#OR“Who called me from this phone number?”

[buckyseternaldoll]

you, unblurred.

Pairing: Post-Thunderbolts!Bucky x NewAvenger!Reader

Summary: You hated him. You swore you did. Until the dick pics you’d been seeing for months turned out to belong to your mission partner—the man who barely looked at you in daylight.

Disclaimer: 18+ (mdni!), explicit smut content, mutual masturbation (via FaceTime), p in v sex (unprotected), first time sex (reader), dirty talk, breastplay (nipple sucking), wet grinding (clothed and bare), edging (reader), orgasm denial (brief), praise kink, possessive!soft!Bucky vibes, intense intimacy, post-orgasm shaking, soft aftercare cuddling

Word Count: 8.7k

You hadn’t even made it halfway through your first week and you were already public enemy number one in the eyes of Bucky Barnes.

Valentina hadn’t given you much warning. One curt message, no fanfare. Just a quick relocation order and the kind of tone that made it clear you weren’t allowed to say no. You were to report to the newly restructured Watchtower—what used to be the old Avengers Tower, now stripped of its former glory and repurposed for the next wave of heroes. Or, as the media loved to call it: The New Avengers.

But the title never sat well with you.

“New Avengers” sounded like cheap branding. A desperate repackage. Like you were standing in the shadow of gods and legends, trying on their hand-me-downs and pretending they still fit. You didn’t see yourself in that lineup. You didn’t want to. So you clung to something else.

You were Thunderbolts. Raw, messy, cobbled together by circumstance and grief, yes—but still sharp around the edges. Thunderbolts sounded tougher. Grittier. Real. You liked that.

Your first day was already a disaster.

You’d overslept after flying in from a red-eye, scrambled into your navy leggings and cropped black tank, hair still damp from a rushed shower and barely twisted into a low bun. One hand juggled your phone, the other a hot, nearly-overflowing paper cup of coffee. Wedged awkwardly under your arm? A grease-stained paper bag with a very loaded chili dog inside. Extra chili. Always extra chili.

You were running toward the elevator when the doors slid open—and you didn’t realize someone was standing inside until your boot clipped the edge of the hallway runner and you were airborne.

You collided full force with a solid chest, and everything you were holding—coffee, chili, dignity—exploded across the poor bastard who’d been unlucky enough to stand in your path.

Bucky Barnes.

Your coffee soaked the front of his dark red henley. Chili smeared across his chest. A fat drop of sauce slid down the side of his neck, and by some miracle, a single black bean clung to his collarbone like a badge of shame.

His eyes snapped to you—ice-blue and narrowing fast.

You froze. “Oh shit—I’m so sorry, I didn’t see—I’ll clean it, I swear—like, personally. Or I’ll run your errands for the week. Seven days. No questions—”

He didn’t say a word.

Just a hard exhale. A glare sharp enough to slice bone. Then he turned, dripping and silent, and walked off the elevator like he hadn’t just been assaulted by caffeine and chili grease.

You stood there in stunned horror, the doors sliding closed behind him.

By the time you finally made it up to the Watchtower’s main lounge—jittery, sweating, and still slightly smelling like cumin—most of the team had already gathered.

Yelena had taken one look at your half-spilled coffee and chili-smeared shirt and declared, “You look like chaos. I like it.”

John Walker gave you a nod and a raised brow, then returned to sulking over a protein shake.

Alexei had tried to pitch you on his “secret endurance routine” within the first five minutes.

You laughed. Politely declined.

It was messy. Loud. Barely functional. But comforting in a strange way—like finding out the group project you were forced into was at least full of people who didn’t take themselves too seriously.

Then you saw him again.

Bucky entered the lounge a few minutes later, now dressed in his black compression shirt and tactical pants—his training gear. His hair was damp, brushed back behind his ears, and his jaw looked freshly clenched. You straightened up instinctively, wiping your palms on your leggings, then took a breath and stepped toward him.

You opened your mouth to greet him, maybe even introduce yourself properly this time.

He walked past you.

Didn’t look. Didn’t stop. Just kept moving like you weren’t even there.

You heard him grunt—low, sharp, and unmistakably annoyed.

You knew it was meant for you.

A warning shot.

A sign of war.

—

It didn’t end there.

Over the next few days, Bucky made it very clear you were on his shit list. Every time he assigned training rotations, you got the worst of it. Your combat drills were brutal—sparring reps that left your ribs aching and your pride in pieces. While others got to rotate partners, you were stuck running simulations against one of the Widow bots that seemed permanently set to maximum aggression.

The gym sessions? A damn death sentence. Weighted vests. Endurance drills until your lungs felt like they were trying to claw their way out of your chest. No water breaks. No mercy.

He didn’t speak to you. Barely looked at you.

Except when he did, and it was always across the room—like he could smell your failure before he saw it. Like your presence alone was a personal offense.

You tried. You really did. But by week two, your patience ran out.

One late afternoon, you were in the pantry with Yelena, peeling open a protein bar and venting under your breath.

“He’s just—ugh, he’s a grumpy old bastard,” you muttered. “Looks like he hasn’t slept since the Cold War and acts like he’s allergic to joy. Like, take a goddamn nap in a grave already.”

Yelena snorted into her coffee, half-choking.

Unfortunately, you didn’t notice John Walker stepping in through the hallway behind you.

“You know Bucky’s just next door, yeah?” he said casually, leaning against the counter with that smirk he always wore when he was about to stir up some trouble.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, so?”

John arched a brow. “And you do know he’s enhanced.”

“So what?”

“So…” He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling. “He can hear all that shit you’re talking. Loud and clear. Pretty sure he’s listening right now.”

You froze mid-bite, mouth still half-open, stomach dropping like a stone.

Yelena widened her eyes in faux horror and whispered, “You’re so dead.”

You considered apologizing. Maybe retreating. Maybe fleeing the country.

But the truth?

You were tired of walking on eggshells. You’d tripped once. It was an accident. You hadn’t meant to spill anything on him. And if the great Sergeant Barnes wanted to crucify you over one clumsy mistake and make your life hell over a chili dog and a coffee?

Then let him.

You swallowed the bite, turned back to your protein bar, and said with zero remorse—

“Good.”

—

You didn’t stop shit-talking Bucky Barnes after that first day.

If anything, you escalated.

Not publicly—well, not all the time. But every night, without fail, you’d unload your frustrations somewhere far safer. Somewhere faceless. Somewhere private.

You had a fling.

Not a lover. Not even a real person, as far as you could prove. You’d met him long before this whole Thunderbolts mess started, back when your life was quieter, lonelier, when everything still felt like it was just slightly out of reach. You were still moving between safe houses and temp assignments then, with no anchor point but your own reflection—and a damn dating app that promised distraction if not affection.

He caught your eye immediately. Not because of the photos—there weren’t many—but the bio. Dry. Hilarious. And oddly sad in a way that curled around your ribs and settled there.

Been cold for a while. Warming up slowly. Thought maybe someone out there had the defrost button.

It made you pause. Laugh. Swipe right.

He matched with you in less than a minute.

The first message was a joke. Obscure, borderline ridiculous, laced in some cryptic code about how hard it was to feel human again in a world that never really waited for you. You responded in kind—half sarcasm, half curiosity. It spiraled from there. Inside jokes layered like bricks. Memes, strange hypotheticals, long nights of talking in half-truths and wry honesty.

And then, somewhere along the line… things turned filthy.

It wasn’t planned. It just happened. Like a switch flipped. One voice note became two. Then came the late-night confessions. The breathy admissions. The images. Not full nudes—he never sent anything that showed his face. But the way he described things? The way he talked? It made your stomach twist and your thighs squeeze together under the sheets.

His voice was low, rough in the corners, always a little tired like he’d recorded it with his head resting on a pillow. But the words were razor-sharp. Soft growls of praise. Dirty commands. Compliments that didn’t sound like he was bluffing, like he actually meant it when he called you his “good girl” or said he’d drop to his knees for you if you just asked.

And then there were the pics.

Oh, the pics.

Awkward angles, yes. But unmistakable. He was filthy thick. Curved slightly to the right. Veiny in a way that made your mouth water. Every photo was captioned with some deadpan comment that made you laugh and ache.

This angle is 90% countertop and 10% cock. Not sorry.

Too cold for dick pics but I suffer for art.

If I die of embarrassment, bury me face down so you can sit on my shame.

You’d called him the King of Come-dick (get it? Comedic Dick?), and he told you that was going in his will.

And even without a name or a face, you felt more seen in those chats than you ever had in real life. He made you laugh. He made you beg. He made you feel good.

But lately, those voice notes had taken on a different flavor.

Because now you were venting.

Every night.

After a day of getting your lungs torched by combat drills and your pride mangled by James freaking Barnes, you’d crawl into bed, roll onto your side, and let it all pour out.

Your messages to the fling started as innocent rants.

You ever met someone who just hates you on sight? Like your existence is their 13th reason?

He’s the human version of stepping barefoot on a plug. Like I’m convinced he’s been possessed by an ancient war ghost who hates fun.

I tripped once. ONCE. Now I’m stuck doing training reps that make my organs feel like they’re auditioning for Cirque du Soleil.

And your online fling—bless him—never once dismissed you. He didn’t ask too many questions. Didn’t push for context. He just listened.

Told you you were strong. That your instincts were good. That whoever was tearing you down probably didn’t deserve to know the real you. That maybe this guy—this “grumpy dickhead on permanent PMS”—just didn’t know how to handle someone like you. Someone bright. Loud. Capable. Free.

And God, those messages always left you warm. Floating. Like he saw you, even without seeing your face.

You never told him you were a Thunderbolt. Never mentioned the Watchtower. You kept it vague—just some asshole colleague with authority issues.

And he never told you where he was either.

You didn’t need names. Didn’t need faces.

It was better this way. Safer. More honest, somehow.

Besides, it wasn’t like you were in love with the guy.

It was just sex.

Just comfort.

Just a voice in the dark whispering that you were worth more than how Bucky Barnes made you feel.

And if, sometimes, that same voice made your breath hitch and your toes curl under the covers, whispering filth that left you gasping into your pillow?

Well.

That was nobody’s business but yours.

—

By now, the tension between you and Bucky Barnes had evolved into something legendary.

It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t dignified. It was a living, breathing force that stalked every shared hallway, every joint training session, every goddamn mission briefing. You didn’t speak. He didn’t speak. But somehow, every grunt, eye-roll, sigh, and clipped command felt like it echoed through the whole goddamn Watchtower.

The others noticed.

They definitely noticed.

So much so that one morning in the lounge room—barely ten minutes into your coffee—Yelena snapped.

“For fuck’s sake,” she groaned, slamming her mug down a little too hard. “Can someone ask Bob to summon the Void again? I’m serious. Trap them in it. Lock it. Throw away the key.”

Across from her, Bob nearly choked on his protein shake.

He looked up, blinking. “You want me to… what? No. Absolutely not. Do you know how hard I’ve worked to keep that thing buried?”

She narrowed her eyes. “So don’t be the Void. Be Sentry. Throw Bucky somewhere far. Like Antarctica. That should fix it.”

You were already suppressing a laugh, staring into your bowl of cereal like it had the answers to your spiritual collapse.

Bucky, of course, was seated at the end of the long couch—tablet in hand, thumbing through mission briefs with a scowl that seemed surgically attached to his face.

“I heard that, Lena,” he muttered dryly without looking up.

Then he did look up.

Right at you.

The kind of look that scraped across your skin like ice on bare flesh. Not even anger anymore. Just a quiet, simmering disdain. A full-body ugh.

He dragged his finger across the tablet, ignoring everyone else, scrolling like you weren’t worth more than a line item in his day.

You bit the inside of your cheek, hard.

It had been days since you last messaged your fling—missions had kept you busy, bruised, mentally wiped. But today? You needed a lifeline. You needed him.

You reached for your phone under the table and typed, thumbs moving fast, tension bubbling under your skin.

Shitty day at work. Missed you a little more than usual today. Hope you’re alive and not plotting your escape from Earth.

A second later, a ding echoed across the room.

You didn’t look.

But from the corner of your eye… you saw Bucky smile.

Just the ghost of it, but it was there. Quick. Sharp. Subtle enough to vanish in a blink—but unmistakable. The corners of his mouth curved, softening his jaw, lighting up something that should’ve made him look kinder.

Instead, it pissed you off.

How could someone with a smile that beautiful act like such a piece of shit?

Your phone buzzed.

Hey babe. How bad are we talking? On a scale from paper cut to arson?

You nearly melted at the sight of the message. The nickname. The teasing tone. Like your body had been waiting to exhale.

Your fingers flew, fire in your blood as you rose from your seat and power-walked out of the lounge, phone still in hand.

You headed straight for one of the smaller mission debrief rooms—locked the door behind you and threw yourself into the nearest chair like it was a confessional booth.

Same old dickhead being a dickhead again. Just needed your voice or your cock. Either one will do.

It didn’t take long for the response to ping through.

Rough day too. Holding the world together with duct tape and a smile. My shoulders might collapse from all this weight.

You snorted softly, your anger already softening into something warmer, darker, messier. Your thighs pressed together.

Your fingers danced across the screen again.

Maybe a dick pic would help redistribute the emotional labor? 😌

You hit send.

Hot tension unfurled low in your stomach. That fuzzy, heavy pulse building behind your navel. You leaned back in your chair, the silence making your heart beat louder.

A beat passed.

Then the reply:

Not now. Mid-meeting. Bad time.

You pouted, eyes narrowing slightly.

Then your screen lit up.

Image received.

You tapped it open.

It was… tight. Somewhat zoomed in, framed awkwardly from waist down—but unmistakable. The outline of his cock straining against dark, snug tactical pants. Like it was furious to be caged. The bulge was obscene. Rude. Practically throbbing through the screen.

You blinked. Sucked in a breath.

Your pulse jumped.

Mmm, excuse me, bold and nasty? In a meeting?? Someone’s got issues 🫦

No reply.

You waited, but you weren’t upset. He disappeared like this sometimes—usually when work pulled him back under. You understood it. You respected it.

So you looked at the photo again.

Zoomed in a little.

God, it looked so good.

But then… something tugged at your brain. A weird, annoying sense of déjà vu.

The pants.

The texture of the fabric. The way they clung. The slight reinforcement at the side seams. They looked… familiar.

Too familiar.

You frowned.

Hadn’t you seen these somewhere?

But no—no, that was stupid. There were probably ten thousand pairs of pants like that in the world. You were just horny and paranoid.

And horny.

Mostly horny.

You shook the thought away, closed the image, and leaned back with a dreamy sigh.

Whoever your mystery man was… he was your safe space. Your escape.

And there was no way the guy sending you filthy bulge pics from some secret meeting was the same one currently glaring at you every day like you were a plague.

Right?

—

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Valentina had to stick her designer heel right into the wound.

She called it a “strategic adjustment.”

You called it cruel and unusual punishment.

From now on, until further notice—her favorite three words—you were to be partnered with Bucky Barnes. For missions. For sparring. For everything.

Her exact phrasing?

“For God’s sake, Barnes. You’re over a hundred years old. You’ve survived wars, Hydra, cryo, and three near-apocalypses. Fix this shenanigan already. Or I swear, I’ll fix it for you—and neither of you will like my method.”

You wanted to protest.

Bucky didn’t even blink.

Just gave her that flat, dead-eyed look that said he’d rather be in a Siberian prison than listening to this briefing.

So it began.

The first few sparring sessions were nothing short of apocalyptic. Poor coordination, missed cues, accidental hits that didn’t feel that accidental. Zero trust. Zero chemistry. Just bruises, swearing, and thick silence that felt louder than gunfire.

And finally, you snapped.

You threw your gloves across the mat, stormed toward him as he stood there like a statue, and spat the words out like venom.

“What the fuck is your problem, Barnes? Can you say something for once instead of treating me like I’m radioactive?”

His gaze lifted to meet yours. Calm. Unreadable. Stormy blue with something you couldn’t quite name hiding underneath.

He let out a breath.

“This is why,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly.

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

“You’re still a kid.”

The words landed like a slap—sharp and low.

“What the fuck was that supposed to mean?” you shot back, voice rising.

He exhaled sharply, looked away like he was already done with the conversation.

“You’re not in the right headspace for this. Neither am I. Let’s call it for today. I’ll reschedule the gym session.”

He picked up his towel, unbothered, collected his things like your fury was a passing breeze. Then walked out.

Left you standing there. Burning.

You kicked the mat. “Fuck!”

It echoed. Pointless. No one heard.

Except the part of yourself you were trying desperately to ignore.

The part that kept noticing things. Soft, human things about him.

You’d been avoiding him for so long that you accidentally started watching him. Observing. Catching details you didn’t mean to.

Like the way he always knew what the team needed. Quietly. No fuss.

He gifted Bob a stack of niche self-improvement books—nothing preachy, nothing corny. Just thoughtful reads that let Bob’s mind wander somewhere better. Gave him a way out of his own head.

He remembered Yelena’s favorite protein bars. Replaced them in the kitchen when they ran out, even though no one asked.

And the chili dogs.

You didn’t eat lunch one day—too many back-to-back briefings. You hadn’t even said anything.

But there it was, sitting on your desk an hour later: a warm paper bag with a chili dog inside. Extra extra chili. No mustard.

Exactly the way you liked it.

You never told him how you liked it.

And he hated you. Didn’t he?

You laid flat on the training mat, arms spread out, chest rising and falling fast. Not from the sparring. From the confusion. The ache. The messy swirl of wanting and not wanting and wishing he’d just say what the hell he was thinking for once.

It made you miss your other one even more.

Your secret.

Your escape.

Your not-a-lover, not-a-boyfriend—your ghost between the sheets.

And it made you horny as hell.

Maybe it was the adrenaline. The sweat. The anger. Maybe it was the sound of Bucky’s voice still echoing in your ears. Maybe it was the impossible urge to burn everything down and touch yourself through the flames.

You grabbed your phone.

Your thumbs hovered for a second.

Then you typed.

Throbbing for you today. Thinking of trying something new. Facetime tonight? I want to see you. It’s time.

You stared at the message.

Then hit send.

Your heart fluttered like you just disarmed a bomb.

You’d never done it before—not live. Always voice notes. Pictures. Heavy breathing and whispered praise in the dark. But you wanted more. You needed to see him. To watch his mouth when he groaned. To show him your face when you broke.

Your phone buzzed.

One line.

Been waiting for that, babe. Can’t wait for tonight.

You closed your eyes. Smiled.

Something bloomed deep in your chest.

But then…

Bucky’s face flickered in your mind. That last glance he gave you before walking out—not cruel. Not angry.

Not… disgusted.

For the briefest second, it looked like he wanted to say something. Like he was holding back.

And that scared you more than anything.

Because what if?

What if all this time, he wasn’t just avoiding you?

What if he knew exactly what he was doing?

—

Night fell like it had been waiting all day just to wrap around you. Heavy, quiet, almost expectant. Like even the shadows knew what was about to happen.

You’d made the room exactly the way you wanted it—dim, intimate, anonymous. One small lamp by the bed, screen brightness lowered. Location off. Door locked. Twice.

He had your Apple ID now. You’d never given him your number. That felt too personal. Too dangerous. But your old burner email from when you were eight—the one that made you cringe now?

pwinceszz_n0body@yahoo.com.

Yeah. That one.

It made you feel hidden. Untouchable. Like no one could ever guess who you really were behind a name that dumb.

At exactly 9:15 p.m., your phone buzzed in your palm.

Incoming FaceTime call. From an email you’d never seen before—cryptic, strange: wolfhowling3333333333@icloud.com.

Your stomach flipped.

That was new.

You inhaled deeply, thumb hovering. Then tapped accept.

The call connected.

No faces. No hellos. Just dark screens and careful camera angles.

He had his camera angled low—blanket pooled around his hips, the lens tilted toward the rise under thin dark fabric. Boxers. Nothing else.

Yours was already aimed at your chest—lace crop top, black and barely-there, your nipples visible through the sheer. That was the rule. No real names. No faces. Just bodies and breath. Just touch without touching.

“Hey, babe.” His voice was soft tonight. Lower. Warmer. “Your room’s so dark. I can barely see anything.”

You smiled, voice light. “Same here. What are we—covert ops?”

He laughed quietly. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve done.”

There was a pause.

Heavy with something unsaid.

You reached over and adjusted your lamp just enough to cast a golden wash over your skin. Still cropped. Still framed. Just enough for him to see the swell of your chest.

On the screen, his hips shifted. The blanket moved slightly.

He let out a groan. “Fuck… you’re starting with that?”

You tilted your head, teasing. “What? You think I dressed like this for me?”

He chuckled. It sounded a little strangled.

You flipped the camera to the rear, aimed it lower—down your thighs, where the blanket still clung. Slowly, deliberately, you peeled it back. The cool air hit your bare cunt and made you flinch.

You didn’t need to look to know he was watching.

His voice thickened. “Jesus, baby… you’re unreal.”

You stayed quiet. Let him drink it in.

He shifted again. His hand slid down, over the bulge pressing hard against his boxers. You could see it straining—long, thick, clearly aching to be freed.

“You see that?” he murmured. “Already hard for you. Always.”

You moaned softly in response, your fingers teasing between your folds. Dipping slow. Making a mess of yourself just for him.

“God, yes,” you whispered. “You see this? So fucking wet. For you.”

His hand stroked himself through the fabric, slow at first. Measured. Like he was pacing it just for you.

Then—he dropped the phone.

Just for a moment. The screen tilted to black.

You heard a muffled shuffle of fabric. Movement. A grunt. The sound of him exhaling hard.

Then—

He picked the phone back up.

And there it was.

The cock you’d seen in pictures, now in motion. Hard. Heavy. Curved slightly to the right. Veins running along the shaft like paths you wanted to trace with your tongue.

You whimpered, breath catching. “God… your cock looks so fucking good.”

He wrapped his hand around it and stroked slowly, deliberately.

“Stroke it for me,” you begged, eyes fixed on the screen as your own fingers worked faster. “Let me hear you, baby.”

You turned off your camera for a second—adjusted your angle—then turned it back on. Still cropped. Still hidden. But now angled perfectly between your thighs. Slick. Open. Needy.

“See this?” you whispered. “See what you do to me?”

He moaned—deep, rough, just a little breathless.

The call dissolved into heat. Sound. Wetness. Praise. You whispered filth to him like prayer. He groaned your name like he was falling apart just for you. You were close. So close—

Until—

WEE-OO-WEE-OO. WEE-OO-WEE-OO.

The emergency siren shrieked through your phone like a gunshot.

You gasped and jolted upright—until you realized…

It wasn’t just coming from your phone.

It was echoing.

From his side too.

Same pitch. Same frequency.

Watchtower protocol.

Your heart seized.

You stared at the screen—just as he cursed under his breath.

“Shit.”

Then the screen went black.

Call ended. Gone.

Your breath caught in your throat. Your hands still between your legs. Your body raw with need.

But your brain?

Your brain was moving in slow, precise horror.

That siren wasn’t public. It wasn’t general Watchtower protocol.

It was specific.

Each mission pair had their own unique alert—encrypted, untraceable outside their shared comms. And that tone… that exact pitch sequence…

It was yours.

Yours and your assigned partner’s.

And your partner?

Was Bucky Barnes.

Your stomach clenched.

You stared down at your phone, pulse pounding. Your body was still humming from the aftershocks, but the rest of you was unraveling.

You blinked at the dark screen. Tried to breathe.

And then your mind began to pull—thread by thread—backward.

The voice. That low rasp that lived somewhere in his throat. Always a little tired. Always a little rough. You’d heard it in the sparring room. You’d heard it moaning your name in the dark.

The timing. The discipline. The almost militant sharpness of his replies. Always exactly on time. Always controlled.

And then—

The way he touched himself.

One hand.

Always the right.

Every picture. Every clip. Every motion you’d ever seen. Cock in his right hand. Phone in his left. You’d never seen anything else. Never thought to question it.

Until now.

Until you remembered exactly what his left hand was made of.

The vibranium.

Always gloved in daylight. Always held behind his back, or casually resting on his hip like it wasn’t worth using. Always there, but never used—not unless it had to be.

Your breath caught.

The pieces stopped falling.

They just… clicked.

The voice. The siren. The silence. The lack of left hand. The way he moved. The refusal to show his face. The email so purposefully anonymous. The instinct to keep himself hidden—just like you had.

You stared at your reflection in the black screen.

Still damp. Still trembling.

“…no fucking way.”

But there was no more room for doubt.

Because if your gut was right—and every part of you said it was—then the man who had just come for you in the dark…

…was the same man who couldn’t even stand to look at you in the light.

You weren’t just turned on.

You were completely, utterly fucked.

—

“Shit,” Bucky muttered, breath still ragged as he ended the call with a swipe of his thumb.

He was seconds from coming—already flushed, tense, his hand wrapped tight around his cock—when the emergency siren blasted through his phone.

His specific alert. High-pitched, short burst, then a long one.

And then… the echo.

The same damn siren, faint but unmistakable, bleeding through the other end of the call. His caller’s phone.

Your phone.

He froze.

Chest still rising and falling. Sweat on his neck. Mind racing.

It took him three full seconds to understand what it meant.

And when it hit—it hit hard.

You.

You.

The woman he was supposed to protect. Train. Lead. The one who spent every meeting glaring at him like he’d kicked your dog in a past life.

You were the one he’d been jerking off to for the last six months.

The one sending him voice notes at midnight. The one calling him baby and making him laugh without even trying. The one who knew exactly how to pull pleasure out of his body with just the sound of your breath.

He dragged a hand over his face. His heart was still pounding, but now it had nothing to do with arousal.

He leaned back in the chair, stared up at the ceiling, and cursed again under his breath.

He hadn’t known.

He swore he hadn’t known.

—Bucky’s POV—

The memory came back uninvited. That first day.

The elevator.

The hot splash of coffee—steaming, not just warm. It scalded straight through his henley, soaked the skin over his chest and shoulder. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood, just to keep from reacting.

He could’ve cursed. Could’ve snapped. But you were already panicking, mumbling rapid apologies, trying to wipe it off with your sleeve. He’d seen the horror in your eyes—wide and sincere and a little ridiculous, considering the chili dog now sliding down his shirt like it was trying to escape judgment.

So he said nothing.

Just clenched his jaw and stepped out the second those elevator doors opened, beelining to the men’s room. Cold water. Fast scrubbing. Quiet pain.

By the time he’d changed and returned to the lounge, he barely had time to scan the room before John Walker waved him over.

“Bucky,” John had said, holding out a tablet. “Priority situation in the Balkans. You’ll want eyes on this.”

Bucky was halfway across the room before he noticed you were there—standing off to the side, a coffee-stained shirt clinging to your frame, looking small but composed, like you were trying not to exist too loudly.

He hadn’t even realized he’d brushed past you until later.

To be fair, you were… small. He towered over you by nearly three and a half heads. And when his mind was in mission-mode, everything else blurred.

But from that moment on—you were cold. Icy. Guarded. Like he’d somehow declared war just by existing.

—

It wasn’t hate.

Not from his side.

Far from it.

Your file had flagged you as physically promising but slightly under-trained in stamina and real-combat conditioning. So he’d structured your simulations to push you—to meet you at the edge of your capacity.

He wasn’t trying to break you.

He was trying to build you.

And goddamn, you’d risen fast. Quicker than most.

You were smart. Sharp. Focused in a way that made him take notice. Your recovery rate improved. Your reflexes tightened. Your rhythm in combat sparring became beautiful to watch.

And yet, you never gave him anything back but sarcasm, glares, and whispered insults when you thought he wasn’t around.

He had heard you in the pantry that day—grumbling to Yelena.

“Grumpy old bastard,” you’d muttered.

He almost laughed.

Because… yeah.

He was grumpy. He was old.

He didn’t take it personally.

But it confused him.

He’d never insulted you. Never shut you down. Never raised his voice.

Even the damn chili dog—he ordered it because you skipped lunch. And because, after weeks of listening, he knew how you liked it. Extra extra chili. No mustard.

It wasn’t a peace offering. Not exactly.

He just… wanted to talk to you. Properly. Without you frowning at him like he was the plague.

But when he dropped it off at your desk, you didn’t even look up.

—

And now?

Now he couldn’t breathe.

Because the woman who shut down every attempt at conversation—the one who rolled her eyes during briefings, who sparred like she was trying to draw blood—

Was the same woman who sent him a voice note last week whispering “I wish I could ride you until we both black out.”

The same woman who tonight had parted her legs on camera, fingers working between her folds, moaning for him like it was a prayer.

And the worst part?

He liked you.

He already liked you.

Even before tonight’s accidental reveal, there was something about you that got under his skin. Your fire. Your mouth. The way you never let him off the hook.

It drove him crazy.

And now?

Now you were burned into his hands. His sheets. His bloodstream.

He groaned, dragging both hands down his face.

You were going to hate him.

You were going to find out. If you hadn’t already.

And when you did—

He wasn’t sure what would destroy him faster.

Your disgust.

Or your silence.

—POV end—

—

You got dressed fast.

That siren could’ve meant anything—civilian threat, global emergency, interdimensional chaos. You’d heard stories. One time they scrambled a team for a goose that got too close to a Stark satellite. Another time, someone joked it might be Galactus. No one laughed.

Whatever it was, you weren’t risking being the last one to show up.

You tugged on your gear, tied your hair up, and bolted for the elevator.

And then—ding.

The doors slid open.

And there he was.

Bucky.

Fully dressed in tactical gear, all buttoned up and brooding like usual. Black compression shirt, black pants, boots laced with military precision. His eyes flicked to you once—just a glance—and then back to the elevator panel. But the tension? Instant. Thick.

It had only been a few minutes since you were both naked, panting, whispering filth into your screens. You could still feel the echo of his voice in your bones. Still hear the ragged way he said “fuck, baby” like he was breaking.

You kept your eyes forward.

You meant to keep them forward.

But your gaze dipped anyway. Just for a second. A glance.

Black tactical pants.

The same ones.

The exact same fit, the same cut. The same pants from that picture. From when he said he was “in a meeting.”

Your stomach dropped.

Your eyes flicked back up—and met his.

Caught.

He saw it.

He saw you seeing it.

Your head snapped to the side, heat crawling up your neck, burning into your ears.

Shit.

The silence pressed in on all sides, humming with everything neither of you were saying.

Then you forced yourself to speak.

“Can we talk… after this? After whatever this whole thing turns out to be?”

Bucky didn’t move much. Just a slight nod, his voice low and steady.

“Sure thing.”

—

The siren turned out to be a false alarm.

A rat.

A rat had chewed through a critical cable cluster near the ops wing. Short-circuited a core and triggered multiple alerts. It was now extra crispy and mostly unrecognizable.

The debrief was short. Everyone dispersed.

You didn’t even breathe until the elevator doors closed again.

Then, his voice beside you.

“Talk in my room? Or do you want the common area?”

You looked up at him, fingers fidgeting at your side.

“Somewhere private. Your room sounds… nice.”

He nodded once. Wordless again.

You followed him down the hall. Past mission boards and storage units.

When he opened his door and let you in, you were hit with the quiet scent of aftershave and clean cotton. Dim lighting. Neat, except—

Your eyes caught it.

The bed.

Blanket slightly skewed. Pillow dented. The indent of where he’d been sitting when the call came in. Like you could trace the shape of him from the air still hanging around it.

He didn’t say anything about it. Just walked to the small kitchen island and poured a glass of water. One for you. One for him.

You sat down on the stool beside him, fingers wrapping around the glass like it could anchor you.

Silence stretched.

And then he spoke.

“So…”

You looked up. His eyes were on the counter. Then on you.

“I know you probably hate me right now. Or want to kill me. Or both. And I get it,” he said, voice low, careful. “But… I’m not gonna pretend I regret any of it. The voice notes. The pictures. That call.”

That call. The way he said it sent heat crawling up your spine.

“I never hated you,” he added, softer now. “Honestly, I never understood why you hated me.”

You blinked.

Your voice came out quieter than you expected. “What are you talking about?”

He looked at you fully now. Not like a soldier. Not like a leader. Just… Bucky.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you said, the words coming quicker now. “You assigned me harsher drills than Yelena or Ava. You didn’t look at me. You didn’t talk to me. You treated me like I was on your shit list from day one.”

It wasn’t accusation this time. Just confusion. Honest and aching.

Bucky’s lips twitched—not in amusement. Just… exasperation. At himself.

“I never meant to make you feel that way,” he said. “I thought I was doing my job. Training you based on your stats. You’re… more capable than most, and I didn’t want to hold you back. That was it. And yeah, I’m not great at small talk, but I swear—I wasn’t ignoring you.”

You stared at him. Processing.

“Even the chili dog?” you asked, a faint smile threatening.

He cracked the smallest smirk. “Extra extra chili, no mustard. You looked like you were gonna pass out from hunger. Seemed like the least I could do.”

You looked down at the counter, your fingers inching closer to his. Slowly, purposefully, you touched your fingertips to the edge of his vibranium hand.

He didn’t move.

You swallowed.

“You know, Bucky,” you said, voice quieter now. “I liked what we had. That connection, when we didn’t know who we were. When it was just… voice and breath and instinct. Felt honest in a way nothing else has.”

You met his eyes again.

“I don’t want that to be ruined because I misread you. Because I let my anger get in the way. That’s on me. And I’m sorry.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose. Not annoyed—just like he’d been holding that breath for days.

“I don’t want it to be ruined either.”

There was a pause.

You felt it first.

The shift in the air.

The hum.

Your thighs clenched, your body already remembering the sound of his voice, the weight of his moan, the way he said babe like it was a promise.

You leaned in slightly, just enough.

“In all honesty,” you murmured, “I don’t want it to stop. I don’t want us to stop. I mean, if you’re done with it, I’ll get it. But…”

You tilted your head, your voice a little more playful now.

“I’ve never liked a cock this much in my life. And that cock happened to be yours.”

That did it.

Bucky froze. Blinked. Then his ears went red—just a little. His jaw tightened, but not with anger.

The tension snapped.

And the room started heating up again.

Fast.

—

Your mind could barely register what had happened.

One second, you were sitting on a stool at his kitchen island—nervous fingers tracing your water glass, heart beating louder than the silence.

The next?

You were in his arms.

Your legs wrapped around his waist. Your back against the wall. His mouth on yours—crashing, pulling, devouring.

It was messy. A little rushed. Reverent in its desperation.

Like something ancient had finally been set into motion.

Like this wasn’t just inevitable—it was fated.

You clung to him, hands clutching the collar of his shirt, your mouth parting under his as he kissed you harder, deeper. Tongue slipping past your lips like he already knew what you tasted like.

He walked you backward, blindly, the metal plates of his vibranium arm pressed firm against your thigh. You barely noticed the shift until he sat down at the edge of his bed, dragging you down with him, your thighs straddling his lap like you’d always belonged there.

The kiss never broke.

Only deepened.

Your fingers dove into his hair, tugging hard at the roots, and he groaned into your mouth. His hands were everywhere—the metal one gripping your thigh tight, anchoring you to him, while the warm flesh one came up to cradle your jaw.

His thumb stroked slow, soothing circles into your cheek, a contrast to the way his mouth devoured you.

Then his hand slid lower.

Over your neck.

Down to your chest.

And then—he cupped your breast.

You gasped into the kiss. His thumb brushed over the peak through your shirt. He pulled back just slightly, breath ragged, eyes blown black with need.

“Fuck, doll…” he rasped. “You’re so soft.”

His palm squeezed gently, reverently, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

“No bra?” he asked, voice hoarse, lips still grazing yours.

“Non-padded,” you whispered, your fingers finding his vibranium wrist and guiding it higher, sliding it over your other breast.

“Jesus,” he muttered, gripping it with care, the cool metal pressing through your shirt as he kneaded both like they were a goddamn miracle.

You reached down, starting to unbutton your shirt from the bottom.

But he stopped you.

His hand caught yours gently. “Lemme,” he breathed, already slipping the buttons open with a surprising ease, one by one, baring more of your skin with each.

When he pushed the fabric aside and saw the bra—thin, delicate, your nipples barely hidden—he groaned.

“Goddamn,” he whispered. “Been dreaming about this… for way too long.”

He reached around you, unhooking your bra with a flick of his fingers.

And when they spilled free?

He froze for half a second. Jaw tight. Throat flexing.

“Fuck me…” he muttered, his hands sliding back up to cup you properly now—skin to skin.

You were already grinding against him. Slow, controlled, your clothed pussy pressing against the thick ridge in his pants.

He let out a low sound. A growl.

Then dipped his head.

And devoured you.

His mouth latched onto one nipple, tongue swirling, lips sucking hard enough to make you arch into him. His metal hand squeezed the other breast, thumb flicking the peak in lazy circles.

You moaned, loud, fingers gripping his shoulders, nails dragging along the fabric of his shirt.

Every flick of his tongue sent electricity down your spine. Your panties were already soaked. The pressure in your core was unbearable. The need clawing at you from the inside out.

“Bucky—fuck—” you gasped, as he moved to your other nipple, worshipping it with the same urgency, same hunger.

He moaned in response, mouth full, pulling back only to whisper, “You sound even better like this. In real life. On top of me. Falling apart.”

You whimpered.

Because it was too good.

Too perfect.

You’d never had sex—not really. The only thing that ever “took” your virginity was a purple dildo named Tomdildody that lived in a shoebox under your bed.

But this?

This was everything Tomdildody could never be.

This was hot breath and strong hands and the delicious stretch of a man who wanted all of you. Not just your body—but the sounds you made. The way you shivered. The way you whispered his name like it was your final prayer.

Your thighs clenched tighter around him, your hips rolling now, slow but shameless, as his tongue dragged one last, greedy circle around your nipple before he looked up at you.

He was wrecked. Eyes dark. Lips slick. His hands still full of you.

You were already shaking.

And it was only the beginning.

—

You slid off his lap without a word.

Your body moved on instinct now—too hot, too full, too overwhelmed to think. You stood at the edge of the bed and peeled off your pants, one leg at a time, your soaked panties clinging to your folds before you yanked them down and tossed them aside.

Bucky followed your lead, rising from the bed like a force of gravity had pulled him up behind you. He undid his belt with one sharp pull, shoved his tactical pants down, and yanked off his boxers.

You froze for a beat.

They were the exact same ones from the FaceTime. Black. Faintly stretched at the waistband. Familiar in a way that made your stomach twist and your pussy clench with anticipation.

He sat back down—legs spread, cock heavy and flushed between them. Thick. Glistening. Leaking at the tip like he’d been waiting hours for this.

You climbed into his lap again, bare skin on bare skin now, your knees pressing into the mattress as you straddled him. You sank down just enough for your soaked cunt to drag along the length of him, slow and hungry.

Wet, filthy squelches echoed in the quiet room. You both moaned—loud, ragged, desperate.

Your forehead dropped to his shoulder.

“Let me feel you, Bucky,” you begged, your voice shaking. “I need it. I need you. My pussy wants you so fucking bad…”

You rolled your hips against him again, your slick coating him, teasing him. Your walls clenched at nothing—frantic for him, aching to be filled.

His breath stuttered. Then he growled.

“Fuck, baby…”

He gripped your thighs—metal on one side, warm skin on the other—and lifted you just slightly like you weighed nothing. Then with one hand, he angled his cock and pressed the tip against your entrance.

And when he lowered you down?

Plop.

His cock slid in with ease—your body parting like it had been made to take him. Welcoming. Greedy. The stretch made your mouth fall open. He was thick, curved just right, sliding into you like a prayer answered.

Both of you moaned—loud.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, clutching him. His hands stayed firm on your hips, anchoring you, grounding you.

“Jesus,” Bucky whispered, voice wrecked. “This feels so… unreal.”

He pulled out slightly, then slid back in with a guttural groan. “You feel like heaven, sweetheart. Fuck.”

You barely managed a sound—just a gasp, eyes fluttering shut as your walls clenched around him involuntarily.

“God, your pussy feels so good. So fucking good,” he murmured, his forehead dropping to your chest as he rolled his hips into you. “I wanna live here.”

You let out a sob of pleasure.

Because this—this was bliss. The kind of sex that made you forget time, space, rules. The kind that made your thighs shake and your stomach tighten and your soul hum.

You bounced on his lap in slow, messy thrusts. He met every movement with a snap of his hips, driving deeper each time. His cock rubbed every right place inside you, that slight curve hitting your sweetest spot again and again, forcing sounds out of you that you didn’t know you were capable of.

“Fuckfuckfuck—Bucky—oh my god—” you cried out, hands gripping the back of his neck, pulling him close like he could stop your body from combusting.

He moaned your name.

Over and over.

Like he was tasting it. Claiming it. Like it lived in his blood.

“Say it again,” you breathed, dizzy from the rhythm. “Say my name.”

He thrust up into you with purpose—sharp, needy—and whispered it like it was holy.

“Baby…” he gasped, voice shattering at the edges. “God, you feel so fucking good—fuck, I’m not gonna last.”

And then he said it—your name.

Low. Rough. Worshipful.

Like it wasn’t just something to call you, but something etched into him. Something his. He kept saying it, over and over, like it grounded him. Like it was the only thing he could hold onto as he drowned in the feel of you.

You were unraveling.

Clit grinding into the base of his cock with every drop of your hips. Slick running down his thighs. Your body clenching tighter around him with every thrust.

You didn’t care who heard.

You didn’t care who knew.

Because this was the best thing you’d ever done.

The most right thing you’d ever felt.

You were full of him. Wrapped around him. Buried in him. And as your orgasm started to crash through your belly in pulsing, blinding waves—

You knew this was more than just sex.

This was the beginning of everything.

—

You moaned into Bucky’s ear, breath hitching, hands clawing into his back.

“Baby, I’m so fucking close—harder, baby—don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

God, he didn’t.

His grip tightened on your hips, the vibranium fingers splayed with reverent strength, anchoring you to him as he bucked up harder, faster, deeper. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room—slaps, gasps, choked curses. Heat built between your bodies like friction could burn through time.

And then—

It hit.

Your orgasm shattered through you like something sacred. A wave that cracked your spine and left your mouth falling open in a silent scream. Your body trembled, clenching around him, pulling him deeper even as your climax dragged you under.

Bucky groaned into your shoulder, one final thrust before he pulled out, gasping through his teeth as he spilled across your belly, thick ropes hitting your skin, streaking your thighs. You could feel his chest rising and falling under you, faster than usual. Ragged.

And still—you collapsed against him. Boneless. Wrecked.

He caught you instantly. Wrapped both arms around your waist and held you close like you were something he’d been fighting to protect this whole time. His breathing slowed quickly—thanks to that goddamn serum—but you could feel something different in him. Something deeper than just release.

It wasn’t just sex for him.

It hadn’t been for you either.

You stayed like that for a long while—just breathing, just tangled. Your face buried in his neck, skin warm and slick with sweat and something else you didn’t have the language for yet. Something like peace.

Eventually, your arms slid up to hook around his shoulders, and you lifted your head—only just—to find his eyes. Those steel-blue eyes that always looked like they’d seen too much. But now?

Now they were soft. Glowing. Staring at you like you were some kind of beginning.

“That was…” you started, voice raw, shaky with the aftermath.

You paused.

Then you smiled, just a little.

“That was my first time.”

Bucky blinked. Like he hadn’t heard you right. Like the Earth had tilted sideways under him.

You touched his cheek, thumbing at the stubble there.

“And it was the best,” you whispered.

His throat bobbed. He didn’t say anything right away. Just looked at you, as if the words would never be enough. But you could feel it in his hands—the way he held you tighter. How he kissed your forehead, slow and reverent. Like you’d given him more than just your body.

You let him pull you under the blanket with him. Still bare. Still warm.

You curled into his chest, his arm wrapped snug around your back, your leg draped over his. One of his fingers traced circles into your spine, and he whispered things into your hair you couldn’t quite make out—murmured words like baby and you feel like heaven and can’t believe it was you.

And for once, there were no missions. No sirens. No grudge hanging heavy in the air.

Just the quiet weight of new beginnings.

You closed your eyes against his collarbone, and for the first time since joining this chaotic team, you let yourself rest.

Where it was safe.

Where it was warm.

Where he was.

[onetwistedmiracle]

Um, yes. Parents allowed their kids to roam freely in the 70's and 80's.

I'm a GenXer born in 1968. I had only one sibling and he is profoundly disabled with autism (basically non-verbal, has lived in a group home since he was 18) so he had a nanny starting when I was about 13 and after that I was more supervised than most of my peers. Nonetheless, ages 7 through 12 I could leave my home in the morning on a day when there was no school and not return until dinner. I had a watch from a very young age.

My parents told me not to leave the island (small residential island near Savannah, GA) and I obeyed them, but if I had disobeyed they wouldn't have known unless something had happened to me. They may or may not have had phone numbers for most of the houses I was likely to walk or bike to, but those were landlines, obviously, and only got answered when both possible and convenient.

These clips on youtube? Are not fake.

As I once said to a snarly Boomer when my own kids were still fairly small (I have 3 GenZ kids, now all in their 20s): "Nancy, when you were raising children, if something happened people would cry with you and bring you a casserole. Now if something happens, Mommy goes to jail."

Times have CHANGED.

And as @lightandwinged brings up, it is hardly true that children didn't get hurt back then. I was once sexually assaulted while walking home. A friend's little brother touched a spinning ... machine (I wish I could tell you what it was) installed in his backyard and lost the tips of three fingers. I have two friends my own age who grew up elsewhere in the USA who were both, separately, snatched up by a stranger and sexually assaulted.

I was myself once walking home (different story from the first sexual assault, sigh) and realized I was being followed by a car. I went to the first friend's house I could and called my mother to ask her to pick me up so I wouldn't have to risk whatever that driver might have had in mind. I felt lucky she was home to answer the phone.

Younger people will probably have difficulty believing this, but my mother refused to drive less than a mile to come get me, though I explained about the suspicious car. She told me I was making up a story so I wouldn't have to walk home. She called me lazy. She was not abusive. She was generally a good mother. But she was quite sure, on that occasion, that it was infinitely more likely that I was a lazy asshole than a child in any danger from a suspicious stranger.

Luckily my friends' parents were willing to let me hang out for a while, and by the time I felt safe to leave and try walking home again, the car was gone.

So it isn't that kids never got hurt back then. It isn't that kids never got deliberately targeted by bad people and therefore hurt, either. It's just that it was assumed "normal" and "ordinary" and even "correct" that children were given a great deal more freedom and autonomy.

I think it may well be because children are considered more "valuable" now, but in the way of gold or diamonds, unfortunately. Children are a valuable commodity. A valuable product. Not really so much in the way of "all human life is precious" and definitely not in the way of "every child needs every possible opportunity to grow into the most amazing adult they have the potential to become." If it were one of those we'd find ways to balance this equation. Because children do benefit from freedom and the ability to take some risks. They benefit quite a lot.

This is a legitimate and damaging cultural shift for all involved parties and it needs to be addressed.

[youngheejay]

Burden of the Vow

Jay x fem!reader [married] Synopsis: Every marriage has its ups and downs. But will they be able to protect their marriage from this burden?

Contains: heavy angst (beware), happy ending, smut, fluff

It all happened so quickly.

It sounds so cliche but that’s how it was.

Quickly, in a blink of an eye.

It could’ve been prevented. Of course. You should’ve been more careful.

“Mrs. Park?”

Your vision focused on your doctor.

“I asked you if you know when your husband is coming.”

“I-“ your voice cracked, the lump in your throat was too big, you weren’t able to speak. You just shook your head.

“I’m going to ask you one more time.” She looked at you with soft eyes as she empathetically rubbed your arm, “are you sure you want to wait for your husband?”

You nodded.

“And you’re aware that waiting will risk the chance of complications? The longer we wait the higher the chance that you’ll get an infection. It can cause serious complications and can even lead to your death.”

You nodded again.

The doctor sighed.

“I will have to ask you to sign this paper. That you’re agreeing to the risks and are willingly waiting.”

You didn’t even read the paper that you signed. You didn’t notice when the doctor left the room. You just stared at the clock.

10:42 am.

It happened at 9:26 am. One hour and 16 minutes had passed.

So much had happened.

“Miss…” Heiran, the lifelong housekeeper who Jay grew up with—or who raised Jay, as he would say—entered the room.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t reach him.” She said timidly, as if she was feeling guilty.

You just nodded. He always muted his phone when he’s in important meetings. And the meeting today was the most important one in his life. Of course you had to ruin it for him.

“Sunghoon,” you rasped weakly. But then you quickly shook your head. “No. We can just wait. The meeting is too important,” you whispered faintly.

Heiran furrowed her wrinkly eyebrows, “Ma’am.” But you just shook your head and turned in the bed, your back facing her and the door where she was standing at.

Heiran left the room with a heavy heart, with shaky hands she searched for Sunghoon’s number. Hopefully he’ll pick up the phone.

The bell ringed but after a while it reached the mailbox. She tried again. Again the mailbox. Then again. Again, mailbox.

She sat on the chair as she held her phone tightly in her hands.

“What happened?” Her husband asked panicked, panting from old age as he sat beside her.

“Honey!” She cried as she threw herself on her husband. Her husband consoled her, “shh… everything’s alright…”

“Everything happened so quickly.” She hiccuped, “it’s my fault. She even told me she was feeling off yesterday night. I told her she’s worrying too much.” Her shoulders shook in her husband’s embrace.

“It’s okey… it’s okey… it’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault,” his raspy voice soothed her.

Suddenly, the phone on her lap began to vibrate. She quickly looked at the caller—Sunghoon.

“Do you want me to…?” Her husband offered. But she shook her head, she needed to be brave. For Jay. For you.

“Ma?” Sunghoon spoke as soon as she took the call. “Is everything alright? Why did you call me so many times?” Worry already laced in his voice even though he didn’t know anything yet.

The only thing he could hear was a hiccup through the phone.

“Sunghoon- Sunghoon-ie” she sobbed.

“Ma? What’s wrong? Is everything alright?? Why are you crying? Are you hurt?” His panicked voice echoed in her ear. She shook her head. “No.” She sobbed.

“What’s wrong?” He repeated desperately, his heart hurting hearing the woman who raised him cry.

“Y/n- y/n, she-“ she couldn’t go on as a heartbreaking wail escaped her throat.

“What’s with y/n? Is she hurt? Ma, please.” He begged her to tell her what was wrong.

“Y/n- she- her baby-“ she sobbed, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Her baby?? Is she okey? Is she giving birth?” He was too clueless to think about anything negative.

Heiran always loved Sunghoon’s innocence and cluelessness. But in that moment she wished he would’ve understood without her pronouncing it.

“No, Sunghoonie-“ she hiccuped, “her baby- her baby died.”

He fell back on the chair he was previously sitting on. He whispered a small, “what?”

She wailed loudly.

His phone slipped onto the table with a loud thud.

He messily grabbed his head, his heart clenching in pain, “what?” he repeated.

“What happened?” He asked in disbelief as he clicked on the loudspeaker with a shaky hand.

“Her- her placenta partially separated from her uterus. It happened not even two hours ago when she said she was in- p-pain. When we arrived at the hospital the doctor announced the baby’s death.”

Sunghoon closed his eyes painfully. He didn’t want to imagine what you’re going through right now.

“I- I can’t reach Jay. Sunghoonie- please tell Jay. You have to tell him. Before his family tells him.” He immediately understood what she meant.

“Do they already know?”

“No- I’ve been wanting to tell him first. But he’s not picking up his phone.”

“Okey.” He nodded, “I know where he is.” He looked at his watch briefly. “His meeting is here, in the same hotel where we’re staying, Ma.” He hurried to the hotel door.

“Tell him quickly. They will find out and if they find out-“

“I know, Ma.”

“She’s- she’s- y/n- she is in pain. They gave her medicine but she’s- she’s in a shocked state. She needs Jay. You need to come quickly. She’s waiting for him,“ she hiccuped.

“Okey. We’ll come quickly.” His voice cracked but he didn’t have any time. He needed to hurry up.

Hastily, he went to the elevator of the 5-star hotel. Where was his meeting again?

He rushed to press the button, hoping he remembered it correctly.

When he stepped outside the elevator he was met with several businessmen. His meeting had ended. Sunghoon pushed past the people and found the meeting room.

There he was. Politely shaking hands with a man and laughing at his joke.

He doesn’t know it yet.

“Jongseong,” he called for him. Jay raised his eyebrows when he heard his name, turning his head to Sunghoon. His face twisted in confusion, his eyebrows furrowed, expressing: what the hell are you doing here? I’m busy, bro.

But when Sunghoon shook his head, standing with a distant away, eyes shaky, Jay had a bad feeling. He bid his farewell to his new business partner, excusing himself. The meeting room now left empty, except for the two friends.

“What are you doing here, Hoon? I’m busy. Don’t you have your online meeting-?” Jay began as soon as he reached Sunghoon’s earshot.

Sunghoon cut him off, “did you check your phone?”

“Not yet, why are you-“

“Jay.” Sunghoon cut him off yet again.

He looked at him with pity in his eyes. How do I tell him?

Jay furrowed his eyebrows, sensing Sunghoon’s seriousness.

“What’s wrong?” He asked cautiously.

When Sunghoon’s eyes filled with tears Jay quickly realised there must be something wrong. His mind played different scenarios.

He shook his head in denial, “is it the baby?”

When Sunghoon didn’t answer him, his tears now pouring down his face, Jay somehow understood.

It felt as if the floor began to shake. The air was suctioned out from his lungs. He collapsed on the floor, kneeling as his breath cut short. Sunghoon quickly went to him, holding him in a tight embrace. Jay’s shoulders began to shake, “tell me I’m wrong, Sunghoon.” His voice shaky.

Sunghoon shook his head, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His tears fell on Jay’s shoulder.

Jay cried out loud. Sunghoon had never heard him like this before. His wails were ripping his heart apart.

Then everything went on in a blur.

“No. No. No.” he shook his head in denial, his hands ripped at his hair, tears falling on the ground.

“We have to go to the airport,” Sunghoon told him through tears. Jay continued to cry, his head continued to shake.

“Jay.” Sunghoon called him as sternly as possible. But it was just a weak attempt.

“You have to go to y/n now. Alright? She’s waiting for you.” He gripped his shoulder but he wasn’t listening. Sunghoon stood up from the ground, grabbing his friend’s arm, “come on, Jay. We can’t lose time.” He tried to sound stern. He tried to be strong for his friend. But his own tears continued to pour down his face.

He held onto him with a firm grip but Jay weakly shook his head. “No, no, no,” he sobbed. He didn’t have the strength.

“My baby…” he whimpered.

And that’s when Sunghoon lost it. Jay sobbed and wailed as he held onto Sunghoon’s arms, shaking his head over and over again.

“No, no, no. My baby,” he repeated, his chests heaving with every breath. The sound of his wails echoed through the room, raw and ragged.

Sunghoon patted his back, his own tears never stopping, “we have to go home now, okey?” He wiped his face as he tried his best to be strong for Jay.

The aching pain in your heart woke you up from your dream. Your closed eyes filled with tears. A single teardrop rolled down your temple, landing on your husband’s arm.

You slowly opened your eyes. The nightmare felt so real. You let out a small whimper. The tightness in your throat made it throb painfully.

Jay stirred slightly in his sleep, his breath heavy and deep against the back of your head. More droplets of tears wetted his arm underneath your head—a makeshift pillow ever since your usual pillow became uncomfortable and no other were suitable, except for his arm for some unexplainable reason.

You quickly put your hand on your swollen belly, accidentally grazing Jay’s other arm which was loosely wrapped around your hip, his hand dangling over your pregnant belly.

Your heart raced as you waited. Waited for any movements, any sign of your baby being alive. No, it can’t be. No. Your body began to shake. My baby. Jay’s arm was now completely wet with your tears.

Then. Before your breathing could get out of control, you felt a faint push against your palm, which was right under Jay’s loose hand. It was so light, any other person would’ve missed it. Except for a concerned mother.

The baby kicked only once and so faintly, as if to say: “Mommy don’t worry, I’m okey.”

You closed your eyes, relief washing over your whole body.

You rubbed the spot on your round stomach, whispered softly yet still shaken from the nightmare, “it’s okey, baby. Mommy just had a dream. Go back to sleep.”

You closed your eyes, not to sleep but to calm your nerves and racing heart down.

After a few moments, you couldn’t help but cry again. The nightmare had scared you so much. You tried to not make any noises, your hand clasped your mouth as your shoulders began to shake lightly against your husband’s chest.

The night went on and the only thing that filled the dark room were your faint whimpers alongside Jay’s soft snores.

You turned around in your husband’s embrace, the pain too unbearable. You needed his comfort right now.

“Jjongie,” you croaked in a whisper. When he didn’t react, you put your head closer to him, cheek pressing against his naked chest as you listened to his rhythmic heartbeat. “Jay,” you repeated desperately. His eyes fluttered opened, “babe?” he rasped tiredly.

That was all it took for you to sob loudly.

His eyebrows furrowed, arms tightened around you immediately in a protective manner. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t register what was going on, his brain fogged with sleep. The only thing that he noticed was your shaking figure.

Your hand clutched onto his bare chest—he always had the habit of sleeping in boxers only—nails digging into it as you continued to cry. “Babe, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Is the baby hurting you?” He bombarded you with questions, his concern grew bigger and bigger. He tried to look at your face but you only buried your face into his chest in response, shaking your head. His hands glided over your body, looking for any injuries, caressing your stomach. When he couldn’t find anything he grasped your cheek and forced you to look at him. “Baby, why are you crying?” His eyes wide, worried.

“Is it the baby?”

You shook your head, your cries didn’t seem to stop. Jay pulled you into his chest, hand caressing your head as he tried to calm you down, “shh…” he hushed quietly, “I’m here. I’m here. Whatever it is,” he kissed your forehead gently, “I’m here.”

“It’s okey… I’m here, baby…” he patted your back, his heart clenching, wondering what made his wife so sad. When you finally calmed down, he tried again: “what made my poor wife cry so much?” He cooed softly. You hiccuped, pouting: “I- I had a dream.” Your voice was raspy, barely above a whisper. He hummed, his hand now holding your cheek to wipe away the tears. “Aww… my baby had a nightmare? Is that it?” He cooed, you nodded in reply. “What did you dream, darling?”

You looked up to him, misty eyes shaking as your lips turned downwards. He nodded, encouraging you to speak further.

“I- I dreamed that the baby died.” You bursted in tears as you hid your face in his neck again.

His face fell. He was lost at words, his own heart sank at the mere thought. The crease between his eyes deepened as he tried to hush you once more, now unsure himself.

“Love…”

“I-“ his voice cracked. His eyes blinked rapidly to suppress his tears. You couldn’t see him cry, he knew you would get more upset if you saw him cry. “It’s okey. It was just a dream,” he tried anew.

“But it felt so real,” you sniffled, “in the- in the dream you were somewhere else. And the baby died while you were away. In my belly. I was all alone. I can’t remember more but it felt so real, Jay.”

“Shh… it’s okey baby,” he rocked you in his arms as you shook in his embrace. “Baby, look at me,” he spoke softly, “hm?” He murmured softly.

With red puffed eyes you peeked at him. He kissed your reddish nose, his hand clasped yours which had been digging into his skin. He cautiously put your hand on his cheek, firmly holding onto it. The soothing tone of his voice echoed through the nightlife: “Tell me my love: am I here with you?” You bit your lip as you nodded apprehensively.

He put your hand on your baby bump, “is the baby here with us—with you?” You nodded again, this time firmly and swiftly. As if any other option would not be acceptable.

“If I’m here, and the baby’s here, then what do you have to worry about?” He kissed your forehead tenderly, your eyes closing automatically as his kiss melted the tension and worries away in you. “Nothing. Alright?”

“Okey?” He rubbed your baby belly to calm you down. And maybe to check for himself that the baby was fine.

“The baby is fine.” He murmured against your forehead, “right?” his voice small, you didn’t catch his uncertain undertone. You nodded your head softly, “the baby talked to me.”

“Yeah? What did he say?” He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“He kicked me and told me he was fine, that I shouldn’t worry.” A soft breath escaped Jay’s lips as relief washed over him. He laughed softly, “see? Even the baby thinks you’re worrying too much.”

You smiled softly, now a little shy, “yeah… maybe I do.”

“But that’s what good mommas do, right?” He pressed a kiss to your temple, your heart fluttered at his compliment. “Mhm,” you hummed. He is right, I’m gonna be a good mommy. “And good daddies take care of worried mommies,” you whispered lovingly, kissing his chest. He pulled you closer, a faint smile spread across his face.

Suddenly he moved down to meet your stomach. Your top had already been ridden up, and he pushed it higher to reveal your swollen belly completely.

“Hi, baby.” He whispered softly against it, his hand caressing it in soft motions, “mommy is a little scaredy-cat, isn’t she?” You slapped his shoulder, “hey!” You looked at him with an angry frown. He laughed teasingly, “but it’s okey. That’s why she has me. I protect her from everything that she’s afraid of.” He kissed your stomach, “and when you grow up into a strong healthy man it will also be your responsibility to take care of your mommy, alright?” He waited a few seconds as if he waited for a response.

“Na, na, na, young man. Do not argue with me.” He spoke sternly. You laughed out loud, “are you scolding our unborn child?” His eyes glistened as a goofy grin spread across his face, “gotta teach them young who’s the boss.”

He turned his attention to your baby again. “Hey… why are you always so quiet when I’m the one talking to you...?” He pouted softly. “You always talk to mommy but not with daddy.” He rubbed his nose underneath your bellybutton. “Maybe because I don’t scold him when he didn’t do anything wrong?” You ruffled his hair.

“I’m sorry baby. Daddy didn’t mean it like that.” He pushed the bridge of his nose into your stomach, “hm? I will give you all the toys in the world but don’t be angry with me. Please?”

The baby kicked right at his nose. Hard. “Ouch!” He hissed as he held onto his nose, “he kicked me!”

“Yeah I felt that too,” you groaned at the pain, “he never kicked this hard before.”

He looked at your belly with a fake frown, “Now your appa is real mad. Go to your room!”

Your laughter echoed through the bedroom. “I always wanted to say that,” he grinned at you sheepishly. He peppered your stomach with tiny kisses.

He then sighed softly as he snuggled with your belly: “gosh, I can’t wait until he’s here.”

Enjoying the moment and cuddling closer, his eyes fluttered shut.

A voice pulled Jay out of his thoughts. He snapped his eyes open. He had been drifting through a memory.

“Jay…” Sunghoon began cautiously as they were sitting at the gate, waiting for their departure. Sunghoon just got off the phone with Heiran, his face expressed more worry.

“Heiran said… y/n will have to deliver the baby naturally…”

“what?”

“The doctors said that’s the normal procedure when- when you’re in a situation like that.”

Jay rubbed his face, “how is that even possible when she’s not even going into labour?”

“They will give her a medicine to induce the labour…” Jay nodded, his head understood but his heart felt heavy.

“Heiran said she’s refusing to do it until you are there. The doctors said she’s- she’s risking a serious infection and it could cause serious complications. The longer she waits the more likely complications will occur and will cause serious damage. She-“ he pause for a moment, “she could die but she’s stubborn. She wants to wait for you.”

Jay’s heart hurt. He couldn’t imagine it.

“You should call her. Tell her she should do it without you because,” he glanced at his watch, “the earliest we’ll be there is in 6 hours.”

Jay nodded absentmindedly. His vision focused on the floor. His mind racing. His heart burning with sorrow.

Sunghoon dialed Heiran’s number again.

Jay wasn’t listening to their conversation until Sunghoon gave him his phone, “it’s her.”

Jay just nodded, his throat tightening. He closed his eyes as he took the phone. He needed to be strong for her. She’s the one in pain not me.

“Y/n…” he murmured softly yet raspy.

Silence. He didn’t hear anything.

But then, there was a small whimper.

“Y/n…” he repeated as the tears rolled down on their own. “I’m coming, okey? I’m coming as fast as possible.”

You began to sob.

“Y/n, baby, listen to me. You need to be strong right now, okey? You have to hold on. Until I’m there, okey?”

Your sobs got louder and louder.

“It’s okey, baby, it’s okey…” he mumbled gently. God, he just wanted to hold you. Be there for you.

“I’m coming, alright? I’ll be there quickly.”

“Jay-“ you choked, voice rough and broken.

His world began to spin.

He leaned forward in his seat, his shaky arms supporting him on his thighs.

“Hm~” he hummed, broken, trying to hold it together for you.

“Yes, baby,” he tried again when he couldn’t hear you respond.

He continued when you didn’t say anything: “Baby, don’t worry, I’m coming-“

“I’m sorry.” You choked, cutting him off.

He pressed his eyes shut as his tears poured down his face. “No baby. Don’t say that.” He rasped in a shaky tone.

“it’s my fau-“

“No.” He spoke sternly, his tone didn’t allow any argument.

“It’s not your fault. And I don’t wanna hear it. I’m not allowing you to think that. Got it?”

You just whimpered in response.

“I love you so much. We’ll go through this together alright?”

You just continued to cry. Ripping his heart into pieces.

“Baby… listen to me. I’ll be there in 6 hours, okey?”

You hummed.

“But that’s too long. You have to go into labour without me, okey?”

“No.” You shook your head, face scrunched in fear and sorrow.

“I know, baby, I know. It’s scary, isn’t it?”

You just nodded your head, your throat hurt too much to answer. “I know you’re afraid, but baby, listen. I- can’t lose you too. I can’t come home and be told that my wife didn’t make it. I-“ he let out a choked sob, his tears fell on his trousers, “I can’t lose you, too.” He shook his head, refusing to think about it.

“Please baby. I’m begging you.”

“I’m tired.” You whimpered quietly.

Jay opened his mouth to argue, to tell you to not be stubborn for once, to listen to him, to just do what’s good for you. But something in him told him to just accept your wish. You knew the best what you needed—what your body could endure.

“Okey,” he yielded softly. “I promise I’ll be there as quickly as possible. Try to rest a little, alright baby?”

“I love you so much. You’re the bravest woman on this earth. I will call you again before we take off alright? Until then, rest.”

You only hummed in response.

“Can you please pass the phone to Heiran, baby?”

“Jongseong-ah,” Heiran’s aged, rough voice echoed through the phone.

“Can you make sure y/n doesn’t hear us?”

After a while of rustling, he heard her again: “yes?”

“Ma…” his eyes brimmed with tears. “What happened?”

“She-she woke up in pain and she told me the baby was not moving.” Jay felt as if he forgot how to breathe. He should’ve been there.

“I- I told her that happens sometimes but she looked so scared and her pain worsened. And then she started to bleed. I called the ambulance—it all happened so quickly. When we arrived here the doctor announced the baby’s death. They said her placenta partially loosened from her uterus and the baby didn’t get any oxygen over night.” She hiccuped.

He closed his eyes as he tried to process everything.

Sunghoon rubbed Jay’s back.

“The doctor said that this can happen suddenly and can’t be predicted,” she added with a shaky voice.

The guilt of not being there was taking over his mind.

“They told her that she has to deliver the baby naturally because it’s the safest option. Since y/n is not bleeding anymore and her condition is not too unstable a c-section would be unnecessary. Her-her labour also has started but it’s too mild. She said it’s just throbbing sometimes,” she took a deep breath, “they wanted to give her medicine to induce it more. The doctor said she had to do it now otherwise she’ll get an infection. But y/n said she doesn’t want to do it without you. She seems to be in shock.”

"Okey..." he whispered, voice raspy. He didn't know what to respond. The new information made him realise that it was his fault.

During the whole flight his head hung low. He was deep in thought and sorrow.

I should've stayed. I should've taken care of her.

He failed to protect you. If he just didn’t leave.

“Do you have to leave?” You pouted as you sat on your bed, watching Jay pack his suitcase for the business trip.

“Baby…” he sighed softly, “we already talked about this.” He kissed your forehead as he walked past you to grab his laptop from the nightstand.

“No. You talked, I listened and cried," you snapped at him, annoyed, "I don’t want you to go.” You stated firmly.

“It’s only going to be for 5 days. I’ll be back before you’ll know it.” You didn’t seem to be convinced as you walked up to him, hugging him from the side, your big, round belly getting in the way. “But I don’t want to be alone.” You frowned.

“That’s why I asked Heiran to come and take care of you.” He wrapped his arms around your shoulder as he kissed your head.

You pulled away, your frustration couldn't be hidden anymore, “but I don’t want anyone else to take care of me! I want you to be here! What if something happens and you're not here?!”

He shut his eyes as he tried to calm down, not wanting to fight with his pregnant wife, “nothing will happen, baby. It’s only for 5 days. You know I have to go.”

“You don’t have to! You’re literally choosing your business over me! Your wife who's carrying your child! I can’t believe I married a greedy man!”

He furrowed his eyebrows, his face expressed his hurt feelings, “that’s not true, y/n. The meetings were set before you were even pregnant. I already cancelled the ones that I could cancel and shortened the trip by two weeks. I’m sorry to leave you but I promise it’ll be quick.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, trying not to show him that you were about to cry as you left the bedroom.

“Where are you going?”

“To the guest bedroom. I don’t wanna sleep next to you.” You slammed the door.

You woke up to Jay softly caressing his fingertips over your cheekbone, "good morning, angel," he whispered softly to not startle you.

“I’m leaving for the flight,” he was crouched down in front of your bed.

You turned around, giving him the cold shoulder.

“Baby… please, I can’t leave while my wife is angry with me."

Good, then I'll stay angry so he won't leave.

He put his warm hand on your shoulder, "please, princess. You're making me sad."

"And you're making me sad, too." You mumbled, he could barely hear it.

You felt him lie behind you, one arm wrapping gently around your waist while the other slipped under your neck, curling over your shoulder to rest firmly on your upper arm, pulling you closer. His hand on your belly was warm and soft, his thumb tracing small circles on the skin where your top had ridden up.

"I couldn't sleep without my babies." He nuzzled his face into your neck.

"Good." You uttered coldly.

He smiled softly, "my girl woke up feisty today," you felt his lips move against the shell of your ear, "I like that," he murmured seductively. Your pussy throbbed at his deep, hushed voice. You ignored it as you tried to push his arms away. Your efforts were useless as your sleepy and pregnant state made you way weaker than before—not that you had any chance against him before pregnancy.

The hand on your stomach wandered lower, right under your bellybutton where he teased and aroused you by caressing your skin softly. But his touch was way too far away to actually give you any form of pleasure. "Jay..." you whined, your hips wiggling in annoyance.

"Yes, baby?" His voice sent shivers down your spine as he nibbled at your earlobe. His hand which was on your shoulder grabbed one of your tits, squeezing it, slipping your top under it so he could touch and play with it properly. You sighed at the feeling, "feels so good..." You closed your eyes to enjoy the spark pulsing in your blood. Suddenly his other hand slipped under your shorts, brushing lightly over your panties. Your hand grabbed his forearm, "please... Jay..." you sighed, completely wet and aroused. Your pussy throbbed so hard, it was beginning to eat you alive.

"But I thought you were mad at me?" He made a show of pulling his hand out of your shorts. Your nails digged into his arm, "no! I'm not mad," you frowned. Your face turned to him as you pleaded at him, looking all cute and sexy at the same time, "please?". He wanted to devour you right at the spot.

"You know I can't resist my sexy wife," he kissed you harsh, tongue slipping into your mouth as you moaned into the kiss. His hand slipped under your underwear, his fingers gliding over your wet, slick pussy, "Jay~" you moaned. "Put your leg over mine," he rasped into the hot kiss. You tried to do as he told you but struggled due to your big belly. When he noticed, his slick-wet hand slipped out of your panties and helped your leg to adjust over his, leaving a trail of your juices on your skin. "Are you comfortable like this?" You impatiently nodded your head, "touch me, Jay."

“So impatient…” he muttered although he obeyed you immediately. His hand went once again underneath your panties, massaging your pussy softly and faintly. You whimpered, "more..."

"Yeah? My sweet little wife wants more?" You nodded pathetically, "please, Jay. Want you inside me." His middle finger slowly slipped inside you, testing the waters as he circled it inside you to stretch you out. Then his ring finger slipped inside, both of his fingers curling right into you as they found the spongy spot. "Jay!" You moaned, "it feels so good!" He continued to pump his fingers in and out, pushing and circling them inside you as the wet, splashing sounds of your pussy filled the room. "Oh my god... I'm gonna cum." You sighed, sensitive from pregnancy. You were in heaven. His fingers made you forget why you were even mad at him. "W-wait." You pushed at Jay's arm slightly. He immediately halted his actions, eyes widened in panic, "what? Did I hurt you? Do you want to stop?"

"No... it's just I know I will be too exhausted for a second round. Wan' your cum inside of me," you panted, your walls continued to pulse around his fingers on their own.

"It's okey baby. I don't have to cum," he kissed your shoulder, "I will be fine, just want to pleasure my wife."

"No," you whined, "I want you. Please. Wanna be close to you before you leave." You could hear him debate internally. You bit your lips, your arousal dazed your mind, "honey. The doctor said it's fine. Now, put your dick inside me before I crash out."

"Okey, okey," he carefully pulled his fingers out of you and slipped you out of your panties and shorts in one go. He unwrapped his arm around you in order to take off his slacks and boxers. You had turned around slightly, your eyebrows furrowed at the observation you made, "when are you leaving? You're already dressed." You couldn't stop your pout as you watched him take off his dress-shirt, too. "I'm leaving in an hour," he pecked your pouty lips as he hovered over you, arms supporting himself on either sides of your head. His hard dick pressing onto the side of your ass as you were still laying sideways, "come on, baby, don't be mad anymore, hm?"

Your pout deepened, eyes glistening with tears, "I'll miss you."

His heart melted, "I'll miss you, too." He kissed you passionatly as his hand reached for your leg to lift it up. He was settled between your legs, one leg rested comfortably on the mattress, angled to make room for him, as he lifted the other into the air, holding it tightly so it wouldn't slip. "Relax, baby, I'm holding you." He whispered against your lips. You trusted him instantly and relaxed your muscles. He grabbed his hard, throbbing dick into his hand, pumping it a few times, and guided the tip into your entrance. Instinctively, you tried to turn on your back in order to spread your legs further, but he put the hand that was holding his dick on your shoulder to stop you from moving. "Don't get on your back, baby."

"Oh right," you remembered you weren't allowed to lay on your back because of the baby. He kissed your cheek, waiting for you to adjust on your side, "comfy?" he asked as he pushed your hair out of your face. You nodded as you reached for Jay's hand that was settled infront of your face on the pillow.

He slowly pushed into you. You sighed. His thick firm cock filled you up so good. You felt so content having him inside you.

“Fuck, why are you still so tight baby,” he grunted as he tried not to push his whole length in. “Put a whole baby inside you and your cunt is still swallowing me in.” His hand let go of your leg, only to curl it in his arm, adjusting it properly as he started to roll his hip into you. You eyes fluttered, “oh my god, Jay…”

“Yeah? Feels good baby?”

“Hmm,” you whimpered. “Deeper,” you pleaded.

His cock went deeper in you, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, “ah!” You moaned at the pleasure. “Fuck,” he rasped as you clenched around you. Your arm reached for Jay, he understood immediately as he leaned down, his abs slightly grazed your swollen belly as he nestled his face into your neck. “Fuck baby, stop clenching around me.” He groaned as he tried to hold himself back to pound into you aggressively. You whimpered in response, “it feels so good, can’t help it.”

With only a few more thrusts your walls tightened around him hard as you reached your high. “Jay!” You screamed, shaking, ecstasy rushing through your blood.

He cursed under his breath, “fuck-“ as he continued to thrust into you. You whimpered as you pushed at his shoulder, “too much- Jay-” you choked.

He lifted his head to press a hot kiss on your lips, trying to distract you, “you got this baby. Just a little more. You’re a good girl, hm? Can take it. Be my good little wife and take it.” His breath cut short as he tried to resist the urge to go crazy with you. He lost his rhythm as he got closer. “Fuck-“ he groaned into your neck as he finally came inside you, “fuck, baby. You feel so good.” He kissed your skin, biting it lightly as his body shook from his high, “I love you so much.” He kissed you as he pulled his cock out of you, careful not to hurt you. You scrunched your face at the feeling, your hand tightening its grip on his hand.

You smiled at him lazily, sleep taking over your body, “love you too, jjongie.”

“Not mad anymore?” He smiled at you sheepishly. You shook your head, lips touching close to his, “but I will still miss you, jjongie.” Nuzzling his nose against yours, he whispered with a melted heart: “will miss you too, baby.” He laid beside you to cuddle with you, pulling your head to his chest and caressing it lovingly. His other hand went to your stomach which was snuggled close to his own stomach, patting it in a soft rhythm.

After a while, when he got up to clean you and take a—yet again—quick shower, he halted in his motion. There you laid in the bed, looking so soft and warm like an angel. Your swollen belly gave you a delicate look. He felt as if he was falling in love with you all over again. The sight of you being pregnant with his child, exhausted in the after glow of making love together caused warmth to blossom in his chest—making him all tender and fuzzy. He was the luckiest man on earth.

“I will be back very soon, okey?” He whispered quietly, not wanting to disturb your half asleep state. You hummed tiredly. He pressed a tender kiss, both on your forehead and baby bump as he left the room, gently shutting the door.

Gosh, he already couldn’t wait to be reunited with his wife and his baby.

Regret flooded Jay’s body. With a violent bump he smashed his head against the airplane window.

Sunghoon looked at him concerned. Unsure what to say.

Jay knocked his head repeatedly. Fuck.

If I had never left them this would have never had happened.

—————————————————————————

Yeah I lied here no happy ending. Maybe in Part 2? Comment and share your thoughts and feelings ❣️

Wanna read my other stuff? Here’s my masterlist

Comments, thoughts, feedback, requests, reblogs are more than welcome 🙏🏼 I need it to be motivated to write more. so please, if you wanna read more tell me what you felt/thought about this fic (and of course my other fics if you read them)

[blooddlusts]

MANCHILD ⋆｡°✩ lee heeseung

( WHY YOU ALWAYS COME RUNNING TO ME ) ── ex boyfriend!! lee heeseung x fem! reader

synopsis: in which you awkwardly cross paths with your ex-boyfriend. and for him to pick up a desperate phone call when you needed it the most (read part one here)

fic notes: ex boyfriend! lee heeseung x fem! reader, suggestive language, cursing, angst, a little bit of reconciliation, very slowburn interactions

kiara's notes: due to popular demand, y'all asked for a part two. y'all can thank my bestie @nocturnebite for actually helping me come up with a happy segway into this story because i was prolly gonna make it more angsty lmao. if this needs a part three —feel free to yell at me (it prolly does)

word count: 2.7k

his phone number blocked, the pictures of you both ripped in two and thrown in the trash. every memory of his face, of his lips kissing your skin, his laughter ringing in your ear —erased, deleted, gone. that was the end of the chapter between you and lee heeseung. and perhaps it was better off that way.

it had been months since you had last spoken to him. while you promised yourself that it was't a big deal, the hole in your heart was begging to be filled, replaced with someone else. it took some motivation to get yourself out of bed, to try going out to clubs, to put makeup on and make yourself presentable in public. he had made you an emotional train wreck, which meant dragging your shaky feet out on the ground to find the confidence that had seemingly left your body the day that he shattered your heart into a million pieces.

and while the confidence returned —your luck with finding a better boy to date seemed physically impossible. no literally. the saying "there are other fish in the sea," must have been a lie. because the men on your dating apps, the men that approached you at clubs, were absolutely horrendous in every way possible. that's not to say that they weren't attractive (in fact, many of them were drop dead gorgeous) but you could spot their imperfections from the first date.

if heeseung had done one thing right, it was for your eyes to be open to the men that would sit in front of you. from the way they ate their pasta to the way they would snake an arm around your waist. the attention to detail made it so easy for you to reject another date, you didn't want to pursue another romantic relationship if they were going to be the same as your ex-boyfriend. but the one thing that lee heeseung had cursed you with was the magnetization. no matter where you went, you were always attracting the same type of men. the "man child" and it was fucking annoying.

they were the ones that played hard to get, the ones that like to linger and make you squirm in your seat wondering if you were going to be given the chance to go on a second date. the ones who promised to pick you up for dinner at seven only for you to be sitting in your living room almost an hour later, wondering when they would show up. the ones who talked passionately about their own hobbies without even batting an eye when you spoke on your success. you don't know what you did to attract such a form of men —but it was completely exhausting.

you prayed that they would be different. so maybe that's why you found yourself getting ready for another date. another dude from another dating app you were on. he didn't seem like a "man child" (but that was just your optimism speaking). and yet, you found yourself waiting in the lobby of your apartment, looking at the hands on your watch tick forward. he was late —of course he was.

"you look nice,"

his voice was unexpected. like a random bolt of lightning striking a clear summer day. it immediately took you out of your bored dazed as you looked up to see him staring at you. how many months had it been since you'd see his face? how many times had you spent trying to block him out of your head? surely, this was a figment of your imagination —but the tiny smile that touched his lips professed that the man standing in front of you was real.

"um thanks," you awkwardly replied, feeling your cheeks turn pink as you politely accepted his compliment.

the silence that between the two of you was as thick as a slice of texas toast. after all, what was there to say? how could you casually strike up a conversation with someone who casually threw your heart to the side?

"are you going on a date?"

"something like that, if he's planning on showing up," you scoffed as you looked down at your phone. no new messages, brilliant.

"how are things with your going with your girlfriend?" you asked in a desperate attempt to change the subject. you were mentally begging that your date could show up any minute now to save you from the jaws of the awkward conversation you were forced to be in.

"we broke up,"

great, so much for making the conversation less awkward.

what were you supposed to say? "i'm sorry that you two broke up?" you weren't. in fact, there was some form of satisfaction knowing that things with his ex-girlfriend didn't work out again. and yet, you found yourself awkwardly shifting in your chair praying that some sort of words could slip out of your lips to answer heeseung.

"oh..."

"...yeah,"

as much as you were curious to know why the relationship had ended. you had no choice but to plant a tiny smile on your lips and let out a sigh of relief as your phone screen lit up. saved by the bell-ish. the likelihood of this date being better than your previous ones seemed unlikely but it was better than spending any more time with heeseung. those were minutes you were never going to get back.

"well, that's my date," you said as you got up from your seat and smoothed out your dress. for a minute, you could have sworn that there was a tiny grimace on his face when he heard those words slip out of your lips. but it was almost immediately replaced with a faint smile. it had to be your imagination.

"it was nice seeing you heeseung,"

and with a polite smile, you walked out of the lobby with confidence in your footsteps, masking the sinking pit of anxious feelings that swirled in your stomach. you had a date to worry about and yet, he was there crawling his way back into your mind like a parasite.

it had been so long since you'd last seen him. so why out of all places did you have to see him now? more importantly, what was he doing in the lobby of your apartment building?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

your date was going horribly. not much of a surprise there. after being picked up forty minutes late, your date reeked of cologne. not that his cologne smelt bad, but it was like the man practically bathed in it. he was chivalrous enough to open the car door for you —that was about it. he chewed with his mouth open, he would constantly interrupt you when you had anything to say, and let's not forget how his phone wasn't silenced so you could hear the tinder notification constantly beeping on his phone.

you couldn't even keep track of what he was talking about. you were just waiting for the bill at this point. you were already planning on calling an uber instead of letting him drop you back at your place. the last thing you needed was his lips covered in pasta sauce trying to kiss you —ew.

"well, this has been a fun date but i should probably go home now," you started to say as you watched the waiter place the bill down in front of you. your date didn't even pay attention to what you had said, he took one glance at the bill and looked back up at you.

"aren't you going to pay?" he asked.

"excuse me?"

that was a quick slap to the face. now he was really racking up the points for being the worst date you've had. picking a fancy ass restaurant and expecting you to pay? of course, you should have picked up the sign sooner. there was a card on the dashboard of the car he picked you up in that was from some car rental business. he decided to pay for the most expensive bottle of wine and gorge himself on an expensive plate of food. great, another man child.

"i asked you out on the date, the least you can do is pay for the food," he replied casually while wiping the pasta sauce off of his chin.

"you've got to be fucking kidding me. is this what you do to all women that you take out on a date? order the most expensive meal and expect them to pay for it?" you snapped as you glared daggers at you date.

the fact that he didn't say anything made things even more upsetting. all he did was blink at you, as if you should have known this was how the date was supposed to go. "look, it's not that big of a deal. besides, i promise i'll make it up to you once we head back to your place," he said as he tried to place his hand on top of yours.

"oh really? is that what you think is going to happen? that i'm invite you back to back to my place and i'm gonna let you fuck with that tiny thing you call a penis?" you grit your teeth before getting up from your seat.

"go call your parents and ask them to help pay for your meal," you said as you opened your purse and threw some cash down in front of him. "here's my half of the bill," you added on before walking out of the restaurant, leaving behind your date jaw dropped and confused.

you stepped out of the restaurant into the darkened sky. the only thing lighting up the world in front of you were the city lights and the billboards that illuminated advertisements of happy smiling faces beaming in fluorescent colours in front of you.

while you should have felt relieved that you called it quits with that dude that just wanted to get in the sheets, there was something about this date that was the last straw. they were all the same, all of the dates that you had been on were just stupid men seeing you as another way to get their body count up. it was fucking disgusting. you craved the romantic life, you begged to be loved again, you wanted—

—and in that moment, your impulsiveness took over. you found yourself fishing your phone out of your purse, your hand going to the settings, clicking on a blocked phone number that you had memorized by heart, and pressing the call button.

you paced around in circles. a thousand thoughts accumulating in your head as you continued to hear the phone ring in your ear. until you heard his voice on the other line.

"hey, do you think you can pick me up?"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

the car ride was completely silent. no questions asked, no small talk to be made, just you two sitting with the radio as ambience to fill the void that was between the two of you. you didn't think he was going to answer, let alone pick you up. yet, you found yourself in the same car with your ex-boyfriend, with lee heeseung, the man you swore you never wanted to see in a million years —all because some stupid date went horribly wrong.

for the first time in a while, you felt like you could actually breathe. like you could sit back and pause in a world that was constantly moving. or maybe it was because you were in a car with someone that you had once been vulnerable with, someone that you had completely poured your heart and soul to. whatever the reason, you were able to rest your head on the side of the window and relax in the passenger seat.

"so, do you want to talk about what happened?" there it was. the moment that you weren't necessarily dreading, but knew that was going to happen. it was only a matter of time before he was going to confront you about the situation. or why you decided to call him up out of all people.

"not really," you muttered. you refused to make eye contact with him. one look into those doe-like eyes and hating him was a lost cause. you couldn't give in to him that easily.

"it's just, all of these dates that i've been going on are awful," you started as you finally moved your head away from the window and turned to look at him. "i mean, every guy i've been going out with these past couple of months have been the same. i'm so sick of attracting men that act like children!" you groaned as you threw your hands up into the air.

heeseung only chuckled as you finally started opening up to him again. there was something about seeing your face getting all red and flustered that made his heart skip a beat. he wanted to tell you, he needed to tell you—

"—he asked me to pay for the meal, hee. the dude literally ordered the most expensive meal on the menu and expected that i was going to pay—"

"—you called just me hee,"

you paused and turned to look at heeseung who was staring directly at you. thankfully you two were at a red light, so it wasn't like any car was going to come crashing into you but still. the nickname had slipped out of your tongue so casually that you didn't even notice yourself say it. but he did.

you didn't say anything to him after that. it was an instant "keep your lips" quiet moment after that. he caught you slipping once, you weren't going to let it happen again. so when he drove into the parking garage of your apartment complex you couldn't help but eagerly take off your seatbelt.

"well, thanks for the ride," you said already moving to open the car door. but before you could make a swift exit, heeseung was already out of the car, outside opening the door for you.

what was this feeling that was swelling up in your chest? you should be hating him right now. yet, you didn't shoo him away when he started to walk with you up to your apartment. he didn't say anything, just had his hands in his pockets, keeping his eye out for anyone that seemed suspicious. it was the tiny things that made your heart continue to skip a beat, even when you knew that you shouldn't.

"you know you didn't need to walk me to my door," you said as you fished your keys out of your purse.

"i know, i just figured that maybe it would save you from any other creeps trying to hit on you," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

"i appreciate it, heeseung. thanks for picking me up tonight. i honestly didn't think that you were going to pick up the phone,"

"well i'm glad i did. i've missed talking to you,"

you could only nod and smile at his comment. and then came the awkwardness that you two were so familiar with. it's not like you could give him a hug, or the usual kiss on the cheek when you first started dating. you two were just strangers, exes that picked up the phone for one small favour. nothing more nothing less.

"have a good night, heeseung,"

"sweet dreams,"

and while you watched him walk down the hallway as you stepped into your apartment, your stomach was greeted with the same pit of butterflies fluttering around. you shook your head, you couldn't fall for him again, that would mean neglecting everything that he had done. the way that he had taken your heart, smashed it into a million pieces and left you lying trying to fix everything he had broken.

but he answered your phone call.

you watched him turn the corner, a sigh escaping your lips before you closed the door behind you. now was not the time to catch feelings for the man that had cursed you to find every "man child" in the city. now was not the time to fill the hole in your heart with the same man who inflicted the damage you were trying to fix.

but everything about that night had brought back the tiny spark that you had put out so long. the wave of emotions coming back like a tide the more you played them over in your head. and so you went to bed with a confused head and a stomach swirling with butterflies.

he had left you once before. but he came back.

if only he never answered your phone call at all.

taglist: @keehoes @daisyintherainsposts @evxnsbae @douqhnxtss @mimimovv @sunooqvrlsx

reblogs, likes, comments & feedback are appreciated!

[himasgod]

Would it be to soon to ask for a "where you suddenly stop giving them attention" part with the third years?

THIRD YEARS X READER

Where you suddenly stop giving them attention

Cater was living for your affection.

Seriously, you were his favorite notification. You always knew how to brighten his day, a kiss on the cheek before class, selfies together, random “thinking of you~” texts that made his heart skip. He acted all chill about it, but inside?

He was twirling his hair, giggling and kicking his feet like a teen in love.

So when you stopped? When your texts slowed down to dry busy rn, when you walked past him without that sparkle, when you skipped Magicam photos for days? Cater noticed. At first, he played it off with humor.

"Whoa, my number one fan vanished! Was I canceled and no one told me~?"

He scrolls back through your message thread at night, wondering if he said something wrong. Tries to post a cute story hoping you’ll react. Even sneaks by your class to “casually” spot you.

And when he sees you — head down on the desk, dark circles under your eyes, shoulders trembling, it hits him. You didn’t stop caring. You just stopped having the energy.

He walks right in, pulls you up from your chair, and takes your hand. You barely react, exhausted, letting him lead you. He brings you to the empty pop music club room, shuts the door, and wraps you in his arms.

"You don’t have to smile for me, kay? You don’t have to be “on.” Just be real with me, babe. I’m not going anywhere."

You finally let go and cry a little, muttering “I’m sorry” into his hoodie. He hugs you tighter.

"Nah, none of that. You gave me real love, and I’m keeping it. So if you need a break, I’ll be your filter. I gotchu."

Leona had long since decided that affection wasn’t something he needed. Or wanted. Or deserved.

But then you came along. With your sleepy kisses. Your hands in his hair. Your little “I missed you, lazybones” messages. Your way of plopping down beside him like you belonged there. It made him soft. He hated it. He loved it.

So when it disappears, when you stop curling up next to him during naps, when you barely say “hi” in the hallways, when the only messages you send are “Sorry, can’t today. Too tired”, Leona’s first instinct is annoyance. He’s gruff. Snappy. Sulking like a big cat who’s been denied his favorite sunspot.

"So that’s it? Done spoiling your prince, herbivore?"

But he doesn’t press it. Not yet. Not until he finds you passed out in the botanical garden, curled under a tree with your bag still slung on one shoulder. You don’t wake up when he calls your name.

He kneels beside you, frowning, brushing your hair out of your face. Your skin is warm. Your body limp with exhaustion. And suddenly he sees it, the sleepless nights in your eyes, the way you’ve been dragging your feet through the week. This wasn’t you ignoring him. This was you falling apart.

When you finally blink awake he doesn’t let you speak. He just pulls you against his chest, sighing into your shoulder.

"You idiot. You think I need all your attention if it costs you this much?"

You try to explain, apologize, but Leona tightens his hold and cuts you off.

"You gave me something warm for the first time in a long damn time. You think I’m gonna throw that away because you forgot to say “good morning” a few days?"

"Next time, just tell me you’re burning out. I’ll carry you if I have to. I’ll drag your overworked ass into bed myself."

And he does. He carries you to his room like it’s nothing, tucks you under his thickest blanket, and curls around you.

"You spoiled me rotten, herbivore. Let me spoil you back."

Vil took note the second it started.

The first time you didn’t compliment him. The first time you didn’t send your good morning text. The first time you passed him in the hallway, eyes on your phone, and didn’t so much as glance up. He noticed. He always noticed. But he didn’t act on it immediately. He gave you space, told himself you were probably dealing with something. That it was just a phase. He wasn’t going to be the clingy insecure type. And yet…

"Why haven’t they noticed my new look? They always say something…"

"They haven’t visited the dorm in over a week. Why?"

The questions start to pile up in his mind, and with them, a tightness in his chest he hates admitting is worry. When he finally seeks you out, you’re in the library, fast asleep over books, dark circles under your eyes, your lunch untouched beside you. And everything clicks. It wasn’t about him. It was about you. Pushing yourself too hard again. Giving too much and leaving nothing for yourself.

Vil lets out a sigh and gently wakes you. You blink at him, confused, guilty, already trying to explain. But he stops you with a finger pressed to your lips.

"Enough. You don’t owe me affection when your body is falling apart."

He takes your hands, helps you stand, and brushes the hair out of your face.

"You’ve been overworking yourself again. Look at your complexion. Look at your posture. Have you even slept properly this week?"

You shake your head, ready to apologize again, but Vil frowns and holds your face with both hands.

"You showered me in love when I needed it. Now let me return the favor."

That evening, he takes you to Pomefiore. Runs you a bath with herbs for your fatigue. Makes you a skin treatment himself. Feeds you something warm, nothing fancy, just what you need. And when you lie down, eyes drooping, he sits beside you with a book and reads aloud until you drift off.

The next morning, when you wake up and whisper, “Sorry for worrying you,” he only scoffs.

"You’re lucky I love you… Because darling, letting yourself fall apart is never a good look. So next time, tell me. You don’t have to be perfect — just let me in."

You were his safe place. That’s it.

Idia had never, ever been good with people, but somehow, you slipped through him like a virus. You installed yourself into every part of his daily life: calling him nicknames, hugging him out of nowhere, holding his hand even when he flinched like a malfunctioning Chatgpt.

So when you stop showing up to his room after class, when your daily “I love you, you nerd” texts vanish into silence, Idia panics. But he doesn’t know how to confront you. Not directly. So he goes through his mental folders.

"Did I say something cringe? Did I scare them off? Oh no. Oh fuck—what if they’re ghosting me?!"

He pings you in-game. No reply. He messages you on Magicam. Nothing. Eventually, he decides to do something terrifying: he leaves his room. He finds you half-asleep in a corner booth, head down on your arms, a tray of snacks beside you. You look pale. Tired. Your phone buzzes with unread messages, mostly from group projects. And his. He shuffles over, hoodie up, hands in sleeves.

"Hey… hey… you okay?"

You lift your head, dazed. When you realize it’s him, you try to smile, but it comes out cracked. “I’m sorry, I just… forgot to reply. I’m so tired.”

Idia sits beside you. He just pulls his sleeve over your hand and gives it a squeeze. "You’re running out of stamina, huh? You chuckle weakly. “That’s one way to put it.”

"You don’t have to be good all the time just for me. But next time, let me know, okay? I can carry the team for a while."

Then he gently drapes his oversized jacket over your shoulders.

Lilia always used to tease you a little about how much you pampered him.

"Another treat? You’re going to spoil me rotten, little one. I might start expecting this every day~"

He would laugh, flutter his lashes, feign dramatic swoons every time you brought fixed his hair without warning, or clung to his arm calling him “old man.” But the truth? He loved it. Every second of it.

So when all that stops? When you start pulling away with tired excuses and absent eyes, when your touch disappears, your laughter fades, and your texts become “sorry, I’m busy” Lilia notices. Of course he does. He notices everything. At first, he jokes about it, as usual.

"Ara~ have I lost my most devoted fan? Say it isn’t so"

But you just smile weakly, wave him off, and walk past him. And Lilia stays behind, lips still curved, but eyes narrowed. Concerned.

He doesn’t chase after you, he waits. Watches. He sees how you stumble over your steps in class, how you barely eat. And suddenly, everything makes sense. You weren’t ignoring him. You were burning out.

The next time he sees you, you're dozing off, a stack of notes on your lap and your pen still in hand. He crouches beside you, brushes a strand of hair from your face, and whispers. "Silly human… You give and give until there’s nothing left. And now you’re forgetting to take care of yourself."

He doesn’t wake you. Instead, he scoops you up in his arms and takes you to his room. He sets you on the bed, tucks you in, and sits beside you. Humming something low. And when you finally stir awake, blinking at him with confusion, he just smiles.

"You stopped spoiling me… so I’ll spoil you now. Rest, darling. I’ll watch over you."

Malleus had never known what it was like to be loved in the small ways.

Not just respected or fond like Lilia, Silver or Sebek, But openly loved, with warm hands brushing his hair, with nicknames whispered, with kisses on the cheek followed by playful grins and “did you miss me prince?”

That’s why, when it suddenly stops, he doesn’t know how to process it. You no longer greet him with your usual bright voice. You stop reaching for his hand. You avoid going to Diasomnia. He doesn’t get angry. He doesn’t even speak of it at first. He just watches.

"Have I displeased you?" He asks himself this more times than he’d ever admit.

At first, he assumes it's distance — that perhaps your heart had grown bored of him. But then he begins to see the truth, your slowed pace, the way you rub your eyes and mumble apologies without reason. You weren’t pushing him away, you were exhausted. So one night, he appears outside Ramshackle, as he used to do in the beginning when your bond was still new. You hear the gentle knock, and when you open the door, there he is.

"May I come in, child of man?"

You nod tiredly, and let him sit beside you on the edge of the bed. You try to explain. Try to apologize. But Malleus just shakes his head, placing a hand over yours.

"You gifted me a kind of love I never imagined I’d have. You do not need to apologize for needing to rest. But I ask you this. Do not shut me out. Let me carry some of your burdens, if only a little. Let me stay beside you, even in silence.·

You feel tears sting your eyes, but Malleus simply leans forward, pressing his lips to your shoulder.

"Even if you have no strength left to call me “my prince,” I will still be yours."

Trey never asked for much.

He wasn’t the kind of guy to expect grand displays or dramatic affection. But ever since you started spoiling him, slipping love notes into his apron pocket, kissing his temple while he baked, calling him “sweetheart” when you thought no one was listening, he’d gotten used to it. Too used to it.

So when you suddenly go quiet, when your touches vanish and your little “I brought this just for you” moments dry up, Trey pretends not to mind. At first.

"Everything alright? You’ve been… quiet lately. Busy?"

You nod. Tell him not to worry. That you’re just tired, that homwork's overwhelming you a bit. He doesn’t push. But it nags at him. He watches how your shoulders slump, how you chew your lower lip while working through assignments, how your phone lights up with unread messages you don’t even glance at.

And one afternoon, when he sees you curled up, asleep with a half-eaten snack and your notebook clutched to your chest, something in him clicks. He sighs softly, kneels beside you, and gently takes the notebook from your arms. He sits down pulling out a small container from his bag. Inside is your favorite treat. One you once made together. He leaves a note beside it:

“For when you wake up. You don’t have to do everything alone. I’m here too.”

When you wake up hours later, groggy, you find Trey still sitting across from you, reading calmly, as if nothing ever happened. But when your eyes meet, he smiles, the kind of smile that says “You don’t owe me anything, but I’m not going anywhere.”

And later, as he walks you back to your dorm, he gently bumps your shoulder.

"Next time you feel like the world’s too heavy, tell me. You’ve always been sweet to me… Let me return the favor, yeah?"

Rook noticed the change before anyone else in all the 3 parts.

He always noticed you. The way your eyes lit up when you saw him. The rhythm of your voice when you called him, the tender way you touched his arm when you thought no one was looking. Your affection was art. And he had memorized every stroke of it.

So when your energy faded, when your “good mornings” dulled to distracted nods, when your hands stopped reaching for his, Rook didn’t need an explanation. He read your body like poetry. At first, he gave you space. Like a hunter watching from a distance. But Rook isn’t passive. He’s passion incarnate. And watching the light fade from you? It ached.

So one afternoon, when you sat alone in the library, head heavy in your arms, unmoving, he couldn’t stay silent. He approached quietly.

"Mon cherie… what burden weighs your wings so deeply?"

You flinch and try to sit up, but he kneels beside your chair, taking your hand gently. You open your mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a tired whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you.” Rook kisses your knuckles.

"Ah, no. Do not apologize for enduring. You have not ignored me. You have simply... forgotten to care for yourself."

You shake your head, tears building, shame rising, but he hushes you with a finger to your lips.

"You who gave me such beauty, such devotion, how could I abandon you now, in this moment? Let me cherish you now, ma lumière. Let me carry you."

He lifts you as if you’re made of petals and takes you somewhere quiet. He wraps you in blankets, brings you tea, brushes your hair.

"Rest, my treasure. You gave your light to so many — now let me be the one to shine for you."

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

Yandere SKZ Headcannons

genre: headcannons, smut warnings: DARK DARK stuff kinda-, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, violence, murder, etc. NSFW warnings below the cut request: ✓ 【 ❖ 】 this really took a whole lot of forcing mmyself to sit and write but i hope you enjoy it please make some small requests so i can get back into writing i'm so sorry I vanished for so long 🥀

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ. ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ.

NSFW: Rough sex, edging, dubcon, degradation, unprotected sex (lets NOT multiply), overstimulation, i think thats all?? read at your own risk!

𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗 - 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝙸𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝/𝚂𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌

Yandere Chan is a proud guy, why wouldn't he be when he has you, so perfect and pretty and smart. He's the self-indulgent type who believes he deserves you even when you dont agree.

Yandere Chan has a whole shrine dedicated to you, your missing hair ties, the beads from your broken bracelet, that one pair of panties you couldn't find after you stayed over a few months ago.

Yandere Chan who convinced you he was the safest person you could be with, absolutely convincing himself he was better than anyone else for you.

Yandere Chan who watches you touch yourself because he told you to. Who'll edge you to the point of tears and only then reward you by fucking your brains outl.

Yandere Chan who uses a mirror to make you see how beautiful you look when he fucks you. "So pretty falling apart for me.."

Yandere Chan who presses his hand on your belly just to make you feel the pressure of him drilling into you. "You feel that? That's my fucking cock in your greedy cunt."

Yandere Chan that cums inside and fucks it deeper into you just to see the pathetic face you make.

Yandere Chan who locked you in a cage when you tried to leave. "Haven't I done everything for you? You don't get to choose if you leave."

𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝙺𝚗𝚘𝚠 - 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎/𝙸𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎

Yandere Minho who's been plotting on you for MONTHs before he dared approach you. hacking into all your socials just to see who you're talking to.

Yandere Minho who convinced sometimes violently all your friends who didn't like him to stop talking to you. Just to tell you "I'm all you need love."

Yandere Minho that ended your ex boyfriend, it was an accident really, and convinced himself that the scumbag deserved it. and later convinced himself this was okay, as long as it was for you.

Yandere Minho that shockingly knew everything you liked, totally not like he'd watched you for soo long.

Yandere Minho that treats you like a princess during sex, if a princess where to be tied up with ribbons. It's not just for the romance or the way you beg, it's so you can't touch him, because you talked to someone else, because you made him do that to another person. Again.

Yandere Minho who degrades you to the point of tears just to call you a good girl for taking it so well.

Yandere Minho that smiles to himself when he sees you getting out of bed the next morning wincing slightly bruises on your hips from where he gripped you so tightly.

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚋𝚒𝚗 - 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎

Yandere changbin is the type to try and go everywhere with you and when that isn't an option he'll check your location on his phone every ten minutes.

Yandere Changbin who shakes hands with a guy a little too hard after he flirted with you. And accidentally breaks the phone of someone who asked for your number.

Yandere changbin who promises cutely to protect you from everything that might hurt you. And really he does. People who have something to say usually just disappear.

Yandere Changbin who is the only one who can make you cry. And that's only when he's fucking you into the mattress where he can kiss them away and praise you "This pretty cunt was made for me."

Yandere Changbin that cages you against the wall for a quickie, who grabs your throat as he grinds into you.

Yandere Changbin who holds you down and makes you take it until your sobbing from overstimulation. "One more for me princess, I know you can take it."

𝙷𝚢𝚞𝚗𝚓𝚒𝚗 - 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝/𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎

Yandere Hyunjin who gaslights you until you're in tears then kisses your tears away and says he's the only one who's still there for you.

Yandere Hyunjin who writes love letters with little gifts for you, though he'd never give them to you. They're in a box, in the ceiling, each with a little memoir, the needle you pricked your finger with while stitching his jacket, the bandaid you wrapped on the back of your ankle when your heels hurt, a lock of your hair.

Yandere Hyunjin that paints you from memory, some cute things, some of his dreams for a future with you and children and some that are less than acceptable..

Yandere Hyunjin who makes you beg for it, edging you as punishment for something that was completely out of your control "You want it that bad? Apologize."

Yandere Hyunjin who refuses to admit he's become obsessed with the way his hand print looks on your ass.

Yandere Hyunjin who makes you lay there with his release on your chest while he sketches you. "You look so beautiful ruined like this."

𝙷𝚊𝚗 - 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎

Yandere Han knows just about everything about you. Your shampoo brand and scent, your schedule right to the very minute you usually get to your car, the extended family he hasn't even met yet. If you have even the slightest change, he's convinced someone is turning you against him.

Yandere Han who calls you late at night to hear your voice because it helps him sleep, and disguises it as a check in.

Yandere Han who has cameras in your house, "for safety." And to see just who goes in and out of your place.

Yandere Han who's jealous of all the people you've ever dated because "You must think of them sometimes! Do you hate me!?"

Yandere Han who is the sweetest boy when you have sex. At least until you're leaking his seed and he has to gawk at your pussy as if trying to nderstand that his release was inside you.

Yandere Han who pushes his cum back into you because you can't go wasting his seed like that.

Yandere Han who has no fear of being caught with his hand under your skirt or fucking you stupid in a public bathroom.

Yandere Han who when you're on top of him, begs you not to leave because, "I don't know what I'll do if you're not with me."

𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚡 - 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕

Yandere Felix thinks if he keeps pushing you, you'll fall more in love with him. because after all he's positive you are in love with him. Even when you scream no in his face, "you're just saying that because you're upset."

Yandere Felix talks to you when you're sleeping because he bel;ieves you'd agree with everythin g he said regardless. "And then we'll get married won't we?"

Yandere Felix who baked cookies with rat poison for the guy who flirted with you next door. For good measure of course.

Yandere Felix who talks you through every orgasm even when he's pushed you to the brink of overstimulation because you're feeling that way because of him.

Yandere Felix who insists on going in raw because "I promise I'll pull out," even though he doesn't. But the face you make when he cums inside just proves all the more you want it in there anyway.

Yandere Felix who goes from worshipping your body like its the last thing on earth to fucking you into the mattress like he might never see you again.

𝚂𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚖𝚒𝚗 - 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛

Yandere Seungmin doesn't have to yell or hurt you to do anything. He's the type to give you a disappointed look that shatters you, and gaslight you into believing he's all you have.

Yandere Seungmin subtly isolates you from everyone and has you believing its your choice.

Yandere Seungmin who records some of the stuff you say to use against you later because he can't be the only bad guy in this relationship.

Yandere Seungmin who makes you counts how many times he makes you cum. And if you lose count start again.

Yandere Seungmin who won't admit he's a control freak even in bed. Or that he likes it when you call him sir.

Yandere Seungmin who fucks you until you dont remember your damn name and makes you agree to things you wouldn't have before.

𝙸.𝙽 - 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙸𝚖𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎

Yandere Jeongin doesn't always mean to freak out over small things but when he does, destruction is massive. Between the accidentally broken plate and the time he almost fought your coworker, he's a bit impulsive

Yandere Jeongin who is "Say that again and see what happens" kind of guy. Whoi might just fight a store clerk for saying a shirt doesn't fit you well.

Yandere Jeongin who panics after an argument that had you storming for the door. Which he promptly slammed before yelling at you almost hysteric. He apologized right after becasue how could he do that to you.

Yandere Jeongin that has become very familiar with how to dispose of a body because accidents happen. That's what it always is, an accident.

Yandere Jeongin that holds you down and fucks you into next week after an argument where you said something less than agreeable. "You don't get to say that. Especially when your body keeps taking me like this."

Yandere Jeongin who cums inside every time, hoping to get your pregnant even though he has no clue what to do after, as long as you have a reason to stay.

Yandere Jeongin who admires the bruises he leaves on you after the whole ordeal because "How else will they know you're mine?"

© 2024 — xxkissesforchanniexx. DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK .ᐟ

【 📌 ᴛᴀɢꜱ 】 @asahisimpnation @seolarsonlyloveisyou @juskz @leeknowsnot @oddracha @palindrome969 @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @seungminindabuilding @rylea08 @todorokiskitten @stay-tiny-things @boi-bi-ahaha @honeyybbuubblleess @bookswillfindyouaway @pinkdranks @jehhskz @chansbabygirlsstuff @velvetmoonlght @poetryforthesad @hwangjoanna @kibs-and-bits @8minho

[esstxys]

𝓗 𝓐 𝓝 𝓙 𝓘 𝓢 𝓤 𝓝 𝓖 - impatient.

warnings : sub!jisung, begging, whiny + needy jisung, masturbation, boners, caught in the act, slight perv!jisung.

summary : when your morning activities are interrupted by an emergency situation, your boyfriend can't help but pleasure himself at the thought of how delicious you looked while you innocently cooked him breakfast.

- ; 9:05 am

your eyes were still glued shut with sleep as you rolled over in bed, throwing your arm to the right which hit your boyfriend in the stomach, of course.

han shot awake, clutching his stomach instantaneously. after a few seconds of sputtering out soft swear words under his breath the said, "new way to wake me up, hm?"

you groaned in response, much too tired to give him a proper answer. the only thing on your mind was going back to sleep, but your boyfriend poking you in your side made that task pretty difficult.

"hannie, stop." you said curtly, grabbing his hand.

"you're the one who woke me up, shouldn't i be mad?" he turned you over so you were facing him. your eyes were closed yet he still took a moment to look at all of your delicate features.

"i can feel you staring at me." you spoke before opening your eyes. he was already staring into them. fuck. you wanted to be mad at him for not letting you sleep, but you couldn't.

he laughed before sliding his hand under your head, separating you and your soft pillow. you leaned closer to him and let out a hum at the plush feeling of your lips meeting his.

he pulled away for a moment and you smiled

"come here." you said grabbing his face and bringing it to yours, smashing your lips together once again, this time with more passion.

you bit his upper lip and he licked your lower, and soon after his tongue pried your lips apart. he sat you up against the headboard, not separating his lips from yours for a second. he unclasped your bra, taking a tit in his hand.

every second that passed just made the kiss more heated.

your hands slid up and down his body as his tongue explored your mouth. just as your hands made it to his waistband you received a call, to which you ignored.

and then another call came.

and finally a text.

he pulled away, recognizing whoever was trying to reach you probably really needed you, considering the number of times your phone had made that god forsaken ding! sound in the last thirty seconds.

han got off of you, letting you recollect and grab your phone.

"fuck." you mumbled

"what?" he looked up at you from the bed like a lost puppy, swearing to himself that he was going to come after whoever just created that cockblock of the century.

"its my best friend. her dog ran away. she wants me to come over and grieve with her. probably lay in her bed for three hours? i don't know.." you rambled on, shocked at the messages you had just received.

"oh shit. you gotta get going then?" he yawned. handing you the bra which he has just pried off moments before.

"i guess so." you slipped the bra over your head. "want breakfast before i leave?" you asked him, grabbing a pair of his pajama pants off of the floor and swiftly putting them on.

"i mean, why not?" he got out of the bed slowly before ruffling his hair and standing up.

you watched his muscles flex as he stretched. did your friends dog really have to run away today?

you walked over to him, giving him a peck on the lips before walking out of the room "meet you downstairs yeah?"

"yeah." he paused, "your not putting a shirt on?" he said loudly, knowing you were far down the hallway by now.

"i mean its just us at home, right?!" you called back.

hearing that he smiled to himself. rushing out of the room and following you down the steps.

- ; 9:32 am

"ji, im gonna burn the fuckin' eggs if you keep staring at me like that." you shuffled the eggs around in the pan once more before turning around to look at him, leaning your hands into the counter.

"what? am i distracting you?"

"just let me cook your eggs in peace." you smiled.

saying that, you turned around. you knew han wouldn't let you do that.

you felt his gaze burning into you as you walked over to the fridge to grab orange juice which you set on the counter next to you.

why not take advantage of this?

you opened the freezer and bent down to grab the mini pancakes you knew your han loved.

you arched your back as you stood up and turned around, "you want some of these, babe?" you held up the box of pancakes, waving them in the air.

your boyfriend traced your curves with his eyes. how his pants hung low on your hips, how your bra held your perfect tits.he was getting harder by the second.

who the fuck gave you permission to do these things to him?

and then, looked up from the floor where he was pretending to stare, blinking and shaking his head before speaking "oh shit- sorry babe what'd ya say?"

"hm." you crossed your arms and leaned against the counter once again, sighing this time. "what am I distracting you now?"

"i gotta use the bathroom, be right back." he said coldly.

you pursed your lips and then shook your head. "you want the pancakes or not?!"

"yeah!" his voice cracked as he ran to the bathroom.

you giggled and turned off the stove, and part of you wished you didn't know what he was about to do.

han bee-lined for the bed and threw himself on it, tossing most of the pillows to the floor and stuffing the remaining behind his back, before yanking his sweatpants down to his knees.

there was no need to drag this out.

he had enough foreplay just watching you downstairs, and not to mention the interrupted scene that morning that had been playing through his head for the rest of the time after that.

he grasped his cock firmly from the spot on his stomach where it had lay hard and wet-tipped.

he gasped at the contact and let his head fall back, his mouth parting slightly as he squeezed himself, before letting his cock fall with a slap against his heated skin.

with a flat hand, he pulled the moisture from his reddening tip, smearing it down his length, before curling his fingers over his balls, just grazing his fingertips below them.

han ran his tongue over his dry lips, picturing you in the kitchen, remembering how you'd looked with your pajama pants hanging so low that just the slightest tug would pull them off.

he groaned and brought his hand around his dick again, tugging jerkily, frantically, and bent his knees, planting his feet on the bed.

he could see you between his legs, one hand on his thigh, the other pleasuring yourself right along with him.

han screwed his eyes closed and clamped his other hand over his own thigh, breathing hard and fast and stroking even faster.

he imagined fucking you over the counter. both of you whimpering as he thrusted roughly into you.

one hand gripping your hips roughly, leaving small marks.

his other roped around to the front of your body, rubbing your clit.

the muscles in hans arms began to burn as he stroked himself, but that barely registered; the only thing he could think of, the only thing he could see, was you beneath him.

him plunging into you and hearing your pretty noises.

your face as it twisted with pleasure.

he stroked himself long and hard, inside and out, his breath ragged and heavy, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before his release.

he moaned loudly, picturing you against the counter once again. this tipped him right over the edge.

with a loud cry of your name, his knees hit his shoulders as his belly strained and his hips thrust up onto his plunging fingers, his body pulsing around them.

quick lines of milky liquid squirted over his hand and the quivering skin of his stomach.

you opened the bedroom door and hans head snapped at the creaking sound it had made.

"huh. well this sure isnt the bathroom." you teased, making your way towards the bed.

[beaviu]

wrong table, right person .𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖ — sjy

⋆˚꩜｡ 003 :: mr basic

ʚଓ m.list — prev — next

synopsis . ❀ ݁ ˖ yn finally agrees to a blind date to finally shut her bffs up about her tragic dating life. Dressed to impress but armed with zero expectations, she arrives at a café, scans the room, and sits across from a guy who checks every box: handsome yet cute, and surprisingly sarcastic in a way that keeps her on her toes. Only one problem: he’s not her date. Jake, a schools heartthrob laying low not to be caught by his fan girls, is just trying to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee when a stranger slides into the seat across from him and starts talking like they know each other. Intrigued — and a little bored — he plays along. What starts as a mistaken identity turns into a full-blown accidental date. And when yn finally realizes her mixup… she walks away mortified. But Jake? He can’t stop thinking about her. Now he’s determined to find her again — without revealing who he really is. As fate (or nosy mutual friends) brings them back together, their story becomes anything but accidental. Because sometimes, love finds you at the wrong table — at exactly the right time.

As yn stepped into the café, the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloped her, immediately grounding her in the cozy atmosphere. Her eyes scanned the room until she saw a guy who could potentially be her future boyfriend, sitting down alone cap on and head down on his phone

Approaching the table, she noticed the empty seat across from him.

“Hey, Intak, right?” she asked with a shy smile.

Jake looked up from his phone, his cap blocking his view and the top half of his face “i think you—“ but before he could finish, the barista’s voice cut in, calling out his order number.

“Oh, you already ordered?” yn said, a little flustered. “Was I that late? I'm so sorry.”

Jake stood up, waving off her apology. “No, it’s fine. I’ll just grab it real quick.”

As he walked toward the pickup counter, he couldn’t help but glance back at the girl now settling into the seat across from where he'd been. Something about her—maybe the way she looked around with quiet curiosity or the slight smile still on her lips—made him suddenly okay with this unexpected meetup.

Walking back with his drink in hand, Jake spots yn sitting at the table, eyes glued to her phone, fingers flying across the screen.

“Hey,” he says, raising an eyebrow as he sits down, “everything alright?”

yn glances up, her expression shifting quickly into a sheepish smile. “Yeah, sorry—my friends are being annoying as usual”

Jake chuckles, lifting his cup. “i understand that”

yn nods silently then asks “what’d you order?”

“oh an iced americano”

She raises an eyebrow, teasing. “Wow. Basic.”

jake gasps, clutching his chest theatrically. “Basic?! Excuse you, this is the superior drink. Sophisticated. Timeless.”

yn laughs, shaking her head. “Okay, Mr. Basic, whatever you say.”

Jake grins, watching her for a moment before saying, more softly, “You know… you have a really pretty smile.”

Her laughter slowly fades as her cheeks flush with color, and she opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. “I—” Jake quickly leans back, eyes wide. “Shit, sorry. That was too sudden, wasn’t it?”

“No!” she blurts, voice higher than intended. “I mean—no, it’s fine. Just… unexpected.”

There’s a beat of silence, but it’s not awkward—just warm. Comfortable.

He takes a sip of his drink, eyes still on her and breaks the silence. “So... you gonna tell me your not-so-basic order, or is it a top-secret recipe?”

“I don’t know…do you really deserve to know?” yn teases, her eyes glinting mischievously.

Jake raises an eyebrow, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Wow, fine,” he sighs dramatically.

yn chuckles, then stands up. “Let me order it first, and then I’ll show you a visual representation,” she says, flashing him a smile before heading over to the counter.

The café’s quieter now, so she waits for a few minutes, picks up her order, and walks back to Jake. “Sorry for keeping you waiting,” she says, an exaggerated pout on her face. Then, with a proud grin, she holds up her matcha latte like she’s unveiling a trophy. “But look at my glorious baby!”

Jake eyes the drink, nodding appreciatively. “I’ll admit, it does look pretty good.”

yn laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she offers him a sip. “Wanna try it? I promise you, it’s the drink of champions.”

Jake grins, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s fine. My iced Americano is superior.”

yn gasps, putting a hand to her chest in mock outrage. “No way! My drink outshines yours in every way!”

Jake rolls his eyes with a playful grin, then decides to switch things up. “Alright, random question. What’s your favorite color?”

yn chuckles, clearly amused. “Navy blue, I guess?”

Jake raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching in a teasing smile. “Hmm, navy blue. Interesting... You’re a uni student, right?”

yns expression shifts, slightly suspicious. “Yeah, I am. Why? You’re not gonna sell my info on the dark web, are you? I’m starting to get worried now.”

“oh cmon i would never do that to you” jake says batting his eyes playfully. yn rolls her eyes playfully “please you just met me”

After about 20 minutes of easy conversation, filled with lighthearted jokes and shared interests, yns phone suddenly starts buzzing incessantly. Jake glances at it, eyebrows raised, and chuckles. "I think you might want to check that? Seems like it’s blowing up."

YN lets out a sigh, a bit embarrassed, and smiles sheepishly. "I’m so sorry, I have no idea why they’re all blowing up my phone. One second let me hop into the ladies room!" she rushes to the bathroom and opens her phone to see a spam of messages from the gc all spamming her name.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ authors note — hehehhehe nd the plot thickens! sorry for the shitty writing I’m still kinda rusty it’s been awhile 💔

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ taglist — @astrobebba @rikchic @zoe1love @t1iqaa @enhanoa @yuyita-rosier @smolderingoasislegion @synamon @blvengene @urfavmelaninatedgeminii @cupidmiyu @naevisringring @swiftcityy @luhvletters @sumzysworld @w3willris3 @skepvids @enhastolemyheart @kimuranirisi @rairaiblog @teenagecheesecakereview @kuroosluthoe @firstclassjaylee

[lush-escape]

This is Me Trying

Part 6

pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

a/n: this one is a liiiiittle longer than the others but she's cute so it's okay. enjoy 🤭🥰

prev: part 5

next: part 7

“Okay I need your help and I need you to not laugh at me.” You eye your friend from across the counter, hands planted down firmly. She looks at you in amusement.

“With?” She asks.

“I…” you look away with a petulant pout before exhaling, letting go of your pride. “I would like you to ask Dick for Jason's number for me.”

There's a beat of silence before she excitedly squeals. “I thought you'd never ask!” It's like her phone has magically appeared in her hands, fingers typing at lightning speed.

“Okay, here it is.” She says not even a second later, it almost gives you whiplash how fast all of this has happened.

“He really didn't hesitate, did he?” You mumble as you pull out your own phone from your back pocket.

“We've been making bets, seeing how long it takes you both to stop dancing around each other.” She giggles.

“You-!”

She waves you off, “Anyway, his number is-”

Your phone suddenly feels heavier in your hand with the knowledge that Jason's number is saved in there. He's just a text or call away now. You try to busy yourself with work but it's impossible knowing those ten little digits can connect you to him in a nanosecond whenever you please. You last an entire eight minutes before you fold.

(XXX) XXX-2309:

Hi is this Jason?

(XXX) XXX-5755:

Depends on who's asking.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you continue to text him. You apologize for having to go through Dick to get his number, which he tells you is no big deal. What he fails to mention is the way his own heart speeds up at your text, or the way a smile seems to make itself a permanent place every time his phone buzzes.

Jason:

You don't have to

You:

I know but I want to. To make up for all the rides home :) seriously dinner at my place tomorrow?

Jason:

yeah I'll be there

The temptation to throw your phone across the room is strong. Giddy and nervous and in shock that you even went out on a limb and invited him over - your head was spinning. You immediately start going through a mental to do list. Cleaning, decluttering, grocery shopping. You were thankful it was your short day at the shop giving you the time you needed to prepare.

“Can't believe you're going on a date.” Your friend teases.

“Not a date.” You bumble for the upteenth time as you scroll recipes on your phone.

“It's totally a date.” She leans on the counter next to you with a smug smile.

“It is not.” You tell her again. “We're just friends. I'm.. thanking him.”

“Bet you're gonna fuck ‘im.” She teases. You gasp, guffaw even, at her audacity.

“I am not!” You huff and puff and pout and walk away from her. She slaps a hand on the counter as she laughs at your tantrum.

“You're a dirty little pervert.” You spit the words at her but she knows you don't truly mean them with the way a devious smile pulls at the corner of your lips.

The following night is filled with nothing but anxious pacing and muttered swears. Your apartment is impeccably clean - apparently inviting over a guy was the motivation you needed to finally get to deep cleaning. Dinner was already finished. You had decided on something easy and light, but filling.

Just in case.

The knock on your door has you scrambling with eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. You stand from your couch and take a moment to compose yourself, not wanting to look too eager. Yet you're practically dancing on your tiptoes over to your door.

You open your front door and stare up at Jason for a split second. It's like time stands still every time you see him. Dark jeans, heavy boots, black shirt. He looks so good you almost forget to breathe.

“Hey,” you finally let out that breath with a smile.

“Hey,” Jason responds just as softly before he's composing himself.

“Uh, I brought drinks. Hope that's-” you can see him swallow as he holds up the twelve pack of beer, it's obvious he's nervous, “-hope that's okay.”

You step to the side and let him in, “Of course. You can put it in the fridge but um…” you close the door behind him as he steps into your space. “I already have some.”

Jason raises his eyebrows, “Same kind?”

“Same kind.” You smile.

It's a little jarring - seeing him in your space. You can't remember the last time you had anyone over, it had been so long. And while he stuck out like a sore thumb there was a heavy feeling in your stomach, one that told you he belonged there in your space. Quickly you shake that thought from your head.

“So, how'd you even get into racing?” You ask Jason as you tidy the kitchen after dinner. He's helping wash dishes, insisting, while you wipe down your counters and stoves. You don't miss the domesticity of it all but you try not to focus on that.

“My dad,” Jason responds, “adopted dad.” He corrects. “And Dick, too. My dad is a big car guy - has a huge collection. So he got me into cars and that bled into learning more about bikes. Dick had a friend who got him into racing and he introduced me to the scene.” He explains.

“Why, you want to start racing?” He looks over at you with a playful smile.

You shake your head with a small laugh, “No, no, no, no. I don't even own a car.” You admit.

Jason dries his hands and moves to your fridge to grab a beer. He practically glides through your house like he lives there. The thought isn't entirely unwelcome.

“Aw, c'mon.” He pops the cap off with ease and takes a quick sip, blue eyes never leaving you. “Can't rely on Gotham public transportation forever. They're not the.. most reliable.”

“Hey, it hasn't failed me yet.” You smile. And by the grace of God you find the courage to flirt with him. “Besides, you're becoming a more reliable ride than the buses. If all else fails I'll just give you a call.” You shrug.

Jason's eyebrow quirks and that signature lopsided smirk adorns his pretty lips.

“Is that right? What makes you think I'll drop everything to give you a ride?” His voice lowers, teasingly so, and you're thankful he can't see the chill that runs down your spine.

“Would you tell me no?” You ask him in a playful but challenging tone, finally looking over at him.

Jason's silent as he thinks, smirk still on his face as he sizes you up. He already knows the answer. He can't deny the pull he feels towards you, the way his brain tells him to say “yes, I'd do anything for you” the second you ask anything of him.

“You got a big head, y'know that?”

“You’re not denying it.”

He takes another swig and shrugs one shoulder, “Ain't accepting it either.”

“So, lemme get this straight-” Jason's holding back a snort.

You're both curled up on your couch watching a terrible horror movie. Jason's taking up half the couch with his body alone, arm over the back of the couch, legs spread wide. You're curled into the arm with a blanket covering your lap.

“You hear some shit outside, in the woods, after finding two of y’r friends dead - and then you decide to go outside? She deserves whatever happens to her.” He shakes his head.

“Isn't being out in the open better than being trapped in a house?” You question him with a laugh.

Jason shakes his head again, “Hell no. You hole up somewhere inconspicuous and find yourself a weapon. She knows that house better than the killer. It's all about staying calm under pressure. Killer’s get tunnel vision, if you keep calm and level headed - easy to take ‘em out.”

You turn to look at Jason and blink before laughing again, “You sure know a lot about serial killers.”

“Yeah, well…” He looks tense for a second before he shrugs it off, “It's all about not bein’ a complete moron and having some self preservation. Which it looks like you got none of, considering you'd wander your ass out into the woods.” He smirks.

“Hey! I have self preservation!” You defend with a laugh. “I'm still alive, living in Gotham, aren't I? I haven't even been mugged yet.” There's a smug tone to your voice.

Jason stares at you in disbelief before scoffing in amusement, “Unfortunately that is something to be proud of around here.”

As the movie ends you grab the empty beer bottles from the coffee table and take them to the kitchen.

“See, told you she'd live. Running around the woods with no ‘self preservation’.” You tease Jason with your back turned to him. The sound of your sink as you rinse the bottles drown out the sound of Jason's boots against your floor.

Two large arms cage you against the counter and you almost shriek in surprise.

“What're you doing?” You ask in a whisper. The heat in your stomach is almost embarrassing.

“Y’really didn't hear me comin’ in here?” His voice is low, right next to your ear. You swallow and shake your head.

“Need to pay better attention to your surroundings. Gotham isn't safe, you know. No woods for you to escape to.”

“I-” you let go of the bottles and they drop in your sink with a sharp clang. Your hands grip the sink to keep your knees from buckling. “I know.” You whisper.

Jason's lips find purchase right where your shoulder meets your neck. The muscle spasms from how soft he's being, almost ticklish. Goosebumps erupt down your arms and on instinct your head tilts to the opposite side.

“Don’t worry… I'll always come when you call,” Jason murmurs against your skin, a quiet promise.

Maybe your friend was right after all.

Jason's kicking off his boots without a single misstep as he's guiding you backwards onto your bed. Large hands are on your waist to guide you back, making sure you don't trip. Teeth clash together in the heated kiss. It's too much and not enough. Your hands are on his arms, shoulders, chest, roaming freely to feel every inch of him that he'll give you.

“Been thinking about this,” he pants, trailing his lips down your jaw, “,since I first saw you.”

“Thought you hated me.” You swallow in anticipation and your throat bobs. The second your head hits the pillow Jason is on you.

“God, no.” his lips move down your neck, his hands are under your shirt. Rough hands meet warm skin. “-hated the way I couldn't stop thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips before you pull your bottom between your teeth, swallowing a moan.

“Hated the way I knew I'd do anything for you the second I saw ya.” His hands are rough and needy as they pull at your shirt. His mouth trails down your chest.

“Fuck…” you gasp. Jason stills and you can feel the smirk against your stomach. You take a chance and look down at him to see his eyes meeting yours, a hungry smile on his face.

“���m tryin’, lemme take my time.”

Christ. The knot in your stomach tightens.

You wake up to warm sunlight filtering through your bedroom curtains. You can't remember the last time you slept in this late, it's almost 9am.

You notice Jason is gone already, much to your dismay. A small frown pulls at your lips. But there's a handwritten note on your bedside table next to your phone. Who still even does that?

You're keeping it forever.

His handwriting is scratchy but neat, like he wrote it in a hurry.

Sorry to bail - family emergency. Call you later x J

With a small huff you grab your phone to check your texts. You have a few “I told you so” texts from your friend, telling you she can manage the shop while you take a day to ‘recover’.

“I know they're only adopted brothers but if he's anything like Dickie, you're gonna need a few days go get your legs working right again 🤭”

You roll your eyes at the message but she's not entirely wrong. Your thighs burn and shake with every step as you pull yourself out of bed. You make your way to your kitchen with a yawn and notice the window cracked open. Weird. You don't remember opening it last night. It's one of the golden rules in Gotham, always keep your windows and doors locked at night.

Your feet pad over to close and lock it but before you make it halfway through your living room there's an arm around your chest, arms held down. The second your fight response kicks in there's a sharp pain in your neck. A needle? You're not sure. You go to scream but before you can

Everything goes black.

taglist: @theendofthematerialgworl @vellichor01 @thy-crimson-king

[gothicpaperback]

THE WAY HE CARES | PART THREE

<<< PART TWO | PART FOUR: COMING SOON >>>

wc: 2,1k | rating: 18+ for eventual smut | Joel Miller x You | Enemy Pregnancy

summary: Joel Miller has been my pain-in-the-ass neighbour for years. we argue more than we speak and when we do speak, it's usually through gritted teeth. but when my doctor tells me my fertility’s running out of time, panic sets in. I want a baby and I don’t have the luxury of waiting around for Mr. Right. Joel's a damn good father to his daughter, Sarah. that much, I can’t deny. so one night, fuelled by nerves and just the right amount of wine, I ask him the unthinkable: get me pregnant. no strings.no romance. just biology. i never planned on falling for him. but nothing about Joel Miller ever goes according to plan.

while the story is first person narrative, the OC female character is YOU. she is not named and barely physically described aside from being able bodied and having hair long enough to grab.

tags/warnings: neighbours, enemies to lovers, comedy, smut, sexual tension, mentions of fertility and reproductive issues, mentions of drugs and alcohol. i will add more tags as they become relevant.

taglist: @himboelover | @harrypotteranna23-blog | @isabella-rose-trastamara | @ro4nix | @sunndroppp | @harriedandharassed

THE WAY HE CARES | PART THREE

I woke up with my cheek pressed against Joel’s shoulder and a dull, jack hammering throb behind my eyes. The house was too bright, the air too stale, and I could taste bad beer, whiskey and regret on my tongue.

Joel stirred beside me, groaning low in his throat.

We sat up at the same time, groaning in stereo, both of us squinting like hungover goblins in a cave.

“God,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes. “Did we drink my entire liquor cabinet?"

I blinked down at the coffee table. There, half-slid under an empty bottle, was the notepad we’d used last night. I pulled it toward me, hoping for a tidy list of logical, emotionless ground rules.

They started out like that, but quickly devolved the sloppy handwriting and barely legible notes. 

Number twelve: No weird eye contact Number nineteen: Joel is banned from singing lullabies. Number thirty: Must never tell the kid Joel thinks birds are government drones

I stared at it. Then held it up, deadpan. “You got sentimental.”

Joel squinted at it, then snorted. “That was you. You started writing names after your fourth beer.”

“Lies. You said the name Joel Jr was great because we can call him JJ.’”

“Yeah, and I stand by it,” he said, then scrubbed a hand over his face. “But you also said, and I quote, ‘He’s going to be the most emotionally stable Capricorn in the Western Hemisphere.’”

I winced. “I hate me.”

He let out a dry laugh, then leaned back against the couch with a long sigh.

“Anyway,” I said, voice turning more pointed as I dropped the notepad back on the table, “none of it matters. You don’t get a say in anything, remember? That was the agreement.”

Joel’s head turned slowly toward me. His jaw tensed.

“I know that,” he said, clipped. “You were the one who started jotting down nursery colours like we were designing a joint Pinterest board.”

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t kept saying, ‘You know what this kid needs?’ like you were pitching a product-”

“Oh, forgive me for trying to make conversation while donating my future genetics.”

“Donating? You made it sound like I won a sweepstakes.”

“I mean, clearly I was drunk enough to forget you’re still impossible.”

“Right back at you, Joel.”

We glared at each other. The warm fuzzy truce from last night had vanished like beer foam, replaced by familiar, petty tension that somehow felt even worse with a hangover.

Then Joel's phone buzzed with a text from Joel’s daughter’s contact name: SARAH.

> Mom’s dropping me off in an hour. Can we get donuts after??

Joel groaned again, this time with feeling. “Sarah’s coming back this morning. She cannot see me doing the walk of shame out of your house.”

"Not to mention that bitch Phelps across the street." 

I stood up, already formulating a plan that absolutely shouldn’t have made as much sense as it did. 

"We need to get you out without anyone seeing.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of plan are we talking about here?”

Ten minutes later, Joel stood in my kitchen wearing a hoodie so tight on him it barely reached his wrists, a baseball cap pulled low, and sunglasses that belonged to my last regrettable ex. He was also wearing some of my hair extensions shoved under the cap, trailing around his stubbled cheeks. 

“This is your plan?” he asked, deadpan.

“You need to look like some loser I'd date. Dressed like that no one is gonna think you're Joel Miller, helpful

"No, they’re gonna think, drug dealer, let's call the cops." 

"So walk fast." 

Joel muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "fuckin' nutjob."

I peeked through the blinds. Across the street, his porch was still empty. No sign of Sarah or her mom’s car yet, but that didn’t mean the coast was clear.

“Okay,” I said. “You go down the side yard, cut behind the Petersons’ hedges, and take the long route around the back of the Culvers’ place. Then you cross diagonally to your garage from the alley side.”

“This is not a bank heist, it’s suburban espionage,” he grumbled, but he adjusted the cap on his head and followed me out the side door anyway.

We crept along the fence line like two criminals breaking out of a Hobby Lobby. At one point, Joel tripped over a lawn gnome and I had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep him from swearing loud enough for the birds to file a noise complaint.

As we passed behind the Petersons’ rose bushes, we both froze. Mr. Peterson was in the driveway, adjusting his sprinkler.

I hissed, “Act natural.”

Joel straightened his spine as I practically shouted. "Thanks for the delivery GrubHub guy. Your tip has been added!" 

Mr. Peterson frowned over at us. 

“Oh hi, Mr Peterson,” I shouted, yanking Joel by the arm and speed-walking toward the Culvers’ back fence. "Just thanking the Food delivery guy!" 

Mr. Peterson just nodded incredulously before going back to fixing his sprinkler. 

“This is humiliating,” Joel muttered.

“You’re welcome.”

Joel was sweating and glaring, but we were unseen. He darted down the alley, across to his backyard.

I was about to leave when Sarah's mom pulled up. 

"Shit." 

I watched the teen give her mom a kiss before grabbing her backpack. 

"See you next weekend, mom!"

"Bye honey!"

Joel was still halfway through his backyard when her mom's car took off. I was standing on the sidewalk pretending to check my mail. 

I panicked, knowing that if Sarah turned around right this second she would see her dad creeping through the hedges like a demented pervert. 

"Sarah!" I screeched. 

When he heard my scream, Joel tugged the hat, hair and glasses from his head. His real hair was a mess and he looked like he’d aged five years in ten minutes.

Sarah was peering at me from across the street. "Yeah?"

"Uh, come here a second." 

Sarah looked a bit confused but she did so, shooting me a smile. "Good morning."

I watched Joel from the corner of my eyes, smiling at Sarah. He was inching towards his side door. 

"I just wanted to say, Sarah, that I think you are a great kid." 

Sarah beamed up at me, all bright teeth and shiny eyes. "Thank you ma'am."

"Oh please, call me by my name," I said distractedly, my eyes on Sarah but my focus on Joel. 

"Uh, did you need anything?" Sarah asked after an uncomfortable moment of silence. 

Joel was so close. Just a few seconds more. I panicked. 

"I wanted to have you over for a cookout. This week. My place. Do you like mushroom burgers?" 

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," Sarah said slowly. 

Joel was at the side door now. He gave me one last look, equal parts annoyed and begrudgingly impressed before he slipped inside. 

"Anyway, something to think about," I said far too loudly. "Bye Sarah! Lovely to see you!" 

I smiled hard, turned on my heel, and marched back to my house with Sarah waving after me. 

Disaster averted.

Ten minutes and two huge glasses of orange juice later, an alert popped up on my phone. 

> Guess our drunk selves wanted us to be in contact

A blurry selfie was saved under his name in my contact list.

Joel 'Babydaddy' Miller. 

Jesus. 

>At least they did us one solid. 

> Considering your devious little plan today I'm surprised we didn't do something worse

I watched the dots bounce as he formulated his response, biting my thumb nail and grinning at the screen.

>You’re terrifying when you’re organized.  >And you’re welcome for your spotless suburban reputation.

I imagined I could hear his chuckle across the street. His smile and perfect teeth. 

> Sarah mentioned something about a cookout this week?  > Oh right. I panicked. Sorry.  >It's fine. I'll make up an excuse. 

For some reason I felt a little deflated at the response but I couldn't pinpoint why. All I knew was that I needed this conversation to end. 

> I want my hoodie back by the way. Have a good week. 

And just like that, we were back to whatever the hell this was, two enemies playing house in the dumbest possible way.

[hikarimiyanaga]

The Surprise

Sequel.

Uh. I forgot to say this was a Normal!AU in which they're all just kpop bands but with F!reader amongst them.

They're all humans.

Rumi and Jinu are just rivals.

And Mira and Zoey are going out.

You were at your house and scrolling through different job offers.

It's been a month since you quit.

When you quit being Huntr/X's assistant, you had enough savings to last you a decade of not working. If you didn't splurge or buy games.

But you did do those two things for like a whole week.

So that decade was halved and now here you are.

You sigh for the fifth time as you consider a manager gig.

"Fuck no. I don't want to see Rumi anymore." You say out loud but you know that it's an impossible thing to do. After all, she was a superstar. One for out of your house and you will somehow hear their newest single or one of their classics.

And it doesn't help that the trio somehow finds a new number everyday to call you.

You look through your house and sigh.

"Time to be productive." You clean your house that day while you wait for more job offers.

-

Rumi looks at everyone around the table and sigh.

"Still won't talk?" Zoey and Mira shake their heads.

"When she hears it's you, me or Mira, she immediately hangs up." Zoey says and Mira nods in agreement.

"Bobby?"

"She blocked me too! I was going to offer her a managerial job too."

"She probably doesn't want to. She probably wants to avoid Rumi as much as possible." Jinu says and Rumi scoffs at him.

"Shut up."

"I was just stating facts. If it was me trying to move on from someone who can't even tell the public that they love me? I would want to avoid them as much as possible." Everyone nods in agreement.

"You're not helping." Jinu holds his hands up.

"Just saying." Zoey gets a bright idea.

"Have YOU tried calling her?" Everyone looks at him.

"Hmm. I should give it a try."

-

You hear your phone ring and pick it up, hoping for another interview or job offer to come through.

"Hi. You've reached Y/N Y/LN. How can I-"

"You sound polite." The voice makes you freeze. It was familiar and not familiar.

"M-may I ask who this might be?" You sit on your couch.

"Jinu. I'm the leader of the Saja boys."

Ah. Rumi's new boyfriend. The one she told that you were just her assistant.

"Ah. Can I help you?" You can hear his chuckle.

"What a sudden change. You must hate me, right?"

"I don't hate you, Mr. Jinu. If this all you called for then-"

"It's not. Make sure to watch the Huntr/x's portion of interview later tonight. You'll find a surprise waiting for you."

"What?"

"I informed you. Oh. And one more thing. I absolutely have no interest in Rumi. She and I are purely work rivals."

"I-" He hangs up and you look at your phone.

"What the fuck?"

-

You were playing games on your console when you look at the clock.

The exact time those late night shows usually start.

"Fuck off. Stop thinking about her. Stop." You say to yourself but groan as you know your curiosity had already won.

"GOD! FUCK YOU, JINU!" You shout to your ceiling and save your game. You browse through the channels then stop as the screen shows Huntr/x appearing and sitting on the couch.

"Welcome back, everyone!" The host greets them warmly and the trio greets everyone.

"So. Your new single has been absolutely fire. Takedown has reached new records this week."

"It has truly been a blessing. Writing Takedown took so much out of us. We spent late nights buried in notebooks, lyrics and with our instruments." Zoey muses.

"I remember you always dragging Y/N to go on late night snack shopping."

"Right! Y/N! Most of your fans have noticed that your lovable assistant has been missing."

"What? The fuck????? ME???????" You question your life.

You????? PEOPLE NOTICE YOU?? HOW???

"Well, yeah. Y/N quit." Rumi says bluntly and everyone, the hose and audience gasp at the information.

"She did? Damn. That woman has always been a force of nature. Back when you guys first started, she always made sure you guys had more than enough screentime. I think if she could, she would the editor like a hawk." Everyone laughs at that, including the trio.

"Y/N has always been protective of us." Zoey says fondly.

"I'm telling you guys, she's really the true delinquent." Everyone chuckles at Mira's joke.

"She quit because of me. I was being insensitive. I was being secretive."

"Secretive? Of what?"

"My relationship with her." Everyone gasps and you freeze at her words. "Y/N and I are girlfriends. I never revealed it to the world because didn't want her to get hurt. For our fans to come after her." Rumi chuckles. "But to my surprise when she was just gone for a week, everyone looked for her." Rumi looks at the camera. "Thank you for caring about the girl that I love." Her words make your heart beat faster.

"So, is this you coming out? Are you saying that-"

"I'm bisexual. All three of us are." Mira and Zoey nod in agreement.

"And another announcement! Me and Mira have been dating for the past couple years!"

"That one was obvious, Zoey!"

"Yeah! Everyone knows!" Zoey shows a surprised at Mira who chuckles.

"Wait. They do?"

"Zoey, #MiraZoey always trend. Baby, you should really look at trend topics more." The endearment makes their fans squeal.

"I hope Y/N is watching this." Rumi looks at the camera then bows slightly. "I'm really sorry for making you wait. For saying you were only my assistant. But you're not. You're my partner in crime. My ride or die. You and your protective nature always shielded me and the girls. I have always loved you for that."

You turn off the TV quickly and you stare at the ceiling.

Why now?

Why do this when you left already?

"We both know why." The voice in your head says and you sob.

Because you were never enough.

Because you were just average.

Huntr/x and Saja Boys are gods. Idols.

What were you compared to them?

You cry to sleep that night.

-

You wake up to a loud knock on your door. You look around and see that it was just 6 am.

"Who the fuck knocks this early?"

"Y/N!" You scramble at the familiar voice. Why is your sister here at your house in the city??

You open the door and see Yuna.

"Finally. Pack your bags."

"What?"

"I'm dragging you back home. Pack for a week."

A/N:

Second part!

Third part is probably the last.

Probably.

Don't quote me.

Thanks for reading!

Donate if you can, because I'm still broke and PH economy is fucking annoying.

Ko-Fi is on my masterlist.

[microwavesaferat]

Batfam Incorrect Quotes

(Most of these come from quote generators)

Jason: It's nice to wanted, you know?

Dick: Not by the law!

Tim: I think we can be evil. As a treat.

Jason: We?

Tim: We. :)

Steph: *nudges Tim at 3am* Pretty fucked up that we depict the moon as a girl and the sun as a boy. They're just floating rocks in space. Tim? Wake up, Tim! Listen! They're sexless!

Tim: The sun isn't a rock, go back to sleep.

Jason: If you aren't someone the church wanted dead 300 years ago, are you really living?

Dick: How was your day, Damian?

Damian: Yeah, fine, it's anti-bullying week at school.

Dick: Oh? And what does that mean?

Damian: It means I can't bully anyone for a whole week.

*Damian gets a phone call*

Damian: Hello?

Dick: Hi, is Jason there? I need to talk to him.

Damian: No, Jason is dead... Again.

Jason, very much alive next to Damian: DAMIAN WHAT THE FUCK-

Tim: Guess what number I’m thinking of.

Jason: 420?

Tim: No, that’s really immature of you. Someone else guess, and please take this seriously.

Cass: 69.

Tim: Yeah it was 69.

Damian: I find it very unseemly of Father to start dating again after Kyle broke up with him. Isn't the customary period of mourning 10 years?

Tim: Die. Let's find out.

Damian: Is five a lot of followers?

Dick: Depends on the context.

Tim: On Instagram? No, not a lot of followers.

Duke: In a dark alley? Yes, a lot of followers.

Also, for people who have listened to Rogues! The Podcast:

(In therapy)

Jon: So what do you have planned for the future?

Edward: Lunch.

Jon: No, like long term.

Edward: Oh...um, dinner?

Harley: You didn’t cry when bambi’s mother died?!

Edward, sarcastically: Yes, it was very sad when the guy stopped drawing the deer.

Harley: From now on we will be using code names.

Harley: You can address me as Eagle One.

Harley: Mr. J is “been there done that”.

Harley: Ivy is “currently doing that”.

Harley: Selina is “it happened once in a dream”.

Harley: Jonny is “if I had to pick a dude”.

Harley: And Edward is..

Harley: Eagle Two

Edward: Oh thank god.

Harvey: I’m 80% awesome 20% water and 100% handsome.

Edward: That’s 200%.

Harvey: I’m twice the man you’ll ever be.

[p0ckykiss]

idiot - yang jungwon

summary -> "have any of you seen y/n" where you go missing and boyfriend jungwon is worried

warnings -> female reader x jungwon, typical cold guy and popular girl trope, school au, fluff, established relationship, they are very cute, jungwon gets a little insecure

jungwon had passed by the cafeteria five times, three times in the dance practice hall, a couple of peeks in the locker rooms and libraries, but he couldn't find you anywhere.

"have any of you seen y/n?" he asks for the umpteenth time.

"sorry jungwon, we haven't." his friends answered

dialing the number again, jungwon groans in frustration as it only reached your voicemail.

he calls ni-ki, your best friend.

"do you know where y/n is?" he asks immediately.

"wow, i'm fine as well. thank you for asking jungwon." jungwon can hear the eye roll just from ni-ki's voice.

"sorry. it's just that i haven't seen her the whole day and she says she's at school but i've already roamed around for at least three times and i'm tired and hungry and it is so fucking cold, and she's not answering my calls and texts and i swear if i see your dumb best friend i'm going to swallow her whole, she is going to have to get used to being stuck with me".

he ends the call not letting ni-ki have the final word, pocketing his phone before begrudgingly deciding to go back to his dorm.

jungwon's door opened and he ignored it in favor of focusing on the movie playing in his phone. he continued ignoring the intruder even as they lunged at him on his bed and nuzzled on his neck.

"baby" you singsong, "quit ignoring me and give me attention." 'you don't deserve it' jungwon bitterly thinks, eyes still unblinkingly watching the protagonists run away from the killer. it was a fitting film to watch in the winter weather.

"won", you called, endlessly poking all over jungwon's face.

jungwon glared when you grabbed his phone, but you only gave him a sickeningly sweet smile. his heartbeat skipped.

"ni-ki told me that you spoke a whole paragraph to him on the phone." you say, "you're not really going to eat me and gobble me up right?" you say masking a terrified face to mess with him.

as if on cue, jungwon's stomach grumbled.

"baby, you're my boyfriend please, don't". you say whining.

he couldn't help the snort spilling from his lips at your dramatics.

"you're an idiot."

you grinned successfully, "yeah well, this idiot got your favorite food. what do you say for a movie date?"

---- NEXT DAY ----

jungwon slammed his hands on the lunch table, making his friends and the people nearby flinch.

"have any of you seen y/n?" jungwon gritted, eyebrows furrowed to the middle.

"she's missing again?" heeseung asks.

"do you think i'd look for her if that's not the case?" he snaps, rolling his eyes.

"hey! don't use that tone on him!" ni-ki scolds.

he was about to retort when jay clamps a hand on his mouth,

"jungwon, shut up. none of us had seen her, but don't worry too much, maybe she's just busy."

jungwon pulled away, "well she could've at least sent a text, and not fucking ghost me every time we go to school like I'm just a nobody." his jaw tightehed, insecurities and ugly thoughts flooding his mind.

'is she just playing with me? it's too good to be true isn't it-'

jay sensed it, "no jungwon, it's not what you're thinking. she likes you a lot."

he appreciate the sentiment, but he hates that he even needs reassurance, or a reminder that that was the case.

"whatever," was the only thing he said before walking away. he faintly hears jay apologizing to the people nearby for the way he acted, but he couldn't being himself to be apologetic for it.

because that was how yang jungwon is. he didn't give a single fuck about anyone else. the typical guy at campus who was cold to the bones but everybody has a crush on; it was even a miracle that someone like you would want to date him.

it was you who chased after him; despite the cold shoulders and multiple rejections, you were relentless in wanting jungwon. you bought him his morning coffee, ate with him at lunch, waited for him during his practice sessions, and walked him back to his dorm. you never missed a day doing all of it — that's how persistent you were.

and jungwon, cold but soft jungwon, started to like you back after a couple of weeks. he wasn't used to the affection given to him so it took him time to fully open up, but you were so patient and understanding for his sensitive heart.

one of the happiest days in his life was when he asked you to be his girlfriend, when you had least expected. It happened during one of his hockey games; you had looked too pretty in the couple sweater he had bought for you and him, and he just couldn't resist. so when his teammates were huddled for a time out meeting, jungwon had propped himself in front of your seating on the front row, and said;

"hey, you look so pretty today, be my girlfriend?"

it was so bold and simple, very jungwon-like, and you couldn't help the blush rising to your face as the people around you shrieked. tongue-tied, you only managed a nod and jungwon broke into a breathtaking smile.

they won after jungwon hit the winning shot.

even if you've been together for more than a month already, jungwon's insecurities barely faded. he always catches the murmurs went his way whenever he waits for you, constantly compares himself to the people you had flirted with back then, wonders if he was deserving to be on the receiving end of your attention.

and you had always been reassuring him with all these thoughts, but sometimes, the demons in his head became a little too much, and it gets difficult trying to fight them.

which is why he locked himself up in his room again, watching the snowflakes dance in front of his window.

it was the last day of classes before the winter break when jungwon woke up colder than ever. you didn't barge in his room for the entire night, and there's not a single call or text from you on his list of notifications. upset, he locked himself in for the entire day.

he heard keys jingling outside his door when it reached the afternoon, and he didn't really have the mental energy to keep his hopes high. it's a good thing he didn't though, as jay was the one who showed up.

"get up. we're going somewhere." jay ordered. jungwon raised a brow, "can't you see i'm moping?"

"it's the very reason you need to go out." jay says, "I know you're depressed, but this is just too much."

"i may be depressed but you look the part" jungwon mumbles uninterested in the conversation itself.

"okay, you know what? fuck you. go rot in this place alone."

"where the hell are you taking me?" jungwon grumbles as jay pulled him by the wrist to the dragging him outside stopping right beside the small forest opening. "and why the hell is it so cold today? you didn't even let me take a shower."

"even the warmest showers can't break the ice in your heart dummy." jay responds, letting him go. "now, do you trust me?"

“you’re suspicious”

"just answer the question."

"you're literally my best friend."

"good. now close your eyes."

"I don't like what's happening."

"just shut up and do it!"

jungwon felt himself being pulled somewhere and he fought the strong urge to peek. if jay was messing with him, he'd have his head by midnight.

but he wasn't and when he was instructed to open his eyes, the sight that greeted him was a winter wonderland. fairy lights dangling on the trees, figures made of show surrounding the small ice rink of the frozen pond.

what he caught sight of was you standing near one of the trees, gesturing for him to come closer.

"what's all this?"

you flushed pink, sheepishly rubbing your nape.

"a surprise? i found it really unfair when it's you who asked me to be your girlfriend first when i was making all the moves. so i wanted to do this first!"

you pointed up and jungwon tilted his head, finding a mistletoe strapped to a bare tree branch.

snorting, he said, "you ghosted me for a kiss?"

"hey! it's our first kiss. i want it to be special."

jungwon would be lying if he said that he didn't like it, and you take a step closer.

"can i?"

"god, you're an idiot, of course, you can".

[imyourbratzdoll]

Give me the most angsty fic you’ve ever written about Steve Rogers specially him being mean to reader or cheating 😭

I’m on my period and i wanna cry 🤭

hi! I'm so so so sorry for taking so long! I hope you like this.

summary - after thanos, yours and steve's relationship had begun to crumble.

warning - ANGST! and cheating.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips.

Eventually, 

You stopped trying,

You stopped hoping,

You stopped believing that things would get better.

Everything seemed to change after Thanos, the man you had fallen in love with was no longer there. Well… Not towards you at least. Steve Rogers had become the bully, and you didn’t know how to stop it. 

You had woken early one morning and looked beside you only to see Steve wasn’t there. It had been like this for months now, sometimes you wondered if he ever slept there anymore. You slide out of bed and head out of the bedroom, thinking that he may just be busy somewhere else in the house. But as you ventured throughout the home the two of you shared, all you noticed was how cold everything felt. Like the life had been drained out of the place once filled with love and happiness. 

You wrapped your arms around your body, hugging yourself as you find the house empty. You head back to the room and grab your phone, unlocking it, you find Steve’s number and press the call button, putting it up to your ear. You listen to it ring, and ring, and ring until it goes to voicemail. You try to call again and instead of ringing this time, it just goes straight to voicemail again. 

Dropping your phone onto the bed, you let out a sigh. What had you done for him to start treating you like this? 

You head to the bathroom and strip from your clothes, hopping into the shower. You try to let the water wash away all of the stress and thoughts. You get out after standing under the water for thirty minutes or so, as you wrap a towel around your body, your ears perk up when you hear a sound outside of the bathroom. 

With the towel secured around your body, you exit the bathroom and immediately spot Steve. Something felt off, you didn’t know what exactly, but you felt it deep within. His hair and clothes seemed dishevelled, you watched him for a moment before speaking.

“Hey… Where’d you go?” Your hand curled around your towel, holding it close to your chest as you wait.

“Just for a run. Why?” His answer was short, cold. A lie. 

“No reason, I was just wondering… You didn’t pick up when I called and I wanted to make sure you were alright.” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, you were never this nervous around him before, but everything felt different now. 

Steve turned around, glancing at you. His eyes scanned your towel-clad body with disgust. No longer filled with love or lust, what changed?

And that was when you smelt it… 

It was subtle but there. 

A hint of perfume… One that didn’t belong to you. 

Your already cracked heart, shattered. 

“What?” His voice was harsh, and you subconsciously flinched from it. 

You weren’t looking and you don’t think he intended on you seeing it. Your eyes landed on a part of his skin that was probably supposed to be covered by his shirt and there you spotted a faint hickey. 

Steve must’ve noticed where you were looking because he lifted his hand and fixed his shirt, hiding the hickey that was meant to be hidden before. “Can you stop?” He snapped. 

Your eyes met his, where was the man you fell in love with? The one who chased you around like a lost puppy? The one who would bring you breakfast in bed or surprise you with flowers? Where had he gone? The man you were looking at felt like a stranger. He wasn’t the man you fell in love with. 

You clear your throat, blinking away any tears trying to surface.

“Who is she?” 

The room fell even more silent than it was before, as if time froze after you uttered those words. 

Steve scoffs, rubbing his chin as he looks around before his gaze falls back onto you. “No one.”

Was it possible for your heart to shatter twice? 

You watched him for a few moments before quickly turning around and heading back into the bathroom. The moment you closed the door, you slid down it and covered your mouth with your hand as tears began to fall. 

Who was this man? He wasn’t your Steve. 

You didn’t know how long you were in the bathroom for, you had heard Steve leave again a while ago without checking on you. You eventually stood back up and got dressed, feeling numb and broken. 

You left the house, deciding that you needed to get some air so that you could think more clearly. Every step you took felt as heavy as your heart did, you couldn’t wrap your head around any of it. 

Just as you were about to cross the street to one of your favourite coffee shops, you stopped. Your feet froze, heart dropped, and pain erupted throughout your body. You swallowed as your eyes locked onto the scene before you. 

There stood Steve with his arms wrapped around another woman and a soft smile on his face as he looked down at her. A smile he hadn’t given you for a long time. 

You felt stuck, frozen… It felt like your whole world had crumpled from right beneath your feet. 

Without saying anything, you left. You walked in a different direction from the place that you once called your home. You left without grabbing any of your belongings, leaving everything behind as you stepped onto a bus. You didn’t turn back, you couldn’t. You didn’t want to become someone else because the man you loved didn’t love you anymore. You couldn’t do that to yourself.

You slide into one of the seats with a sigh, a tear falling from your eye as you close them.

You hoped that your absence bothered him,

You hoped that when he hears your name, he feels regret and guilt.

You hoped that when he looks up at the moon, he questions why he hurt you that bad.

You hoped that when he looked at her, he would think of you.

You hoped that not being there makes him as upset as you are.

But it won’t.

He won’t miss you.

He doesn’t even care. 

And eventually…

You would stop hoping because you loved yourself more.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[the-wrong-providence]

A Week On The Water - Chapter 2

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter

Pairing: Harry Castillo x F!Reader

Summary: You're used to being the youngest, unseen and unnoticed by the people you're surrounded with, not particularly wanting the life that your parents intended for you and your siblings. Harry, on the other hand, is used to being seen for the wrong reasons. But at your sister's wedding, you find each other. After only an hour of his company, you offer an impromptu invitation to your family's lakehouse vacation, where you're hoping you'll finally have someone who understands you.

Word Count: 3812

Chapter Warnings: A Little Fluff, A Little Angst, A Little Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is late twenties, Harry is in his forties), Parents Being Unsupportive of Your Job, Siblings and their kids, Psychoanalysis that might stem from my own issues, No Use of Y/N, Excessive and Insistent Use of Commas When Completely Unnecessary,

Additional Notes: I have tried to avoid using descriptors for the reader, but if you notice any, let me know and I'll remove them. I have also not watched Materialists yet, so I may have interpreted Harry completely wrong, but oh well. I have been so unwell this week so poor editing on my part lmao.

The lake house was quiet. Harry looked out across the lake from where he stood in the kitchen, a little awkward in borrowed pyjamas. In his hand was a freshly brewed coffee, far better than the one he would make back at his penthouse. He wasn't sure whether that was from the beans or from the way his mind seemed to be unclenching. Out here, the office couldn't reach him, and his anxiety had already started to blur at the edges.

He'd had the best night sleep he'd had in a long time. Sure, it helped that he was exhausted after the wedding yesterday, but the peace that seemed to blanket this small part of the world had to take its credit too.

The house was beautiful. He should've expected it given how rich your family was. The kind of wealth that made the expense of weddings vanish into nothing with no questions asked. He knew that Javi had offered but your father was determined to fund his precious Jules' wedding himself. Just as he did for Beth. Harry wasn't entirely sure whether it was fueled by pride or generosity.

He took another sip of his coffee, leaning against the counter that overlooked the small dock that they arrived on yesterday. The water was calm, gently kissing at the wood. He took a breath. This was the perfect escape from work. No emails, no phone calls, no deadlines to think about.

His secretary had practically bullied him into signing off of work for the week. "All you do is work, Mr Castillo." She had said down the phone last night when he called her up. Her voice was sharp, yet there was an underlying tone of care which he always felt oddly grateful for. She knew him better than most - both a blessing and a curse. She'd been updating his calendar before he had even finished his sentence. "You can't hide behind your desk your whole life."

Of course, she was right. He spent his time hiding behind his work, as if the number of correspondence he received would keep life from passing him by.

"Good morning," You interrupted his thoughts, which had somehow slipped back to work. He turned to you. Even in a tank top and sweatpants you were somehow the most relieving sight he could imagine. There was something so real and grounding about you. "You sleep okay?" You asked, approaching the window he stood by.

For a moment he stayed quiet, just staring at you. You were looking at him like you saw something that he didn't. "Yeah," He said, his voice a little quieter than usual. He cleared his throat. "Best sleep I've had in months." He mused, sipping his coffee again.

You came to a stop in front of him, humming in acknowledgement. He was suddenly struck by your proximity. "This place gets into your bones," She agreed. "Even if you do have to stay in Jules' room."

"Oh? That was Jules' room, was it?" Harry smirked. "I couldn't tell. Thought that the LEDs and books on modern spirituality were your brother's."

You laughed out loud. Your eyes crinkled and your cheeks lifted. There was something so intimate in the sight of it. Harry couldn't help but chuckle back, immediately trying to memorise the lines of your face and figure out a way to make you laugh again.

Peace fell between you. It was different to that peace Harry felt watching the lake by himself. He preferred this type.

"Enjoying the coffee?" Your gaze dropped to the steam that curled up from the cup. "Ed's a coffee-snob, so we all benefit," You added, pinching the mug from him.

It caught him a little off-guard, yet felt oddly familiar to him, like you could do that every morning and he wouldn't mind. He couldn't help the slow grin that pulled at the corner of his mouth, eyes following your every move, eyes on your lips as you took a small sip. "I'm pretty sure that's mine," he said, mock indignation in his voice.

You smirked, holding the mug to your chin. "You should have drunk it faster," You said back, taking another sip.

His brow arched, clearly amused. "Bold of you," He crossed his arms as he watched you drink his coffee. "Stealing a man's morning coffee without warning is dangerous."

Glancing at him over the rim of the mug, you seemed unbothered. "It's not stealing if you were clearly about to forget it."

Harry scoffed. "Forget it? I was thinking. Deep in thought. I was distracted. You distracted me."

Grinning, you took another sip out of spite. "Mmm, sounds like hesitation to me."

He laughed, rich and genuine in a way that warmed you more than the stolen coffee could. He shook his head with feigned exasperation and then gently reached for his mug back. "Alright coffee thief. Share custody or I'm gonna start charging," he smiled.

You smiled, leaning against the counter, mirroring his stance. "So," You began, head tilted to the side. "What had you so distracted?"

A slow genuine smile spread across his face. He couldn't tell you that your laugh made his chest ache. Instead, he looked outside the window and decided to tell you a half-truth. "I was thinking about how peaceful it is," he said, free hand resting on the surface, his fingers just close enough to brush the fabric of your tank top. It was barely noticeable. "It's quiet here."

"Hm," you softened, taking a slow breath. "Just you wait until the kids are up and about." As much as you loved them, your nieces and nephew were chaos in human form.

Harry's brow furrowed. "Kids?" He asked.

Your smile faltered, the realisation that you hadn't told him hitting you. "Beth and Ed have three kids," you explained. "I should've…"

Your words trailed off as you studied him. Was he regretting agreeing to come? You figured he knew, given you'd said it was a family lake house, and funnily enough that included your siblings. But then again, he’d agreed to come with you, not with the extended family. You shrugged a little, trying to keep your tone light. "I didn't think it was relevant," you murmured.

Something softer flickered in his gaze and his lips quirked. "Sounds like mayhem," he teased, fingers twitching just a bit closer, as if hoping to make contact without quite trying yet.

Your shoulders untensed slightly. "You might want to hold onto your coffee," you teased back, the ease of the moment returning.

He shook his head a little as he laughed, a few of the curls of his sleep-tousled hair falling from being tucked back. "I'll keep it close." He said, fingers finally touching, holding, steady and safe.

The room fell quieter again, as you both just looked at each other.

"I like to escape it sometimes," You said after a moment, voice soft at your admission. Like a well-guarded secret that you were entrusting to him. "I'll go on a walk, or sit by the lake for an hour or so."

He put his coffee down on the side before he reached to hold your hip. It was less hesitant than it had been yesterday yet he was still careful, settling lightly. His fingers splayed over the curve, warm through the thin fabric of your pyjamas.

Your brows furrowed and you stared at a point of his borrowed t-shirt. "It's not about getting away," You clarified thoughtfully. "It's just… making space to breathe. You know?"

Harry nodded, his thumb brushing softly against your side. "Yeah. I know." He murmured back.

"You should come with me," You suggested, eyes meeting his again. "If you need quiet. Unless I'm the loud, chaotic mayhem you're trying to escape."

He chuckled, head dipping slightly. "Sweetheart, I'm not here for the quiet." He said softly, lessening the distance between the two of you.

Your heart stumbled a little in your chest, and you swallowed thickly.

Neither of you said anything at first, just letting the words settle between you. For a moment, the only sounds were the hum of the fridge and the sound of the water lapping at the dock. Then he leaned in a little more, neither sudden nor hesitant.

"I'm glad you came," You murmured, glancing down at his lips.

Somewhere in the background, a door creaked upstairs. Both of you turned your heads enough to acknowledge the inevitable storm of little feet about to cause chaos.

Harry's lips turned up to a grin. "I guess this is my final warning?"

You grinned back. "Oh, it's already too late."

~

Breakfast was a lawless affair. The two youngest, Eva and Teddy, managed to get pancake everywhere, much to their mother's dismay. Her desire for order wasn't limited to the flawless organisation of Jules and Javi's wedding.

Ben seemed surprised to see Harry at the table with them. That didn't particularly come as a shock, given how drunk your brother had been by the time they were getting in the cars to drive to the marina. Nevertheless, he had made his best attempt at embarrassing you the entire time.

That included when you suggested to Harry that you give him an impromptu tour. It was very much an excuse to escape the carnage that was simply your family gathered for breakfast. Ben, ever the big brother, wiggled his eyebrows and mentioned something about sneaking off for a tryst. Naturally, you hit him on the back of his head.

After a quick few minutes to change out of your pyjamas, you stood on the deck of the lake house. Taking a deep breath, you sighed. You'd lasted all of forty minutes with them and even that had been pushing it.

Harry soon joined you, dressed in a linen shirt and jeans that had been pulled straight from Javi's closet. It wasn't the first time he'd had to borrow Javi's clothes, and it wouldn't be the last, given he hadn't had a chance to pack anything from home. He hadn't anticipated being invited on vacation with the bride's family. "Good to see everyone so enthusiastic in the morning," he teased.

You turned to look at him and immediately you felt your cheeks flush. Javi was smaller than him. Not by much, but the way the shirt pulled around the shoulders had you desperately trying not to ogle him. The fabric was barely holding together at the seams.

You looked up at his face, trying to stay focused. "Hm?" He'd said something, right? You blinked a few times before his words registered. "I… yes, it's crazy." You said, clearing your throat. He didn't seem put off, which was a relief. "You got off easy, actually."

He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. Oh god, that didn't help. "It's nice. I always wanted a big family." He said whilst looking at you with all the warmth he usually did. With all the familiarity of someone who had known you for years. It felt like he had.

Your shoulder brushed his slightly. "I'll show you around," You said, looking at the grounds surrounding the lake house and desperately trying to get your mind out of the gutter. There was a lot to the lake house and Harry had barely seen a glimpse when he got here last night.

The two of you began your little tour. You pointed out the tennis court and the yoga pavilion that Beth had insisted on being built. "She was probably there this morning," You said with a slight grin. "She might try and convince you to join her for a sunrise yoga session one day this week. You do not have to agree."

Harry let out a breathy laugh. "What, you don't think I like early morning yoga?" He asked, following you past the guest lodge.

You smiled up at him. "You're welcome to go with her," You said, raising your eyebrows. "Just don't knock on my door, because I like to sleep during sunrise."

He tilted his head, a teasing look on his face. "Noted. Do not disturb during unreasonable hours."

"I don't recommend it before I have coffee either," You added.

Another chuckle. "Is that why you stole mine?"

You let out a slight laugh as well, beginning down the gravel path again. It looped around the lake house property. "Consider it payment for your stay."

"You invited me," He pointed out following after you, feet crunching softly with every step. The morning haze was lifting, sunlight shining on the water in a way that made you forget the chaos that was breakfast. He had the familiar gleam in his eye that he often did when looking at you. It made your stomach flip.

"Mm, very generously, I might add." You said.

He smiled. "Very generously." He echoed.

It was a little unnerving, the way he so easily fit into the space next to you. You were starting to become desperate for him to stay.

You led him down the slope toward the boathouse where the dock stretched out into the glittering lake. The water was calm - disturbed only by the occasional ripple of a fish. "You swim, right?" you asked, coming to a stop near the edge of the dock.

"Yes, I swim." He chuckled, a little endeared by the question. "Although I can't imagine the swimming that your family does here is very…" He trailed off, turning to face you.

You looked over at him too. "More like floating." You agreed.

"Well, I'm excellent at floating." Harry said solemnly.

Unable to help the grin that appeared on your face, you hummed. "Ben would argue it's harder than swimming," you said. "Especially when you add a drink in one hand and sunglasses you're too scared to lose in the other."

Harry laughed, head thrown back a bit. The tension and mayhem that came with spending time with your family seemed to melt away with Harry by your side. You'd known him less than a day, but it felt like forever.

You watched the way he laughed, the dimple on his cheek deepening. Did he know how handsome he was?

"I'm glad I came," He said with a wide smile, something soft in his gaze.

That calm, unreadable expression that made you feel like he saw something in you that you hadn’t even admitted to yourself yet. Another little flutter of your heart and your shoulders eased. “I still can’t believe you did,” you said after a minute, softer now, your tone touched with something more honest. “It’s not exactly your idea of a relaxing getaway, is it?”

Harry glanced at you, one brow raised. “Why not?”

You gave a small, amused snort. “Because it’s not really a vacation when you’re stuck with a bunch of people you barely know. Can't be very calming."

He tilted his head a little. "Like I said earlier, I'm not here for that," He said, a little more intimately than he had been speaking. More certain.

You met his eyes, unsure how to respond to that. There was something open in his expression. Clearing your throat again, you were suddenly very aware of the distance, or lack thereof, between you. He didn't have to elaborate.

Another brief period of quiet, they seemed to be frequent with him.

"Is there more to see?" He asked, not taking his eyes off of you.

You stared for a moment. He made it difficult to think sometimes. "There's always more to see."

He smiled. "Lead the way, sweetheart."

~

It was tradition on the first night at the lake house to sit around the firepit and have s'mores together. It had begun in your teen years, when your father had first bought the place. It continued as you got older, with additions over years; Ed and Javi and the kids were the most notable. Ben's partners had of course been invited, but they never stuck around long. Nathan, your ex, had had a promising run at it. This was the first time someone new had joined in a while so, naturally, your father was grilling Harry instead of the marshmallows.

You'd sort of zoned out, watching the flames licking at the new log that Ed had put in. It crackled a little, sparks spitting into the night sky. Your eyes stayed fixed on the flicker of orange and red, the heat warming your face. On the other side of the fire, Ben was entertaining the eldest of your nieces, Addie. Eva and Teddy had been tucked into bed already. Ed and Beth were cuddled up on the loveseat, talking with your mother about something to do with one of your cousins. You weren't listening.

And Harry, in the seat next to you, was talking business with your father. He had been incredibly interested to find out that Harry's family were the Castillos behind Castillo Capital Partners, one of the biggest private equity firms in the country. The man was even more fascinated when Harry told him he was the CEO. It had started a discussion that immediately went over your head.

So you weren't paying attention to them either.

Until your father said your name. Then your attention snapped back to him and Harry. "She's never been interested in the family business," Your father chuckled. "Far too busy playing at being a hero."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed. He didn't know what you did, he'd assumed you had worked in luxury and commercial real estate like the rest of your family. "You don’t work in property?" He asked, a curious expression on his face.

You cleared your throat. Your father had made it very clear how he felt about your work. "I work for a nonprofit," You said, a little awkwardly. "It's this youth outreach program. I help connect kids with resources they need to build better lives, like… workshops for life skills, counselling, social workers. That sort of thing"

It's not that you were ashamed, far from it. You loved your work, but your father always had something to say about it. You'd heard it all. "Wasting your potential" and "You can't save everyone" were some of his favourites. Not to mention that Thanksgiving dinner where you had argued about the cost of their success. The look on your father's face when he had asked "Do you think we're the villains?" was forever burned into your memory.

Your mother was a little easier to deal with, although she very much enjoyed the circles that being the wife of a millionaire brought. She was constantly concerned about reputation. "Could you at least do this through a foundation? Something with a board and a dress code?" To her, success meant financial security and status in high-society, things that working where you did just didn't offer.

Harry stared at you. "That's incredible," He said, with far more sincerity than you'd expected. His words hung in the air for a moment and you turned to him. The honesty in his voice caught you off guard.

Your father let out another chuckle from his seat. He reached for his glass of whiskey that sat on the table covered in opened s'more supplies. “Well, I suppose someone’s got to do that kind of work. But let’s be honest, it’s not exactly scalable impact.” Ever the critic.

However, Harry didn't take his eyes off of you. "Scalable impact doesn't always mean meaningful." He said evenly. "We can throw millions at projects and communities from the top down, but that's not going to do anything unless there's people on the ground doing the hard work. You're changing people's lives."

That… was not the kind of response you were expecting. He wasn't conforming for your family's benefit. You blinked a few times, risking a glance at your father. Usually, that sort of comment around your family would result in mockery or dissection. Your father's expression was stuck somewhere between bewildered and annoyed. As much as he wanted to pick Harry's comment apart, Harry had the kind of status and wealth that your father dreamed about. It translated into a level of respect that prevented any thought of argument.

So instead your father gave a tight-lipped smile. “You’d be surprised how much you can do from the top, with the right strategy.” He countered, trying to win a debate that he was unaware he had very little stake in.

Harry turned to him, a hint of impatience on his face. "And yet we still have the same social issues we did thirty years ago. Maybe the strategy needs changing. Or maybe it was never enough." He said firmly.

The air had grown a little tense. The others had looked over, having noticed the shift in tone.

Harry looked at you again. “Your kind of work matters,” he paused, searching for the words, "It's real. You actually get to see the impact you’re making.”

Your father let out a small, disapproving grunt and poked at the fire with a stick, sending a burst of sparks skyward. “Impact doesn’t pay the bills.”

“I’m not exactly living in poverty, Dad,” you replied, keeping your voice even, though your jaw was tightening. This was a familiar path, a well-worn one even, and you didn’t want to walk it tonight.

Ben let out a chuckle, smirking from the other side of the fire. Your father glanced around before smiling to ease the tension. "Of course not, darling." He murmured, fingers tightening around the glass in his hand.

As the air slowly calmed, you turned to Harry. "Thanks," You said, low enough that only he could hear. "A lot of people in our circles don't really understand it."

He softened. "Well, I'm not sure I do," He admitted. "But I respect it."

And just like that, the mood shifted again. Ben let out a loud laugh at something Addie had said, pulling everyone’s attention for a moment. Your father excused himself to go get another drink. Your mother followed, probably to keep him from saying anything more, not that you cared.

For a period, you and Harry sat quietly, the fire crackling in front of you. He nudged you. "So that's why you looked so bored when we were talking about capital structure." He mused.

You grinned, something that he was increasingly good at making you do. "Honestly? I blacked out somewhere around leveraged buyouts."

He laughed, shoulder brushing yours. “You’d hate attending the meetings.”

“Rather you than me,” you said back as you looked up at him. You studied the way that his lips were turned up at the corners. 

"Sparky?" Addie's voice sounded as she approached you. "Can you help me open the chocolate?" She asked, small fingers struggling with the stubborn packaging.

As you reached to take it from her, you couldn't help your smile. You felt a whole lot less lonely with Harry around.

Taglist (Let me know if you want to be added):

@strawberrylemontart1 @mallingcalling-blog @yasmin12312 @rrravensss @pedritotito @carpediem1219

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Lucifer smiled as he took the phone: You don't have unlimited?

He was teasing but also curious.

Adam rolled his eyes with a smile: We're not all King's.

Maybe if Lucifer could have his way that will change. Adam walked out to go start dinner and Charlie answered.

Charlie: Hello? Who's this?

Lucifer: Hi sweetie.

Charlie: D-dad!? Oh my..... What number are you calling from I don't recognize it.

Lucifer: It's Adam's cell phone, look he doesn't have unlimited minutes so I gotta tell you a few things rather quickly. It's about your mother.

Charlie: Really!? Is she okay? Is she coming home? Is she-?

Lucifer: Charlie........ She's okay. More than okay. She's been up here in Heaven the whole time.

The line was silent for a while and Lucifer thought maybe he lost her but checking she was still there.

Lucifer: Duckling?

Charlie: She was in Heaven? Like.... As a prisoner like you?

Lucifer bit his lip: No..... She Uhh... She chose to be here.

This isn't a conversation he wanted to have over the phone, he should be there looking her in the eye and ready to comfort her when she started to cry.

Charlie: W-Why?

Lucifer: She just...... She wanted a different life. She still loves you sweetie and she wants you to have her pearls. I'll see if I can get Adam to mail them to you. Or even just open a portal and leave them on your desk.

Charlie: So she's never coming back?

Lucifer: I'm afraid not honey.

He was also going to leave out the affair part.

Lucifer: But there might be some good ish news. Sera didn't bring me here with the intention of ending Extermination, it was just a part of a bigger plan....... I can't promise I'll make it home but know that I'll find a way to stop it.

Charlie: What plan? How does that sound like good news?

Lucifer: I said ish. I.... Can't tell you. You'll only worry more just.... Know I'm okay. I miss you, I love you.

Charlie sniffled: I-I-I love and miss you too dad.

Lucifer: Promise me something Charlie.

Charlie: What?

Lucifer: ..... If I never come home, don't forget how much I love you. You're stronger than you think and I know you probably feel overwhelmed but you're going to be a great ruler especially if you have Maggie to help you. And if I don't come home....... Don't look for me

Not because he doesn't want her to bring him home, but his daughter doesn't deserve to see his mutilated corpse after Sera is done with him.

Charlie: Dad-

Lucifer: P-please Charlie...... Promise me.

With a shaky breath she promised him. They said another round of I love you's before saying goodbye.

Lucifer sighed and plugged in Adam's phone, he could smell dinner. It actually smelled really good.

He went out and Adam was cooking.

Adam: So.... How was it?

Lucifer: Good...... I told her about Lilith.... She didn't take it well.

Hell's Missing the Devil

@beef-brisket

Lucifer wasn't sure if he had heard Sera correctly but the serious tone and look on her face told him that yes she was in fact serious.

Lucifer: I'm sorry.... What?

Sera sighed, she sounded annoyed: We will put an end to the Exterminations and in exchange you will be up in Heaven as a prisoner.

That..... Didn't sound ideal.

But neither were the Exterminations.

He didn't understand, wasn't the whole point of him falling so that he would never see Heaven again? Didn't that defeat the purpose?

Unless...... There was more to it.

Sera: Think about it. Come back here tomorrow when you've made your choice. Make the right choice for once.

He scowled when she left. What a bitch.

Lucifer did think about it and that's when it dawned on him.

With Lilith gone and now Lucifer, Charlie would have to step up and rule Hell. Which meant that she wouldn't have time to run her hotel.

It was underhanded and sneaky..... It was so Heaven.

But by doing this....... He would be saving his daughter too. He didn't trust them not to go after her one day.

Charlie: Dad you can't.

Lucifer: Sweetie, I..... I know this isn't ideal but it's for a greater good.

Charlie teared up: What am I supposed to do without you!?

It was different when he was just holed up in the manor, at least she knew he was safe at home.

But in Heaven? Lucifer was considered a traitor. Who knows what they would do to him.

Lucifer hugged his baby girl tight: Y-you'll be okay...... I love you.

Charlie: ...... I love you too.

She didn't want to let him go. There had to be a way to bring him home.

The next day, Lucifer went to the embassy where Sera was waiting.

Sera: So?

Lucifer sighed, this felt like a mistake but he didn't know what else to do to keep Charlie and their people safe.

Lucifer: Alright.......

Sera: Good.

She snapped her fingers and a pair of silver bracelets appeared on his wrists and Lucifer suddenly felt very drained. They must be blocking his powers.

With another snap, handcuffs with a chain appeared as well, Lucifer walked with his head down through the portal with Sera.

He would have laughed when he heard Peter freaking out. But any amusement left him when Sera said who he would be staying with.

Sera: You'll be under Adam's watch.

It felt ironic in a way.

Lucifer felt like he had been handed a death sentence as Sera handed his chain over to the first man.