#will talk about it later but it's really bad

[gayeddiejuice]

🚨🚨 boots on the ground reporting 🚨🚨

ok just got off the phone with my friend, she is the mvp called me as soon as she clocked out while she walked to the train.

ok. first things first i asked. we’re they nice? and she said YES she said they were probably the easiest table anyone had she felt bad for everyone else cause she kept seeing all the handlers running back and forth and she was just chilling pretty much. she said they dinner was pre ordered but they didn’t eat much of it cause they probably ate at the pre party event. she was also like “did you know oliver is vegan?” LOL anyways. as the main handler the job is to make sure the vips have everything they need, so for example she would take all their food orders and then send it to the kitchen and then there’s a team of waiters who bring the food, the handler never leaves the table you have to be there in case they need anything.

she said since their team preordered most of the food it made her job so much easier, she basically just stood by their table all night just in case they needed anything. she did order lots of drinks tho she said they drank A LOT 😂😂 but it was mostly for all the people that kept coming over to their table, apparently they were super popular people from other shows kept coming over to talk to them. also lots of the other guests which is mostly just the advertisers, that’s the whole point of the party abc/disney has all these celebs there to mingle with advertisers to get them to sell stuff on their network. and she said everyone wanted to come to the 911 table!!

after the dinner portion the actual party starts and that’s when things get hectic cause the vips always scatter and if you’re their handler you gotta know where they all are at all times. i do not miss this job btw it gave me major anxiety.

during the party they pretty much stuck together which made her job so much easier and she said they all remembered her name when she only told it to them once when she introduced herself. listen she doesn’t know anything about this cast she kept calling them the girl and the asian guy or the two hot guys. which. yall. she said they were all extremely beautiful she said she kept blushing cause ryan (she fell in love with him btw) kept calling her by her name and asking her questions and he kept organizing the plates and glasses on the table to make it easier for the wait staff to pick up.

other than that she said later in the night she kept losing track of them cause again they were so popular 😂😂 mostly aisha, she said she seemed to be friends with EVERYONE and she said, i repeat she knows nothing about rpf she didn’t know what her words would mean, she said ryan and oliver (the two hot guys) hung out together the whole night especially once kenny left, she said he left at like 8 right after dinner, and aisha kept going to talk to other people but ryan and oliver stuck together all night. I said oh im so sure. 🤭

that’s pretty much it, i asked if she could hear their convos and she could but she didn’t really pay attention cause she didn’t recognize any names. she did say that they were all cracking jokes all night and they laughed a lot which idk warms my heart 🥹🥹

btw ryan and oliver did leave together and i think they were going to either go somewhere else with other people or they were having like an after party at the hotel? cause they kept telling people yeah we’ll see you “after” she didn’t really catch where “after” was but when they said bye to aisha ryan said “see ya at the hotel” and oliver told her to not take too long 😂😂 so idk I guess they’re still partying.

[mydearzero]

The Babysitter | Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x fem!Reader

Summary: You didn’t have any superpowers, nor were you even qualified for the position, yet somehow a mishap between Alexei and Yelena ends up in getting you a new job. Bob-sitter. 

Contents: No Y/N, fem!reader, college student!reader, no warnings apply for this chapter.

A/N: Wow chapter 2 only one day later? Crazy! I already promise that's not a rate I'll keep up, lmao.

Read it on AO3 Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - Keep Him Happy

1.5K words

So, Bob was not, in fact, a child. He was a grown man who seemed perfectly capable of taking care of himself. His face was somewhat youthful, so you weren’t sure exactly how old he was, but you’d wager it was older than you. 

“Why is it exactly that you need a babysitter?” You asked directly. No use beating around the bush. You ignored the whole flashback memory thing, guessing you’d be enlightened with the details when the rest of the team came back. It wasn’t exactly a fond experience. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say babysitter… It’s just, uh… best to not leave me to my own devices, I guess,” he shrugged. You nodded awkwardly, not sure what to make of the situation. The promised pay was good, you wouldn’t actually have to take care of him, just keep him company. It didn’t seem like a bad deal. 

But even then, he was obviously unstable. Maybe what he needed was a mental health professional, not a ‘babysitter.’ You were probably just a temporary solution. 

You sat in an awkward silence for a while, sipping your drink every now and then trying to think of a lighthearted topic to entertain him with. “So… Tell me about yourself, Bob.” 

“Well, I’m… Bob. Short for, uh, Robert, as you might’ve guessed,” Bob nodded. You sighed inwardly, this was going to be tougher than you expected. Children were usually a lot easier, willing to tell you all of their and their parent’s business. Cats were even better, no need for talking. Bob was going to take some work. 

“How’d you end up here, with these people, I mean?” You wondered. He seemed normal enough, but obviously the ‘New Avengers’ cared about him enough to try and keep him out of harm's way and around their building. 

“It’s kind of a funny story, really. One second I’m in Malaysia in some lab for a medical study, the next I wake up in this bunker with these guys trying to kill each other…” 

You squint your eyes in question. “That is… Funny?” 

“Yeah now that I’m putting it like that it doesn’t sound very funny, does it?” Bob chuckled. It seemingly broke some of the tension. He asked you a few questions about yourself and your contact with Alexei. 

“He seems very sweet,” you concluded. Bob agreed, letting you know the man definitely had his heart in the right place, though sometimes a bit overenthusiastic. 

He told you about the rest of the team, and you noticed he was inconspicuously perceptive. He went one by one, wasting time by talking about the people surrounding him most days. 

“Yelena looks really tough, and she is! But she’s really a big softie,” Bob spoke of her very fondly, a twinkle of adoration in his eyes. 

“Ava’s a bit of a tough nut to crack, but she has a really good sense of humour. She’s a bit more reserved, but really has your back when you need her. She’ll deny it, though.” 

You poured yourself another glass of soda, offering Bob one as well. He declined but thanked you for the offer to a degree which dazed you. You took a mental note of the skittish demeanour. 

“John’s an asshole. Can’t really put it anyway else. He’s here, he’ll show up for the others, but… I can’t really say I’ve come to like him like the others. I’d put it as toloration. I mean he has a history… But who doesn’t? Doesn’t give him the right to be a douche, you know?” He obviously had a strong sense of righteousness, and John did not fit into that picture. 

“And lastly there’s Bucky, but I’m sure you know about him. Congressman and such. He’s not around here much. He tries to be, but I feel like he’s still a bit wary of the team. Part of me thinks he just doesn’t want to get attached, which I can understand, given his past…” Bob looked out the window, seemingly lost in a deep thought. His eyes glazed over and an overwhelming sadness overtook his face. It’d gotten dark in the time you’d been here, the city skyline lit up with artificial lighting. 

“Whatever you do, try to keep him happy, distracted and away from danger.” Yelena’s words echoed in your head. There was likely a good reason for the particular instructions. 

“Well, Bob, thank you for opening up and telling me about them. I feel like we’re likely gonna be spending some more time together, so I really appreciate that you feel safe enough to share,” you smiled, distracting him from his spiralling thoughts. 

Bob smiled before looking a little confused at his own actions. You felt like he might’ve maybe shared a little more than he’d intended. 

You were racking your brain for another topic to talk about when the elevator doors opened once again. Bob deflated, hunching in on himself and making himself visibly smaller. You hadn’t even noticed how his posture had opened up during your conversation.

It was Yelena and Alexei, joking with each other in, was that Russian? They walked in as if they hadn’t just fought off whatever it was that had ransacked the subway and blasted itself into the building. You looked at them expectantly, waiting to finally get an explanation. 

“Ah, right, babysitter. It’s quite late, maybe you should head home?” Yelena suggested, cracking her neck while unloading a few weapons on a side table like she was dropping off her keys after coming home from the office. 

“Was this just a one time thing, or will I be coming back?” You wondered. You could use the money.  

“That depends… Bob? Do you like her?” 

Bob spluttered and gaped at Yelena, unsure of how to answer. “I– I mean, yeah, she’s– She’s nice. I don’t know what you want me to say.” 

“We can find different babysitter if you want. Many more on the app,” Alexei chimed in as he huffed and puffed, trying to get his suit off in the middle of the living room. It looked more like he was doing a form of experimental yoga. 

“No, no. This one’s fine,” Bob winced. You’d really have to come up with a different title than ‘babysitter’ if this was going to become a lasting thing. 

“Good, then she stays. Ava and John are debriefing Bucky. It was just some lowlife with some experimental tech, but man, whatever he was shooting with stung like a b–” 

“Lena, language, we have guest,” Alexei shushed her. Yelena rolled her eyes in response. 

She nodded her head at you, motioning for you to come with her. You shot Bob a quick glance, who gave you a tight lipped smile but seemingly encouraged you to go with her. 

Yelena took you to a smaller separate sitting room and offered you a glass of whiskey, which you refused. “No drinking on the job,” you laughed. 

“So, you’re probably wondering, why does a grown man need a babysitter? Well, I’m gonna explain. But first, what did Bob tell you?” she started, sitting down next to you and leaning on the back of the couch, resting her head in her hand. You mimicked her relaxed posture, putting a leg up on the couch. 

“Not much, really. He told me a bit about you guys and how you met. He mentioned something about a medical study in Malaysia, but other than that nothing too memorable.” 

“Did you happen to shake his hand?” Ah, there it was. Yelena could tell by your expression the answer was yes. 

“Yeah, it happened to us, too. You see, Bob… He’s very strong. Stronger than all of us combined. But he’s not stable. He’s a bit of a grey area in the team. We keep him around because he’s nice, of course, but also because we can’t risk anybody else trying to get on his good side and abusing his trust.” She took a sip of the whiskey, relishing its taste before continuing. 

“We’re still not really sure what his powers are, and it’s also not up to me to disclose all of the information besides the basics. All I can tell you is that we can’t risk taking him into the field, but we also can’t risk leaving him alone for too long. His abilities are closely tied to his mental wellbeing. It sounds a little degrading to describe it this way,” Yelena winced. She evidently had very conflicting feelings on the topic. You understood it must be difficult, wanting to keep him out of harm’s way without babying him. 

“But it’s really a matter of keeping him happy and distracted when it’s necessary. He needs help, a lot of it, but we just haven’t had the time to figure out how to go about it. So for now, this is it. I’m sorry for all the confusion, but with a ‘job’ as unpredictable as ours, this is the reality. Can you handle that?” Her gaze was piercing, as if she was trying to read every single thought crossing your mind. 

“You care about him deeply,” you observed. 

She gave a fond smile. “I do.” 

“Then I think I can handle it. As long as I don’t have to lie to him or beat around the bush, I can do my best to keep him company and help wherever I can. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’ll try.” 

“That’s all we ask.” 

It was settled, then. You were hired. 

TAGLIST: @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @hopes-peak-akademy @rattheraddestrat @i-shall-abide @puer-aurea @kennywantskfc69 @spectacled-studies @hiddlebatchedloki

[delirious-and-slightly-murderous]

Ok, just, WTF? Dude sometimes I hate this app. (And I'm gonna be a BITCH, but this just gives me soooo much USAian vibes. If this person is not from there, sorry for being a bitch. But if they are, I'm sorry but I can't with your fucking country.)

And maybe I'm just getting annoyed over nothing, and I misunderstood the tags. But I don't think that's the case.

(Will probably delete this later cause I really don't wanna pick fights)

But how the F do you go from this person used to read porn in class, to they don't know maths and are a conservative?

How???

Talk about illiteracy.

First of all, they did NOT let me play gameboy in math class. That's the point, going into class they did not take it away cause it wasn't a phone, but I still wasn't supposed to be using it. Hence the hiding it with the pencil case, so the teacher couldn't see it and what I was doing.

But okay, I'll give it to you that I did not explain that part very well. Sorry, my mistake.

But! I'm saying highschool, starting 7th grade. What kid doesn't get bored during class and do other stuff? Specially at 13 years old? Because newsflash, I was good at math. So when my teacher had to go over the same explanation 3 to 4 times to make sure everyone got it, while I had already understood the first time. Well I got bored outta my mind.

Now, I'm in Uni, I'm a Biologist, and maths are a BIG part of what I do. So do not presume to talk to me about statistics and math literacy.

And a conservative? A CONSERVATIVE???? Fuck that! I'm not about to go into my personal views and politics on a Tumblr post. But no, just no. I'm a firm believer that conservatives are just heinous people who do not care about other people's suffering.

You don't know me and you have no reason to know this, but I'm the furthest thing from conservative you can get.

But, ALSO, some people are just bad at maths, and that is okay. Not understanding statistics doesn't automatically mean you can't understand the socio-political phenomenon at play behind them. And it also doesn't make you a conservative. I have lots of friends at Uni, from the Arts and Humanities, who understand jack shit about maths, and are some of the most politically and socially cultured people I know. People who couldn't hope to read even a simple graph, but are there on the front lines fighting for everyone else's rights and against conservatives and far right shits.

I agree with you that maths are important, I am a scientist first and foremost, how would I not agree? (they are a big part of what I do and what I am). And not understanding math makes people ignorant and dangerous. But maths are also not everything. Generalizing like this is very dangerous and ignorant too.

I'm annoyed, idk, this was totally unnecessary. But I guess I just had to rant.

if there is a screen

ao3 will be seen

[neeeooon]

i think otoya is the kind of person who is aware that he is capable of changing his ways with girls when he finds the “one”, but he’s never truly believed in that. but when when like a girl transfers it’s quite literally love at first sight and he wants to change for her. you can decide whether she gets with him or not, thanks so muchh !! ^^

aww yes i love this idea tysm!!

love of my dreams

otoya eita x fem!reader. ft. karasu and yukimiya. love at first sight. fluff, crack, otoya is a bit weird at the start, cussing, slight death/kms joke at the end. wc: 810

“fuck.”

otoya just told karasu and yukimiya how much he liked his bachelor life. how he wasn’t ready to change. to settle down.

and then you just had to walk through those damn doors.

“fuck.”

you had a guide at your side, telling otoya you were a transfer student. his eyes were glued on you, and every step you took, unable to tear his gaze away. he wanted to know your name, where you transferred from, and what you were studying. probably something similar to him, as you were being toured through his building.

a sharp jab caused him to curse again, and otoya shot a glare at karasu and the cheap plastic butter knife he’d been stabbed with. “yer staring.”

“of course i’m staring. i’m in love.”

“you don’t do love,” yukimiya chimed with a snicker before shoving a forkful of salad into his mouth. “that’s your whole thing.”

otoya didn’t want it to be his whole thing anymore—not after seeing you.

he continued to think about you through the rest of his lunch, then his classes, his drive home, and even while he was texting yukimiya for answers to their finance homework. he didn't believe in love at first sight, at least he didn't think he did. you changed that so quick, otoya was still reeling six hours later.

otoya: i need her number

otoya: pls be my spies pls pls pls

karasu: i never thought i'd see down bad otoya like for real and not just to get pussy

otoya: is that a yes

karasu: for all we know she has a boyfriend

yukimiya: or a girlfriend

otoya: GODDDD IM GOING INSANE I NEED HER SO BAD

otoya: she's the one for me. i'm done. no more playboy otoya.

yukimiya: if you're serious. REALLY SERIOUS. i'll help

karasu: same ig

otoya: there's a special place in blowjob heaven for you two 🙏

and two days later, with the help of yukimiya and karasu, otoya had intel. they also told him you had a gap in your schedule and ate lunch by yourself in the dining hall.

and when otoya saw you? he was nervous.

your hair was pulled away from your face, the eraser-end of your pencil tapping your lips as you concentrated so hard on your homework that a delicate crease formed between your brows. otoya wanted to smooth it out with his thumb and kiss the spot instead.

shaking his head, his grip tightened around his sandwich as he slowly approached you. when you looked up, otoya felt his face grow hot. "sorry to bother you. is this seat taken?"

you rapidly shook your head and gestured to the chair. "no, no, you can take it! just make sure you put it back—"

"i mean, is it okay if i sit here?" he quickly cut off with a small grin, his chest fluttering when you blushed in embarrassment.

you dropped your pencil to hide your face in your hands. "oh my god, i'm so... yeah, yes, you can sit here." shaking your hands out to release some of the stress, you flashed a bright smile. "i'm y/n."

“otoya,” he greeted casually, as if a flock of butterflies didn’t make a home in his stomach.

you repeated his name quietly to yourself before nodding. “i think i’ve seen you in this building before. what are you majoring in?”

when he told you, your eyes lit up so brightly that otoya swore they glittered. “no way! me too! weird that we don’t have any classes together, though. maybe next semester!”

the rest of the time spent before your next class was filled with the two of you talking. otoya thought he'd fail at the genuine small talk thing since he didn't want to use any of his usual lines on you, but he was surprised at how easy it was. whenever he got quiet, you were right there to pick up where he left off.

"this might be too soon," otoya started as he walked you to your class. "but would you want to hang out again tomorrow?"

your smile faltered slightly, and otoya was ready to jump over the rail and fall to the first floor. it wasn't too far down, so he probably wouldn't die, but if he hobbled in front of a truck right after—

"i don't have this class tomorrow," you explained gently. "but would thursday work instead?"

fireworks exploded behind otoya's eyes, along with the relief of no longer needing to die. he readjusted his grip on his bag strap and flashed you a slow grin. "thursday works. same spot as today?"

you beamed. "yep! oh, and here's my number, in case i'm late or we have to reschedule!"

otoya knew, as you entered your name into his phone with a cute emoji, that he would eventually die a happy man.

[gay-dorito-dust]

bob: they're still watching us aren't they?

you: yeah, it's hard to not hear Alexei's poor atempt at whispering.

bob: is my love life that intersting to them? is it really that bad? i'm sorry.

you: no, it's not your fault Bob. your team mates are just just nosy little shits who'll lose interest sooner or later.

bob: you still want to get icecream?

you: only if we get to share and be unbareably cute together then yes.

*behind a nearby wall*

alexei: are they talking about us?

Ava: *sarcasm* i don't know, are they?

Yelena: try talking louder then ask that question again to find out. i knew this was a stupid idea to follow along on their date.

john: and yet you joined regardless, so you don't have much ground to stand on anyway.

Ava: and what's your excuse john, i thought this stuff was beneath you?

john: *shrug* i was told to get off my phone, stop sulking and get out more. so i'm here stalking Bobby and (name) on their date with you, good enough explanation for you Starr?

Ava; not really.

Alexei: EVERYONE SHUT UP! I WANT TO SEE THEM KISS!

[mandoalorian]

red, white and blue [bucky barnes x f!reader]

pairing: new avenger!bucky x f!reader

synopsis: you slept while the world moved on without you. someone left flowers. someone turned on the news. and when you finally woke, it wasn’t peace that greeted you. it was rain. it was confusion. it was something in your chest breaking open again. so you ran—before anyone could stop you.

word count: 5500

rating/warnings: 18+ explicit content, mentions of male masturbation, enemies to lovers, the blossoming of a love triangle, trauma/void room descriptions, family death, blood mention, guns, canon typical violence/action, angst, bucky/sam still aren’t friends, misunderstandings that might make you want to scream, details of injury, hospital-setting, avengers tower fic, thunderbolts spoilers

masterlist

previous chapter | current | next chapter [coming soon]

ONE WEEK LATER.

The med bay was quiet, save for the gentle hum of machines and the steady blip of your heart monitor. Night had long swallowed the city, and the world outside was still. Inside, it was just you and Bob.

He sat slouched in the chair beside your bed, his hoodie wrinkled, sneakers kicked off beneath him. One of John’s protein bars was melting on the table, untouched, a ‘get well soon’ gift from the US Agent that he had so unwillingly agreed to part with. Bob’s clipboard rested on his knee, but he hadn’t written a single note in the last forty minutes.

Your vitals were steady. Oxygen, normal. No neural spikes, no warnings. Still, you hadn’t stirred.

Bob rubbed the bridge of his nose and glanced at you, eyes narrowing behind the IV. He didn’t like this—not the silence, not the unknown.

“You know,” he muttered into the dark, “no one really knows who you are.”

He glanced toward the door. No footsteps. No voices. Just the soft breathing of the Tower itself.

“Sam just… brought you in. Said you were important. Said we needed you.” Bob’s voice was low, like he was trying not to wake you. “And that was it. No briefing. No intel drop. Just... boom. You’re on the team.”

He swallowed.

“I’m not even an Avenger. I’m just here, helping out. If it wasn’t for Yelena, they probably wouldn’t waste their time on me,” Bob frowned. “I just try and work out which pieces of Stark’s technology in the tower are worth saving, and I do the dishes, most of the time. But somehow I’ve been sitting here watching you breathe for the past week like I’m your goddamn guardian angel.”

A little edge in his tone, darkness even. The blinding feeling of still not being good enough nearly tipped through. His eyes flicked to your hand resting beside the blanket. Still. Pale. Calm.

“I’ve seen what everyone else hasn’t.” His tone softened, became unsure. “You... talk in your sleep sometimes. Weird words. You cry, too. Just once. I heard you. I can’t stop thinking about when Sam and I watched Redwing’s surveillance of the fight. Your scream. The way you saved Bucky. What you said… ‘He’s not yours to kill’, what does that mean?”

Bob stood, pacing now, rubbing his palms together like trying to warm himself from a chill that wouldn’t leave.

“You hate him. But not in a surface-level, ego-clash kinda way. It’s deeper. Like you’ve known him in another life. Or like he took something from you.” He turned to look at you again, then scoffed. “He doesn’t even know, does he?”

He lingered by your side again, hands twitching at his sides. The Void buzzed faintly beneath his skin. That old temptation.

“Just a glimpse,” he whispered. “Not to violate anything. Just... clarity. That’s all.”

Bob stared at your hand, then at his own, flexing his fingers.

“No, no, no, bad idea. Bob, this is literally the reason they said you shouldn’t touch people when they’re unconscious.”

But his fingers hovered. Trembled. And finally—made contact.

The moment your skin met his, the air snapped inward.

The machines dimmed, the walls folded in on themselves—and the world fell away.

Bob’s breath caught in his throat.

He stood now in a black void, pulsing softly around him like the inside of a heartbeat. But even as he steadied himself, colour bled in. The space reshaped, forming the vague contours of a place that wasn’t real, yet felt terrifyingly familiar.

It was your Void Room.

Personal. Raw. Truthful.

Not memory. Not dream. Something deeper.

“…Whoa,” Bob whispered, heart kicking into a gallop. “Okay, okay... so you’ve got layers.”

But already, something in the atmosphere was shifting. A flicker of heat. A burst of rage. A ghost of sorrow so thick it strangled the air. Then, through the haze—

A younger you.

A flash of something sharp.

A silhouette with a metal arm.

And a truth he hadn’t been prepared to see.

Bob could hardly breathe. The Void rippled like a curtain torn loose in a storm, warping around you, around your unconscious form as it lay still beside him. He hadn’t meant to see this. He hadn’t meant to feel this. But here he was, standing in the memory your soul had buried deepest.

The scene unfolded with dreamlike clarity, yet carried the unmistakable weight of truth.

A modest banquet hall—walls lined with cheap tinsel and flickering string lights. A rented space in a nondescript city building, made special only by the people inside it. A birthday. Homemade cake. Laughter. Friends pressed close, holding paper plates and plastic forks, warmth radiating off the small crowd.

You were only eight, maybe nine, all limbs and excitement. You ducked under tables and tugged on adults’ hands, giggling, clutching a handmade card in sparkly glue. At the centre of the room stood your brother, eighteen today. Bright-eyed. Laughing. The kind of boy who made people feel safe just by existing.

Bob recognised the kind of room this was. Family-built. Naive in its joy.

But not everyone in that room was meant to be there.

Bob’s gaze shifted as your father shook hands with a guest in a tailored suit—older, composed, and far too serious for the occasion. Senator Harold Myles. A moderate voice rising in Congress. Recently outspoken against certain defence contracts that fed HYDRA’s shell corporations. The kind of man who wouldn’t live long once his name showed up on their list.

Hydra wanted him gone.

And so, they'd sent their ghost.

The door burst open with metallic finality. Screams burst like shrapnel.

Enter the Winter Soldier.

Black tactical gear. Silver arm adorned with a red star. No mask this time, only long dark hair damp with rain, clinging to his cheekbones. He didn’t shout. Didn’t threaten. Just walked—slow, direct, surgical.

The Senator had maybe three seconds to recognise the spectre from whispered D.C. legends before the Soldier raised his rifle.

But your brother got there first.

Bob saw it in horrifying detail—your brother lunging forward, pushing a friend down behind a table, hands up, shouting something like, “Wait, he’s just a—” before the gun fired.

No hesitation. No remorse.

Just cold training.

Your brother collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut. A silence fell in the room that no music could recover from.

You screamed.

Bob saw your mother throw her arms around you, trying to shield you from the scene. But power bloomed inside you—raw, ancient, untapped. It cracked from your chest like glass under pressure, flooding the air with a low hum of impossible energy.

And then—

Light.

Heat.

Screams swallowed in a wave of radiance.

Everyone—your parents, the guests, even the Senator—obliterated in a surge of aura. The Winter Soldier alone had made it out. You, sobbing in the rubble, glowing like something divine and shattered, didn’t know it yet.

Didn’t know what had happened.

Didn’t know what you were.

And you didn’t know the man who walked away into the night was the one who’d started it all.

Bob stood frozen, stomach churning. The smell of ash and scorched memory lingered in the Void.

He looked at you now, unconscious in the medbay. Strong. Fierce. So certain in your hate.

He understood.

Because the Winter Soldier didn’t just kill your brother.

He made you.

Bob’s eyes snapped open, lungs seizing with the sudden rush of cold, sterile air. The harsh fluorescent lights of the medbay flickered overhead like ghosts trying to blink away the images now burned into his brain.

He was still holding your hand.

He dropped it like it had burned him.

Heart hammering, he stumbled back, nearly knocking over a tray of gauze and saline as he braced himself against the nearest wall. He gripped the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles turned bone-white, trying to find something—anything—solid beneath him. But there was nothing solid left. Not after what he’d just seen.

Not after what he now knew.

You weren’t just some mysterious recruit plucked from the wind by Sam Wilson.

You were trauma wrapped in silence. A living wound with teeth. A ghost shaped like a girl who had once screamed hard enough to erase a room.

And the Winter Soldier—Bucky Barnes—was at the centre of it all.

Bob stared at your face, still peaceful in sleep. Your vitals beeped steady. Your breathing was calm. Anyone else would think you were just healing. But he knew better now.

He swallowed, throat dry and tight. His stomach turned. The image of your brother’s body collapsing—the sheer horror in your scream, that moment your powers ignited like wildfire—it would haunt him. Not because of what you did, but because of what had been done to you.

Bob pressed his trembling hands to his eyes and breathed. In. Out. Again.

He’d seen darkness before. He was darkness, in a way. The Void was a cruel place that showed people their worst. But this? This had been something else.

It had been human.

And now… what was he supposed to do with this?

Tell Sam? Warn Bucky? Warn you, when you woke up?

No.

He looked at you again, this time with something softer beneath the shock—grief, maybe. Sympathy. A gnawing understanding.

Bob wasn’t an Avenger.

He was a janitor of memory. A gatekeeper of ghosts.

And for now, this ghost… this truth… would remain his burden to carry.

He turned back to his console, fingers moving stiffly as he checked your vitals again. Heart rate steady. Brain activity… shifting. You were healing. Slowly.

Outside your room, the world kept turning. Plans moved forward. So did people.

Bucky didn’t.

The second night you were unconscious in the medbay, he sat at the edge of your bed long after the others had gone. Sam had stopped by briefly, saying something about Reed Richards and Johnny Storm needing to be brought in before the press caught wind of the failed mission. But Bucky barely listened. His eyes stayed on you. You were still pale. Still too quiet.

He left at dawn, jaw locked, and returned a few hours later. His knuckles were bruised.

By the third day, Reed and Johnny were back—less enemies now, more reluctant allies. Apparently, the moment Bucky told them Sue Storm and Ben Grimm were safe, Reed’s entire stance shifted. Johnny rolled his eyes, muttered something cocky, but followed without protest. No power struggles. No fireballs. Just tired agreement. They’d seen enough.

But their cooperation didn’t ease the knot in Bucky’s chest. Not when he passed your room and saw Bob still stationed there like a quiet sentinel. Not when he stepped inside and found you still lying there, unmoving.

He hovered by the door some days. Other times, he sat again. Said nothing. Thought too much.

Sam noticed. On the fifth night, he caught Bucky in the hallway.

“You need sleep,” he said. Not harsh, not gentle. Just a statement. Like a friend who saw the unravelling.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Sam’s expression cracked a little then, the frustration bleeding through. “She nearly died, Buck. You think sitting by her bedside every night’s gonna change that? You can’t make up for it that way.”

Bucky didn’t argue. He just turned away.

Behind him, Sam sighed. “I know you care about her. But beating yourself up won’t fix her. Or you.”

That night, Bucky stood under the shower too long. Water scalding. Steam swallowing him whole. He let it burn the guilt out of him—or tried to. But just like clockwork, he felt it, the way his body yearned for you. Like a primal need, and urge that he just couldn’t bite down. Your soft lips on his scarred skin and God, Bucky knew nothing would ever happen. He knew that you’d rather die than touch him.

Somehow, that only made him want you more. So he curled his fingers around his cock, grunting and moaning as the water splashed against the tiles, his stomach pooling with arousal as he neared his release. And then he’d choke out a cry as he came undone, promising to never do that again. His desire for you once again buried in shame and guilt — left unspoken. The way it needed to be. 

He still came back to the med bay, hair damp, hoodie clinging to his skin. He didn’t go in this time. Just leaned against the wall, arms crossed, staring at the closed door like it held all the answers.

It didn’t.

So, after gentle consideration, Bucky slipped through the door like he’d done every morning and every night that week—silent, steady, careful. He didn’t need to be here.  And yet, he showed up. Without fail. Always in the same dark clothes, always with that same guarded look on his face.

In his hand was a loosely tied bundle of flowers, snatched from the rooftop garden, still damp from the morning dew. An array of white lillies, red roses and bluebells, planted by Ava and Bob at the start of the season.

He placed them on the side table, then dragged the chair closer to your bed, leather creaking under his weight as he sat. You looked the same. Still. Distant. Like you were in a dream you hadn’t decided to wake up from.

His jaw shifted slightly before he spoke.

“You’re gonna mess up the team dynamic if you don’t wake up soon.”

He didn’t say it like a joke. He said it like a fact. Or maybe a plea dressed up in military detachment.

“They’re trying to figure out how to rebuild the Avengers lineup,” he continued, voice low. “Sam’s already talking about public image. Optics. You know how it goes. ‘What’ll the people think?’” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And I’m sitting there like… ‘you’re part of the team too, you should be here as we decide these things.’”

He let out a dry breath, shaking his head. “We got the Fantastic Four. They’re willing to cooperate. Sam and I… we know some people too. Some old friends. I just—”

Another beat of silence. Bucky changed the subject without warning, revealing the pressure that had been eating him alive. 

“I keep thinking I know you.”

He looked up at you then, really looked. His eyes didn’t waver, even when his mouth tightened like he hated admitting it.

“It’s crazy. I know it is. But sometimes when I walk past you… when I hear your voice, or see the way you look at me like I’m something you already buried…” He swallowed. “It’s like I’ve seen you before. Like we’ve done this. Been here. Somewhere else. Somewhere... worse.”

His fingers fidgeted with the seam of his glove.

“I don’t believe in fate. Not really. But something’s off about this. About you. About the way I can’t stop wondering what you’d say if you were awake right now. Probably something scathing. Probably something that would make me laugh after you leave the room.”

His throat bobbed.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

It was out before he could swallow it back.

“That’s what this is. I know I’m not supposed to say it. Hell, I’m not even supposed to feel it. But I don’t care.” His voice dropped. “I don’t want to lose you.”

He stood, slowly, like anything louder than a breath would disturb whatever fragile thread was holding this moment together.

The flowers stayed. The chair creaked back into place.

But Bucky—he paused at the door, glancing back at you one more time, his metal hand curled into a fist at his side.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And then he was gone.

────✪────

Bob tapped the side of the monitor gently with two fingers, watching your vitals flicker to life on the screen. Still steady. Still slow. He exhaled through his nose and scribbled something on the clipboard tucked under his arm. The medbay had become a second home over the past few days — white walls, humming machines, and you, lying silent in the center of it all like a ghost that hadn’t decided whether to stay or leave.

He stepped to your side, fingers brushing the inside of your wrist. Warm. Good. He recorded your pulse next, muttering to himself as he did. “No change. Still stable. Still you.”

But then, his gaze snagged on something new.

Sitting just beside the monitor — a small glass vase that hadn’t been there earlier. Fresh flowers. Red, white, and blue, arranged with a surprising amount of care. Bob narrowed his eyes, setting the clipboard aside and reaching toward the vase. Nestled among the stems was a small card.

He plucked it free.

"From Bucky."

He stared at the handwriting for a long time. His fingers tensed, crumpling the edge of the card slightly.

“Seriously?”

A hollow laugh escaped him, humourless. He looked at you again — unconscious, brow furrowed in some distant dream, breath slow and even — and he imagined what it would be like if you woke up and saw this first. The flowers. That name. The very person who had shattered your life with the same cold precision he used to break bones and silence witnesses.

Bob had seen it now. Lived it, in your void room. The memory pressed at the backs of his eyes like it was still happening — the birthday, the scream, the body falling. And Bucky Barnes, expression blank behind the Winter Soldier’s mask, walking away from your brother’s blood.

Bob turned the card over. Nothing else. No apology. No explanation. Just that name — a name too heavy to leave lying on your bedside like a get-well-soon balloon.

He folded it once, then again, and slid it into his back pocket.

A knock came from the doorframe — Yelena, arms filled with grocery bags, one dangling precariously from her pinky. “Hey, Robert. Mind giving me a hand before the oat milk crushes my spleen?”

Bob hesitated, eyes darting back to your still form.

“I’ll be five minutes,” he murmured. He reached for the TV remote to give the room some noise — a habit more than anything else — and flicked it on low. A news anchor’s voice filtered through the speakers.

“Later this evening, O.X.E. CEO Valentina Allegra de Fontaine and New Avengers Team Leader Bucky Barnes will give a formal update on the status of the Fantastic Four—”

He winced, already annoyed, and lowered the volume even more. Then he followed Yelena out, shooting one last look at you over his shoulder. Still asleep. Still unaware.

He didn’t like this. Something in his gut said that when you woke up, you were going to wake up wrong. And all of this — the flowers, the card, the quiet hum of the news behind him — would only make it worse.

But for now, the room remained still. The flowers sat at your side. And the TV kept talking.

And so, the first thing you heard when you finally woke up was the murmur of voices. Not close ones. Not real ones. Filtered and distant, like they were being spoken through cotton. A woman’s voice — polished, assertive. Familiar.

Then the sting of fluorescent light behind your eyelids. The sterile scent of antiseptic in your nose.

You blinked awake.

The ceiling was unfamiliar. Not Sam’s place. Machines beeped beside you in steady rhythm, and something cold tugged at your arm. You looked down — an IV. Monitors. Your wrist wrapped in a soft cuff. Hospital. No — medbay.

Your chest fluttered with a breath, shallow and aching. Everything felt like it had happened hours ago and years ago, all at once. You tried to sit, but a tight pull in your side made you wince. Slowly, carefully, you turned your head.

And saw the television.

Your heart climbed into your throat before your brain caught up.

Valentina Allegra de Fontaine stood at a podium, flanked by flags and security detail, her sleek black suit catching the glint of the press lights. She was mid-sentence, one hand confidently on her hip as she addressed the sea of cameras and reporters.

“—and we’re proud to confirm that, thanks to the tireless effort of Barnes and the New Avengers, Reed Richards, Jonathan Storm, Sue Storm and Ben Grimm have officially joined the team. We’re thrilled about what this means for the future of global protection.”

The crowd applauded. Reporters shouted questions. And then — him.

Bucky.

You sucked in a breath at the sight of him, stepping up beside Val, expression unreadable but handsome as ever in a dark navy suit, clean-cut and so Congressman-like. There was a stiffness in his jaw. The camera lingered on him, and you found yourself leaning forward before you could stop.

Val beamed at him. “All of this is only possible because of his leadership,” she said, placing a hand on his chest like she owned him. “Bucky Barnes is proof that people deserve a second chance, and that’s what the New Avengers Initiative is all about.”

No. What does she know about second chances?

Then — she kissed him.

Your stomach dropped.

It was quick. Clean. One of those polished political kisses meant for cameras and headlines. But Bucky didn’t pull away. He stilled for a beat… almost like he was deciding his next move, and then kissed her back. Mouth opened, leaned in, nose pressed into her face.

Your hand trembled as it reached for the remote. You turned the TV off. Silence crashed into the room.

For a long moment, you just stared at the black screen, trying to breathe. It didn’t make sense. You hated him. He was your enemy. The Winter Soldier. He had murdered your brother. He had carved out the centre of your life with a bullet and vanished into history.

So why did your heart feel like it was splintering?

You let your head drop back against the pillow. Your eyes stung.

And then — you noticed the flowers.

They sat on the table by your bedside, radiant and arranged with surprising delicacy. Red, white, and blue. Patriotic, almost. They looked so out of place in this sterile room. You reached for them, wincing as you moved, and searched for a card. Nothing.

But the colours… the warmth of the gesture…

You swallowed, your throat tight. Sam. You told yourself it must’ve been Sam. Sweet, thoughtful Sam — the one who took you in, trusted you when no one else would. If he brought you these, it meant he cared. Meant someone still did.

A fresh well of emotion spilled into your chest. You couldn’t stay here.

You reached for the IV and ripped it out with a hiss. The machines beeped in protest, but you were already swinging your legs over the bed, finding your balance. You grabbed the hospital blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders, dizzy but moving.

You didn’t want to be here when someone came in. You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to see him. You didn’t want answers. You wanted—

Sam.

Barefoot, shivering, you slipped out the door and into the corridor. No one noticed. No one stopped you. You left the medbay behind.

And ran.

You pushed the door open and stumbled into the night.

The city hit you like a wave — noise, lights, motion — all muffled beneath the steady drum of rain. Cold, relentless, it soaked through the thin hospital gown clinging to your skin in seconds. The blanket you’d taken from the bed trailed behind you like a forgotten flag, heavy and useless now. You let it fall to the ground.

You didn’t know where you were going. Just away.

Your bare feet slapped against the concrete, slipping a little as you ran across the sidewalk and through the streets of Manhattan, the rain burning against your skin like ice. No one stopped you. No one even looked. New York had seen stranger things.

But inside your head, it was chaos.

Your mind flitted from image to image like radio static — Bucky in that press conference, his mouth against hers, the way he didn’t even flinch. Bucky lying on his back in the tunnels underground, after being hit by a blast of Johnny Storm’s fire. Him holding you upright when you fell off the kitchen counter, that one night after playing Never Have I Ever, when he lifted you to reach the vents with so much ease and all the touching during training. You had pushed him off you, time and time again, but now you reminisced the feeling of his hands on your body. Warmth. Comfort. Care. All of it, every single thought, was him. You were consumed. 

And then darkness.

That week-long sleep, the one no one thought you’d wake from… it hadn’t felt like sleep. It had felt like falling. Floating. Like you were back in the Void again — no walls, no sound, just weightlessness. But there had been something different this time. Someone. A hand in yours. A voice. Bob?

You tried to remember but it was like chasing smoke.

You shook your head. It didn’t matter.

You kept running. Across avenues, past honking cars and glowing storefronts. Your breath came ragged, and your body was shaking, but you couldn’t stop. Not until you saw the building. Sam’s place. A low-rise brownstone that didn’t scream Avenger, tucked away between a deli and a laundry shop like it belonged to someone normal.

Like he was normal.

Like you could be.

You stopped across the street and stared at the windows, lit warm from inside. You imagined him there, in his hoodie and socks, maybe eating cereal at night like he did when he couldn’t sleep. The thought made your throat tighten.

Sam had taken you in when no one else even looked twice. Gave you a room. A chance. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t expect perfection. He just… cared.

Maybe that’s why, deep down, you’d assumed the flowers were from him. Because Sam was the kind of person who would’ve left them. Who would’ve wanted you to wake up to something kind. Who saw something in you, even when you couldn’t see it in yourself.

You crossed the street and climbed the steps, every movement aching from cold and exhaustion. Your hair was plastered to your face, rain dripping from your chin. You knocked — softly, then again, louder.

Please be home, Sam. Please.

Your legs trembled.

You knocked a third time, then pressed your forehead to the door, whispering his name like a prayer.

────✪────

Bucky wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand the moment the elevator doors sealed shut behind him. Val’s lipstick smeared red across his knuckles — a stubborn, perfect imprint of something he hadn’t asked for. Something that didn’t belong to him.

He scrubbed harder, jaw clenched, his reflection flashing in the chrome walls as the elevator ascended toward the medbay.

All he wanted was to see you.

He hadn’t meant to be gone that long. Just a press conference. Just a few words about the Fantastic Four’s arrival. But the moment the cameras turned off, Val had stepped in like she always did — sharp smile, flawless posture, and just enough power in her voice to make it hard to say no. He didn’t expect the kiss. Didn’t want it. Didn’t know what to do when it happened, so he froze and kissed her back. Impulse.

And that was caught on camera too.

He hated this game.

Maybe you were awake now. Or maybe still sleeping. He just needed to see you. That would make it better. Ground him again.

The doors slid open and Bucky stepped into the medbay.

His boots stopped cold.

The bed was empty.

No heart monitor beeping. No shallow rise of breath beneath thin sheets. The wires — the IV, the vitals monitor — were all ripped out, discarded like a storm had passed through. The bed wasn’t even made. The blanket was tangled and damp, still slightly warm.

His stomach dropped.

The only thing left untouched… was the bouquet.

He stepped toward it slowly, the bright red, white, and blue petals still dewy. 

He turned sharply, panic clawing into his ribs, and spoke to the artificial intelligence system that Tony Stark had once installed in every room in the Avengers Tower. “FRIDAY,” he snapped. “Where is she?”

There was a pause. “Unknown. The subject is no longer in the building.”

Bucky was already sprinting for the door.

He reached the living quarters like a man on fire, shoulder-checking the door open. “She’s gone,” he gasped, nearly breathless. “She’s not in the medbay—she’s gone.”

The room fell silent.

Yelena dropped her cards. Ava looked up mid-laugh. Alexei’s brow furrowed, and Bob stood so fast his chair toppled behind him.

“What do you mean, gone?” Bob asked, voice sharper than usual. “I just checked in on her a couple hours ago.”

Bucky’s eyes were wild. “The bed’s empty. IVs torn out. No one’s seen her.”

Yelena cursed under her breath and immediately started pulling on her jacket. “She wouldn’t just leave like that.”

“We don’t know that,” Bob muttered, but his mind was already racing. He was seeing pieces — flashes — of you blinking awake, alone, confused, coming straight out of your void-room. 

John was already flipping a notepad open, sharp and strategic. “We split up. We don’t panic. Bob, you and Ava check the perimeter of the building, rooftops too. Yelena, take the underground. Alexei, go street level. She couldn’t have gotten far if she left recently.”

“And me?” Bucky asked, voice a touch hoarse.

John looked up, then nodded slowly. “You know her better than we do.”

Bob hesitated. “Are we sure that’s a good idea?”

Bucky blinked. “What the hell does that mean?”

Bob didn’t answer at first. He saw the way Bucky’s hand clenched at his side, like he didn’t even realise he was trembling.

“I just mean…” Bob exhaled. “You might not be the first face she wants to see.”

Bucky stiffened, confusion etched across his features. “She saved my life,” he said quietly. “Why wouldn’t she—?”

Bucky faltered at his words, and Bob offered him a softened look. Empathy, almost. 

Because the truth hung too heavy in the room to say aloud.

Still, Bucky squared his shoulders. “I’m going to Sam’s. If she’s scared, that’s where she’d go.”

Bob nodded, finally. “Then go.”

And without another word, Bucky disappeared through the door, heart hammering and rain already streaking the glass beyond.

────✪────

The door had barely opened before you collapsed into Sam’s arms.

You didn’t cry — not really. But your hands trembled as they clung to him, your skin soaked through from the storm. Your hair was plastered to your face, your hospital gown drenched and clinging to every angle of you. You looked like you’d run through a warzone, and in your head, you had.

Sam was shirtless, grey sweatpants sitting at his waist and cuffing at his ankles. 

“I—I’m sorry,” you rasped, still shaking. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Sam didn’t ask questions. He just pulled you inside.

A blanket was wrapped around your shoulders before you even noticed him move, and a mug of tea sat untouched on the coffee table between you as you sat curled on the edge of the couch. He knelt in front of you, brow furrowed, eyes scanning your face like it might crack under the weight of your silence.

“I thought you were still in the medbay,” he said, voice soft.

“I was.”

“What happened?”

Your eyes flickered to the muted TV in the corner. The same broadcast was frozen on screen — Valentina’s red lips pressed to Bucky’s, her hand possessively clutching his lapel as he stilled.

You didn’t want to explain it. Not when it sounded ridiculous aloud. Not when your hatred for Bucky had always been louder than anything else, and yet here you were… gutted.

So instead, you just whispered, “I just needed to be somewhere safe.”

Sam nodded, slow and patient. “This is your home and you’re safe here. Always.”

That should’ve calmed you.

But it didn’t.

Because your chest felt like it was caving in, and the only thing keeping you upright was the grounding pressure of Sam’s hand against your knee — warm, steady, solid. The way he always was. He was the one who found you, who vouched for you, who believed in you when no one else would.

Your lip trembled, and you reached out, touching his face like it was the only thing tethering you to this world. His breath caught.

“Sam,” you murmured, barely audible.

His eyes met yours, and for a long, tense second, nothing moved between you.

Then you kissed him.

Hard.

It wasn’t slow or tentative — it was desperate. Full of aching, confused, fire-cracked need. You lay your hands flat against his panels of his chest as if it could anchor you, pouring every twisted knot in your body into the kiss.

Sam didn’t hesitate. He wanted this too. His hand slid to the back of your neck, lips moving with yours, unsure but warm, and—

The front door had been left open.

Bucky.

He’d stood there long enough.

He’d come with a purpose — to apologise, to explain, maybe even to plead — but now, on the other side of the threshold, he couldn’t breathe.

He saw everything.

The kiss.

The desperation in it.

Sam, half naked and holding you like you belonged there.

Bucky’s heart stopped. For a long, frozen second, he just watched — drenched from the rain, jaw slack, fingers twitching at his sides like he’d been shot.

Then he stepped back into the darkness of the hallway, closing the door behind him.

────✪────

Author's note: SO nervous to post this one... bucky barnes sam wilson x f!reader -- don't worry, she will end up with the right person, i just live for a little drama first. <3

────✪────

Sebastian Stan taglist: @notreallythatlost @houseofaegon @bunnyfella @sunday-bug @wintrsoldrluvr @maryevm @mcira @monsteraddicts-world

Fic taglist: @ruexj283 @avengemepercy @espressovz @sebastians-love @cherryandsugar @torntaltos @ficr3ccs @sexyvixen7 @starstruckfirecat @mikaylacriiistina @imaginecrushes @1000shipsnh @bcksgirl @bitterspoons @cinammonstixes @k8andthemagneticzeros @cherriesnmango

Want to be added to a taglist? Let me know which one!

[cheolieji]

unspoken pt 2 - choi seungcheol

wc: 4,534

idol au

14th member fic

angst angst angst and angst, did I mention angst?

guide for requesting on my page [17] please check it out before requesting!!

Scarlet's Masterlist

unspoken pt1

A/N: is it bad that I cried while writing this? oopsie lol

A/N2 : sorry this took a bit I dislocated my shoulder a while ago and after that I was too lazy to write hehe

The next morning, he tries again.

You’re in the kitchen, minding your own business, trying to act like you’re not shaking just holding a stupid glass of water. Everyone else is keeping their distance. Probably heard the fight. Probably heard the silence after. But not him. Of course not him.

He stands by the counter, arms crossed, but his face is softer than you’ve seen in days.

“Hey,” he says, like you’re not avoiding him on purpose. “Look, about yesterday…”

You don’t even blink.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Really. I was an idiot. More than usual.”

You turn away. Start rinsing your glass even though it’s already clean.

“I was pissed off. And I took it out on you. I said stuff I didn’t mean. Stuff I knew would hurt. And I’m sorry. That’s not… that’s not who I want to be. Especially not with you.”

He follows when you move to put the glass away. He keeps going.

“I heard what you said to Jeonghan. I shouldn’t have. But I did. And it messed me up. Not because I don’t feel the same but because I do. I do, and it scared the hell out of me.”

You walk past him toward your room. He follows. Again.

“You think I didn’t notice you pulling away first? You think I didn’t see how you stopped looking at me when you thought I wasn’t watching? It killed me. And instead of being honest, I picked a fight. Like a dumbass.”

You reach your door, hand on the knob. He stops right behind you.

“You’re not selfish,” he says, voice lower now. “You’re not. I am. I’ve always been so focused on keeping everything together, I forgot about you. About us. That’s on me. I get it.”

You say nothing. The silence is so loud it drowns him out.

“I know you’re mad. You should be. You should hate me right now. I hate me right now. But I’m not giving up on you.”

He exhales, frustrated, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m not good at this. I’m not good at talking when it actually matters. But I’m trying. For you.”

Still nothing.

“I’m sorry. For every single word. For being a coward. For making you feel like you don’t belong here. You do. You always have.”

You open the door. About to step inside.

“I like you,” he says quickly. “A lot. More than I know how to handle sometimes. And I don’t want to lose you like this. Not like this.”

Your hand tightens on the handle.

“I’ll say it as many times as it takes,” he says. “I’ll say it until you believe me. Until you let me fix this. Please.”

But you step inside anyway. Quiet. Done.

He doesn’t follow this time.

But his voice comes soft through the door.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He keeps trying.

That same night, your phone lights up.

cheol [22:42]: are you okay?

You ignore it.

cheol [22:58]: i know you’re not

cheol [23:05]: i’m sorry

cheol [23:10]: please talk to me

You mute the notifications.

The next day, he’s already waiting in the kitchen when you get up. He’s sitting there like he didn’t sleep, like maybe he’s been there all night. His eyes go to you the second you step in. You pretend not to see him.

“Morning,” he says quietly.

You don’t answer.

“Did you sleep at all?” he tries again. “You need to eat.”

You walk past him like he’s air.

When you leave, you hear him sigh. Not annoyed. Just tired. Just sad.

Later that day, another message.

cheol [15:26]: you left your jacket in the practice room

cheol [15:27]: i’ll bring it to your door

cheol [15:28]: i won’t bother you. just thought you’d want it back

You open the door five minutes later. The jacket is folded neatly on the floor. He’s nowhere in sight.

That night, you hear a knock.

“Hey,” his voice comes through, soft. “I’m not here to force you to talk. Just… I was thinking. About how much I miss hearing you laugh. How much I miss you sitting next to me even when we’re not saying anything.”

You close your eyes, leaning back against the door. His words feel like they sink straight through you.

“I hate that I made you feel like this,” he says. “I hate that I’m the reason you’re shutting me out. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

You hear him sit down. Right there, on the other side of the door.

“I’ll sit here as long as it takes,” he mumbles. “I’m stubborn. You know that.”

He stays for a while. Talking quietly. Just him and the wall between you.

When you finally open the door, long after he’s gone, there’s a little post-it stuck to it.

I’ll be here tomorrow too.

The days keep passing like that.

He texts you every morning.

cheol [08:12]: hope today feels a little less heavy

cheol [08:13]: even if you don’t wanna talk to me yet

cheol [08:14]: i’ll wait

You keep ignoring him. But he keeps showing up.

In the practice room, he’s careful. Never raises his voice. Never gets too close. But his eyes find you. Every time. Always that same look. Full of regret. Full of something he can’t say out loud anymore.

When you stay late to practice alone, you hear the door open. You don’t look, but you know it’s him.

“I’m not here to get in your way,” he says. “Just making sure you get home safe.”

You leave without a word. When you check your phone later, there’s a message.

cheol [23:02]: text me when you’re back safe?

cheol [23:20]: or don’t. just. please be careful.

You don’t reply.

But you know he waited for you to come back. You saw his shoes by the door. Still there. Still waiting.

The worst part is he never gets angry. Not anymore. Not when you ignore him. Not when you leave rooms just because he walked in. He takes all of it. Quiet. Patient. Like he thinks this is what he deserves.

And maybe it is.

But it still hurts to see him like that.

It hurts more to admit you want to forgive him. That a part of you misses him so much it physically aches. But you can’t forget what he said. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

You go to bed thinking about the way he said your name. Like it broke him to even say it.

The next morning, another text.

cheol [07:58]: it’s okay if you hate me right now

cheol [07:59]: i’m still not going anywhere

--

It happens after practice.

You’re already exhausted. The weight of pretending is suffocating. And then there he is again. Waiting outside the room like always. Watching you. Following you. Keeping his distance but never really leaving.

You snap.

“What do you want from me?” you spit, whirling around to face him. Your voice is sharp. Loud. It startles him.

He freezes. “I… I just wanted to—”

“To what, Seungcheol? Apologise again? Say sorry for the hundredth time? You already said it. Over and over. What do you want me to do with that?”

He takes a step closer. You take one back.

“I’m trying,” he says quietly.

“Yeah? You’re trying? You should have tried before you said all that shit to me. You should have thought about how it would feel to be treated like I was nothing to you.”

His face twists. He opens his mouth. Closes it again. You don’t let him speak.

“You made me feel like garbage, Seungcheol. Like I wasn’t even part of this team. Like I was a burden. Like I was disposable. And now you’re standing here acting like sorry is going to erase that?”

Your voice cracks. You hate that it does. You hate that he sees it.

“I know I messed up,” he says, desperate. “I know. You don’t have to remind me. I’ve been thinking about it every second since.”

“You should feel bad!” you shout. “Because I can’t stop hearing your voice in my head, repeating every awful thing you said. And it hurts. It hurts so much and you’re the one who put that there.”

Tears spill over. You wipe them away harshly, frustrated with yourself, frustrated with him, with everything.

“I hate you for this,” you choke out. “I hate you for knowing exactly how to break me. And still doing it anyway.”

His face falls. Completely. He looks wrecked.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, voice shaking. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you like this. I was angry and I was scared and I handled it the worst way possible.”

“You think that changes anything?” you snap. “You think that fixes it?”

“I know it doesn’t,” he says. “But I’m still going to keep apologising. Because you deserve that. Because I was wrong.”

He steps closer.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” His voice gets softer with every word. “I’m sorry for the fight. I’m sorry for not saying how I felt sooner. I’m sorry for being a coward. I’m sorry for every single time I made you doubt yourself.”

You shake your head, but he keeps going.

“I’m sorry for not protecting you. For not choosing you when it mattered. For saying things I didn’t mean. For not stopping when I should have. For hurting you when all I ever wanted was to be close to you.”

Your chest feels tight. Your hands are clenched so hard they hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He reaches for you like you’re made of glass.

“I’m so sorry. Please. Please let me fix this. Please let me try.”

Your breath comes out in a sob.

“I don’t know how to forgive you,” you admit, broken.

“That’s okay,” he says right away. “That’s okay. Take your time. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He says it again.

“I’m sorry.”

He repeats it until his voice goes hoarse.

And for the first time, you don’t walk away.

[vamplvs]

notes: y'all i am so sorry this stupid mf (lovingly, mostly) has me in a chokehold, and its so bad. idk what thunderbolts did to me. i used to be a hater, and now i'm kicking my feet and giggling over him making me breakfast.

it's not uncommon for john to make breakfast for the team. he likes making pancakes, eggs, coffee, and anything else he learns they like. it's something he misses doing for people he cares about (though he is loathe to admit that he really cares for the thunderbolts), and after what happened after he became captain america when olivia-

“you’re a fool, walker,” yelena says over her coffee, having treaded into the room so quietly he couldn't hear her over the sizzling of bacon in the pan.

john is startled first, and offended second. “the hell did i do?”

“you know what you’re doing,” she replies, no further context added.

only half a moment later, you walk into the kitchen. "you are a saint, john," you say with a tired grin. in one smooth movement, you pull a mug from the cabinet and fill it with coffee. john watches you reach for it and only has half the mind not to grab it for you. "don't tell bob i told you this, but your coffee is amazing."

john snorts. "yeah, will do."

"you make any waffles or is it all pancakes today?" you take a seat at the counter, stirring in sugar and creamer to your coffee. there's a stack of pancakes for the team in front of you that you're looking at skeptically.

he immediately perks up, and before you know it, there's a plate of waffles sitting in front of you. "made them just for you," he says with a soft smile, "i know you prefer them, so..." he trails off, pointedly ignoring yelena's raised eyebrow.

"like i said, a saint, john, a saint."

you and yelena talk while john takes the time to clean up, scrubbing the fat out of pans methodically. by the time he's done, you've already run off to train with bucky, and john pretends not to be bothered by that. pretends it doesn't get under his skin in the worst way that you train night and day with bucky instead of him.

yelena sits at the counter with a smug grin on her face. "a saint, my ass," she laughs, "you are a fool, walker."

[tojisteddy]

Where the Flowers Bloom | cw: fluff, shy!reader, age gap (reader mid 20s, John late 30s).

I just cannot stop thinking about Shy!reader who has an array of hair accessories. From clips to pins to silk scrunchies, barrettes, and bows— you’ve got it all and in different shapes too.

There are fruit shaped clips, flower shaped clips, butterflies, stars, music notes, vintage hair combs, sea shells or pearls. And you put them in very meticulously so they all stay in place. People can’t help but notice them as you walk by, they’re super cute, and they make you look even prettier than you already do.

John can’t help but notice how they fit you so well, how nice they look as if real flowers are pinning back your curls to show your pretty eyes, or holding your your hair in a mid pony with a large star claw clip— fucking adorable. John doesn’t know for certain that you like him not just yet but he can’t help but love the idea of you being his. Not just you steeling glances across the rooms, having small talk in the break room. Buying each other lunch when the other is busy.

But he can’t help the leering eyes that surround you, they wander too much, and for too long. John passes a quaint little shop while he buys dinner that reminds him of you.

Something to show them that your Johns, and only his.

No you’re not. You’re not a possession…

He debates about it, turning away and to the cute clip that caught his pretty blue eyes from the gallery window. Well, it’s just be a little sign to show them to back off. Something only he’d know about. Just this.

“For you.” He sets down the yellow gift bag on your desk, right beside the stack of files, you had piled up.

You blink once. Slow. Eyes wandering from the bag, then back at him. This wasn’t lunch.

“Really? For me?” You unconsciously look at him with those big brown eyes, your heart pumping faster- cur-thunk, cur-thunk, cur-thunk.

You remove the glittery gift paper, reaching in the bag without looking in, “Just saw it in the window and I thought, ‘this has [+]’s name on it.’” He clears his throat, shifting on his feet, watching as you blankly look at the item. “What do you think?”

“It’s very nice John thank you.” You nodded, fingers tracing over the stunning lilac orchid hairpin. It was gorgeous. Something you knew for a fact, you didn’t have before. Your brain was swooning, butterflies almost flying out of your stomach. John Price, had given you a gift, a gift that you really liked!

Be normal, be normal, be normal. be cool, calm and collected- collectedcoolcalm!—

“Yeah I’ll wear it later.” You breath out your excitement out of your mouth but it didn’t do anything to your heart. Your eyes were still on it as you gently wrapped it back up and carefully put it in the bag. Then back at John.

There’s a small frown on his lips as he gives you a quick goodbye. Scratching his neck while you look at his back confused.

He didn’t think you liked it, at first.

But there you were, wearing the lilac orchid pin in the break room. And then the next day, along with the peal hair comb in a meeting, and then the next day, and the next— till two weeks passed.

And you were there, infront of his office, adjusting the pin ever to perfectly with one hand, another stack of files in the other. Fingers grazing over it with the widest smile he’d seen on your beautiful face. You can’t help but look at it again through the glare of the painting.

So fucking cute.

“You like your pin don’t you?” John interrupts your thoughts, scaring the living shit out you, you almost drop the files in your hands.

Like you took his old heart, and squeezed it.

“But you like it, yeah? Was a bit worried you wouldn’t like it sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You. A sweetheart. John called you— your heart leaped out.

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s so nice I haven’t been able to put it down! I mean- not that I’ve been wearin it the whole time, haha, I wouldnt— not that yours is better than the others I have… Not that it’s bad or anything! It’s pretty, it makes me feel- like- I’m very greatful, thanks again John.“ you ramble, bashing your head into a wall internally. Why the hell did you say all that?

Your cheeks flush, immediately looking elsewhere, you plop the stack of files in Johns hands. “H-have a good one John!” And you scurry off just as darling as you usually do.

A smirk grows on John’s lips, rubbing at his beard as you walked down the hall.

A damn cute bumble bee you were, even if you didn’t realize it. You were making the old guy fall on his knees for you.

John would just have to have you.

a/n: shy!reader, my cutesy rambling baby.

most recent masterlist more shy!reader

[neodazed]

enhypen -🎀- squirting for them for the first time

ot7xfem!reader - when they make you squirt for the first time

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f), cum eating, overstimulation, slight daddy kink, lmk if i missed smth

alr started writing this when I saw recent similar fics for enha but there’s like a hundred of these here so don’t think that’s an issue

my sunki fics flopped so bad i went back to writing imagines instead of my other drafts LMAO ty for more than 2k views on the last one and for 200+ followers. pls request after reader my post regarding that, i’d love to see and write ur thoughts!! have fun reading 💋 masterlist

HEESEUNG

For Heeseung it’s almost like squirting = marriage.

A new found level of possesiveness awakens in him, basically.

You’re laying flat on your back, legs spread as wide as they can go, and he is plunging three fingers inside you.

His pace is no other than harsh, not an inch of his being is trying to be gentle. To be honest, he doesn’t need to be anyway — that’s just how you like it.

Thank God you were wet, or else those ocassional spits on your clit wouldn’t be able to match the rough bones of his digits carving their well earned place in your fluttering hole. With each quick thrust, the low side of his palm bumps against your little nub, drawing a lovely whimper out of you.

He’s not leaning over your body, doesn’t press comforting kisses on your face or neck. He is sitting on his knees between your two trembling thighs, and watches your cunt gasping for his fingers hungrily.

It’s getting way too sloppy now, creating those nasty almost slurping-like sounds, and it almost makes him want to lean down and bury his mouth in there, but then again, the sight is so pretty for him.

So instead, he stares and he talks. And oh, his way of talking is dirty, all possesive. Speaking of your pussy as it was the most beautiful masterpiece hung up in his favorite museum.

Your hole clenches, tighter and more intensively than normally, and you feel a flood rushing down in your tummy, one that has you curling the tip of your toes backwards, gripping the sheets underneath you like you’re about to fell off a bridge.

You try to warn him in time, you swear. The weakest ‘Hee’ leaves your mouth, a mix of a somewhat scream and moan, and you grab his forearm, but as expected, it doesn’t make him stop, it just encourages him to increase every sensation he’s currently providing. So there’s nothing you can do when a gush of liquid spills out of you, high enough to latch onto his black fitted shirt.

His heart fucking flutters at that, pride swelling up in his chest.

‘You made that big mess for me?’

‘Only I can make you cum like that. I now that’s right.’

‘C’mon, squirt again for me. You know I’m not stopping ‘til you do.”

JAY

His head has been hitting your cervix repeatedly for some time now, his balls slapping against your ass with each stroke, shaft hitting your clit.

Absolutely no thoughts in your head, just dick dick and dick.

It’s almost like every vein was created just to brush your gummy walls with the perfect force he always settles on. He’s curved to fit right into you, and if he wasn’t, well, he carved out his place in there well enough by now.

Feeling full of him has to be the most precious feeling, talking about any of your holes. And his hands are rough, they grip and sink and have completely no restrain when it comes to your body.

It’s a release you don’t even really feel coming (maybe because he already emptied you so many times), it crashes onto you.

Your scream is one the neighbours will give dirty looks about later on, but truly, who cares in the moment? Not like he would have the strength to muffle it, or the attention, he is fixated on you.

On the way your sudden finish spurts all over his cock, his abs, his arms- he goes feral.

‘Oh my god, princess. What’d you do there?’ He laughs in amusement, his movements never stopping, just letting down from the pace.

‘You came all over Daddy’s cock? Without saying a word?’ He’s already back in full force, ignoring your whines and lightly pained whimpers, slamming into you even harder now.

‘I’m sure you can do it on command then, too. Come on, show me.’

JAKE

You already came three times.

Yet, no amount of tugging on his locks would make him lift his head up from between your shaking thighs.

See, Jake is a greedy man. Every time he gives head, he acts like a starved man who is on a strictly ‘pussy for all meals’ diet, and hasn’t eaten for weeks.

One orgasm is nothing to him. It’s like he doesn’t even notice it happened, he keeps going. Goes between munching at your folds and sucking on your clit.

Two orgasms make him hum quietly, like he’s just starting to get the taste of it.

Three? That’s a good number, but still, it’s not enough. If you managed to cum three times already, what’s stopping you from cumming one more?

That’s the logic.

And you would think the upcoming one would be just a tired suffer with minimal semen going into the mix of spit and cum, but it’s something else. He plunges his tongue deep into you, and begin to move it right there, and it almost feels like he’s flicking at your cervix.

You cry out, legs locking his head in space (not like he wasn’t glued there already). You swash right inside his open lips, on his tongue. He grips your thighs harder, and wait until you finish. When he lifts his head up, finally, it’s kinda…full of cum. Like, literally. His chin completely soaked, his nose wet, his eyelids covered too. It’s a sight for sure.

‘Baby…that was so fucking hot.’ He says in awe, blinking up at you. He’s so in love. You smile softly, though your face is going red more and more by the minute. You are still sprawled out, sticky and open, and now you feel a bit sheepish.

‘Can you clean me up, please?’ You mean with a towel. Obviously. That’s what normal people do.

But Jake’s smile turns slow. Dangerous. Still hungry.

He leans in.

You freeze.

‘Jake, wait-‘

But it’s too late. His tongue is already on your inner thigh, licking a slow stripe up to where you’re still dripping.

Then his mouth is on you again. Soft, wet kisses over the mess he made, drinking you down like it’s water after a drought.

You try to squirm away, gasping his name — but he just pins your hips down with a firm hand and grins up at you.

‘I’m just cleaning you up.” — Then, quieter — ‘Gotta take care of my girl, right?’

SUNGHOON

You were getting punished.

So how on earth was it so good?

The way he’s spanking your pussy should have made you cry a long time ago, but instead, it’s just keeps on getting…better? Sure, it hurts, how could it not? A very sensitive area, indeed, probably not made to be spanked, but…

It was the good kind of hurt. The one that kept chasing slick out of your hole after every swing on your clit. Your body is thrown between two different reactions, half squirming away, half desperately chasing the sensation.

No fingers inside, no thumb rubbing your bundle, no tongue stroking your folds — just rough, precise hits.

He is spreading you open with two fingers, but keeps them strictly there, no slipping in between. Only so that he can reach all of you, making sure it hurts enough. Enough that you realize what you have done wrong, refrain from ever doing it again. Enough so that you feel that this pussy belongs to him, and he can do whatever he wants to it.

To his surprise, it’s also enough to make you squirt.

To Fucking squirt.

One minute, he’s spanking your nasty little cunt, and you’re crying to stop, then the next, his pace has to falter, cause a flood of liquid splashes out of it.

He snorts. Not really in amusement.

‘You’re unbelievable, you know that?’ — He looks down at you with a scoff — ‘I’m trying to punish you here, and you enjoy yourself more than normally’

‘It’s just…sensitive’ You sniffle. The hurt now comes in stronger, when you are no longer getting stimulated.

Sunghoon tsk’s and pushes his dirtied digits past your tear-soaked lips. Your face crunches up from the taste, but you do your best to swallow all of it. And that fucker turns that around, too.

‘You really just slurped up all of it? Didn’t leave me anything?’

‘I-I thought-‘

‘I must take another taste, then…’

You cry out the moment his hot tongue makes contact with your red swollen clit.

SUNOO

He’s casually hovering over you, mouth on left nipple, finger rubbing your clit. The suckling and stroking movements are equally hard.

You guys’ve been at it for some time now, lazily making out, most of his energy being put into pleasuring you. You were already on the edge a couple of times but he stopped there and went back into it just to drag it out.

‘Shh, just a little more. You’re not that impatient, right?’

He earns himself an eye roll for that, but only snorts, and pushes you closer.

His bare chest presses against yours, kisses soft and deep, and it’d be romantic even, if you could forget that he’s been edging you for half an hour. He always says it’ll make your release bigger and better, but hasn’t really convinced you yet.

Until now.

Because when he finally settles on the good space, even after feeling your stomach tighten, it doesn’t take you any longer to squirt.

And, the ‘see? told you’ look on his face could not be more smug.

‘Wow. Look who was right?’

‘My new take is that I can make you squirt two times in a row. Wanna find out?’

JUNGWON

Jungwon, to put it simply, is flabbergasted when it happens.

Like, on his tongue?

Around his fingers?

Because of him?

What did he do in his past life to deserve this? Whatever it was he is one lucky mothefucker.

You couldn’t even prepare him or give him a chance to pull away (he would never), since you yourself didn’t expect it at all. The truth is, you’ve never squirted before. Orgasms with a little more force? Producing a little more cum than usual? Sure, those happened, nothing too crazy. But it certainly never splashed onto his face like a fucking cunami, Jungwon thinks.

Poor boy wants nothing but to bury himself there right away, but he's not sure if you'd want that, given that you're still shaking under him. Instead, he strokes your thighs (still around his head), and murmurs,

'That was...good, right?' He asks, voice suddenly shy like he forgot what was he doing in the first place.

'Baby...you just made me squirt into your mouth. It was more than good, trust me.' You say with a weak chuckle.

'I want to taste. Can I?' How could you even say no to that adorable pleading gaze?

'Go ahead, Wonnie. Taste how good you made me feel.'

RIKI

It was just a matter of time before your first squirt after you started having sex, you knew for sure.

Riki's ego didn't need a lift though, and since he never brought it up by himself, you just assumed he either didn't know you were capable of doing it. or he's just content with the usual five orgasms he brings you to every time you guys have sex.

He absolutely knew what he was doing to you every time, but this?

This he did not expect.

You were bouncing on his cock with your best of strength, and he was watching you with a smirk, layed back on his arms, annoying and hot as ever. He wasn't putting in too much effort, but when he did move his hips to meet your thrust, God it reached the most perfect spot without a single miss.

He made a few statements, and those were...

'Your tits are all up in my business. Just how they should be.'

'Fuck, Y/N, this pussy is squeezing me so hard. You were hungry for my cock, weren't you?'

'From this position, I'll come right onto your cervix, You're gonna be dripping so bad...'

With a rather loud cry, cum splashed out of your slick hole with a nasty sound. No thumb circling around your clit, no lips suckling on your nipples, just Riki's cock, raw and hard, all for you to fuck your little cunt on.

Of course he followed you immediatelly.

And of course, he had things to say.

'Oh. So we're squrting now?'

'Why wait a month? Were you shy to show how much you love this cock?' His finger is dipping down into your heat, bringing it to his mouth to taste.

'Riki, I'm sensi-'

'Shh. Let me see. You'll have to do it again now, anyway.'

[postgamevibes]

Will Smith x reader nurse, where he meets her on a visit to the children’s hospital and keeps going back to see her

Sorry for the late response, for some reason it didn’t appear in my inbox, but I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: Will wasn’t expecting much from the team’s hospital visit. Smile for the photos, sign a few sticks, keep it moving. What he really wasn’t expecting was you—a pediatric nurse with a quick tongue, warm heart, and a laugh that he can’t stop thinking about. One visit turns into more, and soon he’s making up excuses just to see you again.

Genre: Fluff | Soft Romance | Comfort

*********************************************************

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, the kind of sterile hum Will usually associated with away-game locker rooms or long customs lines, but today, it echoed off white hospital walls and pastel-painted murals of cartoon animals holding balloons.

A nurse led the group of the Sharks players down the hall, each with a bag of signed mini sticks and plush toys. A few staff members walked behind, snapping photos for PR. Will hung toward the back, doing his best to stay present even though his mind was still half on their last game.

He didn’t hate stuff like this, he got why it mattered. It was just awkward. He never quite knew what to say to kids he never met before. They were braver than he was, fighting harder battles with smaller bodies, and he didn’t feel like much of a hero in comparison.

Still, he smiled signed a stick, took a picture with a kid in a Mario Kart T-shirt.

And then she walked in.

You.

Scrubs in a cheerful shade of lavender, lanyard with pins from the kids, including a glittery “Cool Nurse” badge. Hair pulled back, a few strands falling near your cheek. You were cradling a clipboard in one arm and talking gently to a boy in bed who couldn’t have been older than six.

Will froze like someone had knocked the wind out of him.

You noticed the group and turned.

“Ah, the cavalry has arrived,” you said with a smile.

Your eyes landed on Will for a second longer than the rest, but maybe he imagined it.

“Which one of you is the one obsessed with Sour Patch Kids?” you asked, arms crossed.

That made Will blink. “Uh me?”

You nodded knowingly. “Mason here heard it on TikTok. He’s been talking about it all morning.”

The boy grinned shyly from the bed, holding up a small plastic bag of the candy. “I saved some.”

Will smiled and stepped forward, kneeling beside the bed. “You have excellent taste, Mason, we might be best friends now.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “That’s what he said about the cardiologist yesterday.”

The visit moved on, but Will lingered behind.

You were checking vitals, humming softly under your breath, one hand tapping against your thigh in rhythm.

He hadn’t meant to speak. He really hadn’t.

But he did.

“You’re really good at this.”

You glanced up, half-surprised he was still there. “Thanks.”

“I mean it,” he said, softer now. “They love you.”

“They’re easy to love.”

He nodded. “Still.”

You gave him a look. “You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Sour Patch.”

He laughed. “That’s going in my bio.”

A pause.

You tilted your head. “You sticking around?”

He shrugged. “Might.”

Will showed up again two weeks later.

This time, no cameras. No teammates.

Just him, standing in the pediatric hallway with a bag of Sour Patch Kids and a sheepish grin.

“I’m visiting Mason,” he said quickly when you spotted him. “Thought I’d check in.”

You narrowed your eyes in mock suspicion. “Uh huh. And I’m sure that has nothing to do with the fact that the nurses just got a fresh coffee delivery from downstairs?”

“I’m hurt.”

“You’re predictable.”

You let him follow you through rounds, only half pretending it wasn’t the highlight of your week.

One visit turned into three.

Three turned into six.

And somewhere between the giggles of young patients and the quiet comforts of evening shift check-ins, you started to look forward to the sound of his sneakers in the hallway. The way he’d lean against the counter at the nurses' station. The way he’d wait until the end of your shift to walk you to your car, even if it meant sitting in the waiting room for an hour with nothing but a hospital vending machine and Property Brothers reruns.

“Why do you keep coming back?” you asked him once, voice low.

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing.

“I like the company,” he said finally.

The seventh visit was different.

It had been a long day tough cases, short tempers, and a stubborn vending machine that ate your last five.

Will found you on your break, sitting on the floor in the staff lounge, sipping lukewarm tea with tired eyes.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just sat next to you and offered a bag of candy.

You took one.

Then another.

Then leaned your head on his shoulder.

“You ever get that thing where your heart just feels… full?, but also heavy?” you murmured.

He nodded. “All the time.”

You exhaled slowly. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Because I’m listening.”

You looked up at him.

And there it was that quiet warmth in his eyes, that safety, that steadiness.

So you kissed him.

Just once. Soft. Testing.

But when he kissed you back, you forgot the heaviness entirely.

Weeks later, after the first real date (and the second, and the third), he came to pick you up from a double shift. You were running late and looked frazzled, but he didn’t mind.

He leaned against the hood of his car, watching the automatic doors slide open.

You stepped out, hair pulled up, cheeks flushed.

He whistled. “There’s my favorite nurse.”

You groaned. “Don’t start.”

“I’m serious. I think I’m injured.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh yeah? What is it this time?”

He stepped closer, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. “Heart-related.”

You tried not to laugh. Failed. “Sounds serious.”

“Very.”

“Well, Mr. Smith,” you said, slipping your arms around his waist, “good thing I’m certified.”

He grinned. “Think I need daily monitoring.”

You kissed his jaw. “You’re lucky I make exceptions.”

[thefeverburningalive]

Spencer reid x fem reader

Frinds to lovers

I mean, he is so in love with her

𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢

spencer reid x fem! reader <3

a/n: tysm for the request babes! feel free to send in your requests i love the inspooo. i decided to use one of my favorite billie eilish songs as inspiration since it always reminds me of spender <3. i love writing fics based on songs so also feel free to request song based fics too.

genre: fluff <3

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯•✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

wake up and smell the coffee, is your cup half full or empty?

the smell of coffee hit you as soon as you walked into the break room of the bullpen. after the last case, you’d been having trouble sleeping- which is something that comes along with the grueling job. “good morning y/n, coffee?” spencer’s warm voice flooded your ears. no matter how bad the days got, spencer was the highlight of said days. over the past three months your feelings for spencer have changed. he’d been your closest friend on the team, aside from penelope, since you’d joined. but recently you’ve been wanting to be more than just friends.

when we talk, you say it softly. but i love it when you’re. awfully quiet.

“yes please, thank you spence.” you spoke just as soft back, admiring spencer as he smiled and nodded while pouring some coffee into a mug. not just any mug, but ‘your’ mug. on your first day at the bau, you’d had dropped and broken a mug- and you where so upset and embarrassed about it. the next day, spencer bought a white mug decorated with small flowers, and designated it as yours without saying so. he poured the creamer and sugar into the mug as well, knowing exactly how you liked your coffee. spencer slid the mug next to you, and you picked it up with a bright smile.

you see, the peice of paper. could be a little greater.

two hours later you, spencer, and the rest of the team where sat in the jet. “this is so funsies i never get to come on the jet!” penelope was beaming across from you. “i brought some card games cmon guys let’s play!” so you, pen, spencer and derek played the silly game she brought. as you exchange cards back and fourth and continue the game, you find yourself constantly losing. you’re not a sore loser- but sometimes being on a team full of the smartest people in virginia has its downsides. there are days where you doubt your own intelligence. after the fourth time losing you sigh in defeat as derek re-shuffles and passes out cards. you start to zone out a bit while playing, almost giving up, until you feel a hand over your wrist. the warmth of spencer’s eyes when you look up at him sends shivers down your spine. he gives you a smile before retracting his hand. as you look down, you notice he’s slipped a winning card into your own hand.

show me, what you could make her. you never know until you try it.

a pit of jealously bubbled in your stomach as you listened to derek go on about the two women who continued to flirt with spencer. “boy genius skipped out on not one pretty girls number- but two! man i’m bringing rossi to the next bar i have to interview.” the team laughed and talked while spencer sat looking somewhat uncomfortable. you hadn’t noticed your own silence until you caught spencer’s sight. his eyes looked into yours, his expression unreadable. he mouthed ‘are you okay?’ to you with a furrowed brow. deciding that saying no was unacceptable, you settled on a smile and nod combination. spencer nodded in response with his own smile, despite not fully believing your answer. “so.. why turn them down reid?” emilys question made you snap back into the conversation. “uh well.. i don’t know i guess they aren’t really my type.” for a split second you’re almost sure he looks in your direction as he says that. “or maybe he’s just not looking to be in the dating scene.” jj was the next to speak up during the discussion. spencer shrugged at her comment. “you never know.” was all he responded with.

and you don’t have to keep it quiet.

to say this case had been rough was an understatement. it was taking a tole on the team for sure, but especially you. tears flowed from your eyes as you paced back and fourth inside your hotel room, your mind running a million miles an hour. before you could think about what to do next- you trip over a pair of shoes you’d left in the middle of the room. you fell to the ground ungrateful, managing to knock a few other things over. an exhausted growl/shout escaped your lips. everything was just getting too much for you. the tears continued to fall as you just sat on the floor exasperated. about five minutes later you hear a soft knock at your door. stumbling up- you open it, finding spencer standing there in some lose grey sweat pants and a black tshirt. if your brain wasn’t short circuiting before- it definitely was now. “s-spencer? what’re you doing here..” you tried to quickly wipe your tears but it was pointless. “i heard a bang and you yell.. i just wanted to make sure you were alright.” spencer was reading you like an open book. he had a feeling this case was getting to be a lot for you. more tears welled in your eyes “im so sorry- i-i wasn’t trying to be loud i fell and then i just-“ the feeling of spencer’s arms around you cut off your sentance. he tucked you head beneath his chin, making you nuzzle into the crook of his neck. “it’s okay y/n. you don’t have to hide and be silent. i’m here for you.”

and i know it makes you nervous. but i promise you it’s worth it.

the only thing on your mind the rest of the following day was spencer. the way it felt to be in his arms, the smell of his cologne, the way his thumb traced little circles onto your back. spencer was suffocating your mind. it wasn’t uncommon for you to constantly think about spencer some days- but today was different, because for the first time spencer actually showed a sign of maybe liking you more than a friend. this wasn’t the first time you’ve tried convincing yourself he had feelings for you. but it is the first time there’s actual proof. the line between being best friends and being lovers was growing increasingly thin. as much as you want to be together you feared you were at risk for losing the most important person weapon in your life right now. he was just within your reach. but the anxiety swarmed your mind and your nerves simply wouldn’t let you. no matter if it was worth it or not.

to show em’ everything you kept inside, don’t hide. don’t hide.

“uhm, spence?” the night had been like any other night at your apartment. chips, dips, and sci fi movies that spencer loves to make you watch. as the movie progressed, spencer seemed to get closer and closer to your side by the second. by the time his thigh was up against yours underneath the thin blanket sprawled between yours and his laps. that’s what led you to begin the conversation- that and the fact that the movie had finally ended. “yes?” it was hard to focus on the task at hand when he was looking at you with this big brown eyes. he tilted his head slightly when you didn’t answer at first. “i wanted to uh- well i wanted to talk about… something serious?” you didn’t mean for it to come out as a question; but your brain was already struggling to form the sentences. “of course, is everything alright?” spencer had a tone of worry in his voice. “n-no yeah everything fine i just.. well i’ve been kinda keeping something- from you- and i uhm. i don’t think i want to hide it anymore.” at this point you were looking down at your hands, fiddling with the end of the blanket beneath you. spencer didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt your thoughts. “i’ve been too shy to say, but i..” you took a deep in-hail. “i like you spencer. in a more-than-friends type of like. a-and i don’t know how uhm- well how you feel but i couldn’t stop feeling like this i tried to hide it or stop it b-but i can’t. i feel so strongly for you and i-i just.. had to tell you. i get it if y-you don’t feel the same.. or if you want to leave .. but i hope you stay.” you felt like all the air had been stolen from your lungs. the words came so rapidly out of your mouth you didn’t even have time to properly think before you spoke- you didn’t even know there were tears in your eyes. you didn’t dare look up at spencer. you were filled with embarrassment and shame. you thought about getting up and apologizing- but before you could finish you felt his hand cup your cheek. the warmth of his hand added to the heat already in your face. his thumb wiped a tear that dared to spill from your eye. “don’t hide away.” that was all he said before his soft lips reached your own.

come out and play.

[ciderjacks]

actually tbh as I’ve aged I think maybe the weird insane abuse me and my classmates suffered in sped wasn’t funny at all and maybe I should do something about It. Like.

-forcing kids with bad grades to sit in the back silently watching as the kids with good grades got to eat food the teachers brought in. I remember I had bad grades bc I had awful ADHD and when they came in with a bunch of snacks I was really excited and went over, and my ‘teachers’ stopped me and were like “sorry, you don’t get to have any, you have below C’s in some classes. You have to sit back there.”

And you couldnt leave like it was explicitly a punishment. I have awful like genuinely debilitating misophonia and have since I can remember, and I begged to leave to the library and they legit said no, because then I wouldn’t learn why grades are important or some shit like that.

-there was one single kid being disruptive, he wouldn’t apologize so they locked the doors from the outside and said none of us could leave until he apologized. They also stood in front of the doors and physically shoved any kid trying to escape away. I also looking back think they might have physically restrained some of us.

-constant busywork as punishment if you had bad grades. Like if you had no homework but your grades were bad they just forced you to do mindless busywork and would monitor you, and one time a teacher yelled at me because I wasn’t doing my busywork and I yelled back and we got in an argument, he made me cry, and then told me I could just sit outside the classroom if I didn’t like how they did things

-iep teacher who followed me around during school once pulled me out of class and told me that I was terrible and my friend was better than me. Later told him the same thing but in reverse (so said I was better than him)

-told me I couldn’t leave the class/program/whatever until I “graduated having ADHD” (not direct quote but that was essentially what was said)

-had a teacher who would get really in this one kids face constantly and scream shit like “are you maaad Daniel? Does that make you angry? Are you turning red now? Oooh ohhhhh you’re soooo mad oooohhh” and this was in 7th grade, Daniel was 12, this guy was probably in his 40s

And that’s just the stuff I remember. Like. Like that’s actually pretty bad right? I’m just like. Bc I was talking about it earlier today irl and my professor got really upset and also said some of it sounded illegal, and I was like haha you’re not the first person to tell me that, and then I was on the way home like wait that’s crazy why the fuck were they doing all that?

[johanna-swann]

Am I the only one really pissed Tommy will probably not be in 8x18, not because of the ship, but because of the story line? I think the chances of Tommy being in season 9 are still fairly good, we might still get Bucktommy back, but it'll feel like too little too late for me because it just doesn't make sense.

They keep putting the Bucktommy plot on ice like time passes differently for them, like it doesn't matter that weeks or months pass between their interactions. "We can take care of that later, it won't turn bad in the freezer, right?"

First they didn't show us anything relevant about their relationship after 7x06. They flirted a little at the medal ceremony and had dinner in 7x10, that was it. They only really put him in one episode of 8a before the break-up and it was kinda cute, but again we didn't find out much about their relationship. We barely got the confirmation that they are indeed boyfriends and then the next episode the Bucktommy plot was suddenly over - or so we were lead to believe.

Even then Minear could've said something like: "This is going to continue to affect Buck and we will see this thread continue after the midseason hiatus." Instead we got: "Well, it isn't impossible that we'll see Tommy again, he is a character in that universe and a firefighter at that, so they could technically run into each other at work." The first one sounds like: "At least for Buck this story line isn't over, but that doesn't mean we'll see Tommy again soon." The second one sound a lot like: "The story line is pretty much over, we haven't really thought about it much."

Tommy does reappear though about 5-6 months later (in universe). And okay, Tommy initiated the break-up and probably thought Buck wouldn't want to hear from him after that, Buck likely assumed Tommy was sure about the break-up and reaching out wouldn't change anything. Also the show was on hiatus, so they get a pass for this one. But then we get confirmation that they still have feelings for each other and we get confirmation that Buck wants to reach out and apologise.

And then they put the Bucktommy plot on ice again for 3 episodes and (in universe) another month or longer go by and they don't even mention Tommy in the meantime. How does that make sense. Are we supposed to believe that Buck just forgot to reach out to Tommy? They even bothered to confirm in an interview that this doesn't happen off screen. Otherwise we could at least assume that Buck reached out, but Tommy didn't answer because he was still hurt or something like that.

Side note and this is something I noticed very early on in season 7: Either Tommy is in the episode or he ceases to exist. He is barely ever mentioned by anyone, even Buck. Bobby brings him up once in 7x09 and Buck says how he misses Tommy in the two episodes right after the break-up and that's it. There are ways to make characters appear more present than they are by having the other characters talk about them. They never did that with Tommy. Nobody except Bobby ever asks about their relationship or Tommy individually even though Eddie, Hen and Chimney are all friends with Tommy as well. It's strange.

Anyway, then Tommy does come back for the helicopter chase in 8x15, but this doesn't move the Bucktommy plot anywhere at all. They have that very short maybe flirty interaction in the helicopter which sort of indicates that they still have feelings for each other, but the show already told us as much in 8x11.

Since then we haven't seen Buck and Tommy interact and fair enough, we had a main character death. Maybe the romance plot doesn't take priority right now. But are you honestly telling me that Tommy once again came when Buck called, confirmed Buck still matters to him and then witnesses how Buck completely breaks down over Bobby's death and then Tommy just doesn't talk to Buck till September? Buck at some point will start to move on from Bobby's death, will think about the other things in his life and he doesn't check in with Tommy? Even though he's been meaning to talk to him and Tommy also lost Bobby?

Fuck still having a shot at Bucktommy canon (2.0), I want their story line well written. I want their time line to make sense. Them actually going canon again is very low on my list of priorities tbh.

[str4wb3rrysw3etheart]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write some pete x fem reader headcannons? Pre epilouge preferably

OFCC IM OBSESSED WITH THIS LITTLE MANN ughhh🩷

sfw!

slight suggestive cause it's pete (but nothing that bad cause he's still 17)

cw: Pete has bad parents

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･

•Kinda sorta only buys you gifts related to his interests so he can use them later.. but he tries! kinda.

•Pete compliments you plenty, but there ones that aren't about your body are hard to come by.. look, he's a little incel who just got game. He has so much talk, yet if you ever gave him a chance like that, he'd be shaking. It's pathetic.

•He kinda just treats you like a glorified fuck buddy. Occasionally taking you out for dinner.. but other then that, he doesn't really treat you the best, affection wise that is.

•However if anyone's mean to you? if it's one of the boys he'll beat them up. If it's someone at school? believe me they're getting a very long note with such obscure and specific threats that they tend to stop talking to you.

•he loves you in his own little fucked up away, for instance, he shows you all his interests. He doesn't tell you this part, but he hates most of the movies you watch.. shitting on them behind your back, but in front of you? he watches them with a smile on his face .. a very fake one.

•Overall, he grows up in a house with parents who don't show affection to eachother in a healthy way, so he struggles with it. But he's trying, for you.

[coca-lastic]

How would BNHA characters resolve arguments?

Part 1: Takami Keigo (Hawks)

I'm back!!!! Thanks for the support on my fics, I love youuuu!!!

As I always say, English isn't my first language, so please let me know if I have any spelling mistakes :)

Keigo works A LOT, and it's not like he really has much of a choice, he'd love to be able to sleep for a whole day, watch a few movies with you, read an entire book in a day, play a game on the hardest difficulty until he gets sick of it, or just fuck you until neither of you can take it anymore.

But, this is almost never the case, in fact, you can count on one hand the amount of times Keigo has been off work for more than 2 days, and probably 99.99% of it is because Keigo got sick, so it doesn't really count as a break or vacation.

And you always try to understand, you really do, but sometimes you feel like Keigo just puts work above you, and maybe it's your insecurities making you see something that's not true, but it still hurts when you call his number and he doesn't answer, or when you wait up late until you can't keep your eyes open anymore, only to hear Keigo arrive two hours later so tired and hurt that he's not even able to give a kiss.

The thing is, even though you understand, you're also tired of always understanding and understanding and understanding, so one day, when Keigo has the day off because his agency is celebrating an anniversary, you just explode. Because you had planned a nice time off, some decorations and freshly prepared food for your boyfriend, all of that for everything to be ruined when he received a call informing him that there was going to be a meeting with another agency that was of utmost importance.

And Keigo left, because what else can he do? Work is what he was raised and trained to do, so if they call him he's already on his way. But no you, you weren't raised or trained to handle that, so today you stayed up until Keigo arrived to have a talk with him, so you made yourself a coffee to stay awake, went to the living room cabinet, turned on the TV and waited while watching a movie.

After a few hours you heard a creak on the balcony and saw him walk through the door.

"Hi babe, what are you doing up so late?" He said as he took off his jacket and walked over to kiss you.

But no.

No.

You weren't in the mood for that.

Seeing how you took a step back Keigo tilted his head a little as he watched you in confusion. "Something's wrong love?"

"What do you think?"

You could tell the exact moment Keigo tensed up. He knew from your tone and posture that something was up. The thing is he didn't know what, and it was exactly what you were asking.

"...Did I need to get you something or something like that?" No answer. "Love, is it because of dinner yesterday? I know it wasn't my best creation but..." Still no answer, and it seemed like he was starting to get frustrated by the way he saw you. "Love..."

"Try again, since you're so important and needed by everyone, you should be able to guess what's bothering your girlfriend, right? Or maybe you know better about what worries everyone except what worries your partner" You said with a frown and a cold and hurtful tone. It was meant to make him feel bad, because you were already tired of understanding.

"Love... If it's because of work, you- well, I... you know it's not easy but-"

"Is it easier to leave me hanging every time I try to plan something for us? Wow, thanks for showing me your priorities" You said with sarcasm and a fake laugh, as you turned around and headed to the room, you realized that if you continued you would cry, because you weren't as strong as you wanted to pretend, you couldn't understand as much as you wanted to.

"Love, please" You heard him say behind you, and you could hear a bit of desperation and tiredness in his voice, and it made sense, it was the only day of vacation he had been given in months and it was ruined, he was obviously tired. And normally you would reason and hug him until he fell asleep, but this time your own pain didn't allow it.

It wasn't so much that he worked hard, you knew he did it for a good purpose and, although sometimes you didn't understand how he managed to do everything, he always made sure to keep you cared for, loved and pampered. But it hurt you that they took him away from you every time you managed to have him in your arms.

Then, you saw how the door to the room closed in front of you before you could get in thanks to one of Keigo's feathers.

"Baby, listen to me before you lock yourself in our room, please" but you didn't turn around, you didn't try to open the door either since you knew that with just a feather Keigo could defeat you if he wanted to. "I know you had plans for today and, believe me, I was also looking forward to eating your food while we watched that series and believe me, when I received that call, I was about to throw the phone out the window, but I can't. You know I can't" He said as he tried to approach you and hug you. But you took a step back, pressing yourself against the door. And what he said made sense, but you still couldn't say it. "Please..., you know I love you"

And you loved him too, a lot.

But you also loved yourself, and you understood that even though he had things to do, so did you, and yet you still put the relationship first. Always finding time to share together, always comforting him after work hours, always there.

But you were sick, hurt, and tired of the fact that while you were always there, he was there sometimes.

"Keigo, I understand that you have to work, I understand that it's important to you, I understand that you can't spend that much time with me. But I'm sure that if one damn day you left work a little earlier or assigned extra tasks to your assistants instead of doing it yourself, you could be with me. But you don't, because your heroism is worth more."

Tears were beginning to well up in your eyes, but you didn't want to let them fall. No, you wanted Keigo to see that you were steadfast, that it hurt, but you wouldn't let it break you.

"Open the door, Keigo." You looked him straight in the eyes so he could see you weren't up for games or talks.

He stared back at you for a few seconds. You could see his realization at how hurt you were, and also his regret, but that wasn't enough, not anymore.

He opened the bedroom door, letting you in. And, even though he wanted to sneak you inside, you closed the door before he could. However, his voice echoed through the door. "Love... Look, I understand if you don't want to talk right now, but... I love you, okay? I don't want you to doubt it." You heard his footsteps walking away, probably toward the guest room. You weren't going to deny that his words helped you a little, but you needed more than words this time.

And Keigo knew that. So while he slept, he started thinking about what he could do.

He didn't want to lose you. Even if you didn't realize it, you're the most important thing to him. Hell, sometimes even he's surprised that his heart can love someone so much.

Too bad neither he nor his heart know how to show it.

The next day you woke up to the smell of pancakes, which you didn't expect since Keigo was working today. So unless someone came into your house exclusively to cook (something you wouldn't really complain about), Keigo stayed home. The thought brought comfort to your heart, which had been aching all the time the day before. But it still hurt that he only did it once you exploded, and not before.

As you left the room, you started to hear Keigo's voice. He seemed to be on the phone and a little agitated. As you got closer, you could make out his words better.

"No, no, those work hours are over. I need Tuesdays off... Yeah, well, there are other heroes, boss... I don't care, I'm not going to do it."

Seeing Keigo upset wasn't common. And after hearing the word "Boss" and realizing who he was talking to, you started to get a little worried.

'He'll leave again.' 'He's going on a mission.' 'I'll be alone.'

"I'm busy right now, Boss, and I'm not going to change my mind... Yeah, yeah, I'll be there tomorrow," he continued into the phone. Then he hung up and sighed.

You didn't know what the call was about, but it obviously wasn't a very pleasant one. Normally, you'd go hug him and ask him to tell you what's going on. But not today.

You walked closer to the kitchen, where Keigo was flipping a pancake, his posture tense and his brow furrowed.

"What time are you going to work?"

Keigo turned around, surprised by your presence, and his sour demeanor changed to a...nervous one? Okay, that's unusual for him.

"Hey, Love, I- well, it's just that- No... I'm not going to work today."

Your face was completely surprised, not because of the day off, but because of his attitude. It was very rare to see Keigo so nervous and shy.

"Uh, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I... made breakfast." He turned around immediately to hide the blush on his face, finished serving breakfast, and gave it to you.

"Okay..." You said, looking at him suspiciously.

You sat down at the table without saying many words to your boyfriend. You were still upset, very upset. Breakfast wasn't going to change that.

However, you didn't know how far Keigo's repentant, desperate for forgiveness, version of himself could go.

But you were going to find out soon.

Keigo sat down across from you, still a little embarrassed and flushed, but he looked you straight in the eyes.

"Love... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not realizing how much I was hurting you, and for focusing on my duty to others and not on my duty as your partner, which, even if you don't believe it right now, is 100,000 times more important to me, and I'm going to prove it to you. I swear." He paused briefly to gather his thoughts and continued. "I...can't promise you I'll be with you 24/7, although believe me I would enjoy it so fucking much. But, I want to improve, I want to be better...for you, for you to feel comfortable and happy about...about all of this, u know? so tell me what to do and I'll do it, love, I promise I will."

You looked at him and realized his desperation.

Shit, you'd forgotten how much this man loves you.

And you wanted to never forget it again.

"Remind me that you love me, Keigo. Not just with words. Prove it."

You stood up from the table, along with your plate, and headed to the kitchen to clean it without even looking at Keigo again. This time you didn't just want words; you wanted actions. And you wanted him to figure out what to do.

Oh, if only you knew that man knows every part of you. You doubted he could get anything that would make you forgive him, but he got more than that. Keigo is observant, very observant. He knows the dress you eyed a week ago while browsing an online store; he knows the restaurant you've been wanting to visit for months; he knows what makes you happy.

And he'll use all of that to get your forgiveness.

Checklist to get my girlfriend's forgiveness:

- Take her to the restaurant she wanted to try (with a private reservation)

- Give her her favorite flowers (tulips and peonies)

- Give her the dress she wanted along with a necklace.

- Remind her that you love her, don't be stupid, Keigo.

- Take her there, she'll love it.

A few minutes later.

"Love, put on the red dress you like and dress up. I want to take you somewhere."

You were lying in bed, giving Keigo the silent treatment. But you NEVER turn down a dinner date.

So you put on a dress, but not the red one. Keigo wasn't going to tell you what to do. You put on a new black dress, only to realize that, given how good it looked on you, it was probably a gift for Keigo instead of a punishment.

And you confirmed it when you left the room and Keigo stared at you for more than the seconds considered decent.

"Is it still too soon to tell you that when you forgive me you have to wear that dress?"

Your response was only a reproachful look, to which he smiled at you with false innocence.

He approached you and carefully placed a hand on your waist, expecting you to reject him, but you didn't because his compliments always makes you SO happy

"You look beautiful, love, so fucking beautiful."

"I know."

"I love you."

"Okay."

Keigo lets his head fall forward, letting out a deep, husky laugh, his hair falling a little onto his forehead. Then he brings his face down to your cheek and places a kiss.

"After today's plans, you won't be so cold anymore."

"As far as I can see, you haven't even made me leave the house, Keigo. I'm starting to get bored."

He just laughed a little and took your hand as you left the apartment.

He decided it was best to go by car so as not to ruin your hairstyle and dress; knowing you, that would only make you feel uncomfortable in the restaurant.

The closer you got to the restaurant, the more relaxed you felt. The whole way there, Keigo made sure you felt good, occasionally kissing your hand, putting his hand on your leg, complimenting you every time you moved, and telling you he loved you.

When you arrived at the restaurant and realized where your boyfriend had taken you, you could only stand in shock. You hadn't told Keigo you wanted to come, but he'd noticed.

You looked at him with shock all over your face, to which he just smiled and winked.

While he was talking to the waiter about the reservation, you couldn't stop thinking that Keigo was paying more attention to you than you thought.

"How did you know?" You said as the waiter led you to a terrace apart from the rest.

"Please, love, you liked all his posts on Instagram, it was obvious."

"Still, I didn't think you'd noticed."

He brought your hand up to his face, leaving a small kiss, "I always notice, beautiful."

When you arrived at the table, you felt like crying. The terrace was completely decorated with lights and flowers, and a slow melody played in the background.

The waiter left, and you saw a table in the center of the terrace with two wine-colored boxes on top of it: one small, like a jewelry box, and the other medium-sized.

"Keigo... What?" You looked at him with curiosity and surprise.

He gave you that shy look from the morning again, which you were starting to like a lot. "You like it?"

"Kei... do I like it? Damn, babe, it's beautiful."

His smile grew wider and his eyes sparkled. "Do you want to open the presents?"

"Of course!"

You headed to the table to sit down and opened the first gift, the medium-sized one. Meanwhile, Keigo watched you. He wanted to see your reaction, wanted to imprint your beautiful face on his mind and never lose it.

When you opened it, you noticed it was the dress you'd been wanting for a while. And if there were any doubts that Keigo wasn't thinking about you, this gift erased them completely. Because you never asked him, you never even talked to him about it, and yet he knew.

"Keigo...how-" you looked at him, your eyes a little teary.

"I heard you talking to your friend from work about the dress. I thought maybe it was a good gift," he said, once again shyly.

"It's beautiful, Kei. Thank you, really," you said as you examined the dress. It was truly beautiful, both the dress and the gesture.

"Open the other one. You'll like it even more"

When you opened it, you confirmed that his words were true. It was a necklace with a watch pendant along with your initial. The necklace was made of gold/silver because he knew that was what looked best with your skin tone. Plus, underneath the necklace was a small piece of paper with a dedication.

"To the woman who deserves every second of my life."

"Oh my god, Kei... Did you- did you really do this for me?"

"Of course I did, love. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn't love you enough to deserve it."

"No... you didn't... God, it's beautiful, Keigo, thank you," you said sincerely, your eyes filling with more tears, but you didn't let them fall.

His gifts had been beautiful, the place too. The food arrived a few minutes later, and it was wonderful too. Even the conversation with Keigo had been comfortable, but...

"Kei, really, thank you, love. I loved all of this, but... Fuck, it's hard to explain, but it still hurts, okay? Thanks for showing me you know me, but- I... it's been months of keeping this inside, and- I can't...i'm so sorry"

Maybe if it were someone else sitting in front of you, they would have walked away, or yelled at you, or given up, but in front of you, was Keigo.

And he just smiled, a tender, understanding smile.

"I know, I know I hurt you a lot, and I understand. But the day isn't over. There's something else I'd like to show you. I know it won't solve the whole problem, but maybe it will show you that I want to."

You were really surprised there was more. But apparently, Keigo wasn't ready to give up.

"We're going to have to fly a little bit up there, do you mind?" You shook your head quickly, not caring about your hair at this point; you wanted to see how far Keigo could go.

After paying for the food, he gently took you in his arms and began to fly. He began showing you beautiful places you didn't know could be seen so well from the sky. By now, you felt like Jasmine exploring the world with Aladdin.

"Keigo, if you let me fall, I swear I'll never forgive you." He laughed loudly and held you tighter against him.

"Relax, love, we're almost there."

You saw he begin to descend, but you couldn't understand where. From what you could see, you were relatively close to the place where he grew up and trained to become a hero, which was strange since Keigo usually avoided those kinds of places.

You looked at him strangely. "Kei...where are we going?"

"Shhh, it's a surprise, don't ruin it with your questions," he said reproachfully, but with a smile on his face.

When they landed, it was somewhere near the buildings where he grew up, but it was an area completely filled with trees and flowers. He started walking, guiding you through the small forest.

"Okay...well..." Keigo suddenly started to get nervous. "I know you don't know this place, but I used to come here when I could get away from my training or when I had days off from work... I, well—maybe it sounds a little silly, but I used to come here whenever something was happening in my life, to de-stress. I—have you heard of writing down the things you think to...I don't know, de-stress or something?"

"Yeah...I've heard of it," you said, confused. You didn't know where he was going with this.

Suddenly, he stopped walking and, with the help of his hand, removed a small bush. As he removed it, you realized it opened into a covered area with a small table, which had a bouquet of your favorite flowers in the center.

"I came to this place to write about things that happened to me, usually things... well, you know my childhood wasn't the best. But when I met you, I started writing about you and how you were, the only thing I could think about." He led you closer to the table, and you noticed that from there you could see a cliff and the beautiful sunset.

Keigo extended the bouquet that had previously been on the table toward you as you moved closer to the railing that bordered the cliff.

"I brought you here because it's the place where I realized I was in love with you. It's the place where I would get away from absolutely everything and think about the person who made me and continues to make me happy."

By this moment, tears were running down your cheeks, and you couldn't believe what he was telling you.

"I'm sorry, love. You don't know how much. I'm sorry for not showing you how obsessed I am with you. I'm sorry for not giving you the time you deserve. I'm sorry for making you feel like my work matters more when I would give anything to spend my life with you."

"I know... God, I love you so much," you said, your voice breaking, your tears growing stronger.

"I love you even more. I swear I'm obsessed with you. It was in this place that I realized it, and it's in this place that I want you to realize it."

You took the flowers from his hands and held them to your chest with all the love in the world.

"I want to give you something. I want you to take it home and read it when you think you're ready to forgive me." He turned around and grabbed a wooden box hidden among the trees and the structure.

He pulled several sheets of paper out and held them out to you.

"They're from when I met you, so you can see how much I've loved you since the first second."

You looked into his eyes with wonder and love, and before you could even lock eyes, you threw yourself at him and hugged him. You needed him, you wanted him.

"Thank you, Kei, thank you."

"Thanks to you, for still being here."

You enjoyed the beautiful place until the sun set and the place, without light bulbs, began to darken.

Keigo led you to the car you 2 had left at the restaurant and then to the house.

And, even though you didn't tell him, you had already forgiven him, because he had kept his word, he had made it his goal to show you that he loves you.

And oh man, when you read those pages, you cried like a baby when you realized that the first thing he wrote about you was

"I met a girl and, God! She is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, it's incredible"

And the last thing he wrote, before you started dating, was

"If she'll let me, I want to love her every second. I want to hug her, I want to kiss her, I want to touch her. I love her, so much.

If this woman doesn't drive me crazy, I don't think any other can."