#she throws a donut at him
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slvbum · 19 days ago
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Rafe reading bimbo!reader bank account!
content: Rafe Cameron × Bimbo!Reader. based on this request HERE!
Rafe had been checking the day’s mail, sorting through bills and junk, when he came across the monthly bank statement. He opened it on his laptop, his brow furrowing as he navigated to the account details, specifically the one tied to the black Amex card he’d given her—an extension. He hadn’t set a limit, figuring she’d splurge on a few nice things here and there, but he wasn’t prepared for the receipt that popped up on the screen.
His eyes widened, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he scrolled through the week’s transactions, the total climbing to an eye-popping $12,544.99. The list was so chaotic and extravagant that Rafe couldn’t help but shake his head in amused disbelief as he read each line.
$299.99 - KitchenAid Artisan Mini 3.5-Quart Tilt-Head Stand Mixer (Pink).
$129.00 - Dualit 2-Slice Toaster (Classic Pink).
$1,980.00 - Versace Crystal Medusa '95 Mini Dress Pink.
$450.00 - Chanel Pearl and Crystal Earrings.
$4,000.00 - Fendi Peekaboo Mini Crossbody in Candy Pink.
$95.00 - Anastasia Beverly Hills Norvina Pro Pigment Palette Vol. 4.
$200.00 - Cloud Salon (Mani & Pedi).
$45.00 - Starbucks Triple Grande Pink Drink with add-ons, twice in one day.
$30.00 - Dunkin’ Donuts Iced Latte with Pink Velvet Swirl.
$75.00 - Glossier Cloud Paint Blush Set (Puff and Beam)
$1,500.00 - Loro Piana Cashmere Throw Blanket in Pale Pink.
$300.00 - Dyson Supersonic Hair Dryer in Fuchsia.
$1,400.00 - Louis Vuitton Pochette Accessoires in Monogram Empreinte Pink Leather.
$50.00 - Pink Pet Bed from Petco.
$80.00 - Kendra Scott Elisa Pendant Necklace in Rose Quartz.
$2,850.00 - Balenciaga Hourglass Small Tote in Light Pink.
$60.00 - Pink Macaron Assortment.
Rafe’s laughter grew as he scrolled, his tiredness from the day fading into pure amusement. He glanced down at her, her eyes glued to the TV as she munched on popcorn, oblivious to his discovery.
“Hey, baby,” he said as he nudged her gently with his knee. “Mind tellin’ me why you bought a fucking pet bed? We don’t have pets here.”
She looked up at him, her big eyes blinking slowly, her brain still half in her show as she processed his question.
“Oh,” she mumbled, tilting her head, a small shrug lifting her shoulders. “Because it was pink, Rafey. It’s cuter in pink. And also because my stuffed animals need a bed, duh.”
She flashed him a quick, distracted smile before turning back to the TV, her attention drifting back to the drama, muttering something about “that bitch on screen” as she popped another piece of popcorn into her mouth.
Rafe chuckled again, shaking his head as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, her skin warm against his lips.
“You’re incredible, you know that?” he murmured, his hand resting on her hair, stroking it gently.
He went back to the laptop, still scrolling through the receipt with a grin. He didn’t care about the money; she could buy a hundred pink toasters, designer bags, and pet beds if it made her happy.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ©slvbun(m) — written with love.
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yuquinzel · 1 year ago
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atsumu who goes above and beyond to impress you, his crush and classmate of four years, in all definitions of “impress.”
honestly how the fuck isn't it obvious to you by now, he might as well be walking around with “i like y/n” tattooed on his forehead.
you mention you like guys that can cook once and holy fuck atsumu who still doesn't know how to use the microwave without quite literally burning the food, who's never chopped onions before without ending up with enough cuts to bandage his whole hand— that atsumu practices for weeks and stays up till 2 am to prepare for the lunch he'll make for himself, because osamu said said no and then because you bring homemade lunch to stay and eat in class with your friends— he'll casually just plop down on the seat next to you, his friends will then very obviously willingly talk loudly about his lunch and he'll just throw in a, “yeah, made it maself, 'm a solid chef, who do ya think taught 'samu?”
okay if that didn't get your attention, no worries, what are his friends there for?
if atsumu gets lucky in a day and catches you chatting away with your friends in the hallway, then he instructs his friends to walk past you, hover in the corner, just within your earshot— “'kay, so when we pass her by, ya gotta speak ma name real loud, loud enough so she can hear it, but don't annoy her”
and so for the time you stand there, trying to hold a conversation with your friends, all your mind can really focus on is the, “atsumu was so fucking good in practice today, if we're gonna win, then it'll be all him”
and then you hear the subject of the conversation speak, “nah, we're a team, every time we win, it's all thanks ta you guys,” because you also mentioned you like modest, humble guys.
god forbid the days you're absent in class.
atsumu who's sulking all day, doesn't know what the fuck is going on in classes, he's half in and half not in every conversation, even his passes are sloppy and weak. to the point osamu and suna are concerned, well, in their own ways, “are ya constipated or something, yer missin’ your spikes and yer passes as clumsy,” osamu says off-handedly.
“i heard y/n didn't come today, i think her friends said she's sick.” suna chips in, and atsumu shrinks in his spot like a grumpy cat.
“i already know that, wouldn't have come today if i knew she wasn't comin’.”
“you'd miss practice then.”
“don't care, don't talk to me, don't wanna do anything, what's the point.”
“down fucking bad,” suna muses, and atsumu glares at him.
atsumu's day is ruined and his disappointment is immeasurable. why did you get sick? how could you get sick? now he's worried and half of himself and his passes are shit and god, he wants to see you. he feels like he could die.
then when you finally show up the next day after what felt like eternity to atsumu, you find on your desk a pile of snacks with a little note— banana milk, everyone knows it's your favourite, the bar of chocolate they only sell down the convenience store near the school, the glazed donuts that you're always eating in class, and a lot of bubblegums that only one person in class knows you like— atsumu's handwriting is rushed and barely comprehensive but you know it by heart because he doesn't know you saw him slip the note you found in your locker this morning, and countless other mornings—
“i hope you smile because of this”
atsumu as a secret admirer is... not so secret because he's still unaware that you see him every morning, and let him giggle to himself as he slips the notes and the strips of bubblegums in your locker— you don't even like that flavor.
but he gave them, so you think they might just be your favourite.
then again, maybe atsumu doesn't want to be a secret admirer.
atsumu has a crush on you and you know that— he's very obvious. but he's also very dense and doesn't realise that everyone besides him can see you like him too. he doesn't know the only reason you bring homemade lunch is because he had started to eat lunch in class with his friends. you stand in the hallways with your friends pretending to talk so that when atsumu's walking past you, his friends will practically yell his name and you'll see him blushing shyly. he still doesn't know you come to his every match, cheering for him and scream with joy at every one of his scores.
atsumu makes it obvious he has a crush on you but is stupidly dense that you reciprocate all the same :'))))
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© yuquinzel 2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]
POSTING BECAUSE WHY TF NOT HUH HUHHHHHHHHH
@kyoghurts hi bbg
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dumpywrites · 7 days ago
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Plus One, Minus Feelings - Jeon Jungkook
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Prompt: The classic let's pretend to be a couple for just a while. Nothing bad will happen, right?
Prompt request: HERE
Genre/tags: Fluff, friends to lovers, fake dating, jealous! Jungkook, goofball! Jungkook, reader is into another person for the first half (spoiler: Yoongi)
Pairing: Jungkook x she/her reader
Word count: 7.4k
a/n: this Jungkook has the personality of someone I know, so it's really easy to imagine him in this scenario lol
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It was Saturday night at Jin’s house. A casual get-together routine in your friend group. His apartment condo being the biggest one out of everyone, it was natural that his place became the go-to base camp. 
You were on your third yapping session with Jihyo, with your feet crossed sitting on the floor, and your hands moving expressively. The girl was listening to your rambles, looking at you while sitting on the sofa and sipping her smoothie. You were about to enter your fourth story when you heard Jin calling your name from across the room. The man walked towards where you and Jihyo were, with another guy beside him, Jungkook. 
“You’re single, right?” The guy asked out of the blue. 
“Me?” You pointed to yourself, while still sitting on the floor. 
“Who else? Jihyo has a boyfriend.” He rolled his eyes sassily. 
You folded your arms. “You came here just to mock me?!”
“See! She’s single.” He told Jungkook with a sly smile. 
You raised one of your eyebrows. “Are you seriously trying to…”
“No, geez.” Jin chuckled. “Just ask her.” He said to the other guy. 
“Can you help me out? I need a plus one on a wedding.” Jungkook suddenly said. 
“Who’s getting married? And why me though???”
“My brother.”
“Oh, yeah hell no. I’m not going.” You quickly said. 
“Wha— Why??? I haven’t even told you the whole reason!” He said, lips trying so hard not to form a pout. 
“I don’t wanna get interviewed by your family, duh??? I’ll be fine if it’s just Jin’s wedding or something.”
“Yeah, we’re not gonna see that any time soon though…” Jihyo giggled. 
Jungkook ignored Jin’s loud protests and continued. “I made a bet with my brother and he said he’ll buy me the new Switch if I somehow bring someone to his wedding.” 
“I still don’t want to get interrogated by your parents, Kook.” You sighed. 
“Don’t worry! I’ll tell them. It’s just to fool my brother and all.” He nodded eagerly, hoping you’d buy his reasoning. “Please? I’ll even let you try the switch first.” 
“That’s not a good offer?!” You said in a high pitched voice. 
“I’ll get you one of those cute blind boxes…?” Jungkook offered in an unsure tone.
“Yeah, um… I like those but no.” 
“I’ll throw in a dozen of Krispy Kreme.”
“Deal.”
“That’s what gets you???” Jihyo laughed. 
“I was on Jungkook’s side, but yeah, what the hell?!” Jin joined. 
You shrugged. “I love donuts.” 
“Thank you so much!!!” Jungkook bent down on your level on the floor and side hugged you playfully.
“When is this wedding anyway?” You cringed and pushed him to the side. 
“Two weeks from now.”
You sighed, regretting your decision already. “Awesome.”
**
“Uh, what are you doing here?”
6PM on a Thursday night. The night air was chilly, but not too cold. You just stepped out from your office building, ready to head home, when you noticed Jungkook waiting outside. He was smoking, one hand holding his bud and the other was tucked inside the pocket of his extremely baggy pants. 
He immediately squeezed the unfinished cigarette on the trash can next to him as soon as you were on sight. He clapped his hands to together, cleaning the debris, and straightened his posture. With a pleading look, he flashed you a grin. 
“Please come to my family dinner tonight.”
“Tonight?” You looked at him, processing. “What do you mean by tonight?!”
“It will convince my brother!”
“This wasn’t in any part of our deal…” You said in a warning tone. 
“I know! I’m so sorry, but I accidentally told him early that I’m bringing someone…” 
“Not exactly my problem now, is it?” You sighed and folded your arms. “Attending his wedding is one thing. We wouldn’t even get that many chances to talk with him. But a dinner??? I’ll die.”
“Please? Please???” He clasped his hands together, begging with big eyes. 
You sighed. “No.”
“Uh, please?” He closed one eye and the other peeking at you. A nervous smile on his lips.
“You really didn’t think this through, huh?” His expression almost made you crack. 
“No, I didn’t.” He slumped down. “Pretty please? With another dozen of Krispy Kreme on top and I’ll even buy them for you tonight?” He batted his eyelashes at you. 
“You didn’t just do that to me…” You pointed at him and bit your inner cheek. “I hate you.”
“Is that a yes?” He grinned. 
“I don’t know!” You replied in frustration. 
“Please? I won’t stop begging until you agree.” 
It was as if his eyes got bigger every time he said please. 
“You’re insane.” You groaned. “Whatever let’s just go.”
“Yes!” He threw his fist in the air, celebrating with a loud voice. 
“God bless whoever’s gonna be actually dating you.” You rolled your eyes, smiling nonetheless at his antics. 
“I love you too.” He giggled and pinched your cheeks. You swatted away his hand immediately. “I’ll pick you up tonight!” 
And so he picked you up at your place later on with his parent’s car instead of his Harley. Said he wanted you to be able to dress prettily and not having your hair messed up by the helmet. Also because he just ordered the donuts, like promised. He knew there was a possibility of you actually bailing on him if he failed to do so. 
You were nervous, but he assured you that he had informed his parents about the whole thing, so the only people to fool were his brother and his soon-to-be wife. 
“You think I look okay?” 
You asked the guy, turning around to show him your whole outfit. You were wearing a simple blouse and a pair of flared trousers. You weren’t quite sure if it was too formal or too underdressed for the occasion. 
“I barely see you in anything other than t-shirts and baggy pants.”
“As if you’re not the same.” You shook your head and looked at him. He was in fact, still with his usual baggy jeans and oversized tee. “It doesn't look pretentious or anything, right?” 
“It’s cute.” He assured. “Let's go.”
The compliment just rolled out from his tongue so naturally it almost took you off guard. 
Arriving at Jungkook’s house, the first thing you noticed was a scooter that was parked in front of the fences. You didn’t further question it though as a wave of nervousness washed over you. The reality quickly sank on you that you were going to act as if you were dating your friend to fool his brother.
“Remember we’ve been dating for three months.” Jungkook said to you as he turned off the car engine. 
“And we’re just taking things slow, no pressure.” You continued. “I’m actually so nervous.” You confessed.
He took a closer look at your face. “I mean hey, if you’re that uncomfortable, I’ll take you back home. It’s okay. I can just tell him that you still have work or something…”
“No, it’s fine.” You took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “Let’s get this over with.”
“You sure?”
You nodded and stepped out of the vehicle. 
As soon as you entered, you were welcomed by Jungkook’s mom, who had a beautiful smile on when she greeted you. You quickly noticed his brother Junghyun and his partner Yoora, sitting on a nearby sofa, eyes clearly on you, in which you quickly flashed a smile in return. You noticed an unknown man present though. He had medium length hair, fair skin, and a very comfy looking hoodie on. 
“I see Jungkook wasn’t lying.” His brother grinned and shook your hand, introducing himself and then his partner. 
You gulped, but kept your cool. “Nice to meet you.”
“Oh, that’s Yoongi by the way. He’s an old friend of mine.” He pointed at the guy standing at the corner and called him to join you. 
The man walked towards your direction and shook your hand, giving you a very short greeting. You quickly smiled at the guy as well, before turning your head at the sound of Jungkook’s mom calling you all to the table. 
“So how long have you guys been dating?” Jungkook’s brother asked.
“Three months.” Both of you said in unison. You cleared your throat, feeling awkward. 
“Where did you meet?”
“Jimin introduced—“
Both of you spoke at the same time again. You looked at Jungkook in annoyance while he grinned apologetically. His mom giggled next to him, seeing the two of you. 
“You guys are actually cute it’s disgusting.” The brother laughed. 
You were glad for whatever that was, it did more good than harm in convincing the man. 
“You guys should introduce Yoongi to someone too, he’s been single since forever.” He continued, earning an audible groan from the friend. 
“Shut up, I do go on dates.” Yoongi protested. 
“Hinge matches that you’ve never met in person don’t count, Yoongi.”
“I don’t have the time.” The man protested. 
“He’s single? I’m surprised.” You said to Jungkook in a whisper. 
“Why is that surprising?” Jungkook replied back in the same volume. 
“He’s lowkey hot.” You said without thinking.
Jungkook looked back at you with big eyes and crunched his nose. Before he had the chance to react further, his brother spoke again. 
“Any of your lady friends single?” Junghyun turned to you. 
“I’m sure we don’t need to pressure the poor guy like that.” You smiled. 
“Yeah, I didn’t wanna date before I met her too. You can’t force these things.” Jungkook said proudly. You almost rolled your eyes at the acting. 
“Ew, who are you again?” The older brother laughed at his sibling’s words. “Y/N, I’m truly impressed. How did you even manage to tame this animal?”
“He’s actually really sweet and caring at times.” You giggled, gazing at him playfully.
“Hopefully that makes up for him being a brat most of the time?” Yoora looked at you with a smile. 
“Hmm… that I’m not sure.” You chuckled. 
“Oh, is that so?” Jungkook pinched your cheek with a big grin on his face. He knew you couldn’t slap his hand away when everyone was looking. 
“You should join our party this weekend!” Junghyun said to you. “We have a couple of friends coming, it’s gonna be fun.”
“Uh, she’s kinda busy on the weekends… no?” Jungkook looked at you with worry. 
You shook your head with a smile. Everyone had been very nice and welcoming to you. You would be lying to say that you were busy on the weekends. Wouldn’t want to add more lies on top of another lie. 
“I know you don’t wanna go but don’t lie for her like that.” Junghyun eyed his brother.  
Jungkook looked at you, perplexed. “Are you sure?”
You nodded. “Yeah, I have nothing better to do anyway.”
After dinner the parents decided to hit the hay first, while Junghyun suggested to hangout at the back porch, having bought beers and all. You and Jungkook volunteered to fetch some cokes and snacks at the mini mart nearby. 
“Seriously, Yoongi?” Jungkook suddenly said as both of you were browsing an aisle. 
You gave your friend a side eye. “Are you judging my taste in men?!”
“You’re into nerds?”
“You’re one to talk.” You threw a bag of Doritos at his direction, that he caught just in time. 
“I still go out and socialize.” He shrugged with a smug smile. 
“Good for you.” You rolled your eyes and walked past him. 
“He barely talks.”
“And you talk too much.”
“Ouch.” Jungkook dramatically put his hands on his chest. 
“You’re taking it way too seriously, I just think he’s hot. I don’t know him.” You pushed him by his shoulder playfully. 
“How about you get to know him then?” He suddenly suggested. You could practically see a broken lightbulb lit up above his head. “I’ll make sure you get to spend some time with him later.”
“You sure switch your lanes fast.” You shook your head. “We’re supposed to be a couple too, so that doesn’t help.”
“Just tell him, he’s chill.” He dismissed. “Knowing him, he probably doesn’t give two shits about it anyway. Besides, it’s not like I’m planning on lying to my brother forever.”
“You don’t think it’s weird?” You thought it was weird too that you actually were considering making a move. 
“He’s a nerd but he’s alright. Decent person.” He made an upside down u with his lips, nodding. “If that’s what you’re into, who am I to judge?”
“You suck.” You threw another snack at him, making him laugh. 
After some chit chats and a few embarrassing stories later, it was almost twelve and at this point everyone just sat down enjoying the night sky. The couple seemed like they were enjoying themselves, cuddling up with each other on the other side of the porch, while you were left with a few more cans or beer with Jungkook and Yoongi. 
Jungkook started to eye you weirdly, signaling you to say something to the awfully quiet man beside you. You looked at him, shaking your head. The boy just smirked at you before suddenly standing up. 
“Gotta hit the bathroom real quick.”
“Jungkook…” You pulled him by his t-shirt, eyeing him. 
“Don’t be too clingy now.” He chuckled and walked away, holding his laughter. 
You sighed and turned to Yoongi, who was now looking at you after Jungkook leaving you alone with him. He took another can and twisted the handle open. 
“You must have the patience of a saint to be with him.” He suddenly said. 
Your eyes widened slightly at the comment, surprising he was starting a conversation. You shook your head, smiling. You didn’t know exactly where to start on the topic. 
“Let me guess, he paid you to act?” 
You gasped, covering your mouth. “Not too loud!”
“They’re asleep.” 
You looked to your right, and a sigh of relief came out as you saw the couple sleeping on the couch. 
“So it’s true?” Yoongi nonchalantly asked as he took more sips of the beer. 
“Well, he didn’t pay me like that… He got me some donuts and I’m just doing him a favor.” 
“You’re doing it for donuts?” 
It was the first time you hear his chuckle, it sounded beautiful. 
“You get a couple of donuts and he gets a brand new Nintendo Switch? That sounds fair.”
“I love doing things for the plot, I guess.” You smiled bashfully. 
He hummed, still with a small smile on his lips. “What’s your favorite movie?”
“Huh? What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I judge people’s character by their favorite movie.”
You giggled. “Jungkook was right.”
Yoongi looked at you questioningly. 
“You’re a nerd.” 
“Oh.” He voiced, seemingly lightly offended.
“It’s Midsommar and Inception.” You answered. 
Instead of reacting, Yoongi just gulped the beer can, this time finishing it. 
“So… what does that say about my personality?” 
“You’re not dating Jungkook, right?”
You were once again surprised. “Depends on who’s asking.” You replied, testing the waters. 
“I’m asking.” He said bluntly. 
You grinned. “Then no, I’m not.”
You had a few more chats before Jungkook came back from his so-called toilet break. You had no idea where he went or what he actually did, but you made a mental note to thank him later for the small favor. 
Jungkook drove you back home that night. The cheeky grin you had the entire ride was giving it away. 
“You look creepy. I assume things went well?” Jungkook asked with eyes still on the road. 
You shrugged but failed to wipe the smirk off your face. “I guess? You were right though…”
“About what?”
“He is a nerd… a cute one.” You giggled. 
“Disgusting.” Jungkook shook his head. “Please keep your act at the wedding.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t betray you like that.” You patted his shoulder from the passenger seat. “After all, you did help me so I could talk to him. So, thank you.”
“Hey, thank you too for even agreeing to whatever this bullshit is.” He sighed. “You know you don’t have to go to that party too.”
“It’s okay, your brother and his girl are good people, I enjoy the company.” You paused then grinned. “Plus, I’ll get to see Yoongi again.”
“If he shows up, that is.” Jungkook laughed. “You better pray cause that man hates parties.”
**
You stared at the reflection in your mirror, fixing the wrinkles on the clothes, you twisted your body to the left and to the right. You were not so sure if wearing a mini skirt was a right choice for the party. You could easily go with your usual baggy jeans and crop top combo, but there was a possibility of Yoongi showing up and you wanted to look pretty. At the very least. Dunking your lip gloss and tint in your purse, you threw in your perfume as well. 
The look Jungkook gave you once he saw you opening the car door was hard to miss. His mouth was ever so slightly gaped and his eyebrows furrowed. You would had guessed that he was insulting you, but his head nodded afterwards, lips turning into thin line as he did. He appeared to be amazed by what he saw. 
“You dressed up well.” He said as you took a seat and closed the door. 
“I’m still betting on Yoongi showing up, remember?”
“Ah yes, of course.” He clicked his tongue. “You don’t need to doll up for him, he’ll show up in a hoodie and bucket hat or something.”
“He doesn’t have to try.” You shrugged.
“Wow, calm down.” He looked at you with judging eyes. “This is you being sarcastic, right?”
You shrugged again, smirking. 
One hour into the party and there was still no sign of your crush at the function. Jungkook’s brother was opening a second bottle of Jägermeister, pouring it for everyone, mixing it with cans of Red Bulls. 
Your supposed boyfriend had already gulped multiple glasses down, his cheeks were glowing pink and he was even more chatty. 
“Looks like your man isn’t coming.” He said to you. 
“It is what it is.” You sighed, downing a shot. 
“At least you look cute today.”
“You think so?” You eyed him with an amused smirk. You wondered if it was already the alcohol doing its thing. 
“Yeah.” He agreed casually. 
You chuckled. “I thought your tolerance was better than this.”
“I’m not drunk yet.” He rolled his eyes. “Wanna go get some fresh air?”
You looked around and saw everyon on the table was dancing around, pretty much tipsy if not drunk already. 
“Can we?” You asked him. 
Instead of answering, Jungkook went to his brother. “We’re going to catch some fresh air for a bit, is that good?”
“Alright, use protection kiddos.” The older man laughed and patted his shoulder. 
“That’s not—“ The man was already back on the dance floor without letting his little brother finish the sentence. 
Jungkook turned to you. “He thinks we’re off to fuck, but we’re good to go.”
“Ew.” You cringed but followed the man out from the club. 
Jungkook sighed heavily as soon as you were at the front of the club. “I thought I was gonna turn deaf.”
“Yeah.” I chuckled. “Your brother parties well it seems.”
“He loves it. He’s borderline alcoholic.” Jungkook shook his head. “I think he likes you.”
“How do you know?”
“He knows my ex from two years ago. He was still bugging me on inviting her even after I told you were gonna show up at our dinner.” He sighed. “I don’t see her, I guess it worked out.”
“Is she someone I know?” You asked with a careful tone. 
“I don’t think I’ve ever introduced her to any of you guys… Jimin knows her though.”
“I see…” You looked away, suddenly feeling awkward on the topic. 
He eyed you and laughed, nudging you before he spoke. “It’s okay to ask, I don’t feel anything for her anymore.” 
You stayed quiet and observed his demeanor, searching for doubts. 
“Seriously! It wasn’t anything bad. We just wanted different things and it didn’t work out. My brother likes her though, so that’s why.” He laughed again, but it slowly faded as he was lost in thoughts on something. “Fuck, if I think about it, he’s gonna be so pissed once he finds out.”
“Is it really worth the Switch?”
“Totally.” He answered without hesitation, laughing. “You on the other hand, I just know it’s not worth the donuts.”
“It’s not that bad. I don’t hate it.” 
“You’re just saying that because you met Yoongi.” He smirked.
“It is a nice bonus!” You cackled, looking up at the sky. “Everyone’s nice and I don’t hate hanging out with you.” 
“Wow.” He rolled his eyes but a smile found his lips. “You know what, let’s go eat some good steak after the wedding!”
“Really?” Your eyes beamed with excitement. 
He nodded. “I don’t hate hanging out with you either.” The grin on his lips was almost blinding.  
Both of you wounded up talking some more. You didn't know that you enjoyed talking basically about shit nothings with him. You never really had the chance to spend time much time alone with him before, given you always met him with the group and you were more close to Jihyo and Jimin. You liked how silly and random he could be and the way he laughed sounded soothing. You were not sure why you came into that conclusion but you decided to stick with it.
Until a certain man stopped in front both of you.  
“Why are you guys outside?”
“Yoongi?” You called, surprised upon seeing the guy. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
The man flattened his lips, trying to appear indifferent. He had his hands inside his pockets and everything. One thing you quickly noticed was how put together he looked. He looked very different from the guy you talked with at the back porch. His hair was sleeked back neatly and you could smell his perfume from where you stood. The black button up shirt fit his physique so well. Surely, no hoodie nor bucket hat like what Jungkook had mentioned. 
Jungkook who seemingly aware of how starstruck you were, let out an audible groan at the scene. 
“I had some work today, I thought of ditching actually.” Yoongi said while looking at you. 
“What changed your mind?” You curiously asked. 
The man shrugged nonchalantly. “Heard you’re invited.”
“Oh.” Your mouth went slightly ajar. You almost couldn’t believe his words. 
“Y’all are disgusting. I’m heading in.” Jungkook walked right through the middle of you and Yoongi, storming right back into the club. 
“Huh.” Yoongi voiced, eyes following Jungkook’s figure disappearing at the door. “Does he know?”
“He knows. It was even his idea…”You confessed. “He went to the toilet on purpose just so we could talk that night.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
“Nah, don’t worry. He’s just a pouty brat.” You dismissed. “Let’s go in?”
Yoongi nodded and followed you from behind. 
The moment you and Yoongi arrived at the reserved table, Jungkook was doing two shots of something that one of his brother’s friend handed him. Your eyes met for a split second on his first shot, before he ignored you and chugged another one. Here you thought he was done drinking already. Did he forget that he drove you here?
You had known Jungkook for a while and you knew he could handle his alcohol. You had no problem switching place and drove him. So you kept conversing with Yoongi, thinking your fake boyfriend would be fine, just having a bit more fun wouldn’t hurt him. 
Something was definitely wrong when you saw the lad slurring and excusing himself to puke. 
“Kook? You alright?”
“No.” He replied from the toilet stall. 
You heard another gagging sound before he pressed the flush button. He came out soon after, looking very flushed and unwell. 
“I thought you were done drinking for the night.” You approached him, patting his back. 
“I was being stupid.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can drive back…”
“It’s okay, I’ll drive you and just take uber back.” You assured him. 
Jungkook muttered a low “thanks” before trailing you from behind, back to the table.
“You alright, dude?” Yoongi looked at the guy with sympathy. 
“Yup.” Jungkook did an okay sign, with half closed lids. “At least I can still form a thought.”
“Geez, how will you get home?” Yoongi looked at your direction. 
“I can drive him and take a cab back.” You replied. 
“I can take you home.” The man said sternly. “I’ll meet you at his apartment complex.”
“Oh, you don’t have to!” You widened your eyes, refusing politely. “You just got here too…”
“I insist.” Yoongi grabbed your shoulder, stopping you from rambling further. “Let’s go.”
You followed Yoongi and walked to bid goodbyes to the party host, letting him know the reasoning before heading to the parking lot. 
The tatted man was pretty quiet and calm the whole ride, except for the very few short verbal responses he gave out when you asked him something. Occasionally he would hum like a little kid. You were just glad he was not that drunk to the point where it was impossible to handle. He could still walk by himself properly, but you walked him to his room just in case. 
You were greeted by an over excited Bam, Jungkook’s dog, jumping up to you. It had been quite some time since last you saw the big Doberman. You were glad at least he didn’t think of you as a stranger. Once Jungkook had sat down on the couch, you went back to pet the dog. 
“Did I tell you that you look cute today?”
You looked back at the man who was staring at you innocently. Finally getting to experience first hand on his drunk baby behavior instead of just hearing stories from Taehyung was something else. 
“Yes, you did.” You said without looking at him. Your attention was still on the giant dog. 
“Did Yoongi tell you that too?”
You halted and thought to yourself. That question definitely made you think. Yoongi did not mention anything about how your appearance whatsoever. Did he really have to though? 
“No, he didn’t…”
“You’ve tried your best and he didn’t even say anything?!” 
“Well, at least you noticed.” You smiled. 
“You’re damn right I did.” He grinned proudly. 
You shook your head at the nonsense. “Good night, Kook.”
“Night, cutie.” 
When you got out, Yoongi was already waiting for you. You panned out exchanging numbers after he dropped you off.
**
“This might be the very last favor I’m gonna ask you before it’s finally done for real.”
“What is it again now?”
“Spend the night at the venue hotel with me? Please? My brother booked a room for the family and apparently he added an extra room for us…”
You could hear his voice begging over the phone call. 
“What’s in it for me? I don’t wanna end up like that time you hit Jimin in his sleep.”
“Free breakfast and an awesome roomie that will try his best not to accidentally kick you in your sleep.” His chuckles slowly faded.
“So you’re basically offering nothing.”
“Please?” You could almost picture his exact facial expression.
“I guess a little staycation won’t hurt.” You sighed. It seemed like you couldn't find yourself to reject him. “We’ve already gone too far anyway, might as well just finish this.”
“Thank you so much!” The man shouted from the other line. “I’ll try my best not to hit you while I sleep.”
“You better be.”
So that was how you were now up binge watching unsolved crimes on YouTube, with your pretend boyfriend, who had a newly opened bottle of wine right in his hand, pouring it down onto a glass. 
“You sure your brother wouldn’t mind us taking one of his wines?” 
“Nah, this was gifted anyway.” He waved.
“If you say so.” 
You took the freshly poured glass and slumped on the bed, enjoying the cool feeling of the bedsheets on your skin. Jungkook was lying down next to you, over the bed cover. Both of you had changed into your pajamas and all.
On the fifth video playing, you finally got a text back from Yoongi after you informed him about your small sleepover situation. It could be the lack of emojis used in the replies, but he seemed chill about the whole thing, only telling you to call him right away if anything cynical were ever to occur.  
You didn’t realize but soon your attention was taken by the small screen in your hands, instead of the huge television in the room. But when it finally came into your attention, you quickly put down your phone. You had always disliked people playing with their phones when hanging out with you, figured you would not want to do the same thing. 
“I just told Yoongi that I’m staying the night here.” 
Jungkook’s eyes were already at you when you looked up from your phone. 
He turned back to the screen, going back to take another chip from the bag on his hand. “What did he say?”
“He seems cool with it. Told me to call him straight up if you try anything fishy.”
“Are you guys like a thing now?” 
“Eh, we’ve texted back and forth for days but that’s all.” You shrugged.
The man shifted his position to your direction. “So… do you like him?”
“I mean, I guess he seems like a perfect textbook boyfriend.”
“Whose textbook?” Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. 
“Well, mine?” You chuckled. “Guess I really do like nerds.” 
“Oh, wow.” Jungkook said in a straight tone, unamused.
“I mean he’s nice and cute, what more can you ask for?” 
The man sighed. “Well, if that’s the case then I guess good for you.” 
“You don’t sound too happy about it.” You noticed the shift in his voice. 
“I’m not excited to see you being all gross with him after this.” He rolled his eyes and pushed the snack to your direction. 
You took one chip and chuckled. “He could just be flirting for fun.”
“Yoongi doesn’t do that.” Jungkook replied with his mouth full. “Bro barely flirts in general.”
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” 
Suddenly a big thunder flashed, making a loud noise that shocked both of you. You jumped from your seat to look by the hotel window. It was suddenly pouring heavy outside. Jungkook followed you shortly, peeking next to you. 
You pulled the curtains open, enjoying the calming rain atmosphere. “We’re gonna sleep so good tonight.” 
“Lights on or lights off?” The man asked. 
“Off, all of them.”
“I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.” Jungkook went in for a hi-five. 
You crossed your leg and sat on the floor, eyes on the crazy weather outside. Once again, Jungkook mimicked and joined you on the floor. 
“What’s on your mind?” He asked.
“Nothing, it’s just really nice.” You sighed. “Do you have any nosy relatives?”
“The old ones from my dad’s side are sometimes a bit, but nothing too crazy. Why? Ah… you’re scared you’re gonna get interrogated tomorrow?” 
“Sorta, yeah.” You chuckled. “I don’t do well with new people.”
“You’re gonna be fine, they’ll like you.” He assured. “I’ll do the talk, you’ll just have to smile and look pretty.”
“You think I look pretty?” You pointed at yourself, grinning. 
“I’ve told you before.”
You suddenly remember that night when he was drunk. “Oh, you remember that? You told me I looked cute though not—“
“I remember what I said.” He cut you off with a slight annoyed tone.
“Uh, thanks…” You said, suddenly feeling awkward. You didn’t know why he suddenly seemed so serious about it. 
“You don’t believe it, do you?”
“Well, you were drunk and I know you, you love to say a lot of shit nothings.” 
“I’m not drunk now so…” He puffed his cheeks. 
“We were just drinking wine?” You replied. 
Jungkook groaned. “Shut up.”
“Alright, I believe you.” You laughed. Your cheeks feeling ever so slightly warm. You decided it was due to the glass of wine instead of thinking of other possibilities. 
Jungkook laughed as well, after he rolled his eyes at you. Your eyes met for a short second, but you quickly broke it off and looked back at the window. You were not quite sure why, but you felt the urge to lean your head on the boy’s shoulder. Figuring it wouldn’t be weird, you did so. After all, you did it all the time with Jimin too.
You could tell his shoulder stiffened at first, but it quickly loosened and relaxed. A few seconds later he leaned back his head on top of yours, and both of you just stayed like that for minutes, only the sound of the downpour filling up the room. 
“Hey, look at the sky.”
“Huh?” You suddenly straightened your position and looked up. “What is—“
Then your mind blanked. In a split second Jungkook launched an attack, giving you a surprise kiss on your right cheek. You heard it making a loud smooch noise, despite the rain blaring in the background. You looked at him with your hand now holding your cheek. Would you believe that, the man just looked at you with a big grin as if he was innocent, his eyes turned into thin lines, his lip piercing glared under the moonlight. 
“Did you just kiss me???”
“On your cheek, yes.” He nodded like a kid. The smug grin was still there, proudly. 
“You told me to look at the sky!” You whined. 
“That was the most classic move in the book.” He laughed. 
“Whose book is this?!” You retorted. Weirdly enough, you didn’t seem to mind it that much.
“We need to both review our books it seems like.” He chuckled. “I’m sorry, you just looked very pretty under the moon and all, it was very dramatic in my eyes.” 
“Is this the alcohol talking again?”
“Stop blaming the alcohol and start taking my compliments seriously.” He folded his arms, the muscles flexed as he did. 
Great. Now how in the heavens were you suppose to sleep again?
Thankfully, things somehow managed to cool down after that, and both of you soon retrieved to the bed after cleaning up. 
You were glad the man next to you was a heavy sleeper, so he wouldn’t notice you tossing and turning. Should you be overthinking on Jungkook’s behavior? You knew he was a flirty being, you were sure he did things like this all the time. After all, he fell asleep almost instantly like nothing had ever happened, so it must be true. 
The next morning when you woke up, the left side of the bed was already empty. You were glad that at least no accidents happened during your sleep. It would suck to go to the celebration with a blue eye. You still remembered Jimin’s pain that one time you went camping. 
Assuming Jungkook was off to the gym, you got up and took a shower. By the time you were done, there was a sweaty bare back facing you, sitting on the edge of the bed, gulping down a bottled water. 
Last time you saw Jungkook shirtless was a few months back, maybe even a year ago. Jihyo had this immaculate idea of a beach day, only for it to end up raining. You and her stayed inside the cottage the entire time. But the boys? They didn’t care. Every single one of them ended up catching the cold too. 
That being said, at that period of time, Jungkook was already muscular, but he sure as hell wasn’t as this big. Maybe it was the amount of Twinkies he ate on his free time doing wonders on his bulking. 
“Oh, you’re done?” Jungkook suddenly turned, clutching the t-shirt he had on his hand to his chest. It was almost funny how big his eyes popped open. 
“Yeah.” You wondered why he got flustered all of the sudden. 
“I may stink a bit.” He sheepishly laughed. “I’ll shower and we’ll get breakfast after?”
**
And before you knew it, you were on the table with the Jeons. A flared floral dress clung on your body, heels hanging on your left foot as you crossed your legs, sitting prettily as what Jungkook had asked you. 
You were thankful he kept his words. Here you were, giggling at Jungkook’s aunt, telling you a story about how when he was a baby he used to cry every time upon seeing a literal piece of broccoli. You barely need to say anything. Jungkook kept the conversation going and would always wittily shift the conversation away from turning into public interrogation. 
When the main celebration was over, he didn’t stop you from going to converse with Yoongi. Nor he did when the man kindly asked to swap dance partners. Maybe it was just how he didn’t need any more convincing or anything to prove. The job was already done. 
You found yourself questioning on why he didn’t though, on why he just let you be. You questioned yourself on why you never really felt the butterflies around Yoongi. But at this point, you began to realize something was up. He would say something and all you could think of was how Jungkook would react over the top, make a dumb pun, and dance around like an idiot instead. Yoongi was exactly how you would imagine your perfect guy. But was it also a mental block that made you think you felt something for him other than mild admiration? 
“You’re zoning out.”
“Oh! I was?” You jumped slightly, hearing Yoongi’s comment. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you looking for him?”
“I was just wondering where he went, I haven’t seen him since the dance…”
“I didn’t say a name.” 
You were taken aback. Yoongi’s expression was a mixture of amusement and light disappointment. 
“I’m sorry, my head’s been all over the place…” You replied in a low voice. 
The man sighed, crossing his hands. “Don’t apologize. Don’t worry about it. 
“But, Yoongi…”
“Think about it. Would you say yes if any other person asked you to do this ridiculous favor just for donuts? And why does Jungkook even need to do this so badly?! He could afford the console himself if he wanted to.”
Huh. 
He sighed again, but this time there was a small smile on his lips. “Go. Before I like you even more.”
“I’m so sorry, Yoongi.”
“Just go.”
And with that push, you picked up your feet and searched. He was nowhere near his family table and nowhere at dessert bar. And you knew it wasn’t like him to not camp in the dessert area like a hungry child. You texted him but there was no immediate response. You weren’t sure if calling would be a good idea. You figured he must had ran back to the hotel room.
Your assumption was correct when you found him lying on the floor, with arms and legs stretched out like a starfish, tie discarded next to him. He only spared a look at you for a few seconds, before going back on focusing his vision up at the ceiling. 
“Jungkook, what the hell are you doing…” You couldn’t help a smile forming on your lips. 
“Comforting myself.” He grinned with eyes closed shut. “Wanna join?”
You looked at him and shook your head in disbelief. It took you merely five seconds of decision making before giving up and laid on your side next to him. Jungkook quickly turned his body to your direction once he felt your presence close by. With his arm under his head for support, there was that boyish grin plastered on his face looking at you again. 
“So what are we doing on the floor again?”
“Dunno.” He bit his inner cheeks as he spoke. “You look really pretty today.” He mentioned unpromptly. 
“Stop saying that.” You looked away. 
“Just in case Yoongi hasn’t told you.” He grinned. “Why are you here? You should be at the party…”
“And you don’t?! I thought you want that new switch?” 
“I do, it’s just… I can’t really give a damn about that right now, honestly.” He scoffed. “You shouldn’t be here, though.”
“And why is that?”
“It’s giving me hope.” He turned his body and laid on his back, facing the ceiling again. “This sucks balls but I have to admit that I’m jealous.”
You froze in place. Your eyes still glued to him, looking at his side profile as he continued to talk without meeting your eyes. 
“Yoongi is exactly your type. The whole hot nerd vibe. Smart, broody, quiet. He’s what you go for.” He chuckled. “I’m gonna sound so pick me after this, but I’m not that. I’m dumb and loud. And I hate it.”
“Jungkook…”
“I know this is fake. But it didn’t feel fake.” His voice dropped. “Not to me. Holding you, laughing until we can’t breathe, and last night with the rain???” He smiled in defeat. “I guess somewhere along the line, I just stopped pretending. I stopped thinking about the switch. Hell, fuck the switch. Haven’t thought about it even once after that night at the club…” He shook his head vigorously like a dog, as if wanting to get rid of his thoughts. “I got so jealous that night I started drinking like an idiot.”
Your heart thudded painfully. “You know I liked Yoongi.” 
Words coming out from your mouth shocked him, especially the way you were using past tense. His eyes glimmered in hope. Once again you were amazed by his big rounded eyeballs. 
“But even when I was with him, I kept missing you. I kept wondering how you’d react, thinking about how you’d crack a lame joke, how you’d try to tease me about it…” 
He blinked a few times. “Wait, really???”
“Yeah.”You chuckled, a bit flustered by exposing yourself. “I thought I was doing it for Krispy Kreme, but honest to heavens no one would actually be this dumb. I thought I was at least, but even Yoongi told me that this is just beyond ridiculous.” You sighed. “I wouldn’t be here if I don’t actually enjoy being with you.” 
Jungkook’s expression softened. He too let out a heavy breath. He scooted closer to you with his pair of black boba eyes looking straight at you like a giant puppy. 
“You mean it?”
“I mean, I did have one glass of champagne before coming up here…” You giggled. 
The guy pouted. “Not funny.” 
You reached for his nose and booped it, making him flinch. You took his left hand and placed it on your chest, where your heart was literally beating out of your rib cage. The eye contact didn’t last long as you broke it off, feeling your stomach twisted into a knot. 
And Jungkook wasted zero second after that confirmation. He brought both of his palms and grabbed your face close. His soft lips found yours instantly. Your gasp was muffled by his mouth and it took you no time to melt into his touch though. The kiss was short, nothing too much. You were the first to broke it off, but he did leaned over to chase your lips once more. You caught a glimpse of his proud grin before he pulled you into a hug, stuffing your face into his embrace. 
“Do we really have to do this on the floor?” You protested, but your jaw was basically hurt from smiling. 
“You’re mine you’re mine you’re mine.” He chanted like a possessed individual. He buried his face in your hair and laughed freely. 
“You’re insane.” You giggled. 
“Insanely into you, yeah.” He proudly grinned. 
“Oh my god, don’t make regret this.” You rolled your eyes playfully, finding his antics endearing. 
“You’re mine!!!” He declared again, almost shouting while squeezing you. 
“You haven’t asked anything though.” You backed away, raising your eyebrows at him. 
His eyes widened and his mouth went slightly ajar. "Oh yeah, you’re right, I haven’t asked properly. Well then…” He leaned in a bit closer and took your hand in his, looking into your eyes with sincerity. He inhaled and then, “Do you want to eat wagyu steak with me tonight?”
You pushed him off and whined. 
He laughed, holding his stomach as he did. “Let’s get up first. I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend on the floor.” 
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Thank you for reading! 💐
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lemonpeppermintstickshift · 21 days ago
Text
white lie - f. langdon x fem!reader
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summary: you and frank have always been on opposing sides, but one day when a patient becomes too handsy with you, frank lets out a little white lie to save you.
warnings: SMUT (minors dni, 18+ only), not very explicit smut but smut nonetheless, plot with a sprinkle of porn towards the end (still, minors fuck off), patient grabs your arm, cursing, stereotypical pitt gore, no use of y/n, asshole idiots in love, frank has no kids, angst if you squint?, bad medical terminology/logic but let's be real you're not here for that.
author's note: i lied she's here early! this took seven years off of my life but i hope you enjoy :,) my attempt at something with a bit more plot
wc: 6k
The Pittsburg Trauma Medical Center was known to be many things. A teaching facility, a life saving establishment, and an incredibly fucking noisy place. 
It wasn’t unusual to have patients screaming bloody murder, to have the constant beep of machines and dilators ring in your ears, to overhear a pure teaching moment between an attending and a resident. 
However, a unique factor that all doctors in the Pitt could count on contributing to the decibel level were the arguments between you and one Frank Langdon. It was normal, expected even, for the two of you to be at each other's throats. It seemed like you were always disagreeing on something—a diagnosis, bedside table manners, even down to what kind of coffee should be kept in the staff lounge.
(“We’re not getting dunkin donuts coffee,” you scoff.
“Why the hell not?” Langdon shoots back.
“You two have to be fucking joking.”)
On this particular shift, Frank and you stand on opposite sides of a patient bed, throwing harsh glances like they’re daggers. The middle aged woman below you is bleeding profusely in her throat due to a neglected respiratory tract infection, causing multiple issues with her oxygen levels. She’s practically drowning in her own blood. Your first instinct was to do an intubation, but before you could even begin to ask for the tube, Frank immediately shut you down.
“There’s too much blood, we wouldn’t be able to see anything through the camera. Have you ever done an intubation blind?” He interrogates, his gaze cold and sterile. “I’m vetoing it. We’ll have to do a cricothyrotomy instead.”
“I can do it,” you argue back. “A cricothyrotomy is a last resort, you haven’t even tried intubation yet—”
“We don’t have time to play it safe, last resort or not we should be doing the cricothyrotomy.”
You feel the familiar, fire hot frustration bubble in your chest. It isn’t unusual for Frank to fight against you, and it isn’t unusual for you to want to kill him for it.
The two of you go back and forth like this until Robby approaches the room, finally free from his GSW in Trauma 1. His aging face drops as soon as he realizes the scene before him. Annoyance slowly creeps into his expression, sinking into the lines by his eyes as his mouth presses into a thin line, gritting his teeth before speaking. 
“That’s enough.” His voice booms out, causing the both of you to pause mid argument. “You two are wasting time. Make a concise decision. Dr. Langdon?”
“Intubation is too risky.” Frank begins, trying to appeal to his mentor and somewhat friend. “A cricothyrotomy may be a little bold but at least it’ll work.” 
“And you?” Robby turns to face you. “You believe you can perform the intubation?”
“I know I can, Dr. Robby.”
You see Robby consider both ideas for a brief second, tossing them around and considering the weight of his decision. It’s not just choosing a life saving operation, but choosing a favorite. He—and all the student doctors and nurses for that matter—know whoever loses this war will be enraged, silently fuming for the rest of their shift.
“Get the tube. We’re performing this intubation.”
As soon as the words hit your ears, your stomach somersaults. You try to control the muscles in your face as your lips twitch into a smile. There’s a voice in the back of your head that wants to jump up and down and point to Langdon, screaming I won, I won, I won! You know it's unprofessional, but it's rare when you get to win against him, especially when it comes to Robby. 
You can feel Langdon’s anger radiating off of him as he moves out of the way, watching you and Robby prepare for the procedure. You try your best to hide your joy, but you’re sure you fail.
//
After a successful intubation with the help of Robby, you find yourself aimlessly wandering back towards the ED’s TV screen, bumping into Whitaker. The two of you make small talk as your eyes scan for something interesting to busy your hands with. Whitaker reads out a few promising symptoms, but his words fall away into nothing as you scan the room, your eyes landing on Langdon as he walks out of the staff lounge. 
He stares back at you, something dark swirling in the ocean blue of his irises. 
You bite the inside of your cheek. You know he’s fuming, probably imagining all the ways he wishes you would die a slow and painful death so that you’d never interfere with him again. You’ve been on the losing end of this battle before, and you remember just how much you wanted to strangle him when Robby chose his side.
Your stomach flutters slightly as you narrow your eyes, rolling them and trying to focus back on Whitaker. You don’t care if Frank sees. You mutter something along the lines of approval when Whitaker finally chooses your next case, not quite mentally there as you still feel the heat of Frank’s gaze.
It wasn’t always like this between you and Langdon. In the very beginning, you remember bits of indifference, some semblance of mutual respect. You don’t remember what changed exactly, but one day you two went from innocent coworkers to enemies. 
After the change, you remember him being snippy with you, always avoiding taking you on a case, begrudgingly teaching things to you and fighting you on every diagnosis you made. You just weren’t sure why. 
You didn’t bother to search for an answer. You decided you would simply return the energy that was given to you. If Frank wanted to be a dick, you had no problem meeting him halfway. 
You give him no more thought as you trail behind Whitaker. 
//
Hours later, somewhere around 3 PM, you feel a wave of drowsiness begin to hit you. Despite all your best efforts to go to bed on time, to drink caffeine in the morning and maintain unwavering energy levels, you always seem to struggle in the early afternoon. You know if you slow down, you’ll never pick back up again, so you down the rest of your energy drink and flip through the list of patients waiting to be seen. 
Your eyes land on the chart of an older gentleman: Isaiah Vander, 52, complained of lower abdomen pain. 
Based on past experience, you know abdomen pain has the ability to go south very quickly. You decide to charge forth, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst as you lead him back to an open bed. 
“Please, have a seat Mr. Vander,” you smile. Gloria’s been on everyone's ass about bedside hospitality, so you try to attempt to be a bit brighter than usual.
Mr. Vander, a balding and slightly overweight man plops down in front of you. He’s dressed in jeans, wearing some sort of athletic t-shirt with a pair of cheap sunglasses resting on his head. He returns your smile with a large toothy grin, showing off his coffee stained teeth. 
After a short but concise introduction, you begin your assessment. “So, when did the pain in your abdomen start?”
“Last night, a little after dinner.”
“And what did you eat?” You ask casually. 
“So curious!” He laughs in response. “I had two big macs, a large mountain dew and some french fries, I think. I work late a lot, so I had to grab something quick last night. Do you cook?”
You smile politely. “When I can. Now, do you take any medication?” Your mind prepares to cross off a few different diagnoses depending on his answer.
“Would love to have you cook for me sometime.” He responds, ignoring your question. His boisterous laugh rings out into the hall. His warm breath that smells of cigarettes fans your face. Gross. 
You frown, trying not to assume the worst. You know sometimes patients get a little chatty when they’re comfortable, so you try and steer the conversation back to his condition.
“My cooking may give you worse abdomen pain if you can believe it. And, sorry, just to confirm, no medicine?”
“Only viagra.” He smirks. 
Your breakfast bubbles in your gut. You’re taken aback. You forgot what the shock of a situation like this feels like. You recover quickly though, ignoring his comments by giving him a tight lipped smile.
“Is the pain more throbbing, or like a pricking sensation? And any nausea, vomiting?”
“Throbbing, definitely throbbing. Ever since the wife left me I’ve been eating alone a lot, hence the junk food. So maybe that's where the throbbing pain comes from. Maybe it wouldn’t happen if I ate with someone else. If you get what I mean.” He licks his lips lustfully.
You clear your throat, trying your best not to lose your shit. You’ve dealt with flirty patients before, but he seems… grimey. Clearly this guy isn’t dying of a ruptured intestine, he’s just some asshole with a tummy ache. 
“So, again. Nausea? Vomiting?” There's an edge to your voice as you grit out the question through your teeth. Despite your annoyance, you continue to interrogate him—there’s a part of you that’s fearful that if you left now, he would end up dying of a cause you could have prevented—growing more frustrated as the minutes pass. 
Trying to converse with him feels like torture. The conversation is painstaking slow, and for every question you ask, Mr. Vander responds in a suggestive manner, talking about his lonely late nights while simultaneously giving you no information that could help you treat him. 
It comes to a boiling point when you ask him when his last bowel movement was. He laughs and ignores you, stating that it's ‘no business for a lovely lady such as yourself.’ It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. You mentally decide you’ll probably have to hand this case over to someone else. 
“Well,” you start, beginning to stand up. “Thank you for answering some of my questions, another doctor’ll be in shortly to—”
“You’re not staying sweetie?” 
You choke a sarcastic laugh. “It's Doctor. And no, I have another patient I need to check up on.” Not that its any of your fucking business. “Like I said, someone will be in soon to—”
Before you can finish your statement, you feel his calloused hand wrap around your forearm. It’s warm and sticky, and your eyes widen at the contact before you jerk yourself back. You’re about to yell at the man before you when out of nowhere the half shut curtain opens, revealing Langdon.
His heavy footsteps echo on the linoleum floors. His chest is puffed out, his muscular arms crossed over one another as he clenches his jaw. He looks angry. You can only assume it's because of you.  
“Dr. Langdon—” You choke out. You weren’t sure where he was supposed to be, but you’re pretty sure it's not here with you. You want to explain that this isn’t what it looks like. You have everything under control. You would hate for Langdon to hold this against you, to see you weak. 
“And who do we have here?” He says, taking a look at the chart beside you. “Hello Mr. Vander, sorry to hear about your stomach pain. I’m here to help, I’ll be taking over this case.”
You feel your face become hot. Suddenly, you’re worried Langdon thinks you're incapable of handling this. 
“Excuse me, but why can’t she stay?” Mr. Vander responds, motioning towards you. 
Frank replies without missing a beat. “She’s a very coveted doctor. Her presence was requested by an attending, so she’ll need to assist them instead.”
You hear Mr. Vander suck his teeth, sitting up slightly. “C’mon man, I was just starting to get somewhere. Can you leave? Can’t she just finish me up?”
You wince. You can't explain it, but a feeling of dread runs through your veins at the thought of this guy flirting with you in front of Langdon. 
“No, I won’t leave.”
You watch as Mr. Vander rolls his eyes and averts his attention to you. “Well, since you’re leaving, I’ll get to the point. You should get dinner with me.”
“Wow—um.” You choke. “That’s entirely unprofessional.”
“Unprofessional,” Frank starts with a smile, “And I’m pretty sure her boyfriend wouldn’t like that very much.”
“Boyfriend?” You and Mr. Vander question at the same time. Your eyes are wide with confusion. The last time you checked, you were single. 
“Boyfriend, you have a boyfriend?” He sputters.
You’re positive you don't, but the way Langdon is looking at you makes you feel otherwise. Before you can gather your thoughts to respond, Frank is sliding his hands onto your waist, giving them a squeeze. 
“Yep, she does. And as I said, I wouldn’t be very pleased if you took my girl out on a date.”
It’s so quiet in the room you can hear the conversation in the hall outside. Your mind feels a million miles behind. Mr. Vander is so focused on Langdon that he misses the way your jaw drops. 
“I’m sorry man, didn’t realize she was taken.” He apologizes, looking like a child who was just scolded for staying up too late. Shame blooms in his chest, while something much more sinister grows in yours.
Frank takes a seat beside him, motioning for him to lift his shirt. “No worries. Do you mind if I take a look at your abdomen to assess the area?”
As Langdon begins to work on Mr. Vander, the voice in your head is screaming at you to leave, to take the out that Frank has so clearly given you, but you can't bring yourself to stop staring at him.  You watch as he begins to pat his hand on Mr. Vander’s belly, pressing particularly forcefully, watching as the patient groans in pain.
“Whoops.”
He turns back to look at you. “Dr. Robby wants you.”
You try and decipher the look on his face, but gone is the charming Frank Langdon, and only his colder alter ego remains. 
You nod wordlessly, leaving the room. You don't allow yourself to catch your breath until you round the corner. It feels as though the world around you is blurred, blood rushing to your ears and face as embarrassment and something else creeps up your neck. 
Langdon has never touched you before, let alone put his hands on your waist, squeezing them. 
Many inappropriate things cross your mind. You force yourself to shake it off, looking for Robby. When you find him minutes later, he’s deep in conversation with Collins. You hate to interrupt, but you thought he needed you.
“Did you ask for me?” You say as you approach the pair.
“Me? No, why? Did something happen?” He asks with concern.
“No… Langdon said—Nevermind. Must’ve been a mistake.”
You smile weakly before walking away awkwardly, beelining for the nearest bathroom. You shut yourself inside the single stall, locking the door behind you before you begin to pace around the room, the soft sound of your sneakers scuffing the tile echoing off the walls. 
You’re mainly confused. Why was Langdon lying to save your ass? Did he think you couldn’t handle the patient? How did he manage to step in at the perfect time?
Why did his touch make your brain short circuit?
You brace yourself on the sink. You feel pathetic, and you’re sure you look it. Your eyes catch your reflection in the mirror—you look disheveled. Your face feels warm as you bite your lower lip. Get a fucking grip. 
When you feel like you've recovered as much as possible, you silently slip out of the bathroom. You're not quite sure what to do with yourself now. You really don't want to go back and check on Mr. Vander, and at this point, Frank has probably diagnosed him with constipation and recommended him some miralax. 
But, because you can't help yourself, you walk in the direction you came from, trying to see if Frank is still there. You’re not sure what you’re going to say, but you feel like you should say something. Right?
You realize you’re right as you round the corner, Mr. Vander is nowhere to be seen.
Langdon spots you immediately, and you feel every emotion at once brewing in your chest as he begins to stride towards you. Before you can even begin to pick your fight, he catches you off guard with sincerity. 
“Are you okay?”
Your breath hitches. You force yourself to recover. “What the fuck was that?”
“I was saving your ass. You’re welcome, by the way. You clearly needed some backup in there.”
“I was fine,” you retaliate. 
“He grabbed you, that’s not okay.” 
“I could’ve handled it. I was about to rip him a new one before you interrupted.” You toss your hands in the air. For a moment, Langdon looks at you like there's nothing more to discuss, like he finds no other issues with your previous interaction. 
“And the boyfriend thing?” You whisper, afraid of who might hear.
“Figured he wouldn’t back off until he knew you were taken. Guys are gross like that.”
“And my boyfriend had to obviously be… you.” You raise your eyebrows.
He doesn't reply to this. Instead, he rolls his eyes like you’re the crazy one, beginning to walk away. His face reads like he no longer cares, like it was a miniscule thing to say, like his big hands sliding over your hips is a casual morning activity.
“We’re not done here,” you hiss, trailing after him.
His long legs carry him faster than you can keep up. “Having a boyfriend would do you good, I think. Maybe it would mean you’d finally get laid. It’d also probably help the giant stick up your ass.” He hums.
“Oh, fuck off,” You say, gracing him with your middle finger. You want to slap him. You want to grab him by the collar and shake him. How can such a brilliant doctor be such an asshole? He looks at you with his eyebrows raised as if to say, anything else?
You scoff. 
He gives you a smile in return, looking deep into your eyes before continuing on his journey to the other side of the ED. 
//
In an attempt to clear your mind, you kill time outside with Dana on her smoke break. The two of you chat aimlessly about life, laughing amongst yourself about a few wild cases that have crossed her path today. You’re still talking and gossiping about Gloria when Samira runs up to you, asking to speak to you in private. 
At first, you’re worried that maybe Robby ripped her a new one, or that she had a particularly difficult case while you were running around, but the smile that tugs at the ends of her lips gives her away. You’re relieved it's nothing bad. 
“What?” You chuckle. She’s gripping your arm so tight you think you’ll lose circulation. 
“You’re dating Dr. Langdon?” She grins.
Your heart stops. 
“What?” You stutter, “Where did you hear that?”
“Holy shit, I always knew something was there!” Her eyes are wide with joy as she practically screams. She hops up and down with enthusiasm. 
You feel yourself growing flustered. How are you supposed to explain this? No—funny story actually—the man who I’ve wanted to climb like a tree just saved me from a creepy patient and lied about being my boyfriend, sorry for the confusion. 
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to find the right way to let Samira down slowly. You want to kill this rumor before it reaches anyone else, god forbid an attending. The words are on the tip of your tongue when Dana’s voice rings out into the ED.
“We’ve got a stroke case coming in, 5 minutes tops!” 
“Oh fuck,” you mumble, turning to look at her. When you turn back around, Samira’s already taken off like a shot, killing any attempt to set the record straight.
You bite your cheek in frustration. You just hope Samira won’t tell anyone.
//
Hours later, after unfortunately getting projectile vomited on by a pregnant teen, you find yourself standing in front of a familiar machine, muttering to yourself as you try to get a new pair of scrubs. 
“How the fuck am I supposed to return them when you haven’t given me a new pair to change into?” You mumble. 
You’re so immersed in your own troubles that you don’t hear Whitaker and Santos approach you from behind.
“How long have you been dating Dr. Langdon?” Santos starts, shoving you in the shoulder with her palm.
“Holy fuck!” You wince. You turn around sharply and come face to face with the pair. They look at you with stars in their eyes. “We actually aren—”
“But I thought you hated each other!” Whitaker gasps. 
“Well,” you huff, “It—”
“Holy shit… you guys have been in love and fooling us this whole time? That's insane.” Santos mumbles.
“Woah, woah, woa—”
“Congratulations, good on you guys for trying to keep it private.” They both nod simultaneously, giving you their stamp of approval. 
You’re just about to slap the two of them senseless when something else catches their attention, and they run off. 
“Jesus Christ,” you say, rubbing your palms in your eyes. You feel the pressure of a headache nestle its way between your eyes. “What the hell is going on with people today?”
//
Your final straw occurs towards the end of your shift. 
You aimlessly crack your bones and stretch your legs after finally leaving Trauma 1. You had spent the last hour resuscitating a 12 year old after they had a seizure, practically jumping up and down with Mel when the child’s heart rate came back up on the monitor. 
You breathe heavily. You still feel the weight of the little girl’s mother as she collapsed in your arms, sobbing as she mumbled thank yous and god bless yous into your fresh scrubs. It feels good, but it's still difficult.
You glance at the clock, grateful your shift is nearing the end. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take. You’ve somehow managed to avoid Langdon all day, miraculously being on opposite sides of the ED at any given time. But despite the distance, you can still feel something in the Pitt has shifted—something between the two of you has changed.
You don't have much time to ponder the odd feeling in your chest before Heather jogs towards you, her hand landing on your shoulder.
“You were great in there,” she says with a soft smile.
“Thank you,” you reply sheepishly. You’ll never get used to the praise, but you’re appreciative of it nonetheless. “I couldn’t have done it without Mel.”
“The two of you are killers, I’m super proud.” She beams. 
You feel appreciative of Heather’s leadership and kindness, she’s always been someone you know you can count on to be on your side, so it makes it all the more difficult to believe the words that begin to come out of her mouth.
“Also… I always knew he liked you.”
“What?” 
“Langdon! That's why he’s so harsh on you.” She laughs. “It makes sense that the two of you are dating, you're so alike. Robby guessed that something was gonna happen with you two. We even started a betting pool. How long have you been keeping this a secret?” 
Her words ring out into the air like bells, each one sending a wave of pain in your head. Your mouth feels dry, your throat feels tight. Your tongue seemingly swells in your mouth, rendering you speechless. 
Before Heather can notice you choking on your own emotions, Kiara walks up to the both of you, a clipboard in her hand and a determined look on her face. 
“Hey,” she approaches the two of you, distracting Heather from your conversation. 
You give her a small smile, hoping you don't look as nearly out of it as you seem. 
“Good to see you both, and congrats on the save. I just heard.” She says to you, giving you an encouraging smile. You thank her before she turns back to Heather, your mind drifting off as the two discuss a patient down the hall. Eventually, they say their goodbyes to you, walking away to discuss information more confidentially. 
You’ve never been so relieved and frustrated at the same time. 
You feel dizzy. All your mind knows how to do at this moment is flop back and forth between being mad and confused. 
You haven’t been able to tell anyone about what really happened today, and you haven’t been able to be honest with yourself about what it all means. Because, truly, why has this thrown you for a loop the way it has?
You head for the staff lounge, praying it's empty. When you enter the room and see it vacant, you shut the door behind you with the full force of your frustration, watching as the drying coffee mugs rattle on the counter. 
You take out your anger and confusion on a plastic water bottle in the fridge, twisting off the cap with such force it almost breaks the plastic. So many thoughts swim in your head as you down half the bottle in one sip. 
You can't seem to straighten it all out. Suddenly, the stunt Langdon pulled this morning seems so tame compared to everyone else’s reactions. 
I always knew he liked you. That's why he’s so harsh on you.
You guys have been in love and fooling us this whole time?
I always knew something was there!
You drop your head on the table, hearing a dull thud.
“What the actual fuck is happening?” you mutter to no one. You’re furious that a tiny rumour has managed to wiggle its way under your skin. You hate how easily it angers you, how easily it frustrates you, how easily the idea of it being truthful sends shivers down your spine. 
“I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.” You remind yourself. You try and think of all the times he’s embarrassed you in front of your superiors, of all the times he's publicly called you out and humiliated you. You remind yourself of his cruelty, of his harsh words and even harsher hands. 
Your mind wanders to his piercing blue eyes and his dark brown hair that falls in front of them. The way they looked at you when he practically ran into the room this morning, taking your breath away.
You try not to focus on it any longer. I’m almost done, you remind yourself. I just need to get through this shift. 
//
You’re not sure how you make it, but somehow your shift ends. 
You’re on autopilot as you pack up, making sure you have your badge, your phone, your bag and everything else that comes with it, including your headphones for the walk home, along with your thoughts on the back burner that you plan to continuously overthink and never get over. 
You try to feel relieved that you’re leaving, to be thankful for escaping the rumours that float around like smoke. But when you find yourself finally walking out of the Pitt, saying your goodbyes to the remaining staff and giving your hellos to the first night shift workers, you don't get very far.
When you reach the brisk outside air, your feet feel cemented to the ground. You’re not sure what holds you back, but you can't bring yourself to start your music, to take the familiar route back to your place. It’s chilly out, and you watch your breath come out in puffs. It dissipates into the air, fading to nothing. You’re just about to chide yourself for being so foolish when a familiar voice rings out into the night.
“I thought you’d be home by now.”
You don’t have to turn around to know it’s Langdon.
“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Me too.”
Your eyes try to focus on the Pittsburgh streets in front of you. You attempt to control the way your body tenses as Frank approaches to stand at your side, but you find it increasingly more difficult to command your body in his presence. 
“Had a hell of a day,” you continue. You’re not quite sure why you’re trying to talk to him right now. It’s odd speaking so calmly with Frank, normally you two would be yelling. 
“So I’ve heard. Apparently, our wedding is in September.”
“Ah. Good to know. I’ll try to make it.”
You’re caught off guard when, unexpectedly, Langdon laughs. You dont think you’ve ever heard such a warm, rich sound before. 
“I heard the betting pool was really big. Bigger than the ambulance one.” He says casually.
You snort. You were brand new when you joined that bet. You remember Frank had chewed you out so loudly in front of Gloria you thought you were gonna cry, so instead of breaking down in the bathroom you bet 50 bucks on ‘drug addict, crash, not in our vicinity.’ 
When you glance up at Frank, you realize how much time has passed since then. You’re both older, more advanced in the medical field, different. The two of you have battled demons no one knows about. 
“Heather said we made a good couple.” 
“I’m not surprised,” He replies. “Robby came up to me to tell me not to fuck it up, so clearly we have a lot hinging on this fake relationship.” 
You laugh at the thought. A beat of silence passes between you two, and for a moment, you're worried this peace may never happen again.
“You were the one who started this mess.” You say, trying to keep the conversation going. Where you want it to lead, you’re unsure.
“I know. And I’m… I’m sorry. Really.”
Frank turns to look at you. You see an unfamiliar emotion swirl in his irises: regret. He’s never apologized to you before, not even when Robby demanded it. You know he must be serious.
“No, I’m sorry.” You confess. “You were doing me a favor and all I did was yell at you.”
“I guess we’re both assholes.”
You toss him a soft smile. It’s weird, talking with him like this, but not unwelcome. You think this is the longest you two have ever spoken without raising your voices.
“I just… It’s so hard to be near you sometimes. You act like working with me is the worst thing in the world.” You say, looking up at him. Your brows crease in such a way that your face floods with sadness, like you’re just finally admitting to yourself that maybe this dynamic isn’t truthful to how you really feel.
“It’s not. I swear it isn’t. You’re a brilliant doctor.” He breathes out. He runs his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut before continuing. “I just can’t fucking concentrate around you.”
You feel your heartbeat pick up.
“And I’m sorry about the boyfriend thing. I just sort of… I don’t know. That patient was just so fucking handsy and—”
“You saw him grab me?” 
“Yeah. Yeah I, I couldn’t see straight. And I know you can handle yourself, I just really wanted to hand his ass back to him. And, fuck—I’ve really been a dick today—I’m sorry about the whole getting laid thing.”
You laugh out loud, bringing your hand to cover your mouth. “No… No, you were right. I’ve had a stick up my ass all day. All year, actually.”
Langdon laughs with you, and you can see some of his hesitation leave his body as he turns towards you. The two of you chuckle over the absurdity of all. 
“So I distract you? That’s why you’re an absolute dick to me?” You say, feeling brave. You see the way his face flushes and his jaw tightens before he answers. You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to convince yourself this is still friendly territory.
“Listen, I never said it was logical. Nor did I say it was a good excuse. But it’s true.”
You let the words sit between you two as you turn over your response. You’re not sure how blunt you want to be, but the actions of today have pushed you to a place you’ve never ventured before. “I feel like I’ve been going crazy, Frank. All day, all anyone’s told me is how much you like me, how good we look together, how we’ve secretly been in love all these years—”
“Are they wrong?”
“That’s what I’m asking you!” You groan. “I don’t know. Because, really, you’re a pain in my ass. You make me so mad sometimes I want to kill you. And yet, I practically fucking short circuited today when you said you were my boyfriend. So why’s that?”
“And you’re asking me?”
“Don’t you always have the answer to everything?”
You watch as his icy blue eyes scan your face, trailing down the bridge of your nose, the slope of your cheeks, the peak of your soft lips. 
“I got jealous today.” He states plainly.
“Because of Mr. Vander?”
“No. Well, yes, but also today I realized I’m actually not sure if you have a boyfriend. And then I got jealous in case he did exist... Does he?”
“He doesn’t.”
“Okay then.”
The air stills between you.
“Are you still jealous?”
“Yes.”
“And what do you suppose we do to make you feel better?”
//
For a brief moment as you and Frank stop kissing each other to gasp for air, fingers fumbling at the strings of your respective pants before flying back to each other's bodies, you wonder if you’ll regret this decision to end your war.
The two of you stumble into your apartment a few blocks away from the Pitt, lips entangled with one another as you struggle to lock the door behind you.
Frank, being the newfound gentleman he is after your confession session, decided to walk you home for ‘safety reasons.’ Of course, this resulted in you inviting him up, which has landed you exactly where you are now, in your bedroom peeling off your scrubs. 
When you two are fully undressed, your hands fly to his brown locs as he hoists you up on his hips. His strong arms hold you tightly against him before he lays you down on your bed, laughing into your mouth.
“Something funny?” You ask, eyes trailing down his abdomen. 
“Just thinking…I’m basically a genius.”
“How so?” You say, dragging him back to kiss you. His tongue swirls around yours playfully, momentarily losing himself in you before he pulls away, panting slightly. 
“I said earlier today that having a boyfriend would get you laid. And I was right.”
“Hmm… Is that what you are?” You whisper, your voice low and sultry. Frank’s pupils are blown out as they look at you, eyes ravishing your body as you lay bare below him. 
“I want to be, if you’ll let me.”
“I’ll consider it,” you promise. You laugh slightly, but the warm feeling in your chest at the sight of Frank in your bed tells you you’ll never let him go.
For the rest of the night, You and Frank are a tangle of limbs and lips, hands clinging on to each other as he brings you to the edge of atmosphere and back again. He watches the stars in your eyes when his mouth licks at your core, when his dick brushes against the sensitive spot in your walls, when he whispers his dirty praise in your ear from behind. 
You two fall into a comfortable rhythm, working together in sync like you were meant to hold each other. You watch each other with care as your bodies work in tandem, as you aim to please one another. Your name on his lips as he paws at your chest, the softest kisses on your neck as his hips rock into yours. Somewhere in between the clapping of flesh lies the quiet conversations and heartfelt confessions. 
When you two eventually run out of steam, blissfully fucked out and sprawled on the bed in comfortable silence, all you can do to convey your affection is to softly graze his lips with yours, running your fingers through his hair as you fall asleep in his arms. 
//
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jijournal · 23 days ago
Text
THE ELEVEN WORD QUESTION | D.M
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summary: Draco Malfoy would literally die for you��unfortunately, asking you to the Yule Ball might just kill him first. When he finally gathers the courage to do it, you politely decline… thanks to a spectacular misunderstanding. Now, with his pride bruised and his heart set, Draco is determined to win you over—properly, this time.
wc: 2.6k+
cw: DOWN BAD DRACO! awkward Draco who gets shy around reader, feat. Pansy, Blaise, & Theo as Draco's backup.
A/N: I love shy Draco. I AM SO SORRY THAT I HAVE BEEN INACTIVE LATELY. Aghhh I haven't posted anything in sooo long, I've been busy hihi.
⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰
Draco Malfoy was many things: a Slytherin, a menace on the Quidditch pitch, and the heir to one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain—but he had never felt this pathetic before. Not even the time he fell off his broom second year and cried because his wrist bent funny.
No, this was worse. Because he hadn’t just fallen—he’d plummeted, in front of you, with a flower in one hand and all his dignity left wilting somewhere between the Charms and Transfiguration section at the library.
You hadn’t looked back.
Not once.
Not even when he’d called after you, your name barely leaving his mouth before it got stuck in his throat with the taste of regret and disbelief.
He knew what it must’ve looked like. You thought it was a joke. That he was the joke. And for once, he couldn’t even blame you.
This catastrophe had all began the night before.
The Slytherin common room was filled only with the sound of crackling fire and the soft chatter of students with the scratch of quills against their parchment—until their heads turn to a yell that broke the silence.
"DRACO! We've been on this for over an hour now," Pansy sighed as she sat down on the couch between Theo and Blaise. "And for the millionth time, you are not going to DIE asking a girl to the Yule Ball!"
Pansy's "How to Woo a Girl 101" was clearly very hard for Draco to comprehend. Because based on the look on Theo's and Blaise's faces, it was not going well. At all.
Draco dramatically gasped as if he was being accused of murder, he then put a hand over his heart and then started rambling. "She isn't just any girl. She's the most perfect witch to ever exist! Gosh, do you guys even see how beautiful and smart and—" but, before he could continue, he was cut off by Blaise.
"We get it mate! You're bewitched by her." Blaise groaned loudly, throwing his head back and resting it on the backrest of the couch.
Theo sighed, "Mate, look," he said sternly, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You just have to ask her a simple eleven word question, 'Would. you. like. to. go. to. the. Yule. Ball. with. me.?' see? Easier than brewing Felix Felicis!"
Draco was suddenly hot and started to fidget with his fingers all because of that eleven word question. "Easy for you to say, Theo. You don't have a big fat crush o—" he was cut off yet again. This time, by Pansy.
"Alright, Malfoy. We're done," she announced, crossing her arms. "Either you tell her—or we will!" Pansy smirked, now putting her hands on her hips, trying to hide her laugh as she stood up. The two boys beside her started snickering as they followed Pansy towards the dormitories, leaving Draco in a very difficult position.
Theo suddenly stopped in front of Draco, "You better ask her soon or you know what's coming." He teased, then continued to follow Blaise and Pansy.
"Wait! I'll do it!" He stammered, his hand reaching out, a hopeless attempt to let them stay. "But—uh—is 'You looked like a powdered donut and still managed to be gorgeous.' a good compliment? Because the potion she was brewing blew up last week."
All he got in reply was loud groans and sighs as three of his friends continued walking away from him.
"Guys?!"
Silence.
Draco sighed as he looked down at his feet. "Hey! You looked like a powdered donut and still managed to be gorgeous." He quietly muttered to himself.
The next day, Draco's heart felt like it was going to come out of his chest and his feet felt like rubber as he saw you strolling through the library. This was it. This was the day he's going to ask you the eleven word question.
Naturally, he brought backup—just in case of a stutter, a horrible nosebleed, or, Merlin forbid, passing out. He had to full-on beg them to come with him, since, in Pansy's own words:
“How are you even going to dance with her if you need us just to ask her to the ball? What—are we going to do a group dance in case you pass out?”
She may be right...
But he badly needed emotional support or he'll die of a heart attack before he could even talk to you.
"Alright. I'm going to go up to her, compliment her pretty face, ask her the question, and hope for the best." He whispered, his grip tightening on the stem of your favorite flower.
The four of them were currently formed in a circle at the corner of the library, three pairs of eyes staring at the blonde boy as he told them his plan.
Theo gave him a flat look, unimpressed. “That’s the plan? That’s it?”
“Well, do you have a better one?” Draco snapped, slightly louder than he intended, which earned them all a sharp shhh! from Madam Pince across the room. They all winced and lowered their heads like scolded toddlers.
Blaise leaned in, voice a murmur. “Yes. Literally anything other than blurting out powdered donut compliments in the library.” He rubbed his temples. “Just… try not to be weird, mate.”
“I’m not weird,” Draco muttered, offended.
“Yeah?” Pansy raised a brow. “You practiced your line in the mirror seven times this morning and then gave the flower a pep talk.”
Draco blushed furiously. “It’s her favorite flower. It needs to be… emotionally prepared.”
Theo shook his head, muttering, “We’re emotionally exhausted.”
Still, despite their teasing, the trio gave him nods of encouragement as he squared his shoulders, tucked the flower carefully behind his back, and began the slow, risky walk toward where you sat—cross-legged on the carpet between two shelves, surrounded by a sea of books and parchment, humming softly to yourself as you scribbled into your notes.
He froze halfway.
You were chewing on the end of your quill, a bit of ink on your chin, your eyes narrowed in concentration. You wore a flower crown made of daises again today—different colors if he may add—the yellows, oranges, and whites complimenting your face. Draco thought he might pass out on the spot.
'Gosh how can she be so beautiful while doing nothing.'
"GO!" Pansy whisper yelled as she pushed Draco toward you.
"Wait n—" he stumbled toward you. He was begging his feet to go back to his safe cocoon where he wouldn't get humiliated or possibly pass out, but they were stuck on the ground—unable to move.
"Hey!" he gulped, his cheeks rapidly turning red for being flustered but mostly from embarrassment.
You glanced up at the sudden noise and there he was. He looked... hot.
HOT! as in sweating hot—not the kind of hot where his hair was pushed back after a shower in the quidditch lockers and definitely not the time when—
Stop it!
“Oh! Hello, Draco." You said, offering him a warm smile as you stood, brushing the creases from your skirt to face him properly.
He smiled back—but it wasn’t the kind of smile most people gave. It was lopsided, almost shaky, like it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be confident or terrified. His hands fidgeted behind his back, and then—
"ELEVENWORDQUESTION!" he blurted.
You blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”
Draco swallowed hard, his cheeks rapidly turning pink. “What I meant to say is… you look like a powdered donut.”
What.
The.
Hell?
Your smile faltered. You looked down at your shoes, heart sinking a little. Was that… was that supposed to be an insult?
“Oh,” you murmured, suddenly self-conscious. A quiet, uncertain panic started to rise in your chest.
“No, no, no, wait—!” Draco rushed forward, eyes wide. He reached out and placed his hands gently on your shoulders, his voice frantic now. “That came out wrong. I mean—you looked like a powdered donut last week—when the potion exploded—and you still looked… you still looked gorgeous.”
You looked up at him, stunned.
He took a breath, then, with trembling fingers, pulled a flower from behind his back. Your flower. The one he’d somehow remembered you loved.
“Would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?” he asked, quieter now—earnest, vulnerable, the chaos gone from his voice.
And that was when everything seemed to stand still. You stare at him, your mouth agape. You could feel blood rushing through your cheeks.
And then… from behind the nearest shelf came the unmistakable sound of stifled laughter.
You glanced past Draco and saw them—Pansy, Blaise, Theo—all doubled over, failing miserably at hiding. Pansy wiped a tear from her eye. Blaise was wheezing. And Theo was clutching his stomach, trying to breathe.
Oh.
Of course.
It was a dare. A prank. A joke at your expense.
The flower in Draco’s hand suddenly felt like a knife.
Your chest clenched. You took a step back.
“I’m sorry, Draco,” you said, forcing your voice to stay steady even as your throat tightened. “I… I have to say no.”
His face crumpled in confusion as you turned away, blinking back tears you refused to let fall—not here, not in front of them.
Not when your heart had almost believed him.
“Mate,” Blaise had said later, tentatively, from the foot of Draco’s bed, where Draco had buried himself under his emerald blanket like a disgraced ghost. “She didn’t even see the part where you were being sincere.”
“She saw enough,” Draco mumbled.
Pansy kicked his mattress. “She saw us laughing, you dolt. She thinks we were laughing at her. Do you know what that does to a girl?” she added sharply, voice rising with frustration and—Draco noticed—genuine guilt. “You’ve got less than a week till the Yule Ball, and if you want any chance of fixing this, you better stop acting like a sad house-elf and do something.”
Draco’s next plan of action was, to put it bluntly, disastrous.
If he couldn’t speak to you like a normal person, then maybe he could… gesture grandly instead. Show, not tell, right?
Wrong. So very wrong.
It began with him walking—strutting—past your table in the courtyard three times in one lunch period, each time pretending he just happened to be passing by. The first time, he loudly commented to Blaise about how some people had “really excellent taste in flower crowns.” The second time, he tripped on a root and faceplanted into a bush. The third time, he tried to recover by dramatically pulling out a textbook and reading upside down while sneakily peeking at you over the pages.
You didn’t look up once.
“Subtle,” Blaise had deadpanned as he helped pick leaves out of Draco’s hair.
Then came the grand gestures. One morning, you opened your Transfiguration book and found—inside it—a single, freshly pressed forget-me-not. The ink on the page was slightly smudged as if someone had fumbled it with nervous fingers. Tucked next to the flower was a piece of parchment with a single line in jagged, uptight handwriting:
I never forgot. - D
The next day? A little paper crane fluttered down onto your lap during Charms. No one else noticed—except you. It unfolded itself midair to reveal another message:
I’d say something. But every time I try, I ruin it.
He was trying. You could feel it, in all his awkward, dramatic glory.
Then, during Care of Magical Creatures, he nearly sacrificed himself trying to separate you from a cranky Murtlap. You didn’t even ask for help, but there he was, sprinting across the paddock like a knight in shining robes, yelling, “DON’T WORRY, I’VE GOT IT!” before the Murtlap turned and promptly bit his wrist.
You rushed forward instinctively, wand already out, muttering a healing charm with a furrow in your brow. And Draco… Draco smiled like he’d just been kissed.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, half-annoyed, half-worried, as he flexed his hand and hissed.
“Worth it,” he said, eyes locked on you.
That night, you found another note tucked into the folds of your Herbology textbook:
Still an idiot. Still hoping. Still not giving up.
You rolled your eyes.
But you smiled.
It wasn’t until three days before the ball that he finally had a chance to explain.
You were walking back from dinner, your hands tucked into your robes, eyes on the frost glittering across the windows, when you heard it:
“Wait—please.”
Draco’s voice. Real. Sincere. Clear.
You turned, surprised to see him without backup, no Pansy whispering strategies in his ear, no Blaise with the emergency escape plan, no Theo who can tease him to no end.
Just Draco.
Alone.
Face flushed from the cold—or nerves. Maybe both.
You folded your arms. “Going to call me a pastry again?”
He winced. “Gods, no. Never again.” A beat passed. Then: “Well, unless you start working at Honeydukes. Then maybe once. Or twice.”
You didn’t laugh. But the corner of your mouth twitched.
He took that as a good sign.
“I know what you thought,” Draco said, stepping forward. “When they laughed. You thought it was a joke. That I was making fun of you.” His eyes were painfully honest, gray and glinting like wet stone. “But they weren’t laughing at you. They were laughing at me.”
You blinked. “Why?”
“Because I’d been practicing that line since breakfast. Because I’d stammered like an idiot and spilled ink on my cuff and given a flower a motivational speech. Because I was absolutely pathetic. For you.” He let out a nervous huff.
“You make me stupid.”
Your heart did a little leap.
Draco stepped closer. “And you know what? I don’t care if I look stupid. I’d rather look stupid in front of the entire school than let you go to the Yule Ball without knowing the truth.”
There was a long, breathless pause.
“I like you. I’ve liked you since the first time you made that little dandelion braid and stuck it in your scroll instead of using a bookmark. I like how you hum to yourself when you’re thinking. I like that you stay up after curfew just to stargaze and name constellations like they’re your personal pets. I like that you make everything around you feel… lighter.”
He stepped closer again, now inches from you.
“And if you’ll let me… I want to make you feel that way too.”
Your lips parted, but no sound came out. For once, you were the one struck speechless.
Draco reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a a bouquet of your favorite flower. Blooming. Vibrant. Alive.
“I grew this,” he said quietly. “Chose the seed, studied the soil, made sure it got the exact right light. It took weeks. But it’s yours.”
He gently held it out.
You stared at the flower. Then up at him.
Finally, your voice found its way back.
“…You didn’t stutter,” you whispered.
Draco smirked. It was slow, confident—flirty.
“No. Not when it really matters.”
And then, with a wicked gleam in his eyes, he added, “So. Would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?”
You smiled.
Not just because the flower was perfect.
Not just because his voice was steady.
But because, for the first time, it felt real. No nerves. No games. Just Draco. Asking you.
Properly.
“Yes,” you said, cheeks glowing.
His grin was immediate.
“And I expect a dance,” you added, pretending to be stern. “A real one. No passing out. No backup dancers.”
Draco leaned in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath.
“Only if you promise not to look like a powdered donut this time.”
You laughed—finally, laughed—and shoved his shoulder.
“You’re the worst.”
“And yet,” he said smugly, “I’m still your date.”
⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰
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yoditopascal · 11 months ago
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Sweetest Pie
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summary: The Worst Logan isn’t so bad after all. (logan/wolverine x fem black reader)
content warning: Wade is your best friend that’s a warning all on its own, some angst (like literally the tiniest bit) cussing, mutual pining, making out, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, dirty talking? (I’m so bad at writing it lmaoo), creampie, actual pie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it fellas), dacryphilia, post DP&W, breaking the bed, scent kink, overstimulation, he technically sniffs your underwear??, Deadpool being Deadpool, MINORS DNI
a/n: The Sweetest Pie by Megan the Stallion is playing in the background while y’all fuck, that’s all.
tag list: @allmyn1ghts @figsnpassionfruits @dragonqueen89 @shebby-the-webby
Ducking down out of the way, Wade just barely makes it out of the line of fire as a glass mug hits the wall behind him, shattering on impact.
“You wanna run that by me again bub?”
“That was my favorite mug!”
“Repeat what you fucking said!” He snarls, hand balled into tight fists, it’s taking everything in his power not to maul the idiot with his claws….again
“All I said was you're more pent up than a nun doing squats in a cucumber field!” Wade said looking back at the wall, there was already a dent forming, one of many that had been popping up since the older mutant had decided to move in with him.
It's been 3 months since Logan started living with Wade and Blind Al and he’s about fucking had it. Laura had moved out after the first month, needing her own space, but she still frequently visited, he honestly was tempted to join her but figured she wouldn’t want her old man around all the time cramping her style.
Logan could feel a headache coming on as he pinched the bridge of his nose as Wade spoke again.
“You, my little honey badger, are lacking in the hanky panky department and no amount of self loving in the bathroom mirror at midnight is gonna fix that.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?” He asked, sometimes he felt like instead of forming actual sentences Wade just put a bunch of random shit together so he could hear himself speak.
“Oh my gooood you’re so old, I’m talking about sex grandpa, you know, fucking? The horizontal hula? Bumping uglies? Filling the cream donut?”
“Stop.” Logan said with a look of disgust.
“I can smell your sexual frustration from here.” Wade groaned. “You need to spend a little less time brooding around the house like you're a DC character, and maybe spend a little more time doing hot yoga.” He was as he holds up a finger and boops Logan on the nose.
Logan swats his hand away but Wade continues paying no mind to his attitude as he points toward the front door.
“It just so happens that I know a great friend o’ mine who’d have absolutely no problems taming the beast for you bub and oh look at that, she happens to live right across the hall.” He said with a wink
“Don’t bring her into this.” Logan said, waving him off as he went to sit on the couch. Unfortunately Wade knew exactly how he felt about you, having figured it out during their whole ordeal with his variants, Paradox and Cassandra and the bastard had yet to let him live it down.
“Come on Wolvie you can cut the sexual tension you two have with a knife, it’s so thick!” He groans again, throwing himself on the couch beside him dramatically. “It might even be thicker than ours!” Wade said as he leans on Logan’s shoulder fluttering his scarred eyes at him. He shrugs him off, turning the tv on hoping the sound of whatever was on would drown him out but Wade just kept going.
“Stop being a pussy and talk to her!”
“Oh like how you talked to Vanessa?” He snapped back, his anger reaching its limit.
“First of all, we’re a working progress right now and second of all, ouch! Who hurt you?”
Growing tired of Wade and his endless jabbering Logan stood going to grab his jacket from the closet so he could leave.
“Where are you huffing and puffing off too big bad wolf?”
“Anywhere but here.” He said slamming the door shut behind him.
After a few drinks at Sister Margaret's and time to cool his head, Logan returns home to get some chores out of the way. He was far over due to wash his stuff and his hero costume was really starting to fuck with his nose, so, shoving a few handfuls of quarters from Al’s disco dust fund jar into his pockets,he loaded up his hamper and heads down to the laundry room in the basement.
Upon entering he almost immediately bumps into you. You were kicking the dryer when he found you, pissed because it ate your quarters, not paying attention to your surroundings at all.
Digging around in his pockets he bumps his shoulder to yours to get your attention. Startled you nearly jumped out of your skin as he held a hand up in surrender, not meaning to scare you.
“Sorry, just thought I’d offer up some of mine.” He said, pulling a handful of change from his back pocket.
“Oh. that’s ok, I’m-” you start but are stopped when he grabs your hands with one of his and unceremoniously dumps the change into your palms.
“I wasn’t suggesting, take 'em I got more than enough.”
With a silent nod you thank him as he shrugs you off with a “Don’t mention it.”
Logan starts to load up his laundry into the washer next to yours, watching you out of the corner of his eye as you toss your wet clothes into the dryer. You don’t notice as a piece of yellow fabric falls to the floor between you, Logan turns his head to say something, at first not realizing what it was, until it dawns on him that, holy shit, it's a pair of your underwear…and they had Wolverine on them.
They were boxer briefs, nothing inherently sexy about them, but the scent they gave off, clean laundry soap mixed with the smell of your core had Logan reeling.
A small smirk crawled across his face as he started to imagine you wearing them around your house, nothing else adorning your body except for an oversized tee shirt that looked eerily like one of his own, he thought it was cute. Turning his head back to finish his task he kept loading his clothes not showing interest in the underwear to keep from making things awkward. One thing he couldn't deny was your scent. The scent of your core that lingered on the fabric was making his head swim, it was utterly intoxicating, this definitely didn't help with growing his frustration.
After he loaded the washer he pulled a flask from his pocket taking a shot of liquor inside to compose himself as he realized you still hadn’t noticed you dropped them. “You uh dropped something sweetheart.” he nodded towards them. Horrified, you snatch them up and throw them in the dryer.
“Oh god I-I’m sorry! I-“ you start to stutter, at a complete loss for words you slam the dryer lid close and grab your basket ready to leave and hide away in your apartment for the rest of your life until Logan stops you with a strong hand that engulfs your wrist.
“No I-uh I get it. He was your hero right?”
“Yeah he was… but so are you!” You started but quickly press a fist to your forehead in frustration.
“Sorry I don’t want you to feel like you're obligated to live up to him or anything, you’re your own person! I just-“ you were interrupted by Logan closing the distance between you. In your frustration a few of your locs had slipped from your ponytail and were hanging in your face. Logan reached towards you moving one from your face tucking it behind your ear, his bright hazel eyes scanning you carefully taking in your features with a smirk.
“You don’t have to explain yourself.” He said, your scent was sending his sensing into overdrive, he could smell your sweat mixed with the soap you used with the spicy aroma of your arousal starting to peek through.
You look down to the ground still slightly embarrassed but mostly warm from the close proximity before you feel a finger lift your chin causing your gaze to meet Logan’s once more. “S-sorry I ramble when I’m nervous.” It came out almost as a whisper, causing Logan to chuckle. It was an annoying habit you had picked up from your best friend Wade over the years he noticed. The intensity of his stare was starting to send your stomach into knots but not in a bad way.
The sound of the laundry room door opening and closing as another tenant enters quickly separates them. Silently the pair looked away from each other as the tenant loaded up his belongings in the open washer. He quickly spared a passing glance between the two of you who awkwardly tried to stare at anything but each other before shrugging his shoulders and leaving.
An awkward silence blanket over the two of you as you shuffle your feet before you scooped up your basket again.
“Listen Logan-“
“Darlin I-“
You both started at the same time. A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest causing your cheeks to feel warm. You smiled down at your feet and tucked another stray loc behind your ear before Logan spoke again.
“You first.”
“I was just gonna ask, did you maybe wanna come over for dinner tonight?”
Logan thought of a million different reasons why he shouldn’t. As if you could see the hesitation across his face you spoke up again.
“Before you say no, I got booze. Something a bit stronger than what I normally drink but it’s right up your alley. It was a gift from Wade.”
Of course it was from Wade.
“I’m also making pie.”
Well shit.
He let out a small sigh, looking down at your big pleading doe eyes before he shrugged; “Sure,why not.” Afterall how could he say no to you when you looked like that?
He could almost imagine Wade fist pumping the air in excitement at the aspect of the two spending alone time together, the blubbering idiot.
You flashed Logan another bright smile before heading to leave, you paused in the doorway for millisecond, before asking “See you at 7?”
“It’s a date doll.”
Seven o’clock rolled around much too quickly for either of them. Logan was busy fussing with his hair in the mirror trying to get the tufts of hair that usually stick up to lay down when Wade walked into the bathroom unceremoniously.
“Don’t you look positively ravishing tonight, got a hot date peanut?”
“Fuck off.” He growls, giving up with his hair and going to throw on a flannel over his wife beater.
“Wait, you do! Holy dick cheese Batman it’s finally happening!” Wade squealed excitedly
“What the hell are you even doing in here?” Logan asked in the doorway of the bathroom observing Wade, he was dressed in a tee shirt and a pair of hello kitty pajama pants and slippers, Logan rolled his eyes before heading to the kitchen to grab a beer.
“Had to take a shit, thanks for asking, but don’t change the subject!” Wade said following him into the kitchen “Who’s the lucky gal?” He asked leaning on the island, his head propped dreamily on his fist. “Or guy we don’t judge here. Wait wait wait! It's not who I think it is, is it?”
Logan didn’t say anything as he guzzled down his drink pre-gaming for the night, turning to grab another from the fridge before plopping down on the couch behind him.
At his silence Wade kicked his feet and clapped his hands excitedly, swinging around in his seat to look at Logan. Mary Puppins barked from her spot on the couch beside him.
“Fuck the Bachelorette and Love Island! The producers are going to make a killing outta this!” He paced excitedly flopping down beside him struggling to keep his composure. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?! We are gonna make millions, no fuck that billions off your sex tape alone! I mean you two love birds are going to blossom in internal passion as the stars align with the future of the virgin Mary!” He said hugging Logan from the side.
Confused as fuck he shrugs Wade off him with a frown as he stands to his feet looking at his roommate with a raised brow. Downing the last of his beer he puts the empty bottle on the counter and heads for the door not wanting to be late.
“Oooh don’t forget to wear a condom, peanut! Remember wrap it before you tap it, before you attack her wrap your whacker! And if you’re not gonna sack it, come home and-!“
Logan slams the door shut before Wade could finish anymore of his bullshit.
He raised his hand to knock at your door but hesitated for a moment. Memories of the you from his timeline flooded his brain for a brief moment and he lowered his hand. He had really fucked you over royally in his own timeline and then you had died before he had a chance to fix that. Was he even worth your time in this one?
He shook the thoughts from his head and squared his shoulders, this was his second chance, a chance to fix all the shit he messed up before and he’d be damned if he was gonna waste this opportunity.
Just as he raised his hand to knock again you tore the door open with wide eyes.
“Logan hi!”
“Hey- you ok kid? You look outta breathe.” He questioned looking you up and down in concern while also unabashedly checking you out.
“Y-yeah I’m sorry I was about to come over and ask Wade if I could borrow something but I-it’s fine come on in!” you said ushering him in before the door behind you both.
The inside of your apartment is cute. The layout is much the same as his own place that he shares with Wade and Blind Al but yours just felt a little more homey to him.
Movie posters and works of art decorated your walls, there was a bookcase in the living room full of all kinds of books and knick knacks that you had collected over the years. On a table by the tv was a record player with a decent sized stack of vinyls. The whole place just screamed you.
“Dinner’s just about ready!” You said drawing his attention back to you. You had changed clothes since he last saw you in the laundry room, your outfit hugging your soft curves in all the right places.
“I was comin’ over to see if Wade had some ice cream for the pie, but I guess we could go without it.” You said leading him into the dining room with a smile, you’re always smiling at him, he noticed. “I hope you like blueberry!”
Logan never thought he'd see the day where someone would cook a nice meal for him let alone the variant of someone he treated so callously before.
He winced internally trying not to think about that. He was here now, not in his old shitty universe where you were gone, but in a new one, one where he had friends, a daughter, a family. It was a chance to start over.
“Sounds great darlin, I’m starving.”
Once you sit down for dinner Logan immediately tucks in, he could smell what you were cooking hours ago from across the hall and damn if it wasn’t the best thing he ever put in his stomach.
The two of you made light conversation as you ate, you poured yourself a glass of wine while Logan had the hard stuff, single malt scotch on the rocks. It had been a gift from Wade after one of his missions, an expensive one at that, and Logan savored every drop of it.
After a few more drinks the pair cleared their empty plates, wrapping up the leftovers of their meal up in portions so Logan could take some home with him. You were pulling the pie from the oven when you heard the telltale sound of running water, looking over you see Logan, rolling up his sleeves with a dish towel draped over his shoulder as he started to do the dishes.
You bite your lip to physically keep from moaning and embarrassing yourself on the spot, domesticity looked damn good on him.
His nose twitched as he smelled your arousal spike for a second, thinking it better to keep that to himself he shifted on his feet as he dried a dish and put it on the rack.
“You don’t have to-“ You started pulling off your oven mitts. They were Star Wars themed, nerdy like the rest of your apartment.
God you were such a geek! You thought flustered, while shoving them onto the counter behind you.
“Nah you cooked, it’s the least I could do.” He said not moving from his spot at the sink
“Logan.” You said firmly placing a hand on your hip. “You’re a guest.”
“And you cooked.” He reiterated,cocking an eyebrow your way. “I’m not budging on this darlin.”
You sigh defeatedly as you grab the towel from his shoulder. “Fine, at least let me help.”
The two of you do the dishes in silence, him washing and you drying, your fingers brushing against each other every so often.
“Dinner was great.” Logan said awkwardly trying to break the stifling silence that enveloped you.
“Good I’m glad you liked it.” You smiled down at your hands timidly, refusing to let him see you cheesing as hard as you were.
“Sorry for not being better company, I know you’re more used to people talkin’ your ear off.”
Wade begrudgingly crosses his mind.
"I'm just uh not so good with people. Makes me anxious.” He admitted, it took a lot for him to come out and say it but he was comfortable with you, he trusted you.
“I get it, I’m the same way that’s why I’m always around Wade. He usually does all the talking for me.” You say fondly thinking back to all the times Wade had been your emotional support extrovert.
Logan honestly had no idea how you put up with him.
“Besides I think your company’s just fine Logan, I like having you around.”
I like being around you too, he wanted to say but he couldn’t get it out. Instead he settled for brushing his shoulder against yours, a small smile dancing across his features as you smiled back up at him.
Flicking the water from your hand as you both finished up, you dry your hands on another rag before offer it up to Logan, his fingers brushing against yours for the umpteenth time that night.
When you look up he’s staring at you, his eyes taking in your features again, flickering between your face and your mouth. You can’t quite place what the emotion is behind his eyes but it makes your belly feel warm and your chest flutters.
Maybe it’s the alcohol you both had, though you know for a fact it takes a whole hell of a lot more than what you had to get you both drunk, but you could have sworn he was getting closer to you.
You start to back up just as he moves to close the distance between you. Chest to chest, or more like chest to sternum as he was almost a whole foot taller than you, Logan starts to lean down sniffing you as your back hits the counter behind you.
“Your heart’s racing.” He says
You had almost completely forgotten about his heightened senses. You were so nervous this whole evening, hoping that everything would go right, could he hear you this whole time? Oh god could he smell you?
“You smell good too.” He says moving to stroke your face with the back of his hand, confirming your fears. You clench your legs together tightly, hoping to at least dampen the smell of how wet you were becoming, causing him to chuckle.
“No use hiding it doll, I can smell you from a mile away.” He said leaning down so that his face is closer to yours.
“Logan…” you whisper. His eyes never leaving your mouth.
“Hm?”
“T-the pie…” You stuttered nervously as your own eyes drifted down to his mouth. You worked so hard on the pie you didn’t know if you’d hate it more if it went to waste or if he moved away from you at that moment.
You wanted more than anything for him to stay where he was, caging you in at the counter like a frightened little mouse.
“It can wait sweetheart.” He said, finally claiming your lips as his own.
He pulls back for a moment to look at you, dipping to place a gentle peck on your lips, as if he’s asking if this is ok.
You wrap your arms around him, dragging his mouth back down to yours, he moves his hands to the back of your thighs hoisting you up onto the counter behind you, grinding himself into you as the kiss deepens.
Logan hesitates in the kiss for a moment, pulling himself away from you as if he realizes something. When you try to lean back in and kiss him again he stops you, holding you at arm’s length searching your eyes for something, anything he could use to make you hate him in this timeline like you undoubtedly did in his old one but he found nothing but adoration.
“You-“ he starts to speak, his voice a little shaky “You don’t want this sweetheart, I’m not a good man.”
I’m not your hero, he meant to say.
You place a hand on his cheek rubbing softly at his mutton chops with your thumb.
“Please stop telling me what I fucking want.” You say leaning back in to peck at his lips. “I want you, not a hero, or this timeline’s Logan, or any other Logan out there, just you. You’re not the Worst Logan, you're just you and I want all of you.” You finish while leaning up into him, waiting for his response.
Raising an eyebrow and at a complete loss for words, having rarely heard you cuss, Logan smirks before leaning back down to meet you the rest of the way recapturing your lips with a “Yes ma’am.”
His right hand comes up to cup your jaw, gently running the pad of his thumb over the skin before running his hand up to weave his finger through your locs.
You hop off the counter, grabbing him by his flannel your mouth reconnects with his as you lead him into your bedroom, he kicks the door shut behind him.
You start to kiss down his jaw before Logan stops you with a growl. He picks you up and tosses you onto the bed before his lips reconnect with yours.
His hands find their way under your clothes to paw at you, as you free him from the confines of his flannel. Tossing it behind him, it hits your iPod dock causing music to start playing but neither of you care, too enraptured in each other to even notice. Logan pulls away from your mouth only long enough to pull your shirt over your head, his hands trailing down to pull down your pants and underwear next.
He grabs you by your hips dragging you to the edge of the bed, as he kneels down in front of you, eye level with your hot core.
You throw your head back with a moan at the first drag of his tongue. Your legs finding their way around his shoulders as he drags his nose and tongue up and down teasing you.
He presses his mouth against your clit, sucking on it before pulling away and flicking it with his tongue, drawing circles and nipping at it with his teeth.
Watching you through dark lashes, he drags his hand down your body bringing it to his mouth, he licks his finger, bringing it to your wet cunt as he slowly begins to move it in and out of you, curling it against your gummy walls searching until he finds the right spot. You let out a strangled half-sob as he leans back down pressing his mouth against your clit again, sucking and flicking at the hard nub.
“Shit,” you rasp out, reaching out for him. He knew you were getting close, he could tell from the way you pulsed around him as he added another finger.
Tears brimmed your eyes as you felt your orgasm building. “Please, right there!” You choked, eyes closing as you threw your head back.
“So fucking wet for me already and I barely touched you.” Logan chuckles. You stifled a noise as your impending orgasm builds in your gut.
“I-I’m gonna-!” You start to cry out but are cut off by a sob.
“I gotcha darlin, I’m right here.” He mumbles into your pussy as he reaches his free hand out to hold your hips open for him, your hands frantically bury themselves in his hair, desperate for something to hang on to. He carries on lapping at you as you squirm talking you through your orgasm as he rubbed his nose to your clit, drawing it out of you as his fingers continue to fuck in and out of you.
“That’s it sweetheart.” He sighs as he keeps fucking you on his fingers, his intensity increasing as he latches himself back onto your clit devouring you like a man starved, you come almost instantly. It’s when he looks up at you, hazel eyes dark and hungry, that you finally lose it, your second orgasm of the night ripping through like a freight train.
Standing back to his feet Logan licks your residue from his lips and fingers, chin glistening with your slick.
You sit up immediately grabbing at his belt, fingers rushed and fumbling with the buckle, he replaces your hands quickly unbuckling it before pulling the hem of his shirt up over his head.
Reaching behind you, you free your chest from your bra, just as he kicks his pants off. Logan pushes you backwards, your back hitting the soft mattress beneath you as he stalks over towards you on his hands and knees.
He inhales deeply through his nose taking in your scent, the aroma of you mixed with your arousal is intoxicating and is driving him absolutely feral, with a wet kiss he bites down hard where your neck and shoulder meet, where your scent’s the strongest, nearly drawing blood, before he’s back on you, covering your mouth with his own kissing you viciously as if you’d fade away from existence if he let you go.
He laps at the spot he had previously bitten you as he slowly pulls away, soothing the skin there. The mark was already gone, thanks to your healing factor, but god you could still feel it and you secretly ached that he’d do it again.
You soon feel the head of his cock running along your folds, it’s thick, and hot to the touch as he runs it along your slick hole. Then without warning he’s pushing into you, sheathing himself inside of you with a single thrust.
Logan threw his head back with a loud groan. He promised himself he’d go slow with you, take his take opening you up for him but fuck if this didn’t feel right, good it felt oh so good.
“Fuck” he grunts out into your mouth as he drops his head down to drag you into a hard smoldering kiss swallowing your moans as he sinks in fully.
He lets you adjust for a few moments before he pulls back and thrusts into you instinctively, repeating the harsh action as he begins to slowly pick up his pace. If you had been completely human, the force of his thrusts would’ve surely shattered your pelvis or at least threw them out of alignment.
Reaching up to grab onto the headboard of your bed to anchor himself Logan locks in fully, gripping the wood bar in a death grip as he pushes into you. You reach up too, grabbing a handful of sheets by your head with one hand and his hips with the other, desperate for something to anchor yourself with as Logan’s brutal pace has you reeling.
“L-Logan!” you cry out, body shaking from the force of his thrusts. His cock sinking deeper and deeper as he angles your legs over his shoulders, hitting that sweet spot inside of you repeatedly making your legs tremble in unadulterated pleasure.
An audible crack is heard from where Logan is still holding onto your headboard but you both could careless, your heads completely clouded over with lust.
Just when you were starting to think it was all too much, his thumb finds your clit again and starts to rub fierce quick little circles.
“Gimme one more darlin.” His voice is strained and rough, as he leans down to your neck inhaling your scent again as he licks up to your neck nipping at your jaw and neck as he pulls away.
You scrambled to get away, pushing at his chest as the over sensitivity was proving to be too much.
Logan lets go of the headboard and grabs both your hands with his much larger one, locking them firmly to his chest right over his rapidly beating heart.
“Don’t try and run from me kid, you wanted this remember?” He chuckled darkly, picking up his pace even more if that were possible.
Tears stream steadily down your cheeks as your barreling toward your next orgasm, it’s here, with your hair fanned out around your head, cheeks puffy and tear stained while you pant desperately trying to get away and keep up with him at the same time , that he thinks this is the most beautiful he’s ever seen you.
“Come on my dick, baby.”
Your body completely locks up at his words, your back arching off the bed as you scream, your orgasm wrecking through you as you clench around him like a vice. Logan drops your legs, yanking you up into a messy kiss as he takes you through it.
“Good fucking girl.” He grunts against your lips, he gives you a few moments to come down from your high, burying his face into your neck before he resumes his punishing pace.
You think you’re at your limit as fat tears fall from your eyes, never have you ever felt this good, this full before, it’s far too much for you.
Just as you were about to tap out, he grunts into your neck, his hands move to grip your ass bringing it up to meet his thrusts.
“Fuck, tell me where?” He growls out. He wraps an arm around your back bringing you chest to chest as he fucks you on his lap, the new angle making him hit that sweet spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.
At first you don’t quite understand what he’s asking, your brain too foggy to comprehend much of anything right now, but as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, nearly drawing blood again, you finally understood, he was close and so were you again.
“Inside, please I wanna feel you.” You whimpered as he pounds into you. He groans at your request and picks up the pace rutting up into you desperately like an animal. His hammering is deep and unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it feels too good to make him stop, you’ll definitely have a hard time walking in the morning.
With one last harsh flick of his thumb to your clit you’re coming hard on his dick, clenching around him as your body quivers uncontrollably, almost blacking out for a moment.
He growls as his hips stutter against your own, as he cums into you, the force of his final thrust knocking you both bad down onto the mattress. Logan thrusts a few more times, pumping his load as deep inside of you as he could, claiming your mouth once again in a deep searing kiss.
You run your hands through his hair as he nearly drops himself on you, his forearms supporting the weight of his adamantium skeleton. He’s still buried inside you as you're peppering his face and neck with light kisses.
It’s quiet for a moment before he lifts himself up, pulling himself from inside you with a grunt. He pushes stray locs from your face as he kisses your forehead and flops over onto the other side of the bed dragging you with him.
At the weight of his adamantium bones dropping down onto the already crack and barely hanging on frame your bed frame finally gives out dropping your mattress to the floor with a loud thud, startling the both of you.
“I can’t believe that just happened.” You panted too shocked and tired to move from your spot on his chest.
“Sorry baby, I’ll get you a new one.” Logan laughs lightly as he pulls you to his chest.
A comfortable silence fills the room as the two of you lay on the floor, your breathing starting to return to normal. Leaning down to inhale your scent again Logan’s met with the pleasant tang of you covered in him and pulls you tighter snuggling you into him.
“You still with me?” The rough edge of his voice brings you back to your senses.
You smiled up at him from his chest with a big dopey smile, eyes completely dazed as you answered with an “mm-hm.” Too fucked out to fully speak properly. You laid back down on his chest, eyes closed as you shiver, he runs a hand up and down your spine as you start to drift off.
He chuckles at your response or lack thereof and pulls your sheets over the both of you. The temperature in the room had started to come down dramatically as your sweat covered bodies cooled in the night.
Just as Logan was about to close his eyes and join you in what was hopefully a peaceful night’s rest for the first time in years, your bedroom door bursts open revealing Wade, still clad in his hello kitty pajamas helping himself to a piece of the pie you had left out.
“Jesus Wade!” You yell eyes practically bulging out of your head as you scramble to grip the sheets to your chest.
“What the fuck asshole?!” Logan growled trying his best to shield you from view with his arms. His hazel eyes were seething with anger.
“My sweet virgin eyes!” Wade said, covering his eyes but still peeking through them through a gap in his fingers with a smirk as he chewed loudly. “You two sounded like an indoor jungle gym but instead of a shit ton of kids it's just you two.” He laughs shoving the rest of the slice into his mouth as he moves to sit on the edge of the broken bed on the floor, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “You, young lady, have some pipes on you. Could hear you practically singing about the Wolverine.~” he teases with a tsk.
“And you sir!” He points to Logan who growls at him as he swats his hand outta his face. “Where do I even begin?” He tsked again as he shook his head “You really had some pent up frustration didn’t you, you slut? Did you break her? I know she has a healing factor too but good god man have some restraint!” he leans back on her broken bed as he spreads himself out on the end.
“And her poor bed! I hope you're planning on replacing it, bee tee dubs.” Wade rolls over onto his side propping himself up on his elbow at the couple’s feet. “Did he even use a condom?” He whispered to you loudly before adding “Nice tits by the way.” as he winked at Logan. “I don’t think creampie was the type of pie she had in mind when she invited you over for dinner, old man.”
“Who knew Wolverine was a cuddler?”
You roll your eyes at Wade’s antics completely used to him over the years of knowing him but Logan on the other hand had clearly had enough. Ripping the sheets from himself you watch as Logan comically chases Wade out of the room, buck ass naked.
Slamming your bedroom door shut Logan turns the lock with a grunt, finally returning to your side he pulls you back to his chest and flings the sheets over you.
“He’s not so bad, y'know when you get used to him.” You shrug with your eyes closed as you snuggle into his chest. Adrenaline, now dying down, sleep had started to wrap you in its dreamy embrace and it was hard to keep your eyes open.
“That little cockroach is gonna be the death of me.”
You laugh at him one last time before finally drifting off. Your soft snores were the last thing Logan heard as he too snuggled into your warmth and drifted off.
Who knew the Wolverine was such a cuddler.
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thegettingbyp2 · 11 months ago
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elloo, can you do a jess mariano fluff where he is like, super sweet to reader and luke observes them? ex. jess holds reader’s hand, or gives them free donuts, and luke is js laughing his ass off bc it’s funny? tbh, i have no idea if this makes sense, so you don’t have to do it. love ya! 😭🫶
Sweet on Her
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The moment the door to the diner opened and you walked in, Jess was a goner. As soon as he saw that it was you who had walked in, he abandoned whatever task he was doing, much to Luke’s annoyance, and made his way over to where you had set yourself up at a table with your book, pen already between your teeth ready to make notes.
‘What are we reading today?’ Jess asked, putting a mug of coffee on the table in front of you.
‘Pretty Women,’ you replied, grinning up at him before looking down at the coffee with a knowing look on your face. ‘I didn’t order anything.’
‘I know,’ he said, casually throwing himself down in the seat next to you, his arm resting on the back of your chair. ‘And I’ll grab your donut when we’re about, what, two, three chapters in?’
‘We?’ you asked, raising your eyebrow at him, even though you know your little routine by now; you looked forward to it every day. You would turn up at the diner with your book, Jess would bring you a coffee and donut (on the house!) and sit and read over your shoulder with you until Luke inevitably pulled him away to actually get on with his job.
‘Yes, we,’ he teased, settling in and tucking you underneath his arm slightly. Even though you and Jess weren’t officially together, everyone in town know that the two of you belonged to each other and that it was only a matter of time. Even the two of you knew that, but you were just so content with the set-up you currently had, neither of you felt the need to rush into anything. That didn’t, however, stop Jess feeling like he had the biggest crush on you. ‘Now, come on, I don’t know how long I’m going to get away with this today and I’ve never read this. I’ve even got a pen to add my own notes,’ he said, twirling his pen in-between his fingers and grinning at you.
‘Fine,’ you faux-sighed heavily, leaning into Jess more and opening the book, holding it up in a position that made it easy for the two of you to read the pages. Every now and then as you read, one of you would stop to take the book and scribble down a note in the margin or underline a passage.
It wasn’t until you were both about halfway through the book when Jess realised that he hadn’t gotten you your donut, making you put the book down so he could go and grab it. As he was walking back to the counter he saw Luke watching him and laughing quietly at him; that was when Jess realised that Luke hadn’t been over to drag him away just yet.
‘What?’ Jess asked when Luke didn’t look away or stop laughing.
‘Who the hell are you and what have you done with my nephew?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You’re sweet on her, Jess.’
‘She’s my best friend,’ Jess tried to protest, his eyes automatically scanning back over to you where you were sipping on your now-cold coffee and looking out the window absentmindedly.
‘Jess, it’s not a bad thing! It’s nice, you know, seeing you trail after her like a lost puppy, bringing her coffee before she orders, casually throwing your arm over the back of her chair. Just ask her out!’
‘We’re not having this conversation,’ Jess protested before swiping a couple of donuts from the tray alongside a few napkins before making his way back over to you.
‘You realise they’ll be coming out of your pay check!’ Luke called after him.
‘Whatever you say Uncle Luke!’
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goldenlikedayl1ght · 4 months ago
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what is this feeling? | m. murdock
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MAJOR DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!!!!
a/n: here's my swing at an angsty but cute daredevil born again fic!! hope y'all like it, i think it's alright although the pacing is kinda meh, but. oh well! i like it so i hope you do too. enjoy!! warnings: uhm. SPOILERS FOR DDBA!!!!!!!!!! please head that warning!! lots of fighting, yearning, enemies to lovers, matt is mean and has a moment where he yells at her. then theres a lot of hurt/comfort, lots of softness, a bit of making out. i dunno it's what i got! lots of cursing, strange office behavior, matt and reader have an odd dynamic, kinda implied age gap? wordcount: 3.8k summary: you're pretty sure your boss hates you. pairing: dd:ba!matt murdock x reader now playing: what is this feeling? - wicked "what is this feeling?/fervid as a flame?/does it have a name?/yes/loathing/unadulterated loathing."
All Matt does is mope.
It annoys Kirsten deeply.
He was the one who wanted to open this firm with her, after..
Well, everything.
Maybe mope is the wrong word. Matt’s not moping, he’s mourning. 
Mourning everything, even the things Kirsten doesn’t know about—Mourning Foggy, mourning Daredevil, mourning the relationship he had with Karen, mourning the firm.. Mourning the life he had. Mourning the person he had become.
So Matt throws everything he has into Murdock & McDuffie, because he’s not Daredevil anymore. He’s not anyone’s friend. What else is there?
But it’s starting to have a negative impact on his work.
Because all he does is work! All he does is talk to clients, do paperwork, talk in court, and mourn. He’s beginning to slip. He’s not sleeping, he’s barely eating. His work is suffering because of it, and Kirsten has not come this far to let Matt falter like this.
She knows he’s grieving. She knows he misses Foggy. Misses his entire life. But she knows this isn’t sustainable.
So, she hires you.
You’re a twenty something year old English Major, fresh out of college, with.. no real idea of what you want to do. And no job.
Kirsten, a family friend, tells you her new law firm needs an office assistant. The pay’s pretty good, she tells you, and the office is pretty. All you must do is get Mr. Murdock to his appointments.
Get him coffee.
Tell him a joke.
Ignore how he ignores you.
You show up to your first day of work with a bright smile, a donut for your new boss, and ambition.
Kirsten opens Matt’s door without knocking, smiling as she steps in.
“Who’s this?” he wonders.
“Our new office assistant,” You try to ignore the frown that tugs at his lips when he finds this out.
You hold out your hand to him, giving him your name. He doesn’t stand from his chair when he shakes your hand.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to talk, I have a meeting with a client,” And before either of you can say anything, Kirsten is gone.
“Listen, I—”
“I brought you a donut,” You offer. Matt smiles a bit, but you can tell it’s forced.
“Thank you. You’re sweet, but..” he hesitates. “I don’t really need a secretary.”
“I’m not your secretary; I’m the office assistant.” Matt raises his eyebrows, and you feel your face flush. “Fine, Kirsten hired me to be your secretary, but she did hire me. I want to work here—For you.”
“I’m sure Kirsten has lots of things for you to worry about that aren’t me.” He promises.
You glance down to the small donut box you’re holding in your hand. Then, you place it on his slightly messy desk.
“Well, I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
Matt doubts that he will, but he forces a smile in your direction anyways.
-
Silence. Schedules. Phone calls. More silence.
Weeks pass like this.
You’re beginning to feel like you don’t deserve to be paid for this, half the time you just sit around doing crosswords or sudoku until Kirsten can come up with something for you to do.
You wait for Mr. Murdock to notice you like a puppy, always glancing over to his office.
You think he might hate you. He’s never outright said as much, but he acts like it. The coffee you make causes him to grimace. The research you do is never good enough. And Kirsten does her best, pestering Matt to engage and giving you things to do..
But there’s only so much she can do. So, there are some days where you sit around writing ideas and brainstorming, always thinking about writing.
After two weeks, you’re yet to start using your free time to write on the side.. But after a particularly bad Wednesday morning..
You were just there to take notes at the firm’s general morning meeting. You want to get down anything important, hating all the nervous energy you have. You’re ignoring the way Matt’s thigh feels against yours.
Then, Matt leans over to you, and whispers against your ear, sending a chill down your spine,
“You know, you don’t really need to be here, I can get my notes from someone else—”
From down the table, you hear giggles, and you glance over to see two of the younger, more annoying new attorneys laughing and whispering to each other, all while looking at you and Matt.
Something snaps inside of you.
What the fuck was this, High School?
Why do you tolerate this bullshit?
You nod, turning your head towards Matt.
“You’re right. I don’t need to be here.” Then, with a quiet, ‘excuse me’, you pick up your things, stare straight ahead and go to your desk.
The meeting room goes kind of quiet, every one of them wondering if this was the epiphany you needed, to stop letting yourself be pushed around so often.
Meanwhile, your brain is committed to one thought:
Don’t cry, Don’t cry, Don’t cry—
You manage to make it to your desk, turn your head away from your colleagues, before the tears finally fall. You wipe them quickly and inhale and exhale slowly.
So everyone thinks you’re a fucking pushover who’s just letting Matt hate you so intensely, so what?
You take a deep breath in.
You exhale.
You open Linkedin and update your resume, before browsing for jobs. You apply to one or two.
You do this all day. You don’t get up from your desk, you don’t bring Mr. Murdock coffee, you don’t ask Kirsten what you can do for her, you don’t even respond when Matt asks you if you want anything from his thai food place, his treat.
You do some work, because you’re afraid of getting fired, but you just scribble down emails and addresses and pros and cons of staying, and you focus intensely at the task at hand.
You don’t even hear his footsteps as he approaches, all you hear is—
“Boo!”
You jump, gripping the arms of your swivel chair. You quickly spin around to be met with Matt. Anger burns within you.
“What the hell is your problem?!” You glare.
Matt laughs.
“What? I scared you?”
“Oh, fuck off,” You spit, and then you cover your mouth, your eyes wide. You’re mortified!
Matt just smiles and offers you the bag of, admittedly delicious smelling, thai food.
“You know, I like you better when you don’t let people walk all over you. It’s a better look.” He hums, and you take the food.
“..Thanks.”
“No problem.” He pauses, “But this doesn’t mean I need a secretary, I can still do all my own work,”
“Yeah, I figured as much.” You say bitterly.
“What’re you doing, anyways?”
You don’t hesitate to respond because he deserves this—
“Looking at job listings.” He pauses, as if caught off guard by your honesty.
“Maybe you should stick around, things’ll get easier.” He taps his cane on the ground, and you try to name the emotion inside you.
“Maybe.” Is all you respond before you turn back to your desk and start working.
After that, you hold no reserves about spending the hours that Matt ignores you writing. And you, of course, hear no objections from him.
-
After that, you and Matt are not quite.. enemies.. Well, you never were, but.. things aren’t as hostile as they were before. Occasionally, He’ll listen to you when you give input on a client. Occasionally, he’ll ask you if you want any coffee from the place down the street.
This is the closest the two of you get to a love language or a back and forth—Coffee and notes.
One day, you decide to clean his office while he’s out.
It’s an innocent gesture—Something to try and convince him that you can be useful, when given the opportunity!
You start by taking out the trash, making sure not to mess with any important documents. You note how barren his office is—Compared to your desk full of trinkets, at least. You suppose it makes sense, for a blind man not to concern himself with decorating.
You hang his scarf on a hook on the wall, noting the soft texture.
You don’t even mean to find it.
You just pick it up off his desk, and you’re reading it before you can stop yourself.
The picture on the card depicts a blonde man with a kind smile, handsome, too.
‘In loving memory of Franklin Nelson’ is as far as you get when the door swings open, and Matt is standing in the doorway to the office.
“Oh! Sorry—I was just trying to clean up before you got back from your meeting and—
“What are you holding?” You suspect he already knows based off how he asks, but you’re not sure how. Maybe it’s that important to him, but you’ve noticed that he knows things, weird things. But you have no time to think about that now.
“I found it on your desk,” You hold it out to him and as soon as his finger runs over the braille on the card, you watch his shoulders tense. “I’m so sorry, I just—”
“Never touch this!” He snaps, and you stop, taken aback. “Never ever touch this, do you realize how important this is? What would’ve happened if you lost it or threw it out?!” He steps towards you as he raises his voice, “This isn’t for you! Never come into my office without permission again, and never fucking touch this, do you understand?!” He yells, and when you don’t answer, he yells louder—“Do you understand me?!”
Silence.
Then, a whimper escapes your lips as you cover your mouth, tears already running down your face. You quickly place the card back on the desk, before speed walking out of his office, hot, thick tears running down your face.
You’re so fucked, you think. You’re going to get fired. As if you hadn’t spent weeks getting paid to do practically nothing, you’re absolutely going to get fired now. Maybe you should just quit, save yourself the embarrassment, or, maybe you can get on your hands and knees—Absolutely beg Matt to forgive you.
You feel awful. You had heard bits and pieces of what had happened to the man on the card, of how it affected Matt. How they were best friends. How they had their own firm together. How that was destroyed in a matter of minutes.
And sure, Matt’s been a dick to you for a while now, but you have an intense empathy for him. You couldn’t even imagine how he feels.
You grab your jacket and your bag, and then you walk straight back to your apartment. You assume you’re fired. But instead of worrying about it or applying to more jobs, You open a big bottle of wine and sit with the record player on. You keep thinking about how fucked you are.
You fall asleep on your couch, still in your work clothes.
You wake up to your phone buzzing and the sun in your eyes. You glance at the caller ID, only to find.. Kirsten calling you. Probably to chew you out.
“Hello..?” You answer hesitantly, your head pounding.
“Hey, where are you? You’re usually here an hour ago,” You glance at the time. You’re not late, but you’re chronically early. “Everything okay?”
“Uh,” Then, it hits you.
Kirsten isn’t calling to chew you out. So, that means..
Matt didn’t fire you. He didn’t even tell her.
“Sorry,” You finally answer, “I slept through my alarm, but I’ll be there soon.” You tell her. You two say goodbye, and then, you take a second to breath, then, make a plan.
First, you chug a bottle of water, along with a dosage of ibuprofen. Then, you hop in the shower and change, before grabbing your things and making your into the office. Everyone continues what they’re doing, business as usual. You say nothing to anyone as you settle in. You feel crazy, like you’re not in on some joke.
Then, as you’re shuffling around, Matt appears in the door of his office. He calls your name. You jump, tightening your grip on your chair.
“Can we talk a second?”
“Uh, sure.” Your heartbeat is loud, thumping quickly.
You make it into his office and sit on a chair in front of his desk, as he leans against the desk next to you.
Then, he leans back to the desk and picks something up. Then, he hands it to you—and relief washes over you as you realize it’s a coffee.
You take it.
“Thank you.” You say genuinely, talking a long sip of coffee.
“Two splenda and half n half, right?”
You glance up at him.
“How do you know my coffee order?”
“Despite what you think, I pay attention.” He reveals. You feel silly.
You open your mouth to begin,
“I’m so—”
He holds up a hand, a quiet command to be quiet. Closing your mouth and waiting for him to speak is your first reaction, and you’re not sure how to feel about it.
“I’m sorry.” He breathes in, “I’ve been a dick to you, and last night I took it too far. You were just being kind and you didn’t know.”
“I shouldn’t have tried to push your boundaries,” You offer. He shakes his head.
“I’ve been mean every day since we first met. You don’t deserve that.” He inhales, “I’ve been such a dick because I’ve been.. stuck and stubborn, because the guy on the prayer card.. He was a..” Matt’s jaw clenches and he tilts his head away from you.
You don’t need Matt to finish. His grief, his love for Franklin Nelson, whoever he was, has outlived him. And it radiates off him in this moment.
“Can I ask you a question?” Your voice is quiet. Matt just nods. “And you can’t laugh at me or tell me I’m being an idiot, or—Whatever, you just have to answer.”
Matt’s lips just twinge up, only a bit.
“Mhm?”
A beat.
“..Can I give you a hug?” You wonder, and he just nods, and before his head is able to pick back up, your arms are wrapped around him. You squeeze tightly, and Matt returns your embrace. Your hand gently rubs his back as Matt lets himself be held for the firs time.. in, well, months.
The two of you stay like this for a while, before you pull away. Your hands come up to cup his face, wiping his tears from his face, resisting the urge to pull off his glasses to dry his eyes.
When his tears stall, you finally break the silence.
“Are you gonna be okay if I go back to work? I can stay here if you want me, but—”
“No.” He shakes his head, “Go ahead, go back to work. But, can I tell you a secret?”
“Hm?”
“Now that you’re my new secretary, I’m gonna have to whip you into shape,” He teases.
You pull away, swatting his chest lightly before grabbing your coffee.
“I hate you. Don’t bother me.” You joke back.
“I do really need the case notes on the Jason family and I need to know when my first meeting is,” He says as you walk out the door.
“10 am. I’ll get you the notes in five minutes, tops.”
Matt smiles as he goes back to his seat and begins to search for his headphones.
“Thank you, kid,”
“Oh, I hate that.” You call back.
Matt just laughs.
Yeah, maybe you’ll stick around for a couple more weeks. Just to see.
-
It happens slowly at first.
You’re hesitant to engage with each other, suddenly not used to this.
 His foot nudges against yours under the table at meetings. Sometimes on accident. Most of the time on purpose.
You bring him a breakfast sandwich.
He listens as you cry to him about an annoying witness you were assisting.
He touches your arm. You ignore a familiar, unnamed feeling.
You’re not sure when exactly you start to fall in love with him. But once you do, you find it impossible to stop.
You begin to fall asleep thinking about him whisking you away. Maybe just downtown. Maybe just to his office with the blinds closed and the door locked. Maybe to Scotland, to a castle where the two of you become the finest rulers in the land.
You find yourself just staring at him, and you’re right back to waiting for him like a lost puppy. You suppose there are worse fates than this.
Really, it’s not that bad.
You can just be a hopeless puppy following him around for the rest of your life. That’ll be fine. You tell yourself you’ll be fine.
Just ignore the way your stomach turns as Kirsten talks near your desk, just yapping about a date she went on, and then, out of nowhere, she asks,
“So what’re you looking for?”
“Huh?” You wonder, not fully paying attention.
“If you could go on a date with the perfect person, what would they be like?”
Your reaction is instantaneous. It’s instinctual. It’s incriminating.
Your head picks up, and your eyes lock onto Matt from across the office. He’s just shuffling through some old documents, but the way he focuses so intensely, a smile creeps up on your face before you can stop it.
When you realize what you’ve done, your eyes go wide, and you realize that Kirsten has followed your eyeline.
She starts to laugh.
“I knew it!”
“No, no! Kirsten,” You say, your voice now wobbly, “Kirsten, listen, you cannot say anything, you don’t know anything, just—” You’re panicking, because if Kirsten has found you out, your secret is no longer safe. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what? Don’t tell Matt you—”
“Shhhut up!” You whine, your hands covering your face. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
You’re so fucked.
Why do you keep thinking that in this office?
“Why? What would be so bad about—”
“I swear to god,”
“You won’t even let me say it out loud!” She laughs, and you feel pathetic.
“No, I won’t!”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m just going to ignore it.”
“What?! Why?!”
“Because he has spent the past couple of months being mean to me and we’re only now starting to be nice to each other, I highly doubt he wants anything to do with me.”
“You know there’s this old saying,”
“I’m so sick of this conversation.” You grumble as you stand, gathering your things, and placing the list of Matt’s meetings on the top of it, preparing to make your way to his office.
“You’ll never know unless you try.” She finishes. You look to her. Then, you glance back to Matt.
“Just promise me you won’t say anything.”
“Promise me you will.”
You don’t respond, but you do knock on Matt’s door before you enter. Despite his apology and the relationship you’ve been developing, his words still ring in your head—Don’t come into his office without permission.
He answers, so you go in, and immediately, something in you relaxes.
“Hey, sweetheart,” You pretend he’s being more than friendly, “What’s up?”
“Uh,” You breath out, “I got your meeting schedule.” You offer him, and he smiles.
“Thanks. Did you get my email about the expert witness for the Doyle trial?”
“Yeah, I did. I’ll keep an eye out for a follow up. Don’t forget, it’s that intern, Sarah’s birthday, so say happy birthday.” You remind.
“Oh, right. Sarah.. She’s.. the one with the crush on me? She giggles every time I enter a room?”
You furrow your eyebrows.
“Yeah, I guess she does have a bit of a crush on you. Are you.. going to do anything about that?” You ask, as if you’re not brimming with jealousy.
He laughs.
“No, no. Date a coworker? It would get.. messy.” He blushes like he speaks from experience.
“Oh.” You attempt to hide your disappointment. You don’t do a very good job. “Okay, let me know if you need anything.” You smile weakly and turn to leave.
You stop in the doorway. You turn back to him.
“You would date me though, right?”
His head picks up immediately. He smiles a bit.
“What exactly are you asking me?”
“I’m your coworker, sure, but.. you’d date me, right?” You wonder.
His grin widens.
“Are you asking me out on a date?” He wonders, and gets up from his spot at his desk, taking a few steps towards you. You meet him in the middle, your hands coming out to smooth his tie.
“Do you want me to be asking you on a date?”
“As long as it’s not out to Chinese, I just had that last night.” He responds, and you roll your eyes with affection.
“Italian?”
“Overrated for a first date.”
“French?”
“No, I’m Irish, actually.”
“Oh my god, Matthew.”
“Okay, okay. Thai?”
“Perfect.” Of course, You don’t care where you get dinner. You just want to get dinner with him.
And you almost kiss him, right then and there, but you tell yourself that in front of all your coworkers? In this office with these giant offices?
“Let’s go right after work. We can leave together, around six?” He asks, and you can’t help but smile.
“Perfect.” You repeat.
-
By five forty-five, your last coworker to leave heads out, leaving just you and Matthew waiting for six. At five fifty, you pull your jacket on.
At five fifty-three, Matt comes out of his office, and smiles to you.
“Ready to go?”
“Ready.” You smile, and Matt holds out his arm, quietly asking you to guide him. You happily take it, and begin to ask, “Thai, right? Could I toss in sushi as an option or—”
You don’t get to finish your sentence, because Matt leans his case next to your desk, before cupping your face with his free hand, and pressing his lips against yours, finally doing what he had been craving for months.
You tense at first, then you melt into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his tie before pulling him closer. It comes naturally to you, and you’re beginning to wonder why you waited so long to do this.
He deepens the kiss and for a moment before pulling away, his lips brushing against yours.
“Do you know how badly I want to skip dinner and take you right back to my apartment?”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in months, I don’t.. I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to even risk it..” he confesses, “So I want to take you out to a nice dinner, kiss you until you’re unable to think.. Then take you back to my apartment.”
You breath out deeply.
“One more kiss, and then we’ll go,”
Matt answers by kissing you again, his hands going to gently nudge you against your desk, unable to stop kissing you.
But, he hears no objections from you.
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euphoria-looney · 5 months ago
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Who Said Money Can't Buy You Happiness?
Yan!Crown Prince!Connor x Princess!Reader
m.list|V!special
"Where are you? - Where are you?- I'm at home. - I'm in a taxi. - Are you almost home? - Oh... I'm sorry. - For what? - Just, everything. - Go home. - I left my wallet there. - Ahh. - You know - Nevermind. - Just say it. - This doesn't feel like love anymore..." Can't Love You Anymore by IU ft. OHHYUK.
Divider Creds: @selysie and @anitalenia
This plot was inspired by @niwaart, @mimiiiiiiiiisstuff, and esp @coldilikeit
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Prince Connor hadn’t felt alive since the moment he was born, forced into a role that made everyone around you pretend to like you.
Of course, he’s grateful, but there are times he can’t help wondering, when will anything change?
Then he got the change he wanted, Tim, nothing romantic or anything, but Tim was smart and cool and another Prince for a different kingdom. Besides, he made a great partner to spare against and just talk to.
That wasn't the only change that Tim had brought upon him as he met [name]. Don’t get him wrong, she’s a sweet girl… but isn’t she trying too hard for his attention like all the only ladies of the court? She clung hard to him, though. He couldn’t shove her off, but sometimes, and only sometimes, he would be getting pushed above the bar.
It irked him how she kept following him around, and when that marriage proposal came around, he was borderline pissed but accepted it with a smile and a nod as it had pleased his father, pleased both the relations to the kingdoms, but it certainly did not please him and how Tim knew it each time during a sparring lesson he’d let Tim know that fact.
He knew he shouldn’t be this worked up on it; maybe he wouldn’t have been if it wasn’t for the constant bothering, every day, non-stop, it would be cookies, flowers, maybe a woven handkerchief. He’d throw them away without a second thought. 
Call him childish, but she just wasn’t the one.
He’s still ashamed of the one time he’d finally been caught throwing away her fresh batch of cookies that she had just given him.
“... [name], I’m sorry that you had to find out this way I just don’t like what you give me.” He thought she’d get the memo, but instead, she started making other things like croissants, macaroons, donuts, candy, and salty snacks. All discarded in a trash somewhere.
Then came a ball like any other, and like every other time, he’d make an excuse to leave his fiance alone, he knew it always caused a stir in society, but it hadn’t impacted him much, and then he stumbled upon his salvation. 
The moonlight glistened on her pale skin, illuminating her gorgeous ocean blue eyes, pure, innocent, and caring eyes. The way her hair flowed through the night sky like the world was made for her, waving on like tides in the wind. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold air but left no goosebumps on her soft skin, as that was just her natural appearance. But that’s not the only thing attracting him. 
No, it had to be the way she admired the mundane things in life like the flowers, the snapdragons that are always there, yet someone had taken the time to appreciate them, or the way animals surrounded her, feeling safe and curled up near her. She had dimples on each side of her cheeks when she was small, the melodic sound of her laugh, and naivety when she finally noticed him stumbling to stand up straight, giving a very clumsy curtsy.
That had made him chuckle, he extended his hand and let her palm lay on top of his before giving her hand a fleeting kiss, as she soon had to go back to her family. He felt disappointed when she left but noticed she went back to the Wayne Imperial family. 
He couldn’t get her out of his mind, so he finally asked Tim.
“Hey, Tim, my man.” 
“I’m unable to cancel the engagement between you and [name], Kon… Unless you somehow get her to agree or my father and your father while you’re at it.” He unsheathed his sword, and I followed his actions.
“No, nothing like that.” For now… he had thought to himself.
“Who was that blondie with you guys last night? The with those blue eyes.” I grunted as I blocked his slash, and he retracted before going to hit another blow.
“Ah, Serena, she’s my new sister and, between you and me, my favorite sibling.”
“Already?” 
“Indeed, it shocked me too, though I hated them all equally, but unlike us, she isn’t corrupt and stuck up. So, you can’t help but like her.” Connor couldn’t disagree with that and went for another blow, running to close the gap between them and jumping before giving an angled slash. That resulted in both their swords to go flying.
Making them go take a quick break, and came a [name] with a new snack it was caramel-drizzled brownies. He only gave her a little bit of acknowledgment, making her understand the sign, and left without a hitch; you could see her small smile that seemed a bit disappointed but went away nonetheless.
Tim took one before eating it, for the first time, something had changed Tim tried her cooking before Connor could throw it away.
“Damn, this is good, didn’t you say you liked brownies?” He wiped off crumbs from his mouth, but Connor couldn’t help but feel nothing towards the pastries, imagining Serena, now, if she was the one that made the brownies, why this would be a whole different story.
Eventually, they went back to normal conversations.
“Listen, Connor, Serena’s native, she’s not one to judge anyone, no matter how dangerous they are to her. Recently, [name]’s been doing stuff to her, for now, nothing too extreme, but that’s not the point whenever my family can’t be at any event, do protect her for us.” Connor felt an opportunity opened up for him.
Then he started seeing Serena more than talking, more than admiring her more, and he just couldn’t do it anymore.
He’s in love with her. 
Then, a banquet was hosted, and we finally decided to cancel the engagement. 
I walked up to [name]. She seemed different, but he hadn’t cared before, so this new attitude wouldn’t change how he felt now.
“[name], I have something to confess…” he had continued the princess took the words away from him.
“You’re breaking off the engagement.
He nodded. “... I’m breaking- wait, what?” He froze. That’s not what was supposed to happen, well,l not in the way he thought it would go, at least.
Somehow, while Connor was still in a frozen state, they settled on 500,000 gold coins as their way of finalizing their canceled contract.
He kept getting bothered by many ladies during that ball, which reminded him why that engagement was important to him somewhat, and finally getting ready for bed, he couldn’t help but toss and turn.
Why though?
Isn’t this what he wanted?
Yes, yes, of course, he had wanted this. But why? Why was Princess [name] so calm about this?
Then, a few days passed, and no cookies, flowers, or handkerchiefs. That’s fine he didn’t like them anyway, he always threw them away. He then glanced at the last thing [name] had cooked for him.
Cookies.
Just like the first time she had brought something for him.
He grabbed one before bitting off a bit, then another, before picking up another cookie and repeating the process before finishing it off. 
Then, somehow, he managed to be in her office and approached her.
“Is there something you need from me, you Highness.”
For an odd reason, he kept silent, but it seemed as if he said something as she only rubbed her head out of agitation and used her pen to scratch something off her paper before standing up, and he couldn’t help but hold onto her wrist before she scrunched her face at him pulling away holding her arm out to Aldira the butler that has been the talk after the ceremony for the twins. He gave her some hand sanitizer, and she motioned him away he headed somewhere.
She sighed before saying, “If that’s all, I’ll be excused.”
He tried reaching out again, and then, all of a sudden, he was in a whole other universe.
Met with… [name]?
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[name] has adjusted fine into her position with all the businessy stuff and the singing, playing instruments, ballet, and ice skating. She wanted to die but felt like that would be wrong as the og![name] probably wouldn’t like that, at least, that’s what she assumes.
Then, as she suddenly had a clear thought in her head to go to her office, she looked at herself in the mirror, normally, what was not normal was Connor Kent dressed up in a royal suit… That brought back memories.
“[name]?” He spoke out.
“How are you here, Your Highness?” [name] trembled.
He went over to her, bringing her into an embrace before being promptly shoved off.
“... [name], I know that I’ve made a mistake, but please.”
“Please, just leave me alone. You’ve made your bed; now you have to lay in it.”
“What are you saying..?”
“I’m saying I’m done being pathetic; I’m done loving you.”
“That can’t be true- [name].” Connor tried to reach out, but suddenly, everything went dark for the both of them.
Shooting up [name] heavily breathed.
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Blinking his eyes open, his hand for some reason, reaching out.
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“That was all a dream…” 
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Btw guy this is not canon ❤.
Sorry for not updating the main story, I'm feeling a little (a lot) lazy and have a brief moment of pausing when I try to write for either of my stories.
I am slowly able to make progress on my SMM story, but I can't say the same for this one.
Enjoy this one. Hopefully, if I'm too bored at school and don't short-circuit, I can publish another chapter or something IDK.
Anyway, Happy Late Valentine's Day! -
ILoveeeMoney
Taglist (?) I hope I added everyone and hopefully, none of them are wrong.
@kittzu @charlenexoxo1 @bat1212 @silverklaus @sillysealsies @roseytheteacup @iliveinyourwallsrat @cozmie @tomoyaki @cynniee @jsprien213 @kore-of-the-underworld @anonymoushehehehe @ninihrtss @devia @fanficloverlol @masterradd-28 @aigenarated @welpthisisboring @h-ib @diemdurantia @alishii @random4137 @totired0-0 @00hellohello00 @sh4rk-k1d @shadowytravelerlover @r-u-s-s-i-a-h @paperhermits @ocean-mochi @simpingpandas @crazycaoticsimp @candlejuice @twismare @itsberrydreemurstuff @delias-stuff @shycreatorreview @randomlyappearingartist @not-aya @c4xcocoa @midnightgrimoire @time-shardz
Me tagging people who probably came for pt.2:
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kxsagi · 2 months ago
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YAYAYAYA ITS MAY !!! HAPPY MAY POOKIE
I'm obsessed with blue lock and your post. need dad!husband!nagi and Bachira ! you can add any other characters too 😝
Thank you!
“𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬”
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a/n: HIII HAPPY MAY (i'm 5 days late help 💔)
had to include my man in there too (the biased favoritism ik i’m so sorry)
ft. nagi seishiro, bachira meguru, isagi yoichi
𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 – “𝐩𝐚𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐬”
your son’s wailing echoes down the hallway. 
nagi doesn’t move. 
you elbow him. “sei, it’s your turn.” 
“ehh…” he grumbles, burying his face into your neck like he thinks that’ll protect him from reality. “rock paper scissors?” 
“you’re literally a professional athlete. go get your child.” 
with a pitiful sigh, he rolls out of bed like a man going to war. it’s 2:38 AM. he trudges into the nursery half-asleep, white hair a fluffy mess, dragging his feet like a cartoon ghost. you hear the creak of the door, then the silence that follows when your son is scooped up into his dad's arms. 
five minutes pass. then ten. 
you get up to check, only to find both of them passed out on the nursery floor. nagi’s legs are splayed across the alphabet rug, your baby boy fast asleep on his chest, one of nagi’s large hands resting protectively on the tiny back. he’s whispering nonsense, dream-talking again. 
“donuts… jelly-filled…” 
you stifle a laugh and grab your phone to take a picture. 
the next morning, you wake up to find the boys still asleep on the floor, powdered donut crumbs in your son’s hair, and nagi holding an empty snack wrapper like he’s claiming it in his will. 
“what happened?” you blink. 
he rubs his eyes groggily. “… he wanted one. couldn’t let him eat alone. that’s bad parenting.” 
“sei, he’s six months old. he doesn’t even have teeth yet.” 
“exactly. can’t even hold the donut. i had to help.” 
𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 – “𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫”
you don’t know who’s more nervous, you or your daughter. 
her little legs swing under her chair backstage, ballet slippers tapping a restless rhythm as she keeps whispering “what if i mess up?” over and over like it’s a spell. 
“you won’t,” you tell her, squeezing her hand. “you’ve practiced so hard, sweetie. remember what papa said?” 
she looks up at you with wide eyes. “to bite the nerves and spit them out?” 
“okay well, maybe not that one. the other thing he said.” 
“to dance like i’m a jelly bean that came to life!” 
“that one.” 
bachira, your ever-eccentric husband, shows up fifteen minutes late with glitter on his face and a camera around his neck, already doing pirouettes in the lobby. “i made it! i got the confetti! and the snack bag! and also, uh oh, i think i glued my finger to the camera button–” 
your daughter lights up the second she sees him. 
“papa!!” 
“that’s my little jelly bean!” he cheers, crouching to hug her. “you ready to dance their eyeballs off?” 
“i think so…” 
“listen.” he cups her face with both hands. “if you fall, just pretend you did it on purpose. throw in a somersault. finish with jazz hands.” 
“like this?” she flails dramatically. 
“exactly like that.” 
and she does fall. five seconds into her solo, she trips. 
but your daughter remembers. she somersaults. she jazz-hands. the audience claps. and bachira? he’s crying and standing on his chair like she just won a world cup. 
“that’s my kid!!” he yells. “we’re getting ice cream after this!!” 
𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐲𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢 – “𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬”
“love,” you whisper, poking your head into the living room, “it’s your turn.” 
isagi looks up from his laptop with that same wide-eyed panic he gets when someone passes him the ball in reverse. “for what?” 
“bedtime.” 
you both go silent, listening to the ominous sound of giggles and things crashing upstairs. 
“… i already did bedtime yesterday,” he tries. 
“you brushed her teeth and then helped her do a backflip off the bed.” 
“which was… part of her routine.” 
you give him the look. 
with the dramatics of a man being asked to perform surgery with a spoon, isagi sets down his laptop, cracks his neck, and marches up the stairs like he's heading into battle. 
“alright, little monster,” he calls as he enters your daughter’s room, “bedtime means sleep. not turning into a jungle gym.” 
she’s hanging upside down from the headboard like a tiny spider. “but daddy, i’m not sleepy.” 
“you literally just did three cartwheels and then sang the national anthem for no reason.” 
“i needed to warm up.” 
“for what?” 
she grins. “bedtime olympics.” 
you watch from the doorway as isagi sighs, peels her off the furniture, and tucks her in like he’s folding laundry – gently, but with the exhausted speed of someone on a timer. 
he reads her a bedtime story. or at least, he tries. because she keeps interrupting every five seconds. 
“what’s a dragon?” 
“do dragons have moms?” 
“what if the dragon was a girl but wanted to be a boy?” 
“do you think i can be a dragon?” 
“do you think mommy could beat a dragon in a fight?” 
“… yes?” isagi says, halfway through losing his mind. “but she’d try to make friends with it first.” 
you stifle a laugh from the hallway. he shoots you a desperate look. 
finally, finally, your daughter yawns. her tiny hand finds his, and she mumbles, “you’re my favorite person, daddy.” 
his expression melts. “you’re mine too, baby girl.” 
you head back downstairs thinking that’s the end of it, but ten minutes later isagi comes down with marker on his face, a princess tiara tangled in his hair, and a plushie stuck in his hoodie. 
“she told me i had to dress like bedtime royalty,” he mutters, collapsing on the couch next to you. 
“well, you are king of the jungle gym.” 
“... do kings get ibuprofen?” 
you kiss his cheek. “only the cutest ones.” 
© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢
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bobcross1010 · 3 months ago
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TPOT 17 SPOILERS: DECODING FANNY'S BOARD + DEBUNKING/ANALYSIS OF ONE
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*All of these were decoded through a Ceaser Cipher and Binary code:
XSFFG: Fanny (Fanno??)
KV UVA ALZA T LX HLENSTYR JZF: Do not test, I am watching you
TJPQZ HPXC OJ GZVMI VWJPO RCT DH CZMZ: You have much to learn about why I'm here
YTKGQE YTO ZIN: Sneaky Snitch
GCCB SBCIUV: Soon Enough
01110011 01101000 01101000 01101000: Shhh
YLJLODQV RFXOXV: Vigilant Oculus
the last code with Vigilant Oculus is SO SOOOSO interesting to me. It points at a warped image of Fanny sitting on Ice Cube: calling the two of them the vigilant oculus (oculi??). Vigilant refers to someone who is watchful, wary, being alert and checking for danger. Oculus is latin for eye: therefore, Vigilant eye.
Basically, One says that the two of them a very watchful eye, but she's not happy about it. Fanny, Ice Cube and Donut all have a strong sense of justice and morals, leading them to be the first ones act against One- Fanny and Ice Cube out in the game, and Donut through actually FIGHTING against One
Also, note how all the players who One contacted that are still ingame/got further are Ice Cube, Fanny, and Donut: in which One offered them their limbs. Neat.
One is actively preventing Fanny from letting anybody else know about her. She warps TB's vision so he sees that distortion instead of what Fanny really wrote. But there's something about it that irks her enough to piss her off.
Look at One's room:
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Her couch is broken. Their table is chipped. Chairs and equipment are knocked down, papers are all over the place. Her telescope is broken. And most of all, One herself is clearly agitated. Either this happened as a result of the world almost ending, or One threw a fit and ended up throwing things around in frustration. She wants to get things done quickly, she doesn't want to waste any more time. Instead of light, easy persuasion with that confident and playful tone she uses with her usual deals, she pressures Donut and yells at him, telling him to make it quick. When he doesn't and refuses, even going so far as to kick her away from him, instead of continuing the pressure, she gives up and punishes him- she rips out his legs and lets him roll on.
Afterwards, One claims that she didn't need Donut and it was just extra. But she seems to be convincing herself rather than reminding herself.
From what Six says: "She was meant to be gone!". This means that One was exiled, or sent away somehow. From the start, she'd been enemies with the other Numbers, or at least, did NOT have a good track record with them.
Six also says that he's the only one left. He's the only one living in the Equation Playground. The others either left or are in hiding. Four, X, and Two are on earth, and Three is imprisoned inside Four.
We ALSO know that every Algebralien has a connection to the Playground through a door. Four has it through his EXIT- a pocket world inside of him. Now, One has also showed us what is likely hers- her cozy little room, and her dark meadow with the flowers. Both of them have a door that leads to the playground.
From how this is set up, it makes me believe that all the algebraliens have some sort of pocket world, all with their own door that leads to their home. We also now know that the Subscriber Specials probably take place BEFORE BFB/TPOT, or at least during, somewhat. Or they just. aren't canon. but i want to think they are because it makes me happy
So if theres some vague algebralien timeline its:
xFOHV -> One/Three get exiled and Imprisoned -> Sub Specials Probably -> BFB -> TPOT
i've run out of things to talk abour ehre
i love One :)
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magewritesstories · 8 months ago
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[ SPENCER REID ] WHIPPED
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cw. derek uses a little experiment to prove that the reader's whipped for spencer (fluff.) wc. 542
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"YOU ARE SO WHIPPED," Derek says as the two of you stand in the tiny kichenette next to the bullpen.
You turn towards him and raise a brow, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh? So you weren't making heart eyes at pretty boy just now?" he counters, "Or when he was going on about Doctor Who this morning, or yesterday when he told you that dumb fact about the Mayans and their sun calander?"
"Again, I have no idea what you're talking about," you deny, reverting your eyes back to the drink in your hand.
Derek looks between you and Spencer before smirking. "Yeah? Let me give you a little explanation then."
He drags you over to Spencer's desk.
"Hey, pretty boy, Y/N and I were just talking about how horrible the coffee from the new coffee machine is," he said as the boy genius turned to them, "So she's going to that coffee shop down the street, you want anything?"
Spencer thought about it for a second, "Uh, no, I'm good actually."
"You sure, it's Y/N's treat?" Derek added in a sing-song.
"Uhm, I guess a glazed donut would be nice?"
You turn to Derek with a confused look on your face, which Spencer the Amazing Profiler somehow managed to miss.
Derek turns to you with a knowing smirk, "Give it a second—"
And just as those words leave his mouth Emily pipes up from next to JJ. "Oh, if you're going, get me a coffee?"
"I'd love a chocolate cookie," Penelope, who had come out of her batcave to hand over some reports to Hotch, adds excitedly, "You're going to that new coffee shop right? I could smell the deliciousness from a mile away."
Slowly but surely everyone in the bullpen piles onto it—all of them clearly not a fan of the new coffee machine either—and your teammate looks at you with a smirk.
"You want a notepad or?"
"Shut up."
The man lets out a bark of a laugh. "You'd have to dissapoint boy genius over there," he offered, before looking pointedly at Spencer who was now excitedly talking about the new café with Penelope, "But you could just not go."
You let out an annoyed huff as you looked at him too.
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A full twenty minutes later you stood in front of Spencer's desk with a crumbled bag containing his favourite flavour of glazed donut (because of course I know what it is, Derek, I'm a good colleague), completely and utterly out of breath.
You'd just spent 15 minutes of your break running to and from the new café—in your brand new heels too— and then giving everybody their coffee and/or cookie.
"Thank you," the boy genius replied with a bright smile on his face, looking in the bag, "Oh, and you got my favourite flavour too, you're amazing!"
You just offer him a small, tired smile. "Of course, Spence, no problem."
On your way back to your desk, you walk into Derek, who's already leaning against his.
"Just couldn't stand dissapointing your pretty boy, huh?"
"I swear to all that is holy, Morgan, I will throw this scalding hot coffee on you."
"Yeah, yeah, you're so whipped."
"I hate you."
"W-H-I-P-P-E-D, whipped."
664 notes · View notes
luveline · 1 year ago
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Hi Jade!! I love your writing so much! you wrote a few fics of postprison!reid with kinda shy!reader like the one where she faints and I loved that dynamic and that Reid, do you think you could write some more? pls pls pls <3333333
cw non-consensual drug use /reader is spiked 
Spencer is quite gorgeous. He has a great smile, soft and a little shy without teeth, exuberantly bright like a commercial with teeth. He’s smiling like he can read your mind now, fishing for your hand, and taking it into both of his. Your pinky in one hand and your index the other, he wriggles your hand back and forth and laughs softly. “You don’t handle inebriation well.” 
“What?” you ask, startled. You can’t believe he’s touching you like this, casual, like he’s your boyfriend. Your hot boyfriend.
“You think I’m hot?” 
You squint at him. “What?” you ask. 
He covers your hand gently with both of his. “Nevermind. Do you want something to eat now?” 
“No.” You’ll throw up. Chunks, probably, your breakfast. And it wasn’t even a healthy breakfast. It was waffles and whipped cream and then a donut on the way to the office, Spencer will be able to tell, he’s too smart, he’s too everything. 
“I’m not that smart,” he says kindly. 
That’s a straight up lie. 
He laughs heartily, at odds with his quiet talking, and you’re so confused because it’s like he’s reading your mind? Can he read your mind? There’s so much stuff about yourself you don’t want him to know, your chest hurts thinking about it, you don’t want to tell him anything—
“I think I’ll go find you a hot chocolate,” Spencer says, the sleeve of his shirt falling down unbuttoned to his wrist as he stands. He pushes it back up. He is surprisingly underdressed today and you’ve no idea why. “Does that sound nice?” 
“I don’t think you should leave.” 
“I don’t want you to tell me stuff you don’t want to tell me,” he says. 
“But if you leave I’ll be by myself.” You sound strange to your ears. Crackly, like a garden fire.
Spencer perches himself on the hospital bed next to you. You’re sitting cross-cross on the tight white and blue sheets, waiting for something? Something was supposed to happen, you know that. A doctor was going to take your blood. You look down at the crook of your elbow to find they already have, a cotton pad medical-taped to the skin. 
“I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to go,” he says, taking your arm into his hands with the same care he’d shown your fingers. He lifts the corner of the tape and begins to pull it away from the direction it had been stuck in, stretching it, and removing it from you without any pain. 
“Where did you learn that?” you ask. 
Spencer holds your arm in his hand now the cotton ball is done. “Learn what?” 
You’re not interested in asking him again. Weirdly, your throat feels dry, but you won’t tell him because he’ll offer hot chocolate again and you don’t want him to go. 
“Hey,” he says, “not going anywhere until it wears off. Not if you need me.” 
How does he always know what to say? 
“You know, why don’t you get into bed and lay down for a little bit? You must be tired, sitting up. It’s so late.” His voice is a sheet of silk. 
“I thought we were going home?” you ask. 
“We can’t, bub,” —that’s a new one— “not for now. But we will tonight, I promise.” 
“Why not now?” 
He smiles sadly. “‘Cos you’re coming down, Y/N.” 
You frown. “Oh.” 
“I know.” Spencer wraps and arm around your back. “But you’re not alone.” He ducks in until your faces are almost touching. “You know? It’ll go away soon.” 
You don’t know why you say it, but you say, “You’re so nice to me. Even when you’re scary.” 
“Am I scary?” he murmurs. 
You look at him long and hard, feeling the warm rub of his thumb as he smooths a short line into your back. Spencer is intimidating, maybe, because you hadn’t known him when he got out of prison, and he's pretty like a model, or a movie star. But he isn’t scary. That’s not the right word. 
“No,” you say. “I guess not.” You pause. “I feel weird.” 
He doesn’t laugh like you, just hugs you tighter. “It’ll get better.” 
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coldilikeit · 9 months ago
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Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)
Dc x Pjo
Part 9
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It was now morning, the air was humid and the chariots were lined up, everyone on the sidelines was packed with food, every second you wish you were in those benches
"One... Two.... Three... GO!" Tantalus yelled and the campers roared
The Ares chariot was quick, but the Hermes chariot led by the not twins Travis and Connor Stoll, Connor was shooting rocks in between the wheels of chariots
Leading first is the Hephaestus chariot led by Charles Beckendorf and his brother, second is Poseidon Chariot led by Percy Jackson and Tyson the cyclops
No way you were going to let them win
Your sister Yvonne Bailey Daughter of a multi-million fashion designer grabbed some arrows, her step mother (Aphrodite approved) was an Olympic archer, she taught Yvonne everything she knows
Which is lucky because in this race your opponents either throw arrows or bombs, even luckier cause someone on the Aphrodite cabin knows how to make arrow bombs (you duh)
And you may or may have not taken green arrows design but it's not like he can sue you, I mean come on you're dead
"No hard feelings (Name)" Annabeth smiles as her chariots bumps yours
Yvonne recovering from the shock stood up again quickly "You did not just do that", she prepared an arrow and shot at their left wheel, tried to shoot at least
The arrow instead hit the Hermes chariot and it crashed onto the Hephaestus chariot
Well they say it's better to destroy two chariots with one arrow
Now it was just You and Yvonne, Annabeth and her brother, Percy and Tyson
AND CLARISSE LA RUE????
For some reason, even if they were stuck at the back of the track trying to get he ricks out of their wheels, they managed to bypass the other burning down chariots in their way
It was fine, you liked a challenge, Then Stymphalian birds (flesh eating demon birds) started raining down from the sky and started pecking at the campers
A flock of these birds started to attack your chariot, without thinking you grabben an arrow and shit at them...
... without proper space distance, making the explosion close to you chariot
Yvonne grabbed you and ducked down and the horses who were carrying your chariot went feral trying to avoid the demon birds themselves
Percy who slipped out of the race, managed to grab a boom box and played this awful music that made the birds screech, but stopped them from attacking
The Apollo kids took this as a chance to shoot them down
And when you thought it was over, Clarisse came running through with her chariot and won the race
Despite the injuries of the racers and the non racers, they cheered
______________________________
Jason grumbled at the sight of his family, gloomy, "Hey, Breakfast has been ready for hours now, Duke is waiting!"
"I know but I found new information, according to here, Empousa only drink the blood of their victims, not eat them, that would mean there is still a body-" Tim has been researching every Greek monster ever since, trying to find a clue on how to see them properly
Diana had explained this most that covers the mortal eye from the divine world, with the announcement that the gods are real...
People have been starting to get stressed, since the most is still in effect, people are accusing each other of being monsters in disguise
"I don't get why you're doing so much for a fake" Jason glared, true he was shocked at the death, but... It's not like this was the first time (Name) died
The little replacement to protect dad's sanity was dead, so?
______________________________
According to Tantalus, we should be punished, because according to him the stymphalian birds were just minding their business and only attacked because they were bothered by Percy's horrible chariot driving
"go chase a donut!" Percy stomped off as Tantalus continues to yell at him and Tyson scurries behind behind Percy
I grabbed a piece of fruit from a table that managed to survive the attack and waved it around so Tantalus could see
And I ate it in front of him.
"Okay you too! Both you and Percy and the monster will be washing the dishes tonight" he yelled
"what, that's bull, everyone eats" said a brother of yours
"leave my sister alone, you're just mad you can't eat" said another brother
"how are you cursed to never eat and still be fat, that doesn't make sense" said one of your sisters
Annabeth's brows furrowed "That's not fair! (Name) Just ate! You can't punish her for eating!"
"alright smarty you're punished as well! Everyone cleans this mess! And make dinner for Clarisse if you want, a banquet or something, but stay the fuck away from my sight" now it was Tantalus's turn to stomp away
______________________________
(Name): eats*
Tantalus who was cursed to never eat: I'm offended
______________________________
@delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven @sweetconnoisseurgardener @dhanyasri @bella-wolf100 @shortnsweetsposts @roseapov @d3sperate-enuf @d3kstar
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aurumacadicus · 4 months ago
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Omg. A concept:
"I'm glad you all could make it," Tony said solemnly, hands clasped behind his back as he paced in front of the table.
"You literally texted us all that it was dire," Rhodey deadpanned.
"And then you texted me that I should bring donuts," Happy added, unimpressed.
Tony didn't take it personally. They were all there and Happy had actually stopped and picked up donuts.
Pepper looked even less pleased. "Are you dying again? Because if all of this was to tell me you're dying again, I'm going to be pissed."
Carol blinked, mouth already filled with a cake donut with sprinkles. "Huh?!"
"Don't worry about it," Tony told Carol, just as solemnly as he had before. "This meeting is to inform you all that I will be leaving the country imminently. I have already scheduled to have my appendix out and will be living the rest of my life in Antarctica."
"HUH," Carol barked again.
Pepper tapped at her phone and raised an eyebrow, reluctantly impressed. "Wow. You really did schedule a voluntary appendectomy."
Happy sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, then leaned back in his seat tiredly. "Why are you planning to live out your remaining years in Antarctica?"
Tony sighed the sigh of the supremely put upon, turning to look out one of the windows at the view. "I giggled in front of the Avengers."
There was a brief pause. Carol was frantically chewing to bellow another 'huh' at him, but Rhodey reacted first, instead shrugging and reaching out for a bear claw. "Oh, well, rest in peace, pal."
To Carol's relief, both Happy and Pepper screamed 'what' with her in response.
Rhodey blinked at them placidly. "Guys, he literally says 'heeheehee' when he giggles. He hasn't laughed like that in front of other people since college and a group of girls started teasing him about how cute it is."
"I did not get laid until the memory faded from MIT's collective consciousness," Tony added, nodding. "Girls thought I was adorable and guys made fun of me in mean ways. I forgot myself and now must pay the price."
"You're such a fucking drama queen, Tony," Happy sighed. "And what do you expect to do when you're too old to take care of yourself?"
"Walk onto the tundra and peacefully fall asleep, and perhaps they'll ship the ice cube that is my body back for burial," Tony answered promptly.
"I can't tell if this is a joke or not and it's upsetting," Carol snapped, and Pepper just sighed at her, pitying.
"The room went silent, and Natasha just looked at me and said 'oh' and looked like she might cry," Tony continued, ignoring her. "Clint didn't even make fun of me. He just said 'aw.'"
"Steve must have liked it at least, right?" Pepper asked desperately.
"He crumpled to the floor like I'd personally grabbed his guts and twisted," Tony informed her. He turned to look at Carol and Rhodey. "In any case, I called you here to inform you that the team might need your help more now that I am no longer an option. Pepper, Happy, run the company as you see fit."
"Can I get your Def Leppard vinyls?" Rhodey asked over Carol's frustrated howls.
"Stop fucking encouraging him, Jim," Pepper barked, then was distracted by a text from Steve. "Steve texted me."
"I will hear no arguments. I have already made up my mind," Tony informed her imperiously.
Happy read over her shoulder, shameless. "'Tell Tony I survived seventy years in the ocean and I will come and get him from Antarctica.' How'd he italicize part of a text."
"I think he just radiates disapproval at the screen until it cries uncle," Pepper replied.
Tony considered all of this new information, then decided, "Well. I suppose I'll just have to keep moving. JARVIS, the armor, if you please."
"Captain Rogers has already broken into the lab and dismantled several, and has told me he will leap on any suit I manage to get flying toward you," JARVIS answered promptly.
"I see. Then I will just throw myself from the window now," Tony replied, and both Carol and Happy scrambled up to tackle him.
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forthebrokenheartedthings · 16 days ago
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Everything Left Unsaid (One Shot)
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Summary: You’ve been Bucky’s best friend for five years. His partner. His safe place. He’s never told you he’s in love with you. Then you start dating someone else—someone who doesn’t know you, not really. Bucky says nothing. Until a double date turns into a breaking point. You follow him into the rain. And everything he’s held in? Comes out. It’s messy. It’s raw. It’s years of love, finally spoken. And once the damn breaks, there’s no going back.
TW: Emotional Manipulation (Not Bucky), Gaslighting, Explicit sex scene, Bucky Barnes
AN 💌 I hope you love them as much as I loved writing them.
WC: 7900 +
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The double doors to the kitchen hiss open as you and Bucky walk in, still shaking off the rain and smoke from a botched infiltration in Midtown. You peel off your damp jacket, fingers stained from the warehouse’s scorched remnants, and glance over your shoulder at him.
"You," you start, stabbing a finger toward his chest, "are not allowed to say ‘trust me’ ever again."
"I was right," Bucky grumbles, tugging off his gloves, "you just didn’t listen fast enough."
"Fast enough? I was too busy saving your titanium ass from getting cooked by a flamethrower because someone thought it was a decoy unit."
He scoffs, heading toward the counter where a box of donuts sits open. "You’re still mad I beat you to the file."
"No, I’m mad you tripped the silent alarm and then smiled about it like it was some clever prank." You pluck a powdered donut from the box and toss it underhand. It hits him square in the shoulder. "Dick."
He catches it midair without looking and mouths the word, thanks with a smirk.
You both freeze when a voice cuts through the room.
"You two married yet, or is this just your elaborate foreplay?"
Sam's leaning against the fridge with a coffee mug in hand, grinning like the devil. Steve’s next to him, visibly amused. Tony swivels on a barstool with exaggerated interest.
"Oh, this should be good," Tony says. "What’s the over-under on when Barnes admits he’s fully domesticated?"
Bucky doesn’t even blink. "I’ll admit it when you admit your AI's smarter than you."
Tony gasps. "You wound me, Winter Barbie."
You roll your eyes and step between them, half-leaning into Bucky like it’s the most natural thing in the world. "Don’t listen to them. I still like you, metal gremlin."
You tilt your face up and press a light kiss to his cheek.
It’s quick. Familiar. Thoughtless—except not really. It lands just at the edge of his stubble, and the moment your lips brush skin, he goes still. Not stiff. Just still.
The room goes a little quieter.
Bucky's eyes flick toward you, unreadable. Then he clears his throat, shrugs, and mutters, "You’ve got powdered sugar on your mouth."
You smirk, swipe it off with your thumb, and pop it in your mouth. "Sweet. Like me."
Steve mutters something that sounds like "God help me," and leaves the room.
Tony leans in, stage-whispering, "So when’s the wedding? Can I be flower girl? I throw excellent glitter."
Sam drains his coffee with a sigh. "I’m giving it two months before they make us all regret having ears."
You laugh and elbow Bucky lightly. He just watches you for a beat too long, donut forgotten in his hand.
When you step away to grab a drink from the fridge, he stays still, staring at the floor like it’s saying something only he can hear.
Then quietly, like a prayer to himself, he says, "Yeah. Sweet like you."
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Bucky’s still standing where you left him, powdered donut in one hand, staring at nothing in particular, when Tony’s voice slices in again.
"Barnes," Tony says, circling him like a shark that smells emotional repression, "I’ve seen cinderblocks with more facial range. Except, you know—" he gestures toward you, bent over in the fridge, "—when she’s in the room."
You snort, still bent over the fridge door. "You stalking his face now, Stark?"
"Oh, I take notes," Tony says. "Weirdest thing—he only smiles like a real person when you're around. It’s like watching a grizzly bear try yoga. Strange. Slightly dangerous. Beautiful in a tragic, masculine way."
Bucky finally turns toward him. "Don’t you have a board meeting to ignore?"
Tony grins. "Rescheduled. I’ve got better things to watch."
You shut the fridge, twist the cap off your drink, and walk back toward them like you’re rounding home base. "Can we give the man a break? You’re gonna scare off the only person here who’ll kill spiders for me."
"He’s not going anywhere," Sam mutters, now sifting through the box of donuts. "He’s been stuck to you like duct tape for five years."
You step up to Bucky and bump your shoulder into his lightly. "Ignore them," you say, voice low enough for only him to hear. Then you reach up, tousle his hair deliberately—which earns you the glare he usually reserves for terrorists. "Besides, I like you better when you’re not smiling for anyone else."
The color hits his cheeks like it’s on a timer.
Tony makes an exaggerated gagging noise. "This is worse than the Nat/Bruce thing. At least they were subtle."
"They weren’t," Steve calls from the hallway.
You look up at Bucky and grin. He’s staring straight ahead like someone just hit pause on his processor. You reach out, tap the center of his chest with two fingers. "Say you’re fine without blushing. Go on."
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Glares. "Eat your donut."
You wink and turn away, pleased.
Behind you, Tony whispers to Sam, "He’s doomed."
Sam shakes his head slowly. "He’s been doomed."
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Four months ago – Atlantic City, 3 a.m.
It was raining the way movies overdo it—thick sheets, warm and relentless, soaking you to the skin in seconds. You and Bucky ducked into the only open storefront on the boardwalk, leaving a muddy trail behind you, both of you covered in bruises, minor cuts, and what you really hoped was your own blood.
It was a gift shop.
A truly heinous one. Blinding fluorescent lights, shelves of seashell snowglobes, and racks upon racks of T-shirts so ugly they bordered on criminal.
You looked at him. He looked at you. You both burst out laughing.
"We’re going to die of tetanus in a store that sells foam sharks," he muttered, flexing his shoulder with a wince.
You pulled your shirt away from your body. "Okay, yeah, we can’t go back to the quinjet dripping in blood and Jersey swamp water. New rule. We wear the shame."
Bucky squinted at a rack. "You’re joking."
You grabbed a shirt off the top and held it up to his chest. Bright yellow. Giant cartoon lobster. Text: 'HOT & CLAW-FUL.'
He raised one eyebrow. "This is a war crime."
"Agreed," you grinned. "So let’s match."
"You’re out of your mind."
"C’mon, Barnes." You leaned in, eyes shining with pure chaos. "It’ll be our thing. Battle trauma and bad taste."
He rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say no.
Ten minutes later, you emerged from the dressing room wearing a mint-green monstrosity that read ‘I’M WITH STUPID’ — arrow pointing sideways. He followed behind you in the accompanying ‘HAPPY WIFE, HAPPY LIFE’ tee.
You turned to look at him and nearly choked.
"You—oh my God—Bucky, you look like someone dared a hitman to do improv."
He stared at you deadpan for a full beat. Then his mouth twitched.
Then—actual laughter. Real laughter. Loud and short and startled, like he couldn’t stop it if he tried.
It was the first time you’d heard it. Not a dry chuckle. Not a huff of breath. A real, gut-level sound. And when it finally ran out, he looked at you with something unreadable in his eyes.
"We do look cute," he mumbled, voice low.
You blinked. "What?"
He cleared his throat immediately. "Said we—uh—look like idiots."
You didn’t call him on it. But you never forgot it.
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Later that night, you’re curled into one corner of the main rec room couch, hoodie oversized and fuzzy socks tucked beneath you. The lights are dimmed, just the flicker of the TV lighting the room. A few other team members had been in and out—Sam passed through muttering about weather anxiety—but now it’s mostly quiet.
On screen: cows flying across a storm-ripped highway. You’ve got Twister playing for the ninth time this year.
Bucky sits beside you, one arm draped along the back of the couch, the other idly holding a bowl of popcorn you keep stealing from. He's already tossed you one "you know what happens, why are you this excited" look tonight, and you met it with a smug, popcorn-filled grin.
You don't explain it to him anymore. You don’t need to.
"Favorite part’s coming," you murmur, already sliding a bit closer to him.
He huffs through his nose. "The cow?"
You gasp, mock-offended. "The tornado science! The tension! The cow is an emotional metaphor."
"You just like yelling ‘DEBRIS!’ with her."
You don’t deny it.
As the wind howls on screen and chaos unfolds, your head slips sideways, resting softly against his shoulder. He goes still—briefly—but doesn’t shift away. You scoot just slightly closer, like it’s muscle memory.
Eventually, your breathing slows, your grip on the popcorn bowl loosens, and your body melts comfortably against his side.
Bucky doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe too loud. Just stares at the screen while the storm rages and the wind howls and your hand is resting against his ribs like it belongs there.
He watches you more than the movie.
You don’t stir when he gently adjusts the blanket over your legs or when his fingers brush a strand of hair from your cheek.
You definitely don’t hear him whisper, voice barely above the sound of the screen:
"Yeah. ’Course you did."
He stays still long after the movie ends.
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Bucky’s already pacing in the training room when you stroll in fifteen minutes late, two coffee cups balanced in one hand and zero remorse in your eyes.
He turns the moment he hears the door. "You’re late."
You hold up the coffee like a peace offering. "I’m also generous."
He narrows his eyes at the cup, snatches it from your hand. "You always think a bribe excuses you."
"Bribe?" You twist off your jacket and toss it aside. "Please. That’s a custom-ordered, double shot espresso with two pumps of hazelnut and exactly three ice cubes. That’s a love letter."
He sips it. Says nothing.
Smirks, faint and involuntary.
You stretch your arms overhead. "What are we doing today? Grappling? Disarm drills? Or are you gonna try to sweep the leg again like you’re a Cobra Kai dropout?"
He sets his coffee on the ledge and cracks his knuckles. "Let’s find out."
Ten minutes later, you’re both sweaty, breathing hard, and circling each other on the mat.
You fake left. He counters. You duck under his arm, sweep his leg—and this time, he goes down.
You land on top of him with a triumphant thud, both of you laughing, breathless.
"Pinned," you grin, straddling his waist, hands on his chest. "Finally."
"You cheated."
"Did not."
"You smiled like you were gonna flirt, and then took my knees out."
"It worked, didn’t it?"
He huffs a laugh, head thunking against the mat. "You’re evil."
You’re still there, poised above him, your hands pressed to the warm fabric of his shirt, when the door opens.
Sam steps in, freezes, then slowly backs up. "I’ll come back when it’s not weirdly sexual."
You don’t move.
Neither does Bucky.
Sam’s gone again before either of you says a word.
You burst out laughing. "God, his timing is perfect."
Bucky mutters, "He does it on purpose."
You stay there a second longer than necessary. Just looking at him. Just breathing the same air.
Then you push up to your feet and offer him a hand. "C’mon, lover boy. Lunch duty calls."
He rolls his eyes, but takes your hand.
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"You’re gonna slice off your thumb."
"I’ve had this arm for seventy years. I think I’ve got it."
You lean in, watching Bucky hack at a red bell pepper. "You’re murdering that thing. That’s not chopping. That’s vengeance."
"Could’ve just done this yourself," he grumbles.
You grin, reaching for the cutting board. "Where’s the fun in that?"
The two of you are elbows-deep in a chaotic lunch prep. Something vaguely Italian, something involving way too many ingredients, and a playlist you keep switching every time he tries to play anything post-1945.
You reach over, flick a bit of water at him from the sink.
He turns slowly. "You’re gonna regret that."
You flick again. This time, straight at his face.
"You’re done."
You yelp and duck as he grabs a wet dish towel and whips it toward your hip. It hits with a satisfying snap. You retaliate by lobbing a handful of flour at him. It explodes against his chest like a smoke bomb.
The kitchen fills with chaos and laughter. He grabs for you, you dodge, and it turns into a slapstick chase around the island.
Steve walks in mid-sprint, takes one look at the flour cloud, the abandoned bell peppers, the absolute mess of you two—and just sighs.
"Nope."
He backs out the door without another word.
You lean against the counter, breathless, flour in your hair, laughing uncontrollably. Bucky’s grinning too, cheeks pink, shirt a disaster.
"You’re a menace," he says, brushing a streak of flour off your jaw with his thumb.
"And you’re terrible with knives."
He flicks your forehead, gentle. "Shut up."
You bump his hip. "Make me."
He doesn’t.
Instead, he goes back to dicing the pepper—still terribly—and you stand next to him, shoulder to shoulder, like there’s nowhere else in the world either of you is supposed to be.
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The hallway is quiet, the low hum of the compound’s overhead lights the only sound as you drift toward the residential wing. You don’t even think about it—you just walk to Bucky’s door and push it open without knocking.
He’s inside, barefoot, freshly showered, pulling a shirt over his head.
"You ever heard of knocking?" he asks, not looking up.
"You ever heard of locking the door?"
He shakes his head, faint smile tugging at his mouth. "You want something?"
"Somewhere to land," you say, already walking past him.
You collapse onto his bed like it’s your own, grabbing one of his pillows and hugging it to your chest. It smells like him—soap, leather, that slightly metal tang that never really fades.
He grabs the book from his desk, sits on the edge of the mattress. "You know you’ve got your own room, right?"
"It’s cold. And lonely. And doesn’t come with built-in bedtime stories."
He raises an eyebrow. "You want me to read to you?"
You stretch out, head resting against the center of his chest now, hand curled near his ribs. "You’re halfway through something," you say, pointing at the worn paperback on the nightstand. "C’mon. Make it dramatic."
He sighs. "You’re gonna fall asleep in three pages."
"I will if you’re boring."
He flips the book open with a shake of his head, leans back against the headboard, and starts to read.
His voice is low. Steady. Not trying to perform—just giving the words shape.
You listen for a while, eyes drifting shut. Every now and then he shifts, ever so slightly, adjusting to cradle you better without waking you. His metal arm rests against your back. His other hand drifts to your hair, fingers brushing through it like it’s instinct.
Ten minutes in, your breathing changes. Slows.
He keeps reading anyway.
In the hallway, Sam passes by. He pauses just outside the half-closed door. Takes in the image: you fast asleep against Bucky’s chest, his hand in your hair, his voice soft even now.
Sam doesn’t knock. Doesn’t tease.
He just smiles. A small, quiet thing. Then he keeps walking.
Back in the room, Bucky’s voice trails off as he realizes you’re gone to the world.
He marks the page. Sets the book aside.
And stays there with you for a long time.
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The city sprawls out beneath the compound’s west balcony, all golden haze and soft street noise. It’s late—later than you intended to be awake—but you and Bucky sit shoulder to shoulder in the cool night air, nursing slow drinks and slower conversation.
You’re both in T-shirts and sweatpants. His sleeves are pushed up. Your hair’s still mussed from sleep. Neither of you has mentioned it.
You steal his phone while he’s mid-sip.
"Hey—"
"You’ve got, like, three playlists labeled Workout and one labeled Stuff She Likes?" you grin, scrolling. "What is this, Barnes? Sentiment?"
He lunges half-heartedly for the phone. "That’s private."
"Mmhm." You scroll again, smirking. "Fleetwood Mac? Hozier? Lana Del Rey?"
He mutters into his glass, "You said you liked that song once."
"That was six months ago."
He shrugs, staring out at the skyline. "It’s a good song."
You press play.
The soft thrum of guitar filters through the balcony speakers. You settle deeper into your chair, stealing a glance at him. He doesn’t look at you, but his fingers tap lightly against the glass in his hand, like he knows the rhythm.
"Bucky," you say quietly.
"Yeah?"
"You ever make a playlist of stuff you like?"
He pauses.
Then: "Yeah."
You tilt your head. "Where is it?"
He finally turns to look at you, eyes unreadable in the dark.
"You’re listening to it."
You don’t say anything.
Just sit there a little closer than you were five minutes ago. Listening to music you forgot you loved, playing from a phone you didn’t know he guarded like a secret.
And beside you, Bucky doesn’t say another word.
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The late afternoon sun casts long shadows over the compound’s training deck. You and Sam lean against the railing near the edge, both sipping electrolyte drinks like you’ve earned them—because you have. The sparring session was brutal. You’re still sweating.
"You really gonna pretend that wasn’t a low blow?" you ask, nudging him with your shoulder.
Sam smirks. "I don’t fight fair against people who fight like gremlins."
You snort. "You’ve been hanging out with Bucky too long."
He gives you a look. "I could say the same."
You roll your eyes and lean back, letting the breeze cool your neck. The compound stretches out behind you. Beyond the railing, the tree line sways with wind. It’s quiet up here. Too quiet for what Sam’s clearly building up to.
"So," he says slowly, "you and Barnes…"
You groan. "Sam—"
He holds up a hand. "I’m not starting shit. I’m just saying—five years, shared brain cell, matching battle bruises. It’s impressive how long you’ve both managed to not get together."
"We’re friends."
"Uh-huh."
"We are."
"Sure. And I just coincidentally saw him reading to you while you drooled on his chest the other night."
You flush. "Shut up."
Sam shrugs, then goes quiet for a few beats.
You both watch the trees for a while.
Then you say it, soft and thoughtless. "He’s my person."
Sam turns to you. "Yeah?"
You nod. "Always has been."
He studies you. "Then why do you sound sad when you say that?"
You blink.
And it hits you a second too late—how true it is. That slight ache behind your words. Like you know something’s there, but you won’t let yourself name it.
You look away. "I don’t."
Sam doesn’t argue.
He just takes a slow sip of his drink and says, "Okay."
You both stand there a while longer, letting the wind speak for you.
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The compound’s garage is quiet, save for the low whirr of a torque wrench and the hum of old rock bleeding from a dusty speaker on the counter.
Bucky’s crouched beside one of the team’s motorcycles, sleeves rolled, fingers smudged with grease. His metal hand adjusts a bolt like it’s second nature—smooth, practiced, something that doesn’t require thinking. Which is exactly why he’s doing it.
He doesn’t hear Steve come in. Just senses him. The shift in the air. That familiar presence.
Steve doesn’t say anything at first. Just walks around the bike, nodding once like he’s inspecting Bucky’s work. Then leans a hip against the nearby workbench.
A beat.
Then: "You ever gonna tell her?"
Bucky doesn’t look up. "Tell who what?"
"You know who. You know what."
He exhales through his nose, grabs a rag, wipes his hands like it gives him something to do. "It’s not like that."
Steve crosses his arms. "It’s exactly like that."
"She’s my friend."
"She’s your girl."
Bucky goes quiet.
The wrench gets set down. Carefully. Deliberately.
Then he says it, like the words taste like blood: "She’s everything I never thought I’d get."
Steve doesn’t interrupt.
Bucky runs a hand through his hair, grease streaking his temple. "That’s why I can’t touch it. You know what happens when I touch things I care about."
Steve’s voice softens. "She’s not a bomb, Buck."
"No," Bucky says, low. "She’s a home. And I’ve never had one that didn’t burn down."
Steve just watches him for a second, something flickering in his eyes—sadness, maybe. Recognition.
Then, gently: "She already knows. Maybe not the way you think. But she knows."
Bucky doesn’t answer.
He just sits back on his heels, eyes distant, grease-smudged fingers curled into fists.
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The table is small, scratched from years of card games and caffeine rings. You’re both barefoot, knees knocking under the surface every few hands, too lazy to adjust anymore.
Bucky shuffles with one hand, elegant and smooth. You tease him every time he does it. He never stops.
"You cheating again?" you ask, watching him deal.
"I’m just better at this than you."
"That’s rich coming from a man who thinks three of a kind beats a straight."
"That happened once."
"Three times."
He rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth.
You lean back in your chair, pretending to study your hand. "Y’know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you let me win."
"I do. Every time."
You glance up, surprised to find his gaze already on you.
The room suddenly feels too quiet.
You swallow, set your cards down slowly. "You’re not as slick as you think you are, Barnes."
He doesn’t respond. Just watches you. Like he’s waiting for something.
And for a second—just a second—you lean forward.
It’s instinct. Half of one. But you catch yourself. You don’t pull back fast, just… stall. Hovering in a space that wasn’t supposed to exist between you.
His breath shifts. Yours catches.
Then you blink, smile like it was a joke, and drop your cards on the table.
"Draw," you say.
Bucky looks down at the cards.
Then back at you.
He doesn’t smile again after that.
Not even when you flick a joker at his forehead on your way out of the room.
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It starts like nothing.
You come into the kitchen late one morning, hair damp from a quick shower, grabbing a banana and muttering about being late. Bucky’s sitting at the counter, sipping coffee, flipping a pen between his fingers.
You kiss his cheek without thinking—something you’ve done a hundred times—and open the fridge.
"I met someone," you say casually, like you’re announcing a weather update. "Yesterday. At that weird coffee place near Bryant Park."
Bucky’s pen stops spinning.
"Oh?" he says.
You’re rummaging through the shelves. "Yeah. We started talking about books. He bought me an extra lemon bar ‘cause the guy at the counter thought I was with him anyway. Whole thing was kinda funny."
"What’s his name?" Bucky asks, too evenly.
"Ethan." You pop a grape into your mouth. "Don’t know if it’ll go anywhere. He seems cool though. Tall. Real smooth."
You grin. You don’t see how Bucky’s fingers tighten around his coffee cup.
You don’t notice the pause before he says, "Huh. Smooth."
Then you start canceling.
You skip movie night. "Ethan got tickets to something last minute," you text.
You bail on your Thursday spar. "I’ll make it up to you," you promise.
You don’t.
The next week, you miss a team dinner. Don’t even text first this time.
Bucky shows up anyway. Sits in his usual seat. Orders your usual drink. Doesn’t say anything when it sits untouched.
When Sam asks, "She coming?" Bucky just shakes his head.
Later, when Steve mentions he hasn’t seen you in a few days, Bucky shrugs. "She’s probably just busy."
"Busy," Steve echoes. But his tone isn’t casual.
Bucky stops texting you at night. Stops sending you those dumb memes you always liked. He starts showing up early to meetings. Sits further from you in briefings. Doesn’t make a thing of it.
But every time someone says your name in a room and you’re not there?
He flinches.
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It’s supposed to be nothing.
Just a casual night—team pizza and bad TV, no agenda, no pressure. Bucky’s in the rec room with Sam and Steve, half-watching something with car crashes and questionable dialogue. He hasn’t asked about you.
He’s learned not to.
But when the door opens and you walk in, his head turns automatically.
And then he sees him.
Ethan’s got his hand resting casually on the small of your back. He’s laughing at something you just said. You’re holding a pizza box like a peace offering. Your eyes scan the room like this is normal.
Like this doesn’t matter.
"Hey," you say, smiling. "Hope you saved us a seat."
Us.
You set the pizza on the table, then turn toward the couch. "This is Ethan."
The room stills.
Ethan nods, friendly and warm. "Nice to meet you guys. I’ve heard a lot about this crew."
He extends a hand to Steve, who shakes it with that polite but measured grip. Sam’s smile is tight. Tony—already half-exiting the room—pops his head back in and goes, "Oh, so this is the famous Ethan."
You chuckle. "I haven’t said that much."
And Bucky?
He says nothing.
He just watches.
You don’t notice how he doesn’t blink when Ethan drapes an arm across the back of your chair.
How his jaw clenches when Ethan makes a joke about how "she always gets competitive with movies—bet I’ll regret sitting next to her."
How every single person in that room—Sam, Steve, even Tony—glances toward Bucky with the kind of tension people usually save for explosives.
Because there is one in the room.
And it has Bucky Barnes’ face.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even shift when you lean into Ethan and laugh at something in his ear.
He just stares at the screen, expression flat.
Until the pizza box is opened and the first slice hits your plate.
Then—quietly—he stands and walks out.
No words.
No drama.
Just silence.
The kind that sounds exactly like a fuse burning out.
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It’s the second time Ethan shows up at the compound that things start to fray.
You’re in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for some kind of potluck Tony insisted on throwing. You’re talking—telling a story from a recent op, gesturing wildly, laughing.
"Wait," Ethan says, interrupting mid-sentence. "Didn’t you say it was your left leg you landed on?"
You pause. "No. It was the right."
He chuckles like it’s adorable. "You sure? Pretty sure you said left the first time."
You blink. "I’m… sure."
Bucky, across the room slicing bread, stops mid-cut.
Steve watches him. Closely.
You laugh it off. "Either way, I didn’t break anything. Just a solid bruise."
Ethan leans in like he’s sharing something private. "Well, maybe next time don’t try to be the hero."
He means it as a joke. Maybe.
You smile like it didn’t land wrong. "That’s kind of in the job description."
A little later, you hum something under your breath while stirring sauce.
Ethan leans beside you and murmurs, "You still listening to that moody stuff? Thought we were gonna get you into real music."
Bucky’s hand clenches.
"Real music?" you echo.
"Y’know, fun stuff. Not that downer guitar chick thing. What’s her name?"
You don’t answer.
You change the song. You always change the song.
Later, at the table, you reach for seconds.
Ethan puts a hand gently over yours. "Babe," he says under his breath, "we’re trying to be good this week, remember?"
You smile.
It doesn’t reach your eyes.
Across the table, Bucky is silent. His food’s untouched. His eyes are on you.
Sam clears his throat, loudly.
Ethan doesn’t notice.
You do.
You say nothing.
When it’s over, Ethan goes to say goodbye, hand brushing down your spine like punctuation.
You stay behind to clean up.
Bucky’s already stacking plates. Quiet. Focused.
"Don’t," you say softly.
He pauses. "Don’t what?"
"Whatever that look is. Don’t."
"I didn’t say anything."
"That’s worse."
He looks at you then, really looks.
"I’m not mad at you," he says quietly. "I’m mad at myself."
You don’t ask what he means.
You don’t want to hear it.
You just take the plates from his hands and start rinsing.
And he watches you like he’s watching something walk out of a burning building.
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Sam’s door creaks open slowly, and before he even looks up from tying his laces, he mutters, "You better be bleeding."
Bucky steps in. Closes the door behind him.
His voice is too calm. That’s how Sam knows it’s bad.
"I’m going to kill him."
Sam exhales slowly. "Which him are we talking about?"
Bucky just stares.
"Cool," Sam says. "So, Ethan then."
There’s a long silence. Bucky doesn’t pace. Doesn’t explode. Just stands there, fists flexing and relaxing like a heartbeat.
"He talks over her," Bucky says finally. "Like she’s an inconvenience to his story."
Sam nods once.
"Corrects her. Tells her what to eat. What music to like. And she just—she laughs it off. Like it’s fine."
"She does that," Sam says quietly.
Bucky swallows hard. His voice drops. "She used to play that music in my room. Every damn night."
Sam looks up.
"She doesn’t even put it on anymore. She changes it when he’s around." Bucky’s voice cracks like it wants to be angry but can’t get past broken. "He’s rewiring her. Right in front of us."
Sam stands, walks over, and leans on the edge of his dresser. "You said anything to her?"
"What the fuck am I supposed to say?" Bucky snaps. "That I’ve been in love with her since the first time she called me out on my knife skills and didn’t flinch? That I let her fall asleep on me because it’s the closest thing I’ve had to peace in seventy years?"
He shakes his head, voice tightening.
"I see her smiling, but it’s not her. It’s smaller. Like she’s rationing it."
Sam doesn't move.
Bucky's jaw flexes. "If she ever asks me to sit across from him, pretend to play nice? I’ll say yes."
Sam raises an eyebrow. "Even if it wrecks you?"
"She won’t be alone," Bucky says quietly. "Not with him."
Sam watches him a long moment, then nods once. "Alright. Let me know when the curtain goes up."
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The rec room is warm and low-lit, late afternoon sun spilling in gold through the windows. You lean against the back of the couch, half-watching a movie with Sam while Bucky sits on the floor, elbows on his knees, aimlessly flipping a poker chip through his fingers.
You’ve been thinking about it all day.
Trying to make it feel casual. Simple. Like it’s just logistics.
"So," you start, tone light, "Ethan and I are doing dinner Friday. Thought it might be fun to make it a double."
The chip freezes in Bucky’s hand.
Sam turns his head so slowly it’s almost comical.
You keep your voice breezy. "I figured we could try mixing groups a little, you know? He’s met most of the team now. Might be good to—blend worlds."
You glance at Bucky, and there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his face. Just for a second.
Then it’s gone.
"Sure," he says.
Just that. Simple. Too fast.
You blink. "Really?"
He shrugs. "Why not."
Sam says nothing, but his eyes are screaming. You can feel them boring through the back of your skull.
You cross your arms. "Bring someone, obviously. No pressure. Sam probably knows someone who can tolerate you for two hours."
Bucky smirks faintly, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. "I’ll ask around."
Sam leans forward, setting his drink down slowly. "This sounds like a terrible idea," he says, voice dry as the Mojave.
You shoot him a look. "I’m not asking you to come, Wilson."
"Not for me," he mutters. "For him."
Bucky doesn’t flinch.
You catch the edge in Sam’s tone but choose not to push. "It’s just dinner."
"No such thing," Sam mutters.
Bucky stands, tossing the poker chip back onto the coffee table with a soft clack. "Let me know where."
And then he walks out.
Not dramatically.
Just gone.
You stare after him, mouth slightly open.
Sam exhales, pinches the bridge of his nose.
"You two are gonna kill each other," he mutters. "And I’m gonna have to officiate the damn funeral."
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The restaurant is one of those modern, steel-and-glass places with a name you can’t pronounce and candles that smell like irony. You’re seated already, laughing at something Ethan just said, one hand wrapped around your glass, the other brushing the edge of the linen tablecloth. You keep checking the door.
Then Bucky walks in.
He’s in black—black button-down, sleeves rolled to the forearm, jacket slung over his shoulder. His hair’s tied back. He’s not smiling.
He’s not looking at you.
A woman walks beside him—tall, pretty, confident in that effortless New York way. Sam’s friend, you remember vaguely. She's polite. Friendly. She greets you with warmth.
Bucky just nods.
You don’t know where to put your hands.
Ethan stands and shakes Bucky’s hand, too firm, too performative. “Glad you could make it, man.”
“Sure,” Bucky says, tone unreadable.
You feel the shift immediately.
The way his eyes flick to your glass when Ethan refills it for you without asking. The way he doesn’t sit until his date is settled. The way he keeps his hands folded in his lap, like he’s bracing for something.
You’re all pretending to be normal.
Ethan is telling some story about a board meeting. Bucky’s date listens politely. You laugh when you’re supposed to.
Bucky doesn’t laugh.
He doesn’t speak much, either.
When he does, it’s short. Clipped. Measured.
Ethan orders the second bottle of wine before you finish your first.
Bucky glances at the label. Doesn’t say a word.
And then the waiter comes back.
Menu in hand.
Pen poised.
And Ethan speaks first.
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The waiter barely finishes asking before Ethan’s voice cuts in, confident and smooth.
“She’ll have the halibut,” he says, flashing a smile. “No sauce. Sub greens for the fries.”
Your mouth opens. Not wide. Just enough.
Like your body can’t decide whether to protest or laugh it off.
You glance at him.
Ethan doesn’t look back.
Just says softly—soft enough that only you and Bucky can hear— “Don’t make me remind you again.”
It’s casual. Gentle, even. Except it’s not.
You go quiet.
And Bucky—
—stops breathing.
His fork doesn’t move. His shoulders don’t shift. His eyes stay locked on the tablecloth like it just declared war.
The woman next to him, his date, senses it. Her eyes flick between you and him. Something passes across her face—uncertainty, maybe. Or pity.
The silence is a heartbeat too long.
Then Bucky stands.
Not abruptly. Not loudly.
He just folds his napkin. Sets it beside his plate. Pushes his chair back with surgical quiet.
“I’ll be outside.”
You blink. “What? Buck—”
He’s already walking.
His date glances at you, at the table, then quietly reaches for her purse. “I think I’ll call it too.”
You offer to order her a car.
She smiles faintly. “He already did. Said he doesn't do rideshare apps. Too ‘traceable.’” She says it like it’s a joke. But her eyes linger on the door.
And then she’s gone too.
You sit there with Ethan’s hand on your knee and your heart somewhere in the sidewalk outside.
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You stand slowly.
Ethan doesn’t even look up from his phone at first.
Then, casually, “Where are you going?”
You pause. “Out.”
He finally looks at you. His mouth twitches—half-smile, half-warning. “We haven’t even ordered dessert.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You said you were.”
You blink at him. “Ethan—”
He sets his phone down, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Don’t make this a thing. It’s been a nice night.”
Your stomach twists.
You don’t answer. You just grab your coat and move for the door.
Behind you: “Seriously? You’re just walking out?”
You don’t turn around.
You push through the restaurant doors—
—and the rain hits you like a wall.
Hard. Cold. Real.
And there he is.
Bucky.
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He doesn't speak at first.
You stand there, rain soaking through your dress, breath uneven, watching the way his fingers clench and unclench like they’re trying to hold something in that doesn’t want to be kept.
His jaw flexes.
And then he laughs.
It’s bitter. Hollow. It dies before it even gets out of his throat.
“I told myself I could handle it,” he says. Voice low. Rough. “Told myself I could watch it happen. You and him.”
You don’t move.
“But then I saw the way he looked at you in there.” He gestures behind him, toward the glowing restaurant windows. “Like you’re something to manage. Like you’re furniture. Background noise.”
“Bucky—”
“You haven’t smiled in weeks,” he says, and it’s a knife. “Not really. Not the way you used to. Not the way you did when it was just us.”
You open your mouth, but he cuts you off.
“And you—” he points at you now, soaked, shaking. “You changed your music. Your food. You stopped showing up.”
“Things are just—”
“No,” he snaps. “Don’t give me that. You disappeared. One day you were there—laughing at my cooking, stealing my hoodies, falling asleep with your head on my chest—and then you were gone. Like none of it mattered.”
You swallow hard. “You never said it mattered.”
His expression cracks.
For the first time in weeks, maybe months—he lets you see all of it.
“I didn’t think I could,” he whispers. “I didn’t think I was allowed.”
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The rain keeps falling, soaking both of you straight through, but neither of you moves.
You can hear it in your chest—his breathing. Too fast. Too shallow.
“I’m in love with you,” Bucky says.
Just like that.
No hesitation.
His voice breaks like it hurts to say it—but he says it anyway.
“I have been,” he continues. “Since long before I even knew what to do with it.”
You’re frozen.
He doesn’t look away. “I didn’t tell you because I thought I’d ruin it. Ruin us. And maybe I already did. Maybe I waited too long. But I can’t—” his hand gestures, desperate, “—I can’t stand by and watch someone like him shrink you.”
“I didn’t see it,” you whisper.
“Yes, you did.” His voice is gentler now. “But you didn’t want to.”
Silence.
Rain dripping from your lashes.
And then:
“I don’t expect anything,” he says quietly. “I just needed you to know.”
You step forward.
One step.
Then another.
And before he can say another word, your hands are in his hair, his name falling off your lips, and you kiss him.
Hard.
Desperate.
Like your body just remembered what home feels like.
He doesn’t hesitate. His arms wrap around your waist, lift you up like instinct. You gasp against his mouth as your feet leave the ground, your fingers knotting tighter into his hair. The kiss breaks only for breath—just enough for you to whisper, “You idiot.”
Then your mouth is on his again.
There’s nothing soft about it.
It’s wild and soaked and years in the making.
And when he finally sets you down, forehead pressed to yours, both of you gasping—
Neither of you lets go.
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The compound door clicks open, rain dripping in behind you, and Bucky barely waits for it to shut before you’re against the wall, his mouth on your neck.
You’re soaked—your dress clinging, his shirt plastered to his chest, both of you shaking from more than just the cold.
Your hands are in his hair again. You never even remember putting them back there. His fingers press into your hips like he still can’t believe you’re real.
Then you hear it.
"Uh—"
You freeze mid-kiss.
Bucky’s lips stay against your jaw for a beat longer before he pulls back, breathless.
You both turn.
Steve’s standing in the kitchen, holding a dish towel and looking every bit like someone who just walked in on a private movie. He covers his eyes with it, half-laughing, half-mortified.
"Oh my god," he mutters. "Finally. But also—Jesus."
To his left, Tony stands with a drink in one hand and a deeply amused expression.
He slow claps.
"No notes," he says. "Excellent execution. Loved the intensity. Real Nicholas Sparks climax."
Sam is silent.
Just staring.
Mouth open. Processing. Concerned.
"Y’all good?" he finally says. "Do we need to… call someone? Light a candle? I don’t know what protocol is here."
Bucky’s hand never leaves your hip.
Yours never leaves his hair.
You just smile.
"Goodnight, boys," you say sweetly, walking backward toward the hallway with Bucky close behind, his hand firmly guiding you like he’s not planning on letting go for a second.
Tony raises his glass.
Steve laughs and shakes his head.
And then you’re gone.
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The door clicks closed behind you with more force than either of you intended, and suddenly there is only darkness, only the sound of your breaths and rain still dripping somewhere behind the walls. You’re tangled, desperate, skin slick.
Bucky’s mouth crashes into yours, teeth grazing, tongue urgent and claiming. His hands grip your thighs, lift you, and instinct drives you right back onto him—legs wrapping tight around his waist, pressing him closer. You're standing, but it’s like you're weightless, tethered to him.
You yank at his hair—long strands plucked free from the rainy night—fingers curling into his scalp. He groans, deep and ripping between your lips, breath rough and broken. One metal hand slides under your dress, fingertips searing over bare flesh. You gasp around a moan, head lolling back.
He lowers you to the bed with godlike care for the beast he’s just unleashed. His hands splay across your ribs, memorizing the slow-thumping beat beneath his fingers. His lips kiss down your spine, biting and worshipful both. You feel every thread of fabric around you vanish.
Your hands go straight to his belt. You undo it with swift impatience. He stops you, thumbs catching the hem of your dress, pulling it higher before lifting you so he can slip it off your hips.
Your skin shows first to each other in the soft glow of the bedside lamp—your bodies illuminated in real, flesh-and-blood detail. No choreography. Just hunger.
He parts your thighs, lips hovering near your core. A soft exhale, a whispered, "Mine." Then he’s kissing you —tongue sliding, exploring, teasing, tasting. You cry out, and your nails dig into his shoulder, leaving crescent marks he’ll wear proudly. His fingers slip inside you—gentle at first, then curl and stretch.
You feel him stop, pull away, and just when you panic, his metal hand cradles your cheek. He kisses you again, slower now, his voice husky, "I’ve wanted this for so long."
Your breath hitches. He moves, sliding inside you in one powerful thrust. You gasp, arching your back.
He moves slowly, then faster—hands in your hair, one arm around your back, holding you close as your bodies collide. The bed creaks. Your moans fill the space between words. He buries his face in your neck, chasing scent and solace.
Your legs tighten around him. "Yes," you whisper. "God, yes."
He steadies you, thrusts deep—slow, fucking deep—then draws away only to come back with everything he’s held in for months… years. You shudder, chest trembling, nails scoring his back.
"Don’t stop," you breathe. It’s more plea than command. He answers with more fierce persistence.
Something loose and fragile inside you snaps—you come apart on him, gasping in his arms. He groans low—fucking groans—and follows after, teeth clenching, whole body flooding before collapsing across yours.
The world stops.
You collapse together, chests rising, bodies sticky and slick, internal storms quieted at last by each other's touch. He buries his face in your hair, kisses your forehead in tiny, reverent gestures.
You run your fingers over every ridge of his arms, thighs, chest—like you're sealing yourself in forever.
After a long moment, you say, "Finally."
He lifts his head, voice soft with awe. "Yeah."
And with no sense of hurry, you drift into sleep together—entwined, at peace, at home.
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It’s warm.
Not just the blankets. Not just the air thick with sunrise.
But him.
He’s behind you, arm slung low around your waist, chest pressed to your back, breath feathering slow and even against your shoulder. Your bodies are still tangled, your legs looped around his like you never learned how to sleep apart.
You don’t want to move.
But you do—slowly, carefully, just enough to turn and face him.
His eyes open the second you do.
Not groggy.
Not startled.
Just soft.
You blink up at him. "Been awake?"
He nods, barely.
"How long?"
"Long enough to not want it to end."
You smile, cheek pressed into his pillow. "That’s disgustingly sweet."
He shrugs, metal hand smoothing down your spine. "You bring it out in me. Don’t spread that around."
"Your secret’s safe." You shift, dragging your hand across his ribs, over the faded scars and firm muscle. "For now."
Bucky leans in, kisses your temple. Then your cheek. Then just hovers there—like he wants to keep kissing you but he doesn’t want to break the moment.
You kiss him instead.
Slow. Lazy. Morning-sweet.
Then you stretch. "Shower?"
He raises a brow. "Together?"
You grin. "You really asking that?"
He laughs, full-bodied and happy. "God, I love you."
He freezes.
You freeze.
Neither of you speaks for a long second.
Then he clears his throat. "I mean—I didn’t mean—"
You cut him off with another kiss.
"You did."
He exhales, eyes wide.
You kiss him again. "I love you too."
His arms wrap around you tighter like he’s afraid someone’s going to pull you away.
You stay there for a while longer.
Because there’s no rush now.
There’s everything.
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The kitchen is warm with sunlight and sarcasm. Steve’s already nursing a mug. Sam’s reading something on a tablet. Tony is, predictably, poking at a holographic spreadsheet he’ll abandon in five minutes.
You walk in barefoot.
Wearing Bucky’s shirt.
Nothing else.
Bucky follows a step behind, hair still damp, that same unreadable smugness barely hidden behind his yawn.
Sam’s the first to notice.
He glances up, squints, freezes.
Then chokes spectacularly on his coffee.
"Jesus," he wheezes.
Tony turns. Smiles.
Then full-on claps.
"Round two of the Barnes Redemption Arc," he says, grinning. "This one has considerably more nudity."
Steve doesn’t even pretend to be surprised.
He just lifts his mug and says, "Took you long enough."
You roll your eyes and walk straight to the coffee pot like this is any other morning.
Bucky follows, pulls down your favorite mug, pours for you. Like muscle memory.
Sam is still coughing. "I’m sorry, are we all just acting like this is normal now?"
Steve shrugs. "It was inevitable."
Tony raises a brow. "Inevitable and loud. The walls here are thin."
You sip your coffee calmly. "Then maybe don’t eavesdrop."
"I wasn’t the one narrating," Tony shoots back. "That was him."
Bucky, unbothered, sips his own mug. "Not sorry."
Sam just shakes his head, muttering into his hand, "This is some old-school enemies to lovers fanfic bullshit."
You lean into Bucky’s side, plant a kiss on his jaw in full view of everyone.
"I’m happy," you say simply.
He wraps his arm around your waist and murmurs back, "Me too."
Tony groans. "You’re gonna make me believe in love, and I hate that for me."
You kiss Bucky again.
Just to be sure it’s real.
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