#it’s so late and I needed to be asleep two hours ago

[wobblingjello]

aughhh the spencer angst <\\3 I adore the way you write ur fics…if ur reqs r open could I possibly recommend spencer x reader who’s father is very very VERY similar to house md.

basically reader decides to take a very different career than her father, and would become a lawyer that often worked with the bau.

spencer and reader have been in a relationship for quite some time, so reader invited him to meet their father

OR

spencer is in the hospital for whatever reason and happens to meet their father

Hey! This is definitely not exactly like your request, but I actually already had a WIP about Spencer in the hospital situation even before the request, then I just added your suggestion on meeting the reader’s father part. I hope you like this! ^^

— Bloodline & Bullet Wound

Summary: You’ve been dating Spencer for quite some time, and it was only natural for your parents to start asking when they’d get to meet your “mysterious” boyfriend. However, you never expected that the first encounter between your dad and Spencer would be in the operating room. OR Spencer was shot, and your dad was the surgeon who led the surgery.

Genre: General, with a bit of humor (?)

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3011

Dating Dr. Spencer Reid was not for the weak. He was very clear about how important his job was for him since the second date, as if he was giving you an out before things got serious between the two of you. Your job might not be as significant as his was, but as someone who was also passionate about your job, you understood where the concerns came from.

On top of his unpredictable work schedule that would take him miles away from you most of the time, the very same job made you live in constant fear that something terrible could happen to him at any time. So, no, it wasn’t the work schedule that worried you the most, but the awfulness that came with the job.

In the span of 7 months you’ve been dating him, every so often, you’d spot new bruises and scars on his body. Spencer knew how you felt whenever you saw those wounds. He’d tell you those were minor wounds, and the most important part was he made it home safe.

He rarely talked about the cases they worked on, however, he always insisted that having you in his apartment when he came back helped a lot. Like the current case they were working on, for example. Three days ago, Spencer had informed you that it was a local case, in which he could go back to his own apartment every night. So, you’ve been staying at his place for the last three days.

Even when working on a local case, there was no guarantee that he’d come home at normal hours. Yesterday, he was back around 11 PM, and went back to work so early in the morning. He apologized for disturbing your sleep whenever he went in and out of his apartment, but of course you never held it against him.

Early this evening he texted you that he’d most likely stay late at the office again, and you didn’t have to wait up for him. You two texted each other a few more times before Spencer was needed to go back to the case. Then you once again fell asleep in his bed alone.

A loud ringing from your phone woke you up in the middle of the night. You blindly reached your phone on the bedside table, and answered it without even bothering to check the ID. JJ’s voice on the other side of the line woke you up instantly.

“Hey. I’m so sorry for calling you this late.”

You could feel the tightness in your chest. “JJ, what’s going on?”

“Spence was shot. I haven’t heard further details since the MET brought him to the hospital. All I know is that they need to do surgery on him.”

Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach at her statement.

Spencer.

Hospital.

Surgery.

Oh, God. Your worst nightmare has become reality. Your brain tried to remember the last thing you two talked about before you went to bed. Nothing. You couldn’t remember anything. What if you said something bad to him?

“Hello? Are you still there?”

“Yeah, sorry.” If she caught the shakiness in your voice, then she didn’t mention it.

“I’ll send you the details of the hospital. Garcia and Matt are already on their way there. You should contact them when you arrive. The rest of us will meet you at the hospital once we wrap things up in the crime scene. Please be careful.”

You threw on the sweatpants and hoodie, grabbed your purse and key, then rushed out of his apartment.

As you turned on the engine of your car, you keyed in the address of the hospital to the GPS. It would only take you approximately an hour to get there. If you drove close to the speed limit, while adding the probability of how vacant the street was at almost 1 AM, you could definitely make it less than an hour. 

Once your car hit the road, thankfully, there was almost no other car anywhere in sight. You dared yourself to drive as fast as you could while still being careful. The last thing you wanted was to be in an accident while Spencer was fighting for his life in the operating room.

Just like you had predicted, you made it to the hospital in under an hour. You immediately called Penelope as you walked out of the parking lot. She waited for you at the lobby, and as soon as she saw you, she was all over you — trying to assure you that Spencer would be alright, that he’d make it out alive. You appreciated her kindness, really, but right now, your mind was incapable of forming positive thoughts. No, your mind went completely blank after that phone call with JJ. Honestly, it was a miracle that you managed to get to the hospital safely.

Once the two of you walked to the waiting area, you saw Matt facing the operating room. As if he sensed another presence in the room, perhaps he did, he was an agent after all, he turned around. He looked relieved when he saw you made it to the hospital just fine. He gestured to you and Penelope to sit on the nearest 3-seat chair. 

On your left, Matt briefed you the situation as best as he could given how shaken you currently were. Penelope, sitting on your right, tried to comfort you by squeezing your hands.

It was a horrible situation. The team had figured out there were two UnSubs in this case. By the time the team cornered one of the UnSub in their hiding place, they were still trying to talk him out of the situation — hopefully they could take both UnSubs alive. As they tried to make him surrender with no violence, in some sick twisted way, the partner walked right to that situation. Not very clever of him, honestly. The team also had figured out that one of the UnSubs was messier than the other. Once the partner realized there was no way out for both of them, he started shooting. Unfortunately, Spencer, who stood the closest to the other UnSub, was shot. Eventually, both UnSubs were dead.

It all happened in a blink of an eye. Once the situation was cleared, Rossi immediately instructed the EMT to get into the crime scene. The EMT left to bring Spencer to the hospital as fast as they got in. Tara called Matt, who stayed in the office with Penelope at that time, and told them to go to the hospital. At the same time, JJ called you, and basically said the same thing.

For a split second, you selfishly wished Spencer had stayed at the office too, so none of this would have happened to him.

The rest of the team arrived at the hospital almost 30 minutes later. They all look exhausted, like they all could crash out any time soon. You spotted dried blood on Emily’s shirt — wondering if that was Spencer’s. You felt a twist in the bottom of your stomach just from the thought of it.

In the waiting area, the BAU team took turns to take a quick rest. It seemed uncomfortable given how small the 3-seat chairs were. At some point, Matt and JJ excused themselves to go home, which understandable since they had their own families.

The waiting time felt like eternity for you. Some of Spencer’s team members had told you to take some rest, but you refused to do so. You were afraid you wouldn’t be awake by the time the surgery was done. 

What was exactly happening inside the operating room? How long would it take for them to finish the surgery?

By the time it marked the 3 hours, someone walked out of the operating room. Everyone in the waiting area instantly got on their feet. The moment the surgeon took off his mask, your mouth was wide open.

“Dad!?”

He was equally surprised at the sight of you. “Muffin? What are you doing here?”

Your nose scrunched at his term of endearment. “Um, I’m Spencer’s emergency contact?” That came out more like a question than an answer.

“That —” He dramatically pointed out to the direction of the operating room. “— is your boyfriend?”

The BAU team was simultaneously shocked and amused at the unexpected family reunion. They intently listened to the exchange while looking back and forth at the father-daughter duo. Your mind was solely focused on Spencer the entire time, you completely forgot this was also the hospital your dad worked at.

You heard Emily cleared her throat at your right. “As much as I enjoy this little family reunion, can you please give us an update on Reid’s condition?” She addressed your dad.

“Right. We’ll circle back to this later, Muffin.” Then he turned to face Emily. “He lost a lot of blood. It was touch and go there for a while. If he was shot one millimeter to the left, he probably wouldn’t make it. It was a miracle, really. He still needs to recover for another few days, but he’ll be able to walk out of here just fine.”

“Can we see him?” This time, it was Luke who asked the question.

“Not right now. I’ll recommend you to see him later in the next few hours.” Then he looked directly at you. “That applies to you too.” You were about to complain when he stopped you. “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll personally call you when he wakes up.”

One by one the members of the BAU said their thank you to your dad, then left the hospital. They deserved that rest. You lingered in the waiting area a bit longer, wanting to have a private conversation with your dad. It seemed he also had the same thought, because he hadn’t moved from his position.

You walked up to your dad, and immediately hugged him. The moment he hugged you back, it felt like you finally could breathe again. Without you even realizing it, the tears started falling down your cheeks.

“You saved his life. Thank you, Dad.” Your voice was barely audible.

“I can’t believe I just performed a surgery on your boyfriend. Your mom will probably be mad at me if she finds out that I had met him without her.”

You knew the last part was him trying to lighten up your mood. “She’ll live. But I’m sure she’ll ask again for that dinner sooner than later.”

He chuckled at that. “That she will.” He released you from the hug, but put his hands on your shoulders. “Seriously, go home. I promise I’ll call you.”

You hugged your dad one more time before leaving the hospital.

If there was one thing that you felt grateful for today, it was the fact that it was Sunday. You didn’t even realize how tired you were until you were back to Spencer’s apartment. You couldn’t imagine if you had to go to work after what just happened. God, imagine how exhausted his colleagues were right now. You were sure you would fall asleep straight away the moment you touched the bed.

The ringing from your phone once again woke you up. This time, you checked the caller before answering. Your dad.

“Hey, Muffin. Did you actually get some sleep?” His don’t-lie-to-me tone was as clear as the sky outside.

You chuckled at his question. “I did, thank you for asking, Dad. Is he awake?” Now, you hesitantly asked him.

“Yes. He just woke up. The nurses are checking on him, but he can have visitors now. I’m pretty sure someone from the administration had contacted one of his colleagues, but maybe you want to inform them as well.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that.” You went quiet for a beat or two, then continued. “Thank you, again, Dad. I love you. I’ll see you later at the hospital.”

“I love you too, kiddo. Drive safely.”

You checked the time on your phone, past 10 AM. Well, you definitely had better sleep before, but considering the circumstances, it wasn’t that bad. This time around, you took your time to get ready before leaving. You knew Spencer wouldn’t mind if you came to the hospital looking like someone who just rolled out of the bed, but you intended to spend some time with your dad too, so you wanted to look at least decent enough. The hospital was still his workplace after all.

As you grabbed your purse and key, your stomach let out an embarrassing loud noise. Alright, making a quick pit stop to the patisserie wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps bought something for your dad too while you were at it.

Before you left the apartment, you sent a message to Emily, updating her on Spencer’s condition, while also informing her that you were on the way to the hospital. You were sure she’d pass along the information to the rest of the team.

When you arrived at the hospital, you didn’t go to Spencer’s room immediately. Instead, you called your dad and asked where he was. You wanted to give him a bag full of freshly baked pastries you bought at your favorite patisserie on the way.

Once the pastries were safely delivered to your dad, and spent a decent amount of time catching up with him, you marched your way to Spencer’s room.

Even from the hallway, you could tell which one his room was. You already heard the laughter of the people in his team you started becoming familiar with. You felt the warm fuzzy feeling spreading in your chest from knowing how much he was cherished by those people and vice versa.

You knocked on the door to announce your presence, and all heads turned towards your direction. You noticed how his eyes lit up from the sight of you entering his room. Everyone made some room for you, so you could sit on his bed. Your hand instantly found his — caressing the back of his hand while still being mindful of the IV.

You all shared stories and laughter in the tiny hospital room. Grateful that Spencer survived this horrifying event. JJ showed you the drawing her sons made for Spencer. Even the little ones adored your boyfriend. Through all of this, not even once you two let each other’s hands go.

Eventually, his colleagues bid their farewell, but not before wishing him a speedy recovery.

“Hey, angel.” He flashed you a smile.

“Hey. I want to ask how you are, but that sounds silly. I mean, of course you’re not fine.” You let out a shaky breath. “You scared me, you know?”

“I’m better now.” He gave your hand a squeeze. “So… Your dad was the one who performed the surgery on me…”

“Yeah. That was… Wild. I’m pretty sure half his soul left his body when he realized you’re the mysterious boyfriend.” You giggled at the memory of your dad’s reaction. “He said he’d check up on you later.”

Not even 5 minutes later, your dad knocked on the door. As if you had summoned him. He checked up on Spencer, notified the two of you on your boyfriend’s latest condition, etcetera, while keeping a straight face. He deserved to be applauded for his professionalism.

However, the spell broke once your dad was done with his examination.

“So, I heard you’re dating my daughter.” Your dad casually said while staring at Spencer dead in the eye.

Your boyfriend, clearly nervous, cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. It’s unfortunate that our first encounter is under such an awful circumstance.” He tried to straighten up his position as best as he could. “My name is Dr. Spencer Reid… But surely you already know that since you’re currently holding my medical chart.” 

“Doctor, huh? I thought he’s with the FBI?” His eyebrow went up as he looked at you now.

“Not a doctor like you, Dad.”

“Um, I have 3 PhDs.”

“That’s impressive. Well, I’m not interested in giving you any fatherly speeches for dating my daughter. At least not while you’re still recovering. I guess I’ll see you around, but hopefully not at the hospital again.” Your dad fully turned to face you this time. “My shift is about to end. Why don’t you come home with me? I’m sure your mom will be thrilled to see you. Especially if she finds out what just happened in less than 24 hours.”

Your dad gave the two of you one last look before he was leaving the room.

“I guess it went well.”

“Yeah, it could’ve been worse. Like, you know, he could secretly dose me with something that might kill me.”

“And why would he do that?”

“Because I’m dating his daughter?”

You burst out laughing at his answer. “Oh, babe. You’re as dramatic as he is. You two will be best buddies before you know it.”

“You should spend some time with your family. I’ll still be here until your dad deems me healthy enough to go home.”

“Alright. I’ll be back tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

You glanced at your boyfriend one last time, then closed the door to his room.

You saw your dad waiting for you at the end of the hallway — his white coat was long gone. Now that he knew about Spencer, and your mom would soon know too, it didn’t really sound like a bad thing at all. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to introduce him to your parents, it just felt too soon. Plus, between Spencer’s unpredictable work schedule and your dad’s long hour shift at the hospital, it was quite a challenge to set up a dinner with your parents.

Now that the cat was out of the bag, you were just happy that the most important people in your life would finally get to know each other. You were sure your mom would be more than happy to help you arrange the dinner, and you couldn’t wait for it to happen.

[wlwsoccerfics]

Late Night & an Early Morning with Mami & Mama (LiaWältiXMarionaCaldenteyXChildReader)

Summary: you have a Bad dream and still have a good Morning.

You woke up at night, looking around. It was 3am. Noticing that your moms weren't in your bedroom with you anymore. So you started crying. They always read you a Story and you fell asleep with them there. It has always been like that. As Long as you could remember. Which wasn't long cause you just turned three years old a week ago.

"Mami?Mama?ayuda." You sobbed out. It only took them like 15 seconds to stand in front of your little bed which was painted like the Emirates Stadium & had Arsenal Written all over it. And your mommies Jersey Numbers. ( Mami?Mama?Help. )

"¿Qué pasa princesa?" Your Mami asked, picking you up and holding you close. You cuddled up to her right away. ( what's wrong princess? )

"mal sueño." You informed your mommies. Pouting thought the tears. ( Bad Dream. )

"Oh, no, dulce niña. Lo siento mucho oír eso." Your Mami replied. Kissing the top of your head. ( oh no sweet girl. sorry to hear that. )

"would you like to sleep in bed with me and Mami?" Your Mama asked. Gently stroking your hair.

"sí, por favor." Your answered. "Momo sleeps with us?" You wanted to know. Momo was your stuffed monkey. You didn't go anywhere without it. ( Yes please. )

"He sure can." Your Mama agreed. Smiling softly at you.

"thanks Mama! Thanks Mami!" You replied with a soft smile. Yawning softly.

The three of you went back to your mommies bed. You laid in top of your Mami while your Mama was running your back gently and your Mami gently stroking your hair. One of your hands had a tight grip on Momo.

"get some more rest my sweet Girl! In a few hours you gonna travel with us to Manchester." Your Mama let you know. So you closed your eyes. Smiling a bit. Because you would be able to see your auntie Grace. Your auntie Kyra had introduced you to her. Cause the two were quite close.

"Duerme bien, dulce niña." Your Mami whispered out. Which you didn't even hear anymore because you fell asleep again. Your Mama let out a sigh of relief. Traveling with a tried and grumpy toddler wasn't fun. So she was glad you got some more sleep. ( sleep well, sweet girl . )

"she is out like a light!" Your Mama whispered out and cuddled up to your Mami. The two falling asleep as well.

The morning was quite peaceful and you let your Mami get you dressed before the three of you drove to the Training grounds because that was where the Bus was leaving from. In the Car you listened to a Paw Patrol Audiobook.

"i Love Marshall!" You happily announced with a lisp. Which made both of your mommies laugh.

"Lo sabemos princesa." Your Mami said. "You Tell us at least once a day!" She added. ( we know princess. )

"and we brought you lots of different Marshall plushies!" Your Mama replied.

"i needed them all! A Marshall Football team!" You told them. You had around 10 different Marshall plushies and you insisted that they all had to sleep in your bed.

"of course you did, Liebling." Your Mama said. Smiling softly. ( Sweetheart. )

Twenty minutes later you have reached your destination. When your Mama got you out of the car, your auntie Kyra , auntie Beth and auntie Steph walked over.

"Look Steph, Look Beth it's our favorite little princess!" Your auntie Kyra announced and held her arms out for you and you walked up to her since your Mama had put you down onto the ground.

"aunties!" You happily said and jumped into Kyras Arms. "I Had a Bad dream so Mami and Mama let me sleep in their big bed!" You explained.

"sorry you had a Bad dream, Sweet Angel. But glad your mommies made you feel better!" Your Auntie Steph replied. You held onto Kyra and cuddled up to her. Looking at Steph.

"thank you auntie Steffy!" You answered.

When you sat on the Bus you had decided to sit with your auntie Leah & auntie Beth. Being very entertained by listening to them talk about different kind of dogs. It also made you want to get a Dog.

"i get a Dog?" You asked. Looking at them both.

"kiddo you have to ask your Mama and Mami!" Your auntie Leah told you.

"¿Me compras uno solo?" You asked. ( You can just buy me one? )

"in english please!" Your auntie Beffy answered. You sometimes don't realize that you reply in Spanish or (Swiss-)German.

"she said that you should just buy her a Dog or asked you to buy her one. That's the better explanation . Which isn't happening." Your Mami explained. She was sitting behind your aunties Leah and Beth with your Mama.

"Vale la pena intentarlo." You admitted. ( worth a try. )

"i need to start learning Spanish!" Your auntie Beth stated and chuckled softly.

"agreed!" Your mami answered with a soft smile.

"maybe when you are older we can get a Dog." Your Mama let you know.

"okay." You replied. Still pouting a little. But not saying anything about the dog for the rest of the Drive. No somehow you ended up asleep in your auntie Daphnes Arms. Snoring cutely.

So your morning was quite relaxing. If only all Mornings were as relaxing as this one.

[radiohao]

yushi swears he has an “obvious” crush on you, but you're in major denial

pairings: tokuno yushi x f!reader

genre: fluff, crack, uni!au, soccerplayer!yushi, bulletpoint fic, oblivious!yn, ft. ive rei, sion, riku, friends-to-lovers

warnings: REDO OF THIS FIC, mentions of reader getting sick, one joke abt kidnapping, a mention of a broken wrist but it's not in detail, mentions of getting drunk, not proofread

wc: 2.7k

��

lately, you've been developing an unHEALTHY obsession with the new transfer student, tokuno yushi

he's in your econ class and came in from japan last semester

you still remember him walking in with a gray sweater, dark washed jeans, and soft, tousled raven black hair

and of course you remember you two locking eyes

u swore you were hearing wedding bells imMEdiately

you looked away so fast your neck probably cracked a little

thank god you sat in the back of the room because then you can just stare at this god-given sPECimen every day for an hour

well... nOw he sits right next to you...

it was... an interesting story, to say the least

— flashback —

you're barely awake and class only begun five minutes ago

wHY did you let rei convince you to play roblox obbies with her at 3AM?? half the world is ASLEEP at that time

and now you're suffering the consequences because your eyelids feel like they weigh 10 pounds

you got an americano since you assumed it'd wake you up, but it's so bitter you can't take another sip without scrunching your face in disgust

u should've gotten a frappe instead

your professor clears her voice before speaking

"good morning everyone! with the new semester starting, i thought it'd be nice if we all compress so it's easier to hear. as you may know, i recently got a surgery done in my throat, therefore i can't speak at loud volumes as it strains it-"

you roll your eyes and softly groan at the announcement

oh lord PLEASE you do not want to be sat with some gUy-

"y/n, may you please sit up here at the front next to yushi? thank you."

wHAT??? oh nonono well now u regret ever thinking that because yushi is not just some GUY!!

you mumble curses as you grab your things and make your way to where yushi is sitting

when you get there, his bag is on the seat next to him, which u assUME is your seat

he looks at you just standing there stupidly and his eyes widen before he takes his bag

"oh, sorry." you wave him off and sit next to him

your professor moves some more people to the front before starting her lecture

ykw this is perfect!! you're in the front so u hear her better and won't... fall.... asleeeeeppp.......

your eyes are drooping and your head jerks forward

crap nO not now

you need to take a sip out of your americano- ZZZzZzZzZzZz

—

so you blacked out.

goddAMNIT

you're woken up when someone lightly squeezes your shoulder

"wake up y/n, lecture is over."

"augpghgnm five more minutes plEAse.."

"okay." oh really? okay period!! that usually doesn't work but hey you'll take it! and whoever this is has a cotton candy-like voice that easily puts you back to sleep again

five minutes pass by and your shoulder is being squeezed again

you FORCE your eyes open before you get drowsy again and once u make eye contact with "cotton candy voice" you nearly fall off your chair

tokuno yushi is sitting next to you with his hand on your shoulder

"i'm sorry, did i startle you?" he says softly

you're like ??? what what what

"no, you're good! thanks for giving me a couple extra minutes to sleep," you say with a laugh

he chuckles and shakes his head, saying "don't worry about it. you seemed tired anyway. i'm gonna head out now- oh, also, make sure to check your notebook."

yushi slings his bag over his shoulder and you just nod as he talks (you're losing focus because of how good he looks rn)

"'m yushi, by the way. see you." he waves goodbye and leaves the room

you open your notebook and see that he wrote down notes for you during the lecture

ur eyes are glued to a little note he put in the corner saying "sorry my handwriting sucks lol" and your first coherent thought is I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN

but then you're also like why did he do that in the first place???

he was probably just being nice since you looked so pathetically tired

yeah that's it

— flashback over —

safe to say you would do anything for tokuno yushi

he tells you to do his homework for him? you'd do it. he says to throw out all your clothes? everything is in the dump already. he asks you to jump off a cliff? you're already falling off the ledge.

well now you and yushi are friends.. sort of

you talk every class and text each other

and when you found out he was on the soccer team he asked you to come to his games, and ever since then you've been going to each one

but it's just that sometimes he does things that make your heart jump and your cheeks warm up

like that one time he gave you his jacket after class because it was raining, saying he "didn't want you to catch a cold"

or that other time when he came to your dorm after his game with snacks beause you said you weren't feeling well

you feel like you should believe that he likes you but it just seems too good to be true!!

and if you're being honest there's so many other girls that line up at his door every day, so it wouldn't make sense for him to choose you!!

this man is making you go clinically insane

and rei keeps telling you HE DOES LIKE U GIRL but ur just like no... i don't tHINk so...

you're torn because there are signs that maybe he does feel the same but when you think about his popularity and how much of a wanted bachelor he is, you feel your confidence start to crumble

maybe you should just give up on your man because there is NO WAY he likes you

—

yushi is going to rip his hair out of his head

WHY is it so difficult to ask a girl out?????

truth is, he's liked you since the day he saw you

it was like wedding bells were ringing in his head and he was like YEP this is the mother of my kids right here

the first time he tried to make a move on you was when you were asked to sit next to him

he silently pumped his fist under the table like Y E S this is my chance

and he thought u looked so pretty while sleeping

yushi secretly moved some of your hair behind your ear because he could see it was bothering you, but he didn't tell you as to not sound creepy

and he's pretty proud of his status with you now, but he really wishes you'd just call him out for all the moves he's made on you because he's SHY

he tried to ask you out two (2) times already!!

the first time when you walked out of the lecture hall together and it started POURING

he lended you his hoodie and he was about to confess but it just so happened that rei called you

"y/n, i have something to tell you."

"what is it?" RRRRIIINGNGNG "oh, hold on. hello, rei? wHAt?! you broke your wrist??? oh my gOD- sorry, yushi i have to go.”

that's fine!!!! there's always next time!!!

the next time he tried asking you out was when you said you came down with a fever on the day of his game

horrible game by the way, he played so bad

(he never plays well when you're not there, yushi swears you're his good luck charm)

he bought all your favorite snacks and a plushie and went to your dorm after the game

you open the door wrapped in a blanket and he just wants to cuddle you-

who said that

"hi, ushi," you say with a croak to your voice, "what are you doing here?"

he smiles softly and holds up a bag

"i got you some snacks. thought you didn't eat yet."

you snicker, "how do you always know?"

"i just do."

you invite him inside and have a little chat

about an hour later, you and yushi are sat on opposite sides of the couch

yushi thinks it's now or never and takes a breath, "y/n, i have feelings for you."

hOOOOOOOnnKK SshhhOOOo

what the hell

he looks to the left and sees you snoring your ass off

and yes u look adorbs but REALLY?? he JUST mustered up the balls to confess and you're sleeping

he sighs.

yushi SWEARS his crush on you is obvious, i mean how is it not??? he lends you his stuff, listens to you talk for hours on end, talks to you more than he talks to his own teammates, and buys you small gifts all the time

LITERALLY EVERYONE KNOWS TOO

like the soccer team, the girls that like him, even his younger brother

he'll just have to give it another shot

third time's the charm, i guess

—

okay, yushi has officially devised a plan

well, technically it's his, riku, and sion's plan

basically what's going to happen is yushi invites you to the upcoming soccer game (to which you always go anyway), and when they win the game, he will offer a ride home to you and confess in the car with flowers and a plushie

sion suggested the car thing so there are no distractions and you can't run away ("that sounds like i'm going to kidnap her," yushi deadpans. "lovingly, of course!" sion exclaims)

riku suggested the flowers and plushie so it's less creepy

so actually this isn't yushi's plan at ALL but he will sAy it's his plan anyway because he's the one confessing!!!

alright, game time. (literally)

—

you walk into the lecture hall and sense bad juju

what's going on, you think. you don't like this!!

as you head to your seat, you notice yushi isn't there in the spot next to you

okay wow so you like him so much your body just knows when he's not there??? got it

but nOO :( he's not here!!!! who are u supposed to stare at now!??!?

you grumble a little as you sit down, but you spot a little post-it note on the chair.

huh, weird

taking it off, you read the writing scratched onto the note, with lettering you recognize all too well

'sorry, skipping class today to rest for tonight's game. it'd be great if u were there, like always. have rei drop u off bc i wanna eat out w/you after. c u :) - yewshee'

you laugh at the stupid spelling of his name

he wants to eat out after??? what do you WEAR????

—

it's almost time for the game and ur STRESSING

HWAT DO YOU WEAR OH MY GOD

you settled on a cute frilly blouse and some shorts

pretty but simple (like yushi, you think)

rei drops you off (her wrist is mostly healed) and you find a seat in the middle of the stands

SMACK in the middle to be more specific

it's not rlly what you wanted but you don't mind because the front stands are full of families cheering on their sons and girls in the back cheering on their bfs

u totally don't wish that was you on the top of the stands haha

oop game is starting

you see yushi warming up and your heart swells

he looks SO good in his uniform because you can see his calves and biceps flexing

amen for soccer uniforms

—

yushi feels like he's going to crap his pants

he's already got the usual pre-game jitters, but it's even worse because he can't SEE you in the stands

where the hell are u???????

he's squinting like an idiot and riku laughs at him

"you look dumb as hell," he says

yushi smacks his back and riku winces in pain

just then he sees you, looking around

wow, you look really pretty

"she can't hear you, by the way." sion laughs

what

OH CRAP DID HE SAY THAT OUT LOUD

he groans and rolls his eyes in embarrassment

their coach tells them that the game is going to start soon

at least yushi knows he'll win now, since you're there

—

they won

is yushi surprised? not at all

he KNEW it from the moment he saw your face

now it's time for the next part of the plan: get you in his car

okay that doesn't sound weird at all

um but it's kind of hard trying to get you when there's a swarm of people around him congratulating him

PLEASE he just needs to get to his (soon-to-be) girl

he practically shoves everyone out of the way and heads to the parking lot

thank god you're already there, leaning against the hood of his car

"sorry, i was held back a bit," he starts

you smile and omg yushi thinks he's gonna faint

"it's okay. but congrats!! you guys did so good, as always."

the two of you open the car and sit inside

"i'm excited! i didn't eat dinner yet since you said we'd be going out- hello why are you not starting the car" you say

"y/n, i have something to tell you." he says cautiously

your head tilts to the side and you gesture for him to continue

he pulls out the flowers and plushie from the backseat and you softly gasp

the bouquet is beautiful, full of your favorite flowers

yushi clears his throat and leans forward a bit

"i have feelings for you. i've liked you for around... 5 months now? but yeah, i thought i'd let you know. if you don't feel the same way, it's okay, we can just move past it. the last thing i want is for you to be uncomfortable, which is now making me realize that i probably shouldn't have done this in the car because it seems weird-"

he's basically rambling at this point but he doesn't cARE he just needs to get it all out before he bails out on himself

"you... like... me??" you question

yushi nods with a small smile on his face

"are you sure? i mean, like, why me?"

"i just feel so comfortable and safe around you. i love how independant, thoughtful and selfless you are, and how you always appreciate the small things in life. i love how genuine you are, because it never makes me feel like i'm being judged or lied to- it just feels real. you always think about others before yourself, and that makes me want to be the person to take care of you."

wow you did not expect that

yushi just kinda stares at u because he didn't expect to say that himself either

haha that's so sweet of him,,, oh god,,,,, this is a LOT to take in

why do you feel lightheaded and why is your vision going black

um what's happeni-

—

so you passed out

maybe it was the shock or the mental stress of the situation but you BLACKED OUT

you wake up to yushi fanning you with some random papers from his backpack that he hurriedly took out

he even has a hand on your wrist to check if you still have a pulse lmao

he freaked OUT when he saw all the color drain from your face

"hey- you okay?" he asks worriedly

you chuckle weakly and sit up, brushing the hair out of ur face

"yeah, sorry i just- i guess i was just surprised."

"did you want me to take you home? or to urgent care?"

"nO- i'm good, i swear, yushi. i just- it was a lot to take in. i didn't think someone like you would like someone like me, but i shouldn't have doubted you. i feel the same way. that was really sweet of you- this whole confession was, to be honest. i don't mind you being the one to take care of me. i want that, actually. i want that with you."

you two are just staring at each other like haha what do we do now

yushi leans forward even more and cups your cheek with his palm gently

"can i kiss you?"

GOD and he asks for consent, how perfect can he get??

"of course."

he presses his lips against yours and they mold together so perfectly it's like he was made to kiss you

when he pulls away you just look at each other fondly

"oh, and y/n?"

"hm?"

"please don't pass out on me like that again, i almost got a heart attack."

you laugh and rub the back of his hand softly

"no promises."

— bonus —

at the diner, you facetime rei and tell her the news

"GOD, FINALLY!!! i nEVer thought this day would come — thank you for having the balls to ask her out, yushi-" she's squealing so much on the other side of the phone she literally starts lagging

riku and sion just laugh at her reaction

"you know," sion starts, "yushi got drunk once and was ranting about you-"

"oh my GOD i remember that!! he was like 'y/n, i looooveeee youuuu...' i think i have a video, actually-" riku adds

"god, please don't." your bf says, massaging his temples

you laugh

he's so cute

—

author's note: hiii!! i loved this banner so much i thought it deserved a better fic to go with it haha so here we go :) have a good day/night everyone!

[ricky-mortis]

It’s the perfect place for a picnic!

[sinner-as-saint]

You take the dark and carve me out a home

Bucky Barnes x New Avenger!Reader 

Summary: Unwinding after a tough mission is not exactly easy. Especially not when you’re part of a group that is always, constantly under scrutiny. Which is why you were always extra hard on yourself whenever you felt like you made a mistake or let the team down in any way. Bucky was aware of this, he was aware of everything regarding you, and usually he gave you your space and within a day or two you’d get back to normal. But this time was different, he noticed. It had been a couple of days since your last mission and you were still in that weird, distant headspace. And Bucky needed you back, the whole team needed you back, but him more because… well, because he cared about you a lot more than he let on. 

Themes: soft!dom!bucky, praise kink, angst, hurt/comfort, friends-to-lovers, fluff

“Where is she?” 

Bucky demanded, walking in, looking around, and noticing immediately that you weren’t at the dinner table. The rest of the team looked like they’d just been done eating. Alexei was almost falling asleep in his seat already.

“I thought she was with you?” Ava squinted at Bucky. 

Yelena added, “Don’t you two always work out together every night?” 

Bucky frowned. “I know, I…” He paused to think. “I left the gym hours ago. She said she was gonna finish up and come find you guys.” He rolled his eyes at the realisation, “So she’s been in there alone for the past couple of hours and no one checked on her.” 

“I did.” Bob said, always with that lost puppy dog look in his eyes. “I went to the gym earlier to get a workout in. But she glared at me, so I just kinda left, like, really quickly.” 

“Relax, man.” John spoke, adding to Bucky’s irritation. “She’s probably still working out to get her mind off things. You know how she gets.” 

Bucky sighed and walked away, leaving the rest of them in the kitchen. Damn it. He could’ve checked up on you too. But after his work out he had some calls to attend to, and deal with some things on behalf of the team. He’d totally lost track of time. Also, he genuinely didn’t think you’d stay in the gym for hours. He knew you worked out each day, sometimes twice a day. But lately, he was getting more and more worried watching you put your body through pain hours at a time. 

He took the elevator to the floor the gym was on and walked in to find you with your boxing gloves on, the punching bag swinging gently in front of you. Your head was lowered, your back to him but he still saw the way your shoulders moved as you breathed quickly. Your skin glistened with sweat, and Bucky just knew you weren’t having a good night. 

Again. 

He needed to do something about that. 

“Have mercy on that poor punching bag.” He said, keeping his eyes on you as you turned to face him. He realised he would never get used to it, that intense look in your eyes whenever you got into moods like these. The look that made most people run away from you. But not him. Never him. “Let’s go. You’re tired.” 

“I’m not.” You were quick to argue. Always quick to argue. Then you took your fighting stance again, facing him rather than the punching bag, your fists up in the air. Ready to spar. “Come on. And don’t be gentle with me.” 

“No.” He declined politely. “You’ve been here for hours. You need to shower, eat, and get some sleep. I can’t have you walking around looking like that anymore.” He stepped closer, your dark red gloves almost touching his chest. “I know you think you messed up on our last mission. But you didn’t. We made it out alive, all of us. Stop punishing yourself for things you didn’t do.” 

You lowered your fists. Looking defeated. Bucky always saw right through you. “But I put us at risk. I didn’t wait for the signal,” You stated. “I could’ve gotten us all killed.” 

“But you didn’t.” He said firmly. “Besides, one mistake doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re one of the best out of all of us.” He sighed upon seeing how truly hard you could be on yourself. “Give yourself some grace.” 

You hung your head again. Bucky wanted to hold you close and not let go until you felt better. And it killed him that he didn't know how to get you out of that dark, shadowy pit of guilt and disappointment. He reached out and touched your cheek, his fingers cupping your face. “What’s going on with you? Where are you?” He whispered, “Come back to us.” 

Come back to me. 

You gave him a faint smile. Bucky had always been your safe place. With his dreamy blue and often tired eyes, and his Disney prince, perfect hair, and his charming smile. He was definitely your go-to person. You loved the rest of the team, but Bucky was special. He somehow always got it. With him, you never had to explicitly explain everything, he always just understood what you meant. He spoke your language. 

You two had always been closer to each other than to the others. And while the others constantly teased you about the tension between you two, you never acted on it, nor did either of you ever deny it. Sure, flirty comments here and there were a regular thing. And you both cared deeply for one another, but you never talked about it in a serious way. Having the other there was always just… comfortable. 

Bucky managed to get you out of the gym and sent you to your floor. He took the stairs to the kitchen again and made you a plate, full of your favourite things, and took it to your room. The door was unlocked and he could still hear you in the shower. He didn’t want to disturb you so he placed the plate on your bed and left. 

–

Hours later, Bucky still couldn’t sleep. He’d received a text from you, you thanked him for bringing you food and said you were off to bed. But something was keeping him restless. He didn’t know what it was. He simply couldn’t stay still. 

He quickly checked the cameras and was relieved to see the gym was empty. Which meant that you were up in your room. Which was a good thing, but something in his gut was telling him to go check up on you. Bucky got up immediately as soon as the thought crossed his mind. 

He made his way to your floor again, the entire building was quiet. It was well past midnight and he said he’d just check on you. Nothing else. He would knock on your door and if you didn’t answer immediately, he would go back up to his room. 

But something told him you were still awake. And if you were awake you were probably overthinking yourself to death, drowning in guilt and disappointment. Bucky sighed, waiting for the elevator to stop on your floor. That look in your eyes earlier in the gym was haunting him. He missed the spark in you. The brightness. That empty look… he wanted it gone. 

Bucky found himself rethinking his actions once he was at your bedroom door. There was still silence, even on the other side. But he knocked twice, he had to. 

He waited, a little embarrassed because what the hell would he say he was here for? That is, if you were still up. 

He was still wondering what he would actually say when you opened the door quickly, as if you were waiting for him to show up. 

Bucky took one look at you and your face, tear-stained and lips trembling as you tried to keep it all in, and he pulled you into his arms immediately. Walking in and shutting the door behind him, Bucky kept his arms securely around you. 

Your breaths were shaky. Your body trembling with your quiet sobs. 

“Hey, I’m here.” Bucky whispered, his lips pressed against your forehead. “I’ve got you. It’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay. I’m here.” 

And somehow, being in his arms made the darkness go away gradually. Bucky’s scent, his body heat, the feeling of his strong arms around you, hearing his steady heartbeat, it calmed you down instantly. 

“Come here,” He walked over to your bed, sat down on the edge and pulled you down onto his lap. He had hugged you many times before, but this felt different. Intimate. But natural. It felt like you belonged there in his arms. 

You straddled his thighs, limbs wrapped around him like he was the only thing left in the world. Like he was all you had. Your face hidden in the crook of his neck. His hands running up and down your back and sides while he kept mumbling reassuring words in your ear. You felt safe. 

“I’m sorry.” You said. 

And your voice was so quiet and weak that it broke his heart. “Don’t be.” He quickly said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We all make mistakes, it’s okay.” 

“I feel… inadequate.” You sniffled, pulling away to look him in the eyes. His ocean blue ones looked into your eyes with so much patience and warmth that it healed parts of you. “And empty,” You continued. “I feel like I’m not doing enough. Like I'm still not strong enough. Just not enough.” 

“Hey,” He cupped your face in his hands. “Just ‘cause that’s what the voices are screaming at you, doesn’t mean it’s true. Okay? None of what you just said is true.” He said, sincerely. “None of it. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re fierce and kind. You boss most of us around, but you care so deeply and it shows.” His thumbs wiped your tears away. “You add so much to our team, don’t you see that? You’re one of the few people Bob is comfortable around. You and Ava make a deadly combo. You and Yelena keep everything in order. You and John work really well together when it comes to keeping us safe or protecting us during combat. You and Alexei, well, he loves you just as much as he loves Yelena.” Bucky listed, “And as for you and I, we’re simply the best duo there can be, aren’t we?” He sounded a little playful. 

And it put a faint smile on your face. You sniffled, nodding slowly. “Just having a rough couple of days, I guess.” 

It was more than just that, but Bucky only asked, “What do you need? And don’t say you need to box or spar, or anything. Clearly that’s not helping like it usually does.” He pointed out. “You wanna take a few days off and go somewhere to clear your head?” 

You shook your head, whispering, “No. I like it here. It’s fine, I just… I don’t know.” You took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I can’t quite put it into words.” 

“Try.” He said, “Take your time. I’m here, I’ll listen.” 

You sighed again, unable to look him in the eyes as you spoke. “I just feel numb all the time. And it gets worse when I don’t do my job well. And now I’m struggling to just… feel something. I feel nothing all the time lately and I know it sounds like I’m whining about it but…” You took another deep breath, “It’s exhausting. It’s heavy. It’s not just numbness, it’s like I’m stagnant and I want to get out of… whatever this state is and I try, I try but something keeps dragging me down and keeping me in a chokehold right where it feels the heaviest. I wanna get out. Of my head, out of this weird headspace I’m in but nothing helps. Nothing works. I don’t know. I don’t know if that made sense, I’m just fucked up I guess.” 

Chokehold. He knew that feeling all too well. “You’re not fucked up.” He said, “I know how it feels.” 

“I know you do.” You finally met his eyes and the shadows disappeared gradually. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Buck.” 

“What can I do to help?” He asked. It killed him to see you like this. You were here but also so distant. He wanted you back, for your own sake, but also because he missed having his best friend around. 

“Make me feel something.” You said, softly like you were afraid someone else might hear. “Anything, please.” 

“Oh, baby.” Something about the way you sounded so vulnerable, which was rare from you, made Bucky forget about everything else. He didn’t care, all he wanted to do was piece you back together. “I’ve got you.” He whispered, and leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, hands trailing down your body until he placed his hands on the curve of your ass and pulled you into him even more. 

You gasped against his mouth, kissing him back slowly, melting into him. His metal hand came to rest on your exposed thigh, only then did you realise that in your PJ shorts really didn’t hide much. His cold fingers lazily grazed the crease between your hip and thigh, and it was all you could focus on in the moment, other than the heat of his mouth. 

Bucky pulled away to whisper, “Just so you know, we can stop if you don’t want this,” before he kissed you hungrily again, his beard and his long, soft hair tickling your face. “We can go back to talking and we’ll pretend this never happened.” 

“Please don’t stop.” You mumbled against his mouth. “I need this. I need you.” 

“Okay,” He whispered, in between kisses, “I won’t stop, baby. I’ve got you,” He repeated. “Don’t worry, I’m right here. Okay?” 

You pulled away from the kiss, teary eyed again. “I trust you, Buck.” 

Bucky accepted the weight of that trust, he cupped your face and said softly, “I know, angel. I’m gonna take care of you. I promise.” 

You could’ve sworn he used superhuman speed with how fast he flipped the two of you, tossing you down on your bed as he climbed on top of you. He carefully grabbed your hand and brought it up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly as he whispered, “I’ll be gentle.” 

“Don’t be.” You pleaded, looking up at him. His hair framed his face in a perfectly messy way. His body was warm above you. Bucky was always warmer than most people, you figured it was a supersoldier thing. “I don’t want gentle.” 

He nodded. “Okay, angel. Remember, we can stop whenever you want to. Alright?” 

“Yes.” 

Bucky held your stare as he rapidly undid the buttons of your satin PJ top, and immediately diving in to take a nipple into his mouth once the top was open. Sucking, and biting until your back arched off the bed. 

“Bucky…” You gasped, and moaned as he alternated between each breast while his hand slipped down to pull your shorts and underwear down your legs until you kicked it off yourself. 

He pulled away to look at you, sprawled on the bed under him. Then he leaned in to whisper against your lips, “You don’t want gentle, huh? Well, you’re gonna be a good girl and do exactly as I say, okay? I need you to stop thinking, to stop calculating, and analysing, just listen to me. My voice and that’s it.” 

He knew what it was like – that feeling of wanting someone to just tell you what to do. It didn’t have to be sexual like right now, but just the loss of control in a safe, consensual way. With someone you trust blindly. He knew it could heal, partly at least. So he knew exactly what you needed right now. 

He kissed you roughly, taking what he wanted from your open, willing mouth before pulling away to look down at you with a dangerous, gorgeous smile on his lips. “You’re all mine now. You hear me?” He whispered against your mouth. “You’re my perfect girl. And my perfect girl doesn’t put herself down. She doesn’t think she's not good enough. She doesn’t think she’s done a bad job. She doesn’t think she’s fucked up. Because she’s not. She’s my good fucking girl, and she’s perfect. You hear me? You’re perfect.” 

You gasped as he lazily ran his metal fingers down your wet folds. 

“Look at you, such a good girl. Lying here so perfectly with your legs spread, just letting me touch you however I want.” He stated, grabbing your face in his other hand as he slid two metal fingers inside you. His voice was steady, controlled, and firm as he said, “This is how it’s gonna be from now on, okay? Whenever you need to be reminded how good you are, you come find me.” He slid his fingers deeper, pulling them out slowly in a way that he knew drove you insane, judging by the sounds you made. “Whenever the voices get too loud, you come find me.” He did it again. “Whenever it gets too dark, you come find me.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’ll fix it, baby. I always will. You don’t have to carry all that alone, I’ll help you. I’ve got you from now on, you get that? You’re not alone, I’m here. I’ll always be here.” 

He had you coming all over his fingers in no time. He stroked you in all the right places and your body responded to each one of his lazy, deliberate strokes beautifully. You squirmed as he kept finger-fucking you through your orgasm. 

“There’s my perfect girl,” He cooed, watching you squirm and whine under him. “You did so well,” He kissed your cheek, then the other, “You sound so perfect when you come.” 

He pulled away for a brief moment, getting off of you and standing at the end of your bed, taking his t-shirt and sweatpants off but leaving his boxers, lowered just enough to free his erected cock. 

He stood there, wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked it twice while he held your stare. “It’s all for you, angel. All for you and no one else.” He said, watching with a slight smirk as you looked down at his cock and bit your lower lip. “Are you gonna be my good girl and take it?” 

You nodded quickly, “Yes.” Not even realising that all the prior shadowy thoughts had completely left your head. This was all you could focus on – him. Bucky. With his perfect body, and his beautiful hair, and his dreamy eyes. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. 

Buckley climbed on top of you again. “Careful what you ask for, baby. Supersoldiers don’t get tired.” He sounded so cocky it made you only want him more just to prove him wrong. 

“I want you, please,” You begged, looking up at him with those eyes that made him weak.

One of his hands found its way to your throat and he wrapped his fingers around it carefully as he stared into your eyes. “Nothing else holds my girl in a chokehold but me, you hear that? Nothing else has power over you, but me. And you,” He leaned in closer to make sure his point got across, “You are my good girl. You’re enough. You do a great job everyday. You’re stronger than all that’s trying to drag you down. And you’re louder than all the dark voices, you hear me?” 

You nodded, the look in his eyes was so intense, so raw and sincere, and so shamelessly feral that you might’ve come undone right there if he asked you to. 

“You will come for me like my good girl, won’t you, baby?” He asked, guiding the tip of his cock over to your clit and circling it, smearing his precum and your wetness around. 

You whimpered at the sensation. So fucking good. You nodded rapidly, “Yes… please,” You begged. 

“Of course you will,” Bucky chuckled, “Because you’re my perfect girl.” He teased you a bit more by just pressing the tip of his cock against your tight hole. Not pushing it in, just pressing ever so gently until you whined and clawed at his neck and shoulders, sliding your fingers into his ridiculously soft hair and tugging on it gently. 

“Bucky, please.” You mumbled, “Please, please, please…” 

“I know baby, I know.” He said, keeping his hand around your throat, pinning you down on your bed with it. “I’m here, I’ll make it feel good.” He whispered, before pushing his cock all the way inside you. 

You gasped loudly at the same time as he groaned when he slid all the way in you. He remained still for a few moments, just relishing the feeling of your warmth around him. Your breath was shaky as you felt him fill you up and stretch you out so deliciously, snug, deep, and big inside you. 

Bucky looked down at your face contorting in pleasure as he breathed heavily. Then he moved just a little, and the slightest friction made you whine even louder. “Does that feel good, baby? Is that cock good enough for my perfect girl? Hmm?” 

“Yes…” You breathed, looking at his gorgeous face above you. Fuck, you could spend forever here under him. He felt so good. 

“Look at that,” He said, “You’re tearing up already,” He pointed out, noticing the wetness in the corners of your eyes. “Feel good inside you, don’t I?” He teased, rolling his hips just the slightest bit in between your thighs. 

You cried out in pleasure. 

He tightened his grip around your throat slightly and said, “I know baby, I know it feels good. This is exactly what my good girl deserves.” He whispered. Then he said, “Now, keep your pretty eyes on me. I want you to watch me while I fuck you, okay?” 

You nodded quickly, a tear escaping your eye already. Fuck, he felt so good. 

Bucky let out a grunt as he started fucking into you hard and fast. He tightened his grip around your throat as he sped up into you, holding your stare and telling you how good you felt. 

You could only respond with moans and whimpers, which only made him fuck you harder. 

He sped up into you, mumbling, “Knew you’d feel fucking amazing around me. ‘Cause you’re my perfect girl, aren’t you? Perfect, tight pussy as well.” He whispered, in a daze as he pounded into you. “You were fucking made for me.” 

Your body squirmed under him, your back arching off the bed, you were burning. Bright and hot. Like the fucking sun. And he was giving it to you like you wanted it, hard, fast and raw. 

His thrust was relentless, his weight on top of you felt too good. So good you never wanted him to pull out of you, so you raised your trembling legs and wrapped them around his hips. 

He chuckled when you did that. “Yeah? Don’t want me to stop, do you?” He taunted. “Just want me to keep going, keep fucking my good girl how she likes it, huh?” He pressed the sides of your throat as he fucked deeper into you. 

He watched as you got closer and closer to the edge. And just when you were right there… he stopped abruptly, and pulled out. 

You gasped in shock. 

“Oh what, you thought you could just come so easily?” He teased, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you around onto your stomach. “I tried to be nice and sweet to you, but that’s not what you want or need, is it, baby?” You moaned as he grabbed your wrists and pinned them to your lower back with one hand, while the other guided his cock over to your hole again. “You see? This is what you need.” He leaned over you to whisper into your ear, sliding back inside you as he said, “You wanted me to make you feel something, huh? Do you feel it now, baby?” He tugged on your pinned wrists, which made you whine in pain and pleasure. “You feel me inside you? Right where I belong, isn’t it?” 

You nodded, rubbing your face against your dark, cool bed sheets. “Yes…” 

He began fucking into you from behind, hard and fast. Mercilessly. Like he was claiming you. Marking his territory. Rough. Raw. The pleasure was overwhelming, building, and building, and building… 

Until you couldn’t hold it back much longer… 

“Come for me, angel.” He whispered, lips brushing against your ear. “Be my good girl and come all over…” 

You didn’t hear the rest. You came all over his cock with a loud moan, gasping and crying as he came right after you – filling you up with his cum as he did. You were gasping for air, and so was he. His body weight on top of you felt nice, his body heat felt nice. Everything was nice, light, and perfect. 

He let go of your wrists and then you felt him kiss along your spine, gently. Softly. Like he hadn’t been fucking you like an animal just seconds ago. “You okay, baby?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. “My pretty girl, so perfect for me.” 

You were still catching your breath when Bucky lay beside you and pulled you into his arms. You immediately clung to his side. 

“I’ve got you.” He whispered. 

You sighed, with a faint smile forming on your face. Your cheek pressing against his damp chest. “Thank you, Buck.” Your mind was quiet, but in a good way. “I needed that.” 

“I know.” He murmured, rubbing your back in that soothing way he always did. 

But then, you still had one question. “How did you know when to come find me? I texted you I was going to bed.” How did he even know to come and check on you? How did he know you weren’t doing well at all? 

A smirk, then he said, “I always know what my girl needs.” 

You teased, “Your girl, huh?” 

“You’ve always been my girl.” 

—

a/n: [escapes my padded cell to throw this at your face]

[charlotteking27]

The Missing Ring

Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: When you can't find your engagement ring on Monaco Grand Prix morning, you spend the entire race day desperately hiding your bare finger from cameras—but Formula 1 fans notice everything, and the internet explodes with breakup theories and conspiracy threads about your relationship with Max.

Warning: none

The morning sunlight poured into the Monaco apartment as you searched the nightstand, your heart starting to race. Your engagement ring—the beautiful diamond Max had chosen—was missing.

"No, no, no," you whispered, dropping to your hands and knees to look beneath the bed. The white gold band with its perfect solitaire diamond had been right there on the nightstand when you fell asleep. You always placed it in the same spot, a routine you had established to keep it safe.

But now it was gone.

You ripped through the bedroom like a whirlwind, checking every drawer and surface, even shaking out the bedsheets twice. Panic rose in your chest as your hands shook. How could you lose something so valuable? Max had proposed only six months ago, and the ring meant everything to you, not just for its worth but for what it signified.

Your phone buzzed, startling you. It was a text from Max's trainer reminding you that today was race day—the Monaco Grand Prix. In your panic, you had completely forgotten.

Your stomach sank. Race day meant cameras. Lots of cameras. Close-up shots, interviews, and public appearances. There was no way to hide a missing engagement ring from the sharp eyes of photographers and fans who noticed everything.

You rushed to the bathroom mirror and stared at your bare ring finger. It looked so wrong, so empty. Think, you told yourself. Maybe you could wear gloves? But it was May in Monaco—no one would believe you needed them. A bandage? Too obvious, and it would attract more attention.

Time was running out. You needed to get to the paddock soon to support Max, but every minute spent searching was another minute wasted. You rifled through the kitchen, checking every counter and drawer, even inside the refrigerator in case you had dropped it while getting water during the night.

Nothing.

Your phone rang—Max's contact photo appeared on the screen. You almost didn’t answer, scared that your voice would reveal your panic.

"Hey, liefje," his familiar Dutch accent said. "Ready for race day?"

"Of course," you managed, your voice a bit strained. "How are you feeling?"

"Confident. The car feels good. Can't wait to see you in the garage." There was a brief pause. "You sound tired. Everything okay?"

"Just… didn’t sleep well. Pre-race nerves, you know?"

Max chuckled. "You get more nervous than I do sometimes. I love you. See you soon?"

"Love you too," you whispered, ending the call before your voice could break.

You had to leave. There was no more time to search, or Max would worry if you were late. You would have to be extra careful to hide your left hand.

The paddock was buzzing with pre-race excitement. You had been to enough Grand Prix weekends to know the routine, but today felt different. Every step felt measured, every gesture planned. You kept your left hand in your pocket, behind your back, or held something to obscure your fingers.

"There she is!" a photographer called out, and you forced a smile while instinctively tucking your left hand behind your right arm.

In the Red Bull garage, you tried to act normal, but it was tiring. You found yourself sitting on your left hand or strategically placing drinks and programs to block the view. Every conversation felt like walking through a minefield.

"Let me get a photo of you and Max before he gets in the car," one of the team photographers requested.

Your heart raced as Max wrapped his arm around you. You pressed your left hand firmly against his back, hidden from view, praying the angle would work.

But you should have known that Formula 1 fans missed nothing.

Within two hours of the photos being posted, your phone was buzzing nonstop with notifications that you were too scared to check. Twitter was exploding, Instagram was in a frenzy, and the F1 community was in complete chaos.

Instagram

f1wags_official

Liked by Username1, Redbullfan, and 604K others

f1wags_official: 💔 Sending love to both Max and his (former?) fiancée during this difficult time. Whether they're together or not, we support them both individually. Sometimes love isn't enough... ❤️ #RespectTheirPrivacy #MaxVerstappen #F1Family

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maxverstappen.updates: 📝 Remember when she missed the last two races? We should have seen the signs...

Username45: And the way he looked distracted during qualifying yesterday makes so much sense now. My heart is broken for both of them💔✨ #MaxVerstappen #F1Heartbreak

f1.memes.daily: 🚨 EVERYONE NEEDS TO STOP saying "Max is better off without her" or "she wasn't good enough for him" !!! She's been nothing but supportive and loving. If they broke up, it's nobody's fault. Relationships are complicated! #JusticeForMaxsFiancée #StopTheHate

f1.conspiracy.theories: 🕵️‍♀️ COMPILATION VIDEO: "All the signs we missed" - from their last Instagram post together (3 weeks ago) to today's Monaco footage. Set to dramatic music because we're all hurt 😭 Link in bio! #MaxVerstappen #F1Analysis #HeartBroken

max.verstappen.wife: ✨ MANIFESTATION CIRCLE ✨ He's single, I'm single, I speak Dutch (Google Translate), I love racing (Mario Kart), I'm moving to Monaco (in my dreams)... The universe is aligning 🙏💫 Who's with me? #ManifestingMax #Monaco #NewBeginnings

Username2: ME!!

paddock.gossip: 🍵 EXCLUSIVE: Heard from paddock insiders that she's been house hunting... in NEW YORK. Not Monaco. Not the Netherlands. Make of that what you will... Also, apparently, Christian Horner's wife was seen comforting Max after qualifying 👀 #PaddockTea #F1Insider

Username_redbull23: OMG...WHAT!!

f1.wedding.dreams: I literally have a 47-slide PowerPoint presentation of their wedding venue options, color schemes, and guest lists... I've been planning this wedding for MONTHS. What am I supposed to do with all this research now??? 😭📊💍 Should I delete everything or keep it for when he finds someone new? #WeddingPlanning #F1Wedding #TooInvested

Fiona_care: George Russel, what are you doing here??

receipts.and.f1.tea: 📱 RECEIPTS THREAD: Screenshots proving the timeline of their relationship decline. Swipe to see: 1️⃣ Last "I love you" comment on his posts (3 weeks ago) 2️⃣ Her deleting couple photos (2 weeks ago) 3️⃣ Separate arrivals at events (1 week ago) 4️⃣ Today: NO RING The evidence was there all along 🔍 #Receipts #F1Investigation

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at most of it, but the notifications kept coming. The race was torture. Max drove brilliantly and secured P2, but you could barely concentrate on his performance. Your phone kept lighting up with calls from friends and family. They were likely wondering why the internet claimed your engagement was over.

The chaos was increasing by the minute. More accounts were picking up the story and creating elaborate theories about what had gone wrong.

Twitter / X

The worst part was how quickly it spiraled. What began as fans noticing your missing ring turned into wild conspiracy theories, relationship experts writing articles about your supposed issues, and even people claiming to have inside info about your breakup.

When Max crossed the finish line in second place, you should have been thrilled. Instead, guilt washed over you. How could you explain this? How could you tell him you lost the ring he had picked out so carefully?

After the podium ceremony and media duties, Max finally returned to you in the garage, still buzzing with post-race excitement.

"Did you see the radio message when I crossed the line?" he asked, pulling you into a sweaty hug. "I said, 'that one's for my beautiful fiancée.' The whole world heard it."

Tears filled your eyes, and they weren't happy.

"Max, I—" you started, but he was already reaching into his bag.

"Oh, before I forget," he said casually, pulling out a small velvet box. "I have something for you."

Your breath caught. Inside the box lay your ring, sparkling more brilliantly than ever.

"I picked it up from cleaning this morning," Max explained, seemingly unaware of your shock. "I wanted it to be perfect and extra sparkly for our wedding photos. I was going to surprise you with it after the race, but…" He paused, frowning at his phone. "Why is everyone asking me if we broke up?"

You looked at him, then at the ring, then back at him. "You… you had it cleaned?"

"Yeah, I scheduled the appointment weeks ago. The jeweler said they'd make it look brand new." His frown deepened as he scrolled through his phone. "Seriously, what’s all this about a breakup? People are saying you weren't wearing your ring today and—"

He looked up to see tears streaming down your face.

"Oh," he said softly, realization hitting him. "You thought you lost it."

You nodded, unable to say a word.

Max quickly wrapped you in his arms, holding you tightly against his race suit. "I'm so sorry. I should have told you I was taking it. I wanted it to be a surprise, but I never thought… God, you must have panicked all day."

"I tore the apartment apart," you managed through your tears. "I was so scared to tell you. Then all the cameras today, people noticed, and—"

"Hey, hey," Max said gently, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. "It's okay. It's just a ring."

"It's not just a ring," you protested. "It's our ring. It's—"

"It's a symbol," Max finished, sliding the ring back onto your finger where it belonged. "But the symbol isn't what makes us engaged. We do. This ring could disappear tomorrow, and I'd still be just as committed to marrying you."

You looked down at your hand, whole again, the diamond catching the garage lights and casting tiny rainbows across the wall.

"Though I have to say," Max added with a grin, showing you his phone, "the internet detectives work fast. Look at this chaos."

You finally glanced at your own phone and saw the full extent of the madness:

Instagram

broken.f1.hearts: 💔 To everyone crying in the comments: we've been through this before with other drivers. Remember when we thought Lewis and Nicole were endgame? When we shipped Seb with Hanna? F1 relationships are tough. Racing comes first, always. But it still hurts... 😢 Group hug? #F1Heartbreak #WeveBeenHereBefore

Rebull.is.life: It still hurts😭 Finethings: My favorite couple...GONE

"This is crazy," you said, scrolling through more posts. "Someone created a whole body language analysis of our photos from today. They say you were 'distant and cold' at the podium ceremony because you stood 15 centimeters further away than usual."

Max burst out laughing. "I was really thinking about tire strategy for the last ten laps." He showed you another post. "And look at this one; they say I'm 'emotionally unavailable due to my racing career' and that’s why we broke up."

"My personal favorite," you said, finding the wedding planning post, "is this person who made a 47-slide PowerPoint about our wedding. Now they don't know whether to delete it or keep it for your next relationship."

"The fans who defend you are sweet, though," Max said, pulling up more comments. "Look - 'She's been nothing but supportive!' 'Don't blame her for F1's demanding schedule!' They really care about us."

Despite everything, you felt a warmth in your chest. "They do, don't they? Even the ones who are upset - they're upset because they thought we were perfect together."

Max nodded and wrapped his arms around you again. "You know what? Let's put them out of their misery." He held up his phone. "Ready to break the internet again?"

You held up your left hand, the ring sparkling under the garage lights as Max took a photo.

maxverstappen1

Liked by Yourusername, F1gossip, and 3.5M others

maxverstappen1: Surprise! Had this beauty cleaned for my gorgeous fiancée 💍✨ Sorry for the panic, internet - we're still very much engaged and very much in love. Thanks for caring about us so much ❤️ P.S. - whoever made that 47-slide wedding PowerPoint, we might need to see that 😂 #StillEngaged #CleanRingNewSparkle #InternetDetectives

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f1wags_official: OH MY GOD WE'RE SO SORRY 😭😭😭 BUT ALSO SO HAPPY!!!

recipes.and.f1.tea: Deleting my entire thread now... this is why we don't jump to conclusions 🤡

f1.wedding.dreams: SENDING YOU THE POWERPOINT RIGHT NOW!!

maxverstappen.updates: NEVER BEEN HAPPIER TO BE WRONG

broken.f1.hearts: GROUP HUG EVERYONE WE'RE CRYING HAPPY TEARS NOW 😭❤️

"Well," Max said as he saw the comments come in, "I think we just gave them the best plot twist of the season."

You laughed and glanced at your ring one more time before settling into Max's arms. "Next time you want to surprise me with jewelry cleaning, maybe leave a note?"

"Deal," Max grinned, kissing your forehead. "But I have to say, watching the internet go crazy over us was pretty fun. They really do love us."

"They really do," you said, finally able to smile as notification after notification poured in with relieved fans celebrating that their favorite couple was still together. "Almost as much as I love you."

"Almost," Max agreed, spinning you around the garage as mechanics and team members started to figure out what all the excitement was about. "But not quite."

[docrobinavitch]

chasing ghosts

dr. abbot x f!resident!reader masterlist content: 18+ mdni, sexually explicit content, lots of angst, age gap, swearing, alcohol, mentions of child death/multiple casualties at the beginning during a shift words: 8.1K synopsis: you and jack share a kiss during your second year of residency and you spend the next two years trying to outrun those feelings. until the pitt's annual summer party. jack abbot is down absolutely fucking horrendously. like i meaaaaan unprecedented levels of yearning. a/n: hi, i think i blacked out while writing this. eyeeeee had so so much fun. i hope i did jack justice. let me know what you think!!!!

The annual summer party for the Pitt is an all day affair in order to make sure everyone, regardless of who’s working what shift that day, has a chance to stop in.

You wouldn’t think it, but the ER knew how to throw a good party. In the morning, it started with brunch at a place downtown with bottomless mimosas, top tier pancakes, and a drag performance. After brunch, they’d go hang out at the park by the river for a few hours before reconvening for dinner and bar hopping downtown.

Jack Abbot was off today, but still skipped all the morning and afternoon activities in favor of the evening. His sleep schedule was built that way now and even on his off days, it was rare for him to be out during the day. Besides, he was hoping he’d run into you there after your own shift.

You never came to these types of events, but that didn’t stop him from hoping every time. His eyes were always searching, hoping they’d stumble upon yours.

He hadn’t seen or spoken to you much in the last two years, since you switched to the day shift. When shift change occurred, you largely avoided him. He asked Robby about you and Robby always said the same thing, “She’s a great doctor, but she keeps to herself.”

It hadn’t been like that when you were on the night shift. You were shy, sure, but it hadn’t taken Jack very long to pry you out of your shell. 

He wondered sometimes if you regretted it, now. Letting him in.

Now, he was making the rounds at the first bar of the night, not so subtly looking for you.

“You’re pathetic,” Robby teased as he sipped his beer.

“Huh?” Jack said, finally bringing his eyes back to the man in front of him. 

Robby smirked knowingly, “She is here, you know.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” He said, “But her boyfriend is supposed to be meeting her here.”

His heart stuttered in his chest, “Boyfriend?”

Robby nodded, “I didn’t know she was seeing anyone until today. I overheard her mention it to Heather.”

Fuck. Not only were you seeing someone, you were bringing him here, to meet everyone in the Pitt. You must’ve been serious about him, then.

“Do you know where she is?”

Robby tilted his head as he looked at Jack, “You sure you wanna go down that road?”

“I just want to talk to her.” He said, and it was true. Mostly. 

The two of you hadn’t had a real conversation since the week before you had requested the shift change. That night on the roof. He felt it was long overdue for the two of you to sit down and talk about it like adults. Maybe Robby was right, maybe it was much too late for that. 

But Jack couldn’t accept that.

Robby sighed heavily, “I saw her go upstairs to the rooftop bar with Heather and Samira twenty minutes ago.”

“Thanks, brother.” Jack clapped him on the back as he headed up the stairs.

***

You liked the quiet of the night time. Being awake and working when everyone else was asleep brought with it a sort of peaceful solitude you couldn’t quite explain.

But Jack hadn’t needed you to explain, he had understood it intrinsically.

The night shift, of course, could become hectic and even nightmarish at times. But if you stepped outside for some air, either on the roof or the ambulance bay, the quiet of the night cocooned you in safety.

And that’s where you were that night two years ago, on the roof and leaning over the railing, trying to catch your breath.

There had been a six car pile up almost immediately rushed in after the day shift had trickled out. Ten patients. Four of them were in critical condition when they arrived, in that terrible purgatory between life and death. For five hours, you, Abbot, Shen, and Ellis had bounced between them. Still, you lost all four of them.

You had kept it together for the half hour after you had called the last patient, despite the fact that you had felt Jack’s eyes on you the whole time.

But he seemed able to keep it together, to not fall apart, so you would too. The knee jerk response to impress him, to make him proud of you had never quite dulled in your two years of residency. It felt a bit fucking pathetic, actually.

Worse, still, that he seemed to notice how badly you craved his validation and so gave it freely. 

“Hey,” He stepped close to you, his warm breath caressing your cheek, “Go take a break, I’ll come find you in fifteen.”

“I don’t need a break.” You said quickly.

“You do,” He said, undeterred, “You’ve been staring dead eyed at the board for the last two minutes. Shen tried to call you over for a code stroke thirty seconds ago and you didn’t blink.”

You turned to him finally, panic on your face, “Fuck, seriously?” 

You started to walk to go find Shen and the stroke patient, but Jack grabbed your arm, “Nope, uh-uh. Break first. Now.”

It was rare that Jack wasn’t joking with you, trying to make you smile. Now he looked deadly serious. Like he would physically remove you from the floor himself if you refused. You must’ve looked like shit.

“Okay.” You said finally, “Fine.”

He released your arm, but his eyes trained on your every step as you walked away, “I catch you on a patient in the next fifteen minutes and I’m sending you home.” He called after you.

You raised your hand over your head in a thumbs up to signal that you’d heard and kept walking.

And that was how you ended up on the roof. Bathed in the moonlight with the quiet midnight streets of Pittsburgh below, silent tears streamed down your cheeks as you greedily sucked the night air into your lungs.

You weren’t aware of time passing and your mind had gone blissfully blank until you heard him come up behind you.

“How come you, Ellis, or Shen didn’t need a break?” You asked, your voice wavering, “Is there something wrong with me?”

He leaned over the railing at your side and turned his head to look at you, but you avoided his eyes, knowing they’d be soft and warm and inviting. You did not need to see him looking at you like that right now. Just like you had been trying not to notice the way he watched you more than the others, touched you more than was necessary, handed out praise to you more generously.

“Not even a little bit.” He said softly, voice rough, “You were perfect down there. Nothing else you could have done.“

You breathed out a shaky breath, “Then why does it feel so bad?”

“Because you’re human,” He said softly, “And because you were the only one of us to call time of death on a seven year old tonight.”

You swallowed, tilting your head up towards the sky so you could see the moon. A moon that seven year old kid would never see again. “Does it ever hurt less?”

“Fuck, no.” He sighed, “But it makes you a better doctor, I think. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself to try to make it all mean something.”

Finally, you looked at him, and the sight of your red rimmed eyes wrecked him, “It does make you a better doctor,” You hiccuped and gave him a small smile, “The best, probably.”

He shook his head, smirking, and looked down at his hands, “Careful, kid. You keep talking like that, I might think you actually like me.”

Feeling brave, you nudged your shoulder against his, “I mean it. I feel really grateful that you’re my attending. I wouldn’t want to learn under anyone else.”

He pushed his shoulder back against yours and your hands brushed where they each grasped the railing, “I came up here to make you feel better and somehow you’re the one comforting me. How did you get so good at deflecting?”

You laughed through your tears and he relished the sound, “I learned from the best,” You said pointedly as you looked over at him.

“See,” He pointed at you, teasing, “That’s what I’m talking about. Much better. You’re way less unsettling when you’re mean.”

You smiled and he found himself staring at your mouth, enraptured by it, really. The truth was, he had noticed the ways in which he was better when he was around you. Both as a doctor and a teacher. You made him want to be better. He knew he had been giving you more attention than the others, bordering on an inappropriate amount. And he knew, before he came up to the roof, that he’d have a hard time being alone with you and not imagining what you taste like or what your soft skin would feel like under his calloused hands.

He thought you felt the same, but you could be hard to read sometimes. Sometimes, he swore you leaned into his touch, other times you jumped away from it as if he had burned you. Sometimes you went whole days seemingly trying to avoid him, others you followed him around like a puppy waiting for a pat on the head and for him to tell you what a good girl you are.

But now, fuck, now you were gazing at his mouth, too. And he tried, really fucking tried, to rein in the desire. He shouldn’t have kissed you. And he would think about it every day for days and weeks and months and years how badly he wished he could take it back. Not because he didn’t mean it or didn’t want it, but because it had started this downward spiral of silence and distance until you were so far away he hadn’t really seen you up close in two years. If he could go back, he would’ve told himself it wasn’t worth it. Because having only this much of you day in and day out while he yearned for more was better than having nothing at all, than you slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. 

But he didn’t know then what he knew now. 

Cautiously, he moved his face towards yours, waiting for you to pull back. But inch by inch he moved, and you stayed put. And when he was close enough to share breath with you, he met your eyes and was greeted with pupils that had completely devoured your irises. No color in sight, just an endless abyss of desire and want. Your breath faltered when his lips just barely brushed yours, and he stilled for a moment before his self restraint crumbled.

The kiss was hesitant and gentle, at first. Jack kept his hands to himself, slowly kissed you in a way that repeatedly seemed to ask Is this okay? Is this alright? Are you okay? Are you sure?

It was you who deepened the kiss first, tongue darting out to swipe gently at his lower lip.

And the cord between you, that was already so tenuous and frayed, snapped.

His hands shook as he touched you, moving from your waist, to your neck, to your face. It was like his body knew first what his brain didn’t, that he was taking too much and not enough, that hours and days and months and years of touching you would never satiate him anyway and he should just fucking quit while he was ahead. His traitorous mouth that moaned into yours was a bottomless, greedy pit and it could never have you, not really, not even as it sucked desperately at your neck in a useless attempt to mark you as his.

The marks would fade and you would fade from him along with them. 

He thinks now he probably knew as soon as you pulled away, at the panic in your eyes, that he had lost you before he had even really had the chance to have you. 

But he would deny it to himself, even as you ran off the roof ignoring the way your name came out strangled from his throat. 

He would deny it when you didn’t look at him the rest of the night, when you pretended not to hear when he tried to talk to you after the shift change that morning.

He would deny it when you handed him your shift change request form after a week of avoiding him, asking for his signature as you looked anywhere but at him.

He would deny it when his broken voice asked “Is this really what you want?” and you only silently nodded.

Jack Abbot knew he had lost you, he wasn’t delusional, but he could convince himself it was only temporary. He was patient. So fucking patient. He’d find you again, when you were ready.

***

Jack could admit that you having a boyfriend had not been part of his plan. Not that he had a plan, more so an overwhelming sense that if he waited long enough, you’d fall back into him.

But you had still been fleeing the ER at shift change without acknowledging him. He was patient, but it aggravated him to no end, the way you seemed so unaffected. Sometimes it made him feel like maybe he had made it all up in his head and that you had never wanted him at all. But then the film would play on loop again in his head and he knew he didn’t imagine your blown out pupils or the way you deepened the kiss first or the way you moaned when his mouth plucked bruises from your neck like ripened strawberries.

You had wanted him just as badly, he was sure of that. He just couldn’t understand why you were still acting like he didn’t exist.

When he got to the rooftop and looked around, he found you first at a table in the corner, eyes glued to your phone. Another quick glance around and he saw Heather and Samira talking at the bar.

Perfect. You were alone.

When he crossed the roof and sat in the empty seat next to you and you didn’t immediately look up, he realized you had marked his presence on the rooftop as soon as he got here.

The man was like a fucking sonar to your brain. You knew when he was in the same room as you before your eyes could track him. Tonight was no different.

“You look like you could use a drink.” Jack said.

Oh, you hadn’t realized how much you had missed the pleasant roughness of his voice, how it soothed you effortlessly. It practically sent chills down your spine.

You swallowed, continuing to stare at your phone. The second you met those warm hazel eyes, it would be over for you, you knew. It was the reason you had avoided him so diligently the last two years.

“Heather and Samira are getting me one.”

He wordlessly held his own drink out to you. When you stared blankly at it for a few moments, he shook it lightly, ice rattling against the glass, “It’s just a tequila soda. It’s not poison.”

Against your better judgment, and perhaps to indulge that stupid fucking instinct in your head that demanded you not disappoint him, you took it from him. You did your best not to pay attention to the sensation that shot across your skin when your fingers brushed, but the traitorous goosebumps spread across your arms anyway.

You took a sip and handed it back to him, still looking at your phone.

“Why aren’t you with them at the bar?”

“I had to take a call.”

“From your boyfriend?” Finally, fucking finally, you looked at him. It was disdain all over your face, but fuck it, he’d take it. He smirked and held his hands up in surrender, “I didn’t ask, Robby told me. Said he was meeting you here.”

Quickly, you looked back at your phone and he saw your throat bob, “He called to say he couldn’t make it, so.”

Jack watched you carefully, the way you frowned and your mouth turned down just slightly. You were upset, and not just at him. 

“I’m sorry,” He said softly, but you scoffed at his apology and shook your head. And that pissed him off, “Look, you may fuckin’ hate me, but I still care about you and I mean it. I’m sorry if he stood you up. I don’t like seeing you sad.”

You rubbed at your forehead in agitation, “I don’t hate you. I’ve never fucking hated you. That’s the problem.”

Well, that was news to him. But he decided not to comment on it. He didn’t want to piss you off anymore than he already had, which seemed to be an awful lot considering he had just got here.

“How long have you been together?” You shot him that annoyed look again, “Christ, I’m just making conversation.”

“Right,” You said sarcastically and shook your head, but you answered all the same, “Two and a half years.” You said quietly. It hadn’t quite caught up to you yet, what you were admitting when telling him that. It took a couple of moments for your brain to catch up, but by then it was too late.

But Jack’s brain was already there, making the mental calculations you had long forgotten about.

Two and a half—? No, that—That couldn’t be right. Because that would mean—

Your face and ears had reddened and you wouldn’t look at him.

Jack’s ears were ringing. He started to say your name—

“Dr. Abbot,” Heather and Samira were back, the latter handing you a drink, “Catching up with your old resident?”

He forced a smile and stood, acted like his world wasn’t fucking falling apart around him, like you hadn’t just dropped a fucking bomb on him in casual conversation.

He was impressed with his ability to hold damn near cheerful conversation with Heather and Samira until he was able to excuse himself.

And this time, it was you who called after him when he left the roof.

“Jack,” Your voice was a soft plea behind him. It was a language he used to be fluent in, but clearly, he didn’t fucking know you anymore. He was starting to think he never had, “Jack, wait—“

He rounded on you in the stairwell, you still a couple of steps above him so the two of you were eye level, “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”

You seemed to be caught off guard that he had actually stopped, and just blinked at him for a moment, “What difference would it have made?”

“What difference—?” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “All this time I’ve been driving myself out of my goddamn mind trying to figure out what I did wrong when it turns out I was your fucking, what, side piece? Affair?”

“Affair?” You hissed incredulously, “We kissed once!”

He squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head, “Does he know?” 

“What?”

He was quickly becoming frustrated with your inability to keep up with the urgency this situation demanded. To him, at least, the whole world had shifted around him. And you were behaving as if he was the one acting crazy.

“Your boyfriend, does he know? About us?”

“Jack,” You said breathlessly, “There is no us. There was never an us.”

Jack shook his head, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” You asked, exasperated.

“I’ve been pining after you for two fucking years and you’ve compartmentalized so goddamn well that you’ve convinced yourself it was nothing. That it meant nothing.”

For a second, he thought he saw a flicker of the version of you he used to know. Your face faltered for just a second, but then the walls were immediately back up, “I don’t owe you anything.” You said coldly, “It’s not my fault you’ve spent the last two years chasing a ghost.”

You stared each other down for a few more moments, the rage pulsating between you, before Jack broke your stare by tossing back the rest of his drink, “You’re right,” He said finally, and turned away from you to head down the stairs, “I’m sorry I disrupted your evening. Won’t happen again.”

You sighed, “Jack—“

“It’s Dr. Abbot,” He said coldly, turning back to face you again, “If you don’t mind.”

Your face fell marginally and he almost took it back when he thought he saw your lower lip wobble, but he couldn’t be sorry. If you wanted to pretend like there was nothing between the two of you, then he would do the same.

He turned again and jogged down the rest of the stairs. He needed another drink. Or seven.

***

Your hands were shaking. You stood in the stairwell staring stupidly after Jack for longer than was acceptable. You couldn’t go back upstairs to Heather and Samira like this, they’d know something was up. And you certainly couldn’t follow after Jack.

You should just go home. It was a stupid fucking idea to come here in the first place, you knew it was. And still you had come, why?

Because some part of you wanted to see him? No matter how much you denied it? Never mind the fact you had basically only invited your boyfriend because you knew his presence would keep you accountable if you were forced to be alone with Jack?

You hadn’t wanted him here, not really. Not for reasons that made sense. If you were honest with yourself, which you hadn’t been in a long, long time, your relationship had been over for at least six months.

Seeing Jack again, hearing his voice again made that very clear to you. And a part of you hated Jack for it. You had been able to convince yourself for two years that your current relationship was as good as it would get. Your mistake with Jack on the roof was just that, a mistake. Nothing more.

You had thought after all this time Jack must’ve felt the same. He fucked up and kissed his hot, younger resident, just once. He hadn’t meant to and he would be glad it was all over. You had been doing him a favor, you thought.

But when you had allowed yourself to look at him, really look at him tonight, that hadn’t been what you’d seen. In fact, he was angry with you. He had looked at you with such hurt and betrayal as if all this time he had been in love with you.

It didn’t make any fucking sense. You sat in the stairwell and pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes. None of it made any fucking sense.

You should go home.

***

Robby eyed Jack with silent suspicion when he joined him back at the bar and ordered two tequila sodas. He knocked the first one back in one go and then rested his head in his hands on the bar top.

“So it went well, I take it?” Robby asked mildly.

Jack glared at Robby and then looked back at his drink, “She has a boyfriend.”

Robby nodded, “Right. I’m glad we’re on the same page about that, now.”

Jack shook his head and felt the tequila make its way through him, “No, you see, she’s had a boyfriend. Since before she moved to the day shift. The same one.”

Robby was silent for a moment, then, “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Jack knocked back his second tequila soda and ordered another.

“Alright, I can see you’re upset, but all the tequila sodas in the world aren’t going to make you feel better.”

“No,” Jack agreed, “But maybe it’ll stop me from thinking about her for just a while.”

Just then, as Robby was trying to subtly get the bartender to cut off Jack, Robby’s phone buzzed with a text from Heather.

What did Abbot say to Y/N? Found her crying in the stairwell. She won’t stop.

He sighed heavily and turned back to Jack, “You made her cry?”

“What?” Jack looked at him incredulously, “No.”

“Heather says she’s sobbing in the stairwell.”

Oh, he hated the way that sent an ache through him. There was a time when he would’ve taken off running to get to you if he had heard that. Maybe even just earlier today. Not now, though.

“Believe me, her eyes were fucking bone dry when I left her.”

Robby’s phone buzzed again.

Never mind. Finally got her to say something coherent. Broke up with her boyfriend over the phone. Nothing to do with Abbot.

Christ. Nothing to do with Abbot. Right, Robby thought and rubbed a hand down his face, somehow he doubted that very much.

Robby looked back at his friend, debating if he should deliver this news to Jack or not. But Jack was very drunk now and he’d probably just tear after you like a man on a mission. Neither of you needed that right now, Robby thought. He’d tell Jack in the morning.

***

Heather and Samira sat on either side of you as you tried and failed to explain everything to them. You were very bad at this. Having work friends. Shen and Ellis had tolerated you, always including you, buying you coffee, but you knew really you were mostly third wheeling. And you hadn’t minded it. You had always tried to draw a firm line between your work and personal life, which is probably why the situation with Jack fucked you up so badly.

Heather started again, “So you and Abbot—“ 

“Yes.”

“And that’s why you switched to the day shift.”

“Yes.”

“And Jack also wanted you moved to the day shift?”

This is where things got murky for you. Tiredly, you rubbed your eyes, “I don’t know what Jack wanted because I never asked.”

“He didn’t know about your boyfriend then, either?”

You shook your head slowly, “I thought the fact that I was his resident was excuse enough. I left because I didn’t trust myself around him and I thought it’d be easier on us both.”

“And today was the first time you’d really spoken in two years?”

“Yes.”

“And this one conversation spurred you to break up with your long term boyfriend on a whim?”

You looked at Heather and smirked, “So you’re getting it now? Why I should be institutionalized?”

Heather and Samira both laughed, but Heather shook her head, “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re finally being honest with yourself about your feelings. Which is really fucking brave.”

“I say we go to the next bar and get very drunk.” Samira said, standing.

“Oh, I— No,” You shook your head, panicking, “What if he’s there?”

“Oh, I hope he is.” Heather laughed and the two of them linked arms with you.

***

Robby walked silently next to Jack as they made their way to the next bar, his hands stuffed in his pockets, “Brother, I really think maybe you should just sleep this one off.”

Jack turned to Robby, “It’s only 10 PM which is roughly 10 AM by my standards. So there will be no sleeping from me for a while. But you, by all means, can go home.”

Robby inhaled slowly through his nose. He was fucking exhausted, but he didn’t trust Jack in this state. And he had seen you go off with Heather and Samira not too long ago, headed in the same direction they were walking in right now.

So he kept walking, eyeing Jack every so often until they got to the bar.

He should have just gone home, probably.

Because once they got to the bar, all hell broke loose.

***

The room was spinning. The text had come in just moments after back to back lemon drop shots and your vision was blurred. You were unsure if it was from tears or the alcohol.

“Hey, what happened?” Samira was shouting in your ear over the din of the bar.

You passed the phone to her wordlessly as you ordered another shot. You needed to be belligerent if you were going to survive this.

Samira’s jaw dropped as she watched the video. She scrubbed back and forth a few times before she handed the phone back to you.

“This is the boyfriend who couldn’t meet you here because of ‘work’?”

You nodded.

“Well, you made the right call then, breaking up with him.”

You laughed humorlessly, and then you were sobbing, “I don’t know… why I care…” You hiccuped, “I don’t think I’ve loved him for a long time.”

Samira sighed, rubbing a hand down your back, “It sounds like you tried really hard to salvage the relationship. Probably feels like a waste of almost three years of your life now,” This renewed your sobs and Samira looked at you with alarm, “I’m not saying I think you wasted three years, I just mean, it probably felt that way— I’m gonna go find Heather, she’s much better at this sort of thing.”

Alone, you ordered a drink and wiped at your cheeks. You knew Jack was next to you before you smelt his cologne and sighed heavily.

“Don’t worry,” He said softly, “I’m just getting a drink and then I’ll go as far away from you as possible.”

You only nodded. The man you had chosen to fight for had stood you up to go to a bar across town and make out with the coworker he swore for months you had nothing to worry about while your best friend unknowingly filmed him from across the room.

The man you were beginning to suspect had been in love with you for close to four years now, you had spent the last two years running away from and now he hated you.

It felt like a big cosmic joke.

You rested your head on your arms and willed him away so you wouldn’t have to confront the long string of bad decisions you’d made that had led you here.

But Jack just couldn’t resist when you looked so miserable, “Are you alright, kid? Hate seeing you like this.”

You pushed your head up and met his eyes. Despite your earlier argument, he was looking at you with tenderness and concern. He meant it, that he cared, you could see it all over him. It made you want to burst into tears again. And maybe that’s why you decided to poke the bear, see how far you could push, what would make him really, truly loathe you? It was what you deserved after all, right?

You turned your head away from him and unlocked your phone, tapping to the video your friend had sent, hitting play and sliding it over the bar top to Jack, “You’ll be happy to know this is what my boyfriend was too busy doing to meet me tonight. Some sort of fucked up karma, I suppose.”

Jack’s face betrayed nothing as he watched the video, but you thought maybe a muscle in his jaw ticked. He slid the phone back to you, “Whatever you think of me, I’m not enjoying this.”

You scoffed and shook your head, looking down at the bar top.

“I’m serious. I would never—“ You hear him sigh in frustration, “Just because I’m hurting doesn’t mean I wish you were hurting, too. If anything, if you were happy, maybe it’d all make more sense to me.”

He tapped his finger on top of your phone case, “That guy’s a fucking idiot. You deserve way better than that.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, carefully avoiding looking at him, “Hey,” He said and crooked a finger under your chin, gently pulling until you met his gaze, “You deserve better, okay?”

You were conscious of the fact that you wanted to kiss him. And you knew he saw the way your eyes drifted dangerously to his mouth. 

“I did the same thing to him.” You said quietly, still staring at his mouth, “Only seems fair.”

Jack released your chin and shook his head, “Don’t compare what we did to… To that.”

He sounded disgusted and it made you want to laugh, “How is it any different?”

“That is just drunken lust.” He leaned towards you on his forearms, “What we did meant something. Maybe not to you, but it did to me.”

“And that makes it better?”

“Did it mean something to you?” He shot back.

His face was very close to yours now, you could smell the tequila on his breath. 

“Tell me,” He said slowly, “Tell me it didn’t mean anything to you and I swear to God, I’ll walk away and you’ll never hear from me again.”

You swallowed, blinking rapidly to clear the watering of your eyes. Of course you couldn’t tell him it meant nothing. You had thought about it nearly every day for two years. 

But you were drunk and a fucking wreck and you didn’t know anything anymore except that you still remembered exactly what Jack Abbot tasted like and that he was looking at you right now like he would get on his knees for you in this crowded bar if you asked.

“I should go.” You whispered softly, broken, and slid from your bar stool.

He let you pass, but then called after you, loudly enough that people around you quieted, “What the fuck are you so scared of?”

You turned back, knowing that your face was flushed from the attention of others, “Goodnight, Dr. Abbot.”

***

“Hey, let her go,” Robby stood in front of Jack who was now trying to exit the bar and follow after you, “You’re drunk.”

“I’m fine,” Jack insisted, and when he looked around Robby, he saw it had started to downpour outside, “She’s drunk and it’s storming out there.”

“Heather will check in with her and make sure she gets home okay.”

Jack looked from the door to Robby a few times before sighing and running a hand through his hair, “Sorry, I just… She really gets under my fucking skin.”

Robby nodded and tried to stifle a yawn, “I noticed.”

Jack sighed, “Go home, Robby, seriously. I’m not gonna do anything stupid. I promise.” He shook his head, “I should probably just go home, too.”

Robby offered a sad smile and clapped him on the shoulder, “It’ll all make more sense in the morning, brother.”

Jack snorted, “Historically, that has never been true for me.”

***

It felt pretty melodramatic to be standing in the park overlooking the river as it poured. It was all very Jane Austen of you, you decided. Except Mr. Darcy would not be showing up to declare his love for you, Mr. Darcy was likely dry and headed home in his UberX.

You didn’t know where home was anymore. Luckily, you hadn’t moved in with your boyfriend yet. It was one of the many things that should have been a red flag, the fact that you hadn’t had a desire to cohabitate with him. You liked when he left in the morning and you liked the nights where he got home too late and went to his own apartment so as not to disturb your rest.

But still, there were traces of him all through your apartment. You didn’t want to be there.

You’re not sure how long you sit in the warm rain before your phone buzzed. You expected Heather or Samira, but were shocked to see Jack’s name on the banner, alerting you to a text.

Jack hadn’t texted you in something like two years.

I know I shouldn’t be texting you, it read, But I just want to be sure you got home safe. Please  text when you’re home.

After staring at your phone for a few minutes, now soaked with the rain, you attempted to dry the screen with the sleeve of your jacket. It worked only slightly, but allowed you to hold down the text and “like” it.

After about thirty seconds, the speech bubble appeared on your phone to indicate he was typing.

Well don’t just fucking like the message. Are you home?

You could lie, you supposed. Probably, you could walk into PTMC and sleep in an empty room upstairs.

But you were growing tired of all the pretending.

no. You replied finally.

His reply was immediate, Where are you? 

in the park.

It’s raining.

excellent observation, dr. abbot.

You stared at the screen as his speech bubble appeared and disappeared, over and over, for a couple minutes.

Send me your location. Then, almost as an afterthought, Please.

This was a bad idea, probably. After the events of today, you should not be sending Jack Abbot your location. You should not be speaking to Jack Abbot at all. After today, you should probably resign from your residency and maybe join a convent.

You watched as seemingly of their own volition, your hands tapped all the right buttons to send Jack a pin.

A few moments later, he texted a screenshot of an Uber being sent to your location with the car information and license plate.

i don’t want to go home. You sent him in a rush.

Yeah, I got that, he replied, The Uber is bringing you to me.

You blew a long breath out between your lips, you sure that’s a good idea?

Nope. Uber’s pulling up now.

Sure enough, headlights lit up the raindrops behind you. You turned to see the car, quickly giving the license plate a cursory once over to make sure it matched what Jack sent. 

You could send the car off. Say it was a mistake. Not get in. Showing up at Jack’s apartment soaked to the skin in the middle of the night, still drunk and emotionally unstable felt like boarding a train you knew would derail. 

You still got in the car, though. You didn’t have anywhere else to go.

***

When Jack opened the door to his apartment, the frigid air from his AC assaulted you and you shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He stepped aside to allow you in and you kicked off your water logged shoes.

You had been here only once before, the first week of your residency. Jack would host a team dinner (early, so you could all still make your shift in time) whenever a new resident was added to the night shift. 

You had been really nervous you recalled, until Jack had cracked a joke that made you choke on your soda.

It had been almost four years, but his apartment hadn’t changed much at all. It was neat and tidy, nothing out of place. The furniture was well taken care of, but everything was in varying shades of gray and blue. The only hints of personality being some pictures on his fridge, vinyls by a stereo, and some books on a shelf.

But one photo on his fridge caught your eye and before you knew what you were doing, you were walking to it.

Early in your second year of residency, you had presented your research on cardiogenic pulmonary edema outcomes in the ER at a conference in New York. Jack had shown up without telling you he was coming. He stayed near your poster all day while you presented to interested passersby, giving you a thumbs up or “solid work” when you needed it, smuggling you snacks, making sure you drank water. And at the end of it you remembered he took you out to dinner and told you how proud he was of you and what a great emergency medicine doctor you would be.

You had taken a picture with him in front of your poster and this was the photo on his fridge. You had a huge smile on your face and Jack had an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“I didn’t know you had this.” You said softly.

He didn’t say anything so you turned to look at him, but his eyes were trained on the photo, “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes,” He said finally, walking by you to his bedroom.

You watched in his doorway as he pulled a pair of clean sweatpants and a t shirt from his closet and placed them at the edge of his bed, “The shower’s in that room,” He pointed to a door off the bedroom, “There’s clean towels under the sink, use whatever soap you like.”

He started to walk past you, but you grabbed his arm, and he stopped, eyes snagging on the hand that was touching him, “Thank you.” You said softly.

His eyes slowly roved upwards until they met yours. He searched your face, though you weren’t sure what he was looking for, then pressed a kiss to your forehead before he left the room.

***

After you were showered and changed, you wandered out to the living room where Jack sat on the couch, an arm draped over his forehead. He had taken his prosthetic off and it was propped up next to the coffee table.

When he heard you pad into the room, he cracked his eyes open, “Feeling better?” You nodded. “Good. Take the bed, I’ll sleep out here.”

But you still stood there, staring at him, arms wrapped around yourself, “Do you love me?” You asked, voice small.

He stared at you for a moment and sat up, running a hand over his face, “Have I not made it painfully obvious?”

“For how long?”

He shook his head and smiled at you incredulously, “You don’t get to do this.”

“Do what?”

“You’ve been in control of this,” He gestured between the two of you, “From the second I fucking met you and now you’re trying to what, decode the situation? See what outcome is most advantageous? I mean, Jesus Christ, what do you want?”

“What do I want?”

“Yes,” He said, “Not what seems correct, not what seems rational, what is it that you want?”

“I—“ You shook your head, “I don’t– I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” He said firmly, “Do you want your cheating boyfriend?”

You frowned, “No.”

“Did you ever want him?”

You huffed in frustration, “What do you mean?”

“I mean when you chose him over me, was that what you wanted?”

“That’s not a fair characterization of what happened—“

“Was it what you wanted?”

You faltered, “It was what was safest.” You said softly.

He smiled at you sadly, “He couldn’t hurt you if you didn’t love him, right?”

You stared up at the ceiling, willing the tears back into your eyes, “I didn’t think it meant that much to you.”

“You never gave me the chance to tell you.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw, “I’ll ask you again, what do you want?”

You looked at him, eyes watering, and you swallowed hard before you moved to him. He watched you as you placed a knee on either side of his legs, straddling his lap. His eyes followed your every movement reverently, your face just above his as you rested your forehead against his. His hands knotted themselves in your hair, “I’m scared,” You breathed shakily into his mouth.

“Of what?” He asked, his mouth near centimeters from yours.

“Of you. Of wanting you too much. Of losing you. Of everything.”

“I can’t promise you that this will work,” He said softly, “But I can promise I’ll fight like hell to make it work.”

You swallowed, “Because you love me?”

Finally, he laughed, “Yes, I fucking love you. Now be quiet.” He said before he kissed you.

He tasted exactly like you remembered, except tonight, there were remnants of tequila on his tongue. It was like he was trying to make up for lost time, the way he kissed you on that couch. He pushed his tongue into your mouth almost immediately, like he was searching for something he’d lost. Already, you were out of breath, hips grinding down on him without realizing. He sucked your lower lip into his mouth and bit down gently, groaning when you rubbed yourself on his growing erection.

“Slow down,” He chastised.

“You started it.” You reminded him.

“Fuck,” He moaned and then pushed you off him so he could crawl over you, “You’re sure?” He asked as you looked up at him, hair fanning around your head on the couch cushion like a halo.

You nodded, “I want you.”

He smirked and lowered his head to yours again, pulling kisses from you as one hand worked its way under your t-shirt. Your skin was smooth and soft there and he inched up slowly, until his fingers just brushed the underside of your breast. Touching you like this, he thought a lot about that night on the roof, the way he had kissed you like he knew he was already out of time.

Now… Now the world seemed to open up. He could take as much time as he wanted. You weren’t going anywhere, not this time. You were his and he wouldn’t let you go so easily again.

Gently, he tugged the t-shirt over your head so he could look at you and he was unable to suppress the sigh that tumbled from his lips. He squeezed your breast with one hand, thumbed your nipple and watched it pebble as you sighed. Still watching you, he pinched your nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger and your eyes rolled back into your head as you writhed beneath him.

He kissed you, fingers still teasingly rolling your nipple between his fingers, and then he began to kiss down your jaw and neck until he was able to suck your nipple into his mouth. The moan that fell from your lips when he swirled his tongue around you went straight to his cock. 

He was overly conscious of the fact that because he had imagined this very moment for two years minimum, likely longer, because he had imagined it hundreds of times while getting himself off, it was likely he would last all of thirty seconds once he was inside you, once he felt the real thing. So he would make this last for you.

Jack shimmied the sweatpants off of you and forgot that because you were here and you had just showered, you weren’t wearing panties. And suddenly, he felt feral. 

“Jesus Christ,” He shook his head looking at you, it felt like maybe he was dreaming a little, having you naked beneath him. He felt almost delirious with it.

You looked up at him, those pupils once again whole saucers, “Touch me, please?” You whined.

He kissed you again, licking into your mouth as he reached a hand down between your thighs. You gasped as he fully sunk a finger into you. When he moved his mouth back down to suck on your other nipple, your back arched and it sent him into another dimension, being able to make you feel like this.

With two of his fingers pumping you slowly and a thumb on your clit, he felt the moment when you climaxed before you cried out, “That’s it, sweetheart,” He said softly, “Look so pretty when you come for me like that.”

As you caught your breath, you watched as he pulled his fingers out of you and then sucked your juices from his digits. “Taste so good, too.”

Your eyes stayed locked on one another as he reached for a wooden bowl on the coffee table. He took the top off, pulled out an aluminum packet, and closed it again. And suddenly you were giggling, “What?” He asked, ripping the package open.

“D’you fuck mad bitches on this couch or something, Jack?”

He rolled his eyes, but smirked, “Shut up.”

When he slid into you, forehead pressed to yours, you gasped at the sensation. You had thought about this countless times before, Jack Abbot above you, like this. What you had never really thought about was that maybe while he did it, he’d be looking at you like he was in love with you. And it nearly shattered you.

“I love you,” You murmured into his mouth as you felt him beginning to come undone, “I love you so much.”

He moaned your name as he finished and collapsed against you, damp and breathless, “You love me, huh?” He said after a moment.

You lightly scratched the back of his head, “I’ve loved you for years,” You said softly, “Just spent a lot of that time denying it.”

He pulled his head back and kissed you messily, your chin grasped firmly in his hand. 

“Better late than never.”

[houseofhyde]

last train home.

pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader mcu timeline. thunderbolts + tfatws flashbacks synopsis. hours after the void swallows half of new york city, bucky barnes finds himself breaking his #1 rule: don't show up at your door. warnings. no use of y/n, ex!reader, exes to ???, angst, suggestive, hurt with comfort that is proceeded by more hurt, pining, bucky is lowkey down bad and pathetic, descriptions of bruises, injuries, and choking (not the sexy kind, unfortunately), bucky is also kinda serving stalker realness (but its okay bc he's hot and in love), flashbacks via bucky's time in the void. thunderbolts spoilers!!! word count. 4k. hyde’s input. thunderbolts reawakened something dormant in me and threw me back into trenches i thought i'd clawed my way out of. idk if this can even be considered a serious fic because i wrote this like it was the ramblings of a madwoman, i can't even lie. no editing, we die like real (dumb) men. in true me fashion, i already have two more parts planned for this couple, including eventual sloppy sad smut bc why write about a man if i don't get to whore him out? read on ao3.

Bucky knows he shouldn’t be here.

Knows that his will not be a welcome face.

Knows that he’s around two years and a sincere apology too late.

The hour is late, the dials of his wristwatch already encroaching on midnight. The city’s starless sky is a darkness that pales in comparison to the heavy shadow he’d watched infect Manhattan earlier. A void of pain too many had vanished beneath, before he and his ragtag team of false heroes had no choice but to dive into it, one last ditched effort at bringing back the light. The madness truly began when the darkness spat them back out onto the chaos of the streets.

The relief of seeing the sun. The shamble of a press conference. The new Avengers. 

And all he could think about was making it to this street. This door. You.

Bucky wishes he could say that the last time he saw you was last week, struggling beneath the weight of grocery bags. But that’s no longer true, because the last time he saw you was merely a few hours ago, trapped inside a time loop of his own making, his own memories, his own pain.

The room was colder than he remembered as he stepped in through a balcony door, sheer curtains billowing around him as a storm gathered outside.

At first, he wasn’t sure what memory this was, what new room he’d stepped into. All Bucky knew was he had made his way through the hell of Hydra’s experimentations, picked himself up from those traintracks, let himself soak in the scene of fighting Steve. Whatever haunted him in this bedroom of silence and sin, he was sure he could move through it and make his way to the door on the opposite side. Until a figure stirred beneath the sheets and he found himself frozen at the end of the bed.

Because there you were, eyes closed and head buried in the warmth of his own chest, blissfully unaware of the waking nightmare that awaited you.

He’s not used to crossing this street.

Not anymore.

Nowadays, his place is somewhere just across from you, two steps behind and a head hung low in hopes that you don’t notice him. Because he knows that it’s wrong, and he knows there are boundaries that have been drawn, but he just can’t seem to fall asleep at night if he doesn’t hop off that train a few stops early just to watch you come home safe.

He hadn’t meant to make it a habit. At first, it was just routine, muscle memory. He spent months making his way home to you, he needed more than a few weeks to get used to his new commute. But then he got in his own head, found himself sat in a train cart, knee bouncing out his stress as his mind tortured him with all the what ifs and nonexistent threats you could encounter on your way home alone. Who else could he trust but his own eyes to watch over you? So he let himself indulge, wander out from the subway below just in time to watch you turn a corner. Told himself it was okay, so long as he kept his distance. So long as he only observed, even when it killed him. The days it would rain and he’d fight the urge to shelter you beneath his umbrella. The times he’d notice a smiling stranger getting too close for comfort and remind himself it was no longer his place to ward them off with an arm around your waist. The way he’d catch the polished shine of a necklace resting at the base of your neck and suddenly remember why he could no longer call you his.

He should have noticed sooner. How the room smelt of your delicate perfume. How remnants of your clothes lay strewn across carpeted floors. How the scene before him was plucked perfectly from that trip.

A getaway of his own doing, heart swollen with a little more pride than he’d care to admit over simply figuring out how to book a vacation online. There was no real rhyme or reason for it, no birthday to celebrate or anniversary to commemorate. Bucky had simply felt happy. Blissfully, wholly, perfectly happy, for the first time in too long. In retrospect, that should have been the first warning sign.

But those razor sharp senses of his seemed to go blunt with the brightness of your smile, the tenderness of your kiss, the warmth of your voice. He believed you made him good. Made him right. Made him whole. He’d never stopped to wonder what he made you.

Until he made you hurt.

He’s standing outside your door.

Time seems irrelevant when everything is the same as he remembers it.

The lopsided apartment number. The faded welcome mat outside the door. The chipping paint you insist you don’t mind, all in the hopes of stopping Bucky from chewing out your landlord about another thing that needs fixing. Suddenly, it’s like he can feel the weight of your key in his pocket, waiting for him to fish it out and welcome himself home to the smell of burning incense and the taste of your skin.

His heart’s beating a little faster now. Maybe he shouldn’t have come. Maybe he should start learning to leave well enough alone. Maybe he should be trying to move on. But how can he move on with a life you made him want to live?

He’s fought battles, drawn blood, turned to dust and come back again. Yet this is a bridge he cannot seem to cross: knocking on your door.

All Bucky had registered back then was the soul-crushing weight of waking up to find what he’d done. Standing at the edge of the bed, a voyeur to his own harm, The Void granted him a full perspective of the events.

It began with muttering, foreign words falling from his sleeping lips. Then his head tossed, his leg twitched, his voice raised. You, eyes blinking away sleep and limbs untangling from his, woken up suddenly to his heart racing beneath you. He watched you watch the other him, a few seconds of his nightmarish sleeping, before finally you did what you thought was best, what any caring person would do if their partner was being haunted in their sleep.

You whispered his name, soothed a palm over his cheek, coaxed him out of whatever hell he was trapped in. But when his eyelids snapped open, there was no summer sky or calming river living in the iris but a steely blue, winter cold.

Metal clutched at your throat.

“James?”

Echoes of a past life sing in his ears as he feels himself freeze. His gaze meets the ground, where he spots an open door and a familiar pair of fluffy slippers, looking a little worse for wear than he remembers them being on that Christmas morning, sitting across from you with a stiff jaw and nervous eyes, watching you pull apart layers of wrapping paper. Now time has left its mark on them and Bucky can’t help but wonder how much longer until you replace them with something newer, something softer, something that’ll bring more comfort to your aching feet as you slip into them after a long day at the firm.

The firm. Your workplace. Two blocks down from the building that once stood as a symbol for everything Steve and the rest of the Avengers — the real Avengers — had achieved, a home still haunted by its previous owners whose footsteps Valentina expected him to tread over. 

Bucky had stopped believing in God somewhere between the torture and the war against genocidal aliens but as that cloud of darkness rolled over the Manhattan skyline, vanishing people into shadows, he caught himself praying to someone, something, anything that you were okay. That you’d caught a stomach bug or the flu and had called in sick. That you’d been called out of state, sent to work elsewhere on a client’s case. That you’d been anywhere but trapped beneath the weight of The Void’s darkness; lonely, and scared, and reliving the cruelest memories your mind could conjure. 

But as he finally looks at you, your face says it all. The troubled eyes, the weary smile, the trembling hands. The Void may have spat you back out alongside the rest of the city — he may have been able to save you from the looping pain, at least — but it left its mark all over you, whispers of fear still clinging to your skin.

Like a wave meets the shore, he crashes over you.

At first, Bucky couldn’t watch.

Eyes squeezed shut, back turned on the scene taking place upon the bed, he tried to block it all out. But then a door slammed, his eyes reopened, and the memory had started all over again. Your head on his chest, his tossing and turning. You waking him up, his hand around your neck. With an ache in his bones, he forced himself to bear witness.

To the way he looked right at you like you were a stranger, a threat, a mission. To the way the metal twisted and screamed as he tightened his grip. To the way your hand found his face. Not to scratch, not to push, not to fight back. But to mollify, the warmth of your palm resting on his icy cheek, tender in your touch even as he robbed you of breath.

And then he snapped out of it. Came to his senses. Ripped himself away from you and stumbled out the bed, hands — metal and flesh — scrambling for the scattered pieces of the same clothes he’d let you peel off of him only hours before, your eyes alive with the buzz of too much wine and his cheeks burning from too much sun and you. Undressing like every layer was an offense, just one more obstacle getting in the way as you both tumbled back into the hotel bed.

You are hesitant.

Arms glued to your side, you stand frozen in the unexpected embrace. He can’t find it in himself to blame you, not when he thinks of how scared you must feel with a weapon wound around your body once more, holding you close to him. The action is not only protective but possessive, too. An antidote to an unwarranted need that took root in his chest the moment he returned to the mania of Manhattan, freshly haunted by a visceral unpresent presence, desperate to confirm with more than just a glance from across a street that you were home. That you were safe. That you were here, even if he shouldn’t be. 

Bucky just needs you to give him a moment. A second. To feel the slow rise of your chest against his, and to take in the fading scent of your perfume, and to caress his right hand over the back of your head. To hold you like he still has any right to your heart. Then he can go. Pull away, set you free, stagger back to his apartment. Collapse onto the familiar comforts of creaking floorboards, muster up the guts to return Sam’s fourteen missed calls and sink into a different layer of guilt to distract himself from the fact you’re not sleeping beside him, breathing beside him. That you haven’t been his for two years, no matter how much he’s still yours.

He pulls in a deep breath, tightens his arms around your frame, prepares himself for the inevitability of him pulling away and feeling the much deserved sting of your hand slapping his cheek and your voice spewing venomous words.

Any minute now, he’ll let go.

“Bucky…” it’s barely a whisper, but he hears it — feels it, as the ice in your bones thaws away and you melt into his embrace.

How could he possibly let go?

Bucky remembered struggling to breathe.

Ignoring your weak calls of his name, he dressed himself with so much haste half the buttons on his shirt remained undone. On the bed, you choked on heavy breaths of air, tears welling like the threat of an incoming downpour that was sure to drown him further beneath waves of guilt, shame, hatred. The vibranium virus attached to his left side seemed to mock him as he struggled to pull on his shoes, too blinded by panic to notice your approaching figure.

Bucky grabbed for the door and you grabbed for him, fingers almost curling around the wrist of his metal arm. He flinched out of your reach, head spinning round to take in the sight of you now at his side, shielded beneath bedsheets from the exposing light of the moon. His gaze flickered to your neck, replaying memories of where his mouth had laid claim over your skin and painted you in shades of his love. How many hours would it take for them to fade beneath the mold of his fingers, for the things Bucky hated most about himself to viscerally terrorise him as a bruise upon his most darling delicate?

You tried to reach for him, again. All he could manage was a quiet, “don’t.”

He never meant to slam the door as he left.

“Are you okay?”

He’s no stranger to late night fantasies, the inconsequential thoughts of an idealised life he’s free to play out when sleep eludes him, buds of anxious worry beginning to bloom within his chest. Before, all his what ifs and if onlys projected him back in time, where no draft came knocking at his door or any serum distorted his DNA. Then he met you and, gradually, his pining for the past morphed into dreaming of a future. All the possible firsts of your relationship: first date, first kiss, first holiday, first anniversary. He could relearn the world, reintroduce himself to the possibility of normality. He pondered moving, trading the city for a quieter life, where weekends would be reserved for exchanging body heat beneath the blankets of a bed he’d build for you, and Sunday gatherings with Sam and the rest of the Wilson’s.

Then, the dreams faded to grey, along with the rest of his world.

The past no longer enticed him, and a future seemed pointless without you. All that was left for him was to agonise, stare at his living room ceiling and watch the atrocities he’d committed play on repeat. The Starks’ car, Yori’s son, your neck. With therapy came amends, a booklet of names his conscience needed him to confront with an apology. Yours never made the cut. Because it wasn’t the Winter Soldier that had hurt you, it was him. No amount of therapised language intended to distance him from the harm would be a good enough excuse to lay at your feet, so he stayed away, kept his distance.

Not once had he fantasised he would be breaking no-contact like this.

“A little confused and contemplating why I’m still living in this city after years of it being a breeding ground for supernatural and extraterrestrial attacks, but I’m fine,” you reply at last, trailing off with a laugh that catches on your throat and breaks into a hiccup.

There’s a shake in your voice that nearly has him pulling back but your arms stop him, hold him closer. You shuffle your feet between his own and burrow your face away, out of sight, in the crook of his neck. A layer of ash still stains him, powder remnants of the rubble that had fallen during The Void's attack, but you don’t seem to care.

“I saw you on the news, Buck. Are you okay?”

The relationship was over in a matter of days.

You slept through the train ride home, leaving him with nothing but passing fields and troubled thoughts. Once back in the city, he carried your bags in his left hand while the fingers of his right one threaded with yours. You did most of the talking, comments of where you two could holiday next, if he’d spoken to Sam recently, and how your mother had mentioned in passing that you should bring Bucky with you next time you visit. The silence arrived as you both reached your front door, one glance at the bruise around your neck enough to let him know this was the end of the line.

An inbox of missed calls and unread texts later, he dropped your apartment key through the letterbox.

He blinked and suddenly the scene had reset, your lonesome frame crawling back onto the bed once more, fading away into two figures curled around one another beneath the sheets. Bucky watched it all unravel. And, when the door slammed and your tears fell, he watched it start again. Over and over, he watched himself poison the safe haven you made for him, pushing you away and rebuilding that wall around himself. Over and over, he watched you reach for him, a silent plea in your eyes begging him to stay.

He never did.

It was only when he joined you on the bed — after the other him had slammed the door — and pulled you into his longing embrace, mouth kissing apologies against your forehead as you drifted off to sleep, that the cycle came to a stop. One moment, he was holding some version of you for the first time in years, and, in the next, The Void sent him falling through the ceiling of an old Hydra lab.

He landed in the leather chair with a thud and, as a familiar device closed in around his head, he wished he was back in that hotel room, watching your heart break before his eyes, if only to see you a little longer.

With reluctance, he pulls back.

Not because he no longer needs to hold you, feel you breathing safely against him. But he needs to see you. Properly, as something more than a distant shape across the street. Inches apart now, the hole in his chest seems to scream it’s not close enough. When your eyes meet his and a tear slides down your face, not even Sentry could stop him from reaching up to catch it.

Comfort fills his soul as he feels your hand lay itself atop his own, holding it in place against your cheek. Your eyes slip shut and a sigh slips past your lips. Bucky can’t help but lean in, eyes shutting out the world around you. His forehead finds rest against yours, a gentle pressure against skin that feels more intimate than any kiss he could ever give. “Tell me you’re okay, Bucky,” a delicate whisper that possesses no threat to the quiet that surrounds you both.

For a moment, there is peace. Hope. Time has passed, his life has changed, and, while he’s no symbol of sanity, he saved people today — strangers. Bucky Barnes is officially a hero. An Avenger. So maybe things can be different. And maybe he can ask to take up space in your life again, to be part of your mornings and your evenings, your everyday. He can make amends and make you his.

Something meows and tears him out of his daydream.

A blur of white fur moves cautiously inside your apartment, weaving through a few house plants atop a shoe rack. But that isn’t what leaves him feeling foolish, feeling sick, feeling like he’s been sucker punched in the chest. It’s the pair of shoes carelessly discarded on the floor, shrugged off by someone too impatient to put them away if it means spending another moment away from you — Bucky would know, he used to do the same.

A pair of men’s shoes. “I should-” go, he can’t bring himself to say it. He doesn’t want to leave. “Don’t wanna miss the train.”

“James,” his name is a plea on your tongue, a question he’s forgotten how to answer.

“I’m sorry,” for hurting you, for not moving on, for showing up at your door. “I just needed to see you.”

The first step is still the hardest.

As the thought passes through him, a sense of deja vu comes over him. This hallway, your doorway. Turning his back on you, telling himself that it’s better this way. No matter how much it kills him, he can live with the pain of knowing you’ll be safer with someone else. Someone who was born at the right time, and has done all the right things in life that lead them to being rewarded with you. It’s best he goes, before that someone comes looking for you.

He can’t stomach the thought of seeing you with somebody else.

“For someone so good at the fight, you sure do love to choose flight,” your voice is soft yet he hears a bite of anger, a sprinkle of resentment. “Or is walking away a special trick you only use when it comes to me?”

“Don’t do that,” he turns back around to face you, and regrets it the moment he notices more tears threatening to spill. His hand itches to wipe them all away. “Don’t make it seem like leaving you was something I chose to do.”

“But you did!”

“Only because I had to!” Bucky never means to raise his voice, not at you. Things clearly haven’t changed enough for him to stop hurting you when he swears he won’t.  “You know what I did to you.”

With a challenge on your face, your arms cross over your chest and you pop your hip out, leaning your body against the doorframe. “What exactly did you do, James?”

“I…” torture of the tongue, he needs to compose himself before he can say it. “I hurt you. With the same hand they gave me when they made me a weapon.”

“Except you didn’t. The Wakandans gave you that arm when they needed another hero on the battlefield.”

A pause, where anything but silence passes between you. “And I hurt you with it all the same.”

“You leaving me like I meant nothing hurt far more than whatever happened in that hotel room.”

“Meant nothing? Me leaving was because I lov-”

“I’ve just taken on a big case, they’ll be expecting me early in the office,” you’ve already got the door in your hand, half closed as your body retreats back into the safety of your apartment, away from the danger of Bucky’s confession. “You should go, James. Catch that train.”

Unlike him, you don’t slam doors.

He doesn’t bother returning to the subway, the time on his phone tells him all he needs to know. He’s missed that last train, and he’s not in the mood to figure out which line will get him closest to his apartment. He’ll just walk, and listen to the voicemail his phone claims Alexei has left in his inbox.

“Winter Soldier! Bucky! We all are drinking, to celebrate team’s first big win. You must join, we can talk more about being co-captains of The Thunderbolts-” “That is not our name, Alexei,” Yelena cuts him off faintly in the background.

Bucky shouldn’t have come home.

Back in the apartment, a sob is forced down.

The tears just keep coming, all you can do is surrender yourself to them, head leaned back against the door, some part of you hoping he’ll come back.

His hair is longer, new bruises mark his skin, yet the way he looks at you — like you are a sin he must atone for — is still the same.

“Was that Bucky I just heard? If yes, let me give him a piece of my mind and save ourselves a whole load of paperwork- Hey, you good?”

You pull in a breath and wipe both hands over your face before forcing a smile towards your guest.

“I’m fine, Sam,” you almost trip over his shoes in your haste to walk back into the living room. “Now come on, we have a lot of work to do if you’re serious about suing the Avengers.”

+ extra hyde !

· finished this instead of working on one of my final essays... priorities!

· idk if it anyone wants it but i'm working on a part 2, and trust i intend to not uphold the sambucky divorce from the post-credit scene

· if you're reading this and thinking "this doesn't look like the aemond fic update hyde's supposed to be posting" i'm sorry, i swear i'll be doing my best to post the next part soon! don't hate me!

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1541

No one was prepared for the event that occurred a mere hours ago. Nightwing and Robin had been investigating an unknown target that had recently been causing trouble near the docks. There wasn't supposed to be an altercation, but when the person of interest showed up they weren't going to just let him walk away. 

This target had a trick up his sleeve though; literally. The moment he was cornered by the two vigilantes he had thrown a magical blast at Robin that managed to hit him square in the chest. By the time Nightwing had reached his side it was already too late and the magician had used that as his way to sneak away. 

“Robin?” Nightwing's voice is hesitant and soft as he peers down at the very small passed out child that lays in a pile of clothes. “Oh no.” 

As soon as the now tiny Damian is into his arms he’s rushing back to the cave. “Oracle, Robin and I ran into some trouble during our investigation. Alert Batman that he needs to get back to the cave as soon as he can.” 

“What’s happening? Do I need to get Dr. Leslie to the cave as well?” 

“No, not yet at least; neither of us is injured. We’ll need to contact Zatanna or Constantine though. It seems Robin got hit with some kind of de-aging spell.” 

The line on the other end was silent for a few moments before a soft snickering sound filled the comm line. “... I’m contacting everyone. How young would you say he is?”

“If I had to take a guess I’d say he’s 6 maybe 7.” Nightwing says as he glances down at the sleeping boy in his arms. He is taking so many photos as soon as he’s back in the cave Dick promises to himself. 

"So we have a baby assassin who's still deep in the LoA mindset. Is he awake right now? I can't imagine you'd be talking this calmly if you were trying to settle a Damian who  doesn't know you and seemingly woke up in a new location."

"He's asleep right now." He couldn't help but let out an exhausted sigh knowing that it wasn't going to be a fun time when Damian eventually wakes up, "As long as Robin doesn’t kill or hurt anyone by the end of this I'll count it as a personal win." 

"That'll count as a win for all of us." She hums, "Everyone available tonight has responded and should be waiting for your arrival. Good luck."

With that sign off the comm link went silent. He looks down at Damian's sleeping face once more and can't help but can't help to mourn the fact that this is the youngest he's ever seen his baby brother. He loves Damian at his normal age of 14 years old, but he also knows that he's going to enjoy having him this young as much as he can. 

It only took a few minutes after that to finally reach the cave. Dick took note of Bruce, Alfred, Tim, Jason, and Duke who were also in the cave, but ignored them for the moment in favor of rushing Damian to a med bay bed to lie him down. 

Before Dick can even fully settle Damian down he feels the familiar looming presence of Bruce standing behind him. "I hope you have a camera with you; I want to fill a photo album before this whole thing is done."

"We need to confirm that this is actually Damian first." Bruce reaches out, running a hand through the child's hair before gently plucking a couple hairs and turning away back to the computer. 

With Bruce occupied on the other side of the cave Jason, Tim, and Duke all shuffle in around the bed. Predictably, Tim does have a camera at the ready and immediately snaps a picture of Damian as soon as he's in the room. "I'm never letting him forget about this." 

"Just make sure you send me all your photos of this before trying to blackmail him to do anything with them." Dick is quick to say; he's getting his photo album one way or another. Knowing Damian he's going to try and destroy all evidence of this occurring. 

It is then that Alfred walks into the room as well, "Before we continue with the photos I insist we dress Master Damian in clothes that will more properly fit than the ones currently wrapped around him." 

After that was said Alfred gestured for all the boys out of the med bay room while he got Damian dressed in what must be some of Damian's smallest clothes that the older man was able to find. While waiting to be allowed back in the room a ping sounds out from behind them. It seems the DNA test is complete. 

"Well B, is it a boy, or are you still paranoid that the demon brat in there isn't actually Damian?" Jason questions as he walks forward and snatches the report. "Let's see! Yup, the boy is Damian alright; Bruce was being paranoid for no reason as usual." 

"How funny would it be though if the spell did just replace Damian with a 6 year old look alike though?" Duke grins as he takes a look at the report as well.

"… You think there's a spell that does that?" Jason looks far too interested in knowing that answer if the smirk on his face was anything to go by.

"We could ask-"

"You will not be asking anyone that question." Bruce quickly interrupts that conversation from continuing. If Dick had to guess though he'd say that it wasn't over based on the look Jason and Duke share with one another.  "I've already contacted Zatanna, and she's on the way now to assess the situation; nothing more." 

Tim scoffs and gives an exaggerated eye roll, "Oh, might as well let them ask otherwise-."

It was just then the zeta tube pinged and Zatanna was then standing in the Batcave with them. At the same time Alfred also exits the med bay room. "Well Batman, I'm sure you don't want me to be here more than necessary so let's go ahead and take a look at the little Robin." 

"Hm." 

With nothing else said Bruce turns and walks to where Damian is sleeping; Zatanna follows silently behind him. Dick and the others follow as well, not wanting to not hear what she has to say about Damian's situation. 

Everyone watches silently as she examines Damian, saying a few magic words before addressing Bruce.  "Well the good news is that this isn't permanent. The binding magic surrounding him is pretty weak."

"And the bad news?" Dick is immediately asking.

"The bad news is that this isn't something I can just undo right here right now. De-aging magic is always complicated, and the less risks we take the better." Zatanna tells him, "Which means you're just going to have to wait this out. It looks like it'll only last a couple of days." 

Perfect! Dick can't help, but think that is a perfect amount of time. He can definitely get a photo album of the amount of pictures in that time, and they all get to spend time with Damian as the youngest they've ever seen him! The only thing they need to do is make sure the baby assassin doesn't hurt anyone. 

The group after that naturally filters back into the main area of the cave. Zatanna and Bruce share a couple quiet words before she enters the zeta tube and it is only them in the cave once more. 

"Guess the only thing to do now is to wait for the demon brat to wake up." Jason gleefully exclaims, "I for one am excited to see how B handles the little terror." 

"Should one of us be there when he does wake up?" Duke asks; clearly thinking about the kid possibly waking up and trying to attack them.

Tim immediately shouts out, "Not it!"

"I'll do it," Dick assures Tim, "I still need to write my report anyway. I'll let you all know when he wakes up." 

With no complaints Dick gathers his things, and goes to take a seat next to Damian while he writes up an official report of the events that occurred tonight. As he does he makes sure to look up every few minutes; he's not sure when Damian might wake up, and he wants to be ready when he does. 

After half an hour Dick was just finishing up, and he could still hear his brothers loudly talking about something. It warms his heart to think about the three of them getting along; with that in mind he takes another glance at his littlest brother. Damian is of course glaring at him with the cutest little pout.

Wait.

Damian's awake!

"Hey Damian," he makes sure to speak as gently as he can, "do you feel okay? What's the last thing you remember?" 

Now, Dick expected Damian to attack one of them at some point during this; what he didn't expect was for him to do it immediately to the first person he saw. He probably should have though.

[spxllcxstxr]

While You Were Sleeping • J&V

(Gif not mine)

Request: recently discovering your arcane works has seriously made my week, your writing is amazing! if you're still taking reqs, can I pls request a jayvik x they/them reader fic? while viktor and jayce are sleeping soundly at night for once, reader surprises them by coming home unexpectedly. they're also a scientist but travels a lot for work, which leads them to be deeply missed by the two. reader gently nuzzles and kisses them until they realize that they're back! just a very sleepy and loving reunion with these three. I need some healing after the jayvik finale in S2 ;_; thank youu :) — anon

Summary: Coming back late at night from your trip, you didn’t expect to find Jayce and Viktor asleep in your shared bed

Warnings: gn!reader, implied scientist reader, it's just fluff guys lol, no dialogue until the last like third lmao

Word Count: 1.5k

A.N: title is a laufey song 🥴, I hope you enjoy!!!

•

You sigh, heaving your heavy travel bags behind you as you climb up the stairs in front of you. Muttering to yourself, you curse at the amount of things you packed for your trip outside of Piltover. You hadn't gone too far for your research this time, and yet past you decided to pack your entire wardrobe and then some.

The keys to the apartment you shared with your lovers dangle precariously from your pants pocket. At first you thought about heading straight to the lab, considering that was where you would no doubt find Jayce and Viktor, but after days of travel, all you wanted was to be home. The two of them would eventually get home anyway, whether it be just passed midnight or just after dawn, so you determined that there was no harm in settling back in your apartment first.

The lights are off when you enter your apartment, the tick-tocking of the old grandfather clock the only sound echoing in the room as the pendulum swings back and forth. Papers filled with equations and scientific illustrations are strewn across every surface. You huff, rolling your eyes. Your apartment looked exactly as you left it weeks ago. Eyes finally adjusting to the familiar darkness, you also spot a few empty coffee mugs scattered all over and jackets draped across every chair. This was certainly home.

With your bags still in your hands, you continue through your decently sized apartment. You had this place memorized at this point, so walking through it in the dark was simple. You knew exactly where the couch Jayce picked out before even moving in was and where Viktor's oddly shaped bookcase was. The comforting familiarity of your home makes warmth spread through your chest; this was something you, Jayce, and Viktor created together from scratch--it meant more to you than any other place in Runeterra, even the ones vital to your research.

You head straight to your bedroom, the desire to fall into your own bed and drift off to sleep overwhelming at this point.

The room is dark when you enter except for the few white rays of moonlight filtering in through the window. Viktor's cane rests against the nightstand on his side of the bed, metal gleaming in the light.

You furrow your brows in confusion, Viktor being home shocking to you. The lab was practically a second home to Jayce and Viktor. Before dating them, they would spend almost every hour of every day there, tinkering with their inventions. Since starting the relationship, Jayce and Viktor tried really hard to break their habit of spending so much time in their lab, which they were largely successful at. With you away for weeks, however, you knew that they tended to take advantage of it and revert back into their previous mindset.

With the cat away, the mice will play, after all, as they say.

Still at the threshold with you bags at your sides, your eyes land on your two lovers laying in bed.

Viktor is curled up beside Jayce, who softly snores against your partner's hairline. You stop at the end of the bed, the tension in your shoulders easing up at the scene before you. Though two blankets cover them, the tips of Viktor's long fingers peek out from the top, showing that his hand is splayed lightly against Jayce's chest, right over his heart.

In the pale moonlight, your lovers look ethereal. The light drapes them in a silvery hue, the luminosity a stark contrast from the rest of the dark room. Jayce and Viktor, with their skin bathed in radiance, are oblivious to your tender gaze.

Smiling softly you feel your heart melt in your chest. This was what you especially missed on your travels. The beds you always wound up in were empty and cold. No amount of blankets piled atop your figure could mimic the warmth Jayce radiated, nor could any pillow replace the comfort of his chest against your cheek. Viktor wasn’t there to hold your hand in his sleep either. There were no golden or amber eyes brightened by the early sunlight gazing at you when you woke up either. You had grown accustomed to the comforting presence of your lovers over the years that you always forget how lonesome travelling could be.

It was a privilege to be able to travel across Runeterra for your research, you knew that; but the absence of your lovers late at night always made you dreadfully homesick.

Quietly, you move around the room in order to change into something better suited for bed. As you change, bags still abandoned near the door, waiting to be unpacked, your partners continue to sleep.

Changed into more comfortable clothes, you ease into bed, slipping underneath the blankets. Viktor continues to mumble incoherently while Jayce shifts, his snoring easing up like he senses your presence. You drape an arm across his chest, fingertips brushing against Viktor's. With your body pressed close to Jayce's, you place kisses along his jawline, the smell of his aftershave lingering on his skin.

Again, he shifts against you, head turning slowly to face you.

"Wha's goin' on?" Jayce sleepily mumbles, eyes slowly opening. The moonlight must be harsh on his bleary eyes because it takes a moment or two for him to fully grasp his surroundings.

His gaze locks onto your own, eyes widening as a grin slowly appears across his face. That small but noticeable gap between his two front teeth has you mirroring his smile tenfold. His brown hair is messy from moving around in his sleep, loose strands dangle in front of his face as he raises his head from the pillow.

"You're home early!" You can tell that he's just barely containing his excitement--he's hardly whispering and already shifting under Viktor's grasp in order to get closer to you.

Before you’re able to respond, Jayce’s lips are on yours, kissing you like his life depends on it. An arm wraps around your midsection, hand resting against the small of your back, and pushes you impossibly closer to himself. You can feel his heart beat beneath his white shirt.

“Gods, I missed you…” He says after pulling away. His eyes shine as he scans over your face as if he’s forgotten what you looked like in only a few weeks.

“I missed you too, Jay…” A hand rises to gently stroke his cheek, something he leans into.

A disgruntled noise erupts from behind your partner and you both turn to check up on Viktor.

Disrupted from his sleep, Viktor playfully glares at the two of you. To anyone else it would appear as though Viktor was absolutely livid with the rude awakening, but you and Jayce knew him better than anyone else; he was happy you were home safe, happy that he could feel complete once again.

"You two truly are incapable of whispering, hm?" His voice is deeper, accent thick with each syllable.

Viktor just looks tired, his pale skin is accompanied by dark bruises under each eye. It certainly looks as if he's spent every hour at the lab recently.

"Hello to you too, Vik. I missed you very much." You tease, leaning over Jayce to capture Viktor's lips.

"I missed you very much, sweetling..." He huffs, moving closer to Jayce in order to meet your lips half way.

Jayce settles on the bed between you, back pressed against the mattress and opens both of his arms for you and Viktor to cuddle into.

"You'll have to tell us all about your adventures---" Jayce starts, fingertips dancing lazily against your back.

"It wasn't like it was a vacation, Jay, I still had work to do." You cuddle closer to Jayce, the warmth radiating from his body making you yawn tiredly. Viktor, though dressed in a comfortable long sleeved shirt with two blankets on top of him, does the same, hoping to take all his partner's body heat for himself.

"Sure, but you were not stuck in the Academy's dungeon staring at the hex gem for hours upon hours upon hours..." Viktor sleepily trails off, his face already buried in the crook of Jayce's neck.

You pull the blankets up to your neck and place a hand on top of Viktor's, which rests on Jayce's chest. His fingertips are cold as ice, as they usually were. You feel your eyelids start to droop, each blink getting longer.

"Why don't we go to sleep, darling? You can tell us all about it in the morning. Maybe me and Vik could spend the day outside of the lab and get some fresh air." Jayce whispers, sensing your exhaustion.

You hum as he kisses the top of your head. He murmurs something along the lines of "goodnight" and "I love you," but it all becomes a blur as you drift off to sleep; finally in your own bed in your own home surrounded by your partners.

•

[stellamarielu]

summary: cock warming with joel late at night when you’re both craving each other, all tired and cozy underneath the sheets.

author’s note: not entirely sure what this is but i wrote it because joel miller lives rent free inside my brain

beware smut ahead! mdni!

it would start with your body all cuddled into his, your back against his chest with his arm draped over your waist.

you were slowly coaxed out of your peaceful slumber by the feeling of joel's thumb rubbing small circles into the skin of your stomach. your shirt had bunched up exposing your midriff and allowing him to slide his hand underneath the material.

you’d scoot back just an inch so that your bodies were pressed even closer together, your backside making contact with the bulge in his pants. you made it a point to grind against him, savoring the sounds of his shallow breath and the way his body melted even further into yours.

in a lazy sleep induced haze the two of you would be shedding clothes and relishing in the warmth of each other; flesh pressing against flesh as joel lined himself up with your center. no words were spoken yet you both understood the shared desperation in your actions, needing to be close, enveloped in one another.

the only sound coming from either of you was the groan slipping past joel’s lips as he felt the slick warm invitation of your walls while he stretched you with just his tip. he was slow and deliberate, filling you inch by inch with his hand cradled around your body holding you gently against him.

you let out a blissful hum when he filled you completely, the sound of your satisfaction muffled by your pillow.

he stayed there– pushed into you to the hilt and holding you tightly, your body fitting snuggly into his.

he took a minute to soak in the tenderness of the moment; how soft you felt pressed against him. the intimacy of being wrapped up in each other. all of it was so comforting it had him pushing himself deeper into you, hungry to be closer.

"what happened to a good night's rest?" your voice was groggy, filled with sleep and pleasure.

you were reminiscing on joel’s words spoken just hours ago when the two of you were winding down for the night. both of you exhausted, seeking the comfort of your shared bed and full night of sleep.

"you can go back to sleep sweetheart." he was leaning further into you as he whispered the words, placing a soft kiss behind your ear.

"just wanted to be close that's all." his voice vibrated into the crook of your neck with his face buried in your shoulder.

"don't think i’m gonna be able to sleep now." you were confessing as your hand slid up to find his hair, running your fingers through it and causing a sigh to escape from his lips.

it was as if you were half asleep but unable to deny the solace of connection. you were completely devoted to one another, wholly seized by the comfort and desire constantly shared between you.

"that right?" his voice had a tired rasp to it, the low gravely sound causing you to involuntarily clench around him.

the way you were hugging his cock had his grip on your waist tightening just enough to pull you back further, sinking himself even deeper into you. the sensation had a whimper bubbling in your throat and your fingers curling into his hair.

"need somethin' to help you sleep?" another rhetorical question rolled off his tongue as he finally moved inside of you. the slow gratification of his thrusts more fulfilling than any amount of sleep.

[drunkinyourbenz]

soft smut with bils?

୨ৎ can't sleep? b.e

୨ৎ billie eilish x fem!reader

୨ৎ genre: smut and fluff

୨ৎ content: sleepy smut, fingering, thigh riding, scissoring, pathetic sub top billie if you squint (shut up i'm in love with her i can't live without her)

୨ৎ note: hi i'm alive

୨ৎ wc: 1.8k

billie was busy making her album–it was a lot of work for her, and she was at finneas' house in his home studio almost every hour of every day. it often made her home late, but you didn’t mind. you'd visited them around 11am and had lunch with them and claudia, but you left after a few hours to feed you and billie's dog, shark. 

it was now almost midnight, and you were half asleep in you and billie's shared bed. you'd been trying to stay awake, wanting to see her when she got home. the book you had been reading was discarded to the side, and your phone sat on the nightstand, a soft glow emitting from it whenever you got a notification you were too tired to check.

billie finally arrived home, pulling her car into the driveway and parking. it wasn’t common for her to end up recording this late, but it was needed─she only hoped you hadn't waited up. she didn't want you to stay up just for her. she made her way toward the front door, quickly unlocking it and stepping inside.

slipping off her shoes at the door, which she shut quietly so as not to wake you in the hopes you were asleep. she placed her bag down on a stool in the kitchen and found shark, giving him a quick pat and a forehead kiss. she didn’t turn on any lights, instead relying on the soft light glowing from the window. she walked down the hallway, gently pushing your shared bedroom door open and peeking inside.

your head lifted off the pillow slightly the second you heard the door of your bedroom open, and a smile spread across your face. "get over here."

billie's eyes landed on you, and a fond smile graced her lips at the sight of you in bed. she fully entered the room and slowly walked over to the bed, slipping off her clothes from the day and pulling an oversized shirt over her head.

"bossy, hm?"

you simply roll your eyes fondly at her, silently holding your arms out, gesturing for her to join you under the covers.

a cheeky smirk tugged at her lips, teasingly pretending to ponder on obeying your command for a few seconds, before she eventually gave in. she needed to feel your arms around her more than anything, of course. she walked over to the bed after placing her clothes on the chair by the vanity. she slid under the covers with you, quickly wrapping her arms around you and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"hi, pretty," she murmured into your ear, her voice slightly gravelly from exhaustion. 

you smiled, nuzzling my face into the crook of her neck and mumbling sleepily, "hi, my love. missed you."

her smile only widened at your words, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, “you saw me a few hours ago.” 

“still missed you. plus, it was eleven hours.”

a soft hum left her lips, “mhm. i missed you too, by the way. ‘m sorry i got home so late.”

you just shake your head, “you don’t need to apologize, it’s okay.”

the two of you fell into a comfortable silence wrapped up in each other’s arms, but something was holding you back from sleep. your eyes drifted to the analog clock on the nightstand, where the digital red numbers glowed ‘12:34’.

billie was still, so you closed your eyes. you opened them minutes later, feeling restless—despite being ready to pass out before billie got home. 

a soft sigh slipped from your lips, and billie’s arms shifted slightly around you. her lips were pressed gently against the bare skin of your shoulder when she spoke, her thumb tracing the ghosts of circles on your thigh.  “can’t sleep?” 

you shook your head softly, voice coming out in a sleepy murmur, "mhm. you too?"

a low hum of agreement left her lips, “don’t know why…” she shifted slightly, her hand resting gently on your waist as she traced shapes—they felt like stars—on your skin through the thin fabric of your clothes. 

the two of you remained like that for a few long moments, before her lips brushed your skin again as she whispered, “need a distraction?” her hand tugged ever so gently on the fabric of your shirt, so slight that it almost slipped your attention—but you noticed. 

you smiled at the clear implications in her words, “i do, but i’m so sleepy.”

a faint laugh left her lips, “that’s okay, i’ll do all the work.”

the smile on your lips widened at her words, you both knew that billie could easily spend hours pleasing you.  “hm, always so good f’me.” 

her hands travelled over the body she knew so well, giving one of your tits a teasing squeeze on the way down your body, propping herself up with her elbow as she hooked her index finger in the waistband of your underwear under your sleep shorts, pulling both down in one easy movement. 

leaning down, she pressed a soft kiss to your stomach, then your thighs, and then her fingers dipped between your folds. the moan you let out was so soft, so half asleep, that she almost came right then and there. it made her slip one finger inside you, shifting slightly so she was more comfortable. the moans you let out were so perfect, so enticing, and she slipped another finger inside you easily, scissoring them inside of you. she watched the way your face scrunched up in pleasure, and decided that sleepy sex with you was officially one of her favourite things. 

bringing her thumb to your clit, she circled it a few times, before her movements changed. you were too sleepy to realise she was spelling her own name on your clit, but she knew. she knew, and it was enough to make her clench her thighs together needily. the thrusts of her fingers were slower than usual, since she too was exhausted, but that somehow made it better. it was achingly slow, soft, and sweet. 

the feeling of her fingers inside you paired with her thumb on your clit and the sleepy fogginess of your mind made you let out another moan, your head falling to the side on the pillow and letting your half lidded eyes lock with her piercing blue ones. 

the eye contact just made everything better, and you groaned. “fuck–bils, baby–” 

her lips twitched up, “gonna cum f’me?” 

you nodded drowsily, and seconds later, she’d sent you over the edge. your head fell back onto the pillow again, although your eyes travelled to the ceiling this time as you exhaled softly. 

you were shaken out of your slight trance when you felt billie shift slightly, the familiar feeling of her grinding against your thigh making you lift your head again to watch her for a moment. she was just wearing an oversized t-shirt and underwear, what she usually wore to bed. your eyes were fixed on her for a moment, and the corner of your lips curled upwards when you took in just how needy she was for you. 

“baby?” 

her eyes finally looked up, half lidded with the pupils dilated. “mhm?” 

“take them off, sweet girl.” 

she did so instantly, without hesitation, lifting her hips from your thigh so she could tug her underwear down her thigh. she automatically rested back on your thigh, but you spoke before she could continue riding it. 

“no, baby. come closer.” your hand reached up and you gently guided her until her pussy was hovering over yours. 

billie’s eyes instantly widened in recognition the moment she realised what you were getting at, and she wasted no time in moving closer so that your core met hers, her head falling back and a choked moan leaving her mouth. “god, baby–” 

the two of you were grinding slowly against each other, still too tired to be moving with the usual vigour, especially after you’d already had one orgasm—but that didn’t make it any less passionate. 

her eyes were fixed on the way her soaked pussy moved against yours, but they drifted up to your face for a moment, watching the way you were still propped up on your elbows slightly. “lay back, baby. relax. i’ll take care of you.” 

you did just that, relaxing back into the pillows, although you were still watching her closely. the miniscule changes in her facial expression whenever your clits bumped together made the coil in your abdomen tighten. her dark hair fell in a curtain around her shoulders, and the soft glow of light from the ever so slightly parted curtains reflected like a halo around her head. she was the most gorgeous person you’d ever met—in this moment and all others. you watched her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks, and a groan left your slightly parted lips. 

“making me feel so good, baby.” 

she let out a whine, grinding slightly faster while her brows furrowed in concentration, bottom lip caught gently between her teeth. “i’m gonna–” 

you weren’t sure which one of you had reached the edge first, all you were conscious of was the intense pleasure building and finally snapping, and the feeling of both of your cum dripping down your thighs. 

your eyes automatically fluttered shut with pleasure, but you forced them open and they snapped to billie’s face, wanting to watch the way her own face contorted in pleasure. billie’s own eyes were shut, her head angled back as she breathed deeply, and you looked at the way the light lit up the column of her neck, and the slight peak of her collarbones that her oversized shirt allowed you to see. she wasn’t wearing a bra under the shirt, so you could see the outline of her breasts and the way they heaved with each breath she took.  her hair was messy and cascading down behind her, a little splayed over her face. 

never had you wanted to capture a moment more—you wanted the blissed out look in her eyes engraved into your brain, and you almost could have came again from the sight alone. 

once she’d ridden out her high, she collapsed on top of you with a heavy sigh, one of her thighs still slotted in between your own like a puzzle piece. nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck, her lips ghosting over your collarbones as she inhaled your scent deeply. 

“think you can sleep now?” you murmured, gazing at her figure clinging onto you in the darkness of your room. 

the only response you got was a sleepy murmur and billie nuzzling closer to you, and you smiled. your lips found the top of her head, and your arm draped loosely around her waist. 

“i love you.”

୨ৎ taglist. @47lake @st0nerlesb0 @n0vabug @darkside-0f-the-sun @asterisk-eyes @amara-eilish @dragoneyelashart @greenbttrflyy send an ask or commet here to be added <3

[prince-septimus]

calm mornings

pairing : robert reynolds x reader

summary : just two lonely people learning of a thing called affection.

word count : 1.5k

You find yourself staring at him often -- the man with the power of a thousand suns. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of the power he wields because when you see him occasionally sitting in the little corner he's created with books surrounding him and an overlook of New York to add on, you forget the events of a few months ago when the city fell to shadows.

When you see Bob now, all you see is the softness he carries with him, the comfort he brings even after years of not having it for himself. How could someone who has been through so much manage to continue on with such a soft heart?

You guessed the same could be said for the whole team. The ruined assassins who spent part of their lives being brainwashed and tortured. The super soldiers who never did quite reach their potential, and spent their entire lives dwelling on it. The experiments and the suffering and the darkness that the rest of you had endured. The whole team had that in common, and it was something you thought made you better than the Avengers.

The Thunderbolts were a family.

(You always were fond of the nickname, even after having to put that 'A' on your uniform.)

Maybe that's why you would find yourselves gathered late into the night, recapping missions and watching shitty 80s movies. Maybe that was what you all needed to keep the nightmares and dark thoughts away. You all had done bad things, unforgivable things, and yet you could still find yourselves together on a Saturday night fighting over who got the last slice of pizza and picked the next movie.

It was one of those nights you woke up early after. You had only been asleep for a few hours, but the weekends were sometimes a little more peaceful, almost like the job followed that weekday schedule you remembered from school. It was nice sometimes to get up early and drink coffee in a corner somewhere while the sun was still rising. Usually you were left alone during that time.

This morning you were not alone.

The coffee machine is still dripping the last dregs into the pot when you hear his quiet footsteps. The others had tried to convince you to get a better coffee pot -- one of the ones with a million buttons that made all sorts of espresso drinks and could add different things. You're sure that sort of appliance was here when the building belonged to Tony Stark, but you liked your tried and true, traditional pot. Even if it was a bit loud.

"Made enough for two?"

Bob's voice is still full of sleep. You wonder if he actually fell asleep or just dozed like he did sometimes. He had seemed tired towards the end of the last movie, after everyone had began to settle down, and you hoped that meant he at least got a good few hours in.

You smile gently at him as he pads over to lean against the counter. "I always make a full pot. You know that."

You hadn't bothered with the lights, preferring the soft glow that had started to enter the space as the sun began to rise beyond the windows. You enjoyed this time in the morning, when everything was still quiet and calm. You wondered if he preferred it too.

He leans over you to reach in the cabinet above, grabbing two mugs and setting them on the counter beside you. He looks cozy in his sweater and soft lounge pants, the thick socks on his feet silencing his movements on the floor -- though you wonder how he sleeps like that at night, the layers of fabric confining him in his sleep.

Maybe it makes him feel safe.

"Can you grab the creamer from the fridge?" you ask, beginning to fill each cup from the pot. You leave a bit of space in each mug for the added components you both enjoy.

Everything is so still as you watch Bob stroll across the kitchen, grabbing the required item before padding back towards you. He gives you a small smile as you finish off both cups of coffee before handing his to him.

He cradles it in his hands as he looks at you. "You're up early."

"I always am." You take a sip, careful not to burn your tongue. "Any bad dreams?"

He shakes his head. "The nightmares aren't as frequent now. It's been easier."

Your mind goes back to when all of you first moved into the tower. It was the easiest way to go about things, being listed as the New Avengers. You all were in close proximity when needed, and even though Bob currently didn't go on missions, he still was around and had his own room just like everyone else. He liked to keep the place put together and cleaned up when the rest of you didn't have the time to. He told you once that it was because he finally had the motivation to do it after years of being in a daze.

You had been to his room several times over the months. It had become almost as familiar as your own to you, with books covering every surface.

(Most of them finished, as Bob did not like to buy a new one until he finished the previous.)

The nightmares were immediate in the beginnings of Bob's stay. It didn't come as a surprise. All of you had your own demons, as proven by the Void months ago, but something told you being stuck in his nightmares was a whole different beast.

You didn't want him to go through that alone.

It had started slow, you keeping him company on those nights. You couldn't stop the nightmares, but you could offer a break from them, an ease of the conscious. At some point it had transitioned into the sleeping in the room together, still keeping each other company but finally taking advantage of that much needed sleep when you both felt it coming on.

Then it turned into sleeping in the same bed. That was after one really bad night. Neither of you were sure what brought the nightmares on so strongly, but they hit you both and you ended up in each other's arms, begging the bad dreams to leave you be.

Eventually they did, and eventually you never left.

It wasn't exactly a relationship -- you weren't sure either of you were ready to label it as such, or even fully address that as an option. The signs were there, very much so, cradled in those shared nights and castaway nightmares, but the trauma bond was clear and neither of you wanted to base your entire future off of that.

"I didn't notice you leave the bed."

You grin. "You never do. You sleep like a log when you're peaceful." Another sip. "But seriously, no bad dreams after I got up?"

Sometimes when you were away on missions and Bob found himself alone in the bed, those nightmares came back. Sometimes he'd call you. Sometimes he wouldn't.

"Nothing. It was nice."

His hair falls into his eyes when he dips his head down to take a drink from his mug. He had got it cut after everyone moved into the Tower, a small trim to hold him over and to appease everyone as his hair got just a bit too shaggy. You liked it -- the length on top and the short bits on the side -- and thought it suited him better than what he awoke with in that room where he had been stored away.

You reach up to run your hand through it, Bob leaning into your touch. Your fingers slide across his short curls, gently straightening the bed head out.

Bob reaches up to cradle your hand in his, moving it down to press a kiss to your palm.

The kisses were a more recent thing, a testing of the boundaries. You and Bob had both gone without a real sort of relationship for so long that a lot of things were practically a new thing, an experiment. It was a way for you both to see how far you wanted to take things, and so far neither of you had said to stop.

"Got plans today?" you ask, careful not to let your coffee spill in your grasp as you push against him, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

A soft smile just for you. "Nothing that involves going out anywhere."

You scoff. "You never go out anyway."

"Not ready for that just yet."

You pull softly on the hair at the nape of his neck. "Wanna go watch a movie?"

He leans to brush a kiss to your cheek. "That all you want to do?"

You let out a laugh, pulling back from him when his lips run across your ear. His free arm snakes behind you and pulls you back to him. A few drops of coffee splatter between the two of you. "There's always more we can be doing."

"Nothing we don't want to, of course."

You smile wide as his arm squeezes your waist. "Of course."

[gf2bellamy]

Hello!

Can I please request Spencer being all cute and clingy and needy in the morning, right after he and the reader get up. Like she wants to get out of bed but he's just holding onto her and pouting because he wants to keep on cuddling and the both of them are just giggly?

sleepy — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: fluffy fluff a/n: hi hi !! this is so cute ( and i need this to happen to me actually </3 )

It had to be close to noon by now. You’d meant to get up hours ago, really, you had, but a certain someone had other plans.

Spencer had stirred briefly when you’d first tried to slide out of bed, murmuring something unintelligible against the back of your shoulder. But instead of letting you go, he’d only pulled you closer, his arms winding around your waist.

"Spence," you said again, your voice barely louder than a whisper.He didn’t answer, not with words anyway. But you felt the slight shift in his breathing, the way his fingertips brushed absentmindedly against your side.

Awake. Just stubborn.

You turned slightly, just enough to peek at him over your shoulder. The movement made your neck protest, but it was worth it.

He looked peaceful, ridiculously so. One arm slung across your stomach, the other tucked beneath his own head. His hair was a soft mess of curls, tousled and wild, a single lock falling right over his closed eye. And his mouth… he had the faintest pout as he slept, lips rounded and full.

You had to bite your lip to keep from grinning like an idiot.

The urge to kiss that pout away nearly overwhelmed you, but you forced yourself to behave. Barely. You knew if you leaned in, you’d never make it out of bed. Not for another hour. Maybe two. With a sigh, you turned back around, your head settling against the pillow again.

"We really should get up," you murmured, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

In response, Spencer only tightened his arms around you, his nose nudging against the back of your shoulder. He didn’t speak, morning words were always slow to come for him, but the way he curled closer, his knees slotting behind yours, was answer enough.

Not yet.

"Spencer, I'm pretty sure it’s like... noon," you said, your voice half-laced with amusement, half-exasperation.

That was when he finally spoke, voice low and rough with sleep: “So?”

You blinked, raising a brow, even though he couldn’t see it. “So?” you echoed, incredulous. You shifted slightly, attempting, once again, to escape the iron hold he had on your waist. And, once again, failing. Spectacularly. "Spencer, it’s late," you sighed, dragging out the words like you were trying to convince yourself just as much as him.

"Who cares?" he mumbled, his lips brushing lazily against your bare shoulder as he spoke. The kiss was barely more than a breath, but it made your heart skip anyway. At least he was awake enough to kiss you, you thought, amused. That had to count for something.

"Wow. Moody," you muttered under your breath.

"Not moody," he replied, still half-asleep, voice muffled as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck. "Just mad at you for trying to stop cuddling."

You felt his arms pull you even closer, which barely seemed possible considering you were already tangled together like a pair of vines. You smiled to yourself, letting your eyes flutter closed again for a moment.

"That’s not very professional of you, Dr. Reid," you teased softly.

He hummed in response. "Good thing I'm off duty, then."

You chuckled under your breath, reaching down to lightly trace your fingers over his hand where it rested on your waist. "You know we can't stay in bed all day, right?"

"Debatable," he said, clearly unbothered.

You shook your head, biting back another smile. He was impossible in the mornings. Impossible and adorable. And just maybe, you didn’t really mind being talked into staying a little longer.

Thirty minutes later, you counted, thirty full minutes of shifting, sighing, bribing, and attempting the impossible escape, you finally managed to sit up.

Victory.

Your back met the headboard with a soft thud as you exhaled, running a hand through your hair like you'd just finished a marathon. Beside you, Spencer had finally given in, though not gracefully. He was now upright too, but only barely, slouched low against the pillows with the blanket still tangled around his waist. His curls were sticking up in every direction, and there was the faintest crease on his cheek from where it had been pressed into the pillow.

And yes, he was pouting.

"Are you seriously upset with me?" you asked, glancing at him with a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.He didn’t answer right away. Just blinked at you slowly, clearly still not fully back on this planet. Sleep clung to him, warm and drowsy.

You nudged his thigh with your knee. "Spence."

He sighed dramatically, finally turning his head to look at you. His eyes were soft, still hazy with sleep, but his lips remained stubbornly pursed. You bit your lip to keep from laughing. He looked like a kid who’d just been told recess was over.

"You know I’m not actually mad," he mumbled, crossing his arms like that would help his case.

"Mmhmm," you said, clearly not convinced.

"I just..." He paused, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand before giving you a look that was equal parts sleepy and sincere. "You were warm. And you smell good. And I was having a dream where we were at this bookstore in Paris and you found this first edition of Les Misérables and you were so excited, and—”

You leaned over and kissed his cheek, effectively cutting off the ramble. He blinked at you, momentarily stunned into silence.

"That’s sweet," you said. "But you do know we have lives, right?"

He groaned and dropped his head back on the pillow, dramatic as ever. “Unfortunately.”

You looked down at him, lips twitching with amusement. His eyes were closed again, and, of course, the pout had returned, just a little more exaggerated this time. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“I just wanted to cuddle and dream of us being in Paris,” he mumbled, voice low and sleep-rough. “You took that away from me.”

You let out a reluctant sigh, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. It was hard to resist him when he was like this. Spencer’s lips twitched upward, a satisfied smile spreading across his face, even though his eyes remained closed. He knew he was getting what he wanted. He always did.

“You’re so clingy, you know that?” you muttered, though the words lacked any real bite.You were already scooting back down the bed, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his quiet, puppy-like persistence.

Spencer didn’t even try to hide his smile this time. His eyes stayed closed, but the grin that spread across his face was pure victory. Without missing a beat, he shuffled closer, all warmth and limbs, until his body was pressed against yours once again. His face tucked perfectly under your chin, his curls tickling your neck.

"You love it," he whispered smugly, voice muffled by your collarbone.

You rolled your eyes, but your fingers were already threading lazily through his hair, brushing that one stubborn curl off his forehead. “Yeah, yeah.”

You couldn’t really argue with that logic. After all, you didn’t mind the clinginess, especially when it came with the comfort of him just being close.His hand slid across your waist as he melted into you, warm and content. He sighed, clearly pleased with the way things were turning out.

You couldn’t help but smile. Despite his dramatics, you wouldn’t want him any other way.

[studioeisa]

is it casual now? (teaser) 🫀 seungcheol x reader.

★ seungcheol x makeup artist!f!reader. ★ teaser word count: ~8,000 ★ genre/warnings: mdni. 18+ content. situationship/friends with benefits, light angst, use of pet name ('love'). soft dom!seungcheol, making out, biting/marking, protected sex. let me know if i missed anything! ★ footnotes: this has been on my backburner for months. it's admittedly a full-blown story in need of hard editing, and so i'm posting this in hopes of bullying myself into working on the whole thing. should it come down to it, though, i like to think this can stand on its own. enjoy. <3

Seungcheol has been in the industry long enough to know that everybody had vices.

Trainees, rookies, veterans. It didn't matter. There were dangerous, risky vices. Alcohol, drugs, smoking. There was dating, too, of course. Dating fans, dating fellow idols.

Seungcheol didn't do drugs. He smoked socially, but he would rather not. And he drank, sure, but never to an unhealthy amount. Dating, however—

Did it really count when there was only really ever one person he treated like a vice?

You've been in his life since the group debuted. Nine years, give or take. And then, at one point, he just... tried something with you. And it clicked, fell into place, and now you've been sneaking around for the better half of three years. It's the one place Seungcheol feels like he can breathe, can get away. But it's also the biggest secret he's kept.

You're his makeup artist, after all.

When the two of you started off, you both insisted on nothing serious. To 'keep it casual'.

That worked perfectly for Seungcheol. He likes to think it's still working for him, as he raps at the door of your apartment and waits for you to open up. His wristwatch says that it's midnight, but it doesn't matter. He knocks a little louder, growing a touch impatient.

You open the door, and you're greeted with Seungcheol looking reproachful. "Yah," he chides. "Why haven't you been answering my texts?"

When you rub your eyes with the back of your hands and look over your shoulder to glimpse at your wall clock, Seungcheol almost feels apologetic. Almost. “Cheol,” you say exasperatedly, slowly. “It’s the middle of the night.” 

"So you were sleeping then, hmm?" Seungcheol says. The corner of his lips tilt up, just slightly. He leans against the doorframe, taking a brief amount of time to glance you over. As he does, a small wave of tiredness finally washes over him— just how late had he kept himself up working on new music? "I sent you texts hours ago."

"You didn't even read them." He reaches up, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He sighs, the sound almost exaggerated. "How cruel of you."

You let out a low hum at Seungcheol’s fingers brushing against your skin. “Mmm, I fell asleep with my phone in my hand,” you admit, the words coming out more like a soft sigh than anything else.

You seem to finally drag yourself out of your sleepy state to give Seungcheol a once-over. He knows it shows all over— the exhaustion in his eyes, his stance. He’s tired, and you can tell. You’ve always been able to tell. 

You step aside a bit and he takes that as his cue. Seungcheol moves past you, a small hum in the back of his throat. He toes off his shoes and shuts the door behind him with a soft click. In spite of himself, the moment he's inside, he reaches for you. 

One arm is loosely slung over your shoulders, pulling you in close. He rests his chin on your shoulder, the tip of his nose against your neck.

"You fell asleep..." he gripes. "Do you know how many texts I sent you? I sent five.” 

“Five”” you repeat as you bear Seungcheol’s weight. Your hand instinctively raises to stroke the base of his hair behind his neck, and he thinks he could melt then and there— your soothing touch, your light tone. “Oh, how ever will you live?”

Seungcheol huffs into the crook of your neck. The feel of your fingers in his hair does wonders to combat the tired, stressed part of himself. Slowly, his shoulders relax, and he sighs, the sound long and deep.

"Don't get snarky with me," he mutters. But there's no bite to it at all, just a quiet sense of contentment in his voice. "You could've at the very least read the messages." He moves, presses a kiss to your neck. "Would've taken ten seconds."

“I was asleep,” you protest, but— whether or not you notice— your head is tilting around a bit to press a lingering kiss on to the side of his face.Seungcheol's stomach flutters. You're sweet like that. Always have been, always will be. He hums under his breath at the kiss, his hand that's on your shoulder moves up to cup your cheek.

“That’s my penance,” you say drowsily. 

"One kiss isn't nearly enough," he tells you. 

He pulls back from your shoulder to look at you, now. The eye contact, the way he regards you, has a more focused weight. He takes a moment to look you over again— hair mussed, face still flushed faintly from sleep. "Two,” he says in a tone that brokers no argument. 

“Greedy,” you mumble, but both of you know it doesn’t matter. 

Not when your free hand finds purchase at his side and you use your fingers in his hair to pull him down so you don't have to stand on your tiptoes. Not when you press your lips together into a kiss that's soft and sweet, almost sleepy.

All it takes is the sound of your voice for Seungcheol to be pulled in— when you tug at his hair, he follows, his chest against yours. He bends down, his own hands coming up to the sides of your face.

He melts against your mouth, his eyes closing in an instant. But it’s done as quickly as it started. You pull away, your face still inches away from Seungcheol’s, as you smilingly mumble to him, “There. Two kisses.” 

His eyes open again once you pull away, his grip on your face tightening just slightly. "Three," he mutters back, and then he leans back in. 

You hum against his mouth, the sound breaking free from the back of your throat. You’re both so tired from your respective work and it shows in the kiss. No heat, no fire. Your tongue swiping over his lip makes Seungcheol hum, quiet and low in his throat. He's usually so used to being the one who takes control, making the first move, but here with you, in the early hours of the morning— there's something else to it.

He pulls you closer against him, his hands moving down to your hips. Against your mouth, he murmurs, "Four," before his tongue slips in, just to get a taste. Just to linger, just to savor, but not take over.

“Cheol,” you huff, though your reprimand is tempered by the way Seungcheol is intent on keeping the kiss going. “You’re— mmph— being greedy—” 

"Five—" he sighs against your mouth. "Let me be greedy a second more."

One of his hands moves to the back of your head, fingers tangling up in your hair. This is what he likes, this is what he always comes to you for. Something that's simple. This, he can deal with. This, he can handle.

It’s never a second more with Seungcheol. He’s always out the door when he can go, when he has to. He’s never been a glutton for time, and so it’s enough for you to sense that something is wrong. 

You break away from him. 

Seungcheol has to resist a whine when you pull back, his eyes fluttering open in a daze. Your hand has moved to his face and you’re looking up at him with a small frown and a quiet query. “Long week?” 

He lets your question hang in the air for a moment, the hand in your hair loosening its grip, fingers just idly combing through the strands.

He glances at your face— the furrow of your brow, the hint of concern in your eyes— and it makes him sigh. He turns his head to press a soft, quick kiss to your palm.

"Long year," he corrects.

You look like you want to say more. Seungcheol almost begs you not to. This— whatever the two of you have— it’s an outlet that won’t break him, won't ruin him, won't tarnish him or the group's name. He just wants— he needs—

You know exactly what he needs, even if he doesn’t always know himself. “How do you want your fifth kiss?” you ask instead of commenting on his obvious fatigue. 

Your question makes Seungcheol's head empty out in an instant.

It takes him a moment to think, to consider. His mind, hazy and tired as it is, struggles to come up with an adequate answer. All he knows is that he's comfortable, that he's tired, that you're here. And that's all he really needs, in the end.

He lets his hand fall from your hair, to the nape of your neck. "... Soft," he murmurs. "Soft and easy."

You’re back up on your tiptoes to give him what he asked for. A sweet, slow press of your lips against his. It’s a kiss that lovers give each other, even though you’re the furthest from that. 

It's easy, easy, easy for him to fall into the kiss just like that, a shudder running down his spine when your tongue doesn't invade him. It's sweet, it's chaste, it's simple. It's exactly the kind of kiss he needs after a week of work.

His hand on your neck moves to your cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin there. He breaks away for a mere second, a fraction of a beat, to catch his own breath, but he kisses you right back after. 

"Six," he whispers desperately. "Again."

This time, you laugh against his mouth— a slightly muffled sound, not any less amused— but you give in, still. When you separate for air again, one of your hands rests on his chest to keep him away. “You have to let me breathe, Cheol,” you huff. 

Seungcheol has to resist groaning outright when your palm on his chest keeps him from coming in for another kiss. You're adorable like this, in the middle of the night, with sleep in your eyes and annoyance in your voice.

He knows he's being needy, taking advantage, but at the same time? It's all he seems to be able to do. Greedy, he hears you call him, and it's true.

"I'll let you breathe when I get my seventh kiss, then," he grumbles.

He can see the annoyance blooming on your expression, but he’s saved by one thing and one thing alone: The fact that you can get pretty greedy sometimes, too, especially when Seungcheol was involved. 

"Fine," you say haughtily, feigning annoyance. "Just one more kiss."

Seungcheol's eyes glimmer with something akin to mischief. His hands move to your face again, his own lips curving up in a smirk. You give him an inch, he wants a mile. It's his style. "One more kiss. That I can work with."

He brushes a thumb over your cheek again, his grip in your hair loosening only to brush some stray strands away from your face. "Only fair that I get to pick the way, then," he says, his tone low.

He's going to make the most of this opportunity, and you're letting him.

His tongue darts out briefly to lick over his bottom lip. "Open your mouth."

When you let out a noncommittal hom and oblige, parting your lips, he knows he’s gone. Seeing the obedience in your face makes Seungcheol's stomach do a little bit of an excited flip. You're like this, this, even when you're tired, when you're barely awake.

It's a little addicting.

"Good," he says softly. It's all the warning you get before he's got his mouth on yours again.

He kisses you— devours you, his tongue parting your lips, sliding into your mouth, taking. The kiss is almost bruising and seems to throw you off balance, but you quickly recover by pressing flush against Seungcheol and holding the sides of his arms. If he were a better person, Seungcheol would let this be the last one. Would let this kiss end and call it a night. 

But then the smallest of sounds escape you. A whimper, a soft noise that only makes all sense fly right out of Seungcheol's head. It's not fair, he thinks, that you still have a hold on him even in the middle of the night.

All it makes him do is pull you closer— press you up against the wall with his entire body, his hands still gripping your face as he kisses you deep. Harder than he usually would, rougher than he normally did.

He swallows the sound, his tongue still in your mouth.

Your fingernails are pressing into his biceps now. Your tongue is sinking into his lower lip; not quite biting, but enough to drag his focus away for a moment. "Seung," you sigh, and it’s like music to his goddamn ears. 

He was Choi or Seungcheol when he was in your makeup chair. Cheol, when it was just the two of you. But Seung was something different entirely. 

A small moan, low and quiet, gets caught in Seungcheol's throat when you bite into his lip, when you whine out his name like that. He knows what it means when you call him like that— knows what he's in for.

He relishes in it. In moments like these when he gets to be like this. When he doesn't have to be responsible, when he doesn't have to be a leader. He gets to be just Seung.

There isn't a single part of his body that's not on fire right now, not when he's got you pinned against the wall, not when you're all satin and soft against him. His grip on your face tightens, and now his lips are no longer on your mouth, but on your jaw, moving down to your neck, your throat.

A quiet, needy little ah falls out your lips when he nips at that spot on your pulse point, and there, there is exactly when he knows that he's got you exactly where he wants you. Pinned by his body, shaking and shivering like he's touching you for the first time.

If he was feeling a little less riled up, a little less needy, he'd keep up the teasing. But he can't, not now. His hands move from your face to your hips, moving under the satin of your pajamas. It's not enough, never enough.

Every sound that leaves your mouth, every little please, just, already sets a fire in his brain. Every part of his mind turns to static, white noise, as he keeps his lips on your throat, your neck, biting and nipping at your skin.

“Seung,” you hiss, your hands flying to his shoulders as you press your back on to the entryway wall, willing yourself not to crumple. “I’m going to get a noise complaint again—”

“I'll pay the fine,” he murmurs against your skin, his lips against your collarbone now, his hands still on your hips. His brain is starting to grow fuzzy, his thoughts less coherent, but this was the goal.

To get you like this. Soft and shaking and desperate. To make you his for the night, for just a little while. To hold some sort of control over something in his life.

“You can't just keep paying for— ah— the fines,” you’re babbling. “They're going— t-to kick me— Seung, fuck!"

Whatever you’re trying to say dies out when Seungcheol nips at your warm skin. The rational part of him, somewhere deep, deep inside, knows that you're right. He can't keep paying your fines for complaints of loud music and loud sex.

The part of him that's currently working on painting a bruise on your collarbone doesn't seem to care all that much.

"I'll pay," he repeats, between leaving a few more marks on your skin for good measure. "As many times as I have to—"

“Jesus Christ,” you cuss, your chest heaving as Seungcheol’s hand moves higher and higher up your shirt. “My neighbors are so fucking sick of me, and it’s all your fault.”

“My fault?” Even through the haze in his head, Seungcheol can't help the low scoff that he lets out. He wants to say that he couldn't care less about your neighbors— wants to say that your pretty mouth makes up for the noise, but something else catches his attention. The brush of his fingers on bare skin. 

His eyes go wide, his brain suddenly clearing.

"You're not wearing anything underneath your pajamas," he deadpans, his voice coming out in a low drawl.

Of course, that adds up. You hadn’t been expecting Seungcheol, after all, so he can’t blame you for foregoing the underclothes. Still, it only stokes the growing flame in the base of his stomach. Especially when you move your head back against the wall so you’re looking right up at Seungcheol, the ghost of a smirk on your face. 

“Wanna check for yourself?” you taunt. 

A low groan falls out of Seungcheol's mouth as soon as you ask that. Like clockwork, his hands go to the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric up slightly. Just a little bit, just to see if you're really not wearing anything beneath.

"You always like to tease," he says, his voice low. That hint of a smirk on your face is only serving to drive him that much crazier. "Go on, then. Show me, since you want to act all cocky."

You give him half an eye roll that’s more affectionate than anything else before reaching over to the back of your pajama collar. You pull the top over your head in one deft, swift movement. Seungcheol's eyes go wide for just a moment, taking in the sight of you, undressed, in front of him. It never stops shocking him, never stops making his heart thump a little harder, his breath coming out a little more labored.

“Happy?” you half-joke, your voice low. 

He looks at you, up and down, before his eyes go back to your face. His hands move from your hips to your waist, fingers tracing over the sides of your chest as he shakes his head.

"Not yet," he says. "But I will be."

His hands keep tracing over your skin, his touch light— almost feathery, as he keeps his eyes fixed on your face. There's something about seeing you so exposed like this that's driving him absolutely insane, something about you being entirely at his mercy that's making his eyes grow dark.

He leans in, bringing his lips just past your ear. "Turn around," he murmurs, almost like a command.

He sees how you swallow hard, how you take in the familiar darkness in Seungcheol’s gaze. You know him, have known him for years, and that comes with trust. Unflinchingly, you twist around in his arms to press your chest against the wall. 

He has you practically trapped, all against his chest and the wall. His eyes look at you up and down, taking in your bare shoulders and back, the way you've submitted to him so perfectly.

His hands go to your hips again, and his eyes look over your back, following the line of your bare spine. "What do you say we find a use for this wall besides me just pushing you up against it," he murmurs. "Hm?"

“Yes, please,” you whimper, and as soon as you agree, Seungcheol's hands tighten on your hips, his grip almost bruising as he pulls you a little closer to him. You're not going anywhere, not when he's got you like this.

He leans in, his body practically pressing up against your back, his chest against your skin. He bites down on your shoulder, pulling a strangled whine out from somewhere deep in your throat. "You look so goddamn pretty like this, love," he murmurs against your skin.

His hands move from your hips to your chest, tracing the skin there before he brings them up to your throat. He presses his fingers against your pulse point, feeling the thump thump thump of your heartbeat.

He can feel your heart thrumming against his hand, can practically hear you shaking. It's driving him absolutely insane— you, underneath him, trembling for him. The knowledge that he's got you like this, the fact that you're letting him take control, letting him do whatever he wants.

He moves his mouth to that spot on your neck again, the skin that's so sensitive that it makes you whimper and shiver. He always finds it so easy to tease those sounds out of you, and always relishes in doing it.

His hands stay at your neck, his fingers still pressed against your pulse point. This had always been one of Seungcheol's little habits— a single finger on your pulse point, as if he liked seeing which actions would make your heart rate spike, which words would have it hammering.

Seungcheol presses his lips on your skin again. "You're so loud."

He marvels at the way you ball your hands into fists, the way you shake all over with poorly concealed want and need as he keeps nipping and marking. "‘M not," you gasp, lurching forward against the wall. "‘M perfectly— hng!"

Everything is working in his favor.

You're shaking, and your heart is racing, and every noise you make is just more fodder for him. God, he loves it. Loves being the one to make you absolutely tremble and shiver like this. Loves the fact that he's the only one to make you feel like this.

"You're mine," he says again, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He bites the shell of it, hard, before letting out a low hum.

This is his favorite place in the entire world— right against your back, feeling your body heat against his chest, his tongue running over your skin. He loves how reactive you are to him, how sensitive you are, how your body just melts under his touch.

"Say it," he mutters against your skin. "Who's in control?"

There it is. The million won question.

The whole reason you started these rendezvouses in the first place. He had been spinning out of control, and you had been lonely, and you clicked into place like magnets. 

You give in, like you always do. The words are a soft whimper, almost a shout in your otherwise empty apartment. "You. You're in control, Seung."

That's all he wants to hear.

He digs his fingers into your jaw and wrenches your head so it's turned to look at him, his lips inches from yours. Even if there's a little pain, nothing in him is stopping. "Good," he mutters, his breath hot against your lips. "Good girl."

The kiss that follows is absolutely messy, the kind of kiss where it's just tongue and teeth and raw need. It's worlds different from the soft and easy kisses that Seungcheol asked for earlier, when he first came in complaining about five unanswered texts.

"Seung," you groan as you pull away for air. "Please—" 

When you moan his name, it's like something snaps.

He growls low, his fingers slipping into the waistband of your shorts, gripping the fabric hard enough that there's a very real chance of them ripping. "Please what?" he mumbles against your neck. "You need to tell me what you need, love. Use your words."

"I hate you," you whine, and Seungcheol nearly smiles. He knows you’re not fond of begging, but he needs to hear it from you. At least, he wants to. 

"You know what I—" you’re saying, but dammit, his control is already razor thin as is. He rips off the last fabric of clothing on you until you’re completely bare, pressed entirely up between the wall and him. 

Somehow, your mind still has some shrivel of coherence to complain, "I liked this set, asshole!"

He grins against your skin at your words, chuckling at your whine, at the way you're just reacting to him. You can act annoyed, you can act like you don't need him, but he knows. "I'll buy you a new one," he hums, finally letting go of your shorts and letting them fall to the floor in tatters. "One for me to rip to shreds all over again."

That thought alone makes his blood sing.

It takes you a great effort to turn around, but somehow you manage. Seungcheol is still fully clothed and so your bare chest presses against the front of his shirt. The sight of you, naked, his hands at your hips, pressed right up against him, against his chest like this— he's gone.

And then you’re asking him, low and sweet as he has you caged in, "Where are you going to fuck me tonight, Seung?"

He can't even manage a word for a moment, his hands holding you so tight that he's definitely going to leave marks on your skin, his eyes fixed on your face.

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry at the question. "You want me to say it out loud, hm?"

You go to steal the upper hand for a minute or so, and you do it so effectively. Your hand rises almost lazily to his neck, your finger instinctively finding his pulse point. He feels his heart rate speed up as he watches, just watches, you do it. You stand on your tiptoes to raise your lips directly to his ear. 

All he can feel is the thunder of his heart racing against your hand. You seem to notice it, too, if the smile on your face is any indication. 

"How about you just show me instead?" you say, and he’s convinced he’ll pass out then and there. 

"You're a brat," he mutters through gritted teeth, his hand moving up from your hips and up your spine. "A brat who needs to be taught a lesson."

He takes a shuddering breath, almost completely lost in your little game, before he snaps back to himself. Seungcheol's hand leaves your hip and goes to your hand, gripping your wrist hard. "On the sofa," he says, and it’s nothing short of a command. 

He practically drags you on to the piece of furniture, watching intently as you fall back with a small oomph. Seungcheol stands on the edge of the couch as you prop yourself up by the elbows to watch him right back. 

The sight of you underneath him— your hair splayed against the cushions, your eyes half-lidded and fixed on him? It's absolutely perfect. It's the kind of thing that he wants to keep in his mind forever, the sight he wants to always be able to remember.

He lets out a noise under his breath as he undoes the button of his jeans, the sound of the zipper going down obscenely loud in the quiet room. "Gorgeous,” he breathes. 

He gets his jeans undone and kicked off, his shirt following them not long after, and then he's on top of you, caging you in, his hands either side of your head, staring down at you.

The look in his eyes isn't something he really gets to show often— that raw need, that want, how desperate he is for you. He wants you, God, he wants you so badly, and you're letting him have you.

He dips his head to your neck, his lips against your skin, his breath hot against your pulse point, still absolutely obsessed with that spot. His hands find your wrists, pinning them back against the couch, while his knee finds its way between your thighs, pressing up against you.

You arch and squirm underneath him, visibly distressed with the facsimile of friction that you’re getting from his knee. “Seung,” you pant, grinding your dripping core against his knee. It sends a jolt of electricity through him. “Please— don’t wanna wait any more—”

“Where’s all that snark now, hm?” he teases, his teeth running over the skin on your neck. But he’s not any better off, his own self-control slipping through his very fingers as his hips grind down against you desperately. 

"Been driving me insane, love," he whispers, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your neck. "Been dreaming about this for days. Missing you—” 

A low keen escapes you, and he can only echo it as you tug at the last piece of material separating you. “Can we get this off already, please?” you huff as you hook your fingers at the waistband of his boxer shorts. 

He groans against your skin, his teeth finally letting go when he lifts his head to look down at you, the expression on his face looking like he's fighting for control. "God, yes," he groans, lifting his hips just enough for you to tug them off him.

He kicks them off once you’ve yanked them down, and his hand— which has instinctively gravitated to your pulse point— feels how the beat absolutely skyrockets. One of your arms goes around his shoulder and the other, surprisingly, clutches his jaw.

You’re looking right at him as you say, "Fast and hard, Seung."

"Yeah?" he says, just the slightest hint of a surprise in his voice. "You want me to be rough with you, love?"

Seungcheol was usually a sweet lover. He liked taking his time, liked being gentle and responsible even in bed.

But there were particularly rough weeks, terrible days, where he just needed a means to an end. Where the sex was an outlet, where the best thing you could be for him was his. 

He waits for your permission, because he still always remembers to ask no matter how far deep you’re in. The agreement comes in the form of the best three words. 

"Ruin me, Seung."

You know him too well. You know how he works, you know how he thinks, and you know him better than anyone.

He groans in response to your words, his head dipping down to drag his teeth gently over your collarbone. He's trying to hang on to his control, he is, but it's a losing effort.

"I will, love." His breath is hot against your skin, his hands finding your hips. "Just give me a minute—"

He shifts, just for a moment, to find the condom in his jean pocket. He goes through the motions until he's back on top of you again, one hand coming up to grip your hip again, the other coming up to rest against your throat. He looks down at you, his eyes almost glowing. 

"You trust me?" he mutters. His hand at your hip tightens; his hand at your throat barely clenches around your pulse point, his eyes never leaving yours.

You can feel it, see it. The way the little threads are beginning to unravel and fray. The way this was no longer Seungcheol of SEVENTEEN; not the leader, not the idol. This was something different entirely, someone else completely.

"I do," you whisper back, your eyes so full of adoration for him that he has to bite back the urge to scream. "I trust you, Seungcheol."

His full name is what really does it for him, because then he's pushing in, and you’re gasping, whimpering, trying to adjust around him and the fact that you’re practically clenching him on the get-go. Seungcheol eases in, nice and slow, because you’re too tightly coiled for him to do more than carefully bottom out. You’re both heaving, your breaths coming out as gasps; your own breaths are sharp, harsh, because Seungcheol is still choking you a little. 

His head dips down to your shoulder because he needs something to hold on to, anything, while his mind spins. His head is dizzy feeling you like this, feeling you around him so tightly. He's trembling, his thighs shaking, but he's holding himself back as long as he can.

When Seungcheol gets as far in as he can possibly get, you let out twin groans. He’s completely sheathed inside of you and you’re fluttering around him in a way that’s dangerous. 

“Y’can move, Seung,” you reassure him after a moment, the words coming out strained with desire. “As fast and hard as you want.” 

You sound strangled, just like he feels, and it's taking him a mammoth amount of control to hold himself back. He groans against your shoulder at the sound of your voice, the words you say. He wants to move, to thrust, but he's trying to have some semblance of composure. 

"Love," he says, his voice wrecked. "I—"

His voice breaks. It breaks, because there is only so much he can take, and he's beyond that point now. There's a tremor in his thighs, his hands clenching in the cushion below you.

You drag him right back down, with the sound that you let out that’s halfway a whine and a sigh. One of your hands goes to rest in the space between Seungcheol’s shoulder blades, as if to steady the two of you. 

Your voice is surprisingly firm when you speak. "Let go," you command. And then, softer, "I need you."

Your words, your voice— it's in complete conflict with the situation you're currently in. And yet, it works. He lets out a sound, one that's somewhere between a growl and a whimper, his breath hot against your skin. And then he's moving and he's holding nothing back.

He's hard, brutal, and he's taking. His teeth on your shoulder; his breath against your neck; his nails digging into you.

It's a relentless, dizzying pace. Seungcheol bullies into your weeping cunt, fast and hard, and it draws out the most obscene sounds from you. Gasps, whines, an occasional scream when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. What has him seeing stars is the fact that you can't seem to settle on a name to moan. "Seung— Seungcheol— Cheol—"

Yes, you're saying, yes.

Seungcheol loses himself, utterly and completely, in you. You're on the edge, he can hear it; he can feel it, and God, he wants to hear you say his name. Every single one of them. 

It almost sounds like a mantra, your voice, as he takes and takes and takes, his breathing harsh, ragged.

You go through all of the names you have for him, breathless and wrecked, until you can't even say anything because his hips are snapping into you with a ferocity that's rare but not unwelcome. Your pornographic moans reverberate in your otherwise empty apartment, and Seungcheol thinks he might go insane. 

"'M close," you choke out. "Cheollie, baby, I'm— ah, fuck— Seung—"

His breath catches at your words, his eyes closing for a moment as he groans. You, you, in all your perfect, glorious, undone state. It’s a sight he wishes he could capture, freeze in time.

He lets out a whimper, his words almost slurred when he responds. "Love— I—"

He's never been this rough, never this intense. You're the only one, the only person he's ever let himself go like this with. The only person who he's ever let see everything, take everything.

He's on the edge, he's there, he's—

"C'mon," he whines, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand clenching hard around your hip. "With me, love, please."

It's a miracle that you can even nod, can even find your voice as Seungcheol keeps on going with his erratic, stuttering thrusts. "With you," you gasp. 

He snaps into you, then, and you arch up with a scream of his name. There’s the familiar white-hot flash of pleasure; the impossibly tight clench of your walls around him.

He stays buried in you for several long moments, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his heart pounding so hard he can feel it in his ears. He has never felt so utterly spent in his entire life, never been so completely, utterly drained of energy. He's weak against you. He’s weak because of you. 

"God," he finally manages to mutter.

He lifts his head, just enough to be able to look at you, but he can't even muster a grin. He's spent and he knows you know that.

His hand comes up slightly, to brush the hair off of your forehead. "I think..." he says, his voice thick and hoarse, "I think I ruined you, love."

You let out a breathless laugh, one that you have to push out of your heaving chest. "You—" you try to say, but the words don't form, not at first. You take a few moments to take in some air, to gulp past the lump in your throat. "You're a fool."

His lips twitch into a tired but genuine smile at the sound of your laugh. It’s a soft sound that he's always thought sounds beautiful, especially coming from you.

A hoarse, broken laugh of his own escapes; his hand coming up to rest at your jawline, his thumb gently tracing over the warm skin there. He's still catching his breath, but he's slowly gathering himself.

"Am I a fool?" he asks quietly, leaning his forehead against yours. "What does that make you, then?"

You’re a fool, too, he thinks to himself. For letting me have this. 

Instead of answering him, you press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. It’s the only answer he’s going to get from you for now, it seems. 

He lets out a soft huff, moving his head back just slightly, his eyes closing. "You're beautiful, you know that?" he says quietly, his voice still rough with fatigue.

"Every time," you respond. Your own voice is strained, almost tired, but there's a hint of amused exasperation. "You say that every time, Cheol."

His eyes opened once again to look at you.

"Because it's true," he says simply, his voice soft and sincere, the hand resting at your jaw moving to brush your hair back from your face. "It's always true, love."

He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes tracing over your face, taking in every inch of you. His eyes pause at your lips for a moment, his tongue gently wetting his own, his gaze finally moving back up to meet your eyes.

You thread your shaking fingers through the back of his hair and answer his unspoken question. "Kiss me soft and easy, Cheol," you whisper.

The moment the words leave your mouth, he's in action.

He leans forward without a second thought, the hand not buried in your hair going to rest on your hip, his lips meeting yours in a soft, gentle kiss.

There's no heat in it, no want or need. Just a soft press of his lips against yours, gentle and slow. 

It's languid and unhurried. Like there's nowhere either of you have to be after this. For a moment, you can pretend that this is normal— that Seungcheol will not have to leave, and that you’ll not have to change into new pajamas because he'd broken yours, and that you can be... well, something, anything aside from what you are now.

But it's wishful thinking, you both know, so all Seungcheol can do is kiss you. He lets out a soft sound, almost a sigh, as his tongue slides into your mouth, his hand on your hip tightening slightly. His other hand is in your hair still, his fingers gently tracing over your scalp, his body almost melting against yours.

He will have to leave. He always does. But for now, he's here, with you, and you feel perfect, and—

Five minutes, he bargains. Five more minutes.

And then things end, not really by your own accord.

The sharp, shrill sound of Seungcheol's phone ringing breaks through your haze. You pull away, a bit jolted at the foreign sound— at something other than your words, your breathing, reverberating in the room. It takes you a beat too long to realize someone is calling him— his phone in his discarded jeans— in the godawful middle of the night. 

He lets out a loud groan, the sound tired and drawn out, and he can't help but rest his forehead against your shoulder once again, letting out a resigned sigh.

"God, save me," he mutters, his voice rough. "What time is it?"

You chuckle lightly. "Go on," you urge softly, not because you want to but because you have to. "Answer."

Seungcheol lets out another loud, drawn out sigh, his shoulders slumping in obvious defeat. He reluctantly lifts his head from your shoulder with a grumble, but he can't quite stop himself from pressing a kiss to your cheek just before he shifts up and off of the couch.

Once he’s reached down to grab his phone from where it's stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, he answers without looking at the caller ID. "Yeah?"

"Hyung!"

It's Soonyoung— of course it's Soonyoung— calling.

"Are you still at the company?" the younger member asks. "I think I forgot my headset in one of the practice rooms, and Minghao said you didn't go home with them."

"It's midnight, Soonyoung." 

You shit over on the couch, careful not to make any sound. Not to give Soonyoung any suspicion that Seungcheol might be somewhere where he shouldn't be. You press a small, reassuring kiss to Seungcheol's hip as Soonyoung goes on to whine, "Yeah, yeah, I know. But it's the expensive headset, hyung. If you're still there, could you check? Please?"

Seungcheol lets out a huff— a mixture of resigned affection and irritation— at the feeling of your lips against his skin. He can feel the exhaustion deep within his bones now, and all he wants to do is go back to snuggling into you for the night.

But he can't say no to Soonyoung, especially not at this time of night.

"Fine," he grumbles, letting out a huff. "Which practice room?"

You can hear the moment Soonyoung practically brightens with triumph.

"Third floor!" he says happily, and you bury your face into Seungcheol's side to keep yourself from laughing. "You're the best, hyung! I'll buy you a meal tomorrow for the trouble!"

He reaches down with the hand not holding his phone, pressing his palm to the top of your head, pushing lightly down. A warning of don't laugh. "Just be thankful I'm your hyung, kid," Seungcheol grouses.

Soonyoung ends the call soon enough, saying some things about sending Seungcheol a photo of his headset so he knows exactly which one is missing. When it's back to just the two of you again, you tilt your head up to look at Seungcheol. 

"You're really going back for it tonight?" you ask, even though you already know the answer. 

The corner of his lip twitches into a half smile at the way you look up at him. His eyes takein the sight of you— his hand on the back of your head, his fingers gently twisting strands of your hair.

"Of course I am," he sighs. "I can't say no to him, love."

You shift upward so you can sit side by side with Seungcheol. Both of you have yet to put on any clothes, but you’ve at least gathered your bearings enough to form coherent words now.

"You can't say 'no' to any of them," you tease as you press a gentle kiss to his cheek. There's an almost blinding affection in your tone as you say, "You and your goddamn boys."

Seungcheol reaches out, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you closer to him. Briefly, he presses his lips against your hair. His eyes are almost tender as he speaks.

"They're my boys," he says, his voice soft.

You let the words hang there for just a moment. It’s an admission, one that both of you have known for the longest time, but it's also a reminder. It’s the reason why you and Seungcheol can never be more than this—because he has his boys, and he would never do anything to jeopardize them.

You press your face against the column of his neck for just one more precious moment. You’ve never been selfish about Seungcheol, but there were nights when you thought about it. Just… thought about it.

The thought never wins.

"Let’s clean up, get dressed," you whisper into his skin. "So you can head to the company sooner."

He lets out a soft, almost painful exhale. He knows what you're thinking, what you're feeling; he's thought about it himself, as well. He hates having to leave you, hates having to say that he has to leave you. But his boys are his boys, and one day all this will be over, and then...

He can't think about it right now, though.

Instead, he nods, pressing a light kiss to your temple. "Yeah."

It takes about ten minutes or so for you both to gather everything together. Seungcheol still looks tired, though for different reasons now. He’s essentially traded one exhaustion for another.

As he puts on the shoes he left in your entryway, you lean against your doorway with your arms crossed over your chest. "I’ll be holding you accountable for my pajama set," you warn him. "And for tomorrow’s noise complaint."

"Yeah, yeah," he huffs, taking a step toward you. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten."

His face softens as he reaches you, his hands coming up to grab your elbows, gently pulling you closer to him. "Sorry," he says. "Again."

 "You’re not sorry, " you sigh pointedly, more out of spite than anything. It’s the truth—he’s not really that apologetic about losing control every now and then, about your neighbors knowing you’re being pulled close every so often.

When you bury your face into his chest, he lets out a low, gruff chuckle, his chin resting gently against the top of your head. His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against him, just like every single time before.

"You’re right," he murmurs. A quiet, affectionate admission. “Not sorry. Not even a little.”

He holds you there against him, his eyes fluttering shut as he allows himself just a few more moments before he has to leave. You both stay there, allowing yourselves that moment, until the tension in Seungcheol’s shoulders fades and your annoyance at your torn pajamas ebbs. It could’ve been five minutes, maybe less, but then Seungcheol’s phone pings with a text—surely Soonyoung asking if he’s found his headset.

You’re the one who takes the step back, putting some distance between you. "Drive safe," you tell Seungcheol. "Text me when you’re there."

Resigned. That’s the only way to describe the smile that tugs at his lips. "Yeah," he says. "I will."

True to his word, Seungcheol does indeed send you a text about an hour or so after he'd arrived at the company, informing you that he was there and had found Soonyoung’s headset.

He's still exhausted, and all he wants is to be back. Back inside of you, back with you. But he can't do any of that. At least, not right now. Not at this point.

I miss you already, is the only other thing he adds to his text.

Your text comes in only moments later, like you had been waiting by your phone. 

you're a fool. head home. take care.

A soft sigh escapes him the moment he reads your text, his eyes flickering over the words you'd typed, the harshness of it. It's another layer of protection for the both of you, but it's still not easy to read.

He's about to respond with something snarky, some light-hearted joke to tease you a bit, but he stops himself at the last moment. He knows that you're right.

He needs to head home. He needs to take care.

And he’s an absolute goddamn fool, in more ways than one. 

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐓𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞… || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ Joel and you find comfort while going back to Jackson and after killing Nora, Ellie overhears Jesse and Tommy telling Dina that you and Joel might be alive.

warnings_ age gap (late 20s/joel’s age in s2), pregnant!reader, angst, fluff, fallacy references, canon divergence, SHORT PART,no proofreading

Notes_ next week we’ll get so many joel crumbs omg

「 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫: 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 」

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 Pedro

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ———୨ৎ───୨ৎ

Wrong.

“What do you mean wrong? I’ve been trying for two fucking goddamn hours?” Ellie yells tiredly, throwing her hands out in disbelief.

“Because yer hand is still too rigid,” Joel answers her, taking the guitar off her hands.

“I’m not done for today!”

“Yeah, I think you are.” Ellie turns to see you standing in the door, baby Cerise snuggling in the crook of your neck.

Ellie smiled at the sight of you, fresh out of the shower, your hair wet and wearing a tank top and sweatpants.

“When did you get home?” The girl asked.

“Maybe half an hour ago,” you say, entering the room.

“Darlin’… stop being sneaky,” Joel says.

He stands up to greet you with a kiss and then grabs Cerise from your arms.

“You stop being paranoid,” Cerise babbles as she starts pulling Joel’s hair and making you laugh. “See, even your daughter is scolding you”

Ellie looked at the sight in awe, she was just past a year old, her look every day resembling Joel’s more and more.

She was happy, her birthday was in a week, and so far, she felt at home.

Ellie had found her family. Her safe place and everything she never thought she could’ve had.

“Go and let Cerise play in the kitchen while we cook dinner,” Joel nods at your words as you smile at him.

Looks really speak; and you and Joel rarely said I love you out loud, but every look you two shared screamed how in love you were.

Ellie watches as Joel and Cerise leave towards the living room, downstairs.

“So… a week for your birthday, huh?” Ellie sighs with a smile, nodding at you. “I’m warning you, I’ll sing you ‘happy birthday’!”

“Fuck you, god no” both of you start cackling and she finally stands up.

Hands on her hips, just like Joel.

To your surprise, Ellie hugs you.

“I’m kidding. But you don’t have to do anything for me,” you hug her back, brushing her hair.

“Shut up or I’ll make Maria gather everyone to hear me sing for you.”

Soon, a lot of sound starts coming from downstairs, Cerise screaming and laughing while Joel curses.

“I NEED HELP DOWN HERE!” Ellie hears your husband yell, and both of you laugh again.

“Let’s go help your old man,” the girl says as you pat her back.

Ellie loved you very much. And she couldn’t help but feel like you felt the same way.

You were silently her mother, helpmate, and one of her best friends.

When she opened her eyes, she rubbed them and sighed, feeling the cold breeze of the morning.

It was just a dream; you and Joel were gone.

She was in Seattle.

…

You can’t move.

Moving feels heavy, breathing isn’t enough.

You lift your head, and there is the woman in a braid.

She is about to kill Joel…

A few years younger than you, possessing an undeniable rage, she hits Joel's skull with a golf club once, twice, and you lose the count. Your vision gets blurry thanks to the tears. His moans of extreme pain make you cry and scream to the woman to stop.

The blood stars are running down his temple. His eye was so swollen he couldn’t open it. You weep harder, doing everything you can to get free from the embrace of two strangers.

To kill that woman and let your husband live.

But it’s too much blood.

“WAKE UP, Y/N!” Joel yells.

Until there isn’t.

You open your eyes and understand it was a nightmare. Product of what you saw at the ski lodge.

“What?” you ask, still half asleep.

Joel is there, kneeling in the old, creaky bed, firmly gripping your shoulders and looking very worried.

“You started crying asleep,” he says. “And then, you started screaming.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Joel asks, ignoring your apologies.

“Yes… just- what happened at the ski lodge playing with my head” his heart pang in pain at your words.

“C'mere, darlin’…” and you do, you snuggle in the arms of your husband like a baby. “I’m not goin’ anywhere”

Joel holds you tightly, scared to let you go. Both of you are swimming in the same queen-sized bed, but pressed against each other. Joel understands that if they had switched the roles. If it were him seeing how you were beaten to death, Joel wouldn’t have survived.

Let alone now that you told him about the pregnancy.

He tries to tame his fears. It wasn’t the first time after all.

But still, you were his wife, the woman he couldn’t breathe without. Joel knew he would get obsessed with trying to protect you all the way from Arlington to Jackson.

It was safe to close his eyes, so he did, succumbing to sleep with you in his arms.

…

Joel wakes up to a cold on, left side of the bed. He sits up worried, then hears a shot, his sensitive leg is long forgotten as he runs outside the room, towards the entrance of the house. He looks around and finally sees you with his rifle and a hare in hand. Joel lets out a relieved sigh.

“Are you insane? You scared me to death,” he says as you step up to the old porch of the house.

After seeing him so worried and scared, you quickly wrap your arms around his neck, dropping the dead hare.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you whisper in his ear.

As much as both of you tried to continue your lives, the trauma of the ski lodge and Denver remained haunting your memories.

“Let’s go inside, baby,” you nod at him, letting him guide you inside the house.

After making it to Arlington the day before, Joel and you found an abandoned neighborhood. It reminded me a lot of the descriptions he and Tess shared about Bill and Frank’s home. Until you visited the house of the late couple in 2023 and confirmed it by yourself.

The woods around it had grown so much that the abandoned place and there was no trace of infected or people living nearby. Joel suggested staying the night, so the horse you two had could also rest and eat something.

You fell asleep feeling hungry, making it harder to not go out to hunt something to eat.

The least you could do was to find some food for your husband and the baby.

The truth was slowly sinking in. You hadn’t been able to process the fact that you were pregnant again. Hours after getting the diagnosis, Masiel almost got you, and then the hospital was attacked.

But a new life was growing in your womb. And once again, you were out in the wild with Joel, just like the first time.

You place the hare on the dining table and turn to look at your husband. With the same clothes of the day before, disheveled hair, and eye bags showing how tired he was.

Joel looks up and down at you, he places his hands on his hips, and tries to formulate a decent sentence.

“So… we’re expecting again,” he says, and you simply nod. “How far are you?”

“Almost eight weeks,” god knows why, but suddenly the conversation feels awkward.

You cross your arms, leaning against the old dining table.

“You can’t be out here anymore,” Joel starts, already showing his uneasiness on the issue. “It’s not safe.”

“This ain’t my first rodeo, Joel,” you remind him as he sighs and rolls his eyes. “I knew the risk, but it’s not like you pulled out each night, and despite being at a hospital, condoms are not a trend anymore.”

“The sooner we get to Jackson, the sooner I’ll stop being a burden for you.” Turning around, you start to skin the hare.

“That’s not what I meant,” Joel explains.

“But that’s what it sounded like,” you say, venturing inside the kitchen without looking at him. Your eyes prick with tears, and you do your best to swallow the painful lump in your throat, threatening to come out with a loud sob.

Joel sighs once again, dropping his head back and taking a deep breath.

But you did understand, Joel. He was tired, dealing with ptsd. The least he wanted was more pressure. And you tell him his wife is pregnant? Yeah, he was stressed out.

But in the mind of a woman gestating, your emotions were a little out of control. And you were afraid of indeed feeling like a burden before going home. Where more issues would lurk since nobody knew Joel, and you were alive.

…

A family of four lived inside the house. Two teenagers, mom and dad. They had too many pictures together, framed on the dusty wall in the hallway that connected all the rooms on the second floor.

You enter the master bedroom, completely untouched. The living proof that the world was once fine. The shame of wandering through a stranger’s belongings was long gone. The woman of the house had been tall, frail, and had a shy face, but was very pretty. Still, her clothes fit you, and she had a lot of expired makeup.

Your hands fold three tops to put inside your backpack when the door creaks open, and it makes you alert and startled.

It was Joel, fresh out of the shower. You went first, and the water was flowing brown for the first three minutes.

“You scared me,” you say, returning to fold the clothes.

“I’m sorry,” Joel states, but you just shrug.

“It’s okay, this house is old as hell.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry about me being an asshole before” you look up at him.

“It’s not like the first time. I’m just… shocked,” he admits, taking a seat in the bed where you were folding the clothes. There’s a little expression of awe on your face as you listen to him.

“I get it, Joel,” from the bottom of your heart, you mean it.

“I just want to protect you and make sure we make it back home.”

“I think the worst is over. We were with the enemy for months, and we didn’t know,” Joel nods.

“So WLF?…” he asks, sighing.

“They can go and fuck themselves” you say with a bitter smile. “I don’t think they’ll go back to Wyoming. Their policies only apply in big cities where they can afford the risk of making a settlement.”

“Yeah, but what if?- “You grab Joel’s hand to stop him.

“What? They return to the ski lodge to see that our bodies are gone? Or Ellie goes after them for revenge?” Both of you chuckle. “We’ve already taken too long; we need to go back. I can’t keep going to sleep knowing they think we’re dead.”

“I know, darlin’. We are very close…”

Unbeknownst to you and Joel. Not many good things were happening back in Jackson. And certainly not in Seattle.

“So… you are making me a dad again? At the ripe age of 61?” You chuckle at his comment, letting him grasp your hair. “We’re insane, aren’t we?”

“We’re kinda jinxed,” you admit.

“We are. But I don’t mind as long as we’re together,” Joel says, making you unable to not pretend his words didn’t touch your heart.

“Give me a kiss,” you say, stepping between his legs. He smiles amidst the kiss, feeling his chest relax and trying to be optimistic. Just for you, as always.

Drops of rain start tapping against the window, and both of you look at it.

“We’ll leave tomorrow in the morning,” Joel states firmly, you only nod, retuning to kiss him just a little more.

…

The breeze was humid, hot, and you knew you shouldn’t be wearing a dress when you’re out in the wild. But you don’t care, the isolated street in Arlington had proved to be safe enough.

“What are we exactly looking for?” Joel asks, kneeling beside you. Both of you ignore the loud crack of his bones. Mainly because you won’t want to worry.

“Anything that can give us energy or boost our immune system,” you answer with a little smirk.

Your hands dig into the bushes, spider webs gone thanks to the rain that had been pouring for the last two hours.

“I dunno, darlin’… seems like there’s no such thing” at your husband was killing your hope, you shushed him right after grasping something. “What?”

“Oh my god, Joel…”

Fresh raspberries. You were collecting raspberries. You had never tasted them before.

“I had never tasted raspberries in my life,” you say, pulling out your hand from the bushes, at least four raspberries rested in your palm.

Joel smiled at the sight. Seeing you so happy about something so meaningless as finding raspberries reminded him of what the world had reduced to.

And at the same time, he found himself also enjoying the moment. Because anything that made you happy also made him happy.

“Give some water, please.” he hands you a glass with water he had been drinking inside the house.

You rinse the berries, and soon you are handing him some. Joel smiles at you before taking a bite along with you.

The moment feels surreal. Like a deep breath that you had been holding since the day at the ski lodge. A sense of hope that in a couple of days you’ll be in Jackson and everything will be fine again.

Then… birds flying away, scared.

“What was that?” Joel stands up first.

When you do, you see a lot of birds flying away from a trail of dark smoke coming from the south in the woods. “Change of plans, we need to leave now.”

“But we have our-“

“No… y/n, we are leaving right now,” Joel says with a stern look.

You nod, following him with hurried steps inside the house.

You grab your rifle, the food was packed, and the clothes tucked inside the backpacks.

“Fucking hell” you say as you stand in the porch. Joel follows you and stands.

“What?”

“The horse, Joel… is gone,” you say, pointing at the door of the garage.

Your husband sighs tiredly.

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll get a car once we enter the city again; we need to leave.”

You look back at the smoke, looking fainter than before, mixing with the orange sky of the sunset.

You start following Joel with quick steps., your hands holding the rifle as your fingers barely grasped the trigger. Then you see how the large street of old houses starts looking farther and farther, until it disappears from your sight and both of you enter the woods again. To the north…

…

Ellie stands in the darkness, her heart is beating fast, blood rushing with the adrenaline flowing all over.

Some of Nora’s blood was splattered on her face. But her shaky hands gripped the door frame as she watched Tommy bandage Dina’s leg, and Tommy started an improvised meal for her.

“She’s taking longer than expected,” Jesse says.

“She’s coming back, we know it,” Dina bolts to answer him. Ellie knew they were talking about her.

“This was a bad idea,” Tommy adds.

“Tommy. She doing this for”

“For Joel and y/n. I know…” the man glared at Dina.

A heavy silence fell upon the old room.

“She saw all of it. Joel screaming, y/n crying, and-“ as Dina was speaking, Ellie closed her eyes, forcing herself to avoid remembering.

“They might be alive,” Tommy reveals.

Dina seized talking, Ellie gasped, covering her mouth as tears started to roll down her cheeks.

“What?” Dina asks with a broken voice, face full of surprise.

Jesse eyed her with shame. Ellie realized he probably already knew.

Tommy moved away, sighing before standing up and preparing the right words.

“When the horde came, we were out of reach for weeks; we didn’t do patrols,” Dina nodded, urging him to keep talking. “After the reconstruction of Jackson, the snow fell heavier, and we couldn’t reach the ski lodge to collect the bodies. Until the spring arrived, Maria sent Jessie to look again with others.”

Tommy and Jesse eye each other, building tension.

“And?” Dina asked.

“There were no corpses… their backpacks were gone as well,” Jesse said.

Dina sighed, rubbing her eyes.

Ellie almost fainted. Her view turned blurry, and panic flooded her.

The rage she had been containing completely out. She hated even more Nora, her death being proof of her pain. All the trauma, all the suffering… because of that braided woman.

Ellie knew she had to kill Abby.

…

The sound of the river was loud enough to make you almost yell.

Ellie knew she was dreaming. This time, she was aware it was a memory.

She was still in Utah. Joel was leaning against the SUV, rifle in hand, as you were with the girl.

Both of you are still in hospital gowns, splashing water on your faces after hours of being sedated.

“There was no cure, right?” Ellie asks. You shrug, looking at the water flowing.

“Even if there was a cure. I think we would’ve died, Ellie.”

“You have Joel, you have someone waiting for you.” You turn to look at her with a frown. “I don’t. It would’ve been correct for me to make the sacrifice.”

“Ellie… you’re my family,” you firmly say. “You and Joel are my whole world.”

She only eyes you with awe, not knowing what to say. Maybe it was because of the reaction to the sedative.

“I would kill anyone who made me separate from you two,” you admit.

Evidently, the words sank further as time progressed.

__________________________

Short part bc I’m tired, but I’m done with finals so expect longer parts from now on <3

imma start sharing my tw acc bc I’ll gladly be friends with any babe who wants to be moots there, I mainly post about pedro, both in english and spanish so yeah… im @kissmemucho and I have the same pfp as here <3

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭_ @just-mj-or-not @mmkkzz @hiroikegawa @nosebeers @glitterspark @annulmaelae @heartpatch @doodlebob-mp3 @ennvsco @isabella-rose-trastamara @chewie-bars @bypurple @umadirectioner @mrsbilicablog @yvonne-dump @hannah9921 @maystyles @minifresas