#that shoulder shot makes me go 🤪

[storge]

Story of Kunning Palace (2023)

[thewidowsledger]

The Call

Chapter 3: 7 Minutes in Heaven | 7.5k

© thewidowsledger - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Summary: You were supposed to take her out—the infamous Black Widow—Natasha Romanoff. The S.H.I.E.L.D. has been keeping an eye on her for a while now and for some reason, another high-ranking agent as you was sent to get the mission done. But then, he made a different call leading the mission to be here in front of you, soon to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

Pairings: Ex-Russian Agent Natasha Romanoff x Senior S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Female Reader

Tags | Warnings: 18+, fluff, sparring, jealousy, triggering Natasha's trauma, asshole Daisy, yummy awkward Nat, sexual innuendos, flirting, dirty talk, praising, Natasha making r make inappropriate sounds😩🤪 kissing

Author's Note: Based on my own experience but I changed it a bit, lol. Enjoy, I'll see you when I see you :)))

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⧗

“Johnson was there in her office.”

“What?!” Yelena shot back.

“She had flowers with her.” Natasha added not sure if she should say it now that she knows how Yelena will overreact.

“What?!” Yelena exclaimed again as she palmed her forehead, “What are they talking about? Did you hear?” she added in a rush. “No, she asked her to leave when I came in.”

“That's good, that's good.” Yelena said, trying to calm herself or gaslight herself rather.

Natasha posed a question that left Yelena stunned, “Do…do you think Y/N still has feelings for her?”

“She told me she's over it and I’m making sure that it really is.”

Natasha just nodded slowly pulling the sleeves of her pink shirt up to her shoulders innocently, “I’ll go get some water.”

“Sure, sure,” Yelena tried to hide the devilishly smile naturally forming in her face but as soon as Natasha walked away, she aggressively tapped Madisynn’s thigh.

“Aw!” Madisynn swatted Yelena's hand away.

“Do you know what's on my mind right now?” Yelena asked the girl who was dumbly tilting her head at her. But Yelena gave her a knowing look that made the girl’s head light like a bulb.

“Oh, I think I do know what's on your mind,” she said as she looked at your figure walking towards them. “Hi boss!” She greeted in a squeal.

You looked at the two confusingly not liking the evil faces they're making right now. “Okay, enough of that look. Stop grinning at me, you both look like a pervert.”

“Foul!”

“You're so mean!”

“Where's…Agent Romanoff?” You asked ignoring their whines and you wished it came off casually. But the two agents only grinned once again at your question, you immediately caught their reactions and you crossed your arms at them waiting for an answer.

“There she is!” Madisynn pointed behind you, her nails never failing to flex.

You immediately turn to see Natasha, her shirt sleeves rolled up to her shoulders and her biceps were godly…you thought to yourself. If only you knew the two agents caught you checking Natasha out.

“We haven't done anything yet but it's working already.” Madisynn whispered to the blonde.

“I know, I know. This is gonna be so much fun.”

⧗

The team-building event got off to a great start. All the agents were thoroughly enjoying themselves as they played various games together. Shouting, clapping, laughing here and there, it was a sight to see and it was a fun experience. Could you imagine that these agents were trained to save the world but right now they're trying to balance plastic cups on their heads? It was the only time when the entire agency came together to unwind and have some fun and be free with themselves while simultaneously strengthening their bonds with each other.

Many teams had already been eliminated, but thankfully, yours was still in the running for the game. You heard Yelena taking charge and leading your team as if they were on a real mission, you couldn't help but burst into a fit of giggles.

“Okay you idiots, balloon bust, the instruction is very easy we’ve done this last last year guys. We just have to keep the balloon up on our stomach, no dropping, no popping. Be gentle with the balloon,” she relayed, as if it was a serious mission. “It’s our baby!” she clapped between each word.

The team just nodded eagerly cheering themselves as they went to grab their own balloons. You hyped your team up by giving them thumbs up and a lot of claps.

Your gaze shifted towards Natasha and you observed how she seemed a little lost throughout the game. Yet, she hadn't lost her endearing smile the entire time. She has been asking Yelena over and over on how she's supposed to play in each game, on how she is going to contribute to win and Yelena has been nothing but patient towards her, guiding her and giving her tasks on what to do.

The thought hit you then, it is her first time experiencing something like this. Her entire life she was used to working alone. You knew her past, of course you do. You know how she hadn't had the luxury of playing with dolls, teddy bears, and make-up like you had. Instead, she had spent her childhood toying with real guns, learning to crack codes on computers, and mastering the art of physical combat that if she fails every time—she’ll end up tied up in a cell or eat no food for days.

She was too young for that, she was supposed to be protected—no kid deserves that.

As you stared at Natasha, a pang of pain gripped your heart. You watched as she laughed when she saw Yelena huffing in frustration after her balloon popped. Your entire team had given up, and all of them just ended up bursting into laughter, lying on the ground.

Your team ran back at you, waiting for the next game. Natasha was still giggling her life out, shaking Yelena's shoulder.

“Hey Romanoff, water?” she was the first one you offered water.

When she looked stunned and didn't respond, you chuckled faintly, which seemed to make her even more surprised.

“C'mon, take it before I take it back,” you urged and Natasha quickly snatched the bottle from your hand. As you handed out the water to the rest of your team, you couldn't help but notice the adorable blush spreading across her cheeks.

You watched Natasha as she gulped down the entire water in the bottle in one go. You were fixated on her neck, watching the way her throat moved with each gulp. She had chugged it down so quickly, like it was just a matter of three quick swallows. The sight of her holding onto the empty bottle, squeezing it tightly, was doing strange things to you. As you continued to observe Natasha, a warmth crept up your face.

“Hey, boss, we need you for the next game.” Yelena informed behind you, pulling you out of your trance.

“Me?” You turned to look at her as you pointed to yourself as if you weren't just checking out the redhead.

“Yeah, it's three-legged race. We're only five,” she shrugged innocently but in the back of her head she’s plotting something.

“You're my partner,” you immediately told her.

“Nuh uh, Nat’s your partner. You're almost the same height though she's taller than you. Madisynn and I have the same height so…” Before you could even protest further, Yelena tightly grasped your wrist and forcefully dragged you towards Natasha. As you approach her, you catch sight of her lifting her shirt to wipe some sweat from her forehead, revealing a glimpse of her well-toned abs.

You had seen all her muscular frame in all its glory for today.

“Where's your ribbon Nat?” Yelena asked. As Natasha hesitantly handed it to Yelena, Yelena pushed you down, causing you to yelp. Before you realized what was happening, Natasha was also pushed down and you found yourselves side by side. The blonde then knelt down in front of both you and Natasha, preparing to bind your legs together.

Yelena smirked mischievously as she observed the scene in front of her, her task completed, “Perfect!” she exclaimed before walking back in front of your team’s line. You and Natasha were left stunned, your bodies pressed close together.

“Are you okay?” She asked quietly, tugging her sleeves down, embarrassed at how sweaty she was, “You're tight?” Realizing how she worded the question Natasha immediately palmed her face looking the other way, “I mean no-not t-tight for you?”

You didn't miss the curse that came after that.

“I’m fine, you?” you replied, not bothering the silly, nasty, cute mistake and tried to sound authoritative. She just gave you a thumbs up and put both her arms on her knees.

An awkward silence hung in the air after your brief exchange, until the shrill sound of a whistle pierced through, signaling the start of the race.

Darcy, the designated emcee for the day, called out, her voice echoing through the area, “Are the teams ready for the race?” A twinkle danced in her eyes as she added, “Did you know that they say 80% of the paired players for this game usually end up together?”

Yelena leaned over to Madisynn and muttered, a mischievous smile on her face, “Darcy definitely knows the assignment.” Madisynn smirked in agreement, seemingly in on the unspoken plan they had in mind and nodded.

However, you and Natasha missed the playful comment because you were too focused on planning your strategy for the race.

“Coordination, Natasha okay?” You reiterated and she agreed, her cheeks turning a slight shade of red. Natasha felt a different kind of warmth as you spoke to her with a gentle tone, different from your usual cold and robotic tone. And the way you called her by her first name sent a flutter through her heart.

Daisy stood at a distance, her eyes locked on you and Natasha as you talked. She clenched her fist tightly, not liking how close you were to the red head.

A shrill whistle pierced the air once again, signaling the start of the race and a chorus of cheers and shouts echoed loudly as the first pair sprinted off, kicking up dust and sand behind them.

Sensing a bit of struggle on Natasha's part, you offered, “You can hold onto my shoulder if that'll make it easier for you.”

Natasha nodded appreciatively, her left arm about to reach for your shoulders when she surprised you by gently taking your right arm instead. She positioned it around her back, creating a more intimate position as you both clung to each other for support. The unexpected action caused you to blush and you found yourself pulled closer to her as Yelena and Madisynn handed you the flag, signaling your turn to start.

As you began the race, the mood was lighthearted, filled with laughter and giggles. You started off good, however, just as things seemed to be going well, you suddenly tripped and lost your balance, causing you to stumble forward. But Natasha was quick to hold you back, grabbing you by the waist, preventing you from falling forward. In the process, your hands inadvertently landed on her abdomen, seeking support.

“That was really stupid,” you manage to say between giggles.

“You're fine, we’re close c’mon,” Natasha encouraged sheepishly, her response catching you off guard as it was the first time she had talked to you again this entire game.

“Left, right, left…”

You and Natasha continued with the race, Yelena and your team eagerly watched and cheered from the sidelines, supporting you every step of the way. They shouted encouragement and teasing comments.

“I am going to tie you both for life!” Yelena exclaimed.

“Fall for Nat, boss! She’ll catch you!”

“Don't get too tangled up now!”

As you dashed towards the finish line, an unexpected trip caused you to falter—again. Natasha's quick reflexes kicked in once again. Her hand moved swiftly to support your head, preventing it from hitting the surface with a thud. She acted instinctively, shielding you from further harm. With a soft thump, you found yourself on the ground and Natasha was now on top of you. Her right hand holding the back of your head, her body hovering over yours.

Natasha's gaze remained fixed on you as you burst into a fit of laughter, lying on the floor. She couldn't help but marvel at the sight before her, no cold voice just your laughter filling the air. No hint of seriousness on your face, your unguarded expression and carefree attitude were delightful to behold.

As you continued to lie on the ground, laughing uncontrollably, you didn't notice Daisy appearing and giving Natasha a push from the sides. This unexpected shove caused Natasha to stumble and fall beside you, landing rather clumsily on the ground.

“Get away from her.”

“Fuck off, Daisy,” Yelena snapped coldly as she shoved Daisy away, Madisynn immediately knelt in front of you and Natasha to untie the ribbon.

Daisy was already back in her team’s position when you got up, her team trying to soothe her. Natasha saw you looking at Daisy’s direction as if you were checking on her—on your ex-fiance.

“Y/N…I’m sor—”

“I’m sorry about that Romanoff, are you okay?” you turned to her and touched her arm which made the redhead shudder.

Back with the last name basis now?

“I-I’m fine boss.” She stuttered, stunned at your apology. She scratched the back of her neck as she looked away but looking away wouldn't hide the redness of her face.

“Piece of advice, please don't interact with her,” you gave her a half smile tapping her arm twice before shouting to your team.

“Get up! Get up!”

⧗

The sudden news hit you like a flash. One of your agents had accepted a sparring challenge from a senior of another division. It is one of the activities your team-building events often took as a competitive edge.

You realized from the start that you had forgotten to remind your team not to participate. But it was a well-established rule that shouldn't need to be constantly reiterated, the sparring challenges were typically reserved for the more seasoned members, the oldies of the agency—the seniors and Natasha isn't one.

“Fucking hell.” You hissed, striding towards the area where the sparring match was taking place, “Romanoff is really testing my patience.”

How come that you were really soft with the agent earlier and now? You're back being a meanie to her?

Yelena tried to defend her partner, her voice a squeak. “She didn't know!” she protested. “She's only been here a few months. She's clueless and her senior isn't even making things easy on her.”

You were seething with anger as you heard Yelena's words. You halted in your tracks and turned around, your gaze locking onto the blonde, who suddenly looked like a frightened child under your intense stare. You fought to regulate your breathing, trying to maintain your composure. Deep down, you knew that Yelena had a point. Her words were stinging because they held a measure of truth. Yet, your ego couldn't help but bristle at the audacity of her calling you out like that.

The sound of raucous cheering jolted you back to reality, you pushed the door swinging open with a harsh creak, you felt a sudden wave of attention directed your way. Numerous agents turned their heads in your direction. It was obvious that your arrival had caused a ripple of interest amongst the crowd. Well, let's just say that the opponent that your agent is fighting is none other than your ex-fiance.

“Fucking hell.” You muttered to yourself as you balled your fists.

You hate her for being so naive…but god, she is now positioned in the ring and greeted you with an innocent wave. The protective mouthguard showed as she tried to smile. How are you supposed to hate that?

Despite your anger towards her naivety you managed to wave back but she wasn't able to see it as your ex-fiance landed a punch on her face, you involuntarily flinched and placed a palm on your forehead. Well, that was awkward.

“Get her Romanoff!” Yelena shouted from behind, you swear you heard her betting $20 for Natasha.

“She was supposed to take you out,” Daisy growled at the redhead, her boxing gloves poised to deliver another punch anytime.

Natasha furrowed her brows together but she didn't mind what Daisy was trying to say. Natasha seized an opening and threw a punch on her sides, catching Daisy off guard and regaining the upper hand in the fight. The impact sent Daisy stumbling back a few steps, momentarily stunned by the unexpected offensive move. But then a smirk creeped out on her face.

“You're supposed to be history by now if it wasn't by Barton.” Daisy's words, though meant to rile Natasha up, seemed to be taking effect now. “If it was Y/N, you’d be dead by now.”

Natasha's breath hitched at the revelation and Daisy saw the horror that flashed into the redhead's eye. Natasha clenched her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut.

Rule number 1: Never take your eye away from your opponent.

Another wave of cheers and shouting from the crowds surrounded the boxing ring as Natasha seized another opportunity, throwing another punch this time connecting with Daisy's cheek. It seemed as if Daisy was deliberately allowing Natasha to land blows, letting her get a few hits in. No, letting her hit her.

You stood there, frozen. You are really not liking this.

You saw Daisy's lips moving, clearly as if she was saying something to Natasha. While you also noticed how the redhead’s body tensed up and you saw her focus seemed to be shaken a little.

“Dreykov’s daughter?” You whispered to yourself as you read the words coming out of Daisy's lips. The redhead tried to throw another punch but Daisy was able to dodge it sending back a punch to Natasha's stomach.

“I won't let Y/N be with a killer like you.”

The words made Natasha’s emotions reach a breaking point, as if something snapped inside her she immediately moved forward encircling her arm around Daisy's neck locking in a tight grip. She then swung her other fist at Daisy, her boxing glove landing a powerful punch on her face as she kept her arm locked around her. The impact sent Daisy kneeling while Natasha stood behind her not letting her go, causing gasps and murmurs from the surrounding crowd.

The referee blew his whistle with a sharp, shrill sound, which echoed through the ring. He then extended his arm and pointed directly at Natasha, who had staggered backward losing her hold on Daisy.

Daisy recovered from the forceful blows, she rose unsteadily to her feet, her left eye was swollen and there was a cut on her lips. She let out a guttural snarl and stalked Natasha who was crawling backwards, Daisy leaned down to her and yelled, “Are you tryna kill me, too? Huh?!”

“You fucking kill—”

“Watch your next words Johnson!” You yelled as you ran and jumped towards the ring.

“Y/N she went out with the rules! She…she almost—” Daisy stopped when she saw you kneel in front of Natasha.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha immediately whispered. You furrowed your brows at her.

“Romanoff…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” her voice became hoarse as she repeatedly whispered. As she continued to apologize, you stared into her eyes, noticing a look in them that revealed something deeper than mere regret. It was as though a hidden trigger had been set off within her.

“Romanoff…” you called out to her again.

“I’m sorry, Y/N…I—” she choked.

“Nat,” you called softly as you brought your hands on her cheeks. Her lips trembled as she finally looked at you, “You're okay,” you gave her a smile and she nodded slowly as if she was high with the sound of your gentle voice and your soft feathery touch.

As if she was an evil and you were an angel attempting to soothe her troubled soul.

“Yelena,” you summoned the blonde over. You removed the gloves on her hands and Natasha's gaze remained fixed on your every move, her eyes never straying as if she feared losing this connection between you—it was the closest she's been with you. Her breath hitched when you moved away to give Yelena a way to help Natasha stand. Yelena knelt in front of her and propped her up with a supportive arm around her shoulder.

You watched as Natasha and Yelena slowly moved out of the ring and away from the center of attention.

You ex-fiance, who stood surrounded by her team members from her division, remained surprisingly calm. She has been watching how you treated Natasha and she didn't like it—she wanted to tear you away from her.

You stepped up closer to her, your voice low and filled with venom as you spat out, “You know she was a new recruit and you still challenged her.”

“Oh Y/N we all know she's more than just a recruit.”

You huffed at her words, you couldn't hold the outrage any longer and you hissed back, “You think I didn't notice? You triggered my agent!” Your voice trembled in anger. “Dreykov's daughter? Really? You would bring that up? How did you even know about that?” You started eyeing each of her team who were looking down to try and avoid your gaze. You know damn well that they know something about it. You huffed on how pathetic they looked.

Natasha's information was kept under you since she was your mission back then. No one could access this information unless they possessed the same level of clearance and security clearance as you did as a level 7 S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

Dreykov's daughter was the collateral damage to end Dreykov himself, to end the empire he built that brought horrors to the lives of young little girls. It was the last thing Natasha did before getting into the S.H.I.E.L.D. with the help of Clint.

You turned your gaze back to Daisy who is now looking down too. “Daisy…” you squeezed your eyes shut, “I forgave you for what you did to us,” you gulped as you tried to hold your tears at bay, you couldn't even utter the words that would bring up the memory of her betrayal. That she cheated.

The silence that had fallen over the entire room was almost deafening and you could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze bearing down to the both of you. You’ve had so much attention today already.

“Please stop going out of your way for this. Stop embarrassing yourself, you look desperate.” With that, you immediately stepped out the ring leaving her, she tried to go after you but her team immediately held her back.

⧗

After reading the text from Yelena, you can't believe it - they're still planning on going to the after-party after what just went down. You can feel the frustration rising inside you, almost boiling over as you read the message again.

“Please, Y/N join us, we’re all here with Natasha. She’s okay now but she's got bruised lippie though.”

“If you're scared that earthquake’s gonna be here, no she's not, so please join us here boss.”

Yelena then sent a video after she noticed that all her messages were just marked as seen by you. It's your team whining in the background, begging you to come to the party, but your gaze was fixated on Natasha's face on the screen. She waved shyly, her bruised lips forming a tight-lipped smile, the sight just making you sigh disappointingly before getting out of your car.

As you made your way into the party, you were relieved to find that most eyes were averted from you. You had been expecting a similar scene as the one earlier when you confronted your ex-fiance, but it seemed that the focus was on other things now. Maybe they're tired of the drama you had with her.

You spotted your team at a table near the bar, a few drinks already in front of them. They looked up as you approached, welcoming you with broad grins.

Yelena was the first one to greet you with a sly smile, acting as if nothing had happened earlier. “Well, look who decided to show up,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Here, let me help you with that.”

Before you could protest, Yelena had taken your purse and was leading you to a seat at their table. She pulled out the chair for you, gesturing for you to sit down.

Madisynn who was next to you, slurred slightly, a sure sign that alcohol had definitely gotten into her system already. She stumbled over to you, her eyes lighting up as she turned and saw you. Her gaze lingered on you for a second before realizing it's you, her voice was slightly slurred as she exclaimed, “Boss! I'm so happy to see you. You look hella sexy in that dress! Right, Romanoff?!”

Natasha, who had been quiet until now, spoke up timidly. “Yeah, you look…” she trailed off, careful on what to say, you really looked sexy right now. The way that your black dress hugged your body and highlighted your curves, but she didn't want to sound perverted

“Beautiful,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

Yelena leaned in closely, her lips hovering mere centimeters from your ear. She looked at Natasha before whispering, loud enough for the redhead to hear, “I think you look delicious right now, Y/N.”

She then playfully nipped at your earlobe with her teeth, a sly smirk on her face. The brief contact sent a shiver down your spine. Yelena was never one to hold her tongue, she didn't have a filter and often spoke her mind without thinking.

You however, decided to play along with Yelena's antics, you faced her with a coy smile. Your faces were now mere inches apart, and you could see a hint of redness creeping up on Yelena's cheeks.

For a moment, it seemed like she was taken aback by your boldness, but then she regained her composure. Still, she couldn't help but back down slightly, her gaze lingering on your face before quickly looking away. You smirked as Yelena visibly backed down, her confidence faltering for a moment. Deciding to tease her further, you leaned in even closer and said, “What's wrong, Yelena? I thought I looked delicious.”

Natasha watched the exchange between you and Yelena, her eyes narrowing slightly. She hadn't realized just how close you were with Yelena, and it made her shift a little awkwardly in her seat.

A pang of jealousy flared up within her, but she quickly pushed it down. It was none of her business who you chose to be close to even if it's with her closest friend, and besides she had no right to feel possessive over you. Not when you hate her.

Not when you were supposed to be the one to take her out.

Still, the sight of Yelena being so flirtatious with you made her feel a little bothered. She found herself coughing involuntarily. It was an unexpected reaction, and she quickly tried to cover it up with a sip of her drink.

Yelena caught sight of Natasha and a sly grin spread across her face. She exchanged a glance with Madisynn in a brief second enough for you and Natasha not to notice.

“You okay, Romanoff?” The blonde asked, as she wrapped her hands on your waist, you on the other hand leaned to the blonde—not aware of the antics that she and Madisynn planned.

You were comfortable with Yelena's closeness, having known her for a long time and having shared many experiences together. She was like a strict baby sister, the type of sister that would ask you who you were with and what time you would be back. And If anyone hurt you, she wouldn't hesitate for a second to go after them. Her protective nature went into overdrive, and she would hunt down whoever had caused you pain. She cares for you and she would go far to keep you safe.

She had been there for you during tough times, like when Fury had to call her to make you come out to your childhood bedroom after your ex-fiance cheated on you or when she had to clean your room after she finally get you out to eat at the dinner table with your father. She had seen you smile because of your ex but she saw you cry more about her. Tough and good times, she had been there—always.

You yourself look out for her too—she can be careless at times so you gently correct her when she crosses the line or make sure she doesn't get into too much trouble. But at the same time, you also relied on her quirky sense of humor and unwavering support. She was part protector, part best friend, and part sibling all rolled into one.

“Let's play medusa y’all!” An agent shouted in the distance and it made you laugh.

“What are we? In college?” You huffed after, only to be dragged by Yelena.

“We’re joining!” Your eyes widened in disbelief and attempted to pull away from her grip, wanting nothing to do with this childish game. But just as you were about to tear yourself away, Madisynn suddenly latched onto your other arm, effectively trapping you. You were too confused when you noticed that Yelena was gone and Madisynn replacing her as if it was all planned.

“This will be fun boss, c’mon.” She slurred with a drink on her other hand.

You forgot to breathe as you saw Daisy across the room, conflicting emotions bubbled up within you, how in the hell she's here and you didn't even know?

Part of you wanted to run away from the room to escape the memories of her betrayal. But another part of you, driven by your desire to maintain your composure and dignity, compelled you to stay and keep things professional after what she did to you and to your agent.

But…a small, a sly part of you, tucked away in a hidden corner of your mind, whispered a tempting thought.

What if I make her jealous?

The idea was a little petty and you knew it, but you couldn't help the flicker of satisfaction it brought you. The chance to show Daisy that you were doing just fine without her, perhaps even better, was tantalizing.

But with who?

As various agents approached you with smiles, greetings or drinks, a wave of realization washed over you. Deep down, you knew this whole thing was ridiculous. Trying to find someone to make out with solely to make your ex jealous was a far cry from the person you aspired to be.

You shook your head slightly, silently scolding yourself for even contemplating such a childish idea. This whole situation was just plain stupid, however, despite the logical part of your brain telling you it was a stupid, a small, defiant part of you still wanted to go through with it.

If only you had known, but you were oblivious to the fact that Daisy had been burning with jealousy since the moment she spotted you with Natasha during the game.

Darcy, with her usual enthusiasm, called out to the group of agents gathered around you, “Alright, everybody! Form a circle, it's time to start!” She then saw you and let out a squeal, “Hi boss!”

You waved shyly before you settled down on the cold floor of the room with Madisynn beside you, “Where's Romanoff?” You asked, “and Yelena…” You rushed out. Madisynn then gestured with her drink, drawing your attention to the direction she was pointing. There, across from you, sat the redhead and the blonde.

Yelena had made sure that you and Natasha were seated directly across from each other, perfectly setting up the game of Medusa to play out exactly how she had planned.

“Alright, everybody!” Darcy shouted, getting the group's attention. “Everyone sit in a spot where you can see all of the other players.”

Once the group had taken their seats, she continued, “Now, each of you put your heads down. On the count of three, you'll raise your heads and stare directly at someone else. If you lock eyes with someone, both of you lose, and I will yell 'Medusa' if I caught y’all staring at each others’ asses and I will be sending you to 7 Minutes in Heaven!”

The agents began shouting and whistling, creating a chaotic atmosphere, hyped up from the game.

With a flourish of her hand, Darcy counted down, “Three, two, one.”

Everyone raised their heads, and you were suddenly faced with a sea of staring eyes. You quickly darted your eyes to an agent who was luckily not staring at you. The room buzzed with tension as people nervously tried to avoid locking gazes with the other players. Darcy stood in the center, ready to call out the first pair of victims. Her eyes scanning the group, spotted a pair that had locked eyes with each other. A sly grin spread across her face as she called out, “Medusa!”

The two unfortunate players were singled out and a chorus of “ooo” and whistles erupted from those around them. They sheepishly got up, blushing as they made their way toward the 7 Minutes in Heaven.

As the players shuffled off to the 7 Minutes in Heaven room, the game continued. It was only a matter of time before another pair would be called out for staring. You found yourself becoming more nervous as the round progressed.

Darcy's eyes glinted mischievously as she scanned the group once more, eagerly awaiting her next opportunity to pounce on a paired set of victims.

You were contemplating your strategy. And thought of Natasha, part of you knew that Natasha was averse to staring, always quick to look away—especially on you. But this might work to your advantage.

As the countdown ended, you found yourself staring at Natasha. She, as expected, was not looking at you. However, your heart raced when you noticed her eyes on someone else in the group. You furrowed your brows, trying to follow her line of sight to see who she's staring at.

Who was she looking at? Is she eyeing someone else? Oh, how you hoped that whoever she's staring at isn't looking back at her too.

You finally let yourself breathe, a wave of relief washing over you as Darcy called out “Medusa,” pointing at the pair who had been caught staring at each other. Thankful that it wasn't Natasha and whoever she's staring at, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders.

As Natasha navigated her way through the game, a plan formed in her mind. She glanced over at you, contemplating the likelihood of making eye contact with you. Her thoughts ran through her head, reasoning that you wouldn't look at her because you harbored a deep dislike for her—who would lock eyes on someone they hate, after all?

Natasha glanced around the room full of agents, her gaze falling upon Daisy, who was watching you as giggles escaped your lips at whatever Madisynn was whispering to you. The sight of your ex continuously eyeing you only made Natasha wish that you wouldn't look at your her the same way again as you did when you were still together.

She wished that you would look at her—this time.

“3”

“2”

“1”

You find yourself staring at the green orbs staring right back at you and the world seemed to stopped only for it to continue when Darcy shouted Medusa, her fingers pointed decisively at you and Natasha.

A collective gasp filled the room as everyone realized what had just taken place. Darcy's gleeful expression revealed her satisfaction at having caused this unexpected twist. Madisynn and Yelena traded smug grins, thrilled to see their plan unfolding flawlessly. They had orchestrated this moment carefully and their plans had paid off.

As word spread about your unexpected pairing with Natasha, your ex, Daisy, couldn't help but glance your way. She tried to hide her fueling rage, but her emotions were laid bare in her eyes. A lot of agents were looking her way too, satisfied at her reaction and silently rooting for Natasha.

Madisynn placed a gentle hand on your shoulders, helping you stand up from being seated on the floor. Your mind was still reeling from the sudden turn of events, unable to fully grasp what was happening. As you looked at the small cabinet not so far away from of you, the realization of who you would be sharing such a confined space with finally sank in.

“Times ticking boss.” Darcy whispered as she gently held your hands and pulled you. Meanwhile, Natasha was being ushered ahead by Yelena. Yelena then pushed Natasha gently into the small chamber, causing her to stumble forward slightly as she made her way into the cramped space. The room was dimly lit, its walls closed, not enough to leave little room to maneuver.

Natasha looked up as you stood just outside the small chamber. She saw how hesitant you are and she spoke up softly, “If you don't want this, you don't have to.” Her voice was gentle, giving you the option to back out of the situation if you so desired.

But you didn't listen to her, you immediately climbed into the small room and found yourself sitting beside the redhead. Before you had a chance to process the tight space, the door closed with a distinct click, sealing you inside with her.

Darcy's voice echoed from the other side of the door, she knocked, reminding that your time starts now, “Alright, lovebirds, 6:59 minutes. Enjoy your time there!” Her amusement was evident, and her words were followed by a series of giggles and shouts heard in the distance.

As Natasha hugged her knees and said, “We don't need to do anything,” she did so with a sense of finality, as if speaking aloud the thoughts that were already in your head. She already assumed you wouldn't want to do anything in this tiny-spaced room.

You haven't really scolded her for accepting the challenge from your ex and for going in here when she's supposed to be resting, you wanted to, though, but seeing her right now at this moment, you just couldn't bring yourself to.

You broke the silence, your words reverberating in the small chamber. “We can talk,” you suggested softly—too softly, your fingertips grazing the ceiling inches above your head. You asked once again, “Do you want to talk about something?”

Natasha sat silently, her eyes locked on the door as if she just wanted all this to be over, and for a moment, she didn't respond to your question. The quietness in the tiny space seemed to stretch on and her lack of response left you unsure of how to continue—so you just stayed silent too.

A couple of minutes have passed and you two just sat there. The silence between you was heavy, almost unbearably so, until Natasha finally spoke.

“Do you think you would make the same decision as Clint,” she started, her voice soft yet steady, “if you were the one sent to take me out?”

You were taken aback by Natasha's question, her words piercing through any facade you may have tried to maintain. How did she know about it? Panic and anger surged through you as you thought of the only person who could have told her the about it—intentionally told her. But you quickly pushed that thought aside, realizing it was a moot point now. The dilemma of how to respond to her question left you momentarily tongue-tied.

Would you? You asked yourself.

“I…” you trailed off, “I don't know.”

You took a deep breath, your voice low and steady as you finally admitted the truth. “Everything happens for a reason, Romanoff,” you began, your words measured, you’ve never been like this when you were talking to her. You’ve always been so honest, no, harsh when it comes to her, “It was originally my mission to take you out.”

“But Clint was the one sent with the same mission, you.” You sighed disappointingly as you recall the memory.

“I was upset, bitterly disappointed, angry.” You looked down at your thighs plopping sideways, “I immersed myself in studying you, devoting significant time understanding your every move, training myself on how to…” you stopped realizing what the next words would be, but Natasha knew what it was you’ve been trying to say.

You’ve been training yourself on how to eliminate her—to kill her.

There was a silence between the two of you again, not heavy this time, you leaned back against the cold wall and squeezed your eyes shut for a moment before opening them again.

“He made a different call for a reason.”

Natasha looked at you intently as you spoke again, “He saw something in you. And I think I do see that now.” You finally looked at her.

As you locked gazes, your eyes involuntarily fixated on her bruised lips, and you were certain that she was doing the same. However, the intensity of the moment became too palpable and you found yourself awkwardly turning your eyes away from her in an attempt to alleviate the growing tension.

“Boss, are you still alive in there?” You heard Darcy call out, how dare she ask if you were the one still alive? If there is someone supposed to be out of breath right now, it would be the redhead beside you. “You still got 2 minutes…and 32!”

“I wonder what other agents did in this room.” You suddenly spoke, but you didn't mean it to come out as if you were trying to hint to do the same thing you know agents did in this tight room which is releasing some sexual frustrations. “Gross.” You then whispered that made the redhead laugh.

“Yeah, I think they really need that.” She replied in a low voice, trying not to burst into more giggles.

“Wow, aren't you sexually frustrated too Agent Romanoff?” Maybe now you are hinting something.

Her voice echoed through the small space as she quipped, “I don't wanna get another punch from your ex.”

“You wouldn't catch a punch for me? Agent Romanoff?” you teased, your seductive tone adding an extra layer to the already charged atmosphere between you two.

Only if you know the things she would do and take for you.

“Trying to make your ex jealous?”

“Hm?” you eyed her before focusing with the necklace around your neck, fiddling with it absentmindedly as you avoided the redhead’s accusation when suddenly, her hands reached out and pinched your waist.

The action caught you off guard and an unintentional gasp escaped your lips. At that moment, Yelena's voice echoed through the door, as she whisper-shout, “What was that?!”

“What was that for?!” You quickly slapped Natasha's arm in retaliation, causing her to exaggerate a groan of pain that was heard outside.

“Oh god, it's happening. Shit! Shit!” Yelena exclaimed, apparently unable to contain her excitement. A chorus of shouts and whistles erupted from the agents gathered just outside the door, their reactions evident even through the thick boundary.

The situation was too absurd to not find amusing and you struggled to contain your laughter. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth, attempting to hide the impending giggles and shock at the chaos happening outside. You looked over at Natasha, you found her wearing a smirk. She then gestured for you to tap on the walls and you followed her lead, making a moaning sound as you did.

“Oh god!” you exclaimed, feigning a sense of ecstasy, playing into the moment and the reactions you knew you were eliciting from the agents outside.

“Oh god?!” Yelena and Madisynn shouted in chorus, “Praise the Lord!”

As you continued your act, Natasha suddenly spoke, her voice low and seductive. “Oh yeah?” she purred, “Mhm, yeah. That's my good girl,” she murmured, the praise and the nickname making you feel and think inappropriate things right now. 

Is this even appropriate?

Both you and Natasha released synchronized grunts and moans, intentionally creating the illusion of some... passionate act.

As your performance continued, you could hear Yelena's voice rise above the others, “Romanoff, if you hurt Y/N, I swear I'll chop you into tiny pieces!” Yelena threatened. “42 sex-onds!” she reminded in a rush.

“Get on my lap,” you hadn't even realized what you were doing until you found yourself sitting sideways on Natasha's lap, your tight dress not allowing you to straddle her but you still complied with her commanding order. The space between you grew even tighter, the proximity leaving you heady and breathless.

Natasha then shifted her thighs beneath you causing you squeal in surprise. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, but you just nodded, your face a burning kettle. Outside the door, the agents’ voices grew louder, their excitement evident as they reacted to the sounds you and Natasha were making.

“They were rushing it out!”

“Give them more time! C'mon!”

“I hope at least one of them could finish.”

You brought your hand on your mouth to contain your laughter once again. You blushed at the comment of the agents, the other was holding Natasha’s shoulder so you can steady yourself.

“18 seconds!”

The countdown and the outside world faded into the background as you bit your lip, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Overwhelmed by the moment and the intensity of your emotions, you leaned in and surged forward, your lips crashing onto hers, bruising them further in a desperate and passionate kiss.

As your lips melded together, Natasha's hands instinctively found their way to your waist, gripping it firmly, grounding you both. Pulling away, you locked eyes with Natasha, the gravity of the moment finally sinking in. Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you notice her lip, slightly bloodied with traces of your lipstick smeared across it. 

“I can't believe I just wasted those minutes in silence when I can have this with you,” she confessed.

And with that, the door of the small room you were in swung open, signaling that your 7 Minutes of Heaven is finally over.

The Call: Masterlist

[the-winter-spider]

Under Pressure | one

Bucky Barnes AU

Word Count: 11.6k

Warnings: Angst, swearing, depression, mental health, mentions of su!cide

A/N: I just wanna say, I have ADHD so i will always have multiple stories going at once 🤪

two

The muffled hum of life beyond your bedroom window felt like a cruel reminder of how the world kept spinning, indifferent to the weight pressing on your chest. The sun had begun its descent, streaking the sky with a melancholy palette of orange and pink. It was beautiful, you supposed, in the way things could be beautiful when they didn’t matter.

You sighed and tugged at the loose thread on the sleeve of your hoodie—Bucky’s hoodie, though you’d had it so long it might as well be yours now. It still smelled faintly of him, a mix of pine and something warm and earthy, like home. That smell was your lifeline some nights, when the storm in your head raged too fiercely to sleep.

A sharp knock rattled your apartment door, interrupting the quiet.

“Hey! Open up!” Bucky’s voice, firm but familiar, carried through the thin wood. “Don’t make me kick this door in. You know I’ll do it.”

You groaned, dragging yourself off the couch. “It’s unlocked,” you called, not loud enough to hide the exhaustion in your voice.

The door creaked open, and there he was—Bucky, your best friend since middle school. His broad frame filled the doorway, but it was his eyes, those piercing blue eyes, that caught you. They scanned you like a checklist, searching for any signs you weren’t okay. You hated how well he knew you sometimes. “Y’know, you shouldn't leave your door unlocked especially here, anyone can just come in.”

“Hi,” you mumbled, ignoring him and retreating to the couch. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I—” He stepped fully inside and shut the door, the look on his face a mix of exasperation and concern. “You haven’t answered your phone all day. Natasha’s convinced you’re dead. Steve’s ready to call the cops. I told them to chill, but…” He gestured at you, his brows knitting together. “You look like you’ve been living on this couch.”

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Just tired.”

“Bullshit,” he shot back, his tone softening when you flinched. He moved to sit beside you, close enough that his knee brushed yours. “What’s going on?”

The question hung between you, heavy and unwelcome. You could feel his eyes on you, waiting, patient but unyielding. Bucky was relentless like that, never letting you retreat too far into yourself. It was part of why you loved him—or at least, why you were glad to have him in your corner.

“I’m fine, Buck,” you lied, curling your arms around your knees. “Really, just one of those days.”

Bucky didn’t respond immediately. He leaned back, stretching one arm along the back of the couch, his fingers almost grazing your shoulder. It was a casual gesture, but you knew him too well to miss the tension in his posture.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “If you say you’re fine, I’ll let it go. For now. But…” He hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip like he was debating whether to say something. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything. You don’t have to deal with this shit on your own.”

Your throat tightened, the familiar ache of wanting to believe him warring with the part of you that never could. You nodded, though, because it was easier than arguing.

“I know,” you whispered.

The room fell into silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Bucky didn’t push further, didn’t demand answers you couldn’t give. Instead, he stayed, his quiet presence grounding you in a way nothing else could.

After a while, he nudged your knee with his. “Wanna order pizza or something? My treat.”

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. “Only if I get to pick the toppings.”

He grinned, and for a moment, the storm in your head quieted.

Bucky stretched out on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest as he reached for his phone. “What are we getting, then? Don’t even say pineapple, or I’m leaving.”

You rolled your eyes, the corners of your mouth tugging upward despite yourself. “Meatlovers, extra cheese.”

“Classic,” he said with a nod, punching it into the app. “It’s on the way, Should be here in like twenty.”

You stood up, brushing invisible lint off your borrowed hoodie. “I’m gonna take a quick shower,” you mumbled, tugging at the hem of your sleeve.

Bucky smirked, leaning back against the cushions. “Good, you smell.”

You shot him a glare, shoving his shoulder with just enough force to make him chuckle. “Asshole,” you muttered as you headed toward the bathroom.

“Love you too, sweetheart!” he called after you, his voice laced with humor.

The bathroom was small and dimly lit, the fluorescent bulb above the sink flickering faintly. You shut the door behind you and leaned against it for a moment, letting out a long breath. The mirror above the sink was still covered with an old towel, hastily taped over it. You didn’t want to see the evidence of last night—the cracks radiating out from where your fist had landed.

Your hand throbbed beneath the makeshift bandage you’d wrapped around it earlier, but the pain was manageable. You were just glad Bucky hadn’t noticed. Hiding it under the hoodie had been a small victory, one you clung to.

Turning the shower knob, you waited for the water to heat up. Steam began to rise, fogging up the edges of the covered mirror. As you stripped off your clothes and stepped under the hot spray, the water cascaded over you, but it didn’t wash away the heaviness that clung to your chest.

It’s happening again.

You could feel it—the familiar slide into the darkness, like slipping down a slope you couldn’t climb back up, you never could no matter how hard you tried. The kind of heaviness that made it hard to breathe, let alone function. You’d felt this way before, so many times, but this was worse. This was deeper. This time felt final.

You hadn’t told your friends about losing your job. How could you? They’d try to help, and you couldn’t bear the thought of being a burden, even to them. Too many sick days, they’d said. Too many excuses, not enough productivity. And with that, the safety net of insurance vanished. No more medication. Not that it was working, anyway. You weren’t even sure it ever had.

The water ran over your face, and you tilted your head back, letting it sting your eyes. At least you didn’t have to worry about rent. Your parents made sure of that—not out of love, but because it was easier for them than dealing with you directly. They’d never wanted a child, not really. They made that clear in a thousand ways, subtle and not-so-subtle. Dismissive words. The quiet regret in their voices when they thought you weren’t listening.

Maybe that’s where the darkness came from. Or maybe it was just in your blood. Your aunt had taken her life when you were a kid. You remembered the way people whispered about her, like it was contagious. Maybe it was.

For the first time, you felt a strange gratitude for your parents. Not for their love—they’d never offered that—but for their money. It kept the lights on, the water running, even if you didn’t deserve it.

Bucky’s voice shattered the spiral. “Pizza’s here!” he yelled from the living room, his voice muffled through the door.

You blinked, startled, and realized you were still standing under the water, your skin pruned from the heat. “Okay!” you called back, shutting off the shower. The sudden silence was deafening.

You dried off quickly, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and the same oversized hoodie. Your hand throbbed as you tucked it into the sleeve, hiding the cuts from the glass, the already bruising knuckles and the makeshift bandage. Bucky didn’t need to know. He’d only worry, and you couldn’t handle that right now.

When you emerged, he was already opening the pizza box, the smell of melted cheese and pepperoni filling the room. “Took you long enough,” he teased, glancing up at you. “You okay?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just needed to rinse off.”

Bucky studied you for a moment, his sharp eyes scanning your face like they always did. But he didn’t push. Instead, he handed you a slice of pizza, the grease soaking through the paper plate. “Eat up, you look like you need it.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you said dryly, settling onto the couch beside him.

But despite the teasing, you were grateful. Grateful for the warmth of the food, the easy banter, and the way Bucky never left you alone in the quiet.

The smell of pizza filled the room, mingling with the faint scent of laundry detergent lingering on Bucky’s hoodie. You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, a slice in your hand, while Bucky leaned back, gesturing animatedly as he recounted some story about Steve.

“So then Steve—being the genius he is—decides that the best way to move this stupidly heavy shelf is to tilt it, right? And I’m like, ‘Steve, no, that’s a terrible idea.’ But does he listen? No. He ends up pinning himself between the shelf and the wall, and I swear, Nat had to stop me from laughing before we helped him.”

You gave a faint chuckle, shaking your head. Bucky’s smile widened as he nudged you with his elbow.

“Speaking of Steve,” he continued, reaching for another slice, “he said he sent you the invite to his party this weekend. You haven’t RSVP’d yet. I told him you’re obviously coming, but he says he needs you to click yes for the numbers or some shit.”

You paused, setting your pizza slice back on the plate. “I, uh, haven’t seen my phone since last night. Didn’t realize he sent it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, dramatically exasperated. “Typical. Losing your phone in your own damn house.” He stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans. “I’ll find it for you. Probably stuffed in the couch cushions again.”

You gave a weak laugh. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” he teased, fishing between the cushions. “You’ve always been this way. Remember when you used to lose me at the mall? Or the park? Or on the street?”

You got up, heading toward your bedroom to search. “I didn’t lose you,” you called over your shoulder. “You just liked to wander.”

His laugh echoed from the living room. “Fair point. I’ll check the bathroom.”

You froze mid-step, your heart skipping a beat. You turned too quickly and hit your head on the shelf above your desk, wincing at the sharp pain. Panic surged through you as you clutched your throbbing hand tighter, trying to keep your breathing steady.

“Bucky!” you called, your voice tight.

“What?” he answered from the bathroom. “Hey, uh… why is there a towel over your mirror?”

You clenched your eyes shut, the blood rushing in your ears as you heard the unmistakable sound of tape being peeled. He’s not going to be mad. It’s Bucky. He’s not going to be mad, you repeated to yourself, your breaths coming faster now.

“Y/N?” His voice was closer now, cautious but soft. “Why is the mirror broken?”

You didn’t move, clutching your phone in your injured hand like a lifeline, your fingers trembling against the cracked case. You felt the room spin slightly as the anxiety clawed at your chest. Breathe. Focus. He’s not mad. He’s just worried.

When you finally looked up, Bucky was standing in your doorway. His gaze immediately flickered to your hand, and his eyes softened as he pieced everything together.

“Oh,” he said quietly, his voice a mix of realization and concern. “You found your phone.”

He stepped closer, his eyes dropping to the crude, bloodstained bandage wrapped around your knuckles. He froze, his expression shifting into something unreadable. “Sweets…”

You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t handle the weight of his gaze. “It’s nothing,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you clutched the phone tighter, as if it could shield you from the truth between you.

“Nothing?” His voice cracked. “This—this is not nothing.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Every word stuck in your throat, choking you. The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, until Bucky stepped closer, his hands carefully, hesitantly reaching for yours. He didn’t take your phone away—he just held your uninjured hand gently in his, his thumb brushing over your trembling fingers.

He said your name softly, his voice steady despite the emotion wavering in it, “what happened?”

You shook your head, the tears already spilling over before you could stop them. “I—” You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to.”

His grip on your hand tightened slightly, grounding you. “It’s okay,” he said quickly. “It’s okay. Just talk to me, please.”

You closed your eyes, the words tumbling out in a broken rush. “It was last night. I just… I just couldn’t, my uh emotions, I couldn’t handle it. I—” You exhaled shakily. “I punched the mirror because I didn’t want to—” You stopped, biting back the rest of the sentence, the unspoken truth hanging in the air.

Bucky’s face crumpled, his hand still holding yours as if afraid to let go. “Jesus, Y/N,” he whispered. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you, it was like 3 in the morning Buck” you admitted, your voice raw. “You’re always fixing my messes, Buck. I didn’t want to make it worse, I’m just a mess, I’m sorry.”

“Worse?” His voice rose slightly, though it wasn’t anger—just desperation. “Y/N, you’re not a mess. You’re—” He stopped, his jaw clenching as he searched for the right words. “You’re my best friend. And I love you” His voice cracked “You don’t bother me, okay? Ever.”

You met his eyes then, your vision blurry with tears. He looked back at you with such unflinching sincerity it almost hurt.

“I can’t do this without you,” he said softly, his voice breaking. “You don’t have to handle this on your own. I’m here, we all are you gotta know that. I’ll always be here.”

The weight in your chest shifted slightly, the suffocating pressure easing just enough for you to breathe again. You nodded slowly, your voice trembling as you whispered, “Okay.”

He pulled you into a hug then, careful not to hurt your hand, and held you like he was afraid you might disappear.

Bucky’s arms wrapped around you tightly, his chin resting on the top of your head. His warmth seeped into you, grounding you in a way nothing else could. “It’s just a bump in the road,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You’ve hit plenty of them before, and you’ve always gotten through. We’ve always gotten through, and I’ve got just the remedy.”

He pulled back, his blue eyes sparkling with a glint of mischief. Before you could ask what he meant, he strode over to the corner of your room where your record player sat, surrounded by a modest collection of vinyls. He thumbed through the stack, muttering to himself, “Where is it… aha.”

Your heart stuttered as the familiar static of a spinning record filled the air. And then you heard it: the unmistakable opening beat of Under Pressure.

A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it. You turned around to see Bucky already moving, his shoulders bouncing in exaggerated rhythm. His grin was wide and goofy as he started lip-syncing Freddie Mercury’s part with gusto, his voice just slightly off-key but no less enthusiastic.

“Pressure, pushing down on me, pressing down on you…”

“Bucky, what are you doing?” you asked, though the smile was impossible to hide.

“Cheering you up, obviously,” he replied, spinning in place before striding toward you. He extended a hand dramatically as he transitioned into the next line. “No man ask for…”

“Under pressure!” you couldn’t help but join in, stepping into your part with Bowie’s deeper, sultry tone.

Bucky’s grin widened as he grabbed your good hand and spun you around. You laughed despite yourself, your heart pounding—not from the anxiety this time, but from the sheer joy of the moment. Together, you sang, danced, and twirled through the song, just like you had so many times before.

When the final notes faded into silence, the two of you were left standing face to face, breathing hard and laughing, cheeks flushed. He looked down at you, his eyes softening as he smiled. “Works like a charm every time. It’s why it’s our song.”

You didn’t respond, just let the warmth in your chest grow as you caught your breath. But before you could lose yourself in the moment, Bucky gently took your hand—the injured one—his expression shifting to something more serious.

“Alright,” he said, tugging you toward the bathroom. “Let’s take a proper look at this.”

“What are you doing?” you asked, panic creeping back into your voice.

“We’re getting a proper look at this hand, is what we’re doing,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He guided you to sit on the closed toilet lid and opened your cabinet, pulling out the first-aid kit you barely used. His movements were quick but precise, his focus intense as he knelt in front of you. “Let me see,” he said softly.

Reluctantly, you held out your hand. He unwrapped the makeshift bandage carefully, his brow furrowing as he examined the bloody knuckles beneath. “Y/N,” he sighed, shaking his head, though there was no judgment in his voice.

“It’s fine,” you said quickly. “Really, it doesn’t even hurt that much.”

“Uh-huh,” he muttered, grabbing antiseptic and gauze. “Sure it doesn’t.” He worked quietly, cleaning the wound with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

The sting barely registered—if anything, it felt grounding, something to focus on as you came down from the high of dancing with him. The silence stretched between you, comfortable and steady, until he finally broke it.

“Are you taking your meds?” he asked, not looking up from his work.

“Of course,” you lied, the words slipping out automatically.

He glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he didn’t push. “Okay,” he said after a beat. “Are you still seeing Dr. Jones?”

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the floor. “I… haven’t been in a while.”

Bucky sighed again, his fingers stilling briefly before he started wrapping your hand with fresh gauze. “Maybe you should schedule an appointment,” he suggested, his voice gentle. “I can do it for you, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said quickly. “I can do it.”

“Alright,” he said, finishing the bandage with a neat knot. He sat back on his heels, his expression soft but serious. “I know I sound like a broken record but I’m always here for you, okay? No matter what. I don’t care what I’m doing—if you need me, I’ll drop everything, Id do anything for you.”

And that was what terrified you the most: the thought of Bucky regretting you. The fear that one day, he’d look at you and finally say what you’d always told yourself—that you were a burden. That would be the thing to push you over the edge. You hated how much you relied on him, how much of your brokenness you placed on his shoulders. It’s why you fought so hard not to bother him with every little thing, even when it felt impossible to hold it all in.

Still, when he looked at you like that—steady, unwavering—it was hard not to believe him, if only for a moment. You nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. “I know.”

The sun filtered weakly through the gray clouds as you wandered through the bustling streets of New York with Natasha, the two of you weaving in and out of shops in search of outfits for Steve’s birthday party. The buzz of the city was as alive as ever, but it felt far away, muted in your mind like someone had turned down the volume on the world.

Natasha was in her element, flipping through racks of dresses and skirts, holding up pieces with a gleam in her eye. “This one’s cute, right?” she asked, twirling a hanger with a little black dress on it.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you replied, your voice distant as you thumbed idly through a rack of jeans.

Natasha turned, narrowing her eyes at you as she hung the dress back on the rack. “Okay, you’re way too quiet. What’s up?”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, forcing a small smile. “Just… a headache.”

She tilted her head, studying you with that sharp gaze of hers, the one that always seemed to see right through you. “You’re okay, though, right?”

The words hit you harder than they should have. You hesitated, gripping the edge of a hanger as if it would steady you. What would you even say to her? No, I’m not okay. The colors are fading again, and the world feels dull and dark. Every step feels like walking through quicksand, and I can’t remember the last time I felt like myself.

But you couldn’t say that. Not to her. Not to any of them. Natasha was thriving, living the life she’d always dreamed of. She was a force of nature, juggling her job, her relationship with Steve, and somehow still managing to look flawless while doing it. Your friends were all like that—thriving, succeeding, building the futures they’d worked so hard for.

You couldn’t, wouldn’t take that away from them. Not because you were sad. Not because you were lost.

“Yeah,” you said finally, your voice steady despite the weight in your chest. “Just a headache.”

Natasha gave you a look, her lips pressing into a thin line. You knew she didn’t entirely believe you, but she let it go. “Alright,” she said slowly, grabbing a pair of sleek black heels from the shelf. “But if you want to bail on shopping and go grab a coffee or something, just say the word.”

You shook your head, mustering another smile. “I’m fine, Nat. Really. Let’s keep looking.”

She studied you for another second before nodding. “Okay. But you’re not getting out of trying stuff on,” she teased, holding up a sparkly red dress that was very much not your style.

You rolled your eyes, the faintest laugh escaping before you could stop it. “No way.”

“Come on,” she said, grinning. “It’s Steve’s party. Let’s make an impression.”

As she turned back to the rack, chatting about Steve’s plans for Friday, you let her words wash over you like white noise. You didn’t have the energy to keep up with her excitement, but you let her carry the conversation anyway. It was easier that way.

The fitting room was cramped, the air thick with the faint smell of fabric and perfume. You stepped into the first dress Natasha had handed you—a sleek black number that hung too loosely on your frame. You tugged at the straps, sighing as you opened the door.

Natasha spun around from where she was scrolling on her phone, her eyes immediately lighting up. “Okay, this is hot, but… it’s too big.” She tilted her head, studying you. “Wait, are you going to the gym again?”

You froze for half a second, your mind racing. You couldn’t tell her the truth: that eating felt like a chore most days, that you barely had the energy to make yourself a bowl of cereal, let alone go to the gym. “Uh, yeah,” you lied, forcing a smile. “A little.”

“I can tell,” she said, beaming. “But don’t go too hard, okay? You’re perfect just the way you are.” Without waiting for your response, she grabbed two smaller sizes from the rack and handed them to you. “Here, try these. I bet one of them will be perfect.”

You nodded and ducked back into the fitting room, slipping into the smaller size. The dress hugged your figure in all the right places, the soft shimmer of the fabric catching the light. For a fleeting moment, you felt pretty—maybe even beautiful—but the feeling slipped away as quickly as it had come. It wasn’t enough. It never was.

When you stepped out, Natasha’s jaw dropped. “Wow,” she breathed, clapping her hands together. “This is it, i mean you still have to try the others on because what if they're better, but this is the top contender. You’re definitely gonna blow everyone away. Maybe you’ll even find your future husband at the party.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, right.”

She grinned, her tone turning teasing. “You never know. He might be closer than you think.”

You froze at her words, your heart skipping a beat as you glanced at her. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a knowing glint in her eye that made your stomach twist.

“Nat,” you said slowly, trying to steer the conversation away before it went anywhere dangerous. “This dress is nice, but…”

“No buts,” she interrupted, grabbing your shoulders and spinning you toward the mirror. “Look at yourself. You look gorgeous.”

You stared at your reflection, trying to see what she saw. The dress was beautiful, and it fit perfectly, but it still felt… wrong. Like it was a mask you couldn’t quite wear convincingly. You wanted to feel the confidence Natasha had, the joy that radiated from her so easily. But no matter how hard you tried, it just wasn’t there.

Natasha didn’t notice your hesitation, too busy admiring the dress. “You’re getting it either way, end of discussion.”

You smiled faintly and ducked back into the fitting room to change. As you slipped out of the dress, Natasha’s voice floated through the curtain.

“By the way, I know I’m only twenty-five, but… I think Steve might propose this year.”

You peeked out, raising an eyebrow. “You think tonight?”

“Oh, God, no!” She laughed, shaking her head. “I just mean… before the year’s over. We’ve been together since freshman year of college, and I feel like the next step is coming. You know?”

You nodded, even though the thought made your chest tighten. Natasha didn’t stop there, her voice full of excitement as she continued.

“I’ve already started planning, by the way. Mostly on Pinterest,” she admitted with a grin. “And obviously, you’re going to be my maid of honor.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “Wow, Nat. That’s…so kind of you.” A lot of pressure is what you meant but didn’t say.

“Oh, please,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “Of course its you, you’re my best friend and you know me best, I’m not one of those bridezillas. I just—” She sighed dreamily. “I’m ready, you know? Everything’s going so perfect. I’m so happy.”

She looked at you, her smile radiant. “Oh, my God, did I tell you I got promoted last week?”

“What? No!” you said, stepping out of the fitting room, now in a different dress. You pulled her into a hug. “Nat, that’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you!” she said, hugging you back tightly. “Bucky said you lost your phone, and that’s why you weren’t answering. But yeah, they made me head of social! Everything just feels amazing. Life’s amazing.”

“Of course it is,” you said softly, pulling back to smile at her. “You deserve it.”

She beamed, holding up the sparkly red dress she’d chosen for herself. “Anyway, I’m totally getting this dress. Now it’s your turn, that colour washes you out, next one."

She handed you a few more options, her energy as boundless as ever. You couldn’t help but envy her, even as you forced yourself to match her excitement. When you tried on the next dress and stepped out, Natasha clapped again. “This one’s even better! You’re going to turn so many heads. I’m telling you, babe, this is your year. You’re gonna meet someone, I just know it!"

You laughed weakly. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

But as you changed back into your clothes, her earlier comment lingered in your mind. He might be closer than you think. You knew who she meant. Of course you did. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it—or even think it for too long. Because no matter how beautiful the dress was, it wasn’t enough to make you feel whole. It wasn’t enough to make you feel worthy of someone like him.

The faint sounds of music drifted from your speakers as you stood in front of the mirror in your bedroom, adjusting the dress Natasha had insisted you buy. You ran your hands down the shimmering fabric, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach. You didn’t love it, but you didn’t hate it either. And for tonight, “not hating it” would have to be enough.

Outside, the New York cityscape buzzed with life, the faint hum of car horns and chatter filtering through your window. You glanced at your phone, which you’d finally found after last night’s chaos. A text from Sam popped up on the screen.

Sam: Be there in 5. Don’t leave me waiting in the hall, you know I hate that...Remember when you forgot about me? :-(

You smiled faintly, slipping your phone into your small clutch and double-checking your makeup. There was a knock at the door just as you spritzed on a bit of perfume. You hurried to the door, your heels clicking lightly on the wood floor.

When you opened it, Sam stood there in a sharp button-down and blazer, flashing you his trademark grin. “Well, damn. Don’t you clean up nice?”

You laughed, stepping back to let him in. “Thanks, Sam. You look pretty dapper yourself.”

He swept into your apartment, looking around with the same casual ease he always carried. “You ready to make an entrance? I promised Steve and Nat I wouldn’t let you sneak off and ditch.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not going to ditch.”

“Good,” he said, turning to face you. “Because I’ve got a plan to make tonight one for the books. Trust me, sweet stuff, by the end of the night, you’re gonna be grinning from ear to ear.”

The warmth in his voice was infectious, and you felt a flicker of excitement you hadn’t expected. Sam had always been like this—bright, energetic, and effortlessly fun. It was one of the reasons you’d clicked so easily in college. Back then, he’d been the life of the party, and so had you. At least, that’s what everyone thought.

You remembered the first time you’d met Sam. It was at a college house party, the kind of event where the music was loud, the air reeked of beer, and everyone seemed to be smiling a little too brightly. You’d been three drinks in, already feeling the buzz in your veins, and Sam had been across the room, making everyone laugh with one of his outrageous stories.

You’d wandered over, laughing along with the group, and somehow, the two of you ended up talking. About nothing. About everything. You were drunk, and so was he, but you connected in a way that felt effortless. For a while, the weight inside your chest lifted.

“You’re a riot,” he’d said, clinking his beer bottle against yours. “We’re gonna be best friends, I can tell.”

It had been a joke at the time, but it stuck. Drinking was an escape for both of you—his way of letting loose, your way of numbing the ache. Together, you were unstoppable, the life of every party you touched, at least back then.

Seeing Sam now, with that same bright smile, stirred something inside you. “So,” you said, grabbing your coat, “what’s the plan? Besides celebrating Steve, obviously.”

“Well,” he said, holding the door open for you, “I figured we’d pre-game a little on the way. Maybe remind everyone why we were the reigning champs of fun back in college.”

You laughed, genuinely this time. “Pretty sure I retired my crown years ago.”

“Please,” he said with a snort. “You’ve still got it. And if not, don’t worry—I’ll carry the team.”

The two of you stepped out onto the street, the cool evening air nipping at your skin. As you walked toward the subway, you felt a flicker of something you hadn’t felt in a while: anticipation.

Because if there was one thing Sam was good at, it was helping you forget. And for tonight, forgetting sounded perfect.

The buzz of the city enveloped you. The streets glowed with streetlights and neon signs, the cool air carrying the faint hum of laughter and distant music. Sam walked beside you, his hands in his pockets, a casual swagger to his step.

“So,” he said, pulling something small from his jacket pocket, “I know you’ve been stressed lately. Thought this might help.”

You glanced over and saw him holding a joint between his fingers, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Sam,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Come on,” he said, stopping to light it with a quick flick of his lighter. He took a slow drag, exhaling smoke into the night air. “It’s Steve’s birthday. We’re celebrating, aren’t we? Besides, it’s only twenty or so minutes to his place. Let’s take the back roads.”

You hesitated for half a second before shrugging. “Fine, but only a little.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, passing it to you with a wink.

The two of you took a quieter side street, the world softening around the edges as the haze of the joint settled in. The conversation grew lighter, and before long, you were giggling at almost nothing. A little ended up being the whole joint.

Sam glanced at you, shaking his head with a grin. “Man, Bucky is gonna kill me.”

You raised an eyebrow, holding in another laugh. “Why?”

He took another hit before passing it back to you. “Do you not remember how mad he used to get in college when we’d get high? ‘You’re gonna get caught,’” he said in a mock-serious tone, imitating Bucky’s deep voice. “‘Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in?’ Total party pooper.”

You snorted, nearly choking on the smoke. “Oh my God, yes. Him and Stevie, always the buzzkills.”

Sam laughed, a low, easy sound. “You think they ever figured out Natasha was the one who dealt it to us?”

“Absolutely not,” you said with mock seriousness, passing the joint back to him. “That secret stays with us till the grave.”

He pointed at you with the joint. “Damn right.”

By the time you reached Steve’s apartment, your head was light, and everything seemed a little funnier than it should have been. The music was already spilling out into the hallway, the faint bass reverberating through the floor. You paused just outside the door, looking at Sam.

“Do I look stoned?” you whispered, your voice full of mock urgency.

He leaned back slightly, pretending to inspect you. “Nope. Do I?”

You mirrored his motion, squinting at him dramatically. “Nope.”

“Good,” you both said in unison before bursting into laughter.

Sam opened the door, and the warmth of the apartment hit you instantly. Steve’s place wasn’t huge—it was New York, after all—but it was bigger than most, with a cozy vibe that still somehow fit a surprising number of people. Music pulsed through the room, and the sound of chatter and laughter filled every corner.

You slipped off your coat, handing it to Sam as he found a spot for both of yours on a nearby hook. He turned back to you, already moving toward the drink table. “Alright, let’s get you something.”

You followed him through the small crowd, people offering nods and greetings as you passed. Sam handed you a drink—something fizzy and fruity—and raised his own cup. “Cheers to Steve,” he said, clinking it against yours.

“To Steve,” you agreed, taking a sip.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the far side of the room. “Let’s go find the others.”

The apartment was packed, a mix of Steve’s friends, colleagues, and your usual crew. You let Sam lead the way, weaving through groups of people chatting and laughing. The warm glow of string lights strung across the ceiling gave the space a cozy, celebratory feel.

Eventually, you spotted a familiar flash of red hair across the room. You nudged Sam with your elbow and pointed. “There’s Nat.”

“Let’s go,” he said, grinning as he took another sip of his drink.

As the two of you made your way over, the tension that had been weighing you down earlier seemed to lift, if only for a little while. For the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe tonight could be okay.

As you and Sam wove through the crowd, Natasha’s bright red hair came into clearer focus. Beside her stood Steve, his broad frame relaxed, one hand casually holding a drink. Next to him, Bucky stood, his focus glued to his phone, his brows furrowed as Steve said something to him. Natasha noticed you first, her eyes lighting up as she tapped Steve on the shoulder and pointed in your direction.

Steve followed her gaze, his face breaking into a grin. He nudged Bucky with his elbow, saying something you couldn’t hear. Bucky’s head snapped up, his blue eyes locking onto yours. You saw the tension in his shoulders ease as he spotted you and Sam, his phone slipping into his pocket.

When you finally reached them, Bucky’s gaze lingered on you for a beat before he asked, “What took you guys so long?”

Sam, ever the smooth talker, shrugged. “We walked.”

“You walked?” Bucky repeated, his tone laced with mild disbelief. “That’s like an hour.”

You blinked, surprised. “Was it really that long?”

Sam grinned, his voice light and teasing. “Didn’t feel that long.”

You giggled, the sound slipping out before you could stop it. “Felt like we were moving with the wind.”

Steve groaned, running a hand over his face. “Oh my God.”

Natasha laughed, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly as she looked between the two of you. “You guys are stoned.”

“No,” you said quickly, at the same time Sam said, “Yes.”

You glared at Sam as Natasha burst into laughter, while Steve just sighed like a disappointed parent. But it was Bucky’s reaction that hit hardest. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, his expression shifting into something between worry and frustration.

Sam leaned closer, his voice low in your ear. “Oh boy, your daddy is mad at you.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, shoving his shoulder, though a small grin tugged at your lips.

“Anyway,” Sam said, stepping back, “I’m gonna go play some beer pong. You have fun over here with your parents and your cool aunt.” He nodded toward Steve, Bucky, and Natasha with a mischievous wink.

Natasha scoffed, clearly amused. “Absolutely not,” she said, grabbing Steve’s arm. “Come on, Stevie, let’s go show them how it’s done.”

“Wait!” you said, reaching out to grab Steve’s other arm. “Happy birthday, Steve.”

Steve smiled, his expression softening as he pulled you into a quick hug. “Thanks, Y/N,” he said quietly. Then, his voice dropped lower, just for you. “Please be careful, okay?”

You pulled back, confused. “What?”

But before he could answer, Natasha tugged him away, laughing as she led him toward the beer pong table. That left you standing there with Bucky, his gaze fixed on you.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, just looked at you like he was trying to figure out what to say. His shoulders were still relaxed, but the worry in his eyes was unmistakable. You shifted under his gaze, feeling both self-conscious and relieved to see him.

“You’re mad,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

“I’m not mad,” he replied, though his tone suggested otherwise. He crossed his arms, sighing as he glanced around the room before looking back at you. “I’m just… worried.”

“Bucky, I’m fine,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Really.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to find something you weren’t saying. Finally, he sighed again, his shoulders relaxing further. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

You blinked, surprised by his honesty. “Of course I came,” you said, your own voice softening. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he finally looked away. “Okay. Just… stay close tonight, alright?”

You nodded, unsure what else to say, as the noise of the party swelled around you. But even as the crowd moved and laughed, your focus stayed on Bucky, the knot in your chest tightening and loosening all at once, while the darkness loomed over your shoulder.

The party was in full swing, laughter and loud music filling every corner of Steve’s apartment. Drinks sloshed in plastic cups, people cheered at the beer pong table, and the warm buzz of alcohol kept everyone loose and carefree. You, Sam, and Natasha had slipped away to a quieter corner near the balcony door, passing a joint between you as you watched the chaos unfold.

Sam took a slow drag, exhaling smoke into the cool night air before chuckling. “I’m actually gonna get in trouble with your future husband for this,” he said, nodding toward Natasha.

She rolled her eyes, taking the joint from him. “Please. Steve smokes it with me.”

You gasped, your eyes wide. “What? Since when?”

Natasha grinned, holding the joint between her fingers like it was a glass of wine. “A couple of months ago. He thought it was a cigarette.”

That sent you and Sam into peals of laughter. “No, he didn’t,” you said, struggling to catch your breath.

“Oh, he absolutely did,” Natasha said, laughing along. “Took one drag and started coughing like his life depended on it. I had to explain it to him after.”

“That’s the most Steve Rogers thing I’ve ever heard,” you said, wiping at your eyes as you giggled.

Sam shook his head, still laughing. “Man, we just need to convert Bucky now.”

Natasha waved a hand dismissively. “There’s no way Bucky hasn’t smoked pot.”

“He has,” you said, shrugging when they both stared at you.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

You looked down at the joint in your hand, turning it idly before taking a small drag. “He did once. In middle school. But it ended up being mixed with something… not great.. panic attack. He hasn’t touched anything since.”

“Damn,” Sam said, leaning back against the wall. “I didn’t know that.”

You nodded, the memory flickering in your mind like a distant flame. “Yeah. It was a rough weekend for him. After that, he just… swore it off. No smoking, It’s like his personal rule now.”

Natasha frowned, her usual confidence softening for a moment. “That makes sense. Poor Buck.”

The three of you fell into a comfortable silence, the joint passing between you. The sound of cheering caught your attention as Steve and Bucky won another round of beer pong, their laughter cutting through the party noise. And then, as if the universe had planned it, the unmistakable opening notes of Under Pressure began to play.

You froze for a moment, the familiar beat washing over you like a wave. Slowly, you brought the joint to your lips one last time, inhaling deeply before handing it to Natasha. She said something, but the music had already pulled you away. You heard Sam mumble, “It’s the song,” and Natasha sighed, “Oh, God,” as you stepped out onto the balcony, leaving them behind.

The cold night air hit you immediately, biting at your skin and cutting through the haze of warmth in your chest. You lay down on the balcony floor, the rough texture pressing against your back as you stared up at the inky black sky. The stars were faint, drowned out by the city lights, but you could hear the music drifting through the open windows behind you, every note clear as day.

Pressure, pushing down on me, pressing down on you…

You let the song wash over you, your body sinking into the cold concrete as if the world were swallowing you whole. The weight in your chest loosened just enough for you to take a full breath, but the sadness lingered, wrapping itself around you like a second skin.

Can’t we give ourselves one more chance?

You felt like you could disappear here. Listening to this song, knowing the people you loved were safe and warm inside, laughing and living their lives, it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. The thought made you sick, but it clung to you, stubborn and persistent.

And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night

Why does this always happen? you thought bitterly. You hated yourself for it—for letting your mind wander to that place when you were surrounded by nothing but love. Sam, Natasha, Steve, Bucky… they all loved you. They would do anything for you. But still, the darkness crept in, whispering lies you couldn’t silence.

And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves

You closed your eyes, the music continuing to play as Freddie and Bowie’s voices intertwined. For a moment, you let yourself feel the weight of the song, the way it seemed to echo everything you couldn’t say. It was bittersweet, but it was yours. Yours and Bucky’s.

This is our last dance

This is our last dance

You lay there a while longer, letting the cold seep into your skin as you listened to the life happening just beyond the glass.

This is ourselves

The sound of the patio door sliding open—aggressively, almost slamming—pulled you out of your haze. Your eyes shot open as you instinctively sat up, startled. When you looked toward the doorway, Bucky stood there, his shoulders tense as his eyes darted around the balcony, searching. His gaze landed on you, and you saw the relief wash over him in an instant.

Under pressure

“Jesus,” he muttered, stepping out onto the balcony and sliding the door shut behind him. The music inside softened, muffled by the thick glass.

“Everything okay?” you asked hesitantly, sitting up fully now.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling a little too quickly. “Natasha said you came out here.” He paused, his voice softening. “I was looking for you.”

You blinked, confused. “I’m fine, I just needed some air.”

He nodded, his eyes scanning you again like he was making sure you were still intact. “They played our song,” you said quietly, your voice almost a whisper.

“Yeah,” he said, his lips curving into a faint, fleeting smile. “That’s why I was trying to find you.”

“Sorry,” you murmured, glancing down at your hands. The weight of the moment pressed against your chest. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Is everything okay?” you asked again, looking up at him now.

Bucky didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, reaching a hand down to you. You hesitated for a second before taking it, his grip warm and firm as he helped you to your feet. The two of you stood there, the cold air wrapping around you, but his hand lingered just a little longer than necessary.

“Buck?,” you said softly, your brow furrowing.

He hesitated, his hands flexing at his sides as though he was wrestling with something. Finally, he swallowed hard and said, “I was worried.” His voice barely audible.

"Worried about what?” you asked, tilting your head, though you already felt the answer forming in the pit of your stomach.

His eyes flickered away from yours for a moment before coming back, the raw emotion in his gaze almost too much to bear. “That you would jump,” he said quietly, the words hitting like a freight train.

The words hit you like a physical blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your mind reeled, struggling to process what he’d just said. “What?” you whispered, staring at him in shock. “Bucky…”

He didn’t flinch, his eyes locked onto yours, unflinching and raw. “I was scared,” he said softly. “I couldn’t find you, and Natasha said you were out here. I know how you’ve been down lately, like before... And I—” He stopped, exhaling shakily. “I just… I couldn’t not check.”

You stared at him, speechless, the weight of his words settling deep in your chest. For a moment, all you could do was look at each other, the world around you fading into the background.

“Bucky,” you said finally, your voice trembling, “I would never do that, not with my friends right there, not at Steve’s birthday party, at his home. I would never—”

He cut you off, his gaze hardening slightly. “You mean you never would in general, right? Not just because it’s Steve’s birthday and we’re here?”

His question hit like another blow, and your mouth went dry. You couldn’t answer, couldn’t speak. You just stared at him, and he stared back, the air between you thick with unspoken fears and truths neither of you were ready to face.

Before you could say anything, a knock on the glass patio door startled you both. You turned to see Natasha waving at you from inside, her face cheerful as she gestured toward the living room. Through the glass, you could faintly hear her say, “Cake time!”

“That’s our cue,” you said softly, breaking the silence, but neither of you moved. Bucky’s eyes stayed on you, his expression unreadable. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words died on his lips.

“Y/N,” he said finally, your name heavy with meaning. But before either of you could say anything else, the door opened again.

This time, it was Sam, stepping out with his usual carefree grin. “Come on, you two,” he said, gesturing back toward the party. “It’s happy birthday time.”

The spell broke, and you finally moved, stepping past Bucky toward the door. You felt his presence close behind you as you stepped back into the warm, bustling apartment. The sounds of laughter and music swallowed you whole as Sam clapped Bucky on the shoulder.

“You good?” Sam asked him, his tone light but tinged with concern.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, his voice steady now. “I’m good.”

The two of you followed Sam into the living room, where everyone had gathered around Steve, who stood behind a table piled high with cake and candles. Natasha beamed at him, and the entire room erupted into a cheerful chorus “Happy Birthday to you, Happy birthday to you…..”

Bucky jogged up the steps to your work building, balancing a paper bag with subs and a drink tray in one hand while holding his phone to his ear with the other. The midday sun cast a warm glow over the streets, and the city buzzed with its usual energy. On the other end of the call, Steve’s voice was loud and insistent.

“Just ask her out, man,” Steve said, exasperated. “Olivia’s obviously into you.”

“I know, I know,” Bucky replied, his tone distracted as he checked his watch. “It’s just—”

“‘It’s just,’” Steve interrupted, mimicking Bucky. “If you’re not gonna man up and ask out Y/N—or, I don’t know, figure out if she feels the same way—then you need to move on. Because if you’re not willing to make a move, she’s gonna move on, Buck, and you’re gonna get left behind.”

Bucky stopped walking, rubbing the back of his neck as he considered Steve’s words. “She’s never given me any signs that she feels the same way, Steve. And she’s always saying stuff like, ‘I don’t think have the capacity to properly love anyone.’ That’s kinda her answer right there, isn’t it?”

Steve sighed, the kind that made it clear he was done having this conversation. “Stop torturing yourself. Ask out Olivia already.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky muttered, clearly uncommitted. “I’ll do it.”

He ended the call as he reached your office building, pulling out his phone to text you.

Bucky: I’m here.

A minute passed, and then his phone buzzed.

You: ????

Bucky: Your office.

You: I’m home. Left early.

His brows furrowed as he read the message. He typed back quickly.

Bucky: Okay, be there in 15. I have food.

At your apartment, you froze, the panic hitting you like a freight train. He almost went into my work. He almost found out. Your hands trembled as you paced the room, glancing around at the chaos that had become your home. Dishes in the sink, laundry spilling out of the hamper, notebooks and loose papers scattered everywhere. It had been weeks since Bucky had last been over, and you’d let things slide—just like everything else in your life lately.

You moved like lightning, shoving clutter into drawers and closets, wiping down surfaces, and sweeping crumbs off the coffee table. You almost tripped over a pile of shoes, catching yourself on the edge of the couch as you cursed under your breath. By the time you checked the clock, only five minutes had passed. Good, you thought. Plenty of time.

You ran to the bathroom, splashing water on your face before quickly reapplying some concealer and lip balm. Then you threw on a fresh sweater, lit a candle, and sprayed the room with a light mist of air freshener. As you grabbed the scattered pages of a journal you’d been writing in, you shoved them into a drawer just as the knock came at the door.

“It’s unlocked!” you called out, trying to sound casual as your heart pounded.

Bucky stepped inside, frowning slightly as he looked around. “What did I say about leaving the door unlocked?”

“It wasn’t long,” you said quickly, giving him a small smile. “I just got home.”

Bucky set the bag of food on the counter, eyeing you suspiciously. “Why’d you leave early?”

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze as you grabbed plates from the cabinet. “Finished all the work I needed to do,” you said, keeping your tone light. It wasn’t a total lie, you told yourself. You just weren’t doing that work anymore.

He didn’t press the issue, though his expression lingered with curiosity. Instead, he handed you your sub. “Here,” he said. “Proof that you’re eating.”

You gave a soft laugh, but his tone wasn’t joking. You took a bite, more to appease him than anything, and he watched closely, satisfied only after you swallowed.

“Have you talked to your parents recently?” he asked, leaning against the counter.

You almost choked on your sandwich. “Come on, Bucky, you know I haven’t talked to them in years.”

“Still,” he said quietly, his gaze soft but insistent.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I saw online that they renewed their vows. Some friends and family were there.”

“They didn’t tell you?”

“Nope.” You forced a shrug. “It’s fine. At least they’re still paying for the apartment.”

Bucky frowned, his jaw tightening, but he let it go. “What do you think about Olivia?” he asked, changing the subject.

You blinked, confused. “Olivia who?”

“The blonde from my work,” he said, tilting his head. “The one who sang Journey at the Christmas party.”

“Oh,” you said, the realization hitting. “What about her?”

“I’m thinking of asking her out,” he said, his tone casual, but his eyes searched your face for a reaction.

Your chest tightened, the words cutting deeper than you’d expected. You’d always love Bucky—always. It had always been him for you. But it was never you for him. And as much as it hurt, you wanted him to be happy, even if it wasn’t with you. If anything ever happened to you, you wanted to know he’d have someone. Someone who could give him the love you couldn’t.

“You should,” you said, forcing a bright smile. “You guys would make such a good couple. She’s super sweet, and she’s really pretty.”

Bucky stared at you, his eyes searching again, like he didn’t quite believe you. “That’s what Steve said,” he muttered.

You tilted your head. “Wait, you asked Steve first? I thought I was the number one best friend,” you teased, trying to keep your tone light.

Bucky’s face dropped, panic flashing across his features. “No, no, no, no,” he said quickly. “You are. I—”

“Bucky,” you interrupted, smiling faintly. “I’m kidding. It’s fine.”

"You'll always be my number one everything, I hope you know that."

After Bucky left, the apartment felt quieter than usual. You sat on the couch, the remains of your lunch untouched on the table in front of you. Your phone sat heavy in your hand, and on a whim, you opened a new text message and typed out a simple line.

You: Congratulations on renewing your vows.

You sent it to your mom, watching the “delivered” notification pop up. Moments later, the message shifted to “read,” but no reply came. You sighed, a bitter chuckle escaping your lips. Typical. Shaking your head, you typed the same message to your father.

This time, at least, you got a response.

Dad: Thanks.

You stared at the message for a moment before typing back.

You: Your welcome, love you.

And then nothing. The little “read” notification popped up at the bottom of your screen, and that was it. You were left on read.

A laugh bubbled out of you, hollow and sharp. Of course. It was absurd, really, how predictable it all was. The silence was deafening, and you could feel it creeping in again—that familiar darkness that sat heavy on your chest, pulling you down.

You leaned back into the couch, staring at the ceiling. The air felt heavier, the edges of the room seeming to blur as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t know how long you sat there, lost in the swirling mess of thoughts in your head, when your phone buzzed in your hand.

It was a text from Bucky.

Bucky: She said yes...... :-)

You stared at the screen, the words feeling like a slap and a balm at the same time. You had told him to ask her out. You wanted him to be happy. So why did it hurt so much?

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard for a moment before you finally typed a reply.

You: Of course she did, It’s you, Bucky <3 Any girl would be lucky to go out with you.

You hit send, feeling the ache in your chest grow sharper. Somewhere in his office, Bucky read your message, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. But as he stared at the words, his heart twisted.

If only you felt that way about yourself, he thought. Because it wasn’t Olivia he wanted. It was you. It had always been you.

But instead of saying that, he typed back a lighthearted response, masking the weight in his chest.

Bucky: You’re gonna make my ego blow up. I don’t wanna end up with a head as big as Sam’s.

When you read his text, you managed a small laugh, even as the heaviness lingered. You typed back a simple “lol” and set the phone down, your fingers trembling slightly.

The apartment was quiet again, the only sound the faint hum of the heater kicking on. You sank further into the couch, the ache in your chest spreading as the hours stretched on. Somewhere, Bucky was moving forward, and you were still here, stuck in place, sinking deeper and deeper.

The rest of the week passed in a blur, the days melting into each other like one endless stretch of gray. Morning, afternoon, evening—it didn’t matter. You spent most of it lying in your bed or on the couch, staring at the ceiling or scrolling aimlessly through your phone. Sometimes, when the weight became unbearable, you ran a bath, sinking into the warm water until it turned ice cold, letting it numb your skin as much as it could.

You texted your friends back when they reached out, just enough to keep them from worrying. You gave vague answers, dodged invitations, always with an excuse at the ready.

Natasha: Wanna grab lunch tomorrow? Maybe hit up that new place near the park?

You: Wish I could, but I already made plans with Sam. Next time?

Sam: Movie night at mine tomorrow? You in?

You: Sorry, can’t. Nat’s got me booked for the day.

Bucky: What’re you doing this weekend? I miss you..

You: Wish I could, but I promised Nat I’d help him with something.

The lies came easily, but they still stung. You weren’t proud of them, but it was the only way to keep them at bay. The thought of facing any of them, of seeing the concern in their eyes, was too much to bear. You weren’t ready to tell them the truth. Hell, you weren’t even sure you could say it out loud.

The thoughts crept in quietly, like they always did, settling in the corners of your mind and growing until they were all you could hear. You’d been here before, countless times, but this felt different. Worse. You didn’t think you’d ever been this low.

You’d always wondered what it would be like not to feel. To let the darkness swallow you whole, to just… stop. You’d thought about it so many times, toyed with the idea in the dead of night when no one else was around. You’d even tried, once or twice.

But there was always something—or rather, someone—who pulled you back. Bucky. He’d always been there, always managed to find you just before you slipped too far. And the guilt that followed was unbearable. Knowing that your pain hurt him, that it made him worry. It made you feel selfish, even though you knew deep down that wasn’t what he would want you to feel.

But this time… this time was different. Your friends were happy. Their lives were coming together, piece by piece. Natasha had her promotion, Steve was thriving at work, Sam was always chasing his next big project, and now Bucky was moving forward, too. And more importantly they all had each other.

It should’ve made you feel worse, knowing you were the only one stuck. But instead, it comforted you in a strange, twisted way. They were happy. They were thriving. And if they were thriving, it meant they were okay. It meant they didn’t need you dragging them down.

The days eventually bled together in a monotonous cycle: waking up, lying in bed for hours, moving to the couch when you couldn’t stand the silence of your room. Sometimes you’d scroll through social media, letting the curated happiness of others wash over you in waves of apathy and bitterness. Other times, you’d stare at the ceiling, letting your mind drift to places you didn’t want it to go.

You thought about your friends, about how they’d fight for you if they knew how bad it had gotten. They’d drag you out of bed, force you into the sunlight, tell you that you were worth it, that they loved you. But the thing was, you didn’t know if you wanted to fight anymore. Not this time.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe them. You knew they loved you. But love didn’t fix the heaviness in your chest or the static in your head. It didn’t stop the days from feeling endless, didn’t make the darkness any less suffocating.

And the worst part was, you weren’t even sure you wanted it to stop. The thought scared you, but it was the truth. Fighting felt exhausting. And maybe, just maybe, it was easier to let it win.

The warm hum of conversation and clinking glasses filled Natasha and Steve’s living room. The four of them—Natasha, Steve, Sam, and Bucky—sat around the table, laughter occasionally punctuating their lighthearted arguments about whose turn it was to grab the next round of drinks. Bucky sipped his whiskey slowly, only half-engaged in the conversation, his mind drifting elsewhere.

“Hey,” Natasha said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “When’s Y/N getting here?”

Bucky frowned, setting his glass down. “Weren’t you with her earlier today? Shouldn’t you know?”

Natasha blinked in confusion. “I haven’t seen her since Steve’s birthday party.”

Bucky froze, the words hitting him like a punch. “What?” His voice was low, the edge in it unmistakable. “That was weeks ago.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed as she looked at Steve, then Sam, before turning back to Bucky. “Yeah, I know. Every time I reach out to her, she says she’s with you or Sam, dodges my calls and everything.”

Sam, who had been leaning back lazily in his chair, straightened up. “Wait, what? She told me she’s been hanging out with you, Buck.” He shrugged casually. “I haven’t hung out with her in a while. But it’s life, right? People get busy.”

Bucky’s chest tightened as his mind raced. “She told you she was with me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Sam said, confused. “Why?”

But Bucky was already up, his coat in hand, his boots being shoved on in record time.

“Where are you going?” Natasha asked, standing now, her confusion quickly morphing into concern.

Bucky paused at the door, his eyes flickering between all of them. “She’s sad again,” he said, the words coming out like a realization, heavy with dread. Without another word, he was gone, the door slamming behind him.

Bucky ran through the streets, his heart pounding in his chest. By the time he reached your apartment, he barely noticed the ache in his legs or the sting of the cold air. He pushed the door handle, and it opened easily. Unlocked again, he thought bitterly, stepping inside.

The apartment was dark, the kind of oppressive darkness that came from too much time spent with the blinds drawn. The bag of subs he’d brought over almost two weeks ago was still sitting in the exact same spot on the counter, untouched. His heart sank further as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

He called your name his voice echoing slightly in the empty space.

A moment later, your bedroom door cracked open, and you poked your head out, your face pale and tired. “Bucky?” you said, your voice hoarse and more hostile than you intended. “What are you doing here?”

The harshness in your tone stung, but Bucky held his ground. “What are you doing?” he demanded, stepping closer. “Why are you doing this?”

You stepped out of your room fully, arms crossed over your hoodie, your posture defensive. “Doing what?”

“You know what,” he snapped, his frustration breaking through, his voice filled with emotion. “Why are you pushing us away? Why are you pushing me away? Why are you doing this again? You know I’m here for you, please let me help you.”

Your fingers played with the hem of your, his hoodie as you stared at the floor. “I’m not doing anything,” you muttered.

“Bullshit,” he said, his voice rising. “I just left Steve and Nat’s place. Guess who was there? Sam too. And guess what I found out? You’ve been lying to all of us.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, anger and shame swirling in your expression. “You don’t get it,” you shot back, your voice raw. “You don’t get to judge me.”

His face softened, his tone lowering. “I would never judge you,” he said firmly, taking a step closer. “You have to know that. I’m here for you, but you’re not letting me be here. You’re not letting me help you, just let me in.”

“Maybe I don’t want your help,” you snapped, your voice breaking. “Have you ever thought of that? Maybe I don’t want it.”

Bucky froze, his jaw clenching as he stared at you. The words hit him harder than he expected, and his face dropped, the hurt clear in his expression. “Are you taking your meds?” he asked quietly.

You let out a bitter laugh, a tear slipping down your cheek as you wiped it away angrily. “Meds?” you repeated, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “The meds don’t work! They’ve never worked! ”

His brows furrowed in concern. “When did you stop taking them?”

“When my insurance ran out!” you admitted, your voice sharp and full of bitterness, as frustrated tears started to spill.

Bucky stilled, the pieces falling into place. “Why did your insurance run out?” he asked carefully.

“Because I got fired months ago!” you shouted, the words exploding out of you. “I lost my job, okay? That’s why! Are you happy now?”

The room fell silent, the weight of your admission hanging heavy between you. Bucky’s face was a mix of shock and hurt, his mouth opening and closing like he didn’t know what to say.

“Leave,” you said suddenly, your voice trembling with anger and exhaustion. “Just leave me alone, Bucky. I want to be alone. I don’t want you here! I don't need you here! Just leave me the fuck alone.”

“Y/N…” he started, his voice soft, but you cut him off, yelling louder this time. “Get out!”

He stood there, frozen, the internal battle raging across his face. He knew he shouldn’t leave you—not now, not like this. But your words had cut deep, and the sheer overwhelm of it all was too much.

“Fine,” he said finally, his voice cold. “You want to be alone? Be alone.”

He turned and walked to the door, pausing only to lock it behind him before slamming it shut. The sound echoed through the empty apartment, and you stood there, the silence swallowing you whole.

It was what you wanted. But as you sank back onto the couch, the ache in your chest grew heavier, and the tears you’d been holding back finally broke free.

You didn’t want to be here anymore.

This is our last dance

This is our last dance

[yoonmetogether]

Hook, Line & Stinker

A Min Yoongi one-shot pairing: workaholic!dom!yoongi x needy!brat!fem reader feat. hoseok genre: est. relationship, pwp rating: M for mature and explicit content. No one under 18 should interact summary: you love your boyfriend, but it really sucks when he holes himself up in his studio for days at a time, leaving you at home alone. when you visit him to make sure he's still alive and well, you have no intention of dragging him away from his work. but is there anything wrong with a little distraction in the form of lingerie? warnings: jealousy, angst, (blonde snapback) yoongi is moody, reader feels neglected and pushes his buttons, arguments, there's no infidelity but reader pretends she takes an offer on a date w/ hobi and yoongi worries bc of insecurities and then brings up his ex, under the desk bj, exhibitionism kink, unprotected sex (if he doesn't wrap it, don't let him tap it!), rough make-up sex, oral (m. and f. receiving), spanking, spitting, light choking, multiple orgasms, i think this is pretty filthy, reader gets upset but yoongi takes care of her, they kiss & make-up & talk about boundaries, they love each other, fluff ending, this is my first time posting something like this so please let me know if i missed any tags!!! wc: 10.8k 🤪 also shoutout to my beta reader @yoonglesyeobo who gave me feedback in bullet-points for this, honestly the best!!!

You punch in the code to Yoongi’s studio (which just so happens to be your birthday), slightly irked that you have to come all this way because your boyfriend wants to continue to be a workaholic after you’ve lectured him countless times about the importance of taking a break. So you arrive with food and a cute lil outfit you think will help distract him.

Upon entering, you see he is deeply entranced by his screen and you can hear the echoes of music blasting through his headphones. You quietly maneuver inside and set the bag of takeout on the coffee table before tiptoeing up behind his chair and slowly reaching up to his shoulders. You roughly grab them and laugh at the way he jumps and tears off his headphones.

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaims as he turns to see who just scared the shit out of him. 

“Deng! Guess again,” you say with a grin, leaning down to kiss him on the head. When you go to poke his nose, he bats your hand away and mumbles.

“You could’ve given me a heart attack.”

“Well, that’s one way to get you out of the studio. Give you a ride home in an ambulance. I never thought of that,” you sneer playfully, giggling when he glares at you. You slide back to the food on the table. 

“Come eat, Min PD.” 

“I’m almost done,” he grumbles and turns to face his desk. You roll your eyes. 

“No, sir. You need to eat or you’re gonna make yourself sick, and guess who has to take care of you,” you scold as you tug on the back of his chair to twist him around and he looks up at you with a whine. You would never want him to get sick, but if he does, you'd love to baby him, and not just because you'd find it amusing how he'd act like he didn't like it as he has many times before. You've learned over the course of your relationship that he can take care of himself when he's sick, but now that you live together, he's been known to ham up his symptoms so you'll dote on him hand and foot. And he does just the same for you, even goes out of his way sometimes. One time he called off work for an entire week when you got the flu and wouldn't hear any of your arguments that you were fine alone.

“I will! I just need a couple minutes.” 

You click your tongue. “A couple minutes to you is like eight hours. I swear, you go through a time warp every time you come in here. You know it's been three days since I last saw you? Let’s go.”

You grab onto his arm and tug him, but he goes slack in his chair and makes protesting noises as you drag him towards the coffee table, laughing when he stretches his other arm at his desk like he’s being pulled away from a long-lost friend. 

“You are such a drama queen,” you sigh as you let go of his arm.

“I was almost done,” he pouts, crossing his arms. You roll your eyes as you take out the food you brought.

“Sure, sure. Just eat real quick and you can finish in 'a couple minutes,’” you say sarcastically with air quotes, and he scowls, nonetheless leans forward to reluctantly grab the box of food you hand him. 

You walk around the edge of the table and stop in front of him. You smile as he begins to eat his noodles, so you grab his chin.

“Good boy,” you quip, and lean down to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, catching him off guard. 

He coughs a bit as he processes what you said and watches you with wide eyes as you sit down in his lap. You laugh at his expression as you open your container of food and grab a pair of chopsticks. You both sit in silence and eat, glancing at him every now and as he chews with his head down, a line drawn between his brows that looks like he’s trying to figure out something. 

“How’s your food?” you ask before taking a sip from your bottle of water.

“Good,” he grumbles without looking at you. “Thanks.” 

You shift to get more comfortable in his lap and he starts to chew faster.

After he nudges you off his lap and helps you clean up, he turns around to scoot his chair back to his desk.

“Thanks for coming by and all, but I think you should leave."

You scoff, mildly hurt. “Why?”

“Because I know what you’re trying to do.”

You realize what he means and the brat in you makes an appearance, so you throw your hair haughtily over your shoulder and slyly walk up to his chair, sliding a hand down his arm.

“And what is that exactly?”

“You’re trying to distract me, but it’s not working,” he says through curled lips, staring at his screen.

“No?” you smirk. You squat and fold your elbows on the arms of his chair, propping your chin up on your wrist. “How am I being distracting? All I did was bring you food.” 

He turns his head to glare at you, but his Adam's apple bobs when he looks down at your position, how your legs are spread to reveal the meat of your thighs, then at how you smile at him in a pseudo-innocent way. 

“Exhibit A, B and C,” he says, gesturing to your legs, tits, and face.

You grin. “What? I’m just looking at you.” Your voice however drips in seduction. 

He shakes his head and looks back at his screen, trying to stay strong. 

“Precisely.”

Your tongue pokes into your cheek in amusement and a devilish lightbulb flashes in your mind. 

“How is me looking at you so distracting?” you ask, settling on your knees before gliding a hand over his leg. “Wouldn’t it be something more like this?” 

His mouth pulls into a thin line as he struggles to keep his eyes focused up. You slowly push at his leg to move him towards you so you can rise in between his knees, smiling at the way he refuses to look at you. You begin to slide your hands up his thigh, licking your lips as you head for his crotch, but he catches your wrist.

“Don’t,” he commands, now looking down at you with a serious expression.

Undeterred, you push your bottom lip out in the brattiest pout, and the severe clench in his jaw shows how hard he's fighting to keep his guard up. 

“You’re just so stressed, and I want to help you… relax.” 

He closes his eyes and swallows, and you just know he's trying to keep his imagination away from thoughts not suited for work.

“I appreciate that, baby, but I’m almost done here and when I am, I’m all yours, okay?” He lets go of your wrist to smooth out your pout with his thumb. 

You believe him, but still, you want to bother him after he hasn't paid attention to you in a few days.

“Fine,” you sigh and start to stand up. “Well, I guess I can’t ask you for your advice on what I bought. If I want to return it, today is my last day, so it’s now or never.” 

You only take one step away when his hand grabs your wrist. You smile. Hook, line, and stinker. 

You look back in faux confusion. He licks his lips and swallows, hesitant yet desperate to find out what you’re talking about.

“What do you need my advice on?”

Without hesitation, your hands fly to the hem of your shirt. “Oh, just this.” 

He sucks in a sharp breath as you tear off your shirt to reveal a lavender corset bra. The lace is embroidered with delicate floral designs to reveal the lower half of your breast, just barely covering your nipples, and parts of your ribcage below. His throat goes dry. 

“It has a matching thong too. Wanna see?” Your question is rhetorical because you give him no time to breathe as you unbutton your shorts. You bend over to shimmy them down your legs, making a show of wiggling so your breasts move side to side. 

You kick your shorts to the side and stand straight, carding your hair out of your face before placing your hands on your hips and standing confidently in front of him. 

“So, what do you think?” you ask, cocking your head to the side as his wide eyes go up and down your form. 

“It’s pretty,” he swallows, biting his lip to ignore the twitch in his boxers. 

“Oh, see how it looks from behind.” You twirl around and adjust the clips of the corset then the hem of your thong, sticking your ass out in the process. “Isn’t it cute?” Yoongi is screwed. 

You look at him from over your shoulder. “Do you like it?” 

He nods, barely hearing you as his eyes train on the way the string of the thong disappears between your cheeks. You smirk when his tongue pokes out just over his teeth.

“The lace is really soft too. Here, feel,” you say, spinning back around and walking up to him, rubbing your fingers over the lace below your breast. 

He swallows, wanting so bad to reach out and touch, but knowing if he does, it’s over for him, he’ll lose. But shit, you look good as fuck, and he can’t help but give in. 

You grin as he reaches his hand out to feel the lace and he hums in approval.

“It’s nice,” he says, voice deep and starting to give away his desire.

“It’s even better here,” you say, gripping his wrist to plant his hand on your breast and he purrs as he lets his fingers squeeze your flesh. 

You let him massage for a second or two and judging by his face he looks closer to giving into your distraction, but you'll wait.

“Okay, since you like it, I won’t return it,” you say, dropping his hand and turning to grab your shorts off the ground. “Thanks! I’ll let you get back to work.” 

You bend over again to pick up your shirt, your ass right in his line of sight and he can’t deny the rock-hard bulge in his jeans. 

“I’ll see you when you get home,” you say as you walk over to the table but his low voice rumbles through the sound-proof studio.

“Get your ass back here,” his words shoot straight to your core, the string of your thong growing wet. 

“I thought you said you have to work,” you say innocently. 

“Right now,” he growls, and you move towards him like a magnet. 

Once again next to his chair, he slides his fingers underneath the lavender straps stretching over your hips to cup your exposed ass. Your skin flares hot when he squeezes.

“I don’t want to distract you.”

His dark eyes filled with lust shoot up to you and flicker with anger.

“It’s a little fuckin’ late for that, doll,” he grits. “You made a problem and now you’re going to fix it.” He moves his other hand to palm his bulge. Your eyes widen at the motion, and you cross your legs because, shit, you want to sit on that so bad.

“And then you’re going to leave and let me finish what you interrupted and wait for me to come home.” 

“Yeah? Then what?”

His lips curl in what could be a growl, and he smacks your ass, pushing you to stand between his legs. 

“Then I’m going to punish you for getting me hard at work.”

You moan as his hand moves to your front and feels over the lace material that covers your pussy. You shudder when his fingers slip between your thighs, battling with the string of your thong to rake over your clit and slit, groaning at how wet you already are. 

“Fuck, you really get this turned on just from teasing me?”

You whimper in response as he drags his finger over your bud before removing his hand. 

“We need to do something about that,” he says, sticking his fingers in his mouth to suck your arousal from them. Your legs shake involuntarily. “You can’t keep pissing me off so you can get your way.”

You breathe out a moan as he pops his wet fingers into view and licks over them slowly with his tongue flicking in the v-shape while looking right at you before dropping them to his lap. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you imagine him doing that right on your clit.

“I keep saying, you make it too easy.” 

He bares his teeth before gripping your sides and pulling you down to his lap, pushing your hips to roll on his groin.

“Or maybe you just need to have the brat fucked out of you,” he growls into your ear before biting the skin below it. Before you can do anything, he pushes at your waist and tells you to get on your knees on the ground, raking his hair back in frustration. 

You hesitate as you stare at his crotch, wanting to reach for it but remembering all the times he's tied you up for touching him without permission.

“Get to work,” he says, letting his wrists dangle casually from the arms of the chair, bracelets clacking.

You greedily sit up on your knees as your fingers dig around under his sweater for his belt. You quiver at the sound of his buckle coming loose and bite your lip when you see the bulge straining in his underwear after you undo his jeans. Just as you begin to reach into his boxers, someone knocks at his door.

You both react in panic.

“Hyung, can I come in? I need to show you something,” the sound of Hoseok’s voice echoes from the other side of the door.

“Shit!” he breathes, pushing your hands away from his belt and rolling in his chair over to where you left your clothes on the floor. However, you have no intention of moving.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” He asks exasperatedly in a hushed tone when he finds you sliding back under his desk on your hands and knees.

“Yah, Yoongi hyung!”

Yoongi’s head whips between you and the door, blood pressure spiking. You put your hand out for the clothes he’s holding.

“It’s too late, I’ll just hide under here. He won’t see me.”

Yoongi’s jaw moves in annoyance, but he has no time to argue with you. So, he scoots his chair all the way under his desk to shield you with his widespread legs, throwing your clothes in your face. It works because you can barely see out beyond his lap, thanks to his wide and thick thighs, but this is no good news for Yoongi because another evil and salacious idea forms in your mind.

“It’s unlocked!” Yoongi calls and braces himself, praying that Hoseok cannot see under his desk.

As the door opens, Yoongi quickly busies himself at his computer, pretending that he doesn’t have his half-naked girlfriend underneath his desk and face level with his crotch. 

“Sorry to bother you, I just wanted to ask your advice on something.”

Yoongi’s brow ticks. Why is everyone asking for his advice today? 

“It’s fine, Hob-a, what’s up?” He asks, trying to play it cool. 

But as Hoseok stands next to him at his desk, he feels hands slide onto his lap and he grips the edge of the table, hoping that you're only just teasing him. But that hope doesn’t last very long.

Hoseok wants to know what he thinks about one of his tracks, that there’s something off about it but he can’t figure out what. Hoseok hands Yoongi his flash drive and he plugs it into his PC, and as he clicks around for the file your fingers inch towards his unopened jeans.

As Hoseok points at the screen about different parts of the track he’s concerned about, Yoongi grinds his teeth, urging himself to stay focused even when you begin to palm at his clothed dick. He thinks about kicking you, but all thoughts get cut off when you reach in through the hole in his boxers and pull his cock out. Fuck, he's needy for you, even in the most unorthodox way. He jerks when your hand wraps around his length, the other diving back in to squeeze his balls but he plays it off like he’s adjusting in his seat, masking his moan with a cough. He slides forward in the chair so you can have easier access.

Shit. How can something so wrong feel so motherfucking good?

“You okay?” Hoseok asks, giving him a wary side glance as Yoongi clicks around the screen.

The older, sweating man nods stiffly and clears his throat. 

“Yeah. It’s just been a long day. Do you wanna run it through?”

Hoseok leans over for the mouse and Yoongi takes the chance to let his expression crack while you run your tongue up the thick, pulsing vein on the underside of his dick, hand circling around his base.

Yoongi’s eyebrows pinch in fierce concentration on Hoseok’s track once he hits play but all of a sudden, your lips wrap around his tip, and you suck him into hollowed cheeks, devastatingly slow so as to not make noise even though the music would surely cover it. Stifling a groan, he straightens his back and presses his ribcage against his desk when you swirl your tongue around him. He’s going to fucking get you later. 

Hoseok hits the spacebar and pauses the music. As it stops, you halt your movements. “See, there. Something doesn’t sound right.” 

Yoongi’s brows furrow as he tries to center his attention even though your hand is massaging his balls.

“I think I missed it, sorry.” 

Hoseok sighs but moves the mouse to rewind back a few beats. He points at the tracker on the screen to tell Yoongi which part to pay most attention to and he nods.

As the music resumes your mouth returns to his length, and you slowly move down until his tip hits the back of your throat and he holds his breath at the pleasure, moan catching in his chest. He's so goddamn pissed that you’re doing this to him, but it feels so good at the same time. He tries his best to resist the urge to let the pleasure consume him, so he knocks off his snapback to pull his fingers through his hair and begs his brain to focus on the music. 

“Right here, hyung,” Hoseok murmurs next to him and Yoongi nods, listening closely even though your hot tongue licks from his base to the tip. 

Then he hears it, some strange offbeat in the background and he taps the spacebar, sighing through his nose when the silence makes you retreat.

They go over it for a while until Yoongi finally figures out what’s going on since the blood returns to his brain once you stopped touching him (although that doesn’t mean he isn’t still hard, and his dick isn’t twitching in your face and making you salivate and want to touch yourself). 

“Ah, okay, I see what you mean,” Hoseok says when Yoongi explains that there’s an extra beat embedded that’s easy to miss. “Thanks.” He claps him on the shoulder.

“Is that all you need?” Yoongi asks just to be polite but prays Hobi makes a quick exit. 

He nods as he saves the file before ejecting it and Yoongi pulls out the flash drive and hands it to him. 

“How long have you been here?” 

“Uh, a while, but I’m almost done.” Yoongi hopes Hoseok doesn’t see the way his eyes squeeze shut when you begin to move your thumb over his leaking tip.

“Good. You deserve a break! You’ve been working so hard.”

“Thanks, Hob-a. You too.” 

“How’s your girlfriend?”

Yoongi internally groans, now of all times Hoseok wants to make small talk. 

“She’s fine,” he says in a tight voice, only because you have lightly dragged your fingers up his length.

“Uh-oh. Troubles in paradise?” 

Yoongi’s eyes widen in confusion and your hand stills. “No? What makes you say that?”

“Oh, just saying, because usually when anyone asks you about her, you gush for like twenty minutes.”

Yoongi’s face and neck flushes a dark red and you have to press a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet. 

“Do not,” he grumbles, although in denial. 

Hoseok snorts. “Fat lie, hyung. You always jump at the chance to talk about her, you don’t realize that? It’s cute! Well, in a sickening kind of way, but still.” 

Yoongi glares at him as he feels your head fall onto his knee, trying to keep yourself from laughing.

“Shut up,” he grumbles.

“Why? Are you embarrassed?” Hoseok teases in a baby voice, bending down to pinch at Yoongi’s cheeks. “Cute Yoonie loves his girlfriend so much that he wants to talk about her all the time.”

“Fuck off, Hoseok,” Yoongi mumbles, swatting at Hoseok’s fingers and pushing him away as he turns back to his computer, and thankfully you’ve cut him a fucking break under his desk.

Hoseok snickers and grabs his laptop. “You better go home and see her, go on a date. But if you’re too busy, I’d be more than happy to take her out for you!”

“Yah, Jung Hoseok!” Yoongi bubbles with fury and Hoseok just cackles and scurries to the exit. 

“Bye!” Hoseok grins mischievously, wiggling his fingers in the air before closing the door behind him. 

A few seconds after the lock clicks shut, you burst out into laughter, and Yoongi flushes a hot, steaming red all the way up to his ears. 

Yoongi pushes away from the desk and ducks his head down to look at you as you begin to crawl out on all fours. He scowls when you giggle once you make eye contact with him.

“I don’t see what’s funny. You’re in big trouble, you know,” he says, stuffing himself back in his underwear.

You stifle a laugh as you stand up. “You mad?”

“Clearly!”

You cock your eyebrow when he darts a hand out in frustration. “At what, the fact that I sucked your dick under your desk or that I found out how much you love to talk about me?”

Yoongi narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. “Both.” 

You smirk. “Aww, come on, Yoonie~” you tease, mimicking Hoseok as you go to sit on your boyfriend’s lap. 

“Go away,” He tries to fight you off but you trap him by grinding down on his hips and shoving your tits in his face. 

You hum as you press an open-mouth kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You sure?” 

Your hand slides down to his clothed dick, still solid under your palm. “Don't you want me to take care of your ‘problem’?” 

He swallows moan as you grope him. But he feels embarrassed and upset that you went down on him when Hoseok was there. Deep down he thinks it was hot, but he knows Hoseok has always had a crush on you and he doesn’t like the idea of him seeing you like that, especially with the kinds of comments he sometimes makes implying that he can treat you better.

“Yeah, when I get home,” he sighs and you deflate. “I’m almost done.”

“Seriously, are you mad?” 

“No, babe. I just want to finish up now so that I can be done for the weekend. That’s what you want, right?”

You grimace, wondering what he means by that. “Fine,” you acquiesce, hopping off of his lap so he can roll back up to his desk. 

You slide on your clothes and gather your things, biting your tongue to keep from saying anything smart, but you can’t help feeling that his words don't sit right in your chest. As you walk to the door and slip on your shoes, you glance over to see him hunched over his desk, not even bothering to look back as you leave.

“You know, maybe I’ll go find Hoseok and take him up on his offer. Since it seems he has the time for me,” you sneer after you open the door, stepping out and slamming it shut behind you. 

Yoongi jerks his head and swivels around but you've already disappeared. Oooh, that pisses him off. He knows you only said it to do just that but that sits right along his insecurities and he wants to lose it. But he really is almost done with work so if he hunkers down now, he can finish and go home and tell you off.

90 minutes later he receives a notification, a text from you with an attached image. You’re lying in bed on your stomach in your corset bra, holding up your head as you pout into the camera with your cleavage on full display. 

my brat: Hoseok was busy :/

Yoongi drops his phone on the table, and it clatters, free hands rubbing frustration down his face. He knows what you’re doing, and he should have the willpower to ignore it but- FUCK are you good at getting what you want. You like pissing him off so that he'll be rough with you. And although he enjoys the dynamic, finds it fun, this is just one of those times that he really doesn’t like how you piss him off. He hates the idea of you alluding to the fact that you asked another man to fuck you. He knows you indeed haven’t, that you’re just messing with him, but he’s getting in his head with his self-doubt. He angrily decides that the track is good enough for now, that he can meet with Namjoon tomorrow or something to tweak it. He has to get home to make sure no one else has touched you but him.

You are in Big. Fucking. Trouble.

When Yoongi walks through the door, you’re in the kitchen getting something to drink, wearing one of his flannel shirts over your lingerie. When he appears you smile and greet him, but falter when he ignores you and quickly shuffles by to the bedroom. You watch him pass you and your smile slips at the stone look on his face. You know you pissed him off but did you make him upset? You never want to hurt his feelings, you just want to get his attention. You set your drink on the counter and pad after him. 

When you walk into the room and lean against the door frame, his back is to you as he strips off his sweater to reveal his dark gray t-shirt and silver chain.

“Did you finish?” you ask, twiddling your fingers over one of the buttons of his flannel. 

“No,” he says, keeping his back to you. You frown.

“Oh. How come?” 

“Because my bratty girlfriend can’t be fucking patient," he grits, swiping off his snapback.

You cross your arms, not appreciating his tone. “I left, didn't I?”

His shoulders shake in a sardonic laugh, fingers combing through his hat-hair. “Yeah, only after telling me you were going to look for Hoseok.”

“Yeah well, maybe if you paid more attention to me, I wouldn’t feel the need to do that,” you sneer before pushing off of the door frame to speed-walk into the living room. 

You only make it halfway down the hall before a hand grabs your wrist. You’re met with Yoongi’s looming figure exuding anger as he glares down at you and you match his energy immediately.

“And you think the way to get my attention is by making me jealous?”

“Well, it seems to be the only thing that’s working! Isn’t that why you came home before you got done with work? Because you think I asked Hoseok to fuck me? Not because you-“ 

“Did you?” he interrupts and your jaw moves in irritation.

“What do you think?” you bark. He blinks down at the floor. There it is again- that insecurity. He backs you into the wall as he tries to control his anxiety.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles honestly and that pisses you off. He really thinks you would stoop that low?

“Really? What, you think I wanted to suck you off while he was there hoping he’d catch us? Ask to join? Have me suck his dick too?” 

Rage floods through him at the thought and his hold around your wrist tightens. 

“Would you?” 

Your mouth drops open. “Wow. Screw you." You pry his hand off and angrily walk back into the bedroom, wanting to put on more clothes now that you’re upset. As he follows, you make a petty point by taking off his flannel and exchanging it for your own clothes, pulling on your own t-shirt and sweats. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says when he stands in the doorway.

"No? You don’t think that I’d jump at the chance to suck another man’s dick if the opportunity presented itself?” 

“No, of course not,” he shakes his head, feeling guilty when you say nothing else so he continues, wanting you to understand where he's coming from.

“I just… You know he likes you.” 

You spin around, flabbergasted. “Fucking so?”

He closes his eyes, feeling embarrassed that he’s about to bring this up. He has no reason to be worried that you like Hoseok but… he still struggles deep down that he doesn’t deserve you and that you’d be better off with someone else. Maybe someone like Hoseok. 

“Why don’t you go ask him whether or not I took him up on his offer?” you snap. Then you stride across the floor and stand toe to toe with him. 

“Or how bout you find out for yourself,” you provoke. 

He looks down at you with your chin tilted up at his and a heartbeat passes before his hands fly to your face and he presses his lips to yours. You respond immediately by scraping your fingers over his ribs, hooking over his spine as he licks into your mouth, teeth clashing together desperately. 

He begins to walk you backward towards the bed and when you hit the edge of the mattress, he tears your shirt off and lifts you by the waist to settle you down and kiss you hungrily as he climbs on top of you, chain laying on your throat. His hands move down to your sweats and he stands straight to rip them down your legs and onto the floor, looking down at your body decorated with pretty lingerie and he intrusively thinks about Hoseok seeing you like this and jealousy fires through him again. 

He falls to his knees and loops his fingers under the straps of your thong to roughly pull them off, licking his lips at the sight of your bare pussy, glistening with the return of your arousal. He adds to it with his spit and promptly attaches his lips to your clit, growling when you cry out and arch your back in response. He wraps his arms underneath your thighs to hold you in place as he slathers your pussy with his spit and teeth and tongue. 

His eyes close as you let out whimpers and whines of his name while your hands grip his hair, every sound making his dick twitch in his jeans. He sucks and slurps all over your cunt, making it messy between your thighs and on his chin, anything to make you keep wailing his name. He flicks his tongue over your clit and between your folds just like he demonstrated on his fingers back in the studio, and he has to flex his biceps around your thighs when you thrash. He can tell you’re close by the way your legs quiver beside his head and he slides your clit between his teeth before pressing his lips around it and sucking in a fast, relentless rhythm. 

“Yoongi, gonna come!” you cry and a dark chuckle rumbles through his chest at the thought that no one else can get you to your peak as quickly as he can. He mercilessly continues sucking your clit until your legs violently shake and press against his head and you come with shrieks of his name. His tongue dives to your hole as it pulses and he licks your essence into his mouth and groans while he swallows, grinning victoriously as you continue to shake through throes of pleasure. 

He slows his movements as you spiral down, loving the way you twitch at every touch of his mouth. He presses a final kiss to your clit before he moves his arms from under your thighs so he can hover over you while you catch your breath. He places his knee between your legs and leans down to kiss you so you can taste yourself, chain swinging over your heaving breasts. You moan as you dart your tongue against his and loop your arms around his neck to pull him down. Then he slides his lips down your jaw into the crook of your shoulder and speaks gruffly into your ear.

“You think he could make you come like that?”

You immediately shake your head, heat filling your gut at his dark tone. He bites your neck then rolls his tongue over the spot to soothe the sting. 

“You need to say that out loud.”

You draw in a sharp breath. “No! No he couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t what?” he snaps.

“He couldn’t make me come. Not like you do.” 

Pride shoots down his spine and he sits up to straddle your hips, turning you over onto your stomach so he can grab handfuls of your ass. 

“You think he could fuck you like I do? Huh?” he experimentally rolls his clothed bulge over the swell of your ass.

“No,” you whimper with a desperate shake of your head.

“No?” he challenges. “You don’t think so?” He drags his hips against you slowly, hissing at the friction. 

You continue to agree and he hums, still taking his time to drag this out. He just wants to hear it as much as possible but your smart mouth fucks you over.

“If you’re not convinced then we can go find out,” you say, voice muffled by the sheets but he hears you and snarls. 

He leans down to grip a handful of your hair to turn your ear to his mouth.

“Why don’t you do that and I’ll go re-acquaint myself with Mina.”

A vicious green monster tears through your chest and you turn over to face him as your head fills with intrusive thoughts of the hands and body of his ex you once envied all over him while he enjoys it. 

He chuckles mockingly at your expression. “Don’t like that, huh?” 

You say nothing but look at him angrily as you picture him with her, hating it with a passion. 

“Do you, baby?” he coos sarcastically, trailing the backs of his fingers down your cheek. “Don’t like the idea of my hands and my mouth being on someone else?” 

He leans down to emphasize his point by kneading and kissing at your skin that he can reach and your chest heaves in response. 

He rolls his hips. “Or my dick fucking someone else’s pussy?”

You see red and your hands fly up to grab his chain and tug his face parallel with yours so he grunts, a dark grin spreading on his face. 

“No, I don’t fucking like it,” you seethe.

“Now you know how I feel,” he says mockingly. You scowl, fucking annoyed, and let go of his jewelry.

“You brought this on yourself. I never talked to Hoseok. He was the one who said he would take me out if you didn’t.” 

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have heard that if you hadn't been hiding under my desk sucking me off.” 

“Oh, right and you were trying real hard to get me to stop,” you snap, pushing at his chest.

His jaw ticks, realizing you have a point. He leans up and sits back on his heels.

“Or just admit that you didn’t want me to,” you say, propping yourself up on your elbows. His eyes flicker to you darkly.

“That you liked it,” you taunt, moving to sit up on your knees so that you're level with him.

“That maybe if he did catch us he’d be jealous of your long, fat dick.” He shivers as your words send shocks to his core and his ego.

“And how good my throat is for fucking.” 

His gulps at the imagery as your fingers trace under his shirt.

“And how he’d never get to find out for himself,” you say earnestly, looking directly into his eyes. 

Then your hand slowly travels down to his groin.

“But if you want to go find Mina and see if she makes you feel as good as I do,” you mock as you grab his bulge and squeeze under his balls, making him hiss and involuntarily buck against you.

“Then be my fucking guest.” Your teeth grind as you let go of him to move off of the bed but you’re quickly stopped with a hand squeezing your elbow.

“Lay down,” he demands, warm breath fanning over your cheek. 

“Make me." He huffs before moving his hand to your throat and pressing lightly on either side, making your resolve slip. 

“Keep it up, brat.” The very brat in you comes back for an encore as you grab his wrist. 

“Or what? Gonna go call up Mina? You think she’d even want you anymore?” 

His eyes flash menacingly at the venom in your voice and you squeak when he bends down to pick you up, arms supporting your back and under your ass to carry you over to your shared desk.

“It doesn’t matter whether she would or not. Because I don’t want her,” he says simply as he sets you down, knocking the notebooks and tchotchkes out of the way, paying no mind as they clatter onto the floor.

“No? Then who do you want?” You know it’s a stupid question but you’re fucking triggered and you want to hear him say it. He tilts his head as he undoes the buckle on his belt.

“I’m looking right at her, sweetheart.” You falter, but you’re not about to let up that easy.

"Just - Fuck you for bringing her up." Gently pushing your legs apart, he gives you a remorseful smile.

“I’m sorry. I only wanted to get back at you but I took it too far.”

“Get back at me for what?” you ask, glossing over his apology and you’re almost able to ignore his fingers massaging the inside of your thighs. 

He cocks his brow. “For that selfie you sent and your text implying that you asked Hoseok to fuck you but he was too busy?” 

“You started it,” you scoff and cross your arms, chest heaving as his hands move slowly to the part of you that’s aching for him.

“Did I? You were the one who came into my studio and shoved your tits and ass in my face wearing this pretty lingerie all because I haven’t been paying you enough attention.” 

“Try ‘any’ attention.” He hums and looks down to watch his thumb brush over your clit, smirking when you gasp and grab his forearm.

“Baby, it’s only been a few days. Are you that needy for me?” 

You huff but don't try to deny it, eyes rolling to the ceiling when he slides two fingers between your wet folds, lifting up your knee to hold it on his hips so he has a better view and access.

“Thought so.” You shut your eyes so his smug face won’t piss you off.

“Well, remember I tried to leave but you told me to ‘get my ass back here right now,’” you recount, leaning back with a hand on the desk.

You bite your tongue when his fingers sink inside to slowly work you open.

“Yeah, well you’re sexy as hell in this lingerie and I’m a weak bastard for you, so sue me,” he grumbles, staring at your pussy as his hand picks up the pace.

“I’m only sexy in lingerie?” 

He sighs. “Sweetheart, did you miss the part where I said I’m a weak fucking man for you?”

You hum nonchalantly, his words filling your heart up with butterflies but the brat in you is refusing to leave the stage so you ignore him.

He shakes his head and grips your thigh to get you to look at him, making sure you’re paying attention.

“Just shut that smart mouth of yours, baby girl. And let me show you I mean what I say.” 

He lifts one of your arms to hook around his shoulder and you reluctantly acquiesce, letting him situate you in a way that’s comfortable before he pushes down his jeans to free his dick from its confines. Jerking his shaft, he tilts down in concentration to inspect your puffy cunt.

When he thinks it could use more lube, he holds his hand next to your mouth. 

“Spit.” Letting go of your stubbornness, you obey, only because you enjoy the way he doesn’t mind your saliva dropping in his palm.

“Good girl,” he mumbles. You watch impatiently as he tilts his head back while spreading your spit over his tip, making you clench around nothing when his knuckles brush your folds. You whine his name again when you feel his head rub up and down your wet slit before he taps it a few times.

“Beg.”

Your hand slaps his back, matching your huff in frustration and his lip curls. 

“Minus the fucking attitude.”

“It’s been three days.”

“What?” he snaps.

You lift your head with a glare. “I said it’s been three fucking days, why should I beg?” 

He slides his hard, lubed up length in between your folds to show you what you’re stalling. 

“Shouldn’t that be all the more reason to?” he growls as he smacks the side of your ass. 

“I'm not the one who didn't come home. So shouldn’t it be you doing the begging?” 

He stills.

“Maybe,” he says softly, massaging your skin that he knows is stinging from his hand. Your chest squeezes at the sad tone in his voice even though you’re pissed off.

“But you remember what I said about punishing you for getting me hard at work?” 

Your eyes squeeze shut, lips pursing as you nod.

“This is part of it. You’d better fucking beg.” 

He sighs and shakes his head, digging his fingers into your waist when you take a second too long to respond.

“I’m not going to tell you again.” He steps back, threatening to walk away. In a panic, you hook your heels behind him to keep him from going any further.

“Fuck, fine! Yoongi, please. Please fuck me!”

With a dark chuckle, he closes the distance between you again, arm circling around your waist, licking and marking under your jaw. Wrapping your arms around his neck as he holds up your thigh, you moan when he teases your entrance with his throbbing tip.

“I’ll always give you what you want when you’re a good girl for me.”

And just like that, the brat in you is gone. At least for now. He groans when you kiss him with ferocity and allows you to take the reins a bit. You moan and fist his hair in both hands, whining when his hand trails to your core to make sure you’re still ready, and he’s confirmed when he easily slips in three of his fingers, making you gasp into his mouth.

“You want it?” he growls against your swollen lips as he removes his hand covered with your essence to use it as lube on his dick. You nod frantically. 

“Words.”

“Yes!” you wheeze.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes!” You exclaim louder.

“Then turn around.”

He helps you settle on your feet and twirls you around with both hands on your hips, biting behind your ear while he lines himself up behind you.

“You know I love you, right?” You nod, leaning into his teeth and wiggling your hips to entice him but his firm hand on your ass keeps you in place. “But right now I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.” 

A spark floods through you at the way he curls a hand around your throat and simultaneously rubs his head up to your aching clit. You’re screwed, but you are so, so ready. 

“Please!”

Without giving you a second to breathe, he spears into you, forcing you forward with your hands flattened on the desk. You yelp out when he begins ramming into you at an angle so deep your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He slaps your ass, harshly enough to sting, and grunts when you clench around him, continuing to make the room swell with lewd sounds of your wet pussy squelching with every smack of his hips. It feels feral, the force of his thrusts causing the desk to thump against the wall, but the rhythmic sound is drowned out by your mindless moans.

He fucks you like he hates you, like he doesn’t care how the wooden edge is digging into your waist, or the way he’s slapping your ass until your skin is raw, slamming his hips against yours so it’s certain you’re going to have trouble walking. If you didn’t like it so much, you’d be telling yourself not to piss him off ever again.

A hand on your spine pushes you down onto the desk, breasts and face squishing on the lacquered wood, and you moan when he pulls your cheeks a part and you can just picture the way he’s watching himself pound you, tongue poked out in fascination, head moving from side to side to see all the different angles.

“Nah.” He mutters to himself and you glance over your shoulder to see him shaking his head as your body moves up and down. “No one else can fuck you like this. Right?” He grits, fingers digging into your ass as he takes a long stroke of emphasis.

“Mhmm!”

He hums to himself in satisfaction, letting out an amused chuckle before he starts fucking you so hard and so fast and so goddamn good that you don’t realize you’re coming until it hits you, and your finger nails dig into the desk for dear life, leaving scratch marks. As you clench around him he lets out a string of curses that would make even a sailor blush, rubbing his hands up and down your back, fingertips kneading your ass as you shake and come apart.

You’re still trembling when he finally slows his thrusts to a moderate pace and his hands on your skin are moving more gently now that you’re coming down.

“Baby, talk to me. You good?” It takes you a second to register that he’s been talking to you for a few seconds. He just fucked you into euphoria, you’re drooling on the desk because of it, so you need a goddamn minute.

You whine in dissatisfaction when he pulls out of you, only for him to reach over to brush sweaty hair out of your face, and you blink open tear-filled eyes to him peering down at you with concern knitted into his brows.

“You good?” he repeats, continuing to brush your hair back and smoothe his hand down your spine.

You nod. “Mhmm. ‘M a good girl.” His eyebrows lift in relief when you say something that’s somewhat coherent.

“That you are.” You swoon. That’s all you ever want to hear him say, even though more often than not your behavior speaks otherwise. At least he’s shown you that he loves to deal with it.

“I’m gonna bring you over to the bed. Can you make it?” Pushing your hands against the desk, you try to put some weight on your feet and know without even trying that you won’t. It feels like he was on the brink of splitting you in half.

“Only if you carry me.” You can feel his smile on the side of your face as he rubs your shoulders before gently pulling back on them, holding you against his chest once you straighten. He presses light but necessary kisses to your neck and cheek before turning you to the side so he can swoop you up in his arms like you’re his bride. You hope one day you will be.

You could almost cry at the tender way he puts you down on the mattress, his face dewy and red from exertion, and adjusts the pillows beneath you, fluffing them how you like it. How he can so easily slip from being your insane freak in the sheets who hates you to your sweet, doting boyfriend is beyond you but it’s one of the many things you love so much about him. “Too much?” Your heart swells again at his loving tone as he coasts his hand down your torso, inspecting the indentations left on your waist from the desk to make sure they’re ones that won’t bruise.

You shake your head. “I can still remember my own name.”

“Dang, so I could do better,” he smirks.

Blowing a raspberry, you playfully smack the side of his head and he only chuckles and leans down to kiss you. Just as he brushes your lips, you push at his clothed shoulder, suddenly very much bothered by the fact that he is not completely naked yet.

“Shirt,” you mumble, tugging at his collar. “What about it?” “Off.”

He cocks a brow, mouth pulling up into a smirk. “Are you telling me what to do?”

“Yes. Problem?”

He hisses an amused sound, sits up on his knees and blinks down at you, lightly batting your hands away when you reach for the hem of his now unapproved fabric.

“We just went through all that, but you still want to have a fucking attitude?”

You withdraw your hands, rest them on your tummy as you look up at him sheepishly. He looks at you patiently, waiting for a response, but you don’t have one, so you instead raise your hands to the side in a shrug because what can you say? The smirk on his face grows until it turns into a laugh, and he kicks his head back. Fuck, you love his laugh. His shoulders start to shake, gummy grin on full display as he looks down at you through his stringy bangs, and you fall just that much more in love.

“It’s like that, huh?” He muses, coasting his hands up and down your thighs.

“It’s fun to piss you off,” you justify, holding your arms up in invitation and he pauses for a split second before lowering into your embrace.

“Yeah, and I know you have a blast doing it, much to my expense,” he mutters, letting you pepper his jaw with kisses. You giggle as you get over to his mouth and he opens up to swallow down your sounds.

As you makeout, his hips start to rock over yours under the covers, heavy cock desperate to fill you again so you trail your hands down to his ass, digging your go ahead into his skin. Keeping a hand next to your head and his tongue over yours, he reaches down to guide himself back in, humming when you moan in satisfaction. He lifts his head with a curse when you suck him in with ease, baring your neck to him that he nips before straightening his arm to plank above you. He stares down at you with lust-blown eyes as he takes your leg from under the sheets to rest on his shoulder. You bite your lip and grapple for his neck as he fucks into you slowly, hips rolling with deft, meaningful strokes. For a few moments he fucks you like that, reveling in your moans and whimpers, especially when he ducks his head to suck your tits into his mouth.

“Missed you, Yoon,” you whisper suddenly, blissed out and slack-jawed. He pauses his thrusts to put your leg back in place before dropping down to grab your hands and curl them under his, tongue licking roughly over the top of your mouth. Your chest heaves, breathing him in while he sucks on your lips and tongue. 

“Missed you too, doll." His hips resume to a slow rhythm, and you let out a soft cry at the sensation of him filling you up to the brim despite never leaving.

You struggle to kiss him back as you get lost in the clouds again now that he’s rocking into you at a slower pace, pressing deeply into you so you can feel every inch of each other with every stroke.

“So fucking good for me,” he grumbles into your mouth, building rhythm as he brings himself to peak.

“Wanna be,” you slur. 

“Hm?” His tongue pokes out as he focuses on rolling his hips against a tight, cushioned spot that kisses his tip and draws his orgasm closer.

“Wanna be so good for you. Always.” He grins, pride swelling his chest at your promise.

“Not for Hoseok?” Because he has to make sure.

“No,” you whimper, yanking at his chain to bring him down in a messy kiss. “Just you.”

He kisses you with a relieved smile, bites at your neck a few times, and slaps your hip.

“Then get up and ride me. I shouldn’t be doing all this fucking work,” he commands and slips out before pulling you up by the elbows. He crawls around you to sit against the headboard while you turn to face him and prop yourself up on shaking knees.

Noticing this, he pauses and holds you still. “Can you?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, confirming it with a sloppy kiss.

Grinning, he pulls you forward until you hover over his lap and fists his dick to hold himself in place while his other hand pushes you down by your hip. You grip his shoulders and whine as you sink onto him, waiting until you’re fully breached to start circling your hips. As you lean in to lick between his teeth, you rake your fingers down his chest, lightly scratching over his nipples and smiling when he moans. 

“Shit,” he curses against you as you press your thumbs against his buds and he gets you back by attacking your neck with bites and bruises that you’ll have for days. You begin rolling in his lap and hold onto his shoulders for leverage, gasping when he wraps his arm across your waist to pull you closer so your breasts are right in his face and he attaches his mouth to one, leaning back on his hand to hold himself up.

He releases your tit with a pop and tilts his head to watch in content as your knees move to prop yourself up so you can bounce on his dick, appreciating his hand on your ass supporting and guiding you.

“Fuck, doll. Yeah, just like that,” He moans and breaks from your lips to throw his head back as his balls tighten, and you take your turn to make marks on his neck.

“Nngh, gonna come,” he groans deep in his gut, Adam’s apple bobbing and eyes squeezing shut as you continue to rock against him and it throws him over the edge. He pushes at your hips to force you off of him until you fall back once more on the mattress as he pulls out with a gasp. He growls and grunts as thick ropes of hot cum shoot out over your stomach and tits and you moan at the feeling and the sounds he makes. 

“Goddamn,” he wheezes, jerking his dick through the final pulses of his orgasm and he grips your thigh to keep himself grounded. When his dick stops twitching, he falls back over to kiss you roughly.

“Close,” you tell him against his lips and he curses.

“Fuck, okay.” Anticipating being overstimulated but wanting nothing more than to satisfy you, he sits on his heels, pulls your hips onto his thighs and waits for your nod for him to plunge back in.

He wastes no time rutting into the very spot that he knows will guarantee you to come fast and hard. He has to bite his bottom lip to keep from whining at the overstimulation. But it proves fruitless when you pulse your orgasm around his dick, squeezing him so tight, that he starts to come again, encouraged by your endless moans of his name. He manages to keep his release at bay until he feels your wave wash back and yanks himself out at the last second so that he doesn’t give into temptation and come inside you. That level is on the horizon, but neither of you are quite ready for that. He knows just how addictive that will be and it’s too much of a risk.

So he opts to come on your stomach and chest for a second time, not bothering to jerk himself through it and just lets his cock bob on your center as he returns to his place above you. You open your mouth to welcome him before he even lands his fists beside your head.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he breathes over you, ducking his head into your neck so he can hear you whisper the same.

Dick softening on your lower stomach, he kisses you until his biceps strain under his weight.

“You feeling okay?” He asks, sitting back on his heels and smiling warmly (proudly) at your fucked out expression.

He presses his hands on your hips, heart racing when you won’t stop staring at him and he has to look away to prevent a rise in blood pressure, instead staring at all of his cum spread over you.

He looks back up when he catches your hand reaching for him and he grabs it, wrapping his fingers around your knuckles and bringing it to his lips to kiss your palm, eyes never leaving yours.

“What?” He asks as you pout. He kisses the inside of your wrist and you sigh, let his lips linger there and your heart stops for a moment at his tenderness.

With a smile and one more kiss on the back of your hand, he gets up and grabs a pair of sweatpants on the way to the bathroom, running a washcloth under warm water and wringing it out lightly before bringing it back to you to clean up his mess.

A moment later, he watches you with wide eyes as you slide out of bed and head to the bathroom without a word, albeit with a noticeable wobble. He sighs when the door shuts, getting the feeling that fucking the shit out of each other just now did nothing to solve your problems. While he waits for you to come back out, he strips the bed of soiled sheets to take out to the washer in the hallway closet. Just as he starts the cycle, you emerge from the bathroom, arms crossed over your breasts as you scurry into the bedroom to dress into his hoodie and a pair of his hoochie daddy shorts. You keep your head down while you walk past him for the kitchen, but he catches you with an arm pressed into your abdomen.

“Hey,” he murmurs above your head. “Whatever you’re thinking, you can tell me.”

You nod against his bicep, slipping your hand down to his fingers and tangling them together to lead him into the kitchen. He doesn’t take his hands off of you while you maneuver around to retrieve glasses of water for you both, but you end up just sharing yours. Neither of you say anything for a moment after you refresh yourselves. Then, his knuckles under your chin bring your face level with his, away from staring into the void behind his shoulder.

“The sex was good in there, but it didn’t resolve anything,” he reminds you softly. “We should talk it out before you get too far into your head.”

Fuck. He knows you so well. With a sigh and a blurry waterline, you lean against him, head resting on his shoulder so he doesn’t see.

“I just really missed you,” you start in a small voice. On your temple, he frowns. “And I know it’s kind of pathetic because we live together and you were only gone for three days but I just wish you would make up your mind about coming home or not. It’s just frustrating when you say you’ll be done in a couple hours but it turns out to be five. Or I wait up for you just for you to tell me you’re staying overnight. I know how important your work is, especially when you have a deadline, and I never want to take you away from it, but sometimes it feels like when I tell you to take a break, you act as if I’m asking you to stop altogether. I’m just trying to make sure you eat and rest properly so you don’t burn yourself out and get sick.” Your voice chokes the more you admit, and he lets your words hang in the air before rubbing his hand across the back of your shoulders. Resting his head on yours, he takes a deep breath.

“I love how supportive you are of my job and how much you worry about me, but I’m sorry I make you feel neglected. That’s never my intention.” You hum in acknowledgement and he squeezes the back of your neck.

“I mean, I’m not trying to dig myself out of the hole here, but a lot of the time when I come to a dead end with a project and feel like giving up, I think about you and how the faster I get done, the faster I can come home and devote all of my time to you.” You can’t hold back a sniffle. He frowns and gently pulls you by your shoulder and waist to press your fronts together. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest, along with your tears.

“I’m so sorry I made you upset, baby,” he whispers, his own voice choked up. “I just get stuck sometimes and it’s hard for me to give it a rest. Thank you for loving me so well that you knew when I needed you to come drag me out. And three days is way too long to not he home. I’m sorry I made you feel like it wasn’t.” You swallow a sob and hold him tighter.

“Well, I’m sorry I made you think I wanted Hoseok to fuck me.”

His nostrils flare with a small laugh. “I know you were just trying to piss me off. But I don’t know if I want us to make each other jealous by doing that anymore, y’know?”

You nod in quick understanding and he purrs gratefully, lifts a hand to gently tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Because I guess sometimes I just worry that you could do better.”

Your limbs freeze as his words sink in and spreads your blood thin. Placing your hands on his hips, you lean away to look right at him, eyebrows furrowing at his pained smile.

“That has to be the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever said.” Chewing the inside of his cheek, he suppresses a laugh.

“I’m serious.” You reach up to cup his jaw. “Don’t tell yourself that. I love you. You’re it for me, Yoongi.”

Starlight fills his eyes as he gazes down into your soul. He hugs you tightly, and whispers those same three words back, all of the weight he’s ever carried lifting off of his shoulders now that you’ve solidified that you’re his forever.

“I’m gonna do better to not spend so much time at the studio,” he promises, fingertips massaging the back of your head.

“Maybe just limit your overnighters to once a week.” He smiles, leans in to kiss you, hearts feeling warm and full. “I can work with that. And next time you want to blow me at work, try not to do it when one of my colleagues is in there.”

“Fine,” you sigh in exaggeration. “But at least admit that you liked it.”

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“Why not?” you challenge playfully. “It was a one time thing, so the least you can do is-” He cuts you off with a kiss that wipes your brain clear of any thoughts.

“You were saying?” he mumbles against your lips with a knowing smirk.

“Fuck if I know,” you breathe and he chuckles.

Leaning back in, he kisses you slowly, thoughtfully for a few moments, then breaks away with eyes hazed with love and boops your nose.

“Why don’t we go shower and get dressed so I can take you out on a date, hm? We’ll go wherever you’d like.”

A bright and wide smile on your face, you tangle both of your hands together and lean up to kiss him. He melts into you and your heart glows as radiant as the rising sun. You break, and your cheeks burn when you notice how his have turned a noticeable shade of pink.

“Let’s both decide on a place. But maybe tomorrow or the day after when I can walk a little better.” He grins and kisses your forehead, softly pats your ass.

“Sounds good to me.”

.

.

.

Thanks for reading! i've had this sitting in my drafts for a while and finally got the courage to post it so I hope you enjoyed! lmk what you think if you want! Also im the queen of run-on sentences so i apologize for that! And some of it might seem kind of rushed, but i was really trying to keep it under 10k.

xxx - claret

p.s. check out my yoongi mafia series not in the cards if you haven't already! thanks again!!

[jintaka-hane]

A Visit to the Infirmary

Masterlist

Img by Buffoland

This is a gift for the lovely @akagami-no-laney 🎁!! I like Hongo thanks to you, and when I went to look for more content about him, I saw there was very little! So I decided to write this. I hope you like it! 💕 Summary: You've fallen in love with the doctor aboard the Red Force. In complete denial of your feelings, you think it’s best to avoid him for a while until the feeling passes. But a terrible pain in your back will force you to pay him a visit. Word count: 3000 Notes: Love in denial. Flirting. Confessions of love. Use of 'Darling' and 'Doll'. Reader is a brat. Beckman is a saint. Hongo doesn't really know how to approach you, though in the end it seems like he manages to 🤪. I have no knowledge in medicine, so everything here is pure fiction XD.

"Dammit, Beck!!!" you roared, kicking and flailing in the air, landing futile punches on the immense wardrobe-like back of the first mate. "Let me go!"

The tall man's grip tightened as he carried you over his shoulder, his face serious and stoic as he strode determinedly towards the ship's infirmary.

"Scream all you want, Darlin’, but we’re going to see Hongo whether you like it or not." 

“NO!” you whined, writhing harder. “NOT HONGO! PLEASE! I—I’ll do anything you want! I’ll… I’ll get you the finest cigarettes at the next port!”

Beckman chuckled and shook his head, clearly amused by your desperate efforts to escape.

"BECKMAN, I’m serious! Let me go!! I-I swear that… that…  OUCH!!" you twisted in agony as a sharp, searing pain shot through your lower back.

Your captor halted immediately, noticing how you contorted in pain, and gave you a moment’s respite as he tried to ease you through the surge.

“Darlin’,” he spoke softly, one hand moving to your back and rubbing it gently, “you need help… and he’s the only one here who can give it to you, do you understand?” 

You nodded, closing your eyes and gripping his shirt tightly, enduring the wave of suffering as best you could.

You had been dealing with unbearable pain in your lower back for days. You didn’t know what caused it—whether it was some bad posture, the fall when you climbed down from the lookout, or the time you landed hard on your backside going down the ship’s ladder. Whatever it was, you must have injured something, and the pain, coming in waves like stabbing knives, was horrible. 

Stubbornly, you had tried to let it pass on its own, avoiding asking anyone for help and steering clear of the infirmary. Yet your walks on the deck, face twisted in pain and hand pressed to your lower back, hadn’t escaped the ever-watchful Benn Beckman. Guessing your reluctance to see the ship’s doctor, he had kept his distance and observed you from afar without asking questions, but, as he watched your condition deteriorate further, he decided it was his duty to act.

“Hongo’s a decent doctor. Give him a chance,” he said, turning his head over his shoulder to look at you with his concerned gray eyes.

The problem wasn’t whether Hongo was a good doctor. You knew full well that he was competent and professional. The real issue was that he was also kind, tall, funny, and undeniably attractive. 

That, along with the fact that you were maybe… probably a little bit in love with him—an insignificant detail, considering you were fighting it, convinced that keeping the right distance would make the feeling fade and spare you from a potential broken heart. All you had to do was avoid him and act like a brat when he was around, and everything would be fine. You were as certain of this as you were that your back pain would eventually subside on its own.

BAAAANG!!!!

The infirmary door swung open with a deafening bang as Beckman kicked it harder than intended, his hands fumbling as he tried to grab hold of your increasingly elusive body.

“Sorry, Hongo,” he said, noticing that part of the doorframe had splintered.

“Oi, Beck,” Hongo said without turning around, completely unfazed by the door’s loud crash as he meticulously washed his hands in the sink. “I see you’ve convinced y/n to come and see me.”

“That’s not—” you began to say.

“YES,” Beck shot you a reproachful look as he carefully set you down on the floor. “She’s a smart girl and understands what’s best for her.”

You opened your mouth to speak but his huge hand covered it, stopping you. His cold eyes bore into yours, and he mouthed the word “behave,” leaving no room for an argument.

“Perfect,” Hongo turned around with that charming smile that always drew you in. “Welcome to my office, y/n.”

You held his gaze for a moment, his eyes crinkling beneath the scar that ran down his temple. He took a small white towel and dried his hands with an unusual gentleness for a pirate, and the thought made you look away, taking in the ship’s infirmary for the first time.

It was surprisingly neat and well organized. There was a wide variety of medical supplies and medicinal herbs neatly lined up on shelves lining the walls. In the center, a sturdy wooden table held a collection of bandages, ointments, and surgical instruments. And next to it, a set of perfectly clean syringes waited to be used.

“Do you need me to stay?” Beckman asked, unsure of what to do.

“Yes—” 

“NO—” Hongo said at exactly the same time.

Beckman’s gaze shifted from one to the other.

“I’ll be outside if you need me,” he said, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and placing it between his lips.

Shit.

You watched him leave shooting him a dirty look, and as soon as the door closed, Hongo’s gaze was fixed on you again, his smile remaining as he took a step closer.

“So…” he began, halting when he noticed you flinch and step back, “you’ve had a sharp pain in your lower back for days, haven’t you?”

Of course, that bastard Beckman had told him.

“Maybe,” you replied nonchalantly, avoiding his eyes.

“And you didn’t come to see me until now, why?”

“It’s not that bad.” You shrugged, the careless movement causing the pain in your back to flare up again, but in a wave you managed to endure with dignity.

“Uh-huh…” he paused, examining you. “Let’s take a look, okay?” He took another step forward, slow and deliberate. “Can you lay face down on the exam table for me?”

Your gaze darted to the exam table to the doctor.

“Absolutely not,” you looked at him with a defiant look, arms crossed over your chest.

Hongo’s expression changed in an instant.

“Very well,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes and kicking aside a stool that stood in his way as he moved towards you, “by force then.”

You swallowed hard, realizing that your back was pressed against a wall, and as soon as you saw his figure lurking closer, you scrambled to take cover behind the wooden table. You clutched its edge and dragged it to shield yourself, causing several bandages, bottles and ointments to scatter across the floor, some breaking open and spilling.

“Eeehm, do you need help!?” Beckman’s raspy, concerned voice came from the other side of the door.

“No!” Hongo bellowed as he charged after you, his eyes fixed on you and ignoring the mess on the floor. “No need for help! We’re behaving like two perfectly normal, civilized people!”

He moved along the right side of the table while you quickly circled to the other side, moving as fast as your body let you. As he reached out to grab you, you twisted to evade him, but a sharp, agonizing pain shot through your back, spreading to your hips and down your thighs. Your legs gave way under the intensity of the pain and just as you began to collapse, Hongo caught you in mid-air.

“I’ve got you…” he soothed, his usual tenderness reappearing as he held you tightly against his chest, unwilling to let you go until the pain was gone. “I’ve got you…”

You buried your head in the crook of his neck, sobbing and swallowing your pride, and you stayed wrapped in his arms for a few minutes, until he felt your body gradually relax as the pain started to ease.

“I’m going to take you to the exam table now, alright?” he said, feeling your head nod against his neck.

“You know…'"he helped you to sit down, "you must be made of steel, because in all the time you’ve been with us, you’ve never come to see me…” his fingers danced lightly along the edge of your shirt. “Can I examine you?”

“NO.” You swatted his hands away immediately.

"Alright, alright..." He smiled, raising his hands in surrender. "Let’s focus on your back, then." He gestured with his finger for you to turn over on the examination table. "Can you lie face down, please?"

You glared at him, tilting your chin defiantly. But as soon as he caught the rebellious glint in your eyes, he raised an eyebrow.

“Face down, Doll. NOW.” He said, his tone commanding and authoritative, making it clear who was in charge.

With a dramatic roll of your eyes you gave in, knowing full well there was no choice but to comply with your doctor’s orders. You turned over on the table, and the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through your back, forcing you to moan and press your face into the sheets. You felt Hongo’s fingers ghost over your back, right at the spot where the pain was the worst.

"It’s right here, isn’t it?"

You nodded, surprised at how efficiently he pinpointed the exact source. With your head buried in the soft, cushioned surface of the table, you heard the sound of a stool being dragged toward you. You turned your head to see him, but found his knees and the tops of his thighs instead, legs set apart.

"Okay…" you heard him muse, his voice soft, calm and steady, “... intramuscular analgesia”.

His left hand rested on your lower back, applying just enough pressure to keep you in place, while his right hand deftly prepared the cotton and antiseptic. As he turned his torso, his defined abs peeked out from above the waistband of his pants right in front of your eyes, and you snorted, turning your head away.

“Don’t worry Doll, I’ll be gentle…” he said, assuming your reaction was due to the fear of needles. “I need you to lift up your skirt and pull down your underwear, please.”

You didn’t respond. You stayed still on the exam table with your heart pounding in your chest. The pain in your lower back was unbearable, but the thought of Hongo right behind you, demanding to see your ass, was much worse.

"Come on, Doll…" he tried to encourage you in an even softer voice, "be a good girl for me."

This time, a surprised chuckle escaped your lips. Never in a million years had you imagine hearing those words from him, and a warm flush crept up from your neck, staining your cheeks. You hesitated, hands trembling as you slowly lifted your skirt over your hips. Your fingers fumbled with the waistband of your panties, and as you exposed the soft, vulnerable skin of your ass, you felt Hongo shift slightly on the stool.

“... Hongo?”

"Yes," he cleared his throat with a hint of self-reproach. "Please, keep your ass up."

The tension was suffocating. The smell of antiseptic saturated the air, his gaze weighed on your exposed skin... and that last command. It was too much. You had to say something that might unsettle him and tip the balance in your favor. Anything.

“Tsk, tsk, doctor, you can’t just pull down a girl’s panties and say 'ass up’ without, you know, a little courting first, can you?”

He let out a snort of laughter, and the sound made you smir proud of yourself. Though not for long.

“Oh, doll…” His fingers brushed over your skin as he tapped it with the alcohol-soaked cotton swab. “You know I’ve wanted to court you for a long time, don’t you? But it’s hard when you’re always running away from me.”

Your heart raced again, faster this time. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to get up and run out of the infirmary. But unable to do any of that, you simply turned your face away, closed your eyes, and tried to focus on anything but what he had just said. He stifled a sigh and readied the syringe.

"Alright, here we go," he said, making you gasp as the sharp, clean prick pierced your skin. "Good girl, you’re doing great…" He noticed how tightly you were gripping the sheet on the exam table, and unable to stand seeing you so uncomfortable, he slipped his free hand beneath yours, intertwining his fingers with yours. "That's it, just hold on a little longer…"

You focused on his words, letting the rhythm of his calm, measured breathing soothe you, and as soon as he finished, he withdrew the needle.

“Try to rest a bit until the medication takes effect,” he said as he rose from the stool and moved away to give you space.

With your face still turned to the wall, you pulled up your underwear. The pain in your back was fading, so you slowly sat on the exam table, surprised to find you could do so without wincing.

From that angle, you had a clear view of the infirmary and saw Hongo kneeling on the floor, cleaning up the mess you’d made in your frantic attempt to escape. You watched him work, his back hunched and his shaved neck bowed, carefully picking up the spilled liquids and shards of glass. A sigh escaped you at the sight, and you felt the stubbornness in your heart start to melt into something warmer. You moved closer and crouched down beside him.

“Is your back feeling better?” he asked as soon as he noticed you presence.

“Yes… ,” you said softly, keeping your gaze fixed on the floor. "Thanks."

“Anytime.” 

You felt his gaze on you as you focused on the task, sorting the broken jars and glass shards into a bag. You worked side by side in a silence that, oddly enough, didn’t feel uncomfortable, and you wished it could stay that way. But when your hands brushed against each other and you pulled yours back, he spoke.

“Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you,” you replied without looking at him.

“But you avoid me…”

You remained silent, grabbing a rag and scrubbing it vigorously against the floor, feeling a knot in your stomach grow larger and larger.

"Look at me," he said, placing a hand on the crown of your head to make you face him. "Isn’t a ship’s doctor good enough for you?"

You shrugged off his hand and stood up , trying to hide the mixed feelings on your face.

“It’s not that, Hongo, it’s… it’s complicated.”

“It shouldn’t be complicated… " He rose to his feet to match your stance, and his eyes locked with yours with a hint of pleading in his expression. "Actually, it’s very simple. At least for me, loving you is as simple and natural as breathing.”

His words pierced your heart like arrows set aflame. He might have tended to your back, but his gaze and his words were leaving your mind and heart reeling, caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

“You love me…” You closed your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose as you felt your heart weary from fighting.

“Of course I do… You know I'm crazy about you.”

You opened your eyes again to meet his, his face calm yet sharply attentive to your reaction.

"I just..." your eyes darted between his, "need a little more time to sort out my feelings and make things... right."

He held your gaze for a moment, weighing the situation.

“I’ll be right here," he finally said, raising his hands in a gesture that seemed to take in the entire infirmary.

You returned his smile. It wasn’t going to be very hard to come to terms with your feelings if he kept acting like this. As you discarded the dirty rag you had been holding into a bin, you turned and walked toward the door, feeling as though you were leaving a piece of your heart behind.

"I’d really love to see it again, you know? But maybe under different circumstances...” he said as you reached for the doorknob.

“See what?” you turned to look at him, hoping that whatever he said next wouldn’t be too out of place.

"That beautiful ass."

Bastard. 

Your heart betrayed you, leaving you flattered and forcing you to suppress a smile.

He was a pirate after all.

“Oh, Hongo,” you looked at him with pursed lips, “I can’t believe it. Where’s your professionalism?”

“Believe me, I’ve been quite professional,” he placedhis hand over his chest. “I’ve had to restrain myself from giving you a smack, and believe me, I’ve really wanted to.”

“Ugh!” You huffed, stepping out of the infirmary and bumping into Beckman, who was waiting for you outside.

“How are you feeling, Darlin'? Better?” he asked, looking at you with his grey eyes.

With a smile you couldn't hold back, you stood on your toes and kissed him on the cheek, leaving him startled as you continued down the hall. The door to the infirmary opened and Hongo stepped out, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed, watching you walk away.

“Much better!” you replied over your shoulder, smiling to yourself before disappearing from their sight.

............................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece <3

[katiemccabeswife]

Can we get a part 2 for selflessness where Leah and yn adopt v and her sister? Please I absolutely loved your work

Princess Spider-man (Leah Williamson x FosterMum!Reader)

Selflessness Pt.2, you get to adopt your now daughters and to avoid an unnecessary tantrum, Vienna gets to be adopted as Princess Spiderman + Leah takes you on a date and takes your breath away.

i cried writing this 🤪

You had Lilah sitting in the sink so she couldn't wriggle around while you were doing her hair when you heard the slapping of little feet running along the hardwood floors, "No running on the hard floors V! C'mon we've talked about this," Leah yelled out to the 5-year-old in exasperation.

You turned to the door, making sure to keep a hold of Lilah, when you saw Vienna pop around the corner, "Oh!" You said surprised.

"Mummy, I princess spiderman!" Today was the day you and Leah were officially going to adopt Vienna and Lilah. After a month of them staying with you the chances of their Dad regaining custody of the girls were slim to none and both of them had formed a strong relationship with not only yourself but Leah as well.

Your heart still warmed when either girl called you Mummy, the night Vienna had called out to you using Mummy you hadn't fully registered it until the second time. That night you cried to Leah about it and it was also that night that you knew you had to adopt the girls. It wasn't long until Lilah had caught on and started calling you Mummy as well and it was only a short period of time after that, that the both of them started calling Leah Mama.

When going through the necessary classes and checks required for adoption, which Leah participated in as well, you and Leah had decided that it was in the best interest of the girls if she moved in with you. Logistically it was a great idea, Leah spent almost all of her time at your house anyway and it was bigger than hers. The night after the conversation was held, Leah was moved in by the girls' bedtime.

You looked up at Leah who was now behind Vienna with her hands on her shoulders. She gave you a guilty look and shrugged. You smiled widely at the 5-year-old, " You most certainly are! And aren't you just beautiful? Are we sure we're going to wear that today?" You tried to get her to change her mind but she had taken on Leah's stubbornness in the month you had all been living together.

Vienna crossed her arms, "Yes! Mama said I had to wear my best outfit and this is my best outfit," She answered as if it was common knowledge.

You nodded in agreement knowing that arguing with her would only end in a tantrum, "Alrighty then! Now, do you want me to do your hair or do you want Mama to do your hair?" You asked as you finished up Lilah's hair and hoisted her on your hip.

Vienna tapped her chin for a moment, "Mummy!" She shot her hands into the air to be lifted onto the sink. You gave Lilah to Leah with a kiss on both of their cheeks before lifting V onto the bathroom bench.

Leah wandered off to finish getting herself ready, taking Lilah with her, "Alright Princess Spiderman are going to do a braid or piggies or bunnies today?" You had found that while Vienna was going through an independent stage, offering different options was the easiest and quickest way to get something done.

She pondered the question for a moment before perking up, "Braid, please!"

"Coming your way, Princess Spiderman!" You took off her mask and tiara and she began to sing as you were braiding her hair. Though when she got quiet you got a little worried, "What you thinking 'bout, V?" You finished tying off the braid and hugged her from behind, looking at her in the mirror.

"Is Mama adpating me and Lyly as well?" You smiled at her mispronunciation.

You shook your head slightly with a small smile on your face, "No she isn't but that doesn't mean that she isn't still gonna be your Mama. Is that ok?"

Vienna shrugged and looked down so you heaved her out of the sink and sat her on the edge of the counter facing you, "I want Mama as well," She mumbled into her chest and you guided her chin up gently.

"Mama and I loved you so much, yeah?" You asked and she meekly nodded her head, "But because Mummy has been taking care of you a bit longer than Mama, only Mummy can adopt you right now. But really, today isn't going to change much, you and Lilah are just going to have my last name and you're definitely going to live with me forever, and ever and ever," You tickled her belly and smiled widely when she laughed, "And hopefully, soon Mama will give me a ring and then she can adopt you and Lilah as well!" Vienna perked up at this and clapped.

"Mama give you a ring now?" She asked hopefully.

You lifted her off the bench and placed her on the floor, "I don't think so, V. Not yet, maybe soon," You guided her back to her bedroom, making sure to grab her mask and tiara. You missed Leah standing at the opposite end of the hallway, having heard the entire conversation, with a smile on her face.

You had walked into the living room in a long white sundress with little blue flowers and fancy heels when you saw Leah in her suit. She was wearing a grey suit with a black bodysuit and she had Lilah on her lap wearing a pink dress with white and blue tassels at the top, "Don't you two look beautiful," You announced yourself to the pair.

"I could say the same for you, my love," She rose from the couch and brought you into a hug before kissing you on the lips.

"What about Vienna?" The 5-year-old asked as she came out of her room, now wearing pink plastic heels.

Leah handed you Lilah and you gave her a quick peck and hugged her into your body, "Wow, darling you look gorgeous! Did you pick that outfit out all by yourself?" Leah questioned.

Vienna spun in a circle at the compliment and curtseyed, "Why yes I did, thank you very much," She ran up to Leah and gave her a big kiss.

Leah lifted her onto her hip and spun around making Vienna laugh, "My beautiful Princess Spiderman," She joked looking towards you as you shook your head in amusement.

V looked at her in judgment, "Umm, I'm not yours yet because you haven't given Mummy a ring," She crossed her arms and Leah looked at you.

You just shrugged your shoulders and picked up your bag and Lilah's baby bag, "Ready to go guys?" You asked ignoring the previous conversation.

"Yes!" Lilah cheered and you cheered back to her.

"Come on V," You held your hand out for the girl who took it excitedly, "Lock up would you please, love?" You smiled cheekily before taking the girls out to the car and getting them situated in their seats.

Once Leah was finished locking up she joined you in the car and quickly turned it on before driving off. She distracted Vienna with her favourite songs before she turned to you, "So you were talking to V about me getting you a ring, yeah?" She asked and rubbed her hand along your thigh.

"Oh, it may have been mentioned in passing. I think I prefer circle-cut diamonds actually," You teased.

"Alright then, I'll get onto that," She turned to look at your shocked face before laughing and turning back to the road and singing along with Vienna to Adele.

When you arrived at the courthouse you quickly briefed both the girls on what was going to happen. Vienna and Lilah had both been very attentive during this talk and seemed to actually be taking in the information you were telling them but as soon as you walked through the doors and saw all Leah’s teammates hanging around, they both squealed, Vienna ran off to Katie and Lilah was flapping her arms in demand to be let down. Once you had put Lilah on her feet she began to toddle over to Vivi.

“Oh my word, is that Princess Spider-man?” Katie exclaimed as she saw Vienna running over to her. When V reached her Katie threw her up in the air, caught her (thankfully) and began to tickle her tummy making the young girl fall into hysterics.

Viv had begun to make her way to where Lilah was waddling, cutting her walk short, and lifted her onto her hip, “Hello, little one,” She greeted. Lilah had been interested in Viv ever since she first met the woman, her calm composure matching her own.

Leah wrapped her arm around your shoulders as you smiled at your girls getting along with Leah’s (and now your) closest friends. You and Leah walked over to where both of your parents were standing and greeted them with warm hugs and hello’s.

Your mum took your cheeks between her hands and her eyes began to tear up, “Oh my little girl is getting so big now,” You shook your head and hit your lip.

“Don’t-” You pointed your finger at her threatening, “Don’t you dare make me cry right now,” Your mum laughed and brought you into a hug.

A set of large doors opened and a woman in a sharp suit and slick hair called out, “Vienna and Lilah Hansen, case 1747, the courthouse is now open and the session will begin in 5 minutes,” I have no idea how court or adoption works…

Leah squeezed your hand tightly and gave you a short passionate kiss before you walked over and grabbed Lilah out of Viv's arms and held Vienna’s hand. You walked to the front of the room where you met your co-worker and the girls’ social worker, Amelia, and greeted her and queued Vienna too as well but she moved to hide behind your legs.

The judge who seemed to be a friendly old man walked into the room and when he spotted Vienna he walked over and bent over, “Is that Spider-Man I see?” He questioned.

Vienna poked her head out from behind you and you gently guided her out with a hand on her back, “I princess spider-man,” She said sheepishly.

The judge straightened, “How could I be so silly,” He held his hand out to shake hers, “Welcome Your Highness, thank you for being a hero,” Vienna shook his hand with a giggle and when she looked at you, you smiled and gasped in wow.

“I’m y/n,” You reached out to shake his hand which he took gently.

“Pleasure to meet you, let’s get this started shall we?” You nodded and took a deep breath before setting the girls with Amelia before heading to the opposite side of the room.

After going through all of the legal crap and a few tears (a lot more than a few) you were up the front of the room in front of the judge's bench, surrounded by friends and family, holding your girls in your arms, wrapped in the arms of the woman you love, smiling for a photo that will forever hang proudly in your entryway for everyone to see.

Everyone had followed you home and there was now a small party being hosted in your house which consisted of half the girls outside playing a mini-game of football with Vienna accompanied by yours and Leah's dads, the other half of the girls sitting in the playroom playing FIFA except for Beth who was helping Lilah cook up a storm in the play kitchen and lastly Leah, you and your mothers were cooking up an actual storm in the real kitchen.

"Leah you have to eat real food, you can't just have potato smilies!' You laughed at Leah's grossed-out face.

"It all looks lovely but I just, I don't like it," The grown woman complained.

Amanda shook her head at her daughter, "Come on now Leah you're starting to sound like Vienna," You and your mother joined in laughing.

Leah dropped her jaw in offence, "I do not," She whined before straightening, hearing how whining and childlike she sounded.

There was a range of food either in the process of being cooked, ready to be cooked or cooling down that ranged from fresh scones (your mother's tradition) to beans with everything in between, even potato smilies.

"At least try something new, Lee," You begged.

Leah looked at you in displeasure, "Maybe," She mumbled when she buried her head into your back.

You moved to stir the mash which Leah had been working on, "Leah why on earth is this so watery?" You questioned.

"I don't know I just followed the recipe, 5 pounds of potatoes, 2 cloves of garlic, 12 cups of milk-" You cut her off with a gasp.

"Oh my god, Leah 1/2 a cup of milk, not 12 cups! That's why we don't have any milk left!" Everyone in the kitchen laughed at Leah's mistake while she stood there scratching the back of her neck, "Right, you pop off to the corner shop and pick up some more milk and potatoes and when you get back you can go off and play with the kiddies alright?" You ordered jokingly.

"Okay," She pulled you into a hug which you reciprocated immediately, "Sorry, love," She mumbled sheepishly.

You patted her on the back before moving her off, "Don't worry about it, now off you go!" You smacked her bum when she turned to leave.

Just after Leah left Kyra ran into the kitchen looking red in the face, "Where's Leah, we need another defender, Katie's being a child," She puffed out.

"Am not!" You heard the Irish woman yell from the backyard.

The day was spent talking and laughing surrounded by your friends and family and when the day was finally coming to a close only a few of the girls were left and both sets of parents had gone home. Vienna was lying sleepily on Katie's chest and Lilah was knocked out on Viv's, you were wrapped in Leah's arms and the day could not have gone better.

2 months later...

"Alright, so everything they need is in their bags and they have both just been fed and napped so they are full of energy for you guys!" You and Leah were going on a date on her day off and you were dropping the girls off to hang out with Viv and Beth for the day. You bent down to Vienna's level, "OK sweetie, behave and be nice, please do as they ask and no be cheeky," You teased and tickled her belly before placing a kiss on her forehead, repeating the action to Lilah who sat contently in Viv's arms, "Goodbye my little chickens," You waved. Leah repeated your actions and gave Vienna a fist bump after whispering in her ear which made the girl giggle.

"Bye guys, thank you so much," You waved to Beth and Viv as you walked towards the car. You buckled yourself in before taking a deep breath and sighing, "I hate leaving them," You pouted at thinking about not being within arms reach of your daughters.

Leah moved her hand to your thigh and rubbed it comfortingly, "Well I'll try my best to make it worth your time then, yeah?" She said jokingly.

You laughed lightly, "Hey, I didn't mean it like that. I love spending time with you, you make every second worthwhile," You picked up her hand from your thigh and gave it a dramatic kiss.

Leah smiled over at you, "Aw you big sap," She followed with a laugh when you pathetically punched her.

"Lilah wouldn't be making fun of me right now," You proclaimed and crossed your arms.

Leah waved her hand in exasperation, "Yeah because she can barely talk, Vienna on the other hand would be making fun of you," She smirked at you.

Your jaw dropped, "Only because you've corrupted my sweet little angel," You placed your conjoined hands over your heart theatrically.

"Oh hunny, she has always been a cheeky little devil," You had to agree with her. Even before the girls had met Leah Vienna had a habit of getting up to mischief.

You both sat in silence as the speakers played your shared playlist mainly consisting of Adele and Taylor Swift until you perked at a sudden thought, "Where are we going?" Not recognising the area you were now in.

Leah smiled over at you cheekily which was almost analogous to Vienna's when she was up to no good, "It's a surprise," She sang and shook your hands slightly.

After half an hour of driving and singing you arrived at an open field covered in lush green grass and as you looked to your left you saw a small pond littered with lily pads and surrounded by bushes.

You looked around and noticed lines of rose bushes and other flowers scattered around the field, "Leah this is... gorgeous!" You said in awe.

"Not more gorgeous than you," She flirted and when you looked back at her she had her head rested against the seat and hearts in her eyes, you couldn't help yourself and quickly pulled her into a deep kiss.

"I love you," You smiled against her mouth as you separated from the kiss.

She pecked your lips once more before you could pull away, "I love you more," She smiled dreamily.

"Impossible," You muttered looking at her in admiration.

After spending a few more minutes looking into each other's eyes and making out you had made it outside and onto the field, Leah had set up a picnic for the two of you and your heart could not be more full.

You helped Leah set out the picnic blanket but left the food in the basket as you begged her to take you on a walk to the pond. She 'begrudgingly' agreed and you held hands while you walked around the stunning water, pointing out the fishes you saw swimming merrily. You were so entranced by the small fishes that you hadn't seen Leah taking multiple photos of you.

Once Leah had complained of being hungry you let her lead you back to the blanket and she pulled out the 'feast' she had bought. The meal contained ham sandwiches (her favourite), scones (courtesy of your mother) and sausage rolls (your favourite) which she had even gone through the effort of putting into an esky bag to keep them warm.

You snacked on the food while lying in the arms of your lover and talked about nothing and everything all at once. You set up the blanket near the roses and once you had moved to retrieve another sausage roll you noticed how beautiful your girlfriend was and couldn't help but take a photo of her in all her glory.

"Oi cheeky, no wonder where V gets it from," She teased.

"That's all you, baby," You held her chin and pulled her into a soft kiss

Once the kiss broke Leah looked behind you before shuffing around "Is that a goose over there? By the pond?" She pointed over towards the pond and you instantly got to your feet wanting to get a look at the goose.

"Leah, are you hallucinating? I can't see any-" You cut yourself off as you turned around and saw Leah on one knee holding an open box in her hands, "Oh you cheeky little shit," You reprimanded before cupping your mouth with your hands.

Leah laughed at your reaction and cleared her throat, "Y/N, ever since I met you in that Tesco's covered in tears and snot with a beautiful bird's nest on your head, I knew that I wanted to be with you. I wanted to love you and hold you and I knew that wanted to grow old with you." You were both crying and Leah was now holding one of your hands in hers, "I really wasn't supposed to be eating those Oreos and you probably saved me a grilling from Kim, so thank you for that. I remember how scared you were when you first brought V and Lil to one of my games and how I would react and I want you to know that I was never mad or angry I was actually enamoured at how beautiful you looked with two children on your hips and how effortless you made looking after them look." You had fallen onto your knees and Leah's hand was now gently wiping the tears away from your cheeks, "I want to thank you so much for letting me into their lives and your home and letting me help raise them and I'm so thankful that you let me hang out with your daughters cause they are seriously the coolest kids around. I'm serious-" You both laughed at the proclamation, "I can tell you with no doubt that I'd rather hang out with you and them than anyone else in the world and I would be the happiest woman in the world. I want to help you raise your girls to be powerful, strong women and I want to grow old with you. So, y/n y/m/n/ y/l/n, would you marry me?" There were so many tears between the two of you that you weren't sure if she had seen you nod or if she could work out what you had said through the heavy presence of tears in your throat but she had heard you crystal clear.

"Of course I will you idiot,"

Leah lept up from the floor and tackled you into a hug. You went back and forth from hugging and kissing only taking a quick break for Leah to place the ring on your finger and for you to admire the beauty of it. Leah had also surprised you with a similar ring on her finger as she claimed, "It wasn't fair that only you got a nice ring," but you both knew that even if she had asked you to marry her at 3 in the morning covered in blood, sweat and tears, you would have said yes.

You weren't sure how long you had been hugging Leah for and you also weren't sure if you were ever going to let go. You didn't believe you would have if it weren't for a sudden loud screech, "MUMMY!"

You abruptly pulled apart from Leah and held her shoulders between your hands, "You didn't..." Leah just smiled and nodded before pulling you into another passionate kiss.

The kiss was broken when a pair of arms wrapped around your legs, "Did Mama give you the ring?" She asked jumping on the spot in excitement.

You lifted her up into the air and laughed with your daughter, "She did sweetie! Did you put her up to this?" You tickled her belly when she was stationary on your hip.

Vienna nodded excitedly, "Yup!" She turned to look behind you, "And look!" When you turned around you saw Lilah waddling over as fast as she could and Leah quickly went to pick her up. You looked further back and saw Viv and Beth standing with what looked like a professional photographer and as you looked for an extra minute you could see Viv consoling a sobbing Beth.

"You cheeky little devils," You looked between Leah and Vienna before wandering over to Lilah and squished her cheeks gently, "And the little mastermind behind it all," You said jokingly which made all three of your girls laugh.

Vienna wriggled out of your arms and tugged Leah's shorts to get her to bend down and whispered in her ear, "Does this mean you can adapt me and Lily now?" Leah let out a wet laugh, trying to keep the tears at bay.

"Is that what you'd like V?" She asked genuinely.

Vienna jumped up and down and screamed 'yes!' over and over again. Leah handed you Lilah who instantly rested her head against your chest and you kissed her head on instinct while you watched Leah reach into her bag. When she pulled out a photo frame you smiled widely and hid it behind Lilah's head.

Leah got down onto one knee again and presented Vienna with the certificate of adoption, "I think that is a lovely idea," Leah choked out with tears streaming down her face. Vienna jumped into Leah's arms and wrapped her arms around her neck. Leah stood up, keeping a tight grip on V, and looked over to you where you had tears running down your cheeks and Lilah was wiping them away. She watched through clouded eyes as you grabbed Lilah's hands and kissed them making the toddler let out a belly laugh.

You stepped over the photo frame which now lay discarded on the floor and wrapped Leah into a hug that held such pure emotions, happy tears and happy laughter. You were content as you and Leah held your girls in your arms and tightly held onto each other's hands.

yourusername

liked by leahwilliamsonn and others

yourusername my girls... and a little surprise from the big one 💍

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leahwilliamsonn only a little one 😕

yourusername i love you ❤️❤️

alexscott2 no one deserves this more than you two love birds 🤍

leahw6fan NO WAY! SHE TOOK MY WOMAN

williamson06 be fr rn...

kimkardashian congratulations 🙌

yourusername thank you!!

arsenal06 ariana what are you doing here?

leahwilliamsonn

liked by yourusername and others

leahwilliamsonn my love for you can not be put into words but the least I can do is applaud you for being the best mother out there and thank you tremendously for letting me help you raise the most perfect little girls and letting me love you with everything I have, I love you to the moon and back, and a million more times 💞

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yourusername stop it I'm going to cry again ❤️

leahwilliamsonn do it ❤️

bethmead_ you're going to make me cry again!!

katie_mccabe11 beautiful family

arsenalrnumber1 i love them

mbaker1971 proud of all my girls ❤️❤️

[arislary]

Nipping At Your Nose - Han Jisung x f!reader Oneshot Preview

Synopsis: You're spending the holidays at the club with your roommate and things take a turn for best when you meet the blue-haired bartender who turns out to be more than what you expected.

Or Han Jisung as Jack Frost a.k.a. club owner

Genre: s2l, fluff, smut

Warning: 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex (wrap up!), biting kink, sexual assault (reader is groped and handles her own), weed consumption, alcohol consumption

A/N: I totally meant for this to have been posted for Christmas, but who am I kidding, it got away from me! EXTREMELY UNEDITED, but Han Jisung's blue hair is wrecking me and I needed to write about him immediately. Just gonna add a note just in case the title isn’t enough, this is JUST A PREVIEW not the full oneshot yet! Bare with me 💕 ITS RELEASED NOW 🥹😘🤪

Main Story

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I tapped the bar as I threw the shot back, holding in from making a face as I brought the lime to my lips. I turned to my right grinning as Damian glared at me as he sucked on his lime. I had convinced him to come out as a celebration for finishing the week and to celebrate the holiday season. With Christmas being tomorrow, this had been the only club we could find that was open. We had both started new jobs at the beginning of the month and had finally found the time to celebrate our accomplishments. Even as roommates, we still barely saw the other with how much work we did. 

On top of the fact that this would be my second year spending Christmas after having been no-contact with my family. A distraction was a must. I went out of my way to make the holiday special for myself and refused to allow the lack of family stop me from treating myself and those I loved. Damian had decided to spend the holiday in the states rather than go home to visit his parents in Australia as he normally did.  

“Literally so many different ways we could be celebrating,” Damian groaned, head falling back as he leaned away from me. A laugh bubbled from my lips as I called out to the bartender to request for another round of drinks. 

The original bartender, a cute muscular man, that had been serving us had been occupied and turned to the man squatting next to him that had just come from their backrooms. I watch the two converse before the man squatting stood up to come over to us and suddenly I’m greeted with wide brown eyes, blue hair and chubby cheeks. 

I felt myself pause as I took in the good looking man in front of me. His black long-sleeve shirt was loose around his frame, rolled at the sleeves. He had one gold chain hanging from his neck and various rings and earrings decorating his person. My eyes watched as he rubbed his hands on the rag that had been hanging on his shoulder. His very veiny hands at that. My eyes stuck to the way his long fingers clenched around the towel. I felt my mouth start to salivate the longer I stared. His eyebrow raised as I stayed silent longer, glancing over to Damian who looked ready to burst out laughing. 

Damian shoved an elbow into my side, causing me to flinch and sit up right in my chair. I stared wide eyed at the bartender, brain coming to a complete stop. 

“I wanna hold your hand-”

Girl. 

“NO! I mean-“ my hand shot out in front of me, shaking at him, other hand covering my mouth in disbelief. Damian shook in chair, practically falling out of it from how hard he was laughing. The bartender’s smirk stretched into an amused smile, his hands now coming to rest on the bar as he let out a huff of laughter. “Can I please get a rum and coke?” 

I mumble out my order, my eyes refusing to leave the bar-top as Damian continued to laugh, attempting to give his own order. As soon as the grinning bartender walks away to make our drinks, I turn to the ‘Brutus’ sitting next to me, taking my turn to shove an elbow into Damian’s ribs now, hissing in his ear. 

“Thanks for the help, ass!”

He yelped and rubbed at his side, eyes narrowing at me, but the smirk on his face gave him away. 

“It didn’t look like you needed my help with how you practically shoved his pants down and started to suck his d-“

“Alright, I have a ‘Manhattan’ for the gentleman and-“ the “too-cute-for-his-own-good” bartender returned with our drinks laying them down in front of us one by one. “A rum and coke for my new favorite customer.”

He shot me a wink as I sputtered reaching to grab my drink, fingers barely grazing his. I jumped a bit, quickly bringing the drink up to my lips, straw bumping my top one before making it into my mouth. Way to go, ______, way to go. 

The bartender leans forward, hand outstretched towards me. His shoulders and arms seeming so big, making a flash of heat go through me. My eyes dart from his hand back to his face, stopping once, several times, at his lips. 

“You said you wanted to hold my hand right?” 

More like put your fingers in my mouth, but sure. 

[smehur]

WIP Wednesday

Just feel like sharing (read: I fucking love this bit). It's from "The Bubo" (a 4th year mostly canon-compliant Drarry fic yet to be posted, and a sequel to A Ferret's Sensibility). Current word count: 21k. ETA: 🤪

Leaning on the wall next to the serpent door to the Slytherin dungeons was Potter, his brow low, his lips pressed into a line, and his arms crossed so tight over his chest it was a wonder his ribs hadn’t cracked.

“What are you doing here, Potter?” Draco barked. After their adventure in the greenhouse, perhaps he would’ve tried to be civil, had they been alone. But with Vince and Greg following a step behind, it was important to project the correct image.

“Relax, Malfoy,” Potter said, trying for something between bored and annoyed, but the nerves made his voice strained. “I’m not here to fight. Can we have a word?”

Draco crossed his own arms, angling his hips and shoulders for maximum mockery. “Just the one?”

Vince and Greg dutifully sniggered. Potter rolled his eyes. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I doubt that very much, Potter. But alright. I’ll entertain the whims of our Great Champion on the eve of his extremely likely demise. What is it?”

“Send your goons away first.”

This was followed by a shuffling of robes behind Draco’s back and he could just picture Vince and Greg widening their stance and crossing their arms as well.

“That’s highly irregular,” Draco drawled. “People of standing far superior to yours make bookings months ahead for a one-on-one with me. I’m so very busy, you see.”

“Oh, for…” Potter sighed and stared beseechingly at the ceiling. The apple of his throat bobbed up and down and something wriggled in Draco’s stomach in response. Then there was a mutter that sounded suspiciously like…

“What was that, Potter?” Draco demanded. “Speak up.”

Muscles danced in Potter’s jaw. “Please.”

Draco put on his most vulpine grin to hide the genuine elation that raced through him like a shot of Thunderbrew. For a sweet, hot moment, he considered making Potter get down on his knees, but he knew it’d be too much. Instead, he turned his head and gestured at Greg with his chin.

“You sure, boss?” whispered Greg.

“Yes. Go on.”

“We need to use the password,” whispered Vince.

“Right. Come along, then, Potter.”

Draco turned around with a dramatic swipe of his robes (a trick he’d picked up from Professor Snape), and started back the way he had come, not bothering to check if Potter was following. He felt half a foot taller than usual, proportionally stronger and several times more handsome. Potter had begged him. In front of witnesses. For what, it remained to be seen, but it had happened and Draco would cherish the memory forever.

Another snip from the same story here.

No-pressure-tagging some new friends and anyone else who might wanna share any kind of WIP! @garagepaperback @sweet-s0rr0w @citrusses @slyssnakes @faiell 🥰

[liveinfantacy]

loose virginity with him(Jungkook smut)

Pairing: Jungkook x You Genre: Mafia!AU, action, angsttttt, smuttttt Tags:.Oh! and also oral (f), fingering (f), orgasm denial, dirty talkkkk (Jungkook is nastyyy 🤪) unprotected sex, virginity loss, light degradation, corruption kink, sir kink, BIG cock, squirting, orgasm control, creampie 🌸 🌼🌷 🌹 🌻 Raiting: +18 Summary: Don’t trust anything in this story. Don’t trust the cute bright cover, don’t trust the handsome playful flirty barista and do not trust the cute innocent timid girl.

As Jungkook set his phone back in his pocket he raised his eyes back to you.

“Don’t worry baby it’s no one important”

Is he reading your mind ?

“Just checking the time you know” Your heart sunk in your stomach. You immediately looked up at the clock hanging on the wall behind him. Almost midnight, it read.

“Sorry I should let you head home” you must be boring him you thought to yourself. Of course you were.

“No” he said, his voice shifting again, reminding you of the tone he used in the shop just yesterday. “I was just wondering when it was going to be time for desert”

Fuck…

Your heart jumped from the bottom of your stomach to your throat, over excitedly pumping boiling blood and adrenaline through your veins, making your cheeks and chest burn.

“Are you blushing baby girl?” he whispered while he leaned in over the table closing in the distance between you. “You’re so fucking cute”.

“Thank you” you squeaked, embarrassing yourself which made Jungkook chuckle.

“Are you daydreaming about all the nasty stuff I texted you about?” you stayed frozen solid as you lost track of yourself in his dark brown orbs. He kept on leaning in, you licked your lips nervously and Jungkook’s eyes instantly shifted down to them.

“You want me to make your dreams come true Princess?” Now his lips were grazing over your wet ones. This simple little touch sent a shot of electrifying sparks into your core. You nodded your head slowly.

“Say it” he whispered even quieter now as his warm hand slipped beneath the table and under your flowy dress, fingertips brushing over the thin skin of your inner thigh. You couldn’t help but let out a meek little whimper which made him smirk. “Say it, princess” he repeated, his hand continuing to progress on your thigh until he reached the delicate lace lining of your panties. Not quite touching you yet. So close but yet so far.

“Please make my dream true, sir” you huffed, giving in, surrendering yourself without putting up much of a fight.

“Good girl"

Suddenly he crashed his lips on yours, kissing you passionately, prying your mouth open to taste you, not letting you time to protest but even if you could have it was never your intention. You waited long enough for that. And you chose him. With him it finally felt right.

Jungkook’s pointer finger pressed precisely on your clit, applying pleasurable pressure on it, making you gasp and bang your knee on the table, nearly knocking over your half-full bowl. as he put more pressure on it. Not giving you the satisfaction of friction just yet. Just driving you even crazier with desire. So in a shameful and unpremeditated reflex you bucked your hips against his single finger.

Immediately he retracted his hand and broke the kiss. You bit your lips in regret as you opened your eyes back up to look at him. A familiar evil twinkle was dancing in his eyes.

“What a naughty girl” he wrapped a firm hand around your nape. “Grinding her little pussy against me like this” the remark made you blush in embarrassment.

“Blushing again?” he asked, this time practically growling. “You’re really trying to make me go insane.”

At once he got up, making his chair fall back, he harshly lifted you up by the arm and flipped you over his shoulder with ease. Caring your body like it was nothing but a mere feather.

He walked through the living room and hall with big strides and tossed you on the bed, earning a yelp from you. He didn’t even bother to switch on the light, only keeping the door open, the lighting from the hall making the atmosphere incredibly intimate.

“Take this flimsy dress off. Now. Keep the heels” his tone was demanding and impatient. So much so that even the crippling fear of what you were about to do was swept away and replaced by the fear of disobeying your master’s orders.

You opened the zip in the back of your dress and just let it slide off your body, revealing the burgundy lingerie set you carefully picked out for him.

“Fuck" he swore under his breath as his eyes trailed down your high heeled scadals to the curved you thighs and your chest hidden away in the beautiful bra and finally to your glistening collarbones.

You swallowed thickly at the sight of the tent he was so visibly pitching in his pants, making it look incredibly uncomfortable.

“Fucking lace?” he asked, hands going to the navy blue silk shirt. “Only sluts wear lace” he grunted rapidly, shedding every piece of clothing he had. Even the tight boxers, made his thick and hard cock spring up and stand tall.

He looked glorious, the light from the hall was casting his large shadow on the wall, the silver chains and necklaces hanging low on his chest pulling your eyes further down to the incredible cock you were so vividly remembering from yesterday, your mouth instinctively watering.

“Spread your legs” he ordered and you did. Fat cock in hand he stood on his knees and harshly pulled on your hips to take you closer to him, you let out another whimper.

His hot tip touched your clothed little pussy, aiming directly at the sensitive bud. Baekhyun took a wicked pleasure in making teasing slow circles. As close to you as he was, the miniscule ply of fabric between you was way too much. So you whimpered again.

When his tip pressed on you, you suddenly got nervous.

“Please… I-… Jungkook… I’ve never” you stumbled on your words.

“Don’t worry princess” he smiled reassuringly at you “I’ll make you nice and ready for me”.

He pulled on your legs and brought your hips to the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of you. He laid gentle kisses on your pubic bone before catching the lace between his teeth. He looked back up at you with the same eyes you saw in the shop, the same blazing desire that made your center quiver in anticipation.

He slid the panties down to your ankles where it hung on one of your feet.

“Will you be a good girl for me baby ?” he asked, voice strained and heavy while he eyed down your thighs tightly pressed together.

“Y-yes sir” you murmured, goosebumps rising on your bare skin.

“Then let me see your beautiful little pussy and spread your legs for me baby.”

With a shaky breath you parted your thighs slowly and as your knees got further and further apart Jungkook’s smirk got wider and wider.

“Fuck” he breathed out eyes fixed on your aching, quivering center. His breath tickled your intimate parts as he leaned in. “Dessert is fucking served” he whispered before digging in. Instantly, he aimed his tongue at the swollen bud.

The contact of his wet and cool tongue made you arch your back, sinking your head back in the plushy mattress.

“Fuck you taste so good babydoll” he said not parting himself from you, vibrations pulling a sharp breath out your trembling lips.

This feels different from anything you’ve ever done to yourself; it has no comparison at all.

“You like my mouth on your soaked little pussy?” he asked teasingly, slowing down the pace, gently sucking on your sensitive nub.

“Yes, sir” you cried out, taking out the frustration of this slow pace onto the sheets, fisting them angrily.

“What about this?” he slipped one slender finger inside your narrow little pussy. Your lips rounded up in surprise as you hoisted yourself up on your elbows, wanting to see his face.

“Fuck” you swore when you felt his blunt nail pushed deep inside you, rubbing circles on your sweet spot.

“Aw baby! Does that feel good?”

You only nodded as a response, your eyes starting to prickle with tears as he started to pump his finger in and out, slowly at first but rapidly picking up the pace to a point where you couldn’t help but to let small whimpers fill out the space between the two of you.

“Aw baby you’re so cute getting overwhelmed with just one finger” he chuckled. “Are you sure your virgin little pussy can handle me?” Once again your distressed mind is unable to come up with words to form an answer but this time he stopped when you didn’t reply anything back.

“Yes!! Yes!!” you breathed out hurriedly when you felt the pleasure gradually lessen, desperately, longing for him to finger fuck you again.

“What a good girl” he said as he slipped another finger inside.

“Oh my god” you cried again, this time you couldn’t help two big tears to roll down your burning cheeks. You felt yourself deliciously stretch to his liking. One finger was easy but two was something else. A dull and muted pain made you wince. Jungkook moved very gently, taking his time to stretch you properly. When you started to relax he leaned in again to wrap his mouth around your swollen clit.

“Fuck baby you taste delicious” he growled. Gradually the pain turned into pleasure and he picked up the pace again. Fingers furiously pumping in and out of you while his tongue skilfully circled your clit. Everything worked perfectly together like well oiled machinery. Rapidly taking you to your peak like an ever ascending rollercoaster.

“Are you going to cum my princess?” Jungkook teased you.

“Yes!!” you almost screamed, nails digging at the mattress, practically tearing the sheets.

“I’ve never seen a virgin cunt so fucking eager” he said while digging one pointy tooth on your clit, pulling a loud gasp off your lips, making your walls throb around his diggits. “Fuck! What a dirty little cunt you have here. Sucking on my finger like this” he picked up the pace again and combined with the dirty talk you were done for.

But he abruptly pulled his fingers out your desperate little pussy.

“No baby” he said firmly “Good girls only cum on my cock”

WAIT FOR THE NEXT PART .

NEXT PART WILL BE UPLOADED SOON.

[mochis-cream]

i see you have requests open! as such i need to be your first requesting anon ever >:3 can i request a non!idol au drabble fic thing about the reader realizing they like their fwb (nct mark) cuz like..that's just the type of stuff i like 😋🤪 also can I be 🦋 anon?, please and thank you ☺️

one day at a time | m. lee ☆

・ you never meant for things to get this complicated. one night was all it was supposed to be—one night to escape, to find solace in the familiarity of his embrace, and then you’d both move on like nothing happened. it’s just one night, you tell yourself. but deep down, you know that nothing is ever that simple, especially when it comes to him.

m.l x gn!reader ・ nct 127 ・ 엔시티 일이칠 ・ sfw ・ non!idol au ・ wc: exactly 2,400 ・ genre -> fluff, slight angst (does this also count as hurt/comfort??) ・ one shot! -> masterlist!

content warning: fwb (not explicitly stated or properly implied but still), complicated relationships, emotions are hard, reader has a panic attack, crying, love confessions, pre-established relationship (kinda), mark can cook now guys, lowercase intended, narration heavy, please let me know if i missed anything!

author’s note: aw man guys.. SORRY I WAS GONE FOR SO LONG ☹️☹️☹️ was busy with work and technical stuff ☹️☹️ anyhoo WELCOME ANON WELCOME!! ask is so yummy mm i love your brain frfr 🤭 and yes you can be 🦋 anon! thank you so much for requesting! i hope you enjoyed it!!

(moodboard spread by @/pink-horizon, found here!)

it’s just for one night.

or at least, it was supposed to be.

it was just supposed to be for one night. one night, and then you’d both go your separate ways, shoving everything under the rug like you used to. so why? why is it that you’re still here, tucked within the comfort of his home a week later?

you blink your eyes open, the familiar dim light of mark’s guest room greeting you. except, let’s be real, it’s hardly a “guest room” anymore. the way you’ve practically taken over—your clothes draped over the chair, your favorite mug on the nightstand, and your books scattered across the floor—yeah, it’s more your space than some random guest spot.

you let out a sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down on your chest. this wasn’t supposed to happen. it was meant to be simple. a quick visit, a night to clear your head, and then back to your normal routine. no strings, no complications.

yet here you are, seven days in, still wrapped up in the comfort of mark’s home… in the comfort of him.

and it’s not like you haven’t tried to leave. you’ve made the effort—packing your bag, setting an alarm, even making it to the front door. but then there’s mark, with that ridiculous bedhead and sleepy smile, asking if you’re really gonna leave without breakfast. and somehow, you’re roped back in, heart doing that weird little flip it does when he looks at you like that.

ugh, why is this so hard? why can’t you just go back to how things were? simple, easy, no weird feelings creeping up on you every time mark laughs at one of your lame jokes or makes you tea just the way you like it.

you close your eyes again, as if that’ll somehow block out the growing realization that’s been gnawing at the edges of your mind. but it’s there, lurking in the corners, refusing to be ignored.

because the truth is, you don’t want to leave. not really. and that’s the scariest part of all.

———

you remember how it all started—how it was supposed to be just another one of those days where you needed to escape, to find some kind of peace in the middle of the chaos that is your life. mark’s place had always been your safe haven, the one spot where you could just… be. no pretenses, no pressure, just you and mark in the bubble of comfort you’d both created over the years.

you’d arrived at his doorstep that night, the weight of the world on your shoulders and a tired smile plastered on your face. mark had taken one look at you and, without a word, pulled you inside, wrapping you up in one of those warm, awkward hugs that only he could pull off. it was the kind of hug that said more than words ever could—“i’m here, you’re safe, it’s okay.”

and just like that, the tension in your chest eased, the world outside fading away as you stepped into the familiarity of his home. it was routine by now: you’d crash on the couch or in the guest room, talk about anything and everything, and by morning, you’d be gone, back to reality. no strings attached, just two friends helping each other get through the tough days.

but this time, things didn’t go as planned.

you remember waking up that morning, the early light filtering through the curtains, and immediately getting that nagging feeling in your gut—like you were overstaying your welcome, like you needed to leave before things got weird. so, you’d quietly started gathering your things, trying to make a quick exit before mark woke up.

except he did wake up.

you were halfway out the door when you heard his voice, soft and a little groggy, calling your name. you froze, guilt flooding through you like you’d been caught sneaking out of a crime scene. when you turned around, there he was, standing in the hallway with his messy hair and sleepy eyes, looking like he was trying to figure out why you were leaving so soon.

“you’re leaving already?” he’d asked, and there was something in his voice—something almost… sad. “i, uh, made breakfast. thought you might wanna stick around for a bit.”

it wasn’t just the words that got to you; it was the way he said them, like he was really hoping you’d stay. and for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

so you’d stayed. one morning turned into a day, that day turned into another, and before you knew it, a whole week had gone by. every day, you’d wake up with the intention of leaving, but somehow, mark would always convince you to stay—whether it was with breakfast, or a movie night, or just… him being himself.

and you couldn’t help but notice how much lighter he seemed with you around, how his laugh came a little easier, how he smiled a little more. it was like, for the first time in a long time, things were just… good.

but the longer you stayed, the harder it became to ignore that nagging feeling in your chest—the one that kept whispering that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t just about friendship anymore. that maybe, you were starting to feel something more.

and that scared you more than anything.

———

you don’t know when it happened, when the lines started to blur between friendship and something more. maybe it was the way he looked at you sometimes, like you were the most important person in the world. or maybe it was the way he’d always go out of his way to make you feel comfortable, even when you didn’t ask for it. it could’ve been any of those little moments that seemed so insignificant at the time but now… now they felt like pieces of a puzzle, slowly coming together to reveal a picture you weren’t sure you were ready to see.

it hits you like a ton of bricks one morning as you’re sitting in the kitchen, sipping on the tea mark made you (because of course he knows how you like it). he’s at the stove, humming some ridiculous tune under his breath as he flips pancakes, and you’re just watching him—really really watching him—and it’s like something inside you clicks into place.

oh.

oh no.

it’s not just a crush. it’s not just some fleeting feeling that’ll go away if you ignore it long enough. no, this is something deeper, something that’s been quietly growing inside you, unnoticed until now. and it scares the hell out of you.

your mind races, scrambling for a way to make sense of it all, to put those feelings back in the box where they belong. but it’s too late. the box is open, and you can’t shove everything back inside no matter how hard you try.

and then, like the universe has a cruel sense of humor, mark turns around with a goofy grin on his face, holding out a plate of pancakes like he’s just won the lottery. “ta-da! best pancakes you’ve ever had, right here.”

he’s so damn proud of himself, so blissfully unaware of the emotional crisis you’re having right in front of him. you force a smile, trying to keep it together, but all you can think about is how this is it. this is the moment everything changes.

you barely hear him as he starts rambling about how he thinks he might’ve finally nailed the perfect pancake recipe, how he’s been tweaking it for weeks now, and oh, you have to try this one with the syrup because it’s so good. his voice fades into the background as your thoughts spiral out of control, panic rising in your chest.

you’re gonna ruin everything.

you’re gonna lose him.

the thought of losing mark, of him looking at you differently, of things becoming awkward and weird between you—it’s too much. your chest tightens, breath hitching as the panic starts to take over. you can’t do this. you can’t tell him. you can’t risk everything for this stupid, irrational feeling.

you stand up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor, and mark’s voice cuts off mid-sentence. “hey, what’s wrong? are you okay?”

you shake your head, unable to speak as you bolt out of the kitchen, your vision blurring as you make a beeline for the guest room. you need to get out of here. you need to think. you need to—

but you don’t make it far before your legs give out, and you’re collapsing onto the bed, clutching your chest as the sobs start to wrack your body.

it wasn’t supposed to be like this. it was supposed to be easy. why does everything have to get so complicated?

you curl up into a ball, trying to breathe through the panic, but it’s no use. the walls are closing in, and all you can think about is how you’ve ruined everything before it even had a chance to start.

———

you’re not sure how long you lie there, caught in the whirlwind of your own thoughts, but it feels like an eternity. the sobs have subsided into quiet hiccups, and you’re left feeling drained, emotionally spent. the room is too quiet, too still, and it only amplifies the storm raging in your mind.

then, you hear it—the soft creak of the floorboards outside the door, the hesitant shuffle of footsteps. you don’t have to look up to know it’s mark. of course it’s mark.

a part of you wants to tell him to go away, to leave you alone so you can wallow in your misery. but the other part of you—the part that’s always sought comfort in his presence, that knows he’s the only one who can calm you down—doesn’t want him to leave.

the door opens with a quiet click, and you feel the bed dip slightly as he sits down beside you. he doesn’t say anything at first, just places a hand on your back, rubbing slow, soothing circles like he’s done a thousand times before. the gesture is so familiar, so grounding, that it nearly brings you to tears all over again.

“hey,” he says softly, his voice laced with concern. “what’s going on? talk to me.”

you swallow hard, the words stuck in your throat. how are you supposed to explain this to him? how are you supposed to tell him that you’ve gone and fallen for your best friend like some cliché rom-com character? you can’t. you won’t. you—

“it’s nothing,” you finally manage to choke out, but even to your own ears, the lie sounds weak.

mark doesn’t buy it for a second. “come on, don’t do that. i know you better than that.” he shifts closer, his hand moving to your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “please, just talk to me.”

his voice is so gentle, so full of genuine concern, that it makes your heart ache. you can’t keep this from him, no matter how much you want to. he deserves to know, even if it means everything falls apart.

you take a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts, to figure out how to put your feelings into words without making everything worse. “i just… i’ve been thinking,” you begin, your voice trembling. “about us. about… what this is.”

there’s a pause, and you can feel mark’s gaze on you, heavy and intent. “and?” he prompts, his tone careful, like he’s afraid to push too hard.

“and… i’m scared,” you admit, your voice breaking on the last word. “i’m scared that if i tell you how i feel, it’s gonna ruin everything. that we won’t be the same anymore. that i’ll lose you.”

the words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable, and for a moment, there’s only silence. you’re terrified of what comes next, of what mark will say, of how he’ll react.

but then, he does something you don’t expect.

he pulls you into his arms, holding you close, like he’s trying to shield you from your own fears. “you won’t lose me,” he says firmly, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions. “i promise you, nothing’s gonna change. not like that.”

you want to believe him. god, you want to believe him so badly. but the fear is still there, gnawing at you, whispering that this is all too good to be true.

“but what if it does?” you whisper, your voice small and scared. “what if everything changes?”

mark pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression soft and full of something you can’t quite place. “it won’t,” he insists, his tone gentle but unwavering. “because i love you. i’ve loved you for a long time, and nothing’s ever gonna change that.”

his words hit you like a freight train, knocking the breath out of you. you stare at him, wide-eyed, trying to process what he’s just said. did he really just—

“i love you,” he repeats, like he’s trying to make sure you understand, like he needs you to know that he means it. “and i’m not going anywhere. not now, not ever.”

it’s too much. the relief, the joy, the overwhelming sense of love that washes over you—it’s all too much, and before you know it, you’re crying again. but this time, it’s different. this time, it’s not from fear or anxiety, but from the sheer weight of everything you’ve been holding in, of finally hearing the words you never thought you’d hear.

mark doesn’t say anything else. he just holds you, letting you cry it out, his hand never stopping its soothing motions on your back. and as you start to calm down, exhaustion begins to creep in, your body finally giving in to the emotional rollercoaster of the past few hours.

“stay,” mark whispers, his voice soft and comforting. “just stay with me. we’ll figure everything out together, okay?”

you nod, too tired to say anything, but the decision is made. you’ll stay. for as long as he’ll have you, you’ll stay.

and as you drift off to sleep, nestled in the warmth of his embrace, one thought lingers in your mind:

maybe one more day won’t hurt.

[solarishashernoseinabook]

Tell me about the process of writing trr 👀

Thank u so much for indulging me 😭

Um. This got very long. So most of it's going under a readmore.

One of the first things I did when I started TRR was come up with three principles for writing autistic!Halt, which I stick to every time I write him:

Halt is an autistic character, not a character who happens to have autism. Essentially meaning: Halt's autism must affect the narrative. TRR (as well as many recent one-shots) would not be the same stories if Halt was neurotypical, and I figure if I did write something where Halt's autism didn't affect the story, then I've written it poorly

Halt's autism can't be discarded for the sake of the story. Pretty self explanatory. In a lot of media with autistic-coded characters, they're portrayed as weird and having some social difficulties or weird interests in a way that can be summed up as being "lolz so QUIRKY 🤪", but those traits can be highly inconsistent depending on what the plot needs. I was determined to not do that in TRR.

Halt's autism is value-neutral. There's two broad camps that a lot of autistic rep or autistic-coded characters fall into, mainly depending on the genre they appear in. If they're in a more serious story, the focus tends to be on how much of a problem they are for their caretaker, and if they're in something comedic, the focus will be on how much of a jackass and/or how clueless they are and the basis of the humour will be other people responding to this. In either case, we're supposed to sympathise with the non-autistic characters and relate to how difficult dealing with an autistic person is. The other alternative is that we get an inspiration-porny depiction of autism where the autistic character is so saintly and good and wonderful and inspiring, which is also pretty damn dehumanising. So for TRR, I tried to avoid both those extremes. If characters had problems with Halt's autistic traits, that was their fault - any problems they have with him are part of a failure to accommodate him, or because they pushed Halt out of his comfort zone. Of course, Halt would have to meet them half-way here: if he's rude, he does have to realise that and apologise for that rudeness. At the same time, Halt isn't better than anyone else by virtue of being autistic. He's not an inspiration to them, nor is he there to teach them how to be better people: he's just another character, just like any of them. Maybe I haven't always pulled this last principle off correctly, but I try.

The rest is going under a cut sorry :"D

Another thing I did really early on was settle on what Halt's autistic traits would be. In canon, Halt dislikes loud noises, doesn't seem to look at people very much, he can talk for a long time on things he knows but doesn't otherwise speak very much, and he loves archery - he's one of the Corps' best rangers. Using this as a basis, I decided Halt has noise sensitivities, generally avoids eye contact unless he knows people well, and that archery is one of his special interests. I wanted to make Halt slightly touch adverse, so I gave him my trouble with being touched around the shoulders. Finally, based on how many times Halt gets quiet and avoids people in loud situations, I decided to have him shut down instead of melt down when he starts to get overwhelmed.

And then I had to decide how to actually write that autism - as in, like, the mechanics of writing. There's a subtle difference between how Halt's POV scenes are written versus everyone else's. When I write from Halt's POV, I don't typically include any emotion from other characters unless it's very obvious, or I describe body language without much detail. If Halt meets someone for the first time, the other character will be described with a hair colour and maybe their general build and that's it - Halt doesn't like looking at faces much, so you won't get details like their eye colour or distinct facial features. This means a lot of perspective-hopping, because if the other characters' emotions are important to the scene, then I either can't tell it from Halt's POV or I need a scene afterwards that backtracks slightly to explain what we missed. I also try to focus more on the information coming through Halt's senses - what he's hearing or feeling, for instance. It was the only way I could think of to actually get across social difficulties and what having sensory processing disorder feels like, lol

More recently, I reread RA's two prequels (which cover the same timespan as TRR) and made extensive notes on the plot/characters...fully knowing I would need to discard 85% of it for TRR. I can at least make shout-outs to it, or use it as a basis for what I write. I turned those notes into a 41 page document that describes characters, locations, and events, complete with sub-headings!

WHEW okay thank you for enabling me :D I mainly focussed on character creation i know but i had the most to say about it 😭

[meowzfordayz]

Hi T 🤗 I hope you're doing exceptionally well today. I'd like to participate in your Milestone 5.0 KNY drabble event pls. 🥺 👉🏽👈🏽 I think you already know which character I'm choosing 😏

Let's make it sfw, and can it be number 7 on your prompts list pls? Tysm and have a fantastic rest of your day. 😁😇✨️🫶🏽

MILESTONE 5.0

Hii !! ☺️ I'm doing alright — lazy Sunday after outdoor rock climbing for most of Saturday. 🧗🏻‍♀️☀️

... sooo your drabble turned into a one shot. 😅 I actually used my unfinished + unpublished draft of "wildflower" (from my OG MILESTONE 5.0 event) for its beginning, and it evolved from there. 🤪

ANYWHO- Ty for participating !! I hope your weekend was restful, and that your upcoming week goes smoothly. 💙

I said meet me downtown at the dive bar, you’re the only one that makes me feel alive. — Kill My Time

CW: mild sexual content

Giyuu stands, eyes darting—the entrance to your favorite bar a few long strides away—tying and untying his hair. Literally why? strands sticking damply to his neck Could you just, I don’t know, cooperate?! checking his watch 10:28pm Two more minutes to get this shit right retying his hair I guess sixth time’s the charm? as it finally settles gracefully down his back. Well. He hopes it’s graceful, willing himself to not look at his reflection as he passes the bar’s floor to ceiling windows, his pristine, white sneakers contrasting starkly with the grey muddle of pavement. I don’t have time to try again. 

Inhale.

Rolling up and down the sleeves of his aegean hoodie, cotton feeling tighter than usual.

Exhale.

Smoothing the pockets of his slim heather joggers, wishing he’d worn nicer pants.

He knows to pull, not push, the heavy wooden door—he’s made that mistake one too many times—pausing awkwardly at the hostess booth. A cursory glance at the sea of dimly lit tables tells him you haven’t arrived yet, your typical spot unclaimed and unassuming, which means you’re probably-

“On time as always,” an amused voice climbs onto his shoulder, light and assured, goosebumps raising on his forearms.

He grunts. Turns. Does his best to swallow the abrupt coughing fit threatening to overcome him; to stop his eyes from widening in pleasant surprise; to restrain himself from wrapping his arms around you in a too comfortable embrace.

You look, “You hate when I’m late,” beautiful.

Your lips curve gently—Hi—familiar gesture loosening the anxious knot coiling in his gut.

“Because it’s rude,” you snort, “Time is money.”

Time is priceless he inwardly corrects you, mesmerized by how coolly your stare grazes his lungs: by how you look so different, yet still so you. The shade and tangle of your hair, the depth of your eyes, how your skin crinkles and glows. You seem like the you he remembers. You also seem like an entirely new you. Older, wiser, tired; haunting, brilliant, stern. His hands shove self consciously into his pockets, fixated on how effortless and well dressed you are, anxious knot recoiling. If there’s anyone who knows how costly time can be—It’s me—Giyuu realizes.

“You know we can just seat ourselves,” you remark, already walking toward an empty high table—your empty high table—nestled beneath a sepia toned wall scone.

He wonders if you call ahead to make sure it’s available before you arrive; wonders if you know he’d call ahead for you; if you know about the fragments of his heart ingrained in the wooden finish; if you ever admire them, let alone notice them, glinting under the shadow of your oblivion.

Following your lead, he sits tentative and tense, unable to meet the curiosity in your gaze, warm and guarded across from him.

“So what happened?” you tease slowly, fingertips drumming faintly, tabletop sticky with the residue of earlier encounters, “You missed me?”

Some things never change his eyelashes flicker heavily Straightforward entranced by the delicate rhythm of your knuckles Painfully so.

“You’re lucky I felt like going out tonight,” you muse, sharpening, “I was about to brush my teeth,” holding his breath as you drawl, “But how could I ignore you sliding into my DMs?”

“I didn’t know how else to reach you,” he offers weakly.

“I didn’t want to be reached,” by you.

He blinks, treading carefully, “Then why did you reply?”

“Because I felt like going out, but all my friends,” my partner, “Were busy.”

All my friends. Your retort stings, the feeling that you’re hiding something vital not escaping his notice either. Another reminder of time: of time he’d squandered before he could fully comprehend the degree to which you’d etched yourself into his lungs — every breath a placeholder for the lingering heat of your mouth upon his.

“I fucked up.”

You scowl, “You’re pathetic.”

“And you’re here,” he snaps, lips thin with regret.

You flinch, wispy sliver of brightness fading from your stare. He knows you, from the touch of your palm to the twitch in your jaw; the weight of your hatred as you flit in, out, and in. His life. Your revolving door. Constant. As see through as it is unbearable.

“I’ll go,” you hiss, barstool scraping angrily as you move suddenly, “This was a waste of my time.”

He isn’t clueless. He can read between your lines—You are a waste of my time—ringing clear and bitter, inhibition surrendered when it dawns on him: If I let them slip away, then not even fate itself will be able to tie us together anymore.

“You’re the only one that makes me feel alive.”

The velvet drag of your tongue behind his ear, how you’d hold him after loving him, kisses dappled feathery soft from his closed eyelids to the tendons of his wrists. Sometimes, the sheets tangled twice. Occasionally, thrice. And rarely, he got to watch the sun rise upon the angles of your face, sleep claiming the remaining threads of your attention.

“And how about me?” you scoff, “Who makes me feel alive?”

Once upon a time, Giyuu would’ve said I do, so certain of the way you’d cup his cheeks, his nose scrunched while your laughter caressed his flushed expression. Once upon a time, he would’ve said You? Why, you’re everything to me. And that would’ve been enough. Once upon a time, too much time ago, he didn’t just know you — he’d known how to nurture you. How to love you.

“Somebody else,” he guesses quietly.

“Somebody else,” you repeat firmly, tossing him a pitying glance before walking toward the exit, words uttered too low for him to hear, “But I wish it had been you.”

—

It barely registers as Giyuu looks away, the cold press of finality, engraved into his soul by your conquest — the snipping of red thread.

[eviltiddyproductions]

Continued thoughts on Midnight Romance in Hagwon

because the re blogging got tired and confusing.

i know we need a little bit of conflict and we’re seeing how #passionate but i hope things don’t snowball for that student who had that one question with two answers. teachers sometimes are so stuck in their ways that any question on their checking or paper setting and they’ll be after you like a blood hound! trust me!

people in my country are so used to the idea that if you send your paper for rechecking you better be prepared for WAR, because they might give you the 2 marks you need but they’ll look for 10 marks to deduct 👎 they take it as a personal offense when it’s just human to make a mistake….

like our female lead going to bat for her student is real but babes these are treacherous waters…

help that teacher just dead ass looked at her like this when she explained the comprehension answer 😑

lmao why is the teacher so offended 😭 to be fair tuition teachers and teachers are always beefing (despite many doing both the jobs)

lmao now the spectacled loser is just getting angry 💀👎 apparently setting a paper is serious business but a student trying to get a vital point in an exam is cheating.

gag him queen! idgaf

now he’s seething because she said the question is old. before this he was trying to taunt her by saying that she was bad at her job for not being able to predict this question. drama!!!

what a fucking loser… grabbing her by the shoulder over a question paper. move queen, I’ll handle this

she’s still going when it genuinely looks like he’s going to hit her. honestly I want her to hit this mf with her bag.

her putting a pain relief patch :(

wi ja hoon looking good and not being a second lead, i won soooooo bad

wait has he liked her since he was 13…. (edit! I think she taught him when he was 19-20, i won 🙏 i had gotten confused by some 8th grade stuff that they were talking about)

knew as soon as she mumbled that he was going to show up 😂

she’s got his name saved as her pride and she glows like the sun, love her soooo bad

third wi ja hoon drama (for me) where he’s in love with someone older, love that. although the teacher and ex student thing is a new territory for me, idk how i feel about it just yet.

i hope the teacher who tried to practically hit seo hye jin (our female lead) doesn’t do anything drastic….

also went on MDL to check her name and why are people saying this show is hot garbage omg don’t do this to me. to be fair me and that site rarely agree so we move 🙏

her showing up to those restaurants where they can get closed door rooms is crazy after what he pulled 😭 only public places with people who lay hands on you !!! and with company

why does this apology feel like it’s coming with a MAJOR but

knew it lmao. the drums in the bgm are deeply unserious.

allll of this over a question. I know as a teacher, a private tutor showing up to your school telling you that you made a mistake can be annoying. you see this in South Asia as well, the teacher is right, students value the tuition classes more than the school but babes why are you talking about going to WAR 😭

he wants to go to war for teachers but this is just an ego battle. that apology was so fake.

cowboy shoot out music in the bgm and our lead just left. girl he’s weird af but i wish we sniffed something. we don’t know what he’s planning!

directors at these tuition places are greedy as hell. (my source?! crash course in romance 🤪)

lmao the conversation between the two characters taking the teacher test was actually so chill and respectful. I was waiting for the shoe to drop but it was amicable.

lmfaoooo not hye jin lurking around to see him complete the exam

the other language instructor shooting her shot, gotta take tips

mr. yoon for the tap on the wrong shoulder thing, aww

her with her big ass red umbrella is giving

he looks so adorable like a wet puppy 😭

lmaooo just realised even jun ho’s dad is a staple in the ahn pan seok universe. a dad in all 3! (recently saw him on atypical family)

my sister trying her best to ensure he keeps a good job when he’s already left it

him saying his love life isn’t any of her business made me bust out laughing bc he’s going to be a menace in hers isn’t he 💀

one thing I love about this creator is that everyone in his shows looks so real. the actors are gorgeous yes, breathtaking. but the way they dress, the way their hair is done, it’s all so natural.

standing under an umbrella under as rain pours down, faces like 3 inches away from each other, he’s asking her to address him as an instructor with the biggest smirk 😂😂😂

that was an abrupt finish lmao give me more

a subway sponsorship, can’t wait for them to eat a dry ass sandwich soon 😭

well this was fun ❤️ let’s do another

[inquixotic]

LIKE HALF THE RP, NIGHT 38.

daybeds, after movie night

with @guttcd, @heatwayve, @graftisms, and @dobits !

evelyn mendoza.

"okay, one bottle of very nice champagne." it's probably just sparkling wine, knowing the production's budget, but it's wine, and dante likes wine, and maybe it'll help lessen the sting of having that played a bit. it was one of the opened ones, because she was never going to be able to actually pop a bottle, plus that feels celebratory and totally not the mood. she crawls into the daybed on the side of dante, eyes watching charlene pace around next to it, immediately resting her head on his shoulder. "that was such bullshit of them to include that, sweet, i'm sorry," she says, a note of uncharacteristic anger striking in her tone, offering him the bottle with a sympathetic look. @nuve @deanna

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

she's currently on a rant, pacing around and waving her hands around. "like -- why the hell would they pick YOU if they were falling in love with marcus? who fucking does that? does she think we're in fucking... i don't know! vampire diaries or something?" she's absolutely fuming, only taking a breath when evie makes over to them, her aura much more sympathetic compared to charlene's. her gaze softens as soon as they land on dante. "sorry -- this is about you. not me. wanna... talk about it?"

miles o'sullivan

he's been here w the squad so that frankie can pull callie in peace (🤪).

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

the sight of the bottle of cheap champagne does bring a smile to dante's face—though it's washed away with more words from charlene's litbottle rampage, pacing back and forth in front of them. if he watched any longer, dante would get dizzy. "it's okay," he says, half-heartedly. arm wrapping around evie with one hand, he uses the other to take a quick sip. "i don't think there is much to talk about. i did not know..." he trails off, thinking about romi's words about marcus. "but i knew enough. it's... that was a litbottle embarrassing, huh?" he tries to laugh it off, weakly.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

holy shit she did not see miles sitting there! "yeah -- for them. 'cus they apparently don't know what they fucking want." she grumbles, taking the bottle and occupying herself with the task of making sure everyone's glass has plenty of liquor.

evelyn mendoza.

there's a stubborn set to her jaw, understanding in how embarrassed he must feel for that, to have his feelings on full display for everyone to see when romi turned him down, then said all that about loving marcus. "they look like an absolute muppet, babe, for real." there's a pang of guilt too, for how confidently she had told him not to worry, and she continues on, "they had absolutely no fuckin' business saying all that to someone who isn't you. it's a bad fuckin' show, it's gross."

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

he's still shaking his head. "it's okay. i mean—it wasn't nice to watch, but i do not think bad of her. her and marcus have been together the whole time. when she chose me after coming back from casa... i did not think she was going to," he admits. "and i know he still loves her, so... i hope they're happy." he takes a much longer chug of the champagne, before passing it to charlene. "it's just sad." he's sad.

evelyn mendoza.

"it is sad," she agrees, putting her annoyance on the back burner to give him a weird half hug due to the positioning on the bed. "and it's not fair. to either of you."

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

she chugs her drink along with him, mostly in an attempt to calm herself down. cus liquor is totally is the thing you need for that! "it is sad." she fills their glasses once more before  handing miles the bottle. if he's not going to say anything, he can at least be on liquor duty. charlene kneels down in front of dante, allowing her free hand to give his knee a small, sympathetic squeeze. "you're allowed to be sad. i know you really gave it your best shot, dee. really."  she looks up at him, a determined look on her face that shows there is no room for debate. "she was lucky to have you and stupid to lose you."

miles o'sullivan

"wait, back this up. did you tell them you loved them? and then they asked you for an open relationship?" he knows he loves to pretend a red flag's a green one but shit...!

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

all of charlene's comments are nice but unwarranted, because after all this, he still can't think of one thing romi had done wrong. it would've been nice to hear about her feelings for marcus before watching it unfold on the screen, but judging from the clip it didn't look like marcus knew much about it, either. glancing at miles, he nods seriously. "when she chose me a few days ago... it did not feel like it," he tries to explain, slowly. "she did not even dance on me during the challenge because of marcus. and marcus and her were staying friends, and he told me he still cared for her. it felt like i was in the middle of it, no? sometimes two people don't know what they really want is each other." the smile he gives him is melancholy. "so i suggested we go back to getting to know each other, so she could maybe work things out with marcus. i told her i love her because i do. that does not change just because of everything."

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

it must be nice to not have the brain capacity to be mad — she wishes she was as chill as he was but she’s too petty. too protective of her friends. especially dante. she doesn’t want to make this about herself though, so she simply rest her check on his knee. “im sorry dee.”

evelyn mendoza.

her lips press together, blinking back any water in her eyes at how he's talking, like there's no hope in it at all. she really missed how worried he was about that, huh? "you're too good, babe." in general, for romi, he can take his pick. "they wanna hiding, for real." evie chews at her tom lip, glancing at charlene like maybe she shouldn't point this out, but continues on anyways. "that said...marcus may not even choose them, after bein' shot all over the place like a fuckin' pinball with them. what would that mean for you?"

miles o'sullivan

honestly, dante's experiencing what miles' nightmare had been about coming back. when they played frankie's tape, part of him had been bracing himself for a similar confession - one that hadn't come. fuck, he really needs to get up and find frankie soon. but saying something to dante, who could've just as easily been him tonight, also feels important. "for what it's worth, you did the right thing. like, it's tough to go with your gut in a situation like that, but...you got a feeling and you trusted it," for the amount of side-eye dante gets for being a litbottle empty between the ears, he strikes miles as remarkably intelligent right now. "it's no wonder she picked you, 'cause of the kind of guy you are, but sometimes people can't help how they feel, i guess. even if your feelings aren't changing, i'm sorry that the rest is. we haven't changed though," he motions to the bombshells around him, "we've still got your back."

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

his hand runs gently through charlene's hair in front of him, offering everyone a litbottle smile. it's funny, but despite this being one of the lowest points of his love island experience, he also doesn't think he's ever felt so supported here. dante can't remember the last time he felt this supported, period. it made the whole situation a litbottle lighter. "thank you," he nods in miles' direction, because it feels like a lot coming from him. "no, people can't help how they feel. but that's okay. i told romi that what happens with her and marcus will not change my feelings of her, and i still agree." evie's question is a litbottle tougher, lips pressing together for a moment, before shrugging. "i don't know where any of this leaves me. but it's okay. i've had a lot of fun being here, and that will not change." he's already bracing for the worst.

angel reid

he'd made a hard left turn after seeing naomi and marcus embracing in the kitchen, not quite drunk enough to lose sense of when his presence isn't wanted. instead he heads for miles, crouches down next to him as dante finishes his sentiment. "you ain't goin' anywhere, big d," angel affirms. "got a lot of show left."

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

dante really is too sweet. too selfless. if it was just the two of them or if she had enough liquor in her system she would probably be crying for him. like the drunk girls in the bar that cry cus she thinks the girls they just met in the bathroom deserve the world. instead she just nods at everyone's words, agreeing whole heartedly and appreciating them for being much more eloquent than she is. "how are you two holding up?" she directs the question to h miles and angel.

angel reid

"like shit," he laughs, finishing off his beer and immediately wishing he'd bit the bullet and barged in on marcaomi before this. "the girls went inside to hash things out," he tells miles, smacking his palm on miles' thigh. then he nods toward evie. "this one was right."

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

"i don't understand," he frowns, looking between angel and miles, then angel and evie. "what is there to hash out?" angel wasn't even in the movies, right?

miles o'sullivan

"oh? i don't know, i was okay. i didn't...think it was that bad," his brow furrows, a glance over at angel. he wasn't sweating about frankie's video, was honestly looking forward to teasing her about it, but wonders if this is just one of those things he hasn't been told. "right about what?"

evelyn mendoza.

she stares at angel like he's grown another head. "i told him it was too soon to be closed off, shouldn't feel like a second choice." she says, offhand, to miles. "what in the hell are you talking about, this one was right?"

angel reid

"and as long as frankie's in here, i'm always gonna be second choice," he fills in the expletives following evie's explanation. "frankie saw it, too. she was telling callie it was weird she chose her movie, asked if she did it to fuck with your guys' thing." and now they're probably making plans to continue the convo in the hideaway. to wrap it all up, he gestures again to evie, "ergo, this one was right."

evelyn mendoza.

she sits up at that. "that is not what i said, angel."

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

it's hard to defend callie when she has no idea why she keeps picking frankie for these challenges. "i don't get why calllie had to chose frankie's video. like, she rejected her."  she looks at miles when the 'second choice' comment is made, wondering if he's going to react but then evie corrects angel and she turns to look at her. "what did you say then?"

angel reid

"see, if we'd gotten to see my movie, we wouldn't even need to argue about this right now." 'cause yes you fucking did, evelyn.

miles o'sullivan

"well, if she thought it would fuck with us, it's not going to," miles shrugs. he's choosing to trust frankie on this.

evelyn mendoza.

she turns her attention to charlene, trying to push her temper down and speak calmly. "i said that frankie and callie were really intense, and i wasn't sure she would've picked him had frankie not fucked up with naomi, so he shouldn't be closed off early on. 'cause frankie was going to a constant," she says plainly, pausing to take a sip of her wine. "which callie said was true. but compared it to like, an ex. which is fine and fair." she'll withhold her opinion on a week not being enough to move on fully, though.

angel reid

he really appreciates charlene's validation, gives a motion of acknowledgement to her before his attention is whipped to miles. "dude --," he gestures to himself now, "i'm so totally fucked with." he catches only the last bit of evie's words to charlene, just enough to know that he's still right, he shakes his head. "i just thought it was so not the move." a glance to miles, he shrugs. "like, on callie's part. frankie was just as confused as me."

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

it kind of sounds to charlene like angel's summary of what evie said was spot on. if this was being said before tonight she might have actually argued against it but right now, she doesn't know what to think. if callie is pulling another romi and naomi where she's pretending to not know what she wants only to reveal that she was still into frankie all along. "it definitely wasn't the move." she stands back up, dusting her knees off some before offering angel her glass of champagne. "i'm sorry ang. i have no idea what is going on with her right now. maybe she had too many to drink?" she offers weakly

miles o'sullivan

he just leans on angel where they're sat together, his head on his shoulder. there's a warmth that blooms in his chest at the mention of frankie, but also, worry. he hopes that frankie's not all in her head about this, that she doesn't take the fact that he went to comfort dante as a bad sign – just fact that he wasn't stressed about the two of them. he's got no ability to try and gauge what's going on in callie's head because he barely knows the girl, "honestly, we had kind of a nice chat the other night about...this kind of stuff," miles suggests. "i'd be fuming if frankie had chosen her. do you think she's, um, self-saaging?" cheryl loves this word.

evelyn mendoza.

she setbottles back into dante, her eyes drifting across everyone's faces. "she shouldn't have picked her," she prefaces slowly, having much less sympathy for angel than she does dante or even miles, but still having some. "but it's hard to move on from someone you made plans with in a snap, even if she's serious about you, y'know?" she can't believe she's the one defending callie here, honestly. "did you tell her that it makes you uncomfortable? she knows that, right?"

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

is just listening because it feels wrong to chime in on this.

angel reid

"thanks, babe," he tells char, taking her glass and downing the entire thing. "being drunk's no excuse." except he'll definitely lean on that tomorrow as an explanation for why he reacted as badly as he did. "self-saaging would be, like, best case scenario," he chuckles dryly. he's pretty sure it's just 'cause callie likes frankie. plain and simple. "would you be fuming?" he hums more genuine laughter now, fingers scratching on miles' knee. "feel like maybe i gotta drink whatever chill dude juice you're sippin' on." water might be good, too. to evie, he nods. "'course. i think it's just hard for her to deal with. like, she never fucks up, is always super solid. frankie's just -- i dunno, her weak spot."

evelyn mendoza.

"dude." not an unkindly dude, mind, but a litbottle exasperated, maybe, because it kinda sounds like he's got her on some kind of a pedestal and that's just plain unhealthy. "she's human, she's gonna slip up sometimes." especially when she's got a weak spot like frankie. "you said you'd take being her second choice, right? it's fine if you can't, but like...i dunno. her making a mistake isn't the end of the world."

angel reid

fingers drum thoughtfully on miles' leg, he's half surprised by how much sense evie's making and is fully suspicious about it. "yeah, i dunno. she was just real fucking quick to pull frankie..." that does feel like the end of the world. but he did say that, told callie something similar, too. "i need another drink," he doesn't, but he pulls himself up anyway after ruffling miles' hair. "anybody want?" once he's got order, if any, he'll go ahead and exit stage left.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐬

it sounds to her that angel just needs to vent and with evie being on the defensive and miles having no reaction at all, she doesn't blame him for wanting to leave.. "i'll go with you." she offers with a knowing smile. "whiskey sours everyone?" surely they could all use something harder.

evelyn mendoza.

"she pulled frankie?" her eyebrows do go up at that, but she withholds further comment as angel gets up to leave. whoops! tough love wasn't the move. "whiskey sour sounds nice, thank you both."

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

he shakes his head at the offer, taking another swig from the bottle he does have.

miles o'sullivan

"i would have actually been fuming," miles digresses as angel gets up to leave, "i don't know. i know i've been chill about this stuff, but it's not like i love the fact that we've had to like, move forward in relation to callie a lot of the time," miles' brow furrows. he knows he's pretty even-tempered, wants to keep the good vibes, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. "but i do trust her, and it's been really good lately," his neck cranes toward the villa, as if he's going to x-ray in on what chat frankie and callie are having. "i don't know. you don't think that's wrong of me?" he looks at dante, whose opinion he really trusts.

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

dante's surprised to see miles looking to him for advice, but he nods in agreement. "i think you would know if it is not right. just because something is not perfect, doesn't mean it should be rid of. love isn't always easy." it usually isn't, actually.

miles o'sullivan

"damn. that was really good. they should hire you to write those things in fortune cookies," miles nods thoughtfully.

evelyn mendoza.

"do you like...want me to go try to hear what they're saying?" directed to miles. she'd be mad with jealousy if she were him right now. "make sure dante's right."

miles o'sullivan

"you'd do that?"

evelyn mendoza.

"sure, yeah. callie already hates me, right? can't blame you if it's me."

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

"why does she hate you?" he frowns.

evelyn mendoza.

"okay, that's a litbottle dramatic," she huffs. she doesn't hate her. "she wasn't happy with me, that's all. might as well keep that streak goin' rather than subject miles to it, right?"

miles o'sullivan

"you don't want to be friends with her?" he pauses, leaning in, "well, okay. but if you do it, you can't say it was because of me."

evelyn mendoza.

she waves her hand, not exactly dismissive, but trying to be casual "i dunno. i just don't think she genuinely wants to be my friend. it's like, a whole thing. i'll get into it after i report back. and, no, i won't rat you out. i'll say i needed, like, more concealer and didn't wanna interrupt. it's perfect." with that, she pushes off and goes off towards the villa.

miles o'sullivan

there's a glance at dante as evie runs off, "she was almost too excited to go do that..." he trails off. hopefully this doesn't cause any problems!

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗮.

"she must be very bored," he admits, with a small laugh. "her and eden and victoria. it's a shame we couldn't watch one of their movies." the reason behind that is completely lost on him, the fact that they probably have zero content.

[zepskies]

Thank you sooo much, my lovely!! 😘💕

Now diving into the rest of your amazing review! 😍

firstly I wanna say i love the phrase thicc thirty lol 😭 secondly I loved how each character was written, it felt true to their nature for sure 🙂‍↕️🫶🏽 as per usual of course :p💞

Hhaha right?! I borrowed that from Lizzo. 😝 And aw thank you!! you know I try to do my best to keep these guys in character.

deans made me so softt🥺 i’m always a sucker for person a noticing person b is off and then comforting them <333 it fills my heart with warmth every time I read it 💗 and the reassurance was lovely!

Girl SAME. I love me some sweet hurt/comfort, so I'm very glad you liked it here too. 💗

oh I felt this 😕 comparison is the thief of joy indeed, but it’s haaard sometimes :’) I mean i’m glad that by now adult me has accepted and acknowledged metabolism differences...for the most part lmao. but it’s definitely taken a lot or time 🫠

Ooh I've missed hearing that turn of phrase! Such an elegant one, and appropriate here loll. I mean yes, I've accepted the metabolism thing too, but it doesn't stop me from envying the perpetually thin. 🤪

oh beau ❤️‍🩹 as wonderful as these all are I think beau’s was my favorite this time around 🫶🏽 it’s so easy to fall into routine and let time slip by :/

I thought this one would fit with Beau especially because he has so much responsibility on his shoulders, and more that which he puts on himself. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 Honestly I think Beau was my favorite this time too to write. Maybe because I've been rewatching Big Sky season 3. 😝

it’s breaking mine too beau, fix it!😭 i wanted to give her a hug so bad lol. completely understandable where she’s coming from :(

Ooh he will! 😏 I'm honestly thinking of creating a full one-shot fic out of this one because I feel like I could've explored more with it.

girl same, call me olaf the way i’d melt for him 🤠 now where can I acquire a man like this 🫠 also that analogy, loveee love 🙂‍↕️🫶🏽

omg right?? I'd melt for this cowboy sheriff on sight. 🫠🫠

(and also thank you!! I struggled on the "breath of life" analogy, thinking it might be too cliche lol)

(I realized as i’m writing out this review, I may be a little biased because beau’s hc reminds me of the comforts of home 😅 I guess I have a thing for person a neglects person b non maliciously but has to make up for it too lolll <3)

Ooh yeah that's a super interesting parallel you noticed! Maybe I just have a thing for writing that trope? Non-malicious being the key word there. Oh, Sam (and oh Beau). 😩

meanwhile ben makes me laugh, he’s so direct lmfaoooo

YUP loll Ben doesn't mess around. (He doesn't have the patience.) 😂

like ben pleaseeee you did not have to add that ‘now’ 🤣

IKR? Like SIR. Pls. 😂✋🏽

and he’s so serious too 😭 such a romantic :p

loveeeee this, not just for the spice lol but how he didn’t go all stubborn macho man mode — while he’s not familiar with the new trends and he doesn’t think she needs to change anything, it’s sweet to see he’d be supportive of her regardless of what she chooses to do to make herself feel better — and I only say that due to his outdated mindset 😅💞

Oh yeah, I kind of surprised myself by writing that for his HC. I wondered if it verged on out of character, but I felt like he'd be like, "idc, do what you want, but I don't think you needa do a damn thing" -- type of deal. 😂💚

these headcanons were so wonderful <33 plus sized girly myself, I definitely understand the struggle with those negative thoughts & feelings that can really just take over randomly :/ soft and steamy reassurances sound like an absolute dream 💕🫠 these were so good lovely!🤍🫂

Aww my fellow plus-sized queen, thank you so much!! It's definitely hitting more lately for me. Since I've had some ongoing medical issues, I haven't been able to workout like I used to, so I've gained a bit more from what I'd lost. 🫠 But it's ok! Soon I'll be 100% and able to resume my routine while also not "starving myself" lmao. I'm so glad you enjoyed these admittedly self-indulgent HCs. 😘💕

Headcanon: Body Insecurity/Appreciation

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

AN: This one was requested by one of my lovely Patreon members, @roseblue373. 💜 It's a special one to me personally, being plus-sized myself and having gone through my share of insecurities. Wish I had one of these guys to make it better lol!~

Prompt/Request: Great job with the latest Dean/Beau/Ben reacts vignettes! I'd love to see one where reader has put on weight and isn't happy with their body, and how each would make her feel better!! IF the muse agrees, of course! ❤️

HC: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to your body insecurity.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Established relationship, body insecurity (but also body appreciation), thicc thirty, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, spiciness/smuttishness.

Dean Winchester

You've started breezing past mirrors when you get out of the shower.

Because if you catch sight of your own reflection, you can't help but utter a sigh, your lips dipping into a frown.

In the privacy of the room you share with Dean in the bunker, you take a risk in unwrapping the towel from your body in front of the mirror.

You inspect yourself with growing dejection, noting all the places that are rounder, heavier, less firm than they used to be.

Looks like no amount of running down leads and killing monsters has been enough to keep you in shape.

Too much shitty fast food, too many times you indulged yourself with snacks and dessert alongside your foodie boyfriend.

"What'cha doin', sweetheart?" Dean asks. He steps into the room while wiping donut icing from the corner of his mouth.

Speak of the devil.

When Dean finally catches you frowning at yourself in the mirror, you inhale sharply and close the towel back up.

"Nothing. Just need to get dressed," you reply quickly. "Shower's open."

You try to offer him a smile, despite the pang of jealousy when you eye him.

He gave you the first chance at the shower after the latest case wrapped up, so he's still wearing most of his FBI suit, sans jacket. The white dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows, a few days of scruff neatly trimmed across his cheeks.

The man can cram an entire pizza down his gullet and wash it down with three slices of apple pie, not to mention countless beers. And still, Dean stays looking downright edible.

By comparison, you feel...fat. Like you've let yourself go.

You turn away from him to grab your well-worn sweatpants and an oversized shirt; you plan to change alone in the bathroom, but Dean grabs your arm.

"Who says you need to get dressed?" he says, popping his brows with a suggestive grin. He slips his arms around your waist, but your instinct is to shy away from his hold. You chuckle awkwardly and avoid his now curious gaze.

"Sorry, babe. Um...I'm wiped. I just want to get to bed," you say.

But Dean isn't fooled. His spidey sense is tingling, and his gut is almost never wrong.

His hand slides down your arm and grasps your hand, tugging you back into his arms. You utter a little gasp, but you ultimately smile at his familiar grin. There's a perceptive gleam in his eyes though.

"You know, seems like you've been pretty wiped lately," he says, raising a brow. "It's been a while since we, uh..."

He waggles his brows playfully, squeezing your hips. You want to smile, but you can't let yourself. You can't quite look at him either.

For Dean, it's another glaring red flag. His lips form a frown, and he dips his chin to find your eyes.

"Hey," he says. "What's goin' on? Talk to me."

His tone is so sincere, you have to blink against the sting of tears. Your lower lip wobbles, and Dean frowns in earnest. He presses a hand to your cheek and gets you to look at him with your watery eyes.

"Sweetheart, you gotta tell me what's wrong," he says, more gently, but serious.

Eventually, you're able to get it out. You can't bear the thought of him touching you, because lately, you can't even bear looking at yourself.

"I know I've been gaining weight, I just..." your voice breaks, and you gesture haphazardly at your body. "I'd get it if you're not really into this right now."

Dean's heart clenches. He's downright shocked at your confession, and more than a little disheartened. He presses a hand to your cheek and guides you to look at him.

"All right, hold up just one damn minute."

His calloused fingers gently brush away your tears, but his hands keep moving, slowly traveling down your body. They slide down your bare arms, skimming the sides of your breasts.

Your breath hitches. Your hand is still fisted over your beating heart, keeping your towel closed. His hands continue to move, molding to the curve of your waist over the fuzzy fabric.

"I'll admit, we've been pretty busy lately with everything we've got going on. But if you think that means I'm ever not into this delectable, sexy, voluptuous, goddess body you got rockin' the house?" he says, grinning that utterly Dean grin of his.

You bite your lip against a bubble of laughter. He's too fucking much sometimes.

Dean tugs you closer, until your hips fit snugly against his through his slacks. His tall, broad frame crowds you. His lips skim your cheek, then over your lips in a tease.

He squeezes the flesh of your hips, tender and sensuous.

Your heart flutters at the feeling.

"Mmm, I like you nice and soft," he murmurs against your cheek, close to your ear. "Feels that much better when I fuck you."

A small gasp gets trapped in your throat, while the gravel depths in his voice go straight to your pussy in a pulsing throb of warmth.

By the time he claims your lips in a devouring kiss, you're all too willing to let him peel your towel open, drop it to the floor, and guide you backwards onto the bed.

There he'll take his time, forging yet another mental map of every plush square inch of you.

Beau Arlen

Beau is a busy man. You understand that.

As Sheriff, his job demands a lot from him. He's also a father and has an ex-wife to contend with. (You knew that going in, and you've come to love Emily too.)

However, you can't help but start to take it personally when your sex life begins to suffer. He's often claimed being tired...but there's another suspicion that's been taking root in your mind, feeding your doubts and insecurities about how your boyfriend sees you, and about how you see yourself.

When you slip into bed at night, a kiss goodnight is all he gives you lately, before he's sighing deeply and closing his eyes, his soft snores soon filling the room.

One night, you try touching his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his bearded cheek. He hums at the pleasant feeling.

"You wanna...?" You trail the question in his ear, pressing more sweet kisses down his neck.

"Aw, sweetheart," he groans. "I'd like to, but I think I'd just smother you. I'm about to pass out."

You huff a laugh. You teasingly walk two fingers across his chest. "What if I make it easy for you?"

You shift onto your side. Resting a hand on his chest, you lean down to kiss him. He hums at the softness of it, but the more passion you try to imbue into each new kiss, Beau isn't as responsive as you would like. Eventually, you stop all together.

You frown, becoming disheartened. "You're not into this, I guess."

He opens his tired eyes, gazes up at you in apology. He opens his mouth to reply, but you beat him to it.

"You know it's been a month since we've had sex," you say.

Beau frowns, sliding a hand up your back. Only now does he notice, with appreciation, the familiar silky négligée you're wearing.

"Nah, that doesn't sound right," he says.

"Well, it is," you say. "I know you say you're tired, but I mean, you've had this job for as long as I've known you, Beau." Your eyes fall away from him. "So is the job, or...is it me?"

Beau's brows furrow. "Now wait a minute."

The mere thought dredges up what's been plaguing your mind recently, and it has your throat tightening. Tears of embarrassment and upset well up in your eyes, no matter how much you try to push it down.

You push away from him and turn away, crossing your arms. You try not to look at yourself in what used to be your favorite lingerie.

You can't stand the extra weight you've put on, mostly in your hips and ass, but in your middle and arms too.

You've gone through your own stress at work this year, with less and less time to try and take care of yourself, along with making sure Emily gets to and from school, cooking for the three of you, going to PTA meetings when Carla can't make it (since Beau often can't), and every other proverbial hat you wear.

Beau follows you, sitting up and laying a hand on your back. "Sweetheart--"

"I know I've put on a few. Hell, more than a few," you admit, hastily wiping under your eyes. "God, I can't even look at myself right now, let alone have you--"

"Hey. You stop right there," Beau says, more firmly. He gets you to turn around with his hand on your shoulder. He doesn't like the way you're curled in on yourself, as if hiding your body from his gaze.

That, and the sight of your tears damn well break his heart.

He cups the side of your face gently and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, followed closely by your lips.

You don't want to melt, but you just can't help it. You cling to the front of his shirt and lean into his kiss, like you've been lost in the desert, and his lips hold the breath of life.

You almost don't realize it when his arms slip around your waist. He earns a surprised yelp from you when he gathers you close against his chest and rolls you underneath him.

You land against the pillows in a huff. You stare up at his playful smile, his green eyes glinting with amusement, with fondness, and also with desire as they roam over your breasts, barely contained by dark green satin and lace.

"I've been neglecting you, haven't I?" he says. His voice is a low, earthy drawl as his gaze rakes over you. His big hand runs down your side and over your hip, then down your bare thigh, squeezing soft, tender flesh. He slips that hand under the satin night gown.

His hand can't span your entire thigh, but it's not for lack of trying. Your heart beats a staccato rhythm at the way he looks at you, your breath hitching when his thumb dips between your legs, brushing against the damp, silky fabric of your panties.

"It's not because I don't find you sexy as hell. Believe me, darlin', I do," he says. "You're so fuckin' beautiful, especially when you're all laid out for me here."

And he means what he says. You know it by the hardness you feel pressing against your hip. You slip your fingers into his hair with a sigh.

He bows his head to press kisses along your neck; down and down, he noses at the thin strap of your night gown. His path of kisses continue, and he indulges himself by dipping his tongue between the valley of your breasts.

"Filling out this lacy little thing so nice," he murmurs into your skin.

Your upset has turned to abject relief, but you still have to blink away the remaining urge to cry.

You let out a slightly tremulous breath.

"Oh, yeah?" you ask.

Beau pauses. He pulls away, just so he can look up and meet your eyes. He still finds insecurity in yours, so he meets you with a kiss filled with heat and intent.

He's now wide awake. He plans to take his sweet time taking you apart, inch by inch.

In fact, in the back of his mind, he also plans to do better about letting his deputies help him out more at the precint so he can have a better work-life balance.

(Because going a whole damn month without the taste of you is "no bueno," in his words.)

Soldier Boy (Ben)

The man may not be very patient, or particularly perceptive, but he's not an idiot.

At least, not about sex.

He knows that you've been feigning tiredness, and generally avoiding his touch.

What's strange is that you haven't been avoiding him. You still cook for him, still share conversation with him, still insist on having him spoon you on the couch while catching him up on the past four decades of TV shows and movies.

But when he begins to sneak a hand under your oversized shirt (an old one of Ben's), caressing your hip, then dipping down to your softer stomach on the way to your panties, breaking your concentration from the movie as unease laces down your spine.

You grab his wrist on reflex, instead lacing your fingers together.

"What's the matter now?" he asks.

You look over your shoulder at him and find him frowning at you, a divot between his brows. You don't manage to hold his gaze for long.

"Sorry," you say quietly. "I'm just, um, tired."

Ben doesn't believe you, and he's direct when he calls you out on it.

Reluctant to put what you've been feeling into words, you pause the movie and leave the couch (and him) behind.

Ben is annoyed enough to follow you (and underneath, he hides an edge of concern). The conflict leads into the bedroom, where you're still unwilling to open up.

He finally stops you from walking away from him, pinning you against the dresser by your hips. He practically looms over you as he demands an answer. He knows you're hiding something — something that's had you reluctant to let him touch you.

"Is there something you wanna tell me?" he says, a raw edge of warning in his tone. "What, are you fucking somebody else?"

Shock flashes in your eyes, making you angry. "What? No!"

"Well, you seem to be getting your fill somewhere, and it hasn't been from me--"

"Are you fucking serious? I'm not..." Your lips purse. You're actually hurt that he would hurl that accusation your way--and it couldn't be farther from the truth.

You tug your long shirt downwards and cross your arms, but it's more like you're hugging yourself, shielding your body away.

Ben's brows furrow a little bit more.

Eventually you get it out; you haven't been feeling up to being intimate because you're having a hard time even looking at yourself lately.

"I know I need to, um, get back in shape," you say, taking in a shaky breath to try and steady yourself. Your throat constricts, the beginnings of tears stinging your eyes. You want to look at anywhere but at Ben. "I just haven't had much time, with everything going on. But Annie gave me this guide on some different diets, like intermittent fasting, Keto--"

"Fasting," Ben intones. "What, you wanna fucking starve yourself? What the fuck is Keto?"

You sigh, barely resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"No, not starve myself. And Keto's just..." The idea of trying to explain the new diet craze to your boyfriend is too daunting a task to consider. "Never mind. The point is, I have a plan. My hips, my thighs, my ass--"

Ben squeezes your hips at the mention of them. He happens to like the softness.

"Yeah, you've got a little extra. So fucking what?" he says, his voice deep and exacting as his gaze roams over your body. "Just gives me more to hold onto when I'm fucking you."

You utter a shocked laugh. "Ben!"

He grins lazily, and he turns you this way and that, admiring you from all angles. In his eyes, he doesn't find a side he doesn't like. You can't help but blush hotly under his gaze.

"Sweetheart, do whatever you want if it makes you feel good. But you don't need to starve yourself." His hands move to your ass, squeezing a bit harder on the plush flesh.

A yelp escapes you; he's pressing into you from the front as well, and you feel him heavy and already half-hard against you. You grab onto his arms for stability as your breaths quicken.

His attitude kind of surprises you, even though it soothes the frayed, insecure part of your soul that wants to be as beautiful and attractive in his eyes as he is in yours.

Ben is literally a super soldier. You're actually kind of jealous. The man can drug and booze hard and eat whatever the hell he wants, but his super metabolism just seems to absorb it into his washboard abs.

(The more you think about it, the more you want to smack him.)

Nothing about him isn't hard and lean, muscle and strength.

Only his hands have a measure of gentleless when they're holding you like this.

"I've just got so many stretch marks now," you begin to complain, in an emotional whisper.

He snorts. "And? You think it's anything I haven't seen? I'm not afraid of a little cellulite either."

At that, your head tilts in consideration. Butcher's Granny Fucker remark comes to mind. You bite your lip against a smirk.

Ben crooks a curled finger under your chin. He guides you to meet his eyes, before he lures you into a lusty kiss.

It's somewhat rough because of his beard, but you still smile afterwards, leaning against him now.

"Ain't nothing about you that I can't handle," he adds, all smirking and cocky. To prove his point, he hooks those strong hands behind your thighs and lifts you onto the dresser.

You gasp and cling to his shoulders. From there, he makes quick work of ridding the oversized shirt from your body, revealing you to the cool air and his hot gaze.

You take his face in your hands and bring him in for an even steamier kiss, your heart lighter and trembling with anticipation.

You've held yourself from him long enough, Ben thinks, and he has every intention of devouring you right on your old dresser -- before you two even get to the bed.

AN: 😮‍💨 I feel like each of these could've been even longer with their own one-shot loll. I wrote the Midnight Espresso-verse for Dean, partially to explore what his relationship would be like with a plus-sized reader. 💖💖

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[hwaslayer]

so i’ve been thinking, it’s always needy!gf and gamer!yunho and never the other way around. don’t get me wrong, i love the idea of being under the table and pleasing him, or trying to get off on his thigh while keeping your mouth occupied with his neck and shoulders with the occasional kisses and sucking on his fingers whenever he dies, but imagine yunho being so needy he eats you out so good to the point where you have to turn on noise suppression in voice chat because the lewd sounds were loud enough to be picked up by the mic but it doesn’t matter though, he makes you feel so good that suppressing your moans becomes an impossible task + he wants his and your friends to hear and refuses to make you mute the mic bc he threatens to edge you if you do

good LORD?! 😮‍💨 this was so hot?! 😩 got my thoughts running all over the place! mind if i take some notes and keep them aside for a future drabble? future one shot? hehe but in all honestly, i think you'd write this much better than me!! go ahead anon, love the hard thoughts 🤪 (and ty for sharing because this was much needed - we love the image of needy yunho ouuuweeee!)