#then again both of them felt the spark the moment they saw each other

[shadyfestivalperfection]

Even Ice Can Burn~Oneshot

This is an request by @fandomsearcherforcuntymen

I couldn’t reply to your ask due to a glich…I hope that’s ok!

Summery: Once, Y/N L/N and Bucky Barnes were just soldiers. Then they became Hydra’s perfect weapons—frozen, erased, unleashed only to kill. When Bucky regains his memories, he searches for the girl he lost, only to find her aiming a dagger at the President. But Y/N isn’t beyond saving. As old ghosts resurface and Hydra fights to reclaim her, she must decide: stay the weapon they made her, or burn it all down.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x f!Supersoldier!reader

Note: All characters except The Whisperer are not mine!

||Master List||

They met in the heart of a city that never stopped moving—three kids clinging to each other like life rafts in a world that often felt too big, too harsh. Steve Rogers, ever the scrappy one with fire in his heart. Bucky Barnes, all charm and confidence with a protective streak a mile wide. And Y/N L/N, the girl who moved into their building with a sharp wit and a spark in her eyes that neither of them could ignore.

It started simply enough—Steve had been sick again, and Bucky had dragged him out for air when they stumbled upon a crowd of older boys cornering a girl half their size in an alley. She stood her ground, fists clenched, daring them to try. Bucky couldn’t help but grin. Steve was already charging in, despite his size. And from that moment, it was the three of them against the world.

They became inseparable. Sunday mornings were for coffee and sketchbooks. Saturdays were for walking through the city, sometimes hand in hand, sometimes racing across rooftops when the world felt light enough. Y/N teased Steve gently, challenged Bucky constantly, and kept both of them on their toes.

What neither of them knew—what Bucky could never admit—was that he had fallen for her. Not just for her sharp tongue or the way she could knock the wind out of him with a single look. He fell for the way she laughed with her whole body. The way she saw Steve, truly saw him, long before the serum. The way she made both of them feel like they mattered in a world that treated them like they didn’t.

But war came. And with it, uniforms, orders, and goodbyes.

They fought side by side in the war, always watching each other’s backs. Y/N was one of the best—the kind of soldier others followed without question. She was fearless, quick, and smarter than most of their commanding officers. When Steve became Captain America, and Bucky became part of the Howling Commandos, it only made sense that she was there too.

But it was never enough.

The day Bucky fell from the train, Y/N’s heart stopped. She didn’t think. She jumped.

Steve never saw her land.

When she opened her eyes, she was restrained in a cold, metal room, half her body screaming in pain. She caught glimpses of Bucky through glass, heard him scream, then go silent, over and over again.

Hydra took their time. They needed to perfect the science. Bucky was the trial run—the guinea pig. Y/N was the goal. They enhanced him first, rebuilding him bone by bone, muscle by muscle, mind by mind. They broke him to see how far a man could bend before he shattered.

Then they took her.

Unlike Bucky, her body accepted the serum instantly. Her strength, reflexes, and senses became godlike. Hydra called her the apex soldier. But the more powerful she became, the more dangerous she was to them if her mind stayed her own. So they erased her—just as they had erased Bucky. They wiped every memory, every smile, every name. All that was left was obedience.

They became ghosts. Kept in cryostasis when not in use. Woken only for bloodshed, chaos, and war. Hidden away from the world that once knew their names.

Years later, after the fall of SHIELD and the crumbling of Hydra’s last strongholds, Bucky Barnes remembered.

Piece by piece, with Steve at his side, he built himself back together. He remembered the war. He remembered falling. And he remembered her.

Y/N.

It hit him like a wave, crashing through his reformed mind with memories so vivid it took his breath away. Her laugh. Her defiance. The way she looked at him like she saw straight through the bravado.

“She’s out there,” he told Steve one night, the two of them standing side by side on the roof of the Avengers compound. “I know she is.”

Steve didn’t argue. He felt it too. They searched through what remained of Hydra files, tracing every whisper and lead until they uncovered something more urgent—an imminent threat. Someone was planning to assassinate the President of the United States during a diplomatic visit to New York.

The Avengers assembled.

Crowds gathered. Security tightened. And then—movement.

In the chaos of the crowd, Bucky saw it—a blur of black darting through the alley, closing in on the president’s motorcade. A flash of silver glinted in the air.

A dagger.

Bucky moved without thinking, barreling through the crowd. He tackled the would-be assassin just as the blade left their hand, forcing the throw just an inch off its mark. It embedded in a nearby wall with a metallic thunk.

And then he saw her face.

Y/N.

His breath caught. She was leaner, colder, sharper. But it was her.

She didn’t hesitate. She threw him off like he weighed nothing, landing in a crouch with the precision of a panther. He didn’t fight back. Not really.

“Y/N,” he rasped. “It’s me. Bucky. Don’t you remember me?”

She hesitated—but only for a second. Her fist collided with his jaw, sending him reeling.

“Stop!” he shouted, dodging another blow. “Please, just look at me!”

There was nothing behind her eyes but lethal focus.

Steve arrived next, shield in hand. “Y/N!” he called, stunned. “What the hell—?”

She lunged at him. The fight escalated—Y/N against Steve and Bucky. She moved like a ghost, striking with precision and force. Steve grunted as she landed a blow that would’ve shattered any normal man’s ribs.

“Don’t hurt her!” Bucky shouted, catching Steve’s arm mid-swing. “We don’t fight to kill.”

Y/N paused—just for a second—at the sound of his voice. A flicker of something danced across her expression. But it was gone before it could take root.

The alley was silent now—save for the echo of footfalls and the hiss of Y/N’s breath. She stood in the center of the chaos she’d created: overturned crates, a dented shield, Bucky’s bruised cheek, and Steve’s panting form. But her eyes were vacant. Cold. Calculated.

“Y/N,” Bucky said again, slowly stepping toward her. “Please. I don’t want to fight you.”

She tilted her head, her body still poised for an attack. “You think I know you?”

“You do,” Bucky said gently. “We were friends. All three of us. Brooklyn. Remember?”

“Brooklyn?” Her voice was flat. Empty. “That’s not in my mission parameters.”

Steve stepped in behind him, fingers gripping the heavy-duty restraints Tony had sent via a sleek silver drone moments before. “Got ‘em,” he muttered to Bucky. “These are reinforced vibranium cuffs—Tony said even the Hulk couldn’t break through.”

Bucky didn’t look back. “Not yet,” he said. “She’s still in there.”

Y/N lunged suddenly, her fist aiming straight for Steve’s throat—but Bucky caught her, arms wrapping tightly around her torso from behind. She thrashed against him like a wild animal, all strength and fury.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Bucky whispered into her ear, voice shaking. “I swear, I’m not. But I can’t let you keep doing this.”

“Let me go!” she screamed, slamming her elbow into his ribs with bone-cracking force. He grunted but held on tighter, his arms locked around her, refusing to let her slip through his grasp again. “Let me go—let me go—!”

“Y/N, you don’t belong to them,” Bucky said, his voice breaking. “You never did.”

Steve took his chance. With practiced speed, he snapped the cuffs around her wrists while Bucky held her still. They hissed closed, locking with a finality that seemed to freeze the air.

The moment the metal snapped into place, her body jerked—still resisting, trembling. “You traitors,” she snarled through clenched teeth. “You don’t understand what I am. What they made me.”

“I know exactly what they did,” Bucky whispered, pressing his forehead against the back of her shoulder. “Because they did it to me too.”

She fought harder, like the words burned her. Her body twisted violently, nearly throwing them both to the ground.

“She’s going to break something,” Steve muttered, trying to help hold her upright.

“I’ve got her!” Bucky barked, struggling to keep her still. “Y/N, stop! Please, stop! I’m right here—it’s me. Bucky.”

But she didn’t stop.

That’s when Sam dropped in from above, his wings retracting as he landed with quiet force. He watched for a second—eyes flicking from Bucky’s desperate hold to Y/N’s burning rage—then moved in close.

“Sorry, Barnes,” he said, voice low and grim. “She’s too far gone right now.”

Before Bucky could react, Sam pressed the hypo-injector to Y/N’s neck.

She stiffened. Her breath hitched.

And then, like a puppet with its strings cut, she slumped in Bucky’s arms.

“No—no, no,” he whispered, slowly lowering them both to the ground. He cradled her like she was glass, brushing the hair from her face as her breathing evened out. Her brow still furrowed, even unconscious—like her body hadn’t stopped fighting.

Steve crouched beside him, concern in his voice. “It was a sedative. Nothing permanent. She’s okay.”

Bucky didn’t answer for a moment. He just looked at her—at the bruises on her knuckles, the pain still etched in her sleeping face.

“We’ve got her now,” Steve said gently. “She’s not going back to them.”

“She’s still in there,” Bucky murmured, tightening his arms protectively around her. “I know she is. And I’ll stay with her until she finds her way back.”

Steve nodded and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Then we’ll bring her home. Together.”

The Avengers Compound was quieter than usual when they brought her in—no quips, no arguments, no sounds from the gym or labs. Just low voices, the faint beeping of machines, and the sound of Y/N’s restrained breathing.

She lay in a secured medical suite, her wrists still bound in the vibranium cuffs Tony had upgraded personally. Her legs were free, but she couldn’t move far. There were pressure-sensitive failsafes in the room, a clear request from Bucky: “No cells. No walls. Just safety.”

She was asleep—again. The sedative was working its way out of her system, but the aftereffects of years of Hydra conditioning lingered in her taut posture and twitching fingers.

Bucky hadn’t left her side.

He sat in the chair beside her bed, arms resting on his knees, the weight of the past pressing into his shoulders like lead. Steve stood just inside the door, watching him.

“You’ve been here all night,” Steve said softly. “You should rest.”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Steve replied. “Neither is she. But pushing yourself won’t help her remember.”

Bucky glanced at Y/N, his voice low. “She used to doodle little stars on the corners of my notebooks. Remember that?”

Steve smiled faintly. “Yeah. She said your margins looked empty.”

“I asked her once if she thought I was going to be a soldier forever,” Bucky whispered, eyes fixed on her face. “She said no. Said I’d probably open a bookstore and flirt with customers all day.”

Steve chuckled quietly. “That sounds like her.”

“She didn’t deserve this,” Bucky said, voice trembling.

“I know.”

They both fell into silence until a sound made them both freeze.

A gasp.

Y/N’s body jerked, her hands straining against the cuffs. Her eyes fluttered open—sharp, wild, afraid. Her breathing quickened as she scanned the unfamiliar room, the sterile white walls, the distant hum of Friday’s monitoring vitals.

And then her eyes found Bucky.

“Easy,” Bucky said quickly, rising from his chair, hands raised in peace. “You’re safe.”

She flinched. “Where am I? Who are you?”

Steve stepped forward, his voice calm. “Y/N, you’re at the Avengers Compound. You’re not with Hydra anymore. You’re free.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, yanking against the cuffs. “You’re lying. This is a trick. I don’t know you.”

Bucky stepped closer. “You do. It’s me. Bucky.”

Her eyes narrowed, confusion flickering behind them.

He knelt beside her bed, ignoring Steve’s wary glance, and gently placed a worn photograph on the bedside table. It was creased, a little faded—but clear. Three teenagers sitting on a Brooklyn stoop, arms around each other, grinning like they owned the world.

She stared at it.

“I carried this with me the whole war,” Bucky said quietly. “That’s you. That’s us. You used to say the three of us were a storm no one could stop.”

Y/N blinked, her brows twitching together. “That’s not… I don’t…”

Steve added gently, “You didn’t work for Hydra, Y/N. They took you. They hurt you. They erased you. But you are not them.”

Y/N turned her face away. “Then why do I feel like I belong to them?”

Bucky’s voice cracked. “Because they made you feel that way. Just like they did to me. But it’s a lie. Everything they told you was a lie.”

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She didn’t wipe it away. She didn’t answer.

Steve stepped back to the door. “She needs you. I’ll give you time.”

Bucky sat beside her again, careful not to touch her.

“You’re not alone anymore,” he whispered. “I’m going to stay right here, for as long as it takes. No more missions. No more cages. Just you and me, Y/N. Just us.”

Her breath hitched again—but she didn’t resist this time.

And outside the room, Steve exhaled, knowing that something—someone—was slowly starting to break through the cracks Hydra had left behind.

The room was dark, dimly lit by a low glow along the wall from the monitors. Outside the reinforced glass window, the Compound’s gardens were silent in the pre-dawn haze. But inside Y/N’s room, the silence was broken by a low, strangled gasp.

She jerked upright in bed, chest heaving, sweat clinging to her temples. The restraints on her wrists clicked slightly against the bed frame as her whole body trembled. Her eyes darted wildly around the room—still unsure, still untrusting.

“Y/N?” a groggy voice called from the corner.

Bucky had been dozing in the chair again, his body slouched, arms crossed. But at her gasp, he snapped fully awake and rushed to her side without hesitation.

“Hey, hey—it’s okay. You’re safe,” he whispered, kneeling beside her bed.

She didn’t answer, still trapped in the edges of her nightmare, her breath quick and shallow.

Bucky gently took her hand—the one not cuffed—and placed it over his heart. “It was just a dream. You’re not there anymore.”

Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears, her lip trembling. “They kept telling me… I was a weapon. That I wasn’t real anymore. Just steel and orders.”

He swallowed hard. “They told me the same things. But you’re not what they made you do. You’re more than that. You always have been.”

Y/N met his eyes then—searching, scared—and for a moment, she just nodded. A small, broken motion. Bucky stayed at her side until her breathing evened out and her head gently leaned toward him, resting on his shoulder.

The sun had risen by the time Y/N stood, dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweats Bucky had brought her. Her hair was tied back, the cuffs still wrapped around her wrists, though now disengaged from the bed. Bucky walked beside her, patient and proud.

“You don’t have to meet them if you don’t want to,” he said softly. “I can stall them for a week.”

She glanced at him. “No… I want to meet them. If I’m really safe… I need to know who I’m safe with.”

Bucky gave a soft smile. “Okay then. Come on.”

They entered the lounge where the rest of the Avengers had gathered: Steve, Tony, Sam, Natasha, Wanda, and Bruce. The atmosphere was tense—everyone watching carefully, guarded but curious.

Y/N froze in the doorway.

Tony was the first to break the silence. “So. Hydra’s finest finally graces us with her presence.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, but Y/N held up a hand. “It’s fine,” she said. “I’d be cautious too.”

There was a quiet beat of surprise, then Steve stepped forward. “Y/N, meet the team. Everyone here is with us. They’ve all fought their own battles.”

Sam nodded. “We’re not here to judge. We’re here to help.”

Tony crossed his arms, gaze flicking down to the cuffs. “Speaking of helping…”

Y/N followed his gaze and looked at her wrists. “Can they come off?”

The room grew still.

Bruce frowned. “Medically, she’s stable. But emotionally… those flashes of aggression—”

“I won’t hurt anyone,” Y/N said quietly, firmly.

Tony looked skeptical. “That’s easy to say until someone gets a vibranium knife in the ribs.”

“I believe her,” Bucky said, stepping beside her. “She’s not a threat. She’s trying. You want trust? Start by giving it.”

Tony looked at Steve, who nodded slowly. Then back at Y/N.

“Friday,” Tony said, “unlock the cuffs.”

There was a soft beep, and the cuffs disengaged. Y/N exhaled slowly, rubbing her wrists. For the first time in years, her hands were truly her own.

(Later That Day)

Steve and Bucky guided her to one of the smaller labs, where several devices and screens displayed holograms and files.

“Welcome to the 21st century,” Steve said with a grin.

Y/N blinked at the tech. “This is… overwhelming.”

Bucky laughed. “Try learning how to use a smartphone when you’ve been frozen for seventy years.”

Steve gestured toward the table. “These files are part of your history—some from Hydra’s base files, some from our own reports. We thought they might help.”

She hesitated, then nodded, moving toward one of the digital pads.

A screen lit up.

And as it did—her breath caught.

A sound. A flash. A memory.

She was in a cold room, surrounded by voices—shouting in German. Metal digging into her skin. Needles. A man in a white coat grinning down at her like she was a prize. She turned her head to the side and saw Bucky—bloodied, barely conscious—strapped to a table.

“Subject One has survived Phase Three. Begin Phase Four on the female.”

“Please…” she had whispered. “Don’t hurt him.”

Then: pain. Screaming. Cold.

The lab flickered back into view, her eyes wide, her knees buckling.

Bucky was at her side instantly. “Y/N? What is it?”

Her hands shook. “I saw it. I saw the lab. I was trying to stop them from hurting you…”

Bucky swallowed hard, his hand gripping hers. “It’s coming back.”

She nodded slowly, her voice small. “I remember screaming.”

He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You weren’t screaming for yourself. You were screaming for me.”

Steve stepped closer, his voice thick. “You always protected us. Even back then.”

Y/N stared at her reflection in the screen—haunted, yet human.

“I think… I want to remember the rest,” she said.

Bucky smiled softly. “Then we’ll be with you every step of the way.”

(Avengers Compound – Training Room)

Y/N stood in the training room, hair tied back, dressed in sleek black gear. Across from her stood Natasha Romanoff, spinning one of her batons in her hand, smirking.

“You ready, supersoldier?” Natasha teased.

Y/N cracked her neck and shifted into a defensive stance. “You sure you are?”

They circled each other, measuring. Natasha struck first, fast and sharp, aiming for Y/N’s ribs, but Y/N blocked, twisted, and countered. Their movements became a blur—graceful, calculated violence.

“Not bad,” Nat grunted as she ducked a punch. “Bucky teach you that or Hydra?”

“Bucky,” Y/N said with a small smirk, “but I made it better.”

The spar escalated. Y/N’s strength gave her the edge, but Nat was quicker, more experienced. Eventually, Natasha flipped Y/N flat on her back. Y/N laughed from the floor.

“You cheat,” she said, breathless.

“I’m a spy. Of course I do.”

(Later That Day – Wanda’s Room)

Y/N sat cross-legged across from Wanda. Candles flickered around them, and Wanda’s hands hovered near Y/N’s temples.

“This won’t be easy,” Wanda said softly. “But I’ll be with you.”

Y/N nodded, her jaw tight. “Do it.”

A red glow enveloped them. Wanda’s eyes turned deep scarlet, and Y/N’s thoughts were flooded with flickers—laughter in a Brooklyn alley, Bucky’s voice calling her name, the bitter cold of cryo, and screams that weren’t hers but came from her mouth.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as one memory stood out—Bucky’s hand brushing her hair back before a mission. “Come back to me,” he’d said.

Wanda gasped. “That was real. That was love.”

Y/N blinked, chest aching. “I thought I imagined it…”

(The Next Morning – Manhattan Shopping District)

“Tony’s never gonna know,” Wanda said, swiping a card at the counter.

“You literally said that ten times,” Natasha replied, hauling bags over her shoulder.

Y/N chuckled, holding a milkshake. “Are you sure this isn’t illegal?”

“It’s not illegal if you’re adorable,” Wanda quipped. “Besides, it’s Stark money. It doesn’t count.”

They strolled through the sidewalk, laughing like old friends. Y/N felt… human.

Until she stopped walking.

Wanda turned. “Y/N?”

Y/N’s smile faded. Her pupils dilated slightly. A small black device buzzed silently in her ear—the Whisperer’s voice crawling into her mind.

“They are not your allies. They caged you. They want to control you. End them. Destroy them.”

“Y/N?” Wanda said again, stepping closer.

Y/N didn’t move.

Wanda placed a hand on her shoulder.

The moment she touched her, Y/N spun violently, her hand snapping up to Wanda’s throat and lifting her off the ground with terrifying strength. Wanda struggled, eyes wide in shock.

“Y/N!” she choked out.

A blur of red hair crashed into them—Natasha tackled Y/N to the pavement, knocking Wanda loose. Y/N growled low, primal, as she stood again, ready to strike.

“Wanda, stay back!” Natasha yelled.

Y/N advanced, movements robotic and vicious, like a weapon turned loose.

“Y/N, listen to me!” Natasha shouted. “You don’t want this. Fight him!”

But she didn’t respond.

Natasha tapped her earpiece. “Barnes, we’ve got a problem. She’s been triggered. Get here. Now!”

Wanda tried again, her magic sparking to life. “Y/N, please… you’re stronger than him. I saw your memories. I saw your heart!”

That hesitation in Y/N’s expression lasted just a second. But in that second, her legs buckled, her eyes rolled back—

And she collapsed.

(Minutes Later – Avengers Compound Landing Pad)

The Quinjet touched down roughly. Bucky rushed forward before the ramp even dropped fully.

He dropped to his knees beside her still form.

“Is she…?” he asked.

“She passed out,” Natasha said, her face pale. “But something got to her. Someone triggered her again.”

“She was completely gone,” Wanda added softly. “Cold. Like a machine.”

Bucky gathered Y/N into his arms, holding her against his chest. Her face twitched in her sleep. “We need to get her out of here. Away from everything.”

“Where?” Tony asked.

Bucky looked up, jaw tight with conviction. “Wakanda. They helped me. They can help her.”

Steve put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get you both there.”

As the jet prepared to take off again, Y/N stirred slightly, her head nestled against Bucky’s neck. His arms tightened around her protectively.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “No one’s taking you again.”

(Wakanda – Golden City Healing Ward)

Wakanda shimmered like something out of a dream. As the Quinjet descended, Y/N stirred weakly in Bucky’s arms. Her face was pale, dark lashes fluttering over her cheeks as she murmured something incoherent in her sleep. He held her tighter.

Shuri met them on the landing pad, arms crossed, eyes already scanning Y/N’s vitals through her kimoyo bead interface.

“She’s been manipulated?” Shuri asked, voice clipped and sharp.

Bucky nodded. “By someone called the Whisperer. He’s got something in her—some device. Or worse… something in her mind.”

Shuri’s brows furrowed. “Bring her inside. I’ll do everything I can.”

(Wakandan Medical Center – Isolation Chamber)

Y/N was settled onto a sleek vibranium scanning table. The tech around her hummed with gentle pulses of purple light. Shuri worked with surgical precision, placing a web of sensors around Y/N’s temples.

Bucky stood by the glass, tense. Steve was next to him, arms folded, trying to stay calm.

“She looks like she’s just sleeping,” Steve muttered.

“She’s not,” Bucky said quietly. “She’s in a war.”

Inside, Shuri activated the neuro-mapping.

“She has cortical inhibitors buried behind layers of trauma-induced memory suppression,” she explained through the intercom. “But… there’s something else. A secondary frequency—low, parasitic, like it’s listening. Whispering.”

Bucky’s fists clenched. “Can you get it out?”

Shuri’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. But it won’t be easy. Or painless.”

(A Few Hours Later – Recovery Room)

Y/N woke slowly, blinking up at a white ceiling and soft, gold lighting. Her limbs ached, her skin tingled. Everything felt… quieter.

“Hey,” a voice whispered.

She turned her head slightly. Bucky was sitting beside her bed, his face lined with worry and hope.

“Wakanda, right?” she rasped.

He smiled softly. “Yeah. You scared the hell out of us.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt Wanda,” she whispered.

“I know.” He reached for her hand, cautiously. “It wasn’t you.”

She looked down at their hands. “What if it happens again?”

“We’ll stop it. Together.”

Her throat closed up with emotion. “I don’t know how to be this person. Not anymore.”

“You don’t have to be her all at once. Just… start with being here.”

Y/N sat by her window, the moonlight washing over her as she sketched—rough outlines of faces she half-remembered, shadows of the past still lingering in pencil strokes.

A quiet knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Bucky stepped inside, holding something wrapped in cloth.

“I thought you might want this back,” he said, revealing a small, worn book—her old war sketchbook.

She gasped, touching the cover like it might vanish. “You kept it?”

He nodded. “Found it after we fell. Hid it away. Couldn’t let them destroy everything.”

She opened it, flipping through old pages—drawings of Steve laughing, Bucky smirking, and one sketch… of herself with a soft smile.

Tears welled in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Bucky reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek.

“I’ll always bring you back.”

Their hands lingered.

He didn’t kiss her. Not yet.

But the space between them pulsed with something unspoken, something waiting.

A storm of memory. A flame not yet lit—but undeniably burning.

___

The air in Wakanda was different—warmer, calmer. The kind of peace that sank into your skin.

King T’Challa stood at the edge of the cliffside, looking out over a stretch of vibrant green hills and the distant shimmer of the city. Beside him, Bucky stood quietly, Y/N just behind, her arms folded but her posture open. She looked stronger now—less haunted. But the shadows still lingered behind her eyes.

“I believe,” T’Challa said in his smooth, unwavering voice, “that healing does not come from isolation… but from choosing the right solitude.”

He turned toward them and offered a small smile. “There is a cottage. Simple. Secluded. My people will bring anything you need. But it is far from the city. Quiet. Safe. For both of you.”

Y/N blinked. “You’d do that for me?”

“I would do that,” he said, his eyes meeting hers, “for a soldier who never had the choice to become one.”

Her throat tightened, but she nodded slowly.

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“You may call me T’Challa.”

“And you,” he turned to Bucky, “will make sure no harm comes to her.”

Bucky nodded. “Always.”

___

It was a quiet place, nestled into the side of a soft green hill, surrounded by wildflowers and the gentle hum of nature. The cottage was made of wood and stone, modest in size but warm and sunlit, with wide windows and a small porch that overlooked the valley below.

Inside, there was only one bedroom, a living space, and a kitchen—but it was enough.

Sometimes, too much.

Especially with the way Bucky looked at her when she wasn’t looking. And the way she stared at him when he pretended to be lost in a book.

They didn’t talk about it—not yet. But it lingered in the air between them.

Their routine was gentle.

In the mornings, they trained. Y/N was regaining strength, learning to fight with clarity instead of fury. Bucky kept his movements slow when they sparred, letting her take the lead, offering a soft smile every time she landed a hit.

In the afternoons, they read—Y/N curled on the porch swing with a journal, Bucky on the steps below her with a book he barely turned the pages of. Sometimes she caught him sketching instead of reading, and when she teased him about it, he’d turn red and change the subject.

In the evenings, they cooked. Or rather, she cooked, and Bucky fumbled through chopping vegetables badly enough to make her laugh for the first time in weeks.

“Pretty sure you’re holding that upside down,” she grinned.

Bucky raised the knife sheepishly. “I’m used to weapons, not onions.”

“Tragic.”

“You wound me.”

They were close—too close, maybe. But neither pulled away.

One night, the power flickered during a storm, and the candles came out. The rain pounded on the windows like distant drums. Y/N stood in the kitchen, arms crossed as she stared at the lightning.

Bucky came up beside her. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I used to love the rain. Before it started meaning… different things.”

A beat of silence.

Then Bucky gently took her hand.

“It’s just water now,” he said. “Just thunder. Just wind. It doesn’t own you anymore.”

She turned to look at him, her hand still in his. There was something in his eyes—quiet, unwavering.

“You always know what to say.”

“I just say what I wish someone had told me.”

And for a moment, standing in the candlelight, hands laced and storm outside, it felt like the world had paused.

They didn’t share a bed—not yet.

But that night, when a distant crash of thunder made her flinch, and she came out into the hallway, he was already waiting there. No words needed.

He pulled back the blanket on the couch beside him. She hesitated for a heartbeat.

Then settled in, beside him, shoulder to shoulder, warmth seeping through the thin barrier of cotton and breath.

They didn’t sleep for a while. Just sat there—listening to the storm fade.

And somewhere in the stillness, Bucky whispered:

“You’re not alone anymore, Y/N.”

She didn’t reply.

But her head found his shoulder a moment later.

And that said enough.

___

The sun hung low in the sky, golden rays draping over the Wakandan hillside like silk. Birds chirped in the distance, and a soft wind tugged gently at Y/N’s hair as she knelt in the garden behind the cottage, carefully plucking blooming flowers. It was peaceful. Too peaceful.

She straightened, hands full of lavender and wild marigold, when a sudden chill pricked her skin.

A figure stood at the edge of the treeline.

Draped in a long black cape, his face hidden beneath a hood, he moved like a shadow slipping into daylight—wrong in every way.

Her blood ran cold.

She knew that shape. That presence.

The Whisperer.

Her manipulator. Her captor. The voice that haunted her nightmares and stole her will.

He took a step closer. She didn’t move.

“Hello again, little soldier,” he said, voice like silk laced with venom. “You’ve been resting for too long.”

She gripped the flowers tighter.

“You don’t belong here. You know that, don’t you?”

She didn’t speak. Her limbs trembled under the surface, but her face stayed cold, still. Waiting.

“You’re stronger with me,” he whispered. “You always have been. Let me in again. Come back to who you were made to be.”

He raised his gloved hand, fingers curling ever so slightly—and Y/N felt it. That old pull. The familiar pressure in her skull. Her knees nearly buckled.

But before he could reach further—

“Y/N!”

Bucky’s voice cut through the air like a blade. He sprinted across the grass, breathless, panic in his eyes as he reached her side and stepped protectively in front of her.

His gun was drawn instantly, arm stiff and steady.

“You,” Bucky growled at the cloaked figure. “You’re the one who did this to her.”

“Ah,” The Whisperer murmured. “The broken soldier. It’s always touching how loyal you dogs are. Even when it’s pointless.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed. “You step closer, and I’ll end you.”

“Will you now?” The Whisperer smiled faintly. “Tell me, Sergeant Barnes… do you really think she belongs to you now?”

He gestured toward Y/N, who hadn’t moved. Her eyes were locked ahead, wide but unreadable.

Bucky turned slightly to her. “Y/N? Hey… it’s okay. You’re safe. Just stay with me, alright?”

But she didn’t blink. Didn’t speak.

Then the sound of boots thundered against the earth.

Wakandan warriors burst onto the scene in perfect formation, vibranium spears and kinetic weapons at the ready. Okoye stood at the front, alongside King T’Challa himself.

“You do not belong on Wakandan soil,” T’Challa said firmly. “You will leave, or we will remove you by force.”

The Whisperer only chuckled. “You think a few spears can stop what’s already begun?”

T’Challa’s eyes narrowed. “This is your only warning.”

Then—Y/N moved.

Slowly. Almost robotically, she stepped forward, away from Bucky.

He caught her wrist. “Wait—what are you doing?”

She didn’t answer. Her expression remained blank. Empty. Bucky’s heart sank.

She pulled her arm from his grasp.

“Y/N, please,” he whispered, stepping in front of her. “Don’t listen to him. You don’t have to do this.”

But she walked past him.

The Whisperer’s smile grew wider. “Good girl. Now… destroy them.”

She continued walking—straight toward the Wakandan warriors.

Okoye raised her spear. “What is she doing?”

Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but his heart was pounding too loud to form words.

Y/N raised her hand.

Every muscle in Bucky’s body tensed.

But then—she stopped.

And without a word, she spun on her heel and launched herself straight at the Whisperer.

Her punch shattered the mask from his face. A roar of anger ripped from her throat, and the black-cloaked figure stumbled backward, caught completely off guard.

“She’s not yours anymore!” she screamed.

The Whisperer snarled. “Traitor.”

Suddenly, the trees around them trembled—and HYDRA agents burst forth like hornets, guns blazing.

The Wakandan army surged forward in a perfect counterattack. Bucky and Okoye went back to back, weapons raised, protecting Y/N from being overwhelmed.

But she didn’t need protection.

Not now.

She was a fury unleashed.

Y/N ducked beneath a HYDRA soldier’s strike, drove a knife into his thigh, and used his own momentum to throw him into three others. Her movements were graceful but brutal—every blow precise, her eyes lit with something deep and ancient.

She only had one target in mind.

The Whisperer.

He fought back with cruel ferocity, landing a brutal strike to her ribs and another to her jaw, but she didn’t fall. She surged forward, slamming him into a tree. He tried to twist her mind again—fingers to his temple—but she gritted through the pain.

“No more,” she spat.

A blade appeared in her hand, and with a final war cry, she drove it into his chest—deep, unyielding.

The Whisperer gasped. Eyes wide.

Then—stillness.

Y/N stepped back, trembling, blood splattered across her arms and face. Her breathing came in shallow gasps as the battle quieted. HYDRA soldiers fled or lay unconscious.

The Whisperer was dead.

She dropped the blade.

Bucky was beside her in seconds, catching her as her legs gave out. He cradled her against his chest, brushing the hair from her bloodied face.

“You did it,” he murmured. “You’re free.”

She clung to his jacket, breath hitching.

“I almost gave in,” she whispered, broken. “I almost let him take me again.”

“But you didn’t,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “You chose you.”

He held her tightly as the last of the clouds above parted and sunlight bathed the hill once more.

The battle was over.

But the war inside her wasn’t.

Y/N sat on the edge of the bed in their quiet cottage, arms loosely wrapped around her knees, her body still sore, her mind even more so. The flowers she’d picked earlier that day—now forgotten—lay wilted on the windowsill. Her face was pale. Her knuckles still carried dried blood, though the wounds had already begun to heal.

Outside, the breeze moved softly through the trees. Birds still chirped. The world kept turning.

But inside, everything was quiet. Still.

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there, staring at nothing. At everything. The weight of what she’d done—of what she’d almost become—pressed heavily on her chest. A pressure that no deep breath could lift.

Then the door creaked open.

“Y/N?”

His voice was gentle. Always was with her.

Bucky stepped in slowly, carrying two cups of tea. His shirt was rumpled, his hair slightly damp from the shower, and there was a faint scratch across his cheek. But his eyes—those storm-blue eyes—never left her.

She didn’t look up.

“Thought tea might help,” he said softly, placing one cup down beside her.

No reply.

He stayed standing for a moment, then slowly lowered himself onto the floor in front of her, sitting cross-legged. He didn’t push her to talk. He didn’t touch her. Just stayed close.

It took a minute. Maybe ten.

And then, finally, she whispered:

“I saw his face when I killed him.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed, but he stayed quiet, encouraging her to go on.

“There was… nothing. No regret. No humanity. Just hatred. I don’t think he even felt pain.” She swallowed hard. “And I hated him for that.”

“You had every right to,” Bucky said gently.

“But it scared me,” she admitted, voice cracking. “How easy it felt. Like something inside me had been waiting for that moment.”

“You’re not him.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you stopped,” he said, leaning in. “You had every reason to stay under his control, every reason to be angry. But you didn’t give in. You chose to fight. You chose us. You chose you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

“I’m tired, Buck,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Bucky reached up slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his metal fingers cool and gentle. “Then we’ll find out together. One day at a time.”

He stood, offering his hand.

After a moment, she took it.

He guided her outside to the small porch, where the horizon stretched out in warm orange and gold. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the valley. The garden swayed in the breeze.

She sat beside him on the wooden bench, pulling her legs up and resting her head on his shoulder. For a long time, they didn’t speak.

Just silence.

Safe silence.

“You ever think we’d end up here?” she asked eventually, eyes on the sky.

He gave a small huff of laughter. “Wakanda? No. Thought I’d be long gone by now.”

She looked up at him, eyes soft. “I’m glad you’re not.”

His heart skipped.

“I’m glad you’re not,” he said quietly, turning his head just slightly toward her.

She didn’t move away.

She stayed right there beside him, her hand finding his and lacing their fingers together, her grip firm. Real. Present.

Y/N finally looked up at him. “What is it, Buck?”

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Exhaled. Looked down. “I’ve been thinking about something. For a long time, actually.”

She sat up straighter, setting the mug down on the table.

“I never told you what you meant to me… before everything happened,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Back in Brooklyn, before the war, before Hydra—when it was just us three… You, me, and Steve.”

Her breath caught.

“I used to think I had all the time in the world,” he continued, chuckling softly. “That I’d tell you eventually. After the war. After we made it back home.” His eyes met hers then, blue and unguarded. “But then I fell. And I thought I’d lost the chance forever.”

“Bucky…”

“I loved you,” he said, voice firmer now, no longer trembling. “I love you. I think I always did. From the moment you walked into the diner and stole Steve’s fries.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a soft, surprised smile. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything now,” he said. “The way you laughed. The way you danced even when the jukebox skipped. The way you looked at me when I was being stupid—and God, I was stupid a lot.”

She didn’t speak.

Didn’t need to.

He kept going.

“When I saw you again—after everything—I thought it was another nightmare. That you were gone. That they took you like they took me. But then I realized… even when you didn’t remember me, even when you were fighting me, something in me still couldn’t give up on you.”

She blinked hard, her vision blurring with emotion.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” he added quickly. “I just needed you to know. That I loved you then. And I love you now. No matter who you are, or what they made you believe.”

There was a long pause.

Then, finally, Y/N reached for his hand.

Her fingers closed around his—soft, warm, grounding. “You idiot,” she whispered, voice shaky. “I loved you too.”

Bucky’s breath hitched.

“I was just waiting for you to say something. You were always too busy being charming with every girl in Brooklyn.”

He gave a breathless laugh, disbelief in his eyes. “Y/N…”

She leaned in slowly, resting her forehead against his. Her voice dropped to a murmur. “You found me. You stayed. Even when I didn’t know myself.”

His metal hand came up, cradling the back of her head.

They stayed there, breathing each other in, hearts full with everything they’d lost—and finally, what they’d found again.

Not broken.

Not brainwashed.

Just them.

-the end

[mischievous-thunder]

Wade and Logan, internally:

[dollgxtz]

When Pleasure Calls

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: In the middle of sex, Sylus gets a business call...only he decides he doesn't want to stop ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, teasing, humiliation, use of evol, use of petnames like kitten, oneshot

AN: Okay so this is loosely based on a tweet I saw and it literally wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it....so here we are. I figured the best way to end my break and start being more active again was to start writing all the fics that won't leave my head. Enjoy!

Sylus was balls deep inside you, each thrust a raw, primal connection that left you both breathless. The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, your moans mixing with his low groans, creating a rhythm that was all your own. His hands gripped your hips, guiding your movements, keeping you both locked in the moment, lost to everything but each other.

It had been an entire week since you’d spent any real time together—a week that felt more like a year. Sylus didn’t waste a second making up for the lost time. What started as an innocent cuddle on his bed, his arm lazily slung over your waist, quickly shifted into something else entirely. One minute, he was tracing slow circles on your back, murmuring something about how much he’d missed you, and the next, the air between you thickened, charged with unspoken need.

Somehow, without either of you meaning to, that easy closeness morphed into a full-blown, heated mess of tangled limbs and stolen breaths. His lips found yours, first soft and teasing, then hungry and demanding, as if he needed to make up for every second you’d been apart. Before long, the room was filled with the sound of muffled laughter, whispered names, and the quiet creak of the mattress as you lost yourselves in each other.

His hands roamed over you with a possessive tenderness, fingers tracing the curves of your body, memorizing the lines anew with every pass. The weight of him above you was a comforting pressure, a grounding force as you surrendered to the tide of sensation, every thrust a wave that built the pleasure higher and higher, threatening to crash over you.

"Nghn, right there! Don't stop, please..." you pleaded, your voice hoarse with desire, your fingers digging into his muscular frame as if your life depended on it. Sylus, attuned to your every need, knew he had found that sweet spot within you, that spongy, pleasure-laden tissue that sent sparks of delight through your body.

Just as he increased the pace, his thrusts becoming faster and harder, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy, the sharp ring of his phone cut through the air like a knife, slicing through the intimate atmosphere. You froze, your eyes widening as you glanced at the illuminated screen, the unfamiliar contact name confirming your suspicion—one of Sylus's business associates.

Sylus sighed, his brow furrowing as he eyed the screen with a mix of annoyance and detachment. "I can call them back later. I’m busy right now."

That’s when it hit you—the mission. The Hunters Association’s urgent directive to recover the stolen protocore, traded away through shady backchannels. You had completely forgotten about it until now. The urgency surged through you like a jolt of electricity. Without thinking, you grabbed his arm. "Didn’t you say you were expecting a call about the protocore? This could be it. I need that lead for the Association. Answer it," you urged, your voice firm despite the sharp look Sylus threw your way.

He blinked, then smirked, the kind that was equal parts amused and incredulous. "I don’t think I’ll ever get used to my kitten barking orders at me," he said, his tone dripping with lazy charm. But to your relief, he reached for the phone anyway. "Alright, boss. Consider it a favor."

He pressed the screen and lifted it to his ear. His voice dropped into that cool, no-nonsense register you’d heard a dozen times before.

"Speak."

The man on the other end began to speak and you realized Sylus was still halfway inside you. Thinking the fun was over for now, you started to move out from under him, ready to let the moment pass. But Sylus wasn't done. His hand pressed you back down against the bed, and before you knew it, he was thrusting into you again, impossibly deeper this time, his cock filling you completely.

You struggled, caught between surprise and arousal, your body pinned beneath his, his cock completely filling you with each powerful thrust. You tried to silently plead for him to stop, embarrassed by the situation, but your words were lost in the quiet moans that escaped your lips as he pounded into you, his pace relentless. You quickly covered your mouth with your hands, trying to will yourself to quiet down.

"I'll only meet tomorrow. That's firm" he said into the phone, his voice steady despite fiercely pounding and stretching your pussy. As if this took zero amount of effort from him. You tried to keep quiet, biting your lip and keeping your hands pressed to your mouth to stop the sounds from escaping, but it was hard. Each thrust sent ripples of pleasure through you, making it nearly impossible to maintain your composure.

You attempted to scoot back against the bed, seeking respite from the pleasure Sylus was delivering, but your efforts were in vain. With a swift and possessive motion, he wrapped his powerful Evol around your waist, pulling you back onto his cock, sealing your body to his, ensuring you couldn't escape the sensations he was about to unleash.

"Ah...ah..." you panted, your breath coming in short gasps as he thrust deeper, his cock seeking out that sensitive spot within you once more, very determined to bring you right to the edge.

Sylus kept talking, his voice smooth and calm, even as he moved inside you with a fierce rhythm. The phone call was just background noise to you, but you caught snippets of his conversation, the professional tone at odds with what was happening.

"Yes, I understand," he murmured between thrusts, his voice a soothing contrast to the pounding of his cock against your sensitive walls. "No tricks, or foul play. You should know how this goes by now."

You were struggling, trying to focus on anything but the way he was driving you closer to the edge. Each thrust felt like it was pushing you further into a world where nothing else mattered but the heat and friction between you.

Minutes ticked by as this humiliation continued. How much longer could you hold on? How much longer would he torture you like this? The question echoed in your mind, a desperate plea for relief as your body teetered on the brink of finishing.

Sylus's eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and desire as he looked down at you, fully aware of the power he held over your pleasure. He knew exactly how close you were, how your body trembled on the precipice of release, and he relished the control he had, maintaining a casual conversation while pushing you to the brink.

A knowing smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the game he was playing—testing your limits, seeing how far he could take you while keeping up the pretense of a casual chat. His eyes held a challenge, daring you to surrender, to let go of your control, even as he kept his voice calm and composed, a stark contrast to the raw passion he was eliciting from your body.

He continued his steady thrusts, his movements purposeful, each one designed to drive you further into a world of pleasure, where resistance was futile, and surrender was the only option. Sylus took pleasure in watching you struggle, your body betraying your attempts to hold on, even as he maintained his casual conversation, a master of this sensual game.

"Yes, that will do," Sylus confirmed, his voice steady, his pace merciless as he continued to thrust into you. "I'll have my men prepare the meeting."

Your response was a muffled moan, your body arching against his, unable to form words as the pleasure overwhelmed you. "Mghn... Ah!" you cried out into your hand, your voice a mixture of surrender and ecstasy, your body trembling on the edge of release, the sensations too powerful to hold back.

Sylus, his body slightly glistening with sweat, paused for a moment, his thrusts slowing as he looked down at you with an intense gaze. His eyes, red and smoldering, held a silent command, a silent invitation for you to surrender completely. A slight smirk played on his lips as he watched you, his expression conveying a clear message:

"Go ahead, cum for me."

The tension inside you coiled tighter, every nerve screaming for release as he begun to pick up the pace once more. You bit down on your hand, trying to keep the sounds from escaping, but it was a losing battle. Sylus's thrusts were unrelenting, each one bringing you closer, until finally, with one last, deep push, he let go, pumping his hot and sticky seed deep into your belly just as he wrapped up his call.

The sensation was too much, too intense to resist. Your body tensed around him, shaking with the force of your orgasm, your muffled moans filling the room as you rode the waves of pleasure crashing through you.

"Alright. See you then," Sylus said, finally hanging up the call. He pulled out slowly, leaving you both breathless and spent, the hum of the conversation now just a memory drowned out by the echo of your shared climax.

You lay there, catching your breath, the remnants of your climax still thrumming through your veins. But as the haze of pleasure began to clear, irritation started to bubble up inside you. You propped yourself up on your elbows, shooting Sylus a look that could melt steel.

"Seriously?!"

He caught your gaze and simply chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that only fueled your annoyance. "Oh, don't act like you didn't like it," he said with a grin, clearly amused by your reaction. "How could I ignore a needy kitten in heat for a phone call instead?"

Your glare could have sliced through stone, but he just shrugged, unfazed by your anger. "Besides," he continued, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he chuckled, "I'm great at multitasking. I just secured you that protocore and made you cum while doing so. Shouldn't you be overjoyed right now?"

Despite your best efforts to hold onto your anger, the corners of your mouth betrayed you, tugging upwards into a reluctant smile. The heat rising to your cheeks was undeniable, a flush that had nothing to do with anger. His laughter was infectious, and before you knew it, you were chuckling too, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.

"Alright, alright," you conceded with a playful roll of your eyes. "I'll forgive you this one time, but don't think this is going to be a regular thing."

Sylus grinned, clearly pleased with your surrender. "Deal," he said, his tone warm and teasing. He moved with that easy confidence of his, leaning down to scoop you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he murmured, carrying you towards the bathroom with a tenderness that were a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before. His touch was gentle now, a soothing balm to the fire that had raged between you, and you found yourself relaxing into his hold, the last remnants of your irritation melting away as you settled into the comfort of his embrace.

[junojoel]

Method Acting

Joel Miller x fem!Reader, 4.7k

Summary: When you’re forced to pose as a couple to avoid suspicion from a group of survivors, the line between pretending and reality begins to blur.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, afab reader but no other description, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, quiet sex, sorry they're in a tent, fake dating, joel calls reader sweetheart

This is the first ever fic I'm posting please let me know what you think!!

It was a rare, fleeting moment of peace in a world that seldom offered any. The harsh noises of the post-apocalyptic landscape had been silenced for the night—no distant gunshots, no rumbling of infected in the distance. Just the quiet crackle of the fire and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, a rare flicker of warmth in a world that never seemed to offer comfort. It was the kind of night that could make anyone believe there was still some humanity left, even if it was just the tiny spark of a fire shared between a handful of survivors. A small group, huddled together in the remnants of a ruined town. Among them were you and Joel.

Joel had been the one to suggest it, pragmatic as always.

“We’ll need to play the part. Keep ‘em from asking too many questions,” he’d said earlier that day, his tone low, serious. “They won’t mess with us if they think we’re a team.”

The two of you had found a temporary haven among a group of survivors—a small camp on the outskirts of a rundown town. They had been eyeing you both carefully, trying to figure out your story. One thing they didn’t know about you and Joel was that, despite the mutual respect and trust you’d formed over the years, you weren’t exactly a couple.

At least, not in the traditional sense. Not in the way people used to be, back before the world fell apart. Not the way it used to mean. But you had to pretend. That was the deal. The group that had taken you in didn’t know your history, your relationship, if there was one at all. They only saw two people who didn’t quite fit in. So you had to give them a story. And that story, for now, was that you were a couple.

And so you did. You threw in a casual touch here, a shared glance there, enough to make the others believe the story. You’d gotten good at the act over the years, pretending to be things you weren’t for survival’s sake. You sat next to him by the fire, a comfortable distance at first, though the heat of the flames did little to mask the heat from his body beside yours. The others were talking, exchanging stories of places they’d been, and for a while, you allowed yourself to sink into the routine of pretending.

Joel’s hand brushed yours as you reached for your water bottle. Your chest tightened, and for a moment, the world around you felt distant. How easy it was to pretend. How easy it was to let your body slip into the role you had to play.

He caught your eye across the fire, his gaze steady. His hand twitched on his knee, like he was thinking of reaching for you again. And just when you thought he might, the others called out, breaking the moment.

One of the survivors, a grizzled man with a scar running down his cheek, waved at you both. “You got a good thing going, huh? You and your man, always watching each other’s backs.”

You smiled, playing your role well. “Yeah,” you said lightly, “Wouldn’t have made it this far without him.”

Joel just nodded, his gaze still locked on you, a faint curl to his lips that you couldn’t quite decipher.

The night wore on, and the fire’s glow faded. The others retreated to their tents, and you and Joel remained seated together, the silence stretching long between you. There was something about the quiet that felt too intimate now, something about the space between you that felt too charged. And yet, neither of you moved.

You stared into the fire, your mind racing. What was happening? Was it just the act? Or was there something else?

“Ready to turn in?” Joel’s voice broke through the fog of your thoughts.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah. I’m just… not used to all the quiet.”

Joel gave you a half-smile as he stood, holding out his hand to help you up. You took it without thinking, your fingers brushing his a little longer than you meant to. And this time, neither of you pulled away.

The small tent you shared was cramped, the air thick with the scent of damp canvas. You crawled inside, Joel right behind you, and you both settled onto your separate corners. But even as you lay there, trying to will yourself to sleep, the pull between you remained, undeniable.

A new group of survivors showed up at the camp a couple of days later, and the charade continued. But the pretenses were starting to wear thin. What was supposed to be a simple act to keep the others at bay had slowly begun to feel too real.

You found yourself looking for Joel in the crowd, seeking out his touch, his gaze, and you hated how easy it was to fall into this. How easy it was to want him when all of this was just an act. He noticed, too. His touches were more frequent now, more purposeful. Every time he brushed against you, your pulse quickened. Every time his hand lingered too long on your shoulder or your arm, your thoughts tangled with confusion.

One evening, as the sun dipped behind the horizon, you sat by the fire, a log resting between you. The others were busy with their own conversations, but there was a quiet understanding between you and Joel. The line was beginning to blur, and neither of you seemed to know how to stop it.

Joel turned to you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You nodded, though the knot in your stomach betrayed you. “Yeah… just thinking.”

Joel’s thumb brushed your wrist, the simple touch sending a wave of heat through your body. “About what?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to phrase what you were feeling. “I don’t know. About all this. About pretending.”

Joel didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand slid up your arm, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin. “It ain’t easy, is it?”

“No,” you admitted, the truth hanging in the air between you. “I think I’m starting to forget what’s real.”

He looked at you then, his expression unreadable. But there was something in his eyes, something you couldn’t deny.

“I don’t know what’s real anymore, either,” he said quietly. “But maybe… maybe that’s okay.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Maybe it wasn’t okay. Maybe you were playing with fire, and it was only a matter of time before you got burned.

That night, as you lay in the dark, the tent’s shadows dancing on the walls, you could feel the weight of his presence next to you. The sound of his breath was steady, but there was a tension there, too. A heaviness that neither of you seemed able to shake.

You rolled over, facing him, your body just inches from his. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the rise and fall of his chest as he slept—or as he tried to sleep. There was something magnetic about him tonight, something that drew you in.

Without thinking, you reached out, your hand grazing his. He stiffened at the touch, but didn’t pull away. In fact, his hand curled around yours, the warmth of his skin seeping into you. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you both just lay there, hand in hand.

His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand, and the feeling of it sent shivers down your spine. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Joel whispered, his voice rough with something you couldn’t place.

“Neither do I,” you whispered back. Your fingers tightened around his, and it felt like the world outside didn’t exist anymore.

You didn’t pull away, and neither did he. Slowly, you shifted closer, your faces just inches apart. And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his lips met yours.

It wasn’t a passionate kiss at first. It was tentative, hesitant, like you were both unsure if it was real. But then something in both of you shifted, and the kiss deepened, the tension that had been building between you both finally breaking.

It was no longer pretend. It couldn’t be.

The days after that kiss had felt like walking a tightrope, each step carefully placed, as if a single misstep could send you falling into a world of complications. The air between you and Joel had shifted; the weight of the unspoken words between you was heavier than the tension between the survivors who had become part of your temporary community.

You told yourself it was just the aftermath of an emotional night, the residue of an act that had gotten a little too real. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just that. It was something more. Something neither of you wanted to admit.

Joel was acting like nothing had changed. But you could see it in the small moments. The way his hand lingered at the small of your back when he passed by, or how he’d glance at you more often than usual. It wasn’t the casual look of someone playing a role anymore—it was different. It was… intense. And you felt it too.

You tried to bury it. You focused on the tasks at hand—preparing food, keeping watch for infected, helping reinforce the camp’s perimeter. But every time you found yourself in Joel’s orbit, the world seemed to slow, the edges of your thoughts fraying as your body seemed to tune in to his presence. You couldn't ignore it. You didn’t want to ignore it.

That night, after another long day of moving supplies and building makeshift shelters, the group settled around the campfire, trying to make the most of the brief respite they had found. You sat beside Joel again, both of you staring into the fire, the dancing flames reflecting off his worn face. The others were busy talking, but you couldn’t focus on them. All you could focus on was the quiet proximity between you and Joel.

“Lookin’ distant,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, the way it always was. “What’s on your mind?”

You shrugged, unsure of how to answer. “Just… thinking about everything, I guess.”

Joel didn’t press you for more. Instead, his hand found its way to yours, a simple, unremarkable gesture. But when his fingers brushed over yours, it was anything but simple. The touch sent a shock through you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

“You’ve been distant for a while,” he said, his thumb tracing a slow pattern on the back of your hand. It was strange—he was usually the quiet, brooding type, not one to pry into someone’s emotions. But tonight, something in him had changed. Something about this moment felt too important to let pass unnoticed.

“I’m just… I don’t know. I guess I’m just trying to figure things out.”

“Figure what out?” He raised an eyebrow.

You hesitated. How could you explain to him what was happening inside your head? How could you put words to the feelings that had started to shift between you both? You could see it now—he was no longer just your partner in survival, he was becoming something else. Something that, in this broken world, felt terrifying and beautiful all at once.

But before you could answer, one of the others stood, breaking the moment. “We should get some rest.”

The words were innocuous, but they served to break the connection, the fragile thread that had bound you both. You didn’t want to let it go, but there was no avoiding it. With a forced smile, you let go of his hand.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you said, standing up and heading toward the tent.

As you lay there, the quiet of the night pressed against your skin. Joel was beside you again, the steady rhythm of his breathing a reminder that he was close, that he was real. You didn’t want to think about the kiss, or the way he looked at you when no one else was around. But it was impossible not to. His presence next to you became a constant hum in your chest, a reminder that the line between what was pretend and what was real had long since blurred. You shifted, trying to ignore the way your body responded to the proximity, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop the way your body seemed to gravitate toward him, like it had always known where it belonged.

“Joel,” you whispered in the darkness. His name felt foreign on your tongue, yet so right. “Do you ever wonder what comes next?”

His voice was low when he answered, almost as if he was afraid of breaking the fragile peace between you. “Every damn day.”

You turned toward him in the darkness, your face inches from his, the outline of his features barely visible in the dim light. His breath was warm against your skin, and for a moment, everything else in the world faded away. There were no infected, no survivors, no constant fight for survival. There was only Joel, only this moment that you could hardly understand but knew you couldn’t walk away from.

He didn’t move away. Instead, his hand found yours again in the dark, the same comforting weight as before. But this time, it felt different. It felt like it meant something more.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. You didn’t know why you were saying it—didn’t know what you expected to happen after these words—but they had been hanging in the air between you for too long.

Joel didn’t respond at first. For a long moment, you thought he might pull away, that he might dismiss you, act like it was all part of the game you were playing. But when he spoke, his words were soft, thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “Neither do I.”

Before you could say anything else, he leaned in, his lips pressing gently against yours. It was slow, tentative at first, as if you both were trying to figure out where you stood in this uncharted territory. But as the kiss deepened, there was nothing tentative about it anymore. It was raw, desperate, and the weight of it threatened to consume you both.

When you finally broke away, you were both breathless, your heart racing in your chest.

“What happens now?” you asked, your voice shaky with uncertainty.

Joel’s fingers tangled in your hair, his forehead resting against yours. “I don’t know, but I’ll be here. With you. Whatever comes next.”

The words didn’t make it all better, didn’t provide any clear answers. But in that moment, it was enough. The world outside the tent didn’t matter anymore. There were no rules left to follow, no lines left to cross. Just you and Joel, tangled in the warmth of the night.

The world had become a patchwork of moments—each one filled with uncertainty, each one a struggle to survive. Yet somehow, when you were near Joel, the world felt a little more manageable. It wasn’t about the campfires or the fleeting moments of peace between battles with the infected; it was about the quiet intimacy that had grown between you both. The touches that began as pretence had become something deeper, something more powerful. And you couldn’t seem to stop it.

“Cold?” Joel’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to see him standing next to you, his posture relaxed but his gaze intense.

“A little,” you admitted, but you didn’t make any move to get up. You liked the way the firelight danced across his face, highlighting the angles of his jaw, the quiet strength that radiated from him. There was something magnetic about him—something you couldn’t pull away from.

Joel hesitated for a moment, then sat down next to you, close enough that you could feel the heat from his body. The silence between you both felt familiar now, comfortable, but there was an edge to it. You could feel the tension building between you—unspoken, but undeniable.

Without saying a word, Joel reached forward, grabbing a spare blanket from the pile beside you, and wrapped it around your shoulders. The simple gesture was intimate, his hands brushing against your skin as he pulled it tighter around you. The warmth of the blanket mixed with the warmth of his touch, and it felt like more than just an act of kindness. His fingers lingered on your skin for a moment longer than necessary, a soft pulse of heat spreading through you where his hand had rested.

“Thanks,” you whispered, but your voice was thick with something you couldn’t quite name. You weren’t sure if you were thanking him for the blanket, or for the way his touch made your heart race.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his eyes lingered on you for a beat longer than usual, his gaze dark and searching. The fire crackled between you both, casting shadows that seemed to make everything feel even more intimate.

And then, without warning, Joel’s hand found yours. It was a slow, deliberate movement, his fingers sliding between yours in a way that felt more like an invitation than a gesture. His thumb traced the back of your hand in the way he’d done countless times before, but this time it felt different.

“Joel…” you murmured, but your voice faltered as he looked at you. His gaze was steady, his expression unreadable, but the warmth in his touch spoke volumes.

“You’re not the only one who’s confused,” he said quietly, his thumb still grazing the skin of your hand. There was a rawness in his voice that you hadn’t expected, a vulnerability that made your chest tighten.

You didn’t know what to say to that. The truth was, you didn’t need words. You both knew what was happening. The line between what was real and what was an act had already been crossed. You had crossed it together, without even realizing it.

Joel’s hand tightened around yours, pulling you a little closer, just enough to make your breath catch. His body shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours as he leaned in, his face inches from yours. The closeness felt like an unspoken promise, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, and nothing else mattered.

Without thinking, you turned your head slightly, your lips brushing against his cheek in a soft, hesitant kiss. The warmth of his skin, the faint stubble on his jaw, all of it made your pulse race. It was only a fleeting touch, but it sent a shockwave through your body.

But before either of you could speak, Joel’s hand cupped your face, his thumb stroking your cheek in a way that made your heart flip in your chest. It wasn’t an act anymore. Not the way it had been in the beginning. The touches, the proximity, it was all too real. Too raw.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Joel closed the distance between you, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was far more urgent than the one before. His hands moved to your back, pulling you into his chest, his body heat enveloping you completely. You could feel his heart racing, just like yours, the frantic thrum of two people caught in something neither of you knew how to control. His lips were hot against yours, demanding, but not in a way that made you want to pull away. It felt like a slow burn, a fire that was catching, and neither of you had the strength to put it out.

The kiss broke for a moment, both of you gasping for air, your foreheads still pressed together, both of you breathing heavily. Joel’s hands were still on you, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your skin as if memorizing every inch of you.

“I didn’t think… I didn’t think I’d want this,” you whispered, your voice still shaky from the kiss. It was the truth, even though you didn’t know what to do with it.

Joel’s hands drifted down to your waist, his fingers gently pressing against your sides, his touch careful but no less intense. He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he just looked at you, his eyes searching, as though trying to figure out if you were really here, if this moment was real.

“You don’t have to want it,” he said quietly, his thumb tracing the curve of your waist. “I just… I want you to be sure. Because once we start, we can’t go back.”

His words hung in the air between you like a promise, or maybe a warning. But you didn’t care. Because for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I’m sure, Joel.”

And that was all it took. His lips were on yours again, more urgent now, more desperate, like he couldn’t get enough. His hands pulled you closer, his body flush against yours, and you could feel the tension in him as he guided you back to the tent, laying you gently on the ground.

Joel’s hands were on your waist, tugging at your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra. His fingers traced the straps, teasing the sensitive skin beneath before unclasping it and letting it fall to the ground.

You reached for the buttons on his shirt, your fingers fumbling with the fabric as you tried to undo them. Joel helped, his fingers brushing against yours as he undid the last few buttons and shrugged out of his shirt. His chest was bare, his muscles rippling in the firelight. You couldn’t help but stare, your breath hitching in your throat as you took in the sight of him. You reached down, your fingers fumbling with the zipper on his jeans, pulling it down and reaching inside. Joel hissed in a breath as your fingers wrapped around him, stroking him gently.

He kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth as you stroked him. His fingers teased your nipples, making you gasp with pleasure. You broke the kiss, your head falling back as Joel’s mouth moved down your neck, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

He knelt in front of you, his hands on your hips as he pulled you closer. You knew what he wanted, and you were more than happy to give it to him. You reached down, your fingers tangling in his hair as you guided his head between your legs. Carefully, he unbuttoned your jeans and slipped them off.

Joel looked up at you for a moment, holding your gaze. His pupils were blown, looking wrecked despite hardly being touched. Then, he smiled. Joel’s tongue darted out, teasing your clit through the fabric of your underwear. You gasped, your hips bucking forward as he continued to tease you.

"Joel…" You began to beg, but he quickly cut you off with a hand over your mouth.

"Quiet now," Joel whispered in your ear, as soft as it was teasing. "Wouldn't want anyone interrupting. Waited too long for this, sweetheart."

Joel pulled your underwear aside and his mouth was on you, hot and insistent. He licked you slowly at first, savouring your taste, the flat of his tongue dragging over your clit before he wrapped his lips around it. You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out, pleasure sparking through you like wildfire. His fingers slipped inside you, moving in time with his mouth as he built you higher and higher.

You were trembling, your thighs quivering against his cheeks, everything in you coiled tight and ready to snap. You tugged harder at his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer when he added another finger and curled them deep inside you.

That was all it took to send you over the edge. Your vision went white, your body arching off the ground as you came hard against him. Joel didn’t stop; he rode out every wave with you until you were panting beneath him, spent.

Eyes dark and satisfied, he pulled back, lips glistening, looking smug with satisfaction. You barely had time to catch your breath before he was crawling over you, kissing his way up your body. His mouth met yours, and you could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you desperately.

His hands were on your thighs, lifting them around his waist as he pressed against your entrance. You could feel him there, hard and insistent, and you moaned into his mouth, urging him on.

“Been wanting this for so damn long,” he breathed against your lips, his voice rough with need.

"Joel," you whispered. "Want you."

He didn’t make you wait. Slowly, achingly slow, he pushed inside of you. You gasped at the stretch of him as he filled you completely, every inch sending a new wave of pleasure through you.

He moved carefully at first, letting you adjust to the size of him, but soon the urgency took over and he began to thrust harder, deeper. The pace was relentless, each push and pull driving you closer to a second climax. Your moans were muffled against his shoulder, your nails biting into his back as he took you higher and higher. He pressed a hand between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing circles until you shattered around him, even harder than before.

Your body clenched tight, dragging him with you. You cried out his name, the sound breaking and breathless as Joel came inside you, filling you. You felt every pulse of him, every shuddering thrust as he buried himself deep and you both broke apart together.

He collapsed against you, sweating and panting as he tried to catch his breath. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as he slowly softened inside of you. The night was quiet around you, just the crackle of the fire outside and the sound of your breathing.

Joel stayed like that for a moment before shifting to lay at your side, pulling you into his arms. His skin was warm against yours, his heart still beating fast as he held you close. You didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. There was a sense of peace in the silence between you, a feeling of finally belonging. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. His fingers traced circles on your back, lazy and content. You closed your eyes, letting yourself drift in the warmth and safety of him.

Eventually, Joel shifted and reached for a blanket, pulling it around both of you. You snuggled closer, feeling his breath against your hair as he spoke softly.

“Was it worth the wait?” His voice was teasing but there was a touch of genuine curiosity.

You smiled against his skin. “Definitely.”

He hummed, satisfied, and kissed the top of your head. The fire flickered low outside the tent, shadows dancing over the canvas as sleep crept in around the edges.

Before you slipped under completely, you heard Joel murmur one last thing:

“Gonna want more in the morning."

You chuckled, the sound more of a soft exhale as you nuzzled into him. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

And you weren’t. Not now. You lay there wrapped in Joel, feeling blissfully untethered from everything but this moment, the night stretching around you like a deep sigh of relief.

When morning came, it was the pale light streaming through the tent that woke you. You blinked, disoriented for a second before remembering where you were and who you were with. Joel was still asleep beside you, his arm heavy across your waist, his face peaceful in the early dawn.

Gently, so as not to wake him, you slipped out from under his arm and reached for your clothes. The air was cool on your bare skin, and you shivered a little as you dressed. You smiled down at Joel’s sleeping form, resisting the urge to climb back under the blanket with him.

[chrrific]

XO CALL ME ✶ TELL ME I’M YOURS

𝓁’H𝑖STO𝑖RE ─── in which the ceo’s son and the accountant’s daughter spark an electric chemistry.

𝑈𝑃𝑇𝛰𝑊𝑁 𝐹𝑈𝑁𝐾 event — prompt 01. requested by @haeeeeefer (sorry for not tagging earlier)

𝓹airing CEO’s son! sunghoon x accountant’s daughter! 𝑓. reader wc 1.5k ⟢ — fluff, tension, childhood frenemies to lovers ୨ৎ 𝓵’avis lots of tension + mention of a girl in sunghoon’s room + kissing

NOT PROOFREAD + LOWERCASE INTENDED

you were never supposed to feel a spark whenever you saw park sunghoon; the most blood-boiling person you had ever met or spoken to.

the idea of still talking to someone you met a lot as a child seems nice and all, but not with him. as a young child, he was a brat; spoilt and entitled. he would want new shoes if he stepped in mud, and a new outfit too.

and you, well, you were the accountant’s daughter. you never questioned stuff or asked for new things whenever you went out to play in them. you were just raised that way, and you were happy with that.

you see, sunghoon’s dad was your dad’s boss. and being the son of the CEO of a huge company, sunghoon always had everything in arms reach.

( read more under the cut >< )

latest iPhone? check. new clothes? call the store to bring their collection to his house. need a ride and don’t have a drivers licence? call the chauffeur.

it was that easy for him.

meanwhile you, being daddy’s little girl, was forced to stay with him as a child during those hundreds of office dinners at the park family mansion.

he was absolutely insufferable; both as a child and an adult. he got his job from his father, directly jumping up to project manager from being a college student.

all while you got your job from the pain and toil of taking in your father’s footsteps; now being a chartered accountant. it wasn’t easy, and you didn’t exactly love your job, but it paid good money, and that was all you needed.

you were surely opposites of each other, and this case was definitely not an ‘opposites attract’ case. or at least, you thought so.

───── ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ ─────

today, here you are again at another Park family mansion party; champagne flowing out of glasses and causal banter gracing the giant house.

where sunghoon was, only the heavens knew. it was like he suddenly disappeared out of thin air; one moment he was in sight and the next, gone.

you, being a kind friend of his (if you could even call yourself that, especially with the relentless bickering between you both) took it upon yourself to find him in the labyrinthine depths of the house.

you found yourself on the second floor — where all the bedrooms of the home-owners were. you had only come here a few times, when you and sunghoon got bored of the party downstairs as young teenagers.

you slowly opened a door that you could only assume was the one to his room, quietly peeping inside. you then saw an unthinkable sight; sunghoon sitting on the edge of his bed, next to a girl.

sunghoon and a girl? it was absolutely unheard of to you. and for some reason unknown to you, it made you feel a bit queasy the more you saw it.

his head snapped to the door to see you standing there, his gaze unwavering — it almost made your heart race for the same unknown reason.

you felt a creeping heat rise up your neck, embarrassment making your words come out as a sort of question. “I-i was looking for the bathroom..?”

the girl sitting next to him — clad in million-inch heels and a questionably short dress — gave you a short, dirty look, as if she was planning on how she’d murder you and hide your body that very night.

sunghoon had an emotionless expression on, like he always did. yet, being the ever-observant person he was, he noticed the slight flash of disappointment in your usually sparkling eyes.

you quickly closed the door with a small squeak of an apology, walking away as fast as your four-inch-heeled feet could take you.

───── ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ ─────

after the embarrassing happening of you walking into sunghoon’s room, this was the first time you met.

his mother had kindly invited your family over for dinner, to celebrate your father’s twenty year anniversary working for the company. you were normally okay with being alone with sunghoon in his room on these events, yet tonight, it was awkward.

and that too, in a weird way. things had always been slightly blunt with the both of you, yet, this time if felt different. the tension had changed to a more subtly thick one, the quiet suffocating.

“so… how’ve you been?” you started, trying to break the ice, even if it was just a little bit. he glanced up at you, his gaze moving from the carpeted floors up to your face for a second.

he cleared his throat, trying to form a sentence in the tense moment. “it’s been alright.” his tone was cold as usual, but there was something hidden under the layers. something almost unrecognisable.

it was somewhat flustered, an emotion the man never showed. in front of you, that is.

“that’s good” you nodded slightly, feeling the unbearable silence come back into play. the way he looked at you this time, though still unreadable, was slightly different; soft.

and why? no one knew, not even sunghoon.

what would it feel like to kiss you? was the first question that occupied his mind as his eyes travelled from the ground to you. the way your lip gloss shone in the dim light only let him think of the one, stupid thought.

he didn’t even realise he was staring until you quietly waved a hand in front of his face. meanwhile, you were really confused; why was he looking at you like he wanted to eat you or something?

his eyes widened slightly, a faint, almost unintelligible flush creeping up his cheeks. he was blushing now too?

his mysterious, cold persona wavered just a little, a reminder that even the park sunghoon could get embarrassed.

“sorry, i didn’t- I was just thinking.” he muttered, refusing to meet your gaze. you were just about to say something along the lines of ‘you never fumble your words’ when a knock sounded on the door.

“come in,” his voice sounded a bit strained, but it went unnoticed by you. the maid poked her head in through a small gap she made in the door for herself. “your mother said to come down for dinner.”

he nods, getting up from the edge of his bed and gestured for you to follow. wordlessly, you made your way down to the wide, elegantly poised staircase, taking a seat at the dinner table next to your own mother.

his father sat up at the head, your own sitting to his left and his mother sitting on the right. your mother sat next to his, and both were engrossed deep in conversation with each other. you took a seat next to your father, him sitting down next to you.

he had no idea why he decided to sit next to you, abandoning his usual spot on the other end of the long table.

over dinner, the sound of soft chatter between your parents was heard, but both you and sunghoon remained quiet as ever. you started down at your drink — cranberry juice mixed with pineapple — and lost yourself in it.

sunghoon’s hand brushed against yours as you reached for the sauce next to him, and it set an odd tingle on your skin. you distracted yourself by taking a bite of the mashed potatoes sitting idly on your plate, and engaging in conversation with both yours and his mother.

as dinner continued, sunghoon’s hand accidentally touched your drink glass, spilling some of it on your light beige dress. his eyes widened as he saw the stain, and he offered to help you clean it up.

seeing no choice to say politely refuse in front of your families, you nodded, following him to the small powder room just outside the dining room.

note — it wasnt small. it was probably the size of a normal room in a middle-class home, but with the sheer number of times you’ve been in here over the years, it didn’t seem all that weird to you.

the tension thickened almost instantly as the two of you entered the powder room, just like how it was back there, up in his bedroom.

he slightly wet a tissue using some water, gently rubbing on the stain with it. you looked down at his face; concentration etched onto it. it was weird, him being so soft.

his gaze flickered up to you, and your eyes locked with his dark brown ones. his face was so close to yours, and you couldn’t control yourself anymore.

your fingers slightly raised his chin up, and he didn’t seem to protest, instead opting to lean even closer to your face.

your breath hitched, and he smirked slightly at the small sound it made in the quiet bathroom. he finally gave into his urges, pressing his lips to yours.

your lips were soft; much softer than he ever imagined how they’d feel against his. the kiss was sweet, yet filled with a longing and yearning that couldn’t be expressed in words no matter how hard you tried.

you pulled away, only because you needed air. “does this change things?” you whispered, unable to speak any louder in fear someone might hear.

“if it didn’t, I don’t think I’d live through it, princess”

───── ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ ─────

it was impossible for you to keep your hands off him during the rest of dinner, but you did your best. he kept sending you teasing glances and brushing his finger against yours under the table, trying to rile you up. dinner came to a close, and it was finally time for you to leave. he leaned in closer to your ear and softly whispers in it. “call me later, yeah?”

you were never supposed to feel the spark you felt around park sunghoon, and you knew it. but yet, somehow, he found a place for himself in your heart.

note — likes + reblogs are really appreciated !!

disclaimer — no images / dividers are mine unless specified. please do not repost, translate or plagiarise my works.

© SUGARIKIZ 2025 ୨ৎ

[sucodegoiaba88]

I saw ur recent post n dw I got u w the requests💪🏽

Could we get a Cho Hyun-Ju x f!reader where we know each other before the games n are already friends? We wake up w the rest of the players n get close to Dae-ho who quickly becomes one of our best friends n Hyun-Ju noticed n becomes jealous of how quick we got along w him which causes tension w her that the rest of the group can feel except us cuz were so oblivious to the point that we have to be pushed to Hyun-Ju n ask her whats wrong which leads to her spilling n some suggestive stuff?

★ : jealous girl＂

featuring: hyun-ju cho x reader, mentions of dae-ho x reader.

summary: you and your best friend hyun-ju were both at the mercy of this horrible game in order to pay your debts. However, in the middle of the game, you found comfort in the presence of another person, which sparked some unwanted feelings inside hyun-ju's heart.

warnings: none.

A/N: I sneaked a mouthwashing reference in the middle of the text, can you find it?

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

➤ Staying at this hellish place was not for the frail or for the weak, both physically and mentally. You had already finished 3 games, and you simply couldn't wait to go back to your precious home, as you finally realized how much you missed it.

But things weren't completely lost, at least you hoped so. You still had your precious friend with you, and that eased your spirits. She was mature, collected, and always knew what to do. It was like she had a natural leadership. It gave you a comforting sensation knowing that you had her.

Well, you had some other idiot too.

Dae-ho was like an useless ray of sunshine. His positive humor and personality were a contrast with the harsh reality of this dark place. You quickly found a good relationship with him. Before you even realized, you were spending time with him, sharing food and starting conversations. His presence, albeit childish, calmed you down a lot more than you would expect.

And that didn't go unnoticed by hyun-ju.

She had formed a nice, small group with her former partners. An old lady named Jang geum-ja, with her son, Yonsik, and a small girl named young-mi kim (who you managed to save last second in mingle by pulling her to your room). You grew very found of them, but that didn't mean Hyun-ju felt the same with your former partner. Quite the opposite.

She couldn't stand the overgrowing jealousy inside her. You two only were friends, her feelings didn't matter on this situation. She shouldn't get jealous of a partner she didn't have.

She just wished you spent more time with her. She just wished you spent less time with him. She just wished you paid more attention to her. She just wished-... Dang it.

Her feelings didn't go unnoticed by people, anyone could notice her bold feelings. Anyone but you. Everyone in the room could read her growing jealousy, everyone could notice her gentle stares at you and the not-so-gentle glares she sent in Dae-ho's direction. Again, everyone but you.

-

You, Jun-hee (a friendly pregnant player who you had grow really protective of.), Geum-ja and Hyun-ju were at the female bathroom. After a couple of minutes, both ladies had left the bathroom, but not before wishing goodnight and to take care to both of you. Leaving only you and Hyun-ju alone in the immense bathroom, full of multiple cubicles painted a nice shade of pink.

You could notice her not-so-friendly stare to her own reflection at the mirror. You knew she was having one of those insecure moments were her dysphoria was hitting her like a ton of bricks. But before you could protest any further, you heard her quiet voice mutter to you.

"... What is your relationship with him?"

The silence that invaded the room was so heavy it could be cut with a knife. You were half confused and half in shock. You two were friends, sure. And friends talked about crushes right? Right. But this... This didn't seem like the case. You, after a few seconds of contemplation, finally managed to get a response out.

"What do you mean, Hyu-" before you could even finish your sentence, you were harshly pinned to the wall of one of the cubicles. Her bigger frame towering above you.

"Do you know how you make me feel? Can't you feel it? Can't you notice it?" your confusion was quickly shattered as you finally could connect the pieces together.

Hyun-ju cho liked you.

And, at this moment, she was jealous.

You mentally facepalmed as you didn't have the capacity to realize it sooner. On one side, you felt like a stupid, idiot buffoon. On the other, your insides felt like melting at the realization that the love of your life felt the same way too.

You almost forgot the situation you were on as a quiet grunt pulled you out of your daydreams. Ah, right, she was still mad.

You gently put your hands on her cheeks, her expression softening almost immediately. You slowly start pulling her face down, and her body immediately obeys your subtle command.

"I love you, Hyun-ju."

It was the unasked, but obvious reassurance that she needed at the moment. Her body immediately bends to you, laying her face to your neck and snuggling her body as close as she could manage to yours.

"now, let's go back, we need to-" she again interrupted you. But this time, you could say you were more pleased than offended.

"don't think i can simply let you go after everything." she says, gently biting on your shoulder after a few seconds.

"uh...?" you silent question was quickly aswered by a harsh grope to your butt.

"i know you more than you know yourself, my dear. Don't think i don't realize how you used to stare at me before we entered here."

You were dumbfounded, unable to do any movement due to shock and a hundred of other feelings you couldn't describe properly.

But none of them were bad.

Your small paradise was quickly interrupted by a loud banging agaisnt the door, followed by a harsh voice.

"player 120, player [number], back to your dormitory, now!"

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

A/N: i suck so bad at doing suggestive themes. Sorry.

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

PASSIONATE DINNER

Summary: Wade and Vanessa are celebrating their anniversary and invited you and Logan to dinner. However, he couldn't help himself when he saw you in that fancy dress.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, strong language, public intimacy, public sex (kinda), fingering, unprotected sex ( p i v ), horny Logan

Masterlist

"Do we really have to go there?" Logan groaned in annoyance as he approaches you. "Yes! It's our friends' anniversary celebration, we can't miss it" you adjusted the last detail of your makeup in the mirror. You saw Logan in the reflection, as he gently attacks your neck. He gave you a sweet kisses at first, making you giggle but after a while he went wild and started biting you.

"Mhm okay let's save that for later hm?" you peeled Logan's head off of your now sore neck. "I hope it'll be soon" he smirked and you had to look away to cover your blushed cheeks.

Everyone knew you and Logan were the most sexually active couple far and wide. You've already fucked three times today, and that's not counting the intimate touches in public, or just in the kitchen, when you were preparing lunch. Despite how long you've been together, the spark of passion between you hasn't gone out, on the contrary, it's burning more and more.

But now you have to put all your desires aside and behave discreetly for at least a few hours. Wade and Vanessa are celebrating their anniversary, so they've invited you, along with others, to a fancy dinner at a surprisingly fancy restaurant. You were a little taken aback by this, because you imagined a modest party in their flat, but no argument against taste, let them do what they want. After all, you'd probably also like a luxurious moment for your anniversary once in your life.

"Alright, we can go" you announced when you wiped the remnants of red lipstick off your lips. You wore a gorgeous dress that accentuated your curves and makes Logan go crazy, whenever he looks at you. You couldn't lie, you wear them for a purpose to provoke him a bit and it's clearly working. Logan matched your dress with a basic black suit with black shirt underneath. You looked and felt like the richest couple under the sun for a while.

"M'lady" Logan offered you his shoulder, which you took with joy on your face as you both walked towards the door. The ride wasn't long, it was raining outside, which didn't bother you that much. It bothered you from the fact that the rain will probably ruin your makeup and hair, but you didn't mind, because it added a mysterious atmosphere. Logan couldn't help himself, holding your thigh tightly the entire ride as he focused on the steer. From time to time he stroked you with his thumb, or squeezed you really hard, but other than that he kept himself pretty well under control.

"You look really irresistible in that dress" Logan whispered in your ear, as he helps you getting out of the car. Your corners lifted up and your face got all red again. Each of his compliments always flatters you so much, that your face turns into a tomato in no time.

Your eyes widened as you saw the entrance to the restaurant. It was much more fancier than you expected. Logan acted casually, like it was something he sees everyday, but inside he was just as surprised as you.

Logan looked at you and closed your mouth, making you smile awkwardly as he caught you. “I can't believe Wade agree with this” you said as you walked up the stairs, that seems like they're endless. Your only advantage was that you wore a short dress and didn't have to hold it on the way up.

"Me neither, she must've promised him the best blow job of his life" you poked Logan into his shoulder over such a perverted remark, making him chuckle, but you quietly agreed.

You both breath out as you finally reach the last stair and walk over to the door. It was like in every American movie. There was a guy in a suit standing next to the main door, who had list of all the guests. Even though you were sure you both are on the list, you got nervous. You always have stage fright from such situations, but thanks to Logan, it decreases and helps you overcome it.

Thanks to his mutant powers, he could sense your heartbeat increase. He tightly squeezed your weist and gave you a quick kiss into your hair, which always helps you calm down. "Good evening" Logan politely greeted the door guest and you quickly joined in. All your worries were gone when the entire inspection went smoothly and without any problems. You are always afraid of things that are not so big after all.

When you finally walked in, you were both dazzled by the intense lights. After you got used to the high brightness, you started to perceive things around you. In the corner there was a piano which automatically played beautifully, the whole restaurant was white with gold accessories and chandeliers. All the tables were almost full and the people sitting around them looked like they had billions dollars on their account. "I don't feel comfortable" Logan said as he looked around. "Me too, don't worry, we'll be here just for a while" you patted Logan's shoulder, calming him down a bit.

"I hope so” you both stopped as you notice a woman standing up and waving at you. You immediately recognized that it was Vanessa, who invited you to sit down. "Alright here we go" Logan quietly motivated himself and you took a deep breath.

You love Wade and Vanessa, you really like them, but thanks to the current conditions, your nervousness played pretty hard with your hormones and mood. It wasn't a cup of coffee for Lofan either, but what wouldn't he do for his colleague slash friend. Well, rather, what wouldn't he do for you.

“Hii!” With a huge smile on your face, you greeted everyone and sat down with Logan at the only free seats that were left. You were inundated with the greetings and voices of others. It took you a minute to process who all sat at the table and recognize them. There was Peter Rasputin, Ellie Phimister, Blind Al, Yukio and many others with whom you exchanged smiles and greetings.

"Aren't we late?" you asked as you noticed that you and Logan were the last to arrive. Vanessa shook her head, her joyful smile didn't leave her face for a second. "No don't worry, you're here on time" "You must've been very busy huh" Wade smiled provocatively at Logan, who didn't quite return the smile. Rather, he gave him a death glare, which made Wade immediately drop that cocky grin and look down.

"Um, anyway, how are you? Have you already dealt with..." you showed your hand and pointed to the ring finger. Vanessa chuckled and looked at Wade, who was a little taken aback. "We've thought about it, yeah but we still think we have time" Wade answered for Vanessa, though you still thought she would have a slightly different opinion. However, you didn't want to start any drama so soon, so you left the whole theme about wedding.

"Let's uhh order something, shall we?" Wade saved the awkward upcoming silence and everyone hummed in agreement. You checked on Logan, who was already staring at you with a wholesome smile on his face. You couldn't help yourself but blush again. "What?" you moved your lips softly, almost inaudibly. "Nothing" Logan answered you in the same way, placing a soft kiss in your hair again.

There were few awww's and ewww's flying around, when Logan moved away from you. "And what about you two? Have you tied the knot yet?" Yukio asked with her typical childish smile that warmed your heart whenever you saw it. "Oh! No no no" you shake your head and avoid any eye contact. "For now we're fine with the way it is" you confidently explained your view of your relationship and looked at Logan, to see if he agreed. You deduced from his smile that he has the same opinion.

"Okay let's stop talking about weird things and let's order!" Wade saved the situation again, handing out menu sheets to everyone. You nodded in agreement and took it, opening it so that even Logan could look and choose.

The whole dinner was wonderful. There was hardly a minute of silence, you still had something to talk about and despite occasionally forgetting that you were in a luxury restaurant where you should behave on a level, you enjoyed it. You haven't laughed so hard in a long time, Wade is the best comedian you know.

You were all currently eating the second course of dinner. Logan, as usual, had eaten it way before you and he took advantage of that opportunity right away. He grab your thigh, making you flinch but didn't cause any other reaction. You were used to his sudden touches, it was nothing new to you. Or at least you thought so.

Surprised, you hit your fork on the plate as Logan's insidious hand moved closer to your panties. You were lucky no one really paid any attention to you, because Logan was merciless. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers touched the soft fabric of your thong, gently making tiny circles around your clitoris through them.

You bit your lips to keep yourself quiet and quickly dropped your swaddle to grab Logan's hand as a warning. That didn't stop him at all, rather it encouraged him to add strength and speed. He was keeping his cool and stern expression like he wasn't just fingering you under the table in a public place.

You instinctively pressed your legs together as Logan began brushing your folds forcefully, still through your thong. You tried your best to be calm and casual, but how could you? Logan was playing with you, making up for all the time you could've been fucking, but went to dinner instead. He was giving it to you a bit like revenge.

You quickly check on everyone if someone is watching you, but luckily everyone was having fun with everyone else and absolutely no one batted an eye at you. "Logan" you whimper softly as you drop your head and tighten the grip on his wrist. He quickened his pace and continued to press against your clit.

You drop your knife and balled your hands into fists as you felt the heat build up between your legs. Logan couldn't help but smirk, as he saw you struggling to keep quiet. He knows how much you like to scream.

But he maliciously decided to make it even harder for you. He tug your thongs aside, freeing your wet pussy to cold fresh air but before you could recover, Logan continued the same movements with his fingers that he'd been doing so far. Only with the difference, that now it was on your bare pussy.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck...." you whisper under your nose as the feeling to pee started hitting you. Your hips naturally move to the rhythm of Logan's fingers. It still wasn't enough for him, so he insert one fingers inside you, making you jump in your seat. "Are you okay?" suddenly Vanessa asked, making everyone look at you and pay attention to you. Great, exactly what you needed right now.

You look up at her through your eyebrows and harshly nodded. "Yep, I'm fine" you took the opportunity to answer properly, before you clenched your teeth and tensed all your muscles. Logan didn't stop, his finger frequently curling into you while keep teasing your sensitive clit.

"Really? Doesn't that food make you sick?" you really appreciated her concern, but it was really inconvenient at the moment. “I-um…” your mind quickly thought of some credible answer as you kept your legs firmly together. “I need to bounce” you moved away from the table, forcing Logan to remove his hand from you.

Everyone looked at you with raised eyebrows. But the only thing that mattered to you right now was to run to the bathroom and calm down. After all, you were pretty close to orgasm and the moment you stopped the process, your hormones turned inside out. The moment you got to the ladies bathroom and found that no one was there, you rushed to the sink and leaned against it. You breathed deeply, desperately trying to stop the pulsating between your legs.

"Hey baby" you heard a familiar low voice. “Wait what-” “I told them I was going to check on you” Logan walked over to you elegantly and without warning started passionately kissing you. "We have ten minutes max" he quickly announced between the pauses in the kisses and before you could ask any more questions, Logan enchanted you with his charm and hand placements.

You took Logan's words seriously and therefore you didn't waste any time. Logan picked you up by your tights and squeezed them. He moved from your lips to your neck biting and sucking the skin. He loved tagging you and seeing those purple bruises on your neck always fed up his ego.

You could feel his erection trapped in his pants, poking you in your inner thigh. His groaning tickled your earlobes, sending waves of pleasure right down there. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this" he smelled your perfume that hits him righ into his twitching dick. You whimper and pull his silky hair, as you checked the door.

You couldn't get over the thought of being caught. They would definitely kick you out, this is so inappropriate in a place like this, but it made you all the more excited. Logan rolled up your dress and grabbed your thong, which he tore in one graceful motion. You gasp, furrowing your eyebrows at Logan's cocky grin. "I'll get you new one" he kissed you hungrily and put your thong in the back pocket of his pants, which soon ended up on the ground.

In a second Logan wasn't even wearing briefs and there was one last part left to finally get what he'd been wanting since you put on that slutty dress.

Despite how hard he wanted to fuck you, he didn't want to hurt you. He carefully pushed himself into you, waiting a little for you to get used to him. During that time he kissed you passionately and fought with your tongue. Your saliva mixed into a delicious concoction, which you both couldn't get enough of.

When he felt your subtle pelvic movements, he devilishly chuckled and started thrusting into you. At first smoothly and slowly, but gradually he increased the pace until he reached the highest point of both speed and power.

Whenever his balls touched your skin, you let out a soft moan. Logan grabbed you by the neck, hard enough but not uncomfortably. He was in the exact border you loved. Logan loved the dominance and control he had over you just as much. You both complemented each other perfectly.

"Mhm just like that baby" he groaned while he was mercilessly pounding into you. The wet sound started echoing throughout the bathroom and you knew you were at your absolute limit. You bit your lips so hard that blood started to appear but you didn't care.

Whenever Logan reached inside, he always nudged your cervix, creating an incredible waterfall between your legs. The heat in your lower abdomen was at boiling point and you felt the urge to pee again. "Logan fuck Logan!" you tried to warn him but you didn't even have to. He knew it when your walls tightened around his length.

"I know princess" he freed your neck and he cupped your cheek, looking deep into your eyes as he pounded into you with the last of his strength and energy.

It only took a few of his movements and you finally reached your orgasm. In a few seconds, Logan achieved his goal as well. You both tried to catch your breath, as your foreheads were glued to each other.

"You're amazing" you giggle and shake your head. "Stop" you felt your cheeks heat up again. "I mean it, you're really amazing, the best" he kissed you, soft cute kisses that calmed both of your heartbeats down a bit.

"Now let's go back, he's definitely looking for us" he carefully pulled himself out of you and cleaned you both with a napkins. You then quickly got dressed, well you didn't have to actually, because Logan owned your ruined thong.

You walked out of the restrooms. You came out first, then Logan quietly followed behind you. When you sat back down, no one looked for you just the opposite, nor did they notice you had come until you made sounds. "Hey! Are you feeling better?" Yukio immediately asked you and you nodded your head with a smile.

Dinner went on without a hitch and Logan controled himself the whole time until you came back home. You ended the whole day and evening with the fifth, most romantic sex. What more can you say, you're damn grateful for that ravenous lover.

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

New Years | Gi-hun x Fem!Reader | S2

Summary: one year after the games you and Gi-hun battle to find the men who recruited both of you and also try to survive.

Warnings: Takes place right at the start of S2 - There is still another full year till they meet with Salesman - Paranoid Gi-hun + Reader - Depression - Survivor guilt - Soft!Gi-hun - Mentions of medication - Starving -

"Really how many will be coming today" You whispered, your eyes checking the cameras of the Love Hotel Gi-hun and You were using as a base and to live.

Currently another couple came to the door, looking for a room only to meet with a closed love hotel.

Your nerves were still high as you keep on checking the camera from the door and the rest, your gun close just in case.

You jumped when you felt a hand on your shoulder, turning around fast you met Gi-hun worried eyes.

"Hey its just me.." He said lowering your gun that was now pointing at him.

"Fuck, announce yourself next time, I could have shoot you" You said tone cold.

Gi-hun made a sound like he was giving you the reason and sat besides you on another chair seeing the cameras.

"How many?" He asked looking to fill up the silence

"Last hour? At least six" You responded "One would think they would be with their families or at least at home, like really, on New years ?" You said closing your eyes for a moment, missing the old simple worries you had in life.

One year ago, Gi-hun managed to track you down back in Seoul after you two won the games.

Maybe you two were in love but also too broken to go on and parted ways. You thought you would never saw him again.

Big was your suprise when he knocked at your door one afternoon and forced you to cut off no less than a tracker from behind your ear.

These fuckers were still in your life even when you had walked out victorious but with lots of scars.

To said you became paranoid after it was to be too simple. You destroyed all your devices and would not leave your aparment. If it wasn't for Gi-hun who took care of you during that time you would have died.

He would bring you food, clothes and even medication after you told him how you have ended needing them after all of what happened.

He never judged you. He was there for you. Even when you acted reclutant at first to help him, to you his idea was nuts, but you also understood him.

The nightmares that would wake any of you. Sometimes you screamed for him and sometimes he did it for you.

The two of you were a mess for a few months, but one thing was clear. You both needed each other.

And so you accepted, moved in with him to his new "home" where he showed you just how real he was about his plan.

Cameras, guns, and the peopel who he was in debt before now worked for him ? It felt like a fever dream, even he admited he would wake up somedays and find this new reality hard to accept or believe. He would ask himself if everything that had happen did truly happen.

"(Y/N)" His voice made you come back. You looked at him, he looked so tired, so done with life but there was also that spark, that need to understand why or how. Maybe it was the only thing that kept him going.

"Im here" You assured him, tough he was not convinced.

"Are you alright? I saw your meds, you are taking more this days..." He was worried not trying to judge you.

"Its just" You paused tears starting to form "I keep seeing them and each day that fucker manages to escape us. Its has been one year and we have no trace of him.

Gi-hun undertood your frustration, he was frustrated too. But he could not let them win and could not let you fall and get worse because he asked you to help him.

"Lets go, I managed to get us some takeout"

"But-"

"I dont think they will try anything today, these fuckers must be working for next years game" Gi-hun said taking your hand and softly guiding you to the couch, in front was a small table were the food was.

"Im not hungry" You told him sitting down besides him.

"You have been eating less and less, you need to eat, you must eat"

"Whats the point? Maybe this is what I deserve to starve myslef...after all"

"It was not your fault (Y/N)" Gi-hun said in a firm tone making you look at him. "All the deaths were never your fault, it was all the fault of them, you and I were victims"

"Then why, why do both of us get the luxury to live ? Why did they let two winners at the end ? Why did they put trackers on us  ?"

"Because they are sadistic fuckers who does not care for others and does not sees us as humans. But nothing good will come from you starving yourself.

I need you, and im sorry we got separated when we first got out, I should have never leave you, and im sorry for have asked you to help me again. I was, no Im still lost, I fear everyday one of them will find you or me and just kill us like nothing. I fear everyday that what im doing its for nothing but when I see your suffering I just get streght to go on and end them.

"Gi-hun...how can you be so strong?"

He smiled pulling your hair behind your ear then he got closer his forehead against yours.

"Im not. I never was, remember how I ran from my debts? How I ran from you? I was never strong or brave but you make me less bad, less well useless"

"You were never useless you were lost and then we both were broken...I should have insisted more on you staying by my side"

"Im here now, and nothing will change that" He assured you taking your head between his hands. His eyes soft, full of love and devotion.

"I wont ever run away from you again (Y/N) I can guarnated you that, you are all I have left, the only person who can understand whats going on inside my head. Im in love with you, I was for such a long time, but I always ran because I was scared. But I cant be scared all my life, not when I was so close to lose you.

You started to cry as he softly clean your tears, it was too much. You felt happy but you also felt like you did not deserve any of it.

And Gi-hun must have read your mind because he continued

"You deserve to feel loved and good (Y/N), nothing I repeat, nothing was your fault or will ever be your fault. Do you understand me?"

You nodded slowly then moved to hug him.

"Never leave me again, please never again"

Gi-hun's heart ache by how fragile and vulnerable you were being right now. All these days of acting strong for him...

"Dont cry, we will get over it, I promise you"

Silence filled the room again till the sound of fireworks and cheers started.

That happiness seemed too far away for both of you.

"Gi-hun..."

"Mhm" He said not having stop the hug

"Happy New Year" You finally said with a hint of humor in your voice, one that you had not show in a long time.

Gi-hun could not help but chuckle a it

"Happy New year to you (Y/N).."

"And Gi-hun...I love you too"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

FINAL NOTES: This was kind of a New Years special. Love ya all.

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

Hello, if your requests are still open, you can do Yandere transformers Earthspark Megatron, Soundwave and Starscream x Conjux cybertronian reader who escaped when Megatron joined the Autobots and they both meet again. (Headcannonds and separated)

OoOoOh, interesting! I'll be on my knees and be already APOLOGIZING because I haven't seen 100% the Earthspark series (just started recently!). I'll do my best to do your request! Hope you like it!

（＾∀＾●）ﾉｼ

Yandere!TFE Megatron, Soundwave & Starscream with a Conjux!Cybertronian!Reader meeting again.

WARNING: Yandere behaviour, kidnapping (Megatron's part), typical violence from the series and a little bit more, suicidal ideas (Starscream's part).

MEGATRON

You have no idea how Megatron's spark broke in half at how you looked at him after he joined the Autobots.

Many decepticons held hatred and even disgust when they looked at him - but your optics held... disbelief. As if you were seeing someone you used to know but saw them be replaced with someone else.

But Megatron can't bring himself to be angry at you for not following him as his Conjux - he pulled you into the war, made you follow his beliefs and ways, he made you see the horrors of it and by his own servos, too. And then? To turn around after realizing he was doing everything done and join sides with the same bots he swore to kill and attacked for so many years.

Earthspark's Megatron gives me the vibes of being an overprotective and self-aware yandere.

The moment you two meet once again, Megatron at first tries to keep at line that dark need to tackle you and drag you to where you are going to be safe (he has been battling with himself for so many days and nights against those too obsessive ideas of his about keeping you safe, away from the world).

"My love - please, do not run away again." He begs, extending his servo at you. "Come back to me, my Conjux - I'll keep you safe, like I've always done."

If you accept and take his servo, he is going to hold you so close and cry silently, promising you he is not going to hurt you again, he is not going to make you hurt others again.

If you refuse to follow him - he is going to be crying for your forgiveness as he immobilizes you. He can't lose you again. He needs to attend to his sins, to protect you of the consequences of his own actions.

He knows what he is doing is wrong - but he can't help it.

He lost his Conjux once - and he is going to die if he loses you again.

SOUNDWAVE

Soundwave would slowly spiral into becoming a yandere after you were captured by G.H.O.S.T - both of you got to escape after Megatron took side with the Autobots, and managed to remain hidden. One day you two tried to look after energon in differente locations, and sadly, you were ambushed by the Autobots and G.H.O.S.T and taken prisoner.

Soundwave felt your anxiety and fear of being captured. And every single day he felt your sadness and anger towards those who captured you.

Earthspark's Soundwave would be an obsessive yandere that, after spiraling and meeting you again, becomes also destructive.

When he was captured and put inside of a cell, he was just... ready to give up.

"Soundwave?"

His spark felt like it was agonizing and at the same time crying in euphoria as he lifted his helm and... saw you, on the other cell across of his.

In that moment, Soundwave felt such a relief in his spark, he wanted to cry... and also destroy everything.

How dare they keep you inside of a cell? How dare they still keep you both apart from each other after having done that for so much time already?

How dare they. How dare they. Howdaretheyhowdarethey-

Thankfully - you and him get a happy ending, but add a little bit extra of aggressiveness on Soundwave's side whenever he fights, as his anger always comes back at him at remembering how much he missed you.

He is not letting his Conjux get taken away from him again. He is going to kill anyone he tries to do it again.

STARSCREAM

The need to survive skyrockets to the point it makes Starscream's mind and system break.

Imagine being 15 years imprisoned, watching as your once fellow teammates being experimented and also treated badly nearly every single day.

The worst part? You are not there.

On one servo, Starscream is thankful that you are not at the hands of G.H.O.S.T. On the other servo, Starscream is silently spiraling in a sea of anxiety and his spark always beats in agony at not having his Conjux by his side and not knowing where you are or how you are.

Are you still alive? Are you in somewhere safe? Or are you starving to death at the lack of energon? Of maybe you've been already captured and killed while being experimented on? Are you looking for him or left him to die? Oh Primus, please, do not let that be true, please.

Earthspark's Starscream would be a manipulative, possessive yandere - but with the whole PTSD from Megatron's abuse, the situation where he is now and not having you close makes him also become a paranoiac yandere.

And by Primus, he got worse after encountering Megatron after escaping the G.H.O.S.T facility.

But Hashtag's presence and empathy made his sanity remain in place for a moment. She would be a perfect sparkling for you and him to adopt and take care of.

It's Hashtag's treatment that make Starscream keep hope in his spark that you are still out there, and he is going to find you. Still, paranoia keeps eating him alive - and Skywarp and Nova Storm have to make sure he doesn't either kill something or... offlines himself.

Starscream cries the moment you and him meet again when going to help the Malto family against Mandroid. Everything but you disappears in his optics, there is only you - it has always been only you.

Starscream is going to be 24/7 by your side, holding your servo - and if you pay close attention, you can see how his optics dart from here to there, making sure there is no danger that is going to take you away. Or hear him whisper how he is going to... offline you and then himself if its necessary.

You hug Starscream in those moments to bring him back to reality, and he calms down as he hugs you back. Do not let him swim that much in those kind of thoughts - he is not that far on doing what his paranoia tells him to do.

(づ￣ 3￣)づ Vhaos out!

[stylesispunk]

Silent strain | part vi

Outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

previous chapter | next chapter

summary: Your relationship with Joel is in a thin line, some truths are confessed, some words are thrown but you're there for each other at the end.

w.c: 13,3k

warnings: angst, reader feels insecure, mentions of depression, fluff, not proofreading. Paragraphs in bold indicate flashbacks. Not the best chapter.

a/n: This chapter is not intense, not my best but it is emotional and we can see reader struggling with her emotions (because hormones and sadness) I think this chapter feels like a filler. It is a filler chapter, sorry. I wrote it in a rush. HOWEVER, at the same time, it ends the tension between Joel and reader. New things will happen, and yes, Paul will have what he deserves. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

There was something strange in the way Joel’s presence since he had come back.

You knew something happened out there. You could see it in his brown eyes, there was something behind the spark, perhaps a lie surfing beneath just for you not to catch a glimpse of it.

The way Ellie had closed herself off wasn’t something you had expected either.

It was a complicated mix, one that stirred a knot of unease in your stomach. You could sense the tension hanging in the air like a storm cloud waiting to burst. The moments you’d shared as a family felt overshadowed by something unspoken, a weight that pressed heavily on both Joel and Ellie.

At first, you had brushed it off as a natural adjustment period, after all, Joel had been gone for so long, and Ellie was grappling with her own feelings about what may had happened out there. But the more the days passed, the more you realized it ran deeper than that.

You found yourself stealing glances at Joel when he thought you weren’t looking, trying to decipher what lay behind his guarded demeanor. There were times when his smile would falter, a flicker of pain crossing his face before he masked it with a joke or a playful jab. And when he looked at Ellie, you could see a flicker of something darker, a shadow of guilt that crept in when he thought no one would notice.

He looked at her with the adoration a father should look at her daughter, but with the guilt of failing her.

And he looked at Rosie with hurt.

You couldn’t help but feel like the two of you were ghosts haunting him, memories of what he had lost and what he was trying so desperately to hold onto. The laughter and giggles you shared with Rosie should have brought him joy, but instead, they seemed to amplify the shadows lurking behind his eyes. It hurt to witness the internal struggle, the love he had for his daughter and the sorrow of knowing he had failed to protect her before she was even born.

You knew he felt guilty since the other night when that stupid flicker of doubt crept upon him, but you had you brushed it off for his sake, and for your own. You thought things would be better then. You had been together again; he had made love to you but you felt useless.

There was a distance that was never there before and it crumbled you.

It had been two weeks.

And it hurt.

Looking at Joel hurt.

Talking to Ellie hurt

An even looking at your daughter hurt.

The things between him and Ellie had shifted, leaving you feeling increasingly isolated. You noticed how Joel and Ellie seemed to retreat into their own world, while you stood on the outside, watching them from a distance. You tried to push through it, but even looking at Rosie had begun to hurt, every cry and fuss reminding you of how Paul’s words had lingered, twisting your mind, making you doubt yourself. Maybe Joel and Ellie were pulling away because they saw something in you, something broken, something not enough.

You weren’t the family you had become during those months you spent outside. Not the one you dreamt of it.

you prepared dinner for the three of you. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but you wanted to create a sense of normalcy, to find a connection again. As the minutes ticked by, the food grew cold on the table, and neither Joel nor Ellie showed up. Rosie started to cry, her wails sharp and insistent. You tried to feed her, but she refused, turning her head away. Frustration bubbled up inside you, and soon it felt like too much. You couldn’t calm her, and the weight of everything came crashing down.

Tears blurred your vision as you desperately tried to soothe Rosie, but nothing worked. You began to cry yourself, feeling utterly defeated when Joel finally walked in, his footsteps heavy with the weight of the day.

“What’s wrong with her?” Joel asked, his voice tinged with concern but also an edge of impatience.

You could barely look at him through your tears. “I don’t know,” you choked out. “She doesn’t want to leech… I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Joel stepped closer; his face drawn into a tight expression. “Give her to me,” he said firmly, reaching out. “You’re going to stress her out.”

The words hit you like a slap. You froze, staring at him in disbelief. “You’ve known her for two weeks, Joel,” you said, your voice trembling with hurt. “You don’t know what she wants.”

Joel’s face darkened, a flash of irritation crossing his features. “I know better,” he shot back, his tone almost dismissive. “I’ve been a father before. I know what a baby needs.”

The implication that you didn’t know what you were doing as a mother stung so deeply that it left you momentarily speechless. Your hands shook as you handed Rosie over to him, the words you wanted to say lodged painfully in your throat. As he took her, your gaze shifted to the table, the cold food sitting there, untouched. You had tried so hard to make something work tonight, to find a way to bridge the growing distance, but now it felt like all your efforts were in vain.

Joel glanced at the table, his eyes landing on the uneaten meal, and you saw the realization hit him. His face softened, his anger dissipating as the weight of what just happened sank in. “I—” he started, trying to find the words, but you couldn’t listen. You couldn’t stand the sight of him trying to fix something he didn’t understand.

You walked back into the house, your feet heavy with exhaustion, both physical and emotional. You could hear Joel calling after you, his voice soft but filled with so much urgency. “Wait,” he pleaded, but you didn’t stop.

You couldn’t.

The weight of everything he’d said crushed you. It wasn’t just about this moment; it was days of him being distant, of feeling like you were carrying it all alone. You had done it for so long, and now, with him back, it felt like nothing had changed.

You reached the bedroom, stepping inside before turning and quietly closing the door. With trembling hands, you locked it. The soft click of the lock echoed in the stillness of the room. It wasn’t a loud sound, but it might as well have been a final barrier between you and Joel.

“Hey… hey, open the door,” Joel called from the other side, his voice thick with desperation. “Please, just talk to me.”

But you couldn’t answer. Not now. You pressed your back against the door, sliding down to the floor as your knees gave way, the tears spilling out uncontrollably. You hugged your arms around your knees, trying to hold yourself together, but it felt impossible.

“Come on,” Joel begged, his voice muffled by the door but still pleading. “I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I—damn it—just open the door. We can talk.”

Outside, you could hear Joel’s hand resting against the door, as if he was trying to feel your presence on the other side. “I don’t know what to say to fix this,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “But I need you to know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here all night if I have to.”

But the space between you felt vast. Even though you knew he was just on the other side of the door, it was as if he were miles away. The crying from Rosie grew louder, and you could hear the frustration in Joel’s voice.

“Please… don’t do this,” he whispered.

But you still didn’t answer. You couldn’t. And in that moment, the only sound filling the void between you and Joel was Rosie’s cries. They echoed through the house, a reminder of the tiny life you were both trying to protect, yet somehow feeling further apart from each other than ever before.

You sat there, leaning against the door, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. When had it all become too much? You weren’t this weak before. You were strong, you had to be. You had been through so much, survived so much, and yet here you were, crumbling under the pressure of emotions that you couldn’t control.

You didn’t know when you had let it all get to this point. When the doubts, the fears, and the weight of trying to be enough, both for Rosie and for Joel, had started to consume you. It was like you had been holding it together for so long, and now, everything was unraveling.

You used to pride yourself on being able to handle it all. But now… now you felt like you were drowning. The tears wouldn’t stop, and you hated that. You hated feeling this weak, hated that your emotions had taken the best of you. That you couldn’t just push it down and be the strong person you had always been.

Rosie’s cries brought you back to the moment, but even her soft whimpers only made the ache in your chest deepen. You wanted to get up, to soothe her, but you felt so drained, so completely overwhelmed, that you couldn’t even move.

The sound of Joel’s voice, still pleading softly from the other side of the door, was like a distant echo in the back of your mind. You could hear his pain, but it was almost too much to bear. You knew he was hurting too, but how could you comfort him or your daughter when you couldn’t even find the strength to comfort yourself?

You rested your head against the cool wood of the door, closing your eyes, trying to pull yourself together. But every time you thought you could, that tight feeling in your chest came back, choking you with a flood of emotions you couldn’t control.

“I don’t know when I became this weak,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible over the sound of Rosie’s cries and Joel’s muffled pleas.

Somewhere deep down, you knew you weren’t weak. You were tired, tired of carrying it all on your own, tired of pretending to be okay when you weren’t. But in this moment, it was hard to remember that. Hard to remember the strength that had gotten you this far.

Paul’s words echoed in your mind like an unwelcome refrain, twisting and turning until they felt like a noose tightening around your thoughts. “You can’t do this alone.” “He won’t come back.” Each phrase replayed like a haunting melody, suffocating your resolve.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block them out, but they clung to you like shadows. “You’re not strong enough for this. You’re just going to end up hurt.” The memories of those moments, his condescending tone, the way he had looked at you as if you were fragile, were like needles piercing through the fragile veneer you had built around yourself.

But you weren’t fragile. You had survived against all odds, faced every challenge thrown your way, and yet here you were, paralyzed by a single man’s cruel words. You had spent nights comforting Rosie when she cried, soothing her fears, and yet, when it came to yourself, you found it impossible to extend that same compassion.

The weight of it all felt unbearable. You were torn between the love you felt for Rosie and Joel and the crippling fear that you were failing them both. The thought of losing Joel again, of having him walk away because you couldn’t hold it together, made your heart race with panic.

What if Paul was right? What if you were a burden? The nagging doubts clawed at your mind, urging you to believe that you were unworthy of the love and support surrounding you. “He left you.”

You let out a choked sob, unable to suppress the flood of emotions any longer. “I can’t… I can’t do this,” you murmured, the words slipping out between shaky breaths. You felt like you were drowning in a sea of uncertainty, gasping for air but finding none.

Just then, Rosie’s cries escalated, piercing through your turmoil. The sound broke through the fog of despair, a reminder that she needed you, that you were her mother.

With a shaky breath, you pushed off the door and stood up and opened the door, immediately facing Joel with despair in his eyes.

Joel's heart sank at the sight of you, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cradled Rosie in your arms. He stepped forward, his hands reaching out instinctively. “I’m here,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here.”

You could see the concern etched across his features, but all you felt was an overwhelming wave of emotion that threatened to engulf you. “She just wanted her mother,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “I don’t know how to do this, Joel. I thought I could, but…”

Joel’s heart ached at your vulnerability. He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you and Rosie, pulling you both into a tight embrace. “You’re doing better than you think,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re a great mother. I’ve seen it. I see the way you care for her.”

You leaned into Joel’s embrace, but the warmth of his body only made the tears flow harder. “You don’t understand,” you sobbed, pulling away slightly to look into his eyes. “I don’t feel like a great mother. Every time I look at her, it hurts. I thought I could handle it.”

Joel’s expression shifted to one of concern as he took a step back, his hands gently resting on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. This isn’t easy for any of us. But I promise you, you’re not alone in this. You’ve been doing everything you can.”

You shook your head, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “But I’m not doing enough! I can hear Paul’s words in my head, telling me I can’t do this alone, that you wouldn’t come back for me-”

“But I’m here, I came back.” He spoke, his tone reassuring your doubts.

You shook your head, “No you didn’t. You’re just half of what you were before.”

Joel’s expression faltered, hurt flickering across his features. “I know I’m not the same,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m trying. I’m here, and I want to be here for you and Rosie. You have to believe that.”

You stepped back, shaking your head as the tears streamed down your face. “But it doesn’t feel like enough. I thought you’d come back ready to fight for us, but instead, it feels like I’m still alone. You’re not the person I fell in love with. You’ve got so many walls up, and I don’t know how to break through them.”

“I’m trying to let those walls down,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “But it’s hard, okay? I’ve been through things you can’t even begin to understand, and I’m just trying to process it all. But I don’t want to lose you, too.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. “You’re not going to lose me because I’m not going anywhere. I’m stuck here, Joel! Stuck with all these feelings and fears, and you’re acting like you don’t even want to try.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and pain evident in his posture. “You think I don’t want to try? I want to be the man you need me to be, but I’m struggling, too. I can’t just forget everything that’s happened out there. I don’t know how to just turn it off.”

“I know you’re struggling,” you said, your voice breaking. “But I need you to at least try to meet me halfway.”

As Rosie’s cries grew louder, each wail felt like a reminder of the weight pressing down on both of you. You could hear her distress echoing your own turmoil, amplifying the emotions swirling in your chest. You wiped your tears, feeling the frustration mix with the overwhelming love you had for your daughter.

“I can’t handle this right now, Joel,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to maintain your composure.

Joel's face softened, and he stepped closer, his hands reaching out tentatively. “Let me help, then. Please. I don’t want you to feel like you’re carrying this alone. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You glanced down at Rosie, who was now whimpering, her little fists clenched as she squirmed in her crib. The sight made your heart ache, and the tears flowed more freely.

"I wish I would have died that day instead of Tess" you replied, walking back to the room.

Joel’s face twisted in pain at your words, his eyes clouding with grief and regret. He stepped closer, desperation in his voice. "Don't say that. Don’t ever say that. You’re the reason we’ve made it this far. Without you… I don’t know what I’d be."

But your mind was spinning, tangled in the emotions you couldn’t unravel. Rosie’s cries felt like a mirror of your own inner turmoil, and each sob felt like a weight pressing deeper on your chest. You rubbed at your face, trying to push away the tears that kept falling. “I’m tired, Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Joel looked down at Rosie, who had quieted slightly but still whimpered softly, her tiny face scrunched in discomfort. He exhaled slowly, his hands trembling as he reached out toward you but then let them fall back to his sides. I should have helped sooner. I didn’t—" His voice caught in his throat. "I didn’t realize how much you needed me to be here."

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping you. "No, Joel, you didn’t. And now, I don’t know if you ever really will be. You’re here, but half of you is still somewhere out there, and I don’t know how to reach that part of you.”

Your hands trembled as you held Rosie, her soft whimpers clawing at your already frayed nerves. The exhaustion, the hurt, the overwhelming sense of responsibility, it was all crashing down on you. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Just make her stop crying,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you handed Rosie to Joel, your arms suddenly feeling too weak to hold her any longer. The moment Joel took her from you, the sob you had been holding in finally escaped. Your chest tightened, and for a second, everything seemed to blur around you.

Before Joel could respond, your body gave way to the exhaustion consuming you for so long. Your vision darkened as you slumped forward, your world fading into black as you passed out.

You pressed yourself against the cold, concrete wall of the Quarantine Zone, your heart pounding in your chest as you listened to the footsteps of the guards patrolling nearby. You had always been good at finding places to hide, but lately, the tension in the air had made even your usual spots feel less safe.

You had come to the trading post with the intention of scrounging up some supplies for yourself, but you had miscalculated the risks. Now, hiding from the guards had become a habit—one you were starting to regret.

Just as you thought you were in the clear, you heard a voice from behind you. “What are you doing back here?”

You turned to find a man standing a few feet away, his brow furrowed with curiosity. He was older than you, with a rugged look that spoke of hard living, and something in his eyes hinted at a depth of experience.

“Just… hiding,” you replied, trying to sound casual even though your heart raced at the prospect of being caught.

He chuckled softly, a sound that was surprisingly comforting. “You’re gonna get yourself into trouble doing that. You know the guards won’t hesitate to drag you in if they catch you.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” you said defiantly, but your voice wavered slightly.

“Yeah? You sure about that?” He stepped closer, his gaze assessing you. “You think you can take them on?”

You shrugged, feeling a mix of bravado and fear. “I can handle myself.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Maybe. But it’s always better to have someone watching your back.”

You looked at him, searching for any hint of deceit in his expression, but all you saw was honesty and a hint of amusement. “And what’s your name?” you asked, intrigued despite yourself.

“Joel,” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a faint smile. “And you’re a long way from safe out here, kid.”

“Kid? I’m not a kid,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

“Sure you’re not,” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes. “But you’d be surprised how fast things can go sideways in this world. Better to be careful.”

Just then, the guards’ voices echoed down the hallway, and you felt your stomach drop. Without thinking, you grabbed Joel’s arm and pulled him into the small space behind some crates.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low, a mix of surprise and approval.

“Hiding,” you whispered, your breath quickening as the guards drew closer.

He didn’t protest, instead leaning in slightly, his presence solid and reassuring. The guards passed by, their footsteps fading into the distance, and you let out a shaky breath.

“That was close,” you muttered, still pressed against him.

He glanced down at you, the tension of the moment breaking slightly. “You know, if you keep this up, I might have to start charging you for my help.”

You looked up at him, catching the flicker of a smile on his lips. “Yeah, right. You’re just as likely to get caught with me around.”

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe. But I think I can manage.”

When the coast was clear, you cautiously peeked out from behind the crates. “Thanks for that,” you said, a bit shyly. “I didn’t expect to find someone like you back here.”

When you finally stirred, your head throbbed, and for a moment, everything felt hazy. You blinked, your vision blurry as you slowly came back to consciousness. The room was dim, and you struggled to remember what had happened, but as your senses sharpened, you realized you were lying on the couch. You felt something cold against your forehead—a damp cloth—and when you turned your head slightly, you were met with Paul’s concerned face.

“Hey,” he said softly, crouching next to the couch, his hand still holding the cloth. “You gave us a scare.”

Confusion swirled in your mind. “Paul?” Your voice was hoarse, and you winced at how weak it sounded. “What are you doing here?”

Paul sighed, his expression serious but gentle. “Joel was a mess. He didn’t know what to do, so he came and got me.” He glanced over his shoulder, where you saw Joel standing by the doorway, his face a mix of guilt and helplessness. His eyes were fixed on you, but he didn’t say a word.

The memory of what had happened earlier hit you like a punch to the gut. The crying, the exhaustion, the overwhelming sense of defeat—and then nothing. You tried to sit up, but Paul gently pushed you back down.

“Take it easy,” he urged. “You’ve been out for a while.”

Rosie’s soft whimpers caught your attention, and you turned your head to see her in Joel’s arms. He was gently bouncing her, trying to soothe her, but his eyes kept darting back to you. You could see the strain on his face, the weight of everything that had happened between you both etched into every line of his expression.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, even though you felt anything but fine. You wanted to tell Paul to leave, to tell Joel that you didn’t need him to bring someone else to take care of you, but the words stuck in your throat.

Paul raised an eyebrow. “You passed out from exhaustion. That’s not ‘fine,’ and you know it.” He glanced at Joel again before turning back to you. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. You don’t even have your spark anymore” he added, carrying a sense of undertone that made your anger raise.

The insinuation stung, and beneath your exhaustion, frustration flared to life. How dare he stand there and judge you? How dare he talk about something he couldn’t possibly understand? You’d been doing everything you could to hold it together, to take care of Rosie, to keep going. But now, with the weight of his words, it felt like everything was crumbling.

Your hands clenched into fists as you sat up, despite Paul’s earlier insistence that you rest. “Get out of my house.”

Paul raised his hands, backing off a little, but there was still something in his expression that fueled your frustration. “I’m just saying you don’t have to do this all alone.”

“I know I don’t!” you shot back. You don’t know what it’s like—” Your voice caught in your throat, and you couldn’t finish. The exhaustion, the frustration, the overwhelming sense of failure all clashed inside of you.

Joel, who had been standing silently with Rosie, stepped forward, his voice quiet but firm. “I think that’s enough.” There was a tension in his tone, something protective.

Paul’s expression shifted, his calm demeanor faltering as he glanced between you and Joel. “You deserve someone who’s going to actually be there for you,” he said, his voice laced with an edge of condescension. “Not someone who’s half here, someone who’s too wrapped up in their own demons to care for you or Rosie.” He shot a pointed look at Joel, clearly implying that he wasn’t the man for you.

That was it. Joel’s face hardened, his jaw clenched tight. Without a word, he gently placed Rosie down in her crib, making sure she was safe, and then he turned back toward Paul. The tension in the room thickened, and before you could react, Joel strode forward with purpose.

“Joel, don’t—” you started, but it was too late.

In one swift movement, Joel’s fist connected with Paul’s jaw, sending him stumbling backward. The force of the punch was strong, a raw release of all the frustration and anger Joel had been holding back. Paul let out a grunt of pain, clutching his face as he tried to steady himself.

“Get out,” Joel growled, his voice low and dangerous. His usually composed demeanor was gone, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. “You don’t come into our home and tell her what she deserves.”

Paul straightened up, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes filled with a mix of shock and anger. “You think this is going to change anything?” he spat, glaring at Joel. “She deserves better than you, and deep down, you know it.”

Joel took a step closer, his fists still clenched, but you quickly moved between them, your heart racing. “Stop,” you said, your voice trembling. You couldn’t deal with this right now—the fighting, the anger, the tension.

Paul shot one last glare at Joel before turning his gaze toward you. “You know where to find me when you finally realize what you deserve.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving the door wide open behind him.

For a moment, there was silence. You stood there, your body tense, your mind racing. Joel was still breathing heavily, the adrenaline from the confrontation clearly not yet faded. He glanced down at you, his face softening as he saw the strain and exhaustion in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Joel said quietly, his voice rough. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You didn’t respond immediately, the weight of everything pressing down on you again. Finally, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Don't listen to him, you deserve me. But right now, Joel, you’re being an asshole." you said walking back to the bedroom.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the exhaustion in your face, the weight you were carrying, silenced him. You didn’t wait for an answer. Turning away, you walked back toward the bedroom, the thud of your footsteps matching the heavy thrum of your heartbeat. You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t turn around. The last few days had taken their toll, and you were too drained to face another argument.

As you reached the bedroom door, you paused for a moment, your hand resting on the frame. You wanted to say more, to explain the hurt and frustration swirling inside you, but the words felt stuck, tangled in the knot of emotions you’d been holding in for too long.

Without looking back, you stepped into the room and shut the door softly behind you. The quiet click of the lock felt like a small barrier between you and the chaos outside, but even in the solitude of the bedroom, the weight of everything pressed down on you.

You walked over to the bed, your legs heavy with exhaustion, and sat on the edge. Your body ached, not from any physical strain but from the emotional toll of everything you’d been through. The fight with Paul, the tension with Joel, the constant pressure to be strong for Rosie, it was all catching up with you.

You buried your face in your hands, letting out a shaky breath as the tears threatened to spill over again. “I just want things to be okay,” you whispered to yourself, but the room offered no answers, no relief from the storm raging inside you.

The next morning, you woke up to the soft sound of Rosie stirring in her crib. The sunlight was just beginning to filter through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. You blinked a few times, feeling the remnants of exhaustion still clinging to you, but instinctively, you moved to tend to your daughter.

Rosie let out a little whimper as you gently lifted her into your arms, and you rocked her softly, humming a quiet tune. The peace of the early morning felt like a small reprieve from the storm of emotions from the night before. For a moment, it was just you and her, the world outside the bedroom door distant.

As you fed Rosie, your eyes drifted to the slightly open door, and a thought crossed your mind. Once she had finished and you had settled her back down, you quietly left the room, padding down the hallway in your socks.

You stopped when you reached the living room, your heart giving a little tug at the sight before you. Joel was asleep on the couch, his body curled up slightly, his face turned away from the room. His breathing was slow and even, but there was something about the way he lay there, like the weight of everything had finally knocked him down, that made your heart ache.

He looked so tired, the lines of stress etched into his face even in sleep. For a long moment, you just stood there, watching him. Despite everything, despite the arguments and the walls between you, there was still that pull, the part of you that loved him so deeply it hurt.

But you couldn’t ignore how broken things had become, how much distance had grown between you, and how helpless you’d felt in the middle of it all. You didn’t know how to fix it, but seeing him there, so vulnerable, softened something inside you.

You approached the couch slowly, hesitant. You didn’t want to wake him, not yet. But you stood by the edge of the couch, looking down at him, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your sleeves as you tried to figure out what to do next.

The tension between you two from the night before still hung in the air, but for the first time in days, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe it wasn’t too late to reach him. Maybe there was still a way back to each other.

In the kitchen, you set about making a quiet breakfast, keeping your movements soft and deliberate. The sound of eggs sizzling in the pan and the aroma of fresh coffee filled the air, creating a sense of normalcy that had been absent for a while. It was strange how these small routines—things you used to take for granted—now felt like lifelines.

As you stirred the coffee, your mind wandered back to the tension from the day before. Paul’s words, Joel’s anger, your own emotional breakdown—it all swirled around in your head like a storm you couldn’t quite escape. You felt the familiar knot tighten in your chest, but you took a deep breath, grounding yourself in the simple task of making breakfast.

You heard a soft shuffle behind you and turned to see Joel standing in the doorway, his hair tousled from sleep, his expression a mix of fatigue and hesitation. He looked at you for a moment, then glanced down at his feet, clearly unsure of what to say after everything that had happened.

"I... didn’t mean to fall asleep on the couch," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was going to come back to bed."

You nodded, not entirely sure how to respond. Part of you wanted to tell him it was okay, that you understood, but another part of you was still so hurt, so weighed down by everything that had been left unsaid between you.

Instead, you turned back to the stove, flipping the eggs onto a plate. "Breakfast is almost ready," you said quietly, keeping your tone neutral.

Joel hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. "Look, about last night..." he started, his voice soft but filled with the weight of everything unsaid.

You kept your back to him, focusing on pouring the coffee. "Let’s not do this right now, Joel. I don’t have the energy to fight today."

"It’s not about fighting," he said, his voice a little firmer now. "I just... I know I’ve been distant. I know I haven’t been the man you need me to be, and I hate that I’m making you feel like you’re alone in this. You’re not. I’m here, even when it doesn’t seem like it."

You finally turned to face him, your eyes searching his face for the sincerity behind his words. He looked tired, his brown eyes filled with a mix of regret and something deeper—something that reminded you of the man you fell in love with.

"Then why does it feel like you’re somewhere else?" you asked softly, your voice tinged with the vulnerability you’d been trying to hide.

Joel took a slow breath, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. "Because part of me is," he admitted, his voice rough. "There are things I’ve been holding onto—things from out there, from everything I’ve done to keep us safe. I thought I was protecting you by keeping it all inside, but I can see now that it’s only been pushing you away."

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat.

He nodded; his eyes filled with emotion. "I’m trying, I swear. But I’m scared—scared that if you knew everything, you’d see me differently."

You reached out then, placing a hand on his chest. "I already know you, Joel. I know what you’ve done, and I still love you. But we can’t keep doing this—this back and forth, this shutting each other out. It’s breaking us."

Joel looked down at your hand on his chest, covering it with his own. "I don’t want to lose you," he said quietly, his voice raw with emotion.

“You’re losing me now” you whispered.

Joel’s expression shifted, a flicker of something dark passing over his face, and his hand tightened slightly around yours. For a moment, the room felt impossibly still, as if the world itself was holding its breath. He looked away, his gaze drifting toward the window, avoiding your eyes as though what he was about to say was too much to bear.

“I lied,” Joel said, his voice low and strained, barely louder than a whisper. “To Ellie… about what happened with the Fireflies.”

You blinked, confusion rippling through you, trying to grasp what he meant. "What do you mean you lied?"

His jaw clenched as he struggled to find the words. “I told her they couldn’t find a cure. That they ran some tests and it didn’t work. But… that wasn’t the truth.”

A sick feeling churned in your stomach, your heart racing as you tried to process what he was telling you. "Joel... what are you saying?" you asked, your voice shaky, almost afraid to hear the answer.

He looked at you then, his brown eyes filled with guilt, the weight of it crushing him. “They were going to use her… to make the cure. But to do that, they would’ve had to kill her.”

The air seemed to rush out of the room as the realization hit you. "Oh my God," you breathed, stepping back slightly, your hand slipping from his chest. "You... you stopped them."

Joel nodded, his face tight with regret. "I didn’t give them a choice. I couldn’t let them take her life, even if it meant sacrificing the chance for a cure. I killed them. All of them.”

You stood there, frozen, your mind reeling as you tried to comprehend the enormity of what he had done. The weight of his decision, the lives lost, the potential cure for humanity—gone because he couldn’t bear to lose Ellie. It was a truth that hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless and disoriented.

"She doesn’t know, does she?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Ellie doesn’t know the truth."

Joel shook his head, his eyes filled with pain. "No. She still thinks there was nothing they could do. She trusts me… and I’ve been lying to her this whole time."

You covered your mouth with your hand, feeling a mix of emotions crashing over you—shock, anger, sorrow, and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. You knew how much Ellie meant to Joel, how much she had become like a daughter to him. But this… this was something else. He had taken away her choice, her right to know the truth about her own life.

"Joel," you said, your voice trembling with disbelief. "You... you took that choice away from her. You lied to protect her, but... what if she finds out? What then?"

"I know," Joel rasped, his voice cracking. "I know what I did, and I know it was wrong. But I couldn’t lose her. I couldn’t go through that again."

You stared at him, seeing the brokenness in his eyes, the depth of his fear and guilt. He had made an impossible choice—one that had saved Ellie’s life but had cost him a piece of his soul. And now, that lie hung between you, heavy and suffocating.

"I didn’t tell you because... because I didn’t want you to look at me like this," Joel continued, his voice faltering. "Like I’m a monster."

Tears filled your eyes, but you blinked them back, trying to hold yourself together. "You’re not a monster, Joel," you said, your voice hoarse. "But this... this is so much more than I ever thought you were carrying. And it’s not just your burden to bear. You should have told me."

"I know," Joel whispered, stepping closer, his eyes pleading with you. "I’m telling you now because... because I can’t keep this from you anymore. I can’t keep shutting you out, not after everything we’ve been through."

You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to process the weight of his confession. When you opened them, you met his gaze, your voice soft but firm. "You lied to her to protect her. But you can’t keep lying, Joel. Not to me, and not to Ellie. Eventually, she’s going to find out. And when that happens… what are you going to do?"

Joel’s face crumpled, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his guilt. "I don’t know," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "But I’m terrified of losing her. And now… I’m terrified of losing you, too."

You stood there, staring at the man you loved, the man who had fought to protect the people he cared about, even if it meant making choices that would haunt him for the rest of his life. You didn’t know how to feel, didn’t know what to say, but one thing was clear, you couldn’t go back to how things were.

“And what made you think you couldn't trust me with this?” You asked him things were.

Joel sighed heavily, his arms still wrapped around you, but he didn’t meet your eyes. He pulled back slightly, his expression a mixture of guilt and fear. “It wasn’t about trust,” he said, his voice quiet and thick with emotion. “It was… fear.”

You frowned, your heart tightening at his words. “Fear of what? Of me? Of what I’d think of you?”

He shook his head, finally meeting your gaze, his eyes full of vulnerability you rarely saw in him. “No. I wasn’t afraid of you. I was afraid of losing you too. Of you seeing me for who I really am.”

You stared at him, taken aback. "Joel, I already know who you are. I've seen you at your best and your worst. You’ve always trusted me with everything, so why was this different?"

He hesitated; his voice low. "Because this… this was somethin' darker. I crossed a line that I never wanted to cross again. I did it for Ellie, but it doesn’t change what it makes me. And I didn’t want you to look at me and see a monster."

Your chest tightened at his words, and you reached up to cup his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. "Joel, you’re not a monster," you said firmly, your voice soft but steady. "You did what you thought was right, even if it wasn’t easy to understand. I may not agree with what you did, but I can’t blame you for wanting to protect her."

His eyes searched yours, as if seeking reassurance that he wasn’t beyond redemption. "You’re not scared of what I did?"

"I’m not scared of you," you said softly, stroking your thumb over his cheek. "But I need you to trust me with the truth, even when it’s ugly. Because if we don’t have that, then what do we have?"

Joel closed his eyes briefly, his face showing the toll of carrying that burden alone for so long. When he opened them again, there was a flicker of relief in his gaze, as if a weight had finally been lifted. "I should’ve told you sooner," he admitted, his voice raw with regret. "I just didn’t want to lose you too."

"You won’t lose me, Joel," you whispered.

You held him tightly, feeling the weight of his guilt and fear in the way he clung to you. His body trembled slightly, and you knew how much it took for him to open up, to let you see this side of him.

"I won’t tell her,”You whispered softly, your voice calm but firm. "I’ll carry this for you, Joel. But when you’re ready, when you feel like you can… promise me you’ll try to tell her."

Joel’s breath hitched, and he buried his face in your shoulder, his grip on you tightening as if he was afraid to let go. After a long pause, he finally nodded against you. "I promise," he murmured, his voice rough. "I’ll try."

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, your hands still resting gently on his shoulders. "That’s all I need, Joel," you said softly. "We’ll get through this together, just like everything else."

His eyes softened, and for the first time in what felt like a long while, you saw a glimmer of hope in them. He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "I don’t deserve you," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled faintly, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face. "You do," you whispered back. "You always have."

For a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. It was just the two of you, finding your way back to each other after everything you’d been through. And in that silence, you knew that, despite all the pain and mistakes, your bond was stronger than ever. You would carry this burden together, and when the time came, you would both face the truth with the same strength you’d always relied on.

He kissed your forehead gently, lingering there as if grounding himself in the moment. "Thank you," he said quietly.

You allowed him to get a hold of you for as long as he needed. You loved him enough for that, but you couldn’t help but feel the fear creeping upon you. The consequences this would have in the aftermath terrified you, but you would hold it for him, and for Ellie.

It was late, and the dim lights of the QZ barely flickered through the cracks in the old apartment. You had gotten used to the sounds of the place—the distant hum of generators, the occasional shouts from outside, and the ever-present sense of unease that came with living in a world so broken. But tonight was different. Tess wouldn’t be coming back, and you had already resigned yourself to the familiar routine of finding a corner to sleep in, far from Joel’s space.

You were in the middle of pulling the blanket over yourself when you heard Joel’s footsteps behind you. They were quieter than usual, hesitant almost, and you looked up, surprised to see him standing at the door of the bedroom.

He didn’t speak at first, just lingered there, his silhouette framed by the faint light from the hallway. You could see the tension in his posture, the way his hands fidgeted at his sides as if he was wrestling with something he couldn’t quite say.

As you settled under the thin blankets, the memory of that kiss—just days ago—lingered between you, unspoken but heavy in the air. It had taken you both by surprise, neither of you expecting it, but there had been something in Joel’s eyes that night, a shift, a quiet understanding. That kiss had been his way of telling you, without words, that he trusted you in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone in a long time. It wasn’t just about desire; it was about letting you in, allowing you to see a side of him he kept hidden from the world.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he cleared his throat. “You… uh, you don’t have to sleep out there tonight,” he said, his voice rough but softer than you were used to hearing from him. "There’s enough room in here."

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him right. You’d been sharing this space for a while now, but you’d always kept a respectful distance. Joel had never given any indication that he wanted it otherwise, and you had assumed it was just easier that way. Safer, maybe.

But there he was, standing in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and the bed behind him. There was something vulnerable in the way he stood, as if this was a question he wasn’t used to asking.

“Are you…you… want me to sleep in there?” you asked, your voice quiet, not wanting to misread the moment.

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s late. Cold too. Just thought… it’d be more comfortable. For both of us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t just about comfort, you could tell. There was a layer of unspoken words in his offer, a need for connection in a world that had stripped so much away.

After a moment of hesitation, you nodded, rising slowly from the corner you’d claimed. “Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel stepped aside as you walked past him, letting you into the small, cramped bedroom. The bed wasn’t much—just a thin mattress and some worn blankets.

You slid under the covers, feeling the tension in the room as Joel stood there, watching you for a second longer before moving toward the other side of the bed. He lay down beside you, his body stiff and awkward at first, like he didn’t quite know how to do this. You could feel the space between you, but it was less about the physical distance and more about the emotional walls that had been built between you both over time.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence was heavy, filled with all the things neither of you could say. But there was something comforting in it too—a quiet understanding that, despite everything, you weren’t alone.

Just as you were starting to relax, Joel’s voice broke the silence. “I’m not good at this,” he muttered, his tone laced with self-doubt. "But I want to… I mean, I’m trying."

You turned your head to look at him, catching the faint outline of his face in the darkness. There was something so raw, so real in his words that it made your chest tighten. “Me too,” you whispered back.

He let out a long breath, as if relieved by your answer, and shifted slightly closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that the space between you felt a little smaller, a little less daunting.

You stared at the ceiling for a moment longer, your thoughts racing, trying to figure out what to say or do to break the barrier between you. And then, just as you were about to speak, you felt the bed shift as Joel turned towards you. His presence was suddenly much closer, and before you could react, his hand reached out, tentative, brushing against your arm.

You turned your head to look at him again, and even in the dim light, you could see the hesitation in his eyes. It was like he was battling with himself, wanting to reach out but not knowing if it was okay to do so.

Without thinking, you moved closer, closing the small gap between you. You could feel the warmth of his body now, the roughness of his breath as he fought against the vulnerability of the moment. And then, suddenly, his lips were on yours—soft but insistent, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer.

It was different from the first kiss. This one wasn’t hesitant or uncertain. This was Joel making a decision, deciding to let you in just a little more, to tear down one more wall. His hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say into that single moment.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily. For a long moment, neither of you said anything, the intimacy of the kiss settling around you like a blanket. You felt his hand tighten slightly on your face, a silent plea for you to understand everything he was struggling to say.

It had been a long morning since Joel left for patrol. You hadn’t said much to each other before he walked out the door, but the look he gave you was enough to tell you that he was trying—really trying to work through the mess that lay between you. It was a fragile peace, but you both knew there was no quick fix.

Rosie had been especially fussy, and after finally settling her down for a nap, you decided to go for a walk to clear your head. The weight of the past few days lingered like a storm cloud, and with Joel out, you found yourself restless, searching for some sense of normalcy. A visit to Maria seemed like a good way to pass the time. She’d always had a calming presence, and you could use some of her wisdom, especially after everything that had happened.

As you made your way through the winding streets of Jackson, the crisp autumn air nipping at your skin, you tried to shake off the lingering emotions. The town was peaceful, the sound of hammers and voices in the distance as people continued with their daily tasks. You could almost pretend everything was fine for a moment, that life was simple here.

But as you turned a corner, that fragile peace shattered.

There he was. Paul.

He was standing by the fence, talking to one of the other settlers, but the moment he saw you, his expression shifted. His eyes narrowed, and a smirk played at the corners of his lips as he excused himself from the conversation and made his way toward you.

Your stomach dropped. The last thing you wanted was to deal with him right now, not after everything that had happened with Joel. But Paul was relentless, always showing up when you least wanted him around. His words from the previous night still echoed in your mind—the way he had implied that Joel wasn’t enough for you, that you deserved better.

You squared your shoulders and tried to keep walking, hoping he’d get the hint and leave you alone. But of course, Paul never made things that easy.

“Heading somewhere?” Paul called out as he fell into step beside you, his tone casual but laced with that same undertone of smugness that had set you off before.

“I’m busy, Paul,” you replied, not bothering to look at him. “I don’t have time for this.”

He chuckled softly, the sound grating on your nerves. “You always seem to be busy these days. What, too wrapped up in playing house with Joel to even talk?”

Your jaw clenched, but you kept your gaze forward, refusing to engage.

“Come on,” Paul pressed, his voice lowering slightly as he leaned in, “you and I both know you deserve better than this. You’ve been through so much, and for what? To be stuck with a man who can’t even give you what you need? You’re not happy, and everyone can see it.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your blood boiling. “Stop,” you hissed, turning to face him now. “I don’t care what you think you know, Paul, but you don’t get to talk about my life like that. Joel’s my husband, and I’m not interested in whatever it is you think you can offer.”

Paul’s expression hardened for a moment, but then he shrugged, the smirk never quite leaving his face. “I’m just trying to help. You don’t have to settle for less, you know? I see the way you look—tired, worn down. You’re not the same woman I met when you first came here. He’s changed you.”

His words hit deeper than you wanted to admit, poking at the insecurities you’d been grappling with for so long. You knew you were tired, knew you and Joel were struggling, but you weren’t about to let Paul twist that into something it wasn’t.

“I don’t need your help,” you said, your voice low and firm. “And I’m not some broken woman waiting for you to swoop in and save me. I’m stronger than you think.”

Paul scoffed, shaking his head. “You think you’re strong? Look at you. You’re exhausted. You’re barely holding it together. How long until Joel drags you down with him? You deserve more than that, and you know it.”

You took a step back, your heart racing with a mix of anger and hurt. “This conversation is over, Paul. Leave me alone.”

But just as you turned to walk away, his hand shot out, grabbing your arm. It wasn’t forceful, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks.

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice low and almost pleading now. “You don’t have to keep doing this. You don’t have to keep pretending that everything’s okay with him. I can give you a life, a real one. No more hiding, no more fear. You could be happy.”

You yanked your arm free, stepping back, your eyes blazing with anger. “I am happy, Paul,” you said, your voice shaking with emotion. “Or at least I’m trying to be. But I don’t need you or anyone else telling me what I should feel or what I deserve.”

Paul’s smirk faded then, his face hardening as he realized he wasn’t getting through to you. “Fine,” he muttered, stepping back. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when it all falls apart.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest.

You stood there for a moment, trying to collect yourself. The encounter had left you rattled, the anger still simmering beneath your skin. But as much as Paul’s words had gotten under your skin, you knew he was wrong

You found your way to Maria’s house, still feeling the tension from the encounter with Paul clinging to your skin. When she opened the door, her face softened immediately, recognizing the weariness in your expression. She welcomed you in without hesitation, her hand resting gently on her growing belly as she led you inside.

“How’re you holding up?” Maria asked, her voice filled with genuine concern as she guided you to sit down at the kitchen table.

You forced a small smile, trying to shake off the weight of everything. “I’m… managing. How about you? How’s the pregnancy going?”

Maria’s face lit up slightly, her hand instinctively moving to rub her belly. “It’s been good, mostly. Tiring, of course. But Tommy’s been helping a lot, and the baby’s healthy, so I can’t complain.” She paused, giving you a knowing look. “But something tells me you didn’t come here just to check in on me.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I just needed to get out of the house. Things have been… rough.”

Maria didn’t press, simply nodding as she sat across from you. “It’s not easy, I know that much. You and Joel have been through a lot.”

You stared down at your hands, feeling the familiar sting of frustration building inside you again. “Yeah, we have. But it feels like everything’s falling apart, and I don’t know how to keep it together.”

There was a long silence between you, the weight of your words settling into the space. Maria’s eyes softened, understanding far beyond what she needed to say. She didn’t offer advice or try to fix things—she just listened. And in that moment, it was exactly what you needed.

After a few more minutes of small talk, you glanced at Rosie, who had been dozing off in her carrier. The sight of her, so small and peaceful, tugged at your heart, but it also made you feel even more trapped. You needed space to breathe, to think.

“Maria,” you said hesitantly, “could you… could you take care of Rosie for a little while? I just need some time. I won’t be gone long, I promise.”

Maria’s brows furrowed slightly, concern creeping into her expression, but she didn’t question you. “Of course,” she said gently, reaching for Rosie’s carrier. “You go do what you need to do. She’ll be safe with me.”

You nodded, grateful, but you couldn’t shake the guilt that tugged at you as you handed Rosie over. You hated feeling like you were running away, but the walls in Jackson were closing in on you, and you needed a break—just a moment to clear your head.

After making sure everything was set for Rosie, you thanked Maria again and left the house, the cool air of Jackson hitting your face as you stepped outside. Your heart raced as you made your way through the town, your mind already spinning with the familiar plan that had once been second nature to you.

Sneaking out of from a place wasn’t something you’d done in a long time, but the muscle memory kicked in as soon as you approached the outer edge of the settlement. You knew the weak points, the places where the patrols didn’t keep a close eye. You’d used these routes before in different places, and now that you needed you were going to use your skills for it.

You slipped through a wall, your pulse quickening as you moved into the wilderness beyond the walls of Jackson. The trees were thick, their branches swaying in the gentle breeze, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Out here, there were no arguments, no pressure, no expectations. Just the quiet hum of nature, the sound of your boots crunching softly against the earth.

You didn’t go far, just enough to feel like you were truly alone, away from the weight of everything you’d been carrying. You found a small clearing, the sun filtering through the leaves in soft beams, and you sank down onto a fallen log, finally letting yourself exhale.

Out here, with nothing but the wind and the trees, you felt like you could finally breathe again. The emotions you’d been holding in for so long came crashing down, and before you could stop them, the tears started to fall.

It was quiet. Peaceful. And for a little while, you allowed yourself to let go.

The sun was starting to set by the time Joel returned from patrol, his body aching from the long day. He walked toward the house, expecting to hear the familiar sounds of Rosie’s coos or your footsteps in the background. But as he approached the front door, the sight of Maria standing there, cradling Rosie in her arms, made something in his stomach drop.

Rosie stirred in Maria’s arms, her tiny face scrunching up as if sensing the tension in the air. Joel’s heart raced, and he immediately scanned the area, looking for you, but you were nowhere to be seen. His brow furrowed, the unease settling deep in his gut as he stepped forward.

Tommy, who had been standing a few feet behind Maria, crossed his arms, his expression tense as he waited for Joel to notice him. When Joel finally turned to him, there was a flicker of understanding in Tommy’s eyes, like he knew something Joel didn’t.

"Where is she?" Joel’s voice was rough, laced with a mixture of confusion and dread. His gaze darted back to Maria, then to Tommy, searching for answers.

Maria shifted her weight, carefully rocking Rosie as she spoke, her voice soft but firm. “She left earlier today. Came to me, asked if I could take care of Rosie for a bit.”

Joel’s stomach twisted, and his mind immediately jumped to the worst. “She left? Alone?”

Maria hesitated for a moment, her eyes locking with Joel’s before she nodded. “She needed space, Joel. She didn’t say much, but… I could tell she was feeling overwhelmed. She didn’t say where she was going, just that she needed some time to herself.”

Joel’s chest tightened, and he felt the anger and fear rise up inside of him. “And you just let her go?” His voice was louder now, filled with an edge of panic. “Did she leave Jackson by herself?”

Tommy stepped forward, putting a hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. “Easy, man. She’s done this before, you know that. She knows how to take care of herself.”

“But not now!” Joel snapped, shrugging off Tommy’s hand. “Not with everything that’s happened! Not with—” He stopped himself, his voice cracking as the weight of it all bore down on him. He thought of everything you’d been through, everything you hadn’t told him, and the fear that he had pushed you too far gnawed at him.

Maria spoke up again, her tone steady but understanding. “She needed a break, Joel. She’s not running away. She just needed time to think, to breathe. You know how hard things have been on her. She wouldn’t leave Rosie behind unless she trusted me to take care of her.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, and he paced for a moment, his mind spinning with the endless possibilities of where you could’ve gone. His fists tightened, and he cursed under his breath. The image of you out there alone, with nothing but your thoughts and the dangers beyond Jackson’s walls, filled him with a panic he hadn’t felt in years.

Tommy, sensing Joel’s desperation, spoke quietly, trying to offer some reassurance. “We can go look for her, Joel. You know she’s probably out in the woods, where she always goes when she needs some space.”

Joel ran a hand over his face, frustration and worry etched into every line of his features. He glanced at Rosie, who was now peacefully asleep in Maria’s arms, and the sight of his daughter’s small, fragile form made his heart twist painfully.

“I shouldn’t have left,” Joel muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “I shouldn’t have left her like this.”

Maria shook her head, her voice soft but firm. “This isn’t your fault, Joel. She just needed time. But she’ll be back.”

Joel swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at him as the weight of everything settled on his shoulders. He glanced at Tommy; his eyes filled with a silent plea. “I’m gonna find her.”

Outside, the world felt vast and overwhelming. You wandered through the familiar paths of the woods, your mind swirling with thoughts and emotions you couldn’t quite grasp. The trees stood tall and silent around you, their shadows stretching out like dark fingers, reflecting the turmoil inside your heart.

You thought of your sister, of the bond you once shared, and how her absence left a gaping hole in your life. Memories of laughter and warmth collided with the stark reality of survival in this harsh world. There was a time when everything felt different, when hope seemed tangible rather than just a flicker of light in the distance.

But now, all you could feel was the weight of responsibility pressing down on you like a heavy cloak. Rosie was a precious gift, but taking care of her felt like an insurmountable task some days. You loved her fiercely, but there were moments when the exhaustion threatened to overwhelm you, the anxiety about whether you were doing enough gnawing at the edges of your mind. Would you be able to protect her? Could you give her the life she deserved in a world filled with danger and uncertainty?

You leaned against a sturdy tree, closing your eyes for a moment, letting the cool breeze brush against your skin. In the silence, you could almost hear your sister’s laughter, the way she used to tease you about everything and nothing. If she were here, she would know what to say to make things feel right again. She would tell you that you were stronger than you thought, that you could handle this, even on the toughest days.

But she wasn’t here, and the loneliness crept in, wrapping around you like a cold shroud. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing yourself, that you were more than just a mother now. You were a woman who had once fought fiercely for her own survival, for the lives of those she loved. You felt like you were at a crossroads, and you didn’t know which path to take.

As you pushed yourself off the tree and began walking again, your thoughts drifted back to Rosie. Every time you looked into her eyes, you saw hope, innocence, and a future that felt uncertain. You wanted to be the mother she deserved, to show her love and strength, but the weight of the world felt too heavy to carry alone.

You stopped again, this time looking up at the sky. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting warm hues of orange and pink across the landscape. It was beautiful and calming, a stark contrast to the chaos in your heart. You took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill your lungs, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

But just as the beauty around you began to ease your mind, the thoughts of Joel flooded back in. The way he had looked at you when you left, the pain etched into his features. You could feel the weight of his unspoken fears, his struggles, and the barriers he had built around himself. You understood that he was fighting his own demons, just as you were.

Maybe you both needed to find a way back to each other, to break through the walls that had formed between you in this chaotic world. But how could you do that when you felt so lost?

As the last rays of sun disappeared, darkness began to settle in, and a chill crept into the air. It was time to head back, back to the warmth of the home you had built with Joel and Rosie. You took one last look at the fading light, hoping that by returning, you could find a way to reconnect, to start rebuilding what had felt broken for so long.

As you made your way back through the woods, the tranquility of the setting sun was abruptly interrupted by a soft but unmistakable sound—a twig snapping underfoot, somewhere off to your right. Your heart quickened, instinctively alerting you to the potential danger lurking in the shadows.

You paused, scanning the area around you, the fading light casting long shadows among the trees. The woods felt eerily silent for a moment, as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. The last rays of sun slipped away, and you strained to listen, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Another sound—a branch rustling, followed by the faint crunch of leaves. You took a step back, instinctively reaching for the small knife tucked into your belt. Your breath hitched as adrenaline coursed through you, heightening your senses.

"Hello?" you called out, your voice steady despite the fear creeping in. The response was silence, thick and heavy, adding to your anxiety. You couldn’t afford to let your guard down.

Your mind raced through the possibilities. It could be an animal, or worse—another person, someone with malicious intent. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You were not helpless; you had survived this long for a reason.

You shifted your weight, ready to either fight or flee if necessary. “If you’re out there, you’d better show yourself!” you warned, your voice firm.

Suddenly, the underbrush shifted again, and a figure emerged from the trees, stepping into the dim light. Your heart dropped as recognition washed over you.

Joel emerged from the shadows, his expression a mix of concern and relief, and before he could say something. You felt a rush of conflicting emotions. The comfort of seeing him clashed with the frustration that had built up over the day. “I just needed some air,” you replied defensively. “Is that a crime?” you paused, ���How did you know I was here?”

Joel stepped into the clearing, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he took in the sight of you. The mix of relief and frustration on his face mirrored your own. “It’s not the first time I find you hiding” he smiled at the memory of your first encounter.

You couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth at the memory he invoked. It was a different time, a different life when the world felt a bit less heavy. You recalled the first time you’d met Joel, crouched in the shadows of the quarantine zone, evading guards after a botched trade.

He had stumbled upon you, a rugged man with a wary gaze, just as you had thought you’d gotten away. You could still picture his surprised expression when he found you hiding behind a pile of crates. “What are you doing back here?” he had asked, his voice low and gravelly.

“Just… waiting for the right moment to slip away,” you had replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the pounding of your heart.

“Seems like you’ve got a knack for getting into trouble,” he’d said, a hint of amusement in his tone. It had taken you aback, how this stranger could see through your bravado with just a few words.

You shook your head to push away the nostalgia, forcing your focus back to the present. “That was a long time ago,” you said, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning inside you. “Things are different now.”

“I know they are,” Joel replied, his gaze unwavering. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t take a breather sometimes. It doesn’t make you weak.”

You stood up straighter, still holding the knife but no longer on edge. “I needed to clear my head,” you replied, your voice calm but firm. “I needed to feel like I could still do this. Like I’m not just—”

“Just what?” Joel interrupted, stepping closer. His voice softened, and for the first time in days, you saw the raw emotion in his eyes. “You’re more than just a mother, you know that.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words hitting you. “It doesn’t feel that way,” you admitted, your voice wavering. “I’ve lost myself, Joel. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know if I can do this—be a mother, be what Rosie needs. Be what you need.”

Joel’s face softened, and he closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. “You don’t have to do it alone,” he said, his voice low. “I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

You shook your head, pulling back slightly, the doubt still gnawing at you. “But it’s not the same. You were gone, and I— I handled everything, but it feels like I’m failing now. I’m not enough.”

Joel stepped closer again, his hand reaching out to cradle your face. “You’re more than enough,” he whispered, his eyes searching yours. “I know it’s been hard, and I know I haven’t been the easiest to deal with. But you’ve been strong. You’ve done more than anyone could ask. And you don’t have to prove anything to anyone—not to me, not to Paul, not to yourself.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, the vulnerability and exhaustion finally catching up to you. “I just… I just wanted to remember who I was before all of this. Before I became—”

Joel cut you off, his voice soft but firm. “You haven’t lost who you are. You’re still you, just… more. More love, more strength, more everything.”

His words hit you in a way you hadn’t expected. The knife slipped from your hand, falling to the ground with a soft thud. You reached up, covering your face with your hands as the tears came, the weight of everything finally crashing down on you.

Joel didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you cried into his chest, his hands running gently through your hair. “You don’t have to carry this alone,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

For the first time in a long time, you believed him.

After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, you pulled back, wiping your eyes. Joel looked at you with such tenderness, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s go home.”

You nodded.

Joel leaned in, his eyes searching yours for a moment, as if he was asking for permission. You held your breath, feeling the tension in the air shift, charged with an unspoken understanding. Then, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours gently.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant but filled with a warmth that spread through you like sunlight breaking through the clouds. You melted against him, feeling the weight of the world start to lift as you leaned into his embrace.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “There’s that spark I’ve been missing,” he whispered, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You chuckled softly, feeling a mixture of relief and affection.

“I love you,” Joel said, his voice earnest and filled with emotion. “I’m sorry for everything—everything I’ve done, everything I’ve said that made you feel alone. You deserve so much more than I’ve given you.”

His admission hung in the air, and you could feel your heart swell at his words. “You’re the reason I’m alive, Joel,” you replied softly. “I don’t think I would have made it this far without you. You gave me hope when I thought I had lost it all.”

He shook his head, his eyes glistening with sincerity. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t know where I’d be without you. You saved me in ways I can’t even begin to explain. You brought light back into my life when all I felt was darkness.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you felt the tears welling up again. “We saved each other, Joel. This isn’t just you. We’re in this together, and we always will be.”

He smiled, a mixture of relief and gratitude in his expression. “Together, then,” he said, the weight of his past starting to lift as he looked into your eyes.

Joel leaned in once more, capturing your lips in a more passionate kiss, filled with the promise

“Just promise me you won’t go hiding again,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Because I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

You laughed lightly, a sound that felt foreign but welcomed. “Deal. I’ll try to stay where you can find me.”

“Good,” he replied, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Now, let’s get back to our girl before she thinks we’ve run off to join the circus.”

You chuckled at the thought, the tension that had hung over you both starting to fade. “I think she’d prefer a home-cooked meal over a circus,” you said, feeling lighter as you linked your arm with his.

“Home-cooked meals it is, then,” Joel agreed, guiding you back through the trees, the path familiar beneath your feet. “And maybe some ice cream for dessert. I think we’ve earned it.”

As you walked, hand in hand, you felt a warmth blooming in your chest, a sense of hope that had been absent for far too long. The forest around you seemed to come alive, birds chirping and leaves rustling in the gentle breeze, echoing the newfound peace settling within you.

You reached the edge of the woods, the lights of Jackson glowing softly in the distance, and as you stepped back into that familiar world, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

With a smile, you glanced up at Joel, and in that moment, you realized that home wasn’t just a place—it was wherever the two of you were together. “Let’s go home,” you said, feeling the weight of the world lift off your shoulders.

“Yeah,” Joel replied, his expression softening as he looked at you. “Home.”

Tags 💌: @jasminedragoon @orcasoul @missladym1981 @hiroikegawa @eleganthottubfun @lumpypoll @cuteanimalmama @thespookywookies @goodvibesonly421 @karaslqve @greenwitchfromthewoods @somedayheaven @bambisweethearts @joelsteinfeld @guelyury @biapascal @picketniffler @mrsyixingunicorn10 @httpvomitello @kulekehe @callmecath1 @persephone-girl @colmiillo @pedroswife69 @keileighr @capswife @fallout-girl219 @sullyselena @cymbalta-slut @my-tearsricochet

If you want to be removed, feel free to tell me.

[writeriguess]

I have kind of a hyper specific request if that's okay!

Prohero!Reader x prohero!Bakugo where they dated for a bit in hs and she had super long wavy hair, and they broke up like a year or 2 into being pros because she wanted him to be able to focus on his career. The breakup really fucks him up so he just throws himself into working his ass off and rising the ranks not because he has the time to focus on it now, but because it kept his mind off of her. Aside from the occasional collab mission with their agencies, they havent seen each other.

Years later at the reunion, Bakugo and reader meet again, reader cut her hair short and it's just a really bittersweet reunion, both of them changed so much but the love is still very much there. Afterwards, he insists on driving her home and then before going up to her apartment, she asks if he wants to come up and watch a movie or something. They like immediately end up having really passionate, loving sex, and then they talk about how they thought of each other all the time and confess they're still in love, then end up together again.

Ofc no pressure!! It's just been brain rotting in my noggin and I immediately thought of you because your writing is incredible <3

Love you sm ty for taking the time to read this! I hope you have fun and get lots of rest <333

Fading Echoes

You never thought that breaking up with him would hurt as much as it did. Then again, you never thought he'd bury himself in work the way he did, either. It felt like the more space you gave him to focus on his career, the more it pulled him away from everything else—everything that had once mattered to him. You had to go your separate ways, but it didn't mean it didn't tear you apart. You needed him to chase his dream. You couldn’t be the reason he faltered.

But the silence left behind felt like an ache that never fully went away.

When you first met Bakugo, his confidence was loud. Not just in his words but in everything about him. His every movement practically screamed that he was going to be someone, something important in the world. He didn’t need anyone to help him with that—certainly not you. But still, when he’d pull you close at the end of the day, hair still wild and face streaked with dirt from the most recent fight, you felt it. The way he would lean into you, his eyes soft, showing the side of him that only you got to see. The side of him that, even now, sits behind your eyelids, no matter how much time has passed.

You made sure he knew you loved him in every way possible. Every touch, every lingering glance, every shared quiet moment in between battles.

But your love for him wasn’t enough to make him see that his passion for being the best pro hero would take him away. You were there, his teammate, but you weren’t what he needed to be great. And you couldn’t let him slow down, not for you.

So, you broke things off.

He didn't take it well, even though he never said anything, not to you or anyone else. His pride wouldn't let him speak about it, so he threw himself into his work instead. He worked like a machine. No breaks. Just rising, ranking, moving up. Until it felt like it was the only thing that filled the empty space.

Every time you saw his face on a news report or heard his name on the radio, you felt it, the painful reminder of the relationship you tried to hold onto while doing what you thought was best.

But it wasn’t just his achievements that caught your attention. There were the little things—like the way his eyes would dart to your agency’s reports in every collaboration mission. How even when you were both surrounded by your teams, there was always that odd pull, a space between you two that no amount of work could fill. You weren't meant to be in each other's lives anymore, not like that. But somehow, you kept finding yourself searching for his gaze among the crowded halls, watching for his reactions in press conferences, hoping for a glimpse of that spark that had been there before.

But it never came.

You focused on your own career, pushing through the same hustle he did, moving up through the ranks and doing your part in the chaos that was the world of pro heroes. You had your missions, your team, your responsibilities. You couldn’t let his absence swallow you whole, no matter how much you wished you could see him again. Not for closure, not for old times' sake—but just to know that he was okay.

You wish you could tell him that, but what good would it do? He’s moved on. Just like you were supposed to. The silence between you both stretches out endlessly, neither of you willing to break it. And yet, the memory of him lingers in your chest, heavy as stone, constantly weighing you down.

It’s strange—how something so small, a decision that once seemed so clear and right, can ripple out into the world with so much weight, so much force. And now, all that’s left is the sound of silence, filling up the space between you both.

It had been years. Too many years to count on one hand. And yet, when you walked into the reunion, it felt like time slowed down—like everything, even the bustling chatter of old classmates and the clinking of glasses, paused when his eyes locked onto you.

Bakugo had changed. His hair was a bit shorter, his jawline more defined with age, but there was still the same fiery intensity in his gaze. The one that once used to soften when it met yours, now hidden beneath the polished exterior of a pro hero who had seen and conquered so much. And you... you had changed, too. Shorter hair, a clean, crisp bob that framed your face differently, and the same resolute look in your eyes. You were no longer the girl who was afraid of letting go of him. You were stronger. Still, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder—did he still see you the same way?

His eyes lingered on you for just a beat too long, and for the first time in a long while, you felt that familiar tug in your chest. Something between you two had never really faded, no matter how far apart you’d drifted. The love, the history... it was all still there, buried beneath the surface. Neither of you had moved on fully.

You both tried to act cool, pretending you didn’t feel that magnetic pull. Small talk ensued, polite and distant, but there was an undeniable heaviness between you both. It was like stepping into a room that was filled with things you were too scared to touch, too scared to face.

At the end of the night, when everyone else was leaving, Bakugo lingered by the door. He looked at you, his voice low but steady, a little more vulnerable than usual. “Need a ride home?” he asked, like it was nothing. But it wasn’t.

You swallowed, nodding, your heart beating faster than it had in years. "Yeah. I’d appreciate it."

The ride to your apartment was quiet, the air thick with unspoken words. Neither of you seemed to know how to break the tension, but there it was, unavoidable.

When he pulled up to your building, you both lingered for a moment, unsure of the next step. You hesitated, then looked over at him, searching his expression for some hint of what to say next.

"Hey," you murmured, voice shaky despite your best efforts to stay composed. "Do you... want to come up for a bit? Watch a movie or something?"

He didn’t respond immediately, but the look in his eyes softened, and without saying a word, he nodded. Something unspoken passed between you two in that moment—a mutual understanding that things were about to shift, and there was no going back.

Once inside your apartment, you didn’t even make it to the couch. The years of silence, the quiet longing that both of you had buried deep down, surged to the surface like a tidal wave. It started slow—an innocent brush of hands, a glance that held too much meaning, and before you knew it, he was kissing you, fierce and needy. His hands gripped you with urgency, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

You felt it all—his warmth, his desperation, the love he still had for you, pulsing through every touch, every kiss. You let go of everything in that moment—every bit of guilt, every hesitation—and just let yourself be consumed by him. By the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

Clothes hit the floor, discarded carelessly as you both tumbled into your bed, lost in each other. The passion, the love, the fire—it was all there, just as it had been when you were younger, only deeper, more intense. There was no time for hesitation now. No more barriers. No more fear. Just you, him, and the moment you’d both been waiting for.

Afterwards, as you lay beside him, your breaths still shaky, Bakugo’s voice broke the silence. "I thought about you... every fucking day," he admitted, his voice rough, but full of that familiar vulnerability. "I tried to move on, tried to tell myself it was better this way, but I was lying. I’m still... I’m still in love with you."

You turned toward him, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw. "Me too," you whispered, the words feeling heavier than you expected. "I never stopped loving you. Not for a second."

Bakugo’s expression softened as he pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. "I’m sorry," he murmured. "I should’ve fought harder for us."

You shook your head, gently cupping his face. "We were both so focused on our careers. We didn’t have time for anything else. But we’re here now. And that’s what matters."

His eyes searched yours, and for the first time in a long while, you both smiled. It wasn’t just the relief of physical need—it was something deeper, something far more real. You weren’t just two pro heroes anymore. You were two people, rediscovering each other, reclaiming what had been lost.

And this time, when he kissed you again, it wasn’t filled with the urgency of past regrets. It was filled with hope, with the promise of a future together. A future where you didn’t have to choose between him and your career. A future where you could have both.

The past was behind you. The silence had broken. And the love that had always been there... was finally ready to grow again.

[pomeloblush]

Rin Itoshi was always just out of reach, a shimmering figure meant to be admired from afar, like a star in the sky that you could never touch. At first, you didn’t mind this distance—after all, better to have a glimpse of something extraordinary than to have nothing at all. That was until fate intervened, pairing you with him for a school project. Suddenly, it felt like you had stepped into a vibrant new world, one where he saw you, truly saw you.

You had his number now, a small lifeline that tethered you to this enigma. He’d text you to meet up for study sessions, and the thrill of him sitting next to you was intoxicating. Every laugh he let out at your jokes—a sound so rare and precious—felt like a warm sunbeam breaking through clouds. It was euphoric in those moments, an illusion of perfection wrapped around you both.

But as the project deadline came into view, the magic began to fade. Each day felt like a relentless pursuit as if you were a devoted fan chasing after an all-star soccer player, trying to catch his attention. His replies grew shorter and took longer to arrive like a once-favorable fruit turning sour. No longer would he settle beside you, and your animated chatter was met with not-so-teasing jabs labeling you as “annoying.” Yet, with every fleeting moment of attention, he bestowed upon you—a smirk, an eye roll, a sigh that called you out—your resolve only tightened. You dove for those crumbs of acknowledgment, grasping at them with the fervor of a goalie reaching for a shot, desperate not to let anything slip away. Those were his words, not yours, but you held them close, still hopeful and yearning.

You soon saw how brainless you truly looked after seeing him at a party that very same weekend after the project was submitted. He was all over a girl who looked nothing like you. You didn’t even stand a chance.. she was on a whole other level than you. What hurt the most was the disgusted face you received from the girl for staring intently, you looked down at the cup, your fingers wrapped tightly around its edges, nails pressing into the soft, pliable styrofoam that held the tepid, mediocre alcohol. Each breath seemed heavier as you looked up to meet the weight of Rin's piercing gaze and dismissive scoff, which lingered in the air like an unwanted cloud. You turn around and walk off as you take a sip. The warmth of the drink does little to soothe the chill creeping into your chest, exacerbated by the disapproving look that spoke volumes.

Some months later, anticipation hung in the air as fate paired you up again. You tried to play it cool, feigning indifference, but he saw right through your act. It was as if he could read your thoughts like an open book, a gift he seemed to possess without being familiar with you.

“Looks like we're working together again,” he said, setting his books down at the desk next to yours.

For a moment, you paused, considering your response. “No, I'm actually going to ask for a new partner, sorry.” You began to pack your things, a mix of excitement and dread swirling within you as you headed out of class a few minutes before it ended.

Rin was left staring, still processing your reaction to being paired up with him again. Did you not care? Of course, you were just pretending—those butterflies in your stomach were the truth you were trying to ignore. But no matter; he'd let you choose someone else. Deep down, he knew anyone else would be thrilled to work with him. Little did you both know how this twist of fate would unfold.

Two weeks later, he spotted you at a party, nursing your drink like a pro once more. Fueled by a mix of his natural charisma and the liquid courage flowing through him, he decided it was time to make his move. With a confident stride, he approached you, ready to ignite a spark in the air.

“How do you feel about your new partner?” he assessed you critically.

“Shouldn't you be off indulging in your usual antics, Rin?” you replied, not even glancing his way. It was clear you were more composed than he was.

“Not tonight.” He let out a cocky laugh.

“Mmh, too bad for the girls waiting to catch your eye.” You shot a glance at the woman by the couch, sizing Rin up like a prize. College hormones were on another level altogether.

After your remark, you firmly decided to check yourself out at this party before the night progressed. Without another word, you walked away, leaving Rin to follow you outside to the front of the house.

"Can I catch a ride with you?" he asked too casually, standing a few feet behind you, close enough to hear his words loud and clear.

"Get your own taxi," you replied bluntly, your frustration with his nonsense evident in your tone.

"Just this once, please. We live in the same area on campus," he said, his voice tinged with defeat as he hung his head low.

You froze in place; a "please" from Rin was unheard of. The alcohol must have taken over.

"Sure, Itoshi," you sighed, relenting.

"Why did you call me Itoshi?" he asked, looking at you as you both settled into the back seat of the taxi.

"That's your name, isn't it?" you replied, staring out the window, watching the scenery pass by.

"I guess." He soon gave up trying to engage in conversation when he realized it wasn't going anywhere.

Finally, you arrived at the side of campus where the dorms were. As you stepped out and turned around to pay, Rin had already settled the fare for both of you.

"I could've paid my part," you scoffed at his sudden act of kindness.

"I know." He shoved his hands into his pockets, watching the taxi drive off into the night.

"Okay." You rolled your eyes, feeling a mix of anticipation and frustration, and turned on your heel to head back up to the dorms.

Leaving him standing there, seemingly hopeless once again. But this time, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change. After all, he was the one who had created this distance between you, and yet now he seemed eager to bridge the gap. Would he finally confront the consequences of his actions? The thought lingered in your mind as you walked away, wondering what might unfold next.

a/n: yes i’m posting my old work leave me alone.. i rlly love this one

[obliviouscxnt]

Control Azriel x Reader

a/n: I'm so lost, i don't know what I'm doing. Still learning how to use tumblr but in the meantime, welcome to the first fic i feel like posting.

synopsis: feyre's growing curiosity about you sparks some personal questions.

Warnings: mentioned SA, fluff, hints of sexual activities

pt.2 | pt.3

One of the first friends Feyre made in the Night Court was you. You reminded her of the twin wraiths in a way. Never saying much, if anything at all. Maybe that was one of the reasons she liked you so much. 

You didn’t need to talk to enjoy each other’s presence. Feyre had as much fun sitting in silence with you as she did on a night out with Mor. 

But as time passed, as Feyre became a constant in the Night Court, she had grown curious. She wanted to know more about you like she did the others. 

So she started asking you questions, and to her surprise, you would answer her. Your answers weren’t clipped, or vague. You never sounded annoyed with her, you were completely open and honest with her. 

“How long have you known everyone?” Feyre had asked while you gently played with her hair, her scalp tingling at your touch. 

You thought about it for a moment. “Over two hundred years now.” 

She tilts her head, so apart from her you were the newest member of the inner circle. “How did you meet?” She asks, shivering as the tingles travel down her spine.

You start braiding a few small strands from the front of her face as you speak. “My kind are far different from other Fae.” Feyre practically perks up at the words. She knew you weren’t high fae but she never bothered saying anything about it, she barely even noticed it most of the time not nearly enough to warrant a discussion. “They hail from no court, and bow to no lord, not even the Mother is with their thoughts.”

Feyre tried to imagine what that would be like, how they would act, what traditions they’d carry. She thought of your features, the ones that stood out among other high fae. Your ears didn’t point, your nails were like claws, and your teeth bore long sharp canines on both the top and bottom of your mouth, but the features that stood out the most were the ones you kept hidden. 

Feyre saw them once, your wings. The first time she met you. Like they were just there for a formal introduction. They were big, beautiful, and intricate. They looked like moth wings, and fluttered like them too. Opening and closing slowly when you were lax.

Immediately when Feyre saw them, she felt like painting again, she could barely keep her eyes off them, barely keep herself from reaching out a hand to touch them. Maybe that was the reason for their absence in the next visit; all that remained of the glorious appendages was precise ink that lined the whole of your back, a tattoo of folded wings. 

From the way they folded, they almost formed a natural cape. She wondered how far your tattoo ran, the extravagant fabrics of the dresses you wore only showed so much. 

She pictured a whole colony of people that looked like you and immediately felt like painting again.

“It’s why nobody can do anything about their backward ways, they listen to nobody but themselves. Believe no one but themselves.” All preconceived thoughts of your people turn sour with your words. 

“The things they’ve done, they still do…” You release a shaky breath as you finish the small braids and set them aside.

Feyre turns to look at you when your delicate hands part with her hair. She finds you sorting through a box of hair ornaments, but your eyes are clouded. Not even the most glorious of diamonds could shine through that fog. “You don’t have to...“ 

You blink out of your daze and wave her off as you pull out a few gem-encrusted pins and show them to her. Waiting for her to give you a nod of approval before pulling out a stunning bejeweled silver comb and repeating the same process. Your collection was truly marvelous. 

“When I was saved, it was my first Flowering Night.” You spoke the words with barely concealed bitterness. “A night where all mature unpaired females are sent into the woods for any participating males to hunt down and take as they please.” 

You tuck back the small braids with the sparkling pins. Feyre listened as you continued, she wanted to say something but what would she say?

“No one could run very far from our community, the woods of the Middle hold no mercy. It was either hide and hope you make it till dawn without being spotted by a male. Or die to the other horrid creatures that live in those woods.” 

Feyre’s heart ached for you, her sorrow a tangible thing able to be smelt in the air. And you squeezed her shoulder, you comforted her. Her sorrow only increased. You never deserved any of it.

“I chose the latter.” You carefully place the comb into her hair, finding it in yourself to smile at the final product. You still fiddle with a few strands until you feel pleased. “A close encounter with death led to the discovery of my gift,” 

Dreamwalker, Rhys had called you.  An ability so rare even Helion’s exquisite library had very little information on it. 

Feyre loosely understood that you could enter another person's dream. Could manipulate it as you wish, to serenity or to a blood-curdling nightmare. But what made you so powerful, what made you such a valuable asset to the Night Court was your ability to bring dreams to life. All manner of dreams. 

However, your ability was sparsely used for court matters, and only necessary people knew of it. You were their trump card. Something nobody would see coming. 

Feyre would never forget the time you had a nightmare, sending half the court in preparation for battle. She’d also never forget the way Azriel had fought off the nightmare incarnate to get to you. How he charged forward without an ounce of hesitation. While Rhys had stood protectively in front of Feyre, and Cassian’s siphons flared from beside her, providing a shield around them.

Feyre had realized then that Azriel would go to hell and back for you. 

Feyre turns to face you, to look you in your enchanting eyes now that you are finished playing with her hair. “I was barely a woman, I didn’t know the first thing about defending myself. I didn’t know what this gift was.” She watched you raise a hand, small stars forming and trailing your fingers, blinking and shimmering as you played with them. “What good is a gift this powerful if you don’t know what to do with it? It’s as good as a broken blade.” 

Feyre’s breath leaves her body when you pull down the shoulder of your elegant emerald gown, revealing a long jagged scar running diagonally across your chest. The skin puffed up from how deep the gash was. “I would’ve died if it weren’t for Azriel.” 

The high fae’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly. 

“He heard me screaming. And he came for me.” You pull the shoulder back up and smile. Actually, smile. Feyre had never known someone like you, someone able to flip such a horrid memory around. Someone so able to pick out the good amongst the bad. “It wasn’t until a century later that I finally accepted his invitation to the Night Court and met everyone else.”

Feyre found herself grabbing your hand and squeezing. So grateful you had accepted his invitation. 

You squeeze back. 

“You’re so strong.” Feyre says, furrowing her brows when you laugh like she had told a joke. 

“It wasn’t strength that led me here, Feyre.” You tell her. Once again she wanted to paint you, but she felt like she wouldn’t be able to do you justice. “It was fate.”

A knock sounds at the door. 

“Come in.” Feyre calls and you both look to the opening door. Two incredibly attractive Illyrian men stand at the doorway. 

Rhys smiles at the sight of you two, eyes raking over the hairstyle you’d given Feyre. “You look lovely, Feyre darling.” Her face heats as you smile in triumph. 

“Say goodnight.” Comes Azriel’s voice in that tone he only used on you. 

You obey his command without a second thought, giving Feyre a light hug and giving Rhys a small bow before scurrying toward Azriel’s waiting arm. 

You fall into step with him as his hand lands on your lower back. But before the two of you could disappear you tug on his shirt, prompting him to stop only long enough for you to turn back toward Feyre and say a final goodnight. “Dream well Feyre!” Then he continued leading you away to your shared chambers. 

The mated pair watch you two travel away. Rhys with a look of content for you and his brother. Feyre with a new curiosity. 

She couldn’t help but be curious about the dynamic you and Azriel had. The way that dynamic bled into the interactions you had with your friends. How you always asked for permission before doing something and always jumped up whenever anyone asked you to do something. Rhys seemed to catch on to that curiosity. 

He decided to save you the embarrassment of Feyre asking you herself. He had enough of an understanding of you to know when something would make you uncomfortable, no matter how much you said otherwise. 

You’d always answer any questions asked of you openly and honestly, whether you wanted to or not. It was one of the reasons many were at first against your visits with Feyre, himself included. The newly turned fae was far too oblivious to your situation to recognize when she was taking advantage of your obedience. But you assured Rhysand repeatedly that Feyre never bothered you with her questions. That you enjoyed her presence just as much as she, hopefully, enjoyed yours. 

Much to everyone’s delight, Feyre regarded you with gentleness and awe from the very start. It was the effect you had on people. It was the reason Azriel didn’t put up a fight about leaving your visits unsupervised.

“[name] was raised by cruel people, they taught her that in a relationship the male's word is law. Her people think a female is expected to give up any and all control to her male. It’s one of the few things she never was able to condition herself out of, Azriel helps her by providing that control she needs.” 

Feyre thinks about that, face heating at the images it created. She wondered what that would be like, to surrender herself completely. “So if he told her to jump off the nearest bridge…?” 

“She’d do it, with zero hesitation.” 

Rhys smirks, knowing glint in his eyes as his gaze runs over the blush that coated her face. 

“But he’d never ask something like that of her. He knows her inside out, knows when something is too much or not enough.” He steps closer to her, delighting in the way her breathing picks up. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think your interest in this topic was more than innocent curiosity.” 

“Well, do you?” Feyre asks, making his eyes narrow. “Know any better?” 

Rhys’s gaze becomes dark. “Nope.” 

****

“Did you enjoy your time with Feyre?” You sigh at his voice, the comfort it brings you. You find yourself leaning into him, and he allows it. 

“It was nice.” You say truly. It felt like it was easier to breathe now that Feyre had more of an understanding. “She asked about how we met.” 

The hand on your back pulls you closer to him as if he were remembering that day. Remembering what you looked like as that hideous creature held you down, slicing into you. The way you flinched away from him after he’d slayed the creature. The sheer dress that you wore, If it could even be called that. He could still picture everything so vividly. 

How you eventually submitted to him, and how that made him sick. How he carried you out of the Middle and into the lands of the Night Court, never taking you into the cities. How for the next century after that he would visit you at the little private cabin only he and his brothers knew about, how he took care of you, and how he grew to love you. How you grew to love him in return.

He shoves those thoughts into the back of his mind as he opens the door to your shared chambers, walking you inside before shutting the door behind you. 

His hands move to your shoulders while he guides you to sit on the edge of the large bed, big enough to fit at least three winged beings. Hands brushing down your body as he kneels before you, settling on your ankle. He brings your foot up and rests it on his thigh before slowly unraveling the straps of your heel. Once finished he continued with the right heel, his touch nothing but confident from years and years of practice. 

A hand pats your thigh, letting you know he’s finished. Your eyes trail him as he heads toward the bathroom, you’d be happy to just look at him for the rest of your immortal life. 

You help Azriel, though he had no problem doing it for you, by taking off your jewelry one by one, setting each extravagant piece on the nightstand. By the time you're done Azriel’s waiting for you next to a full bath.

“Come.” He beckons from beside the large clawfoot tub. Hand outstretched and waiting for you. 

You saunter toward him, sighing as you let your brain just rest. Let him do everything for you. 

His hands are strong, and gentle, and secure all in one as they guide you out of your gown, his clothes following not long after. You sigh as he brings you into the tub. Positioning you so you sat between his legs, back to his front. 

Your eyelids slowly fall shut, coaxed by his soothing touch. Feeling nothing but content when he pushed your head back to lay on his shoulder, a gentle kiss pressed against your temple.

You were soon in a state of barely there, just teetering on the side of sleep but awake enough to move when he told you to. 

“Lean forward.”

His hands rub up and down your back, cleaning and massaging the skin there. You shudder in pleasure and he hums soothingly. Like cooing at a pet. You straighten up a bit when he taps the marked skin a few times, moving forward just enough for your wings to slowly peel away from your back. What was once ink on your skin, now real moving wings. 

“Spread.” And you do so, wings unfolding and stretching out completely. 

You shiver as his hands brush against them, making them twitch both away and toward him. As if they couldn’t decide whether the feeling it brought you was too much or not enough.

As always Azriel handled them with utmost care, humming when small noises of pleasure escaped you. When he was finished he tapped your shoulder to let you know, but you were too tired to summon the magic needed to conceal them.

Though, not tired enough to remember it was his turn. 

Slowly with lethargic movements, you turn to face him. Wings folding up again, forming a natural cape on your back. “Can I-“ You begin but catch yourself before you can finish. His narrowed eyes crinkled into a smile. Happy he no longer had to remind you of such a simple fact. 

Don’t ask to touch what is yours.

So instead you reach for the soap in his hands and begin to wash him. Taking satisfaction in the way his wound-up muscles, tense from hours of work, relaxed under your touch. The way his hands rested on your hips, squeezing every now and then appreciatively. The hums that left his mouth, no longer with the intent to soothe you but to let you know how pleased you made him. 

Your touches became increasingly distracted, sleep slowly leaving your system as your mind filled with nothing but him. 

He smirks, a mix of amusement and attraction. Allowing his own touches to become less innocent. His hands move to wrap around your wrists, dragging your hands down, down, and down his body. Soap long ago discarded. 

“Touch me.” He commands. 

And nothing could keep you from satisfying him. 

next→

[yeonzzzn]

everytime ; yang jungwon

pairing: drummer!jungwon x afab!reader word count: 2.2k synopsis: when jungwon and his bandmates are having a show in town, you can’t help but feel that magnetic pull towards him. warnings: swearing, suggestive content, kind of a bit angsty, jungwon and reader are toxic towards each other, wonnie is secretly down bad for reader, making out, finger sucking, reader licks won’s drumstick, MINORS DNI!!!!

You roll your eyes at his smirk, crossing your arms and facing away from him, staring at your best friend, “Out of all the things we could have done tonight, you chose this?!” 

She gives you a teasing smile, “What? Can’t handle seeing Jungwon?” 

As if the mention of his name could be heard from the crowd, Jungwon whistles out, clearly directing it to you. 

Some of Jungwon’s fangirls got their panties all wet and fanned their faces with their hands and giggled amongst themselves thinking that the whistle was for them. You groaned and rolled your eyes again, “I hate him and hate his fans even more.” 

Jungwon whistles again from the stage and you finally look at him, glaring. He continued his smirk at you, twirling his drumstick between his fingers, puckering his lips, sending you a kiss. 

You give him a fake smile and lift your middle finger at him, only for the corners of his lips to form in a smile, a small chuckle escaping his mouth as he looks down at his drum set. Jungwon loved the reactions he got out of you, mostly the reactions of pissing you off and being between your legs. 

It wasn’t always like this between the two of you, at least not at first. It was a random Friday night and your best friend dragged you out of your apartment and off to the club all because it was hosting a debut band's first showing. That’s how you met Jungwon. 

The moment you locked eyes with him from the front row, there was a spark that hit the both of you. Jungwon couldn’t keep his eyes off you and same to him for you. You found him breathtaking. Loved the crease of his dimple every time he smiled and was moved by the way he played the drums. He has such a talent and love for the instrument, you could see it in the way he played. With how the drumsticks beat against the drums and how he smiles and moves his body with each beat. He was born for music, it didn’t take a genius to see it. And after the show, Jungwon made it his mission to approach you and you both hit it off greatly. You danced close together all night and woke up beside him in his bed the next morning. You left his apartment that day with his phone number and the schedule for his band’s concerts and where they were playing. Your best friend also ended up hooking up with their guitarist, Jake. It seemed perfect, because you wouldn’t have to show up to these events alone and your best friend also would be potentially dating a band member too? How could it be passed up? 

Jungwon was perfect in every way, that was until…well…until he wasn’t. 

As time went on, the crowds grew bigger, the venues got bigger, and the more Jungwon stopped speaking to you. The everyday texting went to him only texting you only when he wanted to get his dick wet. You even had to get the information on their next shows from your friend. His attitude changed more and more as his follower count went up on Instagram. Jungwon showed his true colors and the next time you saw him, he had a flock of females in his arms, throwing out smirks, whistles, and blowing kisses your way as if to taunt you. 

And the rest is history. 

But every time you saw him, you still felt that magnetic pull. Every. Single. Time. He had a way of drawing you in, flirting with you, and trapping you in places you couldn’t escape, using any chance he could get to pin his body to yours. You have to admit, the sex is fantastic. It always left you giddy and folding like a fucking teenager. And that’s why you hate him so much. For making you feel things he doesn’t deserve to feel from you. 

And tonight wasn’t any different, except you’ve learned how to act like a bitch around him to conceal your deep-down feelings. The last you heard about Jungwon and his bandmates is that they went on tour. You forced yourself to not keep up and told your friend to keep all information to herself. So yeah, you had no idea they were even back in town, let alone playing at this club that started it all for them. 

Jake blew kisses out to your friend, her doing the stupid “grabbing” it and placing it to her heart. Honestly, it made you want to throw up, at how cute they are. You might be giving them the stink eye, but deep down you were truly happy for them. Jake never misses a chance to post her all over his socials. They were truly happy. 

“Hello, everyone,” Jay, their lead bass guitarist, smiled big, “It’s nice to be back in town after a tour!” 

The crowd cheered and you had to fight the urge to cup your hands over your ears. 

“You all ready for a fucking good time tonight?!?” Heeseung, the keyboard/pianist of the group, yelled into his mic, clapping his hands together. 

The crowd went batshit crazy. 

“Woah,” Jake smirked, leaning closer to his mic as he tuned his guitar, “That wasn’t loud enough, was it guys?” 

Sunghoon, their lead singer, leaned against Jake, bringing his mic close to his lips, “We sat, are YOU READY FOR A FUCKING GOOD TIME TONIGHT!?!” 

And the crowd went wild. Oooohh!!! Ahhh!!!

You felt like setting the venue on fire. 

“Jungwon,” Jay pointed at the drummer, “Set it off.” 

“Say less,” he smirked, lifting his arms above his head and slapping the drumsticks together four times, keeping direct eye contact with you until you finally looked away. 

You always loved their music, and tonight made you fall more in love with it. Even with all that love, the moment the concert ended and the lights came back on and the boys left the stage, you decided to take your leave, “I’m going to head out,” you said to your friend, preparing to dip before Jungwon could speak to you. 

“Nope!” she smiled, pulling two VIP badges from her bag, “You aren’t going anywhere!” 

You stared at her, confused as to why the fuck she thinks this is a good idea, “No.” 

She pouted, “YN, come on! It’s been a year!” 

Yeah, not long enough. 

“You know how I feel about this,” you cross your arms, hoping she’ll change her mind. 

But unfortunately for you, the badge was around your neck and you stood backstage with your nose scrunched being face to face with Jungwon. 

“I think your nose is broken,” he tapped the tip of his drumstick on your nose, “What is that sniffer smelling?” 

“You, obviously.” 

“I smell pretty great, don’t I?” 

You raised a brow, “If you consider shit good smelling, then maybe your sniffer is broken.” 

Jungwon laughed, “You never change.” 

You looked away from him, spotting your friend with Jake hand-in-hand as they smiled and made loving faces at each other. 

Jungwon stared off at them too, “I’m happy for them,” he whispered, twirling the drumstick, “They are good for each other.” 

You nodded, “They are good together.” 

Jungwon faced you, studying the curves and structures of your face, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch you, but settled with, “Could be us,” in a teasing tone. 

You scoffed, tilting your head at him, “Why us? When you have a whole crowd of whores waiting for you to walk the floors of the club.” 

He smirked, sliding the tip of the drumstick against the side of your face, “Hmm, but weren’t you one of those whores at some point?” 

You pushed the drumstick away, “Fuck off, Won.” 

God he loved hearing his nickname from you fall out of your mouth, like it belongs there. 

“Such a dirty mouth,” he murmurs, once again touching the tip of the stick to your nose and moving downward, “What should we do about this mouth of yours?” 

He ran the stick to your bottom lip, pulling it down. The moment he saw the corners of your lips curl, he was done for. 

You push your tongue out, tasting the woody on your buds, and lick up, flatting your tongue against the drumstick the higher you get to the tip. Jungwon was fighting to not fold at this dirty act. His brain remembers the last time you went down on him and sent shivers down his spine. 

He didn’t even realize the soft moan that left his lips and jaw slightly slack until the noise came out. 

Jungwon might know how to tease you, but you sure as hell know how to play the game back. 

“Shit, YN,” he whispers, quickly pulling the stick off your tongue, “Don’t do that.” 

“Sorry, need me to go get one of your fangirls to do it instead of me?” 

Absolutely not. 

Jungwon chuckles, “Why do I need their mouths when yours is right here?” 

You roll your eyes, focusing them off towards the stage, “Still a fucking asshole.” 

Jungwon softened at those words. He hated himself more than you hate him. Hated himself so fucking badly for the shit he put you through. For letting the fame get to his head. For letting you go so easily and his actions that caused it. He remembers the night Jake busted down his door yelling at him because your friend called saying you were in tears because of his actions. It tore him apart. 

Truthfully, Jungwon was terrified to lose you. So scared you’d see his imperfections or how much he loved the attention his fans gave him that you’d run. You single-handedly were the best thing to walk into his life. He thinks about you every single day and wishes time machines were invented so he could go back and have a redo with you. 

But time machines don’t exist. And neither does his second chance with you. Jungwon accepted the only way he could have you was the hate sex or the aggressive make-out sessions when he saw you. Being on tour the last year was torture and he was one hundred percent sure you blocked his number and all his socials. 

Not that he blames you. 

“YN,” he calls for you, touching the tips of his fingers to your elbow, slowly wrapping them around your arm, “Please.” 

You knew what he was asking of you. To give in to him. And like an idiot, you leaned into his touch, giving in. 

Like a moth to a flame. 

Everytime. 

You go back to him everytime. 

It took one look into his brown eyes, seeing the feelings he has that he never speaks out loud. His hand finds yours, locking your fingers together and pulling you as he steps backward, you idly following behind him. 

You could feel your friend and Jake’s eyes following the both of you, along with Heeseung, Jay, and Sunghoon catching a glance as Jungwon pulls you out the back door, disregarding his drumsticks on a nearby table. 

One moment the cool night summer air hit your skin, the next you were straddling Jungwon in the back seat of his car. Lips moving against his and hands roaming up and down your back, squeezing your waist gently each time. 

A whole year without feeling you against him, a year without kissing you and he felt like was losing his mind. His body on fire just by having you pressed closely to him and your hands in his hair. Words stuck in his throat on all the things he wished he could say to you but settled with kissing you so deeply, tenderly, and passionately. The pull you always felt towards him, he also felt with you. Never being able to get away from you. 

Going back to you everytime. 

No one else was you. And never would be. 

Jungwon settles his hands on your hips, pressing you harder down on him and bucking his hips up. Your jaw went slack at the sensation of his length against your heat, Jungwon finding it the perfect moment to slide his index and middle fingers into your mouth, pressing down your tongue. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, wrapping your lips around his digits, “So dirty, baby,” he whispers, spreading the digits to feel your tongue move between them, “I’ve missed you so much.” 

He doesn’t know how the words managed to escape his mouth, but the soft moan that vibrated his fingers told him well enough you missed him too. Because you did, truthfully. 

The loss of his fingers leaving your mouth had you pouting, but his lips pressed back to yours, moving in perfect rhythm. You don’t know how much time has passed, how or when your clothes ended up in the front seat of his car, but you didn’t care. The warmth of his body, hands grazing your skin, and tongues dancing together were all that mattered. 

“Can I have you?” he whispers against your lips, never once taking what you didn’t want to give out. 

“Please, Wonnie,” you whisper back, “I need you.” 

And oh man, how badly he needed you. 

Neither of you would ever understand it, this pull towards each other. Or how whatever god keeps bringing you two back together. Never would understand truly how deep both your feelings run. 

But secretly, both you and Jungwon hope for a second chance. 

Everytime.

— tags: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns

@in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi

@eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty

@ladyartemesia @criminalyun @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

@jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @vixialuvs @onlyhyunjin

@enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng

@moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae

@kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @hee-lvrr @1309zip

@moon0fthenight @jakeflvrz @021894s @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @surrik-i

@heeseungsbm @niki-riki-nishimura-riki

[daisydosie]

hii!!! can i request some fluff with sunoo or ni-ki, please!!! i'm like dying for some fluff with one of them and i saw you're taking requests so...🥹

𝐼 𝑊𝑖𝑛 | 𝑁.𝑅𝐾

𝐍𝐢-𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

❥ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐭! 🫶

❥ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

❥ 𝐬𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐢-𝐤𝐢 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

❥ 𝐰𝐜: 𝟓𝟖𝟓

❥ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

It was supposed to be a quiet night

The two of you were curled up on the apartment's living room floor, a half-folded blanket over the two of you and an open carton of takeout on the table in front of you. The soft hum of music played from your phone speaker, the setting sun casting a golden glow across the room through the window.

You stretched out lazily, your arm brushing against Ni-ki’s as you reached for your water. “You know,” you said casually, “if we were to actually fight… I’d win.”

He froze mid-bite of his dumpling. “Excuse me?”

You turned your head to smirk at him. “You heard me.”

Ni-ki slowly lowered his chopsticks, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You, you, would beat me?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Yeah right.”

“Why not?” you replied sweetly, “I’m scrappy. Unpredictable. Cunning.”

“Cunning,” he repeated with a snort. “You trip over your own feet brushing your teeth.”

Before you could snap back, he lunged—too fast, and way too confident. You yelped as he pulled you down to the floor, rolling you onto your back as he hovered above you. His body slightly straddling your waist, pinning you gently but firmly, and his hands caught your wrists like he knew exactly how this would end.

You glared up at him, breath catching. “Unfair. I wasn’t ready.”

Ni-ki’s grin turned wicked. “A true warrior is always ready.”

His face was close now—closer than you’d realized in the heat of your banter. His hair fell forward slightly, shadowing his eyes, and you could feel his breath against your lips. Your heart thudded unevenly in your chest, and suddenly the tension between you wasn’t just playful—it was thick, warm, charged.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. “Get off.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Admit you lost.”

“I’d rather die.”

“I can arrange that.”

You rolled your eyes but felt your lips twitch into a smile. He was still watching you closely—his gaze softer now, lingering for just a second too long.

Then he let go, sitting back on his heels and offering a hand. You hesitated but took it, both of you standing at the same time, as you let him pull you up with ease. The moment he did, you didn’t let go—you stayed close, chest brushing his as your fingers lingered in his.

“That was a cheap win,” you murmured.

Ni-ki tilted his head. “Still a win.”

“And now you want a reward, don’t you?” you asked, already seeing the mischievous spark in his eyes.

“Obviously.” His voice dropped a note lower. “I deserve something… don't you think?”

You scoffed, leaning in like you were about to roll your eyes again—but instead, you kissed him.

It was slower this time. Less teasing. His hand moved instinctively to the side of your neck, anchoring you to him as he kissed you back—like this was the win he really wanted all along.

When you pulled away, you looked into his eyes, your face dangerously close to his, your breath mingling.

“Still think I can’t win?” you whispered.

Ni-ki’s eyes fluttered open, dark and fond. “You win. Every time.”

You smiled against his mouth. “Told you I was unpredictable.”

His chuckle rumbled low in his chest, arms winding around your waist as he pulled you into him completely. “And dangerously distracting,” he murmured, lips brushing your jaw.

You stayed there, tangled in each other in the living room, the scent of dumplings and the warmth of home surrounding you like a quiet promise.

Neither of you moved to clean up.

The world could wait.

End.

[suffering-asthmatic-tifosi]

Tiny Hands, Giant Hands

Warnings: none, I mean this isn’t the best fic ever

Pairing: Hozier x Fem!reader (the gender isn’t even specified tbh)

Word Count: 613

Summary: Seeing Andy again after a long tour was the best, but something about him seemed different all it took was one touch for you to really see that.

You didn’t expect him to be at the party you got invited to. You assumed it was just some good friends reuniting after a while, and you definitely didn’t know your brother was so close to him.

“Oh hey I didn’t you’d be here” he said, making you turn to face him.

“I was thinking the same thing”, you said with a smile.

He asked you how you were and how your pets were doing. You told him about how you got a new cat and had a trip planned for Italy soon.

You both talked about everything, from his music to different breeds of cats. It felt so nice to be reunited after a long time of not seeing your friend.

But there was something different about Andrew. Maybe his hair was a little longer, or his eyes a little greener, but there was something about him that you never noticed before.

You didn’t notice but he felt the same way. Something was blossoming between you both. Something new.

“Oh my God y/n, you wanna know a funny story from the Tour?” He asked you with a goofy grin on his face.

You nodded yes, you loved his tour stories.

“So the fans have started making friendship bracelets and giving them to each other, I think it’s because of Taylor I saw her do that. It’s so sweet tho I quite enjoy it. But anyway, so one girl, she handed me a bracelet that said ‘The Hoziest’ on it. I thought it hilarious so I took it. The thing is it was much too big for my wrist. So when I almost fell off my hand, poor girl, she apologized so much. I felt a little bad so I twisted the bottom and made it fit nicely then she was so happy.”

“Awwwwe that’s so sweet the fans are sharing the bracelets with you” you said to him.

“It was very nice, but do my wrists look that big?” He asked while taking his thumb and middle finger and wrapping them around his wrist to measure.

“See not that big”, he said with his fingers around his wrist

“Andy your fingers are huge that doesn’t count.”, you said giggling, removing his fingers and wrapping yours around his wrist to measure with ‘accurate’ sized fingers.

“And your fingers are so short Y/n” he said with a chuckle.

You shook your head no and you both put your hand out to measure hands.

But because you could never have any _perfect_ rom com moment you both put out different hands. You go to switch you hands but he does too. You both go back and forth like this a couple times until he gently grabs your wrist and puts your hands together.

“See tiny hands” he says looking at you adoringly.

“No giant hands” you said, still looking down and your hands connected.

You looked up and locked eyes with Andrew. Maybe his eyes did get greener..

Your fingers were about to intertwine when-

“Hey Andrew get over here John’s trying to impress everyone with his guitar skills or lack there of.”

Andy chuckled and smiled at you before getting up to leave.

You weren’t even mad, there was a spark, you could feel it. And oh how exciting it was.

Now how would your boyfriend react to this…