#now i can actually realize when i have a thought that boils down to ‘if i try hard enough i can become perfect’

[thevibraniumveterans]

Ok, can’t believe I didn’t realize this until like 3 minutes ago, but in his childhood, the only types of physical contact were all negative, and if I’m assuming right, his dad would beat him and hit him. I don’t know if his mom ever raised her hands against him, but it still didn’t help matters.

Then along came Yelena.

She means him no harm, and in fact was the first person who did NOT seek to manipulate or harm him in any way or form. Outside the incinerator chamber, she takes him aside and talks to him as a fellow person. Never once did she ever raise her hands against him. She sees him as someone to protect, someone who deserves the care he never quite received as a child, someone who is just as if not more broken than she is. It’s not pity that she shows him; she sees him and understands him. She is gentle with him, but doesn’t treat him as if though he might shatter at any moment. She shows concern for him. She cares about him.

I’d previously left my thoughts in comments on other posts, but I’d like to point out that while I really, REALLY like their dynamic (and whatever it is that they have going on), I don’t know if *I* personally see them together as a couple. That said, their relationship and dynamic does actually share characteristics of various types of other relationships and dynamics, so it’s not that easy to boil it down to one of several descriptors. What they have, has characteristics of friendship AND family (motherly, sisterly).

The bond that they have is really quite distinct, and transcends any kind of labels. There are multiple arguments to be made in favor of opinions such as “is she like a sister to him?” (Yes.), “is she his friend?” (Also yes.), “is she part of his newfound family now?” (Unsurprisingly, yes.), “can they be a couple?” (Sure, I guess.) And ALL CAN BE TRUE at the same time! They’ve formed an emotional connection with each other. She’s the light in his darkness, his grounding force, his tether to reality. He’s the brother she gained, the family she needed, the friend she can believe in. He asks for her when he doesn’t see her; she sees him at his highest AND lowest and still does not judge.

They are each other’s person and don’t need labels. Is it not too much to ask that they just exist outside of typical adjectival relationship descriptors, because they’re not typical in any way, shape, or form? They’re just as if not more broken than the rest of their teammates, and while they might not make each other whole, they still matter enough to each other.

There are so many other ways to describe their relationship and dynamic.

She makes him feel safe and accepted.

In two separate interviews with the New York Times and Men’s Health Magazine, Lewis Pullman says that Bob and Yelena’s chemistry was informed by the real life dynamic he had with his castmate Florence Pugh, saying:

“She is one of the first people who really sees him. They have this commonality of desperateness for connection and for meaning. That was something that I related to with Florence. She was so generous and compassionate toward me coming into this world. She saw that I felt like I didn't belong and didn't feel like I was going to be able to ever rid myself of this impostor syndrome. And she took it upon herself to be a very supportive, not just castmate, but friend. And that's hopefully what you see on camera.”

And

“So much of it comes down to Florence just being an outlier of a person and an artist. She is so full of joy and humor, and she experiences life in such a rich way. She doesn't let any moment pass without being very conscious and deliberate about it. I grew very close to her, and very fond of her, because she also took me under her wing. I think it was very much reminiscent of when she first joined the Marvel Universe and how intimidating it was. I felt instantly like I was in good hands. I trusted her. And so I owe it all to her. You know, anything that feels like it was real on camera was the result of Florence being so gracious, and human, and embracing.”

The way he describes his dynamic with Florence Pugh could also be used to describe what Bob has with Yelena.

❗️❗️spoilers Thunderbolts* ❗️❗️

So I noticed they were very tactile...And since the start!!!

Can we take a minute to talk about it 🫠

[loverboybrightsideghost]

fuck i really am a perfectionist FUCK

[piscesmerc26]

Shining a light on “unfavorable” placements. pt.1

Within astrology, I notice a lot of people addressing only the dark sides of dark placements. These placements being considered as unfavorable and or “unfortunate”. However, tougher aspects/placements are generally considered to be gifts, though they are challenges, I see them as direct callings on what allows the individual to reach success. I am not a professional but these are patterns/observations I make from personal experience and life all around me. Now buckle up, this’ll be a long post, I’ll be discussing only planetary/object placements, next part will be aspects however, less descriptive.

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12H & 8H Suns and Moons

12H Suns are considered to be unfavorable however, this placement is actually a gift, though the sun is “shadowed” in this area; individuals with 12H are actually here on a mission, though it is bleak to see, individuals with this placement have power and it’s not even locked potential, it’s just power that they cannot see themselves but naturally exude. 12H suns are directly connected to the subconscious, they have this “one foot in one foot out” approach to reality, they are immensely creative and are gifted with compassion at early ages, though they don’t realize it, they tend to be ahead of the game in the early stages of life

12H Moons; these individuals are given heavy emotions, probably even a transformative connection with their mother, their emotions is where their spiritual knowledge lies, they have strong intuition and are the true empaths of astrology. Those with this placement are driven by their feelings, they know the ins and outs and have all the secrets, this is more hidden/internal knowledge, similar to 12H suns, they can gain a lot of knowledge later in life

Now 8H Suns/Moons are similar to one another. Individuals with these placements have true power in them, and they are gifted with depth and intensity that people are actually afraid of. These are the type of people to get told something toxic about themselves and they hit you with a “I know.” or they will outwardly tell you themselves (If other points in the chart agree). They are masters when it comes to shadow work and they are constantly changing–if you don’t see them for at least a month and they come back, their mindset could have taken a complete 180, for better or for worse. The 8H expands everything it touches, it creates an intense amount of depth to the matter. These individuals also tend to have a lot of people that will outwardly try to put them down, whether it is directly or indirectly, they also tend to have karma on their side. Their Image(Sun) and their emotions(moon)are heavily protected and praying on these individuals' downfall is like asking for a spiritual ass whooping.

Mercury in Pisces & Sagittarius:

Having Mercury in Pisces is an unfavorable placement, these individuals could be seen as forgetful, in a constant cycle of daze, and emotionally detached. However, the thoughts that boil within the brain of this placement is insane. I mean, we have a civil rights activist and a famous genius with this placement, if that doesn’t tell you anything idk what to tell you. These individuals are gifted with a lot of creativity, their thoughts actually run a mile a minute, they are typically well versed in various hobbies, these are the type of people if you ask what they do they might not give you one answer and hang around them long enough, you will see them having a new hobby every week. The ADHD masters, they’ll tell you they never played an instrument and hop on and immediately sound like an intermediate musician. These people have seen and heard it all, they are intelligent and their words hold weight. They say one thing and it’ll last you a lifetime, their advice sits in the back of people’s minds, their words are food for the soul, everything they say is more calculated and meaningful than even they think themselves. Truly underrated.

Next my lovely Sagittarian Mercuries. These individuals could be seen as rude, blunt, obnoxious, and or lacking emotional depth but just like their jupiterian sister pisces; they are much wiser than they put on. These individuals are witty, they are intelligent, they are humorous, their words hold power as well, they tell the truth and they build people up, they’re down to earth and self-assured, they have a way of making people listen, they are captivating in their words and can be lyrically gifted, natural poets in their own way.

Cadent Dominant Placements:

Being Cadent Dominant in my learnings is considered to have most of your placements within the 3H, 6H, 9H, and 12H. In addition, in case you don’t know, cadent houses are the houses further away from the angular houses and after the succedent houses, they tend to be where the most work has to happen are seen as challenging placements to have. Now, these individuals are smart as fuck, for lack of a better term. They are gifted with an inner drive, a drive that not many people will see or understand but themselves, these individuals have the power of moving masses. Though their efforts are indirect, they tend to hit people when it’s least expected–driven, misunderstood and powerful. 3H placements are well versed in communication, 6Hers know how to get shit done, 9Hers and 12Hers are mass movers and the backbone influencers. Having these placements indicate someone important, possibly even beyond a metaphysical sense. They don’t stop until they win and their perseverance is remarkable just as their lives are.

Saturn/Uranus/Pluto Ruled or Dominance (etc.)

Talk about “fuck around and find out”, these indivudals are like the older or even the middle children in astrology, many people with significant Pluto/Saturn/Uranus in their chart, this includes being ruled(MC & ASC), having it as a dominant planet, placed within the 1H, or aspecting Sun/Moon/Asc–tend to be protected like crazy. They tend to go through a lot of inner struggle and tend to constantly have something to work on, it’s like once they’re done with one lesson they’re given another. It’s like being stuck with chores all day and you’re finally done with your last one and once you’re about to step outside or go to your room to lay down, their parents call them and ask them to do something else and the cycle goes on lol. These individuals are resilient and are hardworking, they’re unique and nothing generally gets past them, you fuck with them, you’re fucking with their team as well, and best believe the universe is ready to dish back what you sent in tenfold; this even applies to the individual, but they rarely fuck up cause they know how it can get everytime. Gifted with power, control and drive, these individuals are goal-oriented, they don’t let anything get in their way and if there is even a slight indication of a distraction about to occur, they shut it down real quick. I like this.

Saturn in Angular Houses (1H, 4H, 7H, 10H) and HM: 5H.

Saturn in these houses are hard hitting. Cracking my knuckles because I’m about to go IN. I will state the

To start, Saturn in the 1H, these individuals are constantly met with lessons that have to do with their identity, they will be put in situations where they are physically limited and their identity is limited/restricted, these people will obsess over themselves and hold themselves to a high standard. However, even through this, these individuals not only directly have karma on their side, but they are ultimately gifted with a deep knowing of self, they build their identity and it is a literal weapon to anyone who brings murky intentions into their world, simply because of how resilient they are and how much they worked through restriction in the past.

For Saturn in the 4H, they may have had issues that involved restriction with their family, this is heavy because they sat through that for their entire lives, up to 18 and possibly even further than that. These individuals weren’t able to make a house a home or generally find a proper home. In their older years, they work with this energy to make a place for themselves and others, they have the power of compassion and comfort.

For Saturn in the 7H & 5H, these individuals are known to have tough luck in love, relationships are rare and if they have many relationships, they are often restrictive and unsatisfactory. They may struggle additionally with their sense of worth and bear a false outlook on love. However, in some moments in their younger years and in their older years, they possess deep knowledge on love, they seem to take it seriously and their love is rich, they are gifted with deep compassion and the ability to be long term with other people. They have unforgettable love, and they are typically unforgettable people as a whole.

Lastly for Saturn 10H, these people could feel restricted career wise, they may feel that they’re always being attacked in their reputation and are held from their true potential, however, they actually overextend themselves more than what they were meant, they can influence and hold a lot of power.

These can also be applied to Pluto as well, with more of a transformative foundation, however, Saturn and Pluto tend to be both extremely transformative planets.

Chiron in Succedent Houses (2H, 5H, 8H, 11H)

These placements tend to fit in a similar category, they are often scarred with themes that are prioritized in life; Money, Fun, Transformation and Community. They tend to see others experience joy and balance within these themes however, they find that this is the source of their trauma and unhealthy codependency that they desire to break away from. Ultimately, these individuals are gifted with strength and influence, they are creative, influential and open-minded when conflicts are properly addressed.

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In this post, I went into depth on placements that have more power than what is spoken about them; however, the dark tends to hold more truth about the light than the light does of itself. The placements listed are powerful and resilient, gifted with all sorts of things, and if you believe that something in your chart is insignificant, understand that astrology is a tool to access potential, it can hint at traits but it is not a concrete definition because there are other calculations that exist and have existed even beyond Traditional Western astrology. Next part will be on aspects, thank you for reading.

- J🧡

[tqlepatiia]

words we can’t take back | b. barnes

masterlist | pt.2

summary: after a mission gone wrong, bucky lashes out, leaving y/n hurt by his harsh words. now drowning in guilt, bucky must find a way to apologize before it’s too late, but y/n isn’t ready to forgive so easily. can he fix what’s been broken?

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: angst, emotional distress, heartbreak, toxic relationship dynamics, arguments, mention of mental health struggles, potential triggers related to emotional abuse, strong language, and feelings of inadequacy.

word count: 5.9k

The mission had been a disaster from the start. Tension crackled in the air, the kind that always seemed to precede trouble. Bucky Barnes felt it in his bones, a tightness that grew with every wrong turn. It had been a simple extraction, but when they walked into a trap, chaos erupted. The sounds of gunfire ricocheted around him, the explosions reverberating through his chest like a war drum, drowning out his thoughts. But when he glanced at you—his partner, his anchor—something twisted in his gut.

In the aftermath, the wreckage of what had gone wrong stretched before him. Bodies lay scattered, their lifeless forms stark against the smoky haze, and the acrid scent of burning metal stung his nostrils. You stood there, bruises marring your skin, and your eyes, once sharp and defiant, now dulled by exhaustion. Bucky had seen too much, been through too much, and the anger inside him simmered, ready to boil over. How could this have gone so wrong?

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, his voice a harsh whip in the stillness. His jaw was clenched, and his glare could’ve burned holes into you. “You almost got yourself fucking killed, you know that?”

Your breath caught, heart sinking at the venom in his tone. “I was doing my job, Bucky. I thought you had my back.”

“Had your back?” He stepped closer, fists clenching at his sides, every muscle taut with pent-up fury. The adrenaline from the fight morphed into something more destructive. “You’re a goddamn liability! You keep throwing yourself into danger like you can’t be hurt. What the hell is wrong with you?”

The words hit you like a punch, each one a jagged edge cutting deeper than the last. You could feel the weight of his anger pressing down on you, suffocating. “I didn’t ask for a babysitter,” you shot back, bitterness lacing your voice. “Maybe I’m the one who should be questioning if you’re fit to be my partner!”

Bucky’s expression hardened, eyes narrowing like a predator’s. This isn’t just about the mission, he thought, grappling with the frustration of watching you walk into danger. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have to worry about saving your ass all the damn time. If I wanted to deal with this shit, I’d find someone who actually knew how to handle themselves. I’m sick of dragging you through every godforsaken fight!”

Every accusation felt like a dagger, twisting in the wound he had just opened. You could see the pain and anger simmering in his eyes, but it was all directed at you. “You think I wanted this? I’m not the one who fucked up in the field! I thought we were a team!”

His laugh was bitter, devoid of humor, echoing against the wreckage around you. “Team? That’s a joke. You don’t get to call it a team when I’m the one stuck cleaning up your shit. I’m done with it. You’re not my equal; you’re just a goddamn burden.”

The air grew thick with tension, and you fought back tears, the tremor in your hands betraying you. “Maybe I should just leave, then,” you said, voice trembling but defiant. “If I’m such a problem, why don’t you find someone who doesn’t drag you down?”

The silence that followed was deafening. You turned away, trying to keep your composure, but you could feel his gaze burning into your back—a mix of anger and something softer, more vulnerable, that he refused to acknowledge. His heart pounded as the realization hit him: I pushed her away when she needed me the most. What the hell was I thinking?

As you walked away, the weight of his words hung heavily in the air between you, suffocating. Each step felt like a fracture in your heart, the distance growing more unbearable with every inch. Bucky stood there, feeling the echoes of his harshness fill the void where your connection once thrived. The realization settled in, and he knew this wasn’t over. How the hell do I fix this?

But as the dust settled around him, all he could feel was emptiness, a tidal wave of regret crashing over him, leaving him alone in the aftermath of his own making.

Days blurred together into an indistinguishable mess. The tension between you and Bucky hung thick in the air, suffocating, wrapping around him like a vice grip. He paced the empty halls of the compound, the rhythmic echo of his boots against the cold metal floors mirrored the chaos in his mind. Each step felt heavier than the last, a relentless reminder of the moment that played on a loop in his head—the hurt in your eyes when his careless words had cut deep.

Memories flooded back: your laughter in the training room, the way you encouraged him during his darkest moments. He had crossed a line he never intended to, letting his anger spew out like poison, each word a dagger aimed straight at your heart. Guilt clawed at him, a beast gnawing at his insides, turning his stomach into knots. Every time he caught a glimpse of you, it felt like a punch to the gut, the weight of regret settling like a stone in his chest.

The silence of the compound was palpable, broken only by the distant hum of machinery. He’d find you in the training room, pouring every ounce of your energy into your workout, the fierce determination radiating off you like a fire. Your tear-streaked face haunted him, a ghost he couldn’t shake. You weren’t just a teammate; you were everything to him. The thought of losing you felt like ice water dousing his heart, leaving him gasping for air, desperate to rewind time.

“Hey, Buck,” Sam said one day, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, the faint scent of sweat and metal mingling in the air. “You good, or are you just gonna sulk like an old man all day?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky shot back, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue, his eyes averted. He could feel Sam’s scrutinizing gaze piercing through his façade.

“Seriously, man, you think I can't see through that? There’s a damn storm brewing in that head of yours,” Sam pressed, his tone a mix of concern and teasing familiarity. “You gotta talk to her. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. It’s like watching a damn dog chase its own tail—ain’t gonna end well, and I’m not about to sit here and watch you make a mess of it.”

Bucky nodded, but the weight of his guilt felt like chains wrapped tight around his heart, squeezing the air from his lungs. What the hell could he even say? The fear of facing you loomed larger than any mission he’d ever tackled—a monster lurking in the shadows, making him feel weak and exposed. He clenched his fists, jaw tightening, as he fought against the rising tide of anxiety.

Closing his eyes, he leaned against the wall, fighting the urge to scream. He remembered how you had stood by him, even when the nightmares clawed at him in the night. You deserved better than his careless words, better than the pain he had caused. The metallic scent of sweat mixed with the lingering aroma of stale coffee filled the air, reminding him of the countless nights spent together, talking and laughing. Those memories felt like a beacon, drawing him closer to the confrontation he dreaded yet craved.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, pushing off the wall, each step toward you heavy with uncertainty. His heart raced as he imagined your reaction—would you forgive him? The thought of laying his broken heart bare to you, the one person who meant everything, filled him with dread and hope.

As he approached, the distance between you felt like a chasm. He was ready to confront the mess he’d made, but the fear of your disappointment loomed over him like a dark cloud. Sam watched him go, shaking his head with a faint smile, knowing his friend was finally stepping up to make things right.

It was time to face the music, to turn back the clock on the mistakes he had made. The symbol of his guilt—the small, worn-out dog tag you had given him before a particularly tough mission—burned in his pocket, a constant reminder of the bond he desperately wanted to restore.

In that moment, he knew he had to find the courage to bridge the gap between them, to reclaim what was lost before it slipped through his fingers forever.

After what felt like a damn eternity, Bucky finally gathered the guts to knock on your door. Each knock echoed in the silence, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between you two. He stood there, heart pounding, fists clenched, feeling the weight of guilt that had settled in his chest like lead. Memories flooded his mind—your laughter during training sessions, quiet moments together in the compound, and the way your smile had once lit up even the darkest days. It all felt so far away now, a reminder of how easily he could lose it.

“Go away,” you called, your voice muffled but laced with hurt.

“Y/N,” he pleaded, desperation creeping into his tone. “I need to talk. Just… let me in, alright?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his mind racing with all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t quite grasp.

Silence hung in the air like a noose, heavy and suffocating. Each second stretched into an eternity, amplifying the tension until, finally, the door creaked open just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your face—red and puffy from tears, eyes shadowed with pain. It felt like a punch to the gut.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you said coldly, arms crossed defensively, trying to shield yourself from the storm he had caused.

“I know. I messed up,” he replied, his voice thick with regret. He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. “And I can’t—” He faltered, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I can’t take back what I said. I was scared, and I lashed out. You mean too damn much to me for that. Just… let me explain.”

You stepped back, letting him in but hesitating, your anger and hurt crackling in the air like static electricity. Bucky could feel the tension radiating off you, could see how you trembled with barely contained rage. The faint hum of the compound’s machinery buzzed in the background, underscoring the silence between you.

“Bucky, you can’t just waltz in here and throw around apologies like they’re candy. It’s not that fucking simple,” you said, your voice shaking as emotions boiled over. “Do you even get what your words did to me? They cut deeper than you can imagine.”

The memories of your last argument flashed in his mind—how he had yelled, how his words had sliced through the fragile trust you had built. He could still hear your voice trembling, see the hurt in your eyes. It haunted him.

“I know it’s not,” he said, voice rising as frustration bubbled to the surface. “But you have to understand—I never meant to hurt you. I was scared as hell of losing you. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I took it out on you. I thought I could keep you safe, but I fucking failed, and I can’t live with that.” He avoided your gaze, staring at the floor, ashamed of the turmoil he had caused.

You turned your gaze away, fury igniting. “You think being scared gives you the right to hurt me? Those words stick with you. They don’t just disappear because you suddenly want to make things right. You shattered something in me, Bucky, and you expect me to just let it go?” The air was thick with the weight of your words, each one a dagger aimed at his heart.

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his regret. “I’m not gonna pretend this doesn’t matter. I want to make things right. You’re not just some partner in this crazy shit; you’re everything to me. I’m so damn sorry, Y/N.”

A heavy silence fell between you, thick with unprocessed emotions. Tears glistened in your eyes, anger mixed with pain as you struggled to hold back the flood. Bucky could see your fingers trembling, as if you were fighting against the urge to reach out for him, to seek comfort from the very person who had hurt you.

“You’re sorry? That’s it? Do you think that’s enough? You can’t just toss around ‘I’m sorry’ and act like everything’s fine! Do you have any idea what it feels like to have the person you love turn on you like that?”

Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but the truth of your feelings hit him like a freight train. It shattered him, the realization crashing down harder than any blow he’d ever taken. “I didn’t mean to fuckin’ hurt you like that. I—”

“Didn’t mean to?” you snapped, frustration boiling over. “But you did! You meant every single word when you said I wasn’t enough! It’s like a poison, Bucky! Every time I look in the mirror, I see your words haunting me!”

“Y/N…” he pleaded, stepping closer, but you backed away, shaking your head fiercely. The space between you felt like an insurmountable chasm, filled with hurt and distrust.

“No! You don’t get to touch me. Not after what you said. I don’t want your pity. I want my trust back! I want to feel safe with you again, but how the hell can I when you’ve torn me apart like this?” The pain in your voice twisted like a knife in his gut.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he begged, desperation bleeding through his words. “I can give you space. I’ll listen—just don’t shut me out. I can’t lose you.” He reached out, almost instinctively, but stopped short, respecting your boundary. The small bracelet you used to wear, the one he had given you, lay forgotten on the table—its absence felt like a symbol of the trust now shattered between you.

“Maybe… maybe I need time,” you finally said, voice soft but resolute, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I can’t keep waiting for you to figure out how to treat me with the love and respect I deserve. I can’t be your punching bag.”

“Take all the time you need,” he replied, his heart sinking deeper. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you. Just… I hope you can find it in you to forgive me.” His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fears of a future without you.

You nodded slowly, the weight of the moment hanging heavily between you. Bucky turned to leave, each step dragging him down like a lead weight. The distant sounds of the compound faded as he walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He wanted to scream, to punch the walls, to erase the hurt, but he knew he had to be patient. You needed time, and he would wait, even if it felt like forever.

As he walked away, the door closing behind him, Bucky felt a hollow ache settle in his chest—a deep emptiness that screamed for your forgiveness, for your presence. But he also knew he deserved the pain, the anguish he had caused. The only thing that mattered now was making things right, even if it took an eternity.

Days turned into weeks, and Bucky kept his distance, lurking on the edges of your life like a goddamn ghost. He was always there, a shadow in the background, never truly present, waiting for the moment you’d find it in yourself to forgive him. It was a tormenting cycle for him, hanging around the periphery of your world, the weight of his own mistakes bearing down like an anchor. He often caught himself recalling the laughter you once shared, memories of late-night talks and quiet moments that now felt like a distant dream. Those memories twisted in his gut as he watched you from afar, stealing glances during training, his gaze lingering near the kitchen where you used to share coffee and laughter, searching for a connection that felt like it was slipping through his fingers. But every time he made a move, the pain in your eyes sent him retreating, a constant reminder of the hurt he’d caused and the love that now felt so fragile.

One evening, the hum of the common room enveloped you, filled with the clatter of dishes and faint laughter from the team, but all you could focus on was the ache in your heart. You were scrolling through your phone, desperately trying to distract yourself when Bucky appeared in the doorway, hesitant and guarded. Your heart clenched at the sight of him—a mix of longing and sorrow flooding you, drowning out the world around you.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and rough, as if he was still wrestling with the demons of his past.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice flat, a careful mask of strength concealing the turmoil inside. You wanted to scream, to let him know how much his presence hurt, but part of you still craved the warmth he brought.

“Can we talk?” His words hung in the air like a fragile lifeline, one you weren’t sure you could grab onto.

You nodded, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. “Make it quick,” you shot back, your tone sharper than intended, trying to keep the emotions at bay.

He stepped closer, eyes searching yours with a desperation that twisted your gut. “I need to say it again—for everything. I know it doesn’t mean much after the shit I pulled, but I swear I’m trying to fix this. I’m really working on myself.” As he spoke, he clenched his fists, fingers digging into his palms, a physical manifestation of the guilt that gnawed at him. “I just… I can’t keep running from this. I need you to know that.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the pressure of his words weighing down on you. “I’m trying to work through it, Bucky. But I can’t pretend everything’s fine just because you say you’re sorry.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he said, frustration cracking his calm facade. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unable to meet your gaze. “But you need to understand how damn much you mean to me. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I won’t let that happen.”

Your heart ached at his confession, but anger flared within you. “You hurt me, Bucky. You can’t just wipe that away with a few nice words.”

“I know, I know! I’m fucking sorry, alright?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls. “I didn’t mean it. I was scared, and I lashed out. But you’ve gotta see how much I regret it, damn it!”

“Scared?” you spat, bitterness thick in your voice. “You don’t get to use your fear as an excuse for the pain you caused me!”

“Then what the hell do you want from me?” His voice rose, desperation lacing every word. “You’re acting like I’m a goddamn ghost! I’m right here, trying to fix this!”

“Because I need to protect myself!” you yelled back, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Every time I try to forgive you, you mess it up again! I can’t trust you when you keep hurting me!”

The silence that followed felt like a chasm between you, both of you breathing heavily, emotions spiraling out of control. Bucky’s shoulders sagged, the weight of your words crushing him. He thought of the little trinket you gave him once, a small metal star—a reminder of a bond that felt irreparably broken.

“I fucking hate this,” he admitted, his voice cracking, tears shimmering in his eyes. “I hate that I hurt you. I hate that no matter how hard I try, I can’t fix this. You mean everything to me, and it feels like I’m losing you more and more every damn day.” His gaze flickered to the floor, and for a moment, he was just a man haunted by his past, the soldier who had lost so much.

Your heart shattered at the sight of him, raw vulnerability spilling out. “You don’t get to say that after everything. You’ve made me feel worthless, like my feelings don’t matter. I can’t keep letting you walk all over me and expect everything to be okay.”

“I don’t want to fucking hurt you!” he cried, frustration and anguish battling within him. “I never asked for this! I just… sometimes I don’t know how to be better, okay?” He clenched his jaw, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill.

“Then you need to figure it out!” you screamed, your voice trembling with pain. “I can’t keep waiting for you to get it right while I’m left feeling broken!”

As your words hung in the air, the truth of your reality crashed over you both. The love you once shared felt suffocated by the shadows of anger and disappointment. You were both drowning in a sea of sorrow, hearts beating in sync but desperately out of tune.

Bucky stood there, shattered, eyes glistening with unshed tears, as you turned away, the battle within you raging. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unprocessed emotions, and for the first time, the thought of walking away felt more appealing than the pain of staying. But just as you took a step, a sliver of hope flickered in your chest—a feeling that perhaps this confrontation could lead to a path forward.

“Y/N…” he started, voice thick with heartbreak, but his words got lost in the chasm of hurt between you, leaving only a haunting silence in their wake. Yet somewhere deep within, the possibility of healing lingered, waiting for the courage to break through.

Weeks dragged on in the compound, each day feeling like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. The faint hum of machinery surrounded you, a constant reminder of the tension in the air. Despite Bucky’s promises to change, shadows of his past returned, casting a gloom that enveloped you both. Memories of laughter and shared moments felt like distant echoes now, buried under the weight of unspoken words and unresolved conflicts. You tiptoed around him, hyper-aware that every little thing could set off alarms in your mind.

The moment of impact came like a bullet, unexpected and cruel. During a mission briefing, Bucky’s voice cut through the air like glass shattering.

“Why the hell can’t you just focus?” he snapped, eyes ablaze with fury that had nothing to do with you, yet somehow landed squarely on your chest. The air felt heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and metal, making it hard to breathe. “You’re not some damn rookie! You should know better than this by now!”

“Bucky, I—”

“Just shut the hell up!” he roared, the words echoing off the walls, raw and menacing. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening as he struggled to contain the storm inside. “You’re making this way harder than it needs to be!”

Each word felt like a blow, carving deeper into your heart. This wasn’t a new dance; it was an exhausting routine, and the suffocating weight of your shared history felt more unbearable than ever. You remembered the moments when he had opened up, how he had let you in, but they felt like faint memories now. “Maybe you should take a good, hard look in the mirror,” you shot back, your voice shaky with a mix of hurt and anger. “I’m not the one with the issue here.”

He glared at you, frustration boiling over, muscles tense, jaw clenched tight. You could see the flicker of his inner turmoil, the fear of losing you clawing at his composure. “You keep pulling this shit! It’s like you can’t see past your own damn feelings! Just focus on the mission for once!”

Your chest tightened, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I’m not your damn punching bag, Bucky,” you said, voice breaking under the weight of raw emotion. “You can’t keep exploding at me and expect me to take it like it’s nothing. I’m sick of this!”

“Maybe if you actually gave a damn about the mission instead of whining about your feelings, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” His words cut deeper than you thought possible, and you recoiled as if slapped. You remembered the way he used to care, how he used to fight for every person he loved, and it stung even more to see him like this.

“I care, Bucky!” you cried, tears spilling over as you fought to hold it together. “But it’s hard to keep my head in the game when I’m constantly worried about when you’ll blow up at me next! You say you’re trying, but nothing changes! It feels like I don’t even matter to you anymore!”

For a moment, his expression shifted, a flicker of regret flashing across his face, but the damage was done. “You think this is easy for me?” he shouted, voice raw and desperate, filled with unfiltered anguish. “I’m trying to be better, but you keep dragging me back into this shit!” You could see the pain behind his bravado, the memories of his past haunting him, and it broke your heart.

“Don’t act like I’m the fucking problem!” you yelled, heart racing as reality crashed down around you. “I’m not the one who can’t confront his demons! You push me away and then blame me for not being there when you do!”

Pain flickered in Bucky’s eyes, the cracks in his stoic facade deepening. “You’re right,” he admitted, voice shaking, the weight of his confession crushing him. “I don’t know how to deal with this… how to deal with you. I’m scared shitless of losing you, and honestly, I don’t know if I can fix it.” The vulnerability in his voice was a fragile thread, hanging in the air, and you felt a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.

“Then maybe you need to sort your shit out,” you replied, heart breaking as you watched his despair unfold. “I can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out while I’m left feeling shattered.” You recalled the shared moments, the promises made, and the weight of them felt unbearable now.

Silence fell, thick with the unsaid and unresolved. You were both drowning in a sea of sorrow, love suffocating under the weight of his rage and your hurt. Bucky’s shoulders sagged as he stepped back, the chasm between you widening, feeling more insurmountable than ever.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face, anguish spilling over. “It’s killing me.” The vulnerability hung heavy between you, and for a fleeting moment, you saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.

His breath hitched, and he looked like he might reach for you, but the distance remained unbridgeable, a stark reminder of everything that felt lost. Yet, beneath it all, a small part of you held onto the hope that one day, you could navigate the darkness together.

The clash felt inevitable, like a storm building for days, ready to break over the fragile space between you and Bucky. The tension in the air was suffocating, each breath heavy with unspoken anger and hurt. You stood in the middle of the training room, fists clenched, trying to hold yourself together. Across from you, Bucky stood rigid, muscles taut, his hands balled into fists. The weights he had been using moments earlier now lay forgotten on the floor, a sharp reminder of the growing chasm between you.

The silence was unbearable. Then, without warning, Bucky's voice cut through the room like a blade. “Can you just—stop fucking around? You think this is a game?” His voice cracked, but his anger was palpable, radiating from him in waves as he hurled the weights down with a force that rattled through the room, the echo reverberating like a punch to the gut.

You flinched at the sound, the weight of his words hitting you just as hard. “Maybe if you’d stop yelling for one second, you’d see I’m trying!” Your voice shook, barely holding steady under the pressure. You were trembling, the knot of frustration and hurt in your chest threatening to unravel completely.

Bucky’s eyes darkened. “Damn it, you’re not trying hard enough!” he snapped, his fists tightening at his sides, knuckles white. His voice—usually so steady—was strained now, as though he was fighting to keep control. The anger in his tone felt like a punch, but you could see the tremble in his hands, the way his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might crack.

The sting of his words twisted in your chest. You could feel the pressure building in your throat, choking you with the weight of unspoken feelings. “I’m trying, Bucky. But it’s never enough for you, is it?” you said, the words tasting bitter in your mouth, laced with all the exhaustion you’d tried to suppress.

His face contorted in anger, but for a brief second, you saw something deeper flicker in his eyes—something haunted. You recognized that look. It was the same one he wore when he woke up from nightmares, drenched in sweat, guilt seeping from every pore. But it vanished just as quickly as it appeared, swallowed by his fury. “Get your shit together,” he snapped, voice low and intense. “I’m not your babysitter. You really think I can hold your hand through every goddamn thing?” His voice wavered, but he squared his shoulders, hiding the vulnerability underneath. “You want to survive? Toughen the hell up or get out of my way.”

“Then maybe you should just go!” The words burst out before you could stop them, raw and jagged, cutting through the tension. You hated how sharp your voice sounded, like a part of you was shattering with every syllable.

For a split second, his expression faltered—just long enough for you to see the crack in his defenses, the fear creeping in behind the anger. But the moment passed, and his face hardened once more, the distance between you widening.

“Enough is enough, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. “I can’t keep doing this. I’m tired of forgiving you just so you can hurt me again.” Each word felt like a physical wound, reopening scars you thought had healed.

Bucky’s hands dropped to his sides, but his fists remained clenched. “You’re being dramatic,” he muttered, turning his gaze away as though refusing to face the weight of your words. “I'm pushing you because you damn well need to be better. I can't afford to lose you.”

There it was. The fear he refused to name. He was terrified of losing you, but he couldn’t say it. Not out loud. So instead, he buried it under anger, under demands that pushed you further away.

“You twist everything, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve tried to be there for you, to understand you—but I can’t keep pretending that this is okay. I can’t be the person you take everything out on.”

His jaw tightened, but his hands trembled at his sides. “You don’t get it,” he said, voice quieter now, almost broken. “I’m trying to protect you. I just… I don’t know how to do this without pushing people away. I’m not good at this shit.”

“And what do you think you’re doing right now?” you asked, your heart aching. “You’re pushing me away, and I’m too tired to hold on.”

The silence that followed was deafening, thick with the weight of unsaid things. Bucky’s breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The echo of the weights hitting the ground earlier still rang in your ears, a haunting reminder of how quickly things had spiraled.

You took a deep breath, feeling the chill of the room settle into your bones, as if the air itself was colder now, heavier. “I feel invisible, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice cracking with the weight of your confession. “Like I’m just a shadow, someone to absorb your anger when things get too hard. I can’t live like this anymore.”

Bucky’s eyes widened for a moment, and his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but couldn’t. His lips parted, but no words came. His shoulders slumped slightly, a tiny surrender in the face of your pain.

He opened his mouth, his voice hoarse and desperate now. “Y/N, don’t do this,” His voice cracked, but his body was still tense, like he was holding something back—something he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit. “You don’t need to make this harder than it already is.”

“I don’t want to walk away, Bucky. But I have to, for my own sanity,” you said, stepping back as if putting physical distance between you would somehow make it easier.

He reached out, his hand hovering in the air between you, unsure. “Damn it,” he rasped. “I’m trying, okay? I need you to believe me.”

“It’s too late for that,” you whispered, your heart breaking at the sight of him so vulnerable, so raw. His hand dropped, and the space between you felt like a canyon now, too wide to cross.

Bucky’s breath hitched, his gaze dropping to the floor as though he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore. He clenched his fists again, nails biting into his palms. The weight of his guilt was suffocating, and you could see it in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his eyes dimmed with the realization that he had pushed you too far.

The room felt too quiet, the air thick with the aftermath of your words. You could feel the memory of every touch, every smile, every moment of laughter between you two slipping away like sand through your fingers. There was a photo—one he had kept tucked away in his jacket—of the two of you on a day when everything had felt perfect. He had carried it with him, a reminder of what he was trying to protect. But now, it felt like just another symbol of something irreparable.

“I loved you,” you whispered, stepping back one final time, tears blurring your vision as you turned toward the door. “But I deserve better.”

“Y/N!” His voice broke, desperate, as he took a step toward you, hand outstretched. His body was trembling now, fear etched into every line of his face. “Don’t fucking walk away from me! I can change. I swear, I can be better for you!”

You hesitated, your back to him, feeling the weight of his plea. For a moment, you almost turned back. Almost. But the words he had said still hung heavy in the air between you. And you knew—deep down—that you couldn’t survive this cycle anymore.

As you walked away, the echo of his voice followed you, the pain lacing each syllable a reminder of what could have been. But you didn’t stop. The silence after you left was deafening, and it swallowed Bucky whole, leaving him alone with his regrets, the weight of his own mistakes pressing down on him like a physical force.

He watched the door close behind you, his heart sinking with the realization that he had lost you. And for the first time, he didn’t know how to fix it.

[moesthoughts]

jackie x femreader smut where reader gets jealous of shauna and jackie at a party 🙏🙏 pls she’s so FINEE

Jealousy, Jealousy

pairing ⛧ jackie taylor x fem! reader

warnings ⛧ fingering r! receiving, groping, eating her out, you have sex in the back of shauna’s car, semi public sex

summary . . Lottie throws a party before the yellowjackets go to nationals, you decide to accompany your girlfriend Jackie and her best friend Shauna. Right off the bat you were jealous from how they talked to each other and how Shauna was eyeing her at the party. After expressing these concerns to Jackie, she convinces you otherwise.

Reason 1

It all began when you went to Shauna’s house with Jackie to help her choose an outfit for the party. Shauna was sorting through her clothes while Jackie looked her best friend up and down, trying to figure out which outfit would highlight her curves the most. You couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling when you noticed Shauna bite her lip after Jackie complimented her on an outfit. You tried to convince yourself that it was just your anxiety and that you were feeling jealous for no reason, but deep down, your heart told you something different.

You recalled the moment when Jackie urged Shauna to wear that short dress, claiming it would help her catch Randy's attention. You couldn't shake the feeling that Jackie was more interested in checking Shauna out. To distract yourself from these persistent thoughts, you focused on Shauna's book collection. This shift in attention worked so well that you didn't even hear Shauna snap at Jackie to stop telling her what to wear.

Reason 2

The car ride to Lottie’s place was absolute hell for you. You sat in the back all alone while Shauna and Jackie spoke about whatever in the front seat. Your mind filled with the possibility that her hand was on your girlfriend’s thigh, causing you to peek over to check every now and then, which Jackie noticed.

That checked off the first sign that you were jealous of Shauna, but Jackie didn’t say anything; she’d discuss it with you later. Instead, she included you in the conversation happily. You shook away your worries and focused on the conversation at hand; you didn’t want your feelings to be that obvious.

Reason 3

The party, the event that made your blood boil the most. You were spinning around your girlfriend, swaying to the old radio while you interlocked hands. You finally thought you were over that previous feeling that corrupted your head. Shauna was nowhere to be found, and you were actually having a good time. Until you felt eyes burning into the back of your head, you swallowed before turning around to investigate.

There she was, Shauna Shipman. Previously staring at you and your girlfriend dancing, and looked away once you made eye contact. Your eyebrows knitted together in anger; that look was Jackie’s realization that she had to be there to reassure you.

“Babe, what is the matter with you?”

Jackie spins you back around to face her, her tone not failing to make you look away nervously. You realize she’s caught you in the act: jealousy. It’s something you know she hates, but you couldn’t help your feelings tonight; they just took control over you.

“I.. Okay. Shauna and you have been unusually close tonight, and I was just getting in my head. Ok?”

You respond, still avoiding eye contact with the girl in front of you. You can imagine the look on her face, her ‘what the fuck’ look she gives you when you say something especially dumb; you realize how stupid that sentence sounded coming from your mouth. You decide to finally look back at her, just to see you’re right about the look she has on her face.

“Seriously, Shipman? I mean she is my best friend, but she’s not my type.. you are!”

Jackie’s voice is sickeningly sweet, your gaze averts to Shauna once more. You start to compare yourself to her, what if you both have more similarities than you thought? You start to examine how she dresses, the color of her eyes, how she does her hair, and more until Jackie cups your face and forces you to look at her.

“Do you still not believe me?”

As you open your mouth, her lips connect with yours. It’s the opposite of gentle; she was trying to prove her point after all. She shoves you against a tree, not caring who saw you making out. Her tongue pokes at your bottom lip, you part your lips, and her tongue explores your mouth. You moan softly into the kiss, pulling her closer to you by her hips.

Her technique was working, because slowly but surely that familiar feeling of jealousy was slowly fading away. Her knee splits your legs apart; you are already so wet, you can tell she’s noticed too. You whimper before breaking apart the kiss.

“Wait.. not here.”

You speak up finally, and Jackie snaps back to reality, realizing her dignity is on the line she understands where you’re coming from. She smirks at you, dragging you towards the area where Shauna parked her car. Your heart drops once you realize what’s going through her head; it turns you on. The thought of having sex in the back of Shauna’s fucking car, every step you take towards it, riles you up even more.

The second she opens the car door and you both climb in, she pounces on you. Her lips connect with your neck, purposefully nipping at the spots that make you whine the loudest. She moves your hand to the zipper of her dress, and you tug it down right away, slipping her dress down as far as you can. Your hands smooth over her stomach before going up and groping her breasts, causing her to moan into your neck.

She’s quick to pull your dress off of you, eager to prove her point further. She gets off on the idea of how obsessed you are with her, how easily you become jealous in little situations. As much as she hates it, it was kind of cute. You kick your dress off of your feet as Jackie trails kisses down your torso, eventually reaching your clothed core. She comes back up to look you in the eye, a sly smirk adorning her features.

“Are you getting off on the idea of Shauna catching us?”

Her eyes trail back down to your panties; you were so busy thinking of an excuse that you didn’t realize your underwear had been discarded. You gasp as her finger circles around your bundle of nerves, teasingly moving up and down your wet slit. You whimper, silently begging her to push inside you already.

“So? Answer me.”

You audibly groan, averting your eyes to the back of the seat in front of your head.

“..Yes, Yes I am. Now, please.”

She gives you a satisfied smile before pushing two fingers into you, slowly moving back and forth. You lay your head back, your hands trailing down her body, exploring every inch of her skin. Her palm hits your sensitive clit, her pace slowly increasing over time. You grind into her hand, slowly reaching your high.

You throw your head back once you finally come, heavily breathing while Jackie helps you through your high. You prop yourself up on your elbows, and once you can think straight, you’re met with Jackie’s smug expression. She sure did prove her point, you weren’t sure why you doubted her in the first place. Still, you feel like you’ve lost the race you’ve been training for your whole life.

“Okay, I think we can head back now.”

Jackie breaks the silence, a small giggle falling from her lips as she moves to get out of the car. You quickly grab her by the arms and flip her over, so that she’s the one under you instead. She looks up at you with a shocked expression, a red hue painting her face.

“I think we have a little more time until Shauna comes looking for us.”

She bites her lip, a sight you’ll forever keep in your memory. Your lips crash onto hers, a gasp falling from her lips. Your hands hike down her dress, only her lacey bra and panties covering her. Jackie’s hand caresses your neck, her other one traveling your body, smoothing over the skin of your thighs. Your lips leave hers, instead kissing her neck, biting and leaving marks in their wake.

You scoot back, coming face-to-face with her cunt. Your eyes meet hers, a nervous look kissing her face. It’s your turn to prove to her how much you love her, even though it’s obvious from how jealous you tend to get over her. You lean back down and lick up her panties, drawing a moan from her. She instinctively grabs your hair, tangling her fingers in your roots. You push her panties to the side and flick her clit with your tongue, drinking in the sight of her shivering under your touch.

She grows louder as you tongue-fuck her, lavishing how good she tastes. You try to pull as much noise out of her as you can; you just love how she sounds. You can tell she’s getting close by the way she’s actively tugging on your hair, making you whine. You continue to eat her out until she releases all over your face, and you swallow whatever you can.

You lift yourself back up, wiping her fluids from your mouth. You realize how long you and Jackie have been gone and curse under your breath as you quickly slip your dress back on. You help Jackie with her zipper before both of you dash back to the party, adrenaline fueling your speed.

You both arrive at the circle that the Yellow Jackets formed around the drink table and they’re staring at you as if you’ve just committed a crime. You flash a smile before pouring a drink and gulping it down, which makes Van laugh out loud.

“You two look like you’ve had a bunch of fun.”

Jackie gives her the middle finger before getting a drink of her own. Your eyes shift over to Shauna, who looks bewildered. You can only hope she doesn’t find out what Jackie and you did in the back of her car.

GAHHH i love jackie im so glad you asked me to write for her!! also she is so hot..you have good taste anon

req me!

masterlist

[paulyenvol6]

Never Again

Based on this request. I'm sorry it's not that long but I didn't really have an idea where to take the story so I just wrote a fluffy comfort scene for the end. Enjoy :)

Contains: fluff, angst, mentions of jealousy and feeling left out, comfort, kissing, fighting, Rhaenyra and Alicent being shitty friends

Wordcount: 2,874

Masterlist

"Don't fucking leave now."

Daemon's voice was thick with restrained anger and his clenched fists only added to the picture.

"Why," you hissed with an equally unfriendly tone.

"Because we have to discuss this!"

He slammed his hand on the table, the sudden movement making you twitch and you stood up.

"I don't need to discuss anything with you if I don't want to. I told you, I will make this journey and you have no saying in this."

Your husband laughed but not the deep soft chuckle that left his mouth when you lay against his chest, but an evil and horrifying sound.

"I'm your husband. We're married and you can't just make these choices without asking me."

"I can and I will. You just watch me."

Daemon rose from his chair as well walking around in circles his hand folded behind his back.

"You're behaving like a little child right now," he said through gritted teeth eyes looking so dark that you almost couldn't make out his pupils.

"And you're behaving like you get to command me what to do."

In truth, you didn't care if you were being childish or stubborn. You adored Daemon and were proud to say that you were happily married but sometimes he went too far crossing a line that was holy to you. You loved how protective and caring he was about you but what you couldn't stand was when he tried to tell you what to do. In most cases you were consulting your husband, asking for his opinion but on days like these when he didn't even really hear you out, the blood in your veins began to boil and you mind was possessed by a foreign bitterness and viciousness.

You awaited his answer with crossed arms but it didn't come so you once again approached the door and this time his sharp voice didn't hold you back. At first you were relieved, sighing out as you left the room but after three steps a sour feeling crept up in your throat and you came to the realization that you absolutely weren't in the mood to leave things like this. Perhaps he had been right after all and you should have tried to make peace with him. But now that you were walking down the corridor there was no way you would come back to him and so you strut with your head up high not taking a single peak over your shoulder.

You spent the rest of the day with your children feeling as though their company was the only comfort this wicked day could bring you. You read them from history books, personally fed them before bed and then chose to sleep in separate bedchambers tonight.

Mayhaps you were being ridiculous but right now all that was on your mind was hurting Daemon and really hit him deep with your actions. And still you convinced yourself into believing that you were a lot happier than you truthfully were. That night you turned from one side to the other, head buzzing and aching with the aftermath of your fight and the next morrow started equally bad.

The sun shone brightly and on any other day you would have gotten up full of liveliness and energy but today the light rather disturbed you. You blinked a couple of times in an attempt to get rid of the drowsiness caused by your short night's sleep but then actually climbed off the bed as you heard your stomach grumble with hunger.

It was unfamiliar to wake up in the rooms right next to the ones you shared with Daemon because you were sure that the two of you hadn't spent a single night separated from each other ever since you got married. Thinking about it did nothing for your mood and even worse, you teared up at the thought but then quickly collected yourself refusing to give your husband the power to make you feel that way.

You got dressed without the help of your handmaidens who probably were desperately searching for you right now and then told a guard outside to inform the next passing servant that you wished to have breakfast soon.

Time passed slowly, like a sticky, thick liquid creeping down the slope of a roof and you caught yourself thinking about Daemon more times than you were able to count. What was he doing and what was he thinking about your absence?

What got you out of your chambers eventually were your friends and the fact that you had wanted to meet up with Rhaenyra and Alicent since the beginning of the week and so you were quick to put on your gloves and step outside.

Now that the three of you were wed and had your own families to care for there just wasn't as much time to catch up and go on long walks like you used to when you were younger which was why you savoured every second in their presence. Maybe your fight with Daemon wasn't quiet as inconvenient as you had thought because if your husband and you had been on good terms he might have kept you occupied this morning, lazily dozing off to sleep until noon.

You found Alicent and Rhaenyra in the gardens and a wide smile appeared on your lips seeing their heads bowed over a book.

"Rhaenyra! Alicent!" you shouted not very ladylike and the two women immediately turned their heads searchingly.

You had expected them to return the smile but to your surprise their expressions were careful, disapproving almost. As swiftly as your shoes allowed you approached your friends and tried your luck again giving them the faintest hint of a grin as you took their hands to squeeze them.

"My dearest friends. How are you feeling?"

Rhaenyra and Alicent briefly glanced at each other but you had noticed it and now wrinkled your nose suspecting that something was wrong.

"Good," Rhaenyra spoke before you could ask them but the word sounded so distanced and indifferent out of her mouth that you nevertheless chose to find out what they were hiding from you.

"Are you quite alright? You seem upset or… distanced."

They exchanged a look again and you slowly started to feel anger burning in your heart.

"We're fine. But we're not so sure that you are," Alicent said, her eyes examining her nails as if it took a great deal of effort for her to talk to you at all.

"What are you speaking of?" you asked, unknowing of what they were referring to. There was no way the two women could know about your fight with Daemon just by reading it off your face. It was Rhaenyra who eventually cleared the air and finally looked you in the eyes.

"My uncle told me about your argument."

"Or rather your disrespectful requests…," Alicent added still seemingly too proud to raise her gaze at you.

"What?" you breathed too confused to even feel anywhere close to being emotional.

"He said that you planned your trip to Volantis without even telling him let alone ask him for his permission."

You narrowed your eyes your throat thick with a strange mixture of sadness and aggressive anger.

"B-But I… I didn't – "

The word got stuck in your throat as Alicent's piercing green eyes darted at you her lips tightly pressed together and her jaw clenched.

"Rhaenyra and I were just surprised, you know? We didn't think your behaviour was fit for a lady of your rangs. A good wife is supposed to discuss such matters with her husband."

Her voice had never sounded so cold to you before and you wondered why your friends were so involved in this particular argument.

"Alicent," you said with a trembling voice feeling more miserable with each hitched breath of yours.

"I… I just… I knew that he wouldn't want me to go and this is important to me."

Now it was Rhaenyra who rolled her eyes and crossed her legs.

"Oh it's that important? Then this is another reason not to just plan a trip like this on your own. You should have asked him to come with you then."

You were growing furious now your voice thick with anger.

"I did! I asked him but he said he can't leave right now."

"Then you shouldn't either," Alicent said, her fake friendly voice getting on your nerves and making you clench your fists so hard that your nails left scratches in your palm.

"Why are you even involved in this? This is none of your business. And apart from that, you are my friends. I thought you were supposed to support me?"

You hated how weak your voice sounded but Rhaenyra and Alicent really had hurt you and there was no way of denying it. Now Alicent rose to her feet towering over you and lifting a finger.

"First and foremost, we are supposed to inform you of your wrong-doings. Advice you. And we are supposed to tell you when you act like a little scold."

You gasped, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes all of a sudden and you quickly turned your head so your friends wouldn't see it. But of course you weren't able to hide it and so you made a choice, leaving the two women behind and running back inside the castle.

Your heart pounded loudly in your chest, blood throbbing in your veins and cold sweat covering your back and neck. The air was roaring in your ears as you blindly made your way up to your chambers because tears relentlessly collected in your eyes.

You couldn't even think straight, your thoughts swirling around in your head, building up an ugly mess that you just couldn't seen to get under control. When you stumbled in your chambers you immediately locked the door behind you and then sank down on the floor burying your face in your hands.

You felt pathetic and left alone. Daemon had talked to your best friends behind your back and you could only imagine them laughing about you and insulting you. And now Rhaenyra and Alicent were treating you like you were a true abomination to this family. This was a nightmare. You had always had a tendency to feel a little jealous and left out; perhaps the reason for it was rooted in your childhood and under these circumstances it was especially bad.

You bawled your eyes out until it hurt and when you lifted your head for the first time since you had sat down against the door you had no idea how late it was. The sun told you that you must have been here for quite some time but you still didn't want to get up. Where were you supposed to go? Step under Rhaenyra and Alicent's eyes to let them humiliate you once more? Meet Daemon and risk getting involved in another fight?

You dropped your head again this time resting on your knees and jumped when there was a noise right behind you.

"Y/n."

You would have been able to recognize this voice among thousands and although you usually associated it with warmth and love, tonight your heart seemed to break at the sound.

"Y/n, I know that you're in there."

Daemon knocked on the door again but you didn't even flinch.

"Darling. Please let me in. We have to talk."

You shook your head which he obviously couldn't see and then sniffed loudly.

"Go away," you managed to bring out but cursed yourself for sounding so upset while he seemed controlled and steady.

"I'm not gonna go away. I need to see you."

"But I don't want to."

Daemon sighed and then didn't say anything for a couple of minutes while you tried to fight the tears refusing to stop rolling down your flushed cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Daemon eventually said and you heard a hand brushing over the wooden door. "I'm sorry, darling. I know what happened and I didn't meant to – I didn't want any of this to happen."

You remained silent eyes staring ahead of you as you perceived his soft voice.

"I know it's my fault. Please just… Please let me see you."

Then he was quiet again both of your heavy breathing being the only sound in your ear and Daemon already thought about giving up and leaving when the key in the lock turned and he sighed with relief.

He carefully opened the door, his eyes softening at the sight of your swollen eyes and tear stained face and he couldn't help himself and pulled you in for a tight hug. You were resistant at first refusing to wrap your arms around his back but the familiar scent of his hair, his firm grasp on your waist and his mouth whispering sweet words of comfort in your ear melted down your icy facade and soon you cried tears of despair clinging to your husband.

"It's okay, love… I got you… Everything is going to be fine."

He used his hand to shut the door and then cradled your head gently stroking your hair.

"D-Daemon," you sobbed burying your face in his nape but soon pulled away from him to meet his gaze despite the mess on your cheeks.

"Y-You told Rhaenyra a-and Alicent," you said accusingly and formed your lips into a pout.

"I did. And I'm sorry for that. I only realized how stupid it was when they told me about their encounter with you."

You body was shaking as you heard him mentioning the fight again and Daemon instantly secured his grip around your body.

"I know… They were treating you very badly and I promise you I told them so myself. I said to them that it isn't their place to talk to you about our fight let alone be so injust and evil."

His thumb reached to your cheek to wipe away some tears but he wasn't able to make new ones stop from falling upon your face which made him chuckle quietly.

"I love you and I'm asking you for your forgiveness. I promise, I can see what I have done wrong and I will try my best to never disappoint you like that again."

Your eyes were big as you took in his beautiful face that was drawn with so much love and affection that you didn't have a choice but to believe him.

"And about our fight…?" you asked with a thin voice, the corner of your mouth curling when he trailed a finger up your jaw.

"Perhaps I said these words too many times already, but… I'm sorry. I know that this trip is important to you and so I want you to make the journey."

Daemon cupped your cheek his big hand almost covering the half of your face and grazed your cheekbone with his thumb.

"I think I was feeling hurt because you didn't tell me at first. I thought you didn't trust me or… didn't want me to take part and that's why I snapped."

Your smile deepened hands finding his face as well and you touched him carefully as if you were exploring every curve and edge.

"I want you to take part. I guess I didn't want you to ask me not to leave and so I didn't tell you. And… perhaps I didn't want to think about leaving you for a couple of weeks and so I just ignored it and… and shut the thought up and I thought the easiest way of dealing with it was to just… I don't know, forget about it."

"I understand," he smiled and tenderly kissed the tip of your nose.

"You do?" you breathed your heart still pounding in your chest from your confession.

"Yes," Daemon replied, the pat of his thumb massaging your pulse point in slow circles. "But you know, I think I might have demanded to come with you on your trip. I would have if I hadn't been so pissed in the first place."

You pursed your lips unable to hide the grin spreading on your face.

"Really?" you whispered and felt the adrenaline shoot through your veins.

"Yes."

You squealed and wrapped your arms around his neck, swinging the two of you back and forth while you pressed what felt like a million kisses to his neck.

"Will you come with me then?" you asked just to make sure.

"Yes. If you want me to."

Daemon held on to your shoulder to keep you still and then leaned down to press a deep kiss to your lips that left the both of you breathless.

"Of course I want you to. It's what I wanted from the start," you answered, gently leaning with your forehead against his.

"Then I will be happy to be your travel companion."

Silence was laid upon the chambers but you were happy to just experience the closeness of his body after this horrible day. You inhaled each other's air feeling connected beyond the physical touch and then opened your eyes into his after a few minutes.

"Y/n?" he hummed. "Yes?"

"Don't you ever spend the night separated from me, okay?"

You chuckled lowly stealing a kiss from his lips, then running your hands over his broad shoulders just to feel him.

"Never."

[reverieblondie]

Bad Dream

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Nightmares, Mysterious passes, Breaking and entering, Panic attack, Breaking washers, Bucky touches your underwear (whoops...)

Summary: You and Bucky are not only neighbors but friends for months now. You two are close... but are still finding out new things about each other...

Word Count: 2,613

A/N: This was inspired by an amazing request got from an anon. I loved the idea so much that I can see this being turned into a full series if enough people like it! Just let me know! I look forward to feedback like always! and request are always open!

Part two in the works!

"So... What am I eating?"  

Bucky says almost suspiciously as he looks at the macaroni noodle on his fork.

"I can not believe you are so picky," you say, rolling your eyes before taking a delightful bite of the casserole dish you made. Once swallowed, you point your fork accusingly toward Bucky. "It's called tuna mac. It's cheap to make but delicious. Now you can either eat it, or I will stop being such a friendly neighbor and stop sharing my dinners with you."

Bucky chuckles before giving you a smirk, "If that's the case, don't come knocking on my door when something of yours breaks again." 

You huff, he doesn't play fair. 

He watches as you pout and sigh before he takes the macaroni and tuna mix into his mouth. When he eats it, his eyes bulge slightly. "That's actually really good?"

"See, you just need to trust me neighbor. It's something my mom used to make. Boil noodles, mix up the sauce, and top with cheese. It tastes better than it sounds." 

Bucky smiles as you ramble on. When you look over at him, he quickly goes back to looking at his plate, mixing it around as he makes a face before eating more. "That's true. This is way better than that chicken we had last Thursday."  

"Hey! We agreed to forget that monstrosity!"

Of course, Bucky laughs at your dramatics, and you can't help but echo it back. Thursday night dinners have become your favorite tradition since moving in; no matter how shitty your week could have been, this always lifts up your spirits, even just a little bit.

Most people in your building seem to avoid Bucky; they won't join him in the elevator or even greet him at the mailboxes. They judge his past... but who are you to judge?

Though getting to know him didn't happen instantly, it happened because of an accident you might have caused…

You have been fighting with these washers and dryers since you moved in. And now here you are fighting with the washer. The stupid thing won't spin, and it's starting to flood with water. You paused the cycle and knew that you should just ask the maintenance guy for help, but that has the risk of being blamed for it being broken.

Distracted, you don't notice someone walking in to use the other machines. Honestly, it's surprising someone else is up this late just to do their laundry. So much for not running into anyone while you're dressed in your lazy day pajamas—no bra just to add to the pending embarrassment…

Trying your best to keep your head down and fix the machine as silently as possible, you didn't realize that your rattling around has definitely drawn attention. Until a shadow is cast over you. Turning slightly, you look up at the imposing figure and see your next-door neighbor. James Barnes... Ex Winter soldier and a current Avenger... 

His head tilts as he stares down at you, "Problem?" 

This is the first time you have really seen him up close… he's much taller than you thought, and his eyes are the clearest shade of blue… You shamelessly let your eyes wonder over him, his hair looks freshly cut but his jaw is still decorated with a scruff. He's dressed so casually it throws you off, if you didn't see him on TV or see the vibranium arm holding the basket of clothes you would think he's just some random dude... a cute random dude. While you're clearly staring, Bucky shifts on his feet, his scowl deepening.

Great, now you not only look crazy now your staring... you mentally chastise yourself for being rude before pulling your hand from the filled drum to offer him a handshake, stumbling out your name in the process. This was a mistake, however, because you ended up splashing the super soldier with washer water… -Shit… 

You look around forb something to wipe him with only finding one of your old tees, When you offer it he lifts his brow before just wiping the liquid away with his hand.

"I'm sorry, and yeah, I'm just trying to get this washer to work… they never want to act right… old machines acting wonky, what's new?" You huff a laugh, but Bucky keeps looking at you unamused… ah yes… he's an old machine, you idiot…Or maybe not? Danmit why didn't you read more about him!

You quickly take another step closer to him in panic mode to clear up your unplanned insult, your first impression clearly not going well... "Oh! But not all old machines! My grandma had a vacuum for like 20 years, and it never crapped out on her!" -what are you even saying? shut up! Shut up! 

Buck just further scoles you, keeping his eyes locked on yours. Okay... he's defiantly a bit intimidating—his intense stare locked onto you. Then there's the fact that his glare doesn't roam—it's just set on your eyes. Plus, you're just rambling on, and he's just watching you like you have lost your mind! You can't afford to move again… 

"Why don't you just call for maintenance?" he says in a confused tone, his brows knitting together.  

You give him a gentle smile, "I don't want to be blamed for breaking it…" 

He doesn't seem too impressed with your excuse as he rolls his eyes, but to your surprise, instead of walking away, leaving you to struggle, he places his laundry down and begins to investigate the machine. 

You step closer to him, "So you're going to help me?" you chirp.

"I'm going to try, but if it breaks further, that's on you…" -Okay can't really blame him for that..

"Fair enough, neighbor." he only seems to hum at that before continuing his investigation. 

He does his do diligence checking everything out; while he does that, you're doing your own checking out. It's not like you're trying to be a perv.... but curiosity always gets the cat in the end, so you allow yourself to check him out a little. His back faces you, and it's incredible how sturdy it appears; you can even see how the muscles ripple with every move despite it being hidden underneath his t-shirt. Then his narrow waist that draws your attention down the length of him, and his arms bulging with every move as it roots around on the inside of the drum. The dark metal arm is so eye-catching you can't help but stare even though you know you shouldn't... But you can't help yourself from admiring how pretty it truly is… and the craftsmanship is impeccable… 

"I think something is just caught if I can unwrap it…" With another pull and a slight groan, he rips out what was caught. Surprisingly, it's small... red and- 

Bucky holds up the dripping wet material, and now that he has it unscrambled, you are mortified... Of course, out of everything to get tangled up and caught, it had to be your thong. Turning it about, Bucky looks at the material confused, unsure, until he meets your wide eyes and flushed face. It must suddenly click for the man that he's holding a stranger's underwear because, with the inhuman speed, he's met with realization and he's practically throwing your underwear at you like it would bite him. 

The flush of his neck and the way he suddenly does not meet your eyes tells you he's thoroughly embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, ma'am…" Ma'am? Wow, now he's talking to you properly; he really is embarrassed...

It's quiet for a moment as Bucky awkwardly shifts on his feet. Then you can't help yourself any longer, and you laugh. You laugh so hard you all but fall over yourself, and to your shock, Bucky breaks from his embarrassment and joins in on your laughter till you both were on the verge of tears. As you wipe away your tears, you catch him smiling, and it's like looking at a completely different guy. If people saw this, they wouldn't be avoiding him, that's for sure. 

With the washer fixed, you could finish your laundry cycle as Bucky moved to start his. As you're turning to thank your helpful neighbor, he is gone? Scanning the room, you see him leaving, shit! 

"James!" You shout without thinking. He pauses before turning back with a small smirk. 

"Don't tell me you broke something else." 

He's… teasing you? A grin spreads to your face, "I wanted to thank you for helping me out." 

He shrugged, "It's no problem, but call me Bucky." With that, he walked off. 

Days later, you were still troubled by the feeling you didn't get to properly thank your neighbor for saving your panties from doom. So you did the only thing you could think of; making him food. Make sure debts and gratitude are always paid... or it could come back a bite you... it's something you picked up from how you grew up, but where your dad made sure to do it with favors and money, your mom would always pay by making desserts and meals. So, in your situation, you decided on a platter of brownies.

The look on his face when you knocked on his door was priceless. Of course, he accepted, and thus, the cycle between you two started. You would have a favor, Bucky would help, and then you would make him a meal or dessert. Over time, Bucky's grumpiness was replaced with friendliness, and your friendship got stronger. Even though you had fewer favors, you two continued the tradition of eating a home-cooked meal together once a week until suddenly, it was odd if you were not seeing him.

Like now...

It's been three weeks since you last saw him. It's honestly so lonely in the building without him around. Sure, he's not talkative all the time, and there are still things you know you two have not shared, but it's undeniable this closeness you feel to him.

You just hope you get to see him soon, or you will be forced to break something and force him to come back…

It's another quiet night. It should be a night that you rest easy, drifting far off into dreamland. But you just can't seem to fall asleep. Perhaps it's the fault of a certain super soldier's absence or maybe it just sometimes getting your mind to settle is just an impossible task. As you lay pondering whether you should just force yourself to rest or get up and do something until you're tired, a loud bang from the neighboring wall interrupts the stillness.

On instinct, you freeze and try to listen to where the crashing is coming from. Bucky's place... but that's odd; he's not home. Or did he come back and you just miss him? Another crash makes you second guess, it could be a break in… 

But who would be dumb enough to break into a super soldier's apartment?

Apparently, you...

It is technically breaking and entering, but is it bad if you do it for a good reason? What if someone is wreaking his place? What if he's in danger? What will you do if you actually run into someone?

You ignore that for now as you concentrate on picking the lock... You hated it then, but you're now thankful for the skill at times like this. It clicks with a few more twists, and you're now sneaking through the threshold.

It's the same place you have been in multiple times, but tonight, you see the crumble of blankets on the living room floor, the flipped furniture, the mess of wreckage. Then you see the more heart-aching sight in the room's darkness. 

Bucky usually stands so tall and has that sly smirk for you with some greeting. Now, he is crouched so small, disheveled, and trembling. Those ocean-blue eyes clenched tightly...

A step towards him immediately has him on the defense, ready to fight. But he pauses at the sight of you, confused, rightly so. But you're more distracted by how the outside lights for a moment reflect on the tears rolling down his cheeks.

You're about to say something, but his hoarse voice cuts you off before you can, "Get out!".

The sound of his rough voice gives you pause, you should really listen, but as he sinks back to the floor, your feet feel like lead. With a swallow and a steadying breath, you step closer. He should understand by now that you're not one for listening. 

Closer now, you can take in his sweat-drenched body and matted hair and how he tries to stop shaking but just can't... Thousands of questions flock to you; but you just swallow them down. Slowly, you sit close enough to be noticed but not enough to touch him… Settled beside him, you place your hand out towards him on the floor, making a silent offer. "I'm going to stay for as long as it takes... I don't think you should be alone..." 

It could take minutes or hours. There is also the chance of him lashing out, but you will just be silent and patient and let him feel your presence and hear your calm breaths. It's the only thing you can think to do... to wait...

You're there for a couple of minutes until a clammy warmth touches your hand. Looking down, you can tell the shaking has stopped a little. You spread your fingers and let him lace them with his own. 

"I... don't know what to say..." he mumbles, but you shake your head before meeting his eyes.

"You don't have to explain... We all get bad dreams. "

"Every night I have bad dreams... Sometimes, I just randomly shake awake."

"Other times, you just lay there waiting for the sun to rise."

The look he gives you tells you he's shared the experience. You shrug and look out the window, "Like I said... bad dreams."

As you two sit there, his shaking slowly stills, but the grip on your hand only tightens. 

"I'm sorry..." It was such a silent whisper that you almost didn't hear it. Looking at Bucky he looks so tired, and a wreck, it brings back memories you thought were packed away. 

"Don't be sorry. Let's just work on getting you cleaned up. Go rinse off and I will clean up."

Bucky looks like he is about to protest but you just shake your head before standing, "Don't argue with me, go."

Bucky nods before standing up... He walks towards his bathroom but pauses just short... He has his own set of questions he wants to ask...But it will just have to wait.

You start placing what you can remember in their proper spots. Sure, this place was a mess, but you have had to fix the fallout of worse. Once done, you move on to the kitchen to brew the tea, your mom always liked tea on rough nights so it just seems like part of the process now. As the water heats, you just listen to the muffled sound of the shower.

Does this happen often? And if so, how have you never noticed before? You know he has a checkered past but, you never noticed this... he's always so buttoned up you guess he just popped...

Bucky takes longer to wash off than you expected, but ultimately, it's a good thing he took the time for himself. Getting the tea set in the living room you wait in dim silence till eventually he comes out of the bathroom. He emerges only in pajama bottoms, wet hair dripping down on a towel resting on his shoulder, and fixing his metal arm back into place. Bucky plops down on the couch and for a long moment he's just quite. From the look on his face he's still thinking of what to say, but you just slide the peppermint tea over to him.

Bucky gives a small thank you before he lifts the cup, letting the smell waft to his nose and the cup warm his hand. When he finally takes a sip, you feel like you can breathe again. While he works on his tea, you notice the drops falling from his hair and landing on his skin, causing him to shiver. He didn't even bother to dry his hair, huh? Carefully, you take the towel from his shoulder and softly start to dry his wet hair away. Bucky looks at you curiously as you focus on the task before you. 

"Why are you so good at this?" 

"Like I said, everyone gets bad dreams. Some worse than others." 

He hums before slightly chuckling, "Is that also why you know how to break into apartments?"

The playful tone in his voice makes your heart squeeze, and you can't help but grin, at least his humor seems to not be fazed, "You're not the only one with secrets, soldier boy." 

[sincerestlove]

Kitchen Cravings

i couldn't get this out of my head so i had to write it. please let me know what you think - i’d love to start writing more frequently for emily and jj - if anyone is interested, please let me know.

i hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Reader

Warnings: SMUT 18+ - MEN & MINORS DNI.

~

Moonlight filtered through the curtains, washing the bedroom in a faint glow. You and Emily had just finished round four? Five? You lost count after 2, barely able to think nor speak coherently. You were now cuddled up together, Emily brushing her warm fingertips gently up and down your spine as you drew lazy shapes into the soft skin of her chest.

"Hey, baby, are you hungry yet?"

Emily hums at your question, and she takes a moment to consider. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until now, but after you mention it, she can feel her stomach rumbling. "Yeah, I am, actually. Why, you thinking about food?"

"Mhm, since we haven't eaten anything since breakfast."

"Yeah, I guess we have been pretty busy..." The brunette smiles slyly and leans in to whisper in your ear. "You know what I'm craving right now, love?"

"Hm?"

Emily's voice is low and sultry as she speaks, her lips brushing against your ear. "You." She grins and nibbles playfully at your earlobe, her hand moving down to rest on your hip.

You groan dramatically, nudging her legs with your foot. "Back, you sex heathen. You wore me out."

Your wife grins at your words, feeling a sense of satisfaction at being able to exhaust you so thoroughly. She runs her fingers along your side, enjoying the feeling of the soft skin under her hands. "I did, huh? Well, I suppose I should make sure you get something to eat.”

"Yes, please. Your wife is hungry."

Emily laughs, feeling a surge of affection for you. She plants a quick kiss on your forehead, then pushes back the covers and climbs out of bed. You can’t help but drag your eyes along her naked form, muscles straining as she stretches her arms over her head. Her dark hair was mused and slightly tangled from all of the tugging you were doing on it, lips a pretty pink and swollen. She tugs a loose, large t-shirt over her head, the hem falling just above her knees. “Okay, love. I'll head down to the kitchen and whip something up for you. Any special requests?"

You shrug nonchalantly. “I’ll come with you. I like watching you cook." You yawn, before standing up and putting on your silky black lounge robe, tying it loosely in the front. Slivers of your skin were exposed, Emily’s eyes greedily taking in every inch. “And I’m fine with anything, baby."

She takes your hand, leading you both out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen. "Perfect. I love when you keep me company in the kitchen."

Once you enter, Emily leaves you at the counter and starts opening the cabinets and fridge, taking stock of the food you both have on hand. She turns, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Hmm, let's see... Do you feel like something light, or something more substantial? How hungry are you?"

"Well, you made me come like five times, so, yeah, I could eat something substantial.”

Emily laughs loudly. "I can work with that. How does pasta sound? I've got a recipe for a spicy tomato sauce that I've been wanting to try out."

"Sounds perfect."

Emily nods, feeling pleased that her idea has been approved by her hungry wife. She starts rummaging through the kitchen, gathering the ingredients she needs. "Okay, pasta it is. Be a good girl for me, yeah? Sit there and look pretty while I cook."

You grin. "I think I can do that."

Emily laughs, loving the way you respond to her teasing. She sets up a pot of water to boil, then starts chopping up onions and garlic to sauté in a pan. You watch as she moves effortlessly around the kitchen, chopping the vegetables with skill and ease. "Of course you can. You're very good at looking pretty, love." She says, shooting you a wink over her shoulder.

"Yeah? You think I'm pretty?"

Emily turns to face you, her gaze roaming over your face and figure. Her expression is tender and affectionate, almost reverent, a small smile on her lips. "Absolutely. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

You coo at her sweet words, her smile turning a little more intense, eyes lingering on your form. The way you look wrapped up in that loose robe, bare legs exposed, is very distracting. Emily feels the stirring of desire flare up in her stomach, but she does her best to push it down and focus on the task at hand.

She turns back to the stove, where the onions and garlic are sizzling away in the pan. She takes a deep breath, trying to focus her mind completely on cooking and ignore the distraction of her very attractive and very accessible wife sitting just a few feet away in a very thin robe.

She starts adding tomatoes, marinara and spices to the pan, stirring and mixing them in. She can feel your eyes on her back, and it's getting increasingly difficult for her to maintain her focus instead of turning around and pushing you against the counter.

"The, um, the water should be boiling soon. I'll add the pasta in and then the food will be ready." Emily stumbles slightly over her words, glancing over her shoulder to see you already staring, grinning at her like a cheshire cat. Your head rests casually on your hand, eyes dragging slowly down Emily’s form. There’s a twinkle in your eyes, one that she knows too well.

The pot of water starts boiling, and Emily takes it as an opportunity to turn away from you and pour the pasta into the colander, successfully draining the water, before adding it to the saucepan. She stirs, making sure that the noodles are coated evenly in sauce. She can still feel your eyes on her, and her skin prickles with anticipation.

"You almost done over there, baby?"

Your question snaps Emily out of her thoughts, and she looks over at you with a mix of frustration and hunger in her gaze. "Almost. Just, um, just another minute or two."

After a few more minutes, the food is ready, but Emily is so distracted that she continues to mindlessly stir the sauce. You smirk at the sight.

"Done?"

Emily nods jerkily. She reaches out to turn off the heat on the stove, her hands shaking. "Oh. Yeah, I'm done."

You push away from the counter, sauntering toward the fridge. You intentionally squeeze past the tight space between the counter and your wife, brushing your body against her back, hands teasingly skimming the exposed skin.

Without even realizing it, one of Emily's hands reaches out, her fingers lightly tracing along your hip. She can feel your warmth through the flimsy fabric.

She steps closer, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind and pulling herself flush against her body. She nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of your skin, every inch of contact sending jolt after jolt of desire right through her.

Y/N smirks, craning her neck to nuzzle her nose into Emily’s skin, taking in the faint scent of her sweet perfume. "Let's go eat, love. Don't want the food to get cold, right?"

Emily groans, her hands clenching slightly on your hips as she forces herself to hold back. She wants to press you up against the kitchen counter and take you right there, but she knows she needs to wait. "Tease."

Emily reluctantly moves to the cabinet and pulls down two plates. She can still feel the ghost of your body against hers, the way your bodies were pressed flush together. The sensation is burned into her skin, her mind swimming with the memory of that heat and that desire. She carefully scoops a serving of pasta onto your plate, trying to keep her hands steady as she does.

You smile as you take the plate, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to your wife’s lips. "Thanks, baby."

"You're welcome," Emily murmurs, her voice a little huskier than usual. She watches as you take the plate to the table, her eyes tracking your movement.

As you sit down, you slide Emily a drink from across the table, her favorite seltzer, before scooping a hefty spoonful of parmesan cheese onto your pasta.

Emily picks up her own fork and tries to focus on her food, but it's hard to concentrate on anything other than the sight of you sitting across from her. She can feel the heat pooling in her stomach, her body practically aching to touch you, to feel your skin against hers again.

You watch Emily intently as she eats, smirking at the way she struggles to restrain herself. You let your robe slip a bit more down your shoulders, exposing the top of your breasts to Emily’s darkened, blown out eyes.

You can hear how her breath hitches in her throat as you make that small movement, revealing more of your bare skin. Emily's eyes rake over the newly exposed flesh, her mouth going dry at the sight. It's almost too much to bear, the sight of her wife's body nearly bared to her. She grips the edge of the table tightly, her knuckles going white with the effort it takes to hold herself back.

You grin over the top of your drink. "You okay over there?"

Emily takes a deep and shaky breath, her eyes still locked on your body. She's breathing heavily, practically shaking with desire and need. "I'm fine," She says, her voice ragged and hoarse. "I just... I need you. Like, right now. And that robe is not helping things at all."

"What? This thing?" You intentionally slip it further down, fully exposing your breasts and hardened nipples to your wife.

Emily can't tear her gaze away from the sight of you lounging before her, exposed and provocative. Her eyes rake over every inch of your body like she’s starved, taking in the curves and the dips, the planes and the lines. It's like pouring gasoline on the flames of her desire, the primal need inside her growing hotter and fiercer with every passing second.

"Are you going to just sit there, or you going to come over here and do something about all that pent up tension you’re feeling?"

Without another word, Emily lets her fork clatter onto her plate and pushes herself up from the table, stalking around it with a predatory grace, her eyes fixed on you the whole time. She's like a panther closing in on its prey, her movements slow and purposeful. She stands over you, looking down, drinking in the sight of your bare skin up close. Her eyes rake over your body hungrily, heart pounding in her chest.

You smiles up at her teasingly, allowing the robe to fall open fully.

Emily’s eyes feast on the sight, taking in every inch of your newly exposed skin, every contour and curve. Her body is thrumming with desire, the need to touch and taste you driving her mad. She steps even closer, her hands itching to reach out and touch you, to stroke your soft skin.

"Are you just going to stare, honey?"

At your challenge, Emily's last shred of self-control snaps. Without warning, she moves forward, pulling you out of your chair and pinning you up against the closest wall, her body pressing flush against yours. Her hands roam greedily over your bare skin, taking ownership of your body, hot and smooth under her touch. Emily's mouth captures yours in a fierce, hungry kiss, their tongues tangling in a possessive, dominating gesture.

You laugh breathily as your mouths separate, grabbing Emily’s hands and placing them on your bare hips. Her blunt nails dig into your skin, the light sting of her grip leaving small crescents in their wake. “There she is."

Emily grunts in response, trailing hungry kisses down your neck, nipping and biting at the sensitive skin.

"Finally snapped, huh? What did it for you, baby? Was it the robe?"

Emily's lips move up to your ear, her tongue tracing the outer shell. Her breath is hot against your skin as she speaks, her voice low and rough with desire and need. “I asked you to sit there and look pretty, not tease me in this fuckin’ robe." She groans again, biting gently on your earlobe. “Couldn’t help but make you mine.”

You grin, moaning as she feels Emily’s lips and tongue on her skin. "You know I’m already yours, Em."

"I know, but sometimes I can't help myself. I just need to remind you."

You slink your arms over Emily’s strong shoulders, leaning close to whisper in her ear. "Remind me then."

Emily's hands begin to wander, roaming over your body once again with a desperate, hungry need. She tangles her fingers in your hair, pulling your head back sharply so she can attack your neck again, biting and sucking, leaving dark purple marks as she goes, eventually moving down and landing on your hardened buds. She takes one into her warm mouth, sucking harshly, her slender fingers tugging on the other.

You groan in desperation, grabbing Emily’s hand and shoving it between your legs, as you hold her head to her chest. Emily laughs teasingly at your movements, deciding to have mercy and run her fingers through your pussy.

Her hand is immediately drenched, the feel of your wetness driving her nearly insane. She moans against your chest as her fingers run through your folds, touch hungry and urgent. “Someone’s excited.”

Her mouth trails kisses across your chest, fingers pressing and rubbing teasingly against your sensitive flesh.

You moan breathily, throwing your head back against the wall as you grinds down on your wife’s hand, chasing your pleasure.

“Look at you, sweet thing. Flushed, desperate, needy. All that teasing for what? If you wanted to be fucked, you could’ve just asked.” Emily grins cockily at you, stuffing two fingers inside of your dripping hole.

She revels in the feeling of you grinding against her hand, the sounds of your moans and sighs. Her hand begins to move faster. She knows exactly how to drive you wild, exactly how to elicit these sounds and reactions from her wife. She's single-minded in her pursuit of your pleasure, her own need and desire feeding into the primal drive to make you fall apart in her hands. She feels almost drunk on you - your scent, your skin, your sounds - it’s all encompassing.

You moan loudly, almost pornographically, at the pleasure roaring through your veins. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears, biting down harshly on your lip, feeling your orgasm quickly approaching as Emily’s thumb finds your clit, pressing down and circling harshly. She pushes her fingers even further inside you, nudging that sweet, spongy spot.

She grins against your shoulder, her fingers continuing their relentless onslaught. She can feel the tension building, the way your body is shaking and trembling against hers. She knows you’re close, she can feel it in the way your body is responding to her touch, the way your moans and gasps are becoming more desperate and ragged, chest heaving.

"Fuck, I’m close, baby, please-" Your voice breaks off at the end, squeezing your eyes shut and gripping onto her shoulders tightly, the taut muscles flexing under your hands.

Emily smirks. "You're begging so prettily, baby. You wanna come?" You nod desperately. "Yeah?"Her fingers move even faster still, her touch rougher. Her mouth moves to your ear, voice a low, husky whisper. "Come on, pretty girl. Come for me. Make a mess on my hand.”

With a final, sharp twist of her fingers, you finally cry out, your body shuddering against Emily's as ecstasy washes over you. She continues to caress and stroke you, helping you ride out the wave of your orgasm, her touch gentler now, as you squeeze her fingers inside you.

Emily keeps you pressed against the wall as you come down from your high, her hand still between your legs, gently stroking the sensitive flesh. She watches with satisfaction as you pant and whimper, body still twitching and shaking with the lingering pleasure of your orgasm. You swear you could see stars in your eyes.

After a few moments, Emily slowly withdraws her hand, bringing it up to her mouth and deliberately licking her fingers clean. The sight makes you shiver, another wave of arousal bubbling deep in your belly.

Emily kisses you deeply, tugging on your bottom lip as she pulls back slightly. "I'm not done with you yet, love."

You bark out a laugh, gently nudging your wife by her shoulders. "Jesus Christ woman, give me a break - I nearly passed out just now."

Emily laughs, nuzzling her nose into your hair and pressing a kiss there. After closing your robe, she takes you into her arms gently, ushering you to sit on the couch. “Sit down, love. Let me get your dinner so you can finish it.”

You sigh deeply as you plop yourself down on the couch, legs spread lazily, resting your head over the back cushion. Boneless and spent, you allow your eyes to slip shut momentarily as Emily gathers your plate and fork, bringing it back to you.

“Here you go, babe.” As you open your eyes and lift your head, the brunette places your bowl and fork in your hand, smiling sweetly at you.

“Where’s your food?”

“I put it in the fridge, I’ll eat it later." Emily lowers herself to her knees in front of you, never breaking eye contact. "Right now, I’m hungry for something else.” She brushes her hair out of her face before she places her warm hands on your already spread thighs, squeezing lightly.

You mouth falls open at the erotic sight, feeling your skin tingle. You were at an utter loss for words, watching as she grabbed underneath your knees, pulling you closer to her mouth.

“You are going to eat your food, and I’m going to eat you. If you don’t finish first, I’m going to edge you all night. I won’t be nice either, and you won’t get to come. Got me?”

Oh.

She looks at you, brow raised, waiting for an answer. “I…okay. Yeah.” You manage to breathe out, picking up your fork and hurriedly finishing your plate.

Emily grins, as she brings her mouth to you, warm and wet.

“Good girl.”

~

i will be opening my requests again soon - as always, please let me know who it's for and be as detailed as possible. thank you and i hope you liked this one! :)

[chappellroansdreamgirl]

ellie with a mean gf!

(prjoecting like a mf rn...)

a/n - i have been very unmotivated to write full-fleshed stuff so i'm deciding to write drabbles/headcannons for now. also THANK YOU FOR ALL THE ATTENTION ON CH.1 OF GOOD LUCK, BABE! it makes my heart smile that you guys love it so much... also😭😭...: @sweetcici11 srry that i lied and said ur fic would be out a few nights ago. i'm really trying to finish it but i don't want to rush it and it be shitty. i really want it to be enjoyable and as good as it can be. but i PROMISE you it WILL be posted... sooner or later! i also have a few more drafts to finish too, so, i hope you guys like them when they come out!!!!!

content warnings - fluff, i'm a bitch and i want to feel loved and think that someone can put up with my cuntiness😝😝 , over-usage of commas probably, i think they're low-key kind of toxic?!?!?!?! , guys i promise i'm not this bad i've just been pretty insufferable these last few days and need an outlet 😭😭 .

i wrote way more than i thought i was going to...

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

- you both hated each other at first. ...well actually, you hated her, and she was like, "😞😞" and then got used to it after a while and started being mean back 2 u!!

- dina introduced ellie to you when you both were hanging out with her. "you guys are going to love each other🥰!" ... you didn't 🤗 !

- ellie said hi to you and all you did was look her up and down, stare at her for a few seconds and then turn your head.

- everytime ellie would (attempt to) strike up a conversation you would give an overtly enthusiastic response or just stare at her like she had two heads or just blatantly ignore her. dina is over there like, '😟😟 . can we not have one good day...' when dina would leave for short periods of time and ellie was sure that you didn't like her, she would just talk about anything to get your blood boiling, our girl lllloooovvveessss to push buttons, we know this to be true.

- it got worse yet more tolerable after that. whenever she'd see you at gatherings or parties, you'd do your damnest to stay away from/avoid her. and she'd do her damnest to get you as upset with her as possible. it always ended with not-so-playful not-so-friendly banter!

- you were talking with jesse about something on the couch, and ellie came over and DELIBERATELY, DELIBERATELY... interrupted you 🤗 ! :

you shoot daggers at her face with your eyes, your jaw set hard and your eyes narrowed.

ellie tried to feign innocence, raising a brow at you after she looked over to see your facial expressions long after she felt them.. "what are you looking at me like that for🤨🤨?" , "i was fucking talking, you're being rude." , "if i have to get used to you being a bitch, you got to do the same." , you just huffed at her response and crossed your arms before walking off a few minutes after, realizing that the conversation you were having with jesse earlier was indeed over. ellie smirked to herself, victory was her's!

- she started calling you the nickname brat out of the blue... it blindsided tf out of you. here's the origin story!:

you look at ellie with a disgusted look on your face as she exhales smoke. her glazed over eyes meet yours before she offers the joint to you, out of genuine kindness. "want a hit?" she asked, forgetting how much of a bitch you were for, like, 0.2 seconds. you glare at her for a moment longer before plastering a sarcastic smile on your face, snatching the joint from her fingertips and dropping it onto the floor. you kept her eyes on yours as you stomped and smushed it into the ground.

now she remembered.

she stood up instantaneously, she was pissed. "what the fuck?!" she shouted, earning a few looks from some friends across the room. they strained their necks for a little bit before they saw you, it made sense now, and then turned back to the conversation.

you close your eyes for a slight second as a satisfied smile graced the corners of your lips. "you know i don't smoke, ellie." you responded with in a condescendingly sweet voice.

she didn't even argue with you. "you're such a fuckin' brat." she muttered under her breath before walking away. you had to try your very best to ignore the heartbeat in your pussy. (🤗!)

- she didn't get to see how much effect that title had on you that night, but she noticed afterwards.

- one time you didn't say anything to ellie during a hangout, distracted by someone you disliked more than her. ellie kind of missed it☹️☹️ .

you were brought out of your thoughts when you felt her cold hand touch your shoulder. when you noticed it was her who was doing it, you pulled back with a furrow of her brows. ellie smiled. there she was.

"you haven't said one mean thing to me since i've gotten here. are you dying?"

you scoffed as you pointed in the direction your anger was radiating from. it was a girl ellie saw here and there in jackson, sometimes she was paired with her during patrols, she wasn't crazy about her but she paid no mind to her existence.

"what?- what does this have to do with me-"

"what it has to do with you, is that you should feel honored that i can tolerate you... can't fuckin' stand that bitch."

ellie scoffed before speaking up once more, "oh, c'mon you're being dramatic. don't be a brat."

your eyes went wide for a second and as you turned away, she could see the cheek that was facing her turn an embarrassing shade of red. she found your weakness.

- when you guys started dating, no one, and i mean NO ONE, believed it. (i don't feel like writing how u two got together maybe if y'all like this enough i'll make a full-fleshed oneshot abt it😭.)

- joel saw you guys together... like, not arguing, and HER head on YOUR shoulder... he thought he got laced with acid for a quick second there... jesse felt like he missed a couple chapters and felt very sad that he hadn't caught onto it quicker... and dina was so proud of herself, "told you, you guys would love each other 😁." she's so smug, I LOVE HER!

- she constantly has to reprimand you like you're a child when you guys are around someone you obviously don't like for whatever reason. once whoever left the room, ellie'll pinch your shoulder or your thigh, whatever skin is on display at the moment, not too hard, just to get you to wince a bit. you'll make a face at her afterwards. "ow, what the fuck was that for ellie?" , "we can talk shit when we get home, don't make a scene🙄." you stress her out sometimes...

- just bcs you guys are together DOES NOT mean your attitude has gone away.

whenever ellie and you have gotten in an argument, you're always being extra sarcastic and EXTRA BITCHY just to get on her nerves.

"baby, have you seen my gun?" she asks you, breaking the silence voluntarily as she's two minutes from being late to patrol.

you don't look up to her, you keep on looking at the pages of an old magazine. "idk ellie, did you check to see if it was shoved up your ass."

she just stands there for a second like this 🧍‍♀️ , before sighing and walking somewhere else to find it. "i'll fuckin' deal with you later." she mutters under her breath, obviously annoyed. you smirk to yourself as you flip another page.

- she does love, however, that you've gotten gentler with her since the relationship blossomed between you two. very few people (dina and ellie... sometimes jesse.) can get you to stop, and ellie is proud of herself that she could add beast-tamer to the top of her list of many skills and talents.

- sometimes she has to calm you down, sometimes all it takes is a stare in your direction. ... well, it's oftentimes a glare... you're your own woman/person and a relationship will not restrict you from showing off your talents!!!!!

- ellie has to constantly keep you from getting into arguments that could harm you physically. although your craft of bitchery is amazing, you can't fight to save your life.

she'll be pulling you back like an angry barking dog on a leash.

"i could've fucking took h-" , "you overestimate yourself a lot, baby."

[ceilidho]

prompt: ex special forces ghost working as a “travel companion for hire” and reader hires him because she’s too nervous to go solo travelling

-

It’s not the first time you’ve been somewhere on your own, but it’s the first time you’ve realized that maybe solo trips aren’t for you. 

It’s in Germany, three drinks in and stumbling back to your hotel room, paranoia gripping you every time you pass a dark alleyway or take a right onto a deserted street. It’s the man walking your way on the same side of the street that has you stuffing your hand into your purse, clammy fingers gripped tight around your keys. 

On the flight home, you’re wiped. Beat. Finally untethered from a week’s worth of anxiety slowly reaching a boiling point. You’ve traveled on your own before, but it’s the first time you can remember being acutely aware of your vulnerability. Granted, before this trip, it’s not like you’d traveled all that much on your own, especially outside of the country. 

Ghost comes as a recommendation from a friend of a friend. You’d hemmed and hawed about the whole ordeal the Monday after getting home from your trip—working the front desk at an auto-body shop means that there’s no shortage of people to talk to. The guy picking up his car (fender bender, a wicked crack down the front that’s since been fixed) listens to you gripe with an absent look on his face, but you’ve learned to tune those out. People will listen to you even in spite of their indifference when there’s nothing else to do. 

“Y’know, I know a guy that does stuff like that,” he says, cutting you off halfway through another half-baked rant about airline fares these days. Your mouth puckers into something quizzical. Tell me more, it says without saying. “Ex-special forces. Left because of some medical thing, I think. Dunno. Anyway, he’s been all over the world—built like a brick shithouse, that one—and last I heard he was, uh, renting out his services.”

“Services?” 

“Like, he’d go with you, hang back while you do your thing, but basically the muscle. There to back you up if someone fucks with you.”

You’re just fresh enough off your vacation (an entirely miserable week, lest you explain the whole thing all over again) to give him your number. He promises to put you in touch with the friend of a friend who’ll put you in touch with one Simon Riley. He then gives you shit about the price on his bill and you knock ten percent off begrudgingly because the piece of paper with your number written on it is still crumpled in his palm.

No good deed goes unpunished or whatever.

“He’s not actually in the country right now,” Laswell, the friend of a friend, explains over coffee, Biscoff cookies spread out on a little tea plate between the two of you. “Or the continent.”

“Where is he?”

“For the rest of the month? Indonesia. He’s supposed to be back on the ninth. Should I let him know that you’re interested in his services?”

It’s a toss up at first. The thought of sacrificing your dignity (he would be more or less your babysitter) for adventure is tricky. With the way the dates line up—when you plan on traveling and when he gets back to the UK—you also won’t have much time to make his acquaintance before setting off. 

But there are places you want to go, sites you have scribbled down in a pocket-sized notepad folded up in the inner lining of your backpack. So you give her your permission and promise to join her and her wife for dinner sometime (repayment, and also it’s only been a few months since you moved, so you currently have a dearth of friends in your life anyway). 

The first time you see him when he stops by your workplace, you can’t help the double take. It just doesn’t seem possible. You know from Laswell and the guy at the body shop that Ghost is ex-military, but you’d been expecting some buzz-cut, slightly smarmy army reserves guy, maybe six-foot and decently muscled. What you don’t expect is the tatted beast that’s near twice your size. Only the top half of his face is exposed, the rest hidden beneath a black mask; you think briefly of asking him about it, but chicken out under his withering stare.

He doesn’t seem impressed when he meets you. “What’s your list?”

“Um…just around Europe. I haven’t thought about it too much.”

He stares down at you. “You wanna hire me just to run around the continent?”

“I haven’t thought about it!”

“Well, best give it a think fast, doll. Haven’t got all day for you to figure it out.”

You do have to think fast. He doesn’t leave until you’ve spelled out exactly where you want to go, until he’s watched you book plane tickets over your shoulder, heavy at your back while sweat beads at the nape of your neck. He’s entirely too intimidating to be looming over you like that. 

You watch him whip out his phone and fire off a couple of texts; your phone pings with an email telling you that you’ve been reimbursed for his flight and when you protest, he brushes you off by saying that he’ll invoice you for everything at the end of your trip.

Then what was promised falls into place. Free of burden, free of anxiety or restless energy, new possibilities open up to you: countries where you don’t speak the language; countries where the sites you want to see are spread out across a wide enough area that it warrants having a man packed beside you in a too-small taxi, his thigh a hot line against yours; hiking trips through national parks, where you don’t feel like you might slip down a hill and twist your ankle, stuck without water or cell service. 

You only have two weeks worth of vacation, so you use them wisely. A week traveling across Switzerland and Austria, and then a week in Cairo to see the pyramids. 

Ghost hangs back most of the time while you traipse around and do your own thing. You can feel him at your back when you approach the stands where the local vendors have set up shop, perusing silver trinkets and jewelry, only returning to your side when someone stands too close to you. 

He fists a hand in a pickpocket’s shirt when they try for your purse, giving them a shake and sending them off. 

“You didn’t have to do all that,” you mutter in his direction as you watch the young man scurry away. Not sure if you’re blushing or sunburnt. 

“You hired me to deal with this shit my way. Don’t get mouthy now.”

You think it might be the former because while you might not be the best at reapplying sunscreen, Ghost has been gentle-parenting you this whole trip. He pulls you off into corners and growls down at you while squirting a dollop of sunscreen into the palm of his hand to spread across your face. You close your eyes when his rough hands trace over your face and breathe out heavily when he spins you around, big hands engulfing your shoulders and spreading down your back.

You don’t think it could get worse. It gets worse. 

He won’t spring for his own room. You stare at him in disbelief in the lobby of the two star hotel where you’ve booked a room with a single bed. There’s a vending machine in the corner of the lobby that only sells coke (all of the other buttons are broken). One of the ceiling lights flickers on and off, an ominous buzz filling the room. Ghost doesn’t so much as blink.

“You didn’t tell me—I didn’t know that was my job,” you rebuff, anxiety a fist in your throat. You’ve already asked the front desk for another room, but they’ve been sold out for weeks, the woman at the front desk informed you with no small amount of pity. It’s the busy season; even two-star hotels get booked up in the dog days of summer. 

He cocks an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Never had to before. My job isn’t to book shit.”

“I sent you my itinerary.” 

“That’s not how I work, love. Where’s your room?” 

It’s nothing short of humiliating to have him follow you back to your shabby little hotel room. Your hands shake when you unlock the door, opening it to something no bigger than a closet. You’d purposefully gotten a smaller room than you usually would, anticipating the cost of Ghost's invoice at the end of your trip. No good deed goes unpunished. 

He ushers you into the room with a hand on your back, shutting the door behind him. You flick on the only light in the room, a bulbous thing hanging from the ceiling. No bedside lamp. 

When he settles on the end of the only twin bed in the room, the bedframe groans under his weight. Your hands are already clammy. He’s already making himself at home, unbuckling his belt with a single hand; it makes you almost dizzy to look over at him so you try desperately to avert your eyes.

“At least wait until I’m in the other room,” you hiss, rifling through your suitcase faster to get your clothes for after your shower. 

“Quit moping, love,” Ghost scolds, resting back on his elbows and toeing off his boots. “We’ll make it work. Just gonna have to get comfortable together.”

You scurry off to the bathroom with your pajamas clutched tight to your chest, paying no attention to the fact that he doesn’t sound as upset as you thought he might.

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Happy Family

🇺🇸Pairing(s)🇺🇸→Chris Evans x Single Dad reader ⚠️CW⚠️→no warnings, just fluff. The kid is adopted by the way. 🇺🇸Rating🇺🇸→ Fluff 🇺🇸Requested🇺🇸→ Yes

🇺🇸Word Count🇺🇸→ 1.1k

🇺🇸Summary🇺🇸→ You and Chris have been dating for a year, but you were scared of how Chris would react to you having a child. Long story short, you two are now married.

C/N: Child name

Couldn't find a good GIF of him now so here's a pic.

Today was the day, it should’ve been a wondrous feeling, but you only felt dread. Anxiety rushed through your veins as the time to introduce your boyfriend, Chris Evans, to your adopted son/daughter drew near. You hoped he wouldn’t leave you like the others before him. 

You can remember the day you first met him. 

It's been two months since you broke up with your ex-boyfriend after finding out he cheated. You thought he was the one after he loved meeting your son/daughter and he was just an amazing person overall. He proved you wrong in a matter of a few minutes.

The cafe was modestly quiet, with people coming in and ordering their drinks and an assortment of sweets. You were moping at one of the tables in the corner, drinking a cup of coffee. You still weren’t over your ex and cried softly so as not to draw attention to yourself. 

Then he came into your view. 

You were sniffling softly with your head buried in your arms until you heard a chair screeching across from you. Someone was sitting across the table. “You okay? I couldn’t help but notice you crying.” A deep voice said, looking up to see who it was, you were smacked across the face by how handsome the man was. 

He had an oval face with a wide forehead, well balanced with the glasses complimenting his features. A notable facial feature would be the man’s facial hair. It looked bushy but well-maintained with hints of grey hairs along the brown. He had slicked-back hair that went back to the top of his nape. 

You then realize you’ve been staring for too long. “Y-yeah… I’m okay, just going through things,” you replied while looking away until the flustered feeling went away. You then hear him let out a deep chuckle, only causing you to blush in return. A hot man decides to come and speak when you’re not looking your best… you just wanted to die.

“You don’t look good, it's usually good to talk to others when something is wrong. My name is Chris, Chris Evans, by the way.” Now you know the name of this stranger, Chris Evans, and it fits perfectly with him. You were hesitant about talking to Chris, but he looked trustworthy so you began talking with him.

Chris listened to everything– besides you having a kid– and gave his opinions. It all boiled down to, “It wasn’t your fault and you shouldn’t feel like you did anything wrong.” and other things. Those words coming from him made you smile.

From that day forward, you two always met at the cafe until Chris gave you his number. You then started hanging out and doing various things together, and that’s how you started developing feelings. You refrained from telling Chris these feelings, not wanting to ruin the friendship dynamic, and you doubted a man like Chris was gay or bisexual.

“I was wondering if you would like to go out with me, like an actual date.” 

That sent earthquakes rumbling through your world. Your heart fluttered with happiness and you agreed to the date. After you both went on dates, your son/daughter could notice your old self returning. They began asking questions and poking for answers, maybe since they were a child and could see everything.

After numerous dates, Chris made it official, asking you to be his boyfriend. You got excited and jumped into Chris’s arms. You smile when you feel Chris’s large arms wrapping around your body, pulling you closer into his embrace. 

That leads to the situation now.

You weren’t sure how Evans would react, but he always talked about wanting kids—even if they were adopted since you both are men. Chris was passionate but said, “Only if you’re ready.” It's now or never, either way, Evans was going to find out one way or another.

Evans was asked to come to your house to talk about something important. He felt his heart drop, thinking that you wanted to break up with him but he pushed those thoughts aside. When he arrived at your place; he was met with you sitting on the couch with a young child on the side, kicking their legs before looking up and smiling.

“Are you my dad’s boyfriend? You won’t leave?” the kid said as they ran up, circling him as they inspected him. Chris felt his smile falter at the end of what the kid said. He remembers you telling him what happened with your last relationship. He wasn’t going to be like your ex.

You began explaining everything to Chris, saying how they’re adopted, likes and dislikes, and other things. “This is c/n. They’re my adopted son/daughter.” Chris smiled, his heart swelling as he gave his hand out and introduced himself. 

Chris was an amazing father. He showed your child the love they needed, took them places, and gave them the things they wanted when you couldn’t provide. He also reprimanded them when they acted bad or did something. Overall, he was an amazing parent.

You have so many memories now, seeing Chris carrying C/n on his shoulders, pictures of them at amusement parks, beaches, aquariums, etc. Now, it seems like you have the family you always wanted, but you’re not husbands… yet.

“Will you marry me?” Chris said as he got on one knee and pulled out a ring. C/n was throwing rose petals as Chris was giving his proposal speech. Tears start welding in your eyes.  Chris looked handsome like this, wearing a suit, every part of him groomed.

“Yes, I will.” You said as tears rolled down your face while Chris put the ring on your finger. You examine it before hugging Evans, his large hands stroking your back.

“I have two dads now!”

XX(Timeskip 3 years)XX

Every part of your body was hurting. Your damn boss was working you to the bone, which you’ll probably complain about in your resignation letter. When you opened the door, you were met with the sight of Chris sleeping on the couch. 

Next to him was c/n sleeping as well. They must have been watching a Disney movie before falling asleep. You smiled, putting your stuff down, walking to the two, and kissing them on the forehead.

“I love you both.”

THE END

A/n: hello, my strawberries! Round two of fics beginning this year! At this rate, I’ll maybe be done in June or July. Very special thanks to @sagethegaywitch

TAGLIST: @spnfanboy777 @meyocoko @buckyshusband0 @mack-thedork @sluttyhusband @wolf-knights @zamfam4272 @ghostking4m @maxxioislost @furiousflowercreation

[dreaming-medium]

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 1

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Orgasm Denial - Han Jisung

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: After watching other men flirt with you at a party, Jisung’s patience has officially run out.

————————————————————

You were torturing Han Jisung without even realizing it.

Jisung had absolutely no reason to be mad right now. He has no right being as livid as he is. But the jealousy that he feels in the deepest pit of his stomach is bubbling like boiling lava and spreading throughout his chest and into each of his limbs. 

Currently, you were leaning against the countertop of the kitchen talking to Hyunjin, a red solo cup held up to your lips, throat bobbing as you sipped your drink.

Whatever story he decided to tell you must be intensely captivating for you to give him this much of your time. 

The loud music booming through the speakers made the walls vibrate. None of the main lights in the kitchen were on, instead, LED strips lined the walls of Chan’s apartment. Currently, they were set to a deep blue.

You can talk to whoever you want, wherever you want. Jisung cannot do anything about that.

That’s the problem, you’re not his. And he doesn’t spend a single day wishing that wasn’t true.

Jisung has had his eye on you for the better part of a year now. Both of you were in a majority of the same classes; he actually met you on the first day when the only open seat in the lecture hall was next to him.

When he moved his bag away from the chair for you to sit down, you flashed the brightest smile with a ‘thank you’ and instantly he was hooked.

It all started out so innocently. His heart would race when you would walk into the room in those adorably coordinated outfits; his hands would get clammy and he would get tongue tied whenever you tried to speak to him.

After you would leave he would be able to smell your perfume like a phantom haunting his life. 

Class after class, you would talk more and more. Eventually you asked for his phone number.

“Just in case I need help with the homework.” Your eyes sparkled at him. Jisung couldn’t get his phone out of his pocket fast enough.

“Yeah! Of course, totally.” He fumbled with his words. All you did was giggle at him and the sound went straight to his heart which thudded against his rib cage.

Homework related texts slowly turned into more friendly conversation.

Jisung can still remember the first time you touched him, he could still feel your hand on his arm days afterwards. You were only trying to get his attention to look at one of your other classmates who fell asleep in a ridiculous position, but he couldn’t even focus on that.

All he knew at that moment was that your hand was on his arm, all five of your fingers were curled around his forearm.

Jisung thanked every single god in existence that he had rolled up the sleeves of his flannel not even ten minutes prior to your grab. Because of this, he was able to feel just how soft your hands were, how warm your skin was.

Study sessions evolved into hangouts which then evolved to him introducing you to his friends.

You were now part of his close circle of friends. It’s so bittersweet to Jisung.

Now, he sees you almost every single day, but at the same time, so does everyone else.

Innocent thoughts about how beautiful your skin tone looks with the color yellow dissolved into much more impure fantasies.

If your hands felt that soft on his forearm, then he can’t imagine how they would feel everywhere else on his body. How the pads of your fingertips would feel sliding down his chest, over his abs and tracing down his v-line. 

The day you came to his apartment after getting your nails done the only thought on Jisung’s mind was how delicious it would feel to have those pretty little nails scratching down his back. Your head thrown back in pleasure, eyes rolling into the back of your head, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Fuck, when you say his name it’s like nothing else exists.

And now you’re talking to Hwang Hyunjin of all people. Whatever Hyunjin just said to you must’ve been especially funny to you since your head jerks forward and a choked laugh almost makes you spit out your drink.

Hyunjin laughs with you and his hand comes up to grab your upper arm.

Jisung clenches his jaw so tight the muscles in his face hurt.

What the hell was he supposed to do? He’s been standing on the other side of the semi-crowded kitchen for about ten minutes now, silently seething as you talk to another man who is so obviously flirting with you.

You are not his. You are not his. 

But, fuck, he wants you so fucking bad. He wants to know if your perfume will linger on his sheets after you’ve left his bed. Would his pillow hold onto the smell of your shampoo?

Jisung looks down at the empty cup in his hand, his imagination running wild. 

He was the one that walked with you to this party, like always. Which means he’ll also be the one to walk you home. That thought sates a tiny bit of jealousy.

But it’s really only like throwing a bucket of water into a raging wildfire.

There’s a loud yelp and Jisung’s head snaps up and looks over at you.

Someone had bumped into the back of Hyunjin, causing his cup to jolt and contents to spill all down the front of your shirt.

“Shit,” you curse, looking down at the damage. His drink was dark and your shirt was white.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Hyunjin apologizes profusely, putting his now empty cup on the counter and grabbing an absurd amount of paper towels.

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile at him. “Accidents happen.”

Hyunjin starts dabbing at your shirt with the paper towels.

Jisung’s hand clenches his cup so hard the plastic crunches and the cup crushes.

“... Dude.” Minho says in a deadpan tone next to him. Has he been next to him the entire time?

Jisung can’t take his eyes off of the two of you. Does Hyunjin even realize what he’s doing? His hands are all over your stomach and chest, wiping off the drink that drips down the open collar of your shirt, dipping into the valley of your breasts.

He wouldn’t even need the paper towels. Give Jisung three minutes and he could have you clean with nothing but his tongue. Fuck, maybe even just two minutes.

One. He only needs one. Just give him one minute with you.

“Ugh, this shirt is ruined,” you frown, holding the fabric away from your skin. “I’m gunna go borrow one from Chan, be right back.”

Once more, you smile at Hyunjin who only apologizes more.

You weave your way through the crowd of people and out of the kitchen.

Jisung doesn’t even think, he slams his crushed cup down on the counter next to a startled Minho and immediately follows you. His body is acting on its own at this point, blinded by the green hue of jealousy.

He’s only about three steps behind you when you walk into Chan’s bedroom. You step further into the room and towards the closet, Jisung enters the room and closes the door behind him.

A startled yelp leaves your lips and you turn around with your hand clutching your chest.

“Jisung!” You exclaim. God, your voice does sinful things to his mind. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You giggle and look down at your ruined shirt. “Someone bumped into Hyunjin and he spilled his entire drink on my shirt. You don’t think Chan will mind if I borrow one of his shirts, right?”

Jisung doesn’t answer, he only locks the door with a solid click.

Your expression drops. “Jisung?” you ask gently. “Are you alright?” You step closer to him with a concerned pull of your eyebrows.

His pupils are blown wide and his shoulders rise and fall with each breath. He’s zeroed in your face, his chin dipping down slightly, lips parted.

Something just… snaps within him. Maybe it’s the alcohol, who knows?

Jisung takes large steps towards you at an alarming rate.

Startled, you back up quickly until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Jisung?” you ask again.

“Didn’t you want to get this off?” is all he says, grabbing two fist fulls of the bottom of your soaked shirt. The fabric is cold to the touch.

“Wh-” is all you have time to say before your shirt is yanked over your head. You gasp and your hands fly up to cover your chest.

Jisung throws the shirt onto the floor and reaches forward and grabs both of your wrists tightly. He tugs you towards his body and you stumble forward into him.

“All night you’ve been talking to him, Y/N.” he growls. Your eyes are wide in surprise. “All night. And you just stand there while he undresses you with his eyes.”

Jisung pulls your arms apart and holds them out at your sides. He takes another step forward until your chests are flush against one another.

His breathing is so deep that with each inhale you press even further into him.

Your cheeks heat up and you sputter out incoherent words, not knowing where any of this is coming from. 

“Jisung, I-”

“I can’t take it anymore, Y/N.” his voice dips down an octave, it’s raspy and thick. “I can’t stand by and watch other people try to take you from me.”

He leans down quickly and stops his lips mere millimeters from yours. He can practically taste your chapstick from this distance. That damn cherry chapstick that you would put on during the colder months.

“Say you’re mine, Y/N. Please, please be mine.”

You swallow audibly, your eyes are staring down at his lips. The party outside the room sounds so far away.

“I’ve always been yours, Jisung.”

It feels like he’s shocked by a live wire the way a wave of electricity travels down his entire body at your words. And that feeling is nothing compared to how his body reacts when he finally kisses you.

Every single nerve comes alive in his body at the press of your lips on his. He can’t help but let a small whimper escape the back of his throat. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is really happening. 

His hands move from grasping your lips to desperately grab at your face. He can’t control his hands, one moment he’s cupping your face, the next he’s grabbing at the sides of your ribcage.

When he feels the heat of your naked skin in his hands he nearly moans out loud.

You’re so much softer than he could’ve ever imagined.

Lips desperately slide over one another. Large gasps of air in between each one. It’s filthy the way he devours your mouth.

His tongue slides out from behind his lips at the same time as yours does and they meet in the middle for a sinful dance.

Your hands wrap around his neck and one threads into his hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling.

This time he does moan and it’s guttural and deep. 

His dick has been hard from the moment you said his name in this room, and with each second that passes his jeans only get tighter. 

“Mine,” he whispers in between kisses. “All mine.”

You sigh into the kiss and press your chest against his even further. 

Jisung’s hands move behind your back and begin to fumble with your bra, it comes off within seconds. You pull your arms away from him to let it fall off your body.

He tears his lips away from yours and peers down at your naked chest. He can feel precum leaking out of his cock at the sight of your tits.

“Fuck,” he grunts and his hands come up and cup both of them in greedy handfuls. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Jisung,” you whine at his touch.

“Get on the bed, baby.” he commands and you immediately fall backwards onto it.

From your seated position, you scoot backwards towards the middle and Jisung watches, palming over his painful clothed erection.

The way you’re looking up at him from the bed does nothing to help easy the aching in his pants. You bat your eyelashes at him and his knees almost give out.

Jisung yanks his shirt over his head and throws it onto the floor mindlessly. He crawls over you and captures your lips with his again.

Your moans of pleasure are music to his ears. 

One of his hands slides up your body to grab at your chest again, he palms your one tit for a moment before pulling the nipple between his fingers. 

Your back arches upwards into his touch and you moan into his mouth. The heat from your naked body is radiating onto him. 

“Jisung,” you mewl against his mouth, “Jisung please.”

“Please, what?” he presses into you.

You answer by rolling your hips up against his. The delicious pressure against his aching cock causes him to buck downwards.

Both of you moan together at the feeling. He doesn’t care if it’s pathetic, you’re making his body sing with even the smallest of touches; playing him like an instrument.

“Touch me, Jisung, please.”

He’s died, surely he’s died and gone to Heaven.

Those words rip right through him. You’re begging him to touch you?

“Shit,” he rasps against your lips. His hips roll against yours again. He’ll touch you every single moment of every day for the rest of your lives if you’ll let him.

His hand slides down and undoes the button of your jeans as fast as possible. His fingers wont work fast enough for how fucking bad he wants to fulfill your request. 

As soon as the button is undone, he’s yanking your jeans and panties down your legs and launching them across the room. 

Jisung props himself on his elbow next to your head and looks down at your face. Your cheeks are flushed red and eyes half-lidded. Your hair fans like a halo around your head.

Your lips are completely swollen and red, their soaking wet from the spit swapped between the two of you. Deep pants are coming out in large breaths.

“You want me to touch you, baby?” Jisung purrs down to you. You gulp and nod your head quickly.

“Please,” you utter.

He smirks at your begging. 

Slowly he drags his fingers down your stomach with a featherlight touch. His eyes follow his own hand. Your stomach muscles jump at his caress. 

You’re an absolute angel underneath him.

He can’t stop staring at your body. Months and months he’s pined to know what you look like underneath those clothes. The first time you wore a matching yoga set to class Jisung nearly came in his pants.

The way it hugged every single curve on your body. 

And now seeing you uncovered before his very eyes feels unreal. Like any moment he’ll wake up from a dream.

His mouth dips down and captures your kiss-swollen lips once more, his hand splayed out on your lower stomach.

Lower and lower he trails his wet, open mouth kisses down your skin. The lower he gets, he can taste the drink that Hyunjin spilled on you. 

Rum and coke. 

The rum is so sticky sweet on your skin and it makes his head whirl. His fingers curl and he scratches down your stomach causing you to throw your head back in a moan.

“Jisung…” your hips roll off the bed again but he pushes them back down with his hand.

“No, no,” he growls against your skin, leaning down and licking between the valley of your breasts. “I’ve waited too long for this. You’re going to be patient and take whatever I give you.”

A sharp inhale is the only response he hears before he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the pebbled bud.

Your hand comes up and you grab a fistful of his hair again.

Quiet cries of pleasure spill from your lips with every lick and nip of his teeth. 

Eventually his hand moves further down and he runs his fingers softly through your folds.

“Fucking shit you’re so wet,” he purrs against your chest.

“Want you so bad, Ji…” you sound so fucked out already and he’s barely touched you. It makes him keen and moan against your skin.

His fingers glide up and down your slit. If it wasn’t for the loud music right outside the room, he’s sure the noises coming from his touch would be sinful.

Jisung easily glides a finger into your opening and your head kicks back and is thrown against the pillow. A long moan comes from deep within your throat.

He slides another finger in and his thumb rubs against your clit slowly. Pleasure rips through your veins and shoots shockwaves down your legs.

The alcohol in your blood only makes everything feel even better. 

Every single sound of pleasure that comes out of your mouth only encourages him further. Jisung feels like he’s drowning in ecstasy just by listening to you.

The hand in his hair tightens and you yank his head up to meet your lips in a searing kiss. It’s sloppy and messy. Tongues sliding over one another, heavy exhales leaving both of your mouths.

When Jisung curls his fingers inside you, you cry out against his lips and your eyebrows furrow in pleasure.

“That’s right, baby. Focus on how good I’m making you feel.”

“Ji… Ji…” you pant his nickname over and over in between exhales, pulling his hair tightly and making him feel insane.

The speed at which his fingers move increases and his thumb presses even harder against your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m… I’m close…”

“You are?” he asks under his breath, faster and faster he moves.

The pressure in your abdomen builds and builds.

“Who’s making you feel like this, baby?”

You can’t answer him, you’re too busy squirming around the bed, your hips can’t keep still.

“Answer me, Y/N.”

He can feel your walls clamping on his fingers tighter and tighter as you hurl towards the edge. But still, you don’t answer.

So, he stops.

His finger still within you and an absolutely desperate wail leaves your lips.

“Fuck!” you cry, “Please!”

Jisung shifts his weight on his elbow and uses that hand to grab a hold of your hair in a steel like grip. 

“Girls who don’t listen don’t get to cum.” he growls in your ear. “Now, let’s try this again.”

Slowly, he begins to pump his fingers in and out of your soaking wet cunt. Your hips roll against his fingers, meeting each thrust.

Too slow, he’s moving too slow. You whine and squirm even more underneath him.

His thumb is rubbing figure eights on your clit, pleasure coursing through your veins like a drug. Closer and closer he brings you to the edge again.

With each passing second, he picks up his speed even more, curling his fingers to hit that spongy spot within you each time he thrusts in.

Your juices cover his entire hand, soaking the sheets underneath you both.

Every single wet dream he’s ever had is coming to life right before his very eyes.

“Who is making you feel this good?” Jisung’s voice is dark and low, it rumbles within his chest. Your eyes are clamped shut, mouth hanging open.

Tighter and tighter your walls clamp down.

“Y/N!” 

“You! Fuck!”

Jisung stops completely again. He yanks your hair as you cry out in frustration.

“Not good enough, Y/N!” he barks.

“Please please please!”

Your hips roll against his fingers to try and relieve that terrible ache in your cunt.

He leans down and bites down where your neck meets your shoulder– hard. An even louder whine leaves your lips. He can feel you clench around him from the feeling.

“We’re going to try this one last time, Y/N.” he hums against your rum coated skin. “And you’re going to be a good girl for me, okay?”

All you’re able to do is nod, your head is in the clouds.

He doesn’t start slow this time, his pace is immediately brutal. Your eyes fly open and he leans up to look down into your eyes.

Your pupils are completely blown out, eyes hazy in pleasure. A deep scarlet color covers your cheeks.

He hits your g-spot roughly with one particularly hard thrust at the same time his thumb presses your clit and your eyes roll back, chin tipping back.

“No,” he barks and yanks your head back, “Look at me.”

It takes so much strength to keep your gaze on him. Moan after moan tumbles from your swollen lips. 

“Close… close… please, please!” you cry.

“Who. Is. Making. You. Feel. Like. This?” he emphasizes each word with a thrust into your soaking wet walls.

He needs you to remember he’s touching you, him. Not Hyunjin, no one else. .

“You! Jisung! Han Jisung!”

“Louder!”

“Han Jisung! Fuck!”

Finally, he lets you fall over the edge and your walls squeeze his fingers so tight Jisung thinks he might cum in his own pants.

Your moans and cries of his name will be tattooed in his mind forever.

With hips bucking uncontrollably, he lets you ride out your absolutely mind-blowing orgasm. Deep hums emanate from your chest as you come down from that delicious peak.

“Fuck, baby,” he purrs into your ear, running his tongue up the side. “Can’t wait to hear you scream my name again, but this time you’ll be cumming on my cock.”

[pjmmania]

If Snow Decides to Fall

2. “Hi, you.”

Chapter Warnings: Light smut, references to sex, pregnancy

Back to Chapter Index

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jimin had gotten out of bed before you, for once. His place on the bed was left a gathering of sheets, cold and crumpled.

After brushing your teeth and hair, you got into a cozy lounge set, and padded out of his bedroom, into the hallway. The sound of running water could be heard from the kitchen, so that's where you headed next.

He was still in his typical sleep attire - boxers and nothing else. His toned back was facing you, giving a view of the moons etched into his skin. He was filling up a pot in the sink to make French-press coffee when he heard your footsteps.

You were greeted with his hoarse, low morning voice, "Hey, you're up."

"Morning," you yawned, "You are up earlier than usual.”

He turned off the tap as you sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen island, “Yeah, I didn’t sleep well honestly. Kind of hard when you find out your girlfriend’s pregnant.”

“I know, I didn’t sleep the greatest either,” you said prior to realizing, then your cheeks flushed a deep rose, “Wait, girlfriend?”

Jimin turned around and put the pot of water on the stovetop to boil. He was grinning at you handsomely, with hair slightly disheveled, “We hang out, have dinner together, watch movies, have lots of sex, and we love each other enough to have a kid together. I’d say we’re boyfriend and girlfriend now, if you’d like to be.”

You smiled back, “I suppose that’s reasonable.”

He rounded the corner of the grey marble top of the island, aiming straight for your lips. His kiss was short and sweet, exactly the kind you had grown accustomed to when it came to Saturday mornings with him.

“Would you like some coffee?” He asked before pecking your cheek.

You wrinkled your nose, “I’d love some, but unfortunately I probably should stick to decaf now.”

He pursed his plump lips together and hummed, “Oh shit, that’s right. Are you hungry at least? I can make the eggs you like.”

“Over easy?” you shook your head and laughed, “I don’t think I can have those either. They’re too raw.”

Jimin chuckled, bowing his head in defeat, “Scrambled then.”

“Thanks.”

He nodded and happily returned to the stove, getting out a pan and setting it on one of the burners. As he opened the fridge to get out a carton of eggs, he glanced back at you through slightly puffy eyes, “So aside from not being able to have your normal breakfast, is there anything else different?”

You propped your chin up in the palm of your hand, “You mean the symptoms? Well, it’s been kind of mild, to be honest. The only symptoms I’ve had so far are sore boobs and a little bit of spotting. Actually, now that I think about it, I might be sensitive to the smell of kimchi too. But that’s all.”

“I hope it continues to be relatively easy," Jimin cracked a few eggs into the pan, "But I'll be here for you if it gets worse. This reminds me of something important I thought about while you were sleeping - your key."

You tilted your head to one side, "My key?"

"To my apartment," he said, "You have it, but you always knock on the door and wait for me to let you in. From now on, please use it. Let yourself in, whether I'm here or not."

"Are you sure? I don't let myself in because I know how much you value your privacy."

He smirked, whisking the eggs to scramble them, "If I wanted privacy from you, I wouldn't have given you a key in the first place. Maybe you haven't noticed, but I really enjoy your company."

In an attempt to conceal how much of a sucker you were for his little flirtations, you pursed your lips together. Still, it was plain as day when he glanced at you. This flustered yet giddy expression was a habit of yours that he adored.

Jimin turned the heat up slightly on the stove before letting the eggs do their thing, "Besides, I want to be here for anything you need. My biggest fear with this whole thing is not being there like any decent father would be. It will be hard enough with my schedule."

You detected the insecurity on his face, "Don't worry. I promise I'll use the key from now on."

You scooted the stool backwards so you could get up. Then you made your way to the other side of the island, hugging him from behind. Your cheek pressed against his back.

He released a content sigh and twisted himself to face you, enveloping you in his chest instead. His lips kissed the top of your head, "It's interesting. I feel like one moment, it's really hitting me, and the next, it doesn't feel real."

"I know," your voice was slightly muffled against his skin, "I can't believe I'm going to be a mom."

Jimin had recollections of you playing with the kids of your coworker. He knew you had a loving, natural touch with children, "I've seen you with Chaeyoung's twins. You'll be an amazing mother."

You didn't know if you believed him with such immense pressures staring you down, but you smiled anyway, "And I've seen you with the managers' kids. I think you'll be an outstanding father."

He laughed a little nervously, "It feels so absurd applying the word 'father' to myself."

"But we'll get each other through it," you muttered, "Because we love each other, right?"

He smiled again, closing his eyes and cherishing the feeling of having you in his arms, "Exactly."

Both of you heard a little sizzle coming from the pan on the stove. Jimin chuckled, “I’d love to stay like this, but I don’t want to serve you burnt eggs.”

Eating breakfast that morning was slowed by both of your needs to talk this through some more. He had to leave for another recording session at noon, but there was still time to discuss some of the general things.

You told him about what your care provider told you, “Apparently, the best time for me to get an ultrasound is in the next couple of weeks. I’m assuming Doctor Baek will be able to give me a list of recommendations for obstetricians. I guess you wouldn’t be able to go…would you?”

“I hate to say it but I don’t know,” he said with his hands on his thighs, “We are due in Tokyo next week and will be there for eight days, doing various promotions and the Vogue shoot. This is going to be one of the biggest issues throughout this whole thing. Some things are easy to get out of, but others won’t budge. And even if I could make it to an appointment, how would I be able to explain my presence there?”

You don't know how you could have forgotten about the Tokyo trip. Sometimes, you attended trips like this, but a photoshoot as big as Vogue didn't require your assistance. They had quite a few of their own people for styling.

“That’s right,” you huffed in a slouch, “The doctors are legally prohibited from saying anything, but there’s no way we’d be able to avoid other patients and staff seeing you and talking.”

He swallowed a bite of food, nodding along, "It might be a stretch, but if we can get the ultrasound for this coming week, we can have the doctor come here. As you know, I leave my Friday evenings free when I'm in town."

"Here? You're comfortable with that?"

"Not entirely," he admitted, "But like you said, they can't say anything without risking losing their license. It makes sense for the sake of privacy, and it would allow us to squeeze it in between all of my commitments."

"That sounds nice, but I’m going to be swamped at work this week. We’re putting together your styling concept for the tour next year. Maybe we could find time after you get back from Japan.”

Jimin became more serious and put his hand on your knee, eyes firm, "Y/N, as much as I want to be there, let's not ignore the advice of the professionals. If it's better to get a read on you and the baby sooner rather than later, then don't wait for me.”

It was disheartening, but it was something you’d have to get used to. You wanted to do this, but it little about it would be normal. You had to make peace with that.

“Okay,” you sighed, “I’ll call today and see what’s available.”

He leaned forward to kiss your temple, “I’ll be excited to hear all about it, baby.”

You smiled at his touch, “Well that’s that. Now onto an even more pressing matter…”

He finished what was on his plate and took another sip of his coffee, “Which is?”

“Who are we going to tell about this?” You asked with raised brows, “Obviously no one at the company can know, at least not yet.”

“I’ll have to tell the guys at some point before you start showing, or they will figure it out on their own. And I know they would keep the secret for as long as we asked them to.”

You already felt mortified with that, but again, you had to get used to the awkwardness, “Alright. What about our parents?”

A twinge of guilt rang through him, like a child who was about to get a scolding. Jimin took his empty dished and got up to put them in the dishwasher, mumbling a cuss or two.

He said under his breath, “My parents would definitely come around, but they’ll also want to kill me.”

“Do they…know about us?”

The dishes clanked in the washer as he shuffled some things around, making room for the new ones, “I’ve told them I’ve been seeing someone and that things have been getting more serious. But they’d never see this coming. What about your parents?”

Your features sank, “They’d probably want to kill you too, no offense. I don’t think they’d be thrilled with the idea of their daughter having a baby with a popstar out of wedlock. It’s, uh…kind of a negative trope.”

“I get it,” Jimin then came over and took your dishes away for you, “Have you told them about us?”

You wanted to shrivel up and hide somewhere, “Not exactly…”

He was taken aback, “Really? Not a single thing?”

You sat on your hands and shrugged, “They’re as traditional as it gets, Jimin. They wouldn’t react kindly to me sleeping with you. They don’t even agree with the career I chose. Honestly, I don’t really speak with or see them that often. They live on the other side of the country.”

He could have been offended by the idea of your parents’ disapproval of him, but he wasn’t. Instead, he grinned, “Then I guess we have our work cut out for us.”

You half laughed, though you were more apprehensive than amused, “We certainly do.”

Jimin was the last to join the recording session. It wasn’t a big deal - the others started without him, taking turns in the booth.

When he entered the recording room, Jungkook was in the booth with headphones on, singing the lines in front of him. Yoongi and another producer were sitting at the panel, while all the others were either sitting on the couch or bean bags.

“There he is!” Hoseok called out with his classic mile-wide smile.

Taehyung covered his mouth, chuckling, “You look exhausted, hyung. Late night?”

Just because the work had begun didn’t mean he could escape a little teasing. It was normally alright with him. After all, they all knew about the affair, but his patience would be thinner than normal today. He was running on little sleep and just had his world shaken.

He faked a short laugh, but it didn’t travel all the way to his eyes, “Yeah, late night.”

Namjoon made room on the couch and he sat back onto the plush leather, letting his head lean all the way back. The leader and the others were glancing at one another with confused looks on their faces. It was typical for Jimin to be the last one to arrive, but once he showed up, he was in work mode. Right now, he looked somewhat out of it.

“Woah,” Jin said, “Must have been a really late night.”

The session lasted hours. Much to their surprise, Jimin never seemed to get into the groove. He recorded his parts well, but the intense focus was simply absent.

Jungkook, who had been with him the day before, already had a suspicion that this was about you.

Not only was this their brother who they passionately cared for, but they also had an important trip coming up. They needed to figure out what was going on.

When it was time to wrap up, the six members waited for the other producer to leave the room. It was only after that could they mention you by name. After all the years together, it was like they developed a form of telepathy. Something was up with their friend, and they moved in-sync to fix it.

Jimin was puzzled as to why no one was grabbing their things to leave.

Once they were isolated as a group of seven, Namjoon started the conversation from his same spot on the couch, “Let’s stay for a few minutes to talk about whatever’s going on.”

He knew it was about him, “I’m alright, guys. Really. Just exhausted.”

“Are you positive? Because you don’t just seem tired. You look withdrawn.” Jin said.

Trying to play it off coolly, he smirked, “That can happen when one gets tired.”

“Jimin, come on. It’s us,” Hoseok urged, “We just want to make sure you’re all good.”

“I am.” He gave the persuasion another go.

But it was to no avail. Jungkook spoke up next, leaning with his back against the wall, “I’m sorry, hyung, but I have to wonder if this is about that thing with Y/N yesterday.”

“What thing?” inquired Yoongi.

The youngest of the group looked to the man in question to give him a chance to respond, but when Jimin had nothing to say, he continued, “I was with him when we ran into her on our way back from the shoot. Their exchange was kind of weird and timid. Something between them was off.”

The others could definitely see how that would be strange. They’d all witnessed the two of you interact before, and it was always great. You gelled together so well, so effortlessly.

“Oh,” Taehyung took a much more sympathetic approach this time, “Are you guys going through a rough patch?”

He would have panicked that someone had heard that, but he watched the producer leave with his own eyes. It was all clear, “No. As I said to Jungkook yesterday, we are perfectly fine.”

They weren’t buying it. Their disbelieving faces made that painfully clear, but he couldn’t tell them the truth yet. Both of you would need some time to let this sink in and plan some things out. Still, he had to give them something, just to get them off his back.

Jimin sighed, “Okay, fine. I was going to tell you all when it felt like a good time and place, but something has changed between us. Recently, Y/N and I decided that we are going to start taking our relationship more seriously.”

“Soooo, what?” Jin asked, “You’re finally going to call yourselves a couple?”

“Yeah...I also told her I love her.”

Some of the guys hooted, others sighed out of pure relief. They thought this day would never come.

Yoongi chuckled, “That’s wonderful and all, Jiminie, but we all fucking knew it for months.”

“About time,” Taehyung beamed, “So she’s officially a girlfriend?”

Begrudgingly, knowing it would cause another mass tease, Jimin nodded, “Yes, she’s my girlfriend.”

Hoseok smirked, “So you’re exhausted because you’ve been pulling out all the stops, huh? Nice.”

“And he’s not focused because he’s got love on the brain.” Jungkook messed with his hair a bit. Jimin quickly brushed it back into place, rolling his eyes with a soft grin.

Oh, if only they knew what was actually on his brain at the moment, he thought. But it didn’t matter. He did what he needed to do for the time being. Now all he had to do was keep up the facade for a few more weeks, or until you and him mutually decided it was the right time.

All but one began to get their things together in preparation to leave. Namjoon felt another point needed to be made on this topic, but decided to let it go for now. It was getting close to dinnertime and they had made plans to order in at Jin's place. He would bring it up there.

Jin's apartment was so home-like and comfortable, which was why it was a common hangout spot for the group on nights like this. There was a feast of food in front of them to share and fill their stomachs. The soju was flowing, warming them up and loosening some tongues.

Jimin, for one, appreciated some semblance of normal life with his friends. He tried not to dwell on it, but he realized that being a part of nights like this would likely become a scarcity once he had fatherly duties to perform. His career would have to change, but now he was confronted with the possibility, or inevitability, of his friendships changing.

Hoseok, who was sitting next to Jimin, gave him a fraternal arm around his shoulder, tugging him closer, "Hey, now that you and Y/N are official, she should come around us more often. She could spend some time with Yunhee too."

Yunhee was his longtime girlfriend, and by no means the only serious romantic partner in the group. Namjoon and Jin were in relationships as well. It could be good for you to get to know the other women who were dating members of BTS, if anything for the moral support side of it all.

The head of the group heard Hoseok's suggestion and it resurfaced his concern from earlier. His head perked up, thinking now was the right moment. Namjoon consumed another sip of soju first.

"I don't know if that's the best idea, Hobi."

The other conversations at the table simmered down. He didn't intend to get everyone's attention, but there was nothing to do about it now, "Don't get me wrong. I'm happy for you, Jimin. Y/N is a nice person and all, but let's not forget where she's employed."

"So what?" Hoseok's brows were furrowed, "She can't hang out with us or our girlfriends because she's a stylist?"

"Well...yeah," Namjoon sighed. It didn't feel good to administer this dose of reality, "At least not in larger social settings."

"That's a little much." Jungkook remarked.

"No, he's right," Taehyung said, "I think we all trust ourselves and the other girlfriends to keep it quiet, but no one else can know. I don't know what repercussions they would have for you, Jimin, but Y/N would get fired."

"Exactly, thank you Tae," the leader nodded, "It sucks, but we can't treat this like we treat the other relationships. None of us want to see her lose her job over this. That means she can't be invited to parties, or given any special consideration when we run into her at the studio. We have to keep doing what we've always done."

Naturally, eyes began to land on Jimin, who was sitting there quietly until he noticed. He shook his head and swallowed the cut of pork that was in his mouth, "Look, Y/N and I are adults. We know what it means for us if we want to be together. Maybe someday, if things keep getting more serious, we can try to work around the company. But for now, we've talked about it and we can live with it."

There was a short hush at the table, as if everyone was expecting him to make some kind of protest against the notion of continued secrecy. Jimin began to think about what Hoseok said initially. Knowing what he knew, he thought it would be a good idea for those closest to him to get to know you better.

He added, "I do think it would be nice for you guys to spend more time with her, though."

"Sounds good to me," Jungkook grinned, stretching his arms up behind his head, "Besides, I'd like to know the inside scoop on how they plan on dressing me for the tour. Pick her brain a little."

Jimin chuckled, "I think they are in the very beginning stages of that, but go for it."

Namjoon was glad that there was a general agreement among the members. However, if he was honest with himself, his concern wasn't just with outside people having raised suspicions - you were in question too. Plenty of women chased fame through matters of the heart. What if you were capable of leaking the relationship yourself for a bit of notoriety?

He felt slightly disgusted with himself for thinking it, but his protective side was coming out. It had happened to other idols before. Plus, the fact of the matter was that none of them knew you that well. It couldn't be ruled out.

"Well, at least we don't have to keep pretending behind closed doors." Yoongi laughed.

Jimin looked at him, confused, "With who?"

"With you!" Jin guffawed, "You were so reluctant to put any sort of label on this relationship for so long. And you got annoyed whenever one of us would bring it up, so we've all been acting like we didn't notice the obvious."

"I feel like we do a pretty good job of hiding it," Jimin defended himself, "I don't treat her any differently than the other stylists."

Hoseok nudged him lightly, mouth full of ramyeon, "Yes, but in private, you have a certain face when she comes up in conversation. Seriously, we'll have to hold up a mirror for you next time it happens. Your eyes start darting around the room and your jaw gets really tense, the same thing that happens when you're suppressing any emotion."

He laughed at himself, taking another shot of soju, "Then I'm glad I don't have to embarrass myself anymore."

The evening returned to normal after the guys got bored of teasing their friend. All the while, Jimin felt like an imposter in his own body. He was selling it so well, a happy version of himself.

To some extent, he was happy, but he was also in a state a shock and apprehension. Three emotions swirling about within him, all equally strong and combative. He knew the shock portion of it would fade away soon, but could only hope that the nerves would follow suit.

He felt sturdy in his love for you and the desire to go through with the decision - he only wished that he felt confident that he could be a good, present father. His own dad was always there for him, nurturing and guiding him every step of the way. Jimin felt like he could count on him for anything. Would this child feel the same?

The hang-out ran late, giving him plenty of time to stew internally. Contradictory to past behavior, he was the first to call it a night.

The others started trickling out one by one, back to their own apartments. Being the named leader of the group, Namjoon always found himself being the last one out the door. Though he fell in the middle of the rank when it came to age, he tended to act like the oldest sometimes. Always making sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to, or, on nights like this, making sure they were all okay to drive home.

A perceptive and sensitive soul, Jin always noticed this and it made him pity Namjoon. He could let loose every now and then - the leader side of him didn't need to be switched on all the time, certainly not when it was just the seven of them in private.

Once the others were all gone, Namjoon let out a breath. He still had to get his charger and light jacket, and then he'd head out too.

Bending over to unplug his charger from the outlet by the baseboard, he said to the host, "Thanks for having us as always, Jin. Sorry it went so late again."

The oldest waved away the compliment, "Never a problem, Joonie. But you do know this is my apartment, right? You don't have to stand here with me and say goodbyes until they're all gone."

Namjoon chuckled and fiddled with the white cord in his hands, whirling it like a propeller, "Yeah, I know. Old habit, I guess."

He then put on his jacket, fixing the collar and tugging it in a few places. The two men locked palms and brought it in for a hug, patting each other on the back with their free hands.

"Well, I'll see you." the leader smiled tiredly.

"Night." replied Jin.

Namjoon approached the door to make his exit, but he couldn't shake this one thing. He paused, "Hyung?"

"Yeah?"

He turned back around and put his hands in the pockets of his jacket, "Do you think this whole Y/N thing is good for Jimin?"

The older appeared unpleasantly surprised that he could pose such a question, "Uh, yeah, I do. She seems really sweet and they've been going pretty steady for a long time without an issue. Why?"

"Nothing, I just...nevermind."

"No," Jin stopped him from leaving, "What is it?"

Namjoon pursed his lips together for a moment, "I don't know. All of the potential issues with the company aside, what if she's just chasing his money or fame?"

Jin smirked, "I could maybe wrap my head around the money concern, but fame? They're a secret. There's no fame to be had. Unless you think she'd blab to the press on her own?"

He shrugged, "I mean yeah, it's possible. It wouldn't be the first time a person dated someone famous for some time in the spotlight. Now that they're serious, is it so strange to worry that she might turn around and use Jimin for some time in the spotlight?"

"Actually yes," Jin laughed in disbelief, "Because her job is on the line."

"I'd argue there would be plenty more for her to gain by publicly associating herself with one of the most famous faces on the planet."

The oldest member became more frank, "I have to say I'm surprised at you, Namjoon. It isn't like you to rush to judgment like this, especially of someone you hardly know."

He defended his consternation, "Well, it's the first time one of us has had this type of risky relationship. I just want to make sure Jimin's thought this through. If she-"

"She won't."

"But if she does, what happens? He'd be crushed. We all know that his last breakup tore him apart, and that was done in private. Imagine what it would do to him if she betrayed him like that."

Jin sighed, "Look, I think you're a good friend for wanting to guard his wellbeing, but no one here has been given any reason to think that Y/N would do anything like that. And Jimin is a full-grown man. He's capable of making his own decisions. It doesn't make you any better of a leader to helicopter over his dating life, even if you have doubts."

Namjoon took a deep breath and closed his eyes, nodding. Jin was right. There was nothing to validate his concerns - it was all mere conjecture.

"Okay," he breathed, "You're right. I guess all we can do is stay out of it and see where it goes."

His older brother gave him an exhausted smile and patted his shoulder, "Exactly. Goodnight, Joonie."

Namjoon turned around, nodding his head, "Night."

As he left the apartment, he still had a nervous feeling planted in his intuition. There was just something about this he didn't like.

*One Week Later*

You went to Jimin's place the Saturday morning before he left for Japan. You hadn't been able to make it the night before, buried in work up to your eyeballs. It had been a rough morning for you so far - the infamous morning sickness had arrived throughout the past few days. It was funny they called it that, you thought, because it wasn't relegated to the morning only. So far, however, it was pretty manageable with the help of a vitamin. More often than not, it was a wave of nausea that would hit you without resulting in actual vomiting.

For the first time, you let yourself into the apartment without knocking. Once inside, you saw his duffle bag by the door, all ready to go, but he was nowhere in sight. The blinds were open, however, so you assumed he was awake.

You set your purse down on the entryway table and removed your shoes. As you padded closer to his bedroom, you picked up on the faint sound of the shower running. Entering the bedroom, you saw that the bathroom door was wide open, the space inside becoming slightly steamy.

You couldn't help but smile a bit as you went in. There was a large corner tub in there, but it was empty. Your eyes went instantly to the feast of Jimin's bare frame on full display in the walk-in shower. No curtains, no glass door. Just him.

His back was facing you, unbeknownst to your presence, letting you get a good view of his toned backside - and that included all of his backside. If only you weren't feeling so shitty, you would have been enticed beyond help.

You crossed your arms and cleared your throat.

Jimin didn’t even turn around, only laughed lowly, “Enjoying the show, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes with a grin, “Only a little, and unfortunately I mean that. I feel terrible this morning.”

He turned around, slicking his fully damp hair back out of his face. Eyes containing a devoted concern, he felt an entrenched need to solve the issue, “What’s wrong?”

You sat down on the closed toilet seat and sighed, hands on your knees, “Mainly queasy, a bit fatigued.”

He smiled sympathetically, extending his hand, “Come on.”

You laughed a little, “In there?”

“Nothing sexual, I promise,” he smirked some more, “Seriously, it will help.”

Reluctantly, you agreed and took off your clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. You trusted that his intentions were nothing but authentic. You caught him ogling your body once or twice, but he kept his urges in-check as you took his hand and stepped into the shower.

The warm water pattered on your skin, already giving way to some relaxation in your stirred stomach.

Jimin wrapped his arms around you from behind, kissing the cartilage of your ear, “I used to get horribly nauseous before big performances and interviews. A warm rinse and some deep breathing always helped me ease up. Just focus on breathing, I’ll take care of the rest.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his caring embrace, “Okay.”

You kept your eyes closed as you inhaled and exhaled slowly, concentrating on the drops of water hitting you like a massage. Even better was the feeling of him washing you with a soapy loofa. There was no scent to whatever body wash he was using - just a soothing, sudsy coating on your skin.

Despite him meaning his promise not to take a lewd approach, Jimin couldn’t help but get a semi as he cleansed you, touching and looking at every inch of you. Your breasts were even more pillowy when they were glistening with shower drops.

“Is it helping?” He asked quietly.

You nodded with a soft grin, “Yes, thank you.”

The applied pressure lessened when he got to your stomach. He glided the wash over this area lightly and lovingly. When you realized how much attention he was giving to this part of you, your eyes opened to find him looking down at your abdomen with a lightness on his features.

You wiped some strands of hair out of his face, sticking them on top of his head with the rest, “What are you thinking about?”

He looked up to meet your gaze, “How nervous yet eager I am to watch your belly grow.”

You cupped one of his cheeks in your palm, “We can be nervous yet eager together then.”

He took a gentle hold of the wrist near his face and kissed your hand, “I really am sorry that I’m going to miss the appointment on Thursday.”

“I am too,” you sighed, “But it’s not going to be helpful to us if we dwell on things we really can’t change at the moment. Our experience will be different. We just have to live with that.”

Jimin hummed and turned you around slowly so that he could hug you from behind once more. His chin nestled on top of your shoulder. As he treated you to a couple of affectionate pecks on the neck, you held his arms.

“I just know there’s some way we can do this without having to be so elusive. There has to be. We can’t keep this a secret from the company and the public forever. Neither of us can live like that.” He said.

You continued to breathe deeply, the sickness subsiding bit by bit, “I hope you’re right.”

The two of you remained comfortably silent in the shower for a little while longer, simply existing with one another. It ended far sooner than you would have liked, but he had a flight to catch and would need to leave for the airport in an hour.

Both of you got dressed again and shared a cuddle in the living room while there was still time.

You enjoyed being encased into him while you could, your nausea almost gone now, “I know it’s only eight days but I’ll miss you.”

He felt the same. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been apart for that long before, but things were radically different now. There was something tying you together now on a much deeper level, “I’ll miss you too. I hope this coming week is easier for you.”

You put on a brave face, “I have feeling this won’t let up for a while. I read that some women have sickness their entire pregnancy. I hope I’m not one of them, but I’ll live either way. My workload will be lighter, so that might help.”

Jimin chuckled, rubbing your thigh absentmindedly, “Are you going to save the hottest wardrobe for me?”

You giggled, “You know the final decision isn’t mine. It will take some time, though. We are still in the elementary phases. Once we have all of the fabrics and color palettes finalized, we will move on to the shopping phase.”

“That sounds so fun,” he lamented, “Getting to pick designer clothing for all of us.”

“It can be fun, but it’s a lot of pressure at times to match the concept perfectly. You’d be surprised how many moving parts there are to simply picking out some outfits for the stage. We also take your personalities into account, to some extent, because you pick your own clothes for most interviews and promotional activities. If the clothes you wear on stage match your real style to some degree, then suddenly the whole thing feels like one giant authentic concept.”

He kissed your temple and laughed, “You’re such a little nerd for your job.”

You pushed into him playfully, “Rude.”

“No, it’s cute, baby,” he went on chuckling, “I love that you’re passionate about it.”

You exhaled into his chest, “I am, and I’ve grown to really like the people in the department too, not just the ones who are assigned to BTS. I guess that's why part of me wish we wouldn't have to let this secret out. I wish I'd be able to stay."

Jimin held you tighter, "You don't know that you won't."

"It's a high probability," you said, "It's like you said earlier. We can't keep this from the company forever. Living like that would be hell."

"We'll take it one day at a time. I just don't want to see you give up hope that things will work out."

"I won't," you promised, "I'm just trying to be realistic."

He huffed, "I know you are. I wish I could make reality more comfortable for us."

You shifted your position, propping yourself on your elbows to be able to look him in the eyes, "Speaking of being realistic, when are we going to tell the guys and our families?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he had to mentally prepare himself to comprehend doing either of those things, "I can't wait too much longer without telling the members. Last weekend they noticed something was up. I was able to brush it off by telling them we decided to make things official between us, but they're just too close to me to keep the secret for very long."

You accepted this. It only made sense. These men knew him so intimately and were around him constantly. You adored Jimin but agreed that he probably would fail to conceal the news from them for very long.

"Okay," you said, "Maybe we can tell them together a few weeks after you get back. I'll be starting to show within the next month or so, and I'm sure you want to leave time to tell your family before the members."

He concurred, "I would like to tell my parents sooner rather than later. This just feels too big not to share with them right away. And honestly, as much as I'm dreading their reaction, I would appreciate their advice."

You tried to offer a reassuring smile, but the topic was disconcerting for you too, "I understand. Why don't you wait until after the ultrasound? That way you'll be able to answer the questions they will inevitably have, like what the due date will be."

He mirrored a more pleasant face, "That's reasonable. Do you think you'll do the same?"

You dropped your head and groaned, "I don't know. I love my parents, but I really don't expect a good response from them. And they will hold a grudge..."

Jimin ran his hand through your hair and stared at the ceiling, "I guess I better get ready to meet them, and you should get ready to meet mine."

Your eyes snapped back up, filled with apprehension, "What? H-How soon?"

"I don't know. But again, let's just take it one day at a time sweetheart. This week, all you need to worry about is taking care of yourself, hm?"

You re-centered your nerves and nodded, leaning your forehead against his, "And remembering to call you after the ultrasound."

He broke into a chuckle and tilted his chin upward so he could lock his lips with yours.

"Yes, that too."

Then the alarm on his phone went off. He had set it so that he wouldn't get carried away with holding you and run late for the airport. Both of you sighed. It was time to get up off this couch and say goodbye. You had to leave so he could catch his ride. For the sake of keeping the relationship under wraps, you couldn't exit at the same time. Jimin gave you one last hug by the door.

"Fly safely," you told him, "Have fun. I'm excited to hear about it when you get back."

He grinned, "I will. Keep drinking plenty of water and eat well."

He then released you from the hug and placed his hands on your tummy, "And have a nice time seeing our little...pomegranate seed?"

You giggled, "Good memory. I'll send you whatever photos I get."

You were pulled in for a series of heartfelt, slow kisses. Feeling so close to him made all of the fears seem smaller, even if it was just for a minuscule amount of time. Both of you knew to your cores that your lives would never be the same again, but your strengthening bond made it bearable.

“I love you, Jimin.”

“I love you too.”

It was finally ‘Ultrasound Day’. Your appointment was at two-thirty, and you were filled with the jitters.

So far, no one in the office seemed to notice any of your symptoms. You’d been caught once or twice in the middle of a nausea spell, but were able to chalk it up to stress.

By the time to leave rolled around, you had been collaborating with Chaeyoung, comparing her fashion sketches with your swatch ideas. The goal was to identify some actual outfits that the team would then work towards replicating with various designers. The only thing standing between mere ideas and reality would soon be the finalization of the budget.

When you told your co-worker that you had to head off to another doctor's appointment, she seemed a little confused. You had just gone to one, two weeks prior. You made the excuse that it was only a routine follow-up to the one before. On your way out of the office, you wondered when you'd let them all know. Your belly was going to grow, whether you liked it or not.

You got in your car and put in the directions on your phone. You were going to a different hospital to see an obstetrician recommended by Doctor Baek. According to her, this new care provider had the capacity to give at-home ultrasounds, if you ever requested it. It was important to you to find someone who could if it meant that Jimin would be able to experience at least one of these.

When you were finally called back into the room, your hands had gone cold and clammy. A lovely nurse took down some of the basic information, took your vitals, and drew your blood to run a quick lab.

By the time the doctor came in, you were more than ready. She was in a set of navy blue scrubs with a sunshine smile, "Y/N, I'm Doctor Yoon. It's a pleasure to meet you."

You shook her hand, "Nice to meet you as well."

She sat down at the same computer where the nurse had just logged some information, looking it over, "Alright, so we're looking at about seven weeks. Your symptoms all seem totally normal. So far so good, Y/N. How are you feeling? Ready to see your baby?"

You smiled, "It's been a bit of a whirlwind, honestly. But yeah, I'm ready."

She didn't ask you if a father would be attending, assuming by your demeanor and words that you came alone. Instead, she gloved her hands and scooted closer to the exam table where you were sitting, "Okay then. Lay back there, and you can go ahead and undo your pants a little bit."

You followed her directions.

"Right, so I'm just going to put a little gel on your belly. Be warned, it's a bit cold." Her cadence was so pleasant - you were glad that you were evidently given an excellent recommendation.

The gel was cold, but it warmed up to your skin as she spread it around with the wand. You hadn't looked at the screen yet, frozen and not quite as ready as you said you were. There was a muffled sound that became more pronounced once Doctor Yoon seemed to have honed in on one spot.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

That's when you looked. It was like something in your DNA had been kicked into gear in an instant. This intuition seemed to tell you exactly what it was. The screen was mostly grey, aside from a black zone in the middle. Nestled in that black pouch was a precious little white shape. It wasn't the perfect outline of a human being. In fact, you had no idea what developed parts you were seeing. But that new and profound maternal instinct within you was filling your heart with love and protection over this tiny thing.

"There you are," Doctor Yoon smiled, "And quite a strong heartbeat for your age, little one."

You didn't realize how emotional you were getting until you blinked away a couple tears. You didn't expect anything like this. In an instant, a small yet powerful connection was made, and suddenly your outlook was crystal clear.

This was yours and Jimin’s baby. A new little life that came directly from the love you shared with one another. Yes, the road ahead was bound to be tough, but now you were certain that it was all going to be worth it. Come what may, you were going to be a family. You were joyful, excited.

You began to smile through your tears, “Hi, you…”

Doctor Yoon was glad to see your reaction, “Everything looks great here, Y/N.”

“Oh good.” you beamed, unable to tear your eyes from the image on the monitor next to you.

She made a couple of clicks with a mouse as she continued to check around for another minute or two. Then she paused the screen and removed the wand from your abdomen. The image was still up on the screen for you to enjoy while she wiped the gel from your skin.

The doctor smiled as she peeled the blue latex gloves from her hands, “The measurements look good, all aligned with what we should see at seven weeks. Based on that, I’ll give you a due date of the eighth of January.”

In your soft, enchanted haze, you thought there couldn’t be a more perfect birthday for your child.

Doctor Yoon stepped out of the office for a brief minute or two. In the meantime, you re-fastened your pants and sat up. When she returned, she had printed photos to give you, “I had a feeling you’d want these. Now your second ultrasound should fall somewhere between eighteen and twenty-two weeks. I’d highly recommend scheduling that at the front desk as you head out. Just makes it easier.”

Your happy expression faded slightly as you held the printed scans in your lap, “Oh, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to yet. The father…he travels for work often and would definitely like to be a part of the second one. We haven’t gotten to talk about any dates yet. And we’d like to possibly do it at home, if that’s okay.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” she nodded, “I do home visits all the time. You just call whenever you get it sorted out. In the meantime, just keep pushing through the symptoms and don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions, alright?”

You smiled, “I won’t. Thank you so much, Doctor Yoon.”

“My pleasure.”

When you walked back out into the parking lot, the world looked different to you. You couldn’t stop grinning and looking at the scans.

You couldn’t wait to share it all with Jimin.

He was pacing the floor by the bed, itching for that call to come. He knew your appointment was early in the afternoon, but the sun was setting outside his hotel room and he hadn't heard from you yet.

The other guys went out to a restaurant, at which management had booked a private room, to have dinner. He stayed behind, telling them that you two had plans to FaceTime. It wasn't a lie, but he got teased mercilessly for it.

Finally, it came. His phone started buzzing, presenting a red and green button. He immediately pressed his thumb on the green button and slid it to the side, only to be greeted with the sight of you. Despite all of the not-so-fun symptoms you told him about that week, you looked radiant. It put a grin on his face to see you that way.

"Hi!" you chirped, head falling back onto the pillow on your own bed.

He chuckled, "Hey, baby. You're in a good mood, huh?"

"I am," you smiled, "How are you?"

"Good," he nodded, making himself comfortable by sitting on the all-white hotel bed against the luxe headboard, "We had Vogue today. It was a good shoot, good interview. No complaints. But don't make me talk about my day, I want to hear about the appointment."

You laughed, but then your expression settled into one of simple and pure bliss, "Jimin, I don't know how to describe it. It was quick, but one of the best moments of my life."

There was a huge relief and eagerness to know more, "Try to describe it, please. What did you see?"

The angle of your camera shifted a bit as you leaned forward, reaching for something. When it went back to normal, you were holding some photos up for him to see, "This."

It wasn't the most clear image, but it made his eyes squint with one of his largest smiles. He'd seen ultrasounds before, so he knew where to look. There was his child.

A tight sensation formed in his ribcage, but it wasn't bad - it was his heart swelling, "Oh my God, Y/N..."

"I know." you near whispered.

He experienced a rush of adrenaline, pushing his hair back only because he didn’t know what to do with himself, "Wow, that's incredible."

You were happy to see him have a similar reaction to yours, "That's not even the half of it, though. I heard the heartbeat."

Jimin could see you starting to get emotional and it made him want to leap through his phone and share this beautiful moment in person, "You did?"

You nodded, eyes brimming with tears. For a moment, you were at a loss for words, "It was just the most adorable sound, Jimin. The doctor said it was so strong for it being seven weeks."

"And everything else looks good?"

A content sigh left you as you smiled, "It's all perfect."

Now a new paternal emotion was unlocked for him - pride. He was somehow proud of his little son or daughter for having a good heartbeat and for growing so well, "That's wonderful. God, you have no idea how much I want to be with you right now. And wish I was there to witness it with you.”

“Me too,” you said, placing the printed scans on your wooden nightstand off to the side, “But I’m too excited right now to think of any downsides. It’s like all of the worries I have just evaporate when I look at those pictures. We’re really having a baby.”

Your boyfriend looked so alleviated and pleased to see you this assured. He licked his lips, “We really are, sweetheart. Did you get a due date?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, “January eighth.”

“January eighth,” he repeated with a single nod, “What a great way to start the new year.”

You giggled, “That’s true. A little winter baby.”

Jimin let his head fall back and let out a long, peaceful sigh, “This trip can’t end soon enough. When I get back Sunday night, I need to see you. Will you come over?”

“I’d love that.”

“And please take a picture of one of those scans and send it to me. I want to be able to look at it after we get off the phone.”

“I will.”

He didn’t want to, but he then said, “Okay. I’ll let you go now. Go make yourself some dinner.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “How did you know I haven’t eaten yet?”

“Because I know you,” he grinned cheekily, “We’ve spent a lot of evenings together, in case you’ve forgotten. I’m aware of your nightly habits.”

A blush crept onto your cheeks, “Fine, then I’ll go make myself something. Goodnight.”

“Sleep well tonight, baby. I love you.”

You knew you’d never get bored of hearing that come out of his mouth, “I love you too.”

Your face was then removed from sight. A few seconds later, he received a text from you. Opening it, he was graced once more with the image of the sonogram. A subconscious twinkle came upon his face as he zoomed in on the tiny white form in the middle.

The room was quiet, giving his mind all the space in the world to contemplate the little one yet to come into the world. Without knowing it, he uttered the same words you did:

“Hi, you.”

[liketolaugh-writes]

More Good GIW AU/Building Bridges, in celebration of finally making progress. <3

---

"What are all of those for?" Flore asked, stopping by the library corner where Agents N and G seemed to be sharing a pile of books, some of which appeared to be so ancient that they must have been brought over straight from HQ.

"I sent in a request for any records we have of ancient cases of high liminality or ectoplasm exposure," N explained, looking up from his book.

"Danny?" Flore asked, sitting down a respectful distance from the ancient books. She hadn't met the Fentons' son yet, but she'd certainly heard N and G talk about him enough.

N nodded. "G said something about his accident was ringing a bell, and listen to this," he explained, and reached for one of the newer books that had been set aside. A translation. "A twelfth century account from a Spanish priest. As he seemed to take his last breath, a whirlpool of the brightest spring leaves seemed to swallow him before my eyes."

"A natural portal," Flore recognized, startled. Natural portals were incredibly rare, and it was always jarring to hear something like that described by someone from so long ago.

N nodded. "It continues, when he emerged once more, I could not tell if he had been cursed by the Devil or blessed by God. He was healed, but he evermore had the countenance of a very sick man, and power no normal man could dream of. At times, he resembled nothing so much as the ghost of himself." Flore pursed her lips. "I know, it doesn't quite fit, but it's something. Maybe the effect wasn't as strong because Danny didn't actually go into the portal. And this."

N shut the book and set it aside, retrieving another that had been placed only a little to one side. He was on a roll now; there was no stopping him from explaining everything they'd found.

"A blacksmith's diary from the Edo era," N explained, increasingly excited. "This has several conversations with a ghost that had fallen through a natural portal and become stranded in the real world, I couldn't believe they let me borrow it. Listen: I asked him what became of living people that found themselves in the spirit realm, as he found himself here. He told me that they become immersed in ghostly energy, such that they become something unique. A marginal being. A living ghost." He tapped the page. "The last one has a couple possible translations in the footnotes. Demihuman. Half-spirit. Or just 'halfa.'"

"That's crazy." Flore tried to imagine that. "Do you think that's describing what happened with the priest's friend, or someone more like Danny?"

N shook his head. "They don't talk about it any more after that," he admitted, clearly crushed by this information. "It's probably the first, but if nothing else, it's evidence that the changes can be much deeper than we realized. Maybe you can be so liminal that it starts to rewrite your biology." He looked entirely too excited by the idea. "Because there's one more, listen-"

N shut the second book and leaned over to grab the last, an older book.

"Nineteenth century case study," he told her, flipping it open. "The patient's case is most peculiar, inexplicable to any practitioner of modern medicine. Her heart beats so slow and soft that I thought she must surely be dying, yet it has been a year and she seems in good health. Furthermore, she is cold; her skin is as cool as a winter's day even in the middle of summer, yet she does not shiver. Once, I witnessed her hold her breath for longer than it takes to boil a pot of water." He shut the book again. "There's more, but I think you get the gist of it."

[rd0265667]

Mina x Reader: Enough

“You know this is why IT hates you, right? Your keyboards have such a short lifespan it’s almost pitiful.”

I turned, blinking out of the fog of my own exhaustion, just in time to see that shit-eating grin aimed directly at me.

Darius. Of course.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair and rubbing my eyes. Everything ached—my wrists, my shoulders, my brain. My fingers were stiff from typing for… how long? Hours? Days? Time had blurred into a loop of emails, deadlines, and the relentless glow of my laptop screen.

“Did you come here just to critique my work habits, or do you actually need something?” I muttered.

Darius dropped into the chair across from me, stretching out like he had nowhere better to be. “I need you to not drop dead from exhaustion at your desk. So, yeah, I’d call this an intervention.”

“I’m fine,” I said, waving him off.

“You say that, but I just watched you mutter threats at your Wi-Fi like it personally wronged you.”

“It has. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Right. And how many hours of sleep have you gotten in the past forty-eight hours?”

I didn’t answer. Not because I was hiding anything, but because I honestly didn’t know.

Darius sighed, shaking his head. “Alright, Atlas. You brought this on yourself.”

I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean—”

He pulled out his phone. Started typing. Smirked.

My stomach dropped. “Darius, what are you doing?”

“Solving the problem,” he said, still typing.

“Darius.”

He raised a single finger, silencing me. A beat later, his phone lit up with an incoming call, and he grinned before answering.

“Hey, Mina,” he said, far too smug. “Yeah, they’re doing it again.”

I groaned. “You absolute traitor.”

Darius ignored me. “No, I’d say we’re at a solid nine out of ten on the workaholic scale. At least three empty coffee cups, significant eye strain, possible early-onset keyboard rage.” He paused, nodding like Mina could see him. “Yep. I’ll wait.”

I closed my eyes, debating my life choices.

“Before you complain,” Darius added, finally putting his phone down, “you do realize this is self-inflicted, right?”

I scoffed. ��Excuse me for covering for people who have actual emergencies.”

“Y—”

“Emily’s out because her kid’s sick, Marcus has a family thing, and James is on leave,” I said, voice sharper than I intended. “Who else is supposed to handle their workload?”

Darius gave me a long, unimpressed look. “I don’t know, maybe their boss?”

I exhaled through my nose. “Their boss is drowning, too.”

“And you think you can single-handedly save everyone?”

“Someone has to.”

Darius pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about self-sacrificing idiots before looking back at me. “Atlas, you are one person. And before you argue, I’d like to remind you that you’ve been running on caffeine and spite for at least two days. This is not a sustainable lifestyle.”

I wanted to argue. I really, really did. But I felt the weight of his words settle in my chest, heavy in a way I couldn’t shake.

And then my phone buzzed.

Mina.

Darius grinned. “And that would be your girlfriend, probably ready to stage a full-scale extraction.”

I swallowed. “I hate you.”

“Aw, love you too, you little diva.”

I shot him a look that was half-warning, half-annoyed, before reluctantly answering the call. “Hey, baby.”

There was a long, tense silence on the other end before Mina’s voice sliced through the quiet. It was sharp, tight, and dripping with the kind of displeasure I only heard when she was really angry. “Don’t ‘hey, baby’ me, Y/N. Darius says you haven’t slept.”

I winced, rubbing my face. “I’ve slept,” I said, my voice coming out far more defensive than I’d intended. “Just… not as much as I should have.”

“Not as much?” Mina’s voice was dangerously low now, as if the very thought of it was enough to make her blood boil. “How many hours?”

I hesitated, eyes darting to Darius, who was watching me like I was about to perform some kind of spectacular failure. “Uh… define ‘hours.’”

There was a long pause, and I could almost feel her eyes narrowing through the phone. “How many hours, Y/N?”

I cringed, then finally mumbled, “I don’t know, two, maybe three.”

There was a cold, almost hurt laugh from Mina. “Two hours,” she repeated, like the number itself was something obscene. “I’m coming back.”

I nearly choked. “What? No, Mina—Mina, no. You have a concert soon. You’re on tour! You can’t just leave because I didn’t sleep enough.”

“Mhm.” Her tone was flat, but I could feel the edges of frustration in the simple sound. “I’m coming back.”

“Mina, you can’t. You have obligations—the girls needs you there,” I insisted, trying to reason with her, but it felt futile. She wasn’t even listening to me anymore.

“I’m coming back,” she repeated, as if that was the only sentence she was willing to speak on the matter.

“Please, you can’t just drop everything for me. I’m fine, I just—”

“You’re fine?” Her voice was ice cold, cutting through me. “Darius told me you’ve been running on caffeine and spite for the last few days, and you’re fine? Don’t you dare lie to me, Y/N.”

I froze, the weight of her words sinking in.

“Fine doesn’t sound like this,” she continued, her voice growing colder, quieter. “I don’t know what’s worse—the fact that you’re running yourself into the ground like this, or that you think I’m just going to sit here and watch you do it.”

“I’m not—” I started, but she cut me off, her words coming faster now, more impatient.

“You think I don’t know you, Y/N?” She scoffed. She let out a bitter laugh, but there was no humor in it.

“Mina—”

“I’ll be back tomorrow, and if I find your dumbass even thinking of work, I swear you’ll regret it,” she snapped, and before I could argue further, she hung up.

I was left standing there with the dead silence of the call still buzzing in my ear. My chest felt hollow, the words she didn’t say sitting heavy in the pit of my stomach.

Darius, of course, was watching me with a look that said he was thoroughly enjoying this whole exchange. “Well, that was something.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Instead, I let my head fall onto my desk with a dull thud, my mind spinning.

“I will murder you.” I muttered into the wood.

Darius laughed softly, his voice teasing. “If you make it out alive, take your best shot.”

When Mina finally got home, I was lying on the couch, fingers absentmindedly worrying the frayed edge of the blanket draped over me. I had been waiting for what felt like hours, nerves coiled too tightly to focus on anything else. The apartment was quiet, the only light coming from the television screen, frozen on the selection menuIt had been so still, so empty, that when I heard the lock click, I almost startled.

She stepped inside softly, closing the door with a controlled, measured quiet. The faint rustling of fabric as she toed off her shoes, the muted clink of keys dropped onto the counter, the way she exhaled—like she was trying to keep it even. But she didn’t speak.

The silence stretched between us, heavy, expectant.

I stole a glance over my shoulder, catching the way she moved through the apartment with a careful kind of precision. No sharp looks, no frustrated sighs. No words, either.

A rustle of plastic. The quiet pop of the TV remote. The familiar hum of the screen shifting menus. And then, the opening notes of Pacific Rim.

My stomach twisted.

She sank onto the opposite end of the couch, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her presence but not close enough to touch. Her posture was relaxed, casual, but too deliberate to be real.

I watched her for a beat, waiting for her to look at me, to say something, to roll her eyes and finally break the tension. But she just reached into the bag she had brought, pulled out a pack of snacks, and set them on the coffee table without a word.

The movie played on, but I barely registered it.

“Mina.” My voice came out quieter than I expected.

She didn’t look at me.

The weight of unspoken things sat heavy between us, thick and unmoving, and I shifted, searching for the right words, the right way to explain. “I—” I hesitated, then sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Nothing. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” I tried again, voice threading into the spaces between the sounds of crashing Jaegers and roaring Kaiju. “I just thought I could handle it.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t turn.

But her fingers curled slightly against her thigh, just for a second.

The movie played on, the blue glow of the screen flickering against the walls, but I wasn’t really watching. Not really. I could recite half the lines from Pacific Rim by heart, but right now, they blurred together, the action sequences nothing more than background noise to the silence still hanging between us.

Mina sat next to me, but she might as well have been miles away. She wasn’t curled into my side like she usually would be, wasn’t making quiet, amused comments about my favorite scenes, wasn’t sneaking glances at me when she thought I wouldn’t notice. She just… sat there. Still. Unmoving.

I reached for the snack bag she had set on the table, something small, an excuse to fill the silence with the crinkle of plastic. The second my fingers brushed the bag, Mina moved.

Not much. Just enough.

Enough that I noticed the sharp, barely-there intake of breath. The subtle tension in her jaw as she exhaled through her nose.

I hesitated, fingers still curled around the bag. “Mina,” I said again, barely above a whisper.

She didn’t respond.

“Mina, please.”

Something in her expression shifted. A flicker of something raw before she turned away, reaching for the remote instead. The volume clicked up a few notches.

My stomach twisted.

I set the snack down and turned to her fully. “Talk to me,” I tried.

Nothing.

“I know you’re upset,” I pressed, softer now. “And I know it’s not just about—” I gestured vaguely to myself, to the exhaustion.

Her jaw tightened, but still, she said nothing.

I swallowed, letting the words settle before I spoke again. “It’s not just the work, is it?”

Mina’s fingers curled tighter around the edge of her sleeve, a slight tremor running through them before she stilled. The silence stretched thinner, sharper, until she finally exhaled, slow and measured, like she was fighting to keep herself steady.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, but edged with something that made my chest ache.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

She turned then, finally looking at me, and the weight of her gaze hit me like a punch to the gut. Her expression was still composed—controlled in the way she always was—but her eyes… Her eyes told a different story.

“You don’t tell me things,” she said, her voice still quiet but steadier now. “You always act like everything’s fine, like you’ve got it handled, like—” She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair, fingers pressing hard against her temples for a second before she dropped them. “You put on a brave face, and you don’t—” Her breath hitched for the smallest moment before she caught it. “You don’t let me in. I need Darius to text me to even get an inkling of what you’re going through. What you’re really going through.”

I stared, feeling the words land like stones in my chest.

“Mina—”

“Do you not trust me?” she asked, and that’s what made my heart stop. Because she wasn’t asking it like an accusation. She was asking it like it was something that had been gnawing at her for a while.

I shook my head instantly. “Of course I trust you—”

“Then why don’t you ever let me help?”

Her voice wavered, just for a second, and it was the crack in the dam I hadn’t seen coming.

She wasn’t just angry.

She wasn’t just frustrated.

She was hurt.

I opened my mouth, then closed it, scrambling for the right thing to say, for something that would fix this. 

“I thought…” I exhaled, shaking my head. “I didn’t want to burden you.”

Mina let out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. “Burden me,” she echoed. “You think you could ever be a burden?”

“I just—” I ran a hand down my face, suddenly feeling like an idiot. “You have your own responsibilities, your own stress, and I didn’t want to add to it.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for the first time all night, something sharp flickered in her eyes.

“That’s not your decision to make.”

I froze.

She sat up a little straighter, gaze unwavering. “You don’t get to decide what’s too much for me. You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle.”

I opened my mouth, then shut it, guilt curling in my stomach. “Work has been a lot, but… I just wanted to be strong for you,” I admitted, the words barely above a whisper, my voice slowly cracking as I hung my head low.

Noticing the change in my posture, Mina couldn’t stop herself as she leaned forward, gently placing her hand on my back.

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her hand on my back, warm and grounding. It was gentle, not pushing, not demanding—just there. Just her.

Mina exhaled softly, fingers flexing ever so slightly, like she wanted to pull me closer but was holding back. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mina, it’s just been a lot at work, and I’ve tried my best, but…” My voice wavered, trailing off into nothing.

Her thumb brushed slow, soothing circles against my spine. “You don’t have to carry it all alone,” she murmured. “I know you want to be strong, but strength isn’t just about holding everything in. Sometimes it’s about knowing when to lean on someone.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I just—I don’t want to let you down.”

She sighed, but there was no frustration in it this time, just quiet understanding. “You couldn’t, even if you tried.”

I swallowed again, something thick and knotted in my throat. “But what if my best isn’t enough?”

Mina didn’t hesitate. She squeezed my shoulder, firm and certain. “Well, it’s enough for me.”

The words hit me like a slow, spreading warmth, something deep inside loosening. I blinked, eyes stinging, and when I finally looked up, Mina was watching me, her gaze steady and unwavering.

She gave me a small, knowing smile. “You’re enough, okay? You always have been.”

My chest ached, but in a way that felt… lighter. Like some of the weight had finally lifted. I nodded, exhaling shakily. “Okay.”

Mina shifted closer, her presence a perfect warmth beside me. When she wrapped her arm around me, I didn’t hesitate. I leaned in, pressing my forehead softly against her shoulder, breathing in the calming scent of her hair. The world outside seemed to disappear, and for a moment, it was just the two of us, curled up on the couch in the soft glow of the TV. I let myself relax completely, sinking into the moment, allowing myself to just be here with her.

After a beat, Mina rested her chin gently against the top of my head, her breath warm against my skin. I could feel the soft rise and fall of her chest as she sighed contentedly. “Now, are we watching this movie, or do I need to fight Pacific Rim for your attention?” she teased, her voice light and full of playful affection.

A small, broken laugh bubbled out of me at her words, a smile tugging at my lips. Mina’s lips quirked in that satisfied way, and I felt her arm tighten slightly around me as if to claim me in the most gentle, affectionate way. It made my heart flutter. She wasn’t just holding me; she was there, with me, in the most comforting way.

“Okay, okay, you win,” I murmured, the warmth of her embrace making it impossible to pull away from the comfort she provided. I didn’t even care about the movie anymore. All that mattered was the feeling of her hand gently running up and down my arm, the steady rhythm calming me even further.

Mina pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head and gave me a playful squeeze. “Good,” she said, her voice softening. “But seriously, Y/N... you’ve been working way too hard. I’m glad to see you finally letting yourself rest.” She gave a little wink, but there was a softness in her tone that made her words feel more like a gentle nudge than a lecture. “Don’t make me start scheduling your breaks for you.”

I let out a small laugh, squeezing her a little tighter in response. “I know, I know,” I whispered, my voice muffled by her shoulder.

Mina hummed, her chin resting back against my hair. “Well, I will have to keep an eye on you,” she teased. “No more all-nighters, okay? If I catch you working late again, I’ll just show up and drag you away.”

I chuckled, the sound light and free. “I think I can handle that,” I said, snuggling closer to her.

Mina kissed the top of my head again, a gentle press of her lips that made my heart skip a beat. “Good,” she murmured. “Now, let’s actually watch the movie, yeah? I’ll even let you take a break from your overachieving self and enjoy this.”

I smiled, my heart full. Yeah. I’d be okay. With Mina by my side, everything was okay.

[x-neurotoxin-x]

Dabi and Nerve Damage

This (rather lengthy) post has been a long time coming as I've found the whole debate on whether or not Dabi could feel pain because of his nerve damage interesting from a medical standpoint. I was made even more curious when it was revealed in his backstory he has damage to somatic nervous system, and then even moreso when he begins talking about not being able to feel parts of his body anymore (his arm, in particular, which was showing the most damage at the time and ends up being the arm he loses during the final battle). Furthermore, i was even more interested in his potential nerve damage when I had a injury to a nerve in my arm myself recent and had to look into it a lot deeper for myself, and strangely enough I've been thinking about Dabi since then.

I thought it would be fun to type up some of this just for meta purposes as well as fanfic reference, since a lot of fanfics seem to brush over Dabi's nervous system issues or just boil it down to "he can't feel things" when actually it's much more complex and interesting than that.

Let's start with the nerve damage; Touya likely had severe nerve damage from burning at the peak, which likely caused long term or permanent damage to his nerve endings as well as the issues with his somatic nervous system mentioned at the facility. Burns, especially of that severity, will cause nerve damage, but third degree and forth degree burns especially often cause permanent damage and can destroy the nerve endings. Nerves and nerve endings can regenerate and regrow sometimes depending on the severity of the damage, how quickly the injury was treated, and the rest and recovery process. Giving Afo's facility the benefit of the doubt and assuming he was properly treated medically for his burns after being (literally kidnapped) taken there, it was possible Touya's nerves may have been able to grow back or regenerate. However, since he immediately started training with his quirk and burning himself again as soon as he woke up, to the degree he's covered in third degree burns and scarring by the time he joins the League, it's safe to assume he didnt/was unable to take proper care of his wounds and likely destroyed all the nerve endings at least in those parts of his body.

Now, what's that like? To put it simply; really, really horrible. Like, i don't think y'all realize how bad of a condition this would be to live with. Nerve damage causes an array of physical issues and challenges; including numbness, muscle weakness (especially in the limbs, which can cause issues with walking, coordination, reflexes, and lifting things. Technically speaking, he'd be qn active fall risk and suffer from a lot of chronic pain and muscle deterioration), frequent shooting or burning pain, inability to feel touch on affected areas. Also wanna point out, he'd be able to feel pain. Technically, he'd have neuropathic pain from the damaged nerves sending pain signals to the brain until they die off. That likely means the parts of his body he claimed he couldn't feel any longer had already been so damaged the nerves died off and stopped sending signals to his brain.

Now let's go into the somatic nervous system; according to what All For One said to Touya when he woke up from the coma, his somatic nervous system had been damaged in the fire. Now, your somatic nervous system controls your muscles and sends information to your brain so you can basically control the movement of your body. It also processes your senses and sends that info to your brain as well.

So, what's that mean? It's a very important part of the body and the nervous system as a whole, without it functioning correctly it can cause uncontrollable tremors, cramping, and twitching, muscle weakness, as well as muscle shrinking/deterioration (sorry guys, more evidence Touya could never be buff and muscular and lift up your blorbo. He's destined to be a twink or squishy forever <33), loss of bodily control, loss of touch sensations, difficulties with balance and fine motor skills, neuropathic pain, and even paralysis. Very much like nerve damage, since nerve damage usually effects the somatic nervous system.

So the TL;DR is basically; if we're looking at stuff from a realistic standpoint (and not accounting for random quirk/futuristic medical crap stuff) Dabi had damage to somatic nervous system as well as severe damage or possibly destroyed his nerve endings due to his burns, likely from the time he was a teenager. This probably worsened over time, and by the time he was an adult the damage would be unlikely to reverse itself, he wouldn't be able to regenerate/regrow his damaged nerves by then either because of the repeated physical trauma. He would most certainly be considered physically disabled on this standpoint alone. He would have a lot of issues walking and moving around in general and with his coordination and fine motor skills. He would likely also have chronic pain (mostly neuropathic pain), muscle wasting and weakness, and tremors/spasms/twitches due to nervous system damage.

Poor guy.