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aliyahwritings · 7 months ago

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THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (01)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.2k

Aliyah's Notes: this is my first series on here so go easy on me (#adele) pls + some things are not going to be obx canon ... at least some of yall are warned. anyw im so excited for this cause lord knows the amount of time ive wanted to make a fake dating fic!!!!!!! anyw i hope you all will enjoy this i had so much writing the first chapter

The clatter of high heels against the marble floor echoed in perfect sync with the ticking of your watch. Every step was deliberate, poised—just like your life had to be. Perfection, it seemed, was not a choice but a requirement for survival.

You adjusted your sunglasses, your gaze skimming over the glamorous expanse of the fashion agency's lobby. People buzzed around you like bees in a hive, their worlds spinning, fueled by the weight of names, status, and flawless images. You smiled politely at the receptionist, offering a nod, though your mind was miles away.

To the outside world, your life was golden. The covers of magazines, the invitations to high-society events, the million-dollar deals with luxury brands—it was a fantasy that others could only dream of. It was your dream some time ago, too.

But today, your reality felt like walking on the edge of a tightrope, the safety net fraying below you.

Your phone vibrated in your purse, interrupting your thoughts. You fished it out, your pulse quickening when you saw the text from your lawyer. Three words that sent a chill through your carefully constructed façade.

"We need to talk."

Your heart sank. The issue of your visa had been hanging over your head like a storm cloud for months now, growing darker by the day. You’d known this was coming, but knowing and confronting it were two different beasts.

Fame didn’t shield you from the cold bureaucracy of citizenship laws, and your time was running out. One misstep, one delay, and your golden empire could crumble. In a matter of months, you could be deported, left behind by the very country that had built you up.

With a deep breath, you silenced your phone and slid it back into your purse. This wasn’t something you could dwell on right now, not in public. Your expression remained serene, even though your mind was anything but. You had a shoot in an hour, a charity gala that evening, and at some point, you had to meet with the lawyer to discuss "options"—a word that had started to feel more like a trap than a solution.

As you exited the building, the cool breeze caught your hair, the city unfolding before you like a glittering stage. New York City. You looked out at the streets, the people, the life you fought so hard to build. The car pulled up to the curb, and you climbed inside. On your way to your lawyer.

You stepped into the law office, the familiar scent of polished wood and stale coffee wrapping around you like a tight band.

"Ms. Y/L/N, good afternoon," Nicolas Ramirez, your lawyer, greeted you, standing behind his desk. His expression was composed, but you knew him well enough by now to spot the unease in his eyes.

"Hi," you softly smiled at him. Your heels clicked softly on the floor as you sat down, crossing your legs tightly, as if holding yourself together. "Let’s just get straight to it, okay? How bad is it?"

Nico sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Your visa expires in less than three months."

You felt your stomach twist, your worst fear inching closer to reality. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "And what about the appeals? The extensions?"

"We’ve exhausted every possible option—work visas, artist visas, even humanitarian grounds. Immigration laws are tightening, and without a permanent solution like citizenship or residency, you’ll be forced to leave the country."

"Leave?" Your voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the full weight of the nightmare you’d been living with.

Leave? Go back there?

The country you had fought so hard to escape. The country where your childhood had been marked by suffocating poverty, where your parents had already planned your marriage before you even turned 15. Where your dreams had been a distant, impossible hope until that one person changed your life forever.

You felt your throat tighten. You couldn’t go back.

Nico’s gaze softened slightly, his voice gentle but firm. "I know what this means for you. I know how difficult—"

"You don’t know," you cut him off, your voice sharper than you intended. "You… You don’t know—I can’t go back there, Nico. I just… I can’t."

He nodded, giving you a moment of silence to compose yourself, but the pressure in your chest only grew. You took a deep breath, trying to keep the panic at bay.

"So what now?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Is this it? Am I out of options?"

"Well… There’s one option we haven’t explored yet." his tone was cautious, like he knew what he was about to say would open a new can of worms.

You furrowed your brow. "What?"

"Marriage."

The word hung in the air, thick and heavy. You blinked, unable to comprehend at first. "Marriage?" you repeated, as if saying it aloud would make the absurdity of it clear.

"It’s one of the few legal paths left," he explained, leaning forward slightly. "Marriage to a U.S. citizen could secure your green card and, eventually, permanent residency. It’s a legitimate route—many people in similar situations have done it."

You sat back in your chair, the tension in your body coiling tighter. The thought of marriage, of attaching yourself to someone you barely knew for the sake of staying in the country, made your skin crawl. You had already sacrificed so much for your freedom, for your career. And now this?

"You’re telling me the only way to stay here is to marry someone I don’t even love? Just to avoid being sent back to a country I don’t belong in anymore?"

"Not necessarily," Nicolas said, his tone measured. "It wouldn’t have to be a traditional marriage. Think of it as a business arrangement. It’s a legal partnership—nothing more. And it could save your career, your life here."

You crossed your arms tightly, your mind racing. Marriage. It was a word that had haunted you ever since your parents had tried to force you into it as a teenager. Back then, it was their way of controlling you, of keeping you bound to a life you didn’t want. Now, it felt like the universe was throwing the same chains back at you, just in a different form.

"I’ve compiled a list of potential candidates," Arjun continued, sliding a piece of paper across the desk toward you. "People who might be open to an arrangement like this. Athletes, businesspeople—individuals who might benefit from a similar deal."

You glanced at the paper but didn’t pick it up. The names blurred in front of your eyes. This wasn’t how your life was supposed to go. You’d already lost your family, fought tooth and nail to get out of your country and build something for yourself in the U.S. And now you were at risk of losing everything—again.

"I don’t know if I can do this, Nico," you said quietly, shaking your head. "I’ve already sacrificed so much. My family… I gave up everything to be here. And now you’re telling me I have to give up even more?"

"I’m not telling you that you have to do anything," he replied, his voice calm but firm. "I’m saying this is an option. One that could keep you here, legally. But the decision is yours. I’m just laying out the possibilities."

You swallowed the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

"I can’t go back there," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. "I’ve worked too hard to get here. I can’t lose everything."

He nodded slowly. "Then maybe it’s time to consider unconventional options."

You finally picked up the paper, scanning the names but not really seeing them. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. Marriage. It felt like a trap, just like it had back then. But maybe—just maybe—it was the only way to keep your future intact.

"I’ll think about it," you said, standing up and smoothing the front of your dress. "But I’m not making any promises."

"Of course," he said, standing as well. "Just let me know. We’re running out of time, but I’ll support whatever decision you make."

You nodded curtly, turning toward the door. As you stepped out into the cool city air, your chest tightened with the weight of everything you stood to lose. The lights of New York City flickered ahead of you, just out of reach, as though the life you’d built here could vanish at any moment.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly afraid.

Your phone buzzed, dragging you out of your spiraling thoughts. You fished it out of your purse, heart skipping a beat when you saw the name: Nina. Your agent.

With a shaky exhale, you answered. “Nina, hi.”

“Hey, babe!” Nina’s voice was all cheer, a stark contrast to the storm inside you. “So, I have amazing news! Guess who just got major campaign offers coming in? You! Chanel, Loewe, and oh my God, don’t even get me started on Louis Vuitton. The year starts beautifully for you!”

You should’ve felt ecstatic, but instead, the words passed over you like an echo. All you could think of was the countdown Nico had set in motion: three months. Three months before everything you’d built here would be taken away from you.

“That’s… amazing, Nina,” you managed, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Really amazing. Thank you so much.”

“Are you okay? You don’t sound like your sunshine-self.” Nina’s voice softened, concern creeping in. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause. Nina had been there through all your ups and downs, from your rookie days as a model to your rise in the industry. But the immigration issues, the fear of being sent back to a life you couldn’t return to—that was something neither of you could control.

“Three months?” she repeated, her voice going higher. “Oh my God—what the fuck? I thought… I thought you had more time.”

“So did I.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Nina, I don’t know what to do. I’ve called Nico and he tried everything—extensions, appeals—but the laws are tightening, and he said there’s only one real option left.”

There was a brief silence before she asked, “What option?”

You bit your lip. “Marriage. Nico says I could marry someone for a green card.”

“Marriage?” Nina’s voice came out in a shocked squeak. “Like a fake marriage? Babe, are you serious?”

“I don’t know!” you burst out, frustration and fear colliding. “I don’t know what to do! I can’t go back there. I can’t. My parents… My parents already wrote me off as dead, and if I go back, I’m stuck in a place I spent my entire life trying to escape.”

Her voice softened. “I know, honey, I know… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound—God, I can’t imagine how scary this is for you.”

You took a shaky breath, grateful for her understanding. Nina wasn’t just your manager—she was one of the few people who you actually close to. She was a 34 years old American-Filipina woman. You trusted her with your life.

“Okay,” Nina said, her voice more focused now. “Okay, now listen. We’ll figure this out. I know Nicolas wouldn’t suggest something like this unless it was a real option. Do you trust him?”

You sighed. “Yeah. I do. But the idea of marrying someone just to stay… it feels like another version of what my parents wanted for me. Like I’m back in that same time of my life.”

“I get it. But this isn’t like that. You’re in control this time,” Nina said. “If this is what you need to stay here, it’s not about love or being owned by someone.”

You nodded to yourself, trying to absorb her words. “Well, um, Nico gave me a list of potential candidates—people who might be willing to make an arrangement. You’ll never guess who’s on it, though.”

“Who? Shawn Mendes? Harry Styles? Tom Holland—”

“Rafe Cameron,” you said, cutting her off. “The basketball play—”

“Yeah, I know who that man is, Y/N. His reputation is a total mess right now. It’s not surprising for him to be on that list.”

“Exactly,” you muttered. “It’s a perfect business arrangement for him, too. He needs a way to look respectable again, and I need to stay in the country.”

“So, you’re actually considering this?”

You leaned against a streetlamp, staring at the city around you. “I don’t know. Maybe? It just feels wrong. Like I’m giving up a part of myself.”

“As nicely as this can be said, you are being dramatic here, babe.” Nina sighed softly. “Look, I’m not going to push you either way, okay? But I do think you need to look at it from a different angle. You’re not giving up on yourself. You’re doing what you need to do to stay here, to keep fighting for your career and your future. And Rafe—or whoever you’ll end up marrying—is not your parents. He’s not going to control you or he’ll get slapped.”

You closed your eyes, trying to let her words sink in. She was right—you were in control now. This wasn’t the same as being forced into a marriage you didn’t want. This was about survival. About keeping your life in the U.S. intact.

"Yeah… I guess you’re right," you said softly, feeling some of the tension release from your shoulders. "I just need time to think."

TWO WEEKS LATER.

The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting warm light across your living room. After two relentless weeks of back-to-back fashion shoots, campaign meetings, and gala appearances, you had finally found a moment of peace. You curled up on the plush sofa, sinking into its embrace as the hum of the city outside became a distant murmur. The oversized, loose pajamas you wore were a far cry from the designer gowns and couture you’d been draped in recently, but they were yours—soft, comforting, and familiar. Your hair was twisted into a lazy bun under a satin bonnet.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, finally feeling the weight of exhaustion slip from your shoulders as you closed your eyes.

Buzz. Buzz.

The sound of your phone vibrating on the coffee table pulled you from the calm. You groaned softly, reaching for it with one hand, expecting to see another notification about a meeting or event. Instead, it was a message from Nicolas.

“Any thoughts on who you're going to marry? We need to move quickly if we want to ensure everything goes through in time.”

The familiar weight of the situation you’d been trying to avoid crept back into your chest. Two weeks had passed since your lawyer had first laid out the reality of your visa situation. In those weeks, you'd thrown yourself into work, hoping the constant flurry of activity would drown out the anxiety. But now, in the quiet of your home, the decision loomed large again.

You typed back, hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

"I haven’t decided yet."

A few seconds later, the reply came through.

"We need to discuss this in person. Can you come to my office today?"

You frowned, your eyes darting around the cozy room, not quite ready to leave your home.

"How about you come here instead?" you typed. "It’s been a long week, and I’d rather talk in private."

There was a pause before the three dots appeared, and then the message followed.

"Sure. I’ll be there in about an hour."

You put your phone down and leaned back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have, but it was necessary. Time was running out, and you knew you had to face it—whether you wanted to or not.

An hour passed in a blur, and soon enough, you heard the knock at your door. You padded across the room in your socks, your oversized pajama pants swishing softly as you walked. Opening the door, you found Nicolas standing there, looking as composed as ever in his tailored suit.

“Come in,” you said with a smile, stepping aside to let him in.

Nicolas entered, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. "You look... relaxed."

You gave a soft chuckle, gesturing to your pajamas. “Don’t mock the pj’s until you’ve tried them.”

He smiled slightly, but there was a hint of emergency in his expression as he took a seat in the armchair across from you. “I know you’ve had a lot on your plate lately, but we really need to make a decision.”

You nodded, sitting back down on the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest. “I know… I’ve just been avoiding it.”

“And I noticed,” he said, pulling out a folder from his briefcase. “But with the visa expiration approaching, we don’t have much time. We need to find someone—someone who understands the situation and won’t make things harder.”

You bit your lip, holding a smile, glancing at the folder in his hands. “You bought the list?”

He nodded, and handed it over, and you flipped through the names, recognizing some immediately. Athletes, businessmen, even a couple of actors/singers. And then there was Rafe Cameron, his name standing out like a bold headline.

“I’ve looked at these,” you said quietly. “I just… I don’t know who to choose. None of ‘em feel right.”

Nico leaned forward. “It's not about right or wrong. It’s about who can offer the least amount of personal complications and help you secure your residency. Rafe Cameron, for instance—he’s someone who could benefit from this arrangement as much as you. His reputation needs mending, and this could be a mutually beneficial situation.”

You stared at Rafe’s name, the memories of seeing his name in the news about how much of a womanizer he was… Could you really tie yourself to someone like him in a fake marriage?

“Alright, but I need you to help me decide,” you admitted, looking up at him.

He nodded, his expression understanding. “Of course, that’s why I’m here. Let’s break it down together and figure out who makes the most sense, not just legally but for your peace of mind.”

Nicolas opened his briefcase again, pulling out more detailed files on the potential candidates. He laid them out neatly on the coffee table, each name with a stack of information—financial records, personal histories, public perceptions. It was all very businesslike.

You leaned forward, looking at the pages in front of you. Each one represented a major decision, a shift in your life you weren’t entirely ready to accept, but you knew you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Let’s start with the most practical options,” he said, sliding the file on Rafe Cameron toward you. “I know his name has come up before. He’s wealthy, influential, and… well, let’s be honest, he could use a boost to his public image right now. It’s a good match on paper.”

You stared at Rafe’s name again, tapping the edge of the file with your finger. “Yeah, but he’s also a bit of a mess, isn’t he? I mean, the media paints him as this… whore, and his personal life is always talked about. What if that blows back on me?”

Nicolas raised a brow. “That’s something to consider, but you also have to think of the benefits. His public image might not be very clean, but he’s powerful. Marrying him would put you in a stable position, and if it’s a business arrangement, his private affairs don’t have to concern you.”

You exhaled slowly, still feeling uneasy. Rafe Cameron was trouble, and you knew it. But at the same time, trouble might be exactly what could make this work—for both of you.

“What about the others?” you asked, flipping through the files. “There has to be someone who’s… less complicated.”

“Well,” he said, tapping another file. “there’s Owen Turner. He’s a succesful tech entrepeneur, keeps a low profile. No scandals, no messy reputation. He’s reliable, but you’ll have to approach this differently. He’s more private, less likely to want his personal life on display.”

“And boring—plus, he seems like the type of white guy to want a traditional wife. Like he would expect me to cook for him every night… and he has an ugly name.”

“Owen won’t be expecting home-cooked meals, Y/N. He’s a tech guy; he probably lives on energy drinks and instant ramen,” Nico pointed out, trying to steer you back to the serious topic. “But if we position it as a legal arrangement, he could see the value in it.”

You sighed, leaning back on the chair. “Okay, maybe Owen is the safer options. But can you imagine our wedding announcement? ‘Succesful Tech Entrepeneur Married Famous Model: They Share a Love for Cats and Instant Noodle.’”

Nico shook his head, trying not to smile. “Focus, please. This is a serious matter.”

“Right, right, sorry…” you said, wavering your hand dismissively. “But, what do you think about Rafe?”

“Rafe Cameron is the most straightforward option,” he said, his tone now more measured. “He’s already in the public eye, which means there won’t be as much of a shock if you’re suddenly married. Plus, his need for good press aligns with your need for stability.”

“And personally?”

He smiled softly, a rare gesture from him. “Personally, I think you should go with the person you think you can manage.”

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. Staring at the stack of papers in front of you, Rafe Cameron’s name glaring up at you from the top of the list. Every name on the list had its pros and cons, but something about Rafe’s file felt different. Maybe it was the intensity of his media coverage, the scandals, or the way he dominated the headlines for all the wrong reasons. But as much as you hesitated, his name kept pulling you back.

“I know his reputation isn't spotless,” Nico said, sensing your hesitation, “but in this situation, a clean reputation isn’t the priority. You need someone powerful, someone with enough influence to make this arrangement stick without getting tangled up in emotional complications.”

You nodded, again.”But I don’t know if I can handle all the baggage that comes with Rafe Cameron. His public image is a trainwreck. Wouldn’t that only complicate things more?”

Nico leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “Possibly. But think of it this way: his personal life is already so chaotic that a stable, respectable marriage might be exactly what he needs to repair his image. And that’s where you come in. You’d be helping each other.”

Your eyes dropped back down to his file. "Do you think he'd even agree to something like this?"

Nico chuckled softly. “If there’s one thing I know about men like Rafe Cameron, it’s that they understand deals. His reputation is hanging by a thread, and a marriage to someone like you—someone with a pristine public image—could be the ticket to restoring his credibility. It’s a win-win, really.”

You considered Nico’s words. He was right. Rafe had everything to gain from a marriage of convenience, just like you. And while his scandals were messy, they didn’t define him entirely. He was still an elite athlete, one of the best in the game, and with the right PR strategy, you could both come out looking better.

But the thought of marrying someone like him—a notorious playboy with a history of messy breakups—made your stomach churn.

“You know,” Nico continued, “if this were just about your visa, we’d be having a different conversation. But this is about your entire future. Your career, your freedom to stay here, everything you’ve built. I’m not saying it’s an easy choice, but it’s one worth considering.”

You sighed, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. "What happens if it falls apart? What if things with Rafe go wrong?"

"That’s why we’ll draft a contract," Nico reassured you. "This won’t be a traditional marriage, Y/N. You’ll both have clear boundaries, and legally, we’ll protect your interests. If things go south, you’ll be covered."

You stared at the file a little longer, then closed your eyes.Rafe Cameron. He was cocky, possessive, and reckless—everything you usually avoided. But maybe that was the key. You wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to control you or make this anything more than a business transaction.

It would be messy. It would be complicated. But it would also keep you here, in the country you’d fought so hard to call home. And maybe, just maybe, it would be the solution you both needed.

“Okay,” you said softly, your decision finally settling. “I’ll do it.”

Nico’s eyebrows shot up, a little surprised at how quickly you’d made up your mind. “You’re sure?”

“No,” you admitted with a weak smile. “But I think this is the best option. I’ll marry Rafe Cameron.”

Nico nodded, closing the folder with a satisfied smile. “Good. I’ll set up a meeting with him. We’ll get the ball rolling.”

Oh God, you were going to marry Rafe Cameron…

chapter two

2K notes · View notes

volt44ge · 19 days ago

Text

the calm before the storm.

oliver bearman (F1) x social media admin!reader

⋆˙⟡ When the weather puts the Japanese GP to a halt, two rookies—one behind the wheel, the other behind the screen—find quiet comfort in unexpected company.

word count: 1,227

notes: fluff, slow-burn, anxious reader and comforting Ollie, a new garage duo in the making…?

a/n: MY FIRST EVER FIC IVE EVER WRITTEN PLS BE NICE english isnt my first language either and this wasn’t proofread but enjoy!!

Being back in Suzuka meant dealing with one of the more demanding circuits on the calendar. Between the technical corners, long straights, and ever-shifting weather, it was a beast of its own. And today, as predicted all week, ithe rain hadn’t stopped from the moment you woke up. Puddles glistened along the pit lane, and the clouds showed no signs of clearing.

Just a few hours earlier, race control has confirmed to each teams that the race will be delayed.

Inside the garage, the atmosphere was oddly calm. Some teams are going through last-minute race strategies, some are milking content whilst having their drivers stuck in place, and some just laughed over card games and half-finished cups of instant coffee. It was that rare kind of lull where the usual tension of race day fizzled into something quieter.

Your marketing director had just wrapped up a last-minute team “discussion”— nothing too pressing, just a rundown of deliverables and content expectations for the upcoming week. As your colleagues scattered back to their corners of the garage to proceed on their assigned content, you remained in the hallway, staring at your spreadsheet with dread.

“How do I even finish this in less than 48 hours…?” you muttered under your breath, scrolling through piles of tasks that were apparently “light” enough for a newbie like you.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed a figure approaching. Tall, rain-slicked curls still drying, and hands wrapped around a steaming mug.

“Tea?” he asked, voice soft, almost hesitant. He held the mug out towards you. You captured a quick glance of the label hanging by the side. Earl Grey, your favorite.

You blinked. “Sure, yeah… Thank you.”

He offered a small, warm smile. “I don’t think I’ve properly introduced myself, I’m Oliver. Well… Ollie, I guess.”

You smiled back, already warmed by more than just the tea. Real humble, you thought. “Yeah, I don’t think we’ve had the opportunity of working together yet. I’m Y/N”

“I don’t think i’ve seen you around last season— you’re new?”

You knew that Ollie has been around the garage longer than you since he’s had the opportunity to race with Haas a couple of times the previous season.

“Yeah. Joined at the start of the year,” you nodded awkwardly. “Just trying my best to get familiar around the team… It’ll take some time,” you blushed.

You earned a soft giggle from him. “Hey, same. Rookie year for me too. I guess we’re both just trying to survive.”

There was a brief pause—comfortable, but not awkward—as the rain pattered steadily against the roof above.

“No, yeah, I’m sure you’ll get by just fine,” he added, tone sincere.

Ollie turned towards the little makeshift common room tucked just down the hallway—a few worn couches, a monitor with the live broadcast muted, and scattered paper cups of half-empty coffee and tea from the rest of the crew. He took a seat on the corner of the couch, then looked up and patted the space next to him, inviting you.

You followed, tea in hand, and sat down.

“How’s it going with all the team content stuff?” he asked, taking a quick peek at your screen.

“Eh, I don’t know. I mean… it’s going I guess…?” you sighed, flipping the iPad around so he could take a better look at your spreadsheet. “Supposedly these are all the “lighter” tasks for me since I’m new, but I really don’t get how all of this translates to ‘light’”

Ollie leaned in to scan it. His eyebrows shot up. “This is the ‘light’ stuff?”

“Right?” you laughed, half exasperated, half-grateful you got yourself someone who understands you. “Apparently I’m expected to shoot, edit, upload, and copywrite for I-don’t-even-know-how-many languages in less than 48 hours, but yeah sure. Light.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I thought racing was intense. Yeah… good luck with all that.”

You shrugged, still smiling. “Yeah thanks. I mean… Can’t complain too much since I’m more than grateful to be here… But yeah! Guess we’re both getting thrown into the deep end.”

There was something comforting in it—in sharing that unspoken understanding. You were both new. Still uncertain in your own unique ways. But sitting here, face to face, sipping tea while the rain fell in steady sheets outside, it felt as though everything’s going to be just fine.

He nudged your shoulder gently. “Well, if you ever need a break from all that—someone to film, or just someone to complain to—I’m probably lurking around somewhere.”

You met his eyes for a second longer than before. “Thanks, Ollie. I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” he said, leaning back into the couch. “I hope you do.”

Ollie gave you a sideways glance. “So… if you’re handling all those lighter stuff, does that mean you’re responsible for editing those silly TikToks of me and Esteban then?”

You laughed, covering your face with your hand. “You caught me, yes. I understand if you’re not going the forgive me.”

He laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made your stomach flutter unexpectedly. “Look, I must admit it was good content. Very Gen-Z, you definitely know what you’re doing.”

You smiled into your tea, grateful for how easy it felt to sit here with him. There was something nice—strangely grounding—about talking to someone your age in the garage, who was also still figuring things out. His presence calmed the chaos buzzing in your brain.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, nudging your elbow with his. “If you ever need help with filming, I mean it. You know how they say that drivers are usually the worst when it comes to social stuff, but… I don’t mind”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you. volunteering yourself as tribute?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged with a smirk. “You seem like you need a win.”

You were just about to respond—something teasung, something to match the warmth rising in your cheeks—when a voice crackled through the team radio behind the wall.

“Attention all crew members—race control is monitoring a weather window. Be on standby. We’ll provice further updates in fifteen.”

Just like that, the stillness shifted.

Outside, engineers began quietly mobilizing. Crew members started moving with purpose again, checking the tire sets and adjusting strategy sheets. The rain hadn’t stopped but the buzz of maybe soon was starting to fill the air.

Ollie straightened slightly, stretching his arms. The calm before the storm—literally—was over.

“Well,” he said, standing and offering you his hand, “looks like they’re calling us back to life.”

You took it, letting him pull you off the couch with surprising ease.

“Guess the peace was short-lived,” you said, brushing imaginary dust off your shirt, when really you were just trying to steady your nerves.

“Hey,” He said, catching your gaze before you turned. “Seriously, don’t let all that content eat you alive just yet. You got this”

Your heart tugged at the unexpected softness in his voice. You gave a small smile. “And you—Don’t let Suzuka chew you up out there.”

He grinned. “No promises.”

As the boy jogged lightly back toward the main garage area, you stood for a moment longer, watching him disappear into the chaos, still clutching your half-empty tea.

It was nothing. Just small chat.

Just two rookies killing time in the rain.

And yet… your chest felt a little lighter.

part 2…?

#oliver bearman #ollie bearman #f1 fic #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #f1 x reader #oliver bearman fluff #ollie bearman x reader #f1 fluff

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minhosimthings · 1 year ago

Text

Sample Session || 18+

Synopsis: In which you ask your boyfriend for a semen sample

Pairings: Sunghoon × fem!reader, non idol au

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v sex, rough sex, overstimulation, unprotected sex (not for you at all) masturbation (male), spit as lubricant, praise, degradation, swearing, rough dom Sunghoon, sub!reader, reader wears pink lingerie, boob fixation, dirty talk eyyy, collecting semen in that tube because we medical students, mentions of Yunjin from Le Sserafim and Gaeul from IVE

A/N: this is my submission for @deluluriddhi's 500+ followers event which you can find here! Had a shit ton of fun writing this though so here you go babies!

Being a doctor has its advantages.

You get to help people, you get a shit ton of money (student debt sucks but hey), you get a hot boyfriend, you can correctly pronounce and know the meaning of choledocholithiasis.

Did I mention hot boyfriend?

Park Sunghoon. Possibly the hottest and the only surgeon-in-training you'd ever want to have inside of you all day long.

Of course the walls still speak of the times he railed you in the room where they kept the crp training dolls, but we don't speak about that anymore.

But one of the greatest advantages of having a Park Sunghoon, as you soon found out, was that he proved useful in a quest.

For a particularly awkward thing.

"Sperm samples?" Yunjin gasped, almost spilling her coffee on you, "we have to collect sperm samples?"

"For the last time, yes." Gaeul groaned, massaging her temples, Yunjin had been asking the same thing since the past hour.

"How on earth are we going to get semen samples?" Yunjin asked, turning to you for some reason.

"Alright ladies, time to seduce some men." Gaeul laughed, sipping her frappuccino.

"Y/N already seduced one." Yunjin groaned, deflating her body onto the table, "Hey, get some for us too will you?"

"Number 1, we need to have different samples, and number two how the hell am I gonna ask him?" You quizzed the girls, who looked dumbfounded.

"Maybe..you know." Yunjin began, and you realised she had the same face on as she did whenever she saw the extremely phallic design of the law building at your college, "Just do the oogey-boogey with him."

Gaeul's frappucino can spit out her nose, as she cackled loudly, garnering the attention of many people in the cafe.

"The oogey-boogey YUNJIN WHAT?" Gauel kept laughing, holding her stomach tightly, "Is that your way of saying that Y/N needs to seduce Sunghoon into somehow giving her his semen?" She said, when her laughter died down.

"Absolutely not!" You protested. The idea of seducing your boyfriend was...nice to think of but to actually have a practical session? You would have rather jumped off a cliff.

"Just ask him today, we have a holiday tomorrow, so incase the oogey-boogey indeed does oogey-boogey you have semen! Simple."

Gaeul's frappucino was subjected to being ejected out of her nose again, as she rolled over in fits of laughter.

This wasn't you.

This definetly wasn't you, Sunghoon thought.

His mind was racing at a hundred kilometres per the second, and his bag full of pastries for you was abandoned on the floor as soon as he saw what lay in front of him.

A reward for his hard work today? The thought of what he had done to deserve you was running a lap through his brain. You, in your pretty pink lace, with white trimmings, and pearls on your neck, the ones he bought you of course.

"Well hello there, gorgeous." He said, grabbing your waist in his arms, as he always did when he got back home. But this time, with a different purpose.

"All dressed up for me today?" He quizzed you, placing a kiss at the nape of your neck. It was pathetic how much the simple action made your hole so wet.

Sunghoon toyed with the pretty pink lace of your bra, kissing up and down your collarbone. God had you changed your perfume? It seemed so intoxicating to him. Your hands came to rest on his shoulder, as you nibbled the tip of his ear a bit, which made his dick throb inside his pants.

"Come on." He mumbled through his kisses, lifting you into his arms, making you wrap your legs around his waist, which you did promptly.

The one thing that Sunghoon would have never expected was the various medical equipment that lay on your bed.

"Y/N." He glanced at you suspiciously, putting you down on your feet, "what's all this?"

You awkwardly cleared your throat and rushed over to the bed, picking up a tiny test tube and shoving it in your boyfriend's hands.

"Alright so I have an assignment and I need your help." You said, a bit more seriously than you had wanted to.

"Do you need me to get you pregnant or something?" Sunghoon chuckled, his eyes darkening, "Cause I won't say no."

"Actually it's not that."

"Then what is it, princess?"

"Canihaveyoursemensampleplease." You mumbled, or more properly, to say, rapped.

"Y/N, proper sentences please?"

Sighing heavily to yourself, you gulped and wrapped your arms around Sunghoon again, pressing a chaste, sweet kiss to his pink lips.

"I need a semen sample for an assignment." You mumbled into his ear, albeit a but louder this time. Sunghoon smirked into your neck.

"That's it?" He asked, a cocky smile spreading on his face. His baby, needs a sample from him? He thought it was the most adorable thing ever.

"Yeah...it's fine if you say no though!" You panicked, looking at him with widened eyes. But Sunghoon only chuckled again and raised your chin to his level with his finger.

"How could I say no when you're asking so nicely?" He said, guiding you over to the bed. Kicking off his shoes, Sunghoon settled in nicely between the sheets, while you awkwardly sat at the edge, handing the tube to him.

"Don't want to join me baby?" Sunghoon asked, taking off his belt and his trousers, and pulling you in for a sudden kiss, by grabbing your face with his hands.

"You're a medical student too Hoon, you know I can't." You rolled your eyes at him.

"Alright, but do me a favour. Hold the tube in place for me will you?" He handed the tube back to you, and you bit your lip. Holding it in place. In other words, bending over to make Hoon see your cleavage.

"If that's what'll get you off, then fine." You grumbled, although your panties were getting wetter by the second at the idea.

Sunghoon leaned against the bedframe, relaxing into the sheets, holding his throbbing cock with one hand. He began to jerk off hard, his hand rising to the tip of the cock, where more fat drops of precum accumulate, feeling the alcohol of your perfume take over the body,

"that what you want, princess?” he spits on his cock and starts jerking off again while he speaks his hand doesn't stop, slow movements, up and down as if he wanted to feel the familiar sensation of your walls clenched around him. He could feel a knot forming in his stomach, at the sight of seeing your tits, lined perfectly in your lingerie. The sight of it made him go mental.

His hand never abandons his cock, squeezing, going up and down without losing rhythm. Sunghoon began to feel signs of orgasm so he reduced the speed of his hand, waiting for what will come next.

Sunghoon thinks while squeezing his cock tightly, holding by the base his fingers massage the balls, he climbs his hand slowly and passes his thumb over the head of the cock dripping precum, spreading and with his eyes glazed, little moans escaping his lips. Sunghoon sits more centered on the bed, drops of sweat run down his hair, dripping and turning a trail around his neck, chest and belly, his body is so sensitive to touch that the drops of water seem to scratch while the sheets seem to hug him.

"Fuck—im close." He whimpered, eyes rolling back as the knot in his stomach broke and the next moment, his hand was drenched in cum, and you were holding a test tube filled with what you needed.

"Shit" Sunghoon fell back on the bed, while you happily inserted the semen into your carrier so that it stayed safe. You crawled promptly into the bed with him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you so much Hoonie, I had no idea how I was going to get the-"

"What about my payment princess?" Sunghoon's whispered growl in your ear left you crumbling.

His touch left your skin burning in desire for more and before you could even catch a breath his hands grabbed your legs and you find yourself wrapped around his waist. Your hair was soft between his fingers and as he gently pulled it, you let out a little groan.

"Hoonie–" you whimpered, feeling a blush creep up to your cheeks.

He loved seeing you like that, confused, embarrassed, submissive, and highly aroused. Holding your gaze for another moment, he rubbed his hand over your wet folds, gathering your slick on his palm. When he finally bent a finger and slipped it between your lower lips, he watched you closely, and as a soft squelching sound rang in his ears, he saw you writhing in discomfort, frowning slightly, but it made him smile at you, and your embarrassment was quickly forgotten.

Holding your waist firmly, Sunghoon flipped you over onto the bed with a rough thump, making you moan at the very sensation of his biceps touching your body.

"So wet for me already?" Sunghoon chuckled, removing your panties slowly, "You're so adorable."

"Shut up." You groaned, feeling embarrased again, "Hoonie, we ran out of condoms, maybe we should-"

"You're on birth control right?" Sunghoon pressed a kiss to your neck, making you mewl when his tip slightly touched your pussy, "You're not leaving this bed until the sheets are either drenched or until you've fainted."

His voice was rough as he lined himself up with your entrance as you panted in anticipation, fingers digging into his back when he finally entered you, moaning deeply at the feeling of your walls starting to clench around him.

The stretch when he enters you burns gloriously, your mouth falling open in a perfect, round ‘O’ of ecstasy. Sunghoon fills you slowly, burying himself to the hilt, so deep that you can practically feel him rearranging your insides.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” he praises.

Discomposed, his voice thickens, rounding the vowels and blurring the ends of his words. Sunghoon rocks his hips one shallow thrust striking a spot inside you that has your vision whiting out, ecstasy buzzing in your heavy limbs.

“That felt good, huh? Yeah. I know, I know,” he soothes, swallowing your whines with wet, deliberate kisses, tongue sweeping every corner of your mouth and teeth grazing your lips.

Your noises grew louder, as did the wet squelching sounds as your pussy fluttered around him, muscles clenching, a burning warmth gathering inside you. You sank your nails into the old wood, holding on for dear life as his pelvis smacked against your cushioned ass in quick succession.

“Can’t you handle it, baby?” Sunghoon looked at you with pity, "Is it too much for your pathetic pussy?"

“I can-fuck, I can—handle it.” you whimpered. You clearly, could not handle it.

His own grunts filled your ears, adding to the tension building up in your belly, those deep vibrations pushing you right over the edge.

"Hoon-I—ah FUCK!"

You cried out when your walls clamped around him, that tight coil within exploding into a thousand tiny lights that made your entire body convulse against him. He felt your orgasmic contractions, and despite the soreness in his leg, he kept fucking you through your release, your juices helping in easing your tight passage, but he still strained to keep his rhythm. His fingers dug into your soft skin, and he felt a bead of sweat running along his temple.

That unlocked something inside of him. While he still held you, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck, your shoulders, anywhere he could reach, he slammed into you, forcing your small body to jerk in his arms with each thrust. He grunted and moaned, nearly panting, as he crammed himself inside of you.

It doesn’t take long for your next orgasm to build up, releasing it with a silent cry as you unintentionally dig your fingers into Sunghoon's back causing him to groan in your ear in pleasure. He keeps his thrusts consistent as you begin to leak around his cock and onto the blanket beneath you. There’s no doubt you’ll have to change the bedding later.

All you could do was bury your head in his chest until with one more thrust, he pushed into you, unloading pump after pump of cum. Afterwards, he slumped down, slowly dragging his cock out of your stuffed cunt, leaving you empty and internally screaming at the intoxication of the burn.

"Shit-" Sunghoon plopped down on the bed, next to you. Both of your chests rose and fell in unison, as you managed to steeply catch your breath.

A moment of calm silence arose before-

"Does your professor need any more sampler or...?" Sunghoon asked, eliciting a laugh out of you.

"Nope, just the one." You chuckled at his unseriousness as he pulled you in for cuddles.

"You're changing the sheets this time Hoon."

"Damn it."

Bonus

"So you did the oogey-boogey with him?"

"Yunjin!"

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scarluna · 4 months ago

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Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT I / ACT II / ACT III / ACT IV / ACT V / ACT VII / ACT VIII

Chapters: 6 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers, love triangle

ACT VI.

The crisp winter air nipped at my cheeks as I stepped out of my apartment building, my scarf wrapped snugly around my neck. It was a lazy Sunday, the kind of day where I would’ve normally curled up with a book or caught up on my favorite shows. But today was different. Today, Taehyung had insisted we spend the day together—no work, no drama, just us.

As I adjusted my coat, making sure not to freeze despite the sun outside, I saw him across the street, standing next to a streetlamp. He looked effortlessly handsome in a cream-colored sweater under a beige trench coat, his dark hair slightly tousled by the breeze. His eyes lit up the moment he spotted me, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

In his hands was a small bouquet of flowers—white daisies and pink tulips, delicate and cheerful.

“For you,” he said as I approached, holding the bouquet out with a boyish grin.

“Flowers?” I teased, taking them gently. “Are you trying to win me over?”

He smirked. “Maybe. Is it working?”

I laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s a good start.”

We began walking down the quiet street, the crunch of our shoes against the pavement mingling with the sounds of the city waking up. A few blocks away, we found our favorite little café, the one with the cozy atmosphere and the best hot chocolate in town.

Taehyung held the door open for me, and we were greeted by the familiar scent of cocoa and cinnamon. The café was warm, a stark contrast to the chilly weather outside.

“Two hot chocolates?” the barista asked with a knowing smile as we approached the counter.

“You know us too well,” Taehyung replied with a soft chuckle. We have been visiting this coffee shop back when we were only college students. This place held memories of us. And I cherished it a lot.

Once our drinks were ready—complete with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cocoa powder—we found a corner booth by the window. The steam from the mugs curled into the air as we sat across from each other, the sunlight streaming in and casting a golden glow over his face.

“So,” he began, his tone playful. “What’s on your mind, Miss Y/N? Besides how devastatingly handsome I am.”

I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my hot chocolate to hide my smile. “I was actually thinking about how certain someone managed to spill wine on my dress last night.”

His expression softened, the teasing replaced by genuine concern. “You handled that so well. I would’ve lost my cool.”

“Well,” I said, swirling my spoon in the whipped cream, “I guess I’ve had enough practice dealing with people like Tina.”

He reached across the table, resting his hand over mine. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You are more badass than you think.”

His words warmed me more than the hot chocolate ever could. "I honestly don't know what I will do without you, Tae. I am grateful to have you in my life." I spoke out, it was the truth, I never expressed my gratefulness but now I did. I wanted him to know that I cherished him. Tae's cheeks flushed. "I will always be here, Y/N. No matter what." My heart skept a beat. I grinned at him and brough the glass toward my lips as if to hide my blush. "So, what's the deal with your Boss tho?There seems to be tension between him and you. I didn't like how he stole you away from me last night..." I froze. My smile faltered and I cleared my throat. "He is just . . . a bit controlling, that's all." "Controlling? He is possessive of you, Y/N. His eyes are feral when he is around you." My frown deepened and I shook my head. "That's not true. I mean, he did made fun of me and my way of work but that's all. He thrives for perfection." Tae's eyes darkened, he stared at me for a minute longer, before a deep sigh escaped his lips. "I just want you to be self-aware of your surroundings, Y/N." Maybe he was right. Maybe I was too caught up between him and Yoongi to even notice what was happening. I couldn't keep this up. My feelings didn't matter, all that matters is my job and how I do it. An awkward silence stretched between me and Taehyung. We were both lost in thoughts now. Gosh, he shouldn't have mentioned Jungkook. Because with Jungkook there is also Yoongi.

After we finished our drinks, we spent the rest of the day wandering around the city. Taehyung led me to a park we used to visit back when we were teenagers. The trees were bare, their branches dusted with the season’s first frost, but the air was alive with laughter from families and couples enjoying the day.

We stopped by the frozen pond, watching as kids skated in clumsy circles. Taehyung nudged me gently with his shoulder.

“Remember the time I tried to teach you how to skate?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Don’t remind me. I think I fell a dozen times..”

“And I caught you every single time,” he added, a proud smile on his face. He was the cutest with how he smiled, it was like stars appeared in his eyes everytime he did.

We walked on, stopping occasionally to take in the sights or to snap a picture. At one point, we found a street musician playing a soulful tune on his guitar. Taehyung pulled me to the side, bowing dramatically.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, his voice dripping with charm.

“Here? In the middle of the park?” I asked, laughing nervously.

“Why not?” He took my hand before I could protest, spinning me gently in a slow circle.

People passed by, some smiling at the sight of us, but I didn’t care. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving just the two of us.

By the time the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, we found ourselves sitting on a bench overlooking the river. Taehyung wrapped his scarf around my neck, ignoring my protests that I was fine.

“I don’t want you catching a cold,” he said, tucking the ends neatly under my coat.

“Thanks, Dad,” I teased, but the truth was, I didn’t mind. He was caring by nature, and maybe to be cared for felt good...

As the day came to an end, I realized how much I needed this. No work, no stress, no complicated feelings about Yoongi or Jungkook—just a simple, perfect day with Taehyung..

“Still cold?” he asked, noticing my movements.

“Not really,” I admitted. “This scarf is ridiculously warm.”

He smiled, his hands shoved casually into his pockets. “It’s because it’s mine. Everything I own is top-tier.”

I nudged him with my elbow, grinning. “Oh, please. That’s the most Taehyung thing you’ve said all day.”

He laughed, the sound light and easy, and I couldn’t help but smile wider. There was something about him—his energy, his warmth—that made everything feel okay, even after the chaos of last night.

As we turned the corner onto my street, he slowed his pace.

“You know,” he began, his tone softer now, “I really enjoyed today. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you so relaxed.”

“I guess I needed it,” I replied, glancing up at him. “Just a perfect day with an old friend.”

“Old friend?” he repeated, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know I’m as youthful as ever. If anything, I’ve only gotten better with age.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped me. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he shot back, his grin widening.

I didn’t respond, but the way my cheeks warmed betrayed me.

When we reached my building, we stopped just outside the entrance. The soft hum of the city buzzed in the background as we turned to face each other.

“Well,” I said, clutching the bouquet of flowers he’d given me earlier, “thanks for today. Really.”

“Anytime,” he said, his voice gentle. “I mean it. If you ever need to escape, just call me. I’ll be there.”

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The streetlight above cast a faint glow on his face, highlighting the sincerity in his eyes.

“You’re a good friend, Tae,” I said softly, though the words felt heavier than they should have.

His smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but he recovered quickly, his expression warm and playful again. “Only a good friend? I’ll have to work on upgrading that title.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Goodnight, Taehyung.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, his voice low and filled with something unspoken.

I turned to unlock the door to my building, but before I could step inside, I heard him call my name.

I turned back, and there he was, standing a few feet away, his hands still in his pockets. “Don’t forget to put those flowers in water,” he said, a lopsided grin on his face.

“I won’t,” I promised, holding up the bouquet.

And with that, he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the quiet night. I stood there for a moment, watching him go, the warmth from the day still lingering in my chest.

As I finally stepped inside, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Today had been perfect—simple, sweet, and exactly what I needed.

The scene outside the company building was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Reporters shouted over each other, their cameras flashing relentlessly as they aimed toward the entrance. Police cars were parked haphazardly along the curb, their lights casting ominous blue and red hues against the surrounding buildings.

My heart sank as I tried to push through the crowd, clutching my bag tightly. The questions flying through the air were disjointed but enough to spark unease in my chest.

“Is it true Jeon Enterprises is under investigation?” “CEO Jeon Jungkook has yet to make a statement—”"Is there a suspect already?"

I forced myself to block out the noise, stepping up to the security guard at the entrance. My heart was thumping fast and loud in my chest. This entire atmosphere looked like a crime series. I had no idea what happened but whatever it was, it was serious.

“I work here,” I said, fumbling with my badge. My hands shook slightly, and I hated how obvious it was.

The tall bulky guard dressed in a black suit squinted at my badge, then gave me a short nod. “Go ahead.”

His words did nothing to calm me as I entered the building, the usual hum of productivity replaced by frantic whispers and hurried footsteps. Police officers roamed the lobby, speaking into radios, while employees stood in clusters, their faces pale with shock.

What on earth happened?

I hurried toward the elevator, my pulse quickening with every step. The ride up to our floor felt like an eternity, and when the doors opened, the sight made my stomach churn.

Officers were everywhere, combing through desks and confiscating files. The normally pristine office space was in disarray, papers scattered and voices raised in hushed tones.

“Y/N!”

I turned to see Rya approaching me, her expression frantic. I could see the paleness on her face, she was definitely shocked and panicked.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Rya glanced around before pulling me aside, her grip on my arm tight. “Tina... she’s dead.”

I froze, her words not registering at first. “What?”

“They found her body last night at her apartment,” Rya said, her voice shaking. “And the last person who was seen with her was Jungkook. Police came and took him with them twenty minutes ago. They treated him like a suspect!”

The air seemed to leave my lungs. My mind raced as I tried to piece together what she was saying. Tina? Dead? And Jungkook?

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Jungkook wouldn’t—”

“I know,” Rya interrupted, her voice urgent. “But the police don’t care about what we think. And the media is having a field day with it. They are also got a search order to see if they can find any clue on what happened, Jungkook's office is a raided mess. Cops took everything.”

I glanced around the chaotic office, my chest tightening. Jungkook wasn’t just my boss; he was someone I had come to respect despite our rocky start. The idea that he could be involved in something like this was incomprehensible.

Rya’s hand hovered over the remote as the reporter’s voice filled the tense air of the office.

“Breaking news this morning,” the reporter began, her tone grave. “Authorities have confirmed the discovery of a deceased individual late last night at their apartment. The victim has been identified as an employee of Jeon Enterprises and was last seen attending the high-profile masquerade ball hosted by MNT Media just days ago.”

Rya and I exchanged a glance, our breaths caught in the shared silence. The weight of the words was crushing, and my mind raced to process what I already knew.

“Last seen at the ball...” Rya whispered, her voice barely audible, but I caught the way her hands trembled as she gripped the remote.

I swallowed hard, fighting the knot forming in my throat.

The broadcast continued, showing images of the ball—the glittering chandeliers, the elegant gowns, the masked faces. And then it switched to a live shot of an apartment building cordoned off with police tape, officers moving in and out under the glow of harsh floodlights.

“Sources close to the investigation report signs of foul play, though no official suspects have been named. Jeon Jungkook, CEO of Jeon Enterprises, has been confirmed to have been the last one who saw the victim alive, and authorities have expressed interest in speaking with him.”

“Damn it,” Rya muttered, her voice cracking slightly.

I didn’t answer, the words sticking to the back of my throat. We both knew it was. There was no need to say it out loud.

Instead, I fixed my gaze on the screen, where the reporter was now recounting snippets. “The victim was known to be a driven and outspoken employee, with significant professional ties and ongoing disputes that may have played a role in the events leading up to their death.”

"Y/N... this is bad. Really bad. The board is already panicking, and if this gets any worse, it could take down the entire company.”

I felt like the floor was tilting beneath me, the weight of the situation pressing down on my shoulders.

“I need to find Yoongi,” I muttered, my voice steadier than I felt.

“Yoongi?” Rya frowned.

“He’ll know what to do,” I said, more to convince myself than her. “He always does.”

Without waiting for her response, I turned and started toward his office, my mind a whirlwind of fear, confusion, and determination. Whatever was happening, I needed answers—and fast.

His free hand clenched into a fist at his side. “I don’t care what strings you have to pull—just do it.”

He ended the call abruptly, exhaling sharply before he turned, noticing me standing hesitantly behind him. His expression softened slightly, though the strain in his features remained.

“It’s a mess,” he admitted, his tone heavy. “As you already know, Tina was found in her apartment late last night. She has been shot in the head.”

I swallowed hard, the reality of his words sinking in. Shot in the head? What kind of an animal would do that to her?! Surely, Tina was not one of the best people, she was selfish and her ego reached the skies, but not even once did I wish her death. “And Jungkook? Why are they linking him to this?”

Yoongi’s gaze flicked to the side, conflicted. “He was seen leaving her building around the time they estimate it happened. There’s footage from a security camera, but it doesn’t show much. Just him walking out.”

“That doesn’t mean he did anything,” I said quickly, feeling a surge of defensiveness I didn’t expect.

“I know,” Yoongi said, his voice firm. “But right now, appearances are everything. The media doesn’t care about proof—they just want a story. And Tina being...” He hesitated, his expression darkening. “Well, let’s just say she didn’t make herself any friends around here. People are talking, and not in Jungkook’s favor.”

I was trying to process everything. Tina’s death. Jungkook being questioned. The chaos in the office. It felt like the ground beneath me was shifting, and I couldn’t find my footing.

“Do you think he did it?” I asked quietly, almost afraid of his answer.

Yoongi met my gaze, his dark eyes steady. “No,” he said firmly. “I’ve known Jungkook long enough to say that he’s not capable of something like this. But whether he did or didn’t isn’t the issue right now. It’s about what people believe.”

The weight of his words settled heavily in my chest.

“What do we do?” I asked, desperate for some kind of direction.

Yoongi sighed, “For now, we wait. The lawyers are working on getting him released, but until then, we need to keep things from spiraling. The company is already under enough scrutiny.”

I nodded, though it felt like a hollow gesture. Waiting wasn’t exactly my strong suit, especially not when someone I cared about was at the center of it all.

“What about us?” I asked hesitantly. “What can I do to help?”

Yoongi’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the weight he carried seemed to lift just slightly.

“Just stay out of the crossfire, Y/N,” he said gently. “You’ve already been through enough. Let me handle this.”

I bristled slightly at his words, not because I didn’t appreciate his concern, but because I hated feeling powerless.

“Yoongi,” I said firmly, standing. “I’m not going to sit on the sidelines while everything falls apart. If there’s anything I can do—anything—just tell me.”

He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he finally nodded.

After leaving Yoongi’s office, I couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on me. Tina’s death had sent shockwaves through the entire company, and though I’d never liked her—she’d been awful to me more times than I could count—this wasn’t what she deserved.

The thought of her lifeless and alone in her apartment was too much. No matter how cruel she’d been, she was still a person, someone with her own struggles and stories I’d never known. She was still someone's daughter, sister, cousin. . .

I needed to talk to someone.

I found Hoseok and Rya in the break room, sitting at one of the tables near the window. Both of them looked tense, their earlier easy smiles replaced with furrowed brows and quiet whispers.

“Hey,” I said softly as I approached. They looked up, and Rya immediately slid over to make room for me.

“Y/N,” Hoseok said, his tone heavy. “How are you holding up?”

I sat down, clasping my hands together to stop them from trembling. “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “This whole thing with Tina... it doesn’t feel real. I know we didn’t get along, but...” I trailed off, unsure how to put the jumble of emotions into words.

“She was a nightmare,” Rya said bluntly, though her voice lacked its usual bite. “But I never thought... this. I mean, she could be petty and cruel, but murder?”

Hoseok frowned, leaning forward. “Nobody deserves that,” he said quietly. “Not even Tina. She could be terrible, sure, but she was still a person.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the three of us lost in our own thoughts.

“I keep thinking about the last time I saw her,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “At the ball. She seemed so... smug. Like she was on top of the world. And now, she’s gone.”

Rya crossed her arms, looking conflicted. “Do you think someone here could’ve done it? I mean, everyone knew she had enemies, but this is... extreme.”

Hoseok shook his head. “I don’t want to believe it, but with the police here, searching the office...” He trailed off, his expression darkening. “It’s hard not to wonder.”

“And Jungkook?” Rya asked, looking at me. “Do you think he’s involved?”

“No,” I said firmly, surprising even myself with the conviction in my voice. “I don’t. He might be cold and distant sometimes, but he’s not a killer. He’s... he’s better than that.”

Hoseok and Rya exchanged a glance, but neither argued.

“What happens now?” Rya asked after a moment. “If Jungkook is being investigated, what does that mean for the company? For us?”

I shook my head, feeling the weight of uncertainty settle over me again. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I think we need to stick together. Now more than ever.”

They both nodded, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of solidarity between us.

As the three of us sat there, piecing together what little we knew, I couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of something much bigger—and much darker—than any of us could imagine.

The morning was gray and oppressive, the atmosphere at Jeon Enterprises thick with unease. I was called to help clear out Tina’s desk under police supervision, a task I didn’t relish but couldn’t refuse. The sight of her empty chair sent a chill through me. Tina had been vile, no doubt about it, but to think she was gone—and in such a horrific way—made my stomach turn.

The desk was surprisingly tidy for someone as chaotic as Tina. Neat stacks of papers, pristine stationery, and a drawer full of color-coded folders. Yet as I sifted through the surface level, something felt off. It was too perfect, almost staged.

A detective stood nearby, arms crossed as he observed. “Anything that seems unusual, set it aside,” he said flatly.

Unusual? Where did I even start? Tina herself was a cocktail of ambition and cruelty, a persona that could fill a thousand file folders with secrets. As I reached into the bottom drawer, my fingers brushed against something that didn’t feel like an office supply. It was wedged under a stack of legal pads—a worn, leather-bound journal.

I glanced at the detective, who was momentarily distracted by another officer. With a quick, furtive motion, I slipped the journal into my bag. I told myself I’d hand it over eventually, but something about it called to me. A gut feeling. Tina had gone out of her way to hide this. Why?

Once I got home that evening, I pulled the journal out and set it on my kitchen table. The leather was cracked and faded, the corners worn down like it had been carried around for years. When I opened it, the faint scent of Tina’s signature perfume wafted up, mingled with something darker—ink and secrecy.

The first few pages were mundane. Meeting notes, to-do lists, sketches of presentation layouts. But as I flipped further, the tone shifted. The handwriting became erratic, the words slanting across the page with a kind of manic energy.

November 3: Another meeting with K. Promises, promises. Does he think I’m stupid? I’ll take what’s mine before he screws me over.

November 12: Y/N is such a naive little thing. Too easy to push around. If only she knew how far out of her depth she is. Pathetic.

I recoiled at the venom in her words. My name was scrawled there like a curse, surrounded by complaints about nearly everyone in the office. Tina hadn’t just disliked people—she’d despised them.

And then there were the cryptic entries:

December 1: The deal is in place. If K tries to back out, he’ll regret it.

December 15: I’m not playing games anymore. If they think they can silence me, they’re dead wrong.

The entries stopped abruptly a week before her death. My fingers trembled as I turned the pages, my heart pounding in my chest. Who was “K”? What deal? And what had Tina meant by “silence”?

Before I could dive further, my phone buzzed. The name on the screen made my blood run cold: Richard Delgrassi. My father’s old associate.

“Mr. Delgrassi? How did you find my number?” I said cautiously, picking up the call.

“I called your father, wanted to check up on you.” his voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it, like a blade sheathed in silk. “Are you okay? I heard about your co-worker Tina.”

I swallowed thickly, deep sigh escaped my lips. "I am fine, sir. It just . . . shocked us all."

“I am really sorry to hear that, if you need anything, please let me know. If you want to leave the company and start somewhere fresh, I will help you out." Leave. Why would I want to leave? I hummed. "Of course, sir, I will let you know." I heard him shuffle on the other side of the line. "What about Jungkook, I heard he is at the police station for questioning." I started pacing back and forth, "Well, right now we don't have much information on what happens next, but hopefully police would release him soon." "I hope so too." he spoke but something in his voice didn't feel sincere. "Alright, I just wanted to check up on you. Know you have someone you can count on." "Thank you, sir..."

The line went dead before I could ask anything else. I stared at the phone, my heart hammering in my chest.

I glanced back at the journal, its leather cover now looking more sinister than mysterious. Whatever Tina had been involved in, it wasn’t just office politics. It was something far darker, and I was smack in the middle of it.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I stood in front of the police station, staring at the cold, gray walls. It didn’t feel real—none of it did. My mind kept replaying the moment I heard the news: Tina, my manager, was dead. Murdered. And Jungkook, the CEO of the company I’d worked for, was the prime suspect unofficially.

The shock of it had hit me hard. Tina’s death had left a void in our office, and the fact that Jungkook, the man I already thought I knew so well, was now behind bars... it shattered everything.

I took a deep breath before walking through the sterile halls of the station. The fluorescent lights buzzed above me, making the air feel thick and oppressive. I passed the front desk, where the officers barely acknowledged me and suddenly bumped into someone.

The impact jolted me slightly, and I looked up to find Yoongi standing there, his dark eyes sharp and unreadable as ever. He sighed heavily, as if seeing me here was the last thing he needed.

“What the hell are you doing here, Y/N?” he asked, his tone low but laced with irritation.

I straightened my posture, refusing to let him intimidate me. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m here to see Jungkook.”

Yoongi crossed his arms, his expression hardening. “You shouldn’t be here. This isn’t your fight, and it’s definitely not safe.”

“Not safe?” I scoffed, keeping my voice low so the officers milling about wouldn’t overhear. “I work at the same company, Yoongi. Tina was my manager too, in case you forgot. This affects all of us, not just you.”

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “That’s exactly why you need to stay out of it. Let the police handle this. Do you even realize how messy this is going to get?”

I glared at him, my frustration boiling over. “Messy or not, I have a right to know what’s going on. Jungkook isn’t just some random CEO. He’s—”

“He’s what?” Yoongi cut in, his tone sharp. “Your boss? Your friend? Someone you think you can trust? Newsflash, Y/N: trust doesn’t mean a damn thing right now.”

I felt the sting of his words but refused to back down. “You’re unbelievable,” I shot back. “You act like you’re the only one allowed to care about what’s happening.”

Yoongi ran a hand through his messy long hair, his jaw tight. I could notice he has been sleep deprived too, the dark circles under his eyes screamed tiredness. “I care because I know what’s at stake. And you showing up here, trying to play detective, is only going to make things worse.”

I stepped closer, narrowing the gap between us. “Then why are you here, Yoongi? If you think it’s so dangerous, why aren’t you staying out of it?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. I saw his eyes darken and he took a sharp breath through his nose, hands now resting on his hips. "Fucking hell, why are you so stubborn?" "Maybe I am good at annoying the hell out of you." His eyes narrowed but he didn't say anything. There was a silence stretching between us before he finally turned around and headed down the hallway.

“Fine,” he muttered over his shoulder. “If you’re so hell-bent on getting involved, follow me. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

We made our way to the interrogation room, where Jungkook was being held. My heart felt like it was lodged in my throat as we approached the small, glass-walled room. Jungkook sat inside, his hands folded on the metal table in front of him. He looked tired, his usually sharp features drawn and pale.

The officer standing outside the door nodded at Yoongi, allowing us in. I hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, the air thick with tension.

Jungkook glanced up, his dark eyes meeting mine briefly before shifting to Yoongi.

“Didn’t expect visitors,” he said, his voice low and rough.

Yoongi pulled out a chair and sat down, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. “We’re not here to chat. What’s going on, Jungkook?”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, his gaze flickering between the two of us. “You tell me. One minute, I’m at the office; the next, I’m hauled in here like a criminal.”

“Did you know Tina was dead?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly despite my best efforts to stay composed.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. “I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Then why are you here?” Yoongi pressed, his tone firm.

Jungkook let out a bitter laugh. “Because someone saw me with her at the ball, and apparently, that’s enough to make me the prime suspect. Never mind that half the company was there."

I glanced at Yoongi, who didn’t break his stare. “And what about Tina? Did she say anything to you that night? Act strange? Mention something... off?”

Jungkook’s expression darkened. “She didn’t say much of anything to me. She was too busy playing her games, like always. I told everything to the police but they still keep me in this godforsaken hole.”

“Games?” I asked, leaning forward.

“Y/N, you know fully well how she was,” Jungkook said, his voice bitter. “Testing people's limits, making sure everyone knew she had the upper hand. But I didn’t play along, and maybe that pissed her off. Who knows?”

Yoongi tapped his fingers against the table, his gaze never leaving Jungkook. “You need to give us more than that. If you want us to help you, we need something concrete.”

Jungkook’s eyebrow raised, he was shifting his eyes from me and Yoongi. I looked away, avoiding his gaze. “Help me? Since when are you two playing detectives?”

I rolled my eyes. "We are trying to help you out." I snapped and Jungkook shifted in his seat, letting out a deep sigh of defeat.

The tension in the room thickened, and I felt a pang of guilt watching Jungkook sitting there, defiant but vulnerable. I glanced at Yoongi, his steely demeanor unwavering as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

"Do you know for how long you will be captive here?" I finally asked. Jungkook shrugged. "No idea, until they find an evidence that the killer was not me." "What happens to the comapny now?" I pressed, "is it gonna shut down?" "I will take over." Yoongi muttered, "for the time being, until Jungkook gets released." I frowned glancing at Jungkook who hummed, I guess they managed to talk this through. "Fine, we will keep digging and see what we will find." "We?" My Boss frowned, "Y/N, I don't want you to get involved in this." "See?!Told her the same thingg, she doesn't listen." "Stop blabbing about the same things, I want in and I want to help. You two, adult men, act like kids. Jungkook, your situation here is not colorful at all. The quicker we get you out, the quick it would be your name to be cleared in front of the media." -

The sharp chill of the late evening air greeted us as we stepped out of the police station. I pulled my coat tighter around myself, my mind still racing with everything that had just transpired. Jungkook’s face, a mixture of frustration and vulnerability, was etched in my memory.

“I’ll call a cab,” I muttered, fishing my phone out of my bag.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, stepping toward the parking lot. “Don’t bother. I’ll drive you.”

I stopped mid-dial and turned to him. “No offense, but I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

His expression didn’t change, but there was an edge of impatience in his voice. “Why? Because I’m not the most charming chauffeur? Or are you still mad at me for that club thing-y?”

“Neither,” I said quickly, my tone defensive. “It’s just... I don’t need you to babysit me, Yoongi. I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly,” he said dryly, gesturing to my phone. “And you’ll do that by waiting alone outside a police station at night for a cab? Genius plan.”

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped when I realized how ridiculous it would sound. With a resigned sigh, I slid my phone back into my bag. “Fine. But no commentary while you drive.”

“Deal,” he said with a small smirk, leading the way to his car.

The ride started in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound between us. Yoongi’s driving was calm and efficient, and for some reason, it annoyed me that he didn’t seem as rattled by everything as I was.

“Yesterday,” I began, breaking the silence, “when I was cleaning out Tina’s desk... I found something.”

He glanced at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “The journal.”

I blinked, surprised. “How did you—”

"Do you think I am that stupid?" There was silence, he narrowed his eyes, "don't even answer this, Y/N." I chuckled at that and shrugged my shoulders. "I saw you take a suspicious looking book off Tina's desk without the police looking so..." "I figured that it's better to find who did it first with a solid evidence, before turning it to the police." I hesitated but continued, “It’s... disturbing. Tina wrote about people she hated—colleagues, clients, even... me.”

Yoongi didn’t react visibly, but I caught his fingers tightening slightly on the steering wheel.

“She was ruthless,” I continued. “Manipulating people, sabotaging careers—it’s all in there. And then there are these cryptic entries about a ‘deal.’ She doesn’t say who it was with, but it’s obvious it was risky. She mentioned being scared, like she knew it might backfire.”

Yoongi’s jaw clenched. “And now she’s dead.”

I swallowed hard, the reality of it hitting me again. “Yeah. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Someone she crossed or someone involved in that deal... they might have wanted her gone.”

“You said the police don’t know about it yet?” he asked, his voice tense.

“No,” I admitted. “I didn’t trust them to handle it the right way, especially with the way they’re already treating Jungkook.”

“Smart,” Yoongi said, nodding approvingly. “But if that journal is as explosive as you say, keeping it quiet might put you in danger.”

I bit my lip, anxiety bubbling in my chest. “I know. But what choice do I have? If it can help clear Jungkook’s name, I can’t just ignore it.”

Yoongi pulled into a quieter street, the streetlights casting long shadows over the car. He turned to me, his dark eyes serious. “You’re not doing this alone, Y/N. Whatever’s in that journal, we’re going to figure it out together.”

For a moment, his words surprised me. Despite his often aloof demeanor, there was an unexpected warmth in his voice.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, meaning it.

He nodded once and turned his attention back to the road, the rest of the drive passing in contemplative silence.

When we finally reached my place, he parked at the curb and leaned back in his seat. “Keep the journal close. Don’t let anyone else see it for now.”

“I won’t,” I assured him, opening the door.

As I stepped out, he called after me, “And Y/N?”

I paused, turning back.

“Be careful,” he said, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

I nodded, clutching my bag tightly as I headed up to my apartment, the weight of the journal—and everything it represented—feeling heavier than ever.

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whatdoyouwanttocallmefor · 2 months ago

Text

Stay By My Side (Lee Know)

Note: ohohhh, I'm more than nervous, but because I got some unexpected requests and I thought, why not? I gave a try, so here it is THE MOMENT. Okay, note that this is my first time writing guys, so bare with the nonsense. I did change the ending because IM A SUCKER FOR A HAPPY ENDING OKAY TT. Ouh, and I dedicate this to my baby here @sooniedoongiedori25 they are the one who request :))

Without further due, LETS GAURRRR

Warning: Angst/Fluff, Comfort, Collapsed, Hospitalised, Y/N pov, etc... please tell me if there's anything I need to add

○○○

I clutched the brown paper bag tightly in my hands, my fingers trembling slightly as another sharp pain shot through my side. It had been getting worse lately—this illness that clung to me like a shadow, a constant reminder that my body was failing me little by little. Some days were manageable, but today wasn’t one of them. The exhaustion was bone-deep, and every breath felt heavier than the last.

As I entered the JYPE building, the familiar hum of activity filled my ears. Staff members walked briskly past me, and the faint echoes of music from the practice rooms filled the halls. Minho’s door was slightly ajar, and I peeked in, managing a weak smile despite the throbbing in my side.

"Hey... I brought you lunch," I said softly, stepping inside.

He barely glanced up from his laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard. "Oh. Thanks. But I'm really busy right now, Y/N. Just... take it back home, okay?"

I blinked, my heart sinking. "Minho... my side really hurts today. I just wanted to sit with you for a bit."

But he shook his head, his tone sharper than usual. "Seriously, I'm swamped. Please, Y/N, not now."

I swallowed hard, forcing back the sting of rejection. Nodding quietly, I turned on my heel and walked out before he could see the tears threatening to fall.

The pain in my side worsened as I made my way toward the exit. I told myself I could make it home and rest. Just a little further. But the world blurred around me, and the last thing I remembered was Felix’s panicked voice calling my name as I crumpled to the ground.

----

When I woke, the sterile scent of the hospital surrounded me. Soft beeps of machines and hushed conversations drifted through the room. My head throbbed, and my side felt tender, but I was alive.

Felix sat beside me, relief washing over his features when he saw me awake. "Y/N... you scared me half to death," he whispered. "I saw you collapse and got you here as fast as I could."

Tears welled in my eyes. "Thank you, Lix. Seriously."

He squeezed my hand gently. "I texted Minho... he'll probably come by."

But when Minho arrived later, standing awkwardly in the doorway, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. He tried to speak, but I turned away, pretending to focus on the IV drip. He didn’t push. Instead, he left quietly and waited outside my room.

----

It was the second night after I’d been admitted, and Minho was still camped outside my hospital room. He hadn't gone home. He barely ate. Just sat there with his head in his hands, replaying everything in his mind.

Felix found him there, slouched on the bench outside the door.

“Hyung,” Felix called quietly, walking over with two coffees. He handed one to Minho and sat down beside him.

Minho didn’t even react at first. He just kept staring down at the floor.

“She could’ve died,” Minho muttered under his breath, voice raw. “And I told her to go home. I told her I was too busy.”

Felix sighed, sipping his coffee. “Yeah... you were kind of an ass."

Minho chuckled bitterly. "Thanks, Lix. Real comforting."

"But you were." Felix glanced at him seriously. "She came to you because she was hurting. And you pushed her away. You know Y/N barely ever complains, right? For her to say she was in pain? She was probably already at her limit."

“I know,” Minho whispered, rubbing his face with both hands. "I hate myself for it."

Felix leaned back, watching the hallway ceiling. "Good. You should. But... I also know you’ve been sitting out here like some stray puppy for two days now."

Minho shot him a look, but Felix just shrugged.

"You’re trying. That’s what matters now. But... just so you know," Felix added, his tone softening, "Y/N deserves someone who listens. Someone who puts her first. Don’t just stay here because you feel guilty. Stay because you love her."

Minho turned to him, his expression finally lifting from self-loathing to something more certain.

“I do. I really do,” he said quietly. “She’s... she's it for me. I don’t care how long it takes. I’m going to prove it to her.”

Felix smiled, patting his shoulder. “Good. Because if you hurt her like that again, I’m not dragging your sorry butt to the hospital this time. You’ll have to crawl.”

Minho actually laughed, shaking his head. “Fair enough.”

---

The soft beeping of the hospital monitor was the only sound in the room. I turned my head toward the window, watching the sky shift into shades of orange and pink. My side still ached, but the heaviness in my chest hurt worse. A gentle knock at the door broke the silence. I expected a nurse, but instead, Felix stepped in with a soft smile and a bag of snacks.

“Hey,” he greeted quietly, setting the bag on the table. “How are you feeling?”

I sighed. “Better. Still tired, though.”

He sat beside me, his expression hesitant. "I, uh... I told Minho what happened."

My heart skipped. “Oh.”

“He’s been outside. Like, literally outside your room since last night. He hasn’t left, Y/N.”

I frowned. “Why? I didn’t even let him talk to me.”

Felix leaned back in the chair, arms crossed. “I think he realized how badly he messed up. I overheard him on the phone... he canceled his entire schedule. Said he wouldn’t go anywhere until you forgave him.”

That made my chest tighten. Still, I looked away. “It’s not that easy, Lix.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But... I’ve never seen him like this. He looked like he was about to cry when I told him you collapsed.”

Before I could answer, there was another soft knock. This time, Minho peeked his head in.

“Can I... come in?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Felix looked at me, silently asking if I was okay with it. After a moment, I nodded. Minho stepped in, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the floor. “Felix, can you give us a minute?”

“Of course.” Felix patted my hand before leaving, the door closing softly behind him.

Minho approached my bedside slowly, like I might shatter if he got too close. "I... I don't even know where to start," he mumbled. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I was an idiot. I thought work couldn’t wait, but... you needed me, and I wasn't there."

I stayed quiet, waiting.

“I’ve been sitting outside all night thinking about how I made you feel. You tried to tell me you were in pain, and I just brushed you off like you didn’t matter. And when Felix told me you collapsed..." He paused, his breath hitching. "I thought I was going to lose you. And I couldn’t even do anything about it.” I looked at him for the first time. Really looked. His usually sharp eyes were rimmed red. His hair was messy like he’d been running his hands through it all night.

“You hurt me, Minho,” I whispered. “I just wanted a little bit of comfort. I was scared, and you... you didn’t even listen.”

He stepped closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I know. And I don’t expect you to forgive me right now. But please... let me make it up to you. I want to. I need to.”

“How?” I asked softly, challenging him.

He smiled gently, brushing some hair from my face. “By being here. By staying until you get better. By making sure you never feel ignored again.”

“And rubbing my waist until I fall asleep?” I teased weakly.

He laughed under his breath. “Of course. I’ll even sing if you want.”

That made me smile. "You don't sing."

"For you? I’d embarrass myself in front of the whole hospital."

The thought warmed me. “Okay. But... it’s going to take time, Minho.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world for you,” he said sincerely.

And he meant it.

Over the next few days, Minho proved it. He brought my favorite snacks, sat with me during every meal, held my hand through the checkups, and, true to his word, rubbed gentle circles on my waist every night until I fell asleep. Felix even joked one morning, “I think he’s trying to earn Best Boyfriend of the Year award.”

Minho just grinned, squeezing my hand. “I’m not stopping until I win.”

And little by little... my heart softened.

Because sometimes love isn’t about never messing up—it’s about fighting to make things right.

---

It was the fourth night in the hospital. The room was dim, only the soft glow of the nightlight casting shadows on the walls. Minho was there, as always, sitting on the little couch next to my bed, scrolling quietly on his phone but glancing over at me every other minute to check if I needed anything.

I watched him in silence, feeling this tight knot in my chest slowly unravel. I had been angry. I had every right to be. But... the way he stayed by my side without hesitation, the way he barely left my room except to grab me things I liked, the way he apologized not just with words but with actions... it made me realize how much he truly cared.

"Minho?" I called softly, breaking the quiet.

His head shot up instantly, like he’d been waiting for me to say something. "Yeah? You okay? Do you need anything?"

I shook my head and motioned for him to come closer. Without a word, he got up and sat on the edge of my bed like he had the nights before, his hand immediately going to my waist, rubbing gentle circles like it had become second nature.

But this time, I placed my hand over his, stopping him.

He looked confused. "What’s wrong?"

I took a deep breath, the words heavy on my tongue but needing to come out. "I forgive you."

His eyes widened, and for a second, he just stared at me like he wasn’t sure if he heard me right. "Really?" he whispered.

I nodded. "Yeah... you messed up, Minho. Badly. But you didn’t run from it. You stayed. You proved to me that I matter to you. And... I know you feel guilty. I can see it every time you look at me. But I don’t want you to keep punishing yourself. I just want us to move forward. Together."

He looked down at our hands, his thumb brushing over my fingers softly. "I swear I won’t take you for granted again. I promise, Y/N. You’re... you’re everything to me."

Hearing him say that made my heart skip.

"Then come here," I murmured, scooting over a bit to give him space.

He carefully climbed onto the bed, wrapping his arms around me, holding me close but still gentle around my injured side. I buried my face in his chest, finally letting myself relax fully for the first time in days.

"Thank you," he whispered into my hair. "For giving me another chance."

"Thank you for fighting for it," I whispered back

And that night, with his arms around me, his hand rubbing soothing patterns against my back, and his heartbeat steady beneath my ear, I finally slept peacefully.

Because I knew, no matter what, he wasn't going to leave my side again.

---

Wow, that's a long one. Niweys, enjoy? And do tell me anything so I can make a better one in the future (maybe not bcz I only write this one for fun) :)

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stevie-petey · 1 year ago

Text

episode two: trick or treat, freak

“Why do you only ever care about me when I’m some kicked fucking puppy?” Steve’s words are vicious, and you flinch at his tone. “You know that’s not true,” “It’s not?” He scoffs at you. “Then explain what happened this summer.” “I…” You can’t. Steve sees your reluctance to say anything and lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, whatever. Some real fucking friend you were.”

Summary: you and nancy have a bonding session in the library (kinda hot tbh), billy gives jonathan and steve a common cause to unite on: Protect Y/N, you're a chauffeur to a very sad steve harrington, and dustin uses will's trauma to his advantage.

Rating: general, slight cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, slight sexual harassment (billy corners reader and is gross), cursing, alcohol

Words: 7.9k

Before you swing in: hello ! new chapter, we've arrived at halloween !! i finally get to have a fun authors note comment: i crashed my car lol. i'm fine tho and i hope yall enjoy and like what ive done and changed a bit with this episode. i had fun coming up with costume ideas for the reader, i think the character fits her well :) and before i go: i start school next week, so updates will def be coming a bit slower after this. anyways, happy reading !

The Henderson house is pure chaos morning of Halloween.

Dustin is running around the house, screaming about how his costume has to be absolutely perfect and that if you don’t hurry up with the jack-o-lantern pancakes then he’s going to just leave without eating breakfast. Meanwhile your mother is running after him, straightening his suit and tidying his hair.

“The pancakes are almost done, my god.” You flip the last pancake, but in your rush the jack-o-lantern’s smile turns into more of a grimace, but hey, food is food. You quickly set Dustin’s plate down on the table and practically shove him into the seat.

“Eat.”

“But my proton blaster–”

“Is on the steps, I’ll grab it. Eat, I want pictures with you.” You kiss the top of your brother’s head and then run over to grab his costume’s prop.

“I’m thirteen now, I don’t need my sister doting on me–” Dustin complains, but then his eyes land on the mini Reese’s Pieces you’ve decorated his pancakes with and quickly changes his tone. “Oh! Candies! Yummy!”

You laugh at him and bring his backpack over. The Ghostbusters matching costume idea that boys have planned for today makes you want to just sweep them all into your arms and kiss their tiny little faces. They may be getting older with crushes and angsty feelings, but they’re still the same nerdy little boys you met when you were twelve.

Dustin wolfs down his pancakes and your mom prepares her camera. You woke up earlier than usual this morning specifically so that you could make Dustin’s annual Halloween pancakes and then take pictures of him with his costume on. As soon as he’s done eating, you and your mom whisk him towards the fireplace for pictures.

“Oh, I want to see those pearls!” Your mother squeals as she takes a million pictures of Dustin. When he smiles, she loses her mind. “Yeah! Lovely, I love it!”

You’re just as ecstatic as your mom. “Who you gonna call Dustin?”

“Ghostbusters!” He sings along, holding up his proton blaster with an even wider smile on his face.

It’s a happy morning.

Dustin puts on a show as he poses for your mom, and you even join in for some. Sure, you aren’t in costume, but who knows how many more mornings like these you have left? Dustin is getting older, all the boys are, so you plan on cherishing these mornings for as long as possible.

You and Dustin are giggling as you now stand back to back, him holding his blaster and you holding up finger guns, and your mom is taking multiple final pictures when Jonathan arrives. He knocks on the door before letting himself in. When he sees you and Dustin posing, he starts loudly belting the Ghostbusters song.

“God, bee. At least let my coffee kick in before you subject me to your horrible singing.” You playfully groan, grabbing your own backpack and pancakes to eat on the road.

Jonathan ignores your teasing and ruffles Dustin’s hair. “Nice costume, bud.”

Dustin, seemingly still holding a grudge against the guy after your conversation from last night, slaps his hand away and glares at him. “Don’t mess up the hair.”

Your brother proceeds to stare Jonathan down, gives him an “I’m watching you” gesture, and then walks out the front door without any further words. You, Jonathan, and your mom all stand in the living room in varying states of emotions. You’re trying not to laugh at your brother’s antics, your mom is happily looking at the photos she took, and Jonathan is standing there in complete confusion.

“What was that about?” He asks you, slightly hurt by Dustin’s rebuff.

“Shhh,” you hand him a plate of pancakes and then walk towards the front door. “Let’s get to school, bee.”

–

At school, the mullet guy from yesterday finds you at your locker as soon as Jonathan has walked away. The two of you had been running behind schedule, so you’d told Jonathan to head to first period so at least he’d be on time while you tried to find your history textbook.

As you’re digging through your locker, the mullet guy stalks up behind you.

“I never got your name,” he says with a breathy voice, standing way too close behind you.

You straighten your back, but don’t turn around. You know that if you do, the guy will only get a kick out of having your face close to his. “You never asked.”

“So there’s some sass to you underneath all that sweetness.” His breath hits the back of your neck and you shiver, but in a way that makes you feel dirty and unclean.

“What do you want?” You ask the guy, your fingers wrapping around the textbook that you’ve finally found. If needed, you’re sure it’ll make a handy weapon. It’s only you and the guy in the hallway. Everyone else has holed up in class and you’re now regretting sending Jonathan away. You feel trapped, vulnerable, and you hate it.

Mullet man chuckles deeply, his voice reverberating against your back. “Nothing yet. Just thought I’d introduce myself to such a pretty face.”

You don’t say anything, your fingers only tighten around your textbook. If he gets any closer, you’ll swing.

Though you can’t see him, you can feel his eyes flicker to your textbook and he lets out another cruel laugh. “Loosen up, sweetheart, I won’t hurt ya.” You don’t move, and he seems to get another kick out of this. “My name is Billy. Remember that for me, alright?”

Finally Billy steps away from you and you slowly release all the tension that’s built up within you. You still don’t turn around, he hasn’t left yet, but your hands are shaking a bit and you feel unsteady.

“Would you do me a favor, Billy?” Your voice is steady, there’s no trace of the fear within you.

“I’m listening,” Billy is practically purring and you want to gag at how much his cockiness oozes around you.

You turn, now finally facing him, and slam your textbook against Billy’s chest. “Learn some fucking personal space.”

Billy’s only reaction is a smile, which only makes you more uncomfortable, but you refuse to show him this. Instead, you square your shoulders and walk towards your first class. You’ve dealt with assholes in the past; you’ve known Steve Harrington since you were twelve. But Billy is different.

You’re not sure if you want to find out just how different he is from Steve.

–

Another small highlight of your school year so far has been your study sessions in the library with Nancy resuming. The two of you had drifted apart this summer, you just rarely ever saw the girl in between your hectic work schedule and her dates with Steve, but from the first day of junior she’s helped you with your math equations and you’ve helped her with her English essays.

It’s a good trade off and you’ve enjoyed spending time with the girl. Unlike last year, Jonathan doesn’t join anymore. He can’t be too close with her now that she’s back with Steve. So, it’s just you and her for an hour every day during study hall. It’s nice, if you’re being honest.

Today though there’s something off with Nancy.

She’s been tapping her pencil on the table for the last few minutes. Right before you can politely ask her to stop, the tip of the pencil snaps in half. She sighs. “Shit,”

“There’s a sharpener over by the window,” you point towards the general direction. “Sharpen your pencil before these equations officially end my life.”

Nancy laughs, excusing herself and walks over to the sharpener.

You focus back on your homework, the equations swimming around in your brain. It’s not that you’re necessarily bad at math, but you’re no whiz at it either. You get lost in the practice problems, erasing and re-erasing frequently, and you don’t realize just how long Nancy has been gone until she returns. She sits down, and you’re about to make a horrible joke about how stupid it is to find x, when you notice how shaken Nancy looks.

“Woah, hey.” You set your pencil down and turn your attention to Nancy. “Are you okay? You look upset.”

Nancy looks towards one of the library’s private study rooms and you see Steve’s retreating figure. You gather that something’s happened between them, but it confuses you because they’ve been nothing but lovey dovey ever since they got back together. What could possibly cause strife between them?

“C’mon, you can talk to me. I’m known for my fantastic advice.” You probe again, and this time Nancy lets out a soft chuckle.

“It’s… complicated.”

“Take all the time you need. I’ve been stuck on question five for like, twenty minutes now. Any distractions are welcomed.”

Now Nancy lets out a genuine laugh and you find yourself laughing as well. The storminess behind her eyes from earlier has lessened, she looks more relaxed now. Once she’s done laughing, she takes a deep breath and starts from the beginning. “Steve and I have been having dinner with Barb’s parents.”

When Barb’s name leaves Nancy’s lips, you feel your stomach twist with guilt. Had you known this would be about Barb, you wouldn’t have pestered Nancy so much into speaking. You know how much she misses her best friend still, no one blames her.

“Well that sounds nice,” you try to comfort. “I’m sure they appreciate your company.”

Nancy bites her lip and looks away from you. “They wouldn’t if they knew Steve and I killed Barb.”

Shock washes over you. “Can I ask for some context?”

“Steve and I… When I forced Barb to come to his stupid party with me, we–we left her alone that night. By the pool…” Nancy’s voice cracks, and you grab her hand to encourage her to keep going. “We went upstairs to have sex, and Barb–she didn’t want me to leave her alone but I–I did and–”

You remember the photos Jonathan took last year, specifically the one where Barb had been sitting all by herself along the pool’s edge. Behind her had been a shadowy figure, a monster you soon would learn was from an alternate dimension with an intent to kill.

“You think Barb died because you left her alone to go have sex with Steve.” You finish for Nancy, her tears rendering her unable to say more.

She nods, looking away again as more tears stream down her face. You feel horrible for her, knowing first hand just how cruelly guilt can eat away at someone. Jonathan doesn’t know this, but you still think you’re the reason Will disappeared last year. You were the one who left him alone that night. If you had been there, if you had dropped him off at the Byers’ doorstep, you’re sure that he would’ve never ended up facing the horrors that he did.

As for Nancy, you understand everything she’s feeling and more. It isn’t fair how one simple choice, one moment of selfishness, can lead to such tragedy and pain.

Cautiously, you ask Nancy a question. “Does Steve know about the guilt you feel?”

“He knows, but he doesn’t understand.” Nancy’s voice laces with grief and bitterness. “He found me by the pencil sharpener. There was this girl, she looked so much like Barb and I just… I zoned out. I was stuck there, thinking about her, when he found me.”

“Did he notice you were upset?”

“Of course he noticed. He’s Steve, I could shed a single tear and he’d be all over me like I’m some baby.” Nancy scoffs, which makes you frown. You’re not sure what’s so wrong with that, having someone so attuned to your emotions because they love you that deeply.

You push aside your thoughts, however. “What happened, then?”

“We went into a study room and I snapped.” Nancy’s close to tears again. “I just… I want to tell Barb’s parents what really happened. They’re selling their house, Y/N. They’re selling their own home to afford this private detective who promised them he’d find out what happened to her. What–what kind of person would I be if I let my best friend’s parents go bankrupt for being worried about their only child?”

“Nancy…”

“And Steve, he just… He told me it was a bad idea, that–that our families could get hurt and all that bullshit, but what am I supposed to do? I’m trying to figure something out, to fix this, and Steve just wants to go to some stupid party and pretend everything is okay?” Nancy is almost shouting now, and you nervously look around to make sure you're not disturbing anyone. It’s still a library, after all.

Nancy takes a few seconds to collect herself, to steady her breathing and control her anger. You let her take all the time she needs, and when she seems calm enough, you speak. “I understand where you’re coming from and why you’re upset. What happened to Barb is despicable, but… Well, I also agree with Steve.”

“Y/N–”

“No, okay. Listen for a second,” you pause, trying to figure out exactly how to say what you’re thinking. “I think Steve means well, he doesn’t have a malicious bone in that silly body. The Halloween party can be a good thing for you if you let it, a way to destress. You have to move on, you have to allow yourself to move on.”

Nancy tries to argue some more but you continue. “I understand your guilt better than anyone else, I was the one who lost Will that night. But we all signed those contracts, Nancy. If we told anyone what really happened to Barb… It wouldn’t be fair to everyone who gets hurt, all our family members, because we broke a legal oath. You understand that, right?”

“I understand, but it’s not fucking fair.” Nancy’s eyes have a determination in them that startles you. You’ve always known that she was fierce, but seeing the edge in her eyes almost scares you. She’s angry, more than you’ve ever seen her before.

You sigh. “I know, I wish I could do more, but…”

Nancy nods, understanding that there’s not much else you guys can do. You hate to let her down like this, you know she needs to hear something else, to feel supported, but you don’t know what else to tell her.

Steve’s right in his own way, and so is Nancy.

“Can you at least come to the party tonight?” Nancy softly pleads. “It’s just, I’ll feel more comfortable with you there, like I’m less crazy… I mean, that is if you even want to come and–”

“Of course I’ll come, Nance.” You don’t even hesitate to promise her this, nor do you realize that you’ve just called her “Nance”. It slipped from your tongue naturally, as if solidifying your friendship with the girl. You hate parties and loud crowds, but if Nancy needs you there by her side, to hold her hand and remind her of how brave she is, then you’ll happily do so.

Nancy sinks into her seat, relieved. “Thank you, I owe you one.”

“I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

Nancy throws a piece of paper at you and you dodge it, throwing your pencil at her in retaliation. The two of you break out into a fit of giggles until the librarian eventually snaps at you guys and reminds you to be quiet.

You reluctantly get back to work, and as you’re writing down more complex equations, you notice that there’s still a far off look in Nancy’s eyes. You know that she’s still thinking about Barb, the guilt eating away at her, and you know that the topic is far from settled.

–

Halloween has arrived when Jonathan drops you off at home from school. There’s already kids milling around up and down your block in an assortment of costumes, all squealing with joy as they collect their candy.

“Meet you in two hours?” You ask Jonathan as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Yeah, but remember that I’m not wearing a costume.”

“C’mon, bee! It’s Halloween, where’s your holiday spirit?”

Jonathan groans. “Nag at me all you want, I’m not dressing up. I will, however, offer to be your arm candy.”

“That’s the spirit!” You kiss Jonathan’s cheek and run out of the car and straight into your house. You have two hours to wrap up goodie bags for the neighborhood kids and then get dressed in your costume. It’ll be a tight schedule, but luckily you’re off of work tonight.

It takes you about an hour to assort all your gift bags, separating the boys’ bags from the local kids’ bags, and before you know it you’ve successfully hand packaged goodie bags for an entire army. Once you’re done, you run to your room and throw on your costume. The dress slips over your head and settles gently over you.

You stand in front of your mirror and smile.

It’s perfect.

You’re going as Princess Buttercup tonight for Halloween. You read the Princess Bride around the end of summer and quickly fell in love with Buttercup. You’re not sure if you fell in love with the character because you read the book right after pushing Steve away, or because you saw yourself in Buttercup, but you came to adore her.

Buttercup may have been a bit ditzy, but she loved with everything within her, and with such a passion, that you couldn’t help but admire her. It was her love for others that ultimately drove the story further, and you think there’s something beautiful about that.

The red dress fits perfectly around you and you grab the gold chain that will serve as your belt. Once you’ve secured it around yourself, you place Buttercup’s golden circlet around your head. The costume had been pricier than you would’ve preferred, but as you stand in front of the mirror, you truly do feel like a princess.

Your bee necklace, a wonderful gift from Jonathan, catches light from your window and you smile, bringing your fingers up to the pendant. It’s the only jewelry you need.

“Y/N! Are you almost done? Will radioed that they’d be here soon.” Dustin pounds on your door.

You fling the door open. “I’m done, I just need to put on some makeup.”

Your brother makes a face as he walks into your room and plops himself down onto the beanbag. “You own makeup?”

“Yes, dear brother. I’d wear it more often if I had the time, but between herding you around and my school assignments, I can’t.” You dig through your makeup bag, opting for just mascara and a shimmery pearl eyeshadow. You’ll put on your lipstick in the car to save some time.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Jonathan, does it?”

You roll your eyes at Dustin. “No, believe it or not I can choose to do things without the influence of others.”

“Hmm, alright. Hurry up though, Mike had this awesome plan to hit up every house with the big candy bars and–”

“Dustin!” You throw a pillow at the boy, shutting him up. “Shush so I can focus.”

He grumbles but remains silent, now watching as you put your makeup on. It’s been a while since you’ve last worn any, so you’re slower than usual. Just as you’re finishing up your mascara, a car honks outside.

Dustin runs out the room and you quickly grab your lipstick and follow after him. You’re wearing your mother’s mary janes again and they pinch your feet as you run, but whatever. You feel pretty tonight, you’re somebody else for now, a princess free from any burdens and stress.

Jonathan is standing outside his car, waiting for you, and when you see him you practically fling yourself in his arms. “You dressed as Westley!”

He spins you around a bit, his plastic sword hitting against his leg. “You wanted me to wear a costume, right?”

You nod, inspecting his costume with glee. He looks amazing, dressed in Westley’s iconic all black attire, his sword by his side, and a mask tied loosely around his neck. To anyone else, Jonathan would look like a regular guy with an affinity for black, but to you, he was dressed as your knight in shining armor.

He’s the Westley to your Princess Buttercup.

Jonathan kisses your knuckles. “Well then, as you wish.”

His words are smooth velvet against your skin, they warm you as the late October air encases you. As you wish, words that became their own I love you within the book. A promise, similar to the one Jonathan made you last year in the passenger seat of his car, pinkies intertwined.

Something stirs within you, seeing Jonathan’s proud smirk on his face because he’s once again managed to surprise you, and the feeling is sickly sweet like syrup. It runs through you slowly, covering every inch of you, and you bask in it.

For now, he’s still yours.

“Can we go now? You guys are gross.” Dustin calls from the car, annoyed.

You and Jonathan spring apart in embarrassment. He laughs, rubs the back of his neck, and tells you, “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“Why thank you,” you curtsy. “You look rather dashing yourself, good sir.”

“I wasn’t kidding. You look… you’re beautiful.” The sincerity in Jonathan’s voice cuts through you, it cuts through everything between you, and you can only smile.

“Thanks, bee.” You try to keep your voice playful, light and airy as always. “Now, open my door like the brave hero you’re dressed as.”

Jonathan opens your door with a bow, causing you to laugh. You’re sitting in the backseat with Dustin, Will is in the passenger seat, and once you’ve buckled up, Will spins around in his seat to talk to you as Jonathan starts the car.

“Do you think it’s lame that you and Jonathan trick-or-treat with us?

You blink. “What did I miss?”

“I think it’s kinda lame,” Dustin voices next to you, but he lets out a pained squeak after you’ve elbowed his ribs.

Jonathan turns onto the main road and scoffs at the boys. “You think we’re lame?”

“No, but…” Will sinks into his seat, and you watch as he begins to fiddle with the strap of his bag. He’s nervous. “It’s not like Nancy’s coming to watch over Mike, you know?”

Jonathan’s silent, and you catch his eye in the rear view mirror. You know what he’s thinking: Will has been having even more problems in school, he’s sick of being babied, and yet here you guys are, babying him.

You sigh. “Look, Will. We like trick-or-treating with you guys, we don’t go are your babysitters. We go because it’s fun and I get to enjoy free candy as a sixteen year old.”

Will looks out the window and doesn’t acknowledge what you’ve said. You sigh again, knowing that nothing will appease him. He’s only allowed you to see a small portion of how much he’s struggled this year, but you can see his foundations crumbling.

How is he expected to adapt if you and everyone around him refuse to let him do so?

You catch Jonathan’s eye again in the rear view mirror and he seems to be thinking the same thing.

Mike and Lucas run out the Wheeler’s house as soon as you guys park in the driveway. Dustin immediately bolts out the door to greet them, obviously uncomfortable with all the tension, leaving you and Jonathan with Will.

Jonathan looks at you one last time and you nod your head in encouragement. He has to do this, he has to let Will grow on his own.

“Hey, listen.” Jonathan says, stopping Will from leaving. “If I let you go on your own, you promise to stay in the neighborhood?”

Will’s face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, totally.”

“And be back at Mike’s by 9:00.”

“9:30?”

You reach over and pat Will’s back. “Now you’re pushin’ it, buddy.”

“What Y/N said. Be back by 9:00.” Jonathan instructs, but there’s a fond smile on his face. “Deal?”

“Deal!”

The brothers shake on it and you watch them with a smile. Jonathan hands Will one of Bob’s cameras and makes a poor Dracula joke and you love these boys so much. You wave goodbye to Will as he quickly gets out of the car and runs over to his friends. There’s a new skip in his step, he’s happier than you’ve seen him in a while.

“Alright,” you crawl over the passenger seat and plop yourself in rather ungracefully. “I’d say that went well.”

“We made the right choice, right?”

“I hope so.”

Jonathan sighs and watches the kids, who have now started hitting each other with their candy bags. You flip down the windscreen and use the small mirror in it to apply your lipstick. When Jonathan sees what you’re doing, he does a double take.

“Wait, are you putting on lipstick?”

“Mhm,” you knit your brows together, focused. “We’re going to a party.”

“We are?”

“Nancy begged me to come, and we just left the boys to go trick-or-treating on their own, so what else are we supposed to do tonight?”

“Nancy begged you to come–”

You finish your lipstick and flick Jonathan’s nose to shut him up. “Stop asking so many questions and just start the car, doofus.”

–

The Halloween party is in full swing by the time you and Jonathan arrive. There’s a bunch of drunk teens in an array of costumes, ranging from classic heroes to dumb movie references, and the music is so loud you could hear it while you were still five blocks away.

Jonathan parks the car and looks around wearily. “Are we really doing this?”

“Unfortunately I hate disappointing people, so yeah. We are.”

“One day your people pleasing needs will get you in trouble.”

“I will stab you with your plastic sword.”

“So sweet to me,” Jonathan quips, which you roll your eyes at.

As you’re walking to the front door, you hear a crowd chanting Billy’s name. You freeze, knowing it could only be that awful mullet guy from earlier, and quickly shove Jonathan inside the house.

“Who’s Billy?” He asks, confused.

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it, let’s try to find Nancy–”

“Nice costume.” A girl dressed in goth attire interrupts you, her eyes only on Jonathan.

Oh great. Another girl interested in Jonathan.

Jonathan looks between you and the girl. “Huh?”

“Nice costume. Going as a goth with a sword?”

“Actually,” you step in front of Jonathan now, forcing the girl to acknowledge your presence. “We’re matching. He’s Westley, I’m Princess Buttercup. Do you like it?”

The goth girl rolls her eyes. “Yeah, totally.” She steps past you and faces Jonathan again. “I’m Samantha.”

Jonathan is again looking between you and the girl, this time with even more fear and confusion on his face, and you almost want to laugh at him in pity. He’s never had a girl so blatantly hit on him, it’s almost hilarious if you ignore the fact that you’re in love with him.

You leave Jonathan to handle the situation himself, scanning the room for Nancy. When you finally spot her, your heart sinks. She’s dancing with Steve, who looks fucking criminally good in his costume. You’re not sure who he’s dressed as, but he puts his Raybans in his mouth and smirks at Nancy and suddenly you understand why so many girls whisper in the halls about his lips.

Nancy looks even better, her white blouse accentuating her beauty even more. She’s dancing with her arms around Steve and now you suddenly really want a drink. Seems like they’ve made up, then.

Right as you’re about to pull Jonathan away from that Samantha girl and call it quits for the night, defeated and pride wounded, you see Steve and Nancy begin to argue over by the punchbowl.

Shit.

You head towards them, shoving past hoards of people who seem to refuse to move. Nancy sees you approaching and only seems to become more upset. Her movement is unsteady, her eyes droopy and glossed over, and even before you walk up to her you know she’s heavily drunk. She’s in a tug of war with Steve and a cup. It’s clear he’s trying to cut off her alcohol intake.

“Hey, Nancy is everything okay–” Your words are cut off as punch splashes all over her white blouse.

Everyone around the couple gasps, and you wince at all the attention. Everyone stares between you, Steve, and Nancy. You quickly find some napkins and begin blotting at her blouse, trying to get as much of the punch out of it, but she drunkenly bats you away.

“Don’t need help,” she slurs, but you shush her.

“I got it, why don’t we go get some water?”

Steve steps in front of you now, aware of the fact that everyone is still staring, and says his first words to you in months. “She’s my girlfriend, I’ll take care of her. Just… just go, Y/N.”

He dismisses you with a wave and you feel hurt wash over you. He hadn’t even spared you a single glance, he just treated you like some annoying fly in his way. You watch, defeated, as Steve guides Nancy to a room and you’re left alone at a party you hadn’t even wanted to go to in the first place.

How fun.

You crumble up one of the napkins in your hand and will away your anger. You don’t deserve to feel angry at Steve’s actions, you’re the one who was so dismissive of him in the first place. He’s just following along, doing what you’ve forced him to do.

As you’re lost in thought, Billy corners you in the kitchen.

“We meet again, sweetheart.” His breath reeks of alcohol and you cringe, the smell burning your nose.

“Didn’t I tell you to learn some goddamn personal space?”

Billy laughs dryly, stepping forward every time you take a step back. Too late, you realize what he’s doing. Before you can stop it, he has your back pressed against a nearby wall. “Now where’s the fun in that?”

You look around, but everyone who had been in the kitchen earlier seems to have left or are far too drunk to realize what’s happening. Billy is peering over you and every part of you wants to run away, to cower. You’ve never been able to handle aggressive men well, no matter how much of a front you put on around Lonnie, you always trembled when he was near.

Billy is no different, and he sees your unease. “Aw, is the princess nervous?”

“I’m surprised Max taught you what a princess looks like.”

At the mention of Max’s name, Billy’s cocky grin slips. Confusion masks his face now, making him appear more human than obnoxiously handsome. “So you know my little sister?”

You try to shove past him, but Billy plants his feet down and places both arms against the wall, trapping you. He’s surrounded you, he wants a reaction out of you. Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to steady your heartbeat and appear indifferent.

“I have my ways,” you shrug, but your heartbeat still pounds rapidly.

Billy raises an eyebrow. “Pretty and intelligent. Why, look at you. I’m impressed, and yet I still don’t know your name.”

You try again to move, but Billy leans his head down and brings his lips to your ear to whisper, “I’ll beg for it, if you want me to.”

“Get off–” He’s too close. He’s too fucking close and his lips against your ear makes you want to throw up, you don’t like this and you feel so fucking pathetic being cornered by such an egotistical asshole.

“Tell me your name, and I’ll go.” There’s a smile in Billy’s voice, you can hear it without even having to look, and it enrages you. You fucking hate men like him.

“Just get the fuck off of me–” You’ve closed your eyes now as you shove harshly against his chest.

Suddenly there’s a thud, a loud “oomph”, and a collective gasp from onlookers at the party. Your hands meet the air, there’s now no one there to push against. Slowly, open your eyes. There, standing in front of you, is Steve holding a very angry Jonathan back while Billy is on the ground.

Jonathan yanks his arm free from Steve and stands over Billy, who is laying on the ground with yet another unnerving smile on his face. Your friend shakes his fist out, which you now see is red, Billy’s face showcases a matching mark. “She told you to get off of her.”

A silence falls over the crowd.

Billy slowly stands up, wipes himself off, and then takes a bow. “Not bad, loner boy.”

Jonathan tries to step closer to him, but Steve grabs his shirt and shakes his head. “He’s not worth it, man.”

“And what do you know about worth, Harrington?” Billy chuckles, now practically in Steve’s face. “Where’s that little girlfriend of yours? You should go ask her what she thinks you’re worth.”

Steve’s face hardens, but you can see dried tears in his eyes. Seeing him about to crumble, you step between the boys. “Enough.”

They look at you, but you ignore them and then wave to the crowd of people still watching. “Show’s over! Go back to drinking away your sorry fucking lives.”

Jonathan pulls you close to him. “Bug, are you okay? Did he hurt you? We need to go home, I’ll bake you brownies and we can just–”

Jonathan’s concerned rambling is enough to make you smile, albeit faintly. “I’m fine, bee.”

Billy observes the interaction, he notices how Steve’s eyes flicker between your interlocked hands with Jonathan and the way your hair frames your pretty face. He sees it all, and he understands exactly what’s happening here.

“Oh, Harrington.” Billy can’t wait to see what happens next. “You’re fucked.”

Steve watches as Billy leaves, confused by his words but too tired to think much of them. He’s had the worst fucking night of his life. His girlfriend just told him she doesn’t love him, then he came outside to see Billy pressing himself against you like some fucking creep. He hadn’t even gotten to help you, Jonathan had beaten him to it. All Steve could do was hold the guy back afterwards.

Now Jonathan is holding your hands and whispering comforting words to you and you’re dressed in Steve’s favorite color, your lips an even prettier red, you’re wearing a goddamn tiara on your head like the princess you truly are, and Steve’s had just about enough of tonight.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.” Steve tells you tiredly. He then turns to Jonathan. “Uh, Nance and I sorta… Can you just, give her a ride home? She doesn’t…”

Steve’s words catch in his throat and you grab his hand before you can stop yourself. “He’ll take her, won’t you, Jonathan?”

Jonathan stumbles over his words. “Sure, uh. Yeah, I can do that… What about you, though?”

You think about your conversation with Nancy earlier, how she seemed so upset with Steve, and how not even ten minutes ago they’d been fighting over by the punchbowl. There’s a hurt between them, one you think may be too big to patch up with just one conversation, but Jonathan doesn’t know all of this.

“I’ll drive Steve home.”

Both boys stare at you like you’re insane, and honestly? You can’t blame them.

You haven’t spoken to Steve in months, and Jonathan knows this better than anyone.

“Y/N,” Steve lowers his voice. “I haven’t had anything to drink, there’s no need–”

“Too bad. I’m taking you home. Jonathan, go find Nancy and make sure she gets back okay.”

Jonathan and Steve try to argue, but you yank Steve’s hand and make him come with you. It’s long past time the two of you had a talk, anyways.

–

When you exit the house, the weight of everything that’s just happened catches up to you. Your skin still feels raw, Billy’s presence lingering on you. Steve’s hand is warm in yours, but he isn’t holding on the way you secretly hoped he would. Jonathan’s confused and concerned eyes remain in the back of your mind, the image of him standing alone in the party makes you feel guilty.

But you have to do this. You’re tired of being a coward.

Steve is silent as he guides you to his car. He’s parked pretty far, which you hadn’t been expecting. “What, do you not get a special parking spot as King Steve?”

He ignores your attempt at a joke and instead drops your hand.

Okay. You deserved that.

When you get to his car, Steve throws you the keys and silently gets into the passenger seat. You inhale, willing this to end well, and get in the driver’s seat. You start the car and the engine warms your fingertips.

You start to drive.

Steve is looking out the window, and you’ve never seen him appear so small. He’s closed into himself, his shoulders are hunched and his carefree smile from earlier is gone.

“Not to make this awkward, but I kinda don’t know where you live.” You break the silence.

“Make a left up here.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened tonight–”

“Why do you only ever care about me when I’m some kicked fucking puppy?”

Steve’s words are vicious, and you flinch at his tone. “You know that’s not true,”

“It’s not?” He scoffs at you. “Then explain what happened this summer.”

“I…” You can’t.

Steve sees your reluctance to say anything and lets out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, whatever. Some real fucking friend you were.”

You take a shaky breath. You knew this would be hard, but it still hurts more than you thought it would’ve. While you can’t tell Steve everything, you can offer him a half truth. It’s all you can afford, and it isn’t nearly half of what he deserves, but it’s all you can do. “I got scared.”

Your confession causes Steve to turn to you. “Scared?”

“Yeah, scared.”

“Gee, Y/N. That really explains a ton.”

You’re losing him again, so you offer him more. “I’m sorry, Steve. I really am. It’s just… I got scared, I’ve never been good at letting people in. I know it doesn’t excuse my actions, and you didn’t deserve any of it, but you just… You scared me.”

Steve is silent again, only mumbling a quiet, “Turn right after this light.”

“Look,” you push down your fear, you need him to hear you. “You came crashing into my life in such a violent way, and it became the best goddamn thing that happened to me. There you were, spending every day at my job just to talk to me. You asked me questions about myself and noticed things no one else had before and I just… I couldn’t do it.”

You look over at Steve and soften your voice, putting every ounce of your guilt and sincerity into your words. “I missed you.”

“Missed?” There’s something in Steve’s voice that you can’t quite decipher, it’s almost too delicate to examine.

“Miss. I miss you,” you correct, and it takes everything within you not to confess more. To tell him you miss how his eyes turn a warm toffee in the late afternoon light, that you miss his obsession with his mom’s banana bread and that you have a recipe at home that you never got to make for him. You almost tell him that even though you pulled yourself away, you can’t seem to separate him from you. He’s everywhere.

But what you can’t tell Steve, what would break you if he ever found out, is that you’ve come to love how he’s everywhere.

Steve is silent, and you swallow down your tears. It wasn’t enough, but at least you tried.

As you turn into his driveway, Steve finally speaks. “All my life, all I’ve ever wanted was for people to like me.”

“Steve…”

“And every time I think someone finally likes me, I’m wrong. They leave me. I mean, you left me without a fucking word, Nancy lied about loving me, and my bullshit friends at school have replaced me with Billy.”

Nancy lied about loving him?

Steve looks down at his hands, his eyelashes are wet with fresh tears. “I don’t know what I keep doing wrong.”

You throw yourself across the car’s console and wrap yourself around the boy. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Steve places one arm around you, then slowly he places his other, and for the first time in months you’re finally back in his arms. He’s surrounded in you again, and he never, ever wants to let you go.

“You won’t leave me again?”

Steve asks this so softly, as if too scared to bring the words into the light and risk them scaring you away. You tighten your arms around him and bury your nose into his neck, his cologne making your brain dizzy. “Never.

And it’s enough for now.

The pieces settle between you and Steve. Something clicks into place and you know that he feels it, too. He tightens his own arms around you, draws small circles against your back, and you stay like that for what feels like hours.

Eventually the two of you break apart and head into his house. He offers you something warm to drink, but you decline. It’s late, you should be heading home soon. You ask Steve where his phone is and then call Jonathan, telling him to come get you from Steve’s.

Jonathan doesn’t ask any questions, his own voice sounding off on the phone. You know that tomorrow you’ll have to explain to him what happened with Steve, and he’ll have to explain what’s happened with Nancy. But tonight, you both settle on ignoring the topic for now.

Steve waits with you downstairs for Jonathan.

“If we’re going to be friends again, then I demand my nickname.”

You look up at the boy and laugh. “What if I told you I still haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Can you at least give me a hint?” Steve bats his eyelashes at you and you shove him away with another laugh.

“Hm,” you think for a moment, reveling in the simplicity between you two again. “It’s lovely. That’s all I can say.”

Steve makes a face. “Lovely? That’s all I get?”

“Mhm.” You poke his face. “For now, please just trust that I’ll stay.”

Steve looks away for a moment, and you admire his lovely side profile, before he finally seems to settle on his thoughts. “Fine, but I expect some type of baked good every day from here on out.”

“Deal.” You raise your pinky and offer it to Steve, who smiles and shakes his head, but wraps his own pinky around yours.

Steve’s eyes are still red, from exhaustion and heartbreak, and yours are probably no better. You know there’s so much the two of you have to face tomorrow morning, to talk about and deal with. Nancy, Jonathan, Billy. But for now, Steve’s pinky is around yours and you couldn’t ask for a better end to your night.

It’s a start.

It’s all you could’ve asked for.

Jonathan arrives later and waits in the car, seeming to sense that you want some privacy as you say goodbye to Steve.

“That’s my ride.” You nudge him. “Oh, don’t think I forgot about the Nancy thing. We’ll talk about that tomorrow.”

“What–”

“We’re friends again and I nag all my friends about their emotions. You were spared last year, but this year? Buckle up, buddy.”

Steve lets out a tired laugh. “Do I have to sign another contract?”

“Nah, you just have to trust me.”

“I do.” He says, no ounce of hesitation.

You squeeze his hand. “Then that’s all I need. Goodnight, Steve. Get some rest.”

Steve nods and watches as you walk towards Jonathan’s car. He stays outside for a while, long after the car has faded in the distance. The cold air makes him shiver, but after everything that’s happened tonight, he welcomes it. His mind is spinning, he’s not sure if he feels more heartbreak or relief, but he decides he doesn’t care.

For now, he’s content.

Now that he has you in his life again, no matter what happens between him and Nancy, he knows he’ll get through it with you holding his hand.

–

The drive home is quiet. Both you and Jonathan seem to be lost in your own thoughts. When you get to your house, you simply tell your friend, “Tomorrow. We’ll talk about it all tomorrow,”

Jonathan nods, his eyes as tired as yours. “Tomorrow.”

You walk inside your house and notice all the lights off. You’re home later than you originally planned, your mom must be asleep already. You kick off your shoes and sigh tiredly. Tonight has exhausted you.

However, you feel bad about skipping out on the boys, so you walk towards Dustin’s room and quietly knock on the door to apologize. After a few knocks, Dustin cracks his door open. “Yes?”

“Hey, just wanted to ask how tonight…” You notice Dustin’s stance, how he seems to almost be trying to block your view of something. “Is everything alright?”

Your brother quickly repositions himself. “Fine! Nothin’ to see here!”

He’s definitely acting suspicious.

“Open the door, show me what’s inside.”

You go to shove your way in, but Dustin scrambles and ends up shouting, “Will had another episode tonight!

“What?” You freeze.

Dustin lets out a breath of relief. He knew using Will’s episode would be a good distraction from what he has in his room. “Will, he had another episode. He’s fine, though… Just thought you should know.”

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Actually,” Dustin lets out a yawn. “I’m kinda tired. Ya know, trick-or-treating is hard work. Can we just call it a night and talk about it tomorrow?”

“I mean, I guess?” Your list of things you need to talk about tomorrow keeps growing.

“Sweet! Goodnight, Y/N!” And with that, Dustin slams his door in your face. He presses his back pressed against his door as he steadies his heartbeat. That was close, too close. After a couple seconds, he walks over to his turtle’s tank and greets Dart again. “Sorry buddy, had to get Y/N away. She’d freak if she found out about you.”

Dart lets out a small screech in response.

“Wonder how long I can keep this from her.”

Meanwhile, you stand in the hall for a moment, completely bewildered as to what’s just happened. It feels like you missed a few important details. There’s something happening, but you have no idea what.

You go to your room and make a plan. Tomorrow, you’ll order a code blue with Dustin and demand information. For now, all you can do is get ready for bed and hope that whatever he’s hiding, it isn’t as monumental as El had been.

Tonight, you go to bed thinking of Nancy and Steve, worried about them both.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wtlws #m's writing #halloween ep ur forever iconic #and steves fit >>>#he was HOT

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normalhorsez · 16 days ago

Text

hello hello

last night i had a REALLY big scare with the busted laptop ive been usin and almost lost. well, everything - most importantly, two years worth of artwork. thankfully everything resolved just fine, and i was able to back up said artwork (now safely having five whole years of my work on local hardware ! phew !), but that made me more determined than ever to actually put my damn foot down and get a Not Busted laptop to use.

for full transparency, every cent ive made attempting this prior all went to my very abusive grandfather. this time ive got shit worked out so that Does Not Happen here. i gotta do this so i can stop stressing.

im just shootin to get a used model of the same one i got now. nothing crazy, i just know this thing works perfectly for what i need it to do. my goal is $500.

ive got a goal set up for it here, but if youd prefer to send elsewhere, youre also welcome to here.

ty yall ! 🙇🙇

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gumballofshame · 24 days ago

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Only For Coffee

Bucky x reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: ...I got sad so you will too...brief mention of hydra + related happenings

Author’s Note: Long time reader, first time writer. My goal is for no one to read this actually, I just really got into my feelings and desperately needed to share how I was doing. Yeah, well - here ya go. Honestly, if anyone does read this I do love you xo ps if the formatting is wrong, im sorry ive never done this

Song: Coffee by Chappell Roan

Four months. The hardest four months at that. His smile, his touch, his hand against my skin. How time can fly when you’re drowning your sorrows in the depths of your empty bedroom. At some point your days blend together, you ignore the calls coming from your phone, or the ting from your phone interrupting the silence you’ve created. All you can think is him. Him. Him.

What could I have done so incorrectly to lead to the present? Had I pushed him past his breaking point? Had he pushed me past mine?

The emptiness forming around you grows thicker and more pronounced as you wait for the time to pass against you.

You think and think, how can one man control all your thoughts and emotions without saying a single word in your direction? Being around him in meetings and missions was fine, you could be a professional. You were trained to push your emotions aside and focus on important tasks.

The difficult part was always when you both were alone in the middle of the night. Nightmares repeating day after day, causing the both of you to make your way into the open space of the kitchen. Searching for something to drown out the memories and the fear. If the pain from the distance grown between the both of you wasn’t strong enough, the unspoken words would’ve pooled out of every crevice known. Yet, there he sits. Pushed against the island. He just sits and stares. To an untrained eye, one would think aloud how he can fall asleep with his eyes open, staring at nothing. To you? You knew the stare. You knew the pain and the torture behind the stare. How could you not? You have lived the same story. The same fear, the same torture–you matched him and he matched you.

As you enter the common space off the elevator, months of pent up emotions and anguish swim the space lying between you and him as they do every time you catch each other in the early hours. Would today be the day either of you speak? Not one word has been spoken between the two of you in months, could today be the day? You slowly make your way over towards the kitchen area searching for a usable glass to fill with water. You pause as you watch Bucky slowly take breaths and stare into the open space.

Deciding against the trouble of a glass, you reach into the fridge to gather a bottle of water along with an easy snack. You feel the energy shift around the room as a pair of eyes burrow into the side of your head. He is always there. Just staring. It’s all he has become accustomed to do. Stare, gather, and analyze. At the end of it all, you would only be a crucial piece of data storming the eyes of the previous Winter Soldier. You can’t escape the coolness behind his emotionless eyeline. To be in love is one thing, to be in love with a man who can’t love you but rather analyze you is another.

You turn your body to face him, pain stretched across your face as you attempt to understand. You stare back. No thoughts, just him and the space he consumed. The whole world melts away as you scan between his eyes, searching for the person who once told you they love you. He isn’t there. He’s not on vacation, not taking a sabbatical. There isn’t any evidence the man you thought you knew had ever taken ownership behind his eyes. In the quiet room in the odd hours of the night there just sits two people, history and pain etched into the surface of the counter between them as they stare. Two souls, two bottles of water, four eyes, and one broken heart.

Without missing a beat, you lower your head and take a deep breath before making your way back towards the elevator. Away from the cold behind the blue eyes you fell in love with.

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

Bucky. Bucky. Bucky.

You toss and turn all night, alone in the bed with a permanent empty space to the left of you. It’s been 5 months since you’ve spoken last, since he decided to give up trying to make it work. Even longer since he last held you in his arms. Here you are tonight, alone in the space where he studied you, learned every movement and what they meant. All your mind can drift to is the way his eyes would shine into yours as you held each other close. It was for nothing. The horrors you escaped hand in hand, none of it mattered. Would returning to the empty, cold cell be any different than being silent in the warmth brought by the tower? You were free from experimentation and free from being beaten, but you were never able to escape the memory of his lips pressing against yours.

You sit up from your sleep, breathing heavily as you remember how he would ease your mind after every nightmare. This night is no different. Every night is the same, it has been since he turned his back away from you. You search the bed with an open hand only feeling empty space beside you, remembrance of the man who you once shared your life with.

With a heavy sigh you look around your nightstand to see the red glow show 5:47 AM. A perfectly normal time to rise from bed and start a training session without turning any heads. With the mental confirmation of the start of your day, you retreat from your bed heading over to the bathroom tucked away in the corner of your bedroom. You start the daily routine driven in your skull. Brush your teeth. Wash your face. Look presentable and ready to fight when necessary. You grab your phone and tuck it into the pocket of your leggings, heading out of your room and down to the gym level.

It takes time to heal a broken heart and today you will continue your journey. One step at a time, one foot in front of another, until you no longer think of him rescuing you from your night terrors or until you can speak in his direction. For today, you just need to focus on the routine. Wake, train, eat, work, and disappear into the void created in mind. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

You make your way onto the gym floor, already hearing the grunt of the other members up and training in the early morning. You had almost wished to stay in bed longer, pick a time later in the day to train on your sore muscles. You really had almost wished the previous mission took you out cold and you didn’t have to continue the vicious cycle of needing to improve every muscle and every fight. You only wanted to disappear into nothingness with no one to catch you fall. Your legs kick into gear as you force yourself to walk to the treadmill to start with the daily habit.

While running your mind picks up bits and pieces of conversation from the passing people training. New mission details, old drama, new relationships forming through the tower. But your mind stays stuck to the familiar voice coming from the weight area. Bucky. His voice carries in a regular room, somehow your ears could always catch any sound when he is around. His breathing, the squeaking of his shoes, the sound of metal on metal as he lifts the weights high and low. The old you would have jumped off the treadmill and ran to him as soon as you heard his steady breathing. The new you stays running. Turning off the world around you as you feel your legs burn beneath you.

A new voice breaks you out of your heavy run on the treadmill, causing you to abruptly step off the treadmill.

"Would you like to train with someone? You look like you're running away from someone,"

Steve. Of course it's Steve. He always finds you when you're jogging in the morning, it's another key part of the routine you have created since moving into the tower.

"Oh, yeah. Just doing some cardio to warm up," You try to laugh off being caught stuck in your own mind to the blond man. He knows where your mind goes if you and Bucky are in the same room. He can always tell when you have gone too deep into your own mind and can't find an escape. You reach for the towel placed over your treadmill and dry off the sweat cascading down your forehead and chest. "Do you want to work on weights or work on fighting today, Stevie Boy?"

He offers a small smile at the use of the nickname you gave him, a knowing nod is offered in return as he moves out of your way to give you space to dry off.

"I was thinking we could go over new training modules Fury had sent through to keep us accustomed to both new styles of fighting as well as older styles. Sounds exciting enough for you?" He crosses his arms over each other as he leans against your previously used treadmill

You mirror his casual stance with your hands on your hips with a soft smirk against your lips as you respond to him in a mocking tone. "I don't know, old man. You think you can handle training with me?" You tsk your tongue against the roof of your mouth as you turn and walk towards the large mat positioned in the center of the room. "A little birdy told me you were having issues with your back pain this week. Can't even get out of bed without a groan, who are you?"

Steve gasps in shock with his jaw dropping with a playful push on your arm

“Nat told you! She can never keep one thing just between her and I”

You throw your head back in laughter as you climb onto the training mats with Steve, each of you positioning ourselves in front of the glass barrier to watch the presentations on the screen.

“Hey, I didn’t even ask for this information! She just talks and sometimes doesn’t stop until I walk away from her. It’s nothing to be embarrassed of, Cap. We all get old someday. Me, not so much. But you? Your time was going to come around eventually.” You reply to him with feigned sincerity

He rolls his eyes towards the sky as he stands in front of the glass. “Say whatever you want. My back may be old but I can knock you down six ways from Sunday.”

You press start on the program to begin our training for the day before turning to face him to egg him on even further.

“Six ways from Sunday, Stevie? Really? I’m going to need some proof to back up your words”

He cast a knowing smirk towards your direction as the demonstration began on the screen. Prove me wrong, he did. And boy, did you regret it.

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

Hours later as you limped your way back into the common room after Steve had definitely beaten you down, you took a moment to catch your breath with your back on the wall facing the elevator. Step two of your daily routine has now finished, now onto three. Eating a meal. You turn to finally face the kitchen with a wince in your step as you spot a head of brown hair leaning with his back against the island, looking out the window and lost in thought. Familiar.

You pause your journey to the kitchen for a moment and watch the man you have known for most of your life–watching him enjoy one of his few moments of peace. With the constant craze between missions or battles, you never get the chance to have a moment of pure, unadulterated serenity. Although you have spent hours training with Steve in the lower level of the gym, it is warming to know the man who has been beaten down for the majority of his life can find a moment in the quiet afternoon to watch the birds fly around. Almost humorous to think of the formerly known Winter Soldier, World War II hero turned assassin, taking a moment out of his day to enjoy the soft caused by the rising day.

Breaking the barrier of the room, you make your way over to the fridge and start to take out the ingredients to create yourself a full breakfast. Eggs, sausage, and hashbrowns. A simple breakfast that is quick and can get you away from the rising tension that will be caused when Bucky notices you have entered the space he has created.

As if you had summed it on cue, you see Bucky’s body tense against the counter as you make your way through creating your breakfast. As most days where it is the two of you sharing the kitchen, neither of you dare to make a sound. The tense silence always seems to plague the surrounding walls if you two are in a room together without a buffer to lead any conversation.

You finish making your breakfast, grabbing a drink from the fridge as well as you make your way to sit on the opposite end of the island bar that seats Bucky. You try to be quiet and respect his space as you take a corner away from his world and begin to eat your food in this silence of the early afternoon.

Off to the side of you, you can hear the rise and fall of his voice. Not expecting any sound to break the silence created in the common room you release a small sigh and continue eating your breakfast. Expecting a contrasting voice to the opposite side of you to respond to whatever Bucky might be speaking on, though he is not much of a talker to anyone. Through no surprise, there is no comment in return.

You hear his voice rise again, almost a whisper, call out your name.

Immediately at the sound of your name against his lips for the first time in almost half a year, your eyes force themselves off of the plate of food to look up to him with your eyebrows furrowing together. He’s talking to me.

“Did you hear what I asked?” Bucky calls out your name again, asking with a slight tilt in his head, waiting for an answer.

You stare back at Bucky like a deer caught in headlights, causing him to stumble over his next words with a small lift in the corners of his mouth.

“I-I asked if you would like to go to a new cafe I found down the street. We haven’t spoken in months and I would like to buy you a coffee,” Something is new with the sound of Bucky’s voice. Something you haven’t heard in months since you two separated. He was scared. Of rejection, of you, of having his moment of courage to open up be shot down. His eyes dart around your face, searching for any sign of discomfort that may be caused by him.

You slowly blink your eyes at him, trying to wrap your head around the idea that not only is Bucky currently speaking to you but is also inviting you to coffee. Why? You finally turn and face him with your hand coming up to brush against your eyes in confusion.

“M-me? You’re asking me if I want to try a new cafe with you? What?” Your confusion is sketched along your face, attempting to make sense of both Bucky talking in your direction.

“Yes, is that okay? It’s new and I know you always liked to try new coffee places with me,” He responds with more information to attempt to convince you to speak to him and spend a lazy moment with him

You nod in response before finishing the bite of food within your mouth. “Yes, we can get coffee. That’s okay. Just need to clean up and get ready, is that okay?”

He offers a grunt in response with his hands shifting against the edge of the island in anticipation. “Of course, doll. Take your time. I’ll send you the address to the cafe in a bit, just let me know when you’re ready.” You try to control your heart rate as you hear how easily he is able to speak to you after months of silence, as you sit in your seat trying not to crumble towards the floor.

“That would be great. Thank you, James. I’ll finish up now.” As you move to start cleaning up the mess you had created in the kitchen from your breakfast. you offer him a small grin and raise your eyebrows. Exiting the kitchen you take a moment to stare at the back of Bucky’s body once again, thinking over how 5 months of silence can end in one moment with just a simple request of coffee.

“It’s only just coffee. I can do coffee,” You whisper to yourself as you exit the kitchen to make yourself more presentable for getting coffee with Bucky

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

You make your way into the cafe Bucky had requested you meet him out, just a few blocks away from the tower. You both order your coffee and make your way to a secluded and quiet section of the cafe.

Silence passes over the both of you as you sit in a booth in the corner of the cafe. Two souls, two cups of coffee, and one broken heart.

No words need to be spoken when years of survival and months of heartache lay beneath the surface. Minutes pass with his light eyes burning holes in your irises, the silence growing in the space between you both is both inviting and frightening. For the first time in months, you’re the one who breaks the barrier of silence protecting both your heart and his sanity.

“You can’t look at me like that anymore, James,” I whisper with the side of my head pressed against the wall, trying to ground my sanity in the quiet cafe. “You haven’t spoken to me in months and you expect me to know what’s going on in your head? Talk to me. Please, James”

The sound of his deep inhale nearly shocks you against the wall. Finally, a reaction. His eyes swim with uncertainty as he hears and understands the pleading in your voice, needing more than what he has offered.

“I can’t talk to you anymore,” he whispers your name like it has pained him to mention aloud to the cafe around you

You throw your hands down to the table in disbelief, almost annoyance. For months since you two parted, the most interaction you have shared is sitting at the same table during a meeting, fighting against the enemy during an operation, or the silent moments in the middle of the night when you both need to disappear.

Here you are wanting, begging, for any sort of explanation for the silence growing between you both. You have become defeated.

“Why am I here, James? If not to talk, then what? So you’re not alone? What could it be?”

He takes a pause, trying to understand the micro expressions drifting across your face as you attempt to decide whether to stay or to leave Bucky alone in the booth.

"What do you want from me, Bucky?"

"I want you to stay," the tension grows stronger between the both of you as your eyes close against his words and your head drops parallel to the table, bringing the coffee cup to rest between your shaking hands.

"All I know is I want you to stay. Just don't go. I don't want to talk, I just want you. Quiet, loud, annoying, honest. I just want you, all of you." From across the table you can hear the faint sound of metal shifting against his coffee mug as he attempts to burn his words with his coffee. "Just don't leave yet, please. Just stay."

"Why?" You turn your head up towards his blue eyes, looking for any possible answer to the questions swarming in my chest. "Why abandon me just to stare in silence? What am I to you?"

His flesh hand fiddles with the ridges on the back of his metal hand as his mind warps against himself, what was the reason he wanted you to stay besides just to know you're here? After nearly a year of silence, how can a simple string of words make up for the past?

His voice barely registers to your ears over a whisper, “I just need you around, doll. I’ve never been a man of words and it’s even more difficult now. I can’t live in a world where I can’t reach out and touch you when I want you closer.”

“I can never wrap my head around your intentions. You’re consistent, I’ll give you that. Consistent in the way you keep me confused, always at your door begging for more out of you when you so easily turn away from me. Where are you when I need you?”

Hearing my words bounce against the coffee cups between us, Bucky continues lightly tapping against the rim of his mug as he thinks harder. Looking for the correct words to make you stay in the secluded corner of the cafe with him.

“Before the war, when I was just a teenager, I was good at expressing how I felt. In the short-term, anyway. I knew which words would make sense and which words would keep someone close. I’m no longer that version of myself. I don’t believe I have the capability to be the person you want me to be.”

You let the silence settle between the two of you as you both sit and drink your coffee on separate sides of the booth. The silence becoming an overbearing reminder that even though you saved each other from a life full of torture and pain, you could never come together to make each other make sense. There was always the tension of knowing each other too well, too deeply, that caused a divide.

You are the one who breaks the silence in the cafe for a second time today with a timid voice, betraying all your instincts to protect yourself and run away from the conversation. “I have never asked for you to be more. I have never asked for you to change. My only request was that you let me in, just a sliver. I have lived your life and you have lived mine, the least you can do is offer me a place in your life.”

Sadness is stretched across his face as he takes your sentence word by word, his fist clenching against the coffee cup between his hands. Just trying to find the words to make you fall back into his arms and remove him from the icey world he has created under the disguise of protection. “Please, don’t leave. I want you around. I want all of you, all the time. I have never not wanted a piece of you in my life. I can’t bear living without you, knowing you’re someone who sees me as me. ” He lets his coffee mug bounce against the top of the table as he reaches across to grab your hands in his, yearning to touch any piece of you that he can.

"I can't be around you, Bucky. You've broken my heart time and time again. You know I have lived a long life looking into your eyes without a sound. I'm sorry I can't enjoy the silence you create or the space you let drift between us. Unfortunately, I meant it when I said I will never understand you." You push both his hand off of yours as well as your cup away from you in a hurried manner and grab your bag from the corner of the booth. As you start to rush to remove yourself from the situation and leave the booth you’re sitting in, you feel Bucky’s flesh hand reach out and cradle your wrist.

"I don't have the words, please, just stay." His eyes are pained as they search through mine, begging doesn't come easily to the former Winter Soldier but he will always try to make you see him. You carefully remove your hand from his hold and move to stand beside the table.

"You've had nearly a year to say those words, any words, Buck. I lived a life before you and I will continue to live one without you. Maybe in another life, but not this one. Goodbye, James"

Two souls, two cups of coffee left on the table, two broken hearts.

As you turn and make your way towards the exit with tears in your eyes you can hear Bucky stand up from the table and call after you. You don't flinch, you don't turn around, you keep walking with tears swallowing your burning face. You only came for coffee.

... it's never just coffee ...

A/N pt 2: If you could not hate on this and just say ‘oh my god you did so good for your first time writing’ that would be much appreciated. Let a girl experiment with her art, jeez :p

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #fanfic #marvel #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fic #first fic #fanfiction #the winter soldier #bucky fanart

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angel-kyo · 1 year ago

Text

Pay it no mind

Part XI

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X

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

Piece of scum.

Satoru was watching your adored Haruki flirting, or rather, what he thought was flirting, with a girl from behind the cash register at the coffee shop he worked at. Satoru was still outside, just looking through the window. While you had said he was just overly nice to everyone, it did not change the fact that Gojo was still repulsed by him.

As to why he was there while you were at the school with Shoko...

“Do you really want me to apologize to him?” Satoru’s contorted face looked as if he had smelled something bad.

You gave him a soft smile. “It wouldn’t hurt you to apologize for being rude to him,” you stated, but he did not really agree. “I’m not saying you have to do it. Just… He is under the impression that you don’t like him.”

Well, he is not wrong.

Satoru had not said that aloud, but your expression suggested you had read his mind.

“Just maybe try to be nicer to him next time you see him, can you?” you questioned with a pleading smile and those eyes Satoru would do anything for. He sighed, defeated.

So, here he was. He had dismissed Suguru after their mission to come here alone, although he did not want to. In any case, he figured talking to Ikeda directly would be a better approach than him trying to play good friends with him and pretending he actually liked the guy.

Better get it over and done with.

He strode in confidently.

“Welcome!” Ikeda and the other few employees said in unison when the little bell at the door rang announcing a new customer. Satoru kept walking forward.

“What can I get for…” Ikeda’s smile froze when he saw Gojo. “Oh, it’s you.” He was still smiling, but it looked a bit less rehearsed than for the other costumers. “[name] is not here today, but…”

“I know.” Gojo did not let him continue. “I actually wanted to talk to you. Got a minute?”

“That’s unexpected… But sure.” Haruki peeked at his watch. “Do you mind waiting? My shift will end in a few. You can order something in the meantime.”

Gojo noticed that, despite his words, the boy did not look surprised at all.

“It’s fine, thanks.” Satoru walked to one of the vacant tables and sat down. The girl that had been talking with Haruki just a minute ago, looked at him from another table. He did not mind her and neither seem to do Ikeda anymore.

Gojo thought he should not need more than two minutes to make things clear with Haruki; he was just going to tell him that he had not meant anything before and that it was cool that you two were friends as long as he was not up to any funny business. Or maybe he would leave out that last part. If any word of him trying to intimidate your friend were to reach you, coming here would have been a waste of time.

After all, he was doing this because of you, so he was coming in peace and would leave in peace.

The cardboard cup that was placed in front of Satoru interrupted his thoughts, and when he looked up, he saw Ikeda looking at him.

“[name] said you drink it like this. It’s on the house.”

“Uh, thanks.” Satoru thought it strange. Did he just memorize everyone’s coffee order? He was not even sure Ikeda knew who he was when he first entered, and now he knew how he drank his coffee?

He saw him walk into the back of the establishment.

After five minutes or so, Ikeda returned, no longer wearing his apron. He was on his high school uniform. Satoru had seen the girl from earlier wearing the same hue of blue on her skirt. Ikeda waved at her and turned to Satoru.

“Is it okay if we talk on the way? I’d rather not missing my train.”

“Fine by me.” Satoru got up and threw the half-full coffee in the trashcan. The two of them walked out as Satoru spared a glance on what seemed to be Ikeda’s classmate direction before marching ahead, which the other boy noticed.

“It’s probably not what you think it is. She is a classmate.”

“I thought she was your friend,” was all Gojo told him, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Haruki nod.

“One has to be friendly towards customers, right?” He was not putting up his work smile anymore.

So you turn it off and on like a switch?

They were walking pretty much side by side when Haruki asked “What did you want to tell me?”

Fine, right to the subject. I'll just say it and leave.

“I don’t know if you remember but we spoke on the phone the other day.” Not really, Satoru thought. Actually, I spoke and hung up on you.

The slightest smiled appeared on Haruki’s face. “I remember.”

“So…” Satoru did not want to do this, but he reminded himself he had to. “So I just wanted to say I’m sorry if... If I was rude.”

An awkard silence followed. Was Ikeda not suppossed to accept his apology and let him leave?

Haruki finally hummed. “Is that really all you wanted to say?”

It surprised Gojo a bit. He had not expected him to dig deeper.

“Yeah, it’s all. [name] said you might think I don’t like you, so…”

So I came here to try to convince you otherwise or convince them. Just don’t make it harder.

“And isn’t that true?” Ikeda halted and turned his head to Gojo, who swore he had seen that cold expression before. And same as previously, he saw it melt into a smile, but it was not like the one he always had for you. Satoru knew it immediately: that smile was meant to deceive. “It’s alright, you don’t have to reply; I know the answer.”

They were heading for the station, and Satoru wondered if he should just leave Haruki behind. After all, he had already said what he wanted to say, more or less.

The blue-eyed boy cleared his throat. “It does not matter, what I think of you, I mean. I’m just the friend of a friend.”

Ikeda did not look at him. “True, but you are not just any friend,” they were entering the station, “and you know it, don’t you, Satoru?”

It was Gojo’s turn to halt. Not that he cared too much, but what was with the informality now? He had never called him by his first name.

Ikeda gave him an innocent smile. “Sorry. That’s what [name] calls you. I guess it just rubbed off on me.”

“I don’t mind, Haruki.” Gojo’s voice strained on the boy’s name, but his face was serious as he tried to weigh him. He had never attempted to hold a long conversation with Ikeda, so maybe he was just not used to his manner. In any case, it still felt as if he was trying to sting him with his words, and if that was the case, Gojo would sting back.

Ikeda strutted ahead. “Now that I think of it, did we ever get introduced formally? I can’t remember, but I guess it doesn’t matter. I know your name just as you know mine, right?”

Gojo had decided to leave in peace, but with that guy's tone, it was tempting to let his resolve crumble.

“What do you want?” Satoru grumbled finally.

They had reached the platform where Haruki was going to wait for his train, and he offered him a disinterested look in response. “What do you mean?”

“From [name]. What do you want from them?”

“Sorry, but I'm not following.” Haruki shrugged. “I’m just their friend.”

“So am I.” Satoru was looking right at him through his shades. A grin appeared on Haruki’s face.

“If you are trying to say we cannot both be their friends, I guess I would have to be something else then.”

His tone was lighthearted, but Satoru knew his intentions were not, not to him at least.

“Unless that bothers you.” Haruki looked at him.

Ikeda thought Gojo looked nothing like when he was with you, always playful and smiling at your sight.

He looks so serious now.

Gojo did not back off, but his voice did not sound as confident as before when he asked “Why should it bother me?”

“I like them.”

Gojo tensed at his words.

Although it was true Haruki liked you, he had, in fact, been expecting Gojo to admit the same, and maybe get a little bit more honest if he provoked him. All he knew about Gojo was because of you, but the things he had seen for himself, the way he always sat closer to you, how he acknowledged you first among your group of friends, and that more often than not, he was the one blowing up your phone when you were out with him, all of it had made him think he did not see you just as a friend.

Surely, Haruki had been confused about how you defined your relationship with Gojo as well. However, you said you knew him since forever, and that made people often get the wrong idea. He had no reason to doubt your words, but looking at Gojo now...

Is it the wrong idea, though?

Either you were oblivious or Gojo’s love was fated to go down as unrequited. In any case, Haruki believed Satoru should at least own up to it.

“I wasn’t sure before, but...” Haruki looked at Satoru’s covered eyes with a smile “…you are a coward, Gojo.”

The sound of the train approaching echoed in Satoru’s head just as much as Ikeda’s words.

Had this guy really said that?

Ikeda watched the train stop and open its doors for boarding. The station was, surprisingly, not too crowded despite it being almost the peak hour.

“This is me.” Haruki gestured to the train. “See you around.”

Satoru heard the train doors closing, but his gaze was still fixed on where Ikeda had been standing. “Yeah, see you around,” he muttered for himself.

***

Truth was Satoru had not seen Haruki after that. You still went to the coffee shop where he worked and hung out with him a few more times after the start of that winter, though, and then, he had been gone.

Until now.

You were in front of your building, talking to a man that Gojo recognized immediately despite not having seen him in many years.

Satoru had tried to talk to you all week, but his missions kept pulling him away, and it did not help that you were busy with your own load of work. So, even when he knew it was a bit too late to pay any respectable visit, he had come to your place to talk.

Ieiri had told him you had left the school a few minutes earlier, and then he had been pulled into a meeting with Yaga that seemed to have dragged on for an eternity. Thus, he had come up with the bright idea of asking Ijichi to drop him off at your place. He had not anticipated finding this scene, though.

Had you left early to go out with that man? Satoru pondered it while still in the car. What was it? A dinner? You had mentioned lunches and coffee with Ikeda since you had told him about your reencounter, but not dinners.

Satoru looked at your frame. You were smiling at something Haruki had said.

In all honesty, Satoru had often found himself distracted by your smile during the last months. It was not only your smile; it was your voice during meetings, the way you moved when you were training the students, your eyes when you were talking to him or Shoko. To the point Ieiri had sometimes whispered to him “It’s rude to stare”, because he had been looking at you for too long. How could Shoko tell, he was not sure. He thought his blindfold should conceal his gaze, but maybe it was not as effective as he thought.

Gojo sighed. He had not noticed until after your confession just how smitten with you he was.

In the meantime, Ijichi was feeling pretty uncomfortable in the driver seat. It was not unusual that Gojo asked to be taken to your place, but he was sure he had interrupted something between you and him a week ago, and he did not recognize the man you were talking to now. Nevertheless, he could feel Gojo’s uneasiness, and if the strongest was restless, what would be of the rest of the world?

Ijichi believed both of them felt equally uncomfortable when the man leaned closer to your face.

“What is he…?” he started asking, but Gojo shushed him. Through the rear-view mirror, he saw Gojo was looking attentively too.

Ijichi’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. Was him seeing this really okay? You had been a kind senior to him in your high school days, and this felt like invading your privacy.

He could ask Gojo if they should leave, but he was not sure that any questions would be welcomed by the white-haired man that seemed so invested in the scene in front of your building.

On his end, Satoru felt an increasing pressure in his chest. You had told him you liked him. Why were you letting another man that close? Were you going to kiss him? He had never seen Ikeda kiss you, and he definitely did not want to see it now.

He put his hand on the door handle.

What exactly was he going to say to you now?

Ijichi’s eyes kept going back and forth between you and the man and Satoru on the rear-view mirror. He thought he heard him sigh when you stopped the man’s hand that had touched your face and took a short step back, smiling.

Satoru saw your lips move. You were telling Ikeda something.

Please don’t invite him up. Please don’t invite him up.

Haruki bid you goodbye with a smile and started walking away.

Satoru spared him a look. The streetlights illuminated his figure just enough to notice he was taller than before, but his features had not changed much. You probably had recognized him the second you saw him at that store. Satoru’s eyes returned to you as you entered your building.

“Thanks, Ijichi.” With that, Gojo got off and walked after you.

“[name].”

You were climbing the first set of stairs. “Satoru?” It did not take him long to reach the stairs. “Is everything okay?”

You were glad to see him, but you had not made plans with him today, and although he would come unannounced most times, there was something about his expression that made you think he had rushed here.

He smiled. “It is. I just wanted to see you. Can I come up?”

That’s a first. Since when did he ask for permission to go to your home?

“Sure.”

As you walked to your floor, you took in Satoru’s demeanor. He looked pretty much the same as always, but the almost imperceptible way he was delaying his step, led you to believe there was something in his mind.

“You left the school early,” he mentioned casually.

You nodded. “I finished everything early, and…”, Satoru noticed the slightest bit of hesitation in your voice, “I had plans. Ikeda invited me to dinner; he just left, actually.”

“I think I saw him outside.” Satoru’s voice showed no emotion, but he tried to smile. “He hasn’t changed, right?” The smile did not come out.

“Not much," you agreed.

You reached your floor and headed to your door.

“I had a meeting with Yaga.” Satoru watched you take out your keys.

“How did that go?” Had Yaga told him something that was now occupying his mind?

You entered your key in the lock and looked at Gojo.

That tense smile again.

A turn of your key and the door opened, but Satoru stayed frozen in place, so you did not move either.

“Satoru, did Yaga send you to execute me?”

Of course, you had not done anything worthy of such a drastic action, but why else would he come at this hour looking so stiff?

Gojo laughed and, for a second, he looked like himself. “How did you know?” He followed you inside.

You took off your shoes and said with a grin. “Is that or he sent you to fire me. Which one is it?”

In truth, Satoru was feeling anxious. He had wanted to get a hold of you all week and thought a lot about what he was going to say to you when he did, but now that he had you finally in front of him, his heart felt too loud in his chest, and he could not remember how he had planned to start this conversation.

“Yeah, he said you don’t need to come in tomorrow, but you can expect your pay on Monday.” At least he could still get jokes out.

You smiled and swayed to your small living room, sitting down on the same couch where he had fallen asleep last time you had a movie marathon. He wanted to sit next to you, but he felt too fidgety, so he opted for standing in front of you.

“Now is a good time to prove your friendship to me and tell me you are going to cover my expenses until I find a new job.” You were grinning at him, a gesture he returned.

“Of course. In the other hand, I could let you just starve to death.”

“You wouldn’t.”

He smiled, and you knew it was his way of saying ‘No, I wouldn’t’.

You had been blown away that time you realized one of Satoru’s shirts costed almost as much as everything stored in your wardrobe, except for, maybe, the things Satoru himself had gifted to you, which you no longer wanted to ask the price of. Even though you had scolded him for being so wasteful when it came to presents for you or anyone -the sweater he gave to Shoko for her birthday was not cheap either- you knew that, as extravagant as it looked, he was just generous.

You raised an eyebrow. “You can sit down, you know?”

He licked his lips. “I think I’m good.”

Was he really getting ready to execute you?

You shifted in your seat. “Okay, you are making me nervous now…Are you really…?”

“Just hear me out, okay?” When you nodded, he continued, ignoring the suspicions look on your face. “Remember that time you told me you liked me?”

Your lips parted. Of course you remembered, but you had never expected him to mention it so directly. Was not there an implicit agreement to never talk about it again?

“Back then, I…”

Why was he bringing it up now? Maybe it would have been better being executed...

“I remember. You rejected me.” You averted your gaze. It was the first time you had said it aloud and it tugged at your heartstrings.

Satoru crouched down in front of you. You had seen him do something similar with his students. Right after beating them, he would kneel before them to explain where they had gone wrong in their attack. Was he trying to do that now?

“[name]…”

“We don’t have to talk about it.” You thought it had been long forgotten, and you two were doing fine. There was no need to recall that humiliating chapter of your friendship.

With your faces almost at the same level, Satoru could see your puzzled expression.

“But I want to talk about it. I didn’t…” Satoru was going to say he had not exactly rejected you, but you interrupted him again.

“Why?” You were not angry, but he perceived the same hurt tone he had heard that time. “If you feel uncomfortable, you have no reason to be. It was a crush, Satoru. I don’t know why I said anything. I’m sorry, okay?”

You were not apologizing for liking him, you could never, but if he was bringing it up because he felt weird or if he thought you needed an explanation, you would do anything to save your friendship.

“A crush?” he asked. Just a crush?

That pained him just as much as the look on your face.

“Yes.” Just like that time, your eyes were on his even though he had them covered. “We can forget it. I’m over it.”

Satoru felt as if you were ripping his heart out.

He looked at you. A crush you were done with? That would hurt anyone’s ego, but that was not what pained him. His was not a crush, and what he felt for you would not go away in a matter of weeks or months. Satoru had realized that he had been falling for you for years now, in too deep to ever get out. And you had liked him for a second and now you did not anymore?

Satoru’s gaze landed on your lap and the hand scratching your wrist. You were nervous because you were anticipating an argument or…?

“You are lying,” Satoru stated flatly, and if he had not been wearing the blindfold, his eyes would have pierced your soul when they searched for yours.

He could read you well.

“But I want to get over you.” The way your words came out surprised you. You had told yourself you did not blame him for not reciprocating your feelings; it was not his fault, and he was under no obligation to feel the same way, but you still sounded resentful.

I won’t be a bother, just let me stay as your friend.

Satoru knew he would regret asking, but he did it anyway. “Because of Ikeda?”

Was he still upset about that?

“If you came here to argue about him...”

“Do you like him?” It was a question Satoru had avoided asking you for as long as he could back then. And even after he did, your answer had been simple: it was not like that. But now, what were you going to say?

“Satoru, just…”

It took a second for your mind to fully register what happened next: Satoru leaned forward swiftly, his hand was on your cheek and his lips were on yours. Your eyes had closed by reflex, and his lips, as soft as they looked, were moving against yours.

You reciprocated.

Through the years, always denying you were a couple, in your opinion, none of you had ever crossed any boundaries, except once. Satoru and you had kissed twice before. The first time had been an accident; the second, an attempt to prove that kissing a friend did not mean anything, or that was what Satoru had said.

A suppressed grunt came out of him, and you were reminded of his exact words.

“We are friends, so it doesn’t mean anything, right?”

You pressed your hand to his chest to push him back.

When you separated, you were both a little out of breath, but that was not Satoru’s main concern.

“I can’t believe you are this selfish.” Your voice cracked, and Satoru saw nothing but hurt and sadness in your eyes.

“What?” He had kissed you because he loved you, and he was pretty sure you felt the same when you kissed him back.

You blinked, trying to keep the tears forming in your eyes from falling.

“Why kiss someone you feel nothing for?”

He was dumbfounded. That was not…

“It’s horrible." You had never looked at him this way. "You should leave, Satoru.” You were already escaping his hold and getting up, looking away from him.

In the blink of an eye, Satoru had teleported away, and when you blinked again, all the tears you had been holding back streamed down.

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

Note: I... have nothing say. I'll go and hide somewhere.

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XII

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk #satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x reader #gojo fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #pay it no mind #gojo fluff

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luvhughes43 · 1 year ago

Text

monday morning | lila drysdale au

lila, my love masterlist💐

summary: just some monday morning fluff<3

word count: 0.6k

“Mmm where are you going?” you groan as jamie jostles himself out of bed. he leans over his side and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I have PT this morning,” he replies simply, which brings last night's events rushing back to you. that's right, you thought. Jamie did tell you that he had an appointment last night you were just… too preoccupied to pay much attention to his… words.

jamie straightens up again, and you grasp his arm lightly to pull him back down to you. “I need a proper kiss if you’re going to leave me,”

jamie hums in response, leaning down to properly kiss you on the lips. you both melt into the kiss but before anything has a chance of developing, lilas loud shrieks fill the quiet spaces of your house.

“and… that’s my queue” you sleepily sigh as you pull away from your husband and kick the covers off of you.

“I can go get her,” jamie offers but you easily decline. you had some work to do from home today so it was probably for the best that you woke up now.

“make me a coffee instead?” you ask, to which jamie silently nods.

you walk into lilas nursery and the first thing you notice is her sleepy figure standing up in her crib. she’s leaning against the crib rail, her chubby baby hands holding her upright. she leans back when she sees you open the door, immediately making grabby hands for you.

you pick your girl up with ease, making sure to change her diaper and get her all situated before bringing her downstairs.

jamie, ever the loving husband, put on your favourite background tv show for you to watch while you lay with lila on the couch. “thank you jams,” you mumble softly as you sink onto your plush couch. your daughter rests on top of you, cuddling into you as she watches her dad move around the kitchen from over your shoulder.

you exaggerate a gasp, “is that your dada?”

you watch as lila giggles and smiles, mannerisms exactly like her fathers. “dada!” she repeats, nuzzling her face into your neck when jamie makes a silly face at her.

jamie sets your coffee on the side table beside you, before taking lila into his arms. “hi baby girl!” he coos much to lila’s delight. he rest’s lila on his hip before continuing to go through his morning routine.

“And now, I'm going to put the toast in the toaster!” jamie narrates, encouraging all of lilas babbles with nods and replies. “yeah! And I'm going to put mommys in again because she likes her toast burnt…”

“I like it crispy!” you pipe up from your spot on the couch.

Jamie hums loudly enough for you to hear before stage-whispering, “she likes it burnt” to your giggling daughter.

after drinking half of your coffee, you are awake enough to start helping with breakfast. you cut up some fruit for lila, and then move on to start making jamie’s protein shake. you’ve gotten the process down to a science, and you were quite proud that you managed to make it to your husbands liking. if there’s one thing you learnt about athletes through living with jamie, it’s that they’re very specific with their different drinks and routines.

you hold out the shake to jamie, who awes appreciatively. “have i ever told you that you’re the best wife a guy could ask for?”

“only a million times,” you smile, sticking your cheek towards jamie who swiftly places a kiss there.

“well it's going to be a million and one because you’re the best!” jamie smiles at you, and you can’t help but reminisce on how quickly things have changed between the two of you. one minute you guys are exes who hookup whenever jamie was back in toronto… and now you share a babygirl and have been married for three months. life was so good.

yndrysdale

liked by jamie.drysdale, sandyliang, and others

yndrysdale monday morning🫂💐

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jamie.drysdale my loves❤️

yndrysdale you're my love forever💗

trevorzegras ive got the cutest goddaughter😭😭

wagbff looks like the perfect monday!💘

user01 those flowers are so pretty!!

yndrysdale thank u! jamie has them delivered to the house every monday💗

user02 lila's the cutest baby i'm cryingg

user03 omg what's the third slide?

user04 y/n works with a bunch of designer/fashion brands lol

user05 we dgaf now post jamie

user06 ?

yndrysdale posted to their story!

#lila my love au #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale fic #jamie drysdale blurb #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #nhl fic

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shegatsby · 4 months ago

Note

Heyy,

Hope you are doing well! If you are still open for Hannibal requests, can I request an NBC Hannibal x reader (preferably female or undisclosed) one-shot or headcanons where the reader is a doctor?

Maybe they met at a mutual friend gathering or some sort of event, and there is a medical emergency, so the reader immediately jumps in to stabilise the situation. Such boldness gets Hannibal really interested in her.

~♡~

A/N: HI GUYS! I'm in my prime era. Not me posting everyday lol. Thank you guys so much for your support, love you all. xxx

After working for 18 hours shift Y/N couldn’t even remember how she managed to drive home and threw herself on the soft couch but she woke up on it, in her scrubs, her hair a mess and a dry mouth. She coughed really hard and slowly sat, her head in her palms. She loved her job, she loved helping people that’s why she choose to work in a State hospital instead of a private one. If she worked at a private one her life would be much easier, however she wanted to help people who didn’t have resources to get the treatments, medicine they desperately needed. Over time she got famous for providing medicine without asking any money, talking to other doctors to help patients etc.

She huffed as she stood up, thankfully today was hers and hers only, Y/N had her everything shower, hair masks, face masks, body scrubs, oils and everything. It took her at least 45 minutes but she enjoyed every second of it. Later, she had a late brunch which consisted of bacon and eggs, avocado paste on a warm bread and coffee. She watched her favorite show to laugh a bit. It was The Big Bang Theory. Her day was going great until she had a phone call from a dear friend, Jack Crawford.

The situation was urgent, she knew that the FBI was chasing a killer whose victims were young women in their 20s, Jack called her to tell her that the killer left a living victim behind in the forest, thankfully a woodworker had found her and called 911. Now the poor girl was being transported to the hospital and Jack asked if she could go and check up on her, he added;

‘’You’re the only doctor I trust.’’

She was on her couch, reading a classic when she had the call, it was Jack and she couldn’t say no to him so she immediately got dressed. She wore a black skirt, a white turtle neck, she quickly put on her make-up and left. ‘’I’ll only be there to check up on the patient and that’s it.’’ She said to herself as she was driving to the hospital, ‘’And then I’ll go back home.’’

She was greeted by Alana Bloom, Jack had introduced her to Alana and Will before, they became good friends over time but a tall man standing next to Alana was a stranger to her. ‘’Hello Doctor Y/L/N.’’ the man said, extending his hand, the first thing she noticed was how controlled he was. She shook his big hand, ‘’Hello, I’m sorry have we met before?’’ she had to ask, he smiled but it was a small one. ‘’I’m afraid not. I am Doctor Hannibal Lecter, a psychiatrist who helps your friend Jack Crawford.’’ She nodded, ‘’We’re on the same page then.’’

Together they rode the elevator to the floor where the alive victim being kept, the floor was completely empty, there were two guards at the door. As they entered Jack stood up to greet her, ‘’Thank you so much for coming Y/N.’’ he said, ‘’How could I refuse you Jack.’’ She said as they hugged. Her attention went to the girl laying on the bed, her skin pale as porcelain, her long black hair covering the white pillow like the pit of a dark well. She was sleeping, a weary expression on her pretty face, She had an IV bag on her right, as she observed she had no idea a certain maroon deducing her profoundly. ‘’Here.’’ Jack gave her the reports of the girl. ‘’I want you to be her doctor Y/N.’’

Y/N was shocked, ‘’What do you mean? You asked me to check her vitals and give her doctor my thoughts…’’

Jack seemed uncomfortable, ‘’Y/N, this girl was almost killed and the killer will learn soon enough that he couldn’t finish the job so he’ll most likely come after her.’’ He started explaining, ‘’I want you to be her doctor, when she is recovered physically Hannibal will take over, giving her sessions till she is fully stabilized and free of trauma.’’

Y/N knew Jack just wouldn’t ask her to check up on the patient, ‘’Here I am thinking I have the day off.’’ She rolled up her sleeves, ‘’Don’t worry, I’ll be her doctor and babysitter.’’

Jack knew she would understand, ‘’Thank you, I knew I could trust you. Hannibal also will keep you company just in case if she wakes up we need him to sooth her.’’ With that Y/N turned to face Doctor Lecter, his maroon eyes regarded her deeply, she only nodded. They all left leaving her with Hannibal.

She was reading the file Jack had left, every detail about the killings, the pictures and medical reports were there, ‘’He is active.’’ She found herself saying and then she looked up, ‘’Sorry, I’m just… criminals fascinate me.’’ And then she went back to the reports but Hannibal, turned to her on the arm chair, ‘’How come?’’ he asked casually but he was intrigued. She look up from the papers, ‘’I had criminal psychology lessons when I was studying and.. the way they think, behave, very interesting to study. What are your thoughts on our killer Doctor?’’ she asked, ‘’I am sure you have created a profile by now.’’

With this question Hannibal made his posture more dominant, ‘’Yes, I have.’’ And he began to explain, ‘’The killer has an obsession for beauty in women, he is going after them to cover up what he lacks.’’ It got her attention, ‘’Which is?’’ Hannibal noticed the shimmer in her eyes, ‘’Beauty. I believe he has a deformity, maybe on his face or his body I am not sure yet but once the FBI catches him we’ll have more information. If you want… I can arrange a prison meeting because I will be there frequently to guide the interviews.’’ His offer made her heart beat faster, she had always wanted something like this, ‘’I would love to Doctor, thank you.’’ And then Hannibal asked for her email and phone number which she gladly gave. In the mean time they started to hear beep sounds from the machines, Y/N bolted to her feet to rush, the girl was awake and having an attack, she checked her vitals, they were rising crazy and she pressed the red button to call a nurse, thankfully the nurse rushed in quickly, Y/N listed the injections she needed and the nurse with skill full hands had them ready, Hannibal was watching the scene from the corner, he didn’t want to intrude and let her do her job. She was so calm and determined that Hannibal found himself wanting to get to know her on a more personal level. She was knowledgeable and had a curious mind which was rare to find these days. Once the girl calmed down and her vitals were stable Hannibal watched her thank the nurse, he had never seen something like this before. The nurse smiled and nodded and left them alone.

‘’Miss Y/L/N, would you like to have dinner with me.. at my house?’’ he asked with a calm tone, his hands in his pockets. She smiled warmly, ‘’Sure.’’

Thank you for reading. :)

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monsterswithimagines · 8 months ago

Text

Undisclosed Desires - Part 11

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 951

Masterlist

Guysssss I'm sorry if this sucks. I spent all day at the office wishing I could write and then I got home and people just would NOT leave me alone and I had to keep taking breaks 😭😭. Also I kind of didn't know how I wanted this chapter to go at all but now that I'm past it I'll probably have less trouble.

I'm not mad, (Y/n).

It's been three days and you're still avoiding me, but I'm so not mad that I give Ethan a raise and that I buy Paco dinner twice and that I smile at everyone who walks into Mooney’s. That's how you know I love you: I understand that you need time and space to figure out how you feel. And I can wait. And I don't take it out on others. Love is patient, after all.

And this is love. I know it is. You said I am great, and cute, and ugh, and that means something. But you said it yourself: you are ruining this by avoiding me. And when I text you, you're short with me. Why are you doing this to us? Are you the kind of girl who sabotages good things?

Then you finally text me properly. It's a long string of texts, and I want to ignore you because I'm not mad, but I'm a little disappointed in you, honestly, and I think that's fair. But the more I read, the more I smile, and I know I will not ignore you.

YOU: ok im so sorry i know iv been super distant and rude and that is totally on me and id love to tell u iv just been busy or whatever but the truth is actually that i've kind of been avoiding you?? i know i know im a mega bitch. plz forgive me 🙏🏻

YOU: but heres the thing iv never??? done this before??? like gone on dates and gotten drunk and spilled my guts to a guy and liked a guy

YOU: like this is so embarrassing bc i might just be making a super big deal out of nothing

YOU: iv had like six coffees today im sorry im not making sense

YOU: iv never had a boyfriend before and i dont have any other friends here and also im kind of like. super insecure??? so

YOU: you can interrupt me any minute now

YOU: pls

ME: Just give me a moment.

Ethan isn't here to watch the register but honestly, (Y/n)? I don't care. There's only two people in the store and they've both been browsing forever. They're just going to end up buying books they will never read, so I go into the office and close the door behind me. And then I call you.

You answer right away.

“Hey, you,” you say, embarrassed.

“You should have too much coffee more often,” I tell you.

“Uh, no, never again. I have a horrible headache.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” you assure me. I hear something slam in the background. “Oops.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just rearranging my furniture.”

“Okay. Why?”

“I'm having a… day,” you say. “Sometimes I just have these moments where I have to change something about my life right this second, you know?”

“So you rearrange your furniture and you text guys illiterate love confessions.”

“Illiterate!” you exclaim. “I will have you know I am a copywriter, and I'm very good at my job.”

“Uh huh.”

“My failure to capitalize my texts is entirely on purpose.”

“Right.”

“And so is the lack of commas.”

I keep quiet, and you realize that I called what you sent me a love confession. You don't correct me because you do love me. You do.

“So,” you say. “Thoughts?”

“I like you. I think that's pretty clear. I went to a music festival with you, and the music was terrible.”

You laugh.

“But I don't want to push you into anything. Have you really never had a boyfriend?”

“Well, there was this boy at summer camp when I was twelve. We held hands on the swings and he shared his Nintendo with me. But I don't think that counts.” I've never wanted to kill a twelve-year-old boy before. “Then there was a girl when I was fifteen. I liked her but it turned out she was just, like, experimenting. So was I, really. We lasted two weeks.”

A girl, huh? This isn't something I expected. But I don't react, because I know you want me to react, and you also don't always like to get what you want right away.

“But no,” you conclude. “I've never actually dated anyone before. That doesn't mean you're pushing me.”

You are so brave, (Y/n). You've never been in love with anyone before but here you are, taking charge.

On your end of the phonecall, something else slams. Then something shatters. You curse and someone knocks on the office window, and I hold up my finger at him to indicate one minute.

“Hey,” I say. “Do you want me to come over and help? After work, I mean.”

“No. I mean, yes to coming over, but no to helping. I'll just get annoyed because you're not doing it exactly how I want it to be done.”

“I'll just bring food, then.”

Another kock at the window. I'm going to kill this guy.

“Great! I'm craving pizza,” you say.

“Pizza it is. Toppings?”

“Pepperoni. And jalapenos.”

“You got it.”

“See you tonight, Joe,” you say, but what you really mean is I love you.

We hang up and I go help the man. I am so nice to him, because you have invited me to your apartment. You want me there. You want me to sit on your bed and feed you and watch you move your books around because you love me, and you told me you've never had a boyfriend before which means you think I am your boyfriend now.

Closing time can't come soon enough.

#joe goldberg #penn badgley #you netflix #joe goldberg imagine #joe goldberg x reader #imagine #joe goldberg x female!reader #joe goldberg x y/n #joe goldberg x you #x reader

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homiesexuallaj · 15 days ago

Text

The End

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Genre/Warnings: fluff, angst, sorry guys, first angst ive ever written though so thoughts and comments are appreciated, this is how i'm dealing with my joel miller angst, some hopefully not confusing pov changes, violence, grief, shock, blood, wounds, mentions of death, kinda proofread, open ending :)

A/N: inspired by this tiktok and this tweet

--- --- ---

The way Monday had started was normal.

You'd woken up when movement jostled the bed, no matter how little the other person tried to move. But after the covers were pulled back up over your shoulders and a kiss was pressed to your temple, you drifted right back off. You'd awoken again just a bit later by the smell of coffee. You didn't like coffee, but it was your sign to get up for the day.

The sun was just barely rising outside the apartment windows and there was a chill that still hung heavy in the air. Neither of these facts stopped you from crawling out of bed and padding to the kitchen with bare feet. They also didn't stop you from seeking out the warmth that stood in the kitchen.

"Woah- hey," Bucky had jumped when he felt your arms wrap around his waist. "Getting sneaky."

"Maybe you're just going deaf, old man," You responded with a smile evident in your words, hugging the man tighter and pressing your face into his back.

Bucky was dressed in a simple t-shirt and some athletic shorts, and he smelled like outside. He must've gone for his extra-early morning jog. You couldn't help but wonder if he slept good the night before. No matter how he felt, he met your words with an amused scoff.

Bucky hummed, "Maybe."

He caressed your forearm with a hand, waiting for the toast to make it's frightening birth into the world. He was calm, even peaceful for once. Whether it was from the morning run or the person pressed into his back, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was both. But Bucky didn't dwell on that too long, not wanting to put any energy into his often overthinking thoughts.

Breakfast went by fine. Toast with butter and jam, and an egg or two. Bucky had coffee. You had grape juice.

Bucky always called your choice of breakfast drink childish. It didn't help that you had quite literally been drinking grape juice for breakfast almost every morning since you were a child. It's never stopped Bucky from pouring your little glass of juice himself though, handing it to you with a soft smile on his face.

The morning shower went fine as well. Maybe a little longer than it originally should've. Bucky blamed that on you. You blamed it on his endearingly pathetic begging. Eventually, you two were able to dry off and dress for the day. Though, you had to fight off any wandering hands or prodding fingers.

Definitely later than sooner, you'd both arrived at the compound. You both separated at the elevators, Bucky going up and you going down. While you waited, you pressed into Bucky's side and he kept a hand on your lower back. When the ding of an arriving elevator sounded out, a chaste kiss was exchanged before the limited separation of the day.

Bucky had a few meetings today, doing more sitting than standing than he would've liked. He was restless, always was. Pencil tapping on the notepad. Knee bouncing under the table. Stood in the back and leaned against the wall with crossed arms. Any sign that he'd actually enjoyed being here was the easy conversation with Sam or Steve.

You had a more active day ahead. First a warm-up, workout, then a training session in the gym. The treadmill first. Then, working the muscles in your arms, back, front, and legs. Sparring followed next, usually with Natasha or Clint. Finally, an outside jog around the compound. You followed the path that you knew would be the least busy.

Bucky would catch your movement outside and watch. Meeting be damned. It could've been an email. And yes, he knew how email worked. But, Bucky would watch you jog. The same time every day and almost always the same path. Sometimes he would join you. Not today though. Too many boring meetings.

The rest of your day, you'd work with agents. Training new recruits or freshening up others on certain skills before taking a quick shower and changing into anything other than gym clothes. Then, you settled up a few floors in a conference room with a team. You'd discuss plans, look over blueprints and information, and reconfirm anything that needed it.

At the end of the day, you and Bucky would meet up again on the ground floor of the compound.

You were running a little late today. Nothing too out of the normal. Sometimes you or Bucky would need a bit of extra time to pack up for the day. So, Bucky settled back and scrolled through the phone in his hand. He wasn't really looking though. He was listening. Listening for you.

When the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, Bucky perked up. Both of you did at the sight of each other, and you met each other at the halfway point. With a hug, a chaste kiss, and a question about each other's day, you wandered on back home.

Every Monday night, you tried to make a different type of pasta. Sometimes spaghetti with angel hair, sometimes with penne noodles. Mostly with tomato sauce or rarely with vodka sauce if you were craving it. Sometimes fettuccine alfredo or maybe even a fancy mac and cheese. But tonight was tortellini night, which a chicken filling and pesto sauce. It was oily, maybe a little messy, but good. Even better with buttered bread.

Every night, after dinner, you two would undress from the day and settle down on the couch. Sometimes you’d watch whatever was on tv, or trying out a new show, or try to find a movie to pass the time. Then, when one of you got tired it was time for bed. You always went to bed together. If not, then whoever went to bed first always had trouble falling asleep. Neither of you exactly needed to go to sleep at the same time, just lay down in bed together.

It was the comfort of another person there with you that lulled you both to sleep. It didn’t matter whether you held each other or were back-to-back. Being there was enough. Enough to fall into a sleep that, at the very least, held tolerable dreams. And in the dead of winter, held warmth.

You called Bucky your “personal space heater” because of that.

Tuesday morning came around and you were up first. Crawling out of bed quietly. The sun wasn’t up yet but barely colored the sky with a twilight blue.

You wandered into the living room to stretch any tight muscles or aches and pains from the day before. You never went out jogging this early alone. You may be an avenger-status agent, but you could never be too careful. So, you were happy to settle for some stretches as you, and the rest of the world, woke up.

When the barest hint of yellow peaked over the horizon, that’s when you started coffee. You didn’t like coffee, but Bucky did. And when you put that particular mug underneath the coffee machine’s spout, you heard the creak of a door and the barely-there sound of footsteps. You didn’t jump when you felt two strong arms wrap around you middle, and you leaned back when a face pressed itself into the crook of your neck.

“You’re up early,” Bucky grumbled, voice muffled by skin and low with sleep.

“Mission today, ‘member?” You watched as the coffee sputtered into the mug. You didn’t wrinkle your nose as the smell of caffeine invaded your sinuses. “Leaving early.”

“Canada?” Bucky asks, confirming details you gave him that night before.

You hummed, “Yeah. Two weeks.”

Bucky hummed back, not moving when the coffee flow came to a stop, “ ‘t’s forever..”

“I’ll find you something cool,” You comforted the man, rubbing a thumb across the front of his hands.

Determined for an extra slow morning, Bucky and you made cinnamon rolls. He’d found some with strawberry frosting the other day and wanted to give it a try. So, with his coffee and your grape juice, you both had strawberry frosted cinnamon rolls.

You didn’t even thinking twice when Bucky’s hands exposed skin and dragged you into the shower. It was slow, sweet, and soft. Just taking care of each other. But maybe a little too slow since by the time you two had gotten out the water was cold and your teeth were chattering.

Bucky, still soaking wet, rubbing the towel against your skin to dry you off and warm you up. He’d hurried up and dried himself off afterwards. But when he’d caught sight of your arms crossed over your chest and purple lips, Bucky tried another way of wanting you up. Something slow and sweet, but something that still got your blood pumping.

You two stayed in the bathroom way longer than necessary, but the mirror you stood in front of didn’t unfog anytime soon.

Dressed in layers and tactical gear, empty holsters hidden among your form, with a packed, spare duffle bag. One that was similar to Bucky’s. The only difference was that on one of the main zippers, a shiny little knife pendant hung off. On Bucky’s, a matching gun pendant.

You’d packed essentials, like undershirts, tank tops, shirts, thicker shirts, leggings, tights, too many pairs of socks, hats, gloves, glasses, sunglasses, googles, scarves, face coverings, shoes, boots, ice chains for said shoes and boots, and some personal weapons you had stored around the apartment just in case. You’d done your duty to sneak in a few non-essentials too, like a book or two, a crossword puzzle, some playing cards, a walkman for music, a tape that Bucky made for you, and maybe a picture of Bucky that you slipped into the breast pocket inside your vest that you know you’d end up wearing half, if not all, of the time.

By the time the sun was up, you and Bucky were off to the compound. But you didn’t separate at the elevators like you usually did. He walked you all the way down to the hangar where a jet waited for you and your team. In one hand held your duffle bag, slung over his shoulder. In his other hand, the flesh one, was your bare hand. He’s insisting holding your hand since you made him coffee this morning and he’s barely let go since.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” You murmured to Bucky, arms around his neck to pull him down for a hug.

“Don’t get too hurt, okay?” Bucky hugged you back, duffle bag forgotten on the tarmac and arms tight around your middle.

“I’ll try not to,” You told him. “Don’t got my favorite impromptu nurse to stitch me up.”

Bucky only hummed against you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck once again. He tensed up a little when he felt you pull back, but relented. He’d have to let you go eventually.

You cupped Bucky’s face, eyes flickering across his features like you were trying to memorize him. Maybe you were. You felt like you needed to this time. You weren’t sure why.

“Behave, alright?” You titled your head, looking into those emotional, stormy blues of his.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Bucky told you, hands still gripping your ribcage. He looked down at you like you were his world. Perhaps you were. You’d never really know though.

“No promises,” You tried to joke with a wink. You were only met with a barely contained expression, one mixed with longing and maybe a bit of fear. You didn’t know why though.

“Don’t lose your tracker,” Bucky ordered, tone turning a little gruff. His hands moved up to grab your cheeks instead, pressing his lips to your forehead in the middle of his sentence.

“Never,” You told him, closing your eyes and leaning into his touch. You gave it a few moments before speaking up, “Gotta go, Buck.”

“I love you,” Bucky told you when he finally pulled away, his hands still on your face.

“I love you too,” You responded, grabbing onto his wrists.

“No,” Bucky gave a subtle shake of his head. “I love you.”

You huffed through a soft smile. You knew what that meant. “I love you too. I’ll come home. Don’t be such a worry wort.”

With a final kiss and hauling your duffle bag over your shoulder, you boarded the jet and picked a window seat in the fancy cabin. It was on the same side that Bucky stood on, and you gave him a wave and a reassuring smile as the plane began to roll away.

Bucky didn’t move. He crossed his arms and kept his feet planted. He waved back when you waved, but otherwise kept his arms crossed. His sharp eyes didn’t move from the plane as it rolled away and turned down the runway. His head didn’t even turn when someone joined him on his right. Bucky stood there until the plane turned from view, and then a little longer until he couldn’t hear the engines anymore.

The first two days of the mission were for settling into the base up in Canada, getting a feel for the equipment, and setting a few of the minor cogs in your team’s plan into motion.

There was a lab up here, far up in Canada. They specialized in biology, serums, and splicing genomes. They made creatures, monsters. Played God. Any living creature they could get their hands in the arctic ended up in their labs. It was unethical. And people started going missing and unknown creatures prowled the night.

Your team needed to come up here and take down the lab. Dismantle its sturdy posts, capture its scientists, and do the humane thing with the creatures and put them down. It was dangerous and needed a few members of your team to go undercover. But it would be fine. Everything would be fine.

The first week and a half was focused on getting a foot in the door of the lab, getting information, and learning the ins and outs of the building. And when the tech team practically knew the layout of the lab like the back of their hands, that's when the rest of you could be sent in.

Alarms blaring, red lights flashing, and the small emergency lights guiding your way through the hallways. The air was heavy with smoke and something that stuck to your skin like mist. The lab was on lockdown. No one got in. No one got out. Any living persons were in here with you as much as you were in here with them.

Gun in hand, you stalked down the hallways. The halls were uncharacterisitcally bare in this wing. You didn't let your guard down, but you had felt comfortable enough to send your teammate that was paired with you another way to cover more ground. Your steps were silent and shoulders hunched as you kept both hands wrapped around your little pistol.

Something clattered somewhere ahead of you. You checked down a hallway before proceeding, aware of your surroundings that flashed in and out of your vision. But not aware enough.

You didn't even have a chance to fight back before you blacked out.

Everything hurt. Your shoulders, your back, your ribs, your face. Your face was wet, warm and cold at the same time. You couldn't see very well. Everything was blurry. You couldn't hear very well either. It's like someone had put cotton swabs in your ears. Except the cotton swabs pounded, a slow, heavy thump. It was almost like a heartbeat. Was it yours?

You knew you were on the floor. Pathetically slumped down flat, like someone merely dropped you there. The concrete was hard and cold, and a little damp. And so cold. You didn't shiver though. Or maybe you couldn't. You felt heavy, weak. Like your body weighed more than it actually did.

And it hurt to breathe. Your lungs filled slowly, shallowly. Something pinched at your ribcage and soaked through your tactical gear. You made no noise as you breathed, though. Something slow. Something quiet. Dead, if you didn't pay enough attention.

You knew there were figures, people maybe, here in the room with you. Their voices were muffled and you were too tired to listen. You didn't even move when a loud bang assaulted your sensitive ears, didn't blink either. Just lay there. Heavy. Weak. Tired. Tired.. so tired.

You didn't react as you heard muffled shouting, grunting, and shuffling noises. All of which were accompanied by a loud, heavy thump against the ground.

---

Bucky had been anxious after you left.

You went on missions without him all the time. Somehow, this one felt different. Certain of something. It sat in his chest and beat at his heart like an abuser.

The only things that kept him calm were the progress reports Sam passed to Bucky and the steady blinking light of your tracker, accompanied by all your other teammate's trackers. But when it flickered out. No. When it completely shut off. That's when Bucky's anxiety went through the roof. He didn't even give Steve or Sam any doubt about his decision about going up to Canada as backup.

You were his mission. And he was going to do his damndest to complete that mission to the best of his ability.

The jet had barely landed before Bucky hopped down, tearing through the lab's thick metal lockdown protocols and storming through the leftover chaos toward the last area your tracker had pinged, all by himself. He left the other backups behind to deal with their own priority because Bucky had his.

The mad-driven super soldier had burst through the door like a tornado. But the storm stopped just a few steps into the room because those dark blue eyes had spotted you.

You. Broken, beaten, bloody, half dead. Laid out on the floor like a bloody sack of flour that had spilled out. You didn't even react to his aggressive entrance. Were you breathing? Were you alive? You had to be.

Bucky would know if you died. He would've felt it the moment it happened. Like when a mother loses her child. They just know the second it happens. Squeezing at their chests and knocking their knees back and leaving them a mess on the floor.

Before Bucky could react, lash out and shoot every last one of them, three bodies were on him. Coming at him from the left, then the right. Shoving him down by his shoulders and kicking his knees from behind. The third coming in to hold him down by his legs. He'd barely reacted. No fight. No flight. Only freeze. The strong soldier felt weak, face pressed into the concrete and eyes locked on yours. He felt sick. Bucky hadn't even realized he was crying, practically dry-heaving until he called your name with a tentative voice.

"Get up," Bucky urged. He could feel his hands shaking.

You didn't move, didn't even blink your barely half-opened eye. You made no move that you even registered his words. If not for the way your back just barely moved with each breath you took, Bucky would've thought you were dead.

---

Everything was muffled. The sights. The sounds.

Your lungs felt sticky, but you had no urge to cough. At this point, those muscles might not even work anymore.

Your ears rung and blood pounded in your ears. Was the familiar thump slower now? Maybe even a little weaker? You had no idea. But when something broke through the haze of moribund, something spiked in your sternum.

Everything was still blurry, whether from weakness or the blood dripping over your lashline, you weren't sure. But, you still saw Bucky. Pressed into the concrete forcefully instead of bleeding into the rock like you were. You saw lips move, saw the tears on his face and the way air didn't seem to stay in his body, and the desperation pulling at his features, but you didn't hear him. Not at first. But the next words were muffled but clear enough.

Bucky had called your name again, more aggressively this time, "-fucking get up!"

You could see the way Bucky's brows were furrowed, the way his lips curled as he spoke. But the words meant nothing to you. Just because you heard him didn't mean you were listening.

More muffled words from someone unfamiliar and then pain. First, to your ribcage, then another hit to your sticky face. You would've groaned or cried if you could. Instead, you just lay there, limply. You didn't retaliate or make a noise, and that broke Bucky's heart. Maybe you were farther gone than he thought you were..

"Please stop!" Bucky pleaded, looking up and away from you. He heaved in another breath. "Please don't do this!" He had sobbed in the middle of his words, a barely there cough shaking his words.

You could just barely make out the way Bucky struggled against his captors, who had then forced him back down into the concrete. His brows were furrowed, nose scrunched, and lips curled.

Bucky had never felt so weak before. His body was incapable of fighting back. The shock coursing throughout his system squeezed his muscles dry of their usual strength. His desperation for you to fight back, to get up, to do something only grew as he watched you lay there.

Bucky called your name again, voice raw and pitched, “Please get up!”

You didn’t.

And Bucky struggled again, grunting and practically dry heaving as he sobbed. He could feel his captors trying to maintain his struggling, but you could only contain a super soldier for so long. He would only stay in shock for so long.

You could do nothing but watch. Your body felt heavier and heavier. It just keeps getting harder and harder to breathe and that taste of iron on your tongue is more potent now. And you’re so cold. Probably from the concrete. Hopefully from the concrete..

A shadow moves and catches your eye. The only sign of life from you is the flicker of you eye as you go to catch the movement. You don’t get to figure out what it was before a voice screams “No!”, all raw and heartbroken and rough around the edges.

An ear ringing bang follows.

Everything goes black again.

#hi guys #:]#I am not sorry #aj posts #marvel #bucky barnes #marvel x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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