#i was supposed to work on something for school...

[poisonofthepaint]

why are you up here?

a story told through cigarettes and suicidal tendencies. you and jack spend the time trying to talk each other down from the roof, until the fourth of july, when neither of you can get up there.

cw: widower!jack, reader has a dead best friend, jack calls reader kid, age gap, kissing, probably not accurate information on how the military works, that's really it but this is probably the most emotional thing i've written in a while lol so beware. uhhh also cigarette smoking, duh. Also. not really proofread so i'm sorry

wc: 4.6k

The first time you meet Abbot on the roof, it’s you who’s on the ledge. It’s the first chilly day of the year. Mid-September, the scorching summer finally seems to come to a halt. Your legs dangle off the building, your back is pressed against the concrete floor. Your stethoscope hangs above your head on the bar that’s supposed to prevent situations like this. The door opens and closes. You close your eyes and listen to his steady gait walk towards you. The sound echoes off the concrete. 

“You’re gonna give me a fucking heart attack, kid.” You don’t answer him, or look at him. Your hand reaches up and lightly bats the medical instrument. You watch it swing back and forth. “Why are you up here?”

“I don’t know, my attending always comes up here, figured I’d see what all the rave is about.” 

He scoffs at you, “Right, I usually do it at the end of my shift though. You’re on hour two. And I’ve never once laid down. I mean, really, this is strange.”

“I’m tired.” You state plainly, still not moving, except for the hand that’s batting at the rope.

“Okay, you’ve gotta stand up, it’s scaring me.”

“I don’t know if I care.” 

You’ve never been this nonchalant; this detached. That’s how Abbot knows something is wrong. Yes, you lost a patient, but he’s never seen it hit you so hard that you had to come up to the roof about it. He doesn’t know what to make of it. He thinks back, and tries to figure out why it would affect you this badly, but then he realizes, he actually doesn’t know anything about you. Sure, he knows where you went to medical school, and he knows that you’re funny, and you dislike bedside manner. You love stabilizing gunshot victims, your favorite restaurant is a Mexican joint that will give you a free margarita after you’ve had your second. He knows you have a shitty ex that wrote a rap song about you. And he knows you can calm an irrational patient down in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t know anything about your past. Before medical school is a mystery to him. 

He says your name in a gentle tone, you finally glance at him. “Listen, we can talk if you want. You know I’ll listen. Or, we can sit up here, in dead silence, but you have to come back from the ledge.”

You oblige, with a huge sigh, and scoot yourself back behind the bar. You still sit, but upright now. You feel like an animal locked in a cage.

“You know you did everything, right?”

“It was the same.” You say, “It was the same as Molly.”

Abbot nods, like he knows. He’s scared you’ll run if he asks for more information, but from your few words he can gather enough.

“I brought Molly to an ED just like this. They did everything they could too. But the wound was too severe. She was too out of it. She wasn’t a good student, hell, neither was I. But she had a fucking future, you know? Like, she deserved to at least try. But that fucking asshole ruined it all.”

He thinks back to that patient. Her dark hair, mangled. The deep cut on the side of her body, abdomen slashed. Abbot thinks about the girl’s blue eyes, how they went back and forth between the back of her head and staring directly at the light. 

“Molly was in a car with some guy she was seeing. She liked him, he gave her all the shit for free, but one night, he got really high, and he and Molly were driving around for fun. But he went into a tree, and he died on impact. Molly had a stab wound from the windshield glass. She was scared of getting arrested, so she called me. I had to pull her out of the car, and by the time I got there, she was too out of it to fight about going to the hospital.”

Abbot soaks in your words, prepares himself for what you’re going to say next. He never stops staring at you. He still stands, hands in his pockets. He focuses on the top of your head. He notes how you shake it lightly every time you say Molly’s name. Like even the mere acknowledgment of it brings up images. He knows how it feels, he has a few names like that.

“I parked in the ambulance bay, and ran her inside. I held her hand while she bled out on the table.”

You take a deep breath and look back at him, wondering if you’re just talking to yourself. Abbot pulls something out of his pocket, a pack of Marlboro blacks. You scoff, and he smiles when he sees a smirk come to your face. 

“You smoke old man cigarettes.”

“Sorry, I don’t have your princess ones.”

You take the cigarette and the lighter from him, flicking it a few times before it finally lights. You take a deep inhale, letting the smoke fill your lungs.

“They had stabilized the wound, at least a little bit, but then they started their neuro tests. No eye reaction to cold water. Pupils blown. She was fucking braindead. They said she must’ve hit her head when the car crashed. She didn’t have any family. She was an aged out foster kid. I was her emergency contact. I had to choose. I had to tell them to pull the plug— to stop. I know no one could’ve saved her, or made her not get in that car. But I still hate it.” You take another deep pull of the stick, the wind blows, and the smoke burns your eyes. 

You stand now, still smoking. You take another drag before offering it to Abbot. He takes it from your hand, taking his own pull. You note how he holds it, held between pointer and thumb, other fingers floating above it. 

He nods his head, “I’ve got a few Molly’s. A few cases that hit too close. I wish I had something I could say.”

You know he’s right. There’s nothing to say.

 “It just fucking sucks, man. Like, really bad.” you voice.

Abbot lets out a chuckle, “Yeah, it does.”

There’s no changing her death. There’s no changing that there will be more Molly’s. This you know.

“My first day back to work after my wife died, I got a patient that looked like her, or maybe I was projecting on the first woman with red hair I saw come in.” You glance at him, you didn’t even know he was a widower. You must have started after it happened. 

“It took Robby and Dana to talk me down from here. Honestly, I was mostly scared shitless that Dana was gonna kill me for making her walk up twelve flights of stairs.” He shakes his head, and locks eyes with you, offering you the cigarette back. You take it gladly, quickly putting it back between your lips. 

“It doesn’t get any easier, but you realize that they don’t want you to join them, wherever they are. Molly wants you here, and I’m sure she knows that you did all you could for her. And you did all you could for that girl in there.”

You nod along to what he’s saying, and stub the cigarette out on the bottom of your shoe. 

“You ready to get back to it? I know it won’t go away, but I’ll deal with the girl’s family, okay? Sit this one out. You can take the foot fungus in central fifteen.”

You laugh, a loud one, and Abbot thinks to himself, finally, there’s that noise I’ve been waiting to hear. 

“Fuck you, and your foot fungus.”

He ticks his head towards the door, and you head in behind him. 

The next time you’re led to the roof, it’s snowing. A cold day in February, the month that drags forever. This time, Jack stands at the ledge, no coat, no gloves. Just standing. You’re thankful he at least wore a long sleeve under his scrub shirt today.

“You need your hands to work in the ED.” you say, plainly. 

It was only a few months back that he was talking you down, and since then, you’ve grown closer together. Sure, you two were always friends. But after telling him about Molly, it was like something shifted. You loved to mess around with him when you could. And he seemed to really take a liking to you after your stint. He always dragged you onto cases with him, ignoring the efforts of Shen to be the one to teach you something. It was nice, it felt like having a friend, even if you only saw each other in the hospital. 

“Why are you up here?” Jack asks, not turning around.

“I brought you a present. But, you can only have it if you put on these gloves.”

Jack turns half-heartedly, and you wave a pack of cigarettes in front of him, like it’s a toy.

“You call yellow American Spirits a present?”

You scoff, “Fine, I’ll smoke one. Asshole.”

And you do. You take one out of the pack, and light it, taking a deep drag. “I’m sorry that she had red hair.” you say softly.

It’s the only detail you knew about his wife. The only thing he dared to share with you about her.

The woman you spent the last hour coding had bright red hair that laid on the table like a cruel joke. It was all spread out, and it looked brushed, even though she had been in the ED, awaiting an ICU bed for three days. She had liver failure, and it had finally given out. Even when you were operating on her, everyone in the room knew that the only thing that would fix her would be a new liver, but you still tried; she didn’t have a DNR. 

Jack reaches a hand back from the ledge, asking for the lit cigarette.

“Gloves,” you say.

“No,” he replies firmly.

“Well,” you sigh, “I tried.” you say, handing him the lit cigarette.

You walk closer to the ledge. Of course, he’s in front of the bar, looking around. You don’t pressure him to talk, just stand with him patiently, like he did for you.

“My wife, Camille, died at home, in bed with me. I woke up one day, and she was just gone. Couldn’t get her up. They said her heart just stopped beating. Sudden cardiac arrest. Her hair was laid out just like that patient’s. I did CPR for twenty minutes straight. They had to pull me off her.”

You swallow and it’s thick. The cold temperature makes your nose run. He offers you the cigarette back.

“No, keep it.” you reach back in your pocket, fetching your own. 

“Camille was the best. I met her right before I enlisted. I had done two years of college, and it just wasn’t really for me. I was studying sports medicine, and I hated it. An enlister talked me into it, told me that I could do real medicine on the field, and I liked that idea. I’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

You nod, the storyline connecting in your head. 

“Camille wrote me letters every week, called me on the phone whenever I could talk. I loved her so much, I proposed in a letter, and we got married after I was done with basic.”

“Damn, surprised you didn’t scare her away.” Jack scoffs and shakes his head at you. It was normal for you two to make offhanded, dry jokes at each other. He knows you mean no harm.

“She stayed with me through it all. Through the war, and the trauma, and the fucking amputation. She took care of me when I didn’t want her to. When I begged her to leave me so she could have a normal life, and not be stuck with some guy who has to wear a prosthetic. But she loved me, and, man, I loved the shit out of her.”

He took a drag of the cigarette, and shook his head at the sirens coming down the street. He finally turns the way you’re standing. You have your one arm crossed, tucked into the warmth of your side. The other hand holds the cigarette steady by your mouth. You can feel the snow melting in your hair, and you know you’ll be a bit damp when you go back in. 

He finally locks eyes with you, “And then, when everything seemed normal, I had gotten into a good place here, she worked from home, so I got to spend the days with her. She just died. Just like that. In bed, with her hair sprawled out on the pillow.”

You nod, like you understand the ache of losing a spouse, even though you don’t. Camille was probably like fifteen Molly’s for him, you realize. 

“I would ask you to come back from the ledge, but after that, man, I don’t know.” 

Jack laughs again, and you smile at him, brightly, thinking maybe your shining smile will convince him to come with you. 

“I was told once, though, that they would want me here, doing what I do best.” Jack looks down, a rare break of eye contact from him. “Jack, Camille would want you here. She would want you to stay saving people. She doesn’t want you to meet her again, not yet.”

“Yeah, I know.” He says, still looking at the ground. “Someone told me though, that it still fucking sucks.”

You laugh, and he peers at you through his eyelashes. Finally, he swoops under the bars, coming to where you're standing. The cigarettes are long abandoned on the ground, snow covering them softly. 

“Thank you,” Jack says, and you’re a bit taken aback.

Usually, he would end something like this with a joke, but he seems like he actually seems grateful, and that scares you even more. You wonder if today was the day he might’ve done it. And you thank God that you stood in the gas station line to buy a fresh pack yesterday. 

“Sure, whenever.” You say, looking up at him, squinting a bit in the snow.  “You know, I think Myrna was saying something about needing to use the bathroom, if you want something easy.”

He scoffs at you, and lets out a small chuckle, “There is nothing easy about that woman.”

You lead him back inside, and you have to admit, you’re proud that you can join the club of people who have successfully talked Abbot off the roof.

The next time you both ache to head to the roof, you’re unable to. A scorching hot Fourth of July. No wind, no clouds. The waiting room is filled with people who've been waiting since their 1:00PM barbecues, and the clock has just struck 10:00. Abbot has seen three patients with red hair code. You’ve had three car crashes caused by drugs, and two patients die that looked a little bit like Molly. To say the day was already going bad was an understatement. 

You two kept sneaking looks at each other all night. Abbot’s eyes, usually hard and cold, would meet yours with a softness, like he knew what you needed, but also knew he couldn’t provide it. It was way too busy to let you sneak off for a break. This also meant he couldn’t, which led to him being a bit more snappy with the staff.

Jack wasn’t ever mean. Sure, he was firm, and he handed orders out like he was still running a combat zone, but you knew he meant no harm by it. Tonight, though, Jack was a little bit mean. He had snapped at Ellis after the first redhead coded, basically screaming, “Dammit, Ellis! How many times do I have to tell you that I need to assess every patient!”

He also yelled at Shen about his tendency for bathroom breaks, telling him that no grown man should have that small of a bladder, and that he should seriously get it checked out. Basically, Jack was about two hours away from being summoned to HR. 

You had stopped caring after the first Molly-look alike died on your table. You had been silent, avoiding eye contact with all the staff, except Jack. you wanted to tell him to stop screaming, because it wasn’t helping anything, and you knew he’d regret it, but you also felt like it wasn’t your place. You wanted to scream too. If you had the seniority to do it, you probably would be snapping at everyone.

You knew that the Fourth was already a really bad day for Jack. he didn’t enjoy his service being paraded around by people who didn’t understand, he didn’t find the day as celebratory as everyone else seemed to. This was the first time he had worked it in a few years. And of course, he was rewarded by his dead wife haunting him all night long.

Finally, you find a moment to sneak away, having maxed out at five patients, all waiting for labs. You sneak into the break room, sitting in a flimsy plastic chair and throwing your hands on top of your head, suddenly aware of how hot it is in the ED. Since the department was kept so cold, it never really got hot, but it was way hotter than usual, maybe even at 70 degrees, you guessed.

You sit there like that, with your eyes closed, ignoring the chatter outside of the room, and it’s a nice feeling. The tears start to prick behind your eyelids, and you know if they start, you won’t stop, so you quickly think of something else, something happy. The first face to come to mind is Jack, which shocks you.

You think about the case he took with you about a week ago. A young boy, with a broken arm, who couldn’t seem to stop spilling sensitive information about his parents’ marriage to the both of you. He had been brought in by his kindergarten teacher, and she seemed equally humiliated.

While Jack set his broken bone, the kid babbled on. “Yeah, so, my mommy said that she doesn’t really like the man like that but my daddy seems to think she really likes him. My mommy and the man even have photos together on my mommy’s phone.” The kid says, all in one breath.

“Well, mommies can have friends.” Jack had said, trying not to get himself in trouble.

“Yeah, but, mommies and their friends don’t usually have S-E-X! At least, that’s what my daddy says. Wait, what is S-E-X?”

Jack jumped up from where he was sitting, “Dr., why don’t you get that propofol going?”

You gave him a quick salute and grabbed the medicine from the nurse, trying your hardest not to giggle at the awkwardness of the situation. 

You feel a little bit better after recalling the memory, a small smile finds its way to your face.

The door creaks open and your eyes open at the noise, it’s Jack standing there, with a grim look on his face.

“Sorry, getting back out, I was waiting on labs.”

“S’fine,” He grumbles, coming to sit next to you.

“So, how are–”

“Don’t,”

You nod your head, and slowly get up from the chair you were sitting in. To your surprise, he puts a hand on your arm, and shoots you a look. You sit back down with him, but don’t dare to look over at his face again. You want to break the ice, but you’re not sure if it’s the right time. You want to just let him wallow, you want to wallow too. You want to smoke a million cigarettes on the roof with him, and not say a single word, because you both just know. That’s how you want to spend the rest of the night.

“You shouldn’t yell at people who don’t know why you’re upset.” you say.

“Maybe they shouldn’t do dumb shit then.” he huffs, a hand wiping over his face.

“They’re not being that dumb, they’re being the usual dumb.”

“So, what, I should only yell at you because you know why I’m upset?”

“You shouldn’t yell at anyone. But, sure, if you need to, yeah, I’ll take it.” 

“Hell no. You just want to be punished because you’ve had Molly’s tonight.” 

It was still terrifying how well he could read you. He knew that you wanted to be blamed; that you wanted to be told you could’ve done something different, even though you knew it wasn’t true. 

“I’m not gonna yell at you, kid. I know you’re itching to get up there as much as me. I yell at those two buffoons because I know after today they won’t think anything of it. You’ll think about it if I yell at you.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I’m not just your boss, like I am to them.”

You swallow hard, because now Jack has said what has gone unsaid for almost a year. That you were more than coworkers. You had never let it run away from you. You never, ever, met outside work. But contained in the walls of PTMC was charged energy that wasn’t appropriate for a boss and his subordinate.

“Jack, I can’t even begin to think about that right now.”

He nods slowly, like he knows he just dropped a bomb when he shouldn’t have. You finally look over at him to meet his hazel eyes that have been boring into your head since the moment he sat down. You give him a small, shaky smile, and stand up.

“I have to go check on patients.”

He nods again; says nothing, lets you leave the room. You close the door behind you and shake your head, trying to get the situation to leave you alone. 

After midnight, it finally starts to quiet a little bit. Way less traumas, a lot more normal stuff, meaning you were finally able to thin the herd of the waiting room a bit. King and Langdon weren’t on until 5:00 but they snuck in early, around 3:00, which gave you a bit of slack. You try your hardest not to notice that Mel is obviously wearing Langdon’s shirt, but it’s difficult not to. She shoots you a glance, like she knows you know, and you give her a shrug and then a thumbs up. Mel blushes and hurries away, like she doesn’t want to be seen. 

Finally, at 3:30, you make your way up to the roof. All twelve flights, you try to save your tears for the heights, but can’t seem to. When you open the door, you know that your eyes are already red. It doesn’t shock you that Jack is already up there, standing over the bar.

He glances back when the door closes, “I would ask why you’re up here, but I guess I already know.”

You join him over the metal railing, standing right next to him. There’s still no breeze outside, and it’s achingly hot for 3AM. “Yeah, real fucked up night, huh?” you laugh— a lot. To the point that your stomach hurts. And so does he, he slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side, for a quick hug.

You pull a pack out from your pocket, Marlboro reds this time.

“Trying something new?”

“I’m trying to compromise.”

He nods and takes one from you, pulling out his black lighter, that’s so dinged up it looks like he’s had it since the war, by the way. You honestly don’t know what he does to get it so dirty. He hands it over to you, and you light yours, deeply inhaling the first pull.

You two stand there like that for a while, smoking in silence. He doesn’t take his arm off of your shoulder. It’s a nice comfort; the physical affection after a shitty day. 

“I can’t believe we still have three more hours.”

He hums, “Should be easier now that King and Frank are here.”

“You know they’re sleeping together, right?”

“Oh, yeah, big time. It’s way funnier to let them think they’re being subtle though.”

You laugh, and choke on the smoke that was halfway into your lungs. 

“About what I said earlier, if you don’t feel the same, I get it. I know I’m pretty messed up, and a lot older. I understand.” 

“No, I do feel the same. I do. And your age doesn’t deter me. I’m pretty messed up too, if you couldn’t tell. It won’t be easy, which is what I’m worried about. I feel like they always say love should be easy. That it just happens. Which I guess it did.”

“Yeah, it did.”

“I just feel like I’m always fighting. I’m always fighting to do the right thing for myself. It’s like survivor’s guilt, I guess. If everyone I couldn’t save doesn’t get to be happy, why should I? Why should I live a good life, and not suffer?”

“Don’t let yourself go there, don’t. Hey–” Jack grabs your face with his hands and turns you towards him. “What’d I tell you, huh? She’d want you to be happy.”

“Are you gonna let yourself be happy? Are you gonna make everyone else’s shifts bad because a woman comes in with red hair?”

“I’m going to let myself be happy for you. I’ve talked to my therapist about it, he thinks I’m ready, he thinks it’d be good. He thinks you’re good for me.”

He lets his hands relax to your shoulders, so he’s holding you gently. “It’s so scary,” you mumble, close to tears again, “It’s so scary to be happy.”

“We have to, though. We have to.” Jack nods his head at you until you start nodding too. Until he thinks you’ve understood him. 

His eyes break away from yours to look down at your lips. He runs his thumb over them, and you let him. You feel like your heart has dropped to your stomach. You forget where you are until a firework goes off in the background, startling you both.

“Jesus, who is still doing fireworks?”

“Probably someone who’s gonna come in with an injury in fifteen minutes.”

He hums again, and ducks under the railing, pulling you with him. 

“Before they do, I need to do this.”

As the second firework makes a loud pop in the sky, Jack leans in, his lips finally touching yours. The kiss is soft, like he’s still scared. His hand cradles your face, and his thumb brushes soft strokes on your cheekbone. The fireworks continue in the background, popping and sprinkling down. You feel like they’re going off in your chest. You push yourself impossibly closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He’s steady, rock solid, for the first time since Molly died, you feel like you have somewhere to toss the burden, at least for this minute. You throw the ache off the roof, and let yourself be close to someone again.

The all familiar sound of sirens pulls you two apart. You smile up at him, and he smiles back, no teeth, of course, but a small grin. You know he knows how you’re feeling. You know he feels the same. And, God, it feels good to know.

“Back to it?”

You sigh, “Three more hours.” 

Jack’s hand is steady on your lower back the whole twelve flights down.

[hyunles]

Overtime | H. HJ.

pairing: ceo!hyunjin x fem!reader word count: 3,7k genre: smut. +18, MDNI cw: no proofread, explicit wording, boss x employee relationship, kissing, couch sex, oral (f.), fingering, creampie, breast sucking, penetration, unprotected sex (pls don't), brief dirty talk, male whimpering, a lot of moaning. Let me know if I missed something! notes: hyunjin in suit always makes me go feral godddd, he's so handsome as always, english is not my first language, pls consider on giving feedback (in the kindest way possible) taglist and requests are open, feel free to ask! have a nice reading <3

It was time for you to fulfill another of your New Year's resolutions: Get a new job.

As a recent graduate, it was a little difficult for you since everyone asked for a twenty-year-old with thirty years of experience, but you always did your best at job interviews.

Today you were supposed to go to a job interview at a law firm. Your position? Nothing fancy, just the CEO assistant.

Naturally, you were nervous. He was the one interviewing you, so you really hoped to not embarrass yourself.

As you made your way to the entrance of the big building, you could feel your heart rate start to rise. No. You had to calm down.

Taking a deep breath, you got onto the elevator and pressed the needed button. Eight floor.

You reviewed your resume, which wasn't that impressive. You also reviewed a few lines your mother had said would help you a long time ago, when you were in middle school, but they could work now.

The elevator came to a stop and you got out, walking until you reached the office. His office.

You could hear people arguing inside, that made your brows furrow, but you decided to knock either way since it was already the time you were called.

The words stopped and a male voice said something inaudible before a guy about your age walked out, fuming in anger.

"Come in." The same male voice called you.

Your boss. Hwang Hyunjin.

You nodded and walked inside. "Good evening. I'm the applicant for the assistant position." You said and immediately handed him your resume.

He hummed, reading quickly but carefully. "Take a seat." He nodded to the chair across his desk, where you sat a few seconds later.

"A chef at a sushi restaurant and a barista at a cafe? How did you end up here?" Hyunjin said without tearing his eyes away from the paper.

"Everyone is asking for years of experience that are impossible for someone my age. And in your ad, you were asking for an assistant between 25 and 30 years old." You explained calmly, hoping he couldn't notice your nervousness.

"Okay, a 25 year old… Are you organized? Can you handle stress?"

You immediately nodded. "Yes sir, I can, totally. I'm very good at it."

"Good."

Silence again, just the sound of the CEO flipping through the few pages of your resume.

"I want you in my team. If you're interested, you start tomorrow." He said with his serious voice.

Your eyes widened a bit as you smiled ever so slightly. "Thanks sir, that really means a lot."

"It is full time. Monday to Friday from nine to five, an hour of lunch at two, I'd maybe need you to stay overtime but I always notify you in advance." He started. "You have social security and a month of paid vacation when you choose it, and a small bonus at the end of the year. Is that okay with you?"

You were immediately surprised. Was that really true?

"Definitely! More than I expected, actually."

"Good. You can start tomorrow morning. See you tomorrow." He nodded and stood up. "I'll take you to the door."

You’ve been working there for a few months now, and everything had been going smoothly. The office was well-organized, and you had made friends with some of the employees.

You've heard rumours about how Hyunjin had a reputation for being strict, cold, and downright intimidating when angry. And he definitely was like that with everyone. Everyone but you for some reason.

Of course, he was still firm, but there was something softer beneath his gaze when he looked your way, a glint of interest that left you wondering. He’d often call you to his office, offering a thousand excuses —small, irrelevant things that could have been handled over email.

Today started off as an average day in the office, any given Friday. You found yourself in the office kitchen, making coffee, when suddenly your phone buzzed. It was Hyunjin.

"I need you in my office. Now."

With a quiet sigh, you put your coffee down, feeling a slight tremor of nerves dance in your stomach. You knew it was never just a simple request with him. And you always were a bit nervous because of all the rumours even when he was softer with you.

As you entered his office, the air felt heavy. Hyunjin was seated behind his desk, his sharp eyes locking onto you the moment you stepped inside. The look on his face was one of irritation, though you weren’t sure if it was because of something you did or something else

“What took you so long? I asked you to bring me an important file yesterday." He said with the severe voice you've grown accustomed to.

"The files on Mr. Kim's trial? I left them on your desk and texted you at nine." You replied calmly but firmly as you always did. Careful.

He frowned, rummaging through the numerous files he had on his desk —or pretending to—, and quickly finding the folder.

You started to think he just called because he wanted to see you. But you immediately shook those thoughts aside.

"Right… Well, now that you're here, I have to ask you something." He said, gesturing you to sit on the chair across his desk.

"The lawyers' dinner is on your agenda, right?" He didn't even wait for you to answer. "I need you to go with me and take notes."

You frowned slightly in confusion but nodded anyway. "But it's tonight."

"Do you have something to do?" He immediately asked, leaning against his desk with a serious expression.

"Not really but you should've-"

"I want you there at six in the fanciest clothes you have." He said firmly, not leaving room for discussion.

You sighed quietly and nodded, standing up. "I'll be there."

He didn't say anything.

You stepped back.

"If you don't have anything else to say to me, I'll go." You waited until he nodded and walked out of the office.

It was going to be a hell of a night.

17:20

Of course you were ready. You needed to leave now if you wanted to make it on time.

The outfit wasn't very impressive. Just a black dress with short sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, knee-length. Also, some low heels and black, thin tights.

Nothing very revealing but not simple either. The few jewels giving it a plus.

You walked out of your house, where your taxi was already waiting. You got in and indicated the driver the address.

After a few minutes, you texted Hyunjin. Just a small message.

"I'm on my way. See you there."

A simple and concise message.

You started to organize your small notebook, getting ready for whatever notes you had to take as Hyunjin said.

That ruined the Friday night —that just implied drinking coffee as you stayed up late drawing or talking with some friends— you had planned.

Either way, you no longer had reason to complain if you were on your way to dinner. A luxurious meal at a 3-star Michelin restaurant. You always thought they were exaggerating too much.

After a few minutes, you arrived at your destiny. You paid and got out of the taxi, walking inside and asking in reception for the table, a big one in a private room.

You were the first, as always. It was 17:50 now, and you had to wait.

You started scheduling the tasks for Monday, both yours and his, killing time.

Suddenly, the door opened. There he was, looking neat as always, you dare to think he looks even better.

White button-up shirt, a black tie, black pants with the usual belt he loved —the one that camouflaged perfectly but also had a subtle golden buckle—, and the glasses he rarely wore and made him look even more professional. His black, short hair was also slicked back, some strands loose, falling perfectly on his forehead.

Hot, you thought. But you immediately shook your head slightly.

"You're early." He stated, taking a seat next to you.

"I like to arrive early. Arriving 10 or 15 minutes early is just in time for me." You explained as you kept writing.

"I like how punctual you are."

You blinked slightly, even stopped writing for a second, but you quickly recomposed.

"I lied to you. I didn't want you to come take notes. I just wanted you here." He said as if it was nothing.

It was definitely anything but nothing.

"Oh…" You mumbled.

"You make me feel more… in control. You help me so much." He continued. "I like it. You keep me grounded with that seriousness of yours. You need to loosen up a bit." He chuckled, leaning closer.

"I'm fine." You simply said, turning your face away just a bit.

He let out a quiet sigh and sat straight again. "Do you even drink?" Hyunjin asked like you were friends.

"I don't like the taste of alcohol." You kept writing.

He snatched your notebook away, smirking. "Leave this. This dinner is supposed to be a… party, so to speak."

"No."

"Come on, you can't be this boring." He teased.

You sighed, looking at your notebook in his hands. He had pretty hands, you've thought that since you met him.

When he was about to make a snarky remark, the chatter of people on the hallway could be heard, he looked at the door.

At least 20 people walked inside, laughing and smiling as they greeted the two of you.

You just smiled slightly and greeted back, memorizing everyone and remembering their last names in case you needed it.

Hyunjin joined the talk soon, his eyes going around the big table before the waiter started taking orders.

The evening reached its peak, everyone was already a bit tipsy, just a few were drunk. People kept coming, you even had to give up your seat to one of the lawyers because he said he was having knee problems.

There were at least 40 people cramped in that medium room. Unexpected guests, people walking around… A total mess.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was having a blast. He talked and talked about the stupid cases he got and won. Obviously, he was slightly tipsy, but he was very composed.

You sighed quietly and excused yourself, walking out of the room, already exhausted and feeling overwhelmed.

You sat down on one of the benches in the small garden outside. You felt calmer, You sat down on one of the benches in the small garden outside. You felt calmer, ready to go back.

But Hyunjin appeared again. It was like he had some magic trick to just pop up wherever you were.

"I'm leaving now. I'm tired. Do you want me to take you home?" He said, smiling. Weird sight, that really gave away the fact that he was tipsy, drunk even.

"You're not driving in this state. I'll take you home." You said, leaving no room for argument.

Hyunjin chuckled. "You noticed?"

"Obviously, you're all red, smiling, and even laughing."

"So you know me…" He whispered as you walked towards the parking lot.

You ignored that comment, shaking your head slightly. Focus.

"This is my car." He said as he grabbed his keys, opening it.

You walked towards the driver's door and extended your hand. He placed the keys on your palm and walked towards the passenger seat.

The drive was quiet, calm. He was very awake, looking out the window.

You were driving calmly, but your mind was going at an outrageous speed.

Thoughts like hot, or he's cute didn't leave your head, you were already stressed.

And his voice didn't help.

"I think I need to wear my glasses daily. My head isn't hurting."

"Funny because you're drunk." You smiled slightly.

He looked at you. "Hey… You're smiling."

That made your eyes go slightly wide. "Wait, you think I never smile?"

"Well…"

"I'm offended." You chuckled, driving calmly.

Hyunjin sighed and leaned his head against the headrest of the seat. Silence returning, slightly tense now.

"You loosen up when I'm drunk." He said.

It caught you off guard.

"You feel more human this way." You murmured.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You always look like a robot. Just work, work, work. I even have to remind you when it's lunch time."

He looked at you with a silly smile. "I need to keep everything in check."

"Not alone. That's why you have me and the other lawyers, the litigation team, everyone. It's not just your job. It's a team effort."

That shut him up, leaving him thinking.

"Text me that please, I want to remember that every day."

You rolled your eyes playfully, pulling over his house. "We're here. Can you walk for yourself?"

"I'm not drunk, just slightly tipsy. I just feel like chuckling."

"Okay." You murmured, getting off the car.

You walked him to his front foor, waiting for him to get inside.

But instead, he opened and leaned against the doorframe.

"How are you going home?"

"I'll take a taxi."

"No."

He didn't even ask when he pulled you inside.

You tried to protest but he quickly shot the door behind you and took off his shoes.

"You're staying with me tonight."

You frowned, taking off your shoes. You knew he wasn't letting you go.

"Where?"

"The guest room. It's spacious."

You nodded as you walked inside, looking around. The house was big, giant for just one person.

"Do you live alone?" You asked, sitting on one of the couches.

"Yes. I used to live with someone but she left. That was 6 years ago anyway." He felt the need to clarify. Why?

"I see."

You started to reorganize your schedule for tomorrow since it'd be difficult to return home in the morning in less than 30 minutes.

He noticed and sat next to you, taking your phone and placing it on the coffee table. "You need to sleep."

"I could say that to you."

"I'm fine."

"You're drunk."

A moment of silence before he looked at you with slight curiosity. "Are you single?" He blurted out.

Your eyes widened as you looked at him. "Why?"

"Just answer."

It took you a moment, but you nodded. "Yeah."

That seemed to please him, making him scoot closer.

Maybe it was the alcohol on his system or the liking he took for her these past months, but he felt bold enough to move his hands towards your waist.

"Hyunjin…" You started but he shushed you quickly.

"You're really pretty." He murmured, making your breath catch. Why was he doing this right now, when he looked so good?

He smiled slightly and cupped your face in his hands, getting closer. So close your breaths mingled together and you could feel the warmness of his body.

"Sir, we shouldn't do this." You murmured, but you didn't move.

"Push me away." He whispered. "Tell me to stop."

You couldn't.

He got closer, noses now brushing.

"I want you. Not just for tonight, but forever. You've made me feel things I never felt…" He murmured, a bit of vulnerability in his voice.

You didn't know what to say, it was like your brain just short-circuited right there and then.

So he took the opportunity and brushed his lips against yours, barely, softly.

"Can I?" Hyunjin whispered.

You nodded.

And that was all the confirmation he needed before kissing you. It was a soft but hungry kiss. You could notice he'd been thinking about it for weeks, months even.

His fingers tangled around your hair as you pulled him closer by the tie. He groaned and pressed himself against you, making you lay down.

Eventually, you broke the kiss in need of air. Quiet gasps and a slight chuckle escaped his mouth. "You're a better kisser than I imagined." He mumbled.

You smiled as your filter and your moral flew away. "Hyun…"

"A nickname? Where's the serious you?" Hyunjin chuckled quietly, kissing down your jawline and neck.

You shivered, tilting your head back as your hands undid his tie and unbuttoned his shirt.

He groaned and helped you with his shirt and pants, already desperate.

"I want you so much…" He whispered, you sighed.

Finally, he started taking off your dress, very gently for his desperation. He was almost admiring you.

"You're so gorgeous…" He whispered, throwing your dress to the floor, kissing down your chest, feeling the texture of your bra with his fingertips.

You could just sigh and move your hands to the back of his head, pulling him closer.

He smiled and unclipped your bra, immediately taking one of your breasts on his mouth, grinding against you.

You couldn't take it and it was just starting. You arched your body, seeking more contact.

He grabbed your hips and played with the edges of your underwear. You sighed desperately. "Just take them off…"

He chuckled, kissing down your abdomen while pulling your panties down. You were already wet, drenched even.

You squirmed slightly when he kissed your thighs.

"God, so wet for me?" He whispered before licking once, his tongue flattening against your entrance. You moaned, gripping the couch.

He started to lick desperately, almost animalistic. He was so needy for you, like a starved man eating you out. And you could just moan and whimper, keeping his head in place.

He kept his ministrations, now moving his lips towards your clit, sucking gently and licking. You moaned his name like a prayer and buckled your hips up, seeking more contact.

Hyuniin decided to make this more interesting and delicious, since both of you were desperate.

He introduced his middle finger on your entrance, slowly at first, lubricating it. You moaned and moved your hips, begging for him.

"Hyunjin… G-God…" You could just say, it was like all thoughts just disappeared from your brain and the only reasonable thing was him, his fingers on you, his tongue on you.

He started moving his finger until it hit that gummy spot, making you let out a yelp, closing your eyes. The pleasure you were feeling was indescribable.

Hyuniin introduced his ring finger, moving both quickly, out and inside, curling them, making it messy.

His lips and chin were glistening with your arousal, and the sight turned you on even more if that was possible.

"Come on… Good girl…" He whispered as he moved his hand faster. The wet sounds making him groan.

"Fuck… You're so good for me…" He whispered, his other hand moving to his boxers, taking them off. His length was so hard it started to hurt, and he had to pump up a bit to relieve himself before aligning it with your wet pussy. "Can you take me?" He murmured, eyes filled with lust.

You nodded.

He pushed inside, stretching you slowly.

"Goodness…!" You moaned loudly, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

He whimpered quietly, filling you up so good. His hips finally made contact with yours and he stayed still for a second, waiting until you grew accustomed to the feeling, the stretch.

"Please… Move…" You could barely whisper. Your mind was clouded with pleasure and your thoughts were only on how good he felt inside you.

His big length twitched, and he started moving, slowly out and suddenly in, that was his pace, making you moan loudly and stealing whimpers from himself.

You'd never expected him to be the loud type, but you weren't complaining.

"Please… Oh God… Please…" He whimpered, moving faster, causing wet sounds. You moaned, loving how he sounded. "Finally… I can have you…" He wasn't even thinking what he was saying, he got so carried away that he no longer thought straight.

With every thrust, you moaned and he whimpered, saying his pleading again and again, hitting that stop repeatedly, making your sight go white.

In a few more thrusts, his hips stuttered. He was close, and so were you.

"I'm gonna…" You whispered.

"Yes baby, come for me. Come with me…" He mumbled, letting out a soft moan. His head falling on your shoulder, kissing there softly.

And finally, you felt it forming more persistently down in your stomach. You were about to cum. Your moans were unstoppable, with absolutely no filter.

He bit your shoulder, moaning quietly but loud enough for you to hear and take you over the edge.

With that, you came, and seconds later, you felt his release filling you up.

Your legs trembled, your body felt weak.

That was the best sex you had in your life, and you were probably going to regret it in the morning. But who cares when your boss just gave you the best orgasm in your entire life, right?

You were panting, cleaning your sweat away. He stayed inside you for a second before sliding out carefully, he didn't want to overstimulate you.

"You're so good at everything, I'm impressed…" He murmured, kissing you again, gently now, lovingly.

You broke the kiss reluctantly. "You won't regret it?"

"No. Never."

You smiled, kissing him softly.

"Let's take a bath." He murmured against your lips.

Two months had already passed since that messy night. You two kept your professional facades but, outside of the building, you two went on dates, getting to know each other.

Obviously you never wanted a one-night-stand, and neither did he. He was an absolute romantic, lover of cheesy things. You could've never guessed since he always kept his serious facade, but you were happy that you were the one who got to see that side of him.

Today you were answering mails as always when you got a message from Hyunjin.

"Are you free today?"

"For you always ;)"

"Good. I need to see you at the park after work. 6:30, without delays."

"Okay, Mr. Mistery."

With that, you left your phone on your desk again, now a bit more nervous.

But you knew, whatever it was, whatever he wanted to talk about, it was going to be something good. You knew him better now, and you knew he was planning something romantic. He's been weird for days, not calling you after work, nothing, but acting like a highschooler in love.

You knew, whatever it was, you loved him, flaws and all. He was the perfect person for you.

And you were the perfect person for him.

ᝰ.ᐟ Reblogs and likes are very appreciated. If you liked this, please consider them!

Thanks for reading!

── 2025, hyunles ⋆ No translations, rewrites, or reposts allowed.

[crackerslacker69]

Idk if you meant this as a question but I'm going to answer it anyway! 🩷

So I didn't get diagnosed with ADHD until I was 24. When I was in college I once had a roommate walk into my room after I'd cleaned and say "Wow! You can see the floor!". I was notorious as a kid for finishing my homework, and then leaving it at home. During summer breaks I would stay up too late binge watching supernatural, go to bed at 2:00 a.m., and wake up at 2:00 p.m. to eat my first meal of the day. (That is also, depression, but I digress)

For me it all changed when I started dating my husband. My advice is not "get in a romantic relationship", but rather "figure out who you want to be reliable for", and if nothing else, you deserve to be reliable for yourself.

My husband is a total type A person. When he was a little boy he would get upset to the point of tears if his mom didn't drop him off at school at least an hour before class was supposed to start. I, was an absolute god damn shit show. We met at 18, when I was at my most disorganized and he was at his most tense. Every time that I would forget something, or be late to something, it would upset him. It made me realize that I wasn't comfortable with letting him down, but I was totally numb to letting myself down, which didn't really feel good. Trying to show up for him and be more reliable made me realize, it felt good to be reliable. Being 15 minutes late to everything, and always showing up unprepared, doesn't feel good. It doesn't feel good to be on the receiving end either, but it also made me realize it's really hard to ask people to treat you the way that you want them to treat you, when you aren't capable of showing up for them the way that you hope they will for you. It also made me realize, I didn't respect myself enough. I had never really been taught how to take care of myself, I'd certainly never been taught how to clean or stay on top of really any mundane repetitive human task. So I had to accept that if I wanted to feel confident in myself and in my relationships, I was going to have to spend my twenties figuring out how to be reliable.

The work to become more disciplined was frustrating, it was difficult, it made me angry, and it's also made my life concretely better. I still fucking hate the sisiphean task of having to feed myself three times a goddamn day. But it's easier. I'm more reliable for other people, and I'm also more reliable for myself. I'm more confident that I will actually be able to accomplish my goals. I'm not afraid of forgetting, I'm not afraid of screwing something up, I'm not afraid of that gut drop feeling when you realize that you didn't do that you were supposed to and that there's not enough time to fix it.

I don't know if this will be relatable for you, but I guess for me it was the realization that I was neglecting myself. To be fair, I'd never really been taught how to do anything else. I guess that I perceived it as part of my personality? But for me, it was love that forced me into the position where I had somebody that I needed to show up for. Someone that had standards that were much higher than mine. (Frankly too high, his standards were honestly as distressing to me as they were to him. He has relaxed and I have grown more capable) I don't know what the solution is for you, I think it's different for everybody, but I think the foundation is respect and reliability. You deserve to feel like you can respect and rely on yourself. For me, a big part of that was learning how to believe in myself and actually see myself as being capable of becoming that kind of person.

Fast forward to now, I'm a wedding planner. Which means my literal actual job is being organized, professionally. If you would have told me that in high school, I probably would have assumed that I would be really bad at it, but I'm not! Becoming more disciplined isn't easy. It's really frustrating work and it takes years. But I turn 28 next week, and being on the other side of the hill I can tell you, it is totally fucking worth it.

Good luck on your journey! You are capable of all things! 🩷

how does one develop discipline in the first place. it seems like discipline requires initial discipline to develop. it's a paradox.

[wintersarge]

all swinging- john walker

summary: after your last mission, you’ve been avoiding john at all costs. what happens when he confronts you in the gym, late one night?

pairing: john walker x reader

word count: 2.4k

content: reader being a lovesick fool for john, yelena being a menace, feelings are eventually shared. fluff and hint of romance. some swearing.

A/N- this is written as a part two to ‘guns blazing’ which can be found here. may be able to be read alone, but probably makes more sense with the last fic. enjoy!

It had been a week since you last spoke to Walker.

The last time you’d talked, it was in the elevator post-mission, bloodied and bruised, exhaustion hanging heavy in the air.

The distinct ‘ding’ of the elevator had cut through the stillness, announcing your arrival to the top floor of the New Avengers tower. You spared a small glance over at John, who to your surprise, was already looking at you. You couldn’t quite make out his expression, though, his eyes guarded. He gave a smile, tight and calculated before he stepped out. You thought he was going to keep walking then, leave things unsaid. But then he stopped, turning back to you. 

“Look after your side,” he said, voice low and oddly sincere. “Change the gauze every few hours.”

You nodded, the corners of your mouth twitching into a tired smile. “I know what I’m doing, John.” 

He huffed a quiet breath. “And I know what you’re like. Don’t make it worse.”

And with that, he left. 

Now, you were basically hiding from him. Before, you might’ve searched for him in the hallways, cornering him to tease him about the way he had lost out in training to Bucky, or laugh about the way Yelena had caught him listening to Taylor Swift in his bedroom the week before. But everything felt wrong to you now, your demeanour too forced and fabricated around him. You stopped calling him names, stopped bickering back at him. And slowly, you started to refuse to be alone with him, always finding an excuse to leave when it was just the two of you. 

Simply put, you were avoiding him. Like the plague.

You didn’t know why you were suddenly so enamoured by him. You were supposed to be rivals, after all. You should hate him. You felt pathetic, like a giddy schoolgirl. It was something in the way he had grabbed you without second thought, hands working softly over your bloodied torso- hands you swear you could still feel ghosting over your hip days later. You saw a different side to him, one that didn’t mock you for how you ate your eggs or liked your coffee. It was all-consuming, how much you liked him now. You tried your hardest to push it down, to keep hating him for how much he got under your skin. But whatever you did, it wasn’t enough. Your disdain for him had melted away, simmering into something else entirely. It was driving you crazy. 

And, to make matters even worse, Yelena was beginning to suspect something was up with you and John.

“What is up with you and Walker?” You almost choke on your coffee, coughing violently as you place your mug down on the countertop. You frown, trying to play it cool. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean I’ve seen the way you look at him, when he’s not looking. I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” You answer too quickly, voice not entirely convincing. Yelena nearly laughs in your face.

“You’re a shitty liar. Plus, you don’t even talk to him anymore, you just stare longingly at him. It’s… creepy. Not that I’m entirely complaining, though, because it is nice to sit in the kitchen without your constant arguing.” You roll your eyes, mouth opening to speak. 

“Lena-”

“-And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you dart out of a room when you’re left alone with him. Do you know how annoying it is to be paired up with him in training? He’s insufferable. And throws hard punches. He comes out all swinging.” You swallow, trying and failing to school your expression. “I mean, god. What happened on that mission? Did you finally hate-fuck?” 

You actually spit your coffee out this time, coughing so hard you have to brace yourself against the counter.

“Yelena!” You gasp out, hot coffee dropping down your chin. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “What the fuck?” You feel your cheeks heat up, and it’s suddenly very clear you’ve not been as subtle as you thought about your newfound feelings for John.

“Actually, no. Don’t tell me if you did” She screws her nose up, pulling an over-exaggerated face. “I don’t want to imagine John like that”

“Like what?” 

You freeze. 

John’s voice comes from behind you, all rough and American- his appearance painfully timed. You swear you feel your heart stop, wanting nothing more than the ground to swallow you up whole. You shoot Yelena a look that said ‘If you say a single word, I swear-’

“Nothing” You squeak out, not even attempting to look over at John. If you did, he’d see your bright red cheeks and the embarrassment coating your eyes. You can feel Yelena’s gaze burning into the side of your face, the way her chest heaved with a barely restrained laugh. 

John isn’t convinced by this, though. “You’re a terrible liar, Cupcake.” 

That fuck-ass nickname. He had penned it for you after you had managed to nearly burn the whole tower down when making (what was supposed to be) cupcakes with Bob. You wished you could click your fingers and disappear right about now. 

Yelena, however, was grinning like a Cheshire cat, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Ah, Walker we were just talking about how you two-”

“I have to go”, you blurt out suddenly. Your voice comes out too loud, cutting into Yelena’s teasing tone. “I- I need to talk to Val. Official avengers business, you know.” You couldn’t sound any less convincing if you tried. You didn’t wait for a response, turning on your heel and practically sprinting out of the kitchen into your room. You bang your head against the wood of your door, internally groaning. 

Smooth. Real smooth.

It took you another week to recover from the embarrassment of that interaction.

Another week of avoiding John like your life depended on it, and another week of glaring at Yelena when she made ‘subtle’ off-handed comments to provoke you, like:

“Walker, have you been working out more? You look stronger. Don’t you think so, __?”

Or,

“Your suit looks good today, __. Walker, tell her she looks good” 

It was starting to drive you mad. John didn’t seem to bat an eyelid at Yelena’s behavior though, which made you even more infuriated. You decided you needed a way to release the tension that had begun to build up, hating the way it spread through your body like a wildfire. 

This was how you found yourself in the compound’s gym, late one night. 

It had gone past 1AM, and you hadn’t slept at all- mind on override. You had tried to ignore it, clenching your eyes shut and willing yourself to sleep. Needless to say, it didn't work. You had even considered meditating or praying to whoever was out there, begging for a release from this love-struck wedge you had driven between you and John. This felt stupid, though, so you opted for a different solution: the gym. 

Before all of this, you would usually be in here with John, hair stuck to your face with sweat and breaths coming in quick pants as you dodged his hasty attacks. Now that you sparred with Yelena or Ava, sessions felt different. Flat. There was no thrill, no tension surfacing. You hated how much you missed it. 

You decided to channel your rage into the boxing bag that hung in the corner, fists rebounding against the worn leather. You knew you probably weren’t swinging in the way John had taught you to, or keeping your legs just the right distance apart for ‘optimal damage’, as he had said. You didn’t care though- not with all the images swirling behind your eyes.

His smile. Punch.

His eyes. Punch.

The way his shirt clung to him after training. Punch.

The way you wanted to grab him by the shoulders and ki-

“Your posture is all wrong” 

Your heart nearly fell out of your ass. You spun on your heel, eyes wide. “Jesus Christ, you scared me.” 

There, hovering in the doorway, was John. He was dressed casually, black sweatpants hung low on his waist. It took every ounce of your strength not to gawp at him. His hair was messy in the way it was after he showered, and you could smell his body lotion from across the room. God, he looked perfect.

“What are you doing up? Thought it was past your bedtime” He watches you from where he stood, a smug smile on his face. You rolled your eyes.

“Ha-ha. Very funny” You stepped away from the punchbag, swiping at your water bottle. You tried to ignore the way John was staring at you. 

“Seriously, though. You do know it’s 1:30? Odd time to be working out, don’t you think?” His voice had found that aggravating tone again, seeping with arrogance.

“Yes I’m aware of the time, Walker. I can read a clock, believe it or not” It was uneasy, how quickly you fell back into your old routine- all teasing and sarcastic. It then occurred to you that this was the first time in two weeks that you and John had been in the same room together, talking. You swallowed thickly, moving back to the punching bag. 

You hit at it again, harsher this time. Your knuckles were already red and you could see the skin beginning to peel, but you pushed through it. John hadn’t moved since he appeared, eyes locked onto the back of your head. You felt like a test subject, squirming under his gaze. 

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep punching like that” He said matter-of-factly. You bit back another retort, hands continuing their assault on the leather. You heard Walker make a disgruntled noise and suddenly he was behind you, his cologne invading your nostrils. 

“Stop.” It was murmured out, his breath hitting the back of your neck. The hairs there rose, and you faltered. “You know how you should punch. Show me.”

You felt delightfully trapped, his chest only inches from your back. It reminded you of how it felt to be in his arms, his strong hold keeping you tight against his body. You let out a small breath, your body working slower than your mind. Walker seemed to notice this and with an exhale, brought his hands out to help guide your position.

“Here. Your arms should be bent just slightly, and step apart. You want optimal damage, remember.” His fingers danced over your skin, the warmth of his freshly washed body enveloping your own. You could’ve passed out, there and then. You felt dizzy with it all. 

You clear your throat, assuming the position he gave you. You take a few swings at the bag, hits landing better than before. “See? Better. You’re doing good”

His praise was like music to your ears.

“Hold on a second” You stop, twisting your head around. John’s face was mere centimeters from yours, expression unreadable. He steps forward again, now basically pressed up against you. His hands drop down to your hips, grip somehow both strong and soft. He moves them slightly, adjusting your position again. “Go again”

You stutter, unable to even think straight. You could feel your cheeks burning and when you lifted your hand to punch, it shook lightly. John made no effort to step away, however, his big hands still planted firmly against your hips- the very place they had been just two weeks prior. 

“Come on, Cupcake. Don’t get shy now.”

You moved. Again and again, until you were throwing your fists with precision at the punchbag. John was smiling behind you, fingers flexing out over your hip bone.

“Good”

And then, 

“Good girl” 

You stopped then, completely flustered. John moved away with that stupid smug smile on his face. “What? Something I said?” You let out another hard sigh, hands raking over your hair. 

“Shut up, John”

There was a beat of silence, the air thickening between you. 

“Make me.”

Your jaw moves, mouth hanging open slightly. You didn’t know whether to kiss him or swing at him. 

“Fine”. You launch forward, hands connecting with his chest. You use all of your strength to push him back, and he stumbles into the fighting ring. 

“Game on, Walker”

You take a swing at him and he ducks out of the way, arms coming out to grab at your legs. You manage to kick them off, and with a twist, lay him down flat on the floor. You stand over him, chest rising and falling rapidly. He jerks forward, pulling you down with him and flipping you over on your back to straddle your waist. 

“You’ve been avoiding me all week. Why?” You struggle against him, bucking up slightly. He presses his forearm against your collarbone. 

He’s got you pinned down underneath him, his blue eyes boring down into yours.

“What is it, huh? You’ve been weird with me ever since I patched you up” 

“Get off me-” You strain, hands shooting out to punch against his chest. He doesn’t budge. 

“You’ve gotta hit harder than that, Cupcake. Come on, I know you can do it”. 

You grit your teeth, and by some miracle, manage to move him. You flip yourself over him, your thighs locking around his own. 

“Stop calling me that, Walker” He lets out a low laugh and shuffles underneath you and this time you advance forward, pinning your arm against his collarbone. Your face is the closest it’s ever been to his, and you find yourself looking down at his lips. 

Neither of you speak. The room is deadly quiet, only the sounds of your laboured breathing filtering through the air. 

Then, 

You rush forward, pressing your lips against his. It takes him by surprise and you’re certain he nearly stops breathing, hands flouncing against your hips. He presses his lips against you harder, and you reciprocate the action. He’s the first one to pull back, pupils blown wide and chest panting erratically.

“That’s why.” You’re panting too, hands balling into the fabric of John’s shirt. He looks confused for a fleeting second, but then a knowing look falls over his face. “Oh”

You swallow, a sense of dread beginning to build up your spine. Oh good, or oh bad?

John shatters this illusion though, voice coming out raspy. “I was wondering when you were going to do that” And then his hand finds your neck and he pulls you down into another kiss. 

“Too irresistible, huh? If I’d have known all it would take was to patch you up, I would’ve stabbed you myself” 

You snort out, rolling your eyes. 

“Shut up, Walker” 

all work is my own, i do not give permission for this to be reposted elsewhere without credit. you may not copy or claim as your own.

tag- @okbutiambabygorl

[kuumara]

(this post is abt byler! EVERYTHING IS INTENTIONAL EVEN THE SMALLEST STUFF)

This year ive been directing a school movie and let me tell u, we spent 6 or 7 months just figuring out EVERY detail, in script and camera work and then composition so EVERYTHING IN A SHOW/MOVIE IS INTENTIONAL!!!

Like there cant be ANY unnecesaary lines or shots or scenes that dont end up being useful to the story and our mentor (a producer) was very insistent on that

Then when we started filming the shots had to be perfect, like we spent at least 30mins to set up the lightz

And then more time constantly redoing shots making sure the actors do the EXPRESSIONS right and the tone of the lines and allat SO..

No, finn wolfhard doesnt just have some crazy crush on noah and he didnt speak in that tone just cause

No, their nice romantic lights didnt just die here and they had to use the ugliest ones imaginable (also noah couldve simply WENT ON BREAK while they were filming this if they didnt want him in THE love confession of THE couple)

No, they didnt make finn CRUMPLE UP BOTH OF EL'S LETTER TO MIKE because they wanted to go on lunch break already and didnt care (+ literally showing a shot of mike throwing the second letter in the TRASH. Like, a shot only for that. Even such a simple shot would require multiple takes.)

No, they didnt unknowingly do an interruption trope MANY TIMES with mike and will... And yes, they do know that trope is used for romance scenes if they dont live under a rock... (Cant put more examples because image limit but ykwim)

Oh my god this scene... Why would they let finn to do all these flirty faces if it wasnt something deeper (they made noah do all that for a reason as is confirmed - but FINN WAS DOING BASICALLY THE SAME THING). He NEVER does this even with el, let alone check her out. Also why would there be such an emphasis on "friends... best friends🥹🥹🥹" if they were actually friends - we KNOW they're friends - unless theyre not just friends 😮😮 thats not something you do if you've done 3 seasons of such a popular well-regarded show with good writing

And then this - if you go outside regularly you know natural light dont look like that, esp not for the whole time of filming a long scene like this. So, why would they put so much effort into another heart to heart with mike and will, but completely give up on THE LITERAL LOVE CONFESSION OF THE LITERAL MAIN COUPLE. Just looking at this scene you can see it's warm, inviting, even if what they're talking about here isnt that at all. So what do u feel when u look at the mileven love confession? Exactly bruh it's the complete opposite

And last but not least, the final scene - what we are MEANT TO BE LEFT WITH and probably the most important, in the school movie we were discussing and directing the end scene with most care

So, obviously mike and will's breath is synced which CANT BE A COINCIDENCE only because if you want breathing to be seen on camera u have to breathe pretty deeply but the characters are supposed to be scared so thats obvious, but they also chose to make them breathe in sync... If they didnt want people to read into it they WOULD RE SHOOT IT bc personally it was very visible when i first saw the scene and i was like hmm🤔

So just this 3second clip was very planned out and if that dont convince you everything is planned idk what will. Oh also the very obvious blocking of all the couples at the very end AND MIKE AND WILL IN THE MIDDLE - MEANT to draw your attention to them, along with el standing alone, again in the middle

[hansrkive]

BROKEN BONES (J.WW)

As much as you wanted leave the hospital, your new roommate made your stay somewhat bearable.

౨ৎ PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x reader (afab!oc)

౨ৎ GENRE: fluff and just pure old romance.

౨ৎ TAGS: gamer!wonwoo, racer!reader, and one-shot.

౨ৎ NOTES: dedicated to ones who wanted wonwoo forced proximity trope.

౨ৎ HYPERLINKS: pinned post, ko-fi, seventeen master-list, and wonwoo’s master-list.

౨ৎ WORDCOUNT: 1.16k

WONKWANG MEDICAL CENTER, SOUTH KOREA

(DECEMBER 17, 2016 — 1:17 PM)

The fluorescent bulb in your room matched the white hospital gown you dreaded wearing. You just wanted a pop of color, but sadly, your doctor didn’t let you wear the floral gown you bought from Facebook Marketplace. “If I’m going to leave this floating rock, they should’ve at least let me wear the pink floral gown that I bought,” you sighed as you took another handful of peanuts.

“You’re being dramatic. You’re here for a broken bone,” your sister laughed, her focus not on you but rather on the drama being played on the small television. “By the way, I’m leaving in a few minutes. I should be back for dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m busy. I’m typing up a complaint letter on the hospital’s website,” you sighed, your left hand doing all the typing, making you groan in frustration.

Your stay at the hospital wasn’t supposed to be this long. It was a simple surgery turned into a 1-month stay since your right arm was really broken, like shattered into pieces. So, instead of sipping virgin daiquiris on a cruise ship to Indonesia with the rest of your family, you and your older sister are forced to celebrate the holidays in a four-walled room with no alcohol available at your disposal. “This is your bed, Mr. Jeon.” A nurse entered your room as she wheeled in a man about your age. Glasses at the bridge of his nose, his hair disheveled, and his left foot in a cast similar to yours. “You also have a roommate! Ms. Always Complains, meet Wonwoo, his left foot is broken,” the nurse joked, making you snort.

You pursed your lips and looked at Wonwoo. He was like the guy who was too good for everyone else in high school — the one you tried to talk to but would just nod at whatever you said. So, to save yourself from embarrassment, you just looked away and pretended to watch the drama your sister was watching. “I’m leaving. It seems you’re not going to be alone,” your sister whispered as she took her work bag and left without even waiting for an answer.

Like any other day, you would just toss and turn on your bed, changing the channels to whatever you stumbled upon, or count the cars driving by. But today, it was different. Your new roommate Wonwoo was playing a game you also liked. “Are you playing Harvest Moon?” you asked, now standing beside his bed, trying to take a peek at his console.

“Are you supposed to be standing up?” Wonwoo asked, his voice deep, making you melt on the spot.

“Does my foot look like it’s broken?” you rolled your eyes. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“It looks like you know what I’m playing. Do I even need to answer?”

Annoyed by his answer, you took a grape from his bowl and sat on the foot of his bed, trying to avoid his broken foot. “How did you break your foot?” you asked.

“Football,” he sighed. “What about you?”

“Motorcycle accident,” you laughed. “I do motocross. Well, I did.”

“That’s bad,” he said, finally looking up at you. The atmosphere somewhat shifted as he saw your face. He opened his mouth, but no words came out of it — as if he was flabbergasted by something, or someone. Usually, you had a rebuttal at your disposal. Maybe a few snickers here and there, but at that moment, that very moment, you felt a rush of emotions surging through you. “How long are you staying here?” he asked, his gaming console left unattended.

“Two more weeks and I’m out of this hellhole,” you chuckled, feeling at ease. “How about you?”

“That, I don’t know,” he honestly said.

(DECEMBER 25, 2016 — 7:19 PM)

“Come on, open your gift!” you beamed with excitement. It was Christmas day, and you and Wonwoo were stuck in your room with only a small Christmas tree to brighten up the room. You told your sister to go out and enjoy the holiday with her friends instead of being stuck in a germ-infested room (you actually wanted to be alone with Wonwoo, but who’s asking?)

“Okay, okay! Easy now.” Wonwoo laughed as he carefully cut through the wrapping paper. “Is this the cow from Harvest Moon?”

“Did you like it?” you asked, your eyes wide as you waited for an answer. “I bought it from a woman who crochets plush toys.”

“I love it.” Wonwoo smiled. “Thank you. Now open yours.”

You excitedly tear off the wrapping paper, opposite from what Wonwoo had done. “Are you serious?” you yelled. “A LEGO Vespa?” you cried, happy tears flowing through your reddened cheeks. “Thank you so, so much!”

(DECEMBER 29, 2016 — 11:28 PM)

“It’s chocolate cake!” you groaned, trying to make a point about what flavor of cake was the best. It was one of those days when boredom had won over. No shows could fill the void, there weren’t any cars to count, and no guests were allowed past visiting hours. So, you and Wonwoo had to fill the void of nothingness just to pass time. “Who picks coffee cake as their favorite cake?”

“I do!” Wonwoo laughed, his eyes getting smaller. “Coffee cake is good, and it’s not too sweet.”

“God, am I talking to a fifty-year-old or what?” you rolled your eyes.

“Says the one who loves chocolate cake. Are you ten?”

(JANUARY 3, 2017 — 9:18 AM)

The day you finally dreaded came. Wonwoo was getting discharged, and as for you, nothing has changed — you were still going to be cooped up in your room. You tried to ignore Wonwoo as he packed his stuff. You didn’t want to seem clingy, so you turned away from him. “You can’t ignore me forever,” Wonwoo mumbled.

“I can,” you lied. “My old roommate also left, and I didn’t care that much,” you lied again.

“Am I just a roommate to you?” Wonwoo clutched his heart.

God, what is he doing to me? “What are you to me, then?” you teased, not backing down.

“Whatever you want me to be.” Wonwoo smiled. “I have a word in mind, but I don’t know if that’s what you want.”

As you were about to answer, the nurse entered the room, breaking the tension you both had. “Buzzkill,” you whispered.

“Hey, Mr. Jeon. You’re staying, right?” the nurse asked.

“Yeah, this girl right here needs help changing her hair tie.” Wonwoo joked.

Baffled by what you heard, you tried to suppress any smile trying to form on your lips. “You’re staying? Just to take care of me?”

“Do you want me to?” Wonwoo asked, a hint of nervousness laced in his tone.

“Well, I wouldn't want my sister to waste her time, right?” you smiled as Wonwoo sat beside you, his fingers slowly intertwining with yours. “I’m almost thanking my motorcycle for breaking my arm.”

[literaila]

Gojos reaction towards his mother makes me wonder how he would try to do the opposite if him and reader had a kid :( how he would go out of his way to make sure his kids knew he would be there for them

“you forgot me.”

gojo is grinning, standing in front of megumi with a wrinkled t-shirt and shorts that hang a bit too loose off of his hips. his hair is messy and his glasses are crooked and he looks stupid.

he looks stupid and he’s thirty minutes late and megumi would hit him if he knew he could get away with it.

but gojo always has his guard up and there’s no relief in punching the air.

“well,” gojo says, trying to forcibly remove the backpack from megumi’s shoulder. “i didn’t forget you, technically. i did forget what time i was supposed to pick you up, though.”

“shut up,” megumi tells gojo, pushing him away. “y/n is never late.”

“that’s because she’s crazy. she’s got a built-in alarm clock in her brain.”

“at least she has a brain.”

“megumi,” gojo holds a hand to his chest, face pained. megumi rolls his eyes. “and after all the work i put in helping you with your math homework.”

“you didn’t help. i got five points marked off.”

“i’m teaching you to accept failure.”

megumi rolls his eyes again—there’s something so blissful about being constantly annoyed—and begins to walk away.

“hey, c’mon,” gojo chides, trailing after the little boy. “i didn’t forget you, i just mixed up the time a little.”

“don’t care.”

“you’re not really mad, are you? i apologized. we can make up now.”

“no you didn’t.”

“well consider this a formal apology, then. i’ll stamp the gojo clan’s seal on it.”

“you’re not forgiven.”

there’s a groan from somewhere behind him, but megumi doesn’t care because he hates talking after school and he just wants to get home so he can steal some of gojo’s things in retaliation.

“megumi,” gojo says again, helplessly. “i saved you from a life of servitude and pain. you have to forgive me.”

“no, i don’t.”

“i can always send you back, you know. there’s nothing stopping me back besides my kind and generous heart.”

“and y/n.”

“hey, no—she’s not a part of this.”

megumi looks back at him, scowl plain as day. “then why are you blushing?”

there’s a pause and then gojo waves a hand. “this is just my natural flush,” he claims, making a valiant effort to not look like an idiot—which is physically impossible, so.

megumi looks away, shaking his head.

“i wish i could sell you to a clan,” he mutters, ignoring the way gojo keeps attempting to step on his shoes.

gojo laughs. “no one could afford me.”

[beritybaker]

Preheating, Freezing

My first @steddiebingo fic for round 2! Prompts: Bakery AU, Trapped

Takes place post-Vecna, but in an AU where Eddie wasn't involved. Also - Weirdo Steve Harrington supremacy.

Rating: G | WC: 4,851 | Tags: Pre-Steddie, Coworkers, Crying, Codependent Robin & Steve, PTSD, Head Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort | ao3

If it weren’t for this job, Eddie doesn’t know what he would do. Get a different one, he supposes, but that would suck ass. He likes the one he has. He likes showing up at 4:00 AM after a late-night-turned-early-morning, using the quiet hour of solitude between the drunks and the go-getters to mull over last night’s gig, or the progress he made on his campaign before he had to head out for work. He likes surrounding himself with the smell of proofing sourdough and pies in the oven, and munching on yesterday’s chocolate croissants with an extra-large coffee.

What he doesn’t like is training new hires.

It’s not a common occurrence. The joint is family owned, and small—so small it doesn’t really have a name. People call it “the place by Bradley’s” when they’re talking about where to get a birthday cake, and nobody asks which one when Eddie tells them he works at the bakery. Still, it’s popular enough to get a steady stream of customers until mid-afternoon, and with Chrissy gone for school, he knows they need another part-timer to pick up the slack. He just wishes his morning peace didn’t have to be interrupted for it.

“Hey, Munson.”

“Harrington,” Eddie replies, unlocking the door. He glances up as his newest coworker approaches from the BMW parked on the curb, yawning wide. “Early enough for you?”

“Feel like I’m headed to swim practice,” Steve says through the end of the yawn.

Eddie steps through the door and holds it open for Steve to pass through behind him. “A lot less bread at swim practice, I hope.”

“Definitely.”

Locking the door behind them, Eddie beckons for him to follow to the kitchen. He punches in, grabs a clean apron from the hook by the time clock, and leans toward the rack of cards while he puts it on. When he finds Steve’s name, he mutters, “Aha,” and plucks it from the rack to hand to him. “You ever used one of these before?”

Steve nods, sticks his card into the machine, and puts it back in the rack next to Eddie’s. “Same kind we had at Scoops.”

“That’s right, you worked at the food court. So did I.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Burger King.”

“Oh, wait.” A sly smile makes its way across Steve’s face. “So you had to wear that god-awful red polyester? And I thought we had it bad with the sailor outfits.”

“At least those things looked a tiny bit breathable,” Eddie agrees. “It was honestly a relief when the mall burned down, because I didn’t have to wear that shit ever again.”

Inexplicably, Steve’s smile freezes into an unsettled grimace. “Y-Yeah,” he mumbles. “Yeah, I guess not.”

Okay…weird. Eddie knows that look. It’s the same one Wayne gets when something reminds him of the F5 that came way too close to the trailer park in ’74, or the look his mom would get when her asshole brother came around. Eddie wants to ask why his dumb joke seemed to give Steve a fucking Vietnam flashback, but he holds his tongue. Maybe he was there when it happened, or a friend of his died in the fire. Whatever the case, Eddie’s not about to drag all that shit out of him while he’s supposed to be teaching him how to work the big oven, no matter how curious it makes him.

“Right,” Eddie says. He clears his throat and reaches for a second apron. “So, um…put this on, unless you want to look like a powdered donut. That’s step one.”

Steve obediently pulls the thing over his head.

While he’s tying it, Eddie goes on, “Step two is looking at the list for today.”

“The list?”

He leads Steve to the bulletin board by the walk-in freezer and taps the paper pinned up in the corner. “Everything we’ve got to get in and out of the oven before the morning rush. Some special orders to prep, but mostly—”

“Breakfast stuff?”

Eddie resents being interrupted, but at least it tells him Steve is on the right page. “Yep.” He pulls the list down and reads by the dim bulb above the sink.

“Do you want me to turn on the light?”

“Good god, no. I never turn it on if I can help it.”

“Oh…okay.” Steve stands there looking awkward and useless.

Eddie ignores him, turning his attention back to their morning checklist. He usually thinks aloud, and this morning is no exception. He hopes Steve is listening so he doesn’t have to repeat himself. “Croissants and scones are in the freezer; they can go right in the oven. George made the bagels last night, just have to pull those out of the pantry and put ’em in the case. Muffins: blueberry and…maple flax? Really, Pauline? We haven’t sold more than two flaxseed muffins all month.” He sighs, knowing what he’ll be having for breakfast tomorrow. “Whatever…”

“So we need to make muffins?” Steve says.

Eddie glances up. He’d almost forgotten there was someone else in the room. “Yeah. But we should take care of the scones first. Can you set the oven to four-hundred?”

“Oh,” Steve says again. “Sure.” He turns to one of the two industrial-sized ovens a few feet away, walks over, and stares at it for a moment. Then he turns back to Eddie and says, “Uh…how?”

Trying to suppress a long-suffering sigh (though admittedly not trying very hard) Eddie marches over and shows him, punching buttons with learned precision. “Got it?”

“Yeah. I think so.” Steve lets out a nervous chuckle. “You’re a braver man than me.”

“Why do you say that? You afraid of ovens or something?”

“No! God, wouldn’t that be funny, working in a bakery?” Another chuckle. “No, I just can’t turn on an oven without checking inside first. Cleaning up melted Tupperware isn’t something I want to do ever again.”

Eddie stares at him. “You left Tupperware in your oven?”

“My mom did. My family doesn’t bake much, so she stores it there. One time I wanted to make cinnamon rolls, and let’s just say the fire department wasn’t amused.”

“Well, lucky for us, the only thing that passes through this oven is stuff that’s supposed to be there. Speaking of which”—Eddie whirls and heads back to the walk-in—“let me show you where we keep the stuff that gets prepped ahead of time.” He pulls the handle on the massive door and lets it swing wide. A frigid cloud hits them, and he steps forward. Once Steve is inside too, he props the door open behind them.

“Chilly,” Steve remarks, chuckling yet again. “Would suck to get trapped in here.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge the observation. Instead he points at the shelves at eye level and says, “Right here is where you’ll always find stuff for the day ahead. By the time the afternoon shift is here, this will all be gone, and they’ll fill the shelf back up with tomorrow’s.” He picks up a baking sheet, covered in doughy triangles that are just visible through a layer of frosty plastic wrap. “These are orange-cranberry scones. There’s some blueberry-lemon and cinnamon right there. Go ahead and grab a tray, and we’ll start putting ’em in the oven as soon as it’s done preheating.”

Stepping out of the freezer, the temperature of the kitchen is a stark contrast. With the oven heating up, the whole room has started to get a little stuffy. Eddie puts his tray of scones on the counter next to the oven and goes to open the window. Usually he opens it before turning anything on. That’s what happens when something fucks with my routine. He wonders what else he’s going to forget before this shift is through. Hopefully it won’t be anything important.

The next half-hour is uneventful. Steve takes instruction surprisingly well, always rushing to do whatever Eddie suggests—though at times, he realizes just a moment later that he needs further guidance. Over the course of the morning, Eddie becomes more and more willing to give it, because goddammit, despite his misgivings, the guy’s charm is undeniable. He’s still not happy to be losing his quiet time, but at least Steve doesn’t say more than he needs to. With another set of hands there, Eddie is also more productive than usual, and by a quarter to five they’re left with very little to do.

He goes over their remaining tasks in his head. They’re all easy things: packing up Flo’s usual order for the station, feeding the sourdough starter, putting the muffins and loaves in the case once they’re out of the oven, replacing them with the pies of the day. Last thing to do is put together the cookies for the Wheelers’ party platter, but it’s a little early for that.

Time for breakfast, then, he thinks, and he calls out for Steve, who ventured into the freezer at his suggestion to pull out the unbaked pies. “Let’s take a breather. You wanna pick out a bagel? Bet we could get away with raiding the fresh ones.”

He doesn’t get an answer.

Furrowing his brow, Eddie tries again. “Harrington? Do you want some breakfast or not?”

Still nothing.

He rounds the corner to the freezer and finds the big door shut. Whirling around and around for some sign of where Steve went, he starts to panic. It’s not that he’d be upset if Steve decided bakery life wasn’t for him and skipped out on him; it’s more about the fact that Pauline will definitely blame it on Eddie for scaring him off. His snark is no secret, and he’s pretty sure it’s why she gave him the pre-open morning shift in the first place, to keep his mouth from offending any customers. The last thing he needs is for the manager to have another excuse for her weird vendetta.

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief when he spots an unfamiliar set of keys on the hook beside the bulletin board. Steve is still here, unless he decided to leave his car for some reason.

Turning back to the freezer, Eddie cocks his head in confusion. Did he shut himself in? He reaches out, turns the handle, and pulls the door open. On the other side, he does find Steve, though not remotely in a state he anticipated.

He’s huddled on the floor, with his back to a shelf of frozen butter, and though he jumps about a foot in the air at the sound of the door creaking on its hinges, the startled look on his face does nothing to hide how red and puffy his eyes are. “Munson!” He shoots to his feet, wiping his nose on the back of his hand and sniffling hard. It’s clear he’s desperate to look casual, though his voice is thick and rough when he goes on, “Sorry, man. I, uh…I got stuck.”

Eddie stares, blinking. “You got stuck,” he echoes.

“Yeah.”

Because he’s never been one to shy away from the elephant in any room, he purses his lips and says, “Is that all you were crying about? Getting stuck in the walk-in?”

Steve looks startled all over again by Eddie’s candor. He opens and closes his mouth half a dozen times before crossing his arms over his chest and grumbling, “No.”

Now Eddie is even more surprised. “Okay…then why were you crying?”

There are a few different emotions in conflict on Steve’s face. Eddie spots the ones he expects, with fear and shame taking the lion’s share. There’s also a tiny flicker of something hopeful, though, and he realizes a moment before he speaks that Steve must be debating whether or not to be honest. He huffs, then says, “I miss Robin.”

“What?”

“Robin Buckley. This is the first job I ever had without her, since she left for U of L. I mean, I guess that’s if you don’t count that summer I was a lifeguard, but that was totally different, because—”

“You mean to tell me,” Eddie interrupts, because he knows the beginning of a nervous ramble when he sees one, “that you came to the walk-in to cry because you’re used to working with your friend?” When he sees some of Steve’s fear overtaking his shaky confidence, he hurriedly adds, “Which is totally fine! I mean, we’ve all done it.”

Steve stares. “You have?” he says, with the dull monotone of disbelief.

“Yeah. I mean, not for the same reason, but if you ask around you’ll find that the walk-in is a popular spot for the occasional mental breakdown among staff.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Steve says slowly, seeming to mull over the concept. “We did the same thing at Scoops sometimes.”

“Robin worked with you there, too, right?” Eddie says, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible without sounding patronizing.

A leftover tear escapes over Steve’s lashes and drips down his cheek. He wipes it away impatiently and nods. “It’s where we met. And then she basically got me the job at the video store, because Keith hated my guts. When she left for school…I don’t know. I couldn’t stand being there without her around, so I quit.” He grimaces and shakes his head. “Not the best idea I ever had.”

“So you two went from food service straight into retail? No wonder you’re best friends. You’ve been through a lot together.”

The joke does its job. Steve laughs a bit and says, “You have no idea.”

Glad to have diffused some of the tension, Eddie taps Steve’s shoulder with his knuckles and says, “Anyway, I was looking for you. You wanna have some breakfast?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Steve sighs. He sniffs one more time, but it’s clear his tears have dried up. Before they make it out of the freezer, though, he says, “Oh! I did actually get stuck, though. Is there a way out of here when that happens?”

“Sure. Want me to show you?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Eddie smiles. “That’s what I’m here for.” He takes a step back and lets the door shut with a metallic thud. “It’s really easy. All you have to do is…oh. Wait.” He stares at the lever that opens the door from the inside.

There’s a beat of silence before Steve says, “Everything okay?”

Still with his eyes fixed on the mechanism, Eddie bites his lip. “I, uh. I forgot.”

“You forgot what?”

He turns to meet Steve’s gaze, hoping his apologetic look masks the rising alarm. “It’s broken.”

Steve’s eyes go wide. “So we’re…?”

“Yeah.”

He swallows. “And Pauline—”

“Won’t be here for another half-hour,” Eddie finishes for him.

“But the muffins are supposed to come out in twenty minutes!”

It’s such a strange thing to be concerned about in their current predicament that Eddie actually laughs. In fact, he doubles over, struggling to breathe the frigid air and leaning on one of the shelves to keep himself on his feet.

“What’s so funny?” Steve demands.

“Nothing! It’s just…you’re looking down the barrel of half an hour stuck in the freezer…and you’re worried about the muffins?”

“We worked hard on them,” he says, looking wounded. Before long, though, he seems to understand how absurd it is, and the look morphs into a sheepish grin.

Eddie hates to admit it, but that expression is one of the most adorable things he’s ever seen, and the dopey giggle it’s paired with does his psyche no additional favors. “They’ll be okay with an extra ten minutes. Maybe a little charred, definitely a little dry. That just means Pauline’s vision of a flaxseed empire will crumble.” He snorts at his own pun, then adds, “It’s her own fault for not getting the repairs done as soon as the door broke last week.”

“It’s a safety issue, actually. I’ll bring it up with my mom.”

“Your mom? Why?”

“She’s friends with Pauline. It’s the only reason I got this job,” Steve says. He smirks. “I bet if I tell her about this, it’ll be fixed by tomorrow.”

“Hm. So you’ve got an in with the boss, huh? That could come in handy.” Eddie sinks to the floor, right next to where Steve sat a minute ago.

Steve lowers himself with a groan, joining him. “Don’t get too excited. She’ll only raise hell about the freezer door because it’s a hazard.”

“So that means no raise, huh?”

“I’d say probably not.”

“Damn.” Eddie shoots him a grin. “Well, forcing her to meet OSHA standards is better than nothing. It might be nice having you around.”

“That’s good to hear. I was so worried about fucking up, I hardly slept at all last night.”

“Why? You’re doing just fine.”

Steve sighs. “I guess sometimes it feels like—or, I don’t know, it felt like Robin did most of the work, at Family Video at least. I don’t know shit about movies. Even though she tried to show me some, my memory is total shit, so I didn’t ever retain much.”

“So you’re not into movies. Who cares?” Eddie shrugs. “I’m not that into baking, even though I’ve been working here since my junior year. Everything I do turns out like it’s supposed to, but it’s not like I could bake a loaf of banana bread without the recipe right in front of me. Although,” he says, smirking, “it has given me a lot of ideas for things to add a secret ingredient to, if you catch my drift.”

Steve exhales a short laugh and looks down at his lap, where his hands fidget with the hem of his apron.

“I’m just saying, you probably did a lot more for that joint than Keith’s encyclopedic knowledge of Star Trek ever did.”

He exhales again. “You know about that?”

“Oh, I’m very familiar. One time we got into it over who would win in a fight between Tolkien’s orcs and the Klingons.”

“I have no clue what that means.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Eddie says, waving a dismissive hand. “Just know that he came into that argument with more trekkie trivia than I thought even existed.”

Steve laughs. He actually laughs out loud, instead of letting out one of his nervous chuckles.

It’s a pretty sound, Eddie thinks. Too pretty. The last thing he needs is to start thinking about how cute Steve is, especially if they’re gonna be working together.

Because Steve is cute. He always has been, and Eddie isn’t about to deny it: gorgeous face, melodic laugh, a cleverly self-deprecating attitude that plays Eddie’s heartstrings like a fiddle. None of that changes the fact that Steve Harrington was a cookie-cutter jock in high school, though. He’s the type of guy who would probably kick his ass if he called him cute out loud.

Then again…he’s close enough with some hyper band geek to be weeping over her absence. More importantly, he owned up to the tears, and the potentially embarrassing reason for them. Eddie knows that’s not something his old douchebag friends would’ve ever let him live down. So maybe he’s…sensitive. In a good way.

In a cute way.

“Look, I know I’m not Buckley,” Eddie says, “but maybe I can stand in for her. At least ’til she’s home for Thanksgiving.”

Steve studies his face. It takes Eddie a moment to register that he’s looking for some kind of cruel joke, his wary eyes searching for a sign that Eddie’s putting him on for laughs. Eddie wonders how often that used to happen with his old friends. Lord knows they did it to the rest of their peers, though he hadn’t ever considered the fact that Tommy H might’ve been just as much of an asshole to Steve as he was to everyone.

“I’ll be your work buddy,” Eddie elaborates, trying to sound sincere while keeping his tone light. “You need to bitch about something, you can bitch to me.”

“Okay,” Steve finally says, a cautious smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“It goes both ways, though. You have to let me bitch about management, too.”

“Deal.”

“And I promise that it will be in no way an excuse to get you to tattle on Pauline.”

Steve laughs again. If he’s not careful with that giggle of his, Eddie’s gonna fall in love with him.

They’re quiet for a while. The cold is starting to get to Eddie, but with Steve close to him, it’s not too bad. He checks his watch, starts to comment on how it won’t be long before Pauline waltzes in and frees them, but Steve speaks up first.

“I’m sorry if I was ever a dick to you in high school,” he says, his voice quiet.

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. “Nah, it’s all water under the bridge.” He pauses, thinking. “You know what? Actually, I don’t think you ever were.”

Steve turns to look at him. “No?”

“No,” Eddie repeats, shaking his head. He offers a soft, playful smirk. “You’d have to know I existed to be a dick to me.”

“I knew who you were,” Steve protests. “I bought drugs from you once.”

“What about the bagels?”

His eye twitches, and he frowns. “Bagels?”

“Your order at the bakery. Sesame bagel with bacon, egg, and cheese. To go.”

“You…remember that?”

“Well, you came in every day at the ass-crack of dawn and ordered the same sandwich. Kinda hard to forget.” Eddie smiles, trying to get across that he’s not offended.

“I thought you said you worked at Burger King before.”

“Only last summer, because Pauline hired her nephew and I couldn’t stand him. I was here through most of high school. Had to come crawling back after the mall burned down.” Because guilt is starting to settle into Steve’s features like it belongs there, Eddie goes on, “It makes sense you don’t remember me, though—it’s not like Pauline would ever let me get away with my signature look working front of house.”

Still frowning, Steve says, “I just can’t believe I forgot.”

“You’re the one who said your memory’s shit,” Eddie reminds him with a gentle smile.

Thankfully, it draws a small one from Steve, too. “Good point.” He tilts his head, staring at the floor in front of him. “You know, Robin remembered that sandwich, too. We were in Click’s class first period, and she was so annoyed with me getting crumbs all over the place every day. I didn’t even know she was there.” The last part is so quiet, Eddie isn’t sure he was supposed to hear it.

“And now it takes a crowbar to pry you two apart,” he emphasizes.

“Not true,” Steve says. “She’s in a whole other state now.”

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Eddie shoots back, with yet another good-natured smile. “I bet you talk on the phone every night.”

Steve blushes. Though he doesn’t answer out loud, that’s answer enough.

“And you can always get in that beemer of yours to go see her. Isn’t it just a straight shot down 65? Can’t be more than an hour’s drive.”

Steve shakes his head, looking for all the world like a lost puppy. “I don’t want to bother her. Besides, I’m okay just talking to her on the phone.”

“Sure,” Eddie says. He shoots Steve a sly grin.

It earns him one in return. “Okay, fine. I’d love to go down and spend the day with her sometime.”

“If you need company on the drive…I’ll be around.”

The tips of Steve’s ears go as pink as his cheeks. “Thanks. I’ll keep you in mind.”

It was an experimental offer; the fact that Steve seems receptive makes Eddie’s heart start hammering, and suddenly he’s desperate to change the subject before he asks him out right then and there. He pushes out all his air in a huff and says, “There’s something else that’s bugging me.”

“There is?” Steve says. He looks uncertain again, though not quite as blue as he did when Eddie mentioned his usual breakfast in high school.

“Yeah. And it might a be a little personal, if that’s alright.”

He narrows his eyes, but he says, “Okay.”

“Earlier, when I brought up the mall burning down…you looked like you wanted to ralph. What was that about?” Eddie asks.

“Oh.” Steve surprises him by smiling and shaking his head. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“I’m trapped in a giant icebox with King Steve, who just got done crying his eyes out because he’s got some kind of weird codependency going on with Robin Buckley, of all people.” Eddie catches his eye and raises an eyebrow. “At this point I’d believe anything.”

“Trust me, man. It’s pretty out there.”

“Try me.”

Steve shakes his head again. “It’s too weird.”

“I’m weird,” Eddie points out. “I’m like, the keeper of weird shit. If there’s something strange afoot and I’m not aware of it, I’m doing a subpar job.”

Fixing him with a wary look, Steve purses his smiling lips. It makes him look like he’s begging for just one more reason to spill the beans. Eventually, he says, “It could put a target on your back if you knew.”

“With who?”

“The feds.”

“Well, now you have to tell me,” Eddie whines, reveling in the short laugh Steve returns to him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to just move on!”

“Okay, fine! I’ll tell you. But you can’t repeat a word of it to anyone.” Steve takes a deep breath, lets it all out, then takes another before he continues. “You remember a couple years ago, when Will Byers went missing?”

Eddie blinks, startled. “Will Byers? What does that have to do with the mall?”

“I’m getting there. You remember it?”

“Sure. Really pissed me off the way people talked about the kid when he came back. ‘Zombie Boy’…like he had a fucking say in the cops thinking that other body was him.”

“You remember the official story?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows and sighs, trying to recall what he heard on the news. “That he got picked up by some drifter, right? He got away from ’em, but he almost died in the wilderness before the Chief found him.”

Steve meets Eddie’s eye and shakes his head. “No.”

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“That’s not what happened.”

“Then what did happen?”

“He got kidnapped by a monster and taken to this…other dimension, or whatever. I’m not very good at explaining it. But his brother and Nancy Wheeler lured it out—this big fucker, at least seven feet tall, huge mouth for a face—and I fought it with them. Hopper and Joyce found Will and brought him back to the real Hawkins.”

Eddie stares—not in disbelief, because that would require a modicum of understanding, and he’s having some trouble processing what Steve just said. “You…? Hold on. Another dimension?”

“Told you it was weird,” Steve says, shrugging. “Anyway, the mall got attacked by another monster. Different kind, made of melted people, and it possessed Hargrove. The fire was a cover-up.”

“And you…?”

“I was there. Me and Robin, and a bunch of our other friends.” He grins in vague reminiscence. “Weird way to celebrate the Fourth of July, but at least there were fireworks.”

What the fuck? Is he off his rocker? His voice faint, Eddie echoes, “Fireworks?”

“Oh, we threw ’em at the melted-people monster,” Steve explains, dismissive. “Not sure how many I landed, because it turned out the Russians gave me a massive concussion, but—”

Russians?! “Let me get this straight,” Eddie says, turning towards Steve. He needs to see his face, needs to study it the same way Steve studied his earlier, looking in vain for a trace of humor. “Not only are these monsters real, but they’ve attacked people in Hawkins twice?”

“Three times,” Steve corrects. “The fucked-up pumpkin patches were because of the monsters, too. Will Byers got possessed that time.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You regret begging me to tell you?”

“I’m gonna be totally honest, I’m not sure I believe you after all.”

“Fair enough. But I swear I’m telling the truth.”

“You sure you didn’t, like—”

Eddie is cut off by the clang of the door handle, signaling their rescue. As the heavy door swings open, and Pauline’s expression of apology comes into view, Steve presses a finger to his lips. He smirks once again, rises to his feet, and meets Pauline at the door, greeting her cordially.

It takes Eddie an extra few seconds to join them. He can’t move very quickly, because he’s too busy processing everything he just learned—not just Steve’s story, but the nonchalant and honest way he delivered it. Because it was clear that Steve at least thought he was telling the truth, which means one thing, regardless of whether he was right or if he’d had some vivid hallucinations.

Steve Harrington is way stranger than Eddie would’ve ever guessed.

[nerdypza]

𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘, 𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐄 ⋆ s.aizawa x f.reader chapter one: decisions, decisions. wc: .9k

you decide a few things; you’re never getting this article done on time, and the man across the hall is a mysterious piece of ass that you need to know.

content warnings ❤︎ journalist!reader. reader wears glasses - could be read as blue light, or prescription. first meeting. best friend!mina. mention of old flings / failed love. thai food.

main masterlist | series masterlist

Good morning, true romantics!

Valentines day. The one day a year when love is supposed to blossom like roses, but sometimes feels more like a high-pressure quiz in romance. Do I get chocolate, or flowers? Does my partner want a romantic date, or have a night-in? Whether you’re happily married, navigating a situationship, or single with a capital S, February 14th has a way of stirring up all kinds of feelings—good and bad.

The words on your screen stare up at you menacingly—laughing at you, antagonizing you to no end. Titled “LOVE IN REAL LIFE: Valentine’s Day Advice That Actually Matters,” the piece you’re writing is absolutely, positively killing you. You’ve been at it for over two hours; the alarm clock that sits on your desk blinks the number 11:34 PM, over and over and over again.

You let out a frustrated groan and let your finger rest on the delete button, watching the words disappear quickly. The burden of needing this done by Friday sits heavy in your chest, weighing you down in your seat. Even if you wanted to get up from your seat—maybe eat something, go to sleep—you wouldn’t be able to. Your bed is less than three feet away from you, cozy and inviting, yet you don’t move.

It’s not the first time your piece would be late, but it is the first time you’re writing for such a prominent holiday. When your boss gave news of what you’d be writing, you almost laughed. You, writing a piece on love? How ironic. When you told Mina, she actually laughed. Out loud, tear-drawing laughter.

While you’ve had your fair share of dates, you’ve never been lucky enough to claim the “in love” status. There was the guy who “forgot” to inform you that he still lived with his mother, and the guy who had a creepy collection of dolls tucked away inside his room. Hundreds of dates in your early twenties, hundreds of weird guys who never worked out. It was tiring, of course, but your mother and father met in high school—and had only mentioned it about a million times by the time you were in high school. It almost feels . . . disappointing, not having met the love of your life yet.

Your chair creaks as you lean back, pulling your knees up to your chest, pushing your glasses to the top of your head and pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes. They burn, dry from staring at a screen for so long, but you ignore it.

This sucks, you decide eventually, melting into your chair. The soles of your feet hit the hardwood floor and you shiver. Maybe you should go get something to eat? No, the thought of cooking makes you want to cry.

Within the next minute, you’re pulling out your phone to order something from UberEats. While you wait for Jeremy to arrive with your Thai, you put your glasses back on your nose and blink at the blank document in front of you. Nothing comes to your mind.

Valentines day. The one day a year when . . .

You roll your eyes at yourself and delete the sentence. How are you supposed to write about Valentine’s Day when you have no idea what a proper Valentine’s Day looks like? Your February 14th’s are spent on the couch, eating some form of takeout, ugly-crying over sappy rom-coms. Sometimes your friends are sitting next to you; in more recent years, they have not been.

Before you know it, twenty minutes have passed by and two things become apparent; one, you are definitely not getting this paper done by tonight, and two, you are a lot hungrier than you thought you were—that much is obvious by the growl your stomach lets out as a knock sounds at your front door. You practically run to open it.

Jeremy isn’t there when you open the door, but a man is standing across the hall, inserting a key into the lock. From the back, he almost looks . . . well, homeless. His hair is unruly and unkempt, his clothes are wrinkled. The only thing that indicates different are the very expensive-looking shoes he’s wearing. He must hear you open the door because he turns to look at you.

Woah. The first thing you notice is the stubble on his face. Then his sharp jawline. Then the intense look in his eyes.

“Oh,” you squeak out. “Hello. Um, I was just . . .” you hold up the plastic bag and press your mouth into a thin-lipped smile.

His eyes dart to the bag, then back to yours. He doesn’t say anything, but he does give you a small nod before ducking into his apartment. You do the same, internally mortified from the interaction.

God, he was hot, you think yourself, setting the bag on the counter. You then briefly wonder how you’ve never seen him before. In your time here—a little over two years—no one has moved onto your floor. The old woman down the hall has lived there for ten years, the single mother to your left has lived there for six—you’ve babysat her son a couple of times; he’s the sweetest thing ever—there’s a couple of college kids living to your right that moved in at the same time as you. But you’ve never seen anyone move into the apartment across from you, which means he was there before you.

You stuff a forkful of noodles into your mouth and hum thoughtfully. You decide halfway through the bite that you need to learn more about the man.

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© NERDYPZA 2025. ALRIGHTY, APHRODITE. do not repost to other sites, alter, or feed to ai.

[just-your-average-cryptid]

The White Rabbit was a joke. That's what everyone thought - some rando in a cheap mask and an impeccable suit doing corporate sabotage for kicks. Sure, they left a trail of explosions in their wake (or fried servers, or pockets of space where physics had taken a bribe and a day off), but they didn't kill people. They couldn't be that strong.

Not like Knifepoint.

The guy was as unsubtle as his name suggested, and equally deadly. He'd kidnapped 10 people as his opening number, leaving an obscure trail of clues to their supposed location. Some of the best people on the Hero Force roster had spent harrowing weeks tracking him down, praying they would get to the victims before he did.

They were good people, she thought. Good people that deserved better than what he did to them - to that poor kid, barely out of high school and already being sent on a case like this.

Someone had to do something. Someone he couldn't pull apart like a tiger with a pumpkin full of meat, toying with their food before sinking their teeth in. Someone he wouldn't expect.

Then again, when had anyone expected what the White Rabbit would do next?

The old slaughterhouse was a bit on the nose. Plenty of tools for his torture routines, but not very creative. For a guy who could come up with killing methods out of other people's nightmares, she expected more than the red lighting and excessive hooks that seemed straight out of a budget shlock horror flick. Glancing up, she could see a maze of catwalks above the work floor. They would be useful in a moment.

"Little rabbits shouldn't be in a place like this..."

"Oh dear, you must think I'm here by accident. I assure you—" she said, yanking him by the collar through the darkness, "—I know who I'm dealing with."

"Do you?" he rasped, grinning with bloodstained teeth. The knife was already in his hand, swinging to her side. He collapsed when it should have connected, and she was gone.

"Yes. A little child who thinks making himself big and scary will frighten the other children, so he can tell them what to do. A dog who's been surrounded by foxes so long, he's forgotten what a real wolf looks like."

An overhead light chnnked on, the White Rabbit sitting casually on the cone above it. The building had been disconnected from the grid for decades, but that was nothing. Things never quite worked the way they should around her.

"A wolf in rabbit's skin, eh? Why don't I peel it off and see what kind of teeth I find?"

She laughed from two feet to his right. "You can certainly try."

He lunged, stabbing in the direction of her voice only to knock into a pillar. Clutching his head in frustration, he threw the knife to the ground and watched it bounce and jiggle like a rubber toy.

"Awww, is someone feeling upset? Do you need a time-out?" The world lurched to the side and over as he scrabbled at the concrete, tumbling to the ceiling-floor. She waited for him to notice her, sitting cross-legged with a tiny mug. "Tea?"

He scrambled on all fours, leaping as the world tossed again before comfortably settling right-side-down. He plummeted into the dark and never hit the floor.

The White Rabbit strolled up beside him, just out of reach as he continued to tumble endlessly. There were no walls, no floor, nothing in all directions but the endless dark. He would keep "falling," as much as one could call this suspended descent falling, until she decided he wasn't.

"They always say it's the stop that kills you. 'Course, that's assuming you will stop. I do wonder, if you and I stayed here for a brief eternity, if you'd keep falling forever. Nothin' to eat, no way to drink, but nowhere to fall to. Normal is a distant dream here - you're not really breathing, either, did you notice that? Probably not. You're too busy believing you can kill me if you reach just a little further." She watched him strain towards her, sipping her tea. Perfectly warm, a hint of lavender, as always. Quite pleasant. "Could just leave ya here. Finish my tea and be on my merry way. But that's too boring, you know?"

He landed upright, somehow (she imagined that "upright" was starting to feel less stable, now), breathing hard despite not really doing much for the last few second-hours of this dance. Granted, all time was now and forever for her. Maybe eternity really was that long for someone like him.

"What... the hell... are you?" he rasped, hand to his throat as he gulped in air like a man in the desert gulps down an oasis.

She loomed over him, red lights flickering and blinking out around them. "What shall I leave you with?" Her hand pushed through his chest, felt the electric tingle of nerves pulsing against her fingertips. "What's it feel like, to have all your alarms going off at once? Pain and heat and cold and hunger, clawing and writhing under your skin?" Knifepoint shuddered as she wrenched her arm back. "You want to cut people open, see how they tick, poke and prod them like lab rats. Why bother? I can show you everything there is inside you - every blood cell running through your veins, every breath of air in your lungs, every point of light pinging your eyes." He fell to his knees, convulsing, scratching at his arms and neck. A flick of her hand and it stopped.

She crouched in front of him, a smile creeping across her face from behind the rabbit mask. Few every saw it from this close; it was far more ornate than it appeared, but more importantly, it had holes instead of eyes. The swirling cyan glow his gaze eventually met was her own.

"You asked what I am. Let me teach you."

Knifepoint was found in his hideout after an anonymous tip, though Deputy Martinez had seen enough "anonymous" packages to know this was their work. The White Rabbit, as usual, was nowhere to be seen, and had left surprisingly little evidence of their presence. The extract team had come heavily armed after what happened to Owlet, but he was just... sitting there, on the floor, muttering to himself on loop. One of his knives was found several feet away, seemingly altered by the Rabbit's powers into a floppy mockery of the weapon that had terrorized the city for weeks.

"Report in."

"Knifepoint's bagged, though you won't get much out of him. Looks like he finally snapped - the rest of him, at least."

"Any sign of the White Rabbit?"

"Not a one. No explosions today."

"Is he still conscious?"

"We're not sure. Eyes are open, body moves normally, everything works like it does when you're awake - but he's not responding to anything. Extract carried him out and it's like he didn't even notice, just keep repeating the same phrase."

"Well... what was he sayin'?"

"Everything is nothing is now is forever is nothing is everything is now is forever is everything is nothing is now is forever... on and on with hardly a breath."

"The hell does that mean?"

Martinez glanced up at the roof. For a moment, she thought she'd seen someone up there. She'd been having a lot of those moments since she started this chase. "I don't know, but... if they could do this to him now..."

"You think it's an escalation?"

"I think it's a warning."

You pretend to be a small-time villain. At worst, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. All fun and games until things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

So apparently Cat can use his power to remove the after effects from an akuma. Renna finds out Ladybug has been lying about Gabriel and has Ladybug says she can’t use miraculous ladybug to fix it so Cat uses “miraculous cat noir” to remove that memory so she can stay friends with Marinette (WTF?). Tho I’m pretty sure we have had Miraculous ladybug remove memories before, like in Oblivio. So idk what the point of that was.

That being said, if cataclysm works on something as insubstantial as memories, Cat Noir better brush up on his ‘The Garden of Sinners’ lore so he can start working on destroying conceptual things.

Also they decide on the team name Miraculers but Sabrina called them that in Daddycop so the timeline on that is wonky.

The explanation and introduction of Miraculous Chat Noir were terrible! I was honestly stunned when I read it. I know this series loves its retcon, but this is possibly the most blatant one we've seen.

Cat Noir: How come it didn't work, m'lady?? Ladybug: Nothing's broken...Secrets are not physical damage. (Rena glares angrily at Ladybug as she says the latter part) Cat Noir: Ladybug's power can fix things, not destroy them. Ladybug: (Gets an idea and looks at Cat Noir) This time to repair things we have to destroy them...

I have talked on multiple occasions about the fact that Ladybug's cure is not a Creation-based power. At least, it's not purely creation. While it often creates, there are multiple episodes where it destroys, too. There are even some where it's pure destruction!

I don't like that fact. I'm on the record as saying that Chat Noir should have a sister power that's used on the rare occasions when mass-destruction is needed. It's what I do in my own rewrite! But I never expected or even wanted canon to go there. Like many of the fixes discussed on this blog, I was discussing what the show should have done not what I'd like to see changed in the coming seasons. It's to late to fix this problem in canon since fixing it completely destroys the established lore! I genuinely don't know what this change means for Ladybug's cure moving forward because the way it worked in Revelator goes against the rest of canon.

Anon, you brought up the obvious counterpoint to Revelator: Oblivio, where the cure restored AND ERASED memories:

Fu: You two know your true identities, then. (they look at each other) Adrien: We're not supposed to? Fu: That's okay, the Miraculous Ladybugs will repair everything anyway.

Cat Noir: Wait. Do you think we'll remember all this… afterwards? Ladybug: Apparently, my Miraculous Ladybug reverts everything, so I'm guessing we won't.

Why did the cure erase these memories while leaving the Revelator memories? No idea. It genuinely doesn't make sense. Oblivio's mind-wipe power didn't directly cause the reveal. The reveal was an unintended side effect and yet the cure still undid it because it was akuma-based damage.

Meanwhile Revelator's power was revealing secrets meaning every reveal was intentional akuma damage, but this time the cure leaves the memories? Why? What was the logic? And why is Ladybug acting like her cure can't destroy things? It destroys things all the time!

For example, in Horrificator, the titular akuma covered the school and several people in purple slime. Ladybug's cure destroyed that slime, making this one of the episodes where the cure was pure destruction:

[Image description: the school boiler room filled with things that look like giant purple alien eggs.]

Here are a few more examples of the cure destroying things:

Timebreaker saw Ladybug's cure erase her clone from a different timeline (which was weird)

The Evillustrator saw the cure destroy all of the titular akuma's drawings

Princess Fragrance, Zombizou, and several other episodes saw Ladybug's cure free people from mind control, an act of destruction that is not physical so I have no idea why Revelator is acting like the cure was only ever limited to physical damage

Syren saw Ladybug's cure destroy an ocean's worth of water

Anansi saw Ladybug's cure destroy spider webs

Frozer saw Ladybug's cure remove the ice that was covering the city

Weredad saw Ladybug's cure remove the vines that the akuma created

Lies saw Ladybug's cure free the akuma's victims by destroying their magical paralysis, which is arguably another example of it destroying something that wasn't physical

In Multiplication, it's implied that Ladybug's cure destroys the Ikari Gozen clones because they only vanish post-cure.

These are just a few examples of times when Ladybug's cure happily destroyed both physical and non-physical things. It has never been limited to creation or to the physical so I have no freaking clue what the point of Miraculous Chat Noir is. Nor do I have any clue when it's supposed to be used because all of the above examples are times when I would have used it as a writer. Introducing it after all of these episodes and having Ladybug state that her power is only physical was just embarrassingly bad writing, though I am curious what this means for Ladybug's cure moving forward. Is it going to be limited to creation or is it going to work like it always has? I have no idea.

It was also wild that this new power wasn't something Adrien unlocked because he's a stronger person now or something that Plagg granted him because Adrien was finally ready for a new power. Instead, Ladybug is the one who comes up with the idea that this might be a thing and Chat Noir tries it out at her prompting because Marinette is the only non-villain character that is allowed to advance the plot. Chat Noir is just another one of her Pokémon:

Ladybug: (Gets an idea and looks at Cat Noir) This time to repair things we have to destroy them... Cat Noir: But isn't that wrong? Rena Rouge: No. Because it's meant to give people the ability to choose whether to share their secret or not. And that's repairing things. Ladybug: You are a good person, kitty. Trust yourself. Cat Noir: But how do I do it? Ladybug: Remember: There's always room to evolve. Cat Noir: Cataclysm (He focuses his energy on the cataclysm lifting it to the sky, it slowly increases in size) Cat Noir: Miraculous Cat Noir!

For those who didn't watch the episode, this is it. This is all it takes to unlock the power. They exchange a few words of dialogue, Chat Noir randomly decides to call out "Miraculous Chat Noir," and he gets this confusing new power. Yay? Lamest upgrade in the history of upgrades! The side characters upgrading to "adult" status was more dramatic! A fact that's especially embarrassing when you remember that the "adult" upgrade happened at the start of this same episode. Big flashy opening, incredibly lackluster ending.

If Adrien is going to get a new power, then he deserves to get it in an episode where he takes center stage. It should NOT happen in an episode that's all about Alya and Marinette. The temp heroes get better treatment than this!

While I like the idea of Miraculous Chat Noir, it's the kind of thing that should only be done in a reboot. I might even forgive it if it's done within the first season. But doing it in season six? Hell no! I know this season is a soft reboot, but soft reboots aren't actually reboots! They're still in the same continuity! In the established continuity, this new power makes no sense. What, did Gabriel secretly wish to change the lore of the miraculous after using most of them and realizing how bad it was? I can't say that I'd blame him. I'd be tempted to make that wish myself!

[dual-cetacean]

Forgive scuffed-looking Sonic. It's been too long since I've drawn anything, and my current medical issues are making it harder to refine things.

Heyo! I had planned to wait until I finished writing the second-to-last chapter of Season 2 of NPLH to make an announcement. But, unforeseen medical issues have necessitated an earlier statement. The good news is, in short, I am still working on this series! Don't worry; it is not on hiatus or being abandoned! The reason it's taking so long is that this school year has been hectic and stressful, and I've had no time, except for college, and I've been doing a little bit of stress relief here and there. Still, I am surprised that I only have the other half of the second-to-last chapter and the last chapter to complete, and then I will be finished with the raw script. I did make good progress despite only writing during my breaks. Looking at my document files, it is much larger than the first eight chapters, coming to a whopping 356 pages and 8,601 words. That is almost twice the size of the first season, and I am still writing. 

Now, after a very hard and stressful exam period, I got very unlucky and acquired an abscess in my armpit. I will keep it brief, but I wrote this on the day after my last procedure to clean it out thoroughly; it fucking hurts! I didn't know what it felt like to be cut open, but oh my gods! It hurt more because the area was affected, but still! Knives hurt! Even if they are very sharp one-time-use scalpels and it was one small cut! Gods, I am so happy I get to have local anaesthesia on the third day. 

Anyway, I wanted to explain a few things as to why I haven't been posting, both in art and writing, and that it will take longer to get back to, as the aftercare has now started. (I swear the universe is trying to keep me from writing. The cosmos can take my writing tools from my dead, cold fingers. Even if it takes me two weeks of strenuous aftercare. I've started writing on my phone because sometimes the pain is too much. I don't like having so much time on my hands with nothing to do, even if that time is supposed to be spent healing.)

It is also both funny and not funny. Still, the events that occurred in the last six months are also reflected in the newest chapters I wrote before the end of the previous year, which ultimately happened to me and my loved ones. At least Nine's suffering and medical mishaps will be more accurate this time. My luck with medical stuff has been just so awful. It's especially ironic since I had so many things planned for the summer, and the second I am finally free of my studious obligations, I get hit with something so sudden and painful. (I bet it's the Ao3 curse)

The next chapter and art will, as a result, take much longer to post than I had anticipated. I hope to work on NPLH again soon. While I have developed numerous hyper-fixations on different fandoms and games throughout the year, my brain rot with Sonic, specifically Sonic Prime, continues to truck on. 

Coincidentally, yesterday was also my birthday. I wanted to make this announcement yesterday, but the pain was quite severe, so I postponed it for a bit. Rn, it is bearable, but I took my pain meds a little bit too late, so hahaha, gotta suffer a little before I go to sleep. 

[nosferatuix]

some 1st year sashisu headcanons:

1. They had a horrible first impression of each other because Gojo was way too exciteable, Shoko too apathetic, and Geto seemed like a stick in the mud, and all of them were like god this is going to be a long few years. By the end of the month they were practically fused together.

2. Shoko's the oldest so her birthday was the first time Satoru had the chance to celebrate a friend's birthday. Suguru asked him like the week before what he was planning on getting her and then immediately had to reign Gojo in from going totally overboard.

3. I know the official art disagrees with me but I saw a fanart of 1st year Shoko with a pixiecut on twitter and she looked really cute so I think it should be canon that she had a pixie cut when she started school, alongside Gojo's super short hair. Geto's already Found His Style

yesyesyes. i actually have a very specific set of ideas about their first interactions. my personal headcanon was that shoko and satoru met each other first because shoko was the first one to move into the dorms, but gege cracked my headcanon by having suguru be the first one to move in so i'm not gonna go into a lot of detail. what i was initially thinking was that shoko and satoru actually got along fine at first sight, with both of them thinking the other was weird but having the consensus that their weirdness was a tolerable amount, which made them at least accept each other as human beings. it was satoru's first time seeing someone who could do rct on others and shoko was trying her best to test the waters first before even thinking about making friends, so they were fine.

then they met suguru and shoko was immediately like, okay, wanna-be-atsushi-sakurai over here doesn't talk as much as the other one which makes him easier to exist around, so i can ditch the other one if he gives me a headache. but i don't think satoru and suguru possibly could have clicked the first time they saw each other. i think they probably got into a huge fight just because suguru was already a nervous wreck so he was feeling on-edge and something about him (probably the fact that he was a couple of centimeters taller than satoru since satoru hit his growth spurt later) ticked satoru off and it was basically like putting fire and gunpowder together. shoko was like... i don't know if i can survive the next four years like this. joke's on her.

moving onto part two here, i love that one fanart of stsg snooping through the student files to figure out more information about shoko because she was a bit secretive and they found out there was only a week left to her birthday. suguru mumbled something about what to get for her and satoru was like, WE'RE SUPPOSED TO GIVE HER A GIFT? and he freaked the fuck out i mean my man was stressed out. suguru had to give him a basic run-down on how these things work in the world of normal people, which was what him and shoko were used to, and they probably put their stipend together to get her something nice. maybe a nice necklace that she never wears except for fancy occasions. or something cute that she could place on her desk in the infirmary to personalize the place a bit since she was starting to spend so much time holed up in there.

PIXIE CUT SHOKO IS APPROVED BY ME. i personally think she had longer hair when she first started the school, i'm thinking shoulder-length and whatever, then she got a borderline-pixie cut that felt inspired to get because she watched hong kong express by wong kar-wai and felt moved by the pretty lady from there even though romantic movies don't do much for her. she eventually grew it out into a bob because it was too high-maintenance and tying her hair up became kind of a necessity the more time she spent in the infirmary, but i'm a firm believer in shoko being really into the nu-metal scene of the 2000s so do with that what you will.

on the topic of gojo's supershort hair, it has always been canon to me ever since i saw nibeul's fanarts about first year sashisu and i actually used to think he cut it himself in the bathroom of the train from kyoto to tokyo the moment he got on it and that's why it's such a choppy and shitty haircut. (it was his first time being unsupervised and equipped with a pair of scissors and he had to perform yet another act of rebellion for the gojo clan elders, excuse you.)

and suguru had already been exposed to buck-tick and the 1993 music video for dress a couple of years back so he was in the middle of growing his hair out to look like the pretty dude with makeup from the music video, so i do agree that he had found his style way earlier than these two. explains the piercings he already had at 15, i bet he begged his mom for months to let him get them lol.

[casadecopia]

Omg so like 10 to 15 years ago Iknew this guy who had the fucking sexiest roommate ever ok like this dude was tall, he was thicc, he was big and handsome with dark hair and tattoos. He looked like someone who had been fit in like high school or college and done football or sports of some kind and ended up work at a restaurant or bar and had just gained weight from eating extra meals and slinging drinks behind the bar all shift— like idk how to explain it like he had this muscular stature but everywhere he was supposed to all hard and sharp and boney angles he was just soft and slightly curved and smrjtkdjdlejhf he was like Hopper in Stranger Things before he ended up in the Russian prison camp— so hott

anyway so i eventually hooked up with him and just the fucking weight of him ontop of me heavy in a way that was sooo good and his belly was bumping me omg getting in the way bc I remember we were on a single sized mattress so both of us on their didn’t really fit and he was just so thic and man sized and bigger than me and it was so fucking good like some of the best sex I’d had back then.

We only hooked up the one time and then he moved or something I can’t remember and then like 5 yrs later I saw a pic of him on instagram in a tank top and shorts with someone in a like gym selfie or something— and than man lost like goddam 30 to 50 pounds (I mean he didn’t look bad, he looked healthy, he looked normal) but let me tell you I have never been so suddenly and so instantaneously turned off by someone who used to have mad sex appeal.

Like I was horrified— I was like “I’ve never seen that man in my life nor let alone laid biblically beside that… that mutilated clone of a skinny strip of nothing— where is my bouncer?!” (He was a bouncer for a club or some shit at some point which honestly was a fucking good hire with the bod he’d had at the time) personally offended

anyway my point is that to this day I STILL CCANT GET OVER IT and I feel icky inside when I think of it bc mfer 🤬😅🥲 had been so fucking gorgeous like I could have pet him all day, he was a life size plushie and he JUST THREW IT ALL AWAY I guess by starving himself or working out WHICH IS SO NOT HOT

I tend to stay off social media for the most part now but I think last time I saw a photo of him he looked like he gained some weight back but not all of it and sometimes i still wonder every once in a while if he’s got that hot premature dad bod back

Does anyone fuck with (or would you fuck) chubby/fat tboys or am I being lied to

[buckybarneslittledoll]

Blue Dress

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x Librarian!Reader Tag: smut, loss of virginity, penis in vagina sex, oral sex, fingering

Summary: 1941, Brooklyn, New York James Barnes will be embarking in less than six months for Europe, where he will fight in World War II against Hitler and his allies. Helen owns a bookstore and has no long-term plans but everything for her will change when a man in a sergeant’s uniform enters her shop and storms in her life.

1941, Brooklyn, New York.

Bucky Barnes wandered down the bustling streets of Brooklyn, his uniform crisp and a playful smile on his face. The war in Europe was raging, but he refused to let it dampen his spirits. As he passed a group of giggling girls, his eyes caught a glimpse of a young woman who stood out from the rest. Helen was her name, he knew her from school, she was three years younger than him. She always had a radiant smile that made his heart skip a beat.

Helen worked at the local bookstore, spending her days surrounded by the pages of endless adventures. She loved the way books could transport her to different worlds, and she often found herself lost in their enchanting stories. However, she had never experienced a story quite like the one that was about to unfold.

One sunny afternoon, Bucky mustered up the courage to enter the bookstore, a bell tinkling above the door as he stepped in. He pretended to browse the shelves, but his eyes were fixated on Helen as she diligently arranged the books. Her beautiful light blue dress fluttered around her legs at every movement.

Finally, he approached the bookshelf, his heart pounding in his chest. "Hey there, miss," Bucky greeted, flashing his most charming smile. "Any recommendations for a soldier looking for a good read?"

Helen looked up, her eyes meeting his. She blushed at the sight of the handsome soldier in front of her. "Oh, um, well, what genre do you like?" she asked, trying to keep her composure.

Bucky grinned. "Adventure and fantasy, I suppose. Something that'll take me away from this war for a little while."

Helen pondered for a moment before pulling out a book from behind the counter. "How about 'The Hobbit'?" she suggested, handing him the book. "It's got a bit of both." Taking the book, Bucky's fingers brushed against Helen's, sending a jolt of electricity through both of them.  "Thank you," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "Say, would you like to join me for a cup of coffee sometime? I'd love to discuss this book further." Helen hesitated for a moment, but then she smiled warmly. "I'd like that," she said, unable to resist his genuine charm.

It was the first time that a man, let alone a handsome one like James Buchannan Barnes, showed interest in her. She was scared that she was gonna end up hurt by a relationship that’s why she always kept her head down and her nose in the books.

From that day on, Bucky and Helen spent their free moments together, exploring the city, sharing stories, and laughing like they had known each other forever. They found comfort in each other's company, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the world around them.

As time passed, their bond grew stronger. Bucky confided in Helen about his fears and doubts, the weight of the war bearing heavily on his shoulders. And Helen, in turn, opened up about her dreams and fears, finding solace in Bucky's unwavering support.

One night, they found themselves on the rooftop of James's apartment building, gazing at the stars above. Bucky wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "You know," he began "I never thought I'd find someone like you in the middle of all this chaos. You make everything feel... perfect." Helen turned to him, her eyes shining with affection. "Bucky, you're my beacon of hope in these dark times." she said softly "When I'm with you, everything feels right."

As the war raged on, their love only deepened. They cherished every moment they had together, knowing that their time might be limited. Bucky's deployment orders loomed over them like a dark cloud, but they refused to let it overshadow their love.

One fateful day, Bucky had to leave for the front lines in Europe. Helen stood on the platform, tears streaming down her cheeks as she held onto him tightly. "Come back to me," she whispered. "Promise me you'll come back." "I promise," Bucky vowed, his voice filled with determination. "I'll come back to you, Helen. I'll fight with everything I've got to return to your side." They held onto each other until the last possible moment, and as the train pulled away, Bucky kept his gaze fixed on Helen, etching her image into his heart. “I love you.” Helen murmured as a tear ran down her cheek.

Through the trials and tribulations of war, they wrote letters to each other, pouring their hearts onto the pages. The letters were their lifeline, a reminder of the love they shared. And against all odds, Bucky kept his promise, surviving the horrors of war to return to Helen.

After years of fighting and enduring the horrors of war, Bucky Barnes finally returned home to Brooklyn. The year was 1945, and the world had changed during his absence, but one thing remained constant in his heart: the love he held for his girlfriend, Helen.

Well, he hadn’t proposed yet, but in his heart he thought of her as such.

As the train pulled into the station, Bucky's heart raced with anticipation and anxiety. He had written letters to Helen whenever he could, but he feared that the war might have changed him too much for her to recognize the man she once loved. Stepping off the train, he scanned the crowd, his eyes desperately searching for a familiar face.

And there she was, standing on the deck with the same light blue dress that she wore on their first encounter. Helen's eyes were fixed on the train, tears glistening as she clutched her white purse tightly in her hands. Time seemed to slow as their eyes met, and in that moment, the world faded away, leaving only the two of them.

With every step, Bucky felt his heart swell with love and relief. He reached the deck, and without a word, he embraced Helen tightly, his arms wrapping around her as if he would never let go.

"You're home," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm home, Helen," Bucky replied, his voice equally choked with tears "I'm finally home."

They held onto each other, savoring the feeling of being together again, their love forming an unbreakable bond. The worries and fears that had haunted them during the long years of separation melted away, replaced by overwhelming joy.

As they walked back to Bucky's house, the world seemed brighter, and Bucky couldn't help but marvel at the simple beauty of everyday life that he had missed during the war. The laughter of children playing on the streets, the sound of music drifting from an open window… it all felt like a gift he had been given after enduring so much darkness.

Once they reached the house, Bucky looked around, taking in the familiarity of the place he had once called home. He smiled at the pictures on the walls, reminders of happier times they had shared before the war. There was so much to catch up on, so many stories to share. “I took good care of it.” Helen smiled. In 1943 money was definitely an issue for her so she sold her apartment and moved into Bucky’s house, keeping it like her own.

Sitting on the couch together, Helen held his hand tightly, as if she feared he might disappear if she let go. "Tell me everything, Bucky." she said, her eyes filled with curiosity and affection. And he did. Bucky recounted his experiences, the battles he fought, the friends he lost, and the moments that kept him going: the memories of her smile and the promise of returning to her side. As the evening turned to night, they talked and laughed, their hearts lighter than they had been in years. The weight of the war still lingered, but with Helen by his side, Bucky felt he could face anything that life threw at him.

It was now night and the two of them were still talking when Helen got up stating that she was tired. She passed in front of James when he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her on his lap. “I’m tired James.” She complained. “I love it when you call me James.” He smiled before kissing her. She melted into his arms, embracing the kiss and resting her hands on his chest, covered by a shirt now unbuttoned. His hand got under her skirt, hungrily looking for her panties and what was beneath them.

“James.” I snapped out of the sweet trance that the kiss got me into. “Tell me to stop, doll, and I will.” he said with a serious and dominant tone of voice. “James…” she just said. He smirked “Not a stop, doll.” and just like that he slid off her panties, letting them fall onto the floor.

She moaned at the feeling of fresh air against her wet core. That had never happened to you before. But, then again, no one had ever touched you that intensely. Not even Bucky. Before leaving for war had never done anything more intimate than simple kisses, he knew that it was not yet the right time. Apparently the right time was now.

Helen held her breath as he started to unbutton her dress. “You know, I've wanted to see this dress on the floor since the first time I saw you in your shop. It’s like a dream come true.” He admitted, finally throwing the dress somewhere in the living room.

By now she was completely naked, since she took off her bra when she got home, to make herself more comfortable. Instinctively Helen put her arms in front of her chest, ashamed of being naked in front of a man.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He muttered while admiring the girl. She smiled at him, pulling him into a passionate kiss while her hands slipped his shirt over his shoulder. With a swift motion Helen unhooked his belt, dropping his pants on the ground and moaning as she felt his growing bulge in his boxer. Bucky smirked, lifting her in his arms easily and taking the girl to the bedroom, closing the door with a kick.

Helen sank to her knees between his legs. “Doll, you don’t have to.” She looked up, their eyes making contact “I know I don’t have to, but I want to. I want to make you feel good.” “I’m afraid I won’t hold back.” Bucky said. “Then don’t.” she whispered “I’m ready, I’ve waited long enough. I need you James.” she begged.

He leaned back on the armchair in the room, looking down at the girl. Helen slid his underpants down, freeing him. He was already rock hard.

She ran her hesitant hand up and down his length, gently caressing him and leaning in licking the few drops of precum on top of his head. When he hissed she suddenly stopped, looking up with fear “Did I hurt you? I am so sorry I-” He shook his head, caressing her hair “It’s fine, it’s more than fine.” he gripped her hair gently in his fist, guiding her.

Helen cupped his balls, enjoying his moans. “You’ll be the death of me.” He whispered before she licked his head again, rolling her tongue and sucking the tip. “Oh God…” He moaned as the vein in his cock started to pulsate harder against her hand. She took him deeper, almost choking on his thick cock. That’s how he came, deep inside her mouth having reached her throat. Helen licked him clean, swallowing his cum and earning a proud smile from Bucky.

The man lifted her in his arms, gently kissing her and lowering her on the bed. “God, you are so beautiful.” He muttered, lowering his head and kissing her once again. She kissed him back, opening her mouth and allowing him to explore her mouth.

He twirled his fingers around her hair and gently held her firmly against the bed as he started to leave a trail of kisses down her body, only to stop on Helen’s lower stomach.

“We can still stop, if you want to. I don’t wanna pressure you.” Bucky said seriously. “I want this, I’ve been dreaming about this day since our first date.” Helen blushed profusely while James kept kissing her going lower and lower.

She held her breath as his tongue brushed against her wet folds. “Relax doll, you’re gonna feel good. I’ll make you feel so good.” He kept lapping her, slowly inserting a finger in her to help her acclimate to the intrusion in her body. She whined at the intrusion, moving her lap as if she was trying to escape. “I know it’s not pleasant at first, but you’re gonna like it.” the man said while brushing his thumb on her clit and making her squirm.

As he positioned between her legs she looked at his erection with worry. James lifted her chin with his hand, looking at her straight in the eyes “Don’t worry, it’ll fit. I’ll be as gentle as possible.” he promised “After all, you are made for me.”  She hissed as he slid three fingers inside of her. Helen wanted to ease the weird sensation so badly but she wanted to prove James that she could take it, she wanted to make him proud. “That’s my doll, taking it all like a good girl” he said as if he was reading her mind.

“Oh James.” she moaned. The man smirked “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you moaning my name.” he smirked as he kept rubbing her clit, giving her immense pleasure, while he started sliding his erection inside of her tight hole.

“Too big.” Helen managed to say. “You can take it doll, I won’t move until you say so.” he promised, using his spare hand to hug her tightly.

After a couple of minutes Helen seemed to have adjusted to James’s length “You can move.” He started to move in her slowly but when she started moaning and rolling her hips he completely lost it. He started moving faster, almost completely getting out of her, and then suddenly slamming it back in. “James, I think I’m coming…” Helen said, trying not to moan too loud. In response the man started going even faster, reaching spots she didn’t even know existed and when her walls clenched around him he let go for the second time that night.

They both stayed like that for a couple of minutes, Helen enjoying feeling so full and James enjoying finally being closer than ever with his girl.

When he got out of Helen, James had to use all his self-control not to start fucking her a second time. He went to the bathroom, took a damp towel and used it to give a clean to the girl, who rejoiced to feel something cool against her aching pussy.

They fell asleep soon after that, James spooning her under the sheets and almost crying tears of joy.

In the days that followed, they savored every moment together, rediscovering each other and creating new memories. They took long walks in the park, went to their favorite diner for milkshakes, and shared quiet moments together on the deck, watching the sunset.

As time passed, their love deepened, and Bucky knew that Helen was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. One evening, under the stars that had witnessed his return, he got down on one knee and presented her with a small, velvet box.

"Helen, you are the light that guided me through the darkness of war," he said, his voice trembling with emotion "Will you marry me and make me the happiest man alive?"

Tears filled Helen's eyes as she nodded, unable to find words to express the joy in her heart. She pulled him into a warm embrace, sealing their commitment with a kiss that spoke of a future filled with love and happiness.

And so, Bucky and Helen began a new chapter in their lives, building a future together that was filled with love, laughter, and cherished memories. They faced life's challenges hand in hand, drawing strength from each other's love and the knowledge that they had overcome the greatest of obstacles: the war that threatened to tear them apart.

In each other's arms, they found solace and joy, and the nightmares of war gradually faded into the background. They lived happily, cherishing the gift of love that had brought them back to each other's side. For Bucky and Helen, home wasn't just a place, it was the feeling of being together, and that was a feeling that would stay with them forever.

Masterlist

[call-me-copycat]

I may be sick? (⁠╯⁠︵⁠╰⁠,⁠)

Woke up just now and I feel like absolute sludge. Head hurts, want to throw up, fatigued..

Very well could be due to burnout as well

(or dehydration >⁠.⁠<)