#right Oc does not belong to me

[lucaanis]

I made a similar post before a long ass time ago for the other three da protags but now it's time for rook, this time in poll format <3

as always feel free to ramble about your ocs in the tags!! 👀

[averagecatdoodlesenjoyer]

hello person who followed me for yttd content. look at my gay furry bullshit please?

i couldn't find the image in better quality unfortunately but it's probably somewhere out there

[crescentfool]

it was recently my oc's birthday, so i did some doodles to celebrate! happy birthday to this fruit in particular, i love him dearly. 🍊🎂🎉

[chrissv4mp]

𐙚 WHY CAN'T I FIND NO ONE LIKE YOU?

IN MY HEAD, WE BELONG , STREETS. DOJA CAT

WARNINGS. SMUT, cheating, fuckgirl!billie, innocent!reader, cunnilingus, bathroom sex, boyfriend!oc, fingering, hickeys, praise, language, slight manipulative!billie, and drinking.

SUMMARY. you broke up with billie a few months back, yet you can't seem to get her out of your head. it doesn't help your situation when she shows up at a party you and your boyfriend were hosting.

WORDS. 4.5k

LETTERS. AAAAA MERRY CHRISTMAS(IF YOU CELEBRATE)!!! HERE'S FUCKGIRL!BILLIE AS A LITTLE PRESENTTT

"it's just one drink, babe," your boyfriend urges with a playful nudge to your shoulder, his own alcoholic beverage in his right hand.

his left hand is occupied around your waist, fingertips running along the smooth skin that you crop-top revealed, "live a little! don't be a scaredy cat." vincent yells over the music, a grin coming across his face.

you shake your head with a smile, his words flipping a switch in the competitive side of your mind, "i'm not a 'scaredy cat,'" you scoff, and without a second thought, you reach for the large bottle of vodka pushed far back on the counter.

"think i won't?" you challenge him, your nerves coming back to bite as you watch him shake his head.

"pass me one of those cups," you say, quickly grabbing it from your boyfriends hand as he gives it to you. your eyes dart along the counter, catching sight of a half-full cup of (what seems to be) sprite. keeping that in mind, you fill the empty cup with the vodka in your hand before setting it back down.

with a deep breath, and one final look at vincent, you shout, "vince, watch ou—!"

his entire body turns in an attempt to shield both you and himself, and when he does, you swiftly switch the places of the two cups, gripping the cup of sprite in your hand and bringing it to your lips. you flick his shoulder, catching his attention once again, "yeah, let's go, y/n!" he calls, hyping you up with words of encouragement.

you finish the cup with one last gulp before setting it down onto the marble counter again, fighting the urge not to throw up due to the carbonation. you get hit with an attack of coughs, and vincent is quick to laugh it off while rubbing at your back.

"holy shit. i didn't think your ass would actually do it." he chuckles, tone full of amusement and almost no concern.

"whatever," you roll your eyes, straightening yourself and watching as your boyfriend pours himself another cup. his, what, third one? but, of course, in his defense, 'it wasn't vodka, so what harm could it do?' a lot, to his surprise. you, however, wouldn't even bat an eye if you found him passed out on the edge of the pool or in the bathroom over the toilet.

with no words and a kiss to your cheek, he snuck off into the sea of drunk teenagers and sweaty bodies, leaving you alone with the many horny couples that all decided to make out in the kitchen of all places. so, instead of staying, you fill up your empty cup with water and begin to carefully manuever yourself around the crowd, apologizing left and right each time you even grazed someone with your arms or body.

you only make it to the hallway of your boyfriends bedroom whenever you notice that all of the rooms are occupied because of either a. the moans, or b. the doors are locked.

you let a sigh out, leaning back against the wall and closing your eyes to maybe escape reality for even just a second if that was possible. and you were successful until one of vincents friends showed up to bother you.

"'ay, you're vinny's girl, right?" he asks, voice deep yet somehow heard over the obnoxiously loud music.

you nod hesitantly, unsure of why that would be the first question he asked because vincent's friends had to have known your name by now, "right, right, well—okay, are you down to light one up with me and the guys?" he inquires, his lips curving into a dopey smile to showcase his perfectly white teeth.

you never understood why boys like this threw away their futures on stupid things like drugs and alcohol.

"i don't smoke," you answer, shrugging with a soft, apologetic smile(although you weren't sorry at all).

"hey, can you tell vince i'm gonna be heading out soon and that i'll be somewhere around the front, please?" but, even with your clear dismissal, he doesn't budge, rolling his eyes with an amused scoff.

"come on, girl, you can either come and tell 'em or you'll leave without a goodbye kiss."

he pushes his lips out in a kissing motion, imitating a kiss as he moans suggestively. the action makes you cringe, your fingers gripping tighter around the red solo cup in your hand, "lets go, yeah, baby?" the nickname only pushes you further, your comfort getting more and more destroyed by the second, "no, i think i'll stay here..."

his facial expression switches to one of pure anger and annoyance at your resistance, groaning before finally reaching out to tug on your wrist, "vinny never told me you were so god damn stubborn," he grumbles, his strength overpowering your own attempt to stay put.

"hey, i said no!" you yell, but your call is a mere whisper in the crowd of loud shouts and booming music.

the tall guy drags you to the back patio before you make an effort to defend yourself, splashing the leftover water you had in your cup in his face the moment he turns back to see if you were still there. his grip loosens for a moment from the shock, but when you try to wiggle free, he's quick to tug you forward and make you stumble back, "i—you fucking bitch!" he roars.

his loud yell catches all eyes in the backyard, and some partygoers standing by the backdoor even stop and stare. there's still the slightest look of bewilderment on his face, but it's soon masked with anger as he feels the droplets of water slide down his face and neck. he swipes his eyes with his hands, clearing his vision so that he can see you again.

"who the fuck do you think you are, huh?" he asks, voice deeper than before to show his anger.

he steps closer to you, his tall figure towering over your own as he practically barks curses into your face. what you don't expect, however, are his next words, "you're lucky you're a woman 'cause i would'a beat your fuckin' a—!"

"so what? just because she's a woman doesn't mean she couldn't rock your shit."

as fast as the attention was on you and the boy, it's passed to some random girl twice as fast. some 'random' girl you know all too well, "this doesn't concern you, billie," the furious boy scoffs with a shake of his head, trying to shrug her off. but billie won't shake, of course she won't.

"nah, i think it does." she pushes, stepping closer.

she didn't look nearly as intimidating as he did due to her height, but you knew exactly how much of an effect billie's gaze had on people, "don't think i didn't see that shit, that stunt you pulled? i see everything, so don't fuck around." billie warns, tone strong and never shaking, "leave the girl alone, dude. she doesn't wanna buy whatever fuckass thing you're selling."

"can you shut the—?" he begins to speak, but billie is quick to butt in again, "hey, wait... didn't you get called out on your shit last year for selling fakes?" she makes an uneasy face, whistling quietly before catching the look on his face. billie just laughs in the poor boys face because now, he just looked pathetic.

he grabs billie by the collar of her shirt, her chains getting caught between his fingers and bringing their bodies closer. you just stand there and watch, confused and still angry as the boy whispers something into billie's ear that is either a bunch of curses or an apology. with one final glance back at you, he stomps off further into the backyard, shaking his head.

now that all the attention is gone and the chatter starts up again, billie finally gets the chance to properly greet you with her signature smile, the silver gems on her teeth on full display for you and any other person who dared to pay close enough attention. when she takes a step closer, you grip your cup again.

"woah, okay, don't splash me now." billie chuckles, putting her hands up in surrender as she takes a few more cautious steps closer.

despite your nerves, you still join in on the playfulness, "you're lucky there's none left in here." billie smiles wider at your words, taking it as a sign that she can come closer. you don't even realize that she's pulling you into a hug until her perfume reaches your nose. the perfume you were just about to forget about until billie came in like a knight in shining armor.

unlike you, billie had yet to even forget your body language—a language she was far too familiar with. she breathed in, getting the faintest smell of your shampoo and the sweet, floral perfume you always wore. it only changed when billie came out with her own perfume and you wouldn't wear anything but it. then, multiple accidents happened, and...

here you were. two exes reconnecting at a party you really thought you wouldn't see her at.

"you're not supposed to be here," you mutter, hesitantly pulling away from her embrace. your eyes seem more sad than angry now, and you're sure that billie's the only one who would ever notice. not even vincent knew when you were angry. he was just so careless at times, but he treated you well, "why are you here?"

billie's smile becomes smaller, but it never goes away, "not even a 'thank you' for saving you from that douchebag?" she laughs, cocking an eyebrow and letting her hands rest at her hips. her eyes pick up on the way your lips twitch up, but you never give her the satisfaction of your smile—the smile that she longed to see after all these years.

"i know." she sighs, eyes never leaving yours. you hated how good she was at maintaining eye contact, "just wanted to reconnect with you, ma."

your gaze flickers down to the chains that hung around her neck, noticing the way she toys with them to calm her nerves. you completely drown out her words along with the inaudible chatter around you as you notice the old fairy tattoo on her hand, complimented by the silver rings on her fingers, "you listenin'?" her hand drops back to her hip, and her voice catches you attention again.

a nod of your head is all she needs to know that you, in fact, were not listening. she repeats herself nonetheless, staying silent about the fact, "i saw that you got with vincent a while back," she mutters, biting her lip as if she can't stand even thinking about it, "hope you know what you're in for, y/n." she shrugs the sentence off purposely, trailing off onto some other topic that was completely irrelevant.

"billie, what?—what do you mean?" you ask, voice quiet and a little weary. you had no idea what she was on about.

she pauses, trying to fight the smirk that threatens to take over her face once again. the worried look across your features is all she needs to know that you've walked right into her trap. she had a love-hate relationship with the gullible side of you, "just that... vincent is kind of known for bein', uh—untrustworthy?" she whispers, eyes locked on yours.

your heart rate picks up, the cup in your hand almost completely crushed, "what?" you mutter, voice barely audible.

"he cheats." she states boldly. she almost feels bad for doing this to you, but... she needed her girl back, "no wonder he's not with you right now," billie accuses, "probably off with some chick in—" you're quick to cut her off with a shake of your head and quickly spat words, "billie, stop!" you whine.

and she does, but it doesn't last long, "i know the truth hurts, y/n." her voice is filled with fake sympathy, but you don't know that. you're too focused on the implications that she made just seconds earlier, "i'm sorry." she frowns, tilting her head and opening her arms for you to fall into. but you don't. you stand your ground, tears threatening to build because her words actually sounded believable.

"i'm here, y'know." she speaks, voice soft as she beckons you into her arms. when you glance into her beautiful blue eyes, you break immediately, dropping the cup from your hands and falling into her arms. her warmth envelopes you, and suddenly, it feels like you're right back to square one with the girl—like you're falling right back in love all over again, "it's okay,"

her words are sweet, but her face is the exact opposite. if you saw the twisted smile on her face, you would've known that this was all a trap, but your thoughts were all over the place, and you really needed her right now.

she nuzzles her face into your hair, breathing you in, "you can do better than him, any way." she knows exactly what she's doing, but she won't admit it, "and, y'know... i'm available." billie shrugs, tone still soft, "if you need a friend, of course."

you pull away, but not fully, keeping your arms around her waist so that she wouldn't leave. your faces are inches away, and you can feel the way her breath fans over your lips, plump and pink just how you remembered. her eyes flick down to your own pretty lips, finding it quite hard to keep herself under control at the close proximity you had her at.

this was wrong. you didn't even know if vincent was cheating, and you were still in the arms of your ex-girlfriend. but, then, why did it feel like it was meant to be? like you shouldn't have broken up with her all those years ago?

then again, she was also guilty of cheating on you with not one, not two, not three, and not even four—but five girls. all of which she'd been sneaking between every other day. but that hadn't crossed your mind even once tonight because... she could've changed. no—she did change.

you hoped.

you hoped she changed because you just kissed her. you really hoped she changed because now you were exchanging saliva in the middle of the backyard. you really, really hoped she changed because now she was guiding you through the rowdy crowd of teens and dragging you upstairs.

you really, really, really fucking hoped she changed because she was pushing you in the bathroom of your boyfriends house and locking the door behind her. you couldn't believe you got this far with her. with billie. your ex-girlfriend.

she's quick with her mouth and hands, multitasking as her ringed fingers slip under your skirt and massage your thighs, all while her tongue leaves a trail of fire from your lips to your neck. her plump lips suction onto your neck, and you squirm. just as sensitive as she remembered. your own hands are busy tugging at her beanie that you're growing to hate due to it restricting you access to her soft hair.

you yank it off her head out of frustration, throwing it aside on the bathroom counter that was filled with your makeup products and some of your boyfriends hair gel and whatever the hell else he used. billie's quick to rid the counter of all of it in less than a minute, though, grabbing your waist and hoisting you up onto the cool marble.

the way she looks up at you through her lashes, blue eyes so soft yet so dangerous. this was dangerous. it was so dangerous that you were falling right back into her, lips pressing hungrily against her own. her tongue easily slipped between your lips, groaning eagerly as your muscles clashed, fighting for dominance. billie won easily, her triumphant laugh muffled against your mouth.

"billie," you whisper, words slurred due to the exchange of saliva with your ex, "bill—" she just huffs with a shake of her head, head lowering back down to the crook of your neck, continuing her slow torture on your skin. her teeth sunk into your skin, smile growing wider at the way you whined. so needy for her.

her tongue soothed the bite before moving on to the next spot, creating an array of hickeys along your neck that definitely wouldn't be able to be covered with any amount of makeup.

your hands were still in her hair, tugging painfully hard. billie didn't care. she just wanted to make you feel good again—make you hers again. her eyes flickered all across your neck as she pulled away, smiling proudly at her work before her eyes moved back to you. her own hands snaked further up your thighs, ringed fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, all while keeping eye contact.

maybe you didn't hate it as much as you thought.

"really?" billie gasps, an amused look plastered on her stupid, sexy face. hanging from her index and middle fingers were the lacy black panties she bought you the day before yoi broke her heart, "still wearin' them even while you're with that little boyfriend of yours, huh?" she muses, stuffing them in her back pocket for everyone to see once you and her left the confined space.

your face flushes pink, biting your lip and tugging her closer by her hair, "just touch me already..." you whine, not being able to look her in the eyes anymore. not that you were doing very well at that in the first place, "please." you add. you knew how much she hated whenever you had no manners, "bills, please."

she chuckles at your needy tone, hands coming back down to part your thighs, granting her access to your dripping core. you held your skirt up upon hearing her mumbled request, your other hand still tangled tightly in her dark brown strands. her fingers ran through your wet folds, biting her lip at how soaked you were.

she cursed under her breath, inhaling deeply to ground herself before she quickly discarded her rings and let them drop onto the counter with quiet thuds. her fingers were back on your cunt in seconds, parting your lips and teasing you just because she wanted to. your little gasps and whimpers were anything but quiet, and they were music to her ears.

her index and middle fingers slowly pushed into your hole, exhaling shakily at the wet sound that echoed in the rather large bathroom. your walls were so tight around her digits, but they fit so perfectly inside. almost like you were meant to be together.

in her head, you two belonged together.

"wasn't ever able to find someone as perfect as you," she mutters, eyes glued to the way your pussy swallowed her fingers so willingly, so easily without any resistance.

she shakes her head at all the memories, some of which were so scattered she couldn't even remember the girls' names. but that's not what she was focused on right now. she was only focused on you. only you could satiate her needs, her hunger, "found it hard to find someone like you," she whispers, leaning closer to kiss your cheek.

"'cause nobody could ever compare." billie breathes, listening carefully to your strained moans and soft whines of her name, "nobody." she makes her point clear with a curl of her fingers, the pads of them rubbing against the special spot inside of you that she had no trouble finding.

your own fingers curl around the fabric of your skirt and the dark strands of her hair. the way she was speaking made you feel like you were the only girl in the world, and the way she was touching you... it made you crazy, absolutely feral for more and more of her.

babbles of her name fall from between your lips repeatedly, the plump skin swollen from how hard you were biting down. she was gonna kill you if she kept this up.

a knock on the door did nothing to stop billie's movements or her mouth from working you up. nothing would ever hold her back from making you feel good. not even if it meant somebody finding out what you two were doing because, frankly, she didn't care.

all she cared about right now was getting you off and getting you back.

"doin' so good for me. such a perfect, obedient girl." billie praises, her hand coming up to cup your cheek, making you look into her deep blue eyes. the smile paired with it only further pushed you toward that edge, "y'missed me?" she teases, biting her lip as she pumps her fingers in and out of your pussy at a quicker pace.

you nod mindlessly, head blank of all things except for billie. when her lips met yours again, you melted into her touch, crying quietly against her mouth from the pleasure. you loved it when she was like this—so soft and so nice to you, so caring of your needs even though you two were broken up.

"tongue—'m'want your tongue," you murmur between moans, panting harshly from how close you were getting. you held it back, although it seemed impossible, because you wanted—you needed to cum on her tongue.

fuck your boyfriend, he wasn't even a thought in your mind anymore, and billie was quick to notice as soon as you began—or attempted—to push her head down.

billie raised an eyebrow in amusement, her lower lip tucked between her teeth as she gave you a bashful smile. she didn't know why she was getting all nervous so suddenly, but it definitely had some connection to the way you pleaded with your eyes—the eyes that she was always getting lost in.

so, without having to hear another word, she dropped to her knees on the hard tiled floors of the bathroom. her jeans did nothing to break her fall, but she wasn't worried about the bruises that would form on her knees the next morning or the scuffs that the tiles would leave on her pants. she was only worried about not having enough time with you, worried that you might come to your senses and leave her again.

not that she wouldn't be able to get you back, but the thought was still scary.

her fingers caressed your walls so gently, moving at a pace that wasn't too slow or too fast, a pace that was perfect for the both of you. when her lips wrapped around you clit, though, it felt too little and also too much all at the same time. billie was making you lose it completely.

you let your skirt fall atop of her head, too fucked-out of your mind to hold it anymore. now both of your hands were pulling her closer by her hair, nails scratching her scalp both soothingly and painfully, but she loved it. gosh, she couldn't think of anything that felt better.

"fuck 'em." billie murmured, the words not getting to your ears but the vibrations going straight to your throbbing cunt. she shook her head back and forth lightly, her tongue moving along with it, flicking over your clit perfectly. your thighs were shaking, threatening to close because you were almost off that edge.

the wet, squelching sounds of her fingers slamming into your pussy echoed in the large bathroom, filling both yours and billies ears. it only added to the sounds of your moans, and it was driving billie insane—she wasn't sure she'd be able to stop herself even after you came, "bab—billie, billie, billie!"

"'m'cumming—gonna cum all over your face, bills!" you warn, voice shaky and high-pitched.

she barely heard what you said, but by your tone, she was told all she needed to hear. the speed of her fingers picked up, and she sucked on your clit even harsher than before, eyes fluttering shut and just listening to you.

she would listen to your moans every day if she could.

her hands squeezed your thighs comfortingly, urging you to cum. she needed it, maybe even more than you. when your breaths came out in short gasps and your body shook furiously momentarily, she smiled proudly.

as you came down from your high, she continued to lap at your pussy, fingers slowing to help ride it out for a few seconds. a whine sounded from her throat whenever your hands began to push her away, but she pulled back with a disappointed groan. your eyes widened in adoration when you finally got a look at her face.

your slick was dripping down her chin, her lips swollen eyes pouty from having to stop so soon. nonetheless, she gave you a dopey smile, her blue eyes so pretty and blue you were scared that you'd drown in them. not that you'd mind, anyway.

her fingers slid out you slowly, her eyes trained on yours to see every little reaction you made. billie's smile only grew when she showed off her fingers, slick with your sticky cum. when she spread her fingers, it made a web between them. a quiet curse fell from her pretty lips as she brought them closer to her lips, her free hand squeezing your thigh again.

now it was your turn to be utterly mesmerized. billie's lips parted as she pushed her own fingers inside her mouth, sucking on them in such a lewd manner. you pulled at your skirt, wrinkled from how hard you were gripping it earlier—something your boyfriend was definitely gonna comment on later—but it didn't matter. you couldn't continue to lead him on after getting fucked and falling back in love with your ex.

billie's plan worked, and you knew nothing about it.

"just as sweet as i remember." she states, drying her hands on one of the many towels your boyfriend had hanging behind the door. you almost felt bad, but when billie turned back to you with the sweetest smile on her face, you forgot all about it.

before doing anything else, she grabbed her beanie from the floor, putting it on her head and not even bothering to fix it before turning to you again.

she took your hand in hers, helping you hop off the counter and onto your feet again. when you stumbled, billie caught you instantly, hands gripping your waist tightly and pulling you closer to her, "woah, okay, maybe you're not in the best condition for walking." she jokes with a laugh, eyes scanning over your half-annoyed-half-happy face.

"good thing i'm here, right?" in one swift movement, she's carrying you bridal style, a smug smirk playing on her face.

you roll your eyes at her teasing words, but as she begins to move, your face drops. your hands are gripping at her neck in an instant, scared that she might drop you or something. but, her grip is tight, and she's holding you with more care than your boyfriend could even express, "relax, ma."

the nickname makes your heart flutter, eyes snapping to billie's only to find yourself falling even deeper in love—if that was even possible.

yeah. now you were sure you'd never find anyone like her.

TAGS. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livvydunneness @vyntagess @afteraftercare @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @stonerfromlesbos @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @karaeilishh @mybluebossanova @sturnsmia @hopelessfawn @zayluvss @meliciousmel13

[buckybabesonly]

as long as we're together (does it matter where we go?)

Summary: You don't want to be a burden to Bucky, knowing he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Pairing: Bucky x Female!OC

Genre: Angst

Length: 7.8k

Two years ago

“I don’t think I want to be with you anymore.”

Bucky had expected it. Weeks of you being distant, making secret phone calls, avoiding his touches like they physically hurt you. Countless times Bucky had asked, what's wrong?, only for you to shut him down and say that everything was fine. Bucky was sick of hearing that empty, meaningless mantra, but it didn’t mean that he reveled in your confession now.

Even though it didn't come as a surprise, it still felt like a punch to the gut. It physically winded him to hear those words leave your lips.

He wondered what he did wrong. He wondered where they went wrong. They were so in love, so wonderfully content in each other's company. You were his person. Steve had once told Bucky that he would find someone unexpectedly, when Bucky made an off-hand comment about how lucky he was to have met Peggy.

“You’ll find your Peggy.”

Things had been perfect. Or maybe Bucky had just been in denial, ignoring all the problems between you because he thought that his feelings for you triumphed over everything, no matter what hardships you may have been suffering from. How could he ever face the reality that you might actually leave in pursuit of something better?

Now, Bucky’s chest was tight with an indescribable feeling, both of you stood in your shared apartment. Your belongings stuffed into a black suitcase, Bucky’s heart in pieces on the hardwood floor.

He had expected it, but it didn't stop him from wanting to die.

"Why?" It was all he could ask. He wanted to know the reason, wanted to understand. Wanted to know if he could fix it. He was desperate to make you stay.

Bucky stared at your face. You looked so...indifferent. Unattached, in contrast to the woman he had met all those years ago. Where had the softness in your eyes gone? Why couldn’t you meet his pleading gaze, even now? At what point did your feelings for him start to fade, and was there anything he could have done to salvage it?

Your face was a blank slate, emotionless, and it made Bucky feel a truly troubling combination of sadness and anger. It was as if you had already said your goodbyes to their relationship, completely ready to move on whilst Bucky was still trying to process your words. You were ready to leave him behind to mourn.

“I don’t think we’re right for each other,” you had said quietly. “I don’t think we can give each other what we need.”

"Bullshit," Bucky said, his voice cracking. You grimaced ever so slightly at his tone, still unable to meet his eyes. "How can you say that?"

He took a step forward; you matched it with a retreating step, but with wide strides he seized your wrists. He silently willed you to say something which could somehow lessen the excruciating pain.

“Will you just look at me?”

He wanted so badly for you to meet his stare, to find some source of comfort within your eyes which usually held so much love for him.

Finally, you relented and lifted your head. They did not fill Bucky with any hope. You pressed your lips together firmly as he searched your face desperately for any sign of residual affection.

"We - we're in love. How can you say after all these years that we're not right for each other? For fuck's sake, will you just tell me what happened?"

"People change, Bucky," you said softly. The look on your face - was it sadness, or apathy? "We've become too distant."

"And whose fault is that?" Bucky released you then. He was so angry, wanting to elicit some sort of reaction from you, that he wanted to punch the wall beside them. It made him feel nauseous at how stoic you were now, like a piece of unyielding rock. He knew you hated it when he took his anger out physically. You had been the one to teach him how to manage his rage more constructively, to talk things out and use his words rather than his fists.

"Are you trying to say it's mine?" Your tone was sharp, finally demonstrating some emotion. "Are you saying that all those nights waiting for you to come back home, all those evenings alone whilst you stayed at the Tower, all those hours I spent staring at the four walls of this apartment were my fault?"

"You left me!" Bucky retorted, gritting his teeth. "You left me long before today! You think I haven't noticed? You can barely stand touching me. You're always on your phone, always texting, always out seeing your 'friends'," he said, making air quotes. "I asked Wanda, she said you haven't been meeting her or your other friends for weeks. Who's this 'friend’? Who the fuck is it that's so important that you can't spare any time for me, never mind your actual friends?"

A long, pregnant pause filled the air, an indecipherable mask on your face once more. Bucky’s eyes were wet, and if he hadn't been so angry, he would've seen the way your lower lip was trembling ever so slightly, the way it did whenever you were trying not to cry. It had been the biggest telltale sign for him over the years to know when you were upset and trying your best to hide it.

He was usually so good at reading you, but he was blinded with sadness.

"Fine," you said eventually, slicing the silence with a shaky exhale. "I'm seeing someone else."

You might as well have struck Bucky across the face.

Suspecting it and hearing the words fall from your lips were two different things. He physically reeled back in anguish as he stared at you. He took in the sight of his girlfriend in front of him, swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. This was, without a doubt, the woman he had met five years ago. The woman he spent five years loving. The woman whom he recognized no longer.

"Why?" Bucky whispered, all the fight leaving his body. He physically seemed to sag, forehead creasing at all the other questions running through his mind, visions of you being touched and fucked by some faceless, nameless man.

You were almost pitiful in the way you looked at Bucky, and he hated it.

"I care for you, Bucky. But I’m not in love with you anymore. And I'm sorry I had to do this to you. Things just got out of control."

I’m not in love with you anymore.

You offered no further information, but he had stopped listening, anyway. The finality in your voice pierced him slowly, tortuously, through the heart. He barely moved when you took your suitcase and pulled it out behind you, out of their apartment. Out of his life.

The door slammed shut.

Present day

You are cordially invited to attend the wedding of Mercedes Knight & Samuel Wilson

Sam had become Bucky’s closest confidant in the past few years, and the latter had been a close witness as Sam met Mercedes ‘Misty’ Knight, a former NYPD officer who had somehow become roped into their crazy world. It was no surprise to Bucky when they announced their engagement just six months into dating.

Bucky found himself being pulled into their wedding planning discussions far too often. He tried to keep an amused smile at bay whilst listening into Misty and Sam’s wedding talk at the Tower. They were using one of the many conference rooms - a Knight-Wilson union was official business, Misty insisted.

"Are you bringing a date?" Misty asked suddenly in the middle of everything, the question directed at Bucky.

"Of course he's bringing a date," Sam smirked. "Heard things with Sharon are going well, right?"

Bucky smiled non-committedly, shrugging. "She's great." It didn’t go unnoticed by Sam that this didn’t quite answer his question.

"You two look good together," Misty offered. She glanced at her watch and widened her eyes theatrically, grabbing Sam’s hand. "Oh crap, we need to go meet with the wedding planner."

"But it feels like we just sat down," Sam complained.

"There's no rest for the bride and groom, Sam," Misty said, pulling her fiancé out of his seat as she waved goodbye at Bucky.

As soon as they departed, the smile on Bucky’s face dimmed. He was beyond happy for his two friends, he really was - but every couple he knew was a fresh reminder of his own failed love life.

Ever since you, he hadn't been in a long term relationship. Sharon is different, he told himself, and she was. They had been friends for a long time, and of course spent a lot of time together carrying out missions and the like. Over time, somehow, they had gotten closer, and one day Sharon had just asked him, “So when are you going to ask me out, Barnes?”

At that point, Bucky was still frequently thinking about you. Sharon had never met you before, but Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if she had heard stories about you from the others, since he had been notoriously affected by the breakup. Even though he was dealing with the aftershocks of the broken relationship, he was forcing himself to get past it.

They had been dating for two months now, and it only seemed right for Sharon to be his date at the wedding.

He had moved on. He was no longer the depressed, dark wreck he was when you left.

Sometimes it’s better to lie to yourself than to face the reality.

“You invited Bucky’s ex to the wedding?” Misty asked curiously.

“Uh, yeah. She’s not just his ex,” Sam explained gently. “She’s my friend too, and I haven’t seen her since she left town.”

"You told Bucky?"

"Nope," Sam snorted, shaking his head. "I can't. I don't think he'd turn up if I did. I want them both there on the day - I'm sure they can be civil for one night."

“I wonder how Bucky will react," his future wife pondered.

Sam shrugged. Not well, probably.

"What else can I do? I can’t not invite her, I really want her to be there. You never met her, so you don’t know, but she’s been through some shit.”

“I know, I know, you told me,” Misty said. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt. Do you think she'll be okay seeing Bucky again? Especially if he'll be there with Sharon?"

"She said she can handle it. She would be happy to see that Bucky was happy. She was the one who practically begged me to encourage him to move on."

“Do you think he has?”

Sam paused, considering the question carefully.

“He has to.”

Several weeks later, Misty Knight and Sam Wilson were officially wed at the local registration office. The day was full of hugs, cacophonous laughter, friends and family, and Bucky watched with a wide beam on his face as he witnessed his friends glow. Those kinds of smiles were few and far between nowadays, but he was truly happy for once.

"They look so good together," Sharon murmured as hundreds of guests filled the hotel ballroom, the party commencing in full swing. The newlyweds were in the center of the room, Misty being twirled around wildly by a laughing Sam before his wife collapsed against his chest in fits of giggles, looking up into his eyes adoringly.

More and more people joined them on the dance floor after the conclusion of their official first dance.

"Barnes, would you like to dance?" Sharon asked suddenly with a smile, extending a hand.

Bucky chuckled, allowing her to take his hand and lead him out to the dance floor.

An hour passed, and Bucky had to truthfully say that he was enjoying himself, assisted by all the alcohol he had consumed. Sharon was draped all over him as they swayed to the music, and Bucky found himself appreciating the feel of her body against his all too much, the scent of her intoxicating. His hands felt the fabric of her silky, emerald green dress, buried his nose into Sharon's blonde hair, sighing softly as he tightened his grip on her waist.

Her perfume was strong and woodsy, like a forest. It irritated his nose ever so slightly. You had preferred a more subtle, floral perfume, one that smelt like sakura blossoms.

Sharon was more confident and seductive in the way she danced, whilst you used to always let yourself become putty in his arms, enjoying how he took the lead and managed to make you look like you knew how to dance despite your two left feet.

However, despite the differences, if Bucky closed his eyes and just tried a little harder, he think he could pretend that -

"Sorry to interrupt.”

Bucky pulled away from Sharon suddenly, and he turned to mock glare at Sam. "What do you want, Wilson?"

"Need to borrow you for a minute," Sam said, an undecipherable expression on his face. Bucky tried to see where Misty had disappeared off to, but saw no trace.

"Um, sure..." Bucky tried to read Sam’s face but gleaned nothing.

"I'll just go say hi to Natasha," Sharon said, giving Bucky’s forearm a squeeze before she disappeared.

Sam’s smile faded, and he caught Bucky’s arm in a vice grip. "I need to tell you something. Don't get mad, okay?"

"What?" Bucky scowled as Sam dragged him to the side of the room, weaving through the crowds of guests. "What good news starts with, ‘don’t get mad’? Are you gonna tell me you want to run out on Misty or something?" He joked.

Sam pulled him out through one of the open French doors which led to a pretty, outdoor stone balcony. He shut them behind him as Bucky continued to babble, a little tipsy from the champagne he'd had. "I gotta tell ya, if she asks me to kick your ass I will literally do so -”

"Bucky," Sam said, taking a deep breath. "She’s here." Meeting Bucky’s nonplussed eyes, your name rolled off Sam’s tongue in clarification.

He felt like the breath was sucked from his lungs as he stared back at Sam, who looked uncharacteristically anxious.

“What?" He asked hoarsely, instantly sobering up. “What do you mean?”

Chills were running through his body. The name he had avoided for years was suddenly causing him to feel breathless. How did you still have such an affect on him?

"She couldn't make it to the ceremony earlier today, but she just arrived."

"You - you invited her here? She’s here, now?"

"Yes," Sam replied, nodding. "I invited her.” He straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest almost defiantly.

Bucky was speechless for a moment, taking a step back and scoffing. He shook his head. “Do you remember what she did to me?”

“I'm sorry, Buck..."

Bucky suddenly laughed, startling Sam. His laugh was curt, humorless. "What are you sorry for? I'm over her, Sam. It was two years ago. I haven't seen her in two years. I don't care anymore," he said quickly. Too quickly.

"Listen -"

"Look, it's okay." Bucky raised his hands in small surrender. “You have the right to invite whoever you want. I’m not mad. But I just don’t want to be held accountable for whatever happens now.”

He turned and wrenched the French doors open with such force that the handle buckled slightly. The noise inside the ballroom spilled out to replace the painful silence on the balcony.

He disappeared inside before Sam could say anything else, and he tried to hide it, but Sam could clearly see that his hands were shaking as he marched inside.

For the next twenty minutes, Bucky found sanctuary in the restrooms. He stood inside the stall, trying to stop himself from mentally collapsing.

He didn’t know what was happening. He had never felt this overwhelming panic rush over him before, immobilizing him. Anger, sadness and yearning swirling inside a melting pot of emotions that was crippling him.

She was here. The woman he hadn't seen in two years, the woman who broke his heart, the woman who betrayed him, the woman who left him in tatters.

Your infidelity had had an unforeseen impact on him. When he first found out, he was devastated. Terrified of how you became someone he didn’t recognize - or had you always been someone capable of betraying him, just good at hiding it?

You had poisoned all the happy memories they had once shared. Bucky found himself recounting all the years you were together, micro-analyzing everything, wondering if there was a hidden lie behind it all.

That was one of the things which made him angriest. You turned all the beautiful years of your relationship into a lie. None of it was real, Bucky had told himself.

You crushed him.

Of his feelings, anger prevailed, slowly simmering to the surface, like a volcano about to erupt. How dare you walk back into his life like this? He would show you, Bucky thought with determination. He was over you. He had no reason to be angry, he thought bitterly, because you were nothing to him.

Just like Bucky was nothing to you.

When he emerged from the toilets, the first thing he did was find Sharon. She looked relieved to see him, although confusion was clear on her face as she eyed Bucky.

"Where have you been? Are you feeling okay?" She commented, brow furrowed with concern.

"I'm fine," Bucky assured her. "Have you seen Sam?"

Sharon pointed, puzzlement still painted across her face, and Bucky snapped round quickly.

And there you were.

It was as if you had never left. As if the past two years filled with Bucky trying to eradicate every memory and feeling he had for you had never happened, because as soon as Bucky’s eyes found you through the crowd, everything came collapsing back down on top of him like an avalanche. Suffocating.

You were still so beautiful, strikingly so. Like a burning beacon among the crowd, Bucky’s eyes found your face as easily as anything. For a second, he allowed himself to ignore anything except you, and how the sight of you still managed to take his breath away.

You looked thinner than he remembered, your face gaunt. Bucky frowned slightly at this acute observation and found himself wondering if you had been taking care of yourself.

"Barnes? You okay?"

Bucky registered Sharon shaking his arm, but his eyes remained fastened on yourself and Sam. Neither of you had spotted Bucky yet, who was rooted to the spot like a statue. Sam’s mouth was moving, words that Bucky couldn't hear escaping his mouth, but his expression was angry. Almost as if he was scolding you for something.

"I have to...I..." Bucky stumbled over his words, voice faint. He could feel those tendrils of anger slowly seizing him again, wisps at first, until they grew more and more potent by the second. He remembered every single thing he felt when you left him, and instead of trying to hold back the emotions, Bucky just saw red.

"Let me introduce you to someone," he said suddenly, his voice strained as he took Sharon's hand.

"You said you were better," Sam said, expression torn.

"I am," you lied, trying to put on a smile. Truth was, you were exhausted, just like how you always felt. The ballroom was so crowded and loud, and you just wanted to go back to the hotel and sleep, which you would the moment you finished congratulating Sam and Misty. And perhaps, even though you didn't want to admit it, you wanted to catch a glimpse of Bucky, too.

"Look at you, you're -"

“Sam, please don’t,” you interrupted gently. “Just drop it, please? It’s your big day, I don’t want you to worry about anything else.”

Sam opened his mouth to talk, but stopped suddenly, his eyes flitting to look behind you.

"Hey."

You froze. You knew that voice, of course. Heard it enough times, the deep, gravelly voice that had once whispered sweet pet names, proclamations of love, and plagued your dreams ever since you left him.

You had longed to hear his voice again, hear your name being spoken lovingly. His voice was your favorite sound in the world. Except tonight, hearing it for the first time in two years, you heard nothing but ice.

"Bucky?" You turned slowly, and your breath hitched. He was just the way you remembered him. Even more handsome, if possible. Clad in a sleek black tux, tall and dark and sexy, everything you had missed and dreamed of, and...

He was holding another woman’s hand.

"Bucky," Sam repeated, voice tense. Bucky could hear the underlying warning.

"It's been a while," he said stiffly, acting as neutral as he could. As if he hadn't spent months after their terrible break up being a shell of who he used to be, barely repaired even now. Bucky felt like any other venomous words from your mouth would shatter him again, but he had to take the chance. He had to talk to you, show you that he had moved on. He didn't care about you anymore, or how you so ruthlessly left him.

"Yes," you said weakly, smiling softly. God, he still thought that you looked beautiful, clad in a periwinkle blue dress, a thick coat draped around your shoulders. You were shivering, and Bucky resisted the urge to ask you what was wrong. Now that he was closer, he could see that didn’t look well at all. You had dark circles under your eyes and your collarbones were too prominent, your gaze devoid of any livelihood.

You glanced at Bucky’s fingers interlaced with a gorgeous blonde. You had seen her on the news before, you were pretty certain. Your smile forcibly stretched wider, blinking a few times, not knowing what to do with yourself.

"This is Sharon," Sam said, clearing his throat and exchanging introductions.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Sharon said politely. She was gorgeous, you thought, watching as she sent Bucky a subtle, questioning glance.

Bucky was still staring at you, unmoving. You took the initiative first.

“Bucky, can we talk for a second?"

You could see the way he was trying to control himself by the way his lips stiffened, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. He gave a curt nod. He didn’t want to cause a scene in front of Sharon and the other hundreds of wedding guests.

“Let’s leave these two to catch up,” Sam said lightly, trying to hide his discomfort as he led Sharon away.

"So now you want to talk?" Bucky asked as soon as they were out of earshot, his voice sharp. You cringed, almost folding into yourself at Bucky’s hard stare.

"Yes," was all you managed to whisper, eyes darting to the ground to avoid meeting his glare. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

You turned and walked towards the exit of the ballroom, turning back to look at Bucky. He followed after a second, his jaw set like stone as you led the way to the empty lobby outside, away from the noise.

"It's been a while, Buck.” You voice was sad as you turned to face him again.

"Yes," he said, fighting an internal battle. He was so torn. Seeing you again made him want to wrap you up in his arms like he would've done two years ago, when you were still together. And feeling like that made Bucky angry. What right did you have to make him feel this way? Who gave you the right to mess with Bucky’s heart again after so long?

"How have you been?" You asked eventually after a painfully awkward silence.

He scoffed at that. "How have I been?" He repeated incredulously. He doubted you really wanted to hear about all those nights he spent in his apartment, refusing to talk to his friends, being a complete social introvert (more than he usually was) because he felt like he just couldn't live anymore. Not without you.

"Great. Fantastic," he said without a shred of sincerity.

You stared at him for the longest time, your lips pressed into a thin line. You looked so regretful that it made Bucky feel uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," you said eventually, your voice wavering like you were struggling to breathe properly. "I'm so sorry for leaving you like that. We...we could have ended things better. You didn't deserve how I treated you."

You flinched when Bucky scoffed derisively. He dropped any remaining restraints he had previously put in place, letting all his feelings run free.

"Are you kidding me? Why? Why are you coming back here and apologizing after all this time?" He felt like he wanted to tear his hair out in frustration as he stared at you, making sure to keep his distance lest he found himself wanting to pull you closer. God, it was all so confusing. He despised you, and yet seeing you here in the flesh was everything he had ever wanted in the last few years.

He hated how you were making him feel.

"Look, it doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done," he spat through gritted teeth, all the while completely unaware of how your heart clenched painfully at Bucky’s scornful eyes. “Do you have any idea how unfair this is? You fucked up big time, disappeared off the face of the earth, then come back standing in front of me now asking how I am?”

“I know. You’re right, about everything. I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry.”

“No. You have no right to do this,” Bucky seethed. “You have no right to come back here and try to - what, settle your guilt? Make amends?”

You didn’t say anything, choosing to let him vent instead.

“I still remember the way you left. What you did. I will never forgive you for that. So don’t you dare stand in front of me today with all this bullshit and expect me to have something nice to say.”

"You really hate me, don't you?" You asked then, taking Bucky off guard. You lifted your head properly to stare at him, and the look in your eyes was unsettling.

"I hate you," Bucky confirmed unwaveringly, his voice hard. "I hate what you did to me and by extension, you."

You didn't respond. You bit your lower lip hard, trying desperately not to cry in front of him. Your heart hurt so much.

It was the worst feeling in the world, maybe, seeing the man you loved so dearly tell you that he hated you. It was excruciating, the clenching inside your chest as Bucky’s words rang in your head.

"I know my apologies will never be enough. I just wanted to see if you're happy now," you whispered.

"I'm happy," Bucky replied almost immediately. "I'm happy with Sharon. Does that bother you? Did you hope that I'd still be pining after you? I'm not that pathetic anymore." The barriers were broken, and the hurtful words were falling from Bucky’s mouth, two years worth of it.

“I never said you were pathetic,” you retorted, slightly indignant. “I’m glad that you’re happy.”

Bucky was breathing hard, unconvinced by your words.

“And how's the man you left me for?"

"He...it didn't work out," you shrugged, trying to keep your face as straight as possible.

"Good," Bucky said harshly. "Because you don't deserve happiness." If he wasn't so mad, he wouldn't say such irrational things. But he just wanted you to hurt. He wanted you to feel all the pain you caused.

Bucky pretended he didn't hear you gasp. He pretended that he didn't see your eyes gloss over at the sheer amount of hate in his voice.

"Okay," you said finally, your voice clearly shaking. "Okay," you repeated again, nodding your head. Bucky watched you take a step back, away from him.

“I -”

“I'm sorry, Bucky. Please take care," you interrupted, smiling sadly before you turned and walked away as quickly as possible.

That was not how you envisioned the reunion to go. All you wanted was to apologize, know that he was happy, so that you could go in peace.

But maybe that was the consequence of your decision. Maybe he was just always going to hate you for the rest of his life and remember you as someone awful.

You didn’t know that all Bucky wanted to do was run after you. Tell you to stop. He wanted to apologize and tell you how he didn’t mean a word of what he just said.

Rage and pride kept him shackled, and he watched your retreating back, feeling like a coward.

The last thing Bucky expected when he opened his apartment door a few days later was Sam’s dirty glare.

"You can be a mean son of a bitch, do you know that?”

"Hello to you too,” Bucky retorted.

“Why did you say all that stuff to her?” Sam asked, pushing his way past Bucky.

Bucky closed the door, knowing exactly who he was referring to.

"Why is this any of your business?"

"You acted like a dick!" Sam said furiously.

“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done something like that on your special day. But-”

“I want you to feel sorry to her.”

"She left me,” Bucky exclaimed. "You were there, Sam, you saw how fucked up she made me. She cheated on me! You want me to apologize to her?” His face was incredulous.

“You’re so fucking frustrating.”

“Oh, excuse me for not being the bigger person,” Bucky sneered. “But you don’t know how she made me feel, Sam, so don’t you dare try to give me a fucking lecture now.”

Sam was quiet for the longest time, looking exasperated. He stared up at the ceiling, sighing.

“Bucky, look man. She never cheated on you,” Sam said finally, an apologetic look in his eyes.

The apartment became filled with nothing but the sounds of Bucky’s heavy breathing.

“What are you talking about?” He spat, realizing now that Sam knew something he didn’t.

Sam let out a resigned sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I promised her I wouldn’t tell you. But fuck it, man, cause I think this is messed up. She’s sick, Bucky," he said solemnly. "Like, really sick."

Two years ago

"It's cancer, Sam."

You physically couldn't cry anymore. You had done enough of that the day the doctor had told you, your eyes puffy and swollen. Funnily enough, the first person you had sought out wasn’t your boyfriend, but rather his best friend.

Bucky wasn’t even in town that weekend, and you really didn’t want to tell him over the phone. In fact, you never wanted to tell him. How do you tell the man you love that you're dying?

"You can get treatment, right?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. It’s not looking good. They're doing some sort of new clinical trial in England, but even that’s a long shot. I - I’m going to try, though.”

Sam sat up straighter. “And Bucky?”

"You can't tell him," you said firmly. You had thought about it all night, and you knew you couldn't let him know. You didn't want to put him through something like this. "My father had cancer too, Sam," you said softly. "He died in so much pain, he had so much treatment but it didn't help. He was throwing up all the time, having fevers, his body was so weak, and by the end he wasn’t the same anymore. I don't want him to see me like that."

“But-”

“No buts,” you said. You had given it enough thought already. You knew that you would have to be very, very lucky to make it through this - the end was essentially inevitable. There was no way you would make Bucky bear witness to you succumbing to this illness the same way you had to watch your father.

It was the worst time of your life. You had told Bucky about it in the past, as he had never had a chance to meet your father since he passed away years before you met Bucky. Knowing what you did, you would never inflict that same experience on him.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I have to leave him.” You had been preparing yourself for what you needed to do all night. "If I go, there's a chance I might not come back, you understand that, right?"

"Don't say things like that," Sam said forcefully, clenching your hand. "Just stop. Bucky will support you all the way, you know that!"

"That’s exactly why I have to go by myself. I can't be selfish, Sam. I want him to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted. I can’t make him drop everything to make me his number one priority. Looking after me will take time and constant care. If I go to England, he will abandon everything and come. Manhattan is his home.”

Sam looked anguished and you knew that he was disagreeing with everything you had just said, but you plowed on.

"It’s not just a matter of time and effort. If he stays, he will watch me die, and I don’t want him to do that.” You began to cry, and Sam hugged you, wishing he could say something comforting.

“It’s okay," you said through the tears, even though every fiber in your body was telling you the opposite. You had been repeating these words to yourself all night, as if you would believe it if you said it enough times. "It’ll be okay."

Maybe you were being stupid, but you didn't care. You knew Bucky loved you with his body and soul, as did you. But you weren’t going to let him suffer over your illness. You wouldn't let the person you cared most about in the world see you slowly deteriorate.

You had been witness to how your father was clearly in a depressive state, and yet tried his hardest to pretend to be happy and fine around other people. You didn’t know if you had the strength or bravery to even pretend.

You began distancing yourself. Stopped trying to make conversation with Bucky, until the long, endless, random talks you used to share diminished into curt sentences. You stopped waiting for Bucky to come home, simply pretending that you didn't care. You became more secretive, furtively hiding your calls with your doctor and your mother.

There was no other man. You loved him and only him, and had been nothing but faithful. You didn't know what hurt more: having to lie to Bucky or the fact that he so easily believed you would betray him like that.

In the end, you had really regretted fabricating a story of infidelity. You should have just gone your separate ways without making him think that you had been unfaithful. But at that time, you wanted to find a quick solution that would make Bucky voluntarily detach himself from you. It seemed like a wise decision, but you really, really wish you hadn’t let him believe that you didn’t love him. It was truly the worst feeling in the world.

It was all over in a few weeks. You packed your things and left, trying not to cry with every heavy step you took towards the door of your apartment. You knew you were making the best decision for them both, surely.

Time would heal Bucky, and he would be happy again one day.

It just couldn’t be with you.

Present day

"She just didn’t want to feel like a burden to you, man," Sam said, shaking his head. "Why did you have to say all those things to her at the wedding?"

Bucky could register nothing else after Sam finished explaining everything. He was in disbelief, though he knew that there was no way Sam would fabricate a story like that.

Now, he could only think of the way he had shouted at you. The way he told you how much he hated you. The way you had left.

"Where is she?" Bucky whispered.

"She’s leaving today," Sam said tersely. "She’s going back to England. She was real sick for a long time, and she recovered a few months ago, but the cancer came back.”

He slipped a hotel business card into Bucky’s hand. “This is the address she’s staying at," Sam said.

He grasped it like a lifeline, eyes unable to see Sam standing in front of him. His vision was completely filled with images of you.

"Go," Sam said forcefully. "Go and find her.”

The tears wouldn't stop falling.

You didn't know words could hurt so much. Sure, you had expected Bucky to hate you, but you weren’t prepared for the way every single word seemed to embed themselves into your skin like splinters into your heart.

They were once so happy. They were so perfect.

You hated yourself. Hated yourself for getting ill, for ruining what you had. The logic was irrational, but the self-hatred had become second nature.

You had spent the last few days holed up in your hotel. You had planned to use the time to see a few friends before returning to England, but you no longer had the heart.

You left your room that morning only because Wanda was furious that she missed you at the wedding, and you agreed to have coffee with her. She almost cried at the sight of you, but you put on a brave face, refusing to talk about Bucky. You begged her if you could just talk about happy topics and she eventually obliged, smiling sadly when you hugged each other goodbye.

“I’ll see you again, dear,” Wanda had said, and you hoped to God she was right.

As soon as you got inside your hotel room, you felt a switch click internally.

Everything hurt. You were tired, unhappy and you really didn’t know if you would ever make it out of this emotional blackhole. You felt so weak, like you would keel over at any given moment.

Cancer really was a bitch.

You kicked off your shoes and entered the bathroom. You lay down in the bathtub, fully clothed, turning the cold water on until you were almost completely submerged, wanting to numb all the pain inside your body and mind.

You eyes were red and swollen, and you couldn't remember crying so much since that day the doctor diagnosed you. Why was life so unfair? You wanted your old life back again. The life where Bucky didn't detest you, the one where he was happily and wonderfully in love with you.

You lay back, letting the water cover you completely. You closed your eyes, your hair gently swirling around your face. You opened your mouth and screamed, bubbles erupting to the surface.

Eventually you emerged, gasping and coughing, your tears hot in contrast to your frozen face. Your body wracked with sobs, shaking uncontrollably.

You sank back down into the water, your mouth opening once more to scream in uncontrollable rage. It was cathartic, your fists clenched into balls as you willed the feelings inside you to just - disappear.

When you opened your eyes beneath the water, you nearly gasped at the sight of a blurry, warped figure above you. You didn't have time to do anything when arms were suddenly encasing themselves around you, lifting you to the surface.

You spluttered and coughed, your ears assaulted by the voice that once whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

"- the fuck are you doing? Are you okay?"

Bucky.

You blinked past the water in your eyes, bewildered at the sight of him, kneeling beside the bathtub with his hands gripping your shoulders. His bright blue eyes were scared, wide open with concern.

You were startled at his sudden appearance, unable to say anything as he scooped you out, lifting you with ease. You were clearly in shock and scared.

You collapsed against him as he sat down on the bathroom floor with you in his arms.

"What were you doing?” Bucky was appalled as he pulled you close to him, watching how you continued to weep, blinking blearily at him. Your body was ice cold, every inch of you soaked.

He whipped a towel down from the railing beside you, wrapping it around your body as you shivered uncontrollably.

"Bu - Bucky?" You asked, as if you couldn't fathom why he was here. You were almost convinced you were hallucinating.

"Fuck, we need to get you out of these clothes," Bucky said, gritting his teeth as he tried not to cry. He had so much to say to you. He wanted you to know how sorry he was, how he didn't mean anything he said, but now wasn’t the time. He had to be strong for you.

You felt like a baby as Bucky removed your soaking wet garments until you were naked, then immediately swaddled you with more towels. He picked you up completely off the floor and took you out of the bathroom.

He chose to place you down on the edge of the bed, positioning himself to kneel down in front of you.

"Bucky," you whispered, voice thick, trying to pull away from him. “I think you should just leave me alone."

He stiffened. It scared him to hear you talk like this, to see you look at Bucky with such defeat in your eyes.

“No,” he said resolutely. “I'm here now, okay? I'm here, I'm not leaving, and I need you to be with me. I need you here, talking to me.”

"I can't. I can't do this anymore. Just go, please."

Bucky looked at you then. Really looked at you. The woman he loved and misunderstood for so long was now a trembling wreck in front of him, skin paper thin and trembling like a leaf. You looked so vulnerable and sad, and it made his heart twist.

Bucky suddenly held you tight against his chest, tucking his nose against the crook of your neck, and you didn't resist.

"Do you have any idea how much I hate myself? I hate myself for letting you go through this alone. I hate myself for telling you all those lies that night. I love you, I love you, I love you," Bucky said, wishing that you would see it.

“Don’t.”

“I wish you had told me. I would have helped you. You should have told me. I can’t believe you -”

You realized now that Sam must've told him the truth, and you sighed softly.

"I'm not good for you, Bucky," you whispered. "I will only ever hurt you, put you through more pain."

"I know everything now," Bucky said firmly. "No matter what happens, I will gladly endure it as long as it means we're no longer apart."

“Don’t be so stupid,” you said, anger tearing through your voice, though the tears were still falling. “I’m broken, Buck. I can’t give you a future. Please just find someone else - stay with Sharon.”

“Sharon?” If you hadn’t mentioned her name, Bucky would never have even thought about her. “No - we’re not serious, doll. She was never going to be the one.”

“No,” you insisted. “If not her, then fine, find someone else. Just not me.”

“Why aren’t you listening?” Bucky asked furiously. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Please don’t do this. I need you." He was desperate to make you see, to make you understand. It was you or nothing. "You don’t know how awful the past few years have been. I don’t want to be apart from you, please.” He was prepared to grovel at your feet and beg.

He hated himself for how easily he gave up two years ago. This time, he was not letting you leave him.

His beautiful blue eyes pleaded with you, and you felt your barricades crumble. Your arms finally moved to wrap around him, and he felt a wave of relief as he encircled you in his arms. You had missed this, the feeling of Bucky holding you so tenderly.

You didn’t know if you were making the right choice, but you wanted to give in so badly and just let yourself be selfish and enjoy what time you could have together. And now that Bucky had you back by his side, he was definitely not going to let you go.

Even if they were in pieces, at least they were together. And Bucky was positive that they could put those pieces back into a whole, as long as you gave it a chance.

"You're so stupid," you said through your tears.

"I don't think so," Bucky said, managing the smallest smile. "Just stupidly in love with you."

You wanted to stay like this forever, entangled in each others arms. He pulled back slowly to study your face, and leaned in to press a gentle kiss against your lips. He kissed you again, deeper this time, breathing you in.

“You owe me two years of kisses,” he mumbled.

You laughed softly, but it soon died. First, you had a lot of talking to do. You used the following hour to tell him the details about your illness, why you had left, how sorry you were for treating Bucky the way you did when you broke up with him.

"You're so dumb," Bucky had said, sounding furious for a moment. "You had no right to decide something like that for me. You know I would support you.”

"I know, Buck," you had interrupted. "That's exactly why I had to leave. I didn't want you to see me die, okay?"

You had looked like you were about to cry again, so Bucky stopped scolding you immediately. He would never make you cry again, he swore.

"You're here now," he said, kissing your temple. "We're together now. Everything feels...right again."

You swallowed, biting your lip. "I told you, my cancer is back and -"

"You'll get better again," he said, refusing to look at you. You knew that tears were in his eyes. "You'll get better, okay?" His voice wavered slightly.

"It's worse this time, Bucky," you said. "Look at me. I'm practically withering away."

"You'll get better," he said, clenching his teeth.

You didn't say anything, just nestled against Bucky’s chest, relishing the way he wrapped his arms securely around your frame as if you would disappear at any moment.

Maybe he was right. Maybe by some miracle, with Bucky by your side, you would be able to give him all the time in the world.

"I'll try to stick around," you whispered.

[xmalereader]

Viktor Targaryen x Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

SUMMARY: An AU regarding The house of dragons and arcane, Viktor is the second born child of King Targaryen and king to be, but Viktor doesn’t want the iron throne, nor does he want to stay in Dragonstone.

WARNINGS/CONTENT: Fluff, family history, no incest, sibling bonding, slight sexism and misogyny, Viktor is a good brother, OC dragon name, high valyrian, Viktors mother, mentions of Jayce, Piltover is a growing kingdom, short interaction with reader, non accurate GOT and HOTD lore.

WC: 2.0K

NOTES: I don’t know SHIT about game of throne or house of dragons 😅 but based on the little research I did and very few random episodes hopefully I am able to make this story make sense. It won’t really fit within the GOT universe so don’t judge me for the changes I will be making! But I just had to write this because Viktor just reminded me of the Targaryens due to the white hair when he was inside the arcane.

Viktor Targaryen was the second born child of King Targaryen, brother to Rhaenyra Targaryen. Only difference about him was that both siblings had a different mother, same father. Viktors mother was a commoner, a low life, as one would say and yet, she found a way to capture the kings heart. Rheanyra wasn’t too happy about her fathers marriage thinking that the women was only seducing her father in order to get her way only to realize that she was a very kind hearted women who wanted nothing to do with the Iron Throne.

When she fell pregnant with Rheanyra’s new baby brother she at first didn’t like the idea of having a brother, knowing that he would be the one to take over the throne and not her. Just as her father had promised her she knew that the promise would be broken the minute her brother would be born, being granted approval as the new future king.

Only Viktor never wanted the crown.

When Viktor got older he would remember hearing the murmurs of the council discussing on who would take over the throne after his father passes. Many in the council wanted Viktor to take over, but even he knew he wouldn’t be a proper king. His sister was perfect for the throne, he’s seen the way people bend to the knee for her, even their dragons bowed to her. She was the rightful heir, not him.

The first time the council called for him to take the throne he refused. It didn’t matter if he was the first born son, the crown wasn’t his and he wouldn’t take it away from someone who it did belong to. Things didn’t get better for Viktor, his father continued to grow ill and his own mother passed from the grey mist, air that poisoned her lungs until she could no longer breath anymore.

The council continued to push him to accept the crown and each time he rejected it.

Rhaenyra had noticed her brothers anger and was the one to approach him about it. Finding him out on the terrace where he overlooked their people, a frown on his face as the moonlight shined down upon them.

“You’re angry.”

He’s quiet when hearing her words.

Rhaenyra lets out a deep sigh through her nose. The two already knew where this was going, no matter how hard she tried the throne would never be given to her all because she was a women. A women that couldn’t lead a kingdom to peace, but Viktor knows that she can. He’s seen it in her.

“The council wants me to claim the iron throne. No matter how many times I refuse they will never stop.” Viktor finally says and looks over his shoulder to find his sister, looking at him with an upset expression of her own.

“They won’t stop until you sit on that throne.”

“I know that.”

Viktor never liked the idea of being a ruler. Yes, he wanted to help humanity without being needed anything in return. If he could do that he would, but the council would refuse him and expect him to follow along the traditions, keeping everything in balance for future generations.

His own father only spoke to the people whenever they entered their castle for help, he was never out in the streets and facing the reality of their suffering. Viktor had seen it, he had seen the terrible conditions his people lived in and no matter how much he wanted to help them he wouldn’t be able to without claiming the throne which would restrict him from doing things his own way.

Which is why he believes his own sister could be a better ruler then him. She would follow the traditions while also finding a way to help their people in her own ways.

“You should be on that throne, not me.” Viktor suddenly says, catching Rhaenyra by surprise as she approached him, standing by his side. His eyes locking with hers. “You’re the rightful heir to the iron throne, they may not see it but I do.” He’s heard the councils murmurs and distaste about the idea of her being the one to take over when both he and his father knew that she was the rightful one.

“You know they won’t allow it.”

“You’re right, they won’t.” He gentle takes her hand into his gloved one. “If I’m not here.” He sees the look of disbelief in his sisters eyes, he has thought about this for a very long time. The only way he’d be free from the crown is if he left, disappeared from this place that he once called home.

“You can’t leave, you’re my brother.”

“A brother who is holding their sister back from claiming what is rightfully theirs.”

Both siblings have grown close throughout the years that there were times where they were inseparable always attached to the hip and helping each other out. He was there when his sister first bared a child, the fear in her eyes when she refused help from the maids, afraid of facing a similar outcome as her mother. He was always there for her just as she was for him the day he lost his mother, watching as they tossed her coffin into the sea where the ocean waters claimed her as theirs.

But now, Viktor has to be the one to make the hard choices.

Rhaenyra is at lose for words, unable to say anything. She can see it in her brothers eyes that there is no way in convincing him to stay. So, she gives him a silent goodbye. Her forehead is pressed against his the two taking in their final moment together before Viktor pulls away first, giving her a sad smile.

“ēva īlon rhaenagon arlī.”

And with that final goodbye he leaves his sister.

Escaping into the dead of night he mounts his dragon, Xanthus, and takes off. Disappearing from his family line and being known as the ‘The Lost Child’.

Viktor had no idea where he was even going, he had no plan nor did he know anyone that he can ask for assistance. He couldn’t stay where his name was known nor could he be close to his own home.

So, Xanthus flew them out far.

Far from home and across the sea to a whole new world that Viktor didn’t know existed. Viktor didn’t think that he’d find a place meant for him until he stumbled upon an island called Piltover. It was rather small, but decent. The people there lived comfortably, but of course they had a council of their own and when Viktor first made an appearance with his dragon the place grew in panic, bells ringing in alert from his presence and causing the whole town to go into lockdown.

When Xanthus lands near the bridge that connected two different towns he was greeted with soldier wielding their weapons at him. The threat wasn’t taken lightly by Xanthus the large golden dragon ready to strike them down with a simple command that comes from his rider only it never came.

It wasn’t until a short man makes his way through the crowd of soldiers, hands behind his back as he stares up at Viktor and Xanthus. The man had a brightness in his eyes that somewhat eased Viktor.

“Magnificent beast.” The man didn’t seem scared of Xanthus which caught Viktor by surprise. Everyone back at home worshipped their dragons like gods, knowing how dangerous and powerful they can be and how impossible it was to kill a dragon.

The large beast releases a hiss towards the man. “Gīda.” He placed a hand on the dragons neck, providing soothing rubs as he calms the dragon down from doing anything harsh.

“Magnificent.” He hears the man repeat in awe which has Viktor chuckling, letting go of the reigns and sliding off his dragon who stood by him in a protective way, ready to attack in case anything were to happen to him. “Do you say that a lot?” Viktor asks with an arched brow which has the man chuckling a smile on his face.

“Only when I see something very interesting.”

Viktor can only smile at the mans cheerfulness finding it quiet odd since he’s never been around someone like him before. That was the first time he met Heimerdinger, head of the council of Piltover. When Viktor first met the council he was surprised by how many women were involved, something he’s never seen back at Dragonstone. They held their heads up high and spoke with confidence, intimidation radiating off of them when asking him where he came from and why he was here.

At first he didn’t know if providing his family name was a good idea, afraid of them alerting his family, but when they heard the name ‘Targaryen’ it was unknown to them. A sense of relief washed over Viktor and for the first time ever he felt free from the bonds that his family name carried.

Viktor was lucky enough to stay, getting the councils approval as long as he maintained his dragon from causing them any trouble. Which then resulted into Viktor finding them a home for themselves. Xanthus hated cramped spaces and never stayed underground like he did back at Dragonstone he always remained above ground where he knew he could easily defend himself without feeling trapped like his brothers and sisters did.

The time he spent in Piltover resulted into him learning about their history and becoming Heimerdingers pupil, learning from the shorter man and providing his own assistance. He’s seen what Piltover is doing to advance into their future, providing their people easier ways to travel and transport goods which Viktor helped with.

Viktor doesn’t know how long he spent living in Piltover that with time he befriend a man named Jayce who wanted to do so much for the future. Not only had he met Jayce, but he had also met a young man who worked alongside the council. He was the assistant to Council women Merdarda he had seen him around but never really spoke to him until he caught him once with Xanthus.

He usually checked up on his dragon, caring for him ever since he was a hatchling and tightening their bond everyday only to be surprised when Xanthus allows another human to approach him so easily. Most dragons wouldn’t listen to anyone unless its a Targaryen member and to see this with his own eyes made him rethink his families history.

“He likes you.”

The man gasps when hearing Viktor, pulling his hand away from the dragons scaly neck. Xanthus lets out a small rumble in the back of his throat, shifting to lie his head on the grass below him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

Viktor shakes his head. “It’s alright, he usually doesn’t allow anyone to approach him unless its me. It caught me by surprise that he allowed anyone else besides me to touch him.” His own gloved hand trails down the dragons neck, stepping closer to the man who swallows nervously.

“I was curious.”

“Your curiosity can get you hurt,” His eyes trail from Xanthus to the assistant. “Or killed.”

“I have a strange habit of approaching dangerous things without thinking twice.” His words causes Viktor to chuckle, blue eyes locking with the mans, his hand not leaving Xanthus neck it always brought him a sense of comfort.

“You’re Merdard’s assistant?”

The man gives a cocky grin. “I am.” He responds back. “You must be Heimerdingers?”

Viktors lip twitch into a smile when hearing his question being thrown back at him.

“I am.” He confirms his words which has the other nodding along. A silence falls between them before the other cuts it first.

“I never got your name.”

The Targaryen turns to look at him. “It’s Viktor.”

[focusonkayjay]

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (7); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, smut

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 7.7k+

Chapter Warnings: i'm assuming there are no warnings but if i need to add anything pls do lmk !!

A/N: my fav part about working on this series is having to rewatch the movie repeatedly to make sure i’m capturing its essence just right. at this point, i feel like i could recite every line by heart without even watching it lmao. anywaysss, this series is wrapping up soon, and I’m going to miss it SOOOO MUCH. pls do read this part and let me know your thoughts! <3

part 7

"I don’t want any part of your family." Jungkook announces, his voice sharp. Before you, your mother, or your grandmother can respond, he turns on his heel and strides away.

You gasp softly, a lump forming in your throat as you spin to face your mother and grandmother, your eyes glistening. "Was this really necessary?" you seethe, your voice trembling with anger and disbelief.

Without waiting for a reply, you rush after Jungkook, your heart pounding as panic and hurt collide within you. The music and laughter of the party feel like a cruel backdrop as you weave through the crowd, calling his name.

Jungkook, however, is already far ahead, his chest tight and his breathing ragged as he pushes through the sea of dancing bodies.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t look back, his mind reeling from everything he’s just heard. The weight of the accusations, the humiliation, the betrayal... it’s all too much. He crashes into shoulders, mumbles hurried apologies, but keeps moving, driven by only one instinct... to escape.

You, meanwhile, search frantically, your eyes darting through the kaleidoscope of lights and people. “Jungkook!” you call out, your voice barely audible over the music.

You somehow manage to spot Taehyung and Miyeon, who are laughing with your cousins, their cheeks flushed from champagne and joy.

"Have you seen Jungkook?" you ask breathlessly, your desperation apparent. They all exchange confused glances, clearly dazed and unaware of the storm brewing inside you. "No, I haven’t..." Taehyung answers, his brows furrowing. "Is everything okay?"

But you’re already stepping away, scanning the room, your pulse quickening with every passing second. You press through the crowd, ignoring the curious looks from partygoers as dread settles deep in your chest. You silently curse yourself for letting him slip away, knowing how deeply this moment must have wounded him.

Jungkook, now outside the hall, stands under the open night sky, his chest heaving as he tries to steady himself. The cool air stings his skin, but it does little to numb the chaos inside him.

For a fleeting moment, he thought he had found a place to belong... someone to belong to. But tonight, the cracks have grown far too wide, and all he can feel is the ache of being an outsider again.

If your mother’s disapproval had ended with him, he could have taken it... he had prepared himself for that. But dragging his only family into it, accusing his mother, the one person who had given up everything for him? That was unbearable.

The words your mother spoke play on a loop in his head, tearing at his composure. His mother... the woman who worked tirelessly, who sacrificed her dreams for his future, who always made sure he had what he needed, no matter how little they had... how could anyone think so little of her?

He clenches his fists, trying to dispel the anger and confusion threatening to consume him.

And yet, there’s a tiny seed of doubt buried beneath the pain, watered by memories of the sudden move to New York. How his mother randomly quit her job in Busan one day and told him to pack up. How she never offered a real explanation, only saying... "It’s for the best."

Jungkook shakes his head, his trust in her unshaken, but his mind remains clouded. He doesn’t know what to think, what to believe. He feels lost, untethered, as though the ground beneath him is crumbling away.

There’s only one place he can think of going right now... away from this party, away from all these people, away from the echoes of your mother’s piercing words, and that’s Yoongi’s place.

The city noise fades into the background as Jungkook walks, his steps heavy and mechanical. The streets of Daegu blur together, unimportant and indistinct, as he trudges forward, his blazer hanging limply from one hand while the other is buried deep in his pocket.

By the time he reaches Yoongi’s estate, his shoulders are slumped, his head bowed, and he looks like a man carrying the weight of the world.

The massive iron gates screech open, revealing the familiar expanse of Yoongi’s mansion. Jungkook steps inside, dragging his feet across the paved path.

The grand doors swing open almost immediately, and Yoongi rushes out to meet him. "Kook!" Yoongi’s voice is filled with concern, and it’s obvious that the guards must have informed him of Jungkook’s unexpected arrival.

As Yoongi jogs towards him, his expression shifts from confusion to alarm. He slows down when he’s just a few steps away, studying Jungkook intently, trying to piece together why his friend is here instead of at the wedding.

But when Yoongi looks into Jungkook’s eyes, he immediately knows better than to ask. The storm of emotions written all over Jungkook’s face... hurt, betrayal, and exhaustion speaks volumes.

Yoongi doesn’t press for answers, doesn’t push him to talk. Instead, he closes the remaining distance and pulls Jungkook into a firm, securing hug.

Jungkook stiffens at first, but then he lets out a shuddering breath, his tension easing just slightly as he leans into the warmth of Yoongi’s embrace. He shuts his eyes tightly, as if holding them closed can stop the emotions threatening to spill over.

//

You click your tongue in frustration, shaking your head as the voicemail drones on again. You lower your phone, staring at the screen, your heart sinking with every passing second.

Taking a shaky breath, you dial his number again, your hands trembling. "Please... please pick up, Kook... please." you mutter, but just like the 36 times before, the call goes unanswered.

Standing just outside the wedding venue, the muffled sounds of the party echo faintly behind you. The heavy bass of the music vibrates through the ground beneath your feet, a constant reminder of the celebration you’re supposed to be a part of.

Yet everything feels distant, blurred, inconsequential. Your mind is consumed by only one thing, only one person... Jungkook. His face. The look in his eyes when your mother and grandmother shattered the fragile sense of belonging he had.

A part of you knew your mother wasn’t exactly thrilled when you brought Jungkook home for the first time. She had always envisioned someone who fit her rigid mold of perfection... someone polished, wealthy, and born into a family with status.

Jungkook, didn’t exactly align with her ideal type for you. But you convinced yourself, naively, that in time she would see what you saw in him. That after witnessing how much you loved him, she would come around.

What you didn't expect was this. This level of cruelty. A literal background check? Digging into his family’s past? And then to humiliate him so mercilessly in the middle of a celebration? The memory of it makes your stomach churn, a fresh wave of guilt crashing over you.

But you don’t care about his past. You never did. Whatever your mother uncovered, whatever reasons she thinks she has to deem him “unworthy”...none of it matters to you. What matters is him... the man you know, the man you love.

You don’t see Jungkook as a blemish on your family’s pristine reputation or a potential "threat" to your social standing.

You see him as the man who stole your heart the day you met him in New York. The dreamy photographer whose eyes light up when he talks about the things he’s passionate about. The man who sees the world through a lens most people couldn’t even imagine.

You love him for his little quirks... for the way he fusses over perfect lighting, the way he scrunches his nose when he’s deep in thought, the way he pouts his lips to hold himself back from crying while you both watch sappy romcoms in his little apartment, the way he makes you feel truly seen. Not as the rich girl born into privilege, but as you. Just you.

And now, you’re terrified you might have lost him. Terrified that the person who made you feel whole might be slipping away because of the very family you’ve tried so hard to reconcile him with.

Your phone screen dims, and you realize with a jolt that your call has ended... voicemail again. Your breath hitches, and your vision blurs as desperation claws at your chest.

A tear trickles down your cheek and all you can think about is where Jungkook's gone, how he is and what's going through his mind.

//

“Kook… you gotta eat something, man.” Yoongi calls gently from the doorway of the guest room, his voice low and laced with concern.

His eyes scan the dimly lit room, landing on Jungkook, who remains curled up under a thick blanket, his back turned to the world. The younger man is a still, silent figure, lost in the folds of the bed.

There’s no response. No shift. No acknowledgment. Just the faint rise and fall of Jungkook’s shoulders as he breathes.

It’s been a full day since Jungkook showed up at Yoongi’s doorstep, looking like a ghost of himself. He hadn’t offered much explanation, but Yoongi didn’t need one. He’d pieced it together soon enough.

“Alright...” Yoongi murmurs, almost to himself, noticing how Jungkook doesn’t so much as flinch. “Maybe later.” He steps back, pulling the door shut and makes his way to the living room.

“He’s still the same.” Yoongi says as he steps into the room, his tone subdued. His gaze shifts to you, perched on the edge of the couch. You’re sitting so still, your hands clasped tightly on your lap, your knuckles pale.

When Yoongi called you earlier in the morning, informing you that Jungkook was at his place, you hadn’t hesitated. You came immediately, in hopes of seeing how Jungkook was doing.

But now, sitting here, your chest aches with a mix of guilt, worry, and helplessness. You’ve already told Yoongi about what happened at the party... how your mother humiliated Jungkook, dredging up his past like it was some dark secret to be weaponized. And now, the image of his face in that moment... hurt, exposed, betrayed, still haunts you.

Every instinct screams at you to go upstairs, to see him, to explain, to apologize. But fear holds you back. What if you make it worse? What if he doesn’t want to see you? What if he blames you, even though none of this was your doing?

You force yourself to take a breath, the air shaky as it fills your lungs. “Okay then…” Your voice is quiet, almost trembling, as you stand up from the couch. “I’ll leave now.”

Yoongi watches you with a mix of empathy and reluctance. He doesn’t try to stop you, though you can tell he wishes he could offer some kind of comfort.

You make your way to the front door, your footsteps slow and hesitant. But when you reach the door, you pause, turning to face Yoongi. “He’ll... be okay, right?” you ask, your voice soft, fragile. Your eyes search his, pleading for reassurance you desperately need.

Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line before he offers a small, tentative smile. “Hopefully.” he says gently. “I’ll keep you updated. Don’t worry too much.”

You nod, though his words do little to ease the ache in your chest. Your smile in return is faint, barely there, as you turn and step out to leave

Once you’re gone, Yoongi lingers at the door for a moment, watching your car drive away. Then, with a deep exhale, he retreats upstairs, returning to the guest room. The room is as it was... dim, still, heavy with silence. Jungkook hasn’t moved an inch.

Yoongi approaches the bed, sitting on the edge, careful not to startle him. “Kook...” he begins, his tone soft but steady. “Y/n was here.” That gets a reaction, albeit a subtle one. Jungkook’s shoulders stiffen ever so slightly, but he doesn’t turn around.

“She’s worried about you, you know.” Yoongi says gently, his voice cutting through the thick silence. “Said you haven’t been answering her calls.” He pauses, his eyes fixed on the back of Jungkook’s head, waiting for any sign of acknowledgment. When none comes, he exhales softly. “Maybe you should talk to her.”

Jungkook remains motionless, his eyes locked on the faint glow of light outlining the edges of the curtains. The world outside feels distant, unreachable, like a place he no longer belongs.

He’s seen the missed calls, the messages, each one a silent plea from you. He knows you’re worried, he can feel it even in your absence. But the thought of facing you now feels impossible.

His mind loops through the events of the night before... the way your mother’s biting words had stripped him bare in front of you. The sting of humiliation burns fresh in his memory, each detail sharper than the last. He knows it wasn’t your fault. You had no part in what happened, no idea of your mother’s cruel intentions.

Still, the weight of it all... the shame, the vulnerability, the fear that you might look at him differently now, keeps him rooted to the bed.

He misses you. God, he misses you so much it hurts. He wants nothing more than to bury his face in your shoulder, to let your presence soothe the storm raging inside him. But right now, he feels too raw, too exposed.

Maybe he just needs time. Space.

Yoongi watches him closely, waiting for even the smallest reaction. When it doesn’t come, he lets out another sigh, long and heavy with understanding.

“Alright...” he says softly, standing from the bed. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be downstairs, okay?” His voice is calm, reassuring, as if he’s trying to lend Jungkook some of his own strength.

With that, Yoongi turns and walks towards the door, leaving the younger man alone once again. The sound of the door closing echoes faintly, a quiet reminder that the world hasn’t stopped, even if it feels like Jungkook’s has.

//

“He still hasn’t responded?” Taehyung’s voice is tinged with worry. You don’t reply, your gaze fixed on the open window of your bedroom, the soft rustle of curtains doing little to calm the storm inside you.

Miyeon sits beside you, her arm wrapped gently around your shoulders, her thumb tracing slow, soothing circles. She doesn’t say anything... she knows words won’t reach you right now.

Taehyung, Namjoon, and Seokjin stand nearby, their expressions heavy with concern. Seeing you like this... so pale, so fragile, so utterly shattered, breaks their hearts. It’s been three whole days since everything fell apart.

Three days since the party. Three days since you've seen Jungkook. Since your world crumbled.

According to the initial plan, you and Jungkook were supposed to leave Daegu yesterday to board your flight back to New York. However, the unforeseen turn of events derailed everything.

These past three days, you’ve visited Yoongi’s house every day, hoping… praying… to see Jungkook, to catch even a fleeting glimpse of him. But each time, all you’re met with is Yoongi’s somber shake of the head, a silent confirmation that Jungkook doesn’t want to see you.

Your chest aches with a pain so profound it feels etched into the very fabric of your being. You miss him so fucking much but what haunts you the most is the uncertainty. Where does this leave the two of you? Does he want to end things? Does he want to break up?

The mere thought of never seeing him again feels like an unhealing wound, a chasm that devours every sliver of hope. It’s unbearable... the kind of pain that steals your breath and leaves you hollow, trembling, and utterly lost.

Suddenly, you rise from the bed, startling the others.

“Y/n?” Seokjin’s voice is hurried as they all follow your purposeful strides towards the door. “Where are you going?”

You don’t answer. You don’t even glance back. Your steps quicken as you walk past the hallway and descend the grand staircase, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the tense silence of the house. Your eyes dart around until they find her.

Your mother.

She’s seated by the pool in the garden, sipping tea and reading a book as if nothing has happened. As if she hasn’t ripped your life apart with her calculated cruelty.

Something inside you snaps.

You shove the glass door open with a force that makes it clatter, storming out onto the lawn. Your mother looks up, startled by your sudden presence. She carefully sets her teacup down on the table beside her, a composed expression masking the chaos she’s caused.

“Y/n darling—”

“You’re horrible.” you blurt out, cutting her off. Your voice trembles, not with weakness, but with the sheer force of emotions clawing their way to the surface. Her calm demeanor falters, just slightly. “Y/n—”

“Did you really have to go that far?” you demand, your voice rising with each word. “Really, Mama? A background check? Was that necessary?”

The others... Taehyung, Miyeon, Namjoon, and Seokjin exchange uneasy glances. They stand a few steps behind, unsure if they should intervene, but they know better than to stop you now.

“Do you honestly think digging into his past, dredging up something so personal, and throwing it in his face was the answer?” you continue, your voice shaking with anger and heartbreak.

“Did you think that humiliating him, tearing him down in front of me, would make me change my mind? If you did, you’re wrong, Mama. So, so wrong.”

Your mother opens her mouth, but the fury in your eyes silences her.

“I don’t care about his past!” you cry, your voice breaking. “I don’t care about what his mother did or about your stupid obsession with our reputation. I don’t care if you think he’s a ‘threat’ to our image. None of that matters to me! All I care about is him. I love him, Mama. Don't you understand that? I love him more than anything, and I can’t—” Your voice cracks, tears streaming down your face now.

“I can’t imagine a life without him. And you’ve made him feel like he’s nothing. Like he’s not worthy of me. How could you? How could you be so cruel?”

Your mother’s calm facade begins to crumble under the weight of your words, but you don’t stop.

“You’ve destroyed the one thing that made me happy, the one person who truly matters to me. And for what? Your pride? Your precious image?” You shake your head, your voice now quieter but no less intense.

“You didn’t just hurt him, Mama. You hurt me. And I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.” Your words hang in the air, heavy and final, as you stand there, chest heaving, tears streaming freely down your face.

Your mother looks at you, her expression frozen, as though struck too deeply to formulate a response. She simply stares, her composure faltering under the weight of your outburst.

Behind you, the others remain silent, their own hearts aching at the rawness of your pain. No one moves, no one speaks. They simply bear witness to the moment you finally let it all out... the moment your anguish and love refused to be silenced any longer.

//

Yoongi peeks his head around the door, his gaze landing on Jungkook, who is lying in the same position as always... curled on his side, back facing the door.

It’s been a week now, and nothing has changed. Jungkook remains silent, unresponsive, and withdrawn. At this point, Yoongi is just relieved he’s started eating again, even if it’s only small amounts.

"Hey, Kook..." Yoongi calls out softly, his tone hesitant, careful. He watches as Jungkook’s shoulders tense ever so slightly, a subtle acknowledgment that he’s heard his voice.

But still, Jungkook doesn’t move. His eyes remain fixed on the curtains ahead, their edges glowing faintly in the daylight. He feels like he’s become one with the bed, as though his body has fused with the mattress, drained of all energy, all will to do anything.

Every day, Yoongi tells him you’ve come by to see him, and every day Jungkook reacts the same way... he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t give in. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see you... he does. God, he does.

But the thought of facing you feels like scaling a mountain he’s not ready to climb. The humiliation, the pain, the anger... none of it has faded. He knows it wasn’t your fault, knows you didn’t know what was coming, but even so, the wounds are still too raw.

He knows he’s hurting you by shutting you out. He knows this isn’t the right way to handle things, that his silence is only amplifying the ache for both of you.

Yet he feels paralyzed, trapped in this endless loop of shame and sadness. He’s been telling himself he just needs more time, but deep down, he wonders if any amount of time will be enough to make him feel whole again.

By now, he should’ve been back in New York. His flight was almost a week ago. His work is piling up, responsibilities waiting, but none of it seems to matter.

His body feels heavy, his mind clouded with everything that’s gone wrong. Moving, talking, doing anything... it all feels impossible. The future feels distant, unreachable, while the present keeps pulling him under.

“Someone’s here to see you.” Yoongi says, breaking the silence.

Jungkook sighs deeply, his shoulders slumping further. He doesn’t need to guess who it is. He already knows. And just like every other day this past week, he mutters the same words. “I don’t want to see her.”

“It’s not her.” Yoongi says quickly. Jungkook freezes at that, the words catching him off guard. There’s a brief pause before he slowly turns his head, curiosity breaking through his haze. He shifts slightly on the bed, looking at Yoongi standing by the door.

Yoongi steps aside and pushes the door open wider. Jungkook’s breath catches when he sees who steps into the room. His eyes widen, and he’s off the bed in an instant, his movements uncharacteristically quick.

“Ma!” he exclaims, his voice trembling, filled with surprise and a touch of desperation.

His mother stands there with a soft, understanding smile, her presence warm and familiar, like a balm for his aching soul.

But Jungkook doesn’t smile back. He doesn’t speak again. He simply rushes towards her, crossing the room in a heartbeat, and throws his arms around her.

“Ma.” he whispers again, softer this time, his voice breaking. His arms tighten around her as he buries his face in her shoulder, his eyes squeezed shut. She holds him just as tightly, her hand gently stroking the back of his head.

//

"Here, eat this." Jungkook’s mother says gently, holding a plate of food as she sits on the bed, facing him. Her voice is soft but firm, carrying a motherly authority that Jungkook doesn’t dare defy. She picks up a spoonful of rice, bringing it to his lips.

"How can you go on like this, Kook? Not eating, not taking care of yourself..." She shakes her head softly, a small sigh escaping her.

Jungkook opens his mouth obediently, letting her feed him. He chews mechanically, his gaze fixed on her face. Her expression is calm, unchanging, the same serene smile he’s known all his life.

Her eyes seem to study him with quiet concern, yet there’s an unshakable strength behind them. It’s comforting in a way that almost makes his chest ache more.

It’s been twenty minutes since she walked into his room. Twenty minutes since he buried himself in her arms, his emotions spilling over for the first time in days.

Yet, he hasn’t uttered a word about the storm brewing in his heart. He doesn’t know how she got here, doesn’t know why she’s here. Did Yoongi call her? Does she know what happened? More importantly, does she know what he’s learned about her... about their past?

His thoughts swirl in a relentless loop. He keeps telling himself it can’t be true, that it doesn’t make sense. But the questions claw at him, relentless, demanding answers.

His mother lifts another spoonful to his mouth, and he opens instinctively. He chews slowly, his mind racing as he watches her. She seems... the same. The same gentle demeanor, the same patient smile.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence, Jungkook speaks, his voice hesitant and shaky. “Ma...”

She hums softly at his voice, acknowledging him but continuing to feed him. He swallows thickly, his throat tight. “I... I need to ask you something...” he says. The words feel heavy, like they’re scraping their way out of his chest. “Y/n’s mother... she told me a few things.”

Her hand pauses for a fraction of a second, the spoon hovering in the air, a few inches away from his mouth. But her expression doesn’t falter. She places the spoon back on the plate and looks at him directly, her calm gaze unwavering. “I know.” she says simply.

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat. Of course she knows. She always knows. But it doesn’t make it any easier to hear. He searches her face for a hint of denial, some sign that it’s not what he fears. “If... If you’re wondering if any of it is true...” her voice trails off, and she looks at him with an unspoken apology in her eyes.

His breath catches. He can feel the words coming before she even says them, but he’s still not ready. “They’re all true, Kook.” she says softly, her tone gentle.

Jungkook stares at his mother with wide eyes, the weight of her confession pressing down on him like a heavy storm cloud. His thoughts are a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief, and the depth of her words only leaves him more perplexed.

But before he can even form a coherent question, she continues, her tone soft but firm, as if determined to finally unburden herself after all these years.

“When we were in Busan....” she begins, her gaze drifting towards the window where sunlight filters through the newly drawn curtains, illuminating the room with a brightness Jungkook hadn’t seen in days.

“It was hard, Kook. Being a single mother… it wasn’t easy. People weren’t exactly kind, and landing a decent job was a struggle. But somehow, I managed to secure a position at a respectable company. It felt like a turning point.”

Jungkook listens intently, noticing how her voice wavers slightly. “Life became a little easier after that.” she continues.

“I could give you a proper allowance. I was able to afford your photography courses in high school. I even started saving money... something I never thought I’d be able to do. For the first time, I thought life was finally falling into place.”

She pauses, her lips curling into a bittersweet smile. “And maybe, in hindsight, I got a little greedy. I started thinking... now that we were stable, maybe it was time for me to think about myself for once. To find love again.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows slightly, confusion flickering across his features. She notices but presses on, her voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and regret. “My manager at the time… he was a kind man. At least, I thought he was. I don’t know if he pitied me or if his feelings were genuine, but... one thing led to another, and we fell in love.”

She pauses, exhaling softly. “For a while, everything was perfect. You were thriving in school, my bank account wasn’t empty anymore, and for the first time in years, I felt like a woman again... like someone who was cared for. I even thought about introducing him to you, about telling you that I’d found someone who made me happy.”

Her expression darkens slightly, the corners of her lips twitching downward. “But all of that changed one night. I was working late, staying overtime to finish a project. I stepped out to the coffee room for a quick break, and on my way back, I heard noises coming from one of the conference rooms. It sounded... strange... like someone was yelling.”

Jungkook feels his chest tighten, the anticipation growing as his mother’s voice lowers, tinged with unease. “I got curious and peeked in. What I saw... I still... I still wish I hadn’t. My manager... the man I thought I wanted to build a future with... was berating an employee." she pauses, letting out a soft breath.

"But it wasn’t just yelling. It was violent. He was shoving the employee, slamming papers onto the desk, threatening them. At first, I thought it was a one-off, maybe a moment of stress. But the more I watched, the uglier it got. He was kicking their knees, smacking their face, saying vile things like they were less than human.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenches, his fists tightening at his sides. “Did you... did you saying anything back then?” he asks quietly.

“I should've... but I didn't because honestly, I wasn’t sure what I’d seen... ” she replies, her voice steady but heavy with the weight of the memory. “But something inside me told me it wasn’t an isolated incident. So I started paying attention. Watching him. Watching others in the company. And, Kook... it wasn’t just him.”

Her gaze drops to her hands, now gripping the edge of the plate in her lap. “It was everywhere around the company. Managers and higher-ups abusing their authority, taking advantage of their employees. Screaming at them, humiliating them, even threatening to ruin their careers. And worse... when I started digging deeper, I found financial misconduct, embezzlement, and exploitation.”

Jungkook feels the air grow thick with the gravity of her words. “I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. So, I started collecting evidence... voice recordings, videos, emails. Anything I could use to expose them. And eventually... I did.”

She smiles faintly, but it’s laced with bitterness. “I went to the authorities anonymously and leaked everything. At first, it seemed like justice might prevail. The company took a massive hit, and several higher-ups were investigated. But it didn’t end there.”

“What... what happened?” Jungkook whispers, his voice trembling.

“The company was owned by a powerful, influential family and the scandal bothered them... a lot.” she explains, her tone growing quieter and Jungkook immediately knows who she's referring to.

“It didn’t take the company long to figure out who had leaked the information. And when they did... everything came back to me. The media had a field day. My name was dragged through the mud. People called me unprofessional, accused me of sleeping with my manager to gain favors. They twisted everything to make me look like the villain.”

Her voice cracks slightly, but she takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “I didn’t care about my reputation, Kook. But I cared about you. I was terrified that you’d be dragged into it, that kids at your school would bully you, that your life would change because of my actions. And I couldn’t let that happen. So, with what little savings I had left, I made the decision to leave. To move far away, to a place where I could give you a better future. It was hasty, yes, but looking back... I don’t regret it... at all. I’d do it again to protect you.”

Jungkook’s throat tightens, his chest aching as he watches the quiet strength in his mother’s face. Her sacrifices, her pain... it all begins to make sense, to sink in, piece by piece. “Ma... I didn’t know...” he murmurs, his voice breaking.

“I never wanted you to.” she replies, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his face. “All I ever wanted was for you to have a life free from the burdens I carried. And if I had to do it all over again, Kook, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

Jungkook feels his vision blur with tears, and before he can stop himself, he leans forward, pulling his mother into a tight hug. His arms tremble as they wrap around her, and he buries his face into her shoulder, letting out the sobs he'd been holding back.

"I'm... I'm so sorry, Mom." he cries, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. His mother strokes his back gently, her touch soothing even as her own tears threaten to spill. "Oh, sweetheart, don’t be sorry." she chuckles, her voice soft yet steady. "You don’t need to apologize for anything."

A few quiet seconds pass. "You know... I really thought she was the one." Jungkook whispers. "But it... it just got too much. I tried so hard to be strong... no matter how much her mother tried to walk all over me." He pulls his mother closer, his grip tightening as his emotions spill over.

"I love her so much, Ma." he cries, burying his face against her shoulder. "But now... I just... I just want to go home." His voice drops to a quiet murmur.

His mother says nothing, holding him still, her presence grounding him as he clings to the one person who has always been there.

They stay like that, wrapped in an embrace that feels timeless. Jungkook feels like a child again, sheltered in the safety of his mother’s arms, a refuge against the storm raging in his heart. The room falls silent except for the soft hum of their breaths, the world outside momentarily forgotten.

Eventually, his mother shifts, gently pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. She cups his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away the tears that streak his cheeks. Her lips curve into a soft, loving smile, though her eyes glisten.

"I may not have had much luck in love..." she begins, her tone tender. "But you, Kook… you don’t have to carry that fear. You’re not me."

Jungkook blinks at her, his sniffles the only sound breaking the stillness as she continues. "I know this is a lot to take in. And I know things have unfolded in ways neither of us ever wanted." she says.

"But you’re stronger than you think. And you deserve to let yourself love, even if it feels terrifying." She pauses, letting her words settle. Then, after a moment, she smiles again, her voice soft but purposeful.

"You know… Y/n was the one who called me and brought me here." she reveals. Jungkook’s brows knit in surprise, but he stays silent, his eyes searching hers. "That girl… she cares about you so much, Jungkook. More than I think you even realize."

Her smile falters slightly, replaced by a solemn look. "I know it’s hard." she says. "Facing her, facing everything after what’s happened... it’s not easy. And knowing the challenges her family brings into the picture… it must feel overwhelming."

Jungkook lowers his gaze, his hands curling into fists in his lap. His mother reaches out, gently covering one of his hands with her own, her touch warm and reassuring. "But shutting her out, ignoring her... that will only hurt her." she says. "And it’ll hurt you even more."

Her words feel like a lifeline, cutting through the fog clouding his mind. He looks up at her, his heart aching at the sincerity in her expression. There’s no judgment in her eyes... only love, hope, and unwavering belief in him.

"You don’t have to worry about me anymore." she continues, her voice soft but firm. "I’ll be okay, Kook. I’ve made my peace with the past."

She leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. "So do what your heart tells you." she whispers, her voice filled with gentle conviction.

"If you still want to go back, I’ll understand. But I still think you should go and talk to her, before we go."

Jungkook closes his eyes, letting her words sink in, and for the first time in days, he feels the faintest flicker of clarity, a spark of hope amid the chaos.

//

The cool evening breeze brushes past your hair as you gaze down at the glimmering water, the rippling reflections of streetlights dancing on the surface of the tranquil sincheon river. The world around you feels quiet, yet your chest churns with restlessness.

Jungkook had finally reached out. He had called. And you had begged him to meet you. You needed to see him because frankly, you were practically unraveling without him.

Now, here you are, waiting by the walking trail that winds along the river. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you lift your gaze up to the sky. The sun has long set, but its remnants linger, smearing the horizon with hues of violet and amber, like a bruise spreading across the heavens.

You're nervous, scared even. You don’t know what you’re going to say or what he might have to tell you. You just hope that his mother, whom you had called in desperation, was able to ease some of the burden you knew he was carrying.

Your mind is a chaotic swirl of emotions, tangled in fear and anticipation but the sound of approaching footsteps halts the train of your thoughts. You whip around, your heart leaping to your throat. And there he is. Your boyfriend.

His presence seems to anchor you and unmoor you at once. Your breath catches as you take in his appearance... he looks drained, exhausted. His eyes are shadowed by evident dark circles, and his shoulders droop with a weariness that tugs painfully at your chest.

All you want to do is pull him close, to hold him, to protect him. Without hesitation, you do just that.

"Baby... oh my god." you breathe out, your voice trembling as you jog up to him. Wrapping your arms around his frame, you cling to him tightly, pressing your face against his chest. His familiar scent, warm and grounding, fills your senses. "I missed you." you whisper.

His arms move just as quickly, circling your waist with the same desperate fervor, holding you as though letting go might shatter him. "I missed you too." he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

The warmth of his breath grazes the curve of your neck, and in that moment, something inside you unravels... a knot of fear and longing dissolves into the solace of his embrace.

The world around you melts away, leaving only the sound of the river lapping gently and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

The two of you stay entwined in that embrace and minutes stretch into something timeless, and slowly, reluctantly, you open your eyes and carefully pull away. Your gaze meets his, and the weight of your emotions crashes over you like a tidal wave. Tears spring to your eyes, unbidden.

“Kook... I’m sorry.” you begin, your voice trembling as your lip quivers. “I’m sorry for everything. I don’t know what my mom was thinking—” Your words catch, a sob escaping your chest, breaking through the dam you’ve tried to hold steady.

“Hey...” Jungkook breathes out gently, his hands coming up to cradle your face. His thumbs brush away your tears, though they continue rolling down your cheek. “It’s okay.” he whispers, his voice steady yet tender, a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

But you shake your head, overwhelmed. “I’m sorry for everything, Kook. I really am.” you choke out, your voice cracking under the weight of your regret.

“It’s not your fault.” he murmurs, his dark eyes searching yours, shimmering with his own restrained emotions. “Shhh...” he hushes you, pulling you close again.

His embrace is solid, a haven, and you wonder how someone can carry so much grace. Even now, when he should be the one comforted, he holds you together.

The tears spill freely as you bury yourself in his arms, your body trembling against his. Jungkook’s hands move gently along your back, his touch rhythmic and calming. “This past week... it’s been so hard, Kook. I missed you so much.” you manage between sobs, your voice cracking.

Jungkook feels his heart splintering, guilt threading its way through him. He tightens his hold on you, his own breath hitching as he battles the storm inside. He knows he hurt you by shutting you out, but at the time, it felt like the only way he could cope. He was drowning too.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to see your face. His hand stays warm against your damp cheek, his thumb gliding across the soft curve of your cheekbone.

When your teary eyes lock with his, something magnetic draws you closer. You tilt your head upward, closing your eyes, and press your lips to his in a kiss that feels like both an apology and a plea.

Jungkook responds instantly, his lips meeting yours with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt. His hands anchor you in place, one cradling your jaw while the other settles at your waist.

The kiss deepens, raw and full of unspoken emotions, and you can feel in the way his lips move against yours just how much he’s missed you, too.

When he finally pulls back, breathless, his chest rises and falls rapidly. “I’m sorry I shut you out...” he exhales.

You shake your head quickly. “No, Kook. You had every reason to. What my mom did... it was unforgivable. She had no right to come at you like that... and... and disrespect you like that.”

Stepping back slightly, you look up at him, your hands still resting lightly on his chest. “I had no idea she’d been scheming all of this behind my back. When I brought you here, I just... I wanted to introduce you to my family because you’re so important to me. You’re everything to me.” Your voice softens, but your words are laced with an ache that refuses to go away.

“I should’ve seen it coming, though. The first time she was rude to you in the kitchen, I should’ve taken the hint. I should’ve warned her to stay out of this.”

He exhales deeply, the sound heavy with a mix of resignation and lingering pain. Slowly, he moves past you as he edges closer to the riverbank.

"I knew she never liked me..." he starts, his voice low, carrying the weight of a truth he’s held in for too long. "It was so obvious. She didn’t even try to hide it." A humorless chuckle escapes his lips, but it’s laced with pain, not mirth.

You follow him quietly, closing the distance, until you’re standing right next to him. The cold bites at your cheeks, but the ache in his voice hurts even more.

Together, you gaze at the dark river ahead, the water shimmering faintly under the moonlight and the surrounding streetlights.

"A part of me understood her..." he continues, turning his head slightly towards you. His eyes, glistening but guarded, meet yours for a fleeting moment before he looks away. "She had every right to be worried. I mean… I’m dating her daughter. Of course, she’d be protective."

You hold his gaze briefly but remain silent, sensing he needs to say more.

"Maybe she doubted my intentions..." he admits, his tone soft but raw, like he’s peeling back layers of himself for you. "Maybe she thought I could never be good enough for you." His shoulders rise in a small shrug, his expression distant.

"All of that… it’s valid. I could accept it, you know? I would’ve tried. Tried to prove myself to her, even if it felt impossible."

He stops, his jaw tightening as he stares at the water. The moonlight catches on his profile, illuminating the subtle tremor in his lips as he fights to hold himself back from brutally cracking open.

"But when she brought up my mother..." His voice wavers, and he turns his face away, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. "She said she didn’t want to be linked to a family like mine. And that…" He exhales sharply, his shoulders slumping under the weight of the memory. "That broke me."

You feel your chest tighten at his words, your heart aching for the pain he’s trying so hard to contain. He doesn’t need to explain further because you already understand what he's trying to say.

"Kook..." you call out softly, inching closer and placing a gentle hand on his arm. "She was so so wrong... so wrong. And it wasn’t fair to you at all."

He turns his head slightly, his gaze flickering to yours, the sadness in his eyes now tinged with something else... perhaps relief at being seen, or maybe the fact that he can finally open up.

"And I’m done." you say, your voice firmer now, though it still trembles at the edges. "I’m done making excuses for her. For her actions, for the way she treated you, for the way she handled things."

You reach out with your other hand, cupping his jaw and guiding his face towards you. His eyes, meet yours fully now. "Kook..." you whisper, your breath hitching as his name falls from your lips.

"Your past, what your mom did, my reputation… none of that matters to me. It never has, and it never will." Your thumb gently grazes his cheek, and you see the tension in his jaw loosen, ever so slightly. "All that matters to me is you."

His lips part as if to respond, but the words seem to fail him. You press on, your voice shaking with sincerity.

"You matter so much to me..." you confess, your heart pounding as you take another step closer, until there’s no space left between you. "And I’m ready to leave all of this behind... I'm ready to walk out of everything if it means I can be with you. None... of this matters without you."

He looks down at you, his brows furrowing as he tries to process the enormity of your words. His chest rises and falls heavily under your touch, his breath warm against the cool night air.

"Let’s start over." you say, your voice soft but resolute. "Let’s start a new life together in New York... our home. That’s where we belong, Kook. That’s where I belong. With you."

Your words hang in the air, suspended between the two of you, and you can feel the shift in him... his walls crumbling under the weight of what you're saying.

"Let's elope, Kook."

<- part 6

series masterlist

taglist: @mirinaeii @taetaecatboy @tsukiesimp @lovingkoalaface @taekrve @jaytheatiny @loverofannabeth @jaerisdiction @whoa-jo @parkinglot-nights @reneeblack6230 @rrosiitas @shellyyy177 @majesticjung-97 @wobblewobble822

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER THREE ━━ Mia, The Menace

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 4.6K

❀ ━ warnings: none i think

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: sigh another filler i’m sorry guys next chapter is when things actually start happening ….. also will u guys pls lmk if y’all like this series so far bc i feel like i’ve been writing it so shitty i’m sorry 🫠

THE AIR in Jo’s family home feels warmer than she remembers, thick with the lazy ease of summer afternoons in Boston. She’s sprawled out on the couch in the living room, half in Asher’s lap, her back pressed against his chest. The TV hums in the background, some half-forgotten show playing on low volume, but neither of them is paying much attention to it. Instead, their focus is on Mia, Jo’s eight-year-old little sister, who’s commanding the room as she rehearses her dance routine.

The house feels bigger than it ever does when Jo’s parents are home, their absence leaving behind a peculiar stillness that’s only occasionally interrupted by Mia’s bursts of energy. Her parents are celebrating their anniversary weekend in Maine, indulging in some much-deserved quiet while leaving Jo in charge of their youngest child. Jo doesn’t mind; after all, it’s July—her off-month—and she’s back in Boston for a brief stint of home-cooked meals and family chaos before heading back to Storrs in August. Babysitting Mia, however, is proving to be a full-time job in itself—which Jo probably should’ve expected.

Mia’s energy is endless. Right now, she’s twirling and leaping across the living room, her movements surprisingly precise for a kid her age. She’s dressed in a sparkly leotard and pink tights, her hair tied in an elaborate bun she’d made Jo do before this—because, well, if Jo is good for anything, it’s doing hair. During summer sessions, half the team made her do their braids before practice—Paige especially, the blonde hopeless at doing her own—and Jo knows it’ll only get worse when the season starts up.

Jo tries to keep a watchful eye on her sister, but she can’t help but be distracted by her boyfriend. He’s absentmindedly tracing small circles across the middle of her thigh, and she can feel his heart beating against her back. When she glances up at him, she can’t help but grin at the softness of his smile as he claps along with Mia’s haphazard twirls, the way he leans into the couch—into Jo—like he belongs here. Which, he does. He always has.

“Joey!” Mia calls, her voice sharp and commanding for an eight-year-old. She pauses mid-spin to put her hands on her hips, her small frame vibrating with indignation. “You’re not watching!”

Jo blinks, pulling herself out of her thoughts. “I am watching,” she defends, though it’s not quite true. She sits up a little straighter against Asher, nudging him as if to say help me out here. “You’re doing great, Mia. Keep going.”

Mia narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Ugh,” she groans, glaring at her older sister. “Payton always gives me better advice. You just say, ‘good job.’ That’s not going to help if I want to be the best dancer in the entire world, Jo!”

Jo exchanges a look with Asher, who’s barely holding back a laugh. Payton, Jo and Mia’s older sister, is a professional dancer living in New York City—a career Mia idolizes. Unlike Jo, who’s spent her life on the basketball court, Payton is everything Mis wants to be: graceful, disciplined, and impossibly good at pirouettes. It’s a path Jo has no interest in, which is probably why Mia constantly reminds her she’s the least qualified coach in the family.

“Well, yeah,” Jo says with a shrug. “Payton’s a pro. She’s, like, me in basketball but with dance. I’m just here to cheer you on, don’t really know what to tell you’s right or wrong, Mimi.”

Mia just groans again, even more dramatic this time, launching into another leap across the floor. Asher leans closer to Jo, his lips brushing against her ear as he drops his voice to a whisper. “Tough crowd.”

Jo snorts softly. “You have no idea,” she murmurs back.

Mia finishes her routine with a fluoride, throwing one arm in the air as if she’s just landed a gold medal-winning move at the Olympics. Asher claps loudly, a grin inching across his face. “Amazing, Mee!” he says enthusiastically, though he’d say that even if her performance was outright awful. “You’re getting even better than Payton, I think.”

For once, Mia doesn’t respond with her usual sass. Typically, when it comes to Asher, Mia’s either teasingly threatening him or biting at him or calling him funny names—she’s a menace child if Jo’s ever met one. But instead, Mia actually smiles at the boy, her cheeks flushed pink from exertion. “Thanks,” she says cheerfully, and Jo stares at her in disbelief.

“Wow,” the point guard says, raising an eyebrow, impressed. “You smiled at him. And thanked him. I think that’s a first.”

“Progress,” Asher claims, smiling broadly down at Jo.

Mia, on the other hand, sticks her tongue out at her older sister before collapsing onto the rug, sighing dramatically. “I’m exhausted. Someone get me a glass of water.”

“Get one yourself,” Jo tells her, already pulling out her phone. She scrolls through her notifications lazily, her thumb pausing when Paige’s name lights up her screen.

PB 😱😱

Got a nike event in Boston tmrw morning

Soooo we’re hanging out after

No negotiations

Jo’s lips twitch into a smile.

Ma freshie 💘

obviously

what time?

Paige replies almost instantly.

PB 😱😱

Like noon?

Don’t bail jojo

Jo shakes her head, rolling her eyes to herself. Paige never fails to amuse.

Asher, whose chin is now pressed against Jo’s hair, his gaze on her text. He asks, “So, you and her are really tight now, huh?”

Jo shrugs, because, well, kinda, duh. “I mean, we do live together,” she says, as if that explains everything.

“Yeah, but she’s Bueckers,” he replies, saying her name like it means something. Which, even though Paige would say it doesn’t, it totally does. “That’s a huge deal. She’s, like, insane on the court. Seen all the highlights.”

Jo doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she lets her mind wander to the past month and a half—the morning runs, the late-night shooting, the quiet moments in their shared apartment, the not-so-quiet playful bickering. Paige isn’t just her teammate or her roommate. She’s… something else entirely. Someone Jo can’t quite put into words—an enigma, maybe. “She’s just Paige,” Jo murmurs finally, her voice softer now.

Asher grins. “I’ve gotta meet her sometime. Best introduce me soon, Jo.”

“You’ll like her,” she replies, confidence threading her voice. She can already picture how Paige would probably charm the hell out of him without even trying—she does it to everyone, after all. “She’s… yeah, she’s cool.”

From the rug, Mia sits up suddenly, as if she’s finally hearing the conversation, her curiosity clearly piqued. “Who’s Paige?”

Jo blinks at her. “My roommate,” she responds simply. “You knew that.”

“And teammate,” Asher adds.

“She knew that, too.”

Mia crosses her arms, her tone all business now, ignoring Jo’s last comment. “Is she nice?”

“Yeah,” Jo answers easily. “She’s great. Super chill, really funny.”

“Is she good at basketball?” Mia fired back.

Jo grins. “One of the best.”

“Bet she’s better than you.”

Jo throws one of the throw pillows on the couch at her sister’s head. “Shut up, Mia.”

Mia just giggles, dodging the pillow with ease. Asher laughs, shaking his head as he watches the two sisters bicker, more than familiar with it.

For all her teasing, Jo can’t shake the warm, almost buzzing feeling in her chest. She’s excited to see Paige tomorrow. For reasons she can’t explain, she’s missed her a lot these past couple weeks they’ve been away from campus. It’s probably just because going from basically spending every waking minute with one another to none at all is a little odd.

Probably.

THE JULY sun beats down on Boston, and Paige feels it’s warmth seeping into her skin as she walks along the tree-lined streets near the Commons. The Nike event she attended this morning went off without a hitch, just a casual appearance with some photos and a couple clips filmed that they’ll probably put into an add. But now, she’s got the rest of the day free. The thought makes her grin as she thumbs out a quick text to Jo.

PB 😱😱

All done 😊😊

Where u at?

It takes Jo less than a minute for Jo to reply, sending a pin for a location that’s about a half mile away. Paige starts walking, but a follow-up text rings before she’s even crossed the street.

Ma freshie 💘

mia and i are by the ice cream shop

hurry pls, she’s losing her mind

The next message is a picture of Mia making a ridiculous face, her lips twisted and one eye squinting in mock disgust. Paige snorts out a laugh right there on the sidewalk, the noise startling a couple walking by. She doesn’t care, though. The kid already seems like a riot, and Paige is oddly excited to meet her.

The stories Jo’s told her about Mia over the past month and a half come rushing back: the eight-year-old’s uncanny ability to get under people’s skin, her endless energy, and her knack for saying the wildest things at the worst times. Paige has been looking forward to meeting her, though she’s still not sure if it’s because she’s genuinely curious about the so-called “demon child” or if she just wants to see Jo in full big-sister mode.

When Paige rounds the final corner, she spots them immediately. Jo is standing near a brightly colored ice cream shop, her arms crossed, her face pinched in annoyance as she talks to a smaller figure—Mia, presumably. Mia, on the other hand, looks completely unbothered, her tiny hands on her hips as she talks back with the kind of confidence that only a sassy little girl could muster.

Paige slows her steps, taking in the scene with a grin tugging at her lips. Jo’s wearing a simple outfit—ripped jean shorts that show off her long legs, a tightly-fitted white tube top, and a Red Sox cap pulled low over her face. It’s casual, but there’s something about the way she looks so effortlessly good in it that makes Paige pause for half a second longer than she should.

Her stomach dips unexpectedly, and Paige frowns to herself. Relax.

Still, as Paige approaches, she can’t help but notice the way Jo’s tan skin seems to glow under the sun, how smooth her legs look. Paige shakes her head, forcing her thoughts back on track. Because, seriously, the fuck is she even thinking about?

Clearing her throat, Paige makes her presence known. Jo turns, her annoyed expression instantly replaced by something brighter—her eyes lighting up, a wide grin spreading across her face.

“Hey, JoJo,” Paige greets teasingly, the nickname rolling off her tongue before she can stop it.

Jo’s grin falters for half a second, and she slaps Paige’s arm lightly. “Quit calling me that.”

Paige smirks. “Nah.”

Before Jo can retort, Mia steps forward, her curious gaze fixed on Paige. The little girl is smaller than Paige expected, with a mop of dark curls and big brown eyes that seem to take in everything. Paige crouches down to her level, offering a hand.

“And you must be Mia,” she says warmly. “I’m Paige.”

Mia doesn’t take her hand right away. Instead, she gives Paige a long, exaggerated once-over, her gaze hard as she studies her. The blonde tries not to fidget, but it’s hard under the little girl’s piercing eyes. Jo wasn’t kidding; Mia’s got this quiet intensity that’s a little intimidating, even if she’s only eight years old and Paige is twenty.

Finally, Mia breaks into a grin and giggles as she takes Paige’s hand. “Hi,” she says, her voice lilting.

Paige relaxes, smiling back easily. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard lots about you.”

Mia tilts her head. “From Jo?”

“Yeah,” Paige remixes with a grin. “She talks about you all the time.”

Mia beams at this, clearly pleased, while Jo mutters something under her breath that Paige doesn’t catch.

Paige chuckles a little as she stands. “Sooo, ice cream, right?” she asks.

Mia’s eyes light up and she grabs Paige’s hand like she’s known her her whole life rather than a minute or two. “Yes! Best ice cream in Boston!”

Jo snorts, falling into step beside them, shoulder brushing against Paige’s lightly. “She says that about every ice cream place we go to,” she mumbles, though there’s an undeniable softness in her tone.

“It is the best,” Mia insist, her voice full of conviction.

Paige grins. “Guess I’ll have to see for myself.”

The moment they step inside the ice cream shop, Paige is hit with a wave of sugary air and the sound of chatter. It’s buzzing in here, bigger and more crowded than she expected, almost every table occupied, with kids laughing, parents corralling them. The line snakes almost to the door, and Paige glances down at Mia, who’s still clutching her hand tightly.

“Looks like this place is the best,” Paige observes, smiling down at the little girl. Mia beams back up at her, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Told you!” she chirps, voice triumphant.

Paige can’t help but laugh softly. She glances over at Jo, who’s scanning the menu above the counter. The sunlight streaming through the shop window catches on the stray wisps of Jo’s hair that escape from under her Red Sox cap. Paige tries not to let her eyes linger too long on the curve of Jo’s jawline or the way her tube top leaves the expanse of her collarbones and neck exposed.

Jesus Christ, she doesn’t know what’s wrong with herself today.

The line moves slowly, but Paige doesn’t mind. Mia fills the time with a steady stream of chatter, never letting go of the blonde. She tells her about her favorite ice cream flavor (superman), her least favorite vegetables (brussel sprouts), and their family dogs (a dachshund named Dory and a golden retriever named Murph).

Paige listens attentively, nodding and laughing at all the right moments. She’s used to this—her own siblings are just as chatty, and she’s always been good at humoring them. There’s something comforting about Mia’s unfiltered enthusiasm; it reminds Paige of home in a way that makes her chest ache just a little.

As they inch closer to the counter, the line passes by a display of candy shelves, and that’s when it happens. Mia freezes mid-sentence, her eyes locking into something with the kind of laser focus that only a kid ready for a sugar high can muster.

“Oh my gosh,” Mia breaths, pointing to a massive rainbow-swirled lollipop almost as big as her head. She finally removes her hand from Paige’s to start tugging at Jo, begging, “Joey, please, please, can I get it? Please?”

Paige blinks a little at the nickname. Joey. She’s never heard anyone call Jo that before—she thought the only one she had was the one she hates that the whole team’s started using for her (JoJo). But Paige thinks Joey’s cute. In fact, she files it away in the back of her mind.

“No. Definitely not,” Jo says immediately, shaking her head down at Mia.

Mia’s face scrunches up in exaggerated disbelief. “What? Why?”

Paige glances between them, finally seeing what Jo meant about Mia being a demon child. The girl’s dramatic flair is something else entirely.

Jo sighs heavily. “Because the last time we were here, Mom bought you one, and you threw it up on the way home. It was gross, Mia.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Mia whines, still eyeing the lollipop like it’s the holy grail.

“It was that bad,” Jo counters.

“But it tasted sooo good,” Mia insists, dragging out the words as she tugs at Jo’s arm again.

Jo raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Did it taste good when it came back up?”

Mia stops short, her small face scrunching up in thought. The gears are clearly turning in her head as she considers this. And just as suddenly as the argument started, Mia lets out a resigned sigh and steps away from the candy display.

“Fine,” she mumbles, sounding defeated.

Jo smiles to herself, clearly pleased, and Paige has to bite back a laugh at the entire sibling interaction.

“Nice save,” she says under her breath, leaning slightly toward Jo as they start moving forward in line again.

Jo glances at her, their faces closer than usual, though she doesn’t seem to notice. Her smile just widens as she responds, “You learn a few tricks when you’ve been stuck around her for eight years.”

Paige chuckles softly, watching Mia bound up to the counter like she’s on a mission, finally their turn to order. The little girl presses her hands against the glass case, scanning the vibrant tubs of ice cream with a dramatic level of intensity.

“I want Superman!” Mia declares, her voice brimming with excitement as she points at the swirled red, yellow, and blue ice cream.

“Please,” Jo adds, giving the employee a small, apologetic smile as she nudges Mia’s arm, giving her that older sister look that Paige can tell means—use your manners. The worker scoops a generous amount of the ice cream into a cup and hands it over the counter. Mia accepts it like it’s a trophy, her eyes and grin wide as ever.

“Can I just have a scoop of cotton candy, please?” Jo asks, her turn now, her voice casual like she’s not about to commit a culinary crime.

Paige can’t help but scrunch up her nose at the brunette’s order. Nasty. She doesn’t say anything—yet—but she stores the information away for later mockery. The worker hands Jo her cone, a garishly bright pink and blue swirl that makes Paige wince just looking at it.

When it’s Paige’s turn, she doesn’t even hesitate, ordering mint chip—her absolute favorite.

They pay quickly, before stepping outside into the warm air, each armed with their chosen flavor. Mia’s already half-covered in Superman ice cream and Jo has her head tilted slightly to avoid dripping the cotton candy monstrosity in her hand.

Paige glances at Jo’s cone and makes a face. “Cotton candy is crazy work,” she tells her, incredulous.

Jo raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “What’s wrong with cotton candy?”

“Everything,” Paige answers, gesturing at the cone like it’s personally offended her. “It’s basically sugar-flavored-sugar. It doesn’t even taste like real cotton candy. It’s just—” She shudders dramatically.

Jo narrows her eyes at Paige’s cone in retaliation. “Says the person eating frozen toothpaste.”

Paige gasps, her hand flying to her chest in mock indignation. “Excuse me, mint chip is a classic. It’s refreshing. It’s balanced. It’s—”

“Minty,” Jo interrupts, wrinkling her nose. “Which is gross.”

“It’s not gross! You’re gross,” Paige fires back, grinning despite herself.

Mia, who’s been watching the exchange with wide eyes, suddenly pipes up. “Okay, I’ll decide!” she declares. She scoops up some of her Superman ice cream for good measure before pointing her tiny spoon at Jo’s cone. “Joey, let me try yours first.”

Jo bends down slightly to hold out her cone, and Mia takes a small bite. She lets it melt in her mouth, her face scrunching up like she’s debating a complex equation. Finally, she nods. “It’s okay,” she says, though she doesn’t look thrilled.

Jo looks affronted. “Just okay?”

Mia shrugs nonchalantly before turning to Paige. “Now yours!”

Paige kneels slightly to hold out her cone. Mia eyes it suspiciously. “Why is it green?” she asks, sounding almost fearful.

“Don’t worry ‘bout the color,” Paige tells her, waving off the question. “It’s good. Trust.”

Mia hesitates for a second longer before scooping up a tiny bite. She puts it in her mouth, and her face goes still. For a moment, Paige wonders if she’s about to spit it out, but then Mia’s eyes light up.

“This. Is. So. Good!” the eight-year-old squeals, practically bouncing in place.

Paige grins, holding out her hand for a high five. “Told you. Welcome to the winning team.”

Mia smacks her hand enthusiastically, ice cream forgotten for a moment. Jo, however, is standing off to the side, arms crossed and pouting like a kid who just lost her favorite game. Paige glances at her and immediately starts laughing.

“Oh, don’t be mad,” she teases, nudging Jo’s arm.

“She’s supposed to be on my side!” Jo grumbles, glaring halfheartedly at Mia. “I’m your sister!”

Mia sticks her tongue out at her, clearly unbothered. “You’re just mad because you have bad taste.”

Paige nearly chokes on her ice cream, laughing so hard she has to steady herself against a bench they’re stood next to. “Dang, Mia!”

Jo shakes her head, though the corner of her mouth twitches upward in a reluctant smile. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you little menace,” she mumbles, ruffling Mia’s hair.

Mia slaps her hand away from her head, beginning to bicker with Jo. Paige watches, quiet now as she bites into her cone. She finds herself unable to look away, a strange warmth blooming in her chest.

See, whatever that is, has to go. She doesn’t like it, doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t understand it in the slightest.

It just—has to go.

THE LIVING ROOM feels cozy in a way that Paige hasn’t experienced in a long time. It’s not her home, not her couch, not her family, but something about it wraps around her, soft and warm. The overhead light is off, leaving the room bathed in the dim glow of the TV. Colors flicker against the walls, shapes shifting across the furniture. Paige doesn’t know what movie is playing—something animated, she thinks—but it’s barely background noise at this point.

Jo sits a few feet away, her back against the armrest of the couch, one leg stretched out, the other bent slightly. Mia’s curled up fast asleep in her lap, her little head tucked under Jo’s arm, one of Jo’s hands running lazily through the little girl’s hair. The motion is slow and deliberate, like second nature, and it’s strangely captivating. Paige finds herself staring, watching the way Jo’s fingers disappear into soft brown curls, touch gentle.

Paige hadn’t planned to stay this long. After Mia had declared mint chip her new favorite ice cream and told Paige she could officially call her Mimi—a nickname that only her absolute favorite people can use—they’d hung out all day, walking around the Commons, then shopping, then getting dinner. After that, they were meant to depart, Jo and Mia going home, and Paige going back to her hotel. But then Mia had looked up at her with those big, pleading eyes, practically begging Paige to come back and watch a movie with them. And Paige is terrible at saying no to kids.

So, she came home with them, to their house which sits right on the outline of the city. The house isn’t massive, but it’s nice—nice enough for Paige to have faintly wondered how much money Jo’s parents make. But it’s still welcoming and cozy, and Paige feels comfortable here. She also likes that she’s got to see all the photos around—the ones of Jo when she was little, some more recent ones that Paige can guess are apart of her senior photos, and a couple of her with her sisters.

The only one that she didn’t enjoy seeing was that one. A nicely framed picture of Jo and her boyfriend sitting on the shelf directly to Paige’s right. They look happy in it. Too happy, in Paige’s opinion, though she doesn’t know why it bothers her so much. Maybe she’s got some sort of jealousy deep down in the part of her heart where her commitment issues aren’t veined around, an envy toward a stable relationship like that. But either way, there’s no reason for her to care. And yet, she doesn’t like it.

Paige shakes the thought away, focusing instead on the conversation. She and Jo have been talking quietly since Mia fell asleep, their voices hushed but easy. It reminds Paige of late nights back at their shared apartment on campus, how they’ll end up in the kitchen at the same time and somehow talk for hours without meaning to. Paige likes those moments more than she’ll ever admit, and this feels no different.

Their conversation drifts, flowing naturally, until Jo starts talking about her sisters. “I admire them, you know,” she says softly, her hand still moving through Mia’s hair. “Payton, especially. She’s… well, she’s incredible. Mia thinks she walks on water, and honestly, sometimes I do, too.”

Paige tilts her head, curious. Jo’s voice has a different quality now—still soft, but there’s something else underneath it. Not sadness exactly, but something close. “What about you?” Paige asks. “You’re incredible, too. And Mia clearly adores you.”

Jo smiles, but—for once—it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, but it’s different. Payton’s a dancer—like, a real dancer. She’s in New York City, with the ballet there. And that’s what Mia loves. That’s what they both love. And, y’know, they connect over it. It’s dance; it’s their thing.”

Paige frowns, the words sinking in. Jo rarely talks like this. She’s always so happy, so upbeat, so wrapped in sunshine that Paige sometimes forgets there might be anything else underneath. “You don’t feel connected to them?” she asks, her voice a little quieter now.

Jo hesitates, her hand pausing in Mia’s hair for just a second before continuing. “Not really,” she admits. “I mean, I love them, obviously. But… it’s hard sometimes. I’ve always been the odd one out, you know? The one who plays basketball while they dance. Sometimes it just feels like we’re on completely different planets.”

Paige doesn’t know what to say at first. She’s surprised—stupidly so, maybe, because she’s never considered Jo might feel this way. But, if she thinks about it, it makes sense.

“I get that,” the blonde finally says, soft but steady. “I mean, I’m so much older than my siblings that it’s hard to connect with them sometimes, too. But… for what it’s worth, I think you’re amazing. And I know Mia does too—whether she says it or not.”

Jo looks over at her then, and for a moment, Paige thinks she might forget how to breathe. There’s something in Jo’s eyes, something raw and unguarded, and it makes Paige’s chest feel tight. “Thanks,” Jo says quietly, barely a whisper.

The moment feels too heavy, too close, and Paige decides to lighten the mood. “So,” she says, changing the subject, her small smile curling into more of a smirk. “Mia calls you Joey?”

Jo’s smile returns, softer this time but more genuine. “Yeah. My whole family does. It’s a much better nickname than that JoJo Siwa shit y’all have come up with.”

Paige laughs, shaking her head. “Don’t shit on the JoJo nickname. It’s iconic.”

Jo raises an eyebrow, her smile turning teasing. “Iconically bad,” she corrects.

“Okay, fine,” Paige says, pretending to think. “But I like Joey more, too. It’s cute. Maybe I’ll start calling you that instead.”

Jo shrugs, but her smile widens just a little. “Anything’s better than JoJo.”

Paige grins, leaning back into the couch, though—for whatever reason—her heart starts thumping a little faster. She doesn’t know why she feels the way she does around Jo sometimes—why moments like this stick with her longer than they probably should. But for now, she doesn’t let herself think about it too much. Instead, she lets herself enjoy the quiet, the warmth of the room, and the easy rhythm of their conversation.

[iliketopgun]

hi, my darling!! can i request “You getting so flustered is one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.” with evan buckley?

i have been obsessed with him for so long (lmao as if it isn't obvious-) and i NEED more of him!!

"Honey Honey!"

Can I kiss your brain? I love this!!!!

🩷 "Nuestra Canción" send me some cute fluff prompts for characters that I write, x reader or my OCs are allowed.

Word count: 560

The prompt: "You getting flustered is one of the cutest things I've ever seen."

A/N: Never written for x reader before so here goes nothing. Legitimately don't know where this came from, deviated a bit from the prompt btw, I had a lot of fun writing this!

Warnings: female!reader, tooth rotting fluff, I totally didn't have Mamma Mia! on repeat while writing this (I'm lying so much), domesticity, curls are here, reader is a part of the 118, a curse word or two, Buck and reader live together, Buck calls his S/O "Baby" and other pet names, Buck is shirtless (yes, suffer), reader's favorite food is grilled cheese (if it's not, I'm sorry), kissing does happen, not beta read

Banner belongs to @/cafekitsune

Do not repost anywhere else or use it to train AI! This is my work! My own brain created this. Don't be a plagiarizer!

Here we go! Safe under the cut!

Buck could've sworn he was the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole world. His girlfriend was insanely good looking. And her music taste was impeccable. Buck could stare at her all day and never grow tired of her. Yeah, to say he was down bad was a major understatement. But who could blame him, when you looked like a goddess?

Buck was making dinner when you came in from a shift at the 118, it had been a simple 12 hour overtime shift for some extra money, but it had been so uneventful, it took a toll on you. The utter anxiety for the bell that never rang that entire shift. You kick off your work boots by the door, putting your keys in the dish by the door and putting your bag on the floor, you'll get it later. You unbutton your uniform shirt and tug it off, leaving you in a white undershirt. "I'm home!" You call out as you walk into the kitchen of the loft, watching your boyfriend cook. Buck turns around, in your tiredness, you didn't notice that Buck was shirtless and he hadn't gelled his curls back. Was he trying to kill you? Well even if he was you were sure, you'd die really happy. "Oh, hey baby, I'm making your favorite. Grilled cheese." Buck says with a smile, it was adorable. So attentive. "Mmmm, I love you. You're the best." You tell him with as much appreciation you could muster. Your nerves were shot to hell and you just wanted to eat and sleep. Buck takes notice of this and guides you to the couch, wraps you in a blanket and walks to the kitchen, leaving you confused. "Buck? What are you doing?" You ask between a laugh. Buck puts the grilled cheese on a plate and comes back into the living room with the plate and hands it to you. "Eat. Wanna watch Mamma Mia?" Buck asks you, knowing it was one of your favorites. You nod as you bite into the grilled cheese, moaning in appreciation. Buck smiles at you and kisses your forehead. Buck puts the movie on and sits beside you on the couch, placing you in his lap and cuddling you. He was like a personal space heater. But right now you don't care about anything except food and Buck. The movie starts and you finish your food up after a few minutes. You get up and place your dirty dishes in the dishwasher before running up the loft stairs to grab your pajamas. You were walking down the stairs while adjusting your Buck's shirt when the beach scene came on. No matter how many times you watched it, it still made you flush like a little girl. Buck picks up on that. "Are you blushing?" He teases and "N-no!" You stammer, before playfully tossing a pillow at him. "You wound me, darling!" Buck says dramatically while holding his hand over his heart. "Oh shush, you're fine. Plus you deserve it for walking around shirtless!" You reply before walking towards him. "You getting flustered is probably the cutest thing I've ever seen." Buck says as you stand in between his legs while he looks at you with those cerulean blue eyes and you try not to melt. "Oh shut up, Buckley!" You tell him before kissing him.

The end!

I hope you enjoyed it!

[mlqueen89]

One | Flyboy 

so cross your thoughtless heart  she's the albatross  she is here to destroy you 

The Albatross by Taylor Swift | TTPD |     

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin x f!oc (top gun: maverick) 

rating: 18+ (minors dni) 

w a r n i n gs : smut, mentions of masturbation, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, multiple orgasms, one-night stand, jake being a cocky, self-assured man who leaves no crumbs after he eats. 

word count: 8,997

summary: in affairs of the heart, eleanor rigby has one strict rule: no pilots. Less than 24 hours back in the US, she breaks it. 

A/N: this whole entire fic literally started with the (full) name of eleanor. i also have a radar tech in the family, so that helped a bit. snowball met a steep hill and picked up speed. i've planned for ~10(ish) chapters, but it may be open ended with a few more random scenes/chapters here and there.  

proud to say that this one was beta read by my bestest friend, so you know she was mean to me helpful. 

also! i saw the asks - super excited to dive into those, tysm. ♡♡

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ next chapter ❥

Eleanor Rigby hadn’t wanted to go to the Halloween party, not really.    

The boxes stacked in the spare bedroom of her friend Nicole’s four-bedroom house desperately needed unpacking and the 10-hour time change from Western Turkey to San Diego was kicking her ass. She’d done about as much unpacking as was required to find a suitable outfit for her new job in the morning, folded them carefully and set them out.   

When Nicole had invited her out, Ellie had fallen asleep, mid-unpack of the rest of her belongings, waking only when the bubbly blonde burst into the room and jumped onto the foot of her bed, dressed in all her glory as Barbie.   

“Ellie does San Diego! Let’s goooo.” Nicole tugged at Ellie’s arm as Yanique flicked on the light in the ensuite, reapplying a purple-ish shade of lipstick as Ellie blinked against the sudden light in her dim room, her arm jiggled aggressively by an enthusiastic Nic.   

Bleary-eyed, her voice just a croak, Ellie politely declined, muttering something about starting her new job early the next morning and making a good impression. Nicole eventually relented with a huff and left, a little less than impressed, with their other two roommates, Yan and Sophie, in tow.   

Within 45 minutes, her phone buzzing against the hardtop of the nightstand, the voice messages started flowing in.   

Nicole’s first voice message was short, 12 seconds. Ellie’s thumb jabbed at the play button as she gathered the dishes from her girl dinner of toast and coffee and used her elbow to push down on the paddle door handle, making her way to the shared kitchen.   

Ellieeeeeeee... Eleanor Rigbyyyyyy ....   

There was a dull thud of base in the background somewhere, behind the long, pronounced whine of Nicole’s voice as she sang the beginning of her namesake Beatles song, horribly off-key.   

Ellie, please you have to come out. It’s Halloween, the most magical night of the year! Just make an appearance. An hour, tops. Please?   

Ellie moved through the kitchen, rinsing out her cup and placing it on the drying rack. Her head was in the fridge, scrounging around for an apple in the crisper drawer, when the next three messages came in.   

Please, pretty, pretty, pretty, please with like, a million cherries on top, even though I know you hate cherries.    

Bradley’s not here yet, Yan already left with a weird guy in a Frankenstein costume—do we know what kink that is? That has to be a kink, right? I’m not kink shaming though, I promise. He was just like... weird. Do you think I should get her to drop her location? Like, just in case?   

Soph is requesting Chappell Roan for the like, twentieth time, and I think she’s going to start a fight with the DJ about being an anti-feminist incel if he doesn’t play “HOT TO GO!” again... did you know that she broke up with that witch, wiccan girl from Hinge? HingeWitch? The one that had that study of cheeses in her bio, that blue cheese description—Ellie thought she heard Nicole pause to gag—anyway, I think she thinks she got cursed or something...    

The voice message cut off even though Nicole’s tone suggested that she wasn’t finished talking about Sophie’s ex.   

There was a garbled message in between the last one and the next, one in which Ellie could hear Nicole begging the DJ not to leave and promising to talk to her friend about the excessive requests for Chappell Roan.   

Don’t abandon me in my time of need, El. Desperate need. Like, jumping off of very tall somethings desperacy.   

Ellie smirked. Nicole, her very best friend in the whole wide world, quite possibly the vast universe, was, in fact, very dramatic.   

Quickly, before another voice message could roll in, Ellie hit record on her own before she bit into her apple, wrestling the third box out of a teetering tower of boxes in the corner of her room and hit send.   

Fine. I’ll be there in twenty.   

The response pinged back quickly.   

Ohmygodohmygod, thank you! Remember, the theme is Icons through the Ages!   

Wear something sexy. Iconic sexy. Iconically sexy? But not Hawaiian Barbie. Or whatever Soph is dressed up as. I want to say is either Frida Kahalo or Mama Imelda from Coco. Basically, avoid anything with a Mexican gothic vibe.

Once Ellie had managed to pull her vintage leather aviator jacket from the box, the one she’d mislabeled in her hurry to pack everything up, the rest of her costume came together fairly quickly.   

When she found the venue, a small bar off a main street, she still had around 30 seconds to spare on her twenty-minute promise to Nic.   

Eleanor had always known that Nicole was popular, but the Halloween party, a party which Nicole had demurely announced was just “a small thing” with “a few work friends” was in actuality, not quite a small thing.  

Weaving her way through the crowd, Ellie scanned the room, trying to pick out the hot pink of Nicole’s costume or the flower crown Sophie had carefully woven into her voluminous red hair.   

Squeezing her way through a group of Spanish Conquistadors (notably with less armour and more exposed skin than was historically accurate) Ellie paused short of the small DJ booth in the corner of the bar, her eyes still scanning for Nicole when her eyes fell on him.  

Sandy blonde hair peeked out from under a neon sweatband, shoulders stocky and solid in a sleeveless denim vest over a t-shirt that read, No Shirt, No Shoes, No Problem. The white sneakers, short shorts, and that unmistakable lanky sway to the beat of Footloose pumping through the venue that could only belong to one person.   

It was Ken.  

Specifically, the Ken to Nicole’s Barbie.    

“Bradshaw?” Ellie called, squinting.  

Ken spun around with the beat of the song, a lopsided grin already on his lips as he faced her. “Holy shit, Rigsy?” Swiftly, Bradley Bradshaw was over to her, scooping Ellie off her feet, squeezing her tightly in a bear hug, shaking her frame slightly with a growl, before she groaned and he set her back down, feather light.   

“You didn’t say you were back stateside.”   

“My flight got in last night.” Ellie shrugged, straightening her jacket and adjusting the thin white scarf around her neck, “Just wanted to surprise you, Rooster.”   

“Well, damn it,” Bradley nodded in approval, all dimples and easy charm, “colour me surprised.”  

It was no wonder Nicole had fallen for him, head over Barbie heels. Even Ellie liked him, and that was saying something.   

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw was less pilot and more golden retriever, a good heart wrapped in an all-American charm with an easygoing, dopey grin that made people feel like they’d known him for years. He was the kind of guy who’d lend you his jacket and forget to ask for it back or show up at your door with takeout and Sleepless in Seattle cued up on a streaming service he had to pay an arm and a leg for, because he “just had a feeling.” The Batman who responded to the Emotional Needs and Mercury Retrograde Bat Signal™. The hero the people deserved. Ellie was pretty sure she caught him watching videos of a baby hippo getting into shenanigans at a zoo in China on loop for 14 minutes while Nic tried to pick an episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians that would really pique his interest and get him invested enough to make it his “new Roman Empire”.  

Ellie remembered the night Nicole and Bradley had met with perfect clarity.   

Nicole had been in the middle of swearing off all men for the foreseeable future, her voice thick with the brand of determination that came with a prosecco-fueled resolution. Ellie had watched as her friend declare a new era of singlehood and Taylor Swift before turning to Sophie, slurring out a request for “gorgeous, single women willing to humor an experimental phase.”   

It wasn’t two minutes later that Nicole lurched forward, losing all her resolve���and her prosecco—in a sudden, graceless bout with the sidewalk.  

As Ellie rubbed her back and tried to get her standing, a group of pilots had come down the street—Bradley Bradshaw among them, flanked by two others they’d later get to know as Phoenix and Bob. Bradley had been the one to stop, eyes quickly scanning the situation, assessing and then moving in with expert precision. He’d peeled off his jacket immediately, holding it out to Nicole as she moaned her embarrassment and weakly gestured at the puddle of what had once been bubbly and appetizers a few feet away.  

“It’s okay,” Bradley had told her, voice soft and reassuring. “If you throw up on this one, I’ll just get another jacket tomorrow.” When she’d protested, he’d grinned, shrugging in that effortless way of his. “Honestly, they just give these jackets to anyone,” he’d joked, as if he hadn’t spent years earning the right to wear it and every single patch stitched on it.  

Nicole had blinked up at him, mascara smudged, his jacket draped over her shoulders, looking at him like he was some knight out of one of the many cheesy rom-coms she loved. And for once, Ellie hadn’t blamed her for it.  

That night, Bradley Bradshaw had seen her best friend at her worst and treated her like she was worth sticking around for.  

And that was Rooster in a nutshell—a steady warmth that lingered long after he was gone, the guy who would do just about anything to make Nicole smile, including, but not limited to, dressing up in the ridiculous costume he was currently wearing.  

Nudging her, Rooster grinned. “So,” he drawled, “does this mean I finally get the best friend stamp of approval?”  

Ellie rolled her eyes, feigning a reluctant sigh, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t want to tell him that she’d approved of him long before now. “Don’t let it go to your head, Bradshaw.”  

“Too late,” he laughed, mimicking his head expanding dramatically before throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Already there.”  

Rooster grabbed his drink off the small table bordering the dance floor, draining the glass. “Love the costume, by the way," he sucked his teeth against the burn of the whiskey he’d downed, “I’ve not seen one Amelia Earhart here.” He craned his neck, searching in the dimly lit room.  

“You think the goggles are too much?” Ellie adjusted the strap on her head, pushing a loose strand of hair up underneath the band. “I think they might be cutting off circulation to my brain..."  

“An aviator is only as good as their headgear,” Rooster tapped the top of his head. “You’re just missing your call sign.” 

“Guess you must not be a very good one, then.” Ellie smirked, snapping the neon sweatband on his head with a laugh.  

Rooster levelled her with a narrowed gaze, but there was no heat behind it, “one day someone is going to love that you’re kind of mean.”  

“Sorry, Bradshaw—” Ellie pointed at her ears, shrugging as she stepped back, a smirk on her lips, retreating into the crowd “—I can’t hear you.”  

Rooster flipped her off, in an affectionate way, she assumed. “Sit and circumnavigate, Rigby.” 

With another laugh, Ellie turned and set her sights on the bar, squeezing her way through a grouping of zombies and a Michonne, who stood shoulder to shoulder with a Negan, complete with Lucille, tugging her scarf out of Zombie #1s grasp on the other side. 

The last tug, sharp and forceful, sent her stumbling over the tattered chiffon hem of the La Llorona’s dress at her back.  

Ellie braced for the rough landing as she attempted and failed to steady herself. She felt the fall in her stomach, the way it pitched as gravity pulled her down. She figured it served her right, the swift intervention of karma coming for her after she’d insulted its favourite pilot — Rooster was going to have an absolute field day over this. 

Ellie had been so lost in the idea of bracing for the impact of the ground, hard and sticky, she didn’t notice that she hadn’t fallen until she looked up and saw a lopsided smirk and green eyes, looking down at her. The realization there were hands hooked under her arms, holding her up came quickly after. 

“And here I was thinkin’ that Amelia Earhart had a reputation of staying upright.” The man was all smirk, dimples ghosting his cheeks, as Ellie blinked up at him, processing the situation. 

“Guess I’m overdue for a refresher course on emergency landings.” Ellie cleared her throat, righting herself with his help before she tugged her bomber jacket back into place. 

When she glanced up from her improved angle, Ellie could see just how striking he was—sharp jaw, confident eyes, and a natural swagger that suggested he knew it, suggested he knew women sized him up in more ways than one. 

“What are you drinking, Amelia?” 

“Nothing, yet.” 

“Let’s fix that, shall we?”  

The music pumped anew, the DJ spinning a Thriller remix, as she approached the bar, the presence of the man at her back as she weaved her way through the crowd. She could feel the hover of his hand at her lower back, ready to catch her if she took another tumble. She hadn’t been expecting much from the night—just a few drinks, maybe some small talk with Nic, a short discussion with Sophie on Chappell Roan’s representation of duality in the midwestern identity to prove that she’d come out and spent the appropriate amount of time there. But as she took the beer the bartender slid her way and the man leaned against the bar next to her, she couldn’t help but smile. She definitely hadn’t been expecting this. 

“Let me guess,” Ellie’s eyes scanned his costume then, taking a moment to take stock. Carefully, she scanned the skull patch, dagger in its teeth, VFA-151 stitched in below, the chevrons, patches, carefully piecing the images and small details of his costume together before she replied, eyebrow raised, “you’re a pilot—” she paused to sip her drink, her eyes falling on the patch on his bicep, “—Navy.”  

A grin pulled up the corner of his mouth as he gave her a slow once-over, a scan he didn’t bother to hide, before he leaned casually against the bar beside her. “Hangman,” he said with a smirk, and Ellie’s eyes dipped to the patch on his chest, the golden wings stitched above the call sign. “Best pilot you’ll ever meet.” 

She tilted her head, gaze sliding from his call sign back up to his face. “Best pilot, huh?” She gave him a once-over that was part skepticism, part intrigue. “You Navy guys really know how to sell it.” 

Ellie leaned into the bit hard. Tonight, she was Amelia, and he was Hangman, the name stitched into hundreds, if not thousands, of storebought costumes. If she were Navy, she might have been insulted. 

If he heard the skepticism in her tone, he ignored it and chuckled, not breaking eye contact as he matched her smirk. “Only because it’s true. Besides,” he said, letting his voice drop lower, “don’t have to sell anything when you’ve got it all.”  

Ellie raised an eyebrow, meeting his challenge head-on. “Big words for someone who still hasn’t proven a thing.”  

“Oh, don’t worry, darlin’,” he drawled, leaning in just close enough to lower his voice to a rumble, “I’m very good at proving myself.”  

She laughed softly, a glint in her eyes as she set her drink down. “Okay then, why don’t you start with this—” Ellie leaned in, her finger tapped lightly on the golden wings over his heart, her touch lingering. “Explain why they call you Hangman.”  

She waited, waited to see if he’d squirm, held his gaze and paused for the story that was sure to come. Some feeble attempt at role playing for an unpracticed character, just a call sign with no real bite, no real story.  

He smirked, clearly used to that question but still savoring her attention. “I’ll leave that for you to figure out,” he teased, straightening, “after all, you strike me as a curious type. And I’d hate to ruin the mystery.”  

Ellie chuckled, leaning back as she looked him over. That was his game, wasn’t it? A tennis match, a steady volley and lob. Two could play at that game. “Maybe I’ll get bored before I do.” Ellie added a shrug to punctuate her words for effect.  

“Somehow, I don’t think so.” His voice held a hint of challenge, his gaze lingering, his grin lazy but sharp. He straightened up, hand resting on the bar, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.  

“Guess we’ll see,” she murmured, lifting her drink to her lips, her gaze unwavering as she took another sip. She looked away for just a second, but not before she caught his confident grin widening.  

“Believe me,” he said with that maddening confidence of his as he leaned in, so close that his voice was low, the heat of his words warming the shell of her ear, “I’ve got plenty of ways to keep you entertained.”

Ellie had barely unlocked the front door to Nicole’s place when he was on her, his hands on her hips as he pressed her into the wall at the bottom of the stairs. He kissed her like a man starved, his fingers reaching up to tangle in her hair at the base of her neck, anchoring her to him.  

This was the culmination of the barely veiled innuendos, the heavy-handed flirting that had gone on all evening.  

When he’d slipped out of the bar and onto the street with her, Ellie knew what would happen. He knew what would happen. She could tell in the way his eyes raked over her, all want, pupils blown wide. He wanted her and she wasn’t shy to admit, maybe not out loud, but to herself, that she wanted him too.  

“Maybe we should—” Ellie’s breath was uneven, her mouth missing his the moment they broke apart, just long enough for her to tip her head in the direction of the stairs.  

“Yeah—” his reply was equally breathy, his eyes on her lips even as she spoke, his tongue jutting out to whet his lips. A thrill shot through her, one that dipped low and pulsed between her legs.   

She was wet already, she could feel the slickness of herself, the material of her panties weighted with the evidence. In response, in a swift motion, he picked her up and Ellie instinctively spread her legs so that they framed his waist, her ankles locking at his low back. Ellie didn’t need to be told, she gripped him with her thighs, squeezing tight as he chuckled.   

“Good girl,” he smirked against her mouth before he kissed her again, deeply, his tongue pushing inside to taste hers.  

When they reached the top of the stairs, she broke from him only just long enough to give directions to her room in as few words as humanly possible, reaching out to grip the door frame of her room as he carried her down the hall and almost walked past it.  

Shutting the door behind them with his foot, he wasted no time in pressing her up against the wall. His fingers worried the buttons, slipped each from their place, starting from the bottom up as Ellie took her bomber jacket off, tossing it and the goggles to the floor before she joined him in working on the buttons from top down.  

“So many—” his breath came out with an edge of frustration and Ellie gave up on her buttons to tug the zip of his flight suit down to where her hips met his waist.    

“Just rip it,” Ellie huffed out, voice unsteady as his lips dipped to her neck, teeth grazing the spot where her collarbone met the base of her throat. One less thing between his mouth and her skin warranted the sacrifice of a shirt.  

He didn’t waste time, didn’t question and the sudden coolness on her skin and the sound of the buttons hitting the floor, scattered, had her grinning. She liked a man who followed orders. “You owe me a new shirt, Captain.”  

“Lieutenant,” his voice rumbled into her skin, making quick work of her bra next. By the time it hit the floor to join the other articles of clothing, his hands were on her breasts, teasing her nipples, every pinch and pressure, every touch of his lips, every nip of his teeth sending surges of raw pleasure pulsing down.  

Ellie hated the way he ripped the sounds, raw, unabashed, desperate, from her. Hated how she’d folded under his smooth charm — she could have stopped it, could have said good night and left him at her door. Touched herself, alone, in bed, thinking about the way he’d been so eager to prove he was the best, picture how his touch would have felt, how he would have filled her as she coaxed herself over the edge and leave it at that.  

But she hadn’t, she’d wanted him —she’d own that. She wanted him to fuck her stupid. She could feel him, the hard outline of his cock pressing against her as he held her to him. 

“Easy, darlin’,” he chuckled lowly, rough around the edges as she shifted, reaching to touch him over top the Nomex. “We haven’t even started yet….”  

He was across to her bed in a few easy strides, carefully setting her back so that she sank into the pillows, his hand lingering at her waist as he leaned over her, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. His gaze held hers, steady and unhurried, as he let his fingers trace lightly over the edge of her jaw, his index finger coming to rest under her chin, his thumb smudging her bottom lip.  

As his thumb traced her lip, smudging her lipstick, she caught his hand and pulled his index finger into her mouth, closing her lips around the digit, tongue tracing purposeful patterns as she slowly dragged it out. Her eyes never leaving his as he huffed out a heavy breath, a thrill running through her. 

“You should know that I have a rule, sweetheart.” He murmured, leaning over her so that his arms framed her, so close that his nose brushed hers as he spoke, his voice low, deep, edged by the hard edge of desire. “Ladies first.” 

Her pants were off quickly, leaving her in nothing but a whisp of material separating her from the man who wanted all of her. She heard the jingle of dog tags as he lifted the white shirt that had been under the flight suit over his head and abandoned it. 

Before she could sit up to see him, stripped down to his boxers, he was back on her, lower.  

Softly, he kissed her inner ankle, the next kiss trailing higher, her calf, another on the inside of her knee and the next, on her inner thigh, so close to where she wanted him, she was sure he could feel the heat radiating from her core.  

She was a wreck, a hot, wet wreck and she was barely holding onto the part of her that was ready to beg him to touch her. The part of her that wanted all of him in a way that was driving her mad every moment he wasn’t touching her.  

“What do you want?” His voice was steady, measured as he touched her over her panties, his rough fingers brushing over the dampened spot of the material. The sound that left his lips, a quiet hissing intake of breath, told her he knew what he was doing to her, knew that he had her right where he wanted her.   

In response, Ellie writhed, sensitive to even the smallest brush and despite herself, a small moan left her lips, one she couldn’t have contained even if she had wanted to. What was the question again?  

He moved up from the altar between her legs, nipping a sensitive spot on her side where her ribs ended before he remedied it with a soft kiss, blazing a trail up her body with his mouth. Carefully, holding himself just above her, he bent to tease her nipple with his tongue, whetting the already hard peak, before he closed his lips around one and then moved to the other.  

Ellie was barely holding on, her vision edged with haze as he looked up to finally locked eyes with her. If he kept it up at this rate, he wouldn’t even need to fuck her.  

“What do you want?” His voice was husky, his body propped up over her as Ellie tried to order her thoughts, process them into coherent words. “You going to tell me or am I going to have to guess?”  

She could feel him against her thigh, hard, ready, the thin material of his boxers the only thing between her and all of him. There was some small satisfaction, a thrill that swept through her and coiled low in her stomach, that there was a part of him he was barely controlling a part of him that wanted to be inside of her now. The wet spot of precum on his underwear ghosted against her bare skin and she swore she could feel him twitch.  

Hangman, she’d asked at the bar, explain why they call you Hangman.   

Mystery solved.  

“I want—” she started, barely a whisper as he kissed the corner of her mouth, kissed her jawline, his fingers slipping under the top waistband of her panties as he continued to nip at the most sensitive spots on her neck.  

“You want…?” He prompted, waiting, even as his hand slipped lower, slow, calculated.   

“I want you to—,” Ellie lifted her head and muffled her moan into his shoulder as his fingers found her slick clit, massaging lazy circles, steady, calm, “Mmm.” Her nails bit into the muscles on his back as her head fell to the pillow, arching into his touch.  

“Guess, it is then.” He murmured, that infuriating smirk in his words as he pulled his hand away from her slick, stopping the steady rhythm she’d just gotten used to. She whined after the loss, but he didn’t give her much time to mourn before he was down between her legs again, his fingers dragging her panties off.  

Swiftly, he pulled her to the bottom of the bed, throwing her legs over his shoulders. Ellie gasped, her hips bucking up into his tongue as he swept it up through her folds. Calmly, as she inched closer to unravelling completely, ascending the slope at dizzying speed, he gripped her hips, controlling her movements as she pressed down against his mouth. 

She could feel the pressure building with every expert movement of his tongue over her, through her. Reaching down, she combed her fingers through his hair, gripped into it and tugged him over, directing him to her need.  

“Oh, god….” Ellie whined, the words just barely words as they dissolved into a moan, her free hand gripping the mess of sheets underneath her.  

“Hangman’s fine, gorgeous.” The response was quick, cocky. The response of a man who knew exactly what he was doing to her and taking his time. 

“Wait,” Ellie’s hips chased after his mouth, a groan on her lips as she threw her arm across her eyes. “Don’t stop—.”

He was torturing her now, bringing her just to the edge and then allowing her to come down just enough to bring her back up again. He was fucking good and he knew it. It was going to drive her insane with want. 

“You have to say please, sweetheart,” he murmured, the heat of his breath on her inner thigh almost too much, carefully, he touched her with his thumb, a light pressure as he teased her. Ellie could hear the smirk in his words.  

Words. What were words? Ellie's mind was short-circuiting. Short-circuited, past tense. Already gone. Wires crossed— leads jammed in the wrong place, signals crossed.     

She hadn’t wanted to fall apart under his touch so easily, she'd wanted to seem like she wasn’t desperate for him, but his touch was a warm fire on a cold night.    

“Ple—fuck,” Ellie moaned, her words dragged out, long and torturous as she felt his thick fingers slip inside her, slow and deliberate.     

She didn’t even know his real name, wasn’t even sure if she could manage to say it even if she did. He was undoing her carefully, piece by piece, sensation by sensation, she was malleable under his touch.    

“What was that darlin’?”    

Ellie might have been embarrassed at the squelch of her wetness as his fingers stroked in and out, excruciatingly measured, but she couldn't think about anything. Just the way he filled her while still leaving her wanting more, more, more.    

“Please—” her nerves crackled like livewires as she moaned, her hips moving against his fingers with each stroke, her movements almost involuntary, the wild need in her chasing the high, just out of reach.     

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” his voice was husky, lower now. He gripped her hip, holding her, steadying her rhythm before he added another thick finger, three deep in her now, his thumb moving in circles around her swollen clit.    

“Jesus,” he breathed, taking a moment before his mouth dipped to her hot center, alternating between sucking and the slow caressing tip of his tongue, creating just the right amount of excruciatingly perfect sensation, his fingers stroking and curling inside her. “You're so tight, sweetheart. Might not—” 

He might not fit. She finished his words in her mind, a secondary thought, one that made her mad with want. 

She breathed through the sensations, jolted and writhed as his pumping digits searched for the spot that made her see stars. She felt drunk, high, soaring, just on the edge of release, her muscles aching to reach the peak before she tumbled over, completely undone.    

When she finally broke, her back arching off the mattress, her hips grinding harder into his hand, she moaned into her forearm to muffle the sound. 

That air of self–assured cockiness he carried himself with at the bar, the swagger. It was all well–earned, she was coming to realize. Pun intended. 

“You know what they call a pilot with at least five confirmed air-to-air kills?” His voice was low as he drew his fingers from her, slipping his arm behind her still arched back as he leaned over her, his heavy cock pressing up against her throbbing pussy through his boxers, hard, ready.  

She was hyper aware that she still wanted him, inside her, filling her, spreading her to her limit in a unique mix of pleasure and pain. 

“Hmm—Ace?” Ellie’s mind was still hazy, vignetted around the edges as her heart hammered against her ribs. 

It happened in a moment, a quick change of position, as he lifted and turned, positioning himself under her so she straddled him. Smooth and calculated, precise and fast, an expert maneuver.  

Ellie could feel her bare wetness against him, her hands bracing on his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath her touch. In the dim light of the room, she could see the glint of his dog tags hanging off to the side, a small detail of his costume she wished she might have looked at before, in the bar.  

“Ace.” He smirked up at her before he shifted her hips up and he pulled her down over his face. 

Ellie gripped the steering wheel tightly, the worn pleather creaking under her hands as she leaned forward and angled the rearview mirror sharply so she could get a better look.   

“Fuck,” Ellie hissed, her fingers hovering just over the purple mark on her neck, just above her collarbone. How she hadn’t noticed it in the mirror this morning, she wasn’t quite sure.  

“Seriously? A fucking hickey?” She was already digging around in her purse as she huffed, her fingers blindly searching for the concealer she knew wouldn’t be there because she could see it in her mind’s eye, sitting on the edge of the porcelain countertop in her ensuite bathroom. “Are we fourteen?”  

This was definitely topping her list of things she didn’t need her first day on a new job site, especially not Miramar.  

When Ellie had woken up that morning, the sun barely peeking through the half-shut blinds, she wasn’t surprised that she was alone in bed. There was no note, no forgotten sock, no evidence, save for the dull ache between her legs and a tender, purple love bite on the inside of her right thigh as evidence that last night had even happened.  

That was what one-night stands were though, right? One night.  

Even under the hot stream of water from the shower in the ensuite though, Ellie closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift back, only shaking herself from the thought of him when the alarm from her phone buzzed it right off the counter.   

Groaning, Ellie blew out a noisy breath, abandoning the purse search when she found nothing other than a stray mint.  

Guess today was going to be a hair down kind of day.  

It wasn't the look she normally felt comfortable with on military bases with all the formality of rank and protocol, but she was a civilian contractor, it was unlikely anyone would notice. Hair down was better than the talk that might follow her around if anyone saw the mark on her neck.  

Sighing, Ellie pulled the pins out of the bun she’d spent her morning perfecting and allowed her hair, dark, still damp and wavy from the shower, to fall around her shoulders. Carefully, she pulled the tresses forward, over the rouged mark on her skin, peeking just out from under the collar of her white blouse.  

It wasn’t the best, but it would have to do in a pinch. She made a quick mental note to head off base on break to stop at a CVS to grab some concealer before she twisted the rearview mirror back into place.  

Tony Cudmore, the Crew Staffing Supervisor she had been coordinating with solely through email before now, was already waiting for her just outside the gates, his eyes on his wristwatch as Ellie approached. “Rigby, glad to have you on board. Heard we snagged you from your work on base in Turkey.”  

“Yeah, well. When Uncle Sam comes knocking, right?” Ellie snagged a tress of her hair as it lifted from her shoulder in the wind, carefully patting it back into place.  

“Don’t I know it,” Tony chuckled, his white, push broom straight moustache blustering as he waved at the officer stationed in the booth by the gate before he scanned his security pass. “How’s your old man?”  

“Ah, you know the type, Tony.” 

Ellie had perfected the art of sidestepping questions about her dad and Tony didn’t push further, seemingly content with the non-answer. 

As they reached the security clearance office, Tony slid a few documents under the glass and Ellie stepped up in front of a camera, the flash going off quickly before she had a chance to adjust.  

Whoever thought DMV photos were bad had clearly never had their photo taken by a Naval Officer a few months away from retirement.  

“Given name?” The man behind the glass murmured, so low that Ellie had to strain and lean toward the hole at the bottom of the glass to hear him.  

“Eleanor.” 

“We have a lot of work here that could really benefit from your expertise. The boys are flying Super Hornets nowadays, so the tech is good, but the improvements from your research could really give ‛em the edge.” Tony continued at her side, distractedly flipping through emails on his phone as he waited, “Now of course, those Super Hornets are far and away from the Tomcats your dad would have been flying in his heyday here, let me tell you….”  

“Surname?”  

“Neven - but you can just put Rigby.” It was Ellie’s turn to murmur now, edging closer to the slot in the glass, her voice just loud enough to be heard over Tony’s absent chatter behind her.  

The Security Officer paused, fanning out Ellie’s passport and glancing up at her for a moment, eyebrow raised before he punched something into the computer. She offered him a tight smile a beat too late.  

When the man slid her the newly printed security pass, Ellie’s eyes scanned for any sign of the hickey and was thankful that, though her hair looked like a bird's nest and her eyes were half-closed in mid-blink, at least the hickey wasn’t memorialized in her security pass.  

As they stepped out of the security office, Tony untucked a manila folio from under his arm and passed it to Ellie as they walked. “I’ll take you around. Give you your bearings. You’ll be working with the tower crew lots. Some good people up there.”  

They were out of the outbuilding now, Ellie’s heels clicking across the tarmac, past the line of F18s lined up on the hardtop and gleaming in the early morning California sun.  

“The ground crew might ask for some help with the planes, so you’ll be in the hangars. I’ll take you for a quick flyby,” Tony chuckled to himself, pleased with the pun, “we’ll pick up the tour after since the meeting with Admiral Simpson and Rear Admiral Stark is at 0900 sharp and those suits don’t mess around.”   

Tony’s strides were long, and it took Ellie a moment to jog after him, catching up just in time for him to open the door for her.    

“If you’re not five minutes early—” Ellie started, half playing into the old Navy saying she had grown up hearing as she slipped into the hangar.  

The nostalgic scent of jet fuel and oil hit Ellie hard in the closed space — it didn’t seem to matter how long she did this, how long she worked around planes and crews, in different countries, different airfields, this part never changed. Part of that was comforting in an odd way. It felt like home to her. 

Tony snapped his fingers in response, the sound of agreement. Tony opened his mouth to speak when a loud peel of laughter echoed in the closed space. Tony glanced at his watch, confused for a moment before his face turned toward Ellie, excited. “Oh, well, will you look at that, lucky you, we’ve got some of our Flyboys here. Must have some free time before drills.”    

Ellie followed a few steps behind Tony as he rounded the front of a line of Super Hornets, a spring in his step. As they approached, she took in the group of aviators in their flight suits from a distance, casually talking and laughing — and then her stomach twisted, her gait faltering for a moment. 

There, leaning against one of the jets, was the last person she expected to see again, let alone here: Hangman.

He looked almost exactly as he had last night, though somehow the daylight amplified everything about him— his height, the confident set of his shoulders. He turned, mid-laugh and Ellie watched as his eyes caught on her, like he recognized her for a fraction of a second before the look was gone just as quickly. 

Hangman’s easy smile shifted when he saw her, an eyebrow shooting up, surprise flashing across his face before his expression settled into something like amusement.

The last time she’d seen that look, she’d been over top of him, hovering, before he pulled her down over his mouth greedily, his tongue painting pictures over her most sensitive nerve endings as she moaned. She was pretty sure she’d broken one of her fingernails as she gripped the headboard, biting into her bottom lip so hard she could taste blood, his other hand reaching up to cup her breast roughly.  

Yet here he was now, in the light of day, truly in his element, looking like he belonged here as much as the jets around him. 

Ellie felt her heart kick up a notch, a reaction she’d hoped she’d managed to stow away. She forced herself to play it cool, lifting her chin slightly as they neared the group. She didn’t have a choice – there was no running from this. The consequences of her own actions coming back around to haunt her. 

“Hangman, Payback, Harvard,” Tony greeted, nodding to him and the other pilots. “Good to see you guys. Just giving our new radar tech a tour.” 

Ellie felt her pulse quicken as his gaze slid back to her. He wasn’t going to say anything, right? They were strangers here, well, coworkers now. She wasn’t Amelia Earhart, and he wasn’t the pilot from the party, except, he very clearly was and Ellie had miscalculated, mis-stepped. A TOPGUN pilot no less. 

As she held his gaze, she could see the recognition flickering behind his eyes. He knew exactly who she was, but his mask didn’t slip, not for a second. 

“This is—”  

“Rigby. Eleanor.” Ellie interrupted Tony sharply. The introduction as herself, not as Amelia, would be on her own terms. At least she could control that. Here, at Miramar, she was Eleanor Rigby. 

“Welcome to the team, Rigby,” he said smoothly, holding out a hand as if they hadn’t already met in the most intimate of ways. The way he said her name sounded off, like he was testing it out in the context of their previous… encounter. 

Ellie held her breath, pausing only a moment before she forced herself to shake his hand. “Thanks,” she replied coolly, her voice even, though she was silently praying for the ground to swallow her whole. She refused to let him get the upper hand. Not here, not in front of people she had to work with.  

His grip was firm, his eyes amused. Ellie caught the brief flicker of his gaze to her neck, his eyes resting where Ellie knew she’d tried to hide the hickey, admiring his work, likely.    

Tony chuckled, oblivious to the tension. “Lieutenant Seresin’s one of the best we’ve got. You’ll probably end up working on his bird now and then.”  

Ellie forced a smile, though she could feel the bottom of her stomach drop out and she cleared her throat in an attempt to press down the nervous, incredulous laugh that threatened to escape her. Technically, she’d worked on it last night, right?   

“Looking forward to it,” she said instead, even though the last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near him right now.  

He released her hand, stepping back into the group of pilots. “Catch you around, Rigby” he said casually, before turning back to his crew, who began to stalk off, out of the large open hangar doors, not looking back.  

“Anyway, you’ll be working here between—” Tony continued, oblivious. 

Ellie let out a breath as Tony waved at her to follow him, continuing the tour. She kept her eyes forward, focusing on Tony’s voice, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of Hangman’s eyes on her or the memory of last night still lingering between them. This complicated things. This really complicated things. 

At least he’d set a standard: he didn’t know her and Ellie was only happy to play along with that pretense. She didn’t know him either. At least, that’s the story she was sticking to. 

The fluorescent lights in the conference room felt harsher than usual, and Ellie shifted uncomfortably as Admiral Simpson and Rear Admiral Ingrid Stark watched her closely, their expressions unreadable.  

Standing before two of the Navy’s highest-ranking officers, Ellie tried to steady her breath, tried to ignore the slow trickle of panic coursing through her. The same panic that churned the small bit of breakfast she’d managed to eat while maneuvering in and out of San Diego traffic all the way to North Island.  

All she had to do was focus, recenter her mind on the presentation. The presentation that culminated the last three years of her career, it was important, she knew – it had been the sole focus of her work in Turkey and yet, here she was, hiding that stupid hickey and thinking about the man who made it. Thinking about how he looked at her in the hangar not but twenty minutes ago, a glance exchanged that held a shared secret between them as he took her hand and treated her like a stranger. Cool, calm, collected, all charm.  

It was the same easy charisma she’d leaned into just last night, at the Halloween party, blissfully unaware of who he really was. Except now she knew he’d been telling the truth the whole damn time and she’d just called his bluff wrong. And now, now with all those thoughts running through her mind at Mach 2, she was standing here, in front of the highest-ranking personnel on base, expected to deliver a groundbreaking presentation on her research, trying to ignore the lingering flush of that unexpected run-in this morning.  

Ellie cleared her throat, tightening her grip on her tablet as she began walking the Admirals through her research. Running through her practiced script, she carefully outlined her new detection algorithm—a project that had garnered their attention in the first place, the same work that had pulled her back here, to Miramar.   

Truthfully, if they’d asked any probing questions, Ellie would have to confess that the technology was in its earliest stages but had the potential to counteract enemy jamming of GPS signals. In theory (because that was the key word theory), the algorithm she’d developed, on paper, had the potential to become an un-jammable navigation system.  

Ellie clicked through to the next slide, “The reason this algorithm has the potential to give our pilots the advantage is because the enemy would have -”  

You have to say please, sweetheart. 

The memory from last night, his words a steady command, sent a pulse through her, from her chest, down into her core, where it settled, hot and pulsing. 

Ellie’s voice caught in her throat, and she coughed, before holding up her index finger and pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher at the head of the table. Quietly she sipped the water, her eyes landing outside the window at the tarmac as ground crew guided an F18 out of the hangar. She waited for a beat, measuring her sips as she calmed down. 

Get your shit together, Rigby. She coached herself, draining the last of the water as she caught Admiral Simpson checking his watch from the corner of her eye. You are not going to screw this up because you had sex last night.    

Incredible sex.     

The best sex you've had in the last two years... possibly in your entire life.    

Top tier sex... with your new co-worker. Who just so happens to fall into the off-limits category. 

If she could have shaken her head without it seeming strange, she would have, but she suspected she was getting into foot tapping territory. With Admirals, time was money. 

“I’m sorry, as I was saying—” Ellie straightened her blazer, setting the glass down and resuming her presentation, determined.      

When she finished, Admiral Simpson leaned back, giving her a thoughtful once-over as he drummed his fingers on the folder containing her research on the table in front of him. “Well, Ms. Neven,” he said, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The best of the best. That’s what they told me about you. I suppose that must run in the family.”  

The weight of the comment hit her immediately, and her mind reeled again. This time for an entirely different reason. She hadn’t anticipated Rick’s reputation coming up so soon—or at all.  

She managed a quick nod, hoping it looked confident. “Thank you, sir,” she said, barely keeping her voice steady.  

Simpson’s smile deepened. “When we saw you were one of the top minds in the field, it was a no-brainer to bring you in for this project. Your research is intriguing.” His gaze softened slightly, just enough to give her a glimpse of the man behind the rank and she wondered if, for half a second, it had anything to do with the fact that he had a daughter her age. “You’re going to do great things here. Your dad’ll be proud, no doubt.”  

Ellie nodded again, murmuring her thanks, feeling an odd pressure bubbling under the surface. Truthfully, she had expected some bluster about her family, some comments about her father and his Radar Intercept Officer being wingmen for the late Fleet Commander Tom “Iceman” Kazansky. She hadn’t expected it this soon. 

“Admiral Stark and I will take a look over your documentation and see how best to get the testing started. I trust you’ll let us know if you need anything in the meantime?” Admiral Simpson stood then, and an Officer stationed outside the boardroom opened the door from the outside.  

The meeting adjourned, and as everyone began to filter out, Ellie felt herself unraveling by the second, anxiety pushing its way to the forefront. She wanted to scream or laugh, possibly both. Instead, she was rooted in place, unable to decide whether to escape to the nearest empty room or brace herself against the wall and breathe. If she didn’t leave this room for the rest of the day, what were the chances she’d run into him again? Probably slim. 

This was her first day here. The first day and she was thinking about how she’d been laid bare and fucked out of her mind by a man she’d never thought she’d see again, much less work with. All in the middle of one of the most important presentations of her entire life, in front of the people who could make that research into something tangible, a finished product, a cornerstone of new technology in aviation, a reality.   

The lights in the boardroom automatically flicked off and Ellie sighed, gathering up the last of her things before exiting the room. She could hide in the women’s bathroom, right? 

“Ms. Neven.” RADM Stark’s voice approaching from the hallway behind her startled Ellie. As she turned, Ellie watched as Stark appraised her with a mix of curiosity and approval. “Impressive work. It’s good to have some estrogen in the room for once.” Her lips curled into a slight smirk, and Ellie let out the measured breath she’d been holding.  

“Thank you, ma’am. I’m—excited to work here,” Ellie's voice was a little steadier now, a bit of genuine enthusiasm breaking through her nerves as she reminded herself why she was here in the first place. Her work. Her career. Her tech.  

Stark raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Don’t get too excited,” she said, producing a small stick of concealer from a crisp tan pant pocket. She held Ellie’s gaze, a message or a warning behind her cool eyes, Ellie couldn’t be sure, as the ranked Officer handed the makeup to Ellie. “I think we might be the same shade.”   

Ellie’s heart stuttered as the realization hit her, broad-sided. Her hand shot to her neck before she could think, the heat in her cheeks flaring brighter than before as she accepted the concealer, mumbling a mortified thank-you.  

Stark gave her a knowing smile, a curt little nod as she tapped the side of her nose, before walking away, her stride as calm and confident as when she’d approached.    

Ellie waited until the RADM was clear from sight before making a beeline for the bathroom, practically stumbling into the mirror over the sink. She tilted her head to confirm what she already knew was there: a very visible, very damning mark on her neck. The scarlet letter.   

Great.    

She didn’t waste a second applying RADM Stark’s concealer, muttering under her breath as she blended it carefully with the tips of her fingers, dabbing. “One day at Miramar, Ellie. One day.”    

As she swiped on the secondary layer of concealer for good measure, she felt the rush of everything hit her again. The tension of the presentation, the equal parts pride and pressure from the Admiral’s praise, and him—Lieutenant Seresin, Hangman, with his easy, cocky grin and the piercing eyes that, despite everything, she could still feel on her.  

tags: @mrsevans90 , @avengersfan25 , @hookslove1592

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[madwomansapologist]

stay soft, get eaten | tanjiro kamado x hashira!reader

tanjiro was accused of treason, and there was more than enought proof for you to cut his head and damn his existence. that was your duty as a hashira. but as a friend, you couldn't. you could never.

cw: angst. hurt/barely any comfort. childhood friends to strangers to lovers. kny level of violence. death and gore. more than one character actively trying to kill nezuko.

an: messing around with the idea of an oc. can anyone rec an artist that accepts commissions? another chapter of me finding a way to put a undertale reference on my fics.

A ghost stood before you, forcing you to face your past.

Once more you were that innocent girl unaware of how your life would change. Focused on the basket between your hands, making sure to protect the bread inside it from the snow, you had no real worries.

You didn't saw the blood. You didn't smell the putrid stench. It was right in front of you, and still you noticed nothing. How you despise that clueless girl. She knew the world was a kind place. She didn't believed that, she knew that: nothing bad has ever happened for her to think otherwise.

How dumb you were. To only notice the blood after stepping on it.

You never truly understood what it meant to be a person until that very moment. To be alive is to have a body, and to have a body is to suffer. A layer of skin, a layer of fat, a layer of muscles, a layer of bones. Nothing can change that.

And blood. So much blood. You threw up on the snow, and continued until your throat burned. With the scarlet red carved on your eyes, you saw the graves. That made you remember exactly where you were.

Kie Kamado. Takeo Kamado. Hanako Kamado. Shigeru Kamado. Rokuta Kamado. Nezuko Kamado. Tanjiro Kamado.

All dead.

You were shaking when he came. Was it because of the snow falling on your skin for hours on end, the empty on your stomach, or the violent cries taking over your body? When you left with Giyu Tomioka, you knew why: you were enraged.

From then on, you trained. You almost died, then did it all again. Until you reached perfection. Every movement, every breath, every muscle of your body. You made yourself excelent. You protected those that couldn't, killed oni after oni, slayed a kizuki without hesitation.

That innocent girl you despise died because of what you saw that night. That girl you envy, that had silly dreams and could afford not to learn it was already time to grow for a few more years died that night. So why you're looking at Tanjiro's sleeping face?

Unaware of the string muzzling your heart as if it was a beast in need of taming, the Pillars argued around you. You couldn't quite catch their words, all meaning lost in the air around you.

You pinched yourself, as if you didn't already knew it wasn't a nightmare. Life taugh you a funny trick: when you don't know what's happening, all you had to do is to imagine the worst possible scenario and accept it as reality.

And so you knew: you were late that night. More than you could ever imagine. Late so you couldn't see they alive, couldn't help Tanjiro, couldn't save Nezuko. And Giyu lied to you. If not, he at least omit the truth from you.

"Tomioka", you interrupted Tengen, just now realizing the voice you heard belong to him. You have never been so upset, and still your concentration on your breathing technique never shattered. "You knew from the start, didn't you?"

"I believe Shinobu said-", Mitsuri thought you had misunderstood Shinobu's report, but decided to remain silent when she noticed your clenched fists. She observed you, more carefully now, and saw the truth.

After all, when someone does their best not to cry the only decent thing is to pretend they're doing a good job.

Giyu didn't return your gaze. You were almost grateful for it. You don't know if you could endure his coldness now. "You found me mourning his family, and knowing he was alive you chose to say nothing."

How loud the silence that came after it was. Not a single breath was heard by your attentive ears. In the absence of an response, you found one: your trick never fails you.

Kyojuro turned to you, his smile brighter than the sun. "All slayers involved in this case shall face punishment", Kyojuro's energy had no effect on you. "We'll find a way to punish the Water Hashira."

Instead of moving forward, you looked back. "Tomioka", your calm voice made him look at you. This time, you were ready for what you would face. Even know, he was so aloof. What a nice act.

Giyu Tomioka gave you no comfort when he found you that night, only the truth. Giyu Tomioka told you a tale of demons and slayers, of blood and ashes. Giyu Tomioka gave you a reason to get up, clean the vomit on your face, and pray one last time for the family that always treated with care.

"What I do now?", the wind shoved your tired words towards ears. "How can I stop then?"

Giyu thought about your questions for a while. Just when he decided it was best to turn his back on you, something on your eyes stopped him. They burned. "There is a cultivator a few cities away."

You smiled.

Mitsuri gasped. She can still smile at him even now, her dreamy eyes gazed upon you. Sweet like sakuramochi. And as pretty too.

You thought about hiding yourself behing Gyomei when Tanjiro started to wake up. You didn't, you couldn't move. As he tried with sleepy words to protect his sister, you stood as quiet as you could. But his eyes found you, and for a second the world around you faded away.

⋆✦⋆

Tanjiro was dreaming again.

As the Pillars argued about his future execution, Tanjiro couldn't quite believe it all was really happening. Broken bones, exhausted mind, sore muscles. He must be hallucinating from the pain. That's the only possible explanation.

Because you're right in front of him, and that only happens when he dreams.

And still, even so sure it was just a fantasy from his tired mind, Tanjiro could do nothing but to stare at your sweet eyes and pretend it was reality.

How he wish to go back in time and be that boy who worried if you would look at him at during his daily walks throught the village. He could almost feel the softness of your hair against his once scarless palm, hear the poems you declamed with such a passion, see the careful way you treated your siblings.

Tanjiro isn't that boy anymore, and your perfume reminds him of apple and cinnamon. You smell like exhaustion and regret. Like hopes and dreams. Kindness and duty.

"Were you happy?" He interrupted one of the Pillars, not that he ever heard about them before, and in response to his disrespect Tanjiro was shoved on the ground. He contorced his body to look at you, ignoring everything else. "Was life good to you?"

Your smile burned your cheeks, so big it showed a bit of your gums. Usually you tried to keep it cover, but not this time. This time you could afford to smile without a care. "No, it wasn't", you answered with a voice covered in honey. "But I made it good."

Tanjiro smiled. The pain, the loneliness, the fear: it all disappeared. Smelling joy, Tanjiro was glad it wasn't a dream. But of course that meant the execution discussed was real too.

"That won't be a problem, right?" Shinobu questioned. "As a Pillar, we expect you to do what must be done."

Looking into his eyes, a stare so strong you felt hazy, you didn't hesitate. "The only mercy a demon deserves is a of a quick death." You turned to Shinobu, so she could see you meant it. "It's our duty to do so."

"And the boy?" Shinobu smiled, but it was so emotionless. It felt like a performance, but to what audience? Who Shinobu was trying to fool? You can't imagine.

You could feel his gaze burning your temples. "I won't pretend to be our Master and decide his fate", you wondered if your eyes were emotionless too. Were you trying to fool someone? "I know my place."

As Rengoku reenforced Tanjiro was to be killed by his act of treason, you looked at him again. Hoping to see disgust on his eyes, you saw something you couldn't really comprehend. Something warm and soft.

You saw your Tanjiro again. That sweet boy who would protect you from the snow, even if he would get sick because of it. You wondered if he saw that girl you once were. If he could remember your tales and desires.

You hope that girl is still alive somewhere safe. It would be enough for her to be alive on his mind.

She would've protected Tanjiro now. Don't matter the size of the threat, she would fail but would never give up. Now you're bigger than most threats out there in the world, but nothing could change the fact Tanjiro protected a demon.

You stood quiet, dreaming about a world were demons were still just tales. You smelled like defeat.

⋆✦⋆

And still, despite your desire to never speak again, you couldn't ignore it.

"Nezuko glowed, Master", you gather all your strenght to disagree. It pierced your very soul to do so, but how could you agree with that? "She was the jewelof our village. A dear friend, my Flower, so kind and generous."

You felt the weight of his gaze on you, knowing that Tanjiro would never look at you again. You love him, you really do, but if he really wanted to protect Nezuko he would let her go. You would be kind. You would do it swiftly, and endure the weight of her death for him.

"She doesn't deserve to be remembered as one of them", you said. "If her body won't be respected, then let her soul be. Allow me to free her, please."

Mitsuri would do anything Master asked for, but that made her desire he would want something else. That's a sort of strenght I didn't knew you had, Mitsuri thought to herself. Am I strong like that?

Looking into Tanjiro's eyes, you didn't noticed as Sanemi moved. You only understood when he screamed, and Iguro decided to put him down on the ground. Again and again, Sanemi pierced the box, offending Nezuko.

"Master, forgive me for this", you raised your voice. You would never do that in front of your Master, but he was the one to start this. In a instant, you were besides him with your sword on your hands. "But if Sanemi will be cruel, I will be fast."

But before you could cut off her head, Nezuko looked away.

"Flower?" You asked, sword falling down on the ground. "Are you in there?"

Nezuko hugged you, and once again a Kamado shattered your world.

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general taglist: @lovelyy-moonlight

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[snoopledrooplecheesedoodle]

A Quick Pick Me Up (Yandere Neko Cafe x Reader)

Hey, ya'll, I know ya'll like my fandom work, but I promise you my OC stuff is just as good. Please read!!!!! I just felt like doing this today! Reader is gender neutral. Also YANDERE BEHAVIOR IS UNACCEPTABLE IN REAL LIFE! IT AINT CUTE, IT'S ABUSE! SEEK HELP IF YOU OR A LOVED ONE HAVE SOMEONE IN YOUR LIFE LIKE THIS!

Picture belongs to @kaffee-und-liebe

Tw: Yandere tendencies, some platonic yanderes (the kids and Cocoa), some slightly suggestive content, cursing, Donut (you'll know what I mean later), mentions of abuse, and other possibly triggering content

MINORS DNI

You live in a city that is made up of mostly apartments, that don't allow you to keep a cat much less a hybrid. Too bad because you really love cats and cat hybrids. They're just so cute with their soft ears and tails and fierce expressions. When they purr? You almost die!

Which is why you are currently vibrating in front of the newest cat cafe where you can interact with cat hybrids and cats alike. It was also really close to your apartment building, so it was meant to be. The cafe was a cute brown stone building covered in vines and flowers with a black sign that in golden letters spelled out "Lucky Kitty Cafe". You felt pretty lucky standing in front of the building right now. You took a breath and entered the building.

Ding~

A set of bells tinkled cutely as your eyes widened in amazement. The place was catastic! There were paintings of cats, a cat tree decorated with potted plants, chairs with little cat ears on the back, and much more. A strange looking person with a long and thin face and vitiligo and mysterious blue green colored eyes looked up with a friendly smile. They wore head scarf with a hat with cat ears on top and a beige shirt with caramel accents.

"Welcome to Lucky Kitty Cafe, I'm Shopkeeper, are you here to see our cats and cat hybrids?" Their voice was a soothing androgynous voice. They were pretty hot not going to lie. "Yes, I'm here to see the cats!" "Wonderful~" Shopkeeper purred as they grabbed a pen and paper. "Would you like anything to eat or drink while you wait?" You smile gleefully at Shopkeeper and nod. "I'll have (cafe order) please." Shopkeeper jotted your order down and nodded. "Good taste, we'll have that order out right away for you Mx..."

"(Y/N)"

Mx. (Y/N) what a beautiful name...I can tell the staff will just love you~

For the privacy of our staff, they have been assigned names of popular cafe drinks and snacks. Their personalities our meant to cater to our wide clientele. Please take not of the following rules:

Rule 1.: Do not pick up cats

Rule 2: No pulling tails and ears of cats or staff

Rule 3: Harassment of any kind towards our cats, staff, or other customers will get you sent straight to Butch

Rule 4: Our staff are playing a role to increase your enjoyment of the cafe. The way they act in the cafe does not necessarily constitute how they act outside of the cafe.

Rule 5: Buy at least one item on the menu, this is a business after all

Rule 6: DON'T MESS WITH OUR DARLING 

Meet Our Staff

Macchiato:

Macchiato or Macchi is the unofficial mascot of "Lucky Kitty Cafe" she is a calico hybrid who is the sweetest person around. Her cheerful and bright attitude will brighten up even the grumpiest of people's days. She always is the first to greet new customers.

You were stunned when the tritone beauty perched herself directly on your lap, her orange eyes shining brightly as she bounced up and down barraging you with questions.

She was so excited to see a cute new face around the establishment! Your hands were so gentle as you pet her soft ears. She didn't feel the slightest bit of shame letting you know how much she enjoyed it with her loud purring. When your food and drink came you offered to share some with her.

With her?

She almost fell in love right then and there, no one ever offered to share their food with her in such a genuine way. The food was some of the best she ever had since she got to share it with you. She couldn't help but laugh as you gushed over the cats, you were more adorable than anyone here!

She's probably the first to go yandere, she can't help it when your sweeter than the sugary treats Shopkeeper bakes. She is one clingy motherfucker, so she'll always have some body part of yours close to her. She will also insert herself in any interaction you have with others in the cafe or outside. Don't ask her why she's here just pet her pretty tritone hair!

She wants to be the only hybrid in your life which means you may wake up with her snuggled into your arms blinking those sunset orbs at you cutely.

"Morning (N/n)! Did you sleep well? I know I did~

Collects any trash you leave behind. Dirty napkins? Now hers. Straws? She's wrapping her tongue around while thinking indecent thoughts. Lost your cute keychain? Well good luck ever finding it again because now it's a part of her shrine to you.

Don't let her cute face fool you, she will do whatever it takes to ensure that you are hers.

"(N/n) left their Chapstick here. Mmm (N/n) it's like sharing an indirect kiss with you~"

Espresso:

Meet the cafe's very own black cat Espresso. He is very quiet and aloof at first. Most people never interact with him as he will leave when people attempt to start a conversation with him. No one understands why Espresso even took a job here as he's clearly not a people hybrid.

He is no doubt one of the most handsome hybrids most people see. Beautiful dark skin and long dreadlocks accompanied with silky black ears and tail and intelligent brown eyes. His voice is very deep and mellow much like a good espresso.

He is a cat magnet as even the shyest cats can be found purring contently on his lap. He lets them hang around him as he sketches pictures of the cafe.

"You're a really good artist"

Espresso jerks at the sudden sound of your voice, how did you manage to sneak up on him? He froze as every impulse in him was confused on how to react. Run away? Thank you? Let you sit down with him? It's clear to you that the Windows shut down noise is taking place in his head right now.

"I'm sorry for startling you, I'll be on my way now."

It didn't take long for other cats and Macchi to distract you, but Espresso couldn't get the interaction out of his head. Yes, you scared him, but you didn't pressure him into conversation. You simply complimented his art before leaving.

Why did a small part of him wish you stayed?

In order for him to go yandere for you, you have to let him approach you in his own time. You must be patient as Espresso isn't used to engaging with customers like the other staff are. He is probably the last if not close to last who go yandere for you, which means you'll have an ally for when the others get too touchy.

He is very aware that the feelings that he is developing aren't the healthiest, so he tries to keep his feelings to himself. He adores your calming presence and how you can bring out the best in anybody. He begins subconsciously drawing you more and more in different scenarios. Most relatively innocent but there are enough indulgent sketches that he doesn't allow you to look through his sketch book without him supervising.

However, jealousy begins to gnaw at his gut when he sees you interacting with the others. When did Butch get so protective of you? Why do you hang around that bastard Donut? Why can't he have you all to himself? He starts to use the trust that you've built towards him to convince you to spend less time with the others. Besides that, he's one of the most harmless yanderes on this list.

"Oh, you're here, did the others smother you too much? They won't bother as long as you stay with me my muse."

Donut:

Oh boy, you got this gremlin's attention, you really are too sweet for your own good, aren't you? Donut is an orange Munchkin cat hybrid and the shortest adult of the staff (the kids are platonic yandere for you). The definition of short guy syndrome but he hides it behind a cute facade. He lays it on thick for customers to give him fat tips (get you mind out of the gutter). A little bat of the eyelash here and a flirty wink there and everyone is eating out of the palm of his hand.

"Oh, a new customer, it's so nice to meet you I'm Donut~"

"Nice to meet you Donut."

"Hee hee, do you mind if I sit on your lap?"

He plops himself on your lap and starts not so subtly grinding on you which makes you very uncomfortable, you just met this guy. Plus, this is not the place for finding a random hookup. You push him off your lap and tell him that his actions made you uncomfortable. Donut begins boiling inside. You ungrateful bitch! How dare you turn him down! Him! HIM!!!! He yells in frustration later in the empty break room. Why were you being so rude when he was just being nice? (No dude that's sexual harassment) He's made it his personal mission to seduce you and then when you fall for him laugh in your face.

Donut turns up the clueless and the sexiness up by a hundred and ten percent. He wears extra skimpy and tight-fitting shorts and skirts (with lacey panties and/or thongs) as well as unbuttoning half the buttons on his pastel pink shirt, showing you his surprisingly defined chest. He skips around with an innocent grin, only for his actions to be ignored. You evil SLUT, how dare you pretend to not see what he's doing? He should teach you to be grateful and get down on your knees like a good whore does. He ignores all the other customers in favor of hatefully glaring at you from the corner.

He follows you out of the cafe and drags you into an alley nearby pinning you to the wall (he's actually deceptively strong). He screams all of the feelings he's been bottling up towards you with tears in his eyes. You stand still for a moment unsure of what to do and then you feel him go limp. Okay this is super awkward, the guy in front of you went on a nice guy spiel and then passed out. Unfortunately, you have some morality and decide not to leave him out here when your apartment is right across the street. You scoop him up and walk to your apartment (he's really light).

Donut wakes up in a stranger's bed and thinks he took his anger out by sleeping with some rando for a quick ego boost. However, he sees you coming into the room with a plate of breakfast and set it right in front of him. Why was he at your place? You explained what happened and Donut is very embarrassed, he can't believe he was vulnerable with the person he despises with all his heart. He prepares for you to mock him cruelly, but instead you treat him with the kindness he'd never show for you. Why are you such a mature person? It makes him so mad that he starts blushing, his heart starts pumping... did you always look so handsome?

Uh oh

Donut goes from being horrible to you to being the most delusional being on the planet. You treated him with kindness, which must mean you love him and much as he loves you. He does the cute act except this time its genuine and less sexual (he learned boundaries for you so be grateful (don't he still sucks)). However, he doesn't afford the same luxury to others. He sees the way others look at you and he doesn't like it one bit. He is cruel and sadistic towards rivals all while acting like an absolute angel towards you.

"Welcome home darling! How did I get in your apartment? You invited me here silly, now come and snuggle with your one and only~"

Sugar:

Sugar is a complete MILF looking like a golden age Hollywood actress in her work uniform. She is a Turkish Angora hybrid with gorgeous long white hair plated in victory curls and bewitching heterochromic eyes (left brown and right blue with a beauty mark under the left one). Sugar was a show hybrid like her mother before her but had to leave when she became pregnant with a stray hybrid's kittens. She is very gentle and motherly with an elegant femme fatale aura to her. Sugar is considered second in command to Shopkeeper and very respected for her age and wisdom (she's in her early to mid-forties because we love older women here).

Popular with old and young alike, you were starstruck when the snow-haired beauty and spoke to you with her lightly accented voice (she's Turkish). You felt completely comfortable with Sugar and were able to get some sound financial advice from her, as Sugar knew what it was like to be young and struggling to pay bills.

"Remember that charity is no only an act of generosity but also tax deductible."

"Yes mommy."

"What?"

"What?"

She found your slight crush on her adorable as it was flattering for younger people to find her attractive. However, she didn't want to have to parent her partner as well as her twins. She doesn't immediately go yandere nor is she the slowest to go yandere for you. This feeling changed when she saw how well you got along with Cookie and Muffin (her twins). You were able to get them to listen to you as well as break up their fights which was a feat that very few outside herself could do. Color her impressed.

"Mommy is (Y/N) our new parent?"

"Now kids we need to be tactical about this-"

"They helped find a crying child's parents."

"Cookie, Muffin, say hello to your new stepparent."

Very few younger people and hybrids knew the subtle art of seduction like Sugar did, which she believes gives her advantage compared to the others. She doesn't constantly badger you for your time like Macchiato, Donut, and Cappuccino do (she's only truly worried about the romantic rivals but Cocoa is on thin ice sometimes). Nor does she play it too subtle like Espresso and Croissant do. She invites you to "platonic" dates out with her and her children to parks and restaurants. She also will subtly touch you whether it be smoothing wrinkles on your outfit or giving you chaste kiss on the cheek (she says she greets everyone that way, but you have yet to see that). She knows she attractive and how to flirt in a way that makes you blush but not uncomfortable.

She's seen the cruelties of the world and hopes that you won't have to go through have the horrors she's faced. The world isn't very kind to single moms, especially older single moms. She wants you to be happy and safe in her home, as a cute little stay at home spouse. Let her do all the hard work outside while you stay home and do some work inside (she won't let you strain yourself though). She also is a doting and spoiling yandere. She's very generous and giving towards you (even in bed) and will have all your desires met except leaving.

She's a master manipulator and will use her children as a way to get you to consider staying with her. They love you so much, you wouldn't break their hearts, right? (the kids are also manipulative little shits as well) The only people she would consider sharing (this is only in dire situations) you with is Shopkeeper and maybe Bruce. Besides that, she won't rest until you are snuggled into her chest in the bed you share.

"(Y/N) let's go out again, the kids love hanging out with you dear and I wouldn't want to disappoint them. You will, wonderful!"

Cookie and Muffin: 

Meet the mischievous mixed breeds who work occasionally beside their mother. Cookie and Muffin are loved dearly by kids their age and lonely older patrons. They love sweets and messing with member of the staff they don't like (Donut and Cappuccino mostly) with very intricate pranks. They aren't always there and met you by chance as their mother had to pick them up early from school (Muffin and Cookie can get violent with each other and the only one who can break them up is momma Sugar). Muffin is the girl with short gray hair with a single white streak and Cookie is the boy with long white hair with a single gray streak.

They saw you playing with the kittens and wanted to play too! You rough house with the twins and don't get mad when Muffin bites you a bit too hard (kitten hybrid teeth are sharp). Cookie got jealous that you are paying more attention to Muffin and the two started fighting. Normally no one is brave enough to break the twins apart from each other, but you bravely stand between them enduring multiple scratches until they stopped.

They can't believe they hurt their new playmate; their mom is going to kill them. Both start crying while apologizing profusely for hurting you. Instead of yelling at them you scratch their ears gently and tell them it's okay. Your touch is just as calming as their mother's, wait why did you stop? Keep petting them please!

They're kids so they go yandere pretty quickly as they aren't romantic interests, and you sneak them pastries you bought (much to Sugar's dismay). Both are always trying to monopolize your time and will scratch and bite any staff or customer who interrupts their "(Y/N) Time". When their mom starts having a romantic interest in you, they're ecstatic, you get to become their new parent. While they are kids, they aren't dumb as they notice other staff members looking at you the same way that their mom does. They won't let just anyone marry you, only mommy can (they can't wait to call you their baba*)!

Their pranks become almost deadly in nature towards rivals of their mom. They never get in trouble for almost killing the delivery guy because they're just kids, what do you expect? Also inherit the manipulative trait from their mother. Oh no their babysitter mysteriously quit! Could you watch them? You come over only to find that it was an elaborate ruse done by the twins, so you have family movie night with them and Sugar (they "fall asleep" on you so you're forced to spend the night). Mommy is sad because she remembered how daddy left them. Could you cheer her up?

They aren't too dangerous yanderes besides the semi deadly pranks, but they aren't to be underestimated because they're children. They want a happy family with their favorite playmate, and they'll do anything they can to get it.

"(Y/N), Muffin pulled on my hair!" "Not before Cookie bit my finger!"

"Baba don't leave!" "Yeah, we'll stop fighting as long as you're here!"

Croissant:

Ah the intelligentsia of the cafe, its own certified genius Croissant. Croissant is a lover of reading, fine art, and playing his beloved cello. He brings with him a refined aura and a thirst for knowledge. He's a blonde American Curl who always wears his beloved red scarf, even indoors. He has semi long curly blond hair in a mullet and the prettiest hazel eyes. He's got freckles that he hides with makeup. He is popular with mainly older people who enjoy engaging in discourse with him on a wide variety of subjects. He also helps tutor kids occasionally in the cafe's break room.

Croissant saw you sitting in the corner reading a book while sipping on (beverage of choice), the book you were reading happened to be one he knew about. He asked if you were enjoying the book, which caused your eyes to light up. You began to ramble to him about the book you were reading which Croissant found very adorable. Finally, he found someone that had a similar interest to him.

The two of you begin to have a routine where you would have interesting conversations about your individual interests, where each one of you would come out learning more about each other. Croissant started noticing little things about you, like how one dimple is bigger than the other when you smile, or that your nose scrunches up when you're confused. That's totally a normal thing to notice about your friend, right?

Right?

Croissant is one of the last to go yandere but goes yandere before Espresso and Butch. I mean how could anyone resist your charms forever? You never are rude or demeaning like the jealous fools in his graduate classes. You actually listen with wide eyed interest and treating him like a regular person instead of something to be revered or despised made him fall deeper into his obsession with you.

Croissant will find any way to spend more time with you. You trying to go to graduate school? He can help you study! Applying for a job? Why not work here? Other work environments won't value you the way "Lucky Kitty Cafe" would value you. So, what if you're human, Shopkeeper is human too (are they though?)! Don't even worry about filling out a resume a good word from Croissant and you'll have the job by tomorrow (even if you don't want to work there you will end up working there if Croissant has something to say about it).

Croissant never values anyone's opinion on him before, but he reveres your opinion above his own. Prefer red heads? Guess who's dying his hair? Hate his curled ears? He suddenly prefers wearing hats indoors. He can become very unstable fast so try to reassure him with love and affection. Or else no one will be able to stop the fall out. He's one hell of a stalker since he wants to know that you are okay, and no one is hurting you. Keeps extensive lists of things you like and plans for the future home the two of you will buy that is far away from this city and its impure influences.

"Ah Mx. (L/N) it's a pleasure to see you today. Care to pick up our conversation from where we left off yesterday?"

Cocoa:

Cocoa is a spunky freshly high school graduated college student who is working at the "Lucky Kitty Cafe" as a waitress for some extra money to pay for campus expenses. Cocoa is a Burmese with gigantic coke bottle glasses (she's extremely far sighted) and puffy space buns. She is popular with the teens and young adults who frequent the restaurant for her cute fashion sense and her sassy attitude.

She first met you when she spilled hot coffee all over you. The one day she forgets to wear her glasses! She immediately rushes you to the employee bathroom and apologizes profusely as she sprays cold water over the burn and begins to cry. She never meant to hurt anyone, and she may even get fired for injuring another customer (first time was no accident). You were fine thankfully but the guilt still ate away at Cocoa. She decided to spend time with you as payment and even pay for your meal. You laugh at Cocoa's guilt-ridden sad puppy eyes and compliment her nails. She immediately forgets her guilt and babbles about the cute new nail salon you should try. OMG you two should totally become BFFs!

Cocoa isn't immediately yandere and is like Sugar somewhere in the middle but further towards the immediate side. She's just hanging out with her new bestie! However, her tail bristles when she sees Macchi looping her arm around your waist, or the way that Donut coos at you while trying to feed you the cafe's newest dessert. Can't these two find their own BFFs, your hers. Great now Cappuccino is sleeping with their head in your lap! She snaps and screams at the other hybrid to leave you the hell alone, scaring many nearby cats. You tell Cocoa to calm down and that you're okay with Cappuccino doing this. What the fuck? How could you?!

After taking a second to calm down, Cocoa had to figure out why she was so worked up about you having other friends. It's good for you to have other friends...so why does it leave a bitter taste in her mouth. She doesn't hate the idea of you having friends, she just needs to be your BEST FRIEND!

Cocoa is one monopolizing and clingy girl. You have planned this weekend? Great now you can throw them out because Cocoa is taking you shopping to a cool new vintage store down the road, ooh and you can have boba tea afterwards! She bats away Macchi, Donut, and Cappuccino to have some time with her bestie, they aren't invited! She also believes as your best friend (she'll get rid of anyone who tries and replace her) she gets to pick who your future spouse is, and she is overly critical towards everyone in the cafe. No one is good enough for her bestie! She might put in a good word for the others... if they forfeit their time with you for the day (she's evil like that >:)).

Cocoa also is the type to try and hang out with you outside of the cafe by "coincidence". Oh, my what a coincidence that you both were at the supermarket at the same time looking for...mangos. Man, she loves mangos (she hates mangos)! Anyways, she found this really cute spa where they use sweet, scented bath bombs in the soak tub. Don't worry she'll pay! She also will totally snitch if she sees others trailing you (like she wasn't also stalking you) to make you like her more. Oh my god Croissant is totally following you, guess he isn't the gentleman he claims to be. What's she doing here? Don't worry about that, let's go rollar skating!

"(N/n) look there's 50% off matching sets of pajamas! Let's totally get some and have a sleep over together!"

Matcha:

You like em weird. Like really weird. Matcha is one strange hybrid. They are a Russian Blue with long bangs that cover their intense steel blue eyes. They have a couple streaks of light green in their gray blue hair. Their extremely pretty as they have a pale complexion and are lithe but when they open their mouth customers walk away in discomfort. As a result, Shopkeeper has them in the back most of the day and only really lets them come out before opening and after closing. They will be the one of the last yandere's you'll probably meet.

You were helping Shopkeeper with cleaning up after an intense day at the cafe, after all they let you stay in the comfiest table for hours after you purchased food. As well as staying after closing to feed the kitties. You also may or may not have been lured by Shopkeeper's promise of being able to take some of the leftover pastries home. Whatever your reason you were helping Shopkeeper, when Shopkeeper left to take a phone call outside. You smiled to yourself as you hummed a tune while cleaning up. You started actually singing when you heard a crash coming from the kitchen area. Strange you don't remember anyone being in the store besides you and Shopkeeper. Curiosity got the better of you and you decided to sneak a peek at whatever creature was in the kitchen.

You peer into the dark kitchen to find a skinny person holding a bent-up pan and an explosion of red all over the floor and all over the person.

"Oh, don't worry this isn't blood."

You proceeded to sock the stranger in the face and run to find Shopkeeper.

"There's a strange person with bluish hair covered in god knows what in your kitchen!"

"Oh that's Matcha."

"Who?!"

After an in-depth explanation of why this person you never saw before was standing in front of you covered in strawberry jam (they like to be one with the fruit) you were introduced to Matcha. A hybrid who smells like and probably eats dirt, an acquired taste for most (both dirt and Matcha). You apologized for punching them in the face to which they grinned and told you they like how your fist felt on their face. Okay a little strange but Shopkeeper wouldn't hire a literal serial killer, right?

You don't even know anymore

Obsessed from the minute your fist made contact with their face. Not quite yandere but interested in the reactions you make (and the pain you can give them). They actually gain romantic interest towards you slower than you think, give or take two days. You saw the large cut on their arm and helped them patch it up, it was from that moment that they planned your entire wedding in their head.

Is terrible at stalking but does it in hopes of being caught and you berating them for it (thinks it's sexy when you're mad). Fights Macchi for the things you leave behind and is found sniffing the seat where you were sitting. Is the definition of worshipper yandere as they truly believe you are a deity, and they are your acolyte. They don't care if you hate them or want them dead, as long as they can be by your side that's all that matters.

Being your acolyte also means they will do anything you ask with zeal. It doesn't matter if it's highly illegal as going to jail in your stead would be a blessing. They just love you so much that it consumes their very being. They're willing to share you with others (as long as they can watch) as long as you still let them stay by your side too.

"Hit me, stab me, choke me, leave me to die. Any act done by your hands is a blessing and a pleasure for me~"

Shopkeeper:

You got the big cheese's attention, the owner of the cafe, the mysterious Shopkeeper. Shopkeeper is alluring in an inhuman way with their sharp blue green eyes and charming androgynous voice. They loved the smile you gave them the first time you came in, what an adorable face. They also loved the face you made when you took a bite of the food you ordered, that blissed-out look is just too cute.

"Excuse me did you make this pastry?"

"Oh, why yes I did, it happens to be a family recipe."

"You're so talented, that was the best (pastry of choice) I every ate!"

Normally compliments don't faze Shopkeeper they'd reply with a nod and a polite thank you. However, you seemed so genuine and the way your eyes sparkled made something melt inside of Shopkeeper. You would surely become one of their favorite customers.

Shopkeeper is very hard to read so it can be difficult to tell when they go yandere for you. Their actions can be seen as purely platonic or as their attempt to flirt with you. They always make sure your favorite sweets are freshly made when you arrive to the cafe, they have the time you arrive memorized. If you don't like sweets, they always have something savory and tasty prepared to your liking. Keeps track of your food preferences and allergies when coming up with new items for the menu, so you can taste test them.

"I was thinking of adding this to the menu tell me how it tastes?"

"Is it necessary for you to feed me?"

"Absolutely."

One thing is for sure when they do fall for you, they begin to plan how to make you entirely theirs. Shopkeeper knows how their staff have taken a liking to you, and they don't feel like sharing (may have an easier time with the more submissive/guilt ridden ones like Matcha and Butch). They use their sweet words and actions to guide you in the right direction (right into their arms). They also aren't afraid to take care of rivals that come from outside of the cafe.

"Oh, why is there blood on my face? Just a little problem in the kitchen that's all."

Cappuccino:

Cappuccino is the Ragdoll of the group, a mellow, sleepy person. They are perfect cuddle shape with their chubby body and their big fluffy ears, hair, and tail. They are almost always asleep yet one of the most popular hybrids at the cafe for how cute and calm they are. They don't often choose who they fall asleep on, so they might have accidently fallen asleep on you.

"Oh, I fell asleep but not on a pillow."

"Hey, Cappuccino, right? I need to get to work so could you kindly..."

"Zzzzzz"

Cappuccino is pretty big both tall and chubby (because tall people can also be chubby/fat and beautiful) so it's hard to move them when they sleep, which is too bad for you since Cappuccino has decided you are their new favorite pillow. They always find you in what you're doing and force you to let them cuddle with you. After all, why cuddle with a cat now that you have Cappuccino?

"Cappuccino what are you doing in my house?"

"Ugh you're being to noisy be quiet, pillows don't talk."

"GET OUT!"

Cappuccino goes yandere for you pretty quick, but you wouldn't notice as Cappuccino is too lazy to do anything about these feelings beside scent you constantly when you cuddle. Cappuccino is clingy in the sense that they can't get good sleep unless they're clinging to you. You may have places to be, but Cappuccino is sleeping right now so you won't be going anywhere. They're adorable and they know it, so they use this to make you stay longer too. One sleepy look from those big droopy blue eyes and you are staying a lot longer than you intended. Isn't willing to pick fights with Donut, Macchi, or Cocoa, but is willing to make it out like they are bullying them.

"You shouldn't hang out with people who treat others bad (Y/N), you know I never would (they totally would)."

Their apathy is one of the scariest traits they have, they may be lazy, but they use their cuteness to get crazed fans to get rid of the competition. They are not above getting rid of others at the cafe because they don't care about the people around them. Cappuccino is also very strong as when they aren't sleeping, they are at the gym, so if they feel motivated enough, they can bash some heads in. Cappuccino only cares about you, so don't make them do anything that you may regret.

"Oh (Y/N) sorry for humping you, I was having a very...intense dream."

Butch:

Enter the devoted guard dog of the cafe Butch. The Pitbull hybrid is the tallest and strongest of the cafe and doesn't let anyone harass the Shopkeeper and staff. He sent you a threatening glare with his scared face when you arrived. He didn't know you and he hated humans for all the scars they gave him. You smiled at him and walked away. Tch, stupid human.

One by one all the hybrids fell for your charms (platonic ones are platonically in love with you) and it made Butch's blood boil. Why couldn't you be satisfied with just being a patron? Why did Shopkeeper look at you that way? Butch had a crush on Shopkeeper for saving him from his horrible life yet never had the courage to approach them. He saw the looks Shopkeeper gave you and it made him angry. He was going to confront you when he saw the scene with Donut occur. He saw the look of fear and worry on your face as you carried Donut gently to your apartment. He saw how you treated Cocoa and the twins as well as Matcha. You didn't have anything to get out of this so why do it?

His answer was given the night an old competitor from the fighting ring came at him with the intention to kill. He managed to kill the guy before he was killed but he was severely injured. He heard footsteps approach him head and he looked up to see you. You kept him awake long enough for the paramedics to arrive and take him to the hospital. The look of worry in your eyes is genuine and your smile of relief reminds him of the smile that Shopkeeper gave him that day they saved him (he's got a thing for nonbinary baddies). Your smile however was less calculated and more genuine.

Badump

Badump

Butch is the last to go yandere because Butch feels guilty. Guilty for hating you when you showed him nothing but kindness, guilty for betraying Shopkeeper like that and guilty for wanting to lock you away where no one but himself can see you. He is one overprotective and loyal pooch, who will protect you until his final breath. Good people don't deserve to face the cruelties a monster like him faced.

The most likely to be poly with you and Shopkeeper as he still holds feelings for Shopkeeper and they're both obsessed with you. You won't want for anything as he holds you in his muscular arms with his head buried in your neck to muffle the sobs.

"Please forgive me for being selfish, you're the only good thing I've got."

*Baba is the gender-neutral affectionate term for parent like mama and papa.

Sorry if it's bad towards the end, I rushed towards Cappuccino and Butch. Please feel free to request scenarios for the new ocs I dropped. ONLY PLATONIC FOR COCOA AND THE TWINS BUT EITHER ROMANTIC OR PLATONIC FOR EVERYONE ELSE.

[bambisworlds]

bambi and her bodyguard

simon "ghost" riley is bambi's bodyguard, he worships the ground she walks on but fights his feelings for her. well, until he can't anymore (5,121 word count, i'm insane)

*bambi is my oc, click on my pinned 'about my blog' post to learn more about her :)

content warnings, mdni 18+

f!reader, bambi!oc, bodyguard!simon, unmasked!simon, gentledom!simon, innocent!reader, shy!reader, inexperienced!reader (but not a virgin), simon is down bad for reader, protective!simon, jealous!simon, oral (f. recieving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), use of "Daddy" (2 times), use of "good girl", lottts of praise, not really a warning but frequent consent checks (consent is sexy), frequent usage of pet names, let me know if i missed anything x

my masterlist

Simon never expected to like his charge for his latest bodyguard gig. The contract would only last for a year, and then he'd likely move on to whatever spoiled brat he was assigned to next. He retired from special forces 5 years ago. He thought he'd enjoy it, but as it turns out he hates to sit still. So, he started working as a bodyguard 2 years ago. He's had 8 jobs so far, most of them were short-term gigs. Bambi was his latest assignment.

Her name wasn't actually Bambi, but the nickname fitted her well. She looked as if she belonged in some flower field where the sunlight could shine on her, making her hair glow in golden hues. Bambi was gentle and skittish like a deer with big doe eyes. The object of innocence and sweetness. He wanted nothing more than to taste the sweetness of her lips and her cunt, but he couldn't go there. He wouldn't.

Bambi was the daughter of the CEO of a luxurious company. He was a billionaire, and like most wealthy and famous people he had people who hated him. Her father was receiving threats on both himself and more importantly, Bambi. His words to Simon in the consultation before he was hired were; "She's too good for this world, too innocent. These thugs would squash her like a bug."

Her father was right, Bambi was too good for this world. And he would do whatever it took to keep her from its harsh realities.

Simon stood outside of her bedroom, he could hear pop music faintly playing inside. Probably Ariana Grande or SZA, which Bambi had been educating Simon on against his will. Bambi had plans to go out with her best friend, Florence. She and Florence have been friends since middle school. They were an unlikely pair. Florence was outgoing, raunchy, and bold. Bambi was not. Bambi was shy, polite, and kind. Florence, like Simon, knew Bambi was precious, so she often used her boldness to defend Bambi, which Simon greatly appreciated.

Simon had been staring at the wall across from him in a haze as he listened to Bambi's faint, melodic humming from inside her bedroom. He was practically in a trance. But, he was snapped out of it as Florence came strutting down the hall.

"Hey big stuff," she greets Simon with a wink as she walks into Bambi's room without knocking.

"Florence," Simon greets flatly. As if there was some magnetic pull between him and Bambi, he turned so he could look into her room. Florence had left the door open after she entered. Simon leaned on the doorway as he watched Florence try to coax Bambi to do bolder eye makeup. Simon didn't think it was necessary. She looked angelic with her usual soft, pink eyeshadow and the delicate highlighter on her nose that gave her a natural but ethereal glow.

Simon barely registered Florence's outfit, his gaze was hyper-focused on the silk, pink dress Bambi was wearing. It had fine flower designs on it with a low cut, giving a glimpse of her cleavage. Simon gulped and forced himself to look away, pretending to seem intrigued by the collection of romance novels on her bookshelf.

"Si's coming with us," Bambi says, her sweet voice calling Simon's attention back to her like a siren call. He blamed the flip in his stomach on the shitty Chinese food he had for lunch, not her calling him 'Si'. She was supposed to refer to him as Ghost, but Simon wanted to hear his name on her lips, so he asked her to call him Simon two weeks into his job.

"You won't even know I'm there," Simon says, his tone dull, as she tried to prevent Florence's unavoidable bitching about him accompanying them to the blues bar they were going to.

"Yeah, right," Florence scoffs, turning towards Simon, "What are you? 6'4, 6'5? I'm sure I won't even notice your sasquatch ass behind Bambi the entire night," she says with a roll of her eyes.

"He's just doing his job, be nice," Bambi coaxes Florence with a gentle touch on her arm.

Simon watched transfixed as Bambi adjusted her hair in the mirror. It was neatly curled with a lovely, pink bow on the back of her head to keep her hair out of her stunning eyes. Bambi adjusted her dress and turned to Simon, "Are you ready?" she asked gently.

Simon cleared his throat, he barely listened to the words she said, he was too focused on her otherwordly-like appearance. "Yeah, I'm ready," he says gruffly.

"Good, let's go," Florence says and takes her hand, pulling her along with her as she exits Bambi's bedroom.

The whole drive to the blues bar was torture for Simon. He tried to stay focused on the road, but his eyes kept involuntarily drifting to the rearview mirror to get a glimpse of Bambi.

"I need to find you a man," Florence says to Bambi and Simon snaps out of his daze. His eyes fly to the rearview mirror again at almost inhuman speed. Florence was perceptive, or at least more perceptive than Bambi, so she had picked up on Simon's feelings for Bambi. And damn, did she love torturing him with it.

"I don't know, no guys seem to be the kind that I want," Bambi sighs, fidgeting with her purse, "I've tried dating apps, but they all just want hookups or they ghost you once things start to get serious. I want someone to understand me, to want to understand me."

I understand you. Simon wanted to say but bit his tongue.

"Maybe we'll find your Prince Charming tonight," Florence says to Bambi with a gentle smile, before turning to look at Simon in the rearview mirror with a mischievous smirk. Simon scoffs under his breath and focuses back on the road, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

Simon was two seconds away from punching something, someone, in the face. He never had the desire to hit a woman before, but damn was he itching to as he watched Florence introduce Bambi to a group of frat guys. Simon was positioned at the opposite end of the bar so he wasn't breathing down their neck, but could still see them clearly.

Simon wasn't supposed to drink on the job, but he went against protocol and downed a shot of bourbon after one of the frat guys rested his hand on Bambi's lower back.

His grip tightens on the now empty glass as Bambi smiles at the guy shyly, her cheeks tinted pink. Simon was practically seething when Florence looked at him over her shoulder with a smirk, clearly enjoying his struggle. She wanted him to man up and tell Bambi how he feels and she was gonna make him, one way or another.

After another grueling half an hour of watching the string bean of a human flirt with Bambi, Simon stood, the bar stool scuffing from his abrupt movement. He practically stomped over to them, stopping when he was positioned behind Bambi. The frat guy slowly looked up at Simon, who stood nearly a foot taller than him, he could see the unease in his eyes. Simon reveled in it.

"Your dad wants you to go home, said he got a new threat in the mail," Simon says flatly, his eyes bearing into the man's face. Bambi flinched at the sound of his deep voice, unaware he had been behind her. Simon grabbed her wrist, but with a gentleness that contrasted his rough exterior, and started to lead Bambi out of the bar. Florence followed after them with a slight smile.

Simon led Bambi to the car, he offered her his hand as she got in and closed the door behind her before getting in the driver's seat.

“Thanks for the help,” Florence mumbles as she gets in the car as well without any special treatment from Simon.

“I’ll drop you off on the way,” Simon says flatly to Florence. His eyes were dark, situated on the road ahead of him as he spoke. Florence knew she had pissed him off tonight, and she couldn’t be happier about it, which Simon knew, pissing him off further.

Simon pulled in front of Florence’s apartment. Bambi bid her goodnight.

Florence stopped at the driver's side window, “You better not fuck this up.” She says to Simon, a quiet warning before she heads up to her apartment.

Her words rang in Simon’s ears the whole way home, he really didn’t want to fuck things up with Bambi. But he needed to taste her, to be surrounded and engulfed by her sweet, addictive, scent.

After pulling up to the Bambi's father's mansion, he killed the engine. His heart pounded in his chest at the knowledge that her father was away on business. He fell into the usual routine of helping her out of the car and walking her to the door with a protective hand on her lower back.

Simon held open the door for her, and once she entered he did as well, closing the door behind them and locking it. Simon stood, utterly motionless and silent, as she took off her Mary Jane shoes. When she straightened back up Simon spoke, "What do you want in a boyfriend? What traits, what behaviors?" Bambi turned to look at Simon, her delicate features furrowing slightly from the question. "I'll be any of it, anything you want," Simon says, hating the slight desperation in his tone.

Bambi's big eyes scanned over his face with a mix of confusion and understanding.

"What do you want?" Simon asks again.

"I want them to be like you," Bambi says softly.

Simon swallowed roughly, his hand twitching with the effort of keeping still. "Like me?" Simon asks, his tone flat.

"Not like you," she says, her voice soft and airy, "I want you."

Simon could hear his heart pounding in his ears as the entire world seemed to get smaller and smaller until only Bambi remained. Before he could think twice about it, he walked over to her in two long strides and captured her lips with his. The softness of her lips made his head spin. His large hands moved to span across her waist, pulling her closer to him.

"You want me?" Simon asks, his lips a breath away from hers, "You can have me." he says, his voice gruff. "Whenever you want. However you want."

Bambi let out a shaky breath and kissed him again, her soft hands moving up to rest on the back of his neck. Simon's legs nearly gave out from the eagerness of her kiss, but he forced himself to pull away again, "How do you want me baby?" Her eyes flicker between his, a silent storm behind her eyes as she tried to get the courage to say what she wanted, "It's okay, you can tell me. No need to be an embarrassed sweetheart." he says, his large hand lifting to rest on the side of her face. Bambi looked down at her legs briefly then back up at him. Simon smirked, "You want me down there?" his head nodding towards her thighs. Bambi nods timidly, nibbling on her bottom lip anxiously. "Good girl," Simon praises before leaning down again to kiss her.

His hands slip down to underneath her thighs, lifting her up until her legs wrapped around his waist. Simon managed to make his way up two flights of stairs and down a hallway without looking as he kissed Bambi like she was his only supply of oxygen.

He kicked open the door to her bedroom, then kicked it shut behind him before carrying her over to her plush bed. He laid her smaller form on the pink comforter. "Can I move these?" he asks gently, motioning to the four squishmallows propped up against her pillows. Bambi nods and Simon smiles slightly, moving them over to the bay window before returning over to her. He stands over her, his fingers softly tracing along her thighs that were on either side of his legs.

"Now, I need you to do something for me, okay sweetheart?" he asks and Bambi nods. "Whatever we end up doing, if you want me to stop, or it doesn't feel good, you gotta tell me. Sound good?" he asks and she nods again. "Good," he says softly and leans over her body, his hands braced on either side of her head as he kisses her once more. Simon moans against her lips and braces one arm beside her head, the other sliding down to rub her side soothingly. His hand progressively moves down to her thigh, bunching up her dress slightly. He slowly eases the skirt of her dress up higher until her panties nearly peek out from beneath it, "This okay angel?" he asks and Bambi nods, her hands resting on his broad shoulders.

Simon pushes up her dress to her belly button, exposing her cotton panties to his eager gaze, "Cute." he mutters with a small smile as he looks at her panties. Simon leans down to place a kiss on her covered mound before standing straight again. "Can I see these pretty tits too?" he asks, gripping the fabric of her dress again as he prepared to lift it up higher. Bambi nods, "I need words sweetheart." he says with a gentle smile.

"You can take it off," Bambi says, her voice breathy with a slight tremble.

Simon leans down and gives her a gentle kiss, "Good girl." he mumbles against her lips before straightening up to take off her dress completely, “I’m gonna treat you like a princess tonight, sweetheart.” Simon says huskily as he lifts the dress up over her head. Bambi lifts her arms to help him, then rests them at her sides once the dress is off. Simon lets out a shaky breath at the sight of the delicate, lace bra that hid her breasts from view. "Such a pretty little thing," he breathes as he leans back over her body to plant kisses over the swell of her breasts. Bambi shivered, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides. "Nervous baby?" Simon asks, lifting his head slightly from between her breasts to look up at her.

"A little," she says softly.

"Then let even the playing field a bit then," Simon smiles and pulls off his own shirt so perhaps she'd feel less exposed. "How's that?" Simon asks, tossing his shirt on the floor without a second glance.

Bambi gulps, her eyes flickering over his chiseled chest and abdomen, "Good." she says shakily. Simon chuckles in amusement.

"Now, we'll take this as far as you want, or do as little as you want, okay?" he asks and Bambi nods. "Can I take this off too?" Simon asks, his fingers ghosting over the straps of her bra. Bambi nods, "Use your words, baby." he reminds her gently.

"You can take it off," she says, arching off the bed slightly so he could unclasp her bra. Simon reaches behind her and unclasps her bra with practiced ease, sliding the straps down her arms until her breasts are exposed. He folds her bra and sets it on the floor with a carefulness he didn't express with his own clothing. As Simon looks back down at Bambi, her chest heaving from anticipation and nerves, he felt his cock twitch. This little creature had the most perfect tits he's ever seen.

"Damn, little one," Simon says with a dramatic exhale as he drinks in her exposed chest. "Is it okay if I taste 'em?" Simon asks.

"Yes," Bambi asks, remembering to answer verbally this time.

"Such a good girl," Simon praises as he leans down to take her left nipple between his lips. He moans in satisfaction, his right hand coming up to squeeze its twin. "How's that feel baby?" he mumbles against her breast.

"G-Good," she says, her hands gripping the comforter beneath her. Simon smirks against her breast, moving over to her right breast to give it the same attention. He suckles the bud gently before pulling back to admire her tits again. Simon moans at the sight, his hands cupping and squeezing the soft mounds.

"Perfect fuckin' tits," he mumbles under his breath. His distraction from her breasts breaks as he looks down at her panties. "How about these, baby? Can I take these off?" he asks, nodding down towards her panties.

"Yeah," she answers, her grip on the comforter relaxing as he lets go of her breasts. He slips his fingers beneath the delicate fabric, "Lift your hips for a second sweetheart," he says and Bambi complies. He slides them down her thighs until they dangle from her ankles. Simon leans down to place a gentle kiss on her right ankle as he removes her panties, setting them on the floor with equal care he did with her bra.

Simon's focus returns to Bambi momentarily and his head falls back with a dramatic groan at the sight of her bare mound. He lifts his head again, sighing heavily as he rests his hands on her thighs. "Remind me what I want you to do angel," Simon says, looking back up at her face.

"Ask you to stop if I don't like something," she says softly.

"That's right, good girl," he says as he slowly pries her thighs open. Simon's mouth waters as he spreads her thighs, his eyes drinking in the sight of her pink, glistening folds. "Fuck," he whispers to himself, taking a moment to admire her bare sex. Bambi's cheeks turn pink and she looks away, growing flustered by his heated gaze. Simon smirks, "Don't get all shy now baby, you've got a pretty little pussy, might as well show it off." Simon leans forward, kneeling between her thighs and he plants a gentle kiss on her clit and Bambi jerks slightly.

"Have you ever had sex baby girl?" Simon asks Bambi. He knew she had a boyfriend before he was hired as her bodyguard, but he wasn't sure if they went all the way or not.

"Yeah, a few times," she says shakily. Simon nods in acknowledgment and kisses her clit again. He places a kitten lick on her clit before sucking it between his lips. He lets out a low moan at her taste, gently sucking on the sensitive bud. Bambi exhales shakily, her thighs twitching slightly. Simon keeps a gentle hold on her thighs to keep her spread open for him as he ravishes her pussy. Simon's technique was slow and unhurried, wanting to drag this out for not only her but for himself. He wanted to savor her taste and the sounds she made.

Simon's eyes flickered up to her face as he slid his tongue inside her. She gasped and her back arched slightly, a good sign. He began to pump his tongue in and out, lifting one of her thighs onto his shoulder so he could move his tongue deeper. Bambi let out a sweet moan, her face scrunching up slightly as his tongue slid deeper inside her. Her delicate hands gripped the pink comforter beneath her as Simon continued his ministrations. He watched her reactions closely, trying to see what she liked best. When she made a particularly appetizing noise, he repeated the action until her thighs trembled. He cycled through the favored motions, wanting to make sure she enjoyed every second.

Bambi panted softly, gripping the comforter tightly, her body growing tense as the familiar signs of an orgasm built within her. "Cum whenever you're ready, baby. There's no rush." Simon mumbles against her pussy, alternating between lavishing attention on her clit and fucking his tongue into her. Bambi gasps sharply and keens as she reaches her peak, her body trembling and spasming. She tilts her head to the side, trying to muffle her cries of ecstasy with the comforter. Simon smirked against her sex at her attempt to stay quiet.

He continued to lap at her clit until she jerked with each stroke of his tongue on her overly sensitive bud. Once satisfied that she was spent, he pulled away and licked his lips clean. "Good girl," Simon praises as his eyes drift over her limp form appreciatively. "Still not quite ready for me, though." he smiles and stands up to sit on the edge of the bed beside where Bambi's legs dangled off the edge.

"You're gonna do more?" Bambi asks, still slightly breathless.

"Baby, we can keep the foreplay going all night long if you want, I don't mind." he smiles, his fingers tracing over her mound. "I wanna make sure you're ready for me. But, if you don't want to have sex tonight we can just stick to this stuff." Simon says and Bambi shakes her head quickly.

"No, I want to," she says eagerly and Simon chuckles from her eagerness.

"Don't worry baby, we will if you want to." he smiles as he slides his fingers down to slip one of his thick fingers inside her, "Gotta get this pretty pussy nice and prepped first," he says with a breathy moan as he begins to slowly pump his finger in and out. Bambi lets out a slight moan, her thighs beginning to fidget, but Simon's free hand holds one open for his ministrations. "So fucking tight," he grits out as he continues to thrust his finger in and out of her sopping cunt. He relished the wet squelch from his finger moving inside her.

Bambi's eyes flutter shut as she moans sweetly, clearly enjoying herself. Seeing that she's relaxed, Simon adds a second finger. Bambi gasps and her back arches momentarily before she melts back against the bed. "Good girl, just relax and enjoy it," Simon encourages, picking up the speed of his fingers slightly. Bambi's lips part with a shaky moan as he picks up the pace. Simon smirks and crooks his fingers to find her sweet spot, he knows he found it when she arches off the bed and a high-pitched moan slips past her plump lips. Simon focuses on hitting that spot with each thrust of his fingers.

Bambi begins to squirm on the bed, her hips involuntarily rocking against his hand. "That's it, take what you need," Simon practically moans as she rolls her hips to meet his movements. He clenched his jaw, trying to stifle his own desire as he focused on making Bambi cum. But, there was a visible patch of precum on the crotch of his pants. He ignored it, focusing on the little angel he was pleasuring.

Simon smiles to himself triumphantly as her pussy begins to squeeze around his fingers and she white knuckles the comforter. Simon adjusts his hand so he could circle her clit without pausing his ministrations. Bambi gasps, her face scrunching up in pleasure. She tilts her head again, trying to hide her moans with the comforter. Simon's free hand moves to tilt her head straight again, "None of that little one, let me hear you." he says gently but firmly, and she complies.

Simon watches her face intently, drinking in every micro-expression as she cums. She lets out a desperate wail, her body convulsing and thighs squeezing around his hand as she cums. Simon's free hand quickly moves to grip one of her thighs, forcing her legs apart again. He slows the pace of his fingers, prolonging her orgasm. Once her inner muscles begin to relax and her breathing slows he withdraws his fingers, bringing them up to his lips to suck them clean.

"How are you feeling baby? Still good?" he asks and Bambi nods mindlessly, her eyes shut in bliss. Simon chuckles, amused by her blissed-out expression. He rubs her thighs soothingly as she comes back to herself. When she finally opens her eyes again Simon smiles down at her, "Do you want more? Or was that enough for tonight?"

"I want more," Bambi says quickly and Simon laughs at her speedy response.

"Okay, sweetheart," he chuckles and reaches down to work on his belt buckle. He pulls off his belt, tossing it on the floor before moving to unbutton his pants. Bambi watches his every movement, her body buzzing in anticipation. She had been dying to see what he was hiding beneath those cargo pants.

Simon unzips his pants and pulls them down, then his briefs. Bambi's eyes widen slightly as his large cock springs free and bobs against his stomach. The tip was red and angry, dripping precum. After Simon tosses his pants on his forming pile of clothing he looks over at Bambi, he chuckles at the look on her face. "Feeling a bit giddy are we?" Bambi's eyes flicker up to his face and she looks away shyly, feeling caught. "Don't be shy baby," he smiles gently, grasping her chin to turn her face back to his, "You can look at it as much as you want. It's all yours for the night, and as many nights as you want after."

Bambi timidly peeks down again before looking back up at Simon. Simon smiles to himself but doesn't comment on her quick glance as he moves to stand between her spread legs. He grabs her thighs in his large hands, guiding them to wrap around his torso as he stands before her. Bambi complies, locking her ankles together behind his back. Simon gives his cock a few slow strokes, spreading the precum over his shaft.

"Still want to do this baby?" Simon checks and Bambi nods, "What did I say?" Simon asks, his voice growing firm.

"To use my words," she says timidly. Simon raises an eyebrow, "I still want to." she says and he nods in approval.

"Good girl," he says and drags the head of his cock through her slick folds, coating himself in her juices. Bambi shivers each time his cock slides over her clit. His free hand rests on her belly as he positions himself at her entrance. He inches the head of his cock in first and Bambi tenses, panting softly. Simon moans lowly from the tightness of her pussy. He starts with shallow thrusts, stretching her open. Bambi responds eagerly to his movements, her eyes fluttering shut and lips parting. Taking it as a good sign, Simon pushes deeper until half of his cock is inside her, repeating the slow thrusts to ease her open for him.

Bambi's hands grip the comforter for the nth time tonight. She bites her bottom lip, stifling her moans.

"What did I say, baby?" Simon asks, halting his movements. Bambi's eyes fly open, "Don't be quiet, I want to hear you." he says firmly and she nods in response. Seemingly satisfied with her response, Simon resumes the slow roll of his hips until he bottoms out inside her. He groans in satisfaction as his balls press against her ass, "Fucking hell," he moans, remaining still for a moment to savor the sensation of her warm walls gripping him. Lost in his own euphoria, Simon snaps out of his cloudy haze as Bambi begins to squirm. "S'okay baby, I'll give you what you need," he says as he begins to thrust slow and deep, pulling out until only the tip remains before pushing back in.

Simon's eyes roll into his head as he begins to thrust again, letting out a gravelly moan. "Such a perfect little cunt," he breathes, "Gonna get addicted to you sweetheart," he pants as he picks up speed slightly. Bambi responds beautifully, her mouth dropping open as she lets out sounds of delight with each snap of his hips, "That's it, make all the noise you want," Simon encourages breathlessly, his hips smacking against the underside of her thighs with each thrust.

Bambi’s tits jiggled enticingly with each thrust, only adding to Simon's arousal. Simon lays over her, his arms braced on either side of his head as he ruts into her. Simon let out a shaky moan, tucking his face into the crook of her neck. She lifted her hands to rest them on the back of his neck, spreading her thighs wider to give him easier access.

“Good girl,” he grunts out as she spreads her legs wider. He leans back again slightly to get better momentum as he fucks her. Bambi’s eyes drank in the sight of him. His mouth was dropped open, his forehead beaded with sweat as he grunted and moaned with each movement he made. She couldn’t tell who was enjoying this more, him or her. His abs rippled with each snap of his hips, and Bambi couldn’t resist the urge to trace her fingers over the muscles.

Simon let out a low loan as her fingers danced over his hard abdomen and he increased his pace, fucking her with renewed vigor. “That’s it, touch Daddy wherever you want.” He grunts out. Bambi whimpers from the dominant title, surprised by how much she enjoyed it. Simon smirked, “Yeah? You like that?” He asks and she nods mindlessly. Simon chuckled and smacks her hip lightly, “Be a good girl and cum for Daddy. Make me proud.” Simon lets out something that resembles a whimper as Bambi’s pussy began to tighten around him. “Fuck,” he gasps, “Sweetheart, you gotta cum now before I blow my load inside you.” He warns, a slight tremble in his voice.

As if on cue, Bambi’s cunt clamps around his cock and she convulses wildly on the bed. “Oh shit,” Simon moans, his eyes rolling back at her already tight cunt becoming impossibly tighter, “T-That’s it, good girl,” he praises, his voice trembling as he fucks her through her orgasm. Bambi mewled and whined, her hands clawing at his arms as she rode out the waves of pleasure crashing through her. “Oh, fuck,” Simon gasps, “Gonna cum,” he pants, quickly pulling out of her messy cunt and stroking his cock rapidly. He lets out a low groan as he cums, thick ropes of his seed coating her stomach. Simon shudders and moans, bracing himself on one arm as he falls forward so he doesn't collapse on her as he rides out his high.

Simon pants, letting go of his cock as his orgasm subsides, “Holy fucking shit sweetheart,” he says, his chest heaving. Simon sighs shakily and tilts his head down to give Bambi a slow, almost thankful kiss, “That was damn good.” he sighs contently. “How about you? You still feelin’ good?” he asks breathily.

Bambi nods, “Yeah, really good.” she says, equally winded.

Simon gives Bambi another lingering kiss, “Let's get you cleaned up sweet girl.”

if you have any requests including the people on my masterlist please comment them below any of my posts or in my submissions!! (check here: about my blog  to see what things i'm not comfortable with in regards to requests <3)

[jellalism]

Kinktober 2024, Day 12: Consequence (Erotica)

You were caught by Noel, and now you have to suffer the consequences of your escape attempt. Sequel to Day 5: Sneak.

Word count: 2441 words

Genre: Erotica, horror

Reader’s gender and sex: gender neutral, but “boy/girl” used. Reader does not wear a bra.

Content warnings: Yandere and all that that entails, including sadism/torture, rape/dubcon, manipulation. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

Notes: Noel is an OC of @devotion-disorder. The art in the banner is also by them!

Read below or on AO3.

“Go on. Walk. You know the way to the punishment room.” Noel gives you a push in the back, making you stumble forward, forcing you further up the stairs. “The more you dawdle, the worse it will be. Time’s ticking, honey.” The way he uses that term is nowhere near cute. It is possessive. He uses it specifically to remind you to who you belong. Anyone else who’d call you ‘honey’ would soon eat their words… or become unable to speak any word at all.

You obediently make your way upstairs. Your body already hurts. The blood drips from your nose into your mouth and down your chin. The way he has kicked you in the back and slammed his body into yours once you were on the ground makes you feel sore all over. But you know it’s going to get worse. I’d better obey him, you think. There’s no way out.

“See? You can obey me. If only you had done that earlier, we would not be in this sticky situation. But noooo, you just had to try to break out.” He smacks your ass hard, but your trousers take some of the impact. For now. “Now I have to punish you.”

You reach the top of the stairs and go right without a word. To the punishment room, right next to the bedroom. The activities done in one room may easily lead to the adjoining one.

“Stand there.” He points some distance away from the door. He fishes a key out of his pocket and opens the door. “After you.” He holds the door open for you. For just a second, you hesitate, but you know you have no choice. Any survival instincts kicking in must be repressed. You have to embrace the pain to survive, counter-intuitive though it is.

The room is filled with all kinds of devices to inflict pain. There’s different whips, pads, cuffs, and things you don’t even know the use of. ‘Punishment room’ is a euphemism; ‘torture chamber’ is more apt. In the middle, a wooden table stands.

“On it. On your back. I want to see your face.”

You do as he says. Noel roughly grabs your wrists and clicks them into the cuffs attached to the table. They’re above shoulder height, so they don’t twist your arms too badly. But that’s not the point of the cuffs, anyway. The point is not even to stop you from escaping—Noel is strong and fast enough to do that with his body. The point is simply to make you feel helpless. To be unable to reflexively lift your arms in self-defense, to be unable to have that basic biological function do its work, adds to the utter despair that he can arouse in you. That he will arouse in you.

He takes your ankles and cuffs them to the table, as well. Your legs are a little ways apart.

“Oh, it seems like you still have your clothes on. Totally forgot about that!” Noel says, clearly acting. You can’t see him from your position. “Guess we’ll have to rid you of them unconventionally.” And suddenly, he hangs over you, showing you a knife. It looks sharp as hell. Your breathing grows shallow. You hope he isn’t going to do what you think he will.

He moves to the side of the table and positions the knife at the neck of your shirt. Then he presses down. You feel it pressing into your skin. He takes your shirt and starts cutting. He doesn’t press the knife into your body every time. But every once in a while, you feel the sharp blade moving over your torso, opening it up, no doubt making you bleed.

“Noel, I’m afraid,” you mutter. You didn’t even think about the words; they just came out automatically. Strangely, sometimes you find that you want him to comfort you. He’s always there for you, after all. The only one who’s there. And sometimes, in your despair, you cry out for him.

“You’re afraid? As you should be.” He finishes cutting and tears the remainders of your shirt from your body. You feel the cloth covering your back slide out from under you. Your entire torso is now displayed to him. “Bad [boy/girl]s won’t get any comfort from me. You fucked around. Now it’s time to find out.”

He clenches his fist and smashes it into your stomach. Pain sears through you. You feel the bile rising in your throat, but swallow it down. Then you sputter and cough, and scream.

“See? No pity from me. It’s all your fault, you know? I can be nice. You know I can be nice. I love you, and I want nothing but the best for you. You know this.” He caresses your face with the knife, leaving a shallow cut on your left cheek. “That’s why I’m hurting you. It would be terrible for you and me both if you were to continue misbehaving. So I need to beat it out of you.”

“P-please,” you stammer in fear. You know it won’t do anything, but the words just spill from your mouth.

Noel ignores you. He moves to the back of the table, outside of your field of vision. “Time to get started on your trousers.” He sets the knife at the bottom, making a cut in the cloth near your right ankle. “Fuck it, I don’t have time for this.” You hear the sound of tearing cloth and feel cold air running up all over your leg. He does the same for your left leg: a small cut at the bottom, and rest is just one big tear. For the last part, near your waist, he takes out his knife again. He doesn’t hold back this time. He sets the knife in the cloth forcefully and cuts the last bit of cloth efficiently, without regard for your skin. You whimper and cry as the knife leaves a deep cut. You hear Noel chuckle.

He quickly removes the tatters of your trousers from your body. You’re only wearing your underwear now, though there’s not much left of it. But there’s still enough to conceal your most private parts.

“I’ll leave that on for now.”

You sigh in relief. A last shred of dignity can be retained. It is a tiny shred, but you have to take what you can get.

“Just kidding!” And he tears your underwear apart, exposing your genital area.

“Noel!” you cry out.

“What is it, baby?” He sounds cruel.

“Noel… please… I’m s-sorry. I’m so so sorry. I won’t do it again, I swear!” You’ve completely lost control of your mouth, rattling off apologies without even thinking about it.

He moves so that you can see him again. “No can do. I told you: if you are naughty, you will be punished. It’s not like I want to hurt you, but it’s necessary. You should never ever forget what happens when you break the rules. The consequences of that should be as dependable as gravity.” He says that, but you know better. He fucking loves to hurt you. Part of him is happy you broke the rules, so that he has a good excuse for fucking demolishing you. Knowing that only intensifies the fear.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, but to no avail.

Meanwhile, Noel moves back and rummages around. “Ah, got it!” He steps towards you to show you his find. A whip. But not just any whip: this one has spiky studs. “This will be a night to remember, y/n.”

“Please, for the love of God, Noel, stop!” Tears are streaming down your face; the terror he inspires in you is out of this world. “I beg of you!”

“Hmmm… should I stop?”

“Please, Noel! I’ll do anything for you! Please, just… don’t hurt me.” Something inside of you breaks, and you start sobbing even louder, making you unable to speak another word.

Noel just laughs. Suddenly, you feel a searing pain on your thighs, and you scream at the top of your lungs. As soon as you finish the scream, you gulp for air, but then the whip strikes again. Another scream escapes you; your entire world is pain. Somewhere in the back of your consciousness, you hear Noel complain giddily about how you make too much noise, but it doesn’t register. All you can do is sob and scream.

More lashings follow—you don’t even know how many, nor how long it lasts. Just that, at some point, the burning pain stops renewing itself. Suddenly, Noel’s face is right above yours; too close. “Now that’s what I like to see. You’ve learned your lesson now, right?”

You nod shakily, unable to do anything else. He could be asking you to sell your soul and you’d still nod; all you want is for the pain to end.

“Good, good.” He undoes the cuffs around your wrists and ankles. You feel his arms slide under you and, with a grunt, he lifts you up and walks out of the room. You both know you wouldn’t be able to walk by yourself. Still sobbing, you snuggle against him. God, how you missed him. This softer Noel. The one that would hold you in his arms.

He chuckles. “You’re such a good [boy/girl] now.”

A few moments later, he throws you on the bed. It doesn’t come as a surprise that he carried you to the bedroom. Noel is undressing hurriedly, unable to wait another moment.

“On your stomach. And place a pillow under yourself, so that your ass sticks out.”

You’re not sure if this is part of the punishment, or just ‘business as usual’. Things blend into each other. But at least, when he fucks you, he’s not as cruel as he is in that other room. So, for all intents and purposes, this is not punishment; this is a treat. Even though he’ll fuck on his own terms, as hard as he wants.

You obey him and, within seconds, you feel him take his place behind you. Two lubed up fingers massage the rim of your asshole. “You always make me so horny, you know? I love to see you happy, but God, your crying face just makes me want to fuck you so hard.” He slips in a finger and thrusts it in and out at a high pace. “I just can’t wait to fuck all those sweet moans out of you. It was so hard for me too, you know? To not thrust my cock inside you then and there.” Already, he adds a second finger. “You’re still tight, but I’ve waited so long, I can’t just…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

You want to speak, but you’re still unable to, your body completely broken and shaking all over. Noel continues his preparation of your ass. After a little more than a minute, he thinks he has prepared you enough. You’re not quite so sure, but you don’t struggle. If he thinks it’s enough, it must be enough. What Noel says goes.

“Ready for my cock, love?” He is holding your waist as you feel the head of his penis stimulating the rim of your anus. He presses inside; his impatience in the preparation makes it a little tight still, but he enters. There’s pain, but compared to the pain elsewhere in your body, it’s negligible. He sighs deeply, contentedly. “So damn good.”

He changes his position to lay on top of you, covering your body with his. With one hand, he pins your right hand to the mattress; the other wraps under your left armpit and grabs you at the throat roughly. Your breathing becomes more labored as he constricts the air flow.

“You like that, huh? Being all mine. You don’t get to breathe unless I allow it, got that?” He starts moving his cock, thrusting in and out slowly. His member is rather thick, and it always takes a while for your hole to get used to it.

When you don’t reply, he shortly squeezes your throat hard before loosening his grip, leaving you gasping for air. “I said, did you get that?”

“Y-y-yes, Noel.” Your voice comes out as a wheeze.

“Good,” he coos. “That’s how I know my sweetheart.” He lets go of your throat and pins your other hand to the mattress, too. “I think you’re loosened up enough by now.”

It’s true; his cock is going in and out more easily than it was before.

“Let me paint your insides white.” With those words, he starts fucking you in earnest. Hard and deep; with each thrust you scream it out. “That’s it, y/n!” he moans in your ear. “Let it out. Let me hear how good you feel.”

And, despite everything, he was right: you did feel good. He had abused you, even tortured you. But that was the punishment, which was over now. So, surely, now you could enjoy yourself… right? It was hard to think straight around him. He didn’t allow you the space in your mind.

“How does it feel, baby?” Not having gotten his answer in words, his tone became more demanding. He accompanied it with a particularly hard thrust. The pain surged through you, but there was pleasure, too.

“Feels so good!” you mewled. “Noel… Noel…” You moan his name over and over, and he, with his mouth so close to your ear, whispers yours. You can feel his breath and hear every tiny sound he makes.

“See? If you behave, I’ll fuck you nicely. Isn’t it pleasant like this?”

“Yes, Noel.” You’re not even sure anymore if you mean what you say, or what the causal chain of events is. Did you agree with him because it is pleasant, or is it pleasant because you agreed with him?

“That’s a good [boy/girl].” His breathing grows more labored as he keeps penetrating you deeply. “I’m going to cum soon,” he whispers in your ear. “I’m gonna cum inside, and fill you up really good. You did so good bearing the punishment. You deserve it, you deserve my thick cock shooting it all inside you.” His voice grows more frenetic as he gets closer to ejaculation. He moans and groans and you feel his cock throbbing inside of you. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Fuuuuck.” With a final thrust, he shoots his load inside of you. He can’t help but twitch inside of you as he ejaculates. “God damn, you feel so good.”

You feel a warm feeling welling up inside you. It’s happiness. You feel happy you can please him.

You’ve truly become his bitch.

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia Masterlist

One tragic day changes Dahlia's life forever. Despised by her father and brother, she's spent her entire life trying to be the child and sister she use to be. But nothing she ever does is good enough. She joins the Rider's Quadrant to prove them wrong. Garrick now in his second year has proven he is more than the mark on his skin to his fellow riders, and taken leadership of his own Squad alongside Xaden. Little does he know the girl walking across the parapet is about to send him on a rollercoaster of a year. Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

First Year

No Daughter of Mine

What You Made Me

Bad Idea, Right? - Garrick

Third Squad.

Not A Good Idea - Garrick

Yield

Marked Like You

Prove You Wrong

10 Gold Pieces - Garrick

Keeping Tabs

Glimpse of the Past

Unexpected Feelings - Garrick

I'll Make This Quick

Little Girl Gone

Proven Wrong - Garrick

Mares In His Stable

Jealousy

I'm Trying - Garrick

Manifestation

Painful Touch - Garrick

Show Me

Somewhere I Belong

Aetos vs. Aetos

Would It Matter?

Give Them Hell

Stepping Up

Outsmarted

Anything But Fine - Garrick

War Games

The Hostage

The First Betrayal

Reunification Day (Dual POV)

Prove Her Wrong

About Damn Time

Redacted Title

Redacted Title

Second Year/Fourth Wing

[lilacxquartz]

a bump in the middle of the night

oc male!demon × human female!reader

w.c: 1.1k

plot: a potential intruder sets midnight completely off and you learn just how dangerous he can truly be.

other works in this series.

—

The area I lived in was once decent, but now it was struggling.

A dwindling economy does that to a place. Most businesses that were once thriving were forced to close and those who could afford to leave, did just that.

Others stayed but they also struggled. I otherwise had the luxury of this apartment belonging to my grandparents so the mortgage was long settled, leaving me behind with only the regular bills to pay.

Most of the people that lived here did their best to just get by though, so for the most part it was safe.

But then the break-ins started to happen more often.

So maybe it was a blessing that I had a literal live-in demon cohabiting with me.

Keeping an eye on the things that went bump in the middle of the night.

Not that I could trust it. I still couldn’t bring myself to do so. Not one bit.

I woke up earlier during the night to a strange sound, though. I was a lighter sleeper than Midnight and would at oftentimes wake up to subtle sounds. This was initially annoying to me, but I quickly learned that as long as Midnight remained asleep, then there was nothing ever to worry about—so I always just dozed off again.

It was something about instincts, he said. If he’s awake during the night along with me, then that’s when I can feel worried.

I woke up to a noise just now, either way.

My eyes parted slowly, feeling the curl of his tail that looped around my legs. I could sense his breathing change and as he almost jolted awake. I shuddered at the sensation of his stare intensify at the back of my head as his body stretched, pulling me closer towards his chest.

Tonight, his instincts were on high alert.

“Quiet,” he whispered, noticing that I was awake too.

My voice remained hushed as I turned to face him, “Is someone else in here…?”

“Not yet,” Midnight replied, slowly bringing himself up to a sitting position, reluctantly letting go of me, “stay in bed.”

Something dangerous stirred within his presence and I harboured more fear for Midnight than the prospect of an actual intruder. It was as though his words were laced in something much more sinister, like a threat.

When the lock to the front door finally gave in, I could feel a change in the atmosphere almost right away. Midnight kept me grounded in bed by pressing his one arm behind him, locking me into place against the mattress. The way that he seemed to be guarding me felt territorial once again.

I remained deathly quiet as I felt the air continue to grow heavier; some type of droning sound playing from Midnight’s lips. His body reacted on instinct, almost, as his head jerked in slight movements—as though he was tracking something, or someone.

The hum slowly phased into a low growl, filling up the space with an unsettling aura that wafted through the confines of my home.

It was as though Midnight was making his presence known to send a warning.

People were reckless though. That’s what I started to understand after just a couple of weeks with him. Humans acted unpredictably, especially if influenced by fear.

So, perhaps he was just trying to strike enough unease into this person into leaving, but this didn’t seem to be the outcome just yet.

Midnight was gentle with me up until this very moment. He spent the last couple of weeks trying to gain my trust but he seemed to have a different priority right now. The way he seemed so tense during his investigation was quite jarring, especially now that he seemed hostile. Malicious, even.

Closer to an actual demon than ever before.

I felt afraid.

Noticing this, his demeanour softened for a moment, although it felt forced. He turned to face me, sensing my unease.

Cupping my face into his palms, he leaned in with a sedating kiss, “I’ll be right back.”

While his tone seemed calmer and while his touch bordered feather light, it was that same type of kiss that dulled my senses like all of those other times before.

Usually it was used as a nightcap for when I couldn’t get to sleep or for the earlier days when I couldn’t bring myself to relax within his company. However, it seemed to be for something else tonight.

Something seemed off.

His body language was different—almost erratic.

I drifted off into a fabricated sleep and phased on and off back into lucidity against my control. Certain sounds played in my mind, like screaming and low drawn out whines. Like bones waning and cracking. Faint imagery burnt into my mind of bloodied flesh and torn skin.

Under any other circumstance, I would have shaken that off as a vivid nightmare but it felt all too different this time.

Especially since the atmosphere since then felt even heavier than before and to an extent, almost suffocating.

My breath locked in my throat as I felt an anchoring presence settle over me, sinking me further into the mattress. I writhed just a little bit as my body tried to readjust into comfort, but I couldn’t move much at all.

I knew Midnight was on top of me, that much was clear.

I opened up my eyes once again, feeling the sedative finally fade. It was almost a jarring sensation, as if the ease washed away along with it. The air continued to thicken but now tinted with the smell of copper, my senses recoiling as something warm dripped from his lips and onto mine.

(Blood…?)

I couldn’t see him too clearly, but from the brief moments that the moonlight shone through the blinds—I could see it. He looked feral, almost as if he was drunk on something.

My breathing remained shallow as I felt some sort of innate fear settle deep within my core. I was starting to slowly understand why I felt so terrified in this very moment—my eyes widening in panicked realisation. I finally got it. My breath caught in my throat again as the dream-like stupor finally faded away, replacing itself with striking lucidity instead.

Midnight was savouring the taste of something.

Or someone.

Yet, despite catching onto my suspicion, he tried to brush away my almost overwhelming concern.

“Please don’t worry,” he cooed, that same soft tone returning as he finally settled, the one that carried the same facade as before, “go back to sleep, it will be okay.”

“But-“

“—the danger is gone, I promise,” Midnight purred as he stroked my cheeks with his fingers, leaning in closer as he licked the dried blood off of my lips, “in fact, the intruder isn’t just dealt with, he’s…”

“You didn’t?” I asked, finally able to say something. My voice sounded hoarse, almost dry.

Midnight simply smiled, his pointed teeth momentarily illuminated by the passing moonlight. He wasn’t going to elaborate even if he did suspect you knew. Instead, he fed you a cryptic response, sealed with yet another soothing kiss.

“Let’s just say that… he’s gone for good.”