr. Harding’s office, that lie grew too heavy to hold.

The hall was quiet.

Her door, like always, was closed. But the lockpad light was green. Not red. Not yellow. Green.

Unlocked.

Your heart stuttered.

You glanced both ways. Empty.

You stepped forward—slowly, cautiously—reaching for the panel.

It chirped softly under your touch.

One press. That’s all it would take to slide the door open and—

“Hey.”

You jerked so fast your elbow banged the wall behind you.

An intern—probably no older than twenty-two—stood at the other end of the corridor, holding a datapad and a cup of coffee. Her brows knit together.

“You lost?”

Your mouth went dry. “I—uh—no. I was looking for… the sensory deprivation room.”

The girl blinked. “Sensory deprivation is two floors down.”

You forced a smile. “Right. I must’ve hit the wrong button in the elevator.”

She didn’t move. Just stood there, watching you.

A long pause stretched before she gave a tight, practiced smile and turned on her heel.

“Have a good one.”

You nodded, then retreated in the opposite direction at a normal, casual, totally-not-panicked pace. It wasn’t until you rounded the next corner and pressed your back to the wall that you let yourself breathe.

You almost got caught doing something horrendously stupid.

No—worse.

That light on Harding’s door hadn’t been green by mistake.

What if you were being tested?.

Tested.

And you failed.

In Your Nightmares, In the Maze

You opened your eyes and the world was wrong.

The floor beneath your feet was cold concrete, cracked and damp, covered in grime that had soaked into its pores. The air reeked of mildew and rust, thick with dust that scratched the back of your throat. Made you feel sticky, dirty.

You didn’t know how long you’d been standing.

Only that you had no memory of getting here. And your feet ached.

The hallway stretched in both directions—long, narrow, and dimly lit by broken fluorescent tubes overhead. One of them buzzed in a stuttering rhythm, flickering so violently you couldn’t tell if it was about to go out or explode.

You turned in a slow circle, arms folded tightly across your chest.

The walls were tiled, but discolored. Yellowed, cracked, and tagged with smeared fingerprints like someone had clawed at them over and over again. Shattered mirrors were mounted in uneven rows, jagged corners jutting out like teeth.

You caught your reflection in one of them.

And froze.

It was you. But not exactly.

The reflection stood too still. Her arms weren’t crossed. Her head tilted slightly to the side, eyes wide and expressionless. She blinked—but too slow. Like a puppet learning how to mimic human movement. Then her lips moved.

You took a step back, heart hammering.

No sound.

Another mirror—this one lower, shattered into shards across the floor. The sharp edges caught the flickering light, reflecting your face in fractured pieces.

You crouched, trembling, reaching toward one of the shards.

It wasn’t curiosity. It was like you had to see, you had to know if this was real.

The moment your fingers touched it, you flinched.

A thin line of blood opened across your palm, bright and stinging.

“Ah—”

You dropped the glass with a suck of your teeth.

It clattered against the floor with a sound too loud, too final.

And from somewhere behind you—

A whisper.

You spun around, heart in your throat.

No one.

Nothing.

But the hall behind you looked... different.

You hadn’t turned around, but now there were more doors. More mirrors. And the mirror where your reflection had been was gone.

Your blood dripped onto the floor, each drop loud in the silence.

You stumbled backward, away from the glass, away from the mirrors, clutching your hand.

And that’s when you heard it.

Breathing.

Not yours.

Slow. Steady. Too close.

You ran.

Your footsteps echoed down the hall, too loud, too fast. The breathing behind you had stopped, but only because it was closer now. You could feel it. Like hot breath against your neck, even though nothing touched you.

You turned a corner—

and another

another

—until your shoulder hit a doorframe and you stumbled sideways into a room.

The door shut behind you on its own in a violent slam.

You whirled around, heart pounding, but the knob was gone. Hell, the door was gone. Replaced with cracked tiles and a bloodstained seam.

The light in the room was a single bulb hanging from a frayed cord in the ceiling. It swung gently, casting warped shadows against the walls.

But you weren’t alone.

There was someone else here, and this room felt horrifically familiar.

At first, you only saw her back; hunched over, gasping softly, her arms trembling at her sides. The room was small, just a few paces wide. The tile beneath her knees was slick, and something thick and dark glistened across the floor.

You took one step closer.

Her head lifted slightly. Then her arm.

And she slammed something down.

A wet, sickening crack echoed through the room.

You jolted back, mouth open, but the scream got stuck behind your tongue. Her hand lifted again.

Another, crack.

You couldn’t see who she was hurting. The body beneath her was just shadow. Faceless, formless, made of blood and bone and the sound of something breaking.

Crack, again.

Again and again.

You stared in horror until she finally slowed, breathing hard, hand shaking in the air.

And then she turned.

It was you again.

Your face—spattered in red, eyes empty, chest heaving.

Her gaze met yours across the room, tears streaming down her bloody, sunken face.

You screamed. The bulb burst above you, showering the floor in sparks and blackened glass.

The floor dropped out beneath you.

In one blink, you were standing. The next, you were falling.

There was no wind. No scream. Just the sickening weightless feeling of your own body surrendering.

You hit something hard, your bones crushing with pain as they protested against all movement.

The world bent around you—walls folding like wet paper, corners bleeding into one another. Your knees struck concrete. Your palm, still bleeding from the earlier cut, left a smear across the warped ground beneath you.

Your breath came ragged, your head spinning.

You crawled forward, but the walls spun in circles around you. Lights blurred into trails. The air stung your eyes.

“Where am I?” you whispered aloud.

No answer.

Only a low hum in the distance. Like the power grid of a dead city flickering back to life.

You tried to stand, but your legs gave out.

You reached for a wall that wasn’t there anymore.

The floor cracked open.

And you dropped once more.

In the Nightmare, In the Maze

Your vision cleared all at once.

Flashing red and white lights pulsed in your peripheral.

Siren tones wailed in the distance, but muffled, like they were underwater. The air was cold now. It smelled of metal, antiseptic, and the copper tang of blood.

You were standing on the edge of an open ambulance bay. Night stretched beyond the parking lot like a black ocean, with figures moving just at the edge of the darkness. Too far to see, too distorted to name.

Inside the ambulance, the doors were open.

You stepped forward, and saw her.

Yourself.

Again.

This time she sat on the gurney, knees drawn to her chest, face streaked with blood. Though, none of it looked fresh. Her skin was pale and blotchy; eyes glassy and swollen. Her hands trembled around a disposable shock blanket, still clutched tightly around her shoulders like armor.

She wasn’t speaking. She just stared down at her lap, jaw tight, fingers twitching.

A paramedic stood off to the side, whispering to someone you couldn’t see.

“She wouldn’t stop screaming. Had to sedate her. We think it was self-defense… but the scene was brutal.”

Another murmured reply: unintelligible to you.

You took a step closer.

And then she glanced

Just barely—her gaze lifting enough to meet yours as her lips moved.

But no sound of a woman came out, but something akin to that of the void himself.

"Ever my ś̸̡t̸̨͛r̶̤͝o̴̻̓n̶͉̔ǵ̴̘ ̴͙͆g̴̭̈́ȉ̷̡r̴͕̿l̴͔̽."

The scene around you began to shake, like the ambulance bay itself was coming apart. The sirens slowed. Then stretched. Then distorted.

"Not everyone could, but ÿ̴̫́ò̸̤ǘ̴̮ ̶̳͑m̸̢̊a̸̧̿d̴̬̆e̶͈͆ ̶͎͊i̶̻̒t̴̤̑ ̵̰̂ò̷͙ů̶͜t̸͎̄. Didn’t you, little liar?"

You clutched your ears as the air seemed to pulse against your skull.

And the ambulance doors slammed shut in your face.

You blinked.

Open, Close, Open.

And the world changed again.

Gone were the lights, the pavement, the sirens.

Now there were trees. Towering silhouettes pressed in around you, black against a gray sky smeared with faint clouds. Their branches clawed overhead like bones, creaking faintly with every whisper of wind.

The ground beneath your feet was mud and moss and broken roots.

It was dark.

But not silent.

Snap.

A branch cracked behind you.

You spun around, chest rising sharply, but saw nothing. Just more trees. More endless darkness.

Your breath came faster now, eyes darting to every shadow, every movement of wind-tossed leaves. You took a step—

Crack.

Another behind you. Heavier this time.

Then—

Breathing. Fast and angry, barely contained.

You ran.

Your legs burned, your lungs screaming with every intake of cold air. Branches sliced across your arms. Something wet ran down your face; blood or rain, you didn’t know.

The breathing followed.

Always just behind you.

You didn’t dare scream. The sounds around you were too loud already. The woods echoed everything. Your heartbeat, the dead leaves crunching, and...

his voice.

"You've run faster than that."

You stumbled, but caught yourself. Feeling the bark of the tree imprint itself into the skin of your palm.

You couldn’t tell where it came from, but it was close.

So close that you pumped your legs faster, ignoring the pain of your bare feet hitting the forest floor.

Something grabbed your sleeve and snatched you backwards —no, just a branch.

You tugged roughly and broke free, but your breathing was slowing you down now. Your chest willing itself to explode as your lungs stretched for oxygen.

The trees grew tighter. Narrower. Like the forest itself was closing in to crush you. The breathing behind you accelerated.

It was laughing at you now. Not just with joy, but with certainty that it would catch you.

"They might have carved it out, but I remember. I always remember."

You saw a shape ahead—barely visible.

A black door. Standing hauntingly alone in the woods.

You didn’t think, only sprinted towards it. Heaving now, your lungs threatened to rise from the bottom of your throat. It pained you horribly, but nothing else mattered except escape.

Mud flew from your heels. Your vision blurred with tears.

"You were never meant to be happy, y/n."

Your hand hit the door handle, slipping on its sleek handle with the slick of blood that coated your palm.

"You're meant to be with me here."

You yanked it open—

And fell inside.

In the Nightmare, Outside of the Maze

The door vanished behind you.

The ground was… nothing. A space with no walls, no ceiling, no shape. Just pressure and the oppressive weight of silence.

You were alone.

Until you weren’t.

He emerged from the dark without warning; no footsteps, no sound. It was just there, like he’d always been waiting.

The Void. A silhouette carved from everything the world wasn’t meant to touch. His skin absorbed the light instead of reflecting it, black as rotted stars. His hair curled weightlessly like smoke.

Your legs gave out and you collapsed forward into his body, wrapping your arms around his legs in terror. The coldness of his body comforting to the exhausted heat being expelled from your own.

And then he was lowering himself to meet you on the ground. Arms slowly coiling around your back.

He held you like you were fragile, digging his fingertips into the sides of your waist as he held you upright.

You cried harder.

Not just from fear, not just from exhaustion, but from the horrible, gut-wrenching feeling that this was the first time you felt like yourself in so long. Broken, hurting, and miserable, such a familiar feeling to you.

"There she is," he whispered into your hair. His hand moved to cradle the back of your head, fingers impossibly gentle. He pressed your body to his like he could bury you in his chest.

His breath brushed your ear. Your throat. Your skin.

"It's no wonder you always come back to me, and every time, we end up here."

You tried to speak, but your voice was shattered glass in your throat.

He lifted your chin with a single finger. His gold eyes burned straight through you. "No need to speak, just think. Know that I remember, no matter what they take from you, I will always remember.”

You shook your head, but he only smiled. A reverent, broken thing.

"Let me keep you. Just like this. Broken, bleeding, and mine."

His lips ghosted over your forehead, slow and steady, like a temptation. "You don't have to run from it anymore."

And then—

You gasped awake.

The scream didn't make it out properly—lodged deep in your chest like a stone, but your body snapped upright. Drenched in sweat, your sheets tangled like restraints around your legs.

Your throat burned. A heartbeat galloped in your ears, loud enough to drown everything else.

Your eyes darted across the room, searching corners, shadows, the cracks beneath the door, expecting to see blackness leaking from the walls, gold eyes waiting in front of you

But instead:

He was sitting there.

Bob.

Near the edge of your room. In the dark. His form barely outlined in the weak glow from the hall’s emergency light.

Not moving, and certainly not speaking. Just watching.

Your breath hitched.

"Jesus—” You scrambled backward on the bed until your shoulders hit the headboard. “What the hell, how did you get in here?”

He didn’t rise or even answer at first. Just studied you, head tilted, brow furrowed. Quiet concern etched into every line of his face.

"I heard you," he said finally. Voice low and careful. "Screaming through the door, but... you were asleep."

You stared at him, heart still slamming in your chest.

You couldn’t even remember doing it. Only the maze. The blood. The gold eyes that felt too close to forget.

"I didn't want to scare you," Bob said softly. "I just didn't want you to wake up alone. It looked terrifying."

That cracked something inside you.

Because it meant he hadn't come here with any ulterior motive but to just make sure you weren't alone, having night terrors in the dark.

You wiped at your sweaty face, breath still uneven.

"I don't even know when I fell asleep," you murmured.

Bob’s voice was impossibly gentler now. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, but after a moment you spoke anyway, "I was in a maze," you whispered. "And something was chasing me. I think."

Bob exhaled, slowly, "Do you remember who was chasing you?"

You looked up. "No, I don't, I never looked back."

"That's good," he hesitated, "did it feel like a dream or a memory?"

"Both."

The room fell quiet again. You noticed then that his hands were clasped in his lap. Knuckles white. Like either he wasn’t sure if he should come closer, or he was terrified of your response.

"They're not just dreams anymore," he said. "Are they?"

Your hands trembled in your lap, and you fought to answer him honestly. "No."

Bob stood slowly, careful not to make a sound too sharp or sudden. He looked like he was trying to give you space, even as his eyes lingered on the sight of you trembling in your bed. "I'll let you rest," he said carefully. "I shouldn't have come in. I just wanted to be sure you were okay."

He turned toward the door, but for some reason, your panic spiked.

"Wait—" You reached out and caught his wrist, hand tremoring. He stopped to listen, and your voice was barely more than a breath, "Can you stay... please?"

He turned back toward you slowly. “You sure?”

You nodded, pulling on his arm, just enough to guide him back. "Please," you whispered again, tugging him towards your bed.

He hesitated only a moment longer. Then sat on the edge of the bed, uncertain.

You didn’t wait.

You shifted beneath the covers and pulled him with you, tugging gently at his wrist until he followed. His weight dipped the mattress, and then he was lying beside you. He was awkward at first, stiff from uncertainty.

You curled toward him, face pressed to his chest.

And only then did he move.

His arms came around you, gentle and hesitant, like you were made of glass. One hand stroked your back; the other came up slowly to comb through your hair.

The moment his fingers threaded through the strands, something deep inside you twisted.

It was… familiar.

Your heart stuttered, but you didn’t pull away.

"You're okay," Bob murmured into your hair. "You're still safe here."

Your eyes burned. "I don't feel safe," you confessed. "I don't even feel like myself anymore, I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. I can't understand any of these emotions inside me."

His fingers brushed behind your ear. "Like a phantom emotion?" he asked, voice low but firm.

You pressed your face tighter against his chest, trying to keep your breath steady. But you couldn’t. The tears came quietly at first, then stronger. "I'm scared to fall asleep," you whispered.

Bob didn’t flinch. He just held you tighter, one hand never leaving your hair. "Then be scared," he said softly. "Feel everything. Cry if you need to, but don't ever think you have to do any of it alone."

You cried harder. You didn’t know if it was the nightmare, the silence, or the way his voice made the grief inside you finally feel seen.

But for the first time in what felt like so long, you let it out. And he didn’t let go.

His thumb brushed soft circles across your shoulder as your tears soaked through his shirt. His heart beat slow and steady beneath your ear. "You're not alone," he whispered, "I promise."

You weren’t sure when you stopped crying. Only that at some point, the world grew still again, and you stayed there, curled against him. And yet, it felt as though this had happened before, as if you were experiencing deja-vu for this very moment and couldn't fathom any reason for it.

His breath moved softly against the top of your head.

And sleep, when it finally came, did not take you kicking and screaming.

It came wrapped in warmth and wool.

Alright friends, I'm sure you're very confused as to what the heck is going on. I added a lot more hints in this one, in hopes that maybe some of you will catch on ;). Answers will come, to be revealed in the next chapter, followed by a full Bob Point-Of-View in part six. We are at our halfway point now since I'm thinking of eight parts total for this. If that changes, I'll be sure to edit this and update you in future notes. Thank you for all your love on this story, it motivates me to write more everyday, and I appreciate you. xoxo -woni

ALSO: if you are not currently on the taglist, please comment down below if you want to be! if you already commented on previous chapters, don't worry because i've already added you :)

continue to part five (coming soon)

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buckyys-babydoll · 3 days ago

Text

Love loading…

Pairing: Gamer!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Softness. Heat. Tension. Love. It all comes together when you don’t want to be alone and join your roommate and best friend.

Warnings: Best friends to lovers, roommate au, fluff, soft kisses, love confession.

Wordcount: 2.440

Authors Note: Beta’d by @elixirfromthestars, thank you so much! Aesthetic and title by @thevillainswhore, thanks to you too, you’re the best! Divider made by me.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“C’mon!” Bucky groans in frustration as he slams the controller down on his table. He runs one of his hands through his thick locks before he laughs when Steve’s character gets shot, too. “That's what ya get for shooting ya teammate, buddy!”

While the others keep playing the round, Bucky listens to their conversation, suggesting some directions they could walk into or laughing when one of them gets a kick in the ass.

“Ya should pick that up, Levinson,” Bucky laughs, rough and low as he watches Ari’s character walking past a few energy drinks that could be helpful in case he gets shot. “And there ya go!”

Just the moment Ari explains that he doesn’t need that ‘shit’ he got shot. His character is crawling back to the drinks to help himself as Bucky watches the whole scene in amusement, while commenting on it the whole time.

Bucky’s focus shifts from his screen to you standing in his doorway as he notices the light blocked out slightly by your smaller frame. His ocean blue eyes soften, and a smile spreads on his lips as he pushes away from his desk and turns toward you.

“Hi, babydoll,” he says, looking you up and down. Then he frowns. “What’s up? Did someone hurt ya, precious?”

You shake your head with a slight smile, taking a step into his room. Your bare foot sliding over the soft stubble rug on his floor. A soft sigh leaves your lips as you look down to watch the softness hug your cool feet softly.

“Babydoll?” Bucky asks softly, trying to get your attention back on him.

You look up, taking another step closer to him. Bucky can see the nervousness and uncertainty in your expression. He doesn’t say anything, just watching you with a soft smile to give you a moment to collect your thoughts.

“Can I… stay here for a bit?”

“Of course you can,” he says, his shoulders sagging when the tension leaves his body. You’re not hurt. “Is there a reason, or do you just want your roommate's company?”

You giggle softly at Bucky’s joke. He’s not just your roommate, he’s also your best friend. You shake your head, walking to his king-size bed. “Jus’ don’t wanna be alone.”

Bucky hums, his eyes following every one of your movements. Then Steve’s voice comes through the headphones, and Bucky groans in frustration as every one of the boys joins in the little teasing game.

“Yo! Buck got ya girl laid down, huh?”

“What a player!”

Bucky groans once more before he clears his throat. “I can hear you, idiots. Now, shut the fuck up and start another round.”

His eyes are still focused on you, his smile just as soft as before.

“Do you need anything, babydoll?” He asks, taking in every little detail of your small frame sitting on his bed. You're back against the headboard of his bed, curled in his warm blanket.

It just smells like him. Like sandalwood and a hint of sweet plums — or at least it reminds you of these delicious ripe, sweet, and purple fruits.

“I can turn off, and we could cuddle?”

You shake your head, looking from him to his screen where the new round is already starting. Bucky doesn’t care; his attention never shifts away until you give him “permission” to keep playing.

“I’m fine. Just wanna… cuddle your blanket?” You laugh, feeling the heat in your cheeks. Bucky laughs, rough and deep as his head falls back and his nose scrunches slightly. The crinkles around his eyes are visible when he presses them tightly together as he laughs heartily.

“Then, ya cuddle my blanket and I will kick some asses. But if ya need me, nothing's more important than you,” he says softly before he smirks and turns his focus and his chair back to his computer. “Ah, shut up, Steve, or I might lay you down.”

“Jamie’s being a little gay shit now,” Ransom laughs before his character gets a kick in his ass from Bucky. “BRO!”

Bucky purposefully uses the loudspeaker of his computer while he plays, so you are able to listen to their conversation as you watch him play with his friends.

You keep half of your face buried in Bucky’s blanket, the softness and his scent causing you to relax and lean further back. Your eyes now focus more on the man who’s sitting in front of you than on the screen, and he seems to notice.

“Smells good?” Bucky asks with a chuckle, his eyes still on his screen, but you know he’s talking to you. You slide down into his bed, a whine creeping up your throat, but you swallow it down before it can escape your lips. “Don’t hide it, babydoll. I can literally see your nose pressed into my blanket. And it can’t be soft because I got you the exact same blanket.”

“Bucky!” You eventually whine. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment that he said that in front of his friends. They all heard it. And now they all know that you’re sniffing at your roommate's blanket.

“Yeah? Ya know, there’s a whole wardrobe filled with clothes of mine?” He laughs softly, not teasing, though. His words sound like a joke, but when he turns around to look at you, his expression is serious — he meant every word he said. “Go ahead and take whatever ya want, if it’s what ya pretty nose desires.”

“Bucky!” You pout, pulling his blanket over your head to hide behind it.

The brunette laughs as he grasps the end of the blanket and pulls it. First, he tugs at it softly, then he pulls it with such force that he has almost the whole blanket in front of him on the ground.

“I muted myself, so not one of them heard anything, babydoll,” Bucky explains, letting go of the blanket. He lifts his arms, stretching them out toward you and inviting you to come closer. “Come here, baby.”

You crawl over the bed to get closer. A yelp leaves your lips as Bucky’s callused hands move to your hips and lift you up effortlessly, and sit you down on his thick thighs. Both of your legs dangling down on both sides of his, his fingers digging into your waist to keep you in place.

You wiggle, giggling when he pokes you. “Bucky!”

“Ticklish, huh?” He laughs, and keeps poking your sides softly. His eyes light up when you squirm on his lap, laughing loudly. “Nah, you can’t get my hands off ya, baby. Say please, and maybe I’m nice.”

You whine, not able to form a coherent sentence, with him tickling you the whole time. “B-bu- p-plea?”

“Please, what? You have to tell me what you need,” Bucky grins, his eyes now blistering with mischievousness. The boyish grin on his lips makes him even more beautiful.

His bright blue eyes, his messy hair and that damn grin that makes your heart beat even faster.

You try to untangle Bucky’s finger one by one from your shirt so he’s not able to get a hold on you and keep tickling you. Unfortunately, when one finger was off, he used the other to keep his grip firm, steadying you on his lap.

“Bu- p- n-no… ti-ck—“ you laugh, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair and pull his head back.

Bucky groans, his eyes widening when you tug his hair. Then he smirks again, finally letting go of your sides enough to not tickle you anymore.

"Menace!"

“You love it!” You pout, running your fingers softer through his thick hair. You hum softly, massaging his scalp, your nails scratching along his sensitive skin.

Bucky relaxes with you in his lap, his eyes closing, and he lets his head fall forward against your shoulder.

“Though… I love when you comb your fingers through my hair. Being so soft and—“ Bucky almost purrs when you lean forward to press a soft kiss to his hairline. “Babydoll.”

“Mhm?”

“Stop being so sweet,” he mumbles, sighing softly as he pulls you closer into his firm chest. “Ya know the boys are going to make jokes if you make me all giggly and soft here?”

You hum and nod. Not your plan, but definitely an amazing addition to it.

“Actually, no. But I will take what I get, Buck,” you grin, your lips lingering a few more moments against his hair before you pull back.

Bucky’s eyes are still closed as your hands slide down the sides of his face, framing it while your thumbs stroke softly over his cheeks. Then he blinks them open, and the waves of emotions you can see in his blue orbs almost overwhelm you.

“B-buck–“ you whisper, your mouth slightly agape as you stare into his deep blue eyes. You swallow thickly, not moving an inch.

You can feel the heat and tension between the two of you, your chest rising and falling in the same steady rhythm as Bucky’s.

Then his eyes flicker down to your lips. Only for a brief moment. But you catch it, of course you do.

Bucky leans closer, your breath hitching when the tip of his nose brushes against yours. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

“I’m not,” you breathe out. Bucky chuckles low in his throat, the vibration rumbling through his chest. He’s so close. His chest, his face. And his lips – his plump, pink lips.

“For me, you are,” he whispers, and you almost didn’t hear it. Bucky holds you by your waist tightly, his fingers digging into your skin enough for you to sit still but not enough to hurt. “For me ya fuckin’ perfect.”

Then he turns his face, kissing one of your palms that frames his face, before he turns his head and kisses the other as well.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers, as if he’s afraid that if he would speak louder you would say no. His eyes downcast to your lips, but when they settle back on yours, you can’t help but smile.

The hopeful, puppy-like expression on his face makes your heart melt. Every single time. Bucky might not do it on purpose, but he gets you with it every time.

You nod, but Bucky shakes his head. His thumbs brushing over the fabric of your shirt just above your hips.

“I need you to say it, please?” He almost begs. He needs you. He needs to feel your lips on his, but he doesn't allow himself to do so if you don’t say it clearly.

You’re not able to say it clearly? You’re not able to know what’s good or bad. And Bucky’s no one to take advantage of anyone — especially not of you.

“Please, yes. Just–“

You can’t even finish your sentence when Bucky presses his warm lips against yours. There’s no rush. Just his plump lips moving soft and slow against yours. Bucky’s taking his time, wanting to remember every little bit of your lips, of your taste, in case you won’t allow him to kiss you again – in case you don’t feel the same as he does.

As he pulls away slightly, you’re both panting. Bucky’s forehead is still resting against yours, and a storm of emotions forms in the depths of his blue orbs.

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips. Bucky smiles softly at you, pecking your lips. He takes in your clouded eyes, the dreamy smile on your face as you lift your hands to touch them.

A soft laugh leaves his lips, you’re just too cute. Even though Bucky can’t quite believe it himself that he just got to kiss you, he didn’t think you would feel that way, too.

“Thank you,” he mutters softly. “For letting me kiss you. But I hope you know, I can’t get enough of your lips now.”

You smile, leaning closer to him. This time it’s on you to kiss him, with more determination but still soft. His hands wander up and down your sides until he plays with the hem of your shirt to lift it just enough to slip his warm hands underneath it.

“B-bu—“

“Sh, we are not doing anything,” he promises, knowing that you’re not ready to take the next step. And he didn’t even have it in mind, he just needed to feel your warm, soft skin against him. “I just want to feel your skin against mine. Can I?”

You nod, almost hypnotized by your best friend. Bucky kisses the tip of your nose before he connects your lips once again. This time, he doesn’t pull back until you’re both panting, in need of some air.

It takes you a moment to get a straight sentence out. Your mind trying to process what you just did with Bucky while you feel the want to do it again.

“W-what does that mean now?” You ask, hesitantly. Bucky didn’t answer, turning his chair around before he turned off the computer and got off the chair. His arms still wrapped around you — still underneath your shirt — as he lifts you up and carries you toward his bed.

“It means you’re mine,” he says against your lips, pecking them as he lays you down, as he lowers himself. His knee nudging your legs apart for him to settle in between them. “If you want to be mine, babydoll.”

Your eyes widen, your fingers still tangled in Bucky’s hair. You pull him down, closer to you. And he can see straight through your act, wanting to kiss him again.

“Did it unlock something in that pretty mind of yours?”

“Maybe,” you giggle, pecking his lips. But it’s not enough. It feels good, but it probably doesn't feel the same as when you kiss him properly. “So soft, and warm. And you taste just so… like mint and fresh. And like you.”

Bucky laughs, his nose scrunching once again. “Then I hope you’re not planning on eating me.”

You pout, hitting his chest playfully. “I don’t. Or I do if you don’t kiss me again.”

“So. The answer is yes, then?”

You nod, growling when he doesn’t kiss you. “Yes. Yes. I’m yours! I’m fuckin’ yours, but please. Kiss me!”

“So impatient, babydoll. Not even a please?” He teases but lowers himself to kiss you again. His tongue sweeps over your lips, asking for permission – and of course, he gets what he’s asking for.

Your heart flutters, and you feel a warmth spreading when he mutters a soft, “All mine. Fuck I love you,” against your lips. Because, damn. Yes, you are his just as much as he’s yours.

@armystay89 @rogersbarber

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes comfort #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x female yn

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67bottles-of-milk · 16 hours ago

Text

Not Just Roommates

Finally, Jason lets you meet his family.

~5k words

Part 1

For weeks following Jason and Dick’s conversation, his family tried to convince Jason to let them meet you. They each had their own tactic.

—

Bruce tried invitations to family events and galas.

“You know, it would be really nice if you brought this girlfriend of yours to dinner this-”

“Nice try old man. Not happening, you really think I’m gonna bring her here just so you can interrogate her? Absolutely not.” Jason didn’t even look up from his bike in the cave. Bruce was dejected at the harsh rejection before perking up, ready for another suggestion. “No, she’s not coming to the gala next week either. Don’t expect me to be there either; it’s date night.” He was quickly cut off with even more rejection.

“Come on, Jaylad, why not? We just want to meet her, make sure she’ll treat you right,” Bruce tried to reason. That definitely caught Jason’s attention properly.

“Look, Bruce, I’m twenty two years old and Red Hood. Tell me honestly, and to my face, that you think I would willingly stay with someone who doesn’t treat me right?” Jason’s voice was entirely flat, if a bit condescending.

“Alright but at least introduce me before you decide to get married to her.”

—

Dick tried to invite himself to Jason’s through various scenarios.

“Hey, Little Wing. Mind if I swing by this weekend? I’d love to spend some quality bonding time together but I know the manor is a mess at the minute with all the preparations for the gala.” Dick had just landed on the roof next to his brother. Seeing Bruce’s direct attempts failing, he decided to take a more sly approach, disguising it as just coming over once or twice to spend time with him and hopefully, at some point be there at the same time you were. If the two of you even lived together. If it didn’t work, he would at least still be able to spend some time with Jason which was always a win in his books.

“Sure.” Jason’s response made Dick absolutely light up with anticipation. Maybe he actually had a shot at being able to meet you. “ If you can figure out where I live.” Immediately, his hopes were dashed. The entire family had put in quite a bit of effort into finding out where Jason lived but so far, they couldn’t find a single trace of him. Not even a name on any leases or deeds to any place of residence in the entire city, likely under a fake name.

For a while, Bruce was worried Jason was just living somewhere on the street but that was put to rest from some defensive and highly indignant yelling from Jason about how he has an entire apartment that is clean and tidy and that he sleeps in every single night– well, morning.

—

Tim just avoided going through Jason and decided to figure out who you were all on his own.

It wasn’t like Jason would give him an answer anyway, might as well skip the trouble and go straight to internet sleuthing. Unfortunately, all he had so far was Jason’s phone number with no social media attached to it aside from an empty instagram profile that wasn’t following anyone and was only followed by family and Jason’s teammates.

He tried Damian’s to see if he followed anyone out of the ordinary. No luck there either. Damian only followed a handful of people. If only Tim had your name, he could do so much more. Although, he supposes, if he had your name then the entire family could have a much easier time meeting you.

—

“I hate my family sometimes,” Jason sighed, laying beside you as you sat in bed. He pushed his face into your waist and curled into a ball as well as he could. Your hand rubbed his back, resting on the back of his neck after a moment.

“What have they done this time?”

“Won’t leave me the fuck alone. God, why can’t they just mind their own business?” You breathed a laugh at his whiny tone.

“Well, maybe they’re just happy for you? I mean, come on, when was the last time you had a partner?” You teased, pushing his face away from you to look at him properly.

“I don’t know. Didn’t really have the time for anything when I came back. All anger and revenge y’know? Not much time for love and care like I have with you.” He ended the sentence with a kiss on your hand.

“Well aren’t you just a sweet talker? I love you, Jay.”

“I love you more, sweetheart.”

—

You and Damian were sitting on the sofa, so engrossed in your conversation and entirely ignoring the movie in the background. Meanwhile, Jason was pacing back and forth in the kitchen. He was chewing his thumbnail as he went around in circles in his head debating with himself whether it was a good idea or not.

“Jaylove? Can you put the kettle on please?” He stopped and looked up at you, leaning over the sofa with a soft smile on your face. He felt his cheeks warm at the sight of you. You were absolutely gorgeous, the love of his life. He nodded resolutely, turning to fill the kettle up before turning to the bedroom.

“I’ll be back in a minute, it’s cold as hell.” It was not. In all honesty, it was actually pretty cosy but he could get away with wearing a jumper for a bit. He watched as you got up behind him, mugs in hand to replenish drinks for all three of you. Jason took the chance to message Damian while you weren’t sitting directly next to the kid. Not that you would read his messages but he wasn’t risking it.

I’m doing it. Scram.

Actually can you record it? Wanna keep the memory.

If I must.

You’re far too sentimental.

With everything sorted, Jason pulled his jumper over his head and felt around in his pockets. Good, it was still there. As he made his way out to the kitchen where you were, he spotted Damian leaning over the back of the sofa, much like you were just moments ago except now with his phone in hand, clearly in sight with the camera pointing at you making hot chocolate. Real subtle. Thankfully you were too lost in your own world to notice.

“Hey sweetheart,” Jason spoke softly, spinning you by the waist. “Got a question for you.”

“I’ve got an answer for you.” You put your hand over his where it rests on your hip before he pulled away again, both hands in his pockets. Jason pulled them back out again, just a moment later only to bend down to the floor on one knee.

“You are my soulmate. The love of my life. My everything. I know we’re young and I know we talked about waiting until after we graduated but I want you now and forever and I don’t think I could wait to ask you any longer.” His words were heavy with nothing but adoration as he looked you in the eyes. “Will you marry me?” Immediately, you dropped to the floor with him and dragged him into a tight hug. It was short lived as you immediately pulled back, kissing every inch of his face.

“You know damn well I will. Absolutely I’ll marry you, Jason Todd.” His joy overwhelmed him completely, his eyes shining and crinkling in the corners, his smile stretching as far as it could. He took your hand, sliding a simple ring on your finger as the gemstone in the middle reflected the kitchen light. A bright laugh bubbled up as Jason lifted you in the air to spin around, kissing you deeply the moment your feet touched the floor once again.

“Can we return to the movie now?” Damian piped up from his position in the living room, done recording and already in the process of sending the video to Alfred.

—

The next day, everyone had made it for the monthly family dinner, even Steph and Babs were in attendance. Jason was last in, running late as a result of the rush hour traffic. Nothing he could do when he had classes to attend still. Alfred was the first to greet him as he made his way to his seat at the table.

“Congratulations on the excellent news, Master Jason.” It was just one sentence offered as the butler returned to the kitchen to finish bringing dishes to the table. A momentary pause rang through the room as everyone turned to look in curiosity. What news would Jason have that would be excellent?

“What’s new with you then?” Dick poked, hoping he wouldn’t be immediately brushed off. He was not very lucky.

“Nothing really, just finally managed to get something done I’ve been meaning to for a while now. Nothing that concerns you.” He was more focused on getting food on his plate. Despite not wanting to directly fuel his family’s incessant need to be in his business all the time, he was still excited to show off. And so, he was very deliberate in using his left hand to reach across the table for each platter. With a family full of detectives, it was not long before at least one of them caught on.

“Jason.” It was Bruce that caught it first, afterall he was really the only person sitting to the left of him. “Is that a ring on your hand?” It was a calculatingly calm tone. One that was almost perfect in hiding Bruce’s emotions.

“Yeah.” He didn’t want you to be the only one wearing a ring. Sure, it wasn’t the most traditional thing for him to be wearing a ring himself but he wanted everyone to know that he was a committed and taken man, even if you weren’t his wife just yet.

“ Please do not tell me you got married and didn’t invite or even tell any of us.” Bruce had dropped the calmness and replaced it with tired exasperation.

“Of course not.” Jason spoke with faux offence. “Damian was there.” Dick slammed his hands on the table and stood up with such speed his chair would’ve fallen if not for Cass catching it as it tipped backwards.

“Are you kidding me!? You got married and I wasn’t even invited? How could you, Little Wing, I thought we were brothers?” Dick was tearing up, the hurt evident in his voice as he sank back into his chair defeated.

“Worry not Grayson, he has yet to marry, they are merely betrothed.” Damian spoke up. “They agreed that they would not get married until the two have achieved their degrees.” Without even thinking, he added more fuel to the fire.

“Wait a minute, degrees? The two? Jason, you’re getting a degree?” Tim jumped into the conversation now, entirely baffled at the concept of Jason pursuing higher education.

“Uh, yeah? I’m in my final year dude, been studying literature for a solid two years now. What do you think I’ve been doing all day?” Jason asked, acting as if he hasn’t kept almost every aspect of his life to himself since he came back.

“To be honest? I assumed you were just sleeping all day.” Tim shrugged.

“I thought you were working a part time job somewhere.” Dick chimed in.

“I was under the impression you were continuing operations as Red Hood during the day with the other Outlaws.” Bruce’s conception was the most accurate considering he did still hang out with Roy some weekends.

“Well, you’re all wrong. I’ve been going to Gotham University to study literature. Don’t know if I’ll do anything with my degree since, y’know, but it’s always there for me to fall back on anyhow.”

“So, now that you’re engaged, will we be meeting this fiancee of yours any time before the wedding?” Bruce pushed.

“Maybe.”

—

Maybe came just over two weeks later.

Jason was out for the day, helping Roy with a case he was struggling with and so it was just you at home. Well, for the morning anyway; Damian had said he would be over in the afternoon to watch the next movie in the series. (How this boy had made it so far in life and had seen neither The Hobbit nor The Lord of the Rings was beyond you but you were rectifying that and so The Battle of the Five Armies was on the watchlist for this evening.)

Taking a long look in the cupboards and through the fridge, you sighed and pulled your shoes and coat on. Grocery shopping was long overdue. Now that you had used the last of the milk in your coffee this morning, you took it as a sign that it was time for the bi-weekly shop.

As you wandered around your usual grocery store, you turned a corner to be met with a familiar scowl.

“Damian? This is an excellent coincidence, I was just about to call and see if you wanted any particular snacks for movie night tonight.” You smiled as you approached further only to come face to face with an older man you vaguely recognised. “Ah. Hello.”

“Damian, you know this woman?” Dick asked, turning to look at the young man in question. Damian sighed with annoyance.

“Todd will be most displeased. Grayson, this is Todd’s betrothed.” He then turned to you with an equally stern look on his face. “I would like that toffee popcorn you bought last time. It was pleasant.” Dick turned to look at you with utter surprise and unadulterated glee.

“Oh my God, you’re the fiancee!! It is so lovely to meet you finally, Little Wing has been so insistent on keeping us from meeting you. Besides Dami, here of course but they’ve got their own weird connection that I’m not even sure where it came from.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Richard.” You offered a smile. He grimaced at his own name.

“Please, just Dick is fine.” He insisted, almost desperate.

“Sure, Dick. Anyway, it has been lovely to meet you but I have shopping to bring home. Damian, I’ll see you later?” He nodded and waved goodbye as you headed for the tills to pay.

—

Jason didn’t come home until the credits of the movie rolled and Damian was slouched over, snoring quietly.

“Hey Love, how was your day?” Jason stooped over the backrest of the sofa to press a kiss to your temple.

“Pretty alright, got some washing done, went grocery shopping. You will never guess who I came across today though.” You smiled, pushing off the sofa and gathering empty bowls and cups to take to the kitchen.

“Who? Charlotte?” He guessed, settling a blanket over Damian and turning off the TV.

“Better. Dick. Ran into him and Dami in the shop. Stopped to say hi and get acquainted. I mean, gotta meet the in-laws at some point, right?” You shrugged, stacking the dishes in the sink to be done at a later time. At least when Damian was awake and wouldn’t be disturbed by the rushing water. A muffled groan came from Jason as he slumped onto the sofa with his head in his hands.

“Great. Just great. Now they’re not going to leave us alone. This is just what I needed.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it would be an issue. I mean, it was bound to happen eventually and it’s not like he’s Black Mask out to get you.” Jason sighed and reached for you to pull close.

“It’s not that. I just wanted to keep you to myself for a little longer. They can be really overbearing and they love nothing more than to be all up in my business as though it were their own. I hate it a lot. I just don’t want them to come and ruin the peace I have here with you.” You rubbed his hand before pressing a kiss to his knuckles as reassurance.

“They don’t have to know where we live. I am more than okay with meeting them at the manor or even in a restaurant somewhere. It doesn’t have to be all in. them getting to know me doesn’t have to mean them getting to know every single aspect of our lives.” You tried to comfort Jason, convince him that meeting his family will not be the end all be all of your peaceful life together.

“Yeah but I know that as soon as they have even something to go off of, they’re going to do their shitty detective work and find out as much as they can. Hell, I wouldn’t be shocked if either Tim or Bruce ran a background check on you the moment they learned your name.” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’ll think about it. I know they’ll have to meet you eventually, especially since we’re going to be getting married and then you will literally be part of the family. I just… I need some time to consider.”

And so later that evening, once Damian had returned home, Jason surprised you by having a shower and coming back to the bedroom dressed in– not his usual nighttime outfit of leather and kevlar, but instead cotton and polyester. He was sporting the Hello Kitty pyjama pants you had gotten him as a joke one day. It wasn’t often Jason joined you so early in bed but tonight, he seemed to be having the night off.

Wordlessly, you shifted to sit more upright and opened your arms in invitation. He crawled over the bed and settled his head on your chest and curled the rest of his body around you. Soothing circles were rubbed into his back as he closed his eyes in thought.

“You really want to meet my family?” Jason shifted to rest his chin on you and look directly into your eyes. You pushed his hair back and kissed his forehead.

“Jaylove, you know I love you. I will not marry you before meeting your family and I refuse to meet them at our wedding. So yes, I really want to meet your family. I can tell, despite all your grumblings about them, that they’re important to you. So I would love to come to the next family dinner and finally have a meal made by Alfred that hasn’t been microwaved in tupperware.” He sighed and went back to pressing as much of his face against you as possible.

“I love you more. Alright, next family dinner I’ll bring you along. Unluckily for you, that’s this Friday.”

—

Friday rolled around and the manor was as it usually was for family dinner: loud, chaotic, and full of bickering and teasing. Most of all, it was warm and everyone was honestly just there to have a good time. Even when there are grudges being held and long term disagreements that have yet to be settled, everyone calls a truce for the monthly Friday night dinner. It was Alfred’s rule and no one wanted to cross Alfred. There were no exceptions.

Naturally, Jason had only informed Alfred of your company for the night since he would need to set an extra place at the table. Not even Damian knew because he hadn’t been over since movie night for you to tell him and Jason certainly wouldn’t. So when Jason walked in with a woman holding his hand? Silence.

“Oh my God. She’s way too pretty for you.” Steph was the first to snap out of it and was immediately on her feet, snatching your hand from Jason and holding both close to her chest as she leaned close to your face. Her face lit up with a mischief that Jason dreaded to see. “So what’s he like at home? His room here is always so messy with books and clothes like everywhere. He’s barely ever here nowadays so I don’t even know how he keeps it so messy.”

“Honestly? I don’t mind the mess, it’s not like he’s dirty anyway. Jay’s got like the cleanest hygiene habits of anyone I know for the most part. My favourite evenings are definitely our self care spa nights.” You giggled behind your hand, leaning in as though you were telling her a secret.

“Wait, you guys have spa nights? That’s so cute. And it honestly makes so much sense now. No wonder his skin is practically porcelain despite wearing his goddamn helmet all the time!” You now shot her a confused look, head tilting in question.

“Helmet? What helmet?” Stephanie panicked as she looked to the other family, each also showing varying degrees of distress. So you didn’t know? They would have to be careful.

“Uh, well, his… his motorcycle helmet! Yeah, his motorcycle helmet. I mean, he rides around on his bike everywhere, it’s practically his kid y’know?”

Jason was sat confused, there was no way you didn’t realise she meant his Red Hood helmet, right? As you came to sit next to him, you gave him a saccharine smile. “I didn’t know you rode a motorcycle, Jay! I guess even after being in a relationship for over two years, there are still things to learn about each other.” Oh. You were going to mess with his family. This is why he was going to marry you.

“So, it’s nice to finally meet the woman my son has decided to commit his life to. Bruce Wayne, a pleasure to meet you.” Bruce nodded politely with an even expression, cutting into the conversation so dinner could finally begin.

“It’s lovely to be able to meet Jaylove’s family, he’s told me so much about you all. I mean, Tim! It’s so impressive that you’re running a company while still attending school. I bet you definitely sleep well at night.” The boy in question shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of his prominent eyebags and the red bull he’d poured into his glass for the meal. The fact he had barely slept more than ten consecutive minutes in the past few days also flashed to his forethoughts.

“Yeah. Definitely eight hours every night.” He awkwardly shifted in his seat.

“Of course, I’ve heard about you Dick and all the hard work you do as a police officer over in Bludhaven. Truly an admirable line of work.” Dick sat up straighter now that he had been directly included in the conversation. Finally, someone around that wouldn’t admonish him and berate him for his day job.

“Thank you, it can be tough sometimes, especially considering the high level of crime around but growing up here in Gotham, it really isn’t much different working over there. Y’know? Besides, I have help.” You nodded along solemnly, a serious expression on his face as he talked about the struggles of his line of work.

“Indeed. Incredibly honorable and very inspiring to see someone willing to follow protocols and the correct way to do things. Unlike those good for nothing ‘vigilantes’ that run around Gotham at night.” At that, everyone stiffened up and shot disbelieving glances across the table. The only ones seemingly unaffected were Jason, Damian, and Bruce. Jason was muffling his laugh with a mouthful of mashed potatoes, Damian was pretending he couldn’t hear anything as he pet Titus under the table. Bruce, commendably, didn’t even so much as twitch as he looked on thoughtfully.

“Interesting. Care to elaborate?” It wasn’t often Bruce got to hear the honest and unfiltered opinions of Gotham citizens on his family’s nighttime operations. Sure, there were forums where people would discuss them but oftentimes, they were exaggerated or just trolls looking for entertainment by spouting hate.

“Of course. I mean, there’s no way I would ever let my kids go out at night in kevlar speedos to beat people up. Granted, the robin costumes have gotten better over the years, the first two really should’ve had a bit more common sense. No. Actually, Batman really should’ve been more responsible. He’s the one who trained them to go out there in the first place, he couldn’t at least educate them on wearing safe and proper clothes on the job? Like, come on dude, so not a safe working environment.” That earned a few giggles around the table.

“Is your grief with them just their costumes?” Barbara asked. Your answer came a brief moment later.

“Honestly? Yeah, I think so. I mean, there have been some good choices made lately. The current Robin’s newest outfit is definitely my favourite. Red Robin’s cowl moment? Atrocious. Bowling ball. But like, straight into the gutter, you wouldn’t even hit a single pin. Definitely nothing to complain about with Spoiler though. The eggplant? I love it, and the transition from the full face cover to the half mask? It’s honestly everything.” Steph clapped from her seat, nodding fervently.

“See? I’m not the only one that thinks I- she looks good in it. Can’t believe everyone keeps saying she should pick a different colour that isn’t as obvious to see. Like c’mon.” You pointed over at her with a grin.

“NO SEE SHE GETS IT. Like, Red Hood? Dude that thing is fucking chrome, in the streetlights, I swear he’d be reflecting like one of those rainbow prisms. Like calm it down. Could never argue with a man whose thighs are the size of my head though.” You nodded and sat back in your chair. From the side of you, Jason looked at you incredulously.

“How dare you. For one, you fucking love that helmet, I don’t want a word out of you on that front. Second, you and I know damn well my thighs are bigger than your head and you would absolutely argue with me. And you do. Just yesterday you were arguing with me when I said we should have peonies on the tables at our wedding because they’re your favourite but you said no because they would be out of season since you want a fall wedding.” He huffed and sat back in his chair.

“Yeah well, I don’t want a fake flower bouquet. It’s just not the same.” Dick held up his hands as he processed the words Jason had said just a few moments ago.

“Woah, wait a second. Can we backtrack just a second? You know he’s Red Hood?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, yeah? This man cannot keep a secret from me to save his life. Proposing was the one thing he’s ever managed to surprise me with, like, ever.” You shrugged, like it was no big deal to know that your fiance was Gotham’s most infamous crime lord and one of the few people actively on the Justice League’s wanted list. “Also, back to the topic of suits, Dick, can you please tell me what possessed you to wear the Discowing suit? That in and of itself was probably the turning point for at least one Gotham rogue.” You went back giving him the side eye with your lips pursed and an eyebrow raised.

“How dare you, that was the pinnacle of fashion at the time and I will not stand for this slander!” His chair fell from under him as he stood up, slamming his hands on the table. A sharp cough from the doorway caught everyone’s attention.

“Master Richard, I think you will find you have just, in fact, stood for ‘this slander’ so if you would please return to your seat, that would be most obliged. And if we could refrain from slamming the table, thank you.” Alfred spared no more words as he turned and went back to wherever he had come from in the first place. Everyone was silent at the table for a moment before everyone broke out into raucous laughter at Dick’s expense as he sat with his head on the table. Even Bruce stifled a laugh behind his palm.

—

The dinner, from that point on, had gone without incident. Jason was so happy to see you get along well with his family. Even if he didn’t get along with them all of the time, and they had more than their fair share of disagreements, they were still his family and he (not that he’d ever admit, even to himself) loved them as such.

He didn’t realise how nervous he’d been until you were back home, getting ready for bed. You were sat in bed, watching as Jason pulled on his socks while getting ready to go out for the night. Without warning, you launched yourself at his back, tangling your arms around his neck and grappling your legs around his waist. Taken off guard, he let himself be dragged backwards onto the bed as you smothered the top of his head and forehead with kisses.

“I love you so much. Thank you for letting me meet your family.” Jason breathed out and pressed kisses into your forearms resting over his shoulders.

“I love you more, might as well meet them before they start causing problems about it. Now, sweetheart, as much as I love you and I love this, I have to get going. Big bad guys to catch and all.” You relented your hold and pulled his face in for one last kiss before the boots and helmet went on.

“Alright, but I’d better be meeting Roy soon.” You pointed at him and blew another kiss to where he stood by the window, hands braced on the frame with one foot already halfway out.

“Whatever you want.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd #red hood #red hood x reader #batfamily #batfam #damian wayne #damian al ghul #tim drake #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #batman

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channiesbakery · 3 days ago

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dance studio —

prompt / request — minghao and hoshi as dance instructor

pairing — dance instructor!hoshi + reader + dance instructor!minghao

word count — 668

genre — smut [semi public sex, p in v, threesome, oral (m receiving), slight degradation (slut), creampie]

author’s note — work is finally slowing down so i’ll have time to go through some old requests now :)

the minute you walked into their dance studio to sign up for lessons, both minghao and soonyoung developed crushes on you.

they were respectful, of course, not wanting to scare you off. but you definitely don’t miss the way they paid a little more attention to you than the other students, how their hands always seemed to linger just a little bit longer.

so when soonyoung asked if you wanted to have a private practice session with him, it was no surprise that it led to you pressed against the mirror with his cock buried deep inside you.

“that’s it, eyes on the mirror baby,” soonyoung mumbles into your ear, one hand gripping your jaw to keep you facing the mirror as his other hand guided his cock into you.

his eyes meet yours in the mirror, watching the way your mouth falls open as he stretches you out. “fuck you look so pretty,” he turns your face slightly to kiss you.

you lay your palms flat against the mirror, bracing yourself as he starts thrusting into you harder. “look at how well you’re taking me, sweetheart,” soonyoung grunts, his fingers digging into your hips.

both of you are so focused on each other, and on your pleasure, that you don’t hear someone entering the studio.

“well, well, well. what’s going on here?” minghao speaks up, making you gasp, whipping your head in his direction.

soonyoung doesn’t make any moves to slow his hips, in fact, he starts thrusting into you even harder.

“just– fuck– helping out our favorite student,” soonyoung grunts as you tighten around him at the sight of hao walking over to you.

“is that so? and you went to soonyoung for help, honey? not me?” minghao tilts your chin up to face him.

“i thought i was your instructor,” he fakes a pout. “clearly i am,” soonyoung smirks.

“you can both be my favorite,” you purr, one of your hands leaving the mirror to palm minghao over his sweats.

before long, you’re repositioned between your two dance instructors, bent over with soonyoung’s cock still deep inside you while minghao filled your mouth.

“such a good girl for us,” soonyoung groans, feeling your pussy tighten around him every time minghao’s cock hit the back of your throat.

“our pretty slut,” minghao praises, brushing your hair out of your face as he thrusts into your mouth.

“fuck-” you moan around his cock when soonyoung reaches around your body to rub your clit. “making such a mess on your cocks, baby,” he mutters in your ear, feeling your wetness coat him and the drool around his friend’s cock.

“can’t help it,” you whimper, releasing minghao’s cock with a pop. “our messy slut. why don’t you be a good girl and make an even bigger mess on soonyoung’s cock, hm?” minghao says, pushing his cock back into your mouth as soonyoung’s fingers moved faster around your clit.

right after you cum, soonyoung finishes as well, filling you up with his cum. you whimper around minghao’s cock as he pulls out of you, his fingers pushing his cum back into you before he slides your panties back in place to keep it all in.

“gonna swallow everything like a good slut?” minghao pats your cheek, bringing your attention back to him.

you look up at him with doe eyes, mumbling a yes around his cock before you feel his cum hit the back of your throat.

you continue sucking him as he finishes, swallowing every last drop.

“so good for us baby,” soonyoung praises as minghao pulls away, letting you lower yourself back against the mirror, all three of you panting.

“so… i think i might need a few more private sessions,” you say. “just to really perfect my dancing, of course.” you add slyly.

“just the dancing, sure baby,” soonyoung says, grinning a little. “well, our actual dance class doesn’t start for another hour. i think i wanna see how many times our favorite student can cum,” minghao smirks.

#seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #hoshi x reader #hoshi smut #kwon soonyoung smut #minghao x reader #minghao smut #channiesbakery drabbles

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lovecoatedwords · 20 hours ago

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“Promised Vows, Pt. 3”

featuring: poly marauders x reader (arranged marriage au) angsty but also fluff (later on)

Series master list

previous chapter

next chapter

The morning is cold, silver-gray light leaking through the estate windows as you’re summoned to the foyer.

James doesn’t look up from the papers in his hand as he explains the change in plans. “Remus is tied up with the delegates from the northern house, and I’ll be handling the venue security this afternoon.”

You nod, unsure what that means for you.

Then Sirius walks in, tugging on his gloves, coat already half-buttoned. His eyes meet yours for a fraction of a second—cold, unreadable—before flicking away.

“You’ll be going into the city,” James says. “You need something appropriate for the political summit. Sirius will take you.”

The silence that follows is loud. Sirius exhales through his nose like he’s already regretting this.

“Try not to take all day,” he mutters, brushing past you without pausing. “I’m not your maid.”

You say nothing. Just follow.

He doesn’t slow his pace as you trail behind him down the drive. Doesn’t open the car door. Doesn’t speak during the ride into the city.

You sit quietly in the passenger seat, watching the trees blur into gray as the estate vanishes behind you. It’s the first time you’ve left since the wedding.

He doesn’t ask you what you like. Doesn’t offer opinions when you pass storefronts. He parks the car and walks ahead, and you have to catch up—his long strides forcing you to hurry, just to keep him in sight.

And still, you feel invisible.

Inside the boutique, the world is rich with color and fabric and warmth. None of it touches you. You drift through it, unsure of where to start, unsure if you’re allowed to want anything.

Sirius leans against the far wall, arms crossed, eyes on his phone. When the shopkeeper greets you, you barely get the words out.

“A dress,” you say quietly. “For a political gathering.”

The woman nods, warm and professional. She leads you through options. You glance back at Sirius once—he doesn’t look up. You stop trying after that.

Eventually, you find something. Simple. Elegant. Not too bold. You step out of the dressing room quietly, fingers twisting in the fabric.

Still, he doesn’t look.

“Will this work?” you ask, almost whispering.

He lifts his head, barely. Gives you one glance. Shrugs.

“It’s fine.”

Outside the shop, the city has grown busier.

Sirius says nothing as he steps onto the sidewalk, turning down the boulevard without checking to see if you’re following. His coat billows slightly in the wind, the only part of him that waits.

You hurry to catch up, dress box tucked carefully under one arm.

The street is a living thing—horses clatter past, voices rise and fall in sharp laughter, and somewhere a street performer plays something haunting on a bowed instrument. Everything moves too fast. Too bright. Too loud.

You try not to fall behind again.

But then—something catches your eye.

A bookshop window. Small. Tucked between two taller buildings like a secret. The glass is fogged slightly with the chill, but the display is careful: first editions, weathered spines, a journal with gold foiling that glints just enough to feel like memory.

There’s a copy of a poetry collection you recognize. Your mother had it. Wrote in the margins with delicate ink. You’d forgotten that.

You stop. Just for a second.

Your fingers twitch toward the window. A quiet ache unfurls in your chest—not longing exactly, but recognition. A life that once felt soft.

You don’t mean to linger.

It’s just that no one’s ever told you what’s allowed to matter.

When you finally turn back toward the street—

He’s gone.

No black coat. No lean figure in the crowd. No hint of where he turned.

Your breath catches.

You take two steps forward, heart starting to thud.

Still nothing.

You scan the sidewalk. Try to follow the direction he’d been walking. But there’s too many people. Too many streets. Too many ways to disappear.

You don’t call his name.

You just start walking.

One turn becomes another.

The stone underfoot changes texture. The noise sharpens. The city smells different here—less perfume, more smoke.

And that’s when it hits you.

You’re lost.

Really lost.

And Sirius Black has no idea where you are

Your feet move faster now. Left. Then right. Another street. Another wrong turn.

The sky’s begun to dim—not dark, not yet, but the light has thinned, stretched into a color that doesn’t feel safe.

You pass a bakery. A florist shuttering for the day. The scent of warm sugar and crushed petals lingers in the air, but none of it feels familiar. None of it feels like anything you can hold on to.

You press forward anyway.

Try to remember the storefront. The cobbled corner. The bookshop.

But it’s all blurred now, smudged at the edges like something seen through tears you haven’t cried yet.

Panic starts quietly.Just a shallow breath. . The way your fingers tighten on the box in your arms like it could anchor you.

You tell yourself it’s fine.

You’ll find the shop again. You’ll find him.

But the street curves the wrong way, and now there’s music drifting from somewhere behind you, and the people around you are laughing too loud, too close. A man brushes your shoulder. Doesn’t look back.

Your steps falter.Your throat tightens

You veer down a narrow side path without thinking—something quieter, something smaller—stone walls pressing in on either side as the sounds of the street dull behind you.

It’s not an alley, not really. More of a courtyard—walled in on three sides, a rusted gate hanging open at the fourth. There’s an old fountain in the center, long dry. Ivy crawls across brick in fading green.

You stop beside the fountain.

Set the box down.

Breathe.

The silence here is different. Not peaceful. Just empty.

You sit on the edge of the stone, hands braced at your sides, chest heaving. The cold finds your fingertips first, then seeps in deeper. You don’t cry. You don’t call for help. But your legs have started to shake, and you feel like the whole world has narrowed to this one courtyard where no one knows your name.

You don’t say it out loud, but you know what it is.

It’s abandonment.

In a different shape. A different street. A different silence.

Still the same ache.

And just as the first real fear starts to settle behind your ribs—

You hear footsteps.

Boots.Deliberate.Close

You freeze.

The footsteps don’t rush. They stroll. Measured. Casual.

That’s what makes them worse.

You rise slowly, the stone of the fountain cold against your palms as you steady yourself. The box lies forgotten at your feet.

A figure appears at the far end of the courtyard. Then another. Then a third.

They don’t speak.

Not at first.

The one in front steps forward, boots crunching softly over old gravel. His coat is dark, but not official. Not uniform. This isn’t someone from the city guard. Not even a delegate. His face is familiar, though. Not because you know him—but because you’ve seen that shape before. The sharp angles of your father’s enemies.

One of the old families.

Their sons.

Their knives.

“Didn’t think we’d see one of you walking alone,” the lead man says, voice smooth as oil and just as slick. “They must be getting careless.”

Your heart pounds, but you don’t move.

The second one circles wide, to the right. The third lingers near the rusted gate. They’re triangulating—positioning like they’ve done this before.

“Wasn’t she the one from the East House?” the one on the right murmurs, as if you’re not standing right there. “The quiet one. The one they married off.”

A laugh. Bitter. Dry.

“I’d heard she was pretty,” the leader says, cocking his head as if to inspect you. “Can’t say I don’t see the appeal.”

You still haven’t spoken.

Your silence is a thin armor. You’re afraid your voice will shake if you try to use it.

The third man moves now—toward the gate, toward the exit. He’s locking it.

Not with keys. Just his body. Just his presence.

“She’s shivering,” one of them says softly, voice almost kind. “Isn’t that something?”

The air turns colder—not from the wind, but from the realization sinking into your bones.

This isn’t chance.

They saw you.

They followed.

And they waited.

“We could send a message,” the leader murmurs, turning toward you fully now. “Something small. A cut. A mark. Just enough to remind them what happens when blood like yours marries into houses like theirs.”

He takes another step.

You take one back—and hit the lip of the fountain.

There’s nowhere to go.

The courtyard presses in on all sides.

Your hand curls around the edge of the stone, gripping hard.

The second one is closer now. His eyes flick to your dress, the box, the exposed wrist where the old bandage peeks from your sleeve.

“Still healing?” he asks softly, mockingly. “That’s sweet.”

You hate how they say nothing loudly. How their presence swallows sound. How the city feels miles away.

You tell yourself to run.

But your body doesn’t listen.

Because somewhere inside, you know: even if you screamed, no one would come.

They take one more step.

And then—one of them reaches out.

Fingers brushing the edge of your sleeve. That’s when the quiet breaks.

You barely have time to process the movement before a loud, sharp voice cuts through the courtyard.

"Touch her, and you’ll lose your hands."

The words slice through the thick air like a blade. Your breath catches. The men freeze. Their heads snap toward the source.

Sirius is standing at the far side of the courtyard, framed by the flickering lamplight. His presence fills the space with a sharp, cold edge, like the air just dropped twenty degrees. The way he stands—legs slightly apart, shoulders squared, gaze fixed on the trio with a dangerous calm—sends a chill through your spine.

His voice doesn’t waver.

“I said, don’t touch her,” he repeats, each word deliberate, menacing.

The leader laughs, but it’s hollow. Forced. A little too loud. “And what, you’ll stop us? You’re outnumbered.”

Sirius doesn’t blink. His eyes lock on the man who had moved toward you, who had just brushed your sleeve. “Last warning. Take another step, and I will make sure you regret it.”

The courtyard feels smaller, the distance between Sirius and the men closing with every heartbeat. The tension is unbearable, thick enough to suffocate you. The men shift, calculating, but Sirius is already in motion. His movements are fluid, controlled—no hesitation.

He steps forward, and suddenly, the man nearest to you stumbles back, eyes wide with surprise. A flick of Sirius’s wrist, a soft sound of leather meeting flesh, and the man falls against the fountain, a hiss of pain escaping his lips.

The second man, now fully alert, lunges toward Sirius. But Sirius is faster—too fast. He catches the man’s wrist in a firm grip, twists it behind his back with a practiced motion. The man grunts, knees buckling.

The leader watches, calculating, before he pulls a knife from his coat. The blade gleams in the dim light as he flicks it toward Sirius, his face twisted in amusement.

“You think you’re some sort of knight?” the leader taunts, his voice dripping with scorn. “You’ll get us all riled up, and then what? We’ll see how your family reacts to blood spilled on their streets.”

Sirius steps aside as the knife sails past him, narrowly missing his side. His expression remains unreadable, a predator toying with its prey. “You should’ve stayed hidden in your rat hole,” he says, voice cold as ice. “I gave you a chance to walk away.”

But the leader lunges again, faster this time, his knife aimed straight for Sirius’s abdomen.

This time, Sirius is ready. He catches the wrist mid-air, twisting violently, and the man drops the knife with a sharp cry. Before he can regain his balance, Sirius shoves him hard—forcing him to stumble backward, crashing into the side of the fountain with a sickening thud.

The last man, the one who had been near the gate, hesitates for a moment longer, glancing at his fallen companions. The air is thick with tension. He looks between Sirius and you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

For a split second, you think he might back down. But instead, he sneers and turns to run, darting for the exit.

But Sirius is already in motion. His hand shoots out, catching the man by the collar and yanking him back, pulling him into the hard stone wall of the courtyard with a brutal thud.

“Not so fast,” Sirius growls, his voice low and lethal.

The man’s breath hitches as he scrambles to get free, but Sirius holds him firm, his grip like iron.

“You don’t get to run,” Sirius says, his voice a harsh whisper. “You don’t get to hurt her, and you don’t get to leave without a reminder of who you messed with.”

The man’s eyes widen in fear. He’s trembling now, realizing too late how far he’s gone.

Sirius draws in a breath, and with a sharp twist of his hand, the man drops to his knees, defeated. His body slumps against the wall, gasping for air.

Sirius steps back, his gaze never leaving the group, as if daring them to try again. “Leave. Now.”

The leader, dazed and furious, stumbles to his feet, one last defiant glare thrown in your direction before they finally retreat—limping, bruised, humiliated. They move quickly, slipping back into the shadows, away from Sirius’s unforgiving gaze.

You remain frozen, your chest heaving, the reality of what just happened sinking in. The silence that follows is deafening, as though the world has held its breath.

Sirius doesn’t move toward you immediately. Instead, he watches the men vanish into the distance, ensuring they’re gone for good.

And then, finally, he turns toward you.

“You alright?” His voice is softer now, but there’s a lingering coldness to it, a sharp edge that only comes from moments like this.

You nod, but it feels inadequate, small. You don’t trust your voice to answer him. You’re still too shaken.

He steps forward, his eyes scanning you with quiet intensity. Then, without another word, he holds out his hand, as if offering some kind of anchor in the chaos.

It’s a silent gesture, but the meaning is clear. There’s no judgment, no scolding.

You take his hand, the warmth of his touch grounding you in a way you didn’t realize you needed. The tremors in your body don’t stop immediately, but they’re less frantic, less desperate now. His fingers curl around yours, firm but gentle, as if offering a quiet reassurance.

For a moment, neither of you speaks.

Sirius’s eyes scan over you, sharp and careful, but there’s something softer in them now. He’s not the same man who’d stood cold and distant just moments before, the one who had barely acknowledged your presence back at the boutique. No, this man is different—protective, aware, raw with something unspoken that you can’t quite put a name to.

He leans in just slightly, close enough for his breath to brush against your cheek. “You’re safe now.”

The words settle over you, a blanket of safety that feels almost unreal. You nod, too afraid to speak, but the relief that washes over you is almost too much to bear.

He doesn't rush you. He doesn’t pull you into some forced comfort. Instead, he stands there, his hand still holding yours, waiting for you to find your balance again. You can feel his presence like a wall between you and the remnants of fear that still threaten to close in on you.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he says finally, his voice rough but not unkind. His gaze flicks toward the gate, then back to you, as though waiting for any sign that you’re ready to move.

You don’t respond right away. For the first time, you let yourself lean into him—just a little. You lean into his steadiness, his unspoken promise that, for now, you don’t have to face this alone.

Your steps are slow at first, hesitant, but with each one you feel the pressure on your chest lift just a bit more. The weight of the evening still clings to you like a second skin, but with Sirius beside you, it feels easier to breathe.

He guides you through the courtyard, his hand still holding yours, and as you pass through the rusted gate, you glance back one last time. The shadows are deep, the courtyard empty once more, but the fear that had held you captive there is already starting to fade. Not completely—but enough that you can see the world again, see the streetlights flickering in the distance, hear the muffled sounds of the city.

Sirius doesn’t let go of your hand, not as you walk down the narrow street, not as you finally reach the car. There’s no hurry in his movements, no sense of urgency. He simply walks beside you, his pace steady, like the night hadn’t just been filled with danger. Like nothing had just nearly shattered the fragile quiet you’d been clinging to.

When you get into the car, he’s silent for a long moment, staring out the window, lost in his thoughts. You want to speak, to thank him, but the words are caught somewhere deep inside you, tangled with the mess of everything that just happened.

Instead, you sit there, letting the stillness between you speak for itself.

You feel the weight of everything—your silence, his distance, the way your chest still tightens every time you think about the courtyard. The gate. The voices. The way they looked at you like you were prey.

And SSirius who hadn’t spoken a word since leading you from the alley. Sirius who had grabbed your hand like he wasn’t even thinking about it. Like he just had to know you were there.

You steal a glance at him now.

He’s tense. One hand on the wheel, the other braced near the gearshift. His jaw tight. His eyes forward. But there’s a tremor in the way he exhales. Barely noticeable. Controlled. Except not.

You shift in your seat. Not enough to break the silence. Just enough to breathe.

The gates of the estate come into view.

And still, he says nothing.

The car rolls to a stop beneath the wide arch of the main drive. The cold stone of the manor looms tall against the dying sky, windows glowing with faint, expensive warmth. A place that never quite feels like yours.

Sirius cuts the engine.

The silence stretches.

You don’t move to get out. Neither does he.

Then, finally—

“I didn’t mean to leave you.”

It’s quiet. Rough. Like it scrapes something raw on its way out.

You turn to him slowly.

He still isn’t looking at you. His eyes are fixed on the dash. His hands grip the steering wheel tighter than necessary. “I turned around, and you weren’t there. I thought you were right behind me.”

Your breath catches.

You’re not sure what you expected. Anger, maybe. A cold dismissal. Another shrug.

But not this.

“I’m not used to—” he stops. Clenches his jaw again. “I don’t usually… have to worry if someone’s keeping up.”

The words aren’t exactly kind.

But they’re closer than anything he’s given you before.

You hesitate. Then: “I wasn’t trying to disappear.”

“I know.”

The admission is softer. Realer.

Then a beat. And something darker: “Those men. They weren’t random. They knew what they were doing.”

You nod. You’re not ready to talk about it. But you need him to know you understand.

Sirius finally looks at you.

His eyes are dark in the dim light. Too sharp. Too haunted. “You can’t wander like that. Not here. Not in this city. Not with who you are.”

You swallow.

It’s not a scolding. Not exactly.

It’s fear, pressed flat into words.

“I wasn’t trying to,” you murmur. “I stopped for a second. The bookshop reminded me of something. And then…”

You trail off. He doesn’t need the rest.

His gaze holds yours. Longer than it ever has before.

And for once, it feels like he sees you. Not just the alliance. Not just the marriage.

You.

“You should’ve called for me,” he says, voice tight.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Silence.

And then: “I always come.”

Your breath stutters.

The door opens. Sirius steps out first. Crosses around to your side. Opens the passenger door—too quickly, like the habit isn’t natural yet.

You blink up at him.

“I can carry it,” you whisper, nodding to the box.

“I know.” He doesn’t move to take it. “I’ll walk you in.”

You rise slowly. The cold bites at your skin again, the shock of air after the insulated warmth of the car. You fall into step beside him.

The drive is silent, but different now. Not heavy. Just quiet.

He doesn’t rush ahead this time. Doesn’t leave you to catch up.

When you reach the steps of the manor, he pauses.

You turn to face him.

There’s something like hesitation in his eyes. Like he’s trying to say something and doesn’t know how.

“You shouldn’t have been alone,” he says finally. “That’s on me.”

You want to say thank you.

You want to say it wasn’t.

But all that comes out is: “I didn’t think you’d notice I was gone.”

Sirius flinches—just a little.

Then, softer than you expect: “I noticed.”

The light from the doorway spills over his face, cutting sharp shadows across his cheekbones. He looks like a statue carved from something too proud to break. And yet—

His voice is barely a breath when he says it:

“I notice more than you think.”

And then he’s turning away, back down the steps, coat billowing behind him in the cold.

You don’t follow.

You just stand there, dress box in your arms, watching him vanish into the night.But this time, you’re not invisible.This time, he looked.

a/n: I hope this was worth the wait!! Tho next time I will post more quickly (had lots of writer block) ! <3

Tags:

@0yo @doyouseethewords @yvessentials @daydreamandforget @zellington @kinghalchalamet @literishdegree99 @helloxgoodbi @eli0eli0eli0 @dearsarahriley @maraudersgirlie @screamingsilence3 @arielthee-potterhead @spencers1nonlygf @magicwithaknife @notmonstersapocalipse @amo-a-los-postres @therealbr1gh7ey3s @electronicexpertshark @cloudyzip @mattheoriddlewifesblog @keiththepaddledonk @msmarklee1213 @hawaii2320 @broccoleni @treefairy-28 @sillysugarplum @https-star0 @boo8008 @ricearoni84 @happycatanxie @marrass @pansyitcanton @hellothere7 @poetry-beauty-love-writez @kamarimartell @nerdalert16 @cosmic-rainestorm @fionaapplelover2010 @vermithoraxis @bellatrix-lestrange5 @delusional-4-fake-people

if you wanna be tagged, send in an ask or comment! If you have ideas for next or any feedback, my inbox is open :)

Btw: this is an ongoing request game I have going on rn! Feel free to check it out.

#sirius x reader #remus lupin x reader #marauder #james x sirius #poly marauders x you #remus lupin #poly marauders x reader #james potter x you #james x reader #james potter x y/n #james x you #sirius x you #sirius x remus #sirius x james #sirius x lupin #remus x you #remus x sirius #remus x reader #remus x james

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bihexualandferal · 2 days ago

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man, it sucks when you find a new artist/blog that you really like and then you find out who they really are when they post stuff like this. sad :(

Y’know Persimmon, I have family living in a wartorn country too (Venezuela) that nobody seems to know of/care about, and you don’t see me yelling and swearing at people about it. People don’t make those posts about caring for yourself despite horrible things happening around the globe because they’re apathetic to the plight of others. It’s not about racism, either. Idk why you’re choosing to make this into an issue about race when that has nothing to do with it. Plenty of people still post about Palestine all the time. Plenty of people in this site are POC and have families in or around the war zone who are suffering, just like you and your family. Even others who are white (or at least not Middle Eastern) and have no stake in this issue still care, like I do, because nobody should have to suffer the way Palestinians are suffering right now. I promise people of all kinds care, even if it doesn’t seem like it.

The real issue here is: it’s simply impossible to care about every single bad thing going on around the globe all the time. Ever heard of empathy fatigue? Even reading all the horrible headlines without looking at harrowing footage takes a toll on people’s mental health. If you can’t do much to change the outcome, forcing yourself to keep up with all the bad things in the world is exhausting and unhelpful/useless.

It also has to do with how much direct action people can take to fix the issue. A lot of people on this site live in the UK, so they are able to enact some change by voting and such. But not many people here have the power to change what is happening in Palestine except by donating or spreading the word (and a lot of us are too poor to donate). If we could fix it, we would. But that isn’t possible. So all we can do is take care of ourselves as we try to help in whatever small way we can. And it isn’t a bad thing to be a bit “selfish” and focus on caring for your own mental health before anything else. I think you could use a bit more of that self-care yourself tbh.

The point is, you’re attacking the wrong enemy. Obviously, racism exists online and offline, and it is easier for people to care about things that directly impact/relate to them, I won’t deny that. But those people making “take care of yourself” posts in regards to not doom scrolling on certain global issues are not being racist. That’s absurd. Other people care about the issues and people suffering from them that you care about, regardless of their race, even if you can’t see it.

I understand why you’re upset. I would be too if I were you. And again, I understand your and your family’s struggle. I have family in Venezuela who are starving and living in constantly fear under Maduro’s regime. They often do not have access to basic food, water, electricity, and medicine. They are afraid to walk to school or work for fear of being killed in the streets and people looting the clothes and groceries off their bodies. They are afraid to say anything negative about the government, because they could be listening and reading their calls and messages, and if they are caught, they would be kidnapped and tortured to death. And my mother and I cannot even save them because we live in the USA, and under our current hostile and xenophobic administration, they will likely be sent off to a concentration camp in El Salvador if they try to immigrate here.

I never see any posts raising awareness or charity money for Venezuelans. And of course that makes me sad and angry. But this is based on a lack of information and not necessarily racism. I know if others knew about this problem, they would care. And so I talk to them about it, honestly, factually, and without judgement. And I also understand people’s need to back away from the issues for a little bit and care for their own mental health. Whereas making condescending posts and lashing out at people who also have valid points (even if they misunderstood the meaning of your post) is not helping anyone nor accomplishing anything. It just makes you look like an asshole. I hope you reflect on this and act appropriately in the future, because this kind of behavior is very disheartening to see. I truly admire your artwork and have empathy for you and your family’s struggles (immediate and extended).

Wow it's crazy that no one is making any cloying "you deserve to not give a shit about the world ♡ take care of yourself ♡ you deserve to be happy ♡" selfish posts about the callous treatment trans people are receiving in the UK, it's almost like apathy is a doom reserved only for the people being genocided in the global south! Yes both things are bad yes it's obvious that many many white liberals are also white queer people who are often racially and culturally biased and do not have reserves of compassion for oppression they personally cannot identify with! "Me! Me Me me me me!!!!!!"! That's all I hear so often.

This isn't about my trans siblings in the UK, they have my heart, my soul. This is about the people who are selective in who they choose to ally with ^-^

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comatosebunny09 · 3 days ago

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Sylus, catching you at a bar—a bar that he owns—dancing with another man after putting you on house arrest because some shit’s going down and he needs you to lay low.

Thanks to Luke and Kieran—and a tip from the bartender—he finds you. And the club goers once writhing around you, part like the Red Sea, warped by the vexation he exudes, by the sheer power wafting off his person.

He signals to his men flanking him, that customary smirk crooking his lips, though it belies his cold irritation. He doesn’t take his eyes off you when they move, gaze like a provocation, a challenge.

His goons pull at your dance partner, drawing him away from you by his pits, kicking and protesting, through the crowd towards the back. You purse your lips, crossing your arms.

Shit. You were starting to like that guy, too.

You worry your lip between your teeth before you try to make a run for it. But your heels are too tall, dress too tight around your thighs, and Sylus is unfairly quicker, five sweltering digits encasing your forearm.

His breath scrawls against your ear, working with the liquor sloshing around in your gut to make you dizzy.

“Be a good girl and come home to me, hmm?” he orders in a deceptively soft, syrupy tone.

Loud enough for only you to hear as he coils one of your ringlets of hair around his finger, tugging in a way that pulls a strained sound from your throat.

It’s not painful. Never is. He would only hurt you in the best of ways.

Your gazes interlock when you haughtily look back. For a moment, you forget what it means to breathe, lost in the scarlet-spun depths of his eyes. Danger simmers deep beneath his countenance, and it’s a rare sight. He hardly ever directs his ire at you.

You’ve been a sassy little shit as of late, disobeying his instructions at every turn, sneaking out from beneath his protection. But he’s surprisingly tame for a man on a mission, as if he expected you to challenge his authority.

You wouldn’t be his girl otherwise.

You test his grip on you, trying vainly to free yourself. He only holds tighter, effortlessly, still boasting that insufferable smirk. The veins in his hand jump, signaling how done he is with your shit. You always push his buttons, always test his limits, and he, yours.

Conceding defeat, you sigh heavily, shoulders dropping, mouth thinned as he maneuvers around you like smoke to deposit his coat onto your shoulders. You shrug and shimmy, one last-ditch effort to escape. But he’s a weighted presence behind you, an insistent hand at the small of your back, ushering you towards the red glow of the Exit sign.

On the surface, he’s a gentleman. Just a man picking up his drunk girlfriend who grew a little too big for her britches. But you know the monster he truly is beneath that regal skin he wears, beneath that facade.

You’re reluctantly ushered out of the bar, fenced in by Sylus’ men so you don’t go getting any bright ideas. You stumble outside into the balmy arms of the summery, evening air, heels dragging against the concrete.

He wordlessly covers your head to tuck you into the backseat of his SUV, slamming the door shut behind you.

He maneuvers to the opposite side with the grace of a gazelle, long and leggy, filling up the backseat. Dexterous, battle-worn fingers tightly curl around your kneecap, divulging the contents of one very pissed off mafioso’s mind.

He doesn’t need to speak a word—you know what he’s thinking by the taut pull of his lips. By the sharp gleam of his eyes as they cut to the driver in the rearview, signaling him to move.

Disobey him again, and there will be consequences.

You puff out your cheeks, cross your arms, and throw yourself back against the leather seat. Glaring at the streetlights lazily scrolling by outside the tinted window, you ignore the shock of white hair in your reflection, the eyes drilling down to your soul.

This night won’t end well. You just know it.

#bunny muses #i love it when he’s mad #sylus x reader

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loveanton · 1 day ago

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until august says goodbye | lee anton pt. 2

⟶ summary: every summer job, every inside joke, zero personal space—since you were fourteen, it’s always been anton. even with college pulling you in different directions you stayed close… just less effortlessly so when he says, “one last summer job, just us,” you don’t hesitate. the only thing is, something’s different this time. he still packs your lunch, still gives you the better locker, still makes it feel like no one else exists when he talks to you but now you’re starting to look at your best friend differently. the worst part? he’s always looked at you like this.

˗ˏˋpairing: best friend!anton x f!reader, slight sungchan x reader ❀ genre: summer love, slow burn, best friend to lovers ❀ word count: 15.52k ❀ staring: maya (22)- xg, anton (21)- riize, sohee (21)- riize, sungchan (22)- riize, harvey (22)- xg ⟶ warnings: mentions of edibles, getting high, drinking, arguments, swearing, makeout sessions, talk of toxic relationships, mentions of panic attacks and anxiety, mentions of blood, allusions to sex, let me know if i missed anything.

✎୭: in honor of my first full year as loveanton and the start of summer ! also, this was meant to be a one-shot of 28.9k words but due to tumblr rules i had to split it into two parts, a full undisruppted version will be uploaded to my ao3 soon!

ʚїɞ taglist: @gacktsa @dreamiestay @yoursyuno @yctfreaky @stormy1408

July 4th, 2025

You’re crouched by your bed, trying to fit your toothbrush into a tiny overnight bag that’s already half-bursting with sunscreen, your charger and other essentials while Harvey’s stood by your dresser rifling through your bikini drawer like it’s her own and Maya’s propped up on FaceTime, wedged against your lamp and watching with mild judgment

“Okay but hear me out,” Harvey says, holding up a bikini you bought during freshman year. “This one with the little cherries?”

“That’s because it’s basically dental floss,” you reply without looking up.

“It’s cute,” Maya chimes in.

You groan and toss in your deodorant. “Fine. Just pack it for me.”

Harvey fist-pumps and folds the bikini with way too much care before tossing it into the duffel. “You’ll thank me later.”

Maya smiles a little through the screen, “Anton’s gonna love seeing you in that.”

Harvey freezes halfway through applying lip gloss and whips around. “Huh? Anton? As in Anton Anton?”

You let out a long sigh. “Maya…”

“Don’t look at me like that, you were gonna tell her eventually!” She defends.

Harvey blinks. “Wait, wait, wait. What’s going on with you and Anton?”

You drag a hand over your face. “Nothing…I just….”

Harvey’s eyes widen and she flops dramatically onto your bed. “Oh my Gosh! You like him.”

You nod and Maya cuts in. “She thinks she’s in love with him.”

Harvey gasps and stares at you in shock “Okay, well damn. That’s kind of huge.”

“I know.”

“Does he know?” Harvey asks.

Maya and you answer at the same time, Maya with a “Not yet,” and you with a “Absolutely not.”

“Okay. So what’s the plan? Are we confessing under the fireworks or..?” Harvey asks.

“I don’t know, I just…I don’t want things to change if he doesn’t feel the same.” You admit.

“They’ve already changed, babe,” Maya says gently.

Harvey nods. “For real. You can’t un-feel that.” She reaches for your hand and squeezes it. “Even on the off chance he doesn’t say it back, which I don’t think is the case, by the way. I don’t think he’d ever let that be the end of you two.”

You nod slowly, trying to believe it.

Maya checks the time. “Okay I gotta go, my aunt just called me down for dinner but text me the second anything happens.”

You nod and wave before ending the call. Harvey loops her arm through yours as you head for the door, the July heat already peeking through the windows.

The drive to Sungchan’s is a nice and much needed pick-me-up with Harvey hanging her arm out the window and drumming on the car door in time with the beat. You’ve got your sunglasses on, the cool air hitting your face and your favorite throwback playlist humming through the speakers. There’s glitter on Harvey’s collarbone and a watermelon lollipop sticking out of her mouth as she scrolls for the next song.

When she lands on Fergalicious, you both scream.

The chorus is still blasting when you turn the corner into Sungchan’s neighborhood. Cars are already lined up along the curb, a few people milling around their front yards, red solo cups in hand. You spot Sohee’s beat-up Civic in front of Sungchan’s mailbox and Anton’s Jeep parked a few houses down.

Harvey grins. “Ready?”

You nod as she kills the engine and toss your sunglasses into the glove compartment and grab your overnight bag from the back seat. You and Harvey walk up the pavement to Sungchan’s home and knock once before the door swings open immediately like Sungchan was already standing there. He’s in swim trunks and an open button-down that doesn’t even try to cover the tank top tan line across his chest.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite losers,” He grins.

Sungchan steps aside with a dramatic bow. “Bathroom’s to the right if you wanna change. Everyone else is already out back. Guest room’s down the hall—leave your bags, I’ll toss ‘em in there.”

You hand over your duffel and raise a brow. “You sure?”

He waves you off. “Yeah. It’s clean-ish. My mom made me vacuum before they left.”

“Wait where are they?” Harvey asks.

“Family trip to Cabo,” he says, already heading down the hall with your stuff. “I bailed. Went for spring break, already met my yearly quota for family time.”

You nod slowly. “Fair enough.”

“Founding fathers would’ve wanted it this way,” he calls over his shoulder.

You and Harvey exchange a look then dart into separate bathrooms to change. You wiggle into the cherry bikini still regretting letting them convince you and smooth your sarong into place. The tile’s cool under your feet and you swipe on a little lip balm before heading out.

Harvey emerges a second later in her green bikini and white bucket hat. “We look hot.”

You adjust your sunglasses and smile. “Extremely.”

The two of you walk to the kitchen and push open the sliding door and step into the backyard. Music’s blasting, the smell of charcoal hangs in the air and the pool shimmers.

Sohee’s already floating on an inflatable donut sunglasses crooked on his face sipping something bright pink out of a mason jar.

Sungchan’s by the grill flipping burgers while Anton’s off to the side, lounging in a deck chair with a popsicle in hand and a baseball cap pulled low over his hair.

He looks up when you walk out and does a double-take but it’s fast. A blink and then he’s glancing away chewing the tip of his popsicle.

Sungchan turns and spots you both whistling low and smirking. “Mind doing a little turn for me princess?”

You laugh and flip him off without missing a beat.

Sohee salutes from the pool. “Happy red white and blue day, motherf—”

“Language!” Sungchan calls half-heartedly.

Sohee smirks and goes back to sipping his little pink drink without a care in the world. You make your way over to the deck chairs, dropping your towel on the one next to Anton’s and settling in with a stretch.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the sun warming your skin and the music spilling softly from the speakers behind you.

You scroll for a bit on your phone and respond to some texts, thumbs tapping out a lazy reply to Maya before locking your screen. You turn to face Anton’s who’s reclined back with his popsicle watching the clouds.

You smile to yourself and nudge his leg with your foot. “I’m gonna take a dip, join me?”

Anton turns his head toward you, eyes squinting just slightly from the sun. “In a bit.” he says waving his popsicle.

You nod and stand, stretching briefly before untying your sarong and draping it over the back of the chair. You don’t catch the way his gaze lingers on your body before flicking back up to the sky as he finishes the last bite of his popsicle.

You step down into the pool slowly letting the water hit your ankles then your knees then your waist before finally ducking under and coming back up and wiping away the water from your face.

A few minutes later you hear a splash and glance over to see Anton finally joining, shaking the water from his hair like a golden retriever. Harvey joins soon too, taking up space on Sohee’s floatie, he groans but shares anyway.

You’re floating nearby, content in the moment until a familiar voice cuts through the air.

“Cannonball!”

You barely have time to register the warning before Sungchan cannonballs directly into the deep end sending a wall of water in every direction.

You yelp as the splash hits you full-force. Sohee screams, Anton instinctively shields his face and ducks under the water while Harvey shrieks and is forced off the floatie and sent under.

Sungchan resurfaces with a triumphant grin only to be splashed in the face by Sohee, “you suck.” he says before swimming back in the direction of his floatie.

The next few minutes are loud and ridiculous. Everyone’s splashing each other, Sohee’s floatie somehow ends up out of the pool and Anton drifts over to your side just in time to pull you back from Harvey’s water bending.

You shriek, arms instinctively flying around his neck as he draws you close. Your legs wrap around his waist without thinking.

Before your heart can catch up Harvey’s yelling again. “Chicken! We’re playing chicken!”

You blink, startled and quickly loosen your arms from Anton’s neck, legs slipping free as you paddle back, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your skin had been pressed to his.

Sohee jumps out of the water and says’s he wants to ref, not trusting any of you to play fair. You half-heartedly laugh at that and push some water out of your face. You see both Anton and Sungchan start to swim in your direction and your heart stutters wondering if they both want to partner up.

Before Anton even gets the chance to ask you, Sungchan takes a hold of your arm and tugs you in his direction. “Partners?’ He asks with a small smile, you turn your head slightly to look at Anton who has stopped in his tracks, he purses his lips before turning to face Harvey and partners up with her.

You place your focus back on Sungchan and shrug. “Why not?”

He grins and dips lower in the water so you can climb onto his shoulders. You steady yourself with your hands on his head, adjusting your balance as he straightens up beneath you.

Across the pool, Harvey’s already settling on Anton’s shoulders tossing you a competitive look. “Hope you’re ready to eat chlorine.”

You snort. “Big talk from someone who just got bodied off a floatie five minutes ago.”

“Okay, okay!” Sohee calls from the edge of the pool, now sitting cross-legged with a new mason jar and a towel draped across his shoulders. “Enough trash talk, keep it civil.”

Sungchan shifts under you, trying to find his footing and nearly topples both of you before catching himself.

“Steady,” you hiss, holding tighter to his hair.

“Watch the hair! I don’t like it rough.” He says with a smirk. You roll your eyes but your grip softens.

Anton wades closer to the center of the pool with Harvey perched confidently above him, one hand already raised like she’s waiting for a bell to ring.

Sohee raises a pool noodle in the air dramatically. “Three…two…one—fight!”

You and Harvey each go for the other’s hands, water sloshing around you. Sungchan’s stance is unpredictable, trying his best to throw Harvey off but you’re the one wobbling.

“Focus,” he says under his breath, palms locked around your shins.

“I’m trying!”

Anton moves more smoothly. He doesn’t rush, his hands steady on Harvey’s legs, guiding without jerking, almost careful.

You catch it without really registering it, how gentle he’s being. How he’s not pushing as hard, not jostling or throwing Harvey into any aggressive lunges like Sungchan. He’s holding back. Just enough for you to notice but not enough to question it.

A second later, Sungchan pivots hard to the right and you knock into Harvey’s shoulder at just the right angle. She shrieks as she falls backward, arms flailing as she crashes into the water.

“Victory!” Sungchan yells, pumping a fist in the air and splashing wildly.

You cheer still clinging to his head, your heart pounding more from adrenaline than victory.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, tapping his shoulder. “Let me down.”

He ducks beneath the surface and you slip off his back, landing in the water with a small splash.

“I’m gonna grab some food, want anything?”

“I’ll come with,” Sungchan offers casually, swimming over to the pool edge. You nod without thinking much of it, still catching your breath as you both climb out.

He throws an arm around your shoulder like it’s second nature and you let him, the sun warm on your skin as the two of you head toward the sliding door. You don’t see the way Anton watches, how his jaw ticks slightly and his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. You don’t see him sigh and sink deeper into the pool, eyes lingering on the empty spot beside him.

The second your feet hit the kitchen tile Sungchan’s arm drops from your shoulder as he crosses to the counter and gets to work on stacking a burger “I’m starving,” he mutters, grabbing a paper plate.

You don’t say much at first, just drift toward the spread and grab a fruit cup and a paper towel. The counter’s cool beneath your fingertips as you lean against it, using the plastic fork to stab a piece of pineapple.

You glance over at Sungchan as he assembles his burger. He’s focused and humming something under his breath. For a second, you wonder if it’s worth bringing up. If maybe you’re reading too much into things but your mind drifts to moments you’ve shared with Sungchan and how much he’s come to mean to you these past few months, you don’t want to lose that. If there’s even the slightest chance Sungchan might feel something for you, you’d rather be honest now than risk hurting him later.

You clear your throat gently. “Hey…can I talk to you about something real quick?”

Sungchan doesn’t look up right away, just makes a noncommittal noise, still chewing as he moves on to squeezing ketchup onto his plate.

You pick at the fruit cup, shifting your weight. “I just wanna say…I really value our friendship. Like, a lot.”

That gets his attention. He finally looks over, curiosity and caution swimming in his eyes now.

“I know you’re kind of flirty with everyone and it’s not that I think you’re being serious or anything, but…just in case. I wanted to be clear that I don’t… feel that way. About you.”

He blinks once, then twice and then finally lets out a laugh. “Yeah. I know.”

You blink back. “You do?”

He nods, grabbing a pickle and takes a bite. “You’re not that hard to read, you know. I knew what this was from the start.”

You pause. “Okay, but if I ever gave you the wrong idea—”

“You didn’t. You’ve been real with me since day one. We’re cool.” He says genuinely.

You exhale slowly, your shoulders dropping a bit in relief. “Okay. Good. I just didn’t want there to be any confusion.”

“Nah,” he says with a grin, popping a chip in his mouth. “You’re not my type anyway. I like my women obsessed with me and not their best friend.”

You freeze, your fork pausing mid-air.

You don’t confirm it but you don’t deny it either. You just blink, lips parting slightly, caught off guard by how casually he says it. Like it’s obvious, like it’s always been obvious.

Instead, you ask, “Then why do you always flirt with me?”

Sungchan glances at you a little amused and reaches over to steal a grape from your cup. “Anton always gets so pouty, it’s quite cute honestly. Also made a bet with Sohee that he would crack first and confess before summer’s over…just trying to make sure I win.”

You scoff and swat his chest. “Okay first of all, you’re an ass and second, that’s a losing bet. Anton doesn’t feel that way.”

Sungchan just looks at you. He doesn’t roll his eyes or laugh it off. He just lifts his eyebrows slightly giving you a long stare. One that clearly says, “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You shift in place and glance down at your fruit cup, your appetite all but gone. With a quiet sigh you lean against the counter beside him, your arm brushing his as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“…Do you think we’d ever actually have a chance? Me and him?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

He doesn’t answer right away, just wipes a bit of mustard from his hand and tosses the napkin on the counter then, gently, “Yeah. I do.”

His arm comes around your waist, not in a flirtatious way but in the way someone hugs a friend who’s thinking too hard. You stay like that, tucked into his side appreciating the gesture and his warmth.

“Honestly? I knew there was something between you two during the first shift.”

You furrow your brows, he shrugs. “I don’t know. It was the way he’d stand closer than he needed to. Or how he always checked in with you, the attitude he caught with me for just talking to you during break.”

You stay quiet, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“But what really sealed it for me was the night we shared the edible at Sohee’s.” He continues.

You frown. “I barely remember anything. Just laughing and then waking up with marshmallows stuck to me.”

“Yeah that’s because you were super out of it. You were fine at first, all giggly laughing at Sohee’s dumb freestyles while trying to stack our phones on your head but then…I don’t know. Something shifted.”

You look up at him. “Shifted how?”

“You got quiet and curled up in the corner then outta nowhere you started crying. We all kinda froze. You kept mumbling something about missing Antoinette.”

You frown, confused for a second then groan. “Oh my gosh. Antoinette is my weighted dinosaur. He got it for me on my birthday…it helps with my anxiety.”

He nods like it makes perfect sense now. “Anyway you were starting to really spiral so Anton sat next to you and fed you snacks and made you sip water even though you kept saying it tasted like TV static. The marshmallows are because he handed you them and told you they were Antoinette’s cousins sent to keep you company.”

Your laugh slips out before you can stop it. “That is so humbling.”

Sungchan laughs with you. “You calmed down right after that. Fell asleep with the bag still in your arms. He didn’t even move until he was sure you were okay, I think he stayed up the rest of the night just watching you making sure you were warm and okay.”

You don’t say anything, just stare at the counter like maybe it’ll absorb your spiraling thoughts. You remembered that night as chaotic and blurry like one long confusing fever dream. You thought you’d just passed out. Thought the hoodie and marshmallows were some weird aftereffect of being too high but hearing it now how Anton stayed up with you and made sure you were okay…it just makes sense.

It was always going to be him, you were just too blind to see it before. You press your lips together, throat thick. Sungchan breaks the quiet, voice softer now. “We didn’t bring it up after because he asked us not to.”

Your head lifts slightly. “What? Why?”

He pulls you in closer. “He didn’t want you to be embarrassed, said if you didn’t remember it wasn’t worth making a big deal over.”

You groan, pressing your forehead to Sungchan’s shoulder. “He’s such a—” You don’t even have the words. “Why is he like this?”

Sungchan huffs a small laugh and shrugs, before anything else is said the sliding door opens. You glance up, eyes meeting Anton’s across the room. His expression freezes just slightly when he sees how close you and Sungchan are but he doesn’t say anything, just walks in, grabs a slice of pizza and heads back outside without a word.

Sungchan lets out a low whistle. “Yeah, that boy’s not subtle.”

You don’t respond, you just stare at the door he walked out of. You sigh and pull away. “We should probably head back out before anyone gets the wrong idea.”

“True, Anton’s probably already imagining our wedding.” He says with a grin, giving your shoulder a gentle nudge.

You roll your eyes but laugh anyway, swatting at his arm. “Shut up.”

He tosses his empty plate into the trash and you grab your half-finished fruit cup, the plastic lid tucked underneath. As you push the sliding door open, the warm air rushes in again, thick with chlorine and the low thrum of music still playing from the speaker.

Sohee’s back in the pool on a new floatie, drifting lazily across the surface like he’s a human raft. Harvey’s on a towel laid out across two lounge chairs, sunglasses on and enjoying a popsicle. Anton’s in the shallow end now, arms folded on the ledge watching something on his phone or pretending to at least.

You set your cup down on the patio table and sit back on your towel. Sungchan joins Sohee in the water. You look at Anton but he doesn’t look up once and even though you try not to care, something about that makes your chest feel a little too tight.

You try to push it down and join Sohee and Sungchan in the water to distract yourself. Harvey eventually gets up and cannonballs back into the pool, sending a wave splashing over Sohee’s floatie.

Sungchan swims over and splashes her in retaliation and before long, you’re back to a full blown splash-off with water flying, floaties being stolen and someone yelling about not getting their hair wet?

Anton stays near the edge, mostly quiet, half-heartedly flicking water at Sungchan when provoked but never really diving in. You catch him smiling once when Sohee imitates Katara from avatar but it fades quickly, his expression returning to something more neutral.

At one point Sungchan splashes you and you yelp, flicking water back at him with a grin. You look toward Anton instinctively, like maybe he’ll join in too but he’s already glanced away.

It feels off and you hate that you keep noticing.

Eventually, Sohee flops onto the ledge next to Anton and pushes his wet hair back. “Okay, I’m pruney as hell. Let’s move inside.”

Harvey cheers and climbs out of the pool wringing out her hair with a towel. Sungchan hoists himself out after her, grabbing a few cups and the now-empty chip bowl as he heads toward the door.

Anton pulls himself out last, not looking in your direction even once. You wrap your towel around your waist, heart heavy for reasons you don’t want to name and follow the others inside.

Once inside everyone splits off for a few minutes to change. You change quickly, pulling on a pair of shorts and a loose tank top over your swimsuit, towel-drying your hair before padding back into the living room barefoot.

When you return, Sohee’s already rearranged the space. The coffee table’s been pushed back and a makeshift beer pong setup is in the center of the room.

“Alright, listen up, we’re playing truth or dare beer pong. You miss your shot, you either answer a truth or do a dare. You make it? You pick someone else to drink.” Sohee says, clearly proud of himself as everyone starts to file back in.

Harvey frowns. “That’s evil.”

“Exactly. Ladies first.” Sohee grins and tosses her a ping pong ball.

Sungchan reemerges, flopping onto the carpet with his legs crossed and a towel still draped around his neck. You sit beside him and Anton takes the floor spot near Harvey without a word, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve.

Sohee claps his hands once. “Start!”

Harvey narrows her eyes in mock concentration, gripping the ball with both hands before dramatically exhaling. She throws and misses by a mile.

“Tragic,” Sohee mutters.

She groans and leans back on her hands. “Fine. Truth.”

Sohee grins. “Who in this room do you think would be the worst kisser?”

Harvey raises her brows. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t already sampled the selection.” You raise a brow at that, what else happened the night you guys took edibles?

Next up is Sohee. He lines up his shot and lands it, he points at Harvey. “Drink.” She narrows her eyes but takes it like a champ, tipping the cup back dramatically.

Sungchan’s next, he takes his time tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he aims then flicks the ball. It arcs, hits the rim and plops in the center. He sits back smugly and turns to look at you. “Drink up.” He says. You sigh but reach for the cup anyway and knock back the beer.

You try to focus as your turn comes up. You toss and miss, Sungchan grins. “Truth or dare?” he asks, bouncing the next ball in his palm.

“Truth.” You say simply, hoping to play it safe.

“What’s your biggest regret from this summer so far?” Sungchan asks from beside you.

Your mouth grows dry as you think of what to say. If you’re being honest, your biggest regret is that you realized it too late.

You regret how long it took you to see Anton clearly. Not just as the boy you grew up with or the friend who always kept your secrets but the person. The one who always waits for you to catch up, who buys your favorite snacks without being asked, who lets you borrow his hoodies and pretends not to notice when you keep them for weeks. The one who knows you and you regret not letting yourself feel what that could mean.

You regret not letting yourself explore it when you had the time. Before things got complicated, before the days started ticking down faster than you could hold onto them because if one things for sure, it’s that summer ends.

Soon you’ll pack up your things and return to campus. You’ll go back to walking the same halls you’ve walked a hundred times trying not to look for him in every room, you’ll go back to pretending you don’t want to marry him someday, pretending you could ever see anyone else fitting into your life the way he does.

Summer will end and it’ll end like this; Anton as still your childhood best friend, nothing more.

You could say all of that, could lay it bare in the middle of this beer pong game with half-wet hair and warm beer in plastic cups. You could finally say what’s been sitting heavy in your heart all summer but you don’t. You take the second route, the safe one. You lie.

You clear your throat and lean back on your palms, plastering on a smile. “Maybe that I didn’t finish my TVD rewatch. Was really hoping to make it to the Delena era.”

They laugh, Sohee calls you out on a cop out answer and Harvey tells him to shut up and just like that, the moment passes.

Anton goes next, he rolls the ping pong ball between his fingers for a second before tossing but it bounces off the rim and lands in Sohee’s lap. Sohee snorts and picks up the ping pong ball and tauntingly says, “miss!”

“Truth or dare?” You ask softly.

Anton leans back, resting on one hand. “Truth.”

You think for a moment, you don’t want to ask something meaningless, not with him. “If you could relive any moment from this summer, what would it be?”

Anton’s lips part like he might answer. He looks down at the cup in front of him, fingers tapping lightly against his knee but then wordlessly he reaches for the beer and drinks.

The group laughs or groans but your stomach drops. He didn’t answer. He didn’t even try to answer.

You try not to read into it but your thoughts race ahead anyway. What memory was too private to say out loud? What moment does he want to relive that badly and why didn’t he want anyone else to hear it? He’s hiding…just like you.

You shake your head as a new round starts, trying to remind yourself it’s just a game. Maybe he’s too sober and too aware.

The game continues with more laughs and jabs. Harvey’s dared to text her ex, Sohee’s forced to freestyle using random words everyone shouts at him, you somehow manage to land a shot on your next turn, making Sungchan drink and despite the rocky start, Anton proves to be an ace at the game, landing almost all of his shots and remaining the most sober out of all of you.

Eventually, it circles back to Sungchan. He misses not by much and flops dramatically onto his side.

“Truth or dare?” Harvey asks slyly.

“Truth,” Sungchan says without hesitation, sitting back up.

Harvey smirks, twirling the ping pong ball between her fingers. “If ____ gave you a chance, would you go for it?”

You look at her wide eyed and Sungchan’s eyes slide to you with a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Why not?”

You laugh, more out of nerves than anything and wave him off. You know he doesn’t mean it, especially after that conversation in the kitchen. You just hope he doesn’t do or say anything stupid. “Okay, relax.”

Harvey, ever the instigator though, starts chanting. “Kiss, kiss, kiss—!”

Sohee joins in and suddenly all eyes are on you and Sungchan.

You roll your eyes. “What are we five?” You lean towards Harvey to collect the ball but then Sungchan leans forward and kisses you.

It’s quick, not deep, not showy just long enough to draw a reaction and short enough to leave you reeling. Out of sheer instinct you kiss back.

You hear Sohee and Harvey cheer and you quickly pull away. Sungchan just winks at you when you glare at him, clearly unbothered. You barely register his smirk, barely hear Harvey joking about a round two because your attention is solely on Anton.

Except Anton’s not looking at you. He’s looking straight ahead, jaw clenched so tight it looks painful, fingers wrapped around his water bottle like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

You open your mouth to say something but you don’t get the chance. He stands, not abruptly, not dramatically, just quiet and decisive like he’s made up his mind. He sets the bottle down gently and walks out of the room. No one says anything.

You’re on your feet before you realize you’ve moved, ignoring Sohee’s voice behind you cussing Sungchan out as you slip through the hallway and out the front door.

Anton’s already halfway down the front lawn, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, moving like he has somewhere to be. Somewhere that isn’t here.

“Anton,” you call, heart thudding but he doesn’t stop.

You jog to catch up. “Anton, wait.”

He slows just enough for you to fall into step beside him but he doesn’t look at you.

“What was that?” you ask, breath catching. “You just…left.”

He exhales a shaky breath through his nose. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to talk to me! You’ve barely looked at me all night and then you just storm off without saying anything.” You say, your voice cracking.

He finally meets your eyes and the look he gives you is nothing like the Anton you know. It’s tight and guarded, like he’s trying not to fall apart right there on the lawn.

“You kissed him, you didn’t even hesitate.” He says quietly.

You feel your breath catch, like your lungs have forgotten how to work.

He shakes his head once, as if he’s trying to process it all over again. “Why was it so easy? Why him?” He asks, voice rising now.

“Anton—”

“No, seriously, Why him and not me?” He snaps, voice raw. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. You’ve never seen him like this.

“I’ve been here,” he says, stepping closer, eyes burning. “I’ve always been here. You’ve known him for what? Two months and—”

He cuts himself off with a humorless laugh, brushing his fingers through his hair. “You kissed Sungchan. Like it was nothing. Like it didn’t mean anything, like I haven’t spent this whole summer trying not to fall apart every time you look at me like I’m just your friend!”

Your chest tightens.

“I thought maybe this would finally be the summer where it made sense. Where I could say something. Where you’d maybe look at me and see it.”

He looks at you glaring. “Do you want to know why I realy wanted to come back to the country club?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your throat’s too tight.

“I came back because I thought this summer was our last chance.”

Your stomach drops.

“Not because of the pay or the stupid slushies! This was it, the last time things could be the way they were. Before I’m knee-deep in med school applications and you’re halfway across the world…before everything changes.” He says quietly. He’s not yelling anymore but his words land heavier this way.

“I thought maybe we’d finally get it right. That if we went back to the place it all started…if we gave ourselves space to just be like we were when we were fourteen…maybe we wouldn’t miss it this time.”

He steps closer and it’s like the air shifts around you. “I’ve loved you for years, ____. Since before college, before Wonbin, before that stupid pinky promise you made me swear to keep.” He says, voice cracking now.

Your breath stutters. Your eyes are already stinging.

“And tonight,” he says, shaking his head, “you kissed him. You didn’t even hesitate.” He swipes a hand down his face like he’s trying to scrub the image from his memory.

You open your mouth but close it soon after. What could you possibly say? How could you tell him you feel the same?

That Sungchan is just a friend, that the kiss meant nothing. That your heart didn’t flutter or race or ache the way it does when Anton so much as says your name. How could you be selfish and tell him you want him just as badly as he wants you?

You can’t.

Summer is ending. He said it himself, this was your last chance. The last moment to get it right and you missed it. You blink hard, trying to keep the tears at bay but it’s too late. They burn down your cheeks as your chest tightens around everything you won’t say.

It would be beyond selfish to ask for anything now. Not when your fall semester is stacked with back-to-back labs and your passport is already tucked into your nightstand waiting for your gap year to begin. Not when Anton has med school deadlines and a thousand things to focus on besides you.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you but Anton, we can’t—” you start but he cuts you off, not even giving you the chance to invalidate this.

“Don’t say that like this wasn’t real, like this wasn’t something,” he pleads.

You shake your head, overwhelmed. “Anton, we can’t—”

“When I think of my future,” he cuts in, voice trembling now, “you’re in every version of it.”

His tears finally fall but he doesn’t bother to wipe his own.

“I see us traveling. I see us moving in together after grad school, decorating some tiny overpriced apartment with too many plants. I see us getting married, buying a forever home. I see you…as the mother of my kids.” He chokes out.

Your legs actually give out on you and you have to take hold of Sungchan’s mailbox to not fall flat on your face.

“I don’t know how to unsee that,” he whispers. “I don’t know how to stop loving you. If it’s not you, it doesn’t make sense.”

Anton steps closer, eyes glossy and searching. “Just say it. Tell me you feel it too.”

You freeze, your breath caught in your throat.

“Please,” he whispers.

You want to. You want to because you do feel it. Every piece of what he’s described you see it too.

You see the cluttered apartment filled with love and memories. You see the holidays spent arguing over where to put the Christmas lights. You see a wedding and a life with him where everything makes sense. You see kids with his eyes and your laugh and family vacations in the summer. You see it all but not in this lifetime.

Not with the clock winding down on the only summer you’ve ever wanted to last forever.

So you say nothing. Not because it isn’t real but because it’s too real. Too big. Too late.

He takes your silence like a punch to the gut nodding slowly, jaw clenched. “Okay, that’s my answer.” He says hollowly, stepping back.

You shake your head, a sob caught somewhere behind your teeth. “Anton, wait—” You call for him but he’s already walking away and this time, he doesn’t look back.

July 11th, 2025

You haven’t gone back to work.

The thought of clocking in and possibly seeing Anton makes your stomach twist in ways you don’t know how to untangle so you’ve stayed home. Ignored the group chat and let your shifts get quietly reassigned. No one’s said anything at least not directly but you’ve seen the unread messages pile up.

The sun’s starting to dip when your phone buzzes with an incoming call. You don’t even check the screen. You already know who it is.

You answer on the third ring, pressing the phone to your ear as you curl deeper into your sheets.

“Hey,” you murmur.

There’s silence for a beat then Maya’s voice cuts through the line. “You’re really not gonna tell me what happened?”

Your throat tightens. You stare up at the ceiling watching shadows shift across the plaster.

“Maya, I can’t—” you start but she cuts you off.

“—Yes, you can. I’ve let you spiral for a week. I’ve kept quiet but babe I’m running out of patience and you’re running out of time. Talk to me.”

You suck in a breath and finally let it out slowly. “He told me he loved me.”

You can hear the shift in her tone immediately. “And?”

You close your eyes. “And I didn’t say anything.”

A beat of silence.

“Maya…I froze. I just stood there like an idiot and said nothing. What was I supposed to say?”

“Literally anything?” she says, incredulously.

You sit up, heart pounding. “I didn’t want to be selfish.”

Maya’s quiet for a second then she says, “____, not saying anything was the selfish part.”

Your breath catches.

“You took away his choice. You decided for both of you that it wasn’t possible. You didn’t even give him the chance.”

The line goes quiet again, the weight of her words sinking in.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” you whisper.

“I know you did but you hurt him and now you’re hurting too.” She replies.

You lie back down, phone still pressed to your ear and let the silence stretch long between you. Outside, a plane flies low overhead. You close your eyes and wish it were enough to drown out the ache.

July 18th, 2025

You’ve been in the same spot on the couch for hours.

A movie plays on the TV but you’ve barely absorbed any of it. Your mom sits at the other end, folding laundry with half her attention on the screen and the other half on you. She hasn’t said anything yet, just glances over every so often like she’s trying to find the right words. You haven’t given her much to work with.

You sip from a cup of lukewarm tea, the one she made without asking and tuck your feet under the blanket stretched over your lap.

She finally breaks the silence. “So…are we gonna talk about it? Or are we still pretending it’s just PMS?”

You blink, turning slowly to look at her. “What?”

She raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been home for almost two weeks and you haven’t once mentioned work…or Anton.”

You freeze.

“I don’t want to push but it’s starting to feel like you’re hiding out.” She continues, gentler now.

You don’t respond, not directly. Just look down at your tea and pretend to be really interested in the ceramic pattern of the mug.

She sighs. “Okay. Just know I’m here when you’re ready.”

You nod, still quiet. She reaches for the remote and turns up the volume slightly. The sound of canned laughter fills the room. That’s when your phone buzzes against your thigh.

You check it without much thought and see Sungchan’s name.

1:00 pm | sungchan 🐸: hey. 1:10 pm | sungchan 🐸: i know i probably should’ve said something sooner but 1:10 pm | sungchan 🐸: i’m sorry for the kiss. 1:11 pm | sungchan 🐸: i got caught up in the moment and was thinking about the bet…it was stupid and selfish, i’m sorry 1:11 pm | sungchan 🐸: just wanted to clear the air 1:12 pm | sungchan 🐸: also update you probably don’t want but 1:12 pm | sungchan 🐸: he’s still coming in for shifts. won’t talk to me though. checks in with harvey about you sometimes. 1:13 pm | sungchan 🐸: misses you, even if he won’t say it. 1:13 pm | sungchan 🐸: just thought you should know.

You reread the messages three times. Your throat tightens even more after each read. Your mom glances over again and sees the shift in your expression but doesn’t ask. Your fingers hover over your phone as you type out a reply.

1:30 pm | you: thanks for saying that. 1:30 pm | you: and it’s okay. i know it wasn’t meant to be a thing 1:31 pm | you: i’m not mad at you. 1:31 pm | you: i just wish things were different

You turn your phone face down and lean back against the couch, eyes stinging. You don’t cry. Not today but you let the discomfort stay.

July 20th, 2025

The door bursts open before you can even pretend to be asleep.

“____.”

You flinch slightly at the sharpness in your mom’s voice. She stands in the doorway with one hand on her hip, eyes scanning the state of your room, dim and cluttered. You’re curled on your side, blanket halfway pulled over your head, a movie paused on your laptop and your untouched water bottle sweating on the nightstand.

“You’ve barely left this room in days. What’s going on?”

You try to brush it off. “I’m just tired.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Tired? Or avoiding something?”

You swallow hard and look down. It’s been over two weeks. Two weeks of silence, of dodging the group chat, of skipping shifts at the country club. Two weeks of not speaking to Anton.

Your mom steps further in and sits at the edge of your bed like she used to when you were little. “Did something happen?”

The tears come faster than expected.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “I think I ruined everything.”

You tell her the whole story. As much as you can manage between shaky exhales and thumb-picking. The dance, the kiss, the fight. The way Anton looked so heartbroken.

When you finish, she’s quiet for a beat. Then, carefully, “Do you love him?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yeah. I do.”

She sighs, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “Then tell him.”

“I can’t.” You shake your head. “I hurt him and the timing is all wrong. We’re leaving soon.”

She softly caresses your cheek. “Baby love was never meant to fit into a timeline. It’s not something that’s meant to be perfect.”

You blink back fresh tears.

“I’m not saying call him right this second but don’t let silence be your answer. You don’t want to live with ‘what ifs.’”

You nod slowly. “I’ll think about it.”

She kisses your forehead “Thinking’s a start.”

When she leaves the room you stay seated on your bed staring at the spot where your phone charges. You’re not ready yet but maybe soon.

August 3rd, 2025

You’re lying on your floor with a pillow tucked under your stomach and your phone playing an old K-drama you’ve seen a dozen times while you munch away on some veggie chips. You haven’t done much today, you finally got around to putting your laundry away but that’s about it.

When the doorbell rings, you don’t move at first. You wait to see if someone else will answer it but no one does.

You pause the show, drag yourself to your feet and shuffle downstairs in the same hoodie you’ve been wearing for two days, Anton’s. You open the door, expecting maybe a package or a neighbor only to be met with the man of the hour himself, Anton.

He looks just as surprised to see you as you are to see him.

His posture shifts immediately, his hand flexes around a plain brown paper bag and his jaw tightens as his eyes flicker up to meet yours.

“Oh. I thought…I figured your mom would answer.” He says, voice stiff.

You don’t say anything. You can’t.

He clears his throat, eyes darting somewhere over your shoulder. “I just came to drop these off.” He lifts the bag slightly like it’s proof.

Still, you can’t move. Can’t look away. You thought you were prepared for this for seeing him again but you’re not.

He shifts his weight. “That’s all.”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. Just gently places the bag on the doormat and takes a step back.

“Bye, ____” he says softly.

You whisper his name, barely audible but he doesn’t stop. He’s already retreating down the steps and toward his car. You stay there, frozen in the doorway as he pulls out, not once looking back.

You eventually pick up the bag and close the door just to sink to the floor with the bag in your lap.

You open it and find that inside are the photo booth strips.

You smooth out the top strip. It’s the one with all of you: Sohee making a face, Sungchan mid-blink, Harvey grinning wide, Anton reaching over to squeeze your cheek as you pretend to scowl.

But the second strip makes your breath catch. Just you and him. You’re laughing in every frame and Anton is watching you in almost all of them.

There’s a sticky note tucked in the corner. His handwriting is careful, slanted just slightly like it always is.

this summer still meant something.

You press the strips against your chest and shut your eyes tight.

August 10th, 2025

You hesitate outside the staff entrance longer than you mean to, fingers twisting the hem of your shirt like it might give you courage. It’s been over a month since your last shift and just standing here makes your chest ache. The door squeaks when you push it open.

Inside, it smells the same; chlorine and sunscreen. You walk in slowly, heart hammering, unsure of what you’ll find but the moment Sohee spots you from his seat he lets out a dramatic gasp.

“No way. Look who’s alive.”

You roll your eyes but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips. Harvey practically tackles you in a hug before you can respond.

“We missed you,” she says. “I missed you. Work’s been so boring.”

Sungchan peeks over from the microwave. “You’re late but I'll allow it. Welcome back.” He teases.

You thank him quietly, the warmth of their welcome easing some of the tension in your shoulders until your eyes meet Anton’s.

He’s sitting off to the side by himself tapping aimlessly on his phone. His expression doesn’t shift. He gives you a nod politely but nothing more and looks away just as fast.

Your throat tightens but you say nothing. Just walk past him and clock in like you’re not silently crumbling inside.

The day passes quietly. Anton barely speaks to you, he only speaks to you unless it’s absolutely necessary. No jokes. No lingering glances only offering the occasional “you’re on towel duty” or “cover me for break?” You keep your distance, folding towels beside Harvey and watching Sungchan argue with a kid about the height requirement for the pool.

It’s almost worse than if he’d ignored you completely.

By the time your shift ends everyone’s lingering outside by the staff parking lot, too tired to rush home but not ready to say goodbye.

Sohee’s the first to speak, tossing his half-empty water bottle in the air. “Okay, I’m calling it. We need one last hangout before the summer ends.”

Harvey perks up from where she’s crouched, re-tying her shoelace. “Bonfire at my place? The lakehouse is free next weekend.”

Sungchan nods. “I’m in.”

Sohee smiles. “I’m so down.”

Harvey looks over at you, hopeful. “You’re coming, right?”

You pause. You struggled to make it through your shift, the idea of spending a whole night with everyone again…especially Anton, makes your stomach turn.

“I don’t know…” you murmur.

Harvey doesn’t back down. “Come on. This is it. Sohee leaves for Cali in two weeks, Sungchan’s off to Rutgers, you and Anton are back at Northeastern and I’ve got to go back to Brown. It’s now or never.”

You hesitate not sure but just then Anton who’s been silent this whole time, fidgeting with his car keys says quietly, “I’ll go.”

You glance at him startled. He doesn’t look at you though, doesn’t look at anyone really. Just pockets his keys and walks to his car.

Sohee blinks. “Well…okay. Didn’t expect that.”

You exhale, heart thudding. “I’ll go too.”

Harvey grins, satisfied. “Saturday the 17th. No flaking!”

Everyone agrees, tossing out snack ideas and playlist demands as you all trickle toward your cars.

This is it you think to yourself. One last night, one last chance. The countdown begins.

August 17th, 2025

A week has come and gone and just like that it’s the day of the lakehouse hang out. You’re currently in your room packing the last of your things: sunscreen, a half-full bottle of body spray, the polaroid Anton gave you last Christmas that you almost forgot about.

The bag’s a little overstuffed, the zipper stubborn but you manage to wrangle it shut. You pause for a second staring down at it, heart beating a little too fast.

You’ve been turning this day over in your head since the second the plans were finalized. At first the idea of being in the same house as Anton for a whole three days felt unbearable. You’d even called Maya asking if maybe it would be better to stay home.

“Stay home and you’re not allowed to move back into the dorms.” She said before going on to give you advice on how to approach Anton, she told you to corner him and just confess.

Your mom had different advice though. She told you to show him. “That boy has been pouring himself into you for years. Maybe it’s time you return the favor.”

You’re not sure how it’ll go. You don’t know if you’ll get the timing right or if you’ll stumble over your words. You don’t even know if he still wants this but you do know you can’t walk away without trying. Not again.

You grab your phone, charger and the pack of sour patch kids you were instructed to buy and chuck them into your tote and sling your bag over your shoulder just as Harvey honks from outside.

“Bye, Mom! Bye Dad!” you call as you race down the stairs.

Your mom pokes her head out from the kitchen. “Have fun! Be safe! And don’t forget, acts of service!”

You smile at her words then head out the door. Harvey honks again just as you step out onto the porch, duffel slung over your shoulder and your tote bag digging slightly into your arm. She waves when she spots you, sunglasses perched on her head and an open Red Bull in the cupholder.

You toss your bag in the backseat and climb in beside Harvey, the leather warm from the sun. She’s already queuing up the playlist you made together last night, twizzlers clamped between her teeth.

“Ready?” she asks, pulling out of your driveway.

You nod, tugging your seatbelt across your chest. “Let’s do this.” The car rumbles to life as she shifts the gear stick into drive.

A few minutes pass in a comfortable silence with the windows cracked before Harvey speaks. “Oh, by the way I gave Sungchan the lakehouse keys yesterday. Figured the guys could leave early to set up.”

You hum and scroll on your phone, “makes sense. Are they there now?”

She nods as she takes a turn. “Yup!”

You lean your head back against the seat and glance out the window as familiar streets pass by. Harvey hums along to the music, one hand on the wheel the other tapping her knee in rhythm.

“So…is it still weird with Anton?”

You blink slowly, still watching the trees blur past your window. “Yeah…I mean, we don’t really talk anymore. Not really.”

Harvey glances at you briefly then back at the road. “You think it’ll stay like that?”

You shrug, pulling your knees up slightly onto the seat. “I don’t know. I don’t want it to. I keep thinking if I just say the right thing or make the right move, maybe it’ll fix something, but…I don’t even know where to start.”

Harvey doesn’t respond right away. She taps her fingers on the steering wheel, waiting until she’s merged back onto the main road before glancing at you again. “It’s Anton, he’ll appreciate anything as long as it comes from you.”

You glance over at her skeptical. “You think?”

She nods, eyes fixed on the road. “He still asks about you, you know? Not all the time but he asks about the little things. If you’re eating, sleeping. If you’re okay. Things like that.”

Your throat tightens. “He does?”

“Yeah,” she says, quieter now. “He’s not gonna stay mad forever. He’s just…waiting. Waiting to know if you want this too.”

You stare down at your hands, fingers fiddling with the hem of your baby tee. “I do,” you whisper.

Harvey smiles softly. “Then tell him. Or show him. I dunno, either way, you’ve got this.”

The car rolls to a stop at a flashing yellow light, the lake shimmering just ahead in the distance. “Plus Sungchan and I are playing wingman this trip to make up for the kiss…” She continues.

You snort, adjusting your seat belt. “There’s no need. Seriously, all is forgiven.”

Harvey gives you a look. “It’s the least we can do, we practically started this.”

You crack a small smile. “Yeah, well you’re both forgiven. I swear.”

She hums but doesn’t drop it. “Even so, I can’t let the summer end with you and Anton not being together. That just feels wrong.”

You raise a brow. “It’s not that simple, Harv.”

“It kinda is. From the first shift I knew you guys were more than friends. You two just make sense.” She says with a shrug.

You feel the smile creep back up your face but say nothing in response. Harvey nudges your arm lightly as she turns into the long gravel driveway. “You’ve got all of tonight, we gotta make something shake.”

The gravel crunches under Harvey’s tires as she pulls into the driveway, tall trees casting long shadows over the lakehouse. It’s quiet except for the gentle chirp of cicadas and the base of the three men leaking from inside the house. Sungchan’s SUV is already parked off to the side, Anton’s jeep right next to it with both back doors flung open like they’d been in a rush.

Harvey shifts into park. “Home sweet lakehouse.”

You push your door open and hop out, grabbing your tote bag while Harvey takes your duffel from the backseat.

“You ready?” she asks, already halfway up the porch steps.

You nod. “As I’ll ever be.”

She shoots you a quick smile. “That’s the spirit.” Your sneakers crunch softly on the gravel as you and Harvey head toward the porch.

Sohee’s the first to greet you, tossing an empty can into the recycling bin. “Welcome ladies.”

Sungchan appears behind him, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “Perfect timing, we just finished with groceries.”

Anton rounds the corner a second later, sleeves pushed to his elbows and an empty reusable bag slung over one arm. His steps slow when he sees you but he doesn’t stop. Just gives you a small nod.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you echo, your grip tightening slightly on the strap of your tote.

There’s a pause, not uncomfortable but not quite normal either. Sungchan claps his hands together and steps into the center of the porch breaking the silent staredwon. “Alright, housekeeping! There are four rooms and five of us. One of them has bunk beds which means someone’s doubling up.”

Harvey raises a brow. “Don’t I get first pick? My parents’ house, my rules.”

Sungchan nods. “Of course. Harv gets the queen suite which means the rest of us are playing rock paper scissors for the good ones.”

You glance at Anton who’s already stepping into the circle near the porch railing with his shoulders slouched like a man heading into battle he knows he won’t win. His hands are stuffed into the pocket of his shorts, thumb tapping absently against the seam.

Anton is historically almost comically bad at rock-paper-scissors.

Freshman year, he lost a bet and had to eat wasabi straight up from the Japanese resturant Maya took you guys to. Sophomore year, he lost his turn to control the aux cord for an entire month. Even at work, when someone calls for a quick round to decide who covers bathroom cleanup, Anton’s basically guaranteed to lose.

It’s not even bad luck. He’s just predictable, he always starts with rock.

You fall into step beside the others, heart thudding. Sungchan’s grinning like he’s entering a boxing match, Sohee’s already trash-talking no one in particular and Anton…Anton just looks resigned.

Acts of service, your mom said. He’s always done them for you. Maybe it’s time you return the favor.

It’s a small thing, a stupid game but if you can win this you can hand over the best room without making it a big deal. It’ll be a start, something that says I’m trying. I remember too.

You stretch your fingers out slowly, roll your shoulders once and take your spot in the circle. Sungchan claps his hands together. “Alright. Bunk beds go to the two losers. Everyone ready?” You nod, eyes trained on Anton as he exhales a slow breath.

“Rock…paper…scissors…shoot!”

You throw scissors, Anton throws rock, Sungchan and Sohee both throw paper. You blink.

You won.

Anton looks mildly confused for a second, already stepping back like he expects to be sent to the bunk bed but you clear your throat and speak before he can say anything. “You can have my pick.”

He stops mid-step and turns to face you. “What?”

“You hate bunk beds, take the good room.” You say, tone light but sure.

He watches you for a second too long, like he’s waiting for the catch. You don’t give him one though.

A quiet snort comes from Sohee as he mumbles “simp” and Harvey throws you a glance but says nothing, just lifts a brow slightly before heading for the stairs.

Anton blinks then slowly he smiles. It’s small but real, familiar. “Thanks,” he says softly.

You nod and he disappears down the hall with his duffel, falling into step behind Harvey.

Sohee whistles low. “Okay, rock-paper-scissors for the other one then?” He turns to Sungchan who doesn’t even respond—just claps a hand on his shoulder and steers him away towards the room with the bunk beds.

You let out a small breath and glance at the empty hallway, your fingers still curled around your bag strap. Anton smiled at you.

It felt good, doing something for him. Just a small thing but maybe your mom was right. Maybe this is how you start to show him he’s always been worth it.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding and finally start walking in the direction of the bedrooms. When you step into your room you note that it’s smaller than you expected, just a twin bed, a dresser and a window cracked open to let in the breeze from the lake. You drop your bag on the mattress and sit beside it, running a hand over the comforter.

You take a deep breath and unzip your bag pulling out your items. You line up your toiletries in the corner of the dresser and place your polaroid on the windowsill.

You take a moment to examine the camera, you had complained for ages about wanting one your freshman year of college but your parents thought it would be a waste and that you wouldn’t really use it. You remember complaining to Anton in passing about how annoyed you were about not having one he didn’t say much in response (he was busy studying for his a&p final) but that Christmas you guys had done secret Santa with his friend Shotaro and Maya’s then boyfriend Seunghan. Anton didn’t pull your name, in fact he got Maya but he still gifted you the camera along with his gift for Maya.

It wasn’t weird to gift each other things during the holidays but that year you had blown through all your cash on rave tickets and uber eats, you had to dip into your savings to cover the Basketball tickets you got Seunghan so you and Anton agreed on no gifts that year. He of course didn’t listen. The camera feels like something sacred, like it’s proof that he’s always been paying attention.

The thing is so have you. Maybe not in the ways that count, maybe not when it mattered most but you’ve always been watching too. You know he reads the last page of a book before he decides to commit, that he hums when he’s focused and that he can’t fall asleep unless the room is cold, even in winter.

Words have failed you before, choked in your throat when he needed them most so this time you’ll show him instead. With the small things. The way he always shows you.

Before your thoughts can stray further, a burst of laughter carries through the window. You stand and move towards it. Through the trees you spot the others outside, Sohee is running barefoot with a towel over his shoulders, Sungchan’s hauling out a cooler and Anton’s stretching out on the grass near one of the patio chairs with Harvey, heads tilted back squinting up at the sky.

You smooth out your baby tee and slip on your sandals before heading outback to join them. You cross the grass slowly, squinting against the sun and take a seat beside Harvey and Anton brushing grass off your shorts as you sit. Anton shifts slightly to make space but doesn’t say anything.

You glance at Harvey unsure of how to read the silence but she only shrugs. “I’m gonna grab my sunscreen, be back in a sec.” She says as she pushes up to her feet and dusts her hands on her thighs.

You nod, watching her go and then glance up at the sky as if it’ll give you something to say. It doesn’t. You try anyway.

“That one looks like a rabbit. With, like…cowboy boots on.”

Anton hums beside you, noncommittal. His sunglasses hide most of his expression but you can see the corner of his mouth twitch so you decide to try again.

“Do you see it?”

He exhales slowly. “Kind of.”

It’s quiet again.

You sigh and glance toward Sohee who’s crouched at the cooler pulling out a few drinks. Anton notices too and calls out casually, “Toss me one?”

Sohee hums, grabs one at random and chucks it toward him. Anton catches it without looking, already popping the tab with his thumb.

Your eyes flick to the label. Passionfruit. Your stomach twists.

It only happened once years ago. The two of you were ten sitting poolside at Anton’s cousin’s graduation cookout when Anton reached for a popsicle from the cooler without checking the flavor. Twenty minutes later he was doubled over on the grass, his lips swelling and throat tightening barely able to breathe while everyone around you panicked.

It was the first time you saw fear on his face.

You remember his mom’s shaking hands as she stabbed the Epipen into his thigh, the ride to the ER, the way Anton tried to crack a joke through the oxygen mask like it wasn’t that big a deal but it was, it was terrifying.

You never forgot.

After that, you started keeping mental notes. Not just passionfruit but dog-hair, pollen, random tree nuts. Even the specific brand of protein powder that gave him a rash once during sophomore year.

Your body moves before your brain finishes processing and you swat the can from his hand, the aluminum clattering to the grass.

Anton jolts. “What the hell?”

Sohee blinks. “Dude?”

You’re already reaching down to pick up the bottle to take it far far away from Anton. “Sorry! Sorry! it’s just it’s passionfruit.”

Anton furrows his brow.

“You’re allergic,” you say softly, smoothing your palm nervously over your leg.

Anton stares at you for a second, then down at the can like it burned him. “Oh.”

Sohee mumbles, “Sorry man I didn’t know,” and goes back to rummaging through the cooler like nothing happened.

You push up to your feet. “I’ll get you something else.”

You walk over to the cooler and hand Sohee the can ignoring how your cheeks burn as you dig out a can of coke. When you return Anton’s still sitting there, slightly stiff but not as tense.

You hold the can out. “Here. You like coke, right?”

His lips part like he might say something but he just takes it with a quiet, “Yeah. Thanks.”

You nod and start to sit back down but before you do, he’s already standing. He calls out to Sohee and says something about filling up the water guns and jogs off.

You let yourself sink into the grass again, alone this time. You purse your lips, at least he took the coke.

You stay there in the grass for a while, legs stretched out and fingers absently tugging at a stray thread on your shorts. You watch Anton and Sohee fill up water balloons while Sungchan works on grilling the meat for later. You’re just starting to space out again when the back door swings open with a bang. You look up in time to see Harvey ginning like a maniac holding one of the water guns Anton had filled.

“Don’t scream,” she says and then immediately blasts you in the chest with freezing cold water.

You shriek, instinctively curling in on yourself. “What the hell!?”

She's already halfway across the lawn, cackling as she aims at Sohee next, catching him right in the back. He screams loud enough to startle birds out of the tree.

“You’re so dead,” you shout, pushing up from the grass and chasing after her only to get hit again mid-run but by Sohee this time.

Sungchan groans and throws the grill lid over the skewers. “So immature!” but he’s already jogging toward the cooler, yanking it open and grabbing two of the bigger water guns plus a few half-filled balloons.

“Come on,” he calls while tossing one of the guns your way.

You catch it without thinking and duck behind the patio chair again for cover. Water drips from your shirt sticking to your skin but you’re grinning now.

Across the yard, Sohee’s yelling something about revenge while Harvey darts behind a tree laughing so hard she almost drops her gun.

You wait until Sohee’s distracted reloading then pop up and blast him in the side. He yelps and whirls around, slipping a little in the grass “Really? You wanna start this?” He shouts already aiming his gun right at you but before he can spray you back a water balloon nails him square in the chest courtesy of Sungchan.

Sohee lets out a choked scream. “Oh, you’re both dead.”

You don’t wait to see what happens next. You break into a sprint bolting across the lawn until you catch Harvey still hiding behind the tree. She shrieks when she sees you coming but you’ve already got the shot.

“Ah! Okay! Okay!” She yells.

You whip around just in time to see Anton sneaking up behind Sungchan with the water hose. You catch his eye and toss him a nod, circling wide while he creeps closer.

“Now!” You shout, Anton raises the hose and sprays down Sungchan while you pump the last of your water gun. Sungchan doesn’t stand a chance.

He stands there dripping, head low as he takes the beating. “The irony,” He says dryly. You snort at that, Anton’s laughing too, shaking water from his curls. It’s the first time in weeks it feels like you’re all just…okay. Like it’s June again and you’re all still figuring each other out.

You look over at Anton just as the thought crosses your mind but get snapped out of it when Sohee throws a balloon directly at your face.

You gasp, stumbling back as water drips down your chin.

“Jimmy Lee!” You shout.

He’s already sprinting across the lawn. You charge after him soaked and grinning, shouting his name while the others cheer you on.

The water balloon fight doesn’t last for much longer after that, soon everyone collapses across the lawn in soaked heaps.

Sohee’s sprawled on the grass groaning dramatically while thumbing at his ear. “I can hear my heartbeat,” he mutters.

Harvey’s lying next to him cackling and kicking her legs like a kid. Sungchan and Anton are off to the side, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the deck steps both still dripping as they laugh at something you can’t hear. It’s nice seeing them like that again.

Your gaze flicks to the folded stack of towels near the cooler. You grab one without thinking. You shake it out as you walk towards the pair, still damp yourself with the ends of your shorts clinging to your thighs. The grass squishes under your feet, warm and wet.

Anton notices you first, his laughter fades just slightly as his eyes catch on the towel in your hands. You don’t say anything, just offer it out to him.

He blinks once then just stares at the towel. He doesn’t move to take it, just looks at it then up at you like he’s trying to figure out if this means something.

It’s quiet for a beat too long so you clear your throat and say softly, “I didn’t want you to catch a cold.” That seems to pull him back. His fingers curl around the towel and he finally takes it.

You give a quick nod and turn before he can say anything.

You grab another towel from the pile and press it to your arms drying off slowly as you stand on the deck.

Harvey’s the first to break the silence. “I’m starving. Did you ever finish grilling, Sungchan?”

Sungchan stretches “Yeah. Should still be warm but we should probably rinse off and clean up before dinner, though.”

That sets everyone in motion. Sohee groans as he rolls onto his stomach, mumbling something about needing a nap then slowly starts pushing himself up.

You fall into step with them as you all head inside, breaking off one by one to your rooms to shower and change.

You take your time rinsing off in your bathroom. When you’re done you wrap your hair in a towel and change into the sundress you packed, it’s light yellow with little white flowers lining the hem. You even do your makeup, soft and simple with a little mascara, blush and a bit of gloss.

You head downstairs and find Sungchan and Sohee curled up on opposite ends of the couch shouting at a soccer match like they’re coaching from the sidelines. Sungchan’s yelling something about offside; Sohee throws a pillow at him and yells louder. You don’t even try to follow what’s happening.

Harvey’s in the kitchen, humming to herself as she stacks food on her plate. She’s wearing a bubble skirt and a sleeveless hot pink top with her hair clipped up and gold hoops. When you enter the kitchen she lights up instantly.

“You look so cute!” she says, handing you a plate.

You glance down at your dress and offer a small smile. “Thanks. Have you seen Anton?”

Harvey shakes her head. “Mm-mm. Probably still getting ready.”

You nod, eyes flicking toward the hallway. Harvey leans her hip against the counter and eyes you for a beat. “How’s it going?”

You shift the plate in your hands. “Not much progress but it seems better than before. Kind of.” You admit.

She bites into a piece of steak then bumps your shoulder gently with hers. “You two will work it out, he just needs a minute.” She says.

Then she pushes off the counter and walks off toward the living room, calling out something to Sohee as she flops onto the armchair with her food. You’re left standing there in the kitchen, your stomach suddenly tight even though you haven’t eaten all day.

You glance down at your plate and start building it with steak, rice, two sausages, some salad, a slice of sourdough and some sauces. You’re just about to grab a fork when you hear footsteps.

Anton rounds the corner, hair dry and the sleeves of his oversized white pullover pushed up to his elbows.

He walks over slowly, gaze flicking from you to the counter then back. Before he can grab a plate though, you hold out the one in your hands.

“I made you one, didn’t want it to get cold.” You say, trying not to sound too eager.

He looks at the plate then at you. His brows draw together. “I can make my own,” he says flatly.

You keep your hand out. “I know but I already put your favorites on it,” you say, voice soft. “Don’t want it to go to waste, right?”

There’s a beat of silence where you think he might reject you but instead, he takes the plate with a short huff of breath and a quiet, “Thanks.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes as he turns and walks toward the others.

You exhale slowly and grab another plate for yourself. You move on autopilot, stacking a bit of everything. Once your plate’s done you carry it into the living room and settle into the open end of the couch.

Sungchan has switched the TV to a Marvel movie now, one of the older ones and the opening scene is already playing. Harvey tosses a comment over her shoulder about being bored already and Sohee launches into a whole rant as he balances his plate on his knees.

Anton doesn’t say much. He’s sitting at the far end of the couch, eyes on the screen and plate resting in his lap. He eats slowly, mechanically, like his mind’s somewhere else.

You say nothing and pick at your food, maybe acts aren’t enough.

___

The movie ends before you even realize it, the screen fading to black as the credits roll and Sohee groans something about it being mid. Dinner’s long been finished with plates cleared and drinks watered down.

Sungchan stretches with a dramatic yawn and claps his hands once. “Alright bonfire time.”

Harvey perks up immediately. “Finally! Help me bring out the s’mores stuff.” She says, already on her feet grabbing your wrists.

Sohee mumbles something about needing to piss and disappears down the hall. Sungchan nods toward the patio. “I’ll get the wood ready with Anton.”

You follow Harvey into the kitchen and grab all the items needed before heading out back with arms full of marshmallows and graham crackers.

You walk with her toward the firepit but your eyes keep drifting toward the edge of the yard where Anton and Sungchan are dragging over logs.

It stings. Anton’s barely spoken to you and yet somehow he’s fine talking to Sungchan. He kissed you, not the other way around and yet it’s you Anton can’t even look at.

You blink hard and keep moving.

You were supposed to spend this summer side by side. One last stretch of borrowed time before everything changed—before grad school and a gap year. It was meant to be late nights and dumb inside jokes and off guard point fives. Not this. Not silence and walking on eggshells around the person who used to know you best.

You’d promised yourself you’d fix it. That today would be the start, that maybe if you showed him it would be enough.

So you made sure he got the best room. Switched out the soda he’s allergic to while no one else seemed to care. Made sure he got the first towel because you knew he wouldn’t grab it himself. You made him a plate before Sungchan went back for seconds and his favorites were gone and still he’s looked through you all day. Like none of it mattered, like you don’t matter to him anymore.

You glance over again and catch him mid-laugh at something Sungchan says. His shoulders shake and it hits you in the gut. You haven’t made him laugh like that in weeks. You don’t even know if you still can.

Is this how your last summer ends? With you loving him in silence and him pretending not to see?

The ache turns into something heavier. You blink again, faster this time like that’ll make it all go away. Like you can still fix it if you just try harder.

Then you see him heading towards you with arms full of firewood and something in you snaps. One last act. Just one more. Maybe this will do it. Maybe this time, he’ll see.

You move before you can think.

“Here—let me help,” you say meeting him halfway, reaching out before he’s even settled the stack in his arms.

He shifts slightly, confused. “I’ve got it.”

“I know,” you say, breath tight. “But just…let me.”

“____.” His tone sharpens. “It’s fine. I said I’ve got it.”

You shake your head, hands already at the edge of the stack. “Please. I want to help.”

“Stop,” he says again. “Seriously. Stop.”

But you can’t. You can’t stop. Not now. Not when this feels like the only thing left you can do.

You reach for the top log, trying to ease it from his arms but it catches rough against your palm. A sharp sting rips through your hand and you cry out, instinctively letting go. The log hits the ground with a loud thud.

Your hand jerks back and you don’t need to look to know it’s bleeding. Anton drops everything.

“Shit!” He’s in front of you in a second, crouched down, brows pulled tight as his eyes find your hand. “Let me see it.”

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything. Just grabs your wrist gently and pulls you inside. Leaving behind a stunned Harvey and Sungchan.

“It’s not bad,” you say, trying to wave it off even though it kind of is. Blood wells up from the cut and slides toward your wrist.

He exhales through his nose. “____.” He says in warning.

He grabs a dish towel and presses it into your hand then ducks into the half-bath down the hall, coming back with the first-aid kit. He doesn’t look at you as he turns on the tap and reaches for your hand again. The water runs cold over your skin, stinging slightly as it washes away the blood. You flinch but Anton doesn’t loosen his grip.

He presses the gauze to your cut and you hiss softly but he doesn’t stop. He grabs a bandage and gingerly wraps your hand.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

He doesn’t answer.

“I wasn’t trying to—I just thought maybe if I helped—”

“Why are you doing this?” He asks suddenly, not harsh but exhausted. You look up at him to meet his gaze but words fail you yet again.

“You’ve barely said two words to me for weeks,” he says, eyes glassy, expression pulled tight with something akin to pain. “And now you’re out there hurting yourself trying to carry firewood?”

Your throat tightens. “I didn’t know how else to show you I still care.” Anton blinks, like the words physically hit him. He steps back like he needs the space. Like being too close to you right now might split him open.

“D-don’t say that.” He takes a step back, his head shaking like he’s trying to make sense of it, of you.

You open your mouth to speak, to explain but he cuts you off.

“You say you care now but when I stood in front of you and told you I was in love with you, you just…stood there.” His voice cracks like he still can’t believe it happened.

“You didn’t say it back. You didn’t call. You didn’t text. You didn’t do anything.” He laughs, but it’s dry. Hollow. “You disappeared.”

“Anton, I didn’t mean to—”

He swallows hard, breath hitching as he cuts you off yet again. “I waited! Every day, I waited! I thought maybe you just needed time. That you’d come back when you were ready but weeks went by and you—” He cuts himself off, blinking fast, like it’s too much to say out loud.

“I had to be the one to reach out first. After all that, I had to make the first move. You’re the one who kissed Sungchan and yet I was somehow the one on your front porch!”

You start to speak again, heart racing. “That wasn’t fair, it wasn’t—”

“But this is!?” he asks, voice booming.

You deflate. He’s right, none of this is fair to him. You told yourself you were being careful, thoughtful, realistic even but the truth is, you were scared. You let him give you everything and gave him nothing back and now he’s standing here, hurt and angry and still waiting for you to say something.

You chose silence once, you’re not doing it again.

“You’re right.”

Anton freezes, caught off guard. His chest rises and falls but he doesn’t speak. He doesn’t believe it yet.

“I haven’t been fair and I know sorry isn’t enough but I am. I’m sorry.” You say louder now. You’re shaking but you don’t even care.

“The reason I didn’t say it back—” Your voice catches but you push through it. “The reason I stood there like an idiot when you poured your heart out is because I thought we missed our chance. Not because I didn’t feel the same but because this is our last summer.” You’re crying now. Full-on.

“We have two weeks before fall sem starts. Everything is changing and I told myself we couldn’t make it work because if I believed we could then I’d have to admit how badly I wanted it.”

He’s staring at you, blinking back tears of his own.

“I didn’t say it because if I said it,then I’d have to live with knowing I could lose it.”

You step forward, hands curled into fists like your body doesn’t know what to do with the truth anymore.

“I’m in love with you, Anton.”

He exhales sharply, like the air’s been knocked out of him but you feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest and you can finally breathe again.

“I felt it that night during the storm and I knew it when we had dinner with your parents.” You swallow hard. This is way outside of your comfort zone but Anton is worth it, a future with him is worth anything.

“I was selfish. I know I was. I didn’t give you the chance to choose, I decided for both of us that it couldn’t work. I’m sorry.”

Anton’s lips part like he’s going to say something but no words come out. His eyes are red. His shoulders are trembling.

Then, hoarse and low he says, “Say it again.”

You blink at him, chest pounding.

“What?”

“Say it again.”

You take a breath. Then another. “I’m in love with you,” you say, steady now. “I’m so in love with you it physically hurts to keep it in.”

For a split second, neither of you moves, just stare at each other until Anton makes the first move. He’s across the space in two steps, cupping your face in his hands like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

His mouth crashes into yours, all teeth and desperation and shaking hands. It’s not gentle. It’s not careful. It’s everything he’s been holding back, everything you’ve been too afraid to say, poured into the space between your lips.

You kiss him back with equal force. His hands slide into your hair, tugging you even closer like the space between your bodies is suddenly too much. You grip the front of his shirt, curling your fingers into the fabric, holding him like you’re scared the second you let go this will all disappear.

There’s nothing pretty or practiced about it. It’s uncoordinated and messy. Your teeth clash once, your noses bump and still neither of you pulls away. You’re both breathing hard, tears still drying on your cheeks.

When he finally slows it’s only because he needs to catch his breath but even then he doesn’t let go. His forehead presses against yours, both of you panting.

His voice comes out low. “You don’t get to leave again.”

You shake your head, lips brushing his as you whisper, “I won’t.” And then he kisses you again.

You move your hands to the back of his neck and thread your fingers through his hair. He places his hands on your lower back and rubs soothing circles onto your back.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips, sending butterflies into your stomach. He leans back in and kisses you again, this time with a bit more force. He slides his tongue across your bottom lip asking for entrance. When you don’t open up, he slides his hands down your back and grabs your ass and pulls you into him, making your core grind against him, causing you both to gasp. His tongue slips into your mouth, curling around yours.

You don’t say anything as he grabs your hand and pulls you with him, not even giving you time to breathe.

You stumble through the hallway, half-dizzy from the way he kisses you between steps; quick, breathless kisses against your jaw, your cheek, your mouth almost like he can’t wait until you’re alone. You make it to the stairs and he doesn’t let go of you even then. One arm stays wrapped around your waist, his fingers splayed tight against your hip as you climb together, lips brushing, breaths colliding, neither of you willing to part for longer than a second.

By the time you reach his bedroom door, your hands are in his hair, his lips hot against your throat and you’re laughing. He fumbles with the knob, pushes the door open and then slams it shut behind you with more force than necessary.

You don’t care what anyone else hears.

He lifts you slightly as he walks you backward, mouths still pressed together and you let him guide you until the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed. He lays you down with all of the care in the world and then he’s hovering over you, hands braced on either side of your head, staring at you like you’re something he never thought he’d be allowed to touch.

His hands fall down to your hips, pushing your dress up to feel the softness of your stomach beneath his palms with battered breaths. You gasp at the feeling of his soft hands and the pressure he slightly applies, his body pinning you deeper back as he continues exploring your mouth with his own.

You pull back slightly, breathing heavily and your lips red and plump with saliva. Anton smirks at the sight, his thumb coming up to pull down your bottom lip with the tip of his finger before moving his mouth to the sensitive skin of your neck.

The strands of his hair are silky beneath your fingertips as you gasp and tug at the roots as he bites down on a certain area of your neck that makes your core clench.

“Ton,” you whisper, whimpering at the feeling of his palm applying pressure lightly against your navel. “Are we-?”

Anton opens his eyes, his hands stilling immediately as he moves his face in front of yours. “Do you want to?”

You look at him through your lashes and stare at his face for a minute trying to decipher what he’s thinking. He’s always been a person who wears their emotions on their face and now, as you look up into his eyes searching for any hesitation- you find none. You find Nothing but pure love and admiration.

“I do.” You nod

Then he kisses you again. Slower now, deeper too. His mouth moves from yours to your neck, trailing warm, open-mouthed kisses down your skin and you gasp when he finds that one spot that makes you arch into him.

Your fingers fumble with the hem of his pullover and he doesn’t hesitate. He helps pull it off in one motion, tossing it aside without ever taking his eyes off you. You sit up just enough to do the same with your dress and his hands are on your skin before it even hits the floor.

Clothes come off slowly, one piece at a time. Between kisses. His fingers trail along your sides like he’s trying to commit every inch of you to memory. You’re breathless, skin hot, pulse pounding beneath his touch.

One of your hands fumbles against the sheets, clutching the fabric tight in your fist as his hands slide lower, slipping beneath what little clothing you have left between you.

You gasp as his hips press into yours, as he kisses the softest part of your shoulder and breathes your name.

August 18th, 2025

You wake to the sound of cicadas and the sun peeking through the linen curtains. The world outside is just beginning to stir but inside this room everything feels still.

The sheets are warm and tangled around your legs and Anton’s arm is draped heavy across your waist, your bodies pressed close beneath the comforter. He’s still asleep, chest rising and falling, lashes resting against his cheeks. You blink up at him as you recall last night.

The words whispered, the way his hands trembled when they touched you, the kisses, the confessions and the sex. Anton was slow and careful at first, then deeper and rougher going round after round.

You shift just slightly, burying your face against his shoulder. He doesn’t stir, just exhales softly.

For so long, the thought of summer ending felt like a countdown you couldn’t stop. A slow, creeping ache would overcome you every time you remembered what was coming. You were so scared that you’d missed your chance but here you are in his bed, in his arms. You press a soft kiss to his shoulder and tuck yourself even closer.

You’re not clinging to August anymore. You’re not holding your breath for one more weekend or one more night or one more moment.

You’re ready to let the summer go. To let August say goodbye and to finally say hello to the rest of your life with the person you were always meant to find.

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