#part of me is frustrated and worries because i feel like i’m running out of time

[cherry-holmes]

From Salt, Iron, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮: A Supernatural Series

(Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader)

Part 7: The Sin of the Innocent

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Dean didn’t know how to handle things with you. Not until he was forced to face the truth: he didn’t want to lose you.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.6K

Warnings: Typical violence of the serie. Angst and a lot of feelings.

A/N: Hello! I hope you enjoy this chapter!😁

I’m currently working on Part 10 (yes, 10!) I’m struggling to fit all my ideas into the story… and oh boy, I really hope you like what’s coming🥺 I’m so excited, tbh!

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A soft knock sounded on the door, followed by the creak of the handle turning.

Dean stepped into the room, holding a tray of breakfast with three cups of coffee. His eyes scanned the room quickly, his gaze landing on Sam, who was sitting at the small desk, typing on his laptop.

Dean hesitated, then set the tray down on the table. "Where's Claire?" His voice was almost gentle, trying to act as normal as possible.

Truth was, he had barely slept last night.

The memory of your lips on his, the hurt in your eyes, the pain he had caused you... it all burned deep inside his chest, a mix of guilt, shame, and desire.

Damn it.

He hated himself the second that words left his mouth back on the gas station. Every one of them had been a lie. Meant to hurt. Meant to push you away. And God, did it work.

Deeply, he knew he wasn't the kind of guy who got to have things like that. Real, soft things. People who looked at him like you did. He just ruined everything he touched.

Better she hates me now than dies later loving me, he thought all night.

So he tried to burned the bridge before it could be built. But as the saying went: where there's been fire, ashes always remain. And his refuse to settle down.

No with the way you moved his world. How he couldn't bear the thought of making you cry. Not when you were too soft, too sweet, too beautiful for someone too cursed like him. And yet, he still kissed you. Again. 

And now he was wondering if it was a mistake. Not because he didn't like it or wanted, but because he couldn't get enough.

Sam didn't look up from his laptop but answered in a calm voice, "I saw her by the pool this morning, feet in the water. She was still there when I returned from my morning run."

Dean's brow furrowed. "You sure?"

Sam nodded, finally looking up at his brother. "Yeah, man. I'm telling you."

Dean's heart sank. "I went for breakfast, and I didn't see her. When I came back, she wasn't there either."

His first instinct was to go after you, but he didn't want to sound too worried, even though he felt it gnawing at him. "You think she's just... walking around?" His voice sounded less convincing.

"Maybe," Sam said, his tone turning more serious. "I mean, she seems to run away every time she interacts with you. Seriously, what's up with you guys?"

Dean looked at him, jaw tight, clearly debating whether to say anything. Finally, he let out a frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair.

"I kissed her," he muttered.

Sam blinked. "You what?"

Dean shifted his weight like he wanted to be anywhere but here. "Twice," he admitted, voice low. "First time... she kissed me. Last night was me."

Sam leaned back against the motel table, arms crossed. "Okay. So why's she running from you like you're the damn plague?"

Dean shook his head, the guilt plain on his face. "Because I keep screwing it up. I kissed her, and then I freaked out. Said a bunch of crap I didn't mean, tried to act like it didn't matter."

"Why?"

Dean hesitated, then said, almost in a whisper, "Because it matters too much."

The words hung there between them, heavier than either of them expected.

Sam sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Dean, you seriously couldn't have picked a worse time to have a crisis."

Dean nodded grimly. "I'm not gonna lose her, Sam."

"Don't worry," Sam tried to reassure him, closing his laptop and heading to the door. "Let's check around the pool."

The quiet atmosphere of the motel only added to the unease gnawing at Dean's gut. He kept his eyes scanning the grounds, hoping to see you somewhere, anywhere. When they reached the pool area, Dean's breath caught in his throat.

There, by the side of the pool, were your boots, abandoned in the grass. Floating in the water, a pair of yellow socks.

"She wouldn't just leave these here," Dean muttered, crouching down to examine them.

Sam's face darkened. "No, she wouldn't."

Dean stood up quickly, his hands clenching into fists. "This doesn't feel right."

"I don't think it's a coincidence," Sam said, locking eyes with Dean. "Bobby called this morning. Apparently the thing we're hunting... it's targeting virgins."

Dean stared at him for a moment, the news settling like a stone in his stomach. "You think Claire...?"

"I'm not sure," Sam interrupted, his voice strained. "But, think about it: she's from 1815. Women were expected to remain pure until marriage. It makes sense if she..."

Dean cut him off. "Son of a bitch." His heart pounded in his chest, and he couldn't afford to think anything else.

Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice calm but firm. "We need to find her. Now."

Dean nodded, a tight breath escaping his lungs. The clock was ticking, and he didn't want to think about what could happen if they were too late.

"Let's go," Dean muttered, already turning on his heel. He needed to find you before it was too late.

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You woke with a jolt, your head pounding. You tried to sit up, but your limbs felt like lead. Your fingers scraped the rough stone beneath you, and a wave of panic swept over you as you blinked into the dim, stifling darkness.

The last thing you remembered was your reflection in the pool, the morning breeze caressing your hair. You were lost in your own thoughts, everything that had happened in your life over the past weeks: the lack of memory, your fear, your dreams, the Winchesters, Dean. And the next thing you knew, there was only darkness.

Then you woke up here. The air thick with dampness and death. A chilling breeze cut through the open cavern, sending shivers down your spine. But it wasn't the cold that terrified you: it was the sight of the other girls. Huddled in a tight group against the far wall, their eyes wide with fear, their faces pale from exhaustion and terror. You immediately knew that you were another of the missing girls in town.

For God’s sake. This was definitely the worst moment to have your first hangover.

You took in a sharp breath, trying to steady yourself. The throbbing pain in your head made it hard to think clearly. But you couldn't waste any more time. You had to get them out of here.

The dead girl lying motionless beside them caught your eye, her face frozen in an expression of terror that sent a chill through your chest. The thought of what might happen to the others if you didn't act quickly made your stomach churn.

You rose shakily to your feet, pressing a hand against the cool stone wall for support. The room was eerily silent except for the quiet sobs of the remaining girls. Their eyes flicked nervously around the cave, like animals waiting to be hunted.

Focus, you reminded yourself, drawing on everything the Winchesters had taught you. Stay calm.

You took a step toward them, your voice low but firm. "Listen to me," you whispered, British accent cutting the air, doing your best to sound confident despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "My friends are looking for us. They'll be here soon. Meanwhile, we need to stick together. I need you to follow my lead."

One of the girls, a younger one with dirty blonde hair, looked up at you with wide, tear-filled eyes. "W-what's happening? What's going to happen to us?"

You could feel the weight of her question pressing down on you, but you kept your composure, forcing a reassuring smile. "We're getting out of here. But we need to stay quiet, okay? No matter what, do not make a sound until I say so."

They nodded, their fear mingled with a spark of hope.

Your heart raced, but you kept it under control. You scanned the cave, looking for any kind of weapon, anything to use for protection. It was then that you saw it: a long, jagged branch lying a few feet away from you. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

You grabbed it, your fingers trembling as you tightened your grip. Your mind raced, knowing the creature wasn't far, and you didn't have much time. If you couldn't get them out of here, they would all die, including you.

The ground trembled slightly, and your breath hitched as a sound echoed from deeper within the cave. The thing was coming back. It was closer than you thought. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

"Get ready," you murmured to the girls, urging them to move closer to the wall. They huddled together, trembling. You glanced back once more before turning to face the dark, gaping opening of the cave.

A slow, menacing sound echoed from the shadows, like a distant growl, low and guttural, and enough to make your blood freeze. Then, you saw it.

The creature stepped out from the darkness, its long, gnarled limbs scraping against the stone floor. Its grotesque, twisted face was barely human, covered in jagged scars, eyes glowing in a shade of yellow. It moved in jerky motions, as though it didn't belong in this world. It was hungry, its twisted grin spreading as it sniffed the air.

"Bloody hell," you muttered under your breath.

You gripped the branch tighter, your knuckles turning white. You'd never been more terrified in your life, but there was no way you were going down without a fight.

It advanced slowly, deliberately, and you forced yourself to take a step forward, standing between the girls and the creature. The others held their breath, wide-eyed and frozen with fear.

"Stay back!" you shouted, your voice cracking with adrenaline. You knew it wouldn't help, but you had to try. The thing didn't stop, only letting out a slow, mocking growl in response.

Then it lunged, its claws reaching for you with unnatural speed.

You barely had time to react. Instinct kicked in, and you swung the branch with all your strength. The creature howled in pain as the jagged end of the branch sliced into its chest, but it didn't stop. Instead, it swiped at you, its claws raking across your side with a sickening rip of fabric and flesh.

You cried out, stumbling back. The pain was excruciating, but you pushed it down. The girls were counting on you.

You couldn't let them down.

"RUN!" you screamed at the girls. "Go! Get to the exit!"

But they hesitated, still frozen with fear.

"Now!" you barked. "Go!"

They ran, scrambling toward the cave entrance. You stood your ground, knowing that you had to keep the creature distracted for just a little longer. The pain in your side was overwhelming, but you kept fighting, using the branch to fend off its attacks. Every time it lunged, you fought back, forcing it to stay on the defensive.

The creature's growls were deafening now, its hunger palpable. It wasn't just after you, it wanted them too.

But just as you thought you couldn't take another second of the fight, you heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire. A shot rang out, followed by another. The creature shrieked in agony, its body jerking as the bullets tore through it.

Dean appeared at the mouth of the cave, his face pale but determined, a shotgun in his hands. Sam was right behind him, aiming his own weapon.

Castiel stepped in beside them, his glowing hand outstretched as he used his grace to blast the creature back. The thing screamed in pain as it staggered backward, its body convulsing before it collapsed in a heap of ash.

"You okay?" Dean asked, rushing to your side.

You blinked, feeling your legs give out as the adrenaline faded, your body now screaming in protest. Dean caught you before you could fall, pulling you into his arms.

"I'm fine," you whispered, barely able to breathe as the exhaustion washed over you.

Sam knelt beside you, checking your injuries, his face soft with concern. Castiel moved toward the other girls, guiding them outside, making sure they were safe.

Dean stayed by your side, his hands resting on your waist, his gaze intense. "I've got you."

You didn't have the strength to respond. You were exhausted, your body aching, but for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

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Dean carried you inside, ignoring your weak protests. You tried to insist you could walk, that you were fine, but the second he set you down on the bed, your body betrayed you. You winced, curling slightly at the sharp sting in your side where the creature had clawed you.

Castiel had attempted to heal you, but Heaven had clipped his wings long ago for his betrayal, and what little power remained had burned out fighting the monster.

"I'm so sorry, Claire," he had said, visibly guilty of his impotence.

"Don't you worry, Cas, I'll be fine," you assured him with a little smile. "I just–don't understand... why me? I was in the pool one minute, and the next..."

Castiel looks at you then, head tilting slightly in that way of his when he's deciding how much truth he should say.

"The creature preyed exclusively on virgins," he says softly. "That is how it sensed you."

Your breath catches, and your eyes snap to his, but his expression doesn't waver. He's not mocking or judging. He's just... stating a fact.

The blood in your face rushes up, flooding your ears, your cheeks. You can't tell if it's humiliation or something more fragile, like the sharp sting of having something secret pulled into the light.

"Oh," you say.

Dean freezes mid-step, his jaw tightening. Neither of you dare to look the other in the eye. And you wish he wasn't that close to you checking on your wounds.

"We didn't know," Sam says after a beat. His voice is quieter than usual. "Not until Bobby figured it out. The, uh... pattern. It doesn't mean anything. I mean... It's not like..." he finally perceived the awkwardness in the room, and decides to shut up. "Never mind..."

You give a half-laugh, but it dies almost instantly.

"It's fine," you mumble, even though it isn't. Not really.

It's not the virginity, it's the vulnerability. The idea that something out there saw it in you, like a weakness written on your skin.

Dean looks like he wants to say something, but instead he just stands up and walks towards the bathroom. When he appears again, his holding a first aid kit in his hands.

"You go take the girls back to their families," he said to Sam and Cas. "I'll take care of her."

You were the only one to seem ready to argue, Sam and Cas already heading out the motel room.

Dean crouched in front of you, his brows knitted in stubborn determination. "Don't even think about arguing," he said, his voice low but firm. "You almost got ripped apart back there. Let me help."

You opened your mouth to protest again, but the look in his eyes stopped you. This wasn't just about the scratches. This was about what could have happened. About what he'd almost lost. You swallowed hard and gave a small, reluctant nod.

He sat back on his heels, pulling your torn shirt gently aside to get a better look at your injuries. His hands were surprisingly careful, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he cleaned the wounds.

You hissed at the sting of the antiseptic, and Dean immediately paused, his green eyes flickering up to yours. "Sorry," he muttered, softer now. "Almost done."

"You don't have to do this," you said quietly, your voice hoarse.

Dean gave a dry chuckle as he wrapped gauze around your ribs. "Yeah, I do."

You looked away, blinking against the sudden sting of tears. You hated feeling weak. Especially in front of him.

When he finished bandaging you up, he sat back, studying you like he wasn't sure if he should say what he was thinking. Finally, he exhaled a heavy breath and spoke.

"You saved them, Claire," he said. "You kept your head. You fought back. You kept them safe until we got there."

You shook your head, the guilt rising in your throat. "One of them... she didn't make it."

Dean leaned forward, catching your gaze and holding it steady. "That's not on you. You saved three lives tonight. You did everything you could. You were... amazing."

Your lips trembled, and you bit the inside of your cheek to stop the tears that threatened to fall. No one had ever said something like that to you before. Well, it's not that you could remember, but something inside you feel like it was the first time someone really care about your accomplishments. Not like this, not with so much sincerity and pride.

Dean reached out, his hand hesitating for a second before resting gently on your knee. "I'm proud of you, deer," he said, so quietly you almost thought you imagined it.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest that had nothing to do with the pain or the exhaustion.

But it didn't last. The weight of the past few days came rushing back. The way he'd been distant, dismissive, cold. Like you hadn't shared anything. Like that kiss meant nothing.

You swallowed hard. "Don't do that, Dean."

He frowned. "Do what?"

"Be sweet. Kind. Like you care. Not when you've been pushing me away since it happened." You met his eyes, steady despite the ache in your body. "That kiss... it was a mistake."

His expression shattered for a second, just enough for you to see the truth beneath it all. "Don't say that."

"What else am I supposed to say? We kissed and then you spent two days pretending I didn't exist."

Dean looked down, guilt etched in every line of his face. "I freak out."

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

He nodded slowly, running a hand down his face. "Listen, I–I've lost so much... too much. And then you show up. Brave and smart and stubborn... sweet. You remind me there's something good left. And that kiss... it made me feel like I could still want something." He looked back up at you. "But I panicked. So I pushed you away like I always do. Because I always screw things up... Like I already did with you."

Your chest tightened. You reached for his hand without thinking, covering it with your own. "I get it, Dean" you said quietly. "You're scared. So am I. But fear isn't an excuse to treat someone like they don't matter."

Dean flinched, the truth landing hard. You can tell he was truly ashamed.

"You don't get to kiss me like that, treat me like you care, and then act like I imagined it," you went on, not harsh, just honest. "You don't get to look at me like... well, like how you're looking at me right now," both of you flushed. "And then just pretend I'm invisible. I've had enough people in my life make me feel like I was not enough. I won't let you be one of them."

He nodded slowly, the guilt in his eyes deepening. "You're right."

You looked at him, really looked at him. You saw the exhaustion in his eyes, the weight he carried on his shoulders. He looked like someone who hadn't rested in years, not truly.

Your hand reached for his face, hesitant at first, but when your fingers touched his skin, he leaned into it instantly, like he couldn't help himself. He melted into your palm, childlike, as if your touch was the first kindness he'd been offered in ages. There was a rawness in the way he closed his eyes, like he didn't just want it—he needed it in the quietest, most heartbreaking way.

"I'm not asking you to be perfect, Dean. I'm not even asking for anything right now. I just... I need you to stop running. Not toward me. Not away. Just... stand still for once. Let it breathe."

After a moment, he whispered, "So, what then?" he asked, voice rough. "What do we do?"

You gave him a small, tired smile. "We figure it out. Slowly. At our own pace. No pressure. No pretending it didn't happen. But no running from it either."

Dean let out a breath, something like relief softening his features. "Yeah," he said. "Okay. I can try that."

He gave your hand a small squeeze, and this time, he didn't let go.

When Sam came in later, he found you and Dean curled slightly toward each other, still clothed, still battered from the night's ordeal, but breathing slow and even. There was still a small, polite gap between your bodies, enough that you could pretend it wasn't intentional if you needed to. You were under the blanket, Dean sleeping over them.

Sam smiled faintly, shook his head, and quietly pulled the door shut again. Then, he slipped into his own bed.

For the first time in days, sleep came deep and peaceful for the three of you, wrapped not in fear or nightmares, but in the quiet comfort of knowing someone would be there when you opened your eyes.

NEXT PART

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[mermaid-witch]

hi mutuals 💕 pls ignore this i’m just having a bit of a menty and don’t have anyone to talk to about it so guess imma talk to myself on here

[writeriguess]

Hi Neema! Can I request please, Katsuki being his usual brash rude and loud self around others, but behind closed doors he becomes Luke a puppy around reader when the have sex and she treats him very sweetly and praises him a lot and he just melts around her. I have a feel in because of his family dynamic he didn’t get much earnest praise and folds like a chair for it.

Melt for Me

You barely have time to take your boots off before Bakugo starts barking.

“Dumbass, you’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep throwing yourself into fights like that,” he growls, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. The front door slams behind him, his heavy boots thudding against the floor as he tosses his gauntlets onto the couch. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You sigh, already used to his dramatics. “I had it under control.”

“Like hell you did,” he snaps, stepping in front of you, his crimson eyes burning with frustration. “If I wasn’t there, you would’ve been fucking toast! You don’t have to do everything by yourself, dumbass!”

You roll your eyes, shutting the door behind you. “Oh, so I’m a dumbass now?”

“You’ve always been a dumbass!”

He’s so loud, so worked up, pacing the small space between the couch and the kitchen like he’s too wound up to stay still. His hands clench and unclench, the lingering adrenaline from the mission still pumping through his veins.

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe, watching him huff and mutter under his breath. He’s always like this after a tough fight—angry, fuming, spitting insults like a feral animal. He keeps his walls up high, tough and unbreakable, never letting anyone see past the rough exterior.

Except for you.

You push off the doorframe and step into his space, placing your palm flat against his chest.

“Katsuki.”

His whole body tenses.

Your voice is gentle, nothing like the sharp edge of his. It’s enough to make his breath hitch, his anger stuttering mid-sentence. He looks down at you, his jaw still tight, but his eyes flicker with something softer.

You smile. “You worried about me?”

His lips part slightly, like he wants to snap back, but he doesn’t. His hands twitch at his sides, itching to grab you, to pull you in, but he hesitates.

“Tch.” He turns his head, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. “Shut up.”

You giggle, sliding your hands up to cup his face. His breath catches in his throat. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the way his muscles stay tense under your touch.

“You did really well today,” you murmur, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones.

His hands tighten into fists. His mouth opens, then closes again, his brows knitting together.

“Katsuki,” you continue, “you protected everyone.” You press a soft kiss to his jaw. “You kept me safe.” Another kiss. “You’re so strong.” Another. “So amazing.”

His breath shudders out of him, his body deflating just a little. He grips your hips, but it’s not possessive or rough—it’s almost hesitant, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“You really think so?” His voice is quiet now, hesitant in a way that’s so unlike him.

You pull back just enough to look into his eyes. “I know so.”

And just like that, he folds.

The mighty, loud, brash Bakugo Katsuki is gone, replaced by the man who melts at the sound of your voice, the warmth of your touch. His forehead drops to your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist as if shielding himself from the world.

“I—” His breath is warm against your skin. “Fuck, baby.”

You guide him toward the bedroom, fingers threading through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He shivers. By the time you reach the bed, the fight in him has completely drained away.

He sits at the edge, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, his hands gripping your waist like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. You straddle his lap, and his breath hitches, his fingers pressing into your sides.

“You like it when I praise you, don’t you, Katsuki?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. He nods slightly, but it’s not enough.

“Use your words.”

His grip tightens. “Y-yeah,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper. “I—fuck, I love it.”

You smile, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. He chases after you, desperate for more, hands roaming up your back like he needs to feel every inch of you.

“Good boy.”

The sound he makes is downright sinful. A shaky exhale leaves his lips as he buries his face in your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your skin.

You giggle, fingers sliding into his hair, tugging lightly. He groans, hips jerking up involuntarily.

“So desperate,” you tease, scratching lightly at his scalp. “Such a needy thing, aren’t you?”

His nails dig into your waist. “Shut up,” he mumbles against your skin, but there’s no bite behind it. If anything, he sounds wrecked.

“Why should I? I like watching you fall apart like this.” You tilt his chin up, forcing him to look at you. His pupils are blown wide, his breath coming in short, shallow pants. “You’re so beautiful like this, Katsuki.”

His face burns, and he looks like he wants to protest, but you don’t give him the chance. You press your lips to his again, swallowing any argument he might’ve had.

His hands wander up your back, trembling slightly, and you can’t help but feel your heart ache for him. He’s always been so strong, so independent. But here, in your arms, he’s something else entirely.

He’s yours.

And you’ll make sure he knows it.

[hsjazebel]

The first fight - A Meant to Be extra

A/n: I knew I had to write their first fight at some point, and here we are! I love exploring the more vulnerable sides of their relationship—because even the best couples have their moments. But at the end of the day, they always find their way back to each other. Hope you all enjoy this one! Let me know what you think!

Summary: Harry and Y/N experience their first real argument, but even in the midst of frustration, love has a way of shining through

Wordcount: 5k

Meant to be | masterlist

———

Y/N had never liked conflict.

She had always been the kind of person to avoid fights whenever possible, to keep the peace, to hold her tongue even when something didn’t sit right. She hated the way her stomach twisted when voices were raised, the way her throat went dry when the air grew tense.

And yet, here she was, standing in the middle of her apartment, her heart pounding as she faced Harry—who, for the first time since she had known him, looked genuinely upset with her.

She could see it in the way his jaw was tight, in the crease between his brows, in the way he kept running a hand through his hair like he was trying to stop himself from saying something he’d regret.

“I don’t understand,” he said, voice low but firm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N folded her arms over her chest, shifting uncomfortably. “Because I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Harry let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Not a big deal,” he repeated, shaking his head. “Right. So you passing out in the middle of class isn’t a big deal to you?”

She flinched.

Charlotte had told him.

She had known it would come out eventually, but she had hoped—stupidly—that maybe she could get away with brushing it off, that maybe she wouldn’t have to explain herself.

But now Harry was standing in front of her, looking equal parts worried and frustrated, and there was no getting out of it.

“I didn’t pass out,” she muttered, staring at the floor. “I just… got a little lightheaded.”

Harry let out a sharp breath. “Jesus, Y/N.” He dragged a hand down his face, his fingers briefly pressing into his temples like he was trying to keep himself calm. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

Her stomach twisted.

She knew why he was upset.

She knew.

But she hated the way his voice sounded—strained, like he was forcing himself to hold back. She hated the way he was looking at her, like she had let him down.

“I didn’t want to make you worry,” she said, voice quieter now.

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “Well, that worked out great, didn’t it?”

Y/N inhaled sharply, frustration bubbling in her chest. “I was fine, Harry—”

“You weren’t fine,” he cut her off. “You weren’t eating properly, you weren’t sleeping, you were running yourself into the ground—and you didn’t tell me.”

His voice rose slightly at the end, not quite yelling, but close.

Y/N clenched her jaw, suddenly feeling defensive.

“I didn’t want you to drop everything for me,” she admitted, her voice a little sharper than she intended. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to fix me.”

Harry exhaled, his expression darkening. “Is that really what you think? That I’d only care about you if I thought you needed fixing?”

Y/N swallowed hard, suddenly feeling small. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what did you mean?” His voice was still firm, but there was something else in it now—something almost vulnerable. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you don’t trust me enough to let me be there for you.”

That hit her harder than she expected.

Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

Because maybe—maybe, deep down—that was exactly what it was.

She wasn’t used to leaning on people. She had spent so much of her life convincing herself that she had to handle things on her own, that asking for help meant burdening the people she loved.

And she had done the same thing to Harry.

She had shut him out, not because she didn’t trust him, but because she hadn’t wanted to let herself need him.

Her chest ached.

“Harry…” Her voice was softer now, almost hesitant. “I didn’t mean to shut you out.”

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before meeting her eyes again. His frustration was still there, but now, it was mixed with something else.

Hurt.

“I just don’t get it,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I thought we were in this together.”

Y/N blinked rapidly, her throat suddenly tight.

“We are,” she whispered.

Harry ran a hand through his curls again, looking at her like he was trying to find the truth in her words.

“Then act like it.” His voice wasn’t harsh, but it was firm. “Because I can’t—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. “I can’t be with someone who won’t let me in.”

Something inside her cracked at that.

Because the thought of losing him? Of this—them—falling apart because of her own stubbornness?

It was unbearable.

She stepped forward, hesitating for just a second before reaching for his hand.

He didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was stupid, and stubborn, and I should have told you.” She squeezed his fingers. “I trust you. I do. I just… I’m still learning how to let myself need people.”

Harry sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly as some of the tension drained out of him.

“I just…” He let out a breath, shaking his head. “I love you, Y/N. And it scares me—really scares me—that you thought you had to go through this alone.”

Her breath caught.

He had said it before, of course. I love you. In soft whispers, in laughter, in sleepy murmurs against her skin.

But this was different.

This was raw. Real.

Y/N felt her chest tighten, and before she could second-guess it, she tugged him closer, wrapping her arms around him.

Harry exhaled against her hair, his arms immediately coming around her, holding her tightly like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go.

For a moment, they just stood there, wrapped up in each other, the remnants of their fight still lingering in the air—but underneath it, something stronger.

Something that told her they would be okay.

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her heart pounding.

“I love you, too,” she murmured. “And I promise—I’ll try to be better at this.”

Harry searched her face, his green eyes softening.

Then, finally, he nodded.

“Okay.”

Y/N smiled, small but real. “Okay.”

And just like that, they found their way back to each other.

They still had things to talk about—things to figure out.

But for now, she let herself sink into him, his arms wrapped securely around her, his steady heartbeat under her cheek.

Because despite everything—despite the fight, the frustration, the stubbornness—one thing remained true.

They were still meant to be.

[simpurnatural]

"Flustered" || Short-Fic

XO, Kitty - Min Ho Moon x Fem!Reader

Note from Nat: "Back to back Min Ho fics??? Didn't expect to get so much positive feedback. Thanks for going easy on ya girl, I'm still a bit rusty! Enjoy and make sure to wipe that drool off your face babe!"

Warning(s): Spoilers for "XO, Kitty" seasons 1 & 2, A little bit of Smut, Language, Sorta Proofread

As the fall semester came to an end, with everyone not wanting to part ways even for a just a month, Min Ho decides to invite the entire friend group for a winter getaway.

“Where’s Y/n?” Asked Dae which made everyone’s heads turn before the sound of snow crunching was heard.

You approached the group that was currently enjoying the hot tub, arms crossed to keep your robe shut. Min Ho suggested that the hot tub would be best way to relax after a day of travelling

“Hi! Sorry I’m late to the party,” you smiled whilst kicking off your slippers, then sliding your robe off your shoulders.

“Hot damn girl,” Q said, overcame with astonishment. "Drop the workout routine asap please," he joked as everyone's eyes lingered on your figure.

“Oh stop it,” you laughed and rolled your eyes. “This old thing isn’t worth the hype,” you insisted, but everyone would’ve begged to differ.

The navy blue two piece you were sporting hugged all the right places. Your ass and tits looked like they needed saving. The sight was definitely giving body tea.

Everyone watched as you made your descent into the tub and sat in between Kitty and Min Ho. Kitty had given you a small wave whereas Min Ho could barely make eye contact. Various conversations continued but Min Ho remained in an unlike-him-silence.

He wondered how he had not noticed how hot you looked until now. Not saying that looks are everything, but Min Ho felt stuck on how he never gave you a second glance.

"-Right Min Ho?" Dae asks, turning to his best friend who was clearly zoning out.

"Sorry what?" Min Ho replied, snapping out of his trance.

"We're gonna be able to go skiing first thing tomorrow, right?" Dae reiterated, a slight tiredness in his voice due to Min Ho's lack of contribution to the conversation.

"Of course," Min Ho nodded before his gaze back on you, who was too busy chatting with Yuri and Kitty to realizing anything else.

"Woah okay, this is new," Q teased, as his eyes followed Min Ho's. "The bikini has got your eyes lurkin'" he says, making Jin snicker at the observation.

"What are you guys talking about?" you ask with an unaware smile on your lips, Min Ho's eyes instantly looking down.

"Min Ho here seems to have-" Q began.

"Shut it," Min Ho tsked before moving to leave the hot tub.

"Hey, we were just joking," Jin called out as Min Ho shuffled back into the house.

"What was that about?" Yuri questioned, all conversations now put on pause.

"Is Min Ho okay?" Kitty asked, looking to the other boys occupying the hot tub.

"He's just a little flustered," Dae replied, the feeling of worry instantly overcame you.

"Did I do something?" you say wide-eyed but to no response. "I'll go check on him," you say before making your way out of the tub and walking towards the house. "Min Ho?" your voice echoed throughout the home.

You noticed a light coming from inside the kitchen and chose to investigate. There stood Min Ho, chugging a bottle of water with his slim yet toned physique being illuminated by the refrigerator light. He began to cough up said water after realizing your presence.

"Bloody hell, you scared me," he coughed, covering his face with the inside of his elbow. "What is it Y/n?" he asks while shutting the fridge door.

"What's with you?" you quizzed, "Ever since I joined you guys outside, you've been quiet and when I tried to converse with you-you run back inside!" you add with a hint of frustration in your voice.

"It's not my fault-"

"-So it's mine? What did I do wrong?" you cut off, urgently wanting an answer as to why your friend was avoiding you.

"Y/n, it's because y-you literally look like t-that!" Min Ho exclaimed as if it were common knowledge. "How else is a guy supposed to act when you decide walk around wearing something like that?" he questioned.

"Is what I have on not okay? Was there something in my hair?" you blabbered in response, instantly being overcame with the self-conscious feeling.

"It's fact that when I saw you earlier, I wish you didn't have anything on" Min Ho muttered in an almost whisper like volume.

The realization finally hit you, Min Ho had been eyeing you since you stepped into the hot tub. You face flushed a bright red, clearly flattered by the words that just came out of his mouth.

"So what you're saying is-"

"What I'm saying is that you look almost too good," Min Ho said, his voice deep and eyes darkened like a lion about to pounce on his next prey.

The small distance between the two of you shut in almost an instant, his hand cupped the side of your face gently. You could've sworn that the beat of your heart could be heard from miles away.

Your lack of response gave Min Ho time to lift you up and place you on the kitchen counter. Accidentally, you let out a small whimper at the feeling of the cold tile touching your skin. Min Ho felt as if he could've finished off that noise alone.

Standing between your legs, Min Ho's hands traveled all the way back down to your ass. You watched his eyes really take in your body, as if he could drink you up like a glass of water.

"Tell me to stop, and I will" Min Ho whispered as he gave your plump skin a squeeze.

Leaning in with your lips close to his ear, finally you replied, "I don't think I want you to stop".

Min Ho took this as his green light and you felt as his hands unclasped your bikini top. Grabbing the piece of clothing, he tossed away fand his eyes settled on your breast.

Biting his lip, Min Ho took one of each into his hands. "Beautiful. You are so beautiful Y/n," he said with is his accent thick, almost like he was about to melt at the sight of you.

You gasped at the feeling of his breath on your tits, causing a domino effect of butterflies and goosebumps to cover you. Min Ho chuckled at this, rubbing your nipples with his thumb in a circular motion.

Eyes closed; you threw your head back at the sensation before feeling something foreign come in contact with your breast. Min Ho's tongue began exploring your chest. It was as if he was trying to paint a picture.

His grasp on your tits became slightly more secure as he was egged on by your moans. He was marking his territory all over you with bright red hickeys.

Your half assed attempt to stifle your moans was with the palm of your hand. Min Ho however loved how loud you were getting for him and yanked your hand away from your face.

"I want to hear you," he insisted, pulling his lips away from your chest for a mere moment. "I want to hear you all night," he smirked, leaning in for a kiss.

"Uh guys?" a voiced that belonged to Yuri called out. "Is everything alright?" she asked, her voice trailing off into the hallway probably in search of you both.

Min Ho looked down with a smile on his face before getting your swim top from the ground. You quickly put it back on then pulled your hair to the front to cover the marks Min Ho left behind.

"W-we're here Yuri!" you replied hopping off the counter and walking out of the kitchen with Min Ho right behind you.

As Yuri came walking back towards you guys, her head tilted to the side in confusion, "What were you guys doing over there in the dark?"

"Just got some water," Min Ho replied, which seemingly convinced Yuri enough for her to walk back outside. "I'm not done with you yet," he whispered in your ear, giving your ass a slap.

JAN 2025

[sunrisesfromthewest]

First Encounter

|Summary: Your first encounter with Armando; based off of that one scene from bad boys ride or die. | Warnings: Getting shot at/slight suggestive language/Curse words/Slight Movie Spoilers | Trope: One sided interest or Enemies to Lovers| Notes: Hopefully you guys enjoy it's my first-time writing a x reader. | (Y/N/N=Your Nickname)

Here's all the parts I have so far: 1 2 3 4 5 6

______________________________________________________________

After seeing the news about your dad, Uncle Mike, and some guy, you decided to leave work early. Confused on why there all the sudden wanted fugitives,you quickly drive over to Dorns place knowing that he’ll have answers.

Parking your car, you grab your purse and make your way towards his lake house. Since you hang out with him and Kelly 24/7 outside of work, you just walk in without knocking.    Which was a mistake on your end because not even a second later you’re being shot at, and you could hear a few people yell in shock.  Dropping to the floor you curse and yell "It's me stop fucking shooting it’s me Y/N!”  Looking up you see Kelly pointing the gun at the place you were just standing at with a shock expression.  “Girl what the hell you got going on” you said, scared to stand up.  Lowering her gun she said “OMG, Y/N, I’m so so—” Before she could finish you hear “Oh lord, you shooting at my baby!", recognizing the voice you look around to spot your father Marcus, running towards you with a worried look.

As he’s checking over you, you hear him sigh with relief after seeing you were fine. " Dad? what the fuck is going on!", standing up you dust off your nurse uniform, with a confused expression. 

Looking around the room you noticed shocked expressions from Dorn and Kelly who had put her gun down. Spotting Uncle Mike and the man that was with him on the news your eyes squint even more, Tryna put two to two together.    “Y/N/N, aren’t you supposed to be at work, "Marcus says confused on why his daughter was there.  Still shaking up from being shot at you say, “I was at work but when I was making my rounds with my patients, I seen you guys on the news ......but shit! I should be asking the questions! why are you, Uncle Mike and this dude, wanted fugitives …. matter of fact," turning towards the man, "Who are you?”.    Seeing the man smirk he says," Someone you can get well acquainted with.”  Just as you’re about to say something smart, your dad cuts in dramatically "Aye hell nah man! No hitting on my daughter, Mike get your son!” 

Shocked you run your eyes over the Latino man which you can now see have some of Mike's features, “Uncle Mike since when you have a son, and why the hell is he dressed up like a redneck.”  Running your eyes frantically over their forms you back up while pointing your hands at them and say, “matter of fact why are you all dress up like that.”  Feeling your dad pull you aside to calm you down, he explains everything that happened these past few days.    After getting the run down on what was going on, you rub at your eyes with a stressed sigh." So that’s Armando," you said shaking your head "I would’ve pulled my gun out as well if I’ve seen him, dad didn’t he almost kill you and Uncle Mike!", you said feeling frustrated about the situation.  “Y/n,I know this is awkward, but he has evidence to prove that Captain Conrad is innocent.”  Sighing again “Okay, fine but if he tries some shit just know Imma make him taste the rainbow.”  Hearing laughter you look back to see the Latino leaning against the kitchen counter looking at you with a smirk on his face.  Seeing your father look at you with a don’t do it expression made you huff and ignore Armando’s laughter.    Before you could move to grab your purse off the floor your dad stops you again and whispered, "How long Kelly and Dorn been messing around, "letting out a short laugh you say, “For a minute now”  Seeing your father smirk, and send a look to Mike, you knew they were up to no good but chose to ignore it.

Walking to the door to grab your purse and its spilled contents you feel eyes on you, gazing up you see Armando watching you with an unreadable expression. Rolling your eyes you pick up the rest of your stuff, but as you reach for your lip gloss, a hand grabs it.    Looking up your face to face with the Latino himself, annoyed you extend your hand out, while raising an eyebrow.  Watching his amused expression, you sigh and roll your eyes. 

“Boy if you don’t give me my stuff,Imma punch you in the throat." Hearing him chuckle made you more agitated, but you kept your cool. As he holds out the gloss to you with a smirk you huff and reach out to snatch it, only for him to pull it back in a teasing manner.

Looking at him as if he’s grown two heads, you’re about to cuss him out when he says”Demasiado bonita para una boca como esa”.  Furrowing your eyebrows you say “What?”    Armando’s smirk widens as he says, “I said to pretty for a mouth like that.”  Scoffing you snatch your lip gloss out his hands, putting it in your purse as you stand up and say, “First of all, my mouth is only like this because you almost killed my dad not too long ago, and secondly I can say whatever the fuck I want cause last I checked imma grown women.”  Watching his eyes glance down at your body, you hear a low whistle, "You sure are, but if you ever wanna fix that mouth of yours, "he pauses allowing his pretty brown eyes to trail back up to yours,”aquí estaré mami” (I’ll be here mommy) 

Shocked slightly at his boldness, you say “Boy if you don’t get out of m---,” but before you could finish, he was called over by Mike. At first Armando ignores him and continues to admire you until your dad says, “Boy get your ass over here," which made you break eye contact with him and look away.  

Glancing back up you couldn't help but admire his physique as well but as he reaches the others by the computer set up. He glances back to see you staring which resulted in him sending you a wink. Rolling your eyes you turn away with a smirk," You your daddy son for sure," you say to yourself with a smile.

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Notes: Let me know if you guys want a part 2 :) and pls go see the movie it's so good

[daisymbin]

43. "how could you think i didn’t care?"

reader and jeonghan arguing because she feels like he never takes her concerns seriously and he realizes how much he’s unintentionally been hurting her feelings

reading this, I can already feel the hurt :/ thank you for requesting!!

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hannie's m.list

angst prompt #43: "how could you think I didn't care?"

“you never take me seriously, jeonghan!” your voice cracks, and you hate how weak you sound.

jeonghan stares at you, his usual teasing smirk nowhere to be found. his brows furrow, lips parting as if to say something, but no words come out.

“all you do is laugh it off when i try to tell you how i feel,” you continue, your chest tightening with every word. “i’m always the one bending over backward to make sure you’re okay, but when it’s me—” you pause, swallowing hard. “when it’s me, you act like it’s nothing. like i’m nothing.”

his expression shifts, his jaw tightening. “that’s not fair,” he says, his tone low but firm.

“oh, it’s not fair?” you laugh bitterly, the sound foreign even to your own ears. “what’s not fair is how you always brush me off. i tell you i’m upset, and you crack a joke. i tell you i’m stressed, and you say, ‘don’t worry, you’ll be fine.’” your hands tremble as you clutch at your sides. “do you even care, jeonghan? do you even—”

“how could you think i didn’t care?” his voice cuts through yours, louder than you’ve ever heard him. it startles you, and for a moment, the room feels too small for the both of you.

your breath catches, and you finally look at him. his eyes glisten with something you can’t quite place—hurt, anger, regret.

“you think i don’t care because i don’t know how to handle it?” he steps closer, his voice softer now but no less intense. “do you know how hard it is for me to see you hurting? to feel so... useless because i can’t fix it for you?”

“then why—” you start, but he cuts you off again.

“because i thought if i could make you laugh, it would help.” his voice wavers, and he looks away, his hand running through his hair in frustration. “i didn’t know it made you feel like this. like i wasn’t listening. like i didn’t care.”

your heart aches at the raw emotion in his voice, but the hurt lingers, refusing to let you soften completely. “but you never said that, jeonghan. you never... let me see that side of you. all i saw was someone who didn’t take me seriously.”

his shoulders slump, and for the first time, he looks small—vulnerable in a way you’re not used to. “i’m sorry,” he whispers, the words heavy with sincerity. “i didn’t realize i was hurting you. i thought i was helping. i thought...” he exhales shakily. “i thought you knew how much you mean to me.”

silence stretches between you, broken only by the faint hum of the world outside.

“how could i?” you say softly, your voice trembling. “you never said it.”

he steps closer, his hand reaching out hesitantly before resting on your shoulder. his touch is warm, grounding. “then let me say it now,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “you mean everything to me. you always have. and i’m sorry i didn’t show it the way you needed me to. i’m sorry i made you feel like you were alone in this.”

tears well in your eyes, and you hate how easily his words unravel you. “i just wanted to feel like i mattered to you,” you admit, your voice breaking.

his grip on your shoulder tightens ever so slightly. “you matter more than anything,” he says, his gaze locking with yours. “and i’ll do better. i promise.”

you search his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you see is the boy you fell for—the boy who, despite his flaws, is trying his best to meet you halfway.

and for now, that’s enough.

[vibeswithdivs]

You are not alone anymore

pairing: reader x max verstappen

The thermometer beeped, its sharp tone cutting through the quiet of the room. Max frowned as he glanced at the small screen. 38.9 degrees Celsius. He sighed heavily, setting it down on the nightstand and turning back to her.

“You should’ve told me,” he said, his voice a low murmur that carried both concern and frustration.

She barely opened her eyes, her face flushed from the fever. “It’s just a cold,” she mumbled, her tone defiant despite the weariness in her voice. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Max crouched beside the bed, his tall frame folding awkwardly, but his gaze was steady as he studied her. “Not worry me?” he repeated, a small crease forming between his brows. “You’re burning up, lieverd. You’ve been running on fumes for weeks, and now look where that’s gotten you.”

Her lips quirked up faintly at his Dutch endearment, but she quickly tried to sit up. “I just need to—”

“Stay. In. Bed,” Max interrupted, gently but firmly pressing her back against the pillows. He shook his head, his hand lingering on her shoulder as his blue eyes softened. “For once, can you let someone else take care of you? Please?”

Her lips parted to argue, but the warmth of his hand against her arm and the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his expression made her stop. She exhaled deeply, leaning back into the pillows with a reluctant nod. “Fine. But only because I don’t feel like fighting you right now.”

Max chuckled softly, leaning in to press a light kiss to her forehead. “That’s what I thought.” His lips lingered for a moment before he pulled back, his frown returning. “You’re too warm.”

“It’ll pass,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“Yeah, with rest, food, and water,” he replied, standing up. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

The clinking of glass and the low hum of the kettle drifted into the room as she lay there, too tired to do more than close her eyes and wait. The mattress dipped slightly when Max returned, a steaming mug in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other.

“Here,” he said, sitting beside her and holding out the mug. She took it reluctantly, the warmth seeping into her cold hands.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” she murmured.

Max raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a half-smile. “Trouble? Meisje, this is nothing. You’ve been the one holding everything together while ignoring your own needs. If anything, I should’ve noticed sooner.”

Her cheeks flushed, though whether it was from the fever or his words, she couldn’t tell. “I’m fine, Max.”

“No,” he said softly, his tone firm but filled with affection. “You’re not. And that’s okay. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

She looked down at the mug in her hands, her fingers tracing the rim. It was hard to let go, hard to admit that she couldn’t do everything on her own. But Max’s hand on her knee, warm and steady, grounded her.

“Drink,” he urged, his voice gentler now. “Then we’ll work on getting some food in you.”

She obeyed, taking slow sips as he watched her carefully, his eyes never leaving her face. The concern etched into his features made her chest ache, but it also filled her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the tea.

Over the next few hours, Max stayed by her side, tending to her every need despite her half-hearted protests. He adjusted her blankets, made sure she took her medicine, and even coaxed her into eating a few spoonfuls of soup, his patience unwavering.

At one point, she woke to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone while his other hand rested lightly on her thigh. She blinked at him, her heart squeezing at the sight of his familiar profile softened by the glow of the bedside lamp.

“You’re still here?” she asked, her voice rasping slightly.

Max looked up, his lips curving into a small smile. “Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her throat tightening. “Racing? Sim practice? Anywhere but stuck in here with me.”

“Hey,” he said, setting his phone aside and leaning closer. His hand slid up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her warm skin. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now. You’re my priority, remember?”

Her eyes stung, and she quickly blinked away the tears threatening to fall. “I just… I’m not used to this. Being taken care of.”

“I know,” Max murmured, his forehead resting lightly against hers. “But you’re not alone anymore. You’ve got me. So let me take care of you, schatje.”

She nodded, her eyes falling shut as his words wrapped around her like a cocoon.

The fever broke by the following morning, leaving her weak but significantly better. When she finally managed to sit up without help, Max was already there, propping her up with pillows and offering her another mug of tea.

“Feeling better?” he asked, his voice laced with relief.

“A little,” she admitted, her lips twitching into a small smile. “Thanks to you.”

Max grinned, his usual confidence returning. “Told you I’d get you through it.”

She rolled her eyes, but the gesture lacked any real bite. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he quipped, leaning in to kiss her. His lips were soft and lingering, a quiet reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his hand finding hers beneath the blanket. “Promise me something,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“Next time you’re not okay, tell me,” he said, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her palm. “Don’t wait until you’re falling apart to let me in.”

She swallowed hard, the sincerity in his voice breaking through the last of her defenses. “I promise,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling in her chest.

“Good,” Max said, his lips curving into a soft smile. “Now, finish your tea. You’ve got some recovering to do.”

As she sipped the warm liquid, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks, she couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—leaning on someone else wasn’t so bad after all.

[writingrock]

before he leaves [1]

pairings: prohero! katsuki bakugou, prohero! eijiro kirishima, prohero! denki kaminari x reader (female) summary: your prohero husband is being called away to a two-week long mission. this is how he says goodbye.

notes: fluff, mild suggestive content, established relationship (married), prohero husband, it's just really cute and sweet, I can't say much more.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: for @onlyisaa becuz apparantly putting bakugou in a timeout is unacceptable

Bakugou’s been called in for a mission overseas. It’s rare, but when it happens, you know it’s something serious. The night before, you couldn’t help but fuss over every little detail. You’d double-checked all of his luggage, then triple-checked it. And now you’re pacing around the room with your mind running through everything he might need. You’d gone over his gear so many times that even Bakugou, usually patient with your worry, had enough. 

“Damn it, woman,” he grumbled, grabbing you by the waist and physically dragging you to bed. You’d protested at first, but he ignored you, muttering under his breath, “You need to quit worrying so much, you’re driving me crazy.”

Despite his words, there was a softness in the way he pulled you into his arms, his grip firm but comforting. His frustration was just his way of masking how much he appreciated your care. He knew you worried because you loved him, but that didn’t stop him from teasing you about it. Even as you lay there, you could feel him quietly shaking his head in amusement, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk as he muttered, "My dear wife, always stressing." 

Still, as much as he tried to calm your nerves, there was a part of him that understood. Missions like this didn’t come often, and both of you knew the stakes. And despite the bravado, despite his confidence, Bakugou knew how hard it was for you every time he had to leave.

It’s five in the morning now, and you’re standing by the door, watching as he slips his phone and passport into his pocket. You stifle a yawn, your voice still groggy from sleep. “How long will you be gone again?”

“Two weeks,” he replies gruffly, his eyes meeting yours. You frown at his answer. Two weeks felt like forever without him. Did he really have to go? Your thoughts are full of protest, but you keep them to yourself.

“Are you sure you have everything?” you ask again, for what feels like the hundredth time. Bakugou lets out an exasperated groan, his head tilting back as he closes his eyes in frustration. 

“Woman, for the last time, yes, I’ve got everything,” he grumbles, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. His crimson eyes flick back to you, softening slightly despite the annoyance in his voice. “I’m not a damn rookie.”

You know he’s right, of course. Bakugou’s meticulous when it comes to preparation, probably more so than you are. Still, the thought of him leaving for two whole weeks on a dangerous mission makes your stomach twist in knots. You can’t help it— it’s in your nature to worry. And Bakugou knows that too.

He glances at you, and for a moment, his stern expression softens even more. He steps toward you, dropping his backpack onto the floor and resting his hands on your shoulders. “Hey,” he says, his voice lower now, gentler. “I’ve done this a million times. I’ll be fine.”

You nod, biting your lip, but he can see the lingering concern in your eyes. He sighs, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrap around you, strong and warm, and for a moment, you can pretend he’s not about to walk out the door.

“I’ve got everything, alright?” he murmurs against your hair. “Except maybe for one thing.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “What’s that?”

He smirks, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You. But I’ll be back before you know it.”

Does he really have to go?

“Yes, I have to go,” he grumbles, reading your thoughts as if they were spoken aloud. You groan softly and stay wrapped in his embrace. Two weeks without him. His strong, muscular arms, the ones you’ll miss most, tighten around you as you press your face against his broad chest, nuzzling into him with a quiet sigh. You take a deep inhale, filling your lungs with his familiar scent— the mix of his skin and that faint, rugged cologne you love so much. It’s comforting, grounding, and you cling to it, knowing it’ll be a while before you get to experience this again.

“I’ll miss you.” You softly whisper in his chest to which he chuckles. His arms seem to squeeze you a little tighter. 

“Yeah, I’ll miss you too,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, savouring the comfort of your presence. He’d definitely miss his pretty wife.

You look up, meeting his gaze. His crimson eyes, still soft with sleep, linger on you with that private smile he shows only to you. His sharp features seem gentler in the dim morning light, and for a moment, you both just exist in each other’s company.

Wordlessly, the both of you share a deep kiss. An intimate mix of love and longing. His hand cradles your cheek as your arms loop loosely around his neck. Reluctantly, the both of you pull away. You sigh softly from the loss of contact. He keeps you close as he gazes into your eyes, his forehead resting against yours. The beautiful eyes of his lover. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours in one last, tender kiss before stepping back. You pout a little as his arms fall away, but you know he has to leave.

“I love you,” you say, voice tinged with a reluctant acceptance.

“I love you too,” he replies.

You watch as he picks up his luggage and heads to the car. Standing in the doorway, you call out after him, your voice echoing through the quiet morning.

“Text me updates!”

“I will!”

“And when you’re on the plane—”

“I know!”

“And call me when you get to the hotel!”

“Dammit, woman, I know!” he yells back, a mix of exasperation and fondness in his tone.

Exactly an hour and thirty-seven minutes later, your phone buzzes with a message from him. He’s reached the airport. Twenty minutes later, another text arrives to tell you that he’s checked in. 

Two hours pass, and your phone lights up again with a photo of him and his colleagues on the jet. He looks as sharp as ever, though there’s the usual trace of annoyance in his expression. And next to him were sheepish looking Red Riot and ChargeBolt. His message follows right after: They were late. Typical.

You smile at his grumbling, imagining him sitting there, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. Even from thousands of miles away, it’s like he’s right there with you, sharing his usual complaints.

You watch Kirishima stretch in the morning light. His muscles ripples beneath his tanned skin as he works out the tension from his body. He’s seated at the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers. The broad back you love so much, facing you. Kirishima’s back is adorned with battle scars, each with their own battle-hardened tale. The scars stretch over his powerful frame and you feel rather tempted to reach out to touch them.

As he stretches his arms out to the sides, twisting slightly to loosen up, your eyes skirt over the fresh scratches running along his skin. Scratches you left from the night before. The memory of it stirs something warm inside you, and you can’t help but let a soft giggle escape your lips.

Upon hearing your fit of giggles, he pauses mid-stretch. Glancing over his shoulder with a knowing smirk on his lips. "What’s so funny?" he teases, his voice still a little raspy from sleep, but there's an unmistakable playfulness in his tone. 

“Just admiring my work.” you comment, referring to the latest addition of scratches on his back. He chuckles softly, replaying the events of last night in his head. It was a rather vigorous night. He needed that time with you, though. With a two-week mission ahead, he already knows how much he’s going to miss you. 

He practically jumps back into bed, sweeping you into his strong, muscular arms as if he can't bear to be away from you for another second. His lips find yours in a tender kiss before he nuzzles into the curve of your neck, planting soft, fluttery kisses along your skin. His lips trace over the bite marks he left behind last night, a reminder of the intimacy. 

For a moment, there's only the sound of your steady breathing and the quiet intimacy of the morning. Then, you break the silence, your voice still soft and hazy from sleep. “Do you have to go?” Your hand gently combs through his messy red hair, and he responds with a low hum of affirmation, his teeth grazing your neck playfully, causing a shiver to run through you. 

“I don’t want to,” he murmurs, his voice low and a little rough, “but I have to.” 

He rises slightly, hovering over you, his gaze tender as he takes in your sleepy features. His hand, warm and calloused, cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as if memorizing every detail. He’s going to miss you—more than he can express.

You're the reason he’s not in the shower yet. The reason he’s still in bed, holding you close instead of gearing up or standing by the door. He’s prolonging every second he has with you, delaying the inevitable because leaving you feels harder than the mission itself. He knows he's late, that he should already be in the shower, getting ready for the mission. His gear should be laid out, his mind focused on the tasks ahead. But here he is, unable to leave your side.

He knows his hero partner will yell at him.

But how could he resist his beautiful wife?

You know he’s running late too, but you don’t care. Shifting up from the bed, you lazily loop your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his warm, broad back. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you settle into him.

“I’ll miss you,” you murmur, breathing in his familiar scent, already knowing you’ll be raiding his closet the moment he’s gone, wrapping yourself in whatever he leaves behind.

“I’ll miss you more,” Kirishima replies, his voice full of warmth. You can’t see the smile on his face, but you feel it in the way his muscles relax under your touch, the way his words come out soft and sincere.

What time is it? You glance at the digital clock on the bedside table. Six in the morning? He's definitely getting yelled at. A quiet chuckle escapes you as you loosen your grip around him.

“It’s six,” you say, a playful warning in your tone.

“I know,” he groans, clearly aware of the trouble he's in.

“He’s going to kill you.”

Kirishima just laughs softly. “I’ll survive—gotta come back to you.” His words make you laugh, and as you release him, he turns to face you with that toothy grin you’ve always loved.

Just as Kirishima leans in to kiss you, his phone rings, cutting the moment short. A loud groan escapes his lips as he checks the caller ID. He glances at you, a dry chuckle slipping out before he answers.

He doesn’t even need to speak— Bakugou’s voice is already blaring through the speaker, barking orders. You can hear it loud and clear, his usual demanding tone carrying through the room. “Get your ass up, Eijiro!” 

Kirishima doesn’t argue, knowing full well Bakugou had already anticipated this. With a quick tap, he ends the call, tossing the phone back onto the nightstand with a sigh. He knew he brought this on himself, but it’s far too early for all that yelling.

“You heard that, right?” Kirishima asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. 

You nod with a soft chuckle, still amused. “Yeah, pretty much. You should clean up,” you hum, playfully nudging him.

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Wanna join me?” 

“Eijiro.”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles, finally getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. His broad figure disappears behind the door, and you roll your eyes fondly, watching him go. As much as he’s procrastinating, you know he’ll eventually get it together—because, at the end of the day, he’s always reliable. Even if he’s late.

Before you know it, Kirishima is already by the door, fully dressed with his suitcase in hand. The image of him shirtless and relaxed on the bed feels like a distant memory as you stand in front of him, sharing one last deep kiss before he leaves. It’s slow and lingering, filled with the kind of warmth that you’ll hold onto while he’s gone. When you finally part, it’s with a soft peck on the lips, and a smile as you watch him step outside.

You wave as he loads his suitcase into the car, and he shoots you that familiar, reassuring grin before the door closes behind him. The car pulls away, and the house feels quieter already.

Two hours pass, and your phone buzzes with a new message. You open it to find an image of a rather grumpy-looking Dynamight, arms crossed and glaring from his seat on the plane. Next to him, Chargebolt is flashing a sheepish grin, holding up a peace sign. You can almost hear Bakugou grumbling under his breath about something ridiculous, probably annoyed with everything around him. 

Kirishima’s caption reads: “Already regretting this trip. Look at these idiots.” 

You laugh, texting him back quickly, already missing him but feeling a little lighter knowing he's surrounded by his friends and trusted co-workers. He’ll be in your arms again soon.

“Five more minutes.” 

Denki mumbles, his voice muffled as he snuggles deeper into your embrace. He’s still in bed, arms wrapped tightly around you, clinging like he’s never going to let go. You let out a soft hum as your fingers comb through his messy blond hair, the strands wild from sleep and so uniquely him. His head rests against your chest, and you can’t help but smile to yourself as you look down at him—the pro-hero you love so much, completely content in your arms.

But this is also the very late pro-hero.

“You’re going to be late, Denks,” you murmur, your voice gentle but with a hint of amusement.

He grunts in reply, barely acknowledging your words as he shrugs and buries his face even further into your chest, clearly not bothered by the reality of the situation. “Don’t care,” he mutters, his voice rumbling against your skin. He’s warm, cosy, and in no rush to leave. Being tangled up with you is the only thing that matters in the world right now.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “You say that now, but wait until Bakugou gets on your case for being late again.”

“I’m not scared of him,” Denki just huffs, his arms tightening around you as if to say let him try. You know he’s dreading the inevitable lecture, but right now, he’d rather enjoy every last second with you. And honestly, you’re not complaining.

The two of you lay there peacefully, soaking in the morning light peeking through the windows. You’re already thinking about how much you’ll miss him during his two-week mission. It’s not often he’s called away for that long, but when he is, you understand. That’s the life of a pro-hero. And while the thought of being apart tugs at your heart, you couldn’t be more proud of him for what he does.

“I’ll miss you,” Denki murmurs into your skin, his breath warm against your chest as he looks up at you. His toned arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. His electrifying touch trails in soothing circles across your skin, making you feel that familiar buzz only he can give. He sighs softly, like he’s already dreading the distance. At that moment, you realise just how much you’re going to miss the way he holds you. The warmth of his affection that never fails to make you feel safe.

You smile down at him, your fingers still running through his messy blond hair. “What are you going to miss the most about me?” you ask playfully, your tone light, though a part of you genuinely wonders what his answer will be.

He pauses, his gaze drifting downward to your chest, a playful grin spreading across his face. You immediately catch on, rolling your eyes and swatting him lightly on the head. “Denki!” you scold, but you can’t help laughing as the both of you break into soft chuckles.

He rubs the back of his head, still grinning like a mischievous kid caught in the act. “What? Can you blame me?” he teases, but when he sees the look on your face, he lets out a small sigh, shaking his head as if to reset himself.

“Okay, okay,” he says, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Real answer now.”

Denki’s lips curl into a smile, but his eyes stay soft, thoughtful. “Everything,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “The way you smile at me when I walk through the door, the way you run your fingers through my hair like this…” He trails off, propping himself up on one elbow.

Looking deep into your eyes, his usual playful energy is tempered by the sincerity that only comes out in moments like these. “I’m gonna miss the way you make everything feel... normal. Like, when I’m out there, saving the day and dealing with all the hero stuff, it’s easy to forget who I really am sometimes. But with you,” he pauses, his hand gently cupping your cheek as his thumb brushes over your skin, “you remind me that I’m more than just a pro-hero. You remind me that I’m enough, just as I am. That I’m just Denki Kaminari.”

His words make your heart swell, and for a moment, you forget about the two weeks ahead. All that matters is here and now, with him in your arms, holding onto you like you’re the most important thing in his world.

Just then, his phone rings, interrupting the peaceful moment. As Denki picks it up, you glance at the screen and catch the time—half past six in the morning. Oh, he’s much later than you’d initially thought. It’s not Bakugou calling, but Kirishima instead. You can hear his deep, concerned voice on the other end, “Dude, get up. He’s already pissed.”

Before the words even fully register, Denki’s already scrambling, bolting upright and pulling on his boxers in a flurry of movement. The sudden shift from lazy cuddles to frantic dressing makes you burst out laughing. He’s rushing so fast that he practically trips over his own feet as he throws open the closet doors, rifling through his clothes in search of something to wear.

“How did you know I wasn’t already out the door?” Denki fires back at Kirishima, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder while simultaneously struggling to put his clothes on. His words are defensive, but the slight panic in his voice gives him away. He’s juggling a pair of pants in one hand, sliding them on while trying to pull a shirt over his head with the other, looking every bit the chaotic mess you love.

You can’t help but chuckle at the scene— Denki hopping around, trying to get his pants on without losing grip on the phone or his dignity. "Because if you were, you wouldn’t be half-dressed and panicking right now," you tease, watching as he stumbles into his shoes, still fumbling with his shirt.

Denki flashes you a sheepish grin, clearly caught, but he doesn’t miss a beat as he finally manages to get his pants on properly. “I was about to be out the door,” he mutters into the phone, knowing full well that no one’s buying it.

“Tell him I’m—” Denki starts as he finds his packed luggage. Thank god he packed the night before. 

“Already on your way?” Kirishima cuts in with a laugh. “Yeah, you can tell him that yourself. You know how he gets when we’re late. He’s already chewed me out. Hurry up man or you’re next.”

It’s hard to hold in your laughter at the situation. Denki shoots you a panicked glare as he starts moving out of the bedroom. “I’ll be out in two seconds!” he says into the phone, though both you and Kirishima know that’s a lie. 

You shake your head, still laughing softly, as you follow him out of the bedroom. Amused by the whirlwind that is your husband in a rush. He’s darting around the living room, frantically patting down his pockets to make sure he’s got everything. The sight is pure Denki— chaotic, yet somehow endearing.

As he’s about to bolt out the door, you catch sight of his passport sitting on the kitchen counter. With a smile, you grab it and walk over, holding it out to him just as he turns in circles, looking confused. “Looking for this?” you tease, waving the passport in front of his face.

His eyes light up with relief. “You’re a lifesaver,” he says, leaning in for a quick kiss.

Before he can rush off again, you grab his arm and pull him in for one last peck on the cheek. “Be safe, okay? And text me when you land.”

He flashes you that playful, electric grin, eyes twinkling. “Promise. Love you.” Then, with a wink, he’s out the door, shoes half-tied, practically running to avoid Bakugou’s wrath.

You lean against the doorframe, still smiling as you watch him disappear down the street. Even in his frantic state, there’s something about him that makes you fall in love with him all over again, every time.

Two hours later, your phone buzzes with a message from your husband. You unlock it to find several crying emojis, and you can already feel the laughter bubbling up before you even open the image. When you do, you’re greeted with a snapshot of chaos: a very pissed off Dynamight, glaring daggers at Denki, looking ready to lunge at him. Red Riot is in the background, struggling to hold Bakugou back, his arms wrapped around Dynamight in a full bear hug, clearly doing his best to keep things under control.

Denki’s sheepish grin isn’t doing him any favours either. His expression is simply the statement of "I'm in trouble". You stifle a laugh as you text him back. 

a/n: there will be a part two of this with deku, shoto and sero! I only had energy to write these three idiots xP

border credits: @/enchanthings & @/adornedwithlight

© writingrock 2024 do not copy, translate or repost.

[cosmiclily]

‘cause i hate to wait so long

★vi x f!reader

part one

wc: 4.9k

cw: hurt/comfort

notes: tried my best to make the transition to the end smooth, and i liked how it turned out, kinda get vi on an astronomical level on this fic lol 🫢

It had been a great weekend. The two of you traveled to see your parents, and as always, your mom loved Vi. Sometimes, you swore she liked Vi even more than she liked you. Every time you called to say you were visiting, she asked what dessert Vi wanted and happily made it just for her.

Being back in your hometown meant running into old friends—and with old friends came old flings.

But even though you and Vi had to stand through a thirty-minute conversation with your high school ex in the middle of a bakery, you thought everything was fine. Vi hadn’t seemed particularly bothered at the time, so when you got back home and she started acting off, you assumed it was something else. Probably work.

She had been sharing a studio with some new guy who got on her nerves, and you had heard her complain about indecisive clients more times than you could count.

You weren’t worried.

Not at first.

But then, the little things started piling up.

She left your messages on read for days. She made excuses to avoid staying the night. She canceled plans at the last minute.

And now, standing in her studio, watching her avoid your gaze, you knew.

“Vi,” you started carefully, hands shoved into your pockets, “is there something you want to talk about?”

She shrugged, still not looking at you. “I don’t know. You’re the one who came over unannounced.”

Her tone was flat, detached, and it sent an uneasy feeling crawling up your spine.

“I came over because you’ve been acting weird,” you said, voice steady, but your heart was anything but. “You’ve been avoiding me, and I want to know why.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, but still wouldn’t meet your eyes. “It’s nothing. Just work stuff.”

But you knew her. And this wasn’t just work stuff.

So you took a step closer, crossing your arms. “Vi.”

Vi finally looked at you then, and something flickered in her expression—something tired, something unsure.

“What?” she asked, her tone sharp, irritated.

You ignored it. You weren’t sure what was happening, and the last thing you wanted was for this to turn into a fight if it didn’t have to.

“Just tell me the truth,” you said, voice careful but firm. “Please.”

She exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening, fingers curling into fists at her sides.

“I…” She looked away, shaking her head. Then, quieter, “Do you miss her?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Your ex,” she said, voice clipped. “You know, the one we ran into last weekend.”

You frowned, utterly confused. “Miss her? Vi, what the hell are you talking about?”

Vi let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her hair. “She just seemed so... put together,” she muttered. “Talking about her medical degree, how she wanted to travel the world. And I don’t know, I just thought—” She cut herself off, shoulders tensing. “I just thought maybe you should be with someone like her.”

Your head jerked back like she had slapped you.

“Are you serious right now?” You scoffed, a disbelieving laugh escaping before you could stop it. “Vi, you hate when people put words in your mouth, and now you’re doing the same damn thing to me?”

Her eyes flashed. “I’m just saying it makes sense! She has her shit together, she knows exactly what she wants in life, she doesn’t—” She stopped, jaw clenching so tight you could see the muscles twitch.

“She doesn’t what?” you pressed, stepping closer. “Say it.”

Vi hesitated, then finally snapped, “She doesn’t come with all the baggage I do, okay?”

You stared at her, stunned.

“This again?” Your voice was rising now, frustration boiling over. “Vi, do you ever get tired of pushing me away before I can even think about leaving?”

“I’m not pushing you away!”

“The hell you aren’t!” You threw your hands in the air. “Every single time we get close, really close, you find some reason to run. And now? Now you’re making up some bullshit excuse about my ex to convince yourself that I’d be better off without you?”

Vi’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t deny it.

You let out a humorless laugh. “Unbelievable. You know what, fine. If that’s what you really want, if you actually think I’d be happier with someone else, just say it. Say you don’t want me.”

Silence.

You crossed your arms, your jaw tight with frustration. “Go on. Say it, Vi.”

Her eyes burned as she snapped back, her voice rising. “You know you would!” She let out a harsh breath. “It’s not an opinion, it’s a fact! I’m not good for you! You just said it yourself—I keep finding reasons to push you away. Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t hear the shit my own mind tells me every single day?” She let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe we should just end this now. Before either of us gets hurt.”

That did it.

Your anger flared, white-hot, because how dare she?

Like you weren’t already hurting.

Like you weren’t already attached.

Like your mom didn’t greet her with a smile and a homemade chocolate cake every time you visited.

“You always say that,” you spat, voice shaking. “Like it’s some kind of mercy. Like you’re doing me a favor. Before we get hurt? Vi, I’m already hurt!”

She flinched, but you didn’t stop.

“I have never once doubted my feelings for you. Not for a second. But you? You doubt everything. You push me away and then act like it’s inevitable. Like you’re just sparing me from some big, tragic heartbreak when the only person breaking my heart right now is you.”

Her breathing was ragged, hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she didn’t interrupt.

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “You know what? Fine. If you think this is the right thing to do, if you really believe I’d be better off without you, then I won’t fight you on it anymore.”

You turned, yanking open the studio door. But before you stepped out, you hesitated—just long enough to deliver one last blow.

“Hope you’re finally free from me.”

And then you walked out, slamming the door behind you.

There were a lot of things in life you weren’t sure about.

Like whether the degree you earned was what you actually wanted to do for the rest of your life. Or what you were going to have for dinner. Or if you’d ever figure out how to fold a fitted sheet properly.

But you were sure about Violet.

You were sure she was the love of your life.

You were sure that one day, you would marry her. That you’d grow old together. That maybe—maybe—you’d even have kids, even though that was one of the things you weren’t sure about.

Even with everything life threw your way, you were sure about her.

But sometimes, love isn’t enough.

No matter how much you give, no matter how patient you are, no matter how many times you try to show them—I’m here. I’m not leaving. Please, just let me love you!—it doesn’t always work.

Because love is a two-way street, and if one person keeps building walls instead of bridges, eventually, you run out of ways to reach them.

You had tried. God, had you tried.

You stayed through every storm, through every fight, through every moment she tried to push you away. You picked up the pieces when she shattered, even when it meant cutting yourself on the shards.

But there’s only so much a person can take.

There are only so many times you can be pushed away before you finally stay away.

And as much as you hated proving her right, after the hundredth time she told you to leave—you did.

And it was the worst pain of your life. Worse than that time you tried to ride your pink bicycle down a hill and broke both of your arms. Worse than any heartbreak you’d ever imagined.

Because she was supposed to be your forever.

──────────────────────

Vi would be lying if she said that after your awful encounter at the coffee shop, she didn’t wait for you to call her—maybe to yell at her some more, to say all the things she knew she deserved to hear.

Because even if that was the only thing she could get from you, she would take it.

Anything was better than the silence.

But you didn’t call. You didn’t text.

And she understood why. She wasn’t stupid. If she didn’t try, you couldn’t keep trying for her.

She just didn’t know how.

Vi had spent her whole life in survival mode—fighting, running, enduring. She knew how to throw a punch, how to take a hit, how to push people away before they could hurt her first.

But feelings? Talking? Healing?

She didn’t know what any of that looked like.

So she did the only thing she knew how to do.

She screwed things up a little bit more.

Yes, resorting to drinking wasn’t healthy. No, it wouldn’t solve her problems. But it would make them go away for a while, and right now, that was all she needed.

That’s how she found herself in the nearest nightclub she could find, a whiskey glass in her hand, watching as colorful lights flashed around her. The bass pounded through her chest, drowning out the thoughts she didn’t want to deal with.

“Rough night?”

Vi barely turned her head as some random red head slid into the seat next to her at the bar. She was pretty, in that effortless kind of way, with a confident smirk that told Vi exactly what she was after.

“You could say that” Vi muttered before downing the rest of her drink.

The girl leaned in, her fingers ghosting over Vi’s bicep. “Well… maybe I can make it better.”

Once upon a time, Vi might have taken her up on that offer. A distraction, a warm body, something to make her forget for just a little while.

But the only touch she craved—the only lips she wanted—weren’t here.

Vi sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Not tonight.”

The girl pouted, but she didn’t push. “Suit yourself.”

As she walked away, Vi signaled the bartender for another drink. Because if she couldn’t have you, she could at least have the illusion of feeling something.

──────────────────────

You were woken up by the sound of your phone buzzing on your nightstand. Groaning, you reached for it without much thought, still half-asleep.

“Hello?”

At first, all you could hear on the other end was breathing—slow, uneven.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

A beat of silence. Then, a voice you hadn’t heard in weeks.

“Can you open your door, please?”

Vi.

You sat up instantly, now fully awake. “Vi? What are you talking about? It’s three in the morning.”

“I just—” A loud thud echoed through the phone, followed by a muffled, “Fuck.”

Your brows furrowed. “Vi, what the hell was that? Where are you?”

“I just need to talk to you” she mumbled, her words slightly slurred. “Please. You can yell at me all you want, I just… I just want to hear your voice.”

You ran a hand down your face, exhaling sharply. “Are you drunk right now? Seriously?”

Silence. Then, barely above a whisper—

“Yeah.”

You closed your eyes, gripping the bridge of your nose. The last thing you wanted was to let her back in after everything, after the pushing and pulling, after the damage she’d done. But a bigger part of you—the part that still ached for her, that never stopped worrying—was already swinging its legs out of bed and heading for the door.

You cracked it open, and there she was.

Vi stood in your doorway, hood up, hands shoved into the pockets of her jacket like she was trying to make herself smaller. Even in the dim glow of the hallway light, you could see the exhaustion in her face—red-rimmed eyes, the way her shoulders sagged like she was holding the weight of the world.

“You look like shit” you muttered.

She let out a breathy chuckle. “Yeah. Feels like it too.”

You should’ve slammed the door in her face. You should’ve told her to go home, sleep it off, leave you alone.

Instead, you stepped aside.

“Come in.”

And she did, wobbling slightly as she walked in.

She looked so out of place in your living room. The red jacket she always wore stood out against the neutral tones of your space—like a warning sign, like a memory that never quite faded.

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the way your heart clenched at the sight of her. “What do you want, Vi?” You didn’t even try to mask the exhaustion in your voice. “Why are you here?”

She exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face before finally meeting your eyes for the first time since she arrived.

“I don’t know” she admitted, voice rough, unsteady. “I was supposed to go home. I was going home, and then I just… got here.”

You let out a sigh. “That’s not an answer.”

Vi winced, shifting on her feet like she was struggling to find the right words. But words were never her strong suit, were they? She had always been better with actions—though most of them were reckless and self-destructive.

She ran a hand through her hair, sighing. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

You clenched your jaw, looking away. That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t fair.

After everything she’d said, after everything she’d done—after making you leave—she still expected you to be here, to pick up the pieces when she was falling apart.

"You don't get to do this, Vi” you whispered, barely trusting your voice. "You don’t get to throw me away and then show up at my door like I’m supposed to fix you."

Her breath hitched. "I know. I know, and I’m—" She hesitated, the words getting stuck in her throat. "I fucked up, okay? I fucked up so bad, and I don’t know how to fix it."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking away the sting behind your eyes.

"But I want to…"

You could count on one hand how many times you'd seen Vi cry. And most of those times had been involuntary—after waking up from a nightmare, lost in the haze of half-conscious panic, when her body betrayed her before her mind could shut it down.

But now, she was standing in your living room, crying. Her shoulders shook, and she wiped furiously at her eyes, like she was trying to erase the evidence of her own weakness.

"I've said it before, but it's true this time. I promise." Her voice cracked—raw, desperate. "And you can yell at me all you want. You can throw every awful thing I said back in my face, because I would rather have you angry at me than this." She sucked in a shaky breath. "Being apart hurts. The silence is killing me.”

You closed your eyes for a brief second, trying to steady yourself. This isn’t fair.

"You think I wanted to leave?" you asked, voice quiet but firm. "You think I wanted to spend nights wondering if you were okay, if you were sleeping, if you were eating? Do you know how many times I almost called you?"

Vi's lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

"I loved you, Vi. And I spent so much time trying to prove to you that I wasn't going anywhere. But no matter how much I tried, you never let me in."

"I was scared" she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I know" you said. "I know. And I still tried. But you made me believe that I was never going to be enough for you."

Vi took a step closer. "That's not true."

"Isn't it?" you asked, shaking your head. "You were scared I would leave, but you were the one who kept pushing me away. Over and over again."

Vi exhaled shakily, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

"I want to be better," she said, her voice raw with emotion. "I don’t want to keep running. I don’t want to keep ruining things." She looked at you, her expression open—vulnerable in a way you weren’t sure you'd ever seen before. "And I don’t know if I deserve another chance, but if there’s even the smallest part of you that thinks I do…"

She hesitated.

"Then I’ll spend every day proving to you that I can be better."

Your heart felt like it was being crushed. You loved—love—Vi. You always have, and you probably always will. But feeling so insecure, so scared all the time that you would wake up one day and she would just decide this was over, made you think twice.

"I… I love you. I really do." Your voice wavered as you let out a humorless laugh. "You were the only thing I was ever certain about in my life. You were my forever."

Vi took a step closer, her breath hitching. "I still am…"

"How can I be sure?" Your voice cracked, anger and exhaustion mixing into one. "How can I know that you won’t wake up one day and decide that I’m too good for you? That you don’t deserve me? Or some other crazy shit your brain makes you believe—and just leave? Do you have any idea what that would do to me?"

Vi flinched, guilt flashing across her face.

As much as you tried not to be angry—because she was drunk, because she was vulnerable—you were only human.

"I know you're scared" you said, your voice tight. "I know you think you aren’t worthy of my love. But have you ever stopped to think about how I feel?"

She stayed silent.

"When you look me in the eyes and tell me that I’m just like everyone else? That I’ll leave? That I’ll hurt you?" You shook your head, your nails digging into your palms. "Do you think so little of me?"

Vi's lips parted, but no words came out. All she could do was stare at you, her blue eyes filled with regret, sorrow, and something deeper—something she wasn’t sure how to voice.

And for the first time, maybe ever, you saw it hit her. The weight of what she had done. The hurt she had caused. The damage she had left in her wake.

“I’m sorry” she whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of her own emotions. Quiet tears still flowed down her face, unchecked. “I’m sorry I hurt you so bad, but I promise I’ll be better. I promise I’ll do anything and everything in my power to never make you feel like that again.”

You let out a deep breath, the anger you felt still simmering in your gut.

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Your voice was tired, drained. “When you’re sober and I’m not angry anymore?”

Vi nodded, quickly, almost desperately. And the look in her eyes made you doubt everything all over again. It was like she had this power over you—one puppy dog-eyed look and you were gone.

But you couldn’t let that sway you. Not again.

“You can sleep on the couch” you said, turning away before she could break you down any further. “I’ll get you some blankets.”

Vi stood there for a moment, watching you disappear down the hall. She wanted to convince you that she meant it this time. That she wasn’t going to run, wasn’t going to push you away again.

But after everything she had done, after all the times she had broken your heart—what right did she have to ask you to believe her?

So she didn’t. She just sat down on the couch, burying her face in her hands, listening to the sound of you rustling through the closet.

Hoping—praying—that when morning came, you’d still listen to her.

──────────────────────

You didn’t sleep. You spent the whole night tossing and turning in your bed, too aware of the woman in your living room, too aware of the decisions you had to make. The weight of it all pressed down on you, the endless cycle of pushing and pulling, of loving and hurting. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, counting the minutes, then the hours, as your mind ran in circles.

You tried to convince yourself that it was simple. That love should be enough. If you loved each other, you should just betogether—happy, whole, like life was a perfectly wrapped gift waiting to be opened.

But life wasn’t a fairytale, and love wasn’t always the answer.

That was never the question in your relationship. You knew Vi loved you. And she knew you loved her. But love alone couldn’t erase the damage, the doubts, the nights spent wondering if she would hurt you again. Love couldn’t fix the way she closed off the moment things got hard, or how you were always left picking up the pieces.

You turned onto your side, pressing your face into the pillow with a frustrated sigh. Sleep wasn’t coming—not when your mind was a storm of thoughts crashing into each other.

Lying there, restless, wasn’t helping. So you got up, dragging your feet to the kitchen. Maybe a cup of coffee would bring you the clarity you needed, even if it meant breaking your self-imposed caffeine ban.

You had just poured yourself a mug when a voice made you jump.

“I thought you were trying to quit coffee.”

Vi stood at the kitchen entrance, her hair a mess, eyes still heavy with sleep. In the dim morning light, she looked softer—almost like the Violet you used to know, before everything fell apart.

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, wrapping your hands around your mug for warmth, “I couldn’t sleep, so I kind of need this right now.”

You took a sip without thinking, the heat grounding you for a moment—until your eyes landed on the words printed on the ceramic.

World’s Best Girlfriend.

Your stomach twisted. She had gotten it for you on your birthday, grinning as she handed it over, laughing about how “cheesy” it was. At the time, it had been a joke. Now, it felt like a cruel reminder of everything you had lost.

Vi’s gaze flickered to the mug in your hands, and for a second, you thought you saw something break behind her eyes.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to act normal, pretending it didn’t sting as much as it did. You gestured toward the cabinet. “You know where the mugs are if you want some.”

She hesitated, her fingers twitching at her sides. “Yeah… okay.”

She moved across the kitchen, opening the cabinet with an ease that shouldn’t have felt so natural anymore. As if she had never left. As if she still belonged here.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, but neither of you knew how to break it.

So you just stood there, eyes locked, memories playing like an old film reel in your mind.

You remembered the time Vi tried to bake you a cake for Valentine’s Day, how the middle was still raw, and you both ended up eating the edges with spoons, laughing the whole time. You remembered that one New Year’s Eve when you sat on the kitchen floor, eating instant noodles and drinking cheap champagne because the party you were supposed to go to had been a bust. You remembered the lazy mornings, the soft kisses, the way she used to sneak up behind you and wrap her arms around your waist as you made coffee.

But you also remembered the fights. The slammed doors. The cabinets shut with a little too much force. The nights spent crying, feeling like the love you had wasn’t enough to keep her.

Vi exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of her neck. “Do you remember that time you got a little too invested in sourdough and kept trying to make a starter? And you read somewhere that keeping it in a warm place helped, so you left it in the oven?” She gave you a small, lopsided smile. “But then you forgot about it and preheated the oven for something else, and the house smelled like burned bread for a week?”

A surprised laugh burst out of you, unbidden. “God, yes.” You groaned, shaking your head. “And then you made it worse by trying to air it out with a box fan, but all it did was spread the smell into every room?”

Vi chuckled, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “In my defense, I thought it was a solid plan.”

You snorted, taking another sip of coffee. “It was a terrible plan.”

The moment lingered, stretching between you like a fragile thread. For a second, it almost felt like things were normal, like the past few months hadn’t happened.

But they had.

“I miss you,” you whispered, barely audible, like you were afraid of the words themselves—afraid she would hear them, afraid she wouldn’t. “I missed you every single second.”

Vi sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers twitching at her sides, like she wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if she was allowed to.

You set your mug down with a quiet clink, steadying yourself. You were done crying. You had spent too many nights crying over this already.

“And I spent the whole night weighing the pros and cons of this relationship. I just…” You swallowed, gripping the edge of the counter. “I’m so scared, Violet.”

Your voice cracked on her name, and Vi flinched like you had physically struck her.

“I know,” she murmured, her gaze never leaving yours. “I am too.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? We’re both too scared. Scared to lose each other, scared to stay, scared that loving each other won’t be enough.”

Vi took a hesitant step forward. “But I don’t want to be scared anymore,” she admitted, her voice unsteady. “I don’t want to keep pushing you away just because I think it’s easier than letting you stay. I just—” she exhaled, shaking her head, “I just need to know if there’s even a chance. Even the smallest chance that you’ll give me one more shot.”

You stared at her, at the woman you had loved for so long, the one who had broken your heart and was now standing before you, asking for another piece of it.

And the worst part?

You wanted to give it to her.

So you nodded, hesitantly, barely daring to breathe. “I don’t want to regret this, Vi. I’m exhausted from this push and pull. But I love you too much to let you go.”

Vi’s lips parted slightly, like she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Then, slowly, a smile broke across her face—small, hesitant, but real.

“Maybe it’s a little selfish. Maybe I’m insane” you admitted, exhaling shakily. “But yes, I’ll give you one more chance.”

Vi let out a breath she had been holding, something like relief flashing across her face. “I won’t waste it,” she swore, stepping closer, cautious but hopeful. “I swear on—” she let out a breathless chuckle, shaking her head, “on every bad decision I’ve ever made, I won’t waste it.”

You arched a brow. “That’s a lot of bad decisions, Vi.”

She laughed, and the sound was so familiar, so her, that your chest ached. It was the same laugh that used to fill your apartment, the same one that made you fall in love with her in the first place.

“Yeah, well… I guess I have a lot to make up for.”

You studied her for a long moment, searching her face for any sign of doubt, any crack in the resolve she was promising you. But all you found was sincerity—raw and unfiltered, painted across her expression in a way that made it impossible to doubt her.

So, once more, you let yourself believe her.

And when she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around you, you let yourself melt into her.

Like you always did, like you always would.

Her grip on you was firm but not desperate. Not like she was afraid you would slip away—more like she was certain she wouldn’t let go this time. Her fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, her face tucked against your shoulder, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she breathed.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a single moment of peace.

“But I’m still mad at you,” you muttered, your voice muffled by her body against yours.

Vi let out a breathy chuckle, the sound vibrating against you. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I’d be mad at me too.”

She didn’t try to defend herself, didn’t try to justify the things she had done. She just held you, letting the weight of everything settle between you.

And somehow, despite all the pain, all the uncertainty—she knew, deep in her bones, that everything was going to be okay.

──────────────────────

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

A Bumpy Ride -Oneshot

Word count: 2808

Part 2

The mission was over, but the Quinjet had been badly damaged during the fight.

“Welp, looks like we’re taking the truck,” Sam announced, turning toward the off roading vehicle on the trail that was left behind by the bad guys.

“How the hell are we all supposed to fit in that?” Bucky asked, looking at the truck incredulously.

“Well, I won’t be in it,” Sam said, his wings opening up with a whoosh.  “So that frees up a spot.”

“Oh sure, but there’s still 5 of us, and that only seats like 4,” Y/N reasoned, crossing her arms in frustration.  “With my fat ass, Bucky being an absolute unit, Peter, Wanda, and Strange–”

“Oh honey, none of us need to ride,” Wanda said.  “We can all travel differently.”

Y/N rolled her eyes.  “Of course, I forget that I’m just so lucky to not be able to fly or teleport or swing places.”

“Neither can I, doll,” Bucky looked at her with a cocked eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, but you run super fast,” Y/N said, raising her eyebrows back at him.

“You want me to run down the mountain?” he frowned.

“No,” she groaned, rubbing her face harshly.  “Nevermind, let’s just go.  But you’re driving.  I will not be held responsible for crashing that tank.”

Bucky chuckled as they both bid farewell to the others that all took off in their special ways.  He helped her hop up into the raised truck, then had to help her get buckled with all the different straps and buckles.

“Jesus, where’s the manual for this thing?” Y/N huffed when she was finally buckled in, the straps stretched around her plushy body.  She could tell this was going to be a really bumpy ride, and quickly zipped up her tactical suit so her breasts wouldn’t spill out down the mountain.  She wasn’t a regular agent.  She’d been added as a back up to the Avengers’ missions because of her mutant powers of healing and energy absorption.  She was a living med bay, as well as a walking bomb when need be, but that was extremely rare.   She wasn’t as in shape or slender like other agents and superheroes.  At times it was confidence shaking, but usually she didn’t worry about it.  She wasn’t there to fight, just heal and take care of massive business.

“For real,” Bucky agreed at her comment as he strapped himself in.  “So fucking complicated.”  When he finished with a grunt she giggled and he glanced at her with a smirk before turning the truck on.  “Here we go.”

The ride was rough.  She was jiggling like crazy, her hands gripping the straps for dear life as the truck rolled over large rocks and down winding curves of a trail that was nearly nonexistent.  Bucky was maneuvering it well, but a new problem arose as they started down a path that had consistent bumps.  Her breath sounded jumpy as they hurtled down, and the tightness of her suit around her nether regions rode up in between her legs further.  The tight fabric rubbed against her clit, and she stiffened at the shot of pleasure that careened through her pussy.  Her jaw ticked, her eyes squinting as she tried not to visibly shudder at the feeling.

“You okay there, doll?” Bucky’s voice cut through the cabin.

Y/N glanced at him with a quick, unconvincing smile.  “Yep,” she said, way too chipper than she normally would before staring out the front window, desperately trying not to moan.

He just hummed, obviously not believing her.  Please, not in front of Bucky, she prayed to whatever god would listen, her cheeks blushing hard at the thought of cumming in front of him.  She’d had a huge crush on him for a while, but was unwilling to risk their friendship or working relationship by confessing feelings she wasn’t sure were reciprocated.  But the further down they went, the more Bucky had to tap on the brakes to slow them down the bumpy trail, the more she had to bite back the inevitable.  The pressure mounted as the fabric tightened over her clit even further.  It was getting painful, and that somehow made it more pleasurable.  Y/N was losing it.  It was happening, the zings of pleasure and desire making her pussy throb and her body tremble.  Her breathing picked up even further, crossing her ankles to try to relieve some pressure, but it only made it worse.  

“Are you sure?” Bucky interrupted, his voice sounding strained.  “Do we need to stop?”

Y/N was going to possibly take him up on the offer, but then they hit a particularly large bump in the road, the suit stretching just right on that bundle of nerves, and it tipped her over the edge.  She whimpered loudly as she came in her pants, her back going stiff and her head falling back against the seat.  Bucky gasped quietly next to her, his eyes flickering back and forth between her and the road.  It seemed to go on forever, prolonged by the never ending bumpy road.

When she finally calmed down they had found the main road, which was smooth as it careened down the last bit of the mountain.  The drive back home was still another hour, at least, and when she was able to breathe normally again she had the sudden, stomach lurching switch of pure pleasure to swift embarrassment.  She bit her lip as she tried to subtly right herself in her seat, the tactical suit now even more uncomfortable being lined with her cum.  She fought off tears the whole way home, grateful to Bucky for not saying anything, though she could feel his eyes on her periodically.

She had never been so happy to see the compound before.  Bucky pulled into the large garage, parking next to the elevator.  The second he cut off the engine Y/N’s fingers ripped at the straps and buckles, trying to free herself from the infernal truck so she could run away and hide from him.  She was mildly aware of Bucky unbuckling himself and getting out of the truck.  He opened her door a second later, reaching in and helping her get out.

“I’ve got it,” she huffed, trying to push his hands away.  She couldn’t stand to be near him right now.

“Y/N–”

She grunted as the last two straps held her firmly, her hands starting to shake as her emotions got the better of her, her eyes filling with tears and making it harder to see what she was doing.  Her breathing became heavier as she started to panic, wanting to be anywhere but here.  “Please just–”

“Doll!”  Her eyes snapped to him, her cheeks blushing madly once again.  Her tears spilled over as he gave her a pitiful look.  “It’s okay,” he said quietly.  “Just let me help you.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment before nodding reluctantly.  Bucky nodded back before reaching over her to help undo the last two belts.  It brought his face close to hers, and she sniffled quickly, looking up at the roof of the truck to avoid his eyes.  The pitiful look was rough enough, she didn’t want to see anymore pity or embarrassment coming from him.  When the last belt fell away he moved away, hands reached up to help her down from the truck.  She hesitated before letting him hold her by the hips to help her down from the near four foot drop to the ground.  She landed on wobbly legs, his hands staying on her for another moment before she pushed him away.

“Thank you,” she whispered, shrinking away and angling her body to make a break for it to the elevator.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky replied quietly.  “Listen–”

“Bye Buck,” she said loudly and ducked her head, making a beeline for the elevator, not sparing a look back, thankful to him again for not following her so she could have space.  She kept her composure until she reached her room, shutting the door and locking it behind herself before sinking down to her knees, letting out the big ugly cry she had been holding in.  How could she ever face him again?  Accidentally cumming in front of her crush because of a bumpy drive?  It was ridiculous to even fathom, and yet she’d lived it.  She dragged herself to the shower, stripping out of the tactical suit she swore she’d never wear again, throwing it in the wash on the way.  She let out her anguish even more in the shower, crying harder than she had in a long time.  I want the ground to swallow me whole.

***

The next few weeks were strange.  Everyone around Y/N could tell something was wrong, but she wouldn’t talk to anyone about it.  Every time she and Bucky were in the same room she would find an excuse to leave, unable to meet his eye or talk to him.  And whilst she was refusing to look at him, the Avengers around them found it amusing how much Bucky couldn’t stop staring at her.  

The minute they were in the same room together, Bucky would shift in his seat, his gaze settling on her alone, barely leaving her even if someone else talked to him.  It became a running joke to see how long either of them would last in the same room as the other before they ran away.  After three weeks of this mess Wanda lost her patience and marched into Y/N’s room after she had run away from the common room once again.

“Alright, enough of this,” she announced as she walked into Y/N’s room with no invitation.  “What happened on the drive back from the mission three weeks ago?”

Y/N’s eyes widened.  “Nothing,” she squeaked.

“Well something must have happened for you to run from the room whenever Bucky is around, and for him to literally eye fuck you when he sees you,” Wanda said, tilting her head and crossing her arms over her chest.  “I’m giving you a chance to tell me before I read your mind and find out for myself, because this is ridiculous.  Everyone can see something is wrong, and it's affecting the team dynamic.  So spill.”

Y/N hung her head in her hands, groaning loudly.  “Fine, just shut the door.”  Wanda quickly shut it then sat on Y/N’s bed, waiting for her to speak.  Y/N sighed and looked down at her lap.  “It was a bumpy ride down the mountain,” she began.  “I was wearing that tight tactical suit, and next thing I know it’s…riding up between my legs and…rubbing me,” she gestured to her lap.  Wanda’s eyes narrowed then widened in horror.  Y/N nodded and started to cry again.  “I fucking came right in front of him,” she said, hanging her head in her hands again.  “It was so embarrassing.  I tried so hard to stop it, but I couldn’t.  The look he gave me,” she paused, sniffing hard.  “God I could just die from the shame.”

Wanda sat in silence for a moment before she snorted a laugh.  Y/N looked at her with a hurt expression.  “Oh, honey, I’m not laughing at you,” Wanda said quickly.  “I’m just laughing at the situation.  That explains why he’s been eye fucking you.”

“He has not,” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Yes he has,” Wanda raised her eyebrows at her.  “You didn’t see because you’ve been actively avoiding him since then.  I’ve seen, and heard, him.  His thoughts are loud and…quite colorful,” she said, her cheeks blushing madly.  “You do not need to be embarrassed.  If anything, him seeing that gave him the push to actually do something about his feelings for you.”

“He doesn’t have feelings for me,” Y/N retorted.  “He just saw me cum and now can’t see me without seeing that.  It’s awkward–”

“He wants to be the one to make you cum,” Wanda said.  She tapped her finger against her temple.  “I see and hear it all, honey.  Trust me.  Just talk to him.”  She reached over and gripped Y/N’s hand comfortingly before standing and leaving the room.  

Y/N watched her leave, her mouth agape in shock.  Bucky had feelings for her?  He was…eye fucking her?

***

The next time Y/N was in the conference room with everyone else for a pre-mission briefing, even though she wasn’t going on this one, she didn’t let herself shy away from anyone’s gaze, including Bucky’s.  She actually tried to catch him in the act of eye fucking her, still unsure about what Wanda had said.  When the briefing was beyond what she needed to pay attention to, her eyes settled on a corner of the room, her fingers fiddling with the necklace she was wearing.  She could feel his stare, and she slowly moved her eyes from the corner to him sitting across from her at the conference table.

Bucky was focused solely on her, his eyes flickering down her body then fixating on her fingers with the necklace.  Y/N slid her fingers across the chain, watching his eyes follow the movement with rapt attention.  He was frowning in deep concentration, his lips slightly parted, his breathing steady but heavy.  Y/N then brought the chain up to her lips, pulling the pendant up and grazing it over her lips slowly.  His eyelids fluttered at the change in movement, biting his lower lip and dragging it through his teeth before licking his lips.  Y/N tested one more time, licking her lips and slightly pursing them.  Bucky shifted in his seat, swallowing harshly.  He suddenly met her gaze and froze, realizing she was watching him.

“Dismissed,” Nick Fury called out, and everyone started rising from their chairs to leave the conference room. 

Y/N quickly scurried from the conference room, taking the stairs down to the personal rooms rather than the elevator.  She only made it two stairwells down when thundering footsteps rumbled behind her, then suddenly Bucky landed in front of her on the landing.  She gasped, looking up to where he’d jumped from.  

“Jesus, Bucky, you’re gonna kill yourself!  Or me!  Fuck,” she huffed, her hand over her heart.

He didn’t say anything, then pushed her against the opposite wall.  She gasped again as he caged her against it, then looked up at him.  His eyes were dark, a look of deep desire raging in them as his flesh hand cupped the side of her face.  “I can’t do this anymore,” he said, his voice coming out gravelly.  “Ever since I saw you cum I can’t think of anything else.”  His head dipped down to be eye level with her, and he nuzzled his nose along her cheek, his lips grazing over her skin.  “That was so…fucking hot, Y/N,” he groaned, kissing her cheek lightly.  “I know you were embarrassed, but you don’t need to be.”

Y/N’s hands were shaking at her sides as she gripped the bottom of her shirt.  Her eyelids fluttered at his movements on her face.  “You…you liked it?” she whispered.

“I fucking loved it,” Bucky grunted in her ear.  “All I can think about is you doing it again, but this time it’s because of me.”  He kissed down to her neck, licking at her throat and nipping at her jaw.  Y/N whimpered, her hands shooting out to fist into Bucky’s shirt and pull him closer.  “I want to see you grinding over my cock until you cum all over me.  You’re so pretty when you cum, baby.  Please let me see it again.”

“Is that all you want?” Y/N asked, her face moving to try and meet his lips.

Bucky shuddered at her tone.  “Well, I was hoping that maybe you could make yourself cum first, then I’ll make you cum as many times as possible, in every way I can.”  Y/N shivered as he pulled back to look at her.  “Then I’d fuck you, stuff you full of my cum until you can’t take anymore, and have you dripping me for days.”

“I’m…I’m not on the pill.  I don’t have an IUD,” Y/N said sadly.

“I don’t care,” Bucky said.  “You can have an abortion, or not.  But being linked to you forever?  You don’t have to threaten me with a good time,” he smirked.  

Her eyes widened, her head falling back against the wall as the idea of possibly getting pregnant with Bucky’s baby, being his in some capacity, was so hot she couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her throat.  “You wanna breed me?” she breathed.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back, his metal hand whirring as it pushed into the wall harder with a crack.  “Fuck yes,” he growled.

Part 2?

[jjkarmy091]

Second Best- Jungkook (part 9)

Summary: Being friends with someone who has your heart it’s already hard, let alone when that special someone ends up falling in love with your best friend, the one you think would never make anything to hurt you . Will you be able to ignore it and move on? what will happen when everything gets too much for you to handle?

Genre: Friends to lovers; angst; body insecurities; bullying; friend betrayel;

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Warning: strong language

Wordcount: 5.820

Author's note: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter just as much as I enjoyed writting it. Give me your thoughts. I love you all <3

P.S : I'm sorry for any mistakes

After Jungkook left Y/n found herself having an anxiety attack. What the hell did she just do? She was so mad and frustrated with her feelings and having Jungkook so close to her, so defenseless made her fold in so many ways. She made a mistake and now she couldn’t look at Jungkook like before. Not when he knows almost everything.  

She never thought that love would be this complicated. If only she knew this before, she would’ve never gotten so close to him. How dumb of her. Now mistakes were made and things were said... Oh how she wished to take them all back. She doesn’t know how much time she spent there alone until she saw Lisa run towards her with a very worried face. 

“Are you okay? I called you so many times, why didn’t you answer? I was worried sick!” she kneeled in front of her, checking if she had injuries. It was then when Y/n remembered Jungkook’s words 

I only found out that you were back because I saw your friend here yesterday 

All of a sudden Y/n gets up startling Lisa a little bit and goes a little far, breathing heavily. She turned to face her again and Lisa saw disappointment in her eyes.  

“You talked to Jungkook yesterday?” Lisa’s face went blank.

“I can explain” she tried approaching her friend but was dismissed. “Y/n I was trying to help somehow and ---” 

“So you told him I was back and that he should come here to talk?! Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” Y/n’s tears threatened to leave. Again “He did come here to talk. Out of nowhere, on my first day back to work Lisa! It went awful. We fought – I told him I was in love with him and it all went downhill afterwards. I love you and I’m so thankful for your support during these days but this was any of your concern and you shouldn't have gotten involved in this. How did you know who he was anyway?”  

“When I walked in, the coffee shop was very calm so I went to make my order and ended up making small talk with Sana. That’s when I noticed him sat down with his coffee in front of him looking outside the window. I asked her if he was Jungkook. He must’ve felt the looks on him because when he saw me, he got up so quick he almost fell. He was very straightforward, I was actually impressed. He asked me about you, if you were back in town, that he saw some pictures of us on our trip and invited me to sit with him so we could talk a bit... I know I shouldn’t have gotten involved, but he looked so heartbroken Y/n, you should’ve seen his face. If I had told you he was gonna see you you’d have run like you always do, because you’re never ready to face your problems” Y/n stayed quiet. Even tho she didn’t appreciate Lisa’s attitude, she had to agree with her partially. She didn’t say anything else, preparing herself to finally close the shop and heading home with Lisa. 

The drive home was very quiet and the tension was palpable. Lisa would give her some looks here and there, which Y/n decided to ignore, focusing on the view outside. It had started to rain and the radio was playing "You Broke Me First" by Tate Mcrae. Fate was definitely giving her reasons to cry even more. She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't notice them entering the garage at home. As soon as she felt the car pull into the parking lot, she quickly got out of the car and started heading towards the elevator that would take them to their floor. A few seconds later she felt Lisa beside her. 

“I am really sorry Y/n. I just wanted to help smooth things over so you could understand each other once and for all. You both have a lot to talk about. There are many points that need to be clarified and neither you or him should jump to conclusions. I would never lie to you so when I say he was desperate to know something about you he really was Y/n, otherwise the first question in his head wouldn't be if you were okay and why were you mad at him.”  

Y/n looked at Lisa while wipping her tears. “What did you guys talk about?” Lisa gave half a smile 

“He was super nervous. Honestly, he didn't know where to start, his hands were shaking, you know? From the looks of it, it was clear that these were difficult days for him too. Then he thanked me for sitting with him and asked how you were, that you weren't responding to his texts and didn't understand your attitude. He told me about when you two met and that you were very close from then on, which is why he was so worried for not hearing anything from you in so many days. Then he confessed that he realized your distance from the moment he started dating Sewoon and asked me if I knew her too. He said he was sorry he didn't bring it up sooner and that he should have talked to you first and been more honest. In the end I mentioned that you would go back to work today, in case he wanted to talk to you, but I never thought it would go so wrong Y/n. What happened?” 

When they entered the house, they took off their shoes and put them away. Y/n went to the fridge and poured some orange juice for both of them. The fireplace was already lit, creating the perfect moment to drown the sorrows. It was so cozy and so warm. So homely. It was what she needed for the shitty weather and her mood. Y/n put her feet up on the couch and motioned for Lisa to sit next to her. 

“I wasn’t expecting him at all as you can imagine, so it was shoking for me when I heard his angelic voice. I froze. It took me a while to realize that this was going to happen and that there was no way to escape it. I don't know why he says I never said anything to him. After we arrived, I sent him a text, which he never responded to. Hence my surprise was even bigger when I saw him standing there, so I said the first thing it occurred to me. I told him we were closed. *facepalm.* He was so angry, but I can't understand why. I was too nervous to think about it anyway. You know I avoid this kind of confrontation when I feel cornered and he pressed and kept pressing even more when I started dodging his questions.”  

Y/n stops so she could five another sip on her drink. Honestly she wanted this to be a very strong shot, but after the last drinking binge, she promised herself that she wouldn't drink again in the near future.

“It was in that exchange of words that I couldn't contain myself any longer and confessed everything. I confessed that I was in love with him, that I knew he and Sewoon were still seeing each other and that I wanted some time to get my ideas together, organize my head. I tried to stay physically distant from him as much as possible, but he kept getting closer and closer to me. I swear to you Lisa, the only reason  I didn't kiss him was out of respect for Sewoon, even if she didn't have the same respect for me. I couldn't, so I sent him away. He looked so defeated, but I was so embarrassed about everything. I know I shouldn't have kicked him out of there like that. It's not his fault, I know, he didn't know but still... Every time I look at him I see a shadow of Sewoon and it breaks my heart every time.” Lisa facepalmed herself. 

“You're both being idiots. Want to know my honest opinion? I think that all this time you were interested in each other and neither of you had the courage to make the first move. Then Sewoon came along and destroyed everything else. She can manipulate things very well. I know this firsthand. Jungkook told me that besides coming here he also went to your house a lot. Did you know that?" Y/n made a shocked face 

 "How, if I never told him where I lived?"  

“He forced Sewoon to show him. He told me in passing that he had some strong arguments with her after you left and those were NOT couple arguments, but trivial arguments. She was always super calm. It made him feel weird how could she be so calm while her best friend was missing out of the blue... what are you gonna do next?” 

Y/n thought for a while. “Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”  

The next day and after a very bad night's sleep, Y/n woke up and got ready for another (long) day of work. After yesterday's episode she doubted very much that he would show up there. Yesterday she almost sent him a message apologizing, but she deleted it. She couldn', it was for her own good. Instead she texted Sewoon to meet up with her on her work break, but got no response from her, however Y/n was already expecting it.

The day went by normally, lots of movement and little rest. When there were only 5 minutes left for her break, she heard someone calling her name. Sewoon stood in front of her with her hair perfectly styled, designer clothes and sunglasses hanging from her red knitted sweater. Time really didn't pass for her. She was always so youthful, so free from worries. Y/n looked at her colleague and hinted that she was going to take a break, to which Sana nodded and headed outside with Sewoon. They were silent for a while and when Y/n realized she wasn't going to say anything she decided to make the first move 

“How are you?” Sewoon made a disdainful face 

“Cut the bullshit Y/n. There’s no need to pretend anymore, you and I know that very well, don’t we? Say what you have to say and stop wasting my time. Unlike you, I do have a fulfilled life.” Y/n felt bad about the way she was talking to her. So this is what Lisa was talking about? this unknown side of her. Yeah, because despite everything Sewoon had never spoken to her like that but, then again, Y/n was never against her game either. What an unpleasant surprise. How had she never noticed this side of her? It just proves how blind she is.  

Idiot 

“Why? Why are you acting like this? I never did anything wrong to you for you to punish me like this. On the contrary Sewoon, I've always been there for you! Is this because of Jungkook?”  

“It's for everything Y/n. Why didn't you continue in your hidden place? God, I waited every day for the news that something had happened to you so you could finally leave my life once and for all. But life is thankless. Besides you being here in front of me right now, you made me waste time with Jungkook looking for you, while you were having fun with MY ex. You’re a bitch. Of all people you had to be with him and I’ll never forgive you for that.” 

“You must be crazy. It wasn't planned! what the fuck Sewoon. It was by chance, but let me tell you that I'm glad it happened because I discovered a lot of things about your relationship! Things that aren't the way you said they were, and we've always been friends. My mistake was giving in to all your whims and distance myself from him because YOU wanted me to. Now I know it was all just your insecurity, wasn't it? Since we are confessing things, admit it! I know he had a crush on me in school and I also know you kept something it belonged to me this whole time, or you forgot about the letter he asked you to deliver?”  

After saying such words, Sewoon turned white as snow. If that's how she wanted it, that's how she would get it. “And about Jungkook, once again I was the one who met him first, way before you --” 

“Ohh please Y/n. Yes I admit I kept it all to myself because I liked him and I hated the fact that he was crushing on you, out of everyone. But you know me, one way or another, if I want something I get it and the proof of that is Jungkook.”  Every time she spoke of him, Y/n felt a sharp pang in her heart and she was terrified of what was coming next. 

 “He fell so easily into my hands and it was so nice to see your face every time you saw us together. I loved every second of your despair. You met him first, yes it's true, but after that I was first in everything. Not you. The way he touches, the way he kisses. How he fucks. I know it all, and you? Do you know what this is? No, because you're nothing more than a pathetic virgin. You'll never get past that. The game with Jungkook is not over, my love. This is just the beginning. You'll see him choose me every time, even if it's just for a quick fuck. It wouldn't be the first time or you really think that this didn't happen while we were apart? My dear, you have a long way to go before you reach me. Face it, you're not enough. Never were, never will be. You took Tae away from me so it's only fair I take Jungkook away from you.” 

After these words, Sewoon took grabbed her sunglasses and put them on her face and walked away from Y/n, not without winking at her and blew her a kiss. Y/n was terrified, completely out of place and empty. Sewoon was right, she didn't know what it was. She had won. Although at first she felt victorious with the way she was confronting her former best friend, that quickly fell apart. Now she was defeated, trying her best to hold back her tears until she left work. And with that mask, she went into the second part of his shift. 

Of course it didn't last long. An hour after the fight, a couple came in and made their order. Y/n couldn't help but look at them and think about Jungkook, about Sewoon and everything she reported they did. Them on dates, them in bed. It was the breaking point for Y/n. She told Sana she was going to the bathroom and broke down there. She lost count of the time she was closed there until Sana went to check on her and found her in a deplorable state. She had seen Sewoon come in so she knew the outcome of the conversation wasn't going to be the best. She hugged her tightly and told her to go home that she would take care of it, since the new intern who had recently joined the team was also there and he was actually quite experienced. Y/n thanked her, went to change her uniform and left.  

She was originally going to call Lisa but decided not to bother her. She was also at work and didn't want to cause any more inconvenience, so she decided to take a walk. A long one. During it she managed to calm down little by little. She sat for a while in a garden full of happy parents and children playing. She remembered her parents and how much she missed them. In these low moments, she just wanted to go back to being a child, however she remembered that even then, life wasn’t easy for her. 

It then started to get cold so she continued her walk. Without knowing how or why, she found herself in front of the tattoo shop where Jungkook worked. How the hell did she end up there? It was definitely her subconscious playing tricks on her. With that she just prayed that he wouldn't show up, but guess what? as soon as she had finished having this thought, she heard the main door open and three people came out: Jungkook, a slightly older man and a boy about her age with a film on his arm. With that, she just prayed that he wouldn't show up, but guess what, as soon as she finished thinking about it, she heard the main door open and three people coming out: Jungkook, a slightly older man and a boy about her age with a red arm and something transparent protecting the area. Must have finished a session for sure. Hidden, she watched the scene in front of her. Jungkook was calm and talking to the other two guys when suddenly he took out a pack of cigarettes. What? since when did he star smoking? 

Every time Y/n saw him he became even more attractive. She knew just as he caught her attention, he also caught many other girls' attention (and boys too, I bet). And it was something that never crossed her mind before. The amount of girls that must be waiting for him to give them a chance and for a moment she felt small, followed by an ironic laugh. It didn't matter anymore, she mentioned it was over and she was going to do everything to move on. She deserved to be happy.

Y/n hoped they would quickly enter the establishment, as it was getting very cold and she still had a 15 minute's walk home.  Looking back at the entrance, she now sees a fourth person in the group, a very pretty girl, redhead with wavy hair. She was wearing black shorts and a white top which highlighted her tanned skin. Looking at her from top to bottom, you could see her right arm covered in tattoos and a few more spread across her other arm and left leg. She seemed to be familiar to Jungkook, because as soon as he saw her they gave her a tight hug and she even took his cigarette to smoke it. The intimacy must have been very strong because he didn't make any uncomfortable face. Y/n wished she was that badass. After everyone smoked their cigarettes, they went back inside. She waited a few more minutes so she could continue on her way without being seen. And there she went, cold, hungry and jealous.  

It had only been a couple of hours since she had last spoken to him and while her world was upside down, his seemed whole, as if having "losing" a friend made no difference. You could see the traffic more now with rush hour. It was getting dark and people were heading home. Before going home aswell Y/n decided to take a detour to her favorite place to take dinner home. Lisa had said she would be late today, so it was up to her. 

Meanwhile the street had quieted down a little, but it was only for a short while because the noise of a motorcycle started to become noticeable, yet she ignored it until she started to hear constant beeping. Starting to get scared, she decided to ignore it for her own good, but the beeping started to get even more constant and faster until it seemed like someone had said her name. She stopped and saw the motorcycle slow down only to be surprised by Jungkook. Just when she wanted to run from him, was when she would see him the most. Did she ever mention she hated her luck? 

He motioned her to move forward so he could park the bike safely. Slowly she walked towards him, because the path she wanted to follow was that one, so it was difficult to go around it. He took off his helmet and watched her walk towards him. My god, could he not look away? how shameless. She gave him a nod, grabbing at the same time the coat she was wearing to hide the nervousness she was feeling. She wasn't going to stop but when she got closer he spoke. 

“Please don’t pretend I’m not here. I stopped to greet you, the one thing I’m expecting you to do is for you to greet me back” - son of a bitch, Y/n thought.  

“Hi Jungkook, good to see you. Okay bye then” Y/n was already leaving when Jungkook grabbed her arm. Gosh, this was becoming a habit. 

“Please don’t do that. Don’t pretend that we’re strangers over something so stupid. Don’t do that to me Y/n. Besides, don’t you know how dangerous it is to walk all by yourself? For a smart girl you’re pretty reckless” Y/n released her arm from his grip. 

“Last time I checked I’m an adult fully aware of the dangers and consequences of her actions. Thank you but I don't need another father I already have one." She was mad over his “something stupid” line. What the fuck. Were her feelings so pathethic? Jungkook stirred.  

Discomfort? Check. 

“I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you walking around by yourself, it's dangerous. As much as it costs you to believe, I care about you. You never had any reason to complain about that Y/n, I don't know the reason behind all this arrogance right now.” She wanted to say that he was wrong, but she couldn’t. Despite the fact that when he was with Sewoon he wouldn’t care for her at all (or so she thought), somehow he was right, she was letting her emotions get the best of her. Jungkook never failed her when she needed him the most and every time she needed to talk, he was the first one to open space for it. She was being unfair. 

“You're right. I'm sorry for what I said, I guess. Not that it's an excuse, but today was a difficult day. Thank you for your concern, even tho I'm already used to it. Don't forget that I work in a store that closes at 11 p.m and when I'm at that shift there is no type of ride home other than my two legs and little feet.  I'll be fine, don't be late because of me. Thank you once again" She started to move forward but he stopped her from taking any further steps. Again

“Let me give you a ride” She looked at him. 

"No need, I still have to take a detour, it will only get in your way. It’s healthy to walk, you can--”  

“Stop being so stubborn Y/n. I wanna give you a ride, didn’t you catch that yet? And what were you doing near my shop Y/n? I saw you passing by it when I came outside. Are you okay?”   

“What do you mean you saw me? you guys had just walked in, I checked !” Shit she just lost her disguise  

“I had to step outside again and saw you around the corner. I warned my friends I had to leave, hoping I could still catch you. Thank God I did. ” You tried your best not to talk about the girl who was with him and how comfortable they looked. Not that it was your business anyway, you had nothing to do with it and it came from you the decision to put a distance in your friendship. You were trying, you swear you were, you wanted to keep that distance, but for some reason fate kept pushing you towards each other's path. 

“I don’t know why, you seemed very busy back there.” She said it without realizing it and when she replayed the words that came out of her mouth, she wanted to punch herself.  Isn't there a day when things don't go the way she wants?  

Jungkook understood the double meaning of what she said, referring to the girl who was with him. He already knew she had seen them as soon as he went outside to smoke a second cigarette since the first one was "stolen" by Athena, his brother's girlfriend. They got along really well and she had just started working at the store. 

"I finished my sessions a long time ago. I was just waiting for Athena to give her something. She’s my brother’s girlfriend and she started working there a couple weeks ago. When I saw you, I found it strange because you never take this route and I wanted to make sure you were okay or if you wanted to talk to me now that your calmer. Now that I'm here, you have no excuse to walk home. Even if you need to go somewhere I'll take you, it doesn't bother me at all" 

For some reason Y/n's face became more relieved and although she tried to hide it, even Jungkook himself noticed it. When she said nothing more, he handed her the spare helmet. Initially he was going to help her put it on, but she took it off his hand and put it on herself. Y/n knew there was no point in insisting with him. After being friends for so long, something she knew too well was how stubborn and insistent Jungkook was, so she put on her helmet while Jungkook settled himself on his Harley waiting for her to get on. Then she started to get nervous, where should she hold on? 

Jungkook noticed her expression, so when she sat on the motorcycle, he grabbed her one of her arms and put it around his waist, pulling her closer to him. Y/n wasn't expecting that gesture so when she tried to move away a little, she heard Jungkook say "no", pulling her close to him again. Y/n's breathing was uneven, yet she tried to hide it, putting her other arm around him casually. She swears she saw Jungkook smile in the rearview mirror. When she thought she was back to normal, Jungkook turned his head back and she almost passed out. He was so breathtaking.

"Where to?" Y/n looked at him and said the name of her favorite restaurant and they started their way over there. Every now and then she would try to move away a bit, but when he noticed her presence further away, by "coincidence" he would brake, making her hit his back with her chest. The trip was based on his unexpected braking and her complaints about it. Anyone who saw them like this would think they were a couple in love. If only, she thought. 

If only 

La dolce Perla it was the name of the restaurant. Y/n discovered this place while walking with her mother one day when she came to visit her at her work place and since then she started going there, especially on her worst days. Shortly after she discovered the place, she met the owner and they became close. Jeff was a gentleman in his 50s, super friendly and approachable. He was her go to when needed comfort. Despite living there Jungkook had never heard of that place, but he really liked the aesthetics. Entering, they immediately came face to face with Jeff. 

“Y/n, my dear. How are you doing? Long time no see. We were already missing having you around." 

“Ohh stop it Jeff” she laughed. “I missed you too --.” she was suddenly interrupted Jeff - “Wait... Is he your boyfriend? Gosh Y/n, I’m happy it worked well for you in the end --” Y/n turned white and interrupted Jeff back  

“No no no. Not my boyfriend at all. He’s a – hmm- friend, yeah. Actually I came here to ask if you had any food left so I could take home. I didn’t eat much today and I was really craving your amazing food so --” 

“You could have said that already. Even if I didn’t have anything I’d have it prepared just for you. But since you and your friend are here, why don't you eat here? Today is a quiet day, we have free tables. Kara will direct you to the main room.” She understood Jeff's scheme and refused the offer until she heard Jungkook's voice.  

“This place is amazing and the food looks wonderful. You’re not gonna take this opportunity away from me, right? Next time I might not be so lucky and it will be your fault" And that was how Kara got them a table overlooking the fantastic outdoor garden. They were also at a more secluded table, with a little more privacy and without many eyes on them and perhaps that's why all she wanted to do was run away.  

Y/n made her request and Jungkook did the same. Kara went to deliver their order and came back with a bottle of red wine and set it on the table, winking at her. The atmosphere of the restaurant was wonderful but the tension between them was enormous. She knew she should have insisted more on him not accompany her, even if it meant running away from him, but he would think she was childish. Jungkook took the bottle and poured both glasses and drank a little, without taking his eyes off her. 

“ So... with all this you ended up not answering my question." Y/n looked at him confused. "Are you okay? I thought you were closing this week. When I saw you near my tattoo shop I thought it was a mirage, but then I realized it wasn't. You know I'm here if you need to talk. Or anything else.”  

It was then that she remembered Sewoon and her words, then she looked at the scene between her and Jungkook. Would this be a normal date with him? everything Sewoon experienced with him. She shook her head, trying to forget that thought. Fortunately the food arrived. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I changed schedules with Sana today, I needed to take care of some matters and... yeah, that's it.” she said, tasting her meal. Jungkook followed her actions before adding: 

“I think you forget that I know you very well and I know when you are lying. Are you gonna run away again? Because let me know if you do Y/n. I was devastated by the fact that you left and didn’t tell me anything. An “I’m okay” would be enough. We’d talk whenever you were ready. I know you have some things to say and honestly so do I. I’ll wait, just don’t push me away. I miss you.” 

Without any warning, her eyes began to form tears. It was a good thing that both of their plates were almost empty, because she couldn't take it anymore. She whispered "sorry, I can't" to Jungkook, got up and went to the exit. It was too much and she wasn't ready. It was all very recent. She would talk to Jeff later and pay for the meal another day. At that moment she just wanted to get out of there. It was for a short time because Jungkook was by her side after a few minutes.

"Stop acting like this Y/n. Stop running away and face things as they are. Face me!" He was so frustrated right now 

“What do you want from me Jungkook? Hm? I already told you everything. I’m in love with you. I fell in love with you and I’m so fucking mad about it. It could be everyone but you. That’s what you want to hear?” Jungkook felt a sharp pain in his heart. Was it so awful to like him? Y/n was frustrated but kept going 

“I'm not the type to fall in love. I always ran away from that. I never had a boyfriend, I never pressured myself to give in to boys at school and I never liked going out at night.  That’s Sewoon not me. I’m shy. I like to be in my corner. Maybe that’s the reason Sewoon approached me. I was so insecure and quiet that I wasn't even good at defending myself and that's what she did and we've been friends ever since, or so I thought at least. Then I met you Jungkook and--” The tears she was holding were now falling. “and you changed that. Don’t ask me how or why. I was so messy on the day we met and you still talked to me so nice. Never thought I’d see you again but the next day came and you were there and after that too and we created such a nice bond. I didn't want to ruin what we had, because for me it was rare and I knew it was impossible for you to reciprocate my feelings. Just look at you and look at me. You are the kind of person everyone wants while I am the kind of person no one notices.” Y/n was crying for real now and Jungkook tried approaching her but she stepped back.

It was time

“That’s where you’re wrong Y/n. I noticed you ever since the first day-. Why do you think I kept going back? I have a coffee shop across my work place Y/n- I- don’t you think it’d be easier for me to go there than to take a motorcycle trip to go to yours?” he tried approaching her once again. She let him this time. They were inches away from each other at this point when she looked at him with such an intense gaze Jungkook felt shivers down his spine.  

“I was going to tell you, you know. That I liked you. I think it was fate, because it was on that same day that you asked me to introduce you to Sewoon and I already knew how the situation would unfold. Sewoon is beautiful. You are perfect and it was just a matter of time for you to find your way into each other's embrace.” Jungkook felt like a huge son of a bitch with what he was hearing. Fuck, this wasn't how he wanted it to be. “I wanna go home Jungkook. This is too much for me to handle and I need to slow down before I reach the point of breaking. I don't want to break in front of you. Not you, not right now"

Jungkook nodded and kissed her forehead respecting her request. He could do that, he could wait. In fact he was going to wait. He let this situation drag for far too long and had to put an end in it. There were so many lapses in this that even himself was confused and there was only one person he could talk to other than you.

He grabbed Y/n's helmet and put it on her head, doing the same with his own. The rest of the trip was silent, but there was no tension anymore, more like a sense of relief. The only time she spoke was to tell him where she was living now. He parked in front of the house and helped her take off her helmet, grabbing her hand, stroking it. Y/n exchanged glances between his eyes and their hands. Once again she wanted to kiss him so badly and one more time Sewoon's words replayed in her head so all she did was give him a tight hug. Not for him, but for her, she was in need of that comfort. As she was in his arms she could smell his perfume. Oh - she remembers this smell. He's using the perfume she gave him on his birthday. Her heart was so warm from this.

Everyone talks about how little things are important. Those people were right.

Before Y/n walked away, she gave him a small kiss on the cheek. She then felt his hands on the sides of her waist. For a split second she thought he was going to kiss her and got a little anxious. She doesn't know if he noticed because after she heard Jungkook say "I'm waiting for you". Y/n nodded and stepped back, making her way to the front door. When she saw he was still there she waved and went in. Her heart was racing. What was that? Butterflies in the stomach? More like the whole zoo in it. Pieces by pieces the truth would come out, but would you and Jungkook find a way for each other's life again?

More important, would you be able to leave your insecurities behind and give in to the feeling you have been avoiding for so long? You hope so because you'd do anything to have Jungkook by your side. You can't have been the only one who felt the sexual after he drop you off. The atmosphere between you both was different and it had nothing to do with friendship.

You were sure of that

Tags: @esposadomd @joonlover1207 @eegyo @furrywonderlandwolf @minghaosimp @differentrunawayperson @nikkinikj @jksusawife @jk97bam @cryingoverpixelsetc @bhonbhon @lostinneocity @almostpurplelady @meowforluv @imagine-this-motherfucker @jk-190811 @cryingoverpixelsetc @11thenightwemet11 @rinkud @ayatie97 @jk-190811 @shaku1995 @blueberriesm @darkangelfei

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[aeoredellia]

LOVE DOCTOR | Bakugo Katsuki

synopsis: Domestic Husband looks good on him.

content: FLUFF

If there was one thing any third party could take away from your relationship with Katsuki, it would be that he cares for you deeply. With sandy blonde hair paired with angry red eyes with an seemingly always molding his face in a permanent frown, intimidating all those who dared to hold a conversation with him.

Well you did, and unexpectedly, it branched off and bloomed into something entirely. Though he acted like a troubled soul, and a semi-aggressive nature, caring was definitely a part of his vocabulary.

You remember how his flushed face propped in front of you. Remembering how he probably ran non-stop on the way to the hospital.His breath was ragged, chest rising and falling like he had just run a marathon. Maybe he had. His palms rested on his knees as he leaned forward, gathering himself, but his fiery eyes never left you. There was something raw in them—something unspoken yet impossibly loud.

“You—” he started, voice strained, before he stopped himself, clenching his jaw. His hands curled into fists at his sides as he trembled slightly, taking a seat by your bed's side with his head in his hands “Damn it… You scared the hell out of me.”

You blinked, taking in the rare sight before you. Katsuki Bakugo, the same guy who always seemed to have an unwavering, iron-willed control over himself, was unraveling at the edges. And it was because of you.

A dry chuckle escaped your lips, but even that small effort made you wince. He noticed. Of course he did. In an instant, he was at your bedside, arms crossed but his expression betraying him.

“Tch. Don’t laugh,” he grumbled, averting his gaze as his fingers twitched—like he wanted to reach for you but wasn’t sure how. “You’re lying in a hospital bed, dumbass.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of exhaustion pull at your limbs. “Yeah, well… I’m here, aren’t I?”

His glare sharpened, but there was no real anger behind it. Only frustration. Worry.

Your heart clenched. The room smelled like antiseptic, and the beeping of the machines around you filled the silence between you both. But at that moment, none of it mattered. Because you saw him for what he truly was—not just the explosive, battle-hardened Bakugou that the world saw, but the boy who had run himself breathless just to make sure you were okay.

The next day, he showed up again.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you stirred awake, but the first thing you registered was the soft rustling of a plastic bag and the faint, savory aroma filling the room. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim hospital light, and there he was—Katsuki Bakugo, sitting stiffly in the chair beside your bed, unpacking a container of food like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You blinked in surprise. “Did you… bring me food?”

His eyes snapped open at your voice, and his scowl returned almost immediately. “Tch. Obviously,” he muttered, standing up and grabbing the container. “Hospital food’s shit. No way in hell I’m lettin’ you eat that crap.”

Before you could even respond, he popped the lid open, the scent of freshly made miso soup and perfectly cooked rice filling the air. It smelled comforting—familiar in a way you hadn’t expected.

“You… made this?” you asked, watching as he grabbed a spoon and practically shoved it into your hand.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “You cooked this?”

His jaw tensed, a faint hint of pink dusting his ears. “Obviously.”

Warmth spread through your chest as you accepted the chopsticks he handed you, your fingers brushing against his for just a second. He didn’t pull away.

You scooped a small bite of rice into your mouth, and warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the food. It was good. Of course it was. He wouldn’t accept anything less than perfection, even when cooking for you.

The first bite melted in your mouth, and your eyes widened slightly. “Katsuki, this is—”

“Shut up and eat,” he interrupted, shifting in his seat like he couldn’t handle the compliment. But you didn’t miss the way his lips twitched, just a little.

After you finished the food you basically collapsed against the pillow. He smoothly covered the glass containers, like you deserve a pat on the back for eating all of that good food. You watched him quietly, his arm flexing as his face rested.

He meets your gaze with a god of calmness, his angry crimson eyes somehow as soft as a fluffy white rabbit. “What is it?” He placed the containers in the lunch bag.

You yawned, feeling the heaviness of sleep start to creep in again, but you still didn’t look away from him. “Nothing,” you murmured, voice lazy with exhaustion. “Just thinking.”

He narrowed his eyes. “About what?”

You hesitated for a second before letting the words slip out. “You really do care.”

Katsuki froze. It was barely noticeable—just a flicker, a twitch of his fingers against the lunch bag’s handle. But you caught it.

His scowl deepened, but the softness in his gaze didn’t disappear. “Tch. ‘Course I do,” he muttered, his voice almost too low to hear.

The air between you both settled into something unspoken yet deeply understood. He wasn’t the type to say things outright—he never had been. But the way he kept showing up, the way he cooked for you, the way he lingered even after you finished eating… it said more than words ever could.

You gave him a small, tired smile, your eyelids growing heavier. “You’re staying, right?”

Katsuki clicked his tongue, looking away, but you saw the way his fingers gripped the lunch bag tighter. “Yeah, dumbass,” he mumbled, dragging the chair closer to your bed. “Go to sleep.”

You watched as he settled back into his chair, arms crossed, watching you like a guard dog. A small, mischievous thought popped into your head, and you bit back a smile.

“Wait,” you said suddenly, squinting at his face.

Katsuki tensed. “What?”

You tilted your head, pretending to inspect him closely. “You’ve got something… right here.” You motioned vaguely toward his cheek.

His frown deepened as he wiped at his face with the back of his hand. “The hell? Where?”

You hummed, shaking your head. “No, no, not there. Let me.”

He hesitated but leaned in slightly, eyes locked onto yours as if trying to gauge whether or not this was some kind of trick. You lifted your hands slowly, cupping his face with a gentleness that made his breath hitch for just a second. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, and for once, he didn’t pull away.

Instead of wiping away some imaginary speck of food, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his forehead.

“Thanks for the food, Katsuki,” you murmured against his skin before pulling back.

His crimson eyes flickered with something unreadable as he stared at you, face completely still. You half-expected him to explode, to jerk away and call you a dumbass, but instead, he exhaled a quiet breath and let his eyelids lower just slightly.

“…You’re welcome,” he said, voice calm and low.

You grinned, brushing your thumbs gently over his cheeks before finally letting go. He sat back, rubbing his nose and looking away, grumbling something under his breath. But even as he huffed in annoyance, you caught it—the tiny, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

And your heart melted just a little more.

The next day, he showed up again.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

Without fail, Katsuki would walk in, always carrying a homemade meal in his hand, grumbling about how “hospital food is garbage” and how he wasn’t going to let you “get weak over some bland crap.” But despite his usual tough demeanor, you could tell—he cared. He cared a lot.

And every day, after you finished eating, you’d call him over.

“Wait,” you’d say, squinting at his face with a small smirk. “You’ve got something right… there.”

At first, he fell for it every time, wiping at his cheek with a scowl. “The hell? Where?”

Then, he caught on.

The next time, he folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “You serious?”

You only grinned, patting the space in front of you. “C’mere.”

With an exaggerated sigh, he leaned in, letting you cup his face between your hands like it was the most normal thing in the world. His skin was always warm, and even though he grumbled, he never pulled away.

And just like always, you kissed his forehead softly, letting your lips linger for a second before pulling back.

“Thanks for the food, Katsuki,” you murmured.

His reaction was always the same. He’d blink once, his ears turning pink, then exhale quietly.

“…You’re ridiculous,” he’d mutter, voice softer than he probably intended.

And then he’d sit back, rubbing his nose or running a hand through his hair, trying to act like it didn’t affect him at all. But you could see it—the way his lips twitched like he was holding back a smile, the way his gaze lingered on you just a little longer before he busied himself with putting away the empty containers.

Katsuki didn’t need to say he cared. He showed it. In the food, in the way he sat by your bed for hours without complaint, in the way he leaned in without hesitation every time you asked.

And you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[darylslittlebitch]

arguing with twd characters x fem!reader

characters: daryl, rick, negan, carl, glenn and maggie.

writer's note: y'all must know that i live for the drama. this one? pure angst, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, and that bittersweet mix of frustration and love. because let’s be real—fighting with someone you care about hits different. the hurt, the anger, the fear of losing them? chef’s kiss. so yeah, if you’re here for the yelling, the almost-tears, and that one line that sticks in your chest hours later… welcome to my world. requests are open!

daryl

The cabin is an oven in the middle of the night, but the heat doesn’t come just from the air—it comes from the fire burning in Daryl’s gaze. He stands by the table, the veins in his arms pronounced from the tension in his clenched fists. His blue eyes, usually evasive, are locked onto you with an intensity that makes you burn from the inside out.

“What the hell were you thinking?” His voice is rough, laced with barely contained anger.

“I did what I had to do,” you answer, crossing your arms with the same firmness with which you hold his gaze. “I wasn’t going to sit around waiting for you or Rick to make a decision. I went and handled it.”

Daryl lets out a bitter laugh, a dry sound that feels like a punch to the chest. “Handled it? And what if they had killed you, huh? What if you didn’t come back? Did you think about that?”

“You always expect the worst,” you snap, frustration lacing your words. “I’m here, Daryl! I came back, didn’t I? Why can’t you trust that I know what I’m doing?”

He shoves the table as he steps away, pacing like a caged animal. His hands go to his belt, adjusting it in a nervous gesture. “Because you always get yourself into trouble. You always think you can handle everything on your own, and one day, one fucking day, you won’t come back. And I don’t know what the hell I’ll do then.”

Your heart clenches, but anger still simmers inside you. “That’s it, isn’t it? It’s not that you care about my life—it’s that you’re worried about how guilty you’d feel if something happened to me.”

Daryl glares at you, his jaw clenched tight. “Don’t say stupid shit.”

You take a step toward him, challenging him. “Is it stupid? Because sometimes it feels like all you want is control. You can’t stand that I do things without asking you, that I make decisions without your approval.”

He slams his fist on the table, sending a glass crashing to the floor. “Goddamn it, it’s not that!”

You flinch but don’t back down. His breathing is heavy, and for a moment, you see something beyond the fury—fear.

“Then tell me what it is,” you demand, your voice lower now, softer, but still laced with defiance.

Daryl presses his lips together, his chest rising and falling hard. He looks like he’s about to explode again, but instead, he lets out a heavy sigh.

“I can’t lose you,” he finally admits, his voice raw.

Your anger wavers, but resentment still lingers. “You can’t keep me in a bubble, Daryl. If you really care about me, you have to accept that I’m part of this just as much as you are. That I won’t stay behind while the world falls apart.”

Daryl lowers his gaze, his knuckles still tight. “You don’t understand…”

“I do understand,” you cut him off, firm. “I know what it’s like to lose someone. I know what it feels like to be terrified, not knowing if the person you love will make it back home. But you know what else I know? I know I don’t want to live in fear every damn step I take. I know that if I die, at least it’ll be fighting—not waiting for someone else to do what needs to be done.”

Daryl lets out a frustrated breath, running his hands through his messy hair. “Shit! Why do you always have to make things so damn difficult?”

“Difficult?” you laugh without humor, shaking your head. “What’s difficult is loving someone who doesn’t trust me. Who thinks I’m too stupid to make a choice without endangering myself. Who believes he has to save me all the damn time when I’ve never needed him to.”

His eyes burn into you, as if every word is hitting him where it hurts the most.

“Don’t you get it?” he finally explodes, his voice echoing off the cabin walls. “If something happens to you—if you get killed, if you disappear—I don’t know what the fuck I’d do! I don’t know how I’d keep going.”

The weight of his words crashes over you like an avalanche. It’s not just fear in his voice—it’s desperation.

Daryl drags a hand through his hair, his breathing still heavy. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he murmurs. “It’s that I don’t trust this world. I’ve seen it take everyone I love. My brother, Hershel, Glenn… And now…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but you know what he means. And now you.

You sigh and take a step closer, your anger fading with every second you see him this goddamn broken. “Daryl…”

He looks up, and in his gaze, there’s no longer just fury—there’s vulnerability.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he confesses, and for the first time, you see him completely exposed. “I don’t know how to love someone without being terrified of losing them.”

Your chest tightens. It hurts to see him like this, so trapped in fear, in the uncertainty of a world where love feels more like a punishment than a comfort.

You sigh and carefully take his hand. “Then you have to learn,” you say, squeezing his fingers between yours. “Because I’m not going to change. I won’t stop fighting. I won’t stop being who I am.”

Daryl doesn’t respond immediately. His gaze drops to your intertwined hands, as if memorizing the feeling. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he squeezes your hand back.

“Just promise me one thing,” he says, voice rough.

“What?”

“If you ever plan on doing something like that again… tell me first.”

You smile faintly, though the tension still lingers between you. “So you can try to stop me?”

Daryl shakes his head. “So that if something goes wrong, at least I can come after you.”

Your heart skips a beat.

It’s not a promise to let you go. It’s not full acceptance. But it’s a first step. And for now, that’s enough.

Daryl still hasn’t let go of your hand, and neither have you.

rick

Blood still stains your hands when Rick finds you.

He’s there, standing at the door of the cell where everything happened, his eyes locked on the corpse of the man who was once a prisoner. His face is a mask of restrained fury, disbelief, and disappointment. His breathing is heavy, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

You, on the other hand, remain in place. You feel no guilt. No remorse. Just a deep emptiness in your chest, as if something had been torn from you along with the life of that bastard.

Rick lifts his gaze, his dark eyes sharp.

"What did you do?"

His voice is barely a whisper, but it’s worse than a scream.

You cross your arms, standing firm, not looking away. "What we all should have done from the start."

Rick steps forward, slow and measured, as if carefully weighing every movement to keep himself from snapping. "So you just made a decision for everyone?"

"This wasn’t a decision for everyone," you spit. "It was mine."

Rick clenches his jaw, his eyes fixated on the blood still dripping from the knife in your hand. "We had him locked up. We were going to decide what to do with him."

"Decide?" you scoff, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "How much longer, Rick? How much longer were we going to play democracy while he slept soundly and ate our food?"

Rick closes his eyes for a second, running a hand over his face. He’s trying to keep his composure, but you know him too well. You know he’s boiling inside.

"We’re not murderers," he murmurs.

Your rage erupts.

"He was! He killed my sister like she was nothing! He tore her apart, left her there for us to find like a goddamn message. And yet, you wanted to keep him alive. Why? For principles? For morality?"

Rick takes another step closer, his face just inches from yours. "Because if we start taking justice into our own hands without any control, then we become the very thing we’re trying to destroy."

You shove him, all your pent-up anger surging forward. "That’s easy for you to say! It wasn’t your sister. It wasn’t your family. You didn’t have to pick up her body, you didn’t have to see how we put her in the ground like she was just another casualty in this shit world!"

Rick doesn’t move when you push him. He stays there, firm, his gaze locked onto yours, his eyes burning with emotions he’s keeping in check.

"You think I don’t understand how you feel?" His voice is low, dangerous. "You think I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone and want to rip out the heart of the son of a bitch who did it? I’ve been there, more times than I want to remember."

"Then you should understand," you whisper, your voice breaking, "and not judge me."

"What I understand," he says, staring straight into your soul, "is that you crossed a line you can’t come back from."

For a moment, the anger fades, replaced by something darker.

"So what?" Your voice is defiant. "Are you going to lock me up now? Judge me like I’m the criminal here?"

Rick shakes his head, his jaw tight. "I don’t know what to do with you."

That confession hits harder than anything else.

"So that’s it?" you whisper. "After everything we’ve been through, you’re just going to turn your back on me?"

Rick runs a hand through his hair, turning away as if he needs space to breathe. "It’s not that simple, damn it. I can’t just ignore what you did."

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. "That’s what really pisses you off, isn’t it? That I made a decision without waiting for your damn permission."

Rick stops dead in his tracks and looks at you. "This isn’t about control."

"Isn’t it?" You cross your arms, watching him with the sole purpose of testing his patience. "Then tell me, what would you do if someone else had done this? If it had been Daryl? If it had been Carol? Would you treat them the same way? Or does it only hurt because it was me?"

Rick takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to steady the tremble in his hands.

"Exactly. It hurts because it’s you," he finally admits, and there’s something broken in his voice.

Your chest tightens.

Rick looks at you like he’s seeing a completely different person. Like something between you has changed forever. And maybe it has.

"I’ve always trusted you," he says, his voice rough. "I always thought that no matter how fucked up things got, you were different. That you wouldn’t let this world change you."

"This world already changed me, Rick," you whisper, pain laced in every word. "A long time ago."

Rick presses his lips together, and you can see the conflict raging inside him. The battle between logic and what he feels for you.

Finally, he exhales. "I don’t know if I can look at you the same way after this."

Your throat tightens.

"Then don’t," you say, taking a step back. "If what I did makes me a monster in your eyes, then I guess you never really knew me."

Rick watches you, wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just stands there, looking at you like he’s losing you in that very moment.

Without another word, you turn and walk out of the room, leaving behind the corpse, the argument… and maybe, the part of you that still clung to the idea that you and Rick would always be on the same side.

negan

The atmosphere in the Sanctuary is thick with tension. The moment you step through the door, you feel the weight of everyone's eyes on you. It’s not surprise. It’s not curiosity. It’s fear.

And when you see Negan, you understand why.

He stands in the middle of the main hall, Lucille resting on his shoulder. His posture is rigid, his jaw clenched with barely contained fury. The few Saviors present avoid his gaze, instinctively stepping back, as if expecting him to explode at any moment.

Negan is not a patient man.

Not when his authority is challenged.

And you have challenged him.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t my fucking queen of mercy.” His voice echoes through the space, dripping with sarcasm and danger.

You stop in your tracks, your heart pounding, but you don’t step back. Not with him. Not this time.

“Negan, I—”

“Shut the fuck up!” he roars, slamming Lucille against the ground with a deafening crash. “What the hell were you thinking!?”

His fury is overwhelming, but you are not one to cower before his rage. You meet his gaze head-on, refusing to show weakness.

“I went to Alexandria to talk to Rick.”

Negan lets out a dry, incredulous laugh. He runs a hand over his jaw, taking a deep breath, trying to control his temper… and failing.

“To talk?” he repeats, his voice dropping to a dangerously low tone. “Are you fucking kidding me? Do you have any idea what you just did? What you’re forcing me to do now? Do you have a fucking clue how badly you screwed everything up?”

You lift your chin, showing no remorse. “I went to offer a truce. To negotiate something before this turns into a meaningless massacre.”

Negan stays silent for a moment, his eyes burning with unfathomable rage. He leans in, his voice low and lethal.

“A truce? A fucking truce with the man whose friends I smashed to pieces in front of him?”

You clench your fists, frustration burning in your chest. “Exactly! You killed his damn people, Negan!”

He slams both hands against the wall, leaning even closer, his breath hot against your face. “And they killed ours! Or have you already forgotten what they did? The ambush, how they executed my people like they were trash? How the fuck do you think I was supposed to respond, huh? With flowers and a fucking peace speech?”

You breathe heavily, but you don’t back down. “Negan, what you did… you did it to get revenge, to put on a fucking show! To prove you’re the alpha here, not because it was the only option!”

Negan straightens up, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. His expression is a mix of disbelief and anger.

“I knew you’d react like this, with that goddamn soft heart of yours bleeding for those bastards, but going to Alexandria without telling me? Putting yourself in danger like that? Undermining my authority? What the fuck were you thinking?”

You step forward, anger spilling over. “I was thinking about stopping more bloodshed! Or does that not matter to you? Is the only thing that matters that I obey you like one of your fucking men?”

Negan lets out a humorless laugh, stepping closer, his eyes burning. “You think this is just about obedience!? No, sweetheart, this is about loyalty. About respecting the fucking structure. About knowing that every goddamn thing we do in this world has consequences. You challenged me in front of everyone! You made me look like a fucking clown. And now, guess what? Now I have to go and clean up the mess you made!”

Your hands tremble with rage, with frustration. “I didn’t give a shit about how you looked, Negan! I cared about making sure this didn’t turn into a never-ending fucking war. Do you really not get that?”

Negan looks at you with a mix of fury and that terrifying darkness of his.

“You’re wrong, baby,” he says, his voice lower, more dangerous. “We’re not avoiding a war. We’re already in one. Or haven’t you figured that out yet?”

You stare at him, a knot forming in your throat. “You know what’s worse, Negan? This isn’t just about Rick, or Alexandria. This is about you. About what you are. About what you’ve always been.”

Negan narrows his eyes. “Watch what you say.”

But you don’t stop. You can’t.

“You can’t stand someone else having power. You have to be the fucking king, the one who decides who lives and who dies, the one who makes the rules. And if someone steps out of line, you destroy them. Because that’s how you deal with everything.”

Negan watches you in silence, his breathing heavy. But there’s something else in his gaze now. Something that seems… to hurt him.

“Is that really all you think I am?” he finally asks, his voice strangely soft.

You don’t answer right away. There are so many layers to him, so many things that make him the man he is. You’ve seen the good and the bad. The brutality and the tenderness. The rage and the desperation. But this time… this time, what he did was too much.

Negan runs a hand over his beard, exhaling sharply. “I love you, baby. Fuck, I love you. But if you keep challenging me like this, I don’t know what the fuck I’m gonna do with you.”

Your heart clenches, but not in the way it used to when he said those words. This time, fear and sadness are mixed in with everything else.

“Then maybe you need to decide, Negan,” you murmur, your throat tight. “If you want someone who just follows orders and shuts up, or if you want someone who actually gives a damn about what you’re doing.”

He stays silent. The rage is still there, but so is something else. Something neither of you knows how to fix.

Because love between you has always been a battle.

And this time, you don’t know which of you has come out more wounded.

carl

The door swings open violently.

Carl storms in like a hurricane, shoulders tense, breathing ragged, and his frown so deep it looks like his face might split in two from sheer fury.

You watch him from the couch, your book forgotten in your lap. The moment you saw the way he left with Rick earlier, you knew this would happen.

You knew he’d come back seething.

“Carl—” you start, standing up.

“Not now,” he snaps, raising a hand to silence you as he storms toward the table and throws his knife onto it with a sharp thud. His jaw is so tight you think he might break his own teeth.

You sigh, taking a few cautious steps toward him. “What happened this time?”

Carl lets out a bitter laugh. A hollow, joyless sound that makes your chest feel empty.

“Oh, the usual. Dad telling me I’m not ready. That I shouldn’t do this, that I shouldn’t do that. That I’m still ‘too young’ to make decisions. You know what’s even better? Now he thinks I’m the problem too.”

You blink, surprised. “What? Why would he say that?”

Carl whips around to face you, his blue eye burning with rage. “Because I tried to do the right thing. Because I tried to protect our people. And according to him, I was ‘irresponsible.’”

You reach for him, but he pulls away.

“Carl, he was just worried about you.”

“Oh, sure. He’s always worried, right? He never thinks that maybe I actually know what I’m doing. That maybe I’m right.” His voice rises with each word, and you can hear the desperation creeping in.

You sigh, feeling the weight of the situation settle on your shoulders. “That’s not it, and you know it. Rick trusts you, but he’s also scared. You lost an eye, Carl. You almost died. How do you expect him to react?”

Carl turns to you again, his expression growing even harder. “So what? Does he want me to just sit back while this shit consumes us? To hide behind him like some damn kid? I’m not a kid anymore!”

His shout echoes through the room. It shakes you, but you refuse to look away.

“I know,” you murmur calmly, though your heart pounds in your chest. “But I also know you’re angry, and right now, you’re not thinking clearly.”

Carl scoffs, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he shakes his head. “Oh, really? So now you think I’m just some stupid kid too?”

You frown. “I never said that.”

“But you think it!”

Your patience starts to wear thin. “Carl, don’t put words in my mouth. Don’t do this to me.”

“Do what?”

You take another step forward, ignoring the tremor in your own voice. “Treat me like the enemy.”

For a moment, Carl is silent. His gaze darkens. “You’re not the enemy.”

“Then stop talking to me like I am.”

Carl drags a hand through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. “It’s just… fuck, no one listens to me. You say you understand, but here you are, telling me the same thing my dad does. That I can’t, that I shouldn’t, that I’m acting like an idiot.”

The desperation in his voice hits you like a slap.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

“But you don’t think I’m right either!”

You exhale sharply, feeling the tension coil in your chest. “It’s not black and white, Carl. Things don’t work like that.”

He lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “That’s a bullshit excuse.”

“No, it’s not! It’s the truth!”

“What if I had died, huh?” Carl steps closer, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and something deeper. “If I had died fighting, if I had done what I wanted to do, if I had risked my life for our people, would you have sided with my dad and said ‘Carl was a fucking idiot’?”

You go still. Your throat tightens.

“What’s wrong?” he pushes, his expression daring you. “Got nothing to say now?”

Your chest aches. Your eyes burn. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Carl blinks. His expression falters for just a second, but only for a second. “You can’t save me from everything.”

“But I can try!” Your voice cracks into a sob. “God, Carl, don’t you get it? I would break if something happened to you. No matter how many times you say you can handle it, that doesn’t mean the world is going to listen.”

Carl opens his mouth, but no words come out.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the tears fall anyway. “I’ve lost too much. I can’t lose you too.”

His face softens—just slightly. The anger is still there, but now there’s something else in his eyes. Something you haven’t seen before: guilt.

“I… shit.” He runs a hand down his face, letting out a tight sigh.

“If you want to fight with your dad, do it. But don’t take it out on me. I don’t deserve that.”

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” His voice is quieter now, more unsteady.

“Well, you did. And it’s not the first time. Don’t do things to me that you wouldn’t want done to you.”

He stays silent. Then, after what feels like an eternity, he takes a step toward you.

And then another.

Until he’s right in front of you, until his arms are around you and his forehead rests against yours.

“I’m sorry.”

You close your eyes and cling to him, feeling his breath still uneven, but also noticing that, little by little, it steadies.

No more words for now. Just the sound of your quiet sobs against his chest and his arm around you, holding on like he’s just as afraid of losing you.

glenn

The forest feels suffocating despite the cold wind cutting through the night. The crunch of leaves beneath your boots is almost deafening in the tense silence that has settled between you. Glenn walks ahead, his silhouette barely visible under the moonlight, shoulders rigid and breathing unsteady.

You know he’s angry.

And you know it’s your fault.

But you’re not going to be the one to break the silence first.

You keep moving through the underbrush, dodging branches and roots, backpacks heavy on your shoulders. The mission had been simple: get into the pharmacy, grab what you needed, and get out. But things got complicated. Because, as always, you made an impulsive decision.

Because, as always, Glenn had to save you.

Finally, he can’t take it anymore.

“What the hell was that?!” he snaps, abruptly turning to face you.

You freeze, your hand tightening around the strap of your backpack.

“You ran straight into a group of walkers like you had a damn plan! You almost got yourself killed because you thought you could handle it alone!”

You grit your teeth, feeling the anger bubble up inside you. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always another choice!” Glenn takes a step closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “But you always pick the most goddamn dangerous one! When are you going to start thinking before you act?”

Your heart pounds, both from the argument and the fact that you’re still out in the open.

“We can’t afford to overthink things, Glenn. Sometimes you just have to act.”

Glenn shakes his head, his expression hardening. “Is that how you see it? Just act without thinking? Play the reckless hero without caring about the consequences?”

You step toward him, challenging. “So what? You’d rather I just stand back while you take all the risks alone?”

“I’d rather you trust me, for fuck’s sake!” His voice cracks at the end.

And that hits harder than any yell ever could.

“Glenn…”

He shakes his head, looking away. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s not just about today. It’s all the damn time. It’s always having to worry about whether or not you’ll make it back. Because it’s happened to me before. Because I’ve lost people before.”

Your chest tightens.

He keeps going, his voice lower, heavier.

“Do you know why I’m so careful? Why I plan everything? Because if I make a mistake, people die. If you make a mistake, I have to save you. And if one day I can’t…”

Glenn falls silent, his fists clenched at his sides.

Your anger fades at the pain on his face.

But you don’t back down completely.

“If I’m going to die, I want to go down fighting. I’m not a coward.”

Glenn looks at you. His voice is barely a whisper when he replies:

“If you’re going to die, I don’t want to be there to see it.”

The cold night air feels insignificant compared to those words.

maggie

Maggie walks ahead, her face serious, unyielding, while you hold your rifle in your hand, almost automatically. The walk has been silent, as always, but today, there’s something heavier in the air. Something more than the constant danger of the walkers lurking around.

Ever since you set out to scout the area around the community, everything has been getting worse. The tension is growing, and although you both understand what’s at stake, the silence is starting to become unbearable.

You can’t take it anymore.

“Maggie,” you say, your tone firm, almost defiant. “I’m looking at you, and I know something’s on your mind. Why don’t you just say it?”

She keeps walking, doesn’t turn around, but you get the feeling she’s waiting for you to say more. When she finally speaks, her voice is laced with frustration.

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you reply, gripping the rifle tighter. “I know something’s eating you up inside.”

She stops, the weight of your words settling over both of you. “What’s eating me up right now is how everything we do is getting more dangerous. Every decision, every move we make, is a fucking gamble. Do you get that? And I’m not letting it slide anymore.”

Your brow furrows, confused. “What are you saying?”

Maggie steps toward you, the wind stirring her hair as her gaze turns sharper. “I’m saying your recklessness is killing us all. This damn pride of yours, this need to save everyone, to throw yourself into situations without caring about the consequences—it’s putting everyone at risk.”

“That’s not true!” you snap, offended. “I do whatever it takes to protect us. That includes taking risks.”

“No!” Maggie shouts, her voice almost breaking. “That includes screwing things up for everyone! Why do you always have to do things your way? Can’t you ever just listen? This isn’t the damn world we used to know! Here, if we don’t think as a group, we die!”

“And what do you expect me to do? Just stand back, hide while everything goes to shit? That’s not who I am, Maggie!”

Maggie takes a step back, her eyes filled with exhaustion, arms crossed. “I’m not asking you to hide! I’m asking you to think before you do something reckless! You have to start seeing what’s at stake. We’re not alone. We’re not invincible. If you keep putting your pride and your need to be the hero above everyone else, you’re going to get us all killed. And that includes me, do you understand?”

Your stomach twists at her words because you know there’s truth in them. “Do you think I’m a burden to everyone, too?”

Maggie looks at you, her eyes clear but hard, and for a second, you don’t know if her anger is really directed at you or something deeper. “I don’t want you to be a burden. I want you to be part of the team, like everyone else. But you can’t keep acting like you’re the only one who matters. Like your life is the only one that counts.”

You step closer to her, anger still pulsing through every fiber of your being, but suddenly, everything seems clearer. Maggie isn’t attacking you—she’s scared.

“Don’t ask me to stop fighting,” you murmur, your voice breaking, almost a whisper. “If I don’t fight for them, for us, for you… then I don’t know what’s left of me.”

Maggie steps toward you, and for the first time in a long while, you can see that she’s fighting her own demons, too. There’s a pain in her eyes that you’ve never seen before.

“I know,” she says softly, her voice almost breaking. “But there’s more at stake than just our fight, do you understand? If one of us falls, we all fall. And I don’t want to lose you.”

You stare at her, the heat of tears threatening to rise in your eyes. “I don’t know how to not lose myself, Maggie. I don’t know how to do all this without losing myself.”

Maggie sighs, taking your face in her hands, resting her forehead against yours. “You have to learn, because if you don’t… then you’ll lose me, too.”

[juleswritesstuff]

hiiii angel!! I looooved your jegulus fics, so could i request a jegulus x fem reader where harry's their son (ofc) and like the grown-ups have a small fight(nothing too sirius) and lil har (who's living a pretty normal life) who's just like 12 or so thinks his mum is leaving(effect of too many muggle movies n shows lmao) and he panics a bit and it gets a lil angsty but then they all comfort him and cuddle while watching something disney perhaps? im sry if its too detailed hehe have a good day <3!

Hi to youuu! This was such a cute request, I loved writing it <3

I hope I did it justice 💗

poly!jegulus x fem!reader

warnings: none

The argument wasn’t even that serious. At least, not in your mind.

James had left the laundry half-done again, Regulus was on his usual tirade about “order” and “structure” in the house again, and you-

Well, you were just trying to drink your tea in peace. 

But, as always, the Potter-Black household couldn’t stay quiet for long.

“I’m just saying-” you sigh, placing your cup down a little harder than necessary “-if you start a chore, finish it. It’s really not that complicated, James”

James, standing in the kitchen, his hands still damp from Merlin-knows-what, throws them up dramatically “I was going to finish it! But then Pads called, and I got distracted”

You suppress a laugh. Of course Sirius was involved.

“Oh, of course” Regulus, seated stiffly at the dining table with his arms crossed like an old-world aristocrat surveying an unworthy subject, lets out a sharp, unimpressed scoff “ Because when Sirius calls, the entire world must stop, and we must all kneel at his feet in reverence”

James pouts, looking genuinely wounded “That’s not true”

You glance at Regulus just in time to catch his expression. One perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched, lips curled into that ‘really?’ smirk he does so well.

You rub your temples, already feeling the impending headache from their antics.

 “James, love, you always do this. You start something, get distracted, and then I end up finishing half your chores because I don’t want Regulus to have an aneurysm”

Regulus clicks his tongue “I do not-”

“Yes, you do” you interrupt “You dramatically sigh, shake your head, and look at me like I’ve let down the entirety of England by allowing James to run unchecked”

James snorts, shoulders shaking with laughter. Regulus shoots him a glare.

“Look-” James says, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair “-it’s just laundry. It’s not like I forgot to pick Harry up or left a potion brewing unattended”

“Not this time” Regulus narrows his eyes.

A dramatic gasp leaves James’ lips.

“I have never, not once in my life, forgotten about my own son, thank you very much” he states, only for his expression to turn a little sheepish as he adds “About the potions, though-”

And you want to laugh, you really do. At the absurdity of the situation, at James’ antics, at Regulus’ vein on his temple almost throbbing from the half-scowl he is sporting. 

But it’s late, you are tired and there’s still a pile of unwashed clothes sitting in the corner who is just waiting for someone to take care of it.

“You know what? Whatever. I’ll just do it myself” you groan, pushing your chair back.

That’s when you hear it. 

A sharp intake of breath from the doorway.

Harry.

You turn and find your son standing there, his posture too rigid, his face too carefully blank. His eyes flicker between the three of you, sharp and searching, and suddenly, the air in the room feels heavier.

Your frustration evaporates in an instant.

“Mum ?” he asks, his voice measured but tight “Are you guys… okay?”

The shift in mood is immediate.

“What ?” James blinks, his lighthearted demeanor slipping instantly.

Harry’s fingers twitch slightly at his sides, his weight shifting from foot to foot almost nervously.

“It’s just- you’re arguing, and it sounds kind of serious, and I-” he hesitates, like he’s not sure he wants to say the next part out loud “I just want to know if I should… be worried”

Your stomach twists. Hard.

Regulus immediately straightens, his earlier exasperation vanishing. “Harry” he says, voice softer now, careful “Of course not”

James frowns, concern overtaking his features. 

“Hold on, you thought-” his voice falters for a second before his face shifts into something stricken, pained “Oh, mate”

But you-

Your breath catches in your throat.

Worried ?

Your heart clenches, sharp and painful, because-

Oh, sweetheart, no. 

You step forward instinctively, reaching for him, like touching him will tether you both to reality, to the undeniable fact that you would never -never- leave him. None of you would.

“Sweetie-” you press a gentle hand to his arm, stroking gently, making him feel your warmth, your presence “-this wasn’t anything serious. We were just bickering. It’s normal”

Your voice almost cracks at the sight of his big, worried eyes.

Harry exhales, but his jaw is still tight.

“Yeah, but-” he lets out a humorless chuckle, but there’s something bitter underneath “-in those Muggle movies you showed us…the parents start arguing about stupid things and pretend it’s nothing, and then boom, divorce”

Your stomach lurches.

Regulus’ breath catches in his throat.

James looks horrified, like someone has just told him Quidditch was canceled forever “Laundry isn’t a ‘boom divorce’ argument! It’s a ‘James is a little shit but we love him anyway’ argument”

“It’s true” Regulus lets out a quiet breath, something almost like a laugh -but there’s no humor in it.

James looks beyond offended.

But you’re barely listening.

Your chest is still tight, your fingers gripping Harry’s arm a little too firmly, because he actually thought you might leave. 

That one argument over laundry could break apart his world.

For the first time in years, something close to heartbreak flares in your chest.

Harry, your baby, your bright-eyed, brilliant, sarcastic little boy -the one who still rolls his eyes when you kiss his forehead but leans into it anyway- he actually thought that you’d walk away. That you’d leave him behind.

And the thought alone almost knocks the breath out of you.

You swallow past the ache, past the guilt clawing at your throat. 

“Harry” your voice is firmer now, but no less gentle “Love, I promise you- we argue, yes, but it doesn’t mean we don’t love each other. It doesn’t mean we’re leaving”

“No ?” 

That one word, that single uncertain word coming out if your little boy’s mouth is almost enough to make your heart stop. 

“No, sweetie-” you reassure him, trying your hardest to ignore the lump in your throat as you take his little hand in yours “-Merlin, no. No one’s leaving, ok ?”

Regulus steps closer, voice still uncharacteristically gentle “We are a family. That doesn’t change just because your dad is insufferable about chores”

“I feel attacked” James mutters, always the one to brighten up the mood. Even when he was panicking and worried himself at the idea of his son having such dark thoughts.

He concealed it well, but not well enough for you and Regulus not to notice.

Harry finally huffs a small laugh, some of the tension leaving his frame.

James grins and pulls him into a loose hug, ruffling his already messy hair and smacking a loud kiss on his forehead “Harry, you really thought we’d let something as stupid as unfinished laundry break up our family ?”

Harry hesitates for half a second before leaning into the embrace. 

“I mean-” he says, muffled against James’s shoulder “I wouldn’t put it past Dad to actually file for divorce over a mess”

Regulus scoffs “That is not true”

Harry pulls back just enough to raise an eyebrow at him, in a way so Regulus-like that you almost start laughing.

Regulus huffs “…Mostly not true”

James cackles, tightening his grip on Harry. Harry follows him, the corners of his lips tilting up in a genuine smile, the frown between his eyebrows melting away.

You feel like you are able to breathe after centuries of suffocation, your son’s smile being the oxygen you need to live.

“See ?” you reach out, running your fingers through Harry’s hair, pressing a soft kiss to his temple “We’re fine. We’ll always be fine”

Harry lets out a breath, and for the first time since he walked in, he fully relaxes.

The heaviest of weights suddenly gets lifted from your chest.

“Alright, I think we need something comforting after all that” after a pause, you smile looking at your son knowingly “Disney movie ?”

Harry tilts his head up so fast his glasses bounce on his nose. The sight is so endearing you almost melt to a puddle on the floor.

“Can we watch The Lion King ?” he asks, eyes sparkling and full of hope.

“Must we ?” James groans like he’s in physical pain “That movie makes me cry every time”

“Oh, yes” Regulus’ mouth curls up in that scheming way of his “Let’s absolutely watch The Lion King”

James groans again, dramatically flopping backward like a man defeated “I don’t know why I suffer like this”

Regulus rolls his eyes but tugs him up by his sleeve “Come on, drama queen”

By the time you all curl up on the couch, James is wedged between you and Regulus, and Harry is sprawled comfortably against his side, absently toying with the hem of James’s sleeve. The tension from earlier is completely gone, replaced by something much warmer, much safer.

Halfway through the movie, you glance over at Regulus. He’s still watching, his sharp features soft in the glow of the screen. James shifts slightly, reaching out to take his hand, thumb brushing over Regulus’s knuckles.

Harry watches the movement, a small, quiet smile tugging at his lips.

You catch his expression, and something warm blooms in your chest. Because this -this closeness, this love, this undeniable proof that you are his family- is what he needed to see.

You squeeze James’s other hand, and he turns to you, his expression sleepy but affectionate. He leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, then shifts to nudge Regulus with his nose until he relents and kisses him too.

Harry lets out a small, amused sound, shaking his head.

“You guys are so- ” he doesn’t finish the sentence, but his voice is lighter, more at ease.

Regulus smirks “So?”

Harry just smiles “Never mind”

A comfortable silence settles between the four of you, the only sound coming from the movie playing in the background.

Then, without warning, Harry shifts. 

It happens so fast that neither of you can react properly before there’s suddenly a twelve-year-old boy flopping dramatically across your laps. His head lands squarely in yours, his legs stretch across Regulus’, and his back presses against James, pinning him in place like an overgrown cat making himself comfortable.

James lets out a surprised ‘oof’, a playful smile on his face as his arms come to rest on your son’s stomach.

Regulus, however, blinks down at the boy now draped over him like a human blanket. “Are you serious?”

“Nope, that’s Uncle Pads” Harry quips, grinning up at him from your lap.

Regulus exhales, long and suffering, and gives you a look. But his lips twitch, betraying him, as he mutters “You are so your father’s child-”

James perks up immediately, grinning proudly “He really is, isn’t he?”

“-and i did not sign up to be used as furniture” Regulus groans, but you can see the way he, instead of moving Harry off of him, shifts slightly, adjusting so the weight is more comfortable, making room for him.

You snort, tucking your feet up onto the couch, smoothing back your son’s hair, fingers slipping easily through the messy strands. 

You glance down at him, warmth flooding your chest at the sight of him looking so utterly at ease. He’s always been sharp and quick-witted, always acting like he’s too cool for affection -but now, with his head resting in your lap and his legs draped across Regulus as he smiles at him like a cheshire cat that got his way, he looks young again. Safe.

Your heart swells.

“Comfy ?” you chuckle, your thumb smoothing over Harry’s soft cheek.

“Very” he sighs dramatically, shifting just enough to make sure he’s well and truly settled, as if the three of you exist purely for his comfort.

Regulus exhales sharply, looking at you as if you can possibly fix this.

“Welcome to parenthood, love” you just shrug, biting back a smile.

Regulus huffs a light, slightly incredulous laugh, but his arms come to rest absentmindedly on Harry’s legs, hands rubbing his shins lightly over the soft fabric of those ridiculous deer printed pajama pants Sirius (and, with not little compliant from his part, Remus) had gifted him on his birthday, a soft glint in his silver eyes as he looks at your little boy and his mischievous grin. 

He looks so much like James like this. Carefree, young James, who ran through Hogwarts’ hallways without a care in the world just to see you and Regulus at the end of your class, and spouted the most absurd pick-up lines you have ever heard in your entire life still to this day.

Your gaze meets Regulus’ and you know he is thinking the same exact thing, the warm fondness in his features giving him away.

Who knew, back then, that those cheesy words and that same troublemaker smile, so similar to the one on your son’s face, would’ve led you here ?

The movie plays on, the soft glow of the television flickering over the four of you, but it’s almost secondary to the warmth settling between you all.

At some point, James shifts, letting his head drop against your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck. 

You hear him sigh. Content, comfortable.

Regulus chuckles “Are you planning to stay there forever?”

“Mmh…”James hums, making a big show of burrowing further into you before turning to press his face into Regulus’s shoulder instead “Yes”

Regulus tenses for all of three seconds before sighing and adjusting slightly. Just enough to make space for him. 

“You silly man” he murmurs, but one of his hands moves from Harry’s legs to James’s hair, fingers brushing through the still unruly as ever strands in slow, absent patterns.

You smirk, reaching over to do the same, your fingers tangling into James’s curls from the other side.

James lets out a pleased little sound, muffled against Regulus’s sweater “You both love me so much”

“Says who ?” Regulus huffs, though his fingers never stop moving. 

“The nearly fifteen years you’ve spent by my side ?” James muses, looking as smug as he did back in Hogwarts, his hair a perpetual mess and that grin that magically got him out of every trouble. 

“I’m afraid he might be right with this one” you laugh softly, letting your hand drift down to squeeze James’s shoulder, your eyes still on Regulus.

Harry, still sprawled across all three of you, cranes his neck just enough to squint up at his father “Papa, do you really require this much attention at all times?”

James, without shame, nods “Yes”

You let out a snort, because it is the truth. And even Harry noticed it.

The movie continues, and the familiar opening notes of the stampede scene start playing. 

James, already bracing himself, shifts slightly in his seat.

Regulus notices instantly. 

“Oh, for- James, are you actually-”

Harry shifts slightly, glancing up at James “Are you crying yet?”

“No” James says preemptively, voice wobbly, his eyes slowly but surely welling with tears.

You smirk “Oh, you absolutely are, Jamie”

“I am not” James insists, voice cracking slightly.

Harry snickers, tapping James’ hand on his tummy in what you are sure is supposed to be a reassuring but still teasing gesture “Sure, Papa”

“It’s not my fault this scene is heartbreaking” James groans, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Regulus hums, unimpressed "It’s a children’s film, James"

"With emotional depth, Reggie!" James gestures wildly with one hand while the other stays firmly wrapped around Harry, who’s still sprawled across all three of you "Do you even have a heart?"

Regulus huffs, lips twitching "No. I sold it the day I met you"

You bite back a grin, watching the way Regulus tries –and fails– to keep a straight face while you press a kiss into James’ curls.

The movie continues to roll, but the warmth of the moment feels like it’s come to life beyond the screen. 

The laughter, the shared glances, the quiet affection -it all wraps around you like a cozy blanket, the kind you never want to leave. 

Harry, still nestled in your lap, lets out a soft sigh, his eyelids drooping as the comfort of the scene lulls him into relaxation. His head, heavy with sleep, tilts gently against your stomach, and you let out a contented breath, your hand brushing through his hair once again.

James shifts, peering down at him “We’re losing him”

You smile, reaching over to brush a few stray strands of hair from Harry’s forehead, his eyes fighting to stay open, trying not to lose their battle against exhaustion.

Regulus, still stroking James’s hair, tilts his head slightly “You’re next”

James gasps, scandalized “I am a grown man, Regulus. I do not just-” He pauses to yawn. Loudly.

“Mmhm. Sure” Regulus smirks.

You chuckle, pressing a kiss to James’s temple before tilting your head to catch Regulus’s gaze. He’s already watching you, something unreadable but unmistakably fond in his expression.

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers together, and squeeze gently. He exhales, and then, slowly, without fanfare, he leans his head against James’, his free hand coming up to rest lightly over yours.

There’s a long moment of quiet, just the soft hum of the credits rolling in the background.

And then, in the silence-

“Reggie?” James mumbles sleepily, voice thick with drowsiness.

“Mmh ?”

James lifts his head just enough to squint at him, a lazy grin curling at his lips. “You definitely cried when Harry was born”

Regulus stills. His hand falters where it’s been absentmindedly tracing circles against your thigh, fingers going stiff. 

“What does that have to do with anything right now ?” he asks, his mask of indignation barely holding on.

A quiet snicker breaks the stillness. You glance down to find Harry --half-asleep but still listening– curled up against you, his warm breath fanning across your skin. 

He shifts just enough to peer up at Regulus, his voice drowsy but amused “Did you really?”

James grins, tightening his arm around your waist as if to anchor himself. 

“Oh, like a baby” he confirms, his voice rich with teasing as he looks at Harry with a fond but teasing smile “Mum held you up, love, and Reg absolutely lost it. Sobbing. Whole thing.”

You smother a laugh against the back of your hand. 

“I remember” you add, tilting your head to meet Regulus’s gaze “You clung to me like I was going to disappear. Kept saying, ‘He’s so small. He’s so small’”

Regulus exhales, rolling his eyes, though there’s no true irritation -just that quiet, reluctant fondness that always softens his edges when it comes to you, to James, to your son. 

“He was small” he mutters, his fingers resuming their slow, soothing strokes along Harry’s leg.

James hums, rubbing circles into your hip with his thumb. 

“He fit in my hands” he murmurs, a note of awe still lingering in his voice even now “I thought if I breathed wrong, I’d break him”

You smile fondly as the memories of that day flow through your mind. You remember being a mess, tears rolling down your eyes uncontrollably as soon as the nurse put Harry, your baby, your most precious treasure, in your arms for the first time.

And, yet, you also vividly remember that, despite the wreckage that you were, James and Regulus managed to be an even bigger trainwreck.

Harry makes a soft noise, shifting slightly between you. His words come slow and heavy with sleep “’M still here, though”

Regulus’s expression softens as he glances down at him. 

“Yes” his hand drifts almost absently to smooth over Harry’s curls, his fingers gentle and careful “You are”

Harry’s lips curl in a sleepy, knowing smile “Bet you love me even more now”

Regulus huffs a quiet laugh, thumb brushing along his son’s temple. 

“I do” he admits, an emotion in his voice, in his eyes, that he rarely lets shine through.

You and James just smile at each other fondly, sharing Regulus’ sentiment, the love etched in his gaze.

Harry, now fully amused, drowsily smirks up at him “Aw, Dad. You do have a heart”

Regulus exhales, shaking his head in bewilderment. Half of that lovely spark in his eyes turning into amusement.

“Oh, you little shit. You've been spending way too much time with uncle Sirius, you know ?” the words are warm, practically dripping in affection. And instead of pulling away, Regulus lets his hand settle on Harry’s arm, fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns.

But there’s a glint in his gaze that both you and James seem to notice, a smile blooming on your faces. 

Before Harry can react, Regulus’ hand moves down to his side, fingers pressing lightly against his ribs, just enough to make him squirm. Harry lets out a startled yelp, his body twitching instinctively as a breathy laugh spills from his lips.

“Wait- Dad- no-” Harry gasps between shrieks, already trying to wriggle away, but there’s nowhere to go. He’s sprawled across all of you, completely trapped.

“Oh ? I thought I was being soft ?” Regulus only smirks, his fingers dancing against Harry’s side, pressing gently into the most ticklish spots with practiced precision.

You grin, watching fondly as Harry flails, his laughter bubbling uncontrollably “Mercy ! Please !”

Regulus hums, pretending to consider it. 

“Hmm. Fine” he finally lets up just enough for Harry to catch his breath, fingers slowing to a gentle, absentminded rub against his ribs instead.

By the time Regulus is done with his little revenge Harry is breathless, his body lax and boneless. His laughter has faded into soft, lingering giggles, the kind that bubble up after being tickled senseless, but even those are growing quieter.

Regulus’ hands are back on your son’s leg, his touch softened, slow and rhythmic, lulling instead of teasing. He traces gentle circles against Harry’s shin and calf, fingertips barely there, and Harry exhales one last sleepy hum of contentment before completely melting into the warmth of all three of you.

A quiet settles over the room again, the kind that feels like home, like the calm after a summer rain, like steady heartbeats and shared breaths.

You can’t help but smile, watching them, watching all of them, as the flickering light from the television dances across their faces.

You feel the familiar pulse of warmth and affection surge through you. 

This is your family. Your chaotic, imperfect, but undeniably yours family.

James lets out a slow exhale, shifting slightly so that he can get more comfortable, but not enough to disturb Harry. His arm tightens just a little around your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself lean into him, your fingers brushing lightly over his chest.

Regulus tilts his head, watching Harry’s face, the way his lashes flutter slightly against his cheeks before going still “He’s asleep”

“Didn’t take long” James lets out a quiet chuckle, his lips curving into a fond smile.

Your chest tightens with emotion at the sight of your little boy, his face serene and content as he succumbs to the tiredness. And you can’t help but lean down, your hand gently cupping Harry’s cheek as he shifts slightly, snuggling deeper into your lap. His warm breath is a steady rhythm against your stomach.

You lean down and press a soft kiss to the crown of his head, your lips lingering there for just a second longer than usual. 

He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. 

Your heart clenches, that protective, overwhelming love filling every inch of your chest.

James’ voice, muffled against Regulus’s shoulder, breaks the comfortable silence. 

“I love this” he says quietly, almost as if to himself, his voice filled with contentment.

Regulus doesn’t respond, but you can see the way his hand stills for a brief second before continuing to move, the gesture one of affection and care, as if he’s trying to imprint this moment in his memory forever.

Finally, you exhale, your voice quieter now, the warmth of the moment settling deep in your chest as you take it all in. 

Your family, your home, the three most important people of your life. 

“Me too” you murmur, your fingers brushing absently through Harry’s hair, holding onto this quiet, fleeting peace.

“I didn’t think I’d end up here” Regulus’ voice cuts through your thoughts, eyes locked on the screen, but you know his words are meant for you and James.

You glance up at him, surprise flickering through your heart “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, a nonchalant movement that tries to mask the emotion beneath. 

“This...us,” he gestures around the room, his gaze sweeping over the three of you and your little treasure asleep on your laps “This wasn’t exactly in my plans. Or in my dreams”

You watch Regulus for a moment, the flickering light of the television casting soft shadows across his face. He’s not looking at you, not fully, but there’s something unguarded in his expression.

James shifts slightly, enough not to wake up Harry, lifting his head just enough to glance at Regulus with a lazy, knowing smile. 

“Yeah, well-” he murmurs, voice laced with fond amusement “-neither was falling for a reckless Gryffindor and the most beautiful woman in the world, I bet. But you did anyway”

“O-ho” you chuckle softly, your fingers gently stroking through James’s messy hair. “You really know how to flatter a person, don’t you?” you tease, your tone warm, though there’s a gentle smile playing at your lips.

Regulus’s lips curl into a small, fond smile at your words, but he doesn’t say anything right away. He’s too busy watching you, a soft intensity in his gaze. 

“It’s true, though,” he murmurs after a moment, his voice uncharacteristically soft “I didn’t expect…this. At all”

“And ?” you ask softly, your grip on his hand firm, warm “Any regrets ?” 

Regulus finally looks at you then, silver eyes meeting yours for half a second before shifting to the man in between your bodies whose sleepy smile was still more blinding than the sun, and the little boy sleeping soundly on top of you who brought the greatest joy in your lives. 

“No,” he admits, quieter now, a genuine curve on his lips “No regrets”

James hums thoughtfully “Not even when I forget the laundry? Or leave potions ingredients out? Or-”

“I suggest you to stop talking before I change my answer, baby” 

James smiles that mischievous grin of his, but doesn’t replicate, his hold on you and Regulus tightening just a bit.

And in this moment, as sleep threatens to take not only you but the men by your side too, you can't help but think that you wouldn't change a thing about your family.

Your imperfectly perfect chaotic family.

As Regulus said. 

No regrets.

Laundry could definitely wait.

[solbaby7]

I would like to order a Vodka Cranberry neat please, with a salt rim and add a lime if that’s allowed please 👀😏🫶🏼

if that’s allowed? honey we all know by now i will ride the angst train until the wheels fall off🫡

[ “why do you even care?” “because i do” + smut/angst + az ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

“Will you—will you just stop for a second and listen to me?”

“That’s all I ever do, Az.” The words wobble, a combination of anger and sadness ruining its stability. Tears stream down your face, staining the silk of your dress and smearing makeup that took you entirely too long to perfect. “Listen to you and all your bullshit promises that you never fucking keep.”

His stealth is frustrating but not more than the pure self-hatred that brews when you can’t fight the desire to glance over your shoulder; foolishly allowing your chest to bloom with heat when you realize he was following you.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this anymore.

He promised to stay away.

Too dangerous, he said. Worried for your safety, he insisted.

Refused to be responsible for the guilt that would ensue if something horrid ever happened to you; a truth he can’t confess but you’re well versed in reading between the lines.

“I know, I’m sorry—just please hear me out. Put me out of my fucking misery because I can’t keep watching you go out with males who don’t even deserve to share your air.”

If you weren’t so hurt, maybe your mind would’ve latched onto the last part of his sentence rather than the first. “Put you out of your misery?” The harsh click of your heels on cobblestone halts so abruptly it makes Azriel bump into you a little. Bare arms brush against the sturdy material of his leathers as they cross over your chest, goosebumps staved off by the steady warmth he radiates and you pretend that’s why you don’t create more distance. “Why do you even care?”

You’re not sure to really even want the answer.

Certain, it won’t be good enough.

After everything Azriel had put you through, this never ending game of tug of war. Giving you an inch only for him to rear back and snatch a mile. Your expectations are unrealistic; a soldier hanging up his sword just for you.

“Because, I do.”

And yet, you still amuse the possibility.

Dusting off your hands and re-familiarizing yourself with the burn of rope in your grasp before taking a sharp, experimental tug.

Bodies gravitate closer like magnets, attempting to resist until the pull becomes too much.

Your heart hammers in your chest, silence filling the air for one, two, three whole seconds before the collision happens. Your lips against his own; a frenzy of a kiss where you can’t really tell if your hands are running through his hair or tracing down the strong line of his neck and shoulders just to feel him or just to remember.

All hard lines and harsh breaths as tongues grow reacquainted. The pathetic little whimper he lets out when nails scratch along the back of his neck, a bite that toes the line of too much. “Shouldn’t matter to you who I date.”

It only makes him hold you tighter, tugging your hips in closer. “I know it shouldn't.” His words muffle against your mouth, too stubborn or too selfish to pull away for even a second—not when he's finally gotten you close. “But, it still does." Shadows stretch forward, cloaking you in darkness; shielding you from the hopeless male you'd left back at the restaurant, as if they feared he'd come stumbling out in search of you.

They make it clear that you're already taken; trapped even, by a male too greedy to allow even a drop of you be spilled. Azriel's tongue trails down the length of your neck, nose nuzzling in the inviting scent of your body oils. Memorizing parts of you he’d thought long forgotten.

A mole here. Scars there. Soft pudge that warms him down to the marrow when pressed against his hardness. “You can’t just keep following me around.”

Following was a light way of putting it—stalking was more right.

His figure looming in your blind spots, lingering around corners and watching like a hawk that’s locked onto its prey. Your routine is committed to memory from the moment your fire tokes in the morning to the bakery you stop by in the middle of the week for a slice of fresh key lime pie. A reward for refraining from replying to his letters or pointedly ignoring the stunning floral display that arrives on your porch every week like clockwork. “Can’t stop even if I wanted to. Not when I know you’re out with someone who can’t even make you laugh.”

“At least they don’t make me cry.” Damn you for leaning in closer, basking in that familiar brood and the masculine musk that sends all five senses into a fritz. A defeated sigh escapes you when you melt to mush under his palms; too vulnerable to lie. “It’s easier with them.”

“Easy’s overrated.” He’s kneading at the swell of your hips until bravery grows or restraint snaps and he’s pawing at handfuls of your ass. Guiding you back until you can feel rough brick catching on strands of your hair. “Boring too—bet he wouldn’t have been able to make you cum. Even if he actually tried.”

Takes everything in you not to bite back. Especially because Azriel’s sort of right but admitting that out loud is more humiliating than your body just giving it away. By now, he has to feel the frantic pulse of your jugular under his tongue. “Maybe I should go back and find out.”

If his warning growl doesn’t send shivers down your spine, the nip of his teeth on such sensitive flesh does. “I dare you to try.”

A challenge that comes with stipulations.

Skillful hands work their way under your dress, teasing at soft thighs until his knuckles are bumping against lace—it locks you in place. Azriel lets out a mean chuckle when you hike one leg up on his hip, spreading yourself wide; presenting yourself instead of running away like you should.

It just feels so good.

Lower lips are spread wide, dripping with slick as two thick fingers glide through with ease. Azriel knows his way around, just barely dipping into a greedy hole before retreating only to tap at an achy bundle of nerves so he can see the desperate jolt of your hips. “No,” He speaks more so for himself than you, too occupied with prying you open and feeling your arousal pool in his palm. “You wouldn’t do that. Probably haven’t had a cock in this cunt since that last time I filled it—feels just as tight as I left it.”

If the nights chill wasn’t nipping at bared skin, you know your blush would’ve burned all the way down your chest. “Trust me, it’s not for lack of trying.”

You shouldn’t have said that. Probably wouldn’t have if Azriel’s thumb wasn’t working perfectly against your clit, calloused fingers rubbing against slick inner walls, abusing nooks and cranny’s that leave your knees buckling. “Don’t you know that you can’t give away a pussy that doesn’t belong to you?” Salacious sounds squelch between your thighs, head thrown back and eyes rolling in your skull as Az takes and takes; unlocking the doors to your sex and greeting it with a warm welcome. “Not if I still own it.”