#the steps have been small. and are still small. it's like climbing up a spiral staircase

[kooppss]

No Big Deal

Sexy Disasters With Feelings masterlist

You were doing so well pretending that night didn’t happen—until Jungkook showed up with a new piercing and a smug smile that ruined everything. Now you’re spiraling, trying to convince yourself this still doesn’t mean anything.

warnings: sex, cursing, mentions of drunk behavior.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: Okay so… it only took me two months (fuck. Is it really been this long?!) and five existential crises to finish this chapter. It’s chaotic, it’s horny—and I really hope you enjoy it. If you’re still here reading, thank you. I was honestly a little nervous about this one, so your likes, reblogs, and little comments mean the world to me. See you in the next chapter (hopefully sooner than two months..)

Now, I've thought it through Crawlin' back to you

You’ve been doing your best to avoid Jungkook for a couple of days now. 

Which is hard, considering you live together.

But after that night—after the stunt you pulled in your kitchen, and on the couch, and then again in his bed—you’ve spent the entire time you’ve been home hiding out in your room, alternating between dying of embarrassment and fantasizing about digging a hole and climbing inside it forever.

You told him you were sorry. Multiple times. 

He said it was fine. 

“You were cute.”

You want to die.

Eventually, once again, hunger wins the war against shame. The apartment is quiet. Maybe he went out. Maybe he’s—

And then you see him.

In the kitchen. Shirt loose. Hair is a little damp. And something glinting above his eye. You stop mid-step. What the hell. Your brain short-circuits. Is that—

“You pierced your face?”

Jungkook turns to face you fully slowly. His eyes flick to yours. For a second, he looks startled. And then he looks smug. 

“Not my face. Just the brow.”

Your brain probably stops functioning because you don’t feel like you have control over your mouth anymore. 

“Why?” you ask like it's a legitimate question. 

“Why not?” he asks with a smile and tilts his head.

It’s small, silver, subtle little dots above his right eye— why does it affect you so much? 

What are you? A crow? Attracted to shiny objects?

Weren’t you over your emo-boys phase in middle school? 

It shouldn’t be allowed. 

He shouldn’t be allowed.

You hate him.

You hate how unfairly hot he looks. You hate how much worse it makes everything. As if it wasn’t already humiliating enough to have tried to undress him with your teeth that night.

“You’re staring,” he says, voice low and smug.

“No, I’m not,” you lie, horribly, like someone caught mid-crime.

His smirk deepens.

“You sure? You’ve been looking at me like that since I turned around.”

“Like what?” you ask, annoyed. You fucking hate him. 

“Like you’re about to do something.”

You cross your arms. You try to look unimpressed. You are not even slightly successful.

“I just didn’t think you were the piercing type,” you mutter.

Jungkook steps closer.

Just a little.

“I didn’t think you were the piercing type,” he says with a pleased smirk. 

“You don’t know me,” you say like he offended you, even though you didn’t know you’re the piercing type. 

“And you obviously don’t know me,” he says, pleased. But there’s something gentle behind his words. A meaning he tries to deliver, and you miss catching. 

His eyes sparkle like he’s about to say something dangerous. Something you’ll think about later, in the dark, alone.

But all he does is reach past you to grab the peanut butter from the cabinet.

“You want toast?” he asks, completely unbothered.

You blink at him, caught in the whiplash of that voice and that stupid piercing and the way your stomach growls.

“Yeah,” you say as casually as possible. “Sure.”

You sit down waiting for your toast. You try not to look at him.

But you do.

Oh, no. 

You’re so fucked.

He brings you the toast a few minutes later, plate in one hand, mug of tea in the other. He doesn’t say anything as he sets them down in front of you. Just moves like it’s the most normal thing in the world, like you didn’t basically try to seduce him and fail a few nights ago. 

Like his eyebrow isn’t now a monumental event in your life. 

You eye the toast. “You put Nutella on it?”

He shrugs, sliding into the chair across from you. “You always want something sweet when you’re pissed. Figured it might help.”

“I’m not pissed,” You say, sounding pissed.

“Okay,” he says simply, “So what are you?”

“I-I’m–” 

You hate him.

“Urghhh, you’re so annoying!” 

He giggles like he finds your meltdown amusing. 

You chew your toast unnecessarily aggressively.

Neither of you says anything after that. You both just chew on your toast and sip from your tea.

The silence isn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. Something is sitting in the air between you—unspoken, obvious. Like both of you are waiting for someone to address this. 

Jungkook’s watching you.

You try to ignore it.

You fail.

“You didn’t have to take care of me that night,” you mutter eventually, eyes on your plate. “I was acting like a drunk, horny idiot.”

“I mean,” he says with a soft chuckle, “you were.”

You shoot him a glare. He holds up both hands in surrender, still grinning. “But I didn’t mind.”

You roll your eyes. “You minded a little.”

He tilts his head. “Only because I didn’t want you to regret it.”

You pause.

You don’t look up.

“I wouldn’t have,” you say quietly.

Jungkook goes still.

You feel it in the air more than you see it. 

You finally meet his eyes.

It’s subtle, but something shifts between you—like the conversation just took a step off a ledge, and now you’re both in danger.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. His voice is quieter now. The smugness is still there. 

“Then why’d you say it should be a one-time thing?”

You should have seen this one coming from miles away.

You should have known this is what he’s going to say. 

It’s not like it’s the first time he teases or challenges this statement.

He’ll use any chance you give him. 

“Because I meant it,” you say while chewing, trying to deliver nonchalant, but fail. 

“Meant?” he asks with raised brows. 

“Because I mean it,” you try to fix the mistake. 

He’s watching you again, but not smug this time. Soft. Curious. A little disbelieving of the bulshit you say. 

“You know I think about it too, right?” he says, like it’s obvious.

You scoff, taking another bite of toast. Trying to defuse whatever he’s doing. “Congrats to me. You think about the sex we had. That’s not exactly groundbreaking.”

He chuckles, unfazed. “Didn’t say it was.”

“I’m just saying,” you go on, eyes fixed on your plate, “We just did it one time, and that’s it. It was good. My drunk self tried to do it again. And that’s it, it doesn’t have to mean anything.  ”

“Doesn’t have to,” he repeats slowly. “But what if it does?”

You freeze for half a second. Then recover with a small shrug, like he said something about the weather.

“I mean…” You take a sip of tea. “You’re not exactly the ‘meaningful’ type.”

His eyebrows lift, amused. “Wow.”

You meet his eyes for a second, then look away. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way.”

He twists his lips. “You kind of did.” 

You sigh, setting your cup down. “I just meant… You’re you. You flirt with everyone. You’re hot and you know it, and I’m not stupid.”

Jungkook tilts his head, watching you a little too closely.

“So what, you thought that night was just about sex for me?” “I wasn’t just being nice the other night,” he adds. “When I said it was better if we didn’t–”

“Isn’t it always just about sex with you?” you say before he continues. 

“I liked being with you,” he says quietly. “It’s not like my whole purpose in life is to fuck you.”

It’s weird. The crude words with the gentle voice. You scoff, trying to brush it off.

“Sure.”

“I’m serious. You're nice, and fun, and funny.” He continues and smirks, “And I always like defeating you.”

“Shut up,” you try not to smile, and you toss the little crust from your toast at him. 

He smiles. 

“I didn’t want to have sex with you like that because I didn’t want to ruin this.”

You cock a brow, “To ruin what?” 

“This,” he gestures between the two of you.

“Us.” 

You blink at him. The word hangs in the air, too loud and too soft at the same time.

“Us?” you repeat, voice flat—like you’re not letting it land the way he wants to.

He nods once, slow. Sure.

You look away, start fidgeting with your mug. “There’s no us, Jungkook.”

He doesn’t react. Not visibly.

“I mean,” you continue, forcing a light tone, “we’re just roommates. Friends, maybe. Occasionally… disastrous.”

“Right,” he says, too casually. But there’s something tight in his voice now. Something he’s reining in.

So you stand up and gather your dishes. “Thanks for the toast.”

He doesn’t answer at first.

Then, as you’re rinsing the plate at the sink, he says, “You always do this.”

Your hands pause under the water.

“Do what?” you ask, careful.

“Try to run away when something is about to happen.”

There is roughness in his voice. Yet, he says it differently. He doesn’t sound hurt, or pained. It’s something else. Something raw and electric. 

Before you manage to process that you’ve heard this before– seen this mask, this persona– you hear the chair slide on the floor as Jungkook stands up.

He comes to stand behind you, almost touching, but not really. 

He lowers his head, lips ghosting your ear. You can feel his breath fanning on your cheek. 

“Do you really want to run away?”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat. 

You want to say something. But you can’t find words. 

Do you want to push him away? Or do you want to pull him closer?

You don’t know anymore.

And you can’t blame alcohol this time.

“I know this is all you think about from the moment you enter the room.”

You hate that he’s not wrong. 

“You’re not as hard to read as you’d like to think.”

He sounds so smug that it infuriates you. 

Yet, you don’t move, don’t deny. 

He reaches his hand past your waist and closes the faucet. You blink a few times. You didn’t even notice the water still running on your hands. 

He rests his hand on your waist, like it’s natural, like it belongs there. It’s warm and heavy. And it dizzies you. 

“Do you still mean it?” 

“W-what..?” You’re not sure if it’s really unclear or if it’s him obscuring your mind. 

“That we should be a one-time thing.” 

He says and lands a soft kiss behind your ear. 

“I-I-wh–” you mumble incoherently.

And the bastard chuckles, dark and low, “I see.” 

You should say something.

Anything.

But your mouth has forgotten how to form words.

His lips are still close. You can feel the echo of that kiss behind your ear.

His hand hasn’t moved from your waist. If anything, his grip tightens—just slightly. A silent question.

You don’t answer.

Not with words.

But without consciousness, your body reacts. Suddenly, your back pressed to his front. 

Was he pressing closer to you, or were you leaning back into him?

You don’t know.

And you’re not sure that you care at the moment. All you can feel is a fire and a need building to an almost unbearable height.

He hears your answer.  

You feel him exhale, slow. Controlled. And then he isn’t.

His free hand rises, fingers brushing your hair aside, exposing more of your neck.

He leans in again, slower this time.

His lips press to the skin just below your jaw. 

Then lower. 

Then lower again.

Each kiss burns.

Your breath hitches. 

You’re still frozen, your hands gripping the edge of the sink like it’s the only thing anchoring you from fainting.

Then his voice, low and right against your skin.

“Tell me to stop.”

But he knows you won’t.

You can’t.

Instead, your head tips just slightly to the side—an invitation you don’t want to speak out loud.

He pulls you back from the counter, turns you in his arms.

Your eyes meet, and everything in his is fire and restraint. Lust and fear. You don’t know what he’s scared of. You don’t want to know.

“This doesn’t have to mean anything,” he says, repeating your words back to you—but his tone makes it clear he knows they’re bullshit.

And maybe that’s why it makes your stomach flip.

You answer him by gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him down to kiss you.

This time, it’s different. It’s not tentative or fueled by alcohol. It’s sharp and sure and deep.

He groans into your mouth and walks you backward, toward his room, like he’s known this was coming. Like he’s been waiting for you to finally cave. 

Maybe you also knew.

“This time I’m doing this properly,” he murmurs between kisses. 

You don’t know what he means, but you’re about to find out. 

You pull back just slightly, enough to look at him, breathless. 

“You’re way too smug right now.”

He grins, cocky and infuriating, “What, can’t a guy be smug when he’s proven right?”

You blink at him, “Proven right?”

He leans closer, “Knew it wasn’t gonna be a one-time thing.”

You roll your eyes, “God, you’re such an asshole.”

He smiles wider, returning to kiss you as he says between your lips, “Maybe.”

You’re in his room, and he starts to pull your shirt over your head. The stupid smile is still on his face. 

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

He hums against your jaw, and he trails down the side of your neck, “I told you. I knew you’d come around.”

You scoff, “I didn’t come around. I just—”

He gives a wet kiss behind your ear. One that sends a shiver down your spine, and he leans back. Eyes meeting yours, dark and lustful, but glinting with mischief. 

“You just what?” he asks with a smirk.

“You’re insufferable.”

He returns his lips to the skin of your neck, hands hot and certain on your waist as he leads you towards the bed.

You stumble back until the backs of your knees hit the mattress, and you sit, breath hitching, thighs slightly parted. He looks down at you with dark eyes and a crooked one-sided grin. Like he’s plotting something. Your demise, maybe.

He drops to his knees.

You blink at him, startled.

He smirks up at you.

His hands glide up your bare thighs, spreading them gently, and he leans forward, kissing the inside of your knee.

He kisses higher. 

And higher. 

Until your breath is ragged and your spine is arching and your fingers are gripping the sheets.

He looks up at you, more gentle this time. Less like a predator, and more like… like.. A lover boy? 

Your answer is a shaky exhale and a hand in his hair, tugging just enough to make him grin.

“Lean back for me,” he commands, but it’s soft and breathless.

And you obey, starting to lean back slowly. 

Before you fully lie on your back, he tugs your shirt, “Wait.” 

You help him pull the shirt over your head. He puts his palm flatly on your bare stomach, eyes big and unblinking, taking in your bare top. 

He pushes slightly, but you resist, “You too.” You say weakly, your mouth dry. 

“Gladly,” he smiles and pulls the shirt with one swift motion.

He returns his hand to your lower stomach, pushing you a bit. And you comply, lying on his bed, legs dangling over the edge. 

His hand goes to the waistband of your shorts, and he starts to pull them down with your panties, slow. Very slow.

Your breath hitches as the air hits your skin. Cool against the heat.

Jungkook’s eyes stay locked on yours for a beat too long as he slides the fabric down your legs. 

As if to say this isn’t just sex, and you know it.

He drops your clothes to the floor and runs his hands slowly up the insides of your thighs again, fingers dragging, teasing, warm. His palms settle at your hips.

You look at him, and he looks at where his hands are touching.

You catch the glimmer of his new piercing, and a shiver goes down your spine. 

He notices, and he lifts his eyes to see you looking at him before you avert your gaze. 

You expect him to say something stupid, something cocky and so very him. 

But he doesn’t. 

He dips his head, moving your right leg slightly above his shoulder. 

Oh, shit.

His mouth is on you, and his tongue is warm, slow. Like he has all the time in the world to savor this moment, and he plans to take every second of it.

Your hips jolt, and his hands tighten on your thighs, holding you steady, grounding you with a soft groan against your skin.

You’re already panting, gripping the sheets, breath breaking.

He doesn't say anything. Just keep going. Keep devouring, like you’re his favorite thing.

You moan louder when he flicks his tongue just right—when he sucks at the spot that’s already making your vision blur.

He pulls back for a split second, looking up at you with a wet mouth and hooded eyes.

And when he goes back in, he slides his hand as well.

He doesn’t go in yet, he just lets his fingers be there, linger at your entrance. Let them be coated with slick as he puts a little pressure, moving them gently around. 

He starts pushing them in, not all the way at first. He starts shallow and goes deeper with each few thrusts, like he’s testing, like he’s studying where he should stop. 

And he finds the spot easily. As if he already knows. 

He notices right away that he’s got it. 

And then he starts being serious. 

He puts work and intentions into his movements. 

Fuck.

You can barely breathe.

Every muscle in your body is on fire, straining toward him. Your hips buck again—helplessly—and Jungkook just hums against you, sounding entirely too satisfied with himself. 

Or just satisfied.

That piercing glint again as he glances up, catching your eyes with a mix of focus and cockiness.

"You good?" he asks with a raspy voice, lips brushing against your thigh.

You can only nod, frantic, barely able to form words. His fingers curl inside you again, and your mouth drops open in a silent cry.

He keeps going, steady and sure, unrelenting in the way he’s touching you like he already knows your body better than you do.

You’re unraveling. 

Fast.

And you hate him for it.

And you need him for it.

You reach for him blindly, fist curling in his hair, not sure what you’re trying to do.

But apparently, Jungkook knows what you need because his mouth is back on you.

Your head flops back onto the bed, breath stuttering. 

His name slips from your lips, quiet, broken.

He hears it. You know he does. Because his grip on your thigh tightens, his pace shifts, and suddenly it’s all too much.

Your hand is still tangled in his hair. You grip harder, pulling without direction. Your thighs start to shake.

“Fuck—K-kook,” you gasp. 

You don’t know if you want him to stop or never stop.

He keeps going, steady and relentless, fingers curling perfectly in time with his mouth, pushing you closer, deeper.

Your spine lifts off the mattress. Your breath catches.

And then you break.

It hits hard, like a snap. It rips through you in pulses, your thighs clamping around his head as you gasp his name again. 

Louder this time.

Your fingers dig into his hair and shoulder, and anything you can reach.

You’re vaguely aware of your own sounds, too raw, too real, but you’re too far gone to stop them.

He keeps going through it, holding you down with strong hands. He doesn’t stop until you're twitching, oversensitive.

When he finally pulls back, his face is flushed, his hair a mess, strands stick to his glistening forehead, his lips slick, and that piercing catches the light again.

He looks wrecked.

You are wrecked.

You cover your face with one arm, breath still jagged, skin buzzing.

You feel him laugh against your thigh, quiet, smug.

He moves back, dragging his palms down your legs before letting go completely. You hear the mattress creak as he sits beside you, his breathing just as uneven.

You’re still staring at the ceiling, still trying to remember how to exist inside your own body.

Your legs feel like jelly. Your face is burning.

You let your arm drop just enough to peek at him. He’s looking at you like he just won something.

Like he knew exactly how this would go.

He reaches out, gently brushes a strand of hair from your sweaty face.

“Lie down prettily for me, babe.”

Then he stands, shoving down his sweats and boxers in one motion.

With one stride, he’s at the nightstand, pulling a condom from the drawer.

He tears the foil open, but before slipping it on, he glances back over his shoulder.

“You good?” he asks with a sweet smile..

You blink, realize you’re staring. Frozen in place.  It snaps you out of it.

“Ye—” Your voice catches. You clear your throat. “Yeah.”

You shift across the bed, lying back properly now, and seconds later, he’s crawling over you.

You meet his eyes, and he dips his head for a kiss.

He guides himself in, and while your mouths are still connected, he pushes in slowly.

You groan against each other’s lips when he bottoms out, fully seated inside you.

He lifts his head, just enough to look down at you as he begins to move—slow, deep, steady.

And fuck, this feels good.

No—but like, too good.

You’re moaning. Gasping.

He just got in there. 

What is going on?

He picks up the pace slightly. Nothing wild, just a steady rhythm.

But nothing about you feels steady.

You grab at his shoulders, arms winding around him like you’re trying to stay grounded.

You pull him closer, bury your face in his neck. Trying—failing—to muffle the sounds coming out of you.

This can’t be real.

This shouldn’t be happening.

You’re close. Way too fast.

It hasn’t even been two minutes. You’re almost sure.

Fuck.

You bite his shoulder—hard—desperate to hold it in, to hold yourself together.

But it doesn’t work.

It crashes over you, sudden and sharp.

You’re shaking.

Your whole body pulses around him. You feel your walls clench around him, hard.

You can barely breathe.

This never happened to you.

Not like this.

Not this fast.

What kind of sorcery is he doing?

What kind of spell did he put on you? Put on that dick?

Jungkook doesn’t slow. That same rhythm carries on—only faltering for a second as he presses a single kiss to your shoulder.

He shifts, one hand braced beside your head, the other grabbing your thigh to tilt your hips.

He picks up the pace. Louder now.

His hands are everywhere. One moment, he grabs a boob, fingers closing around your nipple, then squeezing the flesh. Another moment, his hand on your jaw, pulling you into a kiss. Then he settles back on your thigh, giving himself a better position to go deeper. 

Your hands also wander. You feel the muscles of his back working under the hot sticky skin. You try to hold onto his biceps, but your fingers can barely wrap around half of it. You go to his thigh, sliding over to grope his ass. 

Everything about him feels good.

And it still feels too good, even through the sensitivity. Even through the aftershocks.

His movements turn sloppy. Thrusts losing rhythm. Both of you moaning like you’ve lost any shame.

Maybe there wasn’t much to begin with. 

And with a forceful final thrust, he buries himself deep. 

“F-fuck.”

You can feel him twitch inside of you, and you feel yourself pulse against him. 

With a loud grunt, he crushes back onto you. Sweaty, hot skin stuck to each other. 

He’s still jerking, his body still tense, and he breaths quickly. 

It takes both of you a few long minutes to calm down. 

He pulls himself out of you with a grunt, plopping by your side, making your body jump off the mattress a little. 

He’s rolling off the condom, tossing it towards–what you hope is– a trash can near his bed. 

He lies back with a sigh. 

And you can feel his gaze on you. 

You scowl. “Stop looking at me like that.”

You sneak a look at him. 

He smirks, unfazed. “Like what?”

You look back at the ceiling, “Like you’re so fucking proud of yourself.”

You feel him shrug, way too casual. 

“You seemed to like it.”

You sit up slightly, groaning, you look down at him, “I hate you.”

He grins wider, “I know.”

You pull the sheet up over your chest and flop back down, pretending like this was no big deal. 

Like it didn’t just wreck you from the inside out.

Like this was just sex.

Just really, really good sex.

And maybe it was.

Maybe that’s all it is.

You don’t look at him again.

But you feel his arm wrapping around you. 

Holding you in place.

Back to series masterlist

[visdiefje]

It's so wild and refreshing to me to want to be HERE. In my country. In my general area. Where I am

[mcrdvcks]

truly

summary: After seeing Scott and Jean's newborn, Logan gets baby fever. word count: 6.6k+ pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader notes: here was the request that inspired this! i will say, anon who requested this, it got a little out of hand, lol. so enjoy 2 smut scenes. this is set in the same world as Deck The Halls and i just need this love spiral but you don't have to read those to understand this! (title is a song by cigarettes after sex) warnings/tags: reader and logan have a bio kid, laura, fluff, talks of having a baby, smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, breeding kink, fingering, cum play (?)

The four of you were visiting the X-Mansion to see the new addition to the family, Rachel Summers.

Laura and Sierra had already dashed off to the backyard with some of the other kids, leaving you and Logan alone with Jean and Scott.

"Here," Jean said, carefully transferring Rachel into your arms. "She's fed, changed, and hopefully about to nap."

You grinned, gently settling Rachel against your shoulder. "I've got her. Go take a break."

Jean let out a relieved sigh. "You’re amazing, Y/N. I haven’t had an hour to myself in days."

Scott chuckled softly. "More like weeks."

Jean lightly elbowed him. "Be quiet."

"Go," you insisted softly, waving her away. "We’ve got this."

Jean nodded gratefully, already backing out of the room. "Thank you."

Scott followed behind her, offering Logan a quick grin. "Don’t let the girls destroy the place, please."

"No promises," Logan said dryly.

As they left, you gently rocked Rachel, smiling down at her. "Hey, pretty girl. You gonna sleep for your Auntie Y/N?"

Logan watched from a few feet away, hands tucked casually in his pockets, his eyes fixed on you and Rachel. "Looks good on you."

You glanced up, raising a brow. "What?"

He tilted his head toward Rachel. "That. Babies. Always did."

You laughed softly, moving slowly back and forth. "Yeah, well, I’m just glad ours are finally sleeping through the night."

He snorted. "Mostly."

"Mostly," you agreed.

He stepped closer, leaning against the table next to you. Rachel’s tiny fingers curled sleepily against your shoulder, eyes blinking drowsily before finally shutting. Logan’s eyes softened just slightly.

"I forgot how small they are at this stage," he murmured quietly.

"Yeah," you sighed, gently smoothing Rachel's hair. "Time goes by fast."

Logan watched the baby settle peacefully in your arms, his eyes thoughtful. "Laura and Sierra used to do that too."

"What, sleep?"

He smiled faintly. "Be quiet for longer than five minutes."

You grinned, keeping your voice low. "They're not that bad."

"Not that bad," he repeated dryly. "Laura's probably climbing a tree right now, and Sierra’s probably giving her ideas."

"True," you conceded with a chuckle.

Logan’s gaze drifted again to Rachel’s peaceful little face, the faint rise and fall of her chest. A tiny pang of something tugged deep in his chest, something he wouldn’t dare admit out loud.

"You want to hold her?" you offered gently, sensing his quiet contemplation.

He hesitated a moment, then shook his head. "Nah. Looks like she's comfy with you."

You smiled softly, carefully swaying back and forth. "Suit yourself."

Logan shifted, still watching. A beat passed before he cleared his throat. "Scott and Jean seem good."

"They are," you said. "Exhausted, but good."

"Yeah," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully. "A newborn’ll do that."

You gave him a curious look. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Logan straightened slightly, clearing his throat again. "Just... thinking."

Your lips curved into a knowing smile. "Thinking about what?"

He shrugged lightly, voice careful. "Nothin'. Just... been a while since we had one this little."

You chuckled softly, shifting Rachel gently. "Someone’s getting nostalgic."

He snorted quietly. "Maybe a little."

"Well, you can always babysit Rachel," you teased softly. "Jean would probably be thrilled."

He cracked a faint smile, shaking his head. "Think I'll leave that to you."

"Mhm," you hummed knowingly, still watching him closely. "Sure."

Rachel stirred slightly, fussing softly in her sleep. Logan moved instinctively closer, a hand coming up to carefully rub the baby’s tiny back, helping soothe her immediately. He paused when he noticed your raised brow.

"What?" he muttered defensively. "Ain’t lost my touch yet."

You smiled, tilting your head. "No, you haven’t."

He watched Rachel settle down again, peaceful and warm against your chest. That gentle tug deepened quietly, making him sigh softly under his breath.

"I'll go check on Laura and Sierra," he muttered, pulling back carefully.

You smiled gently, letting him retreat. "Okay."

Logan paused at the doorway, glancing back once more. The sight of you holding Rachel—so natural, so easy—was etched warmly into his mind. He shook his head slightly, hiding a smile as he disappeared into the hall.

---

The house was quiet—after getting back to the cabin late, Laura and Sierra took their showers then got into bed.

You stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, Logan sitting on the bed with a notebook in his hands.

“You ever think ‘bout ‘nother one?” he asked, still lazily doodling.

You glanced at him, pausing with your towel still wrapped around you. “Another what?”

Logan looked up, meeting your eyes. “Baby.”

You smiled faintly, resuming your movements as you searched for clothes. “Not much. Maybe a few times.”

He hummed quietly, his pencil pausing. “Today got me thinkin’.”

You chuckled softly, pulling a shirt from the dresser. “Seeing Rachel gave you baby fever?”

He shrugged, setting the notebook down. “Maybe a little.”

You turned to him, amusement on your face. “You’re serious?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t sound so shocked, darlin’.”

“Not shocked,” you said, pulling the shirt on over your head. “Just surprised, I guess. Thought you liked finally gettin’ sleep again.”

He snorted. “Sleep’s overrated.”

“Easy for you to say,” you teased, tugging on a pair of shorts.

Logan watched you, quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Wouldn’t be so bad though, right?”

You paused, looking up to meet his eyes. “Another baby?”

He nodded slowly, leaning back against the headboard. “Yeah. Sierra’d probably like bein’ a big sister.”

You smiled softly, moving toward the bed. “Laura already is one.”

“Yeah, but she’d probably love bossin’ around another sibling,” he smirked. “And Sierra’s gettin’ pretty independent.”

You climbed onto the bed beside him, crossing your legs and looking thoughtful. “You’re really thinking about this.”

“Like I said,” he murmured, eyes gentle as he studied your face, “today got me thinkin’.”

You tilted your head, a soft smile curving your lips. “Are you saying you want another baby?”

He reached out, tugging you gently closer until you settled across his lap. “Maybe I am.”

You laughed softly, sliding your arms around his neck. “Logan Howlett, secretly a softie.”

He rolled his eyes, brushing his thumb along your hip. “Keep it quiet. Got a reputation to uphold.”

You hummed, leaning in, lips brushing his gently. “Another baby, huh?”

He kissed you softly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes again. “Only if you want.”

Your gaze softened, fingertips trailing lightly along his jaw. “Wouldn’t be so bad.”

He smiled slowly, hands slipping beneath your shirt, warm against your skin. “That a yes?”

You laughed, pulling him closer. “Yeah, Logan. That’s a yes.”

“Good,” he muttered, lips ghosting along your neck. “Figured we’d better get started.”

“Now? I just took a shower and put my clothes on.”

Logan’s lips barely brushed yours as he murmured, “Good thing I’m the one who takes ’em off,” voice low, teasing, full of promise. His hands were already sliding under your shirt, warm palms grazing bare skin as his mouth found your jaw, then lower—kissing along the line of your throat like he had all the time in the world.

You sighed, eyes fluttering as he eased you back against the pillows, but a flicker of something practical snuck in through the haze. “Did you lock the door?”

He groaned, forehead dropping against your chest for a second. “Fuckin’—” He sighed, kissed you once, then reluctantly shifted back. “You ruin all my fun, y’know that?”

You grinned, tugging the hem of your shirt up. “Go lock it, old man.”

He muttered something under his breath about being cockblocked by fatherhood and stomped off toward the door. A second later, you heard the lock slide into place. Then a scrape—he was dragging the chair under the knob.

You laughed, covering your mouth to muffle it. “Paranoid much?”

“Sierra picks locks now,” Logan growled as he returned, eyes dark and determined. “Not takin’ chances.”

Before you could say another word, he was back over you, hand splayed on your stomach, pressing you into the mattress. He shoved your shirt up to your ribs, mouth finding the underside of your breast, stubble scraping along your skin, tongue hot and slow as he sucked a mark against your ribs.

“Still smell like soap,” he muttered against your skin. “Gonna fix that.”

You gasped when his teeth grazed your nipple through the fabric, your hand flying to his hair. “Logan—”

He shoved your shirt up over your head and tossed it aside, then sat back on his heels, tugging your shorts and panties down in one rough pull. “Been thinkin’ about this since the second you held that baby. Looked like a fuckin’ dream. Like I needed to put another one in you.”

You flushed, heartbeat pounding as he lowered himself between your thighs, spreading them apart with firm hands. He kissed your inner thigh first—slow, wet, open-mouthed kisses trailing higher, teasing heat.

Then his tongue flicked—slow, deliberate, dragging up through your folds—and your breath caught hard.

You reached down, tangling a hand in his hair. “Thought you were impatient.”

His voice was muffled against your cunt, lips slick, tongue dipping low. “Can still enjoy it, sweetheart. Gotta get you ready, don’t I?”

His mouth was hot, deliberate, tongue sliding in slow circles around your clit, then back down, teasing your entrance, sucking one of your lips between his teeth just enough to make your thighs twitch. One of his hands slid up, spreading you wider, while the other held your hip down when it bucked.

You let out a breathy moan, biting your knuckle to stay quiet. “L-Logan—”

He didn’t stop. He groaned low against you like you were his favorite meal, tongue flattening and dragging hard and slow right over your clit again—wet, unrelenting pressure that made your eyes roll.

Your hips jerked and he growled, fingers digging into your thigh. “Stay still.”

You whimpered, breath catching. “F-fuck—”

He pulled back just long enough to say, voice all gravel and heat, “That’s it, sweetheart. Just relax. Let me taste you.”

Then he dove back in, and this time he didn’t hold back—tongue pressing deep, lips sealing around your clit and sucking with filthy precision. The wet, obscene sounds of it filled the room, and your thighs trembled as heat snapped up your spine.

His hand moved, one thick finger sliding into you slow and curling just right, and your back arched off the bed, a helpless cry breaking from your throat.

“Fuck—Logan—oh my god—”

He moaned against you like your taste was the best damn thing he’d had all year, and when he added a second finger, stretching you, working you open, it was almost too much. You squirmed, gasped, toes curling as heat bloomed sharp and fast in your belly.

"A-ahhh—fuck, Logan—"

His tongue didn’t stop, his lips slick with you, beard damp against your thighs. “Mmhhhn,” he growled low, the sound vibrating right through your clit like a goddamn electric current. His fingers curled again, slow and dirty, dragging along that spot that made your back arch like a bow.

You reached down blindly, tangling your fingers in his thick hair, gripping tight. “S-shit—Logan, I’m gonna—”

He didn’t even lift his head, just sucked harder, lips locking around your clit, two thick fingers buried deep and fucking slow, pushing you right over that edge without mercy. It hit like a damn freight train, ripped the air from your lungs.

"Logan—ohmygod—"

Your hips jerked, your thighs clenched around his head, and you came hard against his mouth, a helpless, strangled moan punching from your chest as your body shook apart under him. He didn’t stop—kept licking, slower now, easing you through it, savoring it like he wanted to bottle the sound of your wrecked breathing.

"Good girl," he rasped when he finally came up for air, voice dark and hungry, mouth glistening with you. "Fuckin' love when you fall apart on my tongue."

You were still panting, trembling slightly, your skin flushed all over. “Y-you’re a menace,” you managed, trying to blink him into focus as he crawled up your body.

He grinned, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then leaned in to kiss you, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. Hot. Filthy. You moaned into it, hands tugging him closer.

"Not done," he murmured against your lips. "Not nearly fuckin' done."

You reached down between you, felt him thick and hard through his sweats. He hissed between his teeth when your palm pressed against him, his hips twitching.

“Get these off,” you whispered, tugging at the waistband.

He didn’t waste a second, shoved them down and kicked them off, his cock springing free—thick, heavy, flushed at the tip and already leaking. You bit your lip at the sight, reaching to wrap your hand around him, stroking slow. He groaned, low and rough, head dropping to your shoulder.

"Fuck, darlin’... been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day."

"Yeah?" you murmured, breath hot against his neck, hand still moving. “About knocking me up again?”

He growled, deep and hot in his throat, hips rolling into your grip. “Mhm. Watchin’ you hold that baby—made me wanna bend you over right there and fill you up. Stuff you full, see if it takes.”

You shuddered, moaned softly, your thighs squeezing together. “Logan…”

He grinned, dark and wild, then reached down and hooked your leg over his arm, lining himself up with your entrance. His cock nudged against your soaked folds, teasing the head through your slick. "You want it?"

"God, yes—please—"

That was all it took. He pushed in slow, dragging a deep groan from both of you as you stretched around him. Inch by thick, fucking inch, he sank into you, filling you up with no resistance, just wet heat and pressure that made your head spin.

"Shhhhit," he breathed, eyes fluttering shut, jaw clenched tight. "Tight as ever… fuckin’ perfect."

You whimpered, clutching his arms as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. The stretch, the fullness—it burned in the best way, had you writhing under him, thighs already trembling again.

"Move," you begged softly, voice catching. "Please—Logan—"

He did. Slow at first—rolling his hips in smooth, dragging thrusts that had your eyes rolling back, the head of his cock grinding deep, right where you were still sensitive. You gasped, clawed at his back.

"That what you need?" he rasped, breath hot against your ear. "Want me to fuck another baby into you?"

You nodded, whimpering, too far gone to answer with anything but a broken moan. “Uh-huh—ahh—yes—f-fuck—”

He picked up the pace, thrusts harder now, deeper, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the quiet room. You could hear the chair scraping faintly under the doorknob every time the headboard knocked against the wall. Didn't matter. Let it fall. Let it shatter.

“You’re gonna take every fuckin’ drop,” he growled, one hand sliding under your thigh to lift it higher, angling deeper, harder. “Gonna make me a daddy again, sweetheart?”

You cried out, eyes wide and hazy. “Y-yeah—yeah—want it—want you—”

"That’s my girl," he groaned, slamming into you, pace relentless now. "Gonna breed this pretty pussy till you’re knocked up. Fill you so fuckin’ deep you’ll still be leaking me tomorrow."

You moaned, helpless under him, his body caging you in, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside. It was too much, too good—your second orgasm building sharp and fast. Your nails bit into his back.

"L-Logan—gonna—I'm—fuck—"

"Yeah, baby, I got you," he panted, snapping his hips harder, faster. "Come on my cock—"

You shattered around him with a scream, back arched, body clenching down so tight around him he cursed loud against your throat.

“Fuuuck—you’re squeezin’ me—shit—!”

He slammed in hard one last time, then froze, cock twitching deep as he spilled into you, growling loud and low through gritted teeth, his whole body shaking. You felt it—hot, thick spurts of come painting your insides, filling you up just like he promised.

He stayed there, buried deep, chest heaving, his weight warm on top of you as both of you tried to catch your breath.

Then he chuckled, breathless, voice still wrecked. “That’s one hell of a start.”

You snorted, weakly swatting at his arm. “You're insatiable.”

He smirked, nuzzling into your neck. “With you? Damn right.”

His cock was still twitching inside you, and he didn’t move—just held you, sweaty and tangled, not caring about the mess between your legs, the heat of your skin sticking to his. You stroked a hand through his hair, still dazed and sore in the best way, heart thudding against his chest.

You didn’t say anything else for a long moment. You didn’t need to.

Then Logan shifted, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were warm, wild, a little wicked. “Round two’s gonna be messier.”

Your breath hitched. You smiled. “Good.”

---

A few weeks later, Sierra sat at the kitchen table drawing a picture for Rachel with her crayons. You were at the stove, making a pie for Jean and Scott.

Logan and Laura sat with Sierra, both of them reading—Logan a newspaper, and Laura a comic.

Then, Sierra spoke up. “Daddy, how are babies made?”

Logan choked on his coffee as Laura let out a snort. "What?"

Sierra tilted her head, blinking at him innocently. "How are babies made?"

Laura snickered again, hiding behind her comic. "Yeah, Dad. How are they made?"

Logan shot Laura a pointed glare. "Not helpin', kid."

You pressed your lips together, fighting to stay serious as you turned to Sierra. "Why do you ask, honey?"

"'Cause Rachel is a baby, and Jean said she grew in her tummy," Sierra said, still coloring carefully. "How'd she get in there?"

Laura’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "Yeah, Dad. How did Rachel get in Jean’s tummy?"

Logan’s jaw ticked. "You’re grounded."

Laura rolled her eyes, clearly not taking his threat seriously.

You sighed softly, leaning against the counter. "Well, Sierra, when two people love each other very much—"

Laura snorted again, louder this time. Logan shot her another look. "Laura."

"Sorry," she said, not sorry at all.

Sierra looked at Logan expectantly. "So how'd she get in there?"

Logan rubbed a hand over his face, sighing heavily. "Magic."

Sierra's eyes widened. "Magic?"

Laura laughed outright this time, ducking behind her comic to hide it.

You shot Logan an amused glance. "Really? Magic?"

Logan shrugged defensively. "You got somethin' better?"

You walked over, gently brushing Sierra’s hair back. "Babies come from love, sweetheart. When two grown-ups love each other very much, they decide they want a baby. Then one grows in the mommy’s tummy."

Sierra frowned thoughtfully. "Like planting flowers?"

Laura snorted loudly again. "I’m gonna die."

Logan leaned toward Laura, lowering his voice. "Keep it up, kid, and you’re gonna have this conversation next."

Laura immediately sobered, returning quietly to her comic.

"Sort of like planting flowers," you said gently. "A seed gets planted, and it grows into a baby."

"How does the seed get there?" Sierra asked, eyes big and curious.

Logan cleared his throat loudly, folding his paper. "I’m gonna go chop some firewood."

You shot him a pointed look. "Logan."

He sighed, looking resigned as he turned back to Sierra. "The seed... just gets put there."

Sierra narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "By who?"

Logan’s eye twitched slightly. "The... other grown-up."

You smiled sweetly at Logan. "Good job, honey."

He shot you a dry look. "Thanks."

Sierra seemed satisfied enough, nodding thoughtfully. "Oh. Okay."

Logan exhaled in relief, taking another careful sip of coffee. Laura smirked behind her comic.

"So, Daddy put the seed in your tummy when you had me?" Sierra asked suddenly, eyes brightening with realization.

Logan promptly choked again.

Laura burst out laughing. "Amazing."

Logan pointed a finger at her, voice rough. "Grounded. For real."

Sierra smiled happily, oblivious to Logan's distress. "Right, Mommy?"

You patted Sierra's head gently, trying not to laugh at Logan's red face. "That’s right, sweetheart."

Sierra grinned, returning to her drawing. "Daddy’s good at planting seeds."

Laura howled with laughter, dropping her comic. Logan groaned, covering his face with his hand.

You bit your lip, fighting back a laugh. "Maybe let’s talk about something else now."

"Please," Logan muttered weakly. "Anything else."

---

The next afternoon, Logan walked into the living room, wiping sweat from his forehead with the edge of his shirt. He paused when he saw you sitting cross-legged on the couch, sorting through a box of tiny baby clothes.

He raised an eyebrow. "Ain’t wastin’ time, huh?"

You glanced up, smiling softly. "Just figured I’d see what we still have from Sierra."

He stepped closer, peering into the box and reaching down to lift a small yellow onesie. His expression softened as he ran his thumb over the tiny fabric. "Forgot how little these things are."

You chuckled quietly. "You said that about Rachel."

"Yeah," he murmured. He looked up again, studying you carefully. "You feelin’ alright?"

You smiled reassuringly. "I'm good."

He nodded, thoughtful. "So we really doin' this, huh?"

You tilted your head playfully. "Second thoughts already?"

"Nah," he said, voice firm. "Just makin' sure you're sure."

"I'm sure," you said warmly, tugging gently at his hand until he sat beside you. "How about you?"

His eyes softened. "Darlin', I was sure the second I brought it up."

You leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Good."

Logan wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he watched you fold a tiny shirt. After a quiet moment, he cleared his throat softly. "Laura asked me about it earlier."

You glanced up curiously. "What did she say?"

"Asked if we were really thinkin’ about another kid," he said. "Think she likes the idea."

"That's good," you said softly, smiling. "Sierra already acts like a mini-mom anyway."

He snorted gently. "She bossed me around for fifteen minutes earlier ‘bout how to feed Rocky. Pretty sure that dog ain’t listenin’ to anyone but her now."

You laughed quietly, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Well, at least we know she’s ready to help."

He hummed softly, fingers gently tracing patterns on your arm. "Yeah."

There was a comfortable silence between you, Logan's steady heartbeat soothing beneath your ear. Then—

"Mommy," Sierra said from the doorway, her expression deeply serious, "Rocky ate my crayons again."

Logan sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Told you, he don’t listen to anyone but her."

You chuckled softly, sitting up to look at Sierra. "How many did he eat?"

She held up her fingers. "Three. And one was blue."

Logan grunted, standing up with a resigned sigh. "I'll handle it."

"Thank you," you said sweetly, earning a faintly amused glance from him as he headed toward Sierra.

"You're lucky you’re cute," he muttered affectionately to Sierra, ruffling her hair gently as they disappeared into the hallway.

You smiled to yourself, settling back against the couch and resting a hand lightly on your stomach, already looking forward to the chaos ahead.

---

Just a week later, you got your period. You weren’t necessarily disappointed—you and Logan had only tried once.

You stepped out of the bathroom, catching Logan’s curious glance from where he sat on the bed, tying his boots.

"No luck?" he guessed.

You shrugged lightly, unbothered. "Not this month."

Logan raised a brow, mouth curling into a faint smirk. "Guess I'll have to try harder."

You snorted, rolling your eyes playfully. "Yeah, I guess you will."

He leaned back on the bed, studying you carefully. "You good?"

"Yeah," you assured him, stepping closer. "Took a few months with Sierra too, remember?"

"I remember," he said quietly, pulling you toward him until you settled comfortably against his chest. "I ain't worried."

You smiled, fingers playing lightly with his collar. "Neither am I."

He brushed his thumb along your hip. "Besides, practice makes perfect, right?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Always looking on the bright side."

"Hey," he teased, voice low and warm. "Never heard you complain."

You hummed, leaning up to kiss him lightly. "Guess we'll just have to try again."

"Exactly my plan," he muttered, lips brushing yours softly. "Tonight?"

“Mmh.” You scrunched your brows together. “No. Sorry, honey. I just wanna lay in bed and eat ice cream.”

Logan chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "Ice cream, huh?"

"Mmhm," you hummed, settling comfortably against his chest. "Salted caramel."

He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Pretty sure Laura ate the last of that yesterday."

You groaned dramatically. "Seriously?"

"Yup," he said, voice low and amused. "Saw her sneakin’ the tub back into the freezer."

"She’s your kid," you muttered. "Stealin’ my ice cream."

"Our kid," Logan corrected, thumb stroking lightly along your side. "And Sierra steals your cookies."

You sighed heavily. "I never get anything around here."

Logan snorted. "Welcome to my world, darlin’."

You smiled faintly, tilting your head to look at him. "Can you go to the store?"

He raised an eyebrow. "For ice cream?"

"Yes."

"Right now?"

You gave him your best pleading look. "Please?"

Logan groaned softly, head dropping back against the pillows. "Fine."

You grinned, kissing him quickly. "You’re the best."

He rolled his eyes playfully, shifting you carefully off his chest as he stood. "I’ll remember this next time I need a favor."

You stretched lazily across the bed. "I’ll be here waiting."

Logan gave you an amused glance as he grabbed his keys from the dresser. "Don’t doubt it."

You heard his footsteps fading as he walked down the hall, followed by Sierra’s curious voice. "Daddy, where you goin’?"

"Your mom needs ice cream," Logan answered gruffly.

"Ooh," Sierra said excitedly. "Can I have some?"

"Nope," Logan said firmly. "You and your sister ate hers already."

There was a brief pause. Then Sierra called toward your room, voice filled with concern, "Sorry, Mommy!"

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. "It’s okay, baby!"

Then, the front door opened and shut, and a few seconds later, Laura’s head appeared in the doorway of your bedroom, eyebrows raised.

"Dad went out just for ice cream?" she asked skeptically.

You shrugged innocently. "He loves me."

Laura smirked. "You’re spoiled."

"Jealous?" you teased.

Laura shrugged lightly, a grin tugging at her lips. "Maybe."

You chuckled softly. "Good. You should be."

Laura shook her head, turning to leave. "I’ll tell Sierra to leave you alone ‘til he’s back."

"Thanks, Laura," you called after her.

A moment later, the house was quiet again, and you relaxed into the pillows, smiling to yourself. A quiet night, ice cream, and Logan—exactly what you needed.

---

A few nights later, the house was finally quiet. Laura and Sierra had both been asleep for at least an hour, and Rocky was curled up contentedly on his bed in the living room.

You stood by the kitchen sink, absently rinsing dishes from dinner, lost in thought until Logan’s hands slid around your waist, pulling you back gently against his chest.

“Kids asleep,” he murmured softly against your ear, voice low and warm.

You smiled, leaning into his warmth. “Mm. I noticed.”

His lips brushed the side of your neck, lingering softly. “Rocky’s passed out too.”

You laughed quietly. “You sound like you’re plotting something.”

“Maybe I am,” Logan muttered, teeth scraping lightly along your pulse point, making your breath hitch.

You set the dish down, water dripping off your fingers as you turned in his arms, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Feeling lucky tonight?”

His eyes darkened slightly, hands tightening around your hips. “Yeah, darlin’. Pretty damn lucky.”

You chuckled, fingertips brushing lightly along his jaw. “Confident.”

Logan’s mouth curved into a faint smirk. “Got every reason to be.”

He leaned down, capturing your mouth softly, the kiss slow and deep. You melted into him, fingers gripping his shirt as he pressed you back gently against the counter. When you finally broke apart, breathless, you smiled against his lips.

“Guess we should make the most of a quiet house,” you whispered.

“Exactly what I was thinkin’,” he agreed, voice rough.

He didn’t waste another second. Logan lifted you easily, setting you onto the counter and stepping between your legs. Your breath hitched as his hands slid beneath your shirt, tracing warm paths along your skin.

“You think tonight’s the night?” you asked quietly, eyes locked on his.

Logan smiled softly, brushing your hair from your face. “Hope so.”

You laughed, hooking your ankles around his waist and tugging him closer. “Then we better get started.”

Logan’s eyes sparked with amusement and heat. “Yes, ma’am.”

He leaned in again, kissing you hard and deep, hands gripping your hips firmly. You let yourself get lost in him, warmth curling low in your stomach as he pulled you flush against him, grinding slowly, deliberately, the friction making you gasp softly into his mouth.

He broke the kiss briefly, his voice ragged against your ear. “Gonna take this to the bedroom, darlin’. Counter ain’t exactly comfortable for what I got planned.”

You laughed breathlessly, fingers tangling in his hair. “Lead the way.”

He lifted you easily off the counter, keeping you wrapped securely around him. You pressed slow kisses along his neck, smiling against his skin as he carried you toward your room.

“Better lock the door,” you teased quietly.

“Way ahead of ya,” he muttered, kicking the door shut and clicking the lock into place.

You didn’t even get a word out before Logan’s mouth was on yours again—hot and demanding, like he hadn’t just had his hands all over you ten seconds ago. He walked you backward toward the bed without breaking the kiss, one hand gripping your ass, the other tangled in your hair.

By the time the backs of your knees hit the mattress, you were already gasping into his mouth, dizzy with heat. He eased you down onto the bed, crawling over you slow like a fucking wolf, all heat and weight and hunger.

You slid your hands up under his shirt, fingertips brushing hot skin and hard muscle. “Off,” you mumbled, tugging at the fabric.

Logan grinned against your neck. “Bossy tonight.”

“You love it.”

“Damn right I do.”

He sat back on his heels, yanking his shirt over his head in one smooth pull. You reached for your own, but he caught your wrists.

“Nuh-uh, lemme do it.”

His voice had gone low, dark—gravel scraped through honey. He peeled your shirt up slow, kissing every inch of skin he revealed. Stomach. Ribs. The underside of your breast. He paused there, nuzzling warm against you, lips dragging over the swell. You arched into him with a soft gasp, fingers tightening in the sheets.

Then he wrapped his mouth around your nipple, sucking slow, deep—just once—before switching to the other, tongue flicking in lazy circles until your breath hitched and your thighs rubbed together on instinct.

“Logan…”

“Shh. I got you.”

He kissed down your belly, thumbs hooking into your waistband, dragging your shorts and panties off in one slow pull. His gaze never left yours. Even with the heat low in his belly and the tension buzzing through his limbs, he wasn’t gonna rush a damn thing.

“You ready?” he asked, fingers trailing up the inside of your thigh.

You nodded, breath caught somewhere in your chest. “Please.”

That smug little smirk curved across his face, and he leaned in, kissing you again—soft this time, like he was savoring it—while his fingers slid down and dipped between your folds.

You moaned into his mouth, your hips rocking up as he rubbed slow circles over your clit, his fingers slick and teasing. Then he pushed one inside—slow and deep—and you gasped, clutching at his shoulders.

“Fuck—Logan—”

“That’s it,” he muttered, sucking on your bottom lip. “Already soaked for me. You really want this, huh?”

You nodded again, barely coherent. “Want you. Want you to fuck a baby into me.”

He groaned low, forehead dropping to yours. “Jesus, sweetheart…”

He added a second finger, curling them just right. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, body trembling as his fingers fucked into you slow and steady.

“I’m gonna knock you up tonight,” he growled, kissing down your throat again, biting at your collarbone. “Gonna make you a mama all over again. You’re gonna feel it, darlin’. Gonna know it took.”

Your walls fluttered around his fingers, your thighs clenching. “Logan—fuck—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he rasped. “Gimme one. Right here. All over my hand.”

He pressed his thumb against your clit and you broke—moaning, shaking, clinging to him like you’d fall apart without him. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers as you came, soaking his hand with a whimper that died against his shoulder.

He eased you through it, kissed the top of your head, then reached for the pillow, shoving it under your hips with practiced ease.

You blinked up at him, still breathless. “Logan—”

He was already stripping out of his sweats, his cock thick and flushed and heavy in his hand as he lined himself up, eyes locked on yours.

“You want it?” he asked, voice wrecked. “Want me to fill you up?”

You bit your lip and nodded, legs spreading wider. “Please.”

He sank into you with a deep, guttural groan, one hand gripping your thigh, the other planted beside your head. His body was hot, heavy, every thick inch of him pushing slow and steady until he bottomed out, hips flush against yours.

“Fuck,” he hissed, forehead resting against yours, breath hot. “This pussy’s gonna take all of me tonight, huh?”

You whimpered, legs wrapping tighter around his waist. “Always does…”

“Yeah?” He rocked his hips, slow, deep, grinding against your cervix until your back arched. “Gonna take my come too, sweetheart? Gonna let me put a baby in you?”

“God—yes,” you breathed, hands clutching at his back. “Wanna make you a daddy again.”

That sound he made—half growl, half moan—went straight through you. “Fuckin’ hell, you say that again and I ain’t gonna last long.”

“Do it,” you whispered, eyes locked on his. “Come inside me. Fill me up. Knock me up.”

Logan snarled, hips snapping forward, hard. “You filthy little thing… beggin’ to get bred.”

“I want it,” you gasped, breath catching with every ruthless thrust. “Need it.”

He fucked you harder then—rough, relentless, the bed creaking beneath the rhythm of his hips slamming into yours. His hand left your thigh and pressed against your belly, right above where he was buried inside you.

“Right here,” he growled. “Gonna fill you up so full you’ll feel it for days.”

You cried out, nails dragging down his back. “Please—Logan—fuck—don’t stop—”

“I ain’t stoppin’,” he panted, grinding down. “You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ good. This tight little cunt’s made to keep me in, yeah?”

You could barely breathe, every thrust knocking the air from your lungs, pleasure spiking sharp and high. “Gonna—gonna come—”

“Yeah?” He leaned in, mouth against your ear. “Then do it. Milk my cock, sweetheart. Get yourself good and ready to catch.”

You shattered around him, legs locking tight around his waist, your whole body pulsing as you screamed his name into his shoulder. He kept going, driving through your climax, chasing his own with that low, animal growl rising in his throat.

“Fuck—you’re squeezin’ me so tight—fuck—I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” you begged. “Come inside me—please, baby, I need it—”

Logan slammed deep and stayed there, cock throbbing as he came hard, spilling into you with a choked moan, burying his face in your neck.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed, body trembling. “That’s it—fuck, that’s it, take it all…”

You felt him twitch inside you, his come hot and thick, filling you until it leaked out around him.

He didn’t move for a long moment—just laid there, buried deep, one hand splayed across your lower belly like he could feel it taking.

Then he lifted his head, eyes half-lidded and dark. “That oughta do it.”

You gave him a dazed little smile. “Think you got it in one?”

Logan grinned, kissed you lazy and slow. “Maybe. But better be sure.”

His hand slid down, slow and sure, knuckles brushing between your legs—right where you were still stretched around him, messy and slick with the load he’d just pumped deep inside. His eyes stayed locked on yours as two fingers pressed to your swollen folds, spreading you open just enough to watch it drip out.

“Fuckin’ shame,” he muttered. “Wastin’ good it like that.”

You shivered, hips twitching as he eased a finger back inside, slow and deep. You gasped, back arching slightly. "Logan—"

"Shh," he murmured, voice low, gravel-smooth. “Lemme make sure it stays where it belongs.”

He added a second finger, thick and insistent, curling them inside you like he knew every sensitive spot by heart—and he did. His thumb rubbed lazy circles over your clit, just enough to make your breath catch, not enough to push you over yet.

Your hips rocked into the motion instinctively, body still greedy for more. “God… you’re not done with me?”

He snorted, lips brushing your cheek. “Sweetheart, I’m just gettin’ started.”

His fingers pumped slow, deliberate, his palm slick with a mix of your arousal and his come, still leaking out around his knuckles. You whimpered, clenching down on him, thighs shaking.

“You feel that?” he muttered, dragging his lips down your neck, letting his teeth scrape lightly across your skin. “That’s mine. All of it. Gonna keep pushin’ it in ‘til your body holds on tight.”

“Logan—fuck—” you moaned, legs spreading wider for him. “You’re gonna make me come again…”

“Good,” he growled. “I want you to. That sweet little pussy soaks me every damn time, ‘course you’re gonna come.”

He curled his fingers again, hitting just the right spot, and your whole body jerked, toes curling. You could hear the wet, obscene sound of it—his hand working between your legs, your pussy clenching greedily around him like it knew what he was trying to do.

“I can feel you pulsin’ around me,” he rasped, kissing down your chest. “Just like that. Keep squeezin’. Gonna milk it all up inside you.”

You bit your lip, desperate to hold it back, but your body had other plans. With a sharp cry, you came hard, thighs clamping around his wrist as your cunt spasmed around his fingers, milking them like it wanted to keep every drop of him inside.

“There it is,” he breathed, watching your face like it was the only thing that mattered. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn pretty when you come for me.”

You twitched beneath him, breath ragged, and Logan gently eased his fingers out, slick and dripping. He watched the mess on his hand for a second, then brought it to your mouth.

“Taste what you’re takin’ in,” he muttered.

You opened obediently, sucking his fingers between your lips, tasting salt and heat and something that made your whole body ache with want all over again.

He groaned, leaning in to kiss you slow, deep, filthy. “You’re gonna get pregnant from this,” he whispered against your mouth. “I fuckin’ know it.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, breath still catching in your throat. “Think so?”

He grinned, cocky and warm, brushing his fingers lightly over your belly. “I’d bet on it.”

You gave a tired, blissed-out laugh. “You always so sure of yourself?”

He nuzzled close, lips grazing your ear. “Only when I know I’m right.”

[rosachae]

idol | megan skiendiel x reader

⁍ song: radar - lil hero ⁍ requested: yes! thank you anon ⁍ genre: idol!megan x actor!reader. slowburn fluff, jealous megan, loser!megan ⁍ a/n: thank you for requesting this, anon! sorry for the delay in getting this out. i hope this is what you were looking for. ⁍ w.c: 17k ⁍ warnings: curt language, a little bit nsfw(?), more so just suggestive. ⁍ synopsis:

y/n, an up-and-coming actor in korea, casually let slip on a variety show that she might have the *tiniest* crush on a particular girl group member, megan skiendiel. lucky for her, she was already on megan's radar.

“it was only a matter of time before you did something to make your pr team cry,” yunjin said, her voice thick with amusement as she leaned forward in her chair. “but god, y/n. i didn’t think you had it in you to be that bold.”

you didn’t bother to look at her. instead, you kept your focus on the half-empty iced americano in your hands, the straw poking at the lid like it had something to say too. “yeah yeah,” you muttered, tone dry. “keep it coming. get it all out.”

yunjin’s laughter filled the small recording studio, bouncing off the walls like an echo that didn’t know when to quit.

the first time you met her, you were rushing to a meeting at the hybe building, five minutes late and in no mood to reschedule. the elevator was almost closed when a hand slipped between the panels, smooth and effortless, like it was something out of a k-drama. yunjin stepped in a moment later, casual as anything, earbuds in, hoodie half-zipped, eyes flicking toward you.

she didn’t register who you were right away. not until she caught the outline of your face in the elevator mirror and did the most obvious quadruple take known to man. she grinned like she’d just won a bet. you raised an eyebrow. the doors shut.

your name had been climbing headlines at the time, especially after that marvel debut. you were still adjusting to the spotlight, to the way people started speaking about you like you were a headline first and a human being second. they called you the face of the next generation, a once-in-a-decade talent. you still weren’t sure what to do with that.

to her credit, yunjin didn’t immediately spiral. she told you later she’d nearly recited your entire filmography then and there but had somehow restrained herself. instead, she said, “you’re taller than i thought,” with a sort of breezy charm that made you laugh before you could stop yourself.

the novelty wore off quickly. by your third hangout, she was yelling at her flat iron over facetime and blaming you for jinxing her hair before mcountdown. the pedestal had crumbled, and in its place was something much better.

you adored her, truly. but right now? right now you wanted to strangle her.

“you do realize the internet’s having a meltdown, right?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder while fiddling with the dials on the studio mixer. “megan’s stans are going full detective mode. they’re gonna find the exact thread count of your bedsheets if you’re not careful.”

of course you knew. how could you not?

‎ 

‎it had all started at weekly idol. you and your costar, eunwoo, were the guests that day. minhyuk and hyeongjun were hosting. bright-eyed, energetic, and way too charismatic for nine in the morning. the moment you stepped on set, they bowed with exaggerated reverence and gasped like they’d seen ghosts.

“wow… everyone, protect the cameras,” minhyuk said, turning to the staff with mock urgency. “no way this equipment survives the visuals of both our guests at once.”

you laughed, cheeks heating despite yourself. the nerves hadn’t gone away even after a hundred interviews. your knee had bounced nonstop in the makeup chair. your hands wouldn’t sit still in your lap. you didn’t know why you were this on edge. it wasn’t like this was your first time.

eunwoo had noticed. he always noticed. he didn’t say much, but before your cue to enter, he gave you a quiet nod, a calm smile. just enough to settle the buzz in your chest.

the shoot went smoothly. laughter came easy. there was a moment you and eunwoo broke into an absurd duet of the show’s theme song, something so horrifically off-key that it ended up trending for twelve hours. and yet, what really caught fire was that one particular question.

“…so, y/n,” hyeongjun had said, reading off a laminated card with all the flair of a seasoned variety host. “you’ve caught the eye of the entire country. but has anyone caught your eye?”

you paused. of course you did. your manager’s disapproving face flashed through your brain like a warning siren, but you could already feel the words rising. the answer had been sitting with you for months now, quiet and patient.

you thought of coachella. of watching a failed backflip send some poor guy crashing to the ground mid-performance, which made you laugh for far too long. and how somehow, down that spiral of linked videos and fuzzy 420p livestreams, you ended up watching three girls play roblox with him. that’s when you saw her. megan skiendiel. orange wig, infectious laugh, that strange but graceful way she moved that made you look twice.

she was stunning. but it wasn’t just that. it was the way she felt. vibrant. sincere. like she wasn’t trying to be anyone but herself.

you could still remember the way your cheeks felt warm when you finally answered.

“uh, well, i don’t usually think about stuff like that,” you said carefully, then smiled despite yourself. “but i think katseye’s megan is absolutely gorgeous. i mean, i’d love to meet her. she seems fun. like the kind of person you’d want to be friends with.”

innocent enough. 

‎ 

or so you thought.

now, here you were, spinning idly on a swivel chair in yunjin’s recording booth, trying not to meet her smug eyes.

“you should’ve said nothing,” she said, clearly enjoying herself. “or lied. something. anything. instead, you went full disney channel crush monologue.”

“i thought it was harmless,” you argued, voice climbing in pitch. “i didn’t think the entire internet would spiral into an fbi task force over a throwaway comment. seriously, doesn’t anyone have jobs?”

“you’re y/n,” yunjin shot back, twirling a pencil between her fingers. “you know people hang onto your words like they’re stock tips. you practically lit a flare above her name with that answer.”

“i didn’t even say anything that bad! i called her pretty and said she seemed fun. i said the same thing about you last week on dex’s fridge.”

“right, but you didn’t look like you were about to pass out from heart palpitations when you said it about me. you didn’t blush. you didn’t pause like you were imagining your wedding vows. babe, you looked like you were one blink away from writing her poetry.”

“you’re being so dramatic.”

“am i?” she raised an eyebrow. “because you may as well have held a ‘simp’ sign and worn a megan skiendiel stan shirt. even sungchan has more chill than that. sungchan, y/n.”

you groaned at the mention of your tall, hopelessly clumsy mutual. “low blow.”

“i’m just saying.” she shrugged, biting back a grin. “even you know i’m right.”

and unfortunately, you kind of did.

“okay, but for real,” yunjin said, dragging her chair over with a squeak that made you wince. she rested her elbows on her knees, chin in her hands, looking at you like she was about to stage an intervention. “what are you gonna do if she actually reaches out?”

you blinked, caught off guard by the shift in her tone. “what do you mean?”

“i mean, say she dms you. or tags you in some story. or, i don’t know, shows up at your next premiere with a bouquet of roses and a sign that says ‘hi crush.’ what then?” she asked. “you gonna freak out and melt into the floor? you gonna invite her to karaoke and try to play it cool while secretly dying inside?”

you turned away and took a long, pointed sip of your coffee.

“no, but seriously,” she pressed, clearly not letting it go. “you like her, don’t you?”

you snorted. “i’ve never even met her.”

“not what i asked.”

you sighed, letting your head fall back against the wall with a soft thud. “i don’t know. maybe.”

yunjin tilted her head. “that’s a yes.”

“it’s not a yes,” you said, but your voice was too quiet to sound convincing. “i just think she’s… interesting.”

“gorgeous, fun, interesting,” she ticked off on her fingers. “mmhmm. yeah. sounds like someone’s caught feelings off vibes and roblox streams alone. that’s powerful.”

you groaned again and rolled your eyes, but the sound that left your throat was somewhere between embarrassment and reluctant laughter. “you make it sound so unhinged.”

“it is unhinged,” she said without missing a beat. “but it’s also kind of cute. in a really stupid, romcom kind of way. you, falling for a girl you’ve never met because she made you laugh through a pixelated camera while dressed like a traffic cone.”

you narrowed your eyes. “it was a very good orange wig.”

“never said it wasn’t,” she said with a shrug. “you’re just proving my point.”

you exhaled slowly, running a hand down your face. “look, i didn’t mean for any of this to happen. i just answered the question honestly. i wasn’t trying to stir up some whole thing.”

“but you did,” she said gently. ”and maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world.”

you looked at her, unsure how to respond.

“she could be into it,” yunjin said, her voice lighter again. “she should be into it. if i was her, i’d be clearing my schedule and calling my stylist for a camera-ready fit. do you even know how many people would kill to be publicly flirted with by you?”

“i wasn’t flirting.”

“girl, you might as well have asked for her ring size.”

you groaned again and flopped forward, burying your face in your arms as yunjin broke into another fit of laughter. somewhere beneath the teasing and the noise, though, was something quieter. something you didn’t say out loud.

you kind of hoped she did reach out.

even just to say hi.

__

the dorm was quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of pipes behind the walls. manhua pages rustled faintly in the room next door, probably sophia flipping through her latest haul before bed, but otherwise the place had settled into a kind of hush that only came after midnight. the rest of the girls had turned in after rehearsals, legs sore, voices hoarse, the kind of tired that sank into the bones. megan had stayed behind in the living room, half-sprawled across the floor with a pillow hugged to her chest and a cold bottle of pocari pressed under her jaw.

she was still in her practice clothes, oversized hoodie and bike shorts, skin sticky with the last remnants of sweat she hadn’t bothered to wipe off properly. her hair was clipped up haphazardly, strands falling into her face as she stared down at her phone, blue light painting her features in a soft, ghostly glow.

she wasn’t really expecting anything when she opened twitter. just a quick scroll before bed, a way to shut her brain off after a day of hitting choreography until her ankles burned. but then she saw the video. saw her name. and froze.

“Y/N CONFIRMS SHE’S A FAN OF KATSEYE’S MEGAN 🫢🫢🫢”

she clicked it.

the clip wasn’t long. maybe thirty seconds, a little more. it was some variety show. she recognized eunwoo immediately, bright-eyed and relaxed in the way only he ever seemed to be on camera. y/n sat beside him, posture a little straighter than usual, nerves twitching under the surface despite the easy smile on her face.

megan watched the moment unfold. the way the question was asked. the pause. the sheepish smile. 

“i think katseye’s megan is absolutely gorgeous.”

the words shouldn’t have done anything. people said things like that all the time. fans. hosts. stylists brushing out her hair before a shoot. it wasn’t new. but the way y/n said it, quiet, thoughtful, almost like she was holding back something bigger… it sat heavy in megan’s chest as the clip ended and replayed itself automatically.

she watched it again. and then a third time.

her notifications were already a mess. katseye’s name trending alongside y/n’s, clips being reposted with fan captions and edits, screenshots of the moment paired with captions like “megan better WAKE UP” and “y/n join the line babe”. she should’ve laughed. part of her did. but underneath it, something shifted. something warm and unsure and a little bit dizzy.

y/n had been on her radar for a while, if she was being honest. megan wasn’t the type to crush easily, but there was something about her. it started with a film. some sci-fi action thing that megan only half paid attention to until y/n showed up on screen and suddenly everything was more interesting. after that, it was interviews. behind the scenes clips. a fan edit that popped up on her for you page one morning and made her miss a whole subway stop because she got too caught up in it.

and now this.

megan opened y/n’s instagram without really thinking. her thumb hovered over the follow button. she stared at it for a long second, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

she didn’t press it.

not yet.

instead, she set her phone down on the floor beside her and let her eyes drift to the ceiling. her heart was beating faster than it had any right to.

“gorgeous,” she murmured under her breath, voice barely audible. “fun. wants to be friends.”

maybe she could work with that.

‎ 

sleep didn’t come easy to her that night.  before she knew it, the night shifted to morning and she had to get up. the studio called her name, as it seemed to relentlessly the past month and some change. 

sophia, daniela, and yoonchae were already mid-run-through when megan walked into the practice room, the tail end of the “gnarly” chorus echoing faintly from the speakers. sophia’s voice cut clean through the track, daniela’s movements sharp and deliberate. yoonchae was quiet, as usual, but every step she made was crisp, clockwork precise.

megan had barely stepped into the center of the room when she heard it.

“so.” lara didn’t even look up from where she was sitting, stretching her legs out and leaning back on her palms. “anything you wanna share with the class?”

megan blinked. “what?”

manon turned her head slowly from where she was sitting several notches away, a teasing gleam in her eyes. she answers as if it’s obvious. honestly, it really was. “y/n.”

megan tensed immediately. “oh god.”

“yup,” lara said, like she had been waiting all morning for this. “you’ve been blowing up on stan twitter since seven a.m. and don’t think we didn’t notice how fast you saved that clip on the shared account”

“i didn’t save it,” megan muttered, grabbing her water bottle a little too fast. “i just… happened to see it. once.”

“megan,” manon said, eyes narrowing just slightly. “you’ve been quiet all morning. the last time you shut the fuck up was when you saw scarlett johanson do the splits in that one captain america movie. don’t lie to us.”

lara laughed under her breath. “she said you were gorgeous, wanted to be friends. oh, how romantic. i bet you probably watched it ten times over.”

“i did not,” megan said, practically choking on her water. “i just didn’t expect it, okay? i wasn’t mentally prepared.”

“mentally prepared for what?” manon said, raising a brow. “a compliment? you’ve been in magazines. people compliment you all the time.”

“not her,” megan said, before immediately realizing what she’d just admitted out loud. she froze. “i mean. not like. you know. never mind.”

lara clapped once, too loud. “that’s it. someone get her phone. we’re crafting a dm.”

“absolutely not,” megan said, panic already bubbling in her chest. “i’ll die.”

“what are you gonna do?” manon said. “wait until she magically appears in the dorms living room?”

megan buried her face in her hoodie. “maybe.”

“this is tragic,” lara said. “you have the golden opportunity of a lifetime and you’re out here acting like she’s a tax bill.”

“can we please change the subject,” megan mumbled, voice muffled in fabric.

“nope,” manon said, standing up and walking towards her. “group vote says you’re dming her.”

lara held out a hand. “seconded.”

from across the room, daniela raised a hand mid-step. “thirded.”

megan didn’t even look up. “yoonchae. please. save me.”

yoonchae just gave a small shrug, barely breaking from the choreo. megan groaned into her sleeve.

yep. she was on her own. not even sophia batted an eyelash, the filippinas glossy lips tilting up into a small grin where she was by the mirrors. 

megan sat down cross-legged on the floor with her phone clutched in both hands like it might explode. her back was hunched, eyes glued to the screen, and the expression on her face hovered somewhere between total focus and a full-blown identity crisis.

“you haven’t even opened instagram yet,” manon pointed out, sitting behind her and peering over her shoulder.

“i’m getting to it,” megan muttered.

lara flopped down next to her with a dramatic sigh. “this is painful to watch. if you go any slower, we’ll be here until yoonchae turns twenty-seven.”

megan unlocked her phone with a resigned swipe. “what do i even say? like. what do people say when they’re trying not to sound weird?”

lara took a breath. “okay. let’s start simple. ‘hi y/n, thanks for saying i’m pretty on tv—”

“i’m not saying that.”

“‘you have great taste in women’—”

“lara.”

“‘let’s be friends (or more if you’re free saturday night)’—”

megan covered her face with both hands. “why did i think listening to you was a good idea.”

manon leaned her chin on megan’s shoulder. “fine. try this. ‘hi, this is super random but i saw the clip from weekly idol and just wanted to say thank you. that was really sweet of you. hope we can meet someday!’ short, polite, friendly. not scary.”

megan peeked at her. “…that’s not terrible.”

lara squinted. “it’s boring.”

“it’s safe,” manon said, grabbing megan’s phone and typing it out with quick thumbs. “she’s not asking her to elope, she’s just acknowledging it.”

megan took the phone back and read it over like it was a contract. “…what if she doesn’t reply?”

“then you delete your account and we pretend this never happened,” lara said. “easy.”

“lara,” manon sighed.

megan stared at the message for a long moment. her thumb hovered. then tapped. then hovered again.

“just hit send,” daniela called from across the room, not even looking up from her stretching. “we can feel your hesitation from over here.”

“seriously,” sophia added, “you’re vibrating.”

megan sucked in a breath through her teeth. and then, with her eyes closed and her stomach in her shoes, she hit send.

silence.

lara let out the longest, slowest gasp. “it’s done.”

manon patted her back. “you’re very brave.”

megan immediately flopped backward onto the floor like she’d just run a marathon. “i need to lie here forever. let me perish in peace.”

lara just grinned and offered her a thumbs up. “she’s gonna love it.”

megan covered her eyes. “i hate everything.”

never in a million years would she have expected that one simple action to change everything. 

__

the cafe was warm in that familiar, lived-in kind of way. wood-paneled walls framed by climbing ivy, soft light filtering through dusty windows, and the scent of espresso baked into the air like it had nowhere else to go. outside, a quiet drizzle tapped at the glass, slow and steady, painting the sidewalk in watercolor streaks. inside, the soft clatter of dishes and hum of conversation made everything feel just far enough from the noise of your schedule to breathe.

you were at a small table near the back, the kind that rocked a little if you leaned on it wrong. yunjin sat across from you, one leg thrown over the other, straw bent at an aggressive angle in her lemonade. beside her, sungchan had his jacket slung over his chair and a look of mild betrayal on his face as he stared down at the salad yunjin had goaded him into ordering.

“i’m just saying,” she said, picking a piece of arugula off his plate like it belonged to her, “you can’t order a burger four days in a row and then complain about your skin breaking out.”

“it’s called balance,” sungchan muttered, dragging his fork through the greens with the resigned air of someone deeply offended by roughage. “i had a banana this morning.”

“oh wow,” she deadpanned. “one whole banana. call the olympic committee, this man is the pinnacle of health.”

he gave her a flat look. “didn’t you eat instant tteokbokki at two in the morning and then text me about your stomach cramps like it was my fault?”

“okay, first of all, you’re my emotional support contact when i make poor life choices. second of all, i still looked hot while doing it.”

you blinked slowly, chin in your hand, eyes fixed on the screen of your phone where the message sat.

hi, this is super random but i saw the clip from weekly idol and just wanted to say thank you. that was really sweet of you. hope we can meet someday!

megan had sent it two nights ago. you’d seen it the moment it came in, heart tripping over itself in the dark quiet of your bedroom. you didn’t answer. not right away. you told yourself you were busy, that you had scripts to review, meetings lined up. you told yourself it wasn’t ghosting if you intended to respond eventually.

but even now, hours and hours later, you were still here. still staring. still unsure what to say.

you had never been this nervous to talk to someone before.

“okay, this is depressing,” yunjin said, snapping her fingers in your direction. “hey. eyes up. you look like someone just broke up with you via powerPoint.”

sungchan leaned in a little, squinting at you. “are you sick? you’re weirdly quiet. usually you’d be insulting us by now.”

“i’m not sick,” you said quickly, locking your phone and setting it face down on the table. “just… thinking.”

“thinking about what?” yunjin asked, tone tilting toward nosy in that way only close friends could get away with.

you hesitated.

“oh my god,” she gasped. “you’re in love.”

“i’m not in love,” you said, too fast, which only made sungchan snort into his water.

“that’s what people say right before they confess they’re in love,” he said, dabbing at his chin with a napkin like he hadn’t just inhaled half a slice of garlic bread. “who is it?”

“nobody,” you said.

yunjin leaned forward with the exact expression of someone who knew they were right. “it’s megan, isn’t it?”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t have to. the look on your face gave you away.

sungchan let out a low whistle. “oh. that megan. the ‘gorgeous, fun, would love to be friends’ megan.”

you groaned, resting your forehead on your palm. “do you all memorize everything i say or are you just stalking my interviews for sport?”

“yes,” they said at the same time.

“okay but seriously,” yunjin said, nudging your phone with one perfectly manicured finger. “she messaged you, right?”

you nodded.

“and you didn’t reply because…?”

you sighed. “i don’t know. because it’s her. because i don’t want to mess it up. because what if she’s just being nice and this whole thing is way more casual to her than it is to me?”

sungchan tilted his head. “you mean what if she’s cool and normal and not secretly writing fanfiction about you the way you’re doing about her?”

yunjin grinned. “do you want us to help you write back? or are you planning to keep having an existential crisis over a very cute dm?”

you glanced at the screen again. your reflection looked back at you in the black glass, soft and unsure.

“i’ll write back,” you said quietly.

“good,” yunjin said, leaning back in her chair with a pleased expression. “because if you didn’t, i was gonna pretend to be you and do it myself.”

“you’re terrifying,” sungchan said, which she accepted as a compliment.

you looked back at the message one more time. your heart was still beating a little too fast, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. maybe it meant you actually cared. that it mattered.

you took a breath. opened the keyboard.

and started to type.

your fingers hovered for a second too long over the keyboard. the blinking cursor stared back at you like it knew you were stalling. you could feel yunjin’s eyes on you, sharp and expectant, like she might actually snatch the phone from your hands if you hesitated any longer. sungchan, mercifully, had gone back to his salad, occasionally picking at it like it was an alien lifeform.

hi megan! sorry for the slow reply, things have been a little hectic lately. i saw your message and honestly it kind of made my whole week lol. thank you for reaching out :)

you paused. read it again. deleted the smiley. retyped it. added a second sentence.

i’d really love to meet too if you’re ever free.

then you stared at it some more.

“this is painful,” yunjin muttered. “just hit send. what’s the worst that could happen?”

“she leaves me on read and i spontaneously combust from shame,” you said flatly.

“dramatic,” sungchan mumbled, chewing like a cow. “but valid.”

“she won’t leave you on read,” yunjin said, more gently this time. “she messaged you first. that counts for something.”

you looked down at the screen one last time. your thumb hovered over the send button. your stomach turned a slow, clumsy flip. and then, before you could second guess yourself again, you pressed it.

message sent.

you didn’t breathe for a full five seconds.

“there,” yunjin said, smug now. “look at you. being brave.”

“i already regret this,” you mumbled, locking your phone again and pushing it away like it might explode.

“do you want a cookie?” sungchan asked, peering at the dessert menu. “i feel like this moment deserves a cookie.”

you blinked at him. “why do you always want to eat after stressful emotional events?”

“because i am a man of simple needs,” he said, deadpan. “and also because cookies are comforting.”

“he’s not wrong,” yunjin said, flagging down the waiter with the kind of unearned confidence that came from growing up with three older siblings and no shame. except, she didn’t. “three chocolate chip, please. and a round of iced americanos. she’s going to need the caffeine.”

you sank back into your seat, still feeling the rush of adrenaline buzzing under your skin. outside, the rain had picked up a little, streaking the windows like silver threads. inside, everything smelled like sugar and espresso and something warm baking in the oven.

you didn’t know if megan would reply. maybe she’d be busy. maybe she’d forget. but for now, you’d done the hardest part.

you’d answered, and that felt like enough for today.

that was, at least, until your phone chimed.

the sound sliced through the moment like a needle popping a balloon. all three of you froze. your eyes shot to the screen where the notification banner was still lingering like a ghost.

megan skiendiel: that sounds perfect :) when are you free?

yunjin let out an actual gasp, loud and dramatic enough to make the table behind you glance over. sungchan dropped his fork.

“no way,” yunjin hissed, already leaning across the table to see. “no actual way. she replied that fast? is she a robot?”

you didn’t say anything. you just stared. your heart had lodged itself somewhere in your throat, beating so hard it made your ears ring. megan had replied. not just replied but enthusiastically. and with a smiley. the exact one you had almost deleted from your own message.

“hello?” sungchan waved a hand in front of your face. “earth to y/n. what did she say? is it something scandalous? are we finally getting to live vicariously through your love life?”

you shoved your phone toward them without speaking.

yunjin read the message out loud like it was a line from a sacred text. “‘that sounds perfect. when are you free.’” then she looked up at you with her mouth already forming a wicked grin. “she wants to hang out. like, actually hang out. she’s asking you out.”

“not asking me out,” you said quickly, the heat creeping up the back of your neck. “just… asking when i’m free.”

“same thing,” sungchan said, picking his fork back up and pointing it at you like it was a weapon. “in celebrity speak that is basically a confession of love. i’ve seen the charts.”

“you made those charts,” you reminded him.

“and they’re scientifically sound.”

“okay but seriously,” yunjin cut in, phone still in hand, “when are you free? do you have a day off coming up?”

you blinked, trying to force your brain back into scheduling mode. “uh… friday afternoon? maybe?”

“perfect,” she said, already typing something. “tell her friday. tell her you’re free after lunch. keep it casual. breezy. like you’re not obsessively analyzing every possible outcome of this conversation.”

you shot her a look. “i am obsessively analyzing every possible outcome of this conversation.”

“which is why you need us,” sungchan said with his mouth full of cookie. “we’re here to keep you from imploding.”

your phone buzzed again.

megan skiendiel: i’m free friday after seven. wanna grab coffee? i can send you a spot i like

you didn’t even get a chance to reply before yunjin squealed.

sungchan raised both hands to the sky. “oh my god. it’s happening. it’s actually happening.”

you stared at the message, barely breathing, heart thudding like a drum inside your chest.

coffee. with megan.

you were either about to make a new friend or absolutely ruin your entire life trying.

weirdly… you couldn’t wait to find out which.

__

friday showed up before you were ready for it.

“i feel like a dad on prom night,” sungchan said, flopped across your couch like a man waiting for judgment day. he hugged a pillow to his stomach like it might shield him from the chaos. “except hotter. and younger. and not emotionally repressed.

“you’re eating chips with your shirt inside out,”chaewon deadpanned, looking sungchan up and down judgmentally.. “you look like a walking identity crisis.”  

then she turned, peering around the corner into your bedroom.

“y/n, i can’t believe you’re finally going on a date. talk about a breakthrough.”

yunjin sat cross legged on the floor, scrolling through her phone like she wasn’t the one who casually mentioned your date in front of everyone. the very second chaewon heard, she practically chomped at the bit, begging yunjin to bring her along to watch it all unfold. to say your love life was a spectacle among your friends would be an understatement.

“for the record,” you called from your room, still getting ready, “i said no to bringing chaewon.”

“for the record,” chaewon shouted back, “we overruled you. this is a democracy.”

“it’s so not.”

you stepped out, halfway dressed, holding up two completely different tops.

“black or white?”

“ooh,” yunjin said, squinting like she was inspecting a rare museum artifact. “black is hot. white is sweet. depends on the vibe you’re going for.”

“the vibe is ‘i want to look cute but not like i tried too hard because if i think about this too long i will throw myself into traffic’.”

“black,” chaewon and sungchan said in unison.

you sighed and nodded, disappearing back into the room. the air buzzed with the sound of sungchan crunching loudly and chaewon whispering to yunjin like they were spies on a mission.

“lets make a bet. ten dollars says she has a breakdown before she even leaves the house.” chaewon whispered.

“twenty says she embarrasses herself throwing up in megan’s car.” yunjin whispered back.

“guys,” you said, poking your head out again. “i can hear you.”

“we know,” they all said at the same time.

your phone dinged again.

megan skiendiel: on my way. i’ll be at your door in a minute. also, did you know your bellhop likes our music? he almost fainted when he let me up lol

you stared at the message for two full seconds before the others caught the change in your face like wolves spotting weakness. you barely had time to blink before the room exploded.

“oh my god,” sungchan shot up from the couch like someone yelled ‘fire!’. the chip bag in his hands crinkled louder than a car alarm. “was that her? is she outside? do we hide? do we have a code word if things go sideways?”

“wait, she’s coming up here?” chaewon gasped, already rising with a dramatic flair. “this place is a disaster zone!”

“i cleaned for you people,” you hissed, throwing a pointed look at the water bottles on the coffee table and the lone sock draped suspiciously over the lamp.

“yeah, and we immediately undid all of it,” yunjin said, waving a hand at the chaos like it was a museum exhibit. “you’re welcome.”

sungchan grabbed his phone, replacing the cushion he clutched. “this is it. our little baby’s first date.”

“shut up,” you muttered, cheeks heating like you’d just been called out in front of the world. “and put that damn phone down. if i see you take even one photo, i’ll beat your ass. besides, it’s not a date.”

three pairs of eyes locked onto you in unison.

“coffee with the girl you’ve been thinking about nonstop for two weeks,” chaewon said, crossing her arms with the confidence of a daytime talk show host.

“wearing the ‘hot top’, nervous enough to sweat through your socks,” yunjin added, giving you an appraising look.

“with three unpaid emotional support staff waiting at home,” sungchan finished, voice thick with mock solemnity.

your gaze snapped back and forth between the three of them, and you cringed inwardly. okay, they were right. this was definitely a date.

then, knock knock knock.

you froze for a second, heart thudding so loud you were sure they could hear it in the next room. you opened the door, and there she was.

megan stood on the other side like a vision in the hallway light, hair catching the glow just right, a smile that was equal parts warm and mischievous.

behind you, the trio froze mid-move like they’d just been caught doing something they definitely shouldn’t. they exchanged shiteating grins that barely hid how badly they were eavesdropping. yunjin quickly pulled out her phone like she was suddenly very interested in something, but her eyes kept darting toward the door. chaewon leaned against the wall, looking way too relaxed for someone who was clearly dying to say something, and sungchan sprawled on the couch with the kind of lazy cool that screamed i’m totally innocent. when megan’s eyes flicked over to them, they all waved with big, overly casual smiles like innocent bystanders who just happened to be hanging out, except no one was buying it.

but then megan’s eyes locked onto yours and suddenly everything else around you faded into the background. your breath hitched without warning and your brain scrambled like it was trying to process a beautiful glitch in reality.

you’d only ever seen her through a screen before. live streams where she smiled like the sun was just for her, short clips where she moved with effortless grace, and that one quick instagram deep dive you’d done when she messaged you. but now, here she was in real life, and she was something else entirely.

her skin caught the soft light of your penthouse, glowing like it had its own quiet radiance. her eyes were bigger and deeper than you expected, dark and shimmering like they held a secret you wanted to know. the way her hair fell in loose waves around her face softened her sharp cheekbones and made her look both fierce and kind at the same time.

she wasn’t just pretty. she was the kind of stunning that made you forget words and wish you could rewind the moment just to stare a little longer. standing there, frozen with your mouth slightly open, you realized this was the first time you were seeing her. not a filtered version, not a quick snapshot. but the real her. and it was breathtaking.

“hi,” megan said, and the word came out with a lopsided grin that cracked through the tension in your chest like sunlight through a fogged-up window. her voice was warm, lilting, a little too casual for someone who had just walked in looking like a daydream in denim baggy jeans and a bomber jacket. she rocked slightly on her heels and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, like she was fighting the urge to do a small nervous dance.

“hi,” you replied, except it sounded more like a squeak than anything human. your throat betrayed you. of course it did.

then her eyes flicked over your shoulder, and that grin stretched even wider.

“hey guys!” she waved, cheerful like she’d just walked into a party of old friends instead of three people very poorly pretending to mind their own business. “love the casual surveillance vibe you’ve got going on in here.”

“we’re chill,” sungchan said, lounging so awkwardly on the couch he almost slid off it. 

“so chill,” chaewon added, nodding solemnly from her place at the wall, where she’d become one with a houseplant.

“this is how we always sit,” yunjin said, phone upside down in her hand, gaze glued directly to megan’s face. “completely normal. zero eavesdropping. you can’t prove otherwise.”

megan let out a laugh, scrunching her nose as she looked back at you. “your friends are amazing.”

“they’re something,” you muttered, grabbing your bag before your legs could decide to walk without you.

“so,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck and bouncing slightly on her toes. “you ready? or do you need a few more minutes to, like, peel them off the furniture?”

you gave a quiet laugh, trying not to show that your hands were already clammy. “nope. ready.”

megan smiled again. softer this time. like she was seeing you for real. “cool. let’s go, then.”

and with that, you stepped out into whatever this was going to be, your heart doing cartwheels the entire way.

‎ 

truthfully, megan’s car wasn’t what you’d expected. some part of you, the part still convinced the universe had a twisted sense of humor, had pictured something absurd. maybe a crop duster or even the rusty tow truck from cars. something loud. chaotic. entirely un-date-like. instead, it was a sleek black suv. understated but sharp, just like her.

from the passenger seat, you couldn’t help sneaking glances. megan’s focus was fixed on the road, her jaw tense, her hands gripping the wheel like she was bracing for impact.

“you look nervous,” you said, a little too gently.

“o-oh, well. you know.” her voice cracked slightly as she coughed into her shoulder, eyes flicking toward you before immediately darting back to the windshield. she gave you a crooked grin, brief and almost sheepish. “i am. honestly, i feel like i’m going to vomit.”

you laughed before you could help it. light, surprised. “vomit? that’s dramatic.”

“i mean, maybe,” she said, her eyes narrowing playfully for half a second before softening again. “it’s just… i didn’t expect to actually be here. with you. not in a bad way. in a surreal way.”

you felt the flush creep across your cheeks before you even registered it, a warmth that pooled somewhere in your chest. still, you tilted your head toward her, teasing. “i can’t tell if you mean that as a compliment or not.”

megan practically panicked. “no! no, no no, not at all. god, please, that’s the silliest thing i’ve ever heard.” her words came out too fast, tripping over themselves. she shook her head like it would help untangle the knot in her thoughts. “i’m just nervous, okay? i keep overthinking it. like, what if i say something dumb, or do something weird, or—”

her voice dropped slightly, and she added, almost under her breath, “you’re so pretty i can’t think straight.”

then she froze, eyes widening as if realizing she’d said it out loud. her face goes red, a grimace pulling across her lips. she lifts a hand off the wheel to gently facepalm herself, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “please ignore me. i’m begging,”

you could only watch. you don’t know when the fond grin crossed your lips. when your heart skipped a beat, when her endearing clumsiness had you relaxing in your seat. perhaps knowing that she was just as, if not more, nervous as you made you feel relieved. after a beat, you laughed. soft. her eyes lit up as she glanced at you from her peripheral, the short noise drawing her from her thoughts.

“you’re fine,” you said, quiet but real. “i’ve been looking forward to tonight too.”

“really?”

“yeah. do you think i’d let my friends invade my house all week just for fun? they’ve been insufferable, harassing me all week. i guess i maybe haven’t made it all that secret that i’ve been interested in you for a while.” then you shake your head. “interested in meeting, that is.”

this time it was megan’s turn to crack a stupid grin.

whatever nerves you felt immediately disappeared the longer you talked to each other. truth be told, you were worried whether you’d get along as well as you hoped you would. part of you worried that once you saw each other, it’d be awkward. quiet. instead megan somehow managed to fill the silence with conversation. she asked about your family, about your day, about your friends. in turn you asked about hers.

she laughed at something you said. not even something that funny, really, just a small comment about the gas station snacks you liked. but the way she laughed, like she meant it, like she wasn’t just being polite, made your chest feel lighter. her voice filled the car, soft but certain, and the road hummed under the tires like it was part of the conversation.

you glanced over at her. she was driving with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift. her thumb tapped along to the music playing low through the speakers. some indie band neither of you had heard before but had both agreed sounded “pretty good.” it was easy. easier than you expected.

you didn’t have to think too hard before speaking. there was no second guessing. no awkward pauses that made you reach for your phone or pretend to check the map. she asked about the book in your bag and you told her it was something you started three times but never finished. she admitted she did that too, more often than she’d like to admit. you both laughed again.

the sky outside started to shift, the blue softening into a hazy gold. you weren’t sure how long you’d been driving, only that time felt different in the car with her. stretched out. slowed down. kinder.

it didn’t take long for her to park outside a cafe, but neither of you moved to get out. instead, you agreed to order to go. that’s how you ended up here. still in her car, windows slightly cracked, the warm scent of coffee filling the space between you. your drink sat snug in the cupholder, hands curled around it for warmth, and a half-eaten bagel rested in your lap. just outside the windshield, the lights of seoul shimmered across the han river, soft and golden against the night.

she didn’t seem in any rush to leave, and neither were you.

after a long sip of coffee, the next question came out without much thought.

“how long are you in korea for this time?”

“another week, give or take,” she said, eyes flicking to the skyline, like she was already counting down.

“do you miss home?”

“i do. yeah. i miss my car, mostly. it’s my baby. a bmw m3.”

you looked at her, eyebrows raised. “whoever handed you the keys to a sports car must have had a serious lapse in judgment. you drive this suv like you’ve got a personal vendetta against the speed limit.”

she let out a laugh, head tipping back slightly. “what can i say? i like to go fast.”

“sure. until we’re airborne.”

“oh, come on,” she grinned. “you weren’t complaining when you were riding shotgun, all cozy and content, full-on passenger princess mode.”

you rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “i was holding onto the door for dear life.”

“you were vibing,” she said.

“i was surviving,” you shot back, but it was playful, light.

the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. it was the kind that settled easy between two people who’d already found a rhythm.

megan reached for her own cup, nearly knocking over the paper bag between you in the process. the bagel inside gave a sad little flop onto the console. she froze.

“whoops. that was... not smooth.”

you laughed, nudging the bag gently back toward her. “you’re a menace behind the wheel and a danger to pastries. noted.”

she gave you a sheepish smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “yeah, i’m really killing it tonight, huh?”

“actually,” you said, voice a little softer, “i’ve had a really nice time.”

she blinked at you, surprised. “yeah?”

you nodded, looking out toward the river before meeting her eyes again. “i was kinda nervous. not because of you, just... sometimes people are different in person. it doesn’t always click.”

megan was quiet for a second, then gave a small, crooked smile. “i was worried about that too. i overthink everything. i even tried to pick a good playlist just in case the conversation died and we needed... filler noise or something.”

you laughed. “is that why i’ve been listening to three hours of sad indie girls?”

“they’re emotionally articulate,” she said, pretending to be offended, but her grin gave her away. “besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

you leaned back against the seat, stretching your legs out a bit. “yeah. it really did.”

the city lights danced in her eyes when she looked at you, soft and a little uncertain, but there was warmth there too. the kind that made the car feel smaller, safer.

“you’re easy to talk to,” she said after a moment, quieter than before.

you smiled, heart tugging just slightly at her honesty. “so are you.”

a comfortable silence settled again, the kind where neither of you felt the need to fill it. the engine ticked softly as it cooled, and in the background, another melancholic song hummed through the speakers.

“i was gonna try and act all chill and collected,” megan said eventually, gaze fixed on the skyline. “but then i fumbled, almost crashed into that curb, and now my bagel is probably in pieces.”

“you’re doing great,” you said, trying not to smile too much. “like, truly elite first impression.”

she turned to face you, eyes bright despite the dim light. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

and just like that, the nerves that had once lingered in the corners of your chest felt like a distant memory.

__

after that night in the car, things shifted. not in a big, dramatic way. no sudden declarations, no fireworks. just small things. steadier things.

your conversations moved from instagram dms to real texts. it felt natural. seamless. one day she asked for your number like it wasn’t a big deal, like she hadn’t already been in your head more than you cared to admit. and you gave it without hesitation, like it wasn’t a risk. like you already knew she’d treat it right.

when she left korea, it was quiet. no big goodbye, no emotional scene. she texted you from the airport, a blurry photo of her and a coffee she swore was going to keep her awake through the flight. from there, the messages kept going. even with the time difference, she found time to talk. random updates. sleepy selfies. voice notes with a little static in the background because she always seemed to be walking somewhere, or in a van, or waiting backstage. sometimes she’d send a song with no context. sometimes just a “this reminded me of you” followed by a meme that made absolutely no sense.

you talked about everything and nothing. the shows she was doing. the tiny hotel rooms she was crashing in. how much she missed sophia’s dog, chanel. how lara had started sleep talking again. how yoonchae had near cried when she had to say goodbye to her parents again when they returned to california.

you told her about your week, the upcoming film you’re wrapping up shooting, your friends, the late-night ramen run that ended in rain and ruined shoes.

some nights, the conversations lasted until one of you fell asleep mid-text. other nights, it was just a good morning or goodnight, quick but never careless.

somehow, she made the space between you feel smaller.

it didn’t take long for others to start noticing your budding friendship, either. 

if there was one thing you should know about megan skiendiel, it’s that she’s stubborn. fiercely so. once she feels something, she clings to it with both hands. no disguises, no apologies. she doesn’t know how to be subtle and doesn’t try to be. her heart shows up before she even walks into the room.

and lately, her heart had a habit of mentioning you. probably more than it should have.

the first time was during a casual sit-down with a popular youtuber. the question had been harmless enough.  “did you meet anyone interesting in korea?” 

megan didn’t even blink before your name tumbled out of her mouth.

behind her, manon practically doubled over laughing while lara muttered something about “bad timing” and “inside jokes.” the clip went viral within the hour.

eyekons weren’t buying the act. they knew.

especially after that solo live.

‎ 

megan sank into the couch with a sigh, stretching her legs over the coffee table as she adjusted her phone. It’d been a long day. dance practice ran overtime, vocal lessons left her voice raw, and all she wanted was to collapse into bed. but she had promised her fans a live, and the guilt of leaving them waiting weighed heavily on her.

she brushed  her hair back as the screen flickered to life. a wave of comments flooded in immediately, the chat scrolling too fast to keep up.

she smiled, a familiar warmth settling into her voice. "hi, everyone. It's been a while, huh?"

the dorm was quieter than usual. yoonchae and daniela were still at the studio, finishing up some recording. lara, sophia and manon were off doing who knows what. 

megan answered questions between sips of water, laughing as fans teased her. she talked about her love for food, and her habit of getting lost in airports. the conversation was easy, natural. she talked about practice, her favorite songs lately, and the games she'd been playing. it felt comfortable, like a casual late night talk with friends.

then, suddenly, the energy shifted. the comments exploded into chaos. fans were spamming messages faster than she had ever seen before.

"wait, what's happening?" she mumbled, eyes flicking over the chat, trying to make sense of the flood of messages.

then she saw it. a single line of text that had a dumb grin permanently etching itself across her face. 

y/n:  have you ate today? you look so cute with those glasses on! 

her eyes scanned the screen again just to make sure she hadn’t imagined it. but no. it was still there. your name. your message.

she dropped her hands into her lap and beamed, full teeth, no restraint. her cheeks were already tinged pink, and now they burned. she didn’t care.

“hi, y/n,” she said, voice soft but electric. “you’re really here, huh?”

the chat lost its mind. it was like someone had thrown gasoline on a bonfire. hearts, exclamation marks. 

megan didn’t even try to hide it.

“i wasn’t expecting that,” she said, practically bouncing in place now. “like, i thought maybe you’d be busy or… i don’t know, being famous and cool and doing actor things.”

she laughed a short, nervous little burst,  then leaned closer to the screen, like it might bring her to you.

“i did eat, by the way. i wasn’t gonna wear the glasses, but my eyes were tired and they help with the light. but… i’m glad you think they look nice.”

it wasn’t subtle. none of it was subtle.

she was glowing. lit from the inside out with the kind of joy that couldn’t be faked. and even though thousands of fans were watching, even though the chat was an overwhelming blur of reactions and chaos.  for that brief moment, it was like no one else existed. no one but you. 

‎ 

the third, perhaps most notorious time, was two weeks later.

‎ 

it was meant to be a harmless segment. a fluff piece for some new cosmopolitan youtube show. the kind with silly games and awkward dares and an entire soundboard dedicated to exaggerated gasps. katseye had been invited to promote their upcoming showcase, and the host had them lined up in pairs, facing each other in a game of “who knows who better.”

megan had been paired with sophia, which was dangerous from the start. the two had a history of throwing each other under the bus for the sake of comedy, and neither had a filter to speak of.

“okay, last round,” the host grinned, holding up a cue card. “this one’s just for fun. megan, sophia — name one person your partner talks about way too much.”

“oh no,” sophia said instantly, already grinning like the cat who got the cream.

megan groaned, head falling back dramatically. “don’t do this to me.”

“i have no choice,” sophia replied solemnly. “i’m under oath.”

the buzzer sounded and both girls scribbled their answers down on whiteboards. megan wrote slowly, trying to be clever, trying to think of a joke that would dodge the obvious. but when the timer buzzed again, she sighed and held it up.

so did sophia.

your name. in big, bold letters. twice.

the studio burst into laughter, and the host clutched his chest like he’d just witnessed the reveal of the century.

“wow,” he said, eyes flicking between the two of them. “not even a hesitation.”

“because it’s true,” sophia said, smug. “she’s in her ‘y/n era.’ we’re just living in it.”

megan was pink from ear to ear, trying — and failing — to hide behind her board. “that’s not true. okay, maybe a little true.”

“a little?” manon called from off-camera. “girl, you made us watch one of her movies three nights in a row.”

“it was for the plot,” megan shot back.

“uh-huh,” daniela deadpanned. “plot named y/n.”

the clip made the rounds before the show even finished airing. fancams popped up with captions like “megan being the president of y/n’s fan club for six minutes straight” and the internet did what it does best. spiral.

‎ 

through it all, megan didn’t deny a thing.

she couldn’t. not when her whole face lit up like a summer skyline every time your name came up. not when her bandmates had stopped teasing and started treating your existence as something inevitable, like the rising sun or the way manon always stole everyone’s chargers.

 by then, you weren’t just someone she mentioned.

in an industry known for silence, for secrecy and statements about “valuing privacy,” hybe was practically rolling out a red carpet. in korea, relationships in the spotlight were often treated like scandals waiting to happen. but the western fans? they were eating it up. every clipped interview, every suspiciously timed instagram like, every passing mention of your name on a live. it was all free press, and hybe knew it.

so they leaned in. quietly, strategically. no denials. no damage control. just subtle nudges that said, yeah, keep watching.

and it was driving her crazy. 

__

you weren’t exactly sure when it happened. when the feeling settled in your chest and decided to stay. maybe it had been there all along, hiding underneath the comfort of familiarity and the ease of your friendship. or maybe it grew slowly, in the quiet moments you never thought to mark.

it could’ve been during the weeks she was gone, promoting outside of korea. the distance was supposed to make things simpler. safer. but instead, it just made her absence louder. knowing you were still the first person she messaged in the morning and the last one she talked to before sleep made your chest ache in a way you didn’t have a name for yet.

or maybe it was that one night, the one where you called her just to vent about a costar who had spent the entire day getting under your skin. you were halfway through a breathless rant when you noticed it. the way she was watching you through the screen. how she wasn’t just nodding politely or checking her phone or letting her attention drift. she was listening. really listening. her eyes softened when you got frustrated, lit up when you said something funny. when your voice cracked just a little from tiredness, she didn’t interrupt. she just stayed with you. present and still. like holding space for you was the most natural thing in the world.

and somewhere in all of that, it hit you.

you were in love with megan skiendiel. painfully. undeniably. fully.

at first, you were terrified. quietly, achingly scared. because what were you supposed to do with a feeling like this? loving megan had crept up on you, soft and slow, the way a sunset slips past the horizon before you even realize it’s gone. and now that it was here, fully formed and impossible to ignore, you didn’t know how to carry it.

megan had become a constant. someone who felt less like a friend and more like a fixture. someone you could turn to at any hour, knowing she’d listen without judgment, laugh at your bad jokes, sit in silence if that’s what you needed. she never made you feel like too much or not enough. she just saw you. and the last thing you wanted was to ruin something that good with feelings you didn’t know how to manage.

so you kept it quiet. buried it under casual texts and late-night calls. told yourself it wasn’t the right time. told yourself maybe it didn’t need to be said at all.

but then the girls were coming back to korea. six months had passed since their last visit, and the moment megan found out they’d be landing soon, she called you. not texted. not waited. called.

you’d picked up on the first ring.

and now, you were standing at your front door, fingers still curled around the handle, staring at the very girl who had been living rent-free in your head for months.

before you could even speak, megan threw her arms around you. the force of it almost knocked you back a step. her dark brown hair smelled like travel and lavender shampoo and something unmistakably her. she held you like she’d been counting down the days to this moment. like she’d been holding her breath all the way across oceans and could finally breathe again now that she was here.

her arms were warm and tight around you, her face tucked into the crook of your neck. for a few seconds, neither of you said anything. and for the first time in weeks, your heart didn’t feel so loud.

“you smell different,” megan mumbled, voice muffled against your shoulder.

you blinked, startled. “um. thanks?”

she pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands still resting on your waist. “not bad different. just… like laundry detergent and success.”

you snorted. “you’ve been on korean air for fifteen hours and that’s what you open with?”

“i missed you too,” she said, and there was no hesitation in it. no theatrics. just honesty, plain and easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world to say.

you felt the corners of your mouth twitch, trying hard not to smile like a complete idiot. “i figured. what with the fifteen missed calls.”

“okay, first of all,” she said, stepping fully into the apartment now, shrugging off her jacket, “ten of those were because i forgot the time difference and thought you were ghosting me.”

“you forgot the time difference?” you repeated, crossing your arms with a skeptical look.

megan turned around, eyes wide and unconvincing. “yes?”

you stared.

she caved. “no. i panicked. sue me.”

you closed the door behind her, shaking your head. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you like it,” she said without missing a beat, flopping dramatically onto your couch.

you didn’t deny it. instead, you walked over and stood behind the couch, arms draped loosely over the back as you looked down at her.

“so what’s the plan now that you’re back?” you asked.

megan grinned, tossing her head back to look up at you. “coffee. your favorite ramen place. a movie i’ll definitely talk through. and if you’re really lucky, maybe i’ll even let you win at mario kart.”

“bold of you to assume you’d be letting me win,” you said.

“bold of you to think you could beat me,” she fired back, eyes sparkling.

you met her gaze, heart stuttering, voice softer now. “i’m really glad you’re here.”

her grin faltered just a bit, and something gentler settled into her expression. “me too,” she said. “more than you know.”

for a moment you just stared at her, the moment truly settling in. you really did miss her. texting and phone calls were one thing, but seeing her in person was another. her goofy smile, the way she locked in like she didn’t just drop the funniest bomb known to mankind, the way she laughed as if she didn’t care who was watching. she was just one girl and yet, she consumed the space so beautifully without even knowing. 

you almost did it then. almost opened your mouth and let the words tumble out. but you didn’t. instead you settled on a small smile. 

you were about to ask megan if she wanted water when your phone buzzed against the counter. you didn’t need to look to know who it was. you’d spent the entire night before (and entire day honestly) lighting up your text chain with yunjin. sure enough, when you unlocked your screen and peered down, there she was. 

yunjin [7:13pm]: is she there yet or did she ghost you after all that build-up

yunjin [7:13pm]: respond right now or else i’ll think you confessed and blacked out from emotional overload. 

you rolled your eyes and typed back quickly with one hand while grabbing two glasses with the other.

you [7:14pm]: she’s here. no blackouts. yet.

yunjin [7:14pm]: yet???  i’m counting the minutes. btw u should ask her to come to the party tn. i think sungchan wanted to introduce u to someone too, so ur contractually obligated to show up. 

the idea of sungchan wanting to introduce you to someone made your blood run cold. the last time that happened, you ended up stuck in a corner with shindong rambling about crypto, diet tips, and the “glory days” of SM for thirty painfully long minutes.

still, you swallowed the groan bubbling up in your throat and slipped your phone into your pocket before yunjin could fire off something even more unhinged. when you turned back toward the living room, megan had curled herself sideways into the couch, one leg dangling off the edge, her head tilted back like she was trying to make sense of the ceiling tiles.

“was that yunjin?” she asked, grinning like she already knew the answer.

“unfortunately.”

“what’d she say? wait, don’t tell me. something dramatic, slightly invasive, and definitely teasing.”

you handed her a glass of water with a dry look. “spot on. she wants to know if you’re real or just a figment of my imagination.”

megan raised an eyebrow. “and what did you tell her?”

“that you’re here.” you smirked. “look at miss nosey over here.”

she raised both hands in mock surrender, barely hiding her smile. “hey, what can I say? i’m working on a phd for not being able to mind my own damn business.”

you laughed, shaking your head. the kind of laugh that came easily around her. and then, remembering the rest of yunjin’s message, you leaned your weight against the back of the couch, fingers tapping idly on the cushions.

“she’s throwing a party tonight,” you said. “something about celebrating a new album drop. you should come. bring the girls.”

megan sat up a little straighter, sipping her water with the kind of dramatic flair that made you snort. “a party? are there going to be snacks?”

“probably.”

“alright, i’m in. but only if there are snacks and minimal small talk. and maybe karaoke.”

“so you want snacks, bad lighting, and a mic. noted.”

“see, you get me.” she beamed, already reaching for her phone. “i’ll text the girls. we’ll make it a proper entrance.”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. your heart was too full for your own good. “god help us all.”

__

the drive over was chaotic in the way only megan’s presence could make it. she’d managed to wrangle sophia and daniela into coming, predictably the two most likely to say yes to the word “party” before even hearing the rest of the sentence. manon and lara had tapped out almost immediately. yoonchae hadn’t even bothered pretending she was considering it.

megan drove, one hand lazily on the wheel, the other dancing over the radio dial every five seconds. you sat in the front passenger seat, watching her in the glow of passing streetlights.

sophia leaned forward from the back. “so, y/n,” she started, voice thick with mischief, “how’s it feel being megan’s favorite girl?”

“sophia,” megan warned without looking away from the road.

daniela snorted, flinging a gummy at the back of megan’s head. “what? it’s true. we’ve heard more about y/n in the last six months than we have about anyone else.” then she turned to you, leaning forward besides sophia. “i was starting to think she made you up.”

“my god, you guys are worse than lara and manon.” megan muttered, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. she glanced at you, caught the smile playing on your lips, and groaned. “you’re both so annoying.”

“say you love her and we’ll shut up,” daniela sang from the backseat.

“i will crash this car,” megan said flatly, but her ears were pink.

you turned in your seat, raising an eyebrow at the two girls behind you. “this what you do on every drive?”

“only when the company’s good,” sophia grinned.

by the time you walked up to the le sserafim dorm, the music could already be heard before you even reached the front door. the air outside buzzed with voices and laughter. 

you barely had time to step over the threshold before you heard it. 

“there she is!”

yunjin materialized out of the crowd like she owned the place. which, sure, she basically did. it was her party afterall.  she practically skipped the last few steps toward you. before you could get a word in, she grabbed your hand, pulled you into a hug that was half tackle, half dance spin, and leaned back to look you over. “hi, hello, love you, you look disgustingly hot—don’t even try to run, i’ve got plans for us tonight.”

you barely had time to laugh before she clocked the girls behind you. “megan!” she called, eyes lighting up as she pulled you into the house. “and you brought the fun ones! hi, sophia. hi, daniela.”

“you act like we don’t always show up,” sophia said with a grin, accepting the hug yunjin offered.

“it’s not a real party unless daniela’s threatening to outdrink everyone,” yunjin replied.

“not a threat if it’s true,” daniela said, winking.

megan held up her hands in mock surrender. “i told them to behave.”

“why would you do that?” yunjin laughed. “no, i want full chaos tonight. come find me later, i’m kidnapping y/n for a minute.”

you looked back at megan just as yunjin tugged you into the crowd, her hand firm in yours. megan simply grinned, the light catching her face just enough to make your heart skip.

and then the music swallowed you whole.

some part of you couldn’t help but feel a little bit annoyed. truth be told, you’d have rathered been home with megan. caught up on lost time and put on a movie. maybe stepbrothers, because you know it’s one of her favorites from one of your many late night conversations. 

instead, you were here. loud music, dim lights, and the kind of packed crowd that made it hard to think. it wasn’t awful. yunjin’s parties never were. her friends were warm and welcoming, even if chaewon had greeted you with a smug “so where’s megan?” the second you walked in. but still, your eyes kept drifting.

you caught sight of her across the room, laughing at something sophia said, a hand tucked into the pocket of her baggy jeans. daniela was already halfway into a dance battle with some guy in a bucket hat. megan wasn’t doing anything extraordinary. she was just… being. but somehow, that was enough to pull your gaze every time.

you tried to focus on the conversation happening around you. tried to lean into the easy rhythm of old friends and new music. but your mind had already wandered. back to the idea of megan beside you on the couch. back to her laugh. back to the quiet. back to her. always her.

eventually you took a step back when the cup yunjin shoved into your hands was getting empty. 

“gonna get a refill.” you shouted lamely over the music. you didn’t wait for her to respond before you were stalking your way to the kitchen. 

it was in that space you were able to truly look around. you didn’t miss the curious glances shot your way, no, that would’ve been impossible. it felt incredibly vain to acknowledge that you were an idols idol, but you knew. 

you were halfway refilling your cup with some kind of soju concoction when a voice cut through the air. 

“y/n!”

you looked up and immediately locked eyes with a familiar pair of browns. a tall, handsome figure weaved through the crowd toward you, his shaggy brown hair falling into his eyes just enough to make him look like he hadn’t planned a single part of his night. sungchan grinned, all coy charm and childish mischief. you groaned the second he pulled you into a rough side hug, the unmistakable scent of alcohol clinging to his clothes like cologne. still, your arms came up automatically, returning the hug without a second thought. for all his nonsense, sungchan had always been a good friend.

“i want to introduce you to someone.”

you turned just as sungchan stepped aside, and there she was. karina.

you had never met her in person before, but you might as well have. her face was everywhere. it lit up across high-rise billboards in gangnam, looping through luxury brand ads on the subway monitors, popping up on your explore page whenever you so much as breathed near the fashion or idol tag. you remembered the way jaewook had bragged about her back on set a year ago when the dispatch article dropped. he had shown his phone to his costar like it was breaking news, grinning like he had just won something. you had rolled your eyes, walked off to get coffee, and told yourself it wasn’t your business. it wasn’t, until now.

karina was even more stunning in person. her beauty wasn’t the kind that made a scene or demanded attention. it just existed, like it belonged there. her gaze met yours and stayed, unwavering.

it wasn’t rude, or even intense in a threatening way. just… focused. present. like she wasn’t just seeing you but actually registering you.

you were suddenly very aware of your posture, your hands, your everything.

“it’s so nice to meet you!” she called over the music, her voice warm and clear even with the bass thudding through the walls. she stepped just a little closer, enough that you could hear her without leaning in. “i love your stuff. seriously. i’ve been asking sungchan to introduce us for ages, but he’s always chickened out at the last second.”

sungchan made a wounded noise, hand over his chest like she’d just stabbed him, but before he could fire back, wonbin came stumbling past, arm slung around his neck with all the grace of a wrecking ball. they disappeared into the crowd in a tangle of laughter and chaos.

you rolled your eyes and turned back to karina, only to find that her gaze hadn’t left you once. her eyes held yours with that same calm, curious steadiness, like she wasn’t in a packed party but somewhere quieter. somewhere smaller.

you offered a small smile. “likewise. though to be fair, i think he just gets intimidated around pretty girls.”

her lips curved. “pretty, huh?”

you blinked, brain catching up three seconds too late. “oh god, sorry. i don’t know why i said that. yunjin handed me a cup earlier and i don’t even know what was in it. she could’ve poisoned me for all i know.”

karina laughed, the sound easy and low. “knowing her, it’s probably something criminal. you’ll wake up with a hangover and a new life philosophy.”

you laughed too, but it faltered slightly when she leaned in, just enough for her shoulder to brush against yours. it was nothing, a light touch, but it grounded you instantly.

“don’t worry,” she said, voice softer now, “i think you’re pretty too.”

your heart stuttered.

you opened your mouth, but whatever you meant to say vanished the second her smile deepened.

“not to be dramatic or anything,” karina said, lifting her cup for a slow, nonchalant sip, “but i think we’re being watched.”

you blinked. “watched?”

“mhm. i can feel her eyes burning holes into the back of my head. like a laser pointer. i’m actually a little afraid to turn around.”

you tilted your head, letting your eyes scan the room until you found her. megan, standing across the floor. at some point sophia had shoved her cup into megan’s hands and joined daniela on the dance floor. the chinese girl clutched the cup in both hands like it might leap out of them if she didn’t keep a death grip on it. her expression was neutral, but her stare? not subtle.

you cleared your throat. “who, megan? no, no, she’s—”

“look at the way she’s holding that cup,” karina cut in, a grin already pulling at her lips. “you’d think she just watched the most annoying man on earth walk in and ruin everyone’s mood.”

you huffed. “reminds me of a certain six-foot-something actor with a god complex.”

karina snorted, her eyes flashing with recognition before she laughed for real this time, head tipping back for just a second. she knew who you were talking about almost immediately. the one man you had in common besides sungchan happened to be her very tall (very annoying) ex. 

“right. i forgot you know jaewook.”

you raised an eyebrow. “unfortunately.”

“hey,” she said, still grinning. “he’s not that bad. underneath all the bravado he’s actually kind of sweet.”

“sure, you don’t need to convince me.”  you shrugged, completely deadpan. “if the dick’s bomb, it’s bomb.”

karina choked, hand flying to your shoulder as she doubled over in disbelief. she was laughing harder than before, and you felt a little thrill run down your spine at the sound of it.

when she straightened up again, she wiped at her eye and shook her head. “you’re going to wake up tomorrow and regret ever opening your mouth.”

“without a doubt,” you said, already sipping to forget.

“i think i want some of what you’re having,” karina said, eyes glittering with mischief as she swirled the liquid in her cup. “it’s my cue to go find the woman of the hour. but before i do…”

she leaned in, slower this time. you thought she was going to say something else right away, but then her mouth dipped lower, her breath warm as it ghosted the curve of your jaw. you stiffened in surprise, the proximity making your pulse stumble. her lips came dangerously close to your ear, just barely brushing your skin when she spoke.

“that girl. megan.” her voice dropped to something sly and sweet. “she wants you. it’s written all over her face. she hasn’t stopped staring since i walked over. so how about you use some of that liquid courage and do something about it?”

your breath caught, cheeks burning with the kind of heat no drink could explain. karina pulled away just as slowly, and her smile was soft but wicked. it said a hundred things at once. 

 i’m glad we met, good luck out there, don’t screw this up.

then she was gone, slipping into the crowd like she had always belonged to it. her red solo cup bobbed above the sea of people as she drifted toward the corner where yunjin and chaewon were doubled over in laughter.

you didn’t even have time to process it before someone else stepped into her place.

megan.

her arm brushed yours, then stayed there, her hand wrapping gently around the bend of your elbow. she was close. so close. close enough that you could smell the perfume on her skin,  something cool and soft, mint layered with warm vanilla. it hit you all at once that it was yours. a bottle that had disappeared from your vanity six months ago before katseye left korea. and now here it was, clinging to her in the most dizzying way.

your body flushed with heat that had nothing to do with the music or the alcohol. your eyes traveled up, taking in the sheen of sweat along her collarbones and the way her skin glowed under the lights. her crop top clung to her in all the right places, her stomach taut from dancing. you could still see the echo of her movement in the way her breath rose and fell, chest barely brushing yours.

you finally looked at her face again. she was already staring.

her eyes were darker than you remembered, shadowed and unreadable, fixed on you with something that felt like pressure and want and restraint all tangled up into one look. her lips were drawn in a line, neither smiling nor frowning, but firm with intent.

the air between you thinned.

you weren’t sure who would speak first. or if either of you had to. not with the way the tension folded in and around you like the bass from the speakers. not with the way her fingers curled just slightly against your arm, like she wasn’t ready to let go.

“oh. hey. you doing okay?” you asked, voice raised slightly over the music pulsing around you.

megan didn’t answer right away. her eyes stayed locked on yours for a beat too long, and just when you thought she might finally say something, her gaze dropped. slow and deliberate. it traced the line of your jaw and landed just beneath your ear. her expression shifted. something flickered across her face, subtle but sharp. a furrow of her brow that sent a wave of nerves crashing down your spine.

before you could speak again, she brought her thumb to her lips and wet it. then, without hesitation, she reached forward and pressed that same thumb to your neck. her touch was warm, careful. a soft swipe against your skin.

your breath caught.

“she left lipstick on you,” she murmured, quiet but clear enough to cut through the noise.

your hand shot up on instinct, palm flattening over the spot just beneath your ear. you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, blood rushing too fast under your skin.

“o-oh. yeah. was an accident,” you stammered, the words clumsy as they left your mouth.

megan didn’t respond right away. she just hummed.  low, unreadable. then her hand slid down from your elbow, fingers grazing your forearm like she couldn’t quite decide if she wanted to hold on or let go. eventually she settled, her grip tightening just enough that you felt the weight of it. like an anchor. like a warning. like something unspoken passing between the two of you that neither of you had the guts to name.

not yet, anyway.

for a long second, she just stood there, saying nothing. she didn’t blink, didn’t move. only stared.

you shifted on your feet. “did… did i do something wrong?”

her voice was steady, but low. “let me drive you home.”

you blinked. “oh. okay.” it came out softer than you meant, a whisper carried easily between you. she heard it all the same.

‎ 

you weren’t sure how much time passed between then and now. one moment you were alone in the kitchen of yunjin’s dorm, the next megan was muttering something to sophia and daniela under her breath,  a rushed string of syllables that made them blink once, twice, and nod. she grabbed your hand without waiting for an answer and pulled you toward the door. you felt the weight of every pair of eyes that followed you on your way out. yunjin’s brow arched with thinly veiled amusement. sungchan mouthed something that looked suspiciously like “what did you do.” and karina… she didn’t say a word. she just winked.

now you were in the passenger seat of megan’s car, the inside dim and quiet save for the faint hum of the engine and the soft patter of rain beginning to hit the windshield. your buzz had all but faded, replaced by something heavier, something laced with nerves. megan’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. the jaw that was so often relaxed with laughter and teasing was now set and stiff.

you turned to face her fully. “megan. what’s going on with you?”

she didn’t look at you. her gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead as if it held all the answers she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud.

“when did you and karina get so close?” she asked, too casual to be convincing.

you tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “are you jealous?”

there was a beat of silence. then she scoffed. 

“no!…. yes. fuck, y/n, i don’t know. i don’t know what i feel. all i know is that seeing her in your space like that just— it just drives me crazy.”

the car hummed beneath you, megan’s hands gripping the wheel like she was holding onto something more fragile than the leather beneath her fingers. she floored it the moment she pulled onto the main road. fast, reckless as always. the first time you rode passenger princess in her car, you practically grabbed onto the seat for dear life. except tonight, you didn’t even mind. you couldn’t look away. her jaw clenched tight, the faint pulse at her temple a rhythm you felt in your own chest.

the car sped down the dimly lit road of your penthouse’s underground parking, tires echoing against concrete walls. megan didn’t slow until she pulled into a quiet corner, the only sound the engine’s low hum. just the two of you now.

her jaw was tight, eyes sharp. “karina,” she spat, voice low and rough. “she was all in your space like she owns it.”

you met her glare, feeling the heat rising between you. “megan, i just met her.”

 her hand clenched the steering wheel so hard her knuckles went white.

“yeah, well, she sure didn’t act like it,” megan bit out. “in your ear, touching your arm like you’ve been hers for years. you think i didn’t see the way she looked at you?”

you blinked at her, pulse quickening. “why does it even matter?”

megan turned to you then, full body, her eyes blazing. “because it does. because you’re not just some friend i joke around with anymore, y/n.”

the silence that followed was thick, pressing. you stared at her, at the curve of her jaw clenched in frustration, at the way her chest rose and fell like she’d just run a sprint. her brows were furrowed, but beneath the frustration was something else. something that made your stomach twist and your fingers curl tight around your seatbelt.

“megan…”

she exhaled hard, dropping her head back against the headrest for a second like she was trying to force the words out. then her voice came, rough and low. “i can’t stand seeing someone else touch you like that. it makes me feel like i’m gonna lose my mind.”

you reached out, hand hovering before it found hers on the console between you. her fingers twitched under yours, like she was deciding whether to pull away or pull you closer.

“you’re not gonna lose your mind,” you said quietly. “you’re just finally saying what we’ve both been thinking.”

she didn’t reply. didn’t need to. you swallowed, heart hammering. this wasn’t the easy conversation you’d expected. it was raw, jagged, real. her eyes locked onto yours, wild and fierce. for a moment, you could almost feel the weight of everything she hadn’t said hanging between you.

without warning, she leaned in, closing the space with a fierce urgency. her lips crashed against yours, rough and demanding, like she needed to prove something. your breath hitched, caught off guard but all in.

it was messy, desperate, the kind of kiss that didn’t ask for permission. your hands found her hair, pulling her closer. she growled low, the tension snapping as the lines between friends and something more shattered.

it was a blur after that. megan barely killed the engine before the two of you were out of the car, walking fast and too close as you made your way through the quiet underground garage. her hand hovered at your back, not quite touching, but you could feel the heat of it through your shirt. the elevator ride was silent, charged, her reflection burning holes into yours through the metal walls.

the second your door swung open, you were on her again. the lock clicked behind you as you pressed her up against the door, mouths crashing together like you’d both run out of time. your hands slipped under the hem of her shirt, greedy for skin. she kissed you like she needed you to breathe.

“y/n,” she breathed out, but whatever she was going to say got lost in the next kiss, your name drowned out by the low thud of her back hitting the hallway wall.

you didn’t even think, just grabbed her wrist and tugged her toward the bedroom, feet stumbling, laughter breaking through the tension for a split second. she followed without hesitation, eyes locked on you like she was trying to memorize the way you looked at her now. 

as soon as you hit the threshold of the room, your mouths found each other again. she kicked the door shut behind her without looking, hands already tugging at the hem of your shirt like she’d waited too long for this. 

she pulled away after a moment to simply stare. 

megan looked at you. the kind of stare that could melt ice. her gaze traces the lines of your body like she was hungry, yet still she said nothing. she swallowed, her lips pursing together as she weighed her own thoughts in her mind. her eyes trailed up and down before finally they settle themselves again on yours. it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what she was thinking in this very moment. you could practically read her through her silence. the way she practically itched to say something funny, to break the tension with a lighthearted joke in true megan fashion. but she couldn’t. her body was reacting as much as yours was. she trembled slightly, her chest rising up and down as if she was struggling to take in air. but it was pure anticipation. when she talks her voice is careful, hesitant, like she was afraid that one wrong word would break the quiet you slipped into. 

“how do i tell you that i want you without making a fool of myself?”

your breath hitched when suddenly she moved. she took a step closer, and instinctively you take a step back. the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you’re falling back. the only thing you can do is sit stupidly and stare up at her as she stares down. she was already tall, but now she loomed over you. 

she was so unlike herself. just ten minutes ago she was fumbling over her own feet, giggling between kisses as her fingers clumsily trailed up and down the warm skin on your back. now, she was confident. like she was looking at you through the lens of someone who realized in the span of a quick ten minutes that they were standing before something holy. 

you hum. “you say it. tell me, megan.”

she doesn’t hesitate. she nudges your legs apart so she’s standing between them now, your legs trapping her in. her hands instinctively raise to the back of your head, one idly playing with the baby hairs on the nape of your neck while the other gently grabbed your chin. she didn’t ask, just simply gripped your chin between her thumb and index finger and tugged. she leaned down slightly , so close that you could feel her hot breath hitting you. when she talks, her voice is quiet. 

“i want you, y/n.”

she moved one inch closer, and her lips brush yours. it was faint. a feather light touch, but it sent shivers down your spine all the same. her eyes dropped back and forth between your eyes and your lips, the grip she had on your chin tightening momentarily before she let go. her hand lazily drifted down from your face and to your chest, fingertips just lightly grazing your skin. and then, she moved the other hand. the hand that once played with the hairs on the back of your neck now moved to the front, fingertips dancing along your throat. she hums. her voice dripped like venom, tantalizing and dangerous all in the same breath. 

“you have no idea how bad.”

you swallow, and megan feels it against the hand she held to your neck when her fingers gently reach out and clasp. nothing tight. but she doesn’t say anything. she simply stares. her eyes dark, her face unreadable save for only the pure want clear in her words. through the grip on your throat, you reply. your voice fell to a whisper, though just as confident as her own. 

“then show me.”

she didn’t need to be told twice. the grip she held on your neck tightened just slightly before she relented. her lips which once grazed yours finally surged the small distance. she kissed you, every emotion she pushed to the back of her mind finally coming out in full force. she tilted her head, a soft sigh of relief escaping her when you met her kiss with equal fervor. 

this was it. the moment where finally, she’d let herself cave. the moment where megan would lose her inhibitions and finally be true to both herself, and to you. being so close to you in this moment made her full body vibrate. you were intoxicating, and she was addicted.

 megan deepened the kiss, her tongue gently swiping across your bottom lip. when you don’t open your mouth, she bites your lip. taking advantage of the gasp you let out, her tongue darts in. without words, her intentions were clearer than daylight. 

she wanted you, and she wanted bad. 

the grip on your neck only tightened until eventually you needed to pull back for air. a string of saliva coated your lips when she pulled back, her grip on your throat relaxing. but she doesn’t mind. she lets you breathe, feels your chest rise and fall beneath her full hand as she trails open mouthed kisses down from your swollen lips to your jaw, and then your neck. she littered kisses around the area her hand clasped around only moments ago, soothing the dull feeling of a phantom grip. 

through your haze and a short gasp, you couldn’t help but tease her. 

“who knew you had that in you, huh, skiendiel?”

megan answered with a simple bite to your neck. a nibble, soothed over with a faint swipe of her tongue immediately after. it was enough to shut you up, if even for a moment. she hummed. 

“can’t help myself. you’ve no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this.”

this time it was your turn to raise a hand and gently play with her hair, her mouth still working at your jaw and throat. you sigh, your fingers clasping around a clump of her dark hair. you shake your head. 

“what, are you trying to tell me this is the only reason you asked for my number all those months ago?”

she knew you were joking, that you were being facetious. still she couldn’t help but frown. she dropped fully to her knees now between your legs, still fully trapped by your legs on either side of her. from this angle as she pulled away from your neck, she looked up at you through her sleepy eyes and pink bangs. 

“maybe this part was wishful thinking. but no, not the only reason.” her hands trailed down again, finding your skin beneath your shirt. her hands were so numbingly cold despite the warmth in her gaze. her hand pressed against your lower stomach, feeling the way your abdomen clenched slightly against her cold palm. she looked at you with her half lidded eyes and all you saw was sincerity. she continues. 

“you’ve no idea how hard it is to keep my hands to myself when you’re you. but fuck, look at you now.” her other hand reaches for the hem of your shirt and now she tugs, her touch gentle despite the bite in her words when she says her next words. “you’re mine, baby.”

the words set something off in you. something that lit a fire in the deepest pits of your stomach, begging to be addressed. and megan knew it. 

and so, she did. 

__

you weren’t sure at what point you fell asleep. all you knew was that when you woke up, you were in your own bed. the blankets were pulled up beneath your chin but it wasn’t their warmth that clung to you like it was moulded for your body, and yours only. 

your eyes trailed over to the sleeping girl besides you. megan’s arm wrapped around your torso, holding you close. her bare body pressed against yours had a chill running down your spine. you could already feel the hickeys forming on your neck, the bruises on your thighs. you could feel the phantom feeling of her nails scratching down your back and her coaxing whispers lingering in your ears. 

megan had practically transformed into a completely different person. the memory of her eyes, dark and dangerous, had you inadvertently shifting closer to her. the slight movement was enough to wake her. a deep, sleepy groan pulled from her lips as she subconsciously nuzzled herself closer into you. when her eyes fluttered open and they landed on you, the difference was night and day. 

she was nervous. shy. she practically hid her face in your neck only to turn red in embarrassment when she was met face to face with the marks she left on your throat. when she speaks her voice is low, awkward. 

“i-i, uh, you know. i’m so sorry. too much? probably. oops.”

despite the situation, you couldn’t help but laugh. the sound alone made her groan, her head digging even deeper into you as if the action alone would hide her from your teasing. a classic ‘if i can’t see you, you can’t see me’ kind of thing. 

“it’s okay, megan.”

she looked up at that, her cheeks still flushed red. but there was no mistaking the way her shoulders relaxed. she looked back at you and it’s then the events from the night before seemed to finally settle in. it’s in this lighting that you realized, again, just how gorgeous she is. the way her hair framed her face even when she was ridden with bedhead. the way her soft lips pouted involuntarily, the way her sleepy eyes looked up at you through her lashes. she was so, unbelievably beautiful without even needing to try. you couldn't help but wonder if she knew this as well as you could see it. 

with a newfound sense of confidence, she suddenly leaned forward. her lips found yours and unlike the fit of messy kisses she gave you the night before, now she takes her time.  when she pulls away, pink dusts her cheeks. 

“i can’t believe we did… that.”

you raise a brow. “oh? pray tell why you’re so surprised.”

megan’s eyes practically blow wide. “seriously? you’re not even the slightest bit shocked and overwhelmed and- a-and, i don’t know, lowkey kinda freaking the fuck out? i mean jeez. you’re you!”

before you can reply she’s already continuing. her arm around your torso tightens, a look of pure shock and elation cemented across her face. 

“do you have any idea how scared it makes me knowing that you’re practically in a league of your own? i mean, shit, you walk into a room and everyone stares. i walk in and everyone waits for me to break my own leg! you’re you. and i’m me. and this just doesn’t make any sense, a-and-“

you turn slightly so you’re facing her fully, her arm around you not slipping but loosening just enough. you shake your head, a hand reaching up gently to swipe her hair from her vision. her pink bangs covered her eyes just slightly, hiding the state of pure frazzle in their depths. you can’t help but chuckle softly. 

when your lips tilt up at the corners, a small grin gracing your face, megan stopped rambling. she was so, completely, irrevocably enamored by you in a way that it hurt her brain. 

when you leaned forward just enough to seal her lips with your own, her breath catches in her throat, silenced. for a moment you both lay there. her arm around your torso now moving to lightly grip your waist, her fingers digging in just barely as if she was grounding herself in the moment. your hand cupped her jaw, the kiss deepening just a second longer. when you pull away, her eyes are blown wide. she stares back at you in equal parts awe, and fear. she was completely undone by you. 

“relax.”

the simple word was all she needed. she nodded her head stupidly and obediently, her lips pursing so tight together as if you’d given her a command she’d follow til her last breath. 

your grin softens into a small smile. “you’re such a loser, megan.”

megan grimaced. the kind of look that was half part an awkward smile, and half part an embarrassment pout.  she burrows her head into your chest with a drawn out groan. she feels the way your body vibrates when you chuckle, hears the way your heart skipped a beat with her ear pressed to your bare chest. and in that moment, she decided. 

no amount of embarrassment would ever outweigh the pride she felt in knowing that it was her you were holding that very morning. 

__

a month passed. 

megan hadn’t planned on going live. it was one of those quiet nights that felt heavier than it should have. the dorm was calm. daniela had vanished into her room with a face mask and a bowl of cereal. sophia had crashed early. the silence made everything feel louder.

so she pulled on an oversized hoodie (your hoodie) and went live from her bed. nothing fancy. just her and her phone, legs tucked under her, the soft yellow light from her nightstand casting a warm glow across the screen.

“hi,” she said, voice soft with that slight rasp it always had when she was winding down. “i couldn’t sleep.”

the chat exploded immediately. hearts, greetings, inside jokes, fans asking about everything from what she had for dinner to her favorite stage outfit from the last comeback. she answered a few, laughed quietly when someone asked if lara still sleep-talked. her fingers toyed absentmindedly with the sleeve of her hoodie as she scrolled.

“what’s the weirdest dream you’ve had recently?” she read aloud, smiling. “okay, so i had this one where i was back in high school, but for some reason all the desks were made of jello, and sophia was my teacher? yeah, no idea. my brain is a strange place.”

another wave of hearts. more laughing emojis. the mood stayed easy, casual, soft around the edges.

then came the question. fast, buried in a sea of others, but megan’s eyes caught it and held.

“who’s that in the background?”

she blinked.

then turned, just slightly, to glance behind her.

there, on the edge of the bed, barely in frame, was you. hoodie half-zipped, face makeup-free, curled against a pillow and blinking slow from the comfort of just having woken up from a nap you hadn’t even meant to take.

megan looked back at the camera, lips tugging into a smile that was both shy and completely unbothered.

“guess the secret’s out,” she said, voice low but steady.

the chat exploded again, this time in full-blown chaos. some fans caught on immediately. others were in denial. a few begged her to clarify, but she didn’t.

instead, she leaned back against the headboard, reached over, and laced her fingers with yours. you blinked blearily, took a second to realize what was happening, then gave a soft laugh.

“hi,” you murmured, just loud enough to be heard. “sorry, i kind of knocked out.”

“it’s okay,” megan said, thumb brushing against the back of your hand. “you’re cute when you sleep.”

the live didn’t last much longer after that. she answered one or two more questions, gave the usual love you guys and get some rest, then signed off.

but the clip stayed. it spread fast, faster than either of you expected. screen recordings, gifs, screenshots, fan theories shifting into confirmed realities. by morning, your names were trending side by side.

and just like that, it wasn’t speculation anymore.

it was real. it was official.

it was you and her. finally.

[wildflowersandvibranium]

Muscle Memory : Chapter One

Pairing: CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS Restaurant Owner Bucky Barnes x Cardiac Surgeon Female Reader Alternate Universe

Series Summary: In a town that never forgets , she thought she could hide the bruises behind a perfect smile and life. But someone from her past sees too much—and remembers everything. sorry its so vague just don't want to give too much away!

Word Count: 3.1k +

Chapter Warnings: mentions of abusive father & abusive fiancé to reader , protective comforting Bucky , mentions of blood , injuries and bruises , mentions of food and drinks , ft: Wanda Maximoff and OC! Tyler (readers fiancé)

A/N: my first series everrrrr im so exciteddd this is my baby and have had the idea for something like this since before i started writing! Next chapter is already written and will be posted soon! if you would like to be tagged let me know!! enjoy bbys 💖

series masterlist

next chapter ->

The city hadn't changed much since the years she had been gone. 

Not really anyway.

Sure , a few new high-rises had wedged themselves into the skyline like eager newcomers squished together in a family photo , but the old angles were still there , stoic , sharp, familiar. 

Streetlights blinked in the same rhythm she had remembered. 

The sidewalks hadn’t forgotten her footsteps.

 Every block and street corner seemed to hum with memories , as if the pavement itself still carried the echoes of teenage laughter , secret tears , and plans whispered under a sky full of stars.

The hospital loomed tall and pristine in the distance , sterile and gleaming. 

But to her , it didn’t look cold. 

It looked like triumph. 

Like reclamation.

Like she’d pulled herself from the mud and built a cathedral with her own hands. 

It stood on the same hill where she’d once sat with blooming bruises and a heart too shattered for her young age 

Where she would always look up and swear that one day , she’d make it. 

That one day , she’d wear the white coat , sign the charts , hold the scalpel , save the lives.

Now she was Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. Cardiothoracic Surgeon and head of the entire department. 

Not a visitor. Not a student. Not someone passing through.

She had come home.

And yet—

As the moving truck sputtered away down the street , leaving the scent of diesel and the echo of squeaky brakes in its wake , she stood frozen on the front step of the townhouse. 

Her townhouse. The key dug into her palm as she gripped the metal.

. Her stomach was a fist , clenched tight and turning.

“Looks good , huh babe?”  Tyler’s voice broke the moment. 

He slipped up beside her and smashed his lips into her face kissing her cheek ,  too rough , and too hard. 

His arm wrapped around her shoulders like a noose dressed up , and disguised by comfort and his false charm.

“Yeah , it looks great. ” she said meekly.

But her eyes stayed focused on the street instead of the home. 

Tracing the curves of the curbs and gutters she once knew like the back of her hand. 

She could still see the old versions of herself darting past mailboxes and garbage cans , chasing time , chasing escape.

Tyler didn’t notice the catch in her voice when she answered.

Or at least he chose not to.

Inside her jacket pocket , her hand clenched around the metal keyring as the years came crashing back. Trying to ground her spiraling mind. Being back here came like a flood.

The summers. 

The scraped palms. 

The nights hiding from her father’s drunken rages. 

She remembered the feel of bark against her skin as she climbed the backyard oak , the sting of bruises and cuts she didn’t talk about , the muffled arguments that never stayed inside her family's walls. 

Bucky Barnes had been her lifeline—mud on his knees , flashlight in hand , whispering jokes in the dark while she tried not to cry too loud.

Even as a small boy who didn't understand how your dad , who all he knew of parents was nurturing love ; could hurt a girl like you so badly.

 But he would still hold you as you wept on his shoulder wetting his little polo shirt with your tears.

She could still hear his voice telling her they’d leave someday. 

That they’d go far. He would take her away from here and from the pain. That they’d never come back unless it was on their terms. Not forced.

And they actually had.

They left the city and went to the same college in the next state over. 

She’d go on to study hearts. He’d studied business.

They had run. Two kids with a car full of borrowed time and little money they saved.

They had done what they dreamed about.

But even the best dreams crack when reality sets in.

✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿

Her ring caught the sunlight. 

It was beautiful—flawless. A large round diamond sat on a thick gold band. It was impressive and some would say remarkable. 

She would get stopped by women in grocery store lines saying how they wished they had a man like yours. Or you would get flooded with the “you are one lucky girl” 

You scoffed thinking of that. Lucky.

Tyler had proposed in Paris on a weekend trip just the two of you , he got down on one knee in front of the eiffel tower with a camera crew he’d hired for the moment. 

It was public , polished , perfect. Just like him.

What no one saw was what came after the perfection and cameras. 

No one saw the beating you endured if you looked at the pizza delivery guy a beat too long , or if a barista wrote his number on your coffee cup. 

Tyler would show you with his fists and strength how you weren't good enough or pretty enough. That you're stuck with him because he's the only one who can love someone like you.

People didn't see the way he always apologizes too fast after the beatings , always circling back saying it was your fault. 

He had brainwashed you into staying, believing his words in between slaps and punches.

The way his smile turned mean when he thought no one was watching. How his touch sometimes lingered in ways that weren’t tender or loving.

How she had learned to brace herself every time he raised a hand or tight fist near her at home.

✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿

That first night back to her hometown , after boxes were half-unpacked and furniture half-placed where it belonged, Tyler unbuttoned his shirt in the kitchen and groaned utterly exhausted

 “Let’s get dinner. I found a spot people swear by around here”

She dropped the last box she carried into the kitchen with a soft thud. 

“Yes please, I'm starving , what were you thinking?” 

“Found this restaurant and pub downtown , called Buck’s. It's really popular ‘round here.”

The name hit like a punch to the ribs.

Her breath hitched.

“Buck’s?” she repeated , too fast.

He didn’t notice.

“Yeah. Local staple or something. Said it got a new owner recently looks good online.” He smirked. “Should be fun.”

She forced a nod , but something inside her had already shifted. 

It was subtle , almost imperceptible , like the first hairline fracture in a porcelain vase that was just about to crack.

   ✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿

Buck’s looked like something out of a memory she’d tucked away too carefully.

The kind you don’t mean to keep , but never really lose. 

It hit her the second she stepped inside—warm amber lighting spilling across polished dark wood floor and ceilings , the low murmur of conversation and laughter , clinking glasses with the clack of the pool balls being pocketed  , and the faint scratch of a needle on vinyl as some old soul record spun behind the bar.

It smelled like smoked cedar , aged bourbon , and something sweet sizzling from the kitchen , probably a fresh cobbler or pastry.

It had to be Bucky’s place. 

It felt like him. 

It was honest , solid , warm at the edges and stubborn in the bones.

And there , along the back wall , were a large gallery of photos.

Black and white , sepia-toned , some a little faded with time. 

High school football teams , parades , the town's winter festivals , and a massive framed shot of their old neighborhood during a block party.

 She saw it instantly: the two houses side by side , hers painted in peeling blue and white shutters , his in sun-bleached brick with ivy vines crawling up the sides. 

That same crooked and overly worn fence. And that same tree she used to climb when the yelling got too loud.

Her fingers twitched at her sides.

Tyler was talking to the hostess , probably making a show of using his full name. Always networking , always turning charm into currency. 

She kept her eyes low as they followed the hostess to a table near the bar , but her ears strained for a sound she hadn’t heard in a decade.

And it came booming from the kitchen.

The black double doors swung open with a familiar squeak.

A voice called out something to the bartender—gruff , amused , easy.

She didn’t have to look , she knew.

But she did anyway.

And there he was.

Bucky Barnes.

Not seventeen anymore. 

Not that reckless boy with scraped red knuckles and a mop of brown curly hair.

No—this man was grounded. Worn in the way good leather is worn , weathered by life , yes , but built to last. 

He was a true man now. His beard was thick , touched with sun or maybe lightning with stress. His hair was pulled back in a small knot at the nape of his neck. His black T-shirt clung to shoulders broader than she remembered , and his sleeves were rolled high , revealing strong muscles and tanned forearms that moved with a calm purpose.

He looked like he belonged here. 

Like he'd carved this place out of his own heart and life and made something beautiful out of it.

And then , his eyes found hers.

It was like being punched in the throat and kissed in the best way , all at the same time.

A split second of stillness.

No breath. No noise.

Till his mouth moved before his mind betraying him.

“Y/N?”

It left his mouth half-disbelieving , half-hopeful , like maybe saying it would make her real.

She stood by the table as Tyler sat down , heart hammering like it was trying to break right out of her chest. 

“Hi.” she whispered.

He crossed the space between them in seconds. 

His arms went around her without hesitation , and she let him. 

She melted into him like a memory finding its shape again. 

His scent hit her like a freight train of nostalgia. Soap , whiskey , and something smoky she couldn’t name , probably whatever was on the grill currently.

“You’re really here,” he said softly against her ear , his voice hoarse.      “God, it’s been…”

“Too long , I know , I got a job at the hospital so I'm back for good.” she said, and it felt like truth was unburied.

They sat there just–smiling , taking in the other after years of yearning.

Then she remembered. Tyler.

She pulled back , the present slamming into her like a cold wind. 

“Um sorry t-this is Tyler, my fiance, and Ty this is Bucky , he owns the restaurant” she said , her tone shifting as she stepped aside her voice laced with something like shame or guilt.

Tyler stood and offered his hand , perfectly pleasant. 

“It's good to meet you , Bucky. Nice place you’ve got. Y/N used to live around here.”

Bucky’s eyes stayed on her for just a beat too long. As she was looking down at her feet.

Then he looked at Tyler and shook his hand. 

His grip was firm. Controlled. “You can call me James , and yeah. We grew up together next door.”

“Oh okay , James. So are you two like childhood friends?” Tyler said with a question.

Bucky gave a nod , slow and unreadable eyes flicking back to her. “Something like that.”

Then with a nod to Y/N he was gone , retreating to the bar like nothing had happened. 

Like the earthquake of seeing her again , here , hadn’t cracked his foundation wide open.

But when he came back with drinks , his hands were steady.

 He placed the glass in front of her , and as she reached for it with a “Thank you” , her sweater sleeve slipped back.

Just a few inches. Too much.

The bruise on her arm was yellow at the edges , fading and older, but unmistakable.

His eyes flicked down.

He saw it. But said nothing.

Maybe it was from her recent moving , a couch hitting too hard or a box being dropped he tried to convince himself.

But the smile that had been there just a moment ago didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. 

His jaw clenched. The muscle twitched once.

He turned and walked away , saying something about getting back to work.

He didn’t look back as he walked towards  the kitchen.

✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿

They finished dinner , but the food tasted like nothing. She was numb.

Tyler kept up a steady stream of chatter , about how impressed he was with the décor and vibe of the place , how his clients would love this place , and how maybe they should come here more often. 

She nodded when it seemed appropriate , murmured agreement when he looked her way for her input , but her mind wasn’t in the room or focused on the food she was now picking at. 

It was back at the bar. 

Back on Bucky’s face. Back on that fraction of a second when the bruise on her arm shifted the entire gravity of the evening.

He had seen it.

Of course he had.

She wondered if he’d known instantly , or if his brain had a moment to mistake it for something else. 

He knew what bruises like that meant. Knew what kind of silence came with them. They had both lived together in that silence once.

And now , he was watching her live in it again.

Tyler reached across the table , fingers lacing with hers.

She didn’t flinch this time but only because she had learned not to. If she flinched or recoiled from his touch in public Tyler got angry and would “give her something to flinch for” at home after words. 

When they paid the bill and Y/N gave a small wave to Bucky as they were leaving , they walked out into the cool night air. 

The sky had dipped into a deep navy , and the streetlights flickered to life in a staggered procession. She wrapped her arms around herself , more for comfort than the cold.

“Not bad,” Tyler said, stretching like a man satisfied with himself. “Good food. Friendly people. Might even beat that French place downtown I saw had better reviews.”

She forced a smile. “Yeah. I-It was nice.”

Her voice stuttered wearily; it didn't sound like hers.

And then , across the street—a familiar voice cut through the night like a firecracker.

“Y/N?! No way!”

She turned instinctively , and a blur of red hair was already coming at her.

“Wanda?” Her voice cracked under the weight of disbelief and joy.

Wanda Maximoff hit her like a hurricane of happiness , throwing her arms around her with a squeal that made a couple people on the sidewalk turn their heads. 

“Oh my God , what are you doing here? Are you back back?!”

“Yeah back for good , I just moved in,” Y/N managed, laughing through the emotion thick in her throat. “Took a position at the hospital.”

Wanda’s eyes widened. “Wait—the cardio position? That’s you? Vision said some hotshot was coming in to lead the department , but he never said it was you!”

Y/N flushed , laughing for real this time. “Hotshot’s a bit of a stretch Wans.” 

“No way, you’re a legend already.” Wanda grabbed both her hands. 

“You have to come to my wedding. We’re doing it here—Buckys letting us use the rooftop. I’ll text you the date!. You better not have plans.”

“I—uh—”

“Please. Everyone’s gonna lose their minds when they see you.”

“I’d love to , of course I'll be there,” Y/N said , surprised to realize she meant it.

Wanda beamed , already pulling out her phone. 

“Perfect. I’ll text you. And , hey! Welcome home, okay? You're really home.”

She gave one last hug and jogged back across the street to her group, disappearing into the night with a smile over her shoulder.

Y/N stood still for a second , stunned by how effortlessly the past had folded itself back around her like a worn-in sweater. The warmth of it. The weight of it. 

Her phone vibrated and she saw the invite from Wanda sent with lots of kissing emojis.

“Small town,” Tyler muttered. “Everyone knows everyone.”

There was a tone in his voice , slight, off—but she didn’t take the bait.

She just smiled quietly , pocketing her phone and hands.

As they walked down the block toward their house , her eyes flicked back—just once.

Inside the restaurant , behind the tall windows glowing golden in the dark , she saw Bucky.

Leaning against the bar still , towel over his shoulder, arms crossed tight. Watching. Not glaring. Not starring.

Just watching her.

His face was still. But his eyes—

His eyes burned.

He had seen the bruise. And he had seen the way she flinched when Tyler lifted his hand , even if it was only to brush away a stray hair on her forehead.

He had seen it. He remembered what that looked like.

He remembered it too well. And this time , he wasn’t seventeen. He wasn’t helpless. He wasn’t leaving.

This time, he had roots here. A life. A place that was his.

And now , she was finally here, too.

-end

Comments , Reblogs , Likes and Requests are always loved!

(although if you liked this fic please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience)

They let me know that you are enjoying what I'm publishing and gives me motivation to write more and more! :33

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

What a Mess 3

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: thick!Bucky Barnes

Summary: Your new job isn’t all that you expect. (maid AU – short!reader)

Note: hate me, baby.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You're a little less addled as you enter the condo that day. You have a soft playlist going as you carry your kit through and roll in the vacuum. The sunlight beams large rectangles across the hardwood as the shadows of the frames skew between. The air is still and as placid as the melody in your ears. 

The list guides you. Even as you could recite it by rote. You can never be too careful. You turn the corner into the living room, the TV glaring blue across the space.  

You round the couch to grab the remote. Strange, the coffee table is pushed back. Your toe brushes something on the floor and you stop short. 

You look down at the body on the floor. 

Concern ripples up your spine and swells in your throat. Is Bucky okay? His shoulders curl forward as he hugs a pillow, legs bent under the thin throw blanket usually folded over the back of the couch. It's only his low snores that assure you he didn't collapse there. 

You sway above him. Even as he lays on the floor, you feel tiny. Should you wake him? You glance up at the television and decide better of it. You've been a part of a similar tableau. Sleepless nights are often a battle, especially alone. 

You shut off the TV and retreat. You'll wait to do the front room. You look up the spiral staircase. The metals too noisy. What can you do that won't disturb him? 

You turn off your earbud and put it away. You'll have to be careful of everything you do. The silence is dense. You don't often let it pervade your life. You always have something going; music, a show, an audio book... anything to keep you from drifting. 

You start small, wiping down the cupboards with a dust cloth. There isn't much to catch but one day can make the difference. 

There's still no step stool. You make sure he isn't around when you lift yourself up on the counter and work on your knees. You should ask but you also hate to be demanding. 

Despite the odd circumstance, it's calm. You stay alert as you work through the lost, out of order, but you do what you can. 

Will he wake up soon? You hear a groan followed by a murmur. You can't understand it. You turn the faucet on, keeping the stream slow, and wash up the few dishes left near the sink. The smell of the citrus dish soap wafts in the air. As do his snores. 

The snorting rhythm reassures you. They don't stop even as you chance your ascent upstairs. You use the small hand broom on the steps. You find that's easier. Slowly you make your way down until a metallic chink startles you. 

You turn on the steps as Bucky squints sleepily at you. He wears a pair of briefs, his shoulders draped in the throw blankets, as his thick hair hangs in puffy tangles. He rubs his chest, scratching there as you avoid looking below his groggy face. 

You push yourself against the narrow railing as he grips the bottom. You do your best to make room for him to pass. 

"Time?" He asks. 

You wince and fumble to free your phone from the holder on your belt. "Eleven." 

He sniffs and nods. 

"I know it's not on the list, but... coffee, please." 

He backs up and rubs his temple. You can tell by how he moves that he has a headache. You didn't expect a super soldier to fet those.  

"Yes, sir," you leave the hand broom on the step so you can remember where you left off and stand. 

You come down cautiously. You don't like how narrow and steep the climb is. Bucky goes to the couch and drops down heavily. You glance over as he grips his skull. 

You keep your phone out and google the instructions for his coffee machine. You don't have one yourself.  You find the bag of grinds and load it up. You add water to the tank then hit 'brew'. Simple enough. 

You wait for the machine to finish and pour a mug. You turn to face the front room. Bucky’s head rests against the cushion as he remains unmoving. You tiptoe over and peer around. The coffee table’s too far to put the cup down. You stare at him as his eyes are firmly shut. 

“Smells good,” he sits up and reaches for the mug. You hand it over. “You can help yourself.” 

You fold your hands and offer a tight smile, “no thanks. Very kind though.” 

He groans and nods, bringing the cup up to inhale the scent. He blows over it before he drinks. You wince. “Oh.” 

His blue eyes flick over to you, “what?” 

“Oh, I didn’t... didn’t ask if you put anything in it.” 

He shrugs, “black is fine.” He takes another deep swig and clears his throat. “You wouldn’t believe the dirt water they put in field rations.” 

You dip your chin and shrug, “uh, oh no.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he grumbles as he cradles the mug in his large hands and leans forward, elbows on his thighs. “Just... talking.” 

You nod and put your hands behind you. He glances at you again. You can’t read his expression. Is he annoyed? 

“Goddamn,” he exhales deeply and raises the cup to press against his forehead. 

You watch him, teetering between fleeing back to the stairs and waiting for him to tell you to do so. “Do you need some advil?” 

His cheek dimples and he scoffs as he lowers the mug, “doesn’t work for me.” 

Your brows pop up curiously, “oh.” 

“Another cup should do the trick,” he drains the coffee and holds out the cup. “Appreciate it, doll.” 

“Yes, sir,” you take it as a dregs trickles down onto your fingers. 

“Don’t gotta call me sir. This isn’t a platoon,” he rubs his cheek. “Not the sergeant here. Just...” his voice trails off and he shakes his head. He stands and rolls his shoulders. “You can leave the cup on the counter for me.” 

He steps towards you and you flinch. He moves around you and you turn to watch him. His feet slap the floor heavily. He must be in rough shape as you usually don’t hear him stalking around the place. He disappears into the bathroom, the door clicking shut. 

You look down at the porcelain. More coffee. Simple. 

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

Froze

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Prompt -  "You're one of us now."

Notes - Season 8, Episode 15 Spoilers // it's a bad week to be a tlou and 911 fan but at least I'm uploading because of it

You’d been in LA for six months now and still hadn’t gotten used to it. For the first few months you’d just sit in your apartment, not leaving unless you absolutely had to, which between all the delivery services out there was rare. 

Eventually though you had to get on with your life. You had to start the fresh beginning you’d come here for. 

So you forced yourself to start functioning like a proper human being, forced yourself to leave the safety of your apartment and go to a coffee shop a few blocks down the road, forced yourself to go for a walk along the pier, forced yourself to go grocery shopping. 

To anyone else it wasn’t an achievement, it was just everyday life but to you it was big. 

You’d been reckless back when you were a part of Station 252, an awful relationship, one that had left you a shell of yourself, that had seen you putting yourself into unnecessary situations both on and off the job. Eventually your reckless behaviour had been enough to cause a call to go wrong, people had been hurt because you weren’t focused, because your mind was so far away from the scene. 

Yet they hadn’t fired you, you’d been transferred out to LA. You hadn’t spoken to anyone from the new fire house but the Captain had reached out when you got here, assuring you the job was there when you were ready to take the test that would tell you if you were stable or not to go back. 

Six months in LA and you had finally felt ready to take it. You were still broken, still had to deal with the fears and the ghosts from your old life but you wanted to go back to work. 

And so you did. 

You passed the test, shocking even yourself when they’d given you the all clear and spent the morning getting ready, feeling like a bag of nerves as you walked into your new fire house. 

You saw some of the team had gathered up the stairs, two of the men cooking whilst the others sat at the table, all five of them talking and laughing and it made you relax slightly, calmed the thunderous beating of your heart as you climbed the stairs and stood just beyond the scene.

The older of the two men cooking was first to notice you, the small furrow of his eyebrows as he looked at you was quickly replaced by a kind smile, drawing the attention of the others. 

“Um, hi, can we help you?” The other man cooking asked and before you had a chance to reply the man with the kind smile answered. 

“This is Y/N, right?” He asked you and you nodded, watching as he stepped around the counter and made his way over to you. “Y/N here is joining us from New York.”

“No way, that’s so cool! Why didn’t you tell us?” The man asked before turning to you. “Welcome to the 118. I’m Buck, that there is Eddie, then we have Chim and Hen and that there is our Captain, Bobby Nash.”  

You smiled at everyone, giving a polite wave and was shocked by how genuine your smile was. 

“Buck, watch the food, I’ll be right back.” Bobby said as he gestured for you to follow him to his office and you felt your stomach drop. 

“Relax, I’m not here to pick apart your life up in New York.” Bobby said as you both sat down and you nodded, the tension not leaving your shoulders. “I am here though if you need anything. Doesn’t matter what it is, you need me, you pick up that phone and call.”

“That’s it?” You couldn’t help but ask, feeling taken aback with how seriously he’d seemed to mean his words. “No list of rules for me to stick to, no threats looming over my head of what happens if I ever spiral again?”

“You’re gonna spiral again, Y/N. One day you could be great and then the next something’s gonna hit you, it might be your old life, it might be something that triggers you on the job. When that happens, you come to me. I can’t promise I can fix it but I can promise you won’t be alone.” Bobby told you, his voice kind and soft but filled with so much conviction that you trusted him without knowing him. 

“That’s it?” You asked softly in disbelief causing him to chuckle. 

“That’s it. You came here for a new start, Y/N, I’m not treating you any different to how I treat the others. You’re one of us now.” 

His words had your eyes stinging but you kept yourself composed and nodded, choking out a thank you that had the man grinning and gesturing for you to follow him back to the others, Bobby’s hand holding your shoulder the whole time and never straying too far as you got to know the team. 

Things had been good, it had been a year since you moved to LA and six months since you’d become a part of the 118, the firehouse feeling more like home than anywhere else ever had. 

Things had been good. 

Then you had a call that left your hands shaking. It hadn’t even been a particularly bad call to begin with, it was a building fire but it was easy enough to get in and out of, passing civilians down to safety without trouble.

Then the building shook and your heart leapt, remembering the last time you’d been in this situation. 

It was the last call before you were sent away and you hadn’t bothered securing your safety equipment properly. It was routine enough that you thought you’d be in and out but then just as you picked a child up ready to get him out, the building shook violently and you felt yourself falling. 

Thankfully, despite the drop, you’d kept the kid safe, hurting yourself in the process but that didn’t matter. 

It wasn’t long after that you found yourself no longer a member of the 252. 

“Hey Y/N!” You heard Buck call through the radio and it snapped you back to reality, your hands gripping your safety harness so hard your knuckles were white. “Y/N, do you copy?”

Your throat was dry, you opened your mouth but couldn’t answer, the panic had already built up and worsened as the building shook again.

You knew you had to get out, so why couldn’t you move?

“Y/N?” Buck tried again, the rest of the 118 stood outside looking up at the building and Buck looked at Bobby desperately. 

“I’m going in.” Bobby said when you failed to respond, watching Buck shake his head but didn’t protest when Bobby gave him a sharp look. 

Bobby made his way through the building, the smoke blocking his view for the most part but he found you easy enough, you were frozen to the spot, one hand gripping your safety harness whilst the other held the wall like it was the only thing grounding you. 

“Hey kid,” Bobby called and he watched as your head snapped up, your wild, panicked gaze meeting his calm one. “You’re okay, you did good. We got everyone out and nobody got hurt.”

He watched you take a moment to process his words before you nodded, not taking your eyes off of him. 

“You did good but we need to leave, Y/N.” He said softly, reaching out a hand for you to grab.

You looked at Bobby’s hand, steady and still, and watched as your own finally reached for him, shaking violently, only stopping when Bobby wrapped his around yours. 

“That’s my girl.” He smiled over at you and you couldn’t stop the ragged breath that left you, body on autopilot as you let Bobby lead you out, just in time for the building to crumble. 

The team immediately encompassed you and despite how foggy your mind felt, despite how overwhelming it was, you couldn’t stop the warm feeling that spread through you at how much they cared. 

Plus Bobby’s hand was still in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

Bobby was tempted to pull you into his office once you’d all arrived back to the house but he stopped himself. This was the first time you’d faltered since being here and he wanted to see if you would come to him on your own. 

It took nearly an hour but Bobby had to fight back a smile when he saw you approaching him, clearly nervous but his words from the first time you’d met had been playing in your head since you got back. 

“I froze.” You said after a few minutes of sitting next to Bobby in silence.

“You froze.” Bobby agreed and you looked over at him, his eyes as kind as they always were, a steady, unshakable force that you needed. 

“What if I can’t do this job anymore? What if every time a building shakes all I see is me falling, see the kid in my arms sobbing in fear?” You asked, tears stinging your eyes. 

“You can do this job, Y/N.” Bobby told you and his words were so certain that you believed them too, a shuddering breath escaping you. “Everyone got out safely because you made sure they did. You froze, it happens. That’s the beauty of the 118, you freeze? It doesn’t matter, we’re all here for each other, if you can’t get out on your own, we’ll come get you.”

You let out a small sob and Bobby couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around you, smiling as you buried yourself into his chest. 

“I told you, you’re one of us. We’re here to you, you’re not alone anymore, Y/N.” 

“I don’t deserve it.” You mumbled into his chest and Bobby sighed, running his hand up and down your back. 

“Everyone on this team has done something they think they can’t atone for but they can. This team is never going to hold your actions over you, they’re gonna drag you through the tunnel to the other side, trust me I know that better than anyone.” Bobby told you softly and you looked up at him with a shaky smile. 

“I’m glad I got sent here, couldn’t imagine not having you by my side.” You told him, smiling as he pulled you further into his arms and held you tightly. 

“Me too, kid.” He murmured softly, not at all surprised by how much he’d meant those words, between you and Buck the father instincts he thought were long gone were being dragged up to the surface, protective of the two youngest of his team. 

You’d meant it though, despite only being a part of the 118 for six months, it was hard to believe you’d gone so long without knowing Bobby. His kind, steady presence was what you depended on, the way it was so easy to talk to him, easy to trust him. You couldn’t picture a world without him anymore. 

Despite all the bad things that had happened in New York, despite all the hurt and guilt and regret you carried, you were glad for it because without it you never would have met Bobby Nash and that was the biggest tragedy of them all.

Thank you so much for reading! Link in bio to add yourself to the taglist!

Bobby Nash Taglist /

@navs-bhat @valluvsu @alexxavicry @pretty-npeach @irishavengersassemble, @pear-1206

[sturnsrecord]

timid!matt can’t help but follow reckless!reader everywhere, even when she’s doing dangerous things that have him spiralling out in fear.

he hurried behind you, hands gripping the straps of his bag as you wondered ahead — searching for something you’d be rambling about for the last half an hour.

of course he loved when you were talkative, bringing down your walls with him even if it was just for a short time. but this, this was beginning to stress him out now.

“it’s somewhere around here, it’s like… near the edge.” you mumble, stepping quickly over the piles of leaves and branches.

his head tilts up from the view of his feet, a worried look on his face. “the edge…? edge of what?” he questions, voice cracking a little.

“uh, the cliff.” you respond quickly, only moving quicker now as you try to remember the right route.

“wha— i’m not, hey… stop— stop walking so fast.” he calls out, although his voice is hardly louder than the sound of the leaves crunching beneath your feet as he struggles to navigate through the tricky path.

you chuckle a little, although manage to keep it to yourself as he lags behind you — only getting slower as the path becomes rocky and honestly dangerous.

“can you hurry the fuck up.” you mutter, finally stopping to look back. trying not to smile at the way he was tripping over his own feet trying to catch up to you.

“i don’t wanna go on you’re c-cliff… thing.” he breathes out, taking a second once he’s finally right behind you. you look him up and down for a second, a small frown on your face before you’re off again, going slower this time.

he sighs, walking behind you at a much preferred pace now. “i just—” you cut him off, having heard enough of his complaining. “matt, it’s the best view you’re ever gonna see.” you tell him bluntly.

he purses his lips together, his mind bouncing back and forth between his options — feeling rather forced into doing this.

“well, i’ll have to see how um, how dangerous…”

“you’re doing it. i don’t care.” you say, cutting off his impending ramble, not leaving it up for discussion. if he was gonna follow you around and stay with you, he sure as hell was gonna do this.

he wants to argue back, but then you stop, looking out in front of you before you start climbing. it’s a half fallen tree from what he can see, and a large one at that — where it leads to covered by an abundance of bushes and leaves.

“um, no.” he mumbles, not moving another inch forward as he stands there rocking back and forth on his heel.

you scoff, whipping your head round to look down at him — already on the tree. “it’s not steep— it’s practically fucking horizontal.” you tell him, hand motioning down to the fact you were already easily stood on it.

“that’s probably because it’s a fallen tree— which is even less safe, and i-i’m not doing it— i’m not risking my life for a-a… stupid view.” you stand there rolling your eyes as he speaks, only slightly amused when you hear him try to swear but fail miserably.

“it’s not stupid.” you mock, staring him down as he gives you a wide eyed look — full of fear and hesitation.

you roll your eyes as he stays still, refusing to follow you. “ok, well have fun waiting down there.” you huff, turning around to continue climbing across the large tree.

“what, you’re gonna get hurt— you might die!” he calls out, managing to shout without actually raising his voice. “okayyy, why don’t you join me and make sure that doesn’t happen, hm?” you suggest cunningly.

he thinks for a second, hand finding its way to his lips as he nervously bites at his nails, seriously debating his options here. as much as he wants to follow you, the fear is too much, eating away at him to the point where it had him frozen.

you don’t wait long enough to see him panic as you continue climbing, having been here enough times before to know what you were doing.

“wait! don’t…” he lets out a shaky breath as you disappear out of his view, clearly fed up of his hesitation. but he’s scared for you, and not following after you only seems to make him more anxious.

the thought that you might fall and he’s just stood here, too scared to watch over you and— he can’t take it, taking a deep breath as he reaches up to climb onto the tree. his heart in his throat, and his hands sweaty.

he struggles to climb across it, unsure where he’s going as he stays on the bulk of the tree — ready to throw up just from the thought of what he was doing. no harness, no safety net, just his wobbly feet on a half dead tree. one that apparently lead to the edge of a cliff — a factor he was trying not to think about.

but then he finally catches sight of you, sat on the branch overlooking the view — something he hadn’t even taken notice of as he cautiously shuffles along to where you are.

“you just— just left me, what were you thinking, i was so… worried, a-and now i’m—”

“matt.” you murmur, gripping either side of his face with your fingers as he finally reaches you, cutting him off to turn his head out towards the view.

“o-oh.” he swallows, eyes wide and his body still as he looks out. a large canyon with a small river flowing down the middle between two cliffs, and a sunset in the distance like nothing he’d ever seen, the both of you so high up that the view stretched on for miles.

“oh wow.” he breathes out, body finally relaxing at the awe he was feeling, your hand slipping away from his face.

you can’t help but smile at the look on his face, that small glint of light in his eyes like he was truly mesmerised — a look you know you had the very first time you came here.

but then his head tilts down. “o-oh no, mm mm.” he shakes his head, panic settling once again as he sees how scarily high up you are. “well don’t look directly down, stupid.” you mutter, reaching out to gently tilt his chin back up.

“y-yeah no.” he breathes out, trying his hardest to calm down as his grip on the large branch tightens — his whole body becoming shaky. “would you calm the fuck down.” you mumble, letting go of his chin as you watch him send himself into a whole panic.

you sigh, unsure how to help as you just sit there watching. “i c-can’t.” he swallows thickly, eyes finding their way back down.

it takes a lot in you to be nice, but it’s clear that calling him names isn’t going to help him right now. “just… look out, don’t think about that.” you mumble as softly as you can, hesitantly reaching over to lay your hand over his.

“you’re not gonna fall.” you tell him, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand, seeming to calm him as he takes a deep breath — keeping his eyes on the view.

“mhm.” he nods, trying to look at everything around him and remind himself that that was more important than his stupid fear.

and he’d never admit it, but your touch was what was really keeping him calm. your soft hand caressing his was enough to distract him from everything else, including the view he was trying so hard to admire.

the same way you touching his face had gotten his heart racing more than any view or dangerous experience ever could — your presence enough to have him doing this without bringing some sort of panic attack on.

“it’s pretty, isn’t it.” you mumble, letting go of his hand to wrap them around your legs that were now up against your chest — hugging yourself in the cold breeze as you let yourself admire everything.

“yeah… pretty.” he murmurs back quietly, but he’s not looking out at the view. he’s looking at you. the rare warmth in your eyes and across your face from the orange glow of the sun, as you unknowingly stare out.

𐔌 ©.STURNSRECORD

[maxlarens]

hi lilli!! i heard angst and i came running, how about searching for each other in crowded rooms, finding each other everywhere with logan or oscar, whoever sparks the most inspo, but plot twist—not being able to be together for some reason (the why is totally up to you, feel free to ignore if this isn't your cup of tea). thank u thank u <3

kait!!! hello!!! thank u for sending this in!!! im gonna do oscar 😁 it genuinely hurt my feelings SO BADLY to not have them make up at the end of this. so i sympathise with everyone that im about to make sad it was a bad time for me too❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

It's familiar, this feeling.

The squeeze of your chest, the grieving, panicking thing climbing up your throat. You've been feeling it a lot lately, every time you catch a glimpse of someone with hair the same colour as Oscar's; wearing clothes you swear that he has; a person with the same shoulders, the same gait.

You've been seeing him everywhere. You just think you have. Monaco is small… not that small apparently.

When it had first happened, at the beginning of summer break, you’d half expected to be back together within a week. For Oscar to message you and half-beg to talk to you again. In your dreams, you’d both come grovelling back to each other, apologising for cruel words, making amends for various mistakes. Then you would kiss him and you’d tell him how much you love him and things would get better.

Instead, you’ve spent weeks of your summer break totally and utterly miserable. Missing Oscar like a phantom limb. You reach for him, he’s not there. You go to text him, find a thread of messages discussing the logistics of returning the other’s belongings.

You sit in your flat and you watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy twice in a row twenty two hours and forty-four minutes because it doesn’t remind you of Oscar and it occupies your time in a way nothing else can right now. You cry until your eyes are puffy and you write in a diary you’ve never touched before, because it needs to go somewhere. The feeling stuck in your throat needs to be written down said out loud and you can’t say it to Oscar, who you would usually tell everything, because he needs “distance from you right now”.

Briefly, you convince yourself that “right now”, indicates that there still might be a later for the two of you. That this thing between you that’s fallen to pieces might one day be salvaged. In the quiet moments of Lord of the Rings you spiral down a rabbit hole of ways to get Oscar back, pathetic fantasies of how you might convince him to talk to you again. Then Arwen says, “I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone” and you cry for two hours straight.

You sob, your face in your pillow and you think that was supposed to me! That was supposed to be us! And maybe it wasn’t, maybe you’re not an elven maiden giving up her immortality for a mere man, but you love Oscar. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with Oscar. And now… now…

Well—

It is the waiting that’s the worst.

No texts, no calls. Lando sends you a few, but you can’t bear to hold a conversation with him, knowing he’s playing both sides. And anyway, you’re just thinking about Oscar. Is he there? Is he reading your texts? Seeing the pathetic selfies of you on your couch in days-old PJs? Is he staring at your stagnant text thread just like you are? Has he blocked you?

Your every waking thought is consumed by him. You drag yourself out of the apartment for coffee down the street and you wonder what he’s doing. Has he been rotting at home like you? More than likely he’s been doing things. Playing padel with Lando, going out for lunch, training at the gym, FaceTiming his family.

You feel sick to you stomach. You can list on one hand the activities that you’ve done since Oscar broke up with you at the beginning of the month:

Sleeping, crying, watching Lord of the Rings, ordering takeout, training because you have to. Going for coffee had been a big step out of your current comfort zone. You’re wearing pants that aren’t sweatpants… you’d even showered properly for fuckssake.

You got your most noise-cancelling headphones on, blasting sad Taylor Swift (who you don’t even like. It’s just something to fill the void) and staring down the barista so you can lip-read if they’re saying your name or the words Large Oat Latte. And then—

Then. The barista is mouthing Oscar and your stomach lurches as the exact object of your ire temporary depression walks to the counter. You try to convince yourself it’s not him, you keep seeing him places but it’s never really him. But it is, that’s his burgundy shirt, his swoop of hair, his knobbly little ankles.

You release a ragged breath that you hope isn’t too loud. You duck your head, try to avoid his gaze as he turns, pretending that you haven’t seen him. Try to look occupied by your phone though you’ve only had time to open to your home screen. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you blink furiously, trying your best not to fall apart in this coffee shop.

At least he’s not with someone else, you think as a tightness crawls up your throat to settle at the base of your tongue. But he looks happy, he looks fine, he looks better than you feel right now. God, what if he’s better off without you? What does it mean that you don’t seem to better off without him?

There’s something wet sliding down your left cheek and then you see Nike trainers entering your vision, still directed firmly downward. Someone puts a hand on your shoulder— you don’t jump but it’s a near thing. You reach up to slip your headphones off, wiping the tear discreetly as you go. Then you look up and it’s him, it’s Oscar.

He’s holding out a paper cup labeled, Oat Latte and smiling at you tightly.

“They were calling your name,” he says by way of explanation.

“Right,” your voice is shaky, weak, “Thanks.”

He nods, you take the coffee, careful not to touch his hand. You’re trying to swallow down the lump in your throat that’s rising rising trying to claw its way out of your mouth. You blink away the tears filling the corners of your eyes. You can’t look at him.

You’re looking up at the ceiling instead, biting the inside of your mouth. Breathing in and out, in and out.

He says your name, and then, “Do you want to talk?”

You feel like a tonne of bricks has just hit your chest. Knocking the wind out of you. Tears, hot and wet, are slipping down your cheeks. You can’t speak, you turn around and leave the coffee shop without saying anything because surely you’ll just start crying if you open your mouth. Oscar finds you again across the road, in a dark cobbled alleyway. The heel of your hand is pressed to the middle of your chest, you’re hiccuping, trying to stifle heavy sobs that you’d much prefer to let out in the privacy of your own apartment.

“Hey,” he says, gathering you into his arms before you can push him away, “It’s okay.”

You whine, collapsing into his chest, face pressing into his shoulder, “No, it’s not.”

You cry loudly, trying fruitlessly to keep the sobs in. Oscar’s hand rubs comforting circles into your back, which makes it better until you realise it’s Oscar, which makes it immediately worse. You stay there a while. Until your eyes are puffy and your throat sore.

“Better?”, Oscar asks, the crease between his eyebrows prominent.

You sigh tiredly, shrug, “Sure.”

Your coffee is cold now, your chest feels void, hollow.

You shake your head before Oscar can say anything further, before you’re set off on another fucking pathetic crying fit in the arms of your ex-boyfriend, “I can’t talk, Oscar. I really can’t.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding and swallowing some lump in his own throat.

You bite down hard on your tongue. Turn to leave the dark alley to go home, your back prickling with Oscar’s wet brown-eyed stare on you. He lets you leave. You spend the ten minute walk wiping tears before they fall and itching to run back, to kiss him, to pour all the emotion in your chest into some physical action.

There’s an awful grieving ache in your chest that’s carving out your insides and when you check your phone after walking in the door there’s a text from Oscar that reads:

I miss you. I’d really like to talk to you soon.

not sure if it was weird but the lord of the rings Mentions were kinda about how you’re in such a fragile state during a breakup that something as irrelevant to your break up at lord of the rings will make you cry for hours for no real reason. (and not to expose myself but after a break up i did watch the lotr trilogy two times in a row. told my friends and got a text from one of them asking if i was depressed 😭 like yes… temporarily alright)

send me a prompt/req + driver and i'll write something. pls check if my requests are open first 💖

[reapersapprentice]

After Hours, At Yours.

Nanami x reader

TW: Heavy degradation, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, manhandling, pet names (slut, whore, good girl), humiliation kink, brief switch in dom role, emotional tension, slight aftercare. 18+ ONLY.

⸻

He knew it the moment you opened the door.

The flicker in your eyes, the tension in your voice, the way you half-blocked the doorway with your body like you were hiding something. Nanami stepped inside and understood.

Your place was a mess. Not dirty just… small. Worn. Cluttered. The bed in the corner, half-made. The cracked nightstand. Clothes you probably didn’t have time to put away.

You saw the disappointment in his eyes. Tried to laugh it off.

“I know it’s not much,” you said, barely meeting his gaze. “I don’t make a lot, rent’s expensive, I’m still in my interning phase I, um. I didn’t think you’d care.”

“You didn’t think, that’s where I have a problem” he repeated coldly, shutting the door behind him.

Your face crumbled.

“I’m sorry” you said, trying to keep your composure as much as you possibly could under the circumstances.

“I’m staying.” He replied, completely catching you off guard.

“Excuse me..?” You said, trying not to sound as shocked as you were.

He stepped closer. His presence alone pressed you back toward the edge of the bed. “You invited me in. So now I’m here.” His voice was ice. “I’m not going to let you sit here and spiral in your shame all night. That’s not how this works.”

You swallowed. “Oh well okay.”

He watched your shoulders tighten. Watched your throat bob as you looked anywhere but his face. And he realized something that made his cock twitch under the neat lines of his suit: You were embarrassed.

Completely and utterly embarrassed, you’d been staying here you assumed he knew how the housing was being it was provided by the school.

More so you felt like you weren’t good enough for him.

And you still wanted him to fuck you.

What the fuck is wrong with me? You thought to yourself.

He didn’t waste time. But you.. you on the other hand were in deep thought pushing out excuses after excuses.

He stepped closer to you, picking you up, quieting you.

One minute you were stammering excuses next, you were on your bed, breathless, back pressed to the mattress as he stood over you, maintaining eye contact the way you knew he’d want you to be.

“Take your clothes off.”

You hesitated.

“There is nothing I haven’t already seen, no need to be shy now.” He said while your cheeks flushed red.

“I said take them off. Now.” He demanded.

You scrambled to obey, hands shaking. The humiliation made it better, or maybe worse you didn’t know. All you knew was the heat in your core when he finally climbed onto the bed, hands rough on your knees as he spread your thighs wide open and looked down at you like you were something disgusting. You could see how hard he was through his pants, it was a confusing rush of emotions and alot to take in.

“This is what you wanted?” he said, dragging his fingers through your folds like he wasn’t impressed. “To let a man like me see you like this? Spread open in your shitty little bed like a good-for-nothing whore?”

You moaned. Finally able to get out a single “Yes”

“Of course you did. Filthy little slut.” He spat out, somehow turning you on even more.

His hand cracked down on your thigh, flipping you over, then another hard smack to your ass, hard enough to sting. You yelped, back arching but he was already on top of you, weight pressing you into the sheets, one hand gripping your wrists above your head, the other guiding his cock to your entrance.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he whispered into your ear. “All from being insulted. Do you even have a shred of dignity left?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know really.

“Say it.” He demanded

“I don’t, I don’t have any.” You practically whispered.

“Louder.”

“I don’t have any dignity left, please, just fuck me” you begged, turning him on even more.

“Pathetic.”

He slammed into you.

The bed creaked with every thrust, but somehow you managed to be louder.

He was merciless, deep fast strokes, breath ragged, voice full of venom and authority. He held your wrists in one hand, slapped your tits with the other, called you everything but beautiful and you loved it.

“Look at you,” he grunted, staring down at you like you were nothing. “Taking it like you’ve done this a hundred times before. Are you that used to being used?”

“No, just you I just want you, I just need you” you pleaded.

He grabbed your jaw. “Then earn me.”

You did.

You moaned his name, begged through the tears, took every inch until your body was shaking and the sheets were soaked.

But then you had an idea.

You pushed back.

He wasn’t ready. None of his planning, none of his time, not even any of his authority could’ve processed what you were doing.

You shoved at his chest. Rolled him onto his back. Climbed on top.

“What the hell do you think” you could feel him throbbing beneath you.

“Shut up,” you said, guiding him back inside with one smooth movement.

His hands gripped your hips, tight ..too tight but you leaned down, mouth brushing his.

“How about you cum for me.”

He groaned. Head fell back. And just like that he gave in.

You rode him slow. Deep. Controlled. He hated it. He loved it.

He understood how bad you needed this. Needed to be in charge. Needed to take control.

“Fuck,” he growled, jaw clenched. “You little slut don’t get cocky” he said through gritting teeth.

You clenched around him. Mouth on his “But I’m so good at it, aren’t I?”

He came hard. And you felt every bit of it. You took every bit of it.

Later, his arm was around your waist. Your face was buried in his chest.

“Still pathetic,” he muttered. Still dumbfounded from what just happened

You smiled.

“But you’re mine.”

“I know.” You replied listening to his breathing settle rubbing his chest.

:

It’s so nice to be back let me know how yall all liked this one, don’t forget to like, reblog and comment. until next time my loves, xoxo Reaper 💋.

[corroded-hellfire]

Older Eddie freaking out when she tells him she’s pregnant. He gets worried he won’t be able to be there for them in ways he wants to and tries to run. But he sees the ultrasound picture and breaks down and goes back to his girl

Confused older!eddie, you still that dumb boy we all love

Words: 1k

I’m pregnant.

The words run through Eddie’s head again and again as he lies next to your sleeping form. The sound of your soft, slow breathing is the only noise in the trailer, but Eddie can hardly hear it over the beat of his pulse pounding in his ears. 

He’s glad you’re able to sleep because God knows he’s the farthest thing from sleepy. Pregnant. Eddie’s starting to think he can see the word scrawled across the shadowy ceiling he’s been staring at for the past three hours. 

You’ll be 52 when the kid is born, Munson, Eddie thinks to himself. Which means you’ll be 70 when he or she graduates high school. Well, at least 70 if the kid follows in my footsteps when it comes to education. Heaving a quiet sigh, Eddie tilts his head to the side to look at you. He watches the easy rise and fall of your shoulders with each gentle breath. 

There’s a sudden sense of panic climbing up Eddie’s chest and it feels like an iron hand clamps around his throat. You deserve so much more than this, he thinks. You deserve to have someone your own age, who can be there for you longer than I’ll be able to. 

Unable to bear the thought of you having to take care of your child and an aging Eddie, he pushes himself out of the bed and stalks out of the bedroom. 

2:02 am the neon green numbers on the microwave remind Eddie as he steps into the kitchen. He runs his hands through his salt and pepper curls and begins to pace back and forth in the small space. The two of you had never talked about having kids. Obviously, what was between you was serious and you were both in it for the long haul. Maybe one of you should’ve brought up the subject but it was too damn late now, Eddie mused. 

“Jesus,” Eddie says as he rests his hands on the back of a kitchen chair and hangs his head. “People are going to think I’m her dad and the baby’s fucking grandpa.”

The tightness in his chest returns tenfold as he imagines you calmly explaining to people their mistake, like you don’t mind it one bit. But Eddie knows it would bother you after a while and it would ignite embarrassment in him every single time. The same thoughts would spiral around his head that hadn’t been present since the two of you first started going out: she can do better; you’re too old for her; it’s selfish when you’re going to die at least twenty years before her. 

The shame is too much. Eddie’s nails dig into the wood of the chair as his jaw tightens. Before he can think better of it, he heads towards the front door, where his boots are settled next to. He shoves them on and doesn’t bother to tighten or tie the laces. The keys to his truck hang on the hook next to his leather jacket, but the sight of the jacket only reminds him that he isn’t wearing a shirt. 

“Fuck.” Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose. If he walks back into the bedroom to grab a shirt, he knows he’ll see you, sleeping there like the beautiful angel you are, and fall into your arms. But leaving is what’s best for you…isn’t it? “Get it together, Munson.”

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm down as much as he can, Eddie remembers seeing a sweatshirt hanging on the chair next to the one he was leaning on in the kitchen. It’s an effort to walk across the floorboards of the trailer in such heavy boots without causing a piercing squeak, so Eddie practically tiptoes his way. Calloused fingers snag on the worn gray cotton of the sweatshirt and snatch it up. In his haste, the sleeve of material knocks a few pieces of mail onto the floor.

“Shit,” Eddie mutters. He bends down on creaky knees to pick up the envelopes that bear both your and his names. At the very bottom of the pile, there’s a thinner piece of paper that had gotten mixed in with the mail. 

A slightly trembling hand raises the grainy black-and-white picture to eye level. Even if the lightning weren’t so scarce, the moonlight shining through the window over the sink its only source, Eddie would need to squint to see the image clearly. The small fuzzy bean in the middle of the sonogram has Eddie falling back onto his ass, tears filling his eyes as he stares at the picture of his child. His baby. Your baby. 

Fat tears begin to roll down Eddie’s cheeks and he brings his free hand up to cover his mouth. How could he be so stupid? How could he even consider leaving? Leaving you? Leaving this innocent baby? No, he knows with complete certainty that would be the biggest mistake he’d ever make. So worried about the amount of time that he’d have with you that he was about to throw away the best thing that ever happened to him. And who’s to say someone younger would have more time with you? The next day isn’t promised for anyone, no matter the age.

Eddie puts the sonogram back on the table and is quick to scramble out of his boots, kicking them beneath the chairs to be dealt with in the morning. Both his leather jacket and sweatshirt get tossed on the couch in his haste out of the kitchen, into the hallway, and back down to your shared room. 

When he enters, you’re sleeping on your other side now, so he’s able to see your face. Letting his eyes roam over your beauty, more tears begin to fall. He roughly wipes off his cheeks with his rough palms before climbing into bed with you. Though you look so peaceful asleep and tucked in the blankets, Eddie can’t help but slide in as close to you as possible and wrap you up in his arms. A small, sleepy murmur tumbles from your lips as you snuggle up to your boyfriend.

“Everythin’ ‘kay, Eds?” you mumble as you lift your head and rest it on his bare chest.

Eddie nods as he holds you even tighter against his body. 

“Mhmm, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head, a smile breaking through at the way you cling to him. “Everything’s great.”

[mqsoreshi]

Sleepy Bat part 1

When Jason wakes up one morning and discovers that Bruce isn’t up yet and panics thinking if he might be poisoned. But no—it’s just the flu. Alfred does his best to calm the little kid down, but Jason is determined to help his dad in his own way.

Alarm: Jason Tood

Early in Wayne Manor, everything remained quiet within its walls. Outside, the sun shone and birds sang—but it was still too early for a family of vigilantes.

At least for most of them.

Jason Todd was fast asleep in his room, wrapped comfortably in a cocoon of blankets. But the moment a tiny ray of sunshine landed on his face, his eyes flew open and he jumped like a loaded spring.

“It’s dawn!” he exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement, “It’s finally dawn! I can finally show him!”

He tossed his blankets aside and ran barefoot to his little table in the corner, where a carefully laid-out drawing rested. It was a messy chart compiling different details and patterns from Bruce’s recent missions—things Bruce had shared with him. Jason had organized all the information the best way he knew how, hoping it would help his dad.

He grabbed the drawing, pressed it against his chest, and bolded out into the hallway.

“He’s gonna be so proud!”

The entire manor echoed with the quick pattern of small bare feet. Jason ran through the halls, clutching the paper with pure excitement.

He reached Bruce’s room and threw open the door.

“Bruce! Look what I—!”

He stopped.

The room was still shrouded in darkness. The curtains hadn’t even been drawn. On the bed, Bruce lay completely still, undisturbed even by Jason’s uproar.

“Bruce?”

The little bird blinked, stepping further into the room, very confused.

“It’s morning already,” he said innocently. “Time to patrol the kitchen!”

Jason used the edge of the bed to climb up, crawling carefully until he could see Bruce’s face. Something felt off. A cold cloth was laid across his forehead.

“Bruce?” Jason whispered again, more uncertain this time.

He leaned in, now close enough to hear the slow, wheezing sound of Bruce’s breathing.

“It’s breakfast time,” he reminded, trying to keep things normal.

He reached out and nudged Bruce’s shoulder, gently at first, then a little harder when there was no reaction.

But Bruce didn’t stir. Not even a grumble.

“Bruce…?”

Jason’s smile faded. His hand trembled as he shook Bruce again, passing from being confused to being scared. The drawing fell from his grip.

“Bruce?!”

His heart began to race. Bruce’s chest rose and fell slowly, his face damp with sweat, and when Jason touched his cheek, it felt like touching a furnace. Jason’s mind spiraled into panic.

“Did something happen?! Does it hurt?! Did you have a nightmare?! Do I need to call Alfred?!”

No answer.

Not even the phrase he was claiming to hear: “Five more minutes, Jay…” Not even that? At that point he’d settle with anything.

Jason swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper.

“Y-you don’t sleep this much… You’re an early bird… You’re Batman… Y-you don’t…”

Nothing.

The kid stayed silent for some seconds, listening to the nearest clock in the hallway announcing the eight o’clock of the morning.

Jason bolted off the bed, his chest tight, and tore down the hallway with all the force of a stampede.

“ALFRED!!!”

The thunderous pounding of Jason’s steps echoed through the manor like a herd of elephants. Alfred heard the commotion before Jason even reached the kitchen door.

“ALFRED, ALFRED!!! PLEASE!!! YOU HAVE TO COME QUICKLY!!!”

The butler calmly set the tray with hot tea on the table and turned toward the boy with the composure of someone who had survived countless crises under that roof.

“Master Jason,” Alfred said gently. “What seem to be the matter?”

“It’s Bruce!” Jason cried. “He won’t wake up! I talked to him, I shook him—I really tried to! And he didn’t move or talk back!!! He’s warm and sweating and he didn’t even move!!”

Alfred crouched to meet Jason at eye level, totally calm.

“My dear boy,” he said soothingly. “There’s no need to worry. Master Bruce is alright.”

“But…! He’s not—!! He’s—!”

“Master Bruce is simply sick, that’s all.” Alfred comforted. “It’s completely normal. He returned from patrol last night showing early symptoms, and now he’s just under the weather. He’ll be fine in a few days.”

“He’s like a baked potato, Alfred!!” Jason waved his arms in the air desperately. “He didn’t even scold me for enter his room without knocking!! Not even ‘Jason, what are you doing?’ Nothing!! This is serious!!”

“It is really not, master Jason. I’ve taken care of him personally. He’ll be alright.”

Jason lowered his head, his breathing still sharped. Then, he pressed a hand to his chin, mimicking Bruce’s thinking pose.

“He fought Scarecrow yesterday, didn’t he?”

“Uh…” Alfred hesitated, unsure where this was going. “Yes?”

“That means… that means Scarecrow could’ve poisoned him!!” Jason looked again to Alfred with widen eyes, full of panic. “That might be why Bruce won’t wake up!!!”

Alfred did not see that one coming.

“I-I assure you, Master Jason, that Master Bruce is not poisoned.”

“You ran tests on him?!”

“I did.”

“What if he’s trapped in a nightmare?!”

“He is probably not.”

“What if he never wakes up?!”

“He will.”

“What if he forgets me?!”

“He could never.”

“And what if Scarecrow really did poison him, but it’s like, a really sneaky toxin that makes superheroes sleep forever, and they never wake up and die, and leaving me lonely alone, alone on my own?!”

Alfred did his best to hold a chuckle, his heart aching from the sheer tenderness.

“It’s nothing like that, Master Jason. I’m quite sure of it.”

Alfred couldn’t resist Jason’s worried expression; his trembling lips, his innocent eyes. He had managed to turn cuteness into a weapon and he was an expert using it.

“Would you like to see him again? Perhaps your first impression wasn’t the best.”

“I… I think I would,” Jason muttered. Alfred stood up. “Are you sure he’s okay?”

“Very sure. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

Taking the boy’s hand, Alfred guided him back upstairs to Bruce’s room. Everything was just as before: Bruce lay still, chest rising and falling slowly, sweat on his brow, the cold compress in place, and the blanket drawn hallway up his chest.

Jason clung to Alfred’s hand, firmly.

“See?” the butler said softly, stepping closer to the bed. “He’s completely fine. His body is just doing its work. He’s fighting, even in his sleep.”

Jason remained quiet. He watched the steady movement of Bruce’s chest, slowly, but constantly.

“He… is fighting.”

“He is.”

“And he needs help.”

“He might.”

“Then if he’s fighting inside…” Jason squared his shoulders. “I’ll fight outside.”

“A marvelous choice, Master Ja—wait, what?”

“I’m not gonna leave him alone, Alfred!”

The butler blinked, unsure if he wanted to ask the next question.

“And what exactly do you plan to do, may I ask…?”

“A master plan!”

Before Alfred could say another word, Jason bolded to his room as lighting— not even The Flash could’ve been that fast.

“O-oh…” Alfred was left cold in shock. “Oh my.” He then turned his eyes toward Bruce and let out a chuckle. “God bless us, Master Bruce. The habit of watching over others seems to have been inherited. Even through adoption.”

@sascha-graves

You ask me to tag you when I post more of this :D So there it is. Thank you for your comments!

Next part

[all444glo]

HƆNI XI9

part one

warnings: foul language, suggestive, etc etc

summary: englishmen are insistent.

You scrolled aimlessly through your phone, sitting on the cold wooden bench in front of those all-too-familiar lockers. Jude was everywhere—on your feed, in your explore page, buried in stories you didn’t even mean to tap on. It was like the algorithm had it out for you, twisting the knife a little deeper each time his face popped up.

You weren’t new to fame. You’d been in music videos, name-dropped in songs, brushed shoulders with more celebrities than you could count. The spotlight never rattled you. But somehow, Jude did.

You’d ignored his follow requests. Left his texts on read—not that you even remembered giving him your number in the first place. Still, he lingered. A handsome kind of plague you couldn’t seem to shake.

Your mind drifted, uninvited, to that private dance. The way his hands hovered, cautious but curious. The slow, reverent way he’d unlaced your underwear like he was unwrapping something sacred. He never crossed a line, but somehow that only made you want him more.

You needed him. But needing wasn’t the same as having.

Because in the real world, men like him didn’t end up with girls like you. You were an exotic dancer from a tiny town in Georgia; he was a football star on one of the most decorated teams on the planet. Even if you left that life behind, the past had teeth. And the media never let girls like you forget it.

You checked the time and pulled yourself out of the spiral, grounding yourself in the now. Showtime was coming. You were used to this. You’d climbed from pouring drinks to dancing side stage to dominating the main floor.

You were the name people whispered about, the one they came to see. The one they paid for. The money rolled in, but lately, the weight of it all felt heavier than usual. You were tired. But at least tonight, the crowd was small, private. Manageable.

They’d asked for you, like most did. You had the kind of body that made people forget their names, and the kind of presence that made them beg to remember yours. A tap on your shoulder broke your thoughts—it was one of the girls stepping off stage, her garters barely holding bills.

Private party with private pockets, you thought bitterly, standing up. You sprayed one last mist of setting spray across your face and leaned into the mirror. A quick swipe of your cheap, glittery lip gloss. Still, even exhausted, you looked like a dream.

You stepped into the haze of the club, lights flickering against the smoke, your heels clicking softly beneath the music. It was packed, shoulder to shoulder with unfamiliar faces—men too stunned to even touch, too fascinated to blink.

Definitely not from Atlanta.

You scanned the room. Nothing but tourists. That sinking feeling settled in your stomach. You hated outsiders. Hated the guessing game. At least the regulars had patterns. Predictability. These men? You’d have to read them cold.

You approached the pole slowly, easing into your rhythm. A bend at the waist, a calculated tilt of your hips. Letting the tension build, letting them think they had time to figure you out. Then—you felt it.

Fingers slipping into your thong.

Your body stiffened. You knew that touch. Too well.

“Jude,” you gasped, whipping around and stepping down from the stage, heat flooding your cheeks as your coworkers looked on. “What the hell are you doing here?” You smacked his chest—not in anger, not exactly. Something heavier. Conflicted.

No matter how many times you tried to shut the door on him, he always had another key. That was the curse of rich men—money rewrote the rules. Bought back access you thought you revoked.

“I paid good money for this, love,” he said, with that same smirk that made you ache and want to scream all at once. His hands grazed your sides, the heat from his skin sinking into your bones.

“You love to tip toe on my boundaries,” you said, quieter now. “I told you I’m a stripper. That’s all I’ll ever be to you.”

“And I keep telling you,” he said, stepping closer, “we could be more. But if you really mean that—if that’s all you’ll ever be—then at least let me be your favorite customer.”

There was something in his eyes. Lust, yes, but beneath it—something dangerous. Something tender. It chipped at the wall you’d built.

For a second, you almost gave in. Almost let yourself believe he meant it. That he could be different.

“Why do you want me so bad?” you asked, voice shaky. “Is this some kind of fetish?”

“What? No—”

“Is it the control? The idea that you can buy me? Does that turn you on? Am I just some PG-13 prostitute to you?”

He didn’t flinch. Just reached for your hand and led you into the same room where everything started. Where he first watched you, not like a man paying for a show—but like someone looking at art and aching to touch.

The silence settled thick between you.

“Why would I think of you like that?” he said finally, his voice quieter now, slower. “Am I not allowed to be infatuated with you?”

You looked down. The words came out before you could soften them. “I like you, Jude. That’s the problem.” You huffed putting your head in your hands, trying to take a deep breath.

“But I know how this ends. When i’m the docile girl you took out the strip club you’ll love me. But when I fuck up or do something you don’t like, I’ll be back to being a hoe. That’s what happens to girls like me.”

The air shifted. You hated how fragile you sounded. How much it sounded like a plea for protection when all you wanted was honesty.

“So you don’t want anything real?” he asked. “You don’t want love?”

You shrugged. A tear rolled down, but you wiped it away before it could fall too far.

He stared at you—like he was trying to see through everything you said, everything you didn’t.

Then he spoke, low and steady:

“If you were really okay with what you do…you’d understand that I accept you exactly as you are.”

A long pause.

“But the truth is, you don’t even know how to accept yourself.”

[blackbat05]

A Year On

Oliver Wood x Reader

Plot: You've finally achieved your dreams of opening a bookstore. A good friend is there to help you with a much needed confession between the two of you.

A/N: This took me longer than I would have liked but what a whirlwind this year has been - in a good way! I'm so thankful to so many people for the support~ In a way, this piece also reflects my experiences in its own unique way. Thank you for always supporting me and have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! May more good things come our way~ Tagging the lovely @the-slumberparty

Genre: Fluff, PG-13

Prompt: Has it been a year already?

“That’s the last of it!” Hermione beams as she waves her wand, the last box sitting nicely on the pile of the many other boxes that the two of you had been bringing into the shop the whole morning.

The shop that you had finally acquired.

“Thanks Hermione, you really didn’t have to give up your whole Saturday morning for this. Don't you have to get Christmas decorations for the house?"

“Are you kidding?” She admonishes. “My best friend has finally achieved her dreams of opening her own bookstore? I’ll be your first customer!”

You give her a hug, feeling equally giddy and lightheaded from the success. Sure, it was only the first step, but you allowed yourself to savor this small win.

“I was hoping to be your first customer, but I guess I’ll just have to settle for second.” A voice pipes up from the entrance.

“Oliver!” You squeak at the sight of the burly young male clutching a bouquet of sunflowers. “Please, come in!” You invite him in, ignoring the pointed look that Hermione gave you.

“Well, I’ll be on my way then. I have to meet Ron in twenty minutes. Don’t want to be late!” Hermione happily sing-songs as she bids goodbye to the two of you. The bell jingles before plunging the shop into silence once more. Oliver strides forward, presenting you with a bouquet of sunflowers.

"Congratulations. You've done it."

You take the flowers carefully, grateful. "Thank you for making the time. You must have been incredibly busy with training."

"And miss the opening of your bookstore?" Oliver brushes off the minor inconvenience. "I'll be a terrible friend."

You laugh, but your heart sinks a little at the word - friend.

You weren't going to lie, the little admiration for the Keeper back in school had grown into a crush and spiralled out of control. Not to mention how he was there for you during your worst period of time.

"Has it been a year already?"

"Huh?"

Oliver's question snaps you out of your daydreams and you swore you saw him chuckle.

"You know, since I last saw you." He refers to the time when you found yourself out and down of luck in your job and life. The depression slowly crept behind you before swallowing you whole. No matter what your family said or tried, you refused to budge, believing that it was something you could never climb out of.

But Oliver refused to give up on you.

He did everything he could - making sure you ate, riding on his sleek broom after training in the vast countryside and showing you the empty shop in Hogsmeade that was now proudly occupied by you.

"Yeah. When you told me you made the down payment for the shop, I thought you were pulling my leg at first. Then you showed me the deed and that's when I knew it was real." You paused, unsure.

"I still don't know why you did it."

Oliver walks around the boxes, observing them like they belonged in a Museum. You wait with bated breath.

"Can I be honest?"

Oliver picks up a book from an opened box. “You only deserve good things.” He looks at you with his big brown puppy eyes that made you fell in love- a big ass capital L with him in the first place.

“You were always so optimistic, helping everyone, listening to their troubles. Including mine. Remember when Flint knocked me off my broom and I had an injury so bad that I was unsure if I would be ready for Puddlemere’s tryouts?”

You remembered well. Oliver was a mess. You still can’t forget the image of the twins running out of his dorm, hair set aflame on their bright Orange hair. They warned you not to enter but you told them that they were just being ridiculous. Two hours and eight minutes later, you managed to get Oliver out of the dorm to have supper. When George asked you how you did it, you replied with two words.

“I listened.”

“And you saved me.” You think Oliver is just being nice but you take one look at him and his expression is dead set on serious.

“You always gave so much to others, never expecting anything in return.” He says. “So… I wanted to be the first to do something for you.”

Your breath hitches as he takes a step forward, freckles from playing Qudditch evident on his rosy cheeks.

“Ollie…” You use the nickname that only you’re allowed to call him.

“This is so crazy.” Oliver lets out a huff of air. “I’ve practiced this so many times in front of actual mirror and I’m tongue tied.”

The butterflies in your stomach flutters and you swore you could float a few feet of the ground. But you remain patient with the adorable man in front of you trying to gather his remaining bearings.

“I’m so proud of how far you’ve come. This is all your own efforts and I’m glad to be part of it.” Oliver starts, before his eyebrows crinkle at his own speech.

“What I’m really trying to say is that I love you. I love you so much for seeing who I really am beyond Gryffindor's Qudditch Captain. For being there for me every single day... and I want to be there for you... if you'll have me."

You almost burst into tears at your best friend's sweet and vulnerable confession. No more dancing around each other, no more games. You throw yourself around his burly frame, face nestled in his chest.

"Yes. Yes I'll have you dork." You muttered, not exactly ready to let him see your puffy eyes. But Oliver doesn't care as he gently pries you from the comfort of his red sweater.

"I'm sorry it took me this long. I thought with everything that has happened over the past year, you would want to settle down first before anything else."

Could this man be any more perfect?

"I appreciate that Oliver, I really do. Though I am not entirely blameless." You admit, feeling a teensy bashful. Oliver is confused for a moment and when he understands that you held the same feelings as he did, a charming grin is plastered on his face. You know what that means - he's ready to tease you.

"Really? Oh do tell."

Flame rushes to your face as you open another box of books for the much needed distraction.

"You know what, forget I ever said that."

"Now you know I can't do that. When did you figure out you had feelings for me? Ooh was it when you saw me half naked in the locker room during our last year?"

"Oliver Wood, if you continue this- nonsense. I'm going to have to put you to work!" You stumble over your words, not fooling anyone.

"Well then, use me as you wish. My day is yours to command."

It was your turn to smile as the two of you started to arrange the books on the shelves in synchronized teamwork.

If present you had went back in time to tell past you that this would be your life? You would have snorted it off and continued moping around. How funny a year could be so different.

Perhaps, that was the magic of Christmas.

[mushies-stories]

Keys: when in need

Juice x F!Reader

Summary: Exchanging keys can be a big deal but also a sign of trust and love. Reader gets a phone call with bad news while Juice is on a run. she seeks him out for comfort but settles with his apartment while he's away.

Warnings: None? pet names? crying...? The family problem is left open; we all go through some hard times, so I thought it fitting to leave it open for anyone who find it helpful to and comforting.

Authers note: i have a few ideas about how having a Key to Juices house is helpful and i think i might write like a little series for them. like nothing in order other than maybe this being the first with the how?

word count: 1867

Juice looked at you with a small smile while his hand dug in his pocket. “Here.” he says as he pulls whatever it was he was looking for. “This is for you.” he says and holds out a sing key on a keyring. You looked at the key then back to him, shocked that he was taking this step in your relationship. It made you happy while also nervous, no one had ever given you a house key before. You wanted to be closer however, it was just a surprise and a little out of the blue. Juice got nervous the longer it took you to respond, his smile faulted a little and his shoulder sagged just a bit. “You don't have to take it… I just thought-”

“I want it.” your words were rushed and sounded just as nervous as juice looked. You reached out and slowly took the key, eyeing it with a soft smile. “No one has ever given me a key before.” you confess. 

Juice relaxed a little with a soft chuckle. “That so? Well you're welcome over whenever baby.” he says with a crooked smile. 

Your own smile widens and you step closer to wrap your arms around his middle, his own came up to wrap around your shoulders. “Thank you juicy, I love you.”  you say into his chest.

He gives your shoulders a small squeeze and kisses the top of your head. “I love you too Baby.” he says with a goofy grin, happy you accepted his offer. 

A few days later you decided to make a spare key of your own and give it to him, showing him that you felt the same way and trusted him enough to have it. He showered you with affection and love over the whole thing and didn't complain when you told him you would prefer to be at his place, since he was so clean and his place was so nice.

~~~~

It was normal for you to text Juice and tell him you were going to come over or be there when he got home. You both had come to an understanding that his place was the normal meetup spot. You didn't mind your own place but Juice's apartment smelled like him, it looked like him and you felt comfortable there when he wasn't even home. He didn’t seem to mind it either, since it was naturally cleaner than yours anyways, something he tried not to tease you about.

There was a night however, he was gone for a three day run and would be back late at night. You had been given some news about a family member that caused you to spiral a little. With tears rimming your waterline you drove to Juice’s empty apartment in a daze. It was about 5pm when you pulled up and used your key to let yourself in. 

You left the door unlocked and kicked your shoes off. Still in a complete daze you went straight to Juice's closet and pulled down one of his black T-shirts. You pulled your own shirt over your head and replaced it with his. Climbing into his bed you wrapped yourself up in his blankets. The blankets and pillows smelt like Juice, like he was almost there with you. You felt safer, still lonely and sad but his scent and apartment helped soothe you enough to fall into a restless sleep. 

What you didn't know was that you had left your phone at home. Juice, who had tried to call you soon after you left to tell you he would be home rather late, had tried back all day. Every stop he called you once and then soon he was blowing up your phone just to make sure you were okay and every time you didn’t pick up his anxiety got worse. By the time they rolled into town Juice was making a B-line straight to your apartment. When he pulled up to find your car missing and your door unlocked with your phone inside he began to really panic. 

On auto pilot he rode straight to his own apartment, the last place he could look before falling into a full blown panic attack.

Juices felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders when he saw your car parked in the spot next to where he puts his bike. He haphazardly parks next to your car and practically runs up the stairs to his apartment. When he placed his key in the door however he found it already unlocked and the sinking feeling that something bad filled his chest again. He held his hand near his gun as he entered his apartment. It was quiet and dark when he stopped inside. Your shoes were laying upside down by the door but there didn’t seem to be any kind evidence of a break in. Relaxing his shoulders a bit he closed and locked the door behind him with a soft sigh. 

Slowly he walked to his bedroom. A small smile crept across his face when he flicked the light on to find you asleep in the middle of his bed. You were wrapped in his blankets and your hair was a mess around you. Juice really wanted to let you sleep, you looked a little like you needed it at the moment.

He was too anxious and worried for that however. You had left your phone at home and the door’s were unlocked. You know by now how much Juice cares about your safety, you should have known better and locked them. He kicked his boots off, for the moment not caring where they landed. 

He sat on the edge of the bed and gently moved the hair that was obstructing your face from him. His smile flipped quickly into a frown, his brows pinched together. You had been crying, evidence dripped onto his pillow. You had probably been crying for a while now and it broke Juice’s heart. His thumb came to swipe threatening tears from your tightly closed eyes. “Baby, wake up.” Juice spoke soft and gentle, trying to coax you out of your slumber slowly so as to not startle you. “C’mon baby, wake up for me please.” he asked again, now stroking your hair a little. 

Your eyes shift a little before fluttering open. It took you a moment to focus and realize Juice was there. “Juice?” you croaked out. 

When you sat up Juice couldn't help the giddy feeling when he saw you in his shirt. You were upset about something and you seemed to seek him out for comfort. 

“Your home… What time is it?” you asked, rubbing your eyes while you try and read the clock. 

Sitting against the headboard Juice wrapped his arms around you enough to pull you and sit you on his lap. You didn’t hesitate a moment and wrapped your own around his torso and laid your head against his chest. “Almost one in the morning, if i knew you were here i would have been sooner.” he said softly, rubbing your thigh with one hand while the other held you against him by your lower back. 

It took you a moment to remember how you even got in his apartment. You felt bad, you hadn’t said anything and left your phone at home. You looked up at him with watery eyes. “I'm sorry.” you say, voice clever but still only just above a whisper. 

Juice gave you a tender smile and shook his head. “I'm just glad your safe Babygirl, I was worried.” he told you. “What's going on, did something happen?” he then asked. 

You nodded slowly, remembering the phone call you got earlier that day and all the emotions you were sleeping to get away from came flooring back. Fresh tears filled your water line before falling quickly. Before your own hand could come up to swipe them away Juice was there, gently wiping the streaks from your cheeks and tucking your hair behind your ear. He let you take your time, slowly getting the words out. You hated how broken your voice sounded but you felt just a little better telling him. He reassured you over and over he was right there, take your time, he wasn't going to leave you alone. You managed to tell him everything you knew about what happened. He didn’t know what else to do at the moment but to hold and listen to you and for the moment it was just what you needed. Safe in his arms while you poured your bleeding heart to the man you loved and trusted the most in this world. 

With a shaky breath you finally  gave him a small smile, tears still streaming down your face. “I just… didn’t know what to do or where to go.” you said, as you snuggled closer to him. “I just got in my car and drove here.” you admitted. 

Juice smiled softly, he didn’t like the pain you were in but knowing he was such a big part of your life now just made him happy. “I'm glad you came here, wish you would have locked the door and told me so I didn’t have to panic.” he scolded you softly. 

You hummed in agreement. “I know, I'm sorry.” you repeated, you felt a little awkward now that he was home, actually there giving you the comfort you had been seeking when coming here. You couldn't help but apologize. Your tears continued to fall but lessened enough so your breathing could even out. Listening to Juice’s heart beat helped keep your head in reality. 

Juice shook his head again with a short low chuckle. “Baby, no need to apologize. I'm here for you and I just want to make sure you're safe.” he told you. “Next time maybe just leave me a message okay?”

“I will.” you agreed.

For a while you fell into a comfortable silence while you calmed down. Your tears stopped and your eyes felt heavy now. It was still late and you knew Juice must be exhausted. “You need sleep.” you say and go to stand but Juice's arms stop you from moving and instead pull you to sit with your back pressed against his chest. 

He nuzzled into your neck. “Not before I know you're going to be okay.” He says. 

You smile to yourself. He really was a good man. “I'm okay Juice, I promise.” you say and lean into his hold. “You’re here with me and that's enough, I cried it all out anyways.” You joke light heartedly. 

He kisses your shoulder and lets you back in bed before getting up with a grin. “Okay, tomorrow I'll make breakfast and we can do whatever you want, alright baby? I'm all yours.” he says while undressing, opting to take a shower in the morning and getting into bed next to you. 

You hummed in agreement and scoot closer to him, cursing up against his side and laying your head on his chest. You were glad he was home, now you felt like you could get some real rest and hold off your worries for a while.

[team-free-avengers]

Five Years

Summary: You have a feeling Sam forgot your anniversary but you hope you’re wrong.

Pairing:Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings:

Word Count: 1080

Waking up you expect to feel the warmth of your boyfriend Sam laying beside you where he usually is but instead you are met with an empty space. 

‘It's still warm, so that means he just recently got up,’ you think to yourself as you get out of bed and retrieve your robe from its hook. 

Making your way to the kitchen you half expect to see him brewing the two of you a pot of coffee, instead you are greeted with an empty kitchen. Sam didn’t even leave a note like he usually does if he has to run off somewhere early in the morning. There is a feeling of disappointment that maybe he forgot your five year anniversary but you try to shake it off, it's still early and you both are adults. 

“Maybe he just had to meet up with Joaquin to work on something urgent,” you whisper trying to settle your nerves as you begin making yourself coffee for work.

Throughout the day you keep periodically checking your phone hoping to receive some sort of message from your boyfriend but it is radio silent. On your lunch break you even decide to try to call him but it goes right to voicemail trying two more times you just send him a text while a knot starts to form in your stomach.

I hope you are having a good day, I can’t wait to see you later so we can celebrate.

‘There’s no way that he forgot,’ you think to yourself as you make your way back to your desk. 

By now no matter how much you don’t want to believe it there’s that small part of your brain telling you Sam definitely forgot. When you talked about it a few weeks ago it was agreed to keep it lowkey this year but you didn’t think that meant doing nothing at all, not even acknowledging it. Thoughts continue to spiral about what could be up with him and why he's not answering but before you can fall any deeper you hear a knock on your office door. Kate, your assistant cautiously steps through the door, you don't have to look up to know it's her.

“If you don’t need anything else im going to head out for the night Ms. L/N,” she says quietly and for the first time in apparently hours you pull away from your laptop.

The sun has set and it is well past six when Kate and the rest of the office usually leave, “I don’t need anything else, thank you though Kate. Go home and relax,” you say tiredly unsure where time went.

‘No point working your feelings away, might as well go see if Sam has made it home himself yet,’ you think to yourself packing up and heading out the now empty office. 

Sam’s truck is nowhere in sight when you arrive home causing one final wave of disappointment. Climbing out of your car you officially decide you are going to eat some of your favorite ice cream and go to bed because today has officially won. True to your word you make your way towards the kitchen instantly only to be greeted with a large bouquet of your favorite flower and a note. 

My Love, My Y/N, 

I bet you thought that I forgot our anniversary but I could never do such a thing. In Fact I have a few surprises in store for you. Head to the bedroom. 

          Always yours,

Sam 

The butterflies begin pooling in your stomach in a way only Sam could cause as you rush to the bedroom. On the bed is another note as well as a gorgeous dress with all the matching accessories.

Get ready and meet me head down to our favorite spot, I’ll be waiting. 

You rush to do something a little better with your hair and makeup before putting everything Sam laid out for you on and rushing to the little meadow you discovered on a weekend walk. When you arrive he is nervously standing beside a picnic blanket, food and drinks spread all across it. There are fairly lights strung across the trees that surround the meadow and you can’t help but to think this is what he's been doing all day.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to come,” he says jokingly but you know under the surface he is serious.

“I got a little distracted at work and came home late. Honestly I thought you forgot I'm sorry,” you say quietly still taking everything in, “its beautiful. Did you do this all yourself?”

“We said we wanted things to be lowkey but I still wanted to do something special to celebrate the amazing years we’ve spent together,” he says motioning for you to sit with him on the blanket, this seemed like the perfect way to do both.”

“It is perfect,” you confirm before examining all the food, “I don’t know about you but I'm starving.”

“Well then by all means, let’s eat.”

 While finishing the last piece of fruit you see Sam begin to fidget, “Are you okay?” you question. 

“Yeah I just..I just,” He instantly stops and nervously clears his throat.

After another minute of him nervously fidgeting he smoothly slips onto one knee pulling something from his pocket. 

‘There is no way this is happening right now!’ you think internally screaming.

“Y/N L/N, my lover, my best friend, my better half. You have made these last five years the best years of my life, through the ups and the downs I couldn’t have asked for a better person by my side. The only thing that would make it better is if you agreed to take my last name and spend the rest of your life with me. Will you marry me Y/N?” He slowly opens the box revealing the most beautiful ring you have ever seen. 

“Yes! Yes! A million times yes!” you squeal like a little girl throwing yourself into his arms for a kiss.

When you pull away he slips the ring on your finger allowing you to admire it up close, “I had it custom made so it's one of a kind just like you.”

“Its perfect, just like today,” you say snuggling deeper into his chest.

The two of you get lost in each other as you lay there in the meadow under the stars the new engagement bliss already taking over.