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charmedimsure · 6 months ago

Note

Hello! Can I order a Dae Ho one-shot? about the reader who comes to the game pregnant and meets Dae Ho there and they have some kind of connection and he tells her that when they get out of there he would like to be with her and the baby.

thank you and happy new year <3

*slams bell* ORDER UP! (im sorry that was so cringey)

THE THREE OF US || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x f!reader

summary: Trying to make it out of the games with both you and your baby's lives, you meet a man who is determined to help.

word count: 6.3k (i did not expect it to be this long thats what she said)

warnings: pregnancy, guns, death, blood, squid game stuff

A/N: i love jun-hee, but the reader replaces her in this fic. reader has no connection to myung-gi (333). if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

Part 2: After the Games

The second game is about to start, and time is running out for you to find a team. You've approached a few groups, but have been turned away by all of them. Turns out most groups don't want women on their team.

Out of the corner of your eye you spot the man who had won these games before, along with the man who beat up those other players the day before. Figuring you might as well take a shot, you approach them.

Just as you get to them, a handsome man comes running over, pulling a player along behind him. "Sir! I got someone! He'll definitely risk his life to win."

The man he brought salutes the others. "Victory at all costs!"

The shorter man in the group, player 390, smiles and salutes back. "Hey, were you in the Marines?"

"Class 946, sir!"

Player 390 laughs. "Boy, with three ex-Marines, we'll be invincible." He turns to players 001 and 456. "What do you think? I like him."

Great, you think to yourself. Now they get to pick between an ex-Marine and a woman who can barely stand for more than 20 minutes at a time. Still though, this is a good team, and you'll be damned if you don't at least try.

"Excuse me," you say, getting the group's attention. "Please let me join your team."

Player 390 speaks up. "Sorry, we've already got five people."

Fuck it. Time to pull out the big guns.

"Please help me," you plead, leaning back a bit and putting your hand up to your swollen belly. "I'm pregnant."

All five men grow silent as they look down to your stomach.

"Time for team selection is up."

You can feel the stares of your new team on you as the second game is announced. You just look forward, trying to listen to voice.

"The game you will be playing is Six-Legged Pentathlon. You will start with your legs tied together. Each player will take turns playing a mini-game at every ten-meter mark, and if you win, the team can move on to the next one. Here are the mini games. Number one, Ddakji. Number two, Flying Stone. Number three, Gong-gi. Number four, Spinning Top. Number five, Jegi. Your goal is to win all the mini-games and cross the finish line in five minutes. Please decide players for each mini-game."

Player 390 turns to his friend. "It's good that we got a woman." He turns to you. "You can play Gong-gi, right?"

You give him a sorry look as you shake your head.

His smile falters. "Don't girls play Gong-gi anymore?"

You look down at the sand. "I've played it, but I was never good at it."

You can see the disappointment on his face as he nods.

Player 388 takes a deep breath as he turns toward 390. "Actually, I can play Gong-gi."

390 gives him a confused look. "You? And ex-Marine?"

You give 390 a weird look. Is it really that hard to believe that a military man has played a kid's game before?

388 gets embarrassed. "I grew up with four older sisters. I used to play it with them from time to time."

You smile, thinking it's sweet that he used to play games with his sisters.

390 claps him on the back. "That's right. There's nothing a Marine can't do."

Player 456 leans forward to look at all of you. "Everyone else, what game are you confident playing?"

You take a deep breath. Jegi was the game you were best at growing up, but you don't think you'll be able to play it in your condition. You lean forward as well. "I can play Ddakji. At the subway station I flipped the guy's on my first try."

390 nods. "Okay. Miss 222, you can play Ddakji. I'll play Flying Stone. I was a pitcher for my baseball team. I'm good at throwing."

As 456 and 001 decide who will play Jegi and who will play Spinning Top, 388 turns to you.

"Did you really beat him on the first try? It took me at least eight."

You breathe out a laugh and give him a small smile. "Yeah. I probably could have paid off my debt if he had let us keep playing." Your smile falters as you rest your hand on your swollen stomach. "It would have been safer for the baby."

388 frowns sympathetically and scoots a bit towards you. "We will get out of here. And after that, we will go home. You and your baby will be safe."

Although you don't completely believe him, you still give him a smile and thank him for his kind words.

You feel movement in your stomach and let out a small yelp at the unexpected feeling, looking down towards your hand.

"Are you alright? What happened?" 388 asks, concern clear on his face.

With a smile, you lift your head to look at him and the others who have directed their attention to you. "I felt the baby kick."

Player 388 breaks out into a smile as he looks to your belly, seemingly fascinated by what is happening inside of you.

Player 001 lets out a loud laugh. "The baby wants to play Jegi."

You let out a chuckle as the men laugh. You made a good choice asking these players for help.

"All right guys, bring your hands together," 390 says, sticking his hand out in front of him. "All together now."

You need to scoot over a bit, but you put your hand on the pile on top of 388's, who gives you a shy smile.

"On three, we go, 'Victory at all costs.' One, two, three..."

"Victory at all costs!"

The walls open and forklifts are brought in holding boxes with pink bows on top. You watch as the bodies of both teams are separated from each other and placed into each box. One team had made it past the fourth mini-game, while the other had only just finished the second. Both teams were executed.

The bodies are eventually cleared out, but the blood remains on the track. The second team lines up and you recognize the sweet old lady who had given you her egg this morning, as well as her son. Shit, you really hope they make it.

The gun fires and they're off. The first girl, player 095, looks so nervous I'm worried she won't be able to throw the Ddakji. Her first three attempts fail, and she looks as though she won't be able to continue. Player 120 whispers something to her and she nods. She picks up the Ddakji, turns in over in her hand, and smacks it to the floor. Success.

The group celebrates as they move on, and you make a mental note of that little trick for when it's your turn.

Next is player 007, the son. He throws the stone and misses. Instead of panicking like the past groups, they quickly grab the stone and move backwards to the line, saving lots of time. As 007 is preparing to throw the stone again, his mother whispers something to him. A look of anger washes over his face.

"That asshole ruined my fucking life!"

A perfect hit. The entire crowd cheers as they advance to the next mini-game. You smile to yourself. They can do this.

Next is the mother playing Gong-gi. She drops her first two tries. You're guessing it must be at least a few decades since she last played.

"Old hag! What are you doi-"

Player 120 puts her hand over player 044's mouth to shut her up.

You watch as 007 speaks to his mother. With a new look of determination in her eyes, she blasts through Gong-gi until she needs to make the final catch. You and player 388 sit on your heels to get a better look. Her son speaks to her again, and face turns to one of rage.

"Rotten bitch!"

All five pieces end up in her hand.

"She did it!" Player 390 says, getting to his feet, 388 following after him. You try to get up but fall back as you lose your balance. Player 388 notices and holds your arms to help you up, keeping a hand on your back to keep you steady as you stand to watch the next game.

044 fumbles the top as she's wrapping it, but quickly retrieves it and tries again. She fumbles a few more times before stopping. Her team freaks out as she stands there mumbling to herself.

A gasp rings out through the crowd as 120 slaps 044 twice, picking up the fallen top and pointing it threateningly at 044's eye.

"Oh shit," you say under your breath.

Player 044 wipes away the blood streaming from her nose and tries again the wrap the string around the top. She gets it on her first throw and the crowd screams in joy as they move to the next one. Everyone is standing now to watch, chanting along to each step.

Player 120 is handed the Jegi and requests that everyone turns around. Not wanting to mess them up, everyone turns without hesitation. The room is silent besides the sound of the Jegi hitting 120's shoes.

Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Five times.

It's done! They did it!

The rooms bursts into screams as the team crosses the finish line at the last second. You turn and hug 388 in pure joy as he jumps up and down. He quickly pulls away so he doesn't do anything to harm the baby, but keeps his arm around you as he celebrates with 390.

The teams keep going, with everyone celebrating the wins and wincing at the gunfire until it is finally your turn.

As you walk to the starting position, a hand gently grabs your wrist and you turn to see player 388. "Make sure to be careful. Take it easy and don't strain yourself."

You nod with a small smile and thank him, taking your spot in the outer ring of the small track. You take deep breaths as the harnesses are secured around your ankles.

"It's a little sad that we have no audience, isn't it?" 390 says, worry in his voice. He nudges 388. "Hey, are you scared?"

"No sir!" 388 yells, making you jump a bit as you were not expecting it. "It's quiet and easier to focus without anyone watching."

390 looks towards the other team. "Hey guys! We'll see you again at the finish line! Victory at all costs!"

The other team yells back their thanks and support before the pistol is fired and you're off.

When you approach the first mini-game, you take the blue tile and turn it over in your hand to match 095's. Throwing it hard at the floor, you yell in delight as the red tile flips over.

You move on to the next game, holding your stomach as you walk.

As 390 takes the stone, 388 yells out "Let's get this done the first time! I believe in you!"

"When I played baseball, my pitches might have been slow, but I had excellent ball control." You watch as the stones collide and yell out in victory as you move to the next one.

388 takes the Gong-gi pieces and you all crouch down.

390 faces him. "Dae-ho, stay calm. Even if you mess up..."

Player 388, or Dae-ho, puts his finger over his mouth to shush him before facing the board, rolling his wrist a few times and dropping the pieces. As quickly as he can, Dae-ho flawlessly gets through the game and catches all five pieces. You and your team members look at each other in awe of what you just watched. It seems that even Dae-ho can't believe he did it.

He lets out a scream as the guard confirms that he passed.

"That was amazing!" Player 390 yells. "Dae-ho, my boy!"

As you move to the fourth mini game, Player 390 looks down at you. "You're expecting, so be careful."

You nod but try to keep your pace, leaning on the small green table once you get to where you need to be.

As player 001 wraps the string around the top, Dae-ho bounces excitedly. "We might get through everything on the first attempt!"

Player 001 throws the top and it falls lazily to the floor as you all frown.

"It's okay, we have enough time," 456 says. "Let's go pick it up. Ready, go."

You all move forward together to grab the top. "No fun passing everything without a hitch," 390 says.

"That's right," 388 confirms. "You can't grow without failure, right?"

You guess he's right, but it would've been nice to pass everything easily. At least you still have three minutes left.

001 grabs the top and you move back to your spots. On his next throw you watch helplessly as the top flies behind your group. You would have laughed in any other situation.

Player 001 apologizes and you move back to grab the top, with 001 taking his sweet time to pick it up. To save time, he tries wrapping it as you walk forward again, but he breaks out of the arm link in frustration. This time he throws it as soon as it is wrapped. It doesn't spin, but at least it lands directly in front of him so you don't have to move again.

Player 456 picks up the top as 001 sighs in frustration. "What the hell is wrong with me?" He screams and you gasp when he starts slapping himself and calling himself an idiot.

456 takes his arms to stop him. "Try to remember the times when you had fun playing this."

001 nods and takes the top and string again. You take the time to look at the clock and feel a wave of worry wash over you when you see that you have less than a minute left. This time, 001 throws the top with his left hand and it spins perfectly on its axle.

You yell in joy as you quickly links arms again and move to the last game. Player 390 checks on you again as you move, and you just wave him off. The stress can't be good for the baby, but it's definitely not as bad as a bullet.

456 grabs the jegi and moves the pink soldier out of the way. He throws it up.

One hit. Two hits. Three hits. Four hits...

You watch in horror as the jegi flies in front of 456. Quickly, 001 kicks his foot out, making you all almost fall as the jegi lands on top of 456's left foot.

"Pass."

You all yell out victoriously and quickly move, crossing the finish line with a second to spare.

As you're all hugging each other, you flinch at the sounds of gunshots coming from the other side of the room. The other team didn't make it.

The main room is oddly quiet as you walk in. As happy as everyone was to see people pass while watching the games, they don't seem to be very happy about it now. Player 390 next to you waves at someone, and you look in the direction to see the woman and her son.

"That sweet old lady," he says with a smile. "I miss my mom."

You smile at the lady and bow your head to her as she gives you a big smile and two thumbs up.

As you sit down to rest and wait for the pink soldiers, 001 speaks up. "I'm sorry about earlier, everyone."

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have made the last kick," 456 says and you nod.

001 looks at you. "Player 222, are you feeling alright?"

You nod. "Yes. Thank you all for letting me be on your team."

Dae-ho smiles shyly and nods.

"She smashed that ddakji and flipped it on her first try, that was impressive," 390 says, making you smile at the praise. "She did great, even while carrying a baby. We were lucky she joined our team."

Dae-ho nods. "What about your Flying Stone play? You hit it with one shot! With an underhand pitch at that! Bam!" You let out a small laugh as he reenacts 390's throw. "You were like Kim Byung-hyun."

"And you?" 390 says. "Was Gong-gi the only game you ever played?" He quickly moves his hand around to imitate Dae-ho. "I could barely see your hand. It was like a martial arts movie."

Dae-ho laughs. "I'm the only son for two generations. My mom only let me play at home with my sisters."

"And yet they let their precious son join the Marines?" 390 questions.

Dae-ho hesitates. "My father's idea, he wanted me to be more of a man. He fought in the Vietnam War, you see."

"He sounds like a great man," 390 says and Dae-ho nods. "Was he a Marine, too?"

You can see the discomfort on Dae-ho's face and he quickly excuses himself from answering the question, instead standing up to face everyone. "Listen. Perhaps we should learn each other's names. I still don't know your names, gentlemen." He smiles a bit more when he looks to you. "Or your's, Miss. I'll start. I'm Kang Dae-ho. 'Dae' means 'big', 'ho' means 'tiger'."

"'Big tiger.' Cool name," 390 says. "My name is Park Jung-bae. 'Righteous' and 'twice'. My parents wanted me to be twice as righteous."

You go next, stating your name for the group. "I don't know what it means, though."

001 says your name, getting your attention. "When you get out of here, go see a doctor right away. You've been under a lot of stress. You need to get yourself checked out."

You nod. "Okay."

"I'm Oh Young-il," 001 says. He points out how it sounds like his number and the group laughs at the coincidence. Young-il turns to 456. "Oh, Gi-hun, what's your last name?"

"My name is Seong Gi-hun," Gi-hun says.

"'Seong' literally means 'last name'," Young-il laughs aloud by himself.

A loud buzz is heard and the guards enter the room. After revealing the results of the game and announcing the next vote, your team turns to each other.

You look down at the red X on your track suit, and look up to see the blue 'O' on Dae-ho's. He sees your gaze and frowns down at his patch.

"I'm telling you, we'll get out this time," he says to the team, though he is mainly looking at you. He looks down at his patch again and curses under his breath. "A Marine should think strategically and know when to retreat." He puts a hand on Jung-bae's shoulder. "Isn't that right, brother?"

"Yeah, you're right," Jung-bae says weakly. "Marines aren't invincible. We should get out." Despite saying this, the look on his face and the nervousness in his tone contradict his words.

"We have to end the games here," Gi-hun says. He turns to look at you. "I will help you guys when we get out. Please trust me and support this vote."

You smile and nod in thanks.

"Guys, all huddle up again," Dae-ho smiles as he sticks out his hand.

"Victory at all costs."

You frown as the buzzer goes off one last time. There had been some... complications during the voting. This lead to the final vote being 116 for X and 139 for O. Standing next to Dae-ho, you don't miss the look of betrayal on his face as he looks over to Jung-bae with the blue patch on his chest.

Dae-ho lets out a loud sigh as you eat your bread. "Brother! Brother Jung-bae!"

You can see Jung-bae tense up from his spot behind the beds.

With a sigh, Dae-ho stands up and approaches the man. "Hey, just come back here."

"No, I'm good here," you hear Jung-bae answer. You roll your eyes.

"Oh, come on." Dae-ho grabs Jung-bae and drags him to face the group.

He stops and stares at you all before speaking. "I'm sorry. I borrowed some emergency cash, and the creditors are harassing my ex-wife and kid. If I play one more game, I think I'll be able to settle my debt."

"Jung-bae," Young-il addresses the man sadly. "You of all people shouldn't have done it. It's not twice as righteous." He sighs before continuing. "But, looking at the results, even if you had voted against, we would still have been outvoted."

Jung-bae jumps at this. "Right? It's not entirely my fault."

"Alright," Dae-ho steps up. "To be honest, I understand why you did it. The money isn't enough for me either, so when I went up to vote, I did think about playing one more game."

Jung-bae hugs the man. "You did?"

Dae-ho pushes him away. "I said I get it."

The shorter man turns back to the group. "Thank you for understanding. But I voted in favor partly because I feel confident. We did so well as a team, didn't we? If we stick together one more time, I'm sure we'll be fine." He turns to you. "I'll make sure we survive the next game-"

"'The next game'?" Gi-hun cuts him off. "In the next game, we might have to kill each other."

There is silence before Young-il speaks up. "Gi-hun, that's a bit much. There's nothing we can do now, so let's try to stay positive. We should eat, pull ourselves together, and try our best again." He picks up his milk and hands it to you. "Here, you can have mine too. Hang in there until the next game."

You shake your head. "No, that's okay."

"Take it. I don't drink plain milk."

You thank him as you take the milk.

Jung-bae takes the bread out of his pocket. "Have my bread, too. I don't deserve to eat."

You smile as you take it. You have been feeling hungry and one piece of bread would definitely not be enough for you, so you're grateful for the men around you.

"I'll take your milk then," Dae-ho says to Jung-bae.

Before you can stop yourself, a loud laugh escapes from your mouth. The others smile before laughing along as well. You look over to Dae-ho to see a blush covering his face as he smiles.

"Pass it to me."

The guys hand each other mattresses as they move them to under the beds. You had been put in charge of collecting blankets and pillows so you wouldn't strain yourself.

"Is this really necessary?" Jung-bae asks. "I don't like sleeping under there."

"Once the lights go out, somebody might attack us," Gi-hun says as he pushes another mattress under a bed frame.

"What?" Dae-ho asks. "Who?"

"The prize money still goes up if we kill each other. It's part of the game they designed."

"Gi-hun, I think you're overreacting here," Young-il says. "Even if that were true, people wouldn't do that."

Gi-hun turns to face him. "In the previous games, dozens of people killed each other at night. Right here. You have no idea how people can change in this place."

Young-il apologizes and you hand the blankets in your arms to Jung-bae.

"We need to take turns keeping watch after lights-out," Gi-hun says. "I'll take the first, you should decide the order for the rest."

The order decided was that Jung-bae would take over after Gi-hun, then Dae-ho, then Young-il would be last. You tried to volunteer to keep watch but they immediately shot you down, saying you needed the rest more than them.

After a trip to the bathroom with players 149 and 120, whose names you still did not know, you come back to find Dae-ho keeping watch. You try to quickly wipe the tear stains from your cheeks as you walk back to the makeshift shelter. You give a quick nod to Dae-ho before trying to move past him, but he calls out your name, making you stop and turn to look at him.

He looks up at you with concern. "Are you okay?"

You put on a smile and nod. "Yes, I'm fine." As you try to walk away you feel his hand gently grab your wrist to stop you.

"No you're not," he says. You sigh, upset that you've been caught. He moves to the side to give you space and you sit next to him, figuring you're not gonna get out of this. "What happened? Was it the baby?"

You shake your head, feeling tears start to well up again. "It's everything." You put your head in your hands. "I never should have played Ddakji with that guy, I never should have called the number, I should have just stayed at home and prepared for the baby."

Dae-ho gently rubs your back as you cry into your sleeves. Even though you really only just met, he feels connected to you. Maybe it's just because you survived the second game together, but he cares for you and doesn't want anything bad to happen to you. He was stunned when you had walked up to the group before the game and asked to join, immediately regretting picking anyone besides the beautiful stranger that was standing in front of him.

"What about your husband?" Dae-ho asks. "Does he know that you're here?"

You shake your head. "I don't have a husband. I don't even have a boyfriend. It's just me and the baby." You turn to look at him and although he's too kind to ask you how you got knocked up, you can see the question all over his face. "My ex-boyfriend is the reason I got into so much debt. He made a lot of bad investments and when he ran out of his own money, he started using mine. When I told him I was pregnant, he freaked out and left. Didn't even say anything, his stuff was just all gone one day."

Dae-ho feels himself getting angry at this. If he found out a man had done this with one of his sisters, he would do something to him that would probably land him in prison. It takes two people to make a baby. Just because the mother is the one that carries it doesn't mean that the father isn't responsible for the child.

"He's a fucking coward," Dae-ho says, making you snort a small laugh. "And he's an idiot to leave you."

"It's for the best, though," you say. "He wasn't a good boyfriend, I knew that even while we were dating. But he was my first love, and we all do stupid things the first time we're in love." Dae-ho nods, watching as you bring your hand to rest on your stomach. "I only wish that my child would have a father in their life."

"They will have an amazing mother, though," he says, making you smile.

"I hope so," you rub your swollen belly. "Hey, Dae-ho, can I ask you something?"

Dae-ho nods, looking at you with intrigue.

"Earlier you told Jung-bae that you had thought about voting to stay. Why didn't you?" You ask.

The man takes a deep breath. "Honestly, I thought of you. You and your baby. When you told us that you're pregnant, it really hit me that I'm not the only person in here, that there are other lives at risk. If you died, it wouldn't just be the end of your life. Your baby doesn't deserve that. You don't deserve that."

You can't help the smile that blooms on your face at his words, as well as the small blush. "Thank you for thinking of me. You're a very sweet person, Kang Dae-ho." You watch as he gives you a shy smile, a light dusting of pink on his face. "What about you? Do you have a girlfriend waiting for you back home?"

He shakes his head. "No, just me." You give him an incredulous look and he chuckles. "Dating wasn't easy while in the Marines, and I guess I just never found anyone that interested me enough after."

You let out a small laugh. "Sounds like you have high standards."

He chuckles. "I'm just waiting to find the one. They say that when you know, you know."

"That's going to be one very lucky girl," you say, watching as the blush on his face deepens. "I hope you find her soon."

"I can't explain why, but I feel like I will." He smiles down at you with a look that makes your heart skip a beat. After a few moments he takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I've kept you up for so long, you should get some sleep. You'll likely need your energy for tomorrow's game."

You nod, standing up. "You're right, I've been up too long." You start to move towards your mattress, but stop. "It was nice talking to you, Dae-ho."

He smiles at you. "Goodnight."

You smile back. "Goodnight."

For the rest of his watch, Dae-ho sneaks peaks at your sleeping form, a warm feeling running through him when he thinks about your words.

You awake to the feeling of someone shaking you. Groggily opening your eyes, you see Dae-ho leaning over you.

"The next game is starting soon, we need to get up," he says.

You hear the classical music that has played before every game and nod, allowing him to help you get out of bed. "Nothing to start the day off like a sadistic game and fearing for your life, huh?"

Dae-ho lets out a chuckle as you make your way to the doors. He walks behind you on the stairs to make sure you don't fall, and stands right by your side as the curtains are opened to reveal the game room.

"Welcome to your third game. The game you will be playing is Mingle. All players, please step onto the center platform. When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate, and you will hear a number. You must form groups of that size, go into the rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds."

"Oh, this game?" Jung-bae says. "We used to play something similar on school trips. We formed groups by hugging."

"I played it too," you say. "But we would hold hands instead."

Together you set up a strategy. If the number is five, you'll all go together. If it's more than five, you'll grab however many people we need. If it's smaller than five, you'll break off into groups. When your strategy is done, you put your hands in the center.

"Victory at all costs."

"Let the game begin."

The platform jerks as it starts rotating, and you almost lose your balance, but Dae-ho is there to grab you and steady you on your feet.

"Ten."

Everyone starts looking around like mad as they try to find ten players.

Gi-hun looks to a player behind him. "How many are you?"

"Four," the woman replies. You recognize her as one of the women who came to the bathroom with you last night.

"That makes us nine!" Jung-bae says.

A man from another group comes running over. "Are you five? We need five!"

Before any of you can answer, another player yells back. "We have five people! Come with us!"

The two groups go running off towards a door.

"We have to hurry!" Gi-hun says.

"There's no time, Gi-hun!" Young-il tells him.

"We need one more!" the tall woman yells. She spots someone by herself near the center of the platform and grabs her. "We have ten!"

"Room 44! Green door! Hurry!" Young-il yells, already running off in the direction of the door.

You run as fast as you can towards the door as Young-il holds it open for everyone to get inside. You feel Dae-ho's hand on the small of your back the entire way to the room. Before you get the chance to even think, the clock runs out, and the lock clicks on the door.

Screams and gunshots can be heard from behind the door, the sad fate of those who didn't make it in time.

Dae-ho turns to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. "How are you feeling? Is everything okay?"

"A bit out of breath, but I'm okay," you say, and he nods. Taking the chance to look around the room, you see that the other five is the first group that passed the pentathlon the day before.

"You're alive thanks to me!" Player 044 yells out, making you jump. She looks over everyone before stopping on you and stepping closer, making you take a step back. Dae-ho holds you close to him as the woman looks down at your stomach. She then looks up at Dae-ho and gives him a knowing smirk before leaving to speak to Gi-hun.

You look up at Dae-ho, who is still holding you to his chest. He watches the woman walk away before look down at you, your faces so close that your noses are only a few inches apart.

Once the bodies are removed from the playing area, you're let out of the room and make your way back to the center platform. The next round is four people to a room, and Young-il goes off on his own to find three more as the rest of you run to a room with a purple door.

Once you're let out, Dae-ho and Jung-bae yell for Young-il before a voice calling Gi-hun's name grabs your attention. You look over with relief to see Young-il jogging up to your group.

"I knew you were going to be okay!" Jung-bae smiles as he pulls Young-il in for a hug. "I knew it. You're not just anybody."

"I was worried," Gi-hun says. "I'm glad you made it."

Young-il smiles. "I'm a likable guy, so I'm good at games like this." He turns to you. "Are you feeling alright?"

You nod with a smile. "Yes, I'm alright. I'm glad you're back."

Young-il gives you a smile, but his face turns serious. "Wait a minute," Young-il says, "if the next number is six, we won't need anyone else, will we?"

"Why not?" Dae-ho asks.

After a moment, Jung-bae laughs. "Oh, in her tummy?"

Dae-ho lets out a loud laugh. "Right, that makes six."

You smile as they joke around, looking down to your swollen belly.

The next round is three, so you, Dae-ho, and Jung-bae run to a room with an orange door. With every round, you can feel yourself growing more and more tired, and your feet are begging for relief from so much standing and moving.

Once you get out of the green room with Dae-ho and players 120, 095, 007, and 149 (you make a mental note to ask for their names once you're back in the main room), you feel exhausted. As you step onto the platform, Dae-ho grabs your arm to support you.

"Now, the final round will begin."

The platform begins to rotate and you lean on Dae-ho to keep yourself upright.

"What do you think it'll be this time?" Jung-bae leans forward to ask Gi-hun.

"Two," Young-il answers, getting our attention.

"Why?"

"There are 126 people left, and there are 50 rooms. So there won't be enough rooms for everyone, only 100."

"Are you alright?" Dae-ho asks you, concern on his face.

You shake your head. "I don't think I can run anymore."

The platform stops and the lighting dims.

"Two."

Before you can tell what's happening, you are lifted off the ground. You hold on tightly to Dae-ho as he sprints to the nearest door with you in his arms. Once inside, he places you on the ground and moves toward the door, pushing his weight against it to keep anyone else from getting in and pushing you out.

You keep your gaze on the man. He saved your life. He saved your baby's life. Without hesitation. Hell, he even voted to leave for you yesterday. This man who only came into your life a day ago has shown you more unwavering loyalty than anyone else has before.

Then the realization dawns on you: you don't want to do this without him. You don't want anything to happen to him. You want to protect him, just as he is protecting you. Not just in the games, but always.

The lock on the door clicks into place and screams are heard from the other side of the door. Once the screams finish, Dae-ho kneels beside you.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

You shake your head, still in awe of the man in front of you. You examine his face and a surge of confidence rushes through you.

"Can I do something really stupid?"

Dae-ho gives you a confused look. "What?"

You grab his zip-up and pull him to you, planting your lips against his. You feel him stiffen and worry that you've made a terrible mistake, but before you can pull away, you feel one of his hands slide into your hair as the other moves to cup your cheek.

For a perfect moment, you're not in this crazy place. There's no debt, there's no death, there's no fear. There's just you and Dae-ho.

You pull away first but Dae-ho chases your lips, giving you a peck before resting his forehead against yours as you both try to catch your breath.

"I promise you that I am going to get us out of here," he whispers to you. You feel his hand move down to your stomach. "The three of us. If you'll let me."

You gasp at his words, tears forming in your eyes as you nod. This time, you believe him. Dae-ho pulls you in for another kiss and you smile against his mouth, feeling him smile as well.

The sound of the door unlocking gains your attention and Dae-ho pulls away. Voices can be heard beyond the door.

Dae-ho stands up and holds out his hands for you to take, helping you to your feet. He wipes the stray tears from your cheeks and plants a kiss on your forehead before lacing your fingers together and leading you out of the room.

Dae-ho tags: @whatthefuckeryfuckityfuck

Lmk if you want to be added to the Dae-ho taglist!

#dae ho #squid game x reader #daeho #dae-ho #kang dae ho #dae ho x reader #kang daeho x reader #kang daeho #player 388 #x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game 2 spoilers #squid game 2 #squid game

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wttcsms · 1 year ago

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ lover !!

ᝰ.ᐟ even if he doesn't exude this energy to outsiders, you're happy to know that your boyfriend is the biggest simp around when it comes to you. or: the cute things he'll do for you. (fem!reader)

featuring yoichi isagi, seishiro nagi, reo mikage, rin itoshi, rensuke kunigami content contains hotel bathroom sinks designed by a man, slight jealousy (reo is the jealous boyfriend), height differences (nagi + kunigami + rin are described as taller), wearing his clothes + clothes is described to be oversized on you (nagi), called a simp by his teammates (kunigami), clingy bf (yoichi <3) author's notes hq version coming soon!!! i just wanted to write something soft n fluffy for once <3

౨ৎ YOICHI ISAGI — goes viral on tiktok when the two of you go on vacation to celebrate your second year anniversary. you're recording yourself from the bathroom of the private villa he rented out for the two of you, and you originally wanted to record what an absolute joke the sink is. there is literally no counter space. nowhere to place any of your makeup or skincare products. yoichi interupts the video unknowingly, knocking softly and asking if he can come in. he doesn't realize you're filming, and it's entirely genuine when he asks, "is everything okay? you sounded frustrated? did you need help opening something?" you laugh before explaining the situation, and he's silent for all but one second before he goes, "oh! i'll just hold your makeup bag, and i'll hand you the stuff when you need it." (poor yoichi means well, but he's standing there for over an hour as you laugh at him when he can't tell the difference between a tube of lipgloss and liquid blush. the look of concentration on his face as he nods intently while you explain what each product is for is absolutely adorable; it's the same concentrated look he gets when he's reviewing game footage, meaning he's taking this seriously for you.) he's also the type that loves to follow you around. it's a common joke for his fans to comment "walk him like a dog, sis!" on any candid photos of you + yoichi because he is almost always holding your hand while trailing behind you. he's like your shadow as he follows you around different stores in the mall, and even when you tell him he can just sit down with the other boyfriends while you just try on some clothes, he refuses to leave your side. tries to follow you to the dressing room, and gets all pouty when he realizes he's not allowed in. makes you walk outside the dressing room with the new outfits on so he can rate them (he is incredibly biased and believes everything looks good on you and forces you to bring everything to the cashier so he can swipe his card to get it for you <3)

౨ৎ REO MIKAGE — cannot handle anyone else taking up large chunks of your time, especially when he rarely gets to see you during game season. makes a face anytime he realizes that the server at the restaurant is a guy. the server will smile at you and tell you that he'll get started on that meal for you right away, and reo leans forward once he's gone and goes, "i can't believe he was flirting with you right in front of me! disgusting!" he's actually convinced that every man in the world wants you for themselves, and if you tease him by threatening to run off with any of these men, he'll instantly frown and start telling you to take that back right now! however, he is entirely convinced that you are the greatest thing to ever grace this earth, and he feels so proud whenever you two are out in public and a fan or an employee compliments you. they could say anything postive about you, and he'll beam with pride, going "i know, right? i tell her this all the time!" it's almost common knowledge that the easiest way to get on reo's good side is to treat you well. he also loves listening to you gossip, and is the type of boyfriend who loves all your friends (even if he can't quite remember their names; it's only important that they treat you kindly and loyally), and hates everyone that you hate. he's also less forgiving than you; if someone backstabs you but you forgive them and grant them a second chance, just know that reo still hates their guts and he'll make it incredibly obvious.

౨ৎ SEISHIRO NAGI — can’t help but make video game versions of the two of you any chance he gets. he’ll pretend to not notice the way your eyes light up when you pass by any claw machine containing plushies of your favorite anime characters, but somehow he’ll manage to find himself at the machine, casually winning you your favorite as if the game isn’t designed to make everyone lose. (he’s just that good.) even if you’re not as big of a gamer as him, he’ll watch you play sims 4 (and subsequently watch you spend 3 hours on the create-a-sim section because you’re trying to create a perfect carbon copy of the two of you.) looks for his favorite hoodie only to glance over at your still-sleeping form on his bed and realizes that you’re wearing it. you look adorable in it; he’s taller than you, bigger in every aspect, so the material swallows you up. (he doesn’t wake you up nor does he ask for it back.) despite the fact that he’s taller than you, nagi is definitely a big baby, and is constantly the little spoon. he loves to come home and bury his face in your neck, loves the way you gently run your fingers through his hair (it’s the easiest way for him to fall asleep), and he’ll constantly try to find ways for you to hold him.

౨ৎ RIN ITOSHI — grants you “scary dog privilege.” literally will mean mug every man in the street as the two of you are walking together. everyone thinks that rin would be a selfish lover from his outside appearance, but he surprisingly puts up with a lot of your antics because he loves you so much. you don’t bother buying a step stool because you count on rin to get you anything you need from the tall shelves (and when you’re mad at him, he’ll purposely find ways to get all your most-used items on a hard-to-reach area so you have to sulkily seek him out and ask for his help. there’s no way in hell you put your face wash on top of the fridge, and rin looks all too happy to grab it for you.) he has a very bare social media account and most of the time, he just posts whatever his publicists draft up for him. the only post he has personally created and shared himself is the one of you on your birthday; in a sea of promotional posters and professionally taken game highlights, the smiling faces of you and rin stand out. (it’s the happiest any of his fans have ever seen him look.)

౨ৎ RENSUKE KUNIGAMI — his teammates make fun of him because he is notoriously loyal to you. they tricked him and took him out to a strip club, and there’s a viral video of kunigami staring intently at his phone, never looking up once at his surroundings. (he was going through your instagram feed + then ran out of photos to look at, so he started going through his camera roll to look at pictures and videos of you.) is the boyfriend who embodies the phrase ‘wear whatever you want, baby, i can fight.’ there’s a photo of you two that did numbers on pinterest. kunigmai is such a big guy, towers over you, honestly, but he readily gets down on his knees for you. in the photo, you two are dressed up to attend a gala. he’s on his knees, and you have one high-heel clad foot resting on the top of his thigh as he looks down and is adjusting the ankle strap of your heel for you. his friends shared the photo in the team groupchat and called him a simp, but kunigami knows that if they had someone half as great as you, they’d act just the same.

#yoichi isagi x reader #isagi x reader #seishiro nagi x reader #nagi x reader #reo mikage x reader #rensuke kunigami x reader #kunigami x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #fluff #drabble #headcanons #one shot #isagi x you #kunigami x you #reo x you #nagi x you #itoshi rin x you

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danysdaughter · 16 days ago

Text

Once More To See You

pairing | 40s!bucky x 40s!reader & post-catws!bucky x fem!reader

word count | 12.8k words

summary | in the 40s, the two of you were meant to be forever—wild, in love, and untouched by anything but each other. but time tore you two apart, and when fate brought you back together decades later, love still lived between you and bucky... just no longer in the same lifetime

tags | (18+) MDNI, smut, p in v sex, time skip, angst, heavy angst/no comfort (we die like men), canon divergence (post-tfatws), unresolved feelings, mention of war and ptsd, bittersweet / painful romantic resolution, reader cries (a lot), bucky crying (internally), mitski energy, BABY TONY, leo fitz cameo

a/n | chat, we all crying in the club with this one. based on this request

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

divider by @cafekitsune

Brooklyn, July 1942

The summer air in Brooklyn was thick and golden, the kind that made your skin feel kissed and alive.

You were barefoot on the edge of the rooftop, the sun setting behind you like fire rolling across the skyline, and Bucky Barnes was watching you like you were the most dangerous thing he'd ever seen—and he’d already gotten into three bar fights this month.

“You're gonna fall,” he warned, arms crossed, but with a smile pulling at his lips.

You turned your head, a grin already blooming. “Then catch me.”

“Don’t joke,” he said, stepping closer. “You know I would.”

You turned fully, facing him, the wind pulling your dress tight around your legs. “That’s the problem, Bucky. You always would.“

He paused, eyes on you now—less amused, more... full. You felt it in your chest.

You walked toward him slowly, deliberately, barefoot and brave. “What would you do if I jumped off something one day and you weren’t fast enough?”

He caught your wrist when you reached him. “Then I’d follow you down.“

You stared at him. The laughter on your tongue dissolved.

That was always the thing with Bucky. He said stuff like that, and he meant it. Fully. Without fear. Like loving you was easy.

“You make it too easy to love you,” you whispered, eyes soft now.

“And you make it hard to survive,” he shot back, teasing, thumb brushing the inside of your wrist. “Running around barefoot on rooftops like a little menace.”

“I just don’t want to waste time being careful,” you murmured, resting your forehead to his. “We’ve got now, don’t we?”

He kissed you like a promise.

Slow. Long. With one hand cradling the back of your neck, the other anchoring your hip. You sank into it, into him. Into the kind of kiss that made the city disappear.

When he pulled back, he said it—finally said it.

“I’m in love with you.”

You blinked.

You smiled.

And then, without missing a beat: “Took you long enough.”

────────────────────────

Later That Night – Bucky’s Apartment

The fan turned slowly overhead, humming quietly as the heat clung to the air, thick and lazy. You were stretched across Bucky’s bed, legs tangled in the sheets, one hand trailing down the slope of his chest while the other held a cigarette loosely between your fingers.

Bucky watched you like he always did: completely, unapologetically.

"You’re staring,” you murmured.

“You’re naked in my bed,” he said. “I’d be stupid not to.”

You grinned, putting the cigarette out in the tray on the nightstand before crawling over to straddle his hips. “Stupid, huh?”

He ran his hands up your thighs, gripping them like he was grounding himself. “The second I saw you in that bar a year ago, I knew I was in trouble.”

You leaned down, nose brushing his. “Good. Trouble keeps you young.”

Your lips met—soft at first, sweet—but it didn’t stay that way.

Bucky's hands slid up your back, palms warm and sure, dragging you against him as your hips began to roll. His cock hardened beneath you, thick and hot where it pressed between your thighs. You moaned into his mouth, hips grinding down in slow, teasing circles that made his grip on your ass tighten.

“You're gonna kill me,” he groaned, voice ragged.

“Not yet,” you whispered, reaching between you to line him up.

You sank down onto him with a gasp, your walls stretching around him, the burn sweet and perfect. Bucky’s hands flew to your hips, holding you steady as you took all of him, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

“Jesus Christ,” he choked.

You didn’t move at first. Just leaned forward, forehead to his, feeling the way he throbbed inside you, the way his breath stuttered against your lips.

Then you rolled your hips—slow and deep—and his whole body tensed.

“You're so fuckin' tight,” he panted, bucking up into you instinctively. “Like you were made for me.“

You bit your lip, rocked again. “Maybe I was.”

And that was all it took.

He gripped your hips and fucked up into you, his rhythm desperate, rough, but never careless. You met him thrust for thrust, nails dragging down his chest, breath hot against his throat.

The bed creaked beneath you, headboard knocking the wall, bodies slick and needy. You were panting now, fingers tangled in his hair, moaning shamelessly as your orgasm built like fire curling in your belly.

“Come on, baby,” Bucky groaned, voice gone. “Come for me. Show me I’m the only one who gets to have you like this.”

Your body clenched—tight, hot, overwhelming—and then you were coming, crying out his name, hips jerking as he held you down and fucked you through it.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—” Bucky’s rhythm faltered, hips stuttering as he spilled inside the rubber, hands gripping you like he never wanted to let go.

You collapsed onto him, both of you sticky and breathless, hearts thudding in unison.

“I love you,” he whispered again, softer this time, like he knew what was coming.

You closed your eyes, resting your cheek against his shoulder.

“Then don’t ever leave me.”

He didn’t answer.

He just held you tighter.

────────────────────────

Brooklyn, September 1943

Three weeks before Bucky ships out

The letter sat on the kitchen table, opened, unfolded, and lined up too neatly for it to be an accident. You froze in the doorway, fingers still smudged with newspaper ink from the classifieds you hadn’t really been reading.

Bucky stood on the other side of the table, arms crossed, jaw tight.

“You weren’t gonna tell me?” he asked, voice low but razor-sharp.

You exhaled slowly. “I was. I was waiting for the right—”

“There’s no right time to tell me you’ve signed up to follow me into a war zone.”

“I didn’t sign up for you,” you said, stepping forward, calm but firm. “I signed up for the people who need help. And for the ones who don’t get to come home.”

He laughed—bitter and low. “Right. And that just happens to be the same front line I’m getting sent to?”

You didn’t answer right away.

Because yes. Yes, it did happen to be the same region. Same Allied deployment. You’d pulled every string possible, leaned on every nurse you trained beside, begged to be assigned where you knew he was going.

“I’m not gonna sit at home and wonder every day if you’re still alive,” you said. “I won’t do it.”

“You’re not supposed to be there,” he snapped. “Do you know what it’s like out there? You think the enemy’s gonna care you’ve got a Red Cross on your arm? You think they won’t shoot through a nurse like anyone else?”

“I know the risks.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, slamming a hand on the table hard enough to rattle the cup beside your letter. “You’ve never seen a man bleed out on the ground with half his leg gone. You’ve never had shrapnel spray through a tent while you’re catching your breath.”

His voice cracked.

You stepped closer.

“This isn’t about you thinking I’m naïve,” you said quietly. “It’s about you being scared.”

He looked at you then—really looked.

And God, he was scared. Eyes red, jaw clenched like it hurt to speak.

“I am scared,” he said, voice softer now. “I’m terrified.”

You reached for him, fingers brushing his forearm. “Then let me be where I can help. Let me do what I can. Don’t ask me to stay behind and feel helpless.”

He swallowed, shaking his head.

You stepped closer. “You’d do the same for me.”

“That’s not the point.*”

“It is,” you said. “It is, James. Because I don’t want to lose you and wonder if I could’ve saved someone else just like you.”

He let out a shaky breath and pulled you into his arms like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore.

You stood there, pressed to his chest, both of you silent.

You weren’t changing your mind.

And neither was he.

His forehead pressed to yours, breath shaky, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress like he needed to hold something.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered.

You kissed him. Slow. Steady. Real.

“You won't.”

2 Years Later

Occupied France, 1944

A dusty bar just past midnight

The bar was a converted farmhouse—dusty, dimly lit, and barely holding itself together. Bottles clinked, laughter spilled like smoke, and music hummed from a battered radio in the corner.

Somewhere in the background, Dugan was arm-wrestling two locals at once, while Morita laughed so hard he nearly fell off his stool. There were glasses clinking, boots scuffing the floor, and one of the Commandos yelling about needing more whiskey like they hadn’t just cleared out half the stock already.

And Bucky was holding you like he couldn’t believe it.

You were tucked into his lap in a shadowed booth near the back, your arms draped around his neck, one hand gently threading through his hair. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, fingers pressed to the curve of your spine like he was scared you'd slip away if he loosened his grip.

Outside, the war still existed. But not here.

Not in this small, golden sliver of now.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “You know they’re watching.”

He smiled, eyes half-lidded and heavy with whiskey and relief. “Let ‘em. If I can’t kiss my girl after dropping a Hydra base, what the hell are we even fighting for?”

You laughed, low and quiet. It rumbled in his chest.

“I missed your laugh,” he said, voice rough. “It’s been weeks since we’ve had more than ten minutes where we weren’t being shot at or yelled at.”

You tightened your arms around him. “You keep surviving and I’ll keep laughing.”

He went still for a moment, just holding you, his nose brushing the side of your neck.

You leaned into his touch, fingertips tracing along the nape of his neck. “What are you thinking about?”

He paused.

Then he smiled—small, quiet, soft.

“I see it now.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “What?”

Your brows furrowed slightly.

“The future,” he murmured. “Us. After all this. I didn’t used to let myself picture it. Thought it was bad luck or something. But tonight? I see it clear as day.”

You swallowed, throat suddenly tight.

You opened your mouth to answer, but he cut you off—his voice gentler now, steadier. Certain.

“When this is over, I’m gonna marry you.”

Your breath caught.

Not because it surprised you. Not because it was sudden.

But because he meant it.

His hand slid up your spine, warm and steady.

“I’m serious,” he whispered. “We’ll get a better place in Brooklyn. You’ll still complain about the noise. I’ll pretend I like fixing things. You’ll still be wild. And I'll still follow you anywhere.”

“Bucky…” you breathed.

He leaned in, kissed you like it was a vow.

“When it’s done,” he said again. “You and me.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, smiling as you fought the sting in your eyes.

There, in the middle of a war. Blood on his knuckles. Dust on your shoes. You both knew the odds were shit. But still—he saw it. You.

You pressed your forehead to his.

“I’ll hold you to it, Barnes.”

“You better,” he whispered.

Then he kissed you again—slow and deep and full of everything he’d never said, everything he was too afraid to hope for.

You didn’t say anything either.

Because you saw it too.

And it was beautiful.

And it would never happen.

────────────────────────

Austria – Hydra Territory, March 1945

The flaps of the medical tent opened with a violent rustle as Bucky stormed in, his arms wrapped tightly around your limp body.

“I need a medic!” he shouted, voice hoarse, desperate. “Somebody—she needs help, now!”

Your head lolled against his shoulder, blood trailing from a gash at your temple. Your uniform was scorched along one side, and your skin—hot to the touch, glowing faintly blue—made his breath choke in his throat.

Steve was right behind him, bloodied and breathless from the mission, his face pale beneath the dirt and sweat. “Bucky—there—over there.”

Bucky stumbled toward the nearest cot, easing you down with shaking hands. “She’s not—she’s not waking up—why isn’t she waking up?!”

“Move,” a voice snapped. One of the medics pushed past him, and behind them, Howard Stark rushed in, eyes scanning the tent before landing on your still body.

“What happened?” the doctor asked quickly, already peeling back your uniform sleeves to check your vitals. “Where was she hit?”

“She—shit, she—she was trying to get to the evac point and that Hydra weapon—the blue thing, it exploded—she was right there, it hit her—dead on.” Bucky’s words were a mess, stumbling out one over the other as he paced, eyes wide and wild. “There was this light—this blast—and she just—she dropped.”

Howard’s head snapped toward him, face going white. “The Tesseract?”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “What?”

“That wasn’t just energy,” Howard said, approaching the cot fast. “That was Tesseract radiation. If she was that close to a direct hit—she should be—”

“Don’t say it,” Bucky growled, eyes blazing. “She’s not dead. She’s not.”

He dropped to his knees beside the cot, grabbing your hand, pressing it to his lips. “C’mon, doll. You’re tough. You always get up. You’re gonna get up now.”

The medic pulled out a flashlight, gently prying one of your eyes open. “Pupils responsive but sluggish. She’s breathing, but it’s shallow. Pulse is unstable.”

Howard moved in beside them, watching your vitals with a furrowed brow. “This doesn’t make sense. There’s no visible trauma except the cut. If she took a full dose of that energy—”

“Why isn’t she waking up?” Bucky’s voice cracked, and suddenly he was whispering. “She’s always so loud, y’know? Never sits still. Never—she wouldn’t just go quiet like this. She wouldn’t.”

Steve placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. “Buck. We’re gonna figure this out.”

Bucky shook his head, holding your hand tighter. “She promised me a future, Steve. She promised.”

And you weren’t waking up.

Not yet.

────────────────────────

Two Days Later

You hadn’t moved.

Not once.

Not even a twitch.

Bucky sat beside your cot, slouched in a metal folding chair, his fingers still wrapped around your hand like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His uniform was wrinkled. His face unshaved. Eyes red and ringed with exhaustion, like sleep hadn’t dared touch him in forty-eight hours.

Outside, the camp buzzed with movement—boots, trucks, whispered plans. Another Hydra facility marked. Another opportunity to get ahead.

But inside the tent, it was silent. Except for the monitor’s slow, steady beep. The only sign you were still in there somewhere.

He watched your face like it might change. Like your eyelids might flutter. Like you’d sigh and mutter something sarcastic just to mess with him.

But nothing. Stillness.

Until the tent flap rustled, and Steve stepped inside.

Bucky didn’t look at him.

Steve waited a beat, then approached quietly. “Zola’s train. We’ve got confirmation. If we intercept it, we can get him—and maybe trace it back to the Tesseract.”

Bucky’s grip on your hand tightened.

“Buck…”

“I can’t leave her,” Bucky muttered, voice low, ragged. “She could wake up. She’s gonna be scared, disoriented. I have to be here.”

Steve crouched beside him, elbows resting on his knees.

“She’s strong,” he said gently. “She’ll hold on. She always does.”

Bucky shook his head slowly, like if he moved too fast, everything would fall apart. “She followed me here, Steve. Through hell. And now she’s like this ‘cause she was near me. I can’t—I won’t walk away from her.”

Steve was quiet for a moment.

Then he said, soft and steady, “One last mission.”

Bucky didn’t speak.

“We get Zola. We find out what Hydra’s planning. What they hit her with. Maybe it'll help Howard figure out how to wake her.“

Bucky’s jaw flexed.

Steve placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll come back to her. You always do.”

The silence stretched. Bucky looked at your face, memorizing it all over again.

Then—reluctantly, slowly—he stood.

He leaned down, brushed his lips over your knuckles. “Don’t you dare wake up without me.”

And then he walked out.

Into the mission that would steal him away.

────────────────────────

London Outskirts — Allied Medical Facility, April 1945

There was a buzzing under your skin.

Not like electricity. Not pain, exactly. Just… noise. Dull and heavy, like someone had wrapped you in cotton and dropped you underwater.

You blinked, slow and uneven, as the world filtered back in pieces.

White ceiling. IV drip. The scent of antiseptic and wilted flowers.

You didn’t know where you were. Or when. Or how long it had been since anything had felt real.

Your throat was dry. A soft, broken sound rasped from your lips, not quite a word, not quite a cry.

Movement.

A figure stirred beside you, and your head turned weakly toward it. There she was—Peggy Carter—neat, composed, hair swept into a familiar roll, lips pressed in a tight, unreadable line.

You tried to speak.

Nothing came out.

Your tongue felt thick. Your thoughts slow. Your chest ached—not sharp, but deep, like it had been cracked open and stitched back wrong.

Your lips parted. It took effort to find your voice.

“…Peg?”

She looked up instantly, eyes wide with something too deep to name. Relief. Sorrow. Something between the two.

“Hey,” she said softly, reaching for your hand. Her grip was warm. Gentle. “You’re awake.”

You blinked again. Your eyelids felt like stone.

“Where’s… Bucky?”

Peggy hesitated. And you knew.

Not because of what she said.

Because of how long it took her to say it.

You blinked again, trying to force the fog out of your head. “Where is he?” you repeated, a little clearer. A little louder.

Peggy’s eyes were steady. Too steady.

“There was a mission,” she said gently. “A train in the Alps. HYDRA. Bucky was… he fell.”

You stared at her, the words not quite landing.

“He fell,” you repeated.

She nodded once, eyes glistening. “Off the side. Into the ravine. We searched for him. We tried—”

“No.” It was out before you meant to say it.

Peggy looked down.

You opened your mouth to keep talking, but your chest locked up. Something thick and painful wedged under your ribs. You tried again.

The buzzing returned. It roared now. Every breath hurt.

“No…” you said again, barely above a whisper.

Peggy reached for your hand.

You flinched.

“No—no, no,” you repeated, squeezing your eyes shut like it would erase her words. “You’re wrong. He—he said—we had plans. He promised—he—”

Peggy squeezed your hand, her voice like broken glass. “I’m so sorry.”

Your chest heaved. Tears slid down your cheeks in silence—slow, unstoppable.

You didn’t sob. Not yet. You just cried. Soft and disbelieving.

The kind of crying that felt like your bones were cracking open from the inside out. Like your body couldn’t process the grief fast enough.

He was gone.

Your entire world, gone.

You turned your face away from Peggy, trembling as the tears kept falling.

You didn’t scream. Didn’t speak.

You just wept quietly into the pillow, mourning a future that died a thousand miles away—on a mountainside, in the snow—where no one could bring it back.

Five Years Later – Brooklyn, 1950

You didn’t notice it at first.

You never noticed anything, really.

The world had kept moving without you, chugging forward like a train on a track you’d never boarded. You went through the motions—woke up, went to work, cooked meals you rarely ate. Laughed sometimes, though you never meant it. Time passed. The war ended. Cities rebuilt.

But inside?

You were still there. Still in that bed. Still in that room.

Still clinging to a lifeless hand that never gripped back.

Grief had folded itself into your bones like marrow. You carried it like your own shadow—quiet, constant, invisible to anyone who didn’t know where to look.

You’d heard the comments, of course.

At first, they’d sounded like kindness.

“You’ve held up so well.”

“Still got that youthful glow, huh?”

“God, I wish my skin looked like that.”

But you never paid them any mind. Compliments slid off you like water off wax paper. You never saw what they saw. When you looked in the mirror, all you ever saw were dead eyes. Eyes that stopped shining the day Bucky didn’t come back to you.

Until one day… you looked.

Really looked.

You were standing in front of the mirror, brushing your wet hair absently, staring at yourself like usual—not *at* yourself, just through—when something pulled you up short.

Your hand stilled.

You blinked.

And this time, you really saw it.

Your cheeks—still full. No hollows. No lines from laughter or frowning, even though you'd done plenty of the latter and none of the former.

Your skin—glassy. Smooth. Not youthful, not radiant. Just… untouched.

No crow’s feet. No crease between your brows where you’d furrowed them every morning for five years straight.

Your fingers tightened around the brush.

You leaned closer.

No greys in your hair. Not one. You combed through the strands slowly with your fingers, heart beginning to thrum like distant thunder.

Your hands—steady, soft. No sag to the skin. No dark spots. No thinning at the knuckles.

You didn’t look thirty. You didn’t even look twenty-five. You looked exactly the same. And in 1950, that wasn’t beautiful.

It was unnatural.

It hit you in the gut like ice.

You stepped back from the mirror, shaking your head like that might fix it. Like your reflection might catch up to the pain you’d earned.

But it didn’t.

Because you hadn’t aged a day.

And something was very, very wrong.

That's how you ended up in front of Howard Stark again.

Hair wind-tossed, coat clutched tight around your body, eyes hollow as you stood in the lobby of a new office in Washington D.C.—clean lines, too many acronyms, glass walls that looked out onto a world you didn’t recognize anymore.

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” you said.

Howard blinked when he saw you. He hadn’t changed much—bags deeper under his eyes, tie looser than it used to be, but his mind still whirring like a machine. He didn’t ask questions. Just brought you inside.

That’s how you found out about S.H.I.E.L.D.

Some quiet initiative he and Peggy had started—first as a resistance concept, now evolving into something more. Protection. Prevention. Oversight.

And now? Medical diagnostics. They ran tests. Endless ones. Blood. DNA mapping. Tissue scans. Vital readings.

They cross-referenced data from other soldiers exposed to Hydra weapons, to radiation, to anything remotely alien. They even examined your service uniform—residues from the blast, particles trapped in the fabric’s weave.

And the answer came slowly. Then all at once.

“You’re not aging,” Howard said, voice flat with disbelief, eyes scanning the readouts. “Not at all.”

Peggy sat in the corner of the room, hands clasped, eyes dim.

Your heart thudded in your chest.

Howard looked at the scans again. “Your cellular regeneration rate is exponentially higher than the baseline. Mitochondrial aging markers are… nonexistent. The tissue sample we took yesterday? It’s already reversed degradation overnight.”

You stared at him like he was speaking a language you didn’t want to learn.

“What does that mean?” you whispered.

He hesitated. “It means your body is repairing itself faster than it can age. And at this rate… it likely won’t ever stop.”

Your breath hitched.

Peggy stood. “We think it was the Tesseract,” she said gently. “The radiation wasn’t like anything we’ve encountered. It was… beyond us. Beyond Earth. It changed you.”

“I don’t want this,” you said, voice small, breaking. “Howard—fix it.”

He looked at you.

And for the first time in your life, you saw fear in his eyes.

“We’re trying.”

You laughed—short, bitter. “Try harder. I don’t want to be some—some relic. Some myth people study as I live forever. I don’t even want to live right now.”

Peggy reached for you. You pulled away.

And then the days blurred. Months passed in white walls and test tubes. Howard kept trying. Peggy kept reassuring. You kept waking up to the same face in the mirror, the same unwrinkled skin, the same 24-year-old trapped in a body that wouldn’t let go.

And before you knew it… it was 1960.

You were supposed to be forty. But the woman in the mirror? Still looked like the girl who had just lost everything.

New York, 1970

Stark Residence – Late Autumn

“He’s beautiful,” you said softly.

The baby blinked up at you, barely able to focus, cheeks round and pink, one tiny fist curled in your sweater. His eyelids fluttered, mouth opening in a sleepy pout.

“Can’t believe you named a baby Anthony, Howard,” you added dryly, glancing up at Howard. “What is he—fifty already?”

Maria laughed from her seat on the couch. “Thank you. That’s exactly what I said.”

Howard rolled his eyes. “It’s a strong name. Classic.”

“It’s a grandfather’s name,” you teased, rocking gently as the baby blinked again. “He’s gonna come out of the bassinet asking about tax reform.”

Maria smiled, rubbing her side gently. “How was Italy?”

You exhaled through a faint smile. “Beautiful. Quiet. Just the break I needed.”

Maria nodded knowingly. You didn’t have to say more. Everyone needed to escape sometimes. You, more than most.

“Though,” you added, “I did have some issues at the airport. Apparently, people get suspicious when your passport says you were born in 1920.”

Howard gave you a look from across the room, but you ignored him.

“And you?” you asked Maria, gently bouncing the baby as he started to fidget. “How are you doing? Six months in and you’re still glowing.”

Maria smiled, eyes warm. “Recovering. Slowly. He’s worth it, though.”

You nodded and glanced down at little Anthony. He yawned, the movement so pure and small it made your chest ache.

Then Howard spoke.

“You missed your last screening.”

The air shifted. The bounce of the baby in your arms slowed.

“It’s just one test,” you said without looking up. “None of them work anyway.”

Howard straightened from his chair. “That’s not the point. Science is evolving every day—we’re closer now than we were six months ago. You can’t just keep skipping—”

“You’ve been saying that to me for the last twenty-five years, Howard.”

Silence.

The baby cooed, soft and unaware of the sharpness that had entered the room.

Maria cleared her throat gently, trying to soften it again. “He’s right, you know. One day something will work.”

You rocked Anthony again, gaze drifting down to his little hand curling in your shirt.

Maria’s voice was softer now. “You ever think about doing this for yourself? Finding someone? Starting a family?”

You stared at the baby. Long enough that the quiet turned into something heavy.

Then you whispered, “So I can outlive them, too?”

No one spoke. Maria reached for her tea. Howard looked away.

Anthony blinked up at you, peaceful and unaware of the fact that your heart had just folded in half again—quietly, invisibly, like it had learned to over the decades.

Washington, D.C. – 2011

S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, The Triskelion

Level 4 Medical Wing

The medical wing smelled like antiseptic and recycled air—sterile, humming, too bright. You’d memorized every corner of it. Every buzzing fluorescent tube. Every faint scratch on the polished floor from wheeled machines that came and went like clockwork.

You sat on the exam table, sleeve rolled up, arm extended. Your gaze was blank, unfocused, fixed on a point past the wall while the needle pierced your vein.

The young man adjusting the monitor beside you was rambling. Scottish. Awkward. Unapologetically enthusiastic.

“…so basically, your cellular repair rate’s increased by point-zero-four percent in the last decade, which—honestly? Shouldn’t even be possible. We’ve all sort of—well—not to be weird—but we’ve sort of been passing your case files around the medical research division like they’re…” He cleared his throat. “Like they’re legend.”

You blinked slowly.

He winced at himself. “Right. Sorry. That was probably weird to say out loud.”

You said nothing.

He smiled awkwardly and gently removed the IV. “Honestly, I can’t believe they’ve got me doing your panel this cycle. It’s usually Doctor Winslow, or sometimes Simmons when she’s not in the field—uh, that’s my colleague, she’s brilliant—but I drew the assignment this time and I—well, you’ve been with S.H.I.E.L.D. longer than the agency has even existed, which is wild, right?”

You tilted your head slightly, like you were watching a small animal knock its head against a glass door.

He fumbled with a tablet, clearly trying to keep the energy going. “Anyway, it’s fascinating. You’re…you’re basically a walking contradiction. Functionally immortal, ageless, regenerative to a degree we can’t replicate even with alien tech—God, I hope that wasn’t offensive, calling you that—immortal, I mean.”

You raised one brow.

He paled slightly. “Sorry. I talk a lot when I’m nervous.”

You didn’t smile. But you also didn’t tell him to shut up, so he took it as a kind of social win.

When he finally finished up with the last scan, he gave you a sheepish glance.

“Um… would it be weird to ask for a photo?”

You slowly turned your head, looking at him fully for the first time.

The silence that followed was so sharp, it could’ve been used to sterilize the room.

His face blanched. “Right. Yes. Terrible idea. That was—that was inappropriate. Of course. Never mind. I’m just gonna go ahead and, uh—upload these. You’re done for today! Thanks!”

You slid off the table wordlessly, tugging your sleeve back down.

And as you walked out, you heard him whisper to himself, “Cool. No, totally cool. Great job, Fitz. Legendary immortal war nurse just stared into your soul.”

The door hissed shut behind you, and you exhaled—long, steady, trying to shake off the sterile weight of fluorescent lights and Fitz’s over-enthusiastic commentary still clinging to your thoughts like static.

You turned down the hall—

And there he was.

Leaning against the wall just outside the medical wing like he had all the time in the world. Hands in his pockets. Shoulders relaxed. That signature half-smile that never reached his eyes until you made it.

Agent Cole Turner.

“You missed your window,” you said, not even slowing your pace. “I escaped the lab untouched.”

He pushed off the wall, falling into step beside you effortlessly.

“They always let you go. I just come here for the view.”

You raised a brow. “You’re shameless.”

“And yet you don’t seem to mind,” he said, glancing sideways at you, voice low, rich, smooth enough to run a finger through. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you time your exit to run into me.”

“I could have you reassigned.”

“I’d come back.”

You cast him a glance—flat, unimpressed, too good at hiding the flutter under your ribs.

But he saw it.

He always saw it.

Turner let the silence hang a second too long. Then, like he couldn’t help himself:

“You look different today.”

You stiffened slightly. “Do I?”

“It’s your eyes,” he said, quieter now. “They’re a little softer. Sadder.”

You didn’t answer. He stopped walking. You took two more steps before you realized and turned slowly back to him.

“Something happen?”

“It’s just been a day,” you said.

He studied you for a long beat, something sharper edging into his expression. “You’re not like the rest of them.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“I say it like it’s true.” He took a step closer. “You keep everyone at arm’s length like it’s a strategy. But you still come back. Still take the tests. Still give just enough. Why?”

You blinked slowly. “Maybe I’m a creature of habit.”

“You’re not a creature of anything. You’re a woman who’s been running from something so long, she doesn’t know what it feels like to stay.”

That hit a little too close. You looked away.

Turner’s voice dropped again, lower, more deliberate. “I could take you out. Just coffee. Just air.”

You stared at him.

“You don’t even know what today is,” you said softly.

He tilted his head. “Then tell me.”

You didn’t. Because it was your birthday. You were now ninety-one.

And you still looked like you were twenty-four, standing in front of a man you might’ve let yourself love in a different life.

You gave a short breath of a smile instead. “You’re really bad at backing off.”

He smiled, slow and dangerous. “That’s what they keep telling me.”

You turned away before he could see you almost smile again.

He fell into step beside you once more, casually.

“Tell me one thing, and I’ll go.”

You paused. “What?”

“Do you look at me like that on purpose?”

You didn’t look at him this time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you did. And so did he.

He let out a soft breath, low and amused. “Then I’ll see you around.”

You didn’t watch him walk away. But you wanted to. More than you’d admit.

But you continued, stepping out into the cool D.C. air, the late afternoon light washing over the concrete courtyard in golden warmth.

And for the first time that day—a real smile touched your lips.

Because there he was.

Leaning against a sleek black Audi like it was a runway, sunglasses perched on his nose, suit pressed like he hadn’t ever known a wrinkle in his life.

Tony Stark.

He pushed off the car when he saw you, arms opening like he was about to go full dramatic hug.

You crossed your arms. “What are you doing here?”

He removed his sunglasses with a flourish. “What, you think I’d miss my godmother’s birthday? The woman who once grounded me for hot-wiring my own father’s car?”

“You were eleven,” you said.

“I was innovating,” he countered, pointing a finger. “Visionary. Ahead of my time.”

“You were stealing a ride to go get candy.”

Tony grinned. “And you were the only one who had the guts to chase me down in heels and throw me into a bush.”

You shrugged. “And I’d do it again.”

“I know. That’s why I love you.” He opened the passenger side door. “Get in, old lady. I’m taking you out.”

You raised a brow. “Where?”

“That crappy restaurant in Brooklyn you always go on about,” he said, circling around to his side. “You know the one. Peeling wallpaper. Weird lasagna. Waiter with a God complex.”

“Vincent’s,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “You hate that place.”

He started the car. “I do. But you don’t. And I’m feeling particularly generous today.”

You slid in beside him, smirking. “Did Pepper put you up to this?”

He turned to you with mock offense. “Wow. You think I can’t do a nice thing out of my own volition?”

“You called me an ‘ancient vampire’ last year when I wouldn’t let you have champagne before noon.”

“And I was right,” he said. “But you’re my ancient vampire. Which means I’m buying you overpriced garlic bread and pretending I don’t gag at marinara.”

You laughed, for real this time, the sound warm and effortless.

He glanced at you sideways, smirk softening. “You deserve something good today.”

You looked out the window for a second. “Thanks, Tony.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just pulled onto the road and turned the radio down.

Then, casually: “You know, if I had a time machine, I’d go back and punch anyone who ever made you feel alone on your birthday.”

You looked at him again—really looked.

And your chest ached in the best way.

“Careful,” you said. “If you get any more sentimental, I might think you’re going soft.”

He smirked. “I’m Tony Stark. I can be whatever I want.”

You smiled again. “Then today? Be my annoying godson who buys me garlic bread.”

“Done.”

────────────────────────

The cabin of Tony’s jet was warm and plush, stocked with things you’d never dream of asking for but he always insisted on having. The faint hum of altitude mixed with his voice as he made some dramatic comment about how you were a “terrible birthday date” for refusing to pick a champagne.

You rolled your eyes, lounging with a drink in hand, just starting to let yourself relax.

And then your phone rang.

You frowned.

Tony looked up too. “You actually have your ringer on? What are you, eighty?”

“Actually I'm ninety-one,” you murmured, glancing at the screen.

Unknown.

You picked up.

“…Hello?”

“Don’t speak,” came Fury’s voice, sharp and direct. “Just listen. We’ve got a situation. You need to come to our Manhattan facility. Immediately.”

You straightened in your seat. “What? Why? What’s going on?”

“We recovered something. Someone.”

You were already on edge. “Fury—”

“It’s Rogers,” he said flatly. “Captain America. We found his body in the Arctic. He’s… he’s awake.”

Silence.

It ripped through you like a bullet.

“What?”

“We thawed him two days ago. He’s stable. Fully conscious. Still adjusting.”

Your breath left your lungs like a punch. “You what? And you’re just telling me now? I should’ve been told the moment you found him—how long have you known?!”

There was a beat of static. Then the line went dead. You pulled the phone back, stared at the screen: Call ended.

“Motherf—” You cut yourself off, nearly launching the device across the cabin.

Tony raised both brows, slowly closing his tablet. “Well. That sounded like a vibe killer.”

You were already standing, heart pounding, hands shaking. “I—I need to raincheck. I’m sorry.”

He blinked. “Raincheck? On your birthday dinner?”

You looked at him, pained. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious.”

He studied you for a second, expression unreadable.

Then: “Fine. But if this turns out to be you ghosting me to avoid carbs, I will send you gluten-laced muffins in retaliation.”

You leaned in and kissed his cheek, grateful and soft.

“Next time,” you promised.

He nodded, but as you rushed toward the cabin door, he called after you.

“Tell the Captain he owes me a drink. I’ve got questions about the hair.”

You didn’t answer.

You were already gone.

────────────────────────

S.H.I.E.L.D. Manhattan Facility – Sub-Level 3

The elevator opened with a cold metallic hiss, and there he was—Nick Fury, standing at the threshold with his arms folded, eye already tracking your every movement like he expected a detonation.

You didn’t greet him.

You didn’t slow down.

You stormed past him with the force of a tidal wave.

“You should’ve told me immediately,” you snapped, heels echoing down the corridor as he turned to follow you.

He didn’t flinch. “You weren’t cleared.”

You stopped.

Pivoted sharply.

Face to face with the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., your expression carved from stone.

“Bullshit.”

Fury’s jaw flexed. “Might I remind you that you are not an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Nevertheless having the clearance—”

“He is Captain goddamn America,” you bit out, voice low and lethal. “And you thought it wasn’t logical to contact the only living person he knows? The one who knew him before the shield, before the serum, before the goddamn war?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you stepped closer, finger pointed square at his chest.

“Don’t play smart with me, boy.”

That stopped him. For a second, the Director of the world’s most covert agency looked like he’d been slapped.

“I was born before your parents even met,” you said coldly. “I was holding soldiers hand while they bled out on a field you’ve only ever read about. I sat in a room and cried over Steve Rogers before your daddy learned how to spell his own name.”

Your voice shook—not with weakness, but with fury barely leashed. “I watched everyone I ever loved disappear. And now he’s back, and you didn’t tell me.”

Fury’s gaze dropped, just for a moment.

“You think S.H.I.E.L.D. built me?” you hissed. “I’ve outlived organizations. I’ve outlived time. You don’t keep something like this from me.”

There was a beat of silence. The hallway was cold and empty, save for your words hanging heavy in the air.

Finally, Fury spoke, quieter.

“…He’s just through here.”

You stared at the door.

Your hand trembled, just slightly. The door slid open with a soft hiss.

The room beyond was quiet, dimly lit. Stark white walls. No windows. Just the low hum of surveillance tech and a single man sitting at the edge of a hospital-style cot.

Steve Rogers.

His elbows rested on his knees, broad shoulders hunched, head in his hands like the weight of the century he missed was finally bearing down.

You stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind you with a final click.

He didn’t hear it. Not at first. But then—his head lifted. His eyes—tired, shell-shocked, too blue—locked on yours.

And for a moment… everything stilled.

He stared at you like you were a ghost. Like you might disappear if he blinked too hard.

“…No,” he whispered, breath catching in his chest. “No… that can’t be…”

You didn’t move yet. Just looked at him, eyes burning. “It’s me, Steve.”

He was on his feet in seconds—crossing the room in three long, desperate strides, his hand reaching before he could stop himself, like he needed to touch you to believe you were real.

You let him.

He stopped inches away, eyes wide, searching every line of your face.

You whispered, “I’m real.”

He didn’t speak.

He just pulled you into his arms—tight, fierce, trembling—and you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding for seventy years.

His voice cracked at your ear.

“…How?”

You closed your eyes, gripping the back of his shirt. “It’s a long story. One you won’t believe.”

He held you like the world had finally stopped spinning.

And maybe, for one perfect second, it had.

────────────────────────

New York City – Stark Tower, 2012

The streets of Manhattan were still choked with debris, flickering emergency lights, and the aftermath of an invasion no one expected. But you didn’t stop moving—not through the airport, not through the eerily quiet flight, not through the ash and twisted metal littering the city.

Because you saw it.

The footage.

Steve.

Tony.

A hole in the sky. And now—you were here.

You stepped through the busted entryway of Stark Tower, heart in your throat, shoes crunching glass. Security didn’t stop you. They knew who you were.

You pushed through the ruined lobby, into the elevator—thankfully still functioning—and rode it in dead silence, hands clenched.

The doors opened onto chaos.

And you saw them.

Tony, pacing near a half-functional console, bruised and blood-streaked but upright. Romanoff sitting on the edge of a workbench, stitches on her temple. Barton standing guard at the window. And—

“Steve—”

He turned at the sound of your voice.

You crossed the room before you could stop yourself, arms flying around him, holding tight.

“Are you okay?” you demanded, breathless, checking him over with your hands, ignoring the shield slung across his back. “What the hell happened—I saw you on the news, I thought—”

“I’m okay,” he murmured, voice tired but warm. “I’m here.”

“Well, great,” Tony cut in dryly, limping slightly toward you. “Glad to see Cap gets all the hugs. Never mind me, the guy who literally flew a nuke into space and crash-landed back to Earth like a comet.”

You turned, expression flat. Then without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him too, tight, one hand on the back of his head.

He blinked. “Okay. Wow. That worked better than expected.”

You pulled back. “Never do that again.”

“No promises,” he said, voice softer now. “But… since you’re here—” he gestured vaguely to the rubble, “—and we’re alive, I might’ve found something. A possible fix.”

You frowned. “Fix for what?”

Before he could answer, a voice echoed behind you like rolling thunder.

“Milady.”

You turned—and stared.

There, standing tall among the wreckage, was a man out of myth.

Blonde hair, broad shoulders, armor gleaming despite the mess. A cape. And a hammer—impossibly heavy-looking, dangling from his fingers like it was nothing.

Your eyes widened.

He stepped forward with regal ease. “I am Thor of Asgard, son of Odin, and wielder of Mjölnir.”

You blinked. “Hi.”

He bowed his head slightly. “The Captain of America and the Man of Iron have spoken of you.”

Steve looked faintly exasperated; Tony was smirking.

“They told me of your… predicament,” Thor continued, “and of the relic that caused it. The Tesseract and it's power is not unknown to me. It is one of the Infinity Stones—powerful beyond your world’s understanding.”

You glanced between them, mind catching up. “You know what it is?”

Thor nodded. “And I believe I can help.”

You stared at him.

For a moment, all you could see was possibility.

You turned slowly toward Steve, toward Tony.

Steve gave a small, hopeful nod. “I think he can really help you.”

And for the first time in a very, very long time…you felt it.

Hope.

────────────────────────

Brooklyn – Abandoned Warehouse, October 2014

The space was cold. Cracked walls. Rotting beams. Bare concrete that echoed every breath like it was trying to remind him he was still alive.

He sat in the corner of the second floor, back to the wall, knees drawn up, metal fingers clenched around the edge of a weather-worn blanket someone had left behind. He hadn't turned the lights on. He couldn't. He didn’t want to see what kind of ghost looked back at him.

A memory flickered.

A pair of blue eyes—his? Someone else's?

Gone.

He pressed his fists to his forehead, hard. Like pressure might force the truth out.

He knew the facts.

Names from placards and plaques. Faces on digital screens in museum halls. Steve Rogers: Hero. Captain. Friend.

And a photograph—grainy, faded.

Her.

You.

A woman in a dark dress. Laughing. Elbow hooked in Bucky Barnes’s. Smiling like you didn’t know war was waiting.

But he didn’t remember your name.

Not really.

Only—flashes.

A smoky bar. Laughter like wind chimes. A voice sharp with wit, low with want. The way you’d leaned in, chin tipped up, mouth just barely grazing his.

Then—touch. A warm thigh under his palm. Your fingers threaded through his hair. Skin on skin in a dark apartment that smelled like old books and lavender. His hand gripping your hip, your breath catching in his ear, your laugh—

“You make it too easy to love you.”

That one he remembered.

He choked on a breath. Pressed the heel of his hand to his mouth.

It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

His mind was full of holes, Hydra-shaped voids that swallowed everything whole. But you were like a splinter stuck beneath his ribs—sharp, aching, impossible to dig out.

And it hurt. It hurt.

Not just the not-knowing. The not-having. But the knowing enough to miss it. To miss you.

He doubled over, forehead to his knees, metal fingers curling into the floor, dragging small scars into the concrete.

He hadn’t cried. Not in forever. But now his chest was cracking open, silent and violent and shaking.

Because the woman in the flashes—

the one who touched him like he wasn’t a weapon—

the one who kissed him like tomorrow was a joke—

She was real.

The air had gone still.

No traffic. No wind. Just the buzz of old wiring somewhere in the walls and the sound of his own breathing—too fast, too shallow, like even that was a struggle.

He opened his notebook again—small, weather-stained, bent at the corners. A pen rested inside it, lid chewed to hell. His hand trembled as he flipped past scribbled museum facts, fragmented Russian, coordinates scratched in blind frustration.

Then—on the last page. A single line.

"Beautiful eyes, sharp mouth. Loud and free."

He stared at it. He didn’t remember writing it. But he knew it was about you.

You, who lived in the gaps between dreams and triggers. You, who surfaced in the quiet moments before the nightmares started. You, who touched him like he wasn’t broken, even though maybe he always had been.

The worst part? He couldn’t remember your name. Not your voice. Not your laugh in full.

Just impressions—like the warmth a flame leaves after it’s gone out.

A breathless laugh behind a rooftop kiss. A low murmur against his throat—“Don’t ever leave me.” A flash of skin in moonlight, your leg draped over his hip. And something deeper. Something dear.

The way you’d looked at him once—like he was worth everything. That memory stabbed.

Because no one looked at him like that anymore. Not even himself.

His metal hand clenched around the pen until it creaked, until it cracked, until the ink bled into his palm and he barely noticed.

He stood, pacing, fast and desperate. He needed something. A lead. A name. A reason.

He tore through the backpack he kept hidden under the floorboards—scavenged burner phones, papers, an old StarkPad he barely knew how to use.

He cracked it open with shaking hands.

Typed:

Brooklyn, 1940s. Woman. Bucky Barnes.

Nothing. Too vague.

Bucky Barnes. War nurse. Brooklyn, 1940s. WW2.

Still nothing useful.

He slammed the pad down hard enough to fracture the case.

“Please…” he whispered to no one. “Please…”

He didn’t know who he was begging.

Not Steve. Not God. Just you.

Because he could live without memories. But not without you.

The cracked StarkPad balanced on his knee, the screen flickering from overuse. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, then moved faster—typing, deleting, retyping again over and over.

And then—

There it was.

A headline.

“The Mysterious Case of The Girl Stuck in Time: Survivor of World War II. Known for her service as a front-line nurse alongside Captain America and the Howling Commandos. Has not aged since 1945.“

His breath caught.

He clicked the article with trembling fingers, the screen loading slow like it knew it held something sacred.

There you were.

A black-and-white photo from the war, standing in uniform beside Steve and him, smiling wide. The same eyes.

Then a more recent image—different setting. S.H.I.E.L.D. file photo, maybe. Hair pulled back, skin impossibly smooth. Too smooth. Like glass. Like time had decided it didn’t apply to you.

You looked the same.

But also—not.

The curve of your lips was tight, your eyes dull. Your beauty was preserved, but your light had dulled. In the photo, you looked like someone still breathing only because the alternative was worse.

His fingers brushed the screen like it might bring you closer.

He didn't understand.

What the hell did they do to you?

He dug deeper. Articles. Theories. Old interviews. They all called you a miracle. A myth. A phenomenon.

They didn’t know what he did.

That you were real.

Warm. Loud. Wild.

The girl who kissed him like the world was ending.

The woman who swore she’d never let the war steal you both.

Now the war had ended.

And you were still fighting.

He kept scrolling. More photos. All of them wrong.

That wasn’t how you’d looked when you whispered “You’re mine” against his mouth.

But you were alive.

His heart pounded. For the first time since the collapse of the helicarriers—for the first time since your name came back to him—he felt something close to clarity.

He had to find you.

No matter how long it took. No matter who you’d become. Because somewhere in there—

you were still his.

────────────────────────

San Francisco – November, 2014

Outer Richmond District, 4:37 p.m.

The sky hung low, swollen with clouds, heavy with the kind of gray that made the entire street look washed in cold ash. Rain fell in a soft, steady rhythm—thousands of tiny drops kissing pavement, pooling along curbs, hissing off car roofs.

Bucky stood across the street, half-sheltered beneath the overhang of a florist’s shop. A faded baseball cap pulled low over his brow, collar turned up high. The leather of his gloves creaked as his fingers flexed in slow, anxious rhythm.

He’d been here for hours.

Watched people pass. Listened to the city breathe in traffic hums and bicycle bells.

Waiting.

Waiting to see you.

He knew your life now—what pieces the world had.

The woman they called “The Girl Stuck in Time.”

He’d read everything. Every grainy tabloid photo, every polished New York Times spread from the 60s. He found the interview you gave in ’71—your voice quiet, controlled, your smile tight as you said you were just “trying to do something good with the time I’ve been given.”

Philanthropy. Global aid. A foundation in your name. Book deals you barely promoted. Speeches you didn’t like giving. Smiling for photos you didn’t believe in.

A life that looked full. Beautiful.

But behind your eyes? Still the same sadness from the museum photos.

Still you.

And now you lived here. In San Francisco. Far from Brooklyn. Far from the ghosts.

He didn’t blame you.

He didn’t know what he expected. He didn’t even know what he wanted.

Just a glimpse.

Just you.

You stepped out of the café first—coat belted tight, hair swept back from your face, a slight flush to your cheeks from the warmth you’d just left behind. Your umbrella tilted slightly as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, brow furrowed at something on your phone.

And then you looked up.

It wasn’t even at him—just up, vaguely, across the street.

But it didn’t matter.

Because your face.

Bucky’s lungs forgot how to work.

You looked exactly like the pictures.

Exactly like the memories—at least, the fractured ones that still burned inside him.

But it was more than that.

It was you.

Alive. Breathing. Whole.

The girl from his dreams. The girl who haunted the spaces between gunfire and screaming. The girl whose name he whispered in sleep like a prayer, whose laugh he remembered better than his own.

You weren’t just real. You were here. And for one moment, just one impossible second—

You smiled.

Soft. Small.

Like the rain didn’t matter. Like maybe you had seen him. And in that moment, Bucky thought—maybe.

Maybe this was it. Maybe the universe had given him a mercy. Maybe you had been waiting for him too. Maybe this was the end of the darkness. Maybe he could finally come home.

His feet moved before he knew it. One step into the street. Then another.

Then—

Another figure stepped into view. A man. Umbrella in one hand, bouquet in the other.

Bucky stopped. Mid-step.

The man reached you. And you lit up. Brighter than you had been in those pictures he saw. Brighter than any memory he had left of you.

You laughed, pressed your hand to your mouth, and said something Bucky couldn’t hear, but he didn’t need to. The look on your face said everything.

This wasn’t polite. Wasn’t passing. This was love.

The way you touched his arm. The way he brushed a thumb across your jaw, held your umbrella steady as you tilted your head to receive it.

The flowers. Hydrangeas, your favorite. The familiar rhythm of your bodies as you walked together. The comfort of your closeness.

It was intimate. It was effortless. It was everything Bucky had lost—and you had found.

His chest cracked. Not in a dramatic way. Not loud.

Just quietly. Completely.

He stumbled back onto the curb like he’d been punched, mouth open, breath stolen. His hands curled into fists—both of them—like he could grip the pain and hold it somewhere that wasn’t his ribs.

You were smiling like you were safe.

You were holding someone else like he was home.

The ache bloomed slow.

Hot. Cold. Heavy.

He backed into the shadow of the building, eyes still locked on you.

He had imagined this moment so many times.

But in all of them, you were alone. Waiting. Needing him.

Not…

Not like this.

Not happy. Not healed. Not loved by someone else.

He didn’t feel the rain pick up again. Didn’t feel the damp against his jacket, the wind at his back. All he felt was the slow collapse of something deep in his chest.

A collapse that didn’t come with a crash.

Just… silence.

Stillness.

Because he was too late.

The woman in his dreams—the girl from rooftops, from crumpled sheets, from smoky bars and whispered promises—she had survived.

She had moved on.

And he had no right to pull her back.

Because that smile—

That was enough. That was all he came for.

Once more to see you.

────────────────────────

San Francisco, January 2015

You didn’t know what to say.

You didn’t know how to breathe.

Steve had said the words so quietly, like saying them too loud might break something sacred.

“He’s alive.”

And your whole world folded in on itself. Again.

You stared at him. Blinked once. Twice. Waiting for it to make sense.

It didn’t.

Not right away.

Your hands were still in your lap. Fingers laced together, knuckles bone-white. You hadn’t moved since he said it—like if you stayed perfectly still, the gravity wouldn’t shift.

But it already had.

“He went into hiding after D.C.,” Steve had said, voice tight. “Tried to disappear again. But eventually… he came to me.”

You hadn’t looked at him. Couldn’t. The room felt too full. Too loud.

“And the only thing I could think to do…” He’d run a hand through his hair. “He needs something to hold on to. Someone. He barely remembers me. Only fragments. Just what Hydra left behind, and what he read in a museum.”

A sharp breath caught in your throat. Of course. That’s what he’d been reduced to. A legend on a plaque. A soldier behind glass.

And now—he was breathing. Somewhere in the same country. And he didn’t even remember Steve.

But he remembered you.

That’s why Steve was here. Because you were the only thread Bucky still clung to in the tangled web of his mind.

“I didn’t know if I should come,” Steve said finally, quieter now. “But… if there’s anything that can help him—it’s you.”

Your mouth opened. Then closed again. Nothing came out.

Because you had loved him. Loved him with every second you were sure you’d never get back.

And now? Now he was here.

And it felt like your heart had just started again. But you didn’t know if it was beating for him.

You didn’t know what to feel—except everything, all at once.

────────────────────────

New York City – Stark Tower, February, 2015

The jet landed in silence. No welcoming fanfare. No agents or escorts. Just the hum of engines winding down and the weight of Steve Rogers standing beside you like the ghost of your former life made flesh.

He hadn’t said much during the flight. He didn’t need to. The silence between you spoke loud enough.

And now, as you stepped into the elevator, every floor closer felt like pressure against your lungs. The kind that makes it hard to breathe.

You hadn’t seen Bucky Barnes in seventy years. And he wasn’t the same man.

Steve had told you as much. That the boy who used to kiss your neck in the back of his tenement hallway now had metal where his arm used to be. That he rarely spoke unless spoken to. That he was healing—but painfully slow.

You nodded. Told Steve you understood. But you didn’t. Not until the elevator doors opened. Not until you saw him.

He was in the corner of the room—half-shadowed, quiet, like he was trying to make himself smaller than a man his size could be.

And God, he was bigger.

The serum had carved him into something unrecognizable and so achingly familiar. Broad shoulders, thick arms, his back rising and falling in slow, cautious breaths.

But it was the hair that struck you.

Longer now, brushing his jaw. Unkempt but soft. And tucked behind it—those eyes.

Still that same steel-blue.

Still yours.

For a second, you didn’t move.

Your eyes traced the metal arm—exposed, gleaming in the light. Every line of it sculpted, silent, awful. That was new. That wasn’t the man you remembered. That arm had done things your Bucky never would have.

But when he turned—

When he really looked at you—

Time stopped.

Your breath caught in your throat like a sob you hadn’t meant to let out. And still… you walked forward. One slow step at a time. Trying to keep your spine straight. Your voice level.

“Do you… do you know who I am?” you asked.

You hated how your voice trembled.

He didn’t speak at first. Just stared. Like his body knew before his mind did. Like his heart was dragging up something his brain couldn’t catch yet.

Then—finally—he spoke. Your name. Whispered. Barely there.

But yours.

It hit you like a knife to the sternum.

His lips parted like he wanted to say more—but the words came slow, fractured, unsteady.

“I… I met you in a bar,” he murmured, voice raw from disuse. “June ’41. Summer night. You were with… friends. Your hair was down. Laughing.”

“And you…” he huffed, something like a memory making his mouth twitch. “You told me not to buy you a drink because you didn’t like whiskey. Said I could impress you by dancing instead.”

Your eyes burned.

“You danced with me. That night. All night.”

A slow nod.

“And the next,” he mumbled. “And every night I could steal before they shipped us out.”

You looked at him then—really looked—and felt everything crash forward. All the time, all the silence, all the grief.

Because it was him. Changed. But him.

That need—the one you thought had died with the war—it flooded you all over again. Your skin remembered his touch. Your mouth remembered the shape of his name in a moan. Your heart remembered everything.

It was still there. Alive and loud and aching. But so was something else.

Because you loved someone else now. A different man. A good man. One who had held you when the world forgot you. One who kissed your cheek when your nightmares made you shake. One who was real.

And now your whole world was breaking open.

All over again.

A Year Later

The Avengers Compound – Sublevel Quarters

Morning, June 2016

The world was quiet. Too quiet for a day like this.

Bucky sat in the half-dark of his room, blinds pulled but not shut. Sunlight bled through in thin, uneven strips, painting his floor in quiet gold. The air was warm—June warmth—but he hadn’t changed out of last night’s clothes. Just a black shirt. Worn jeans. Bare feet.

The metal arm caught the sunlight. And he hated how quiet the room was. How quiet he was.

The voices were gone now. The static. The screaming commands. The weight of Hydra’s grip wasn’t around his throat anymore—but something else had replaced it.

Emptiness.

Like he’d fought his way out of hell and found nothing waiting for him on the other side.

His reflection in windows didn’t scare him now.

But it didn’t look like him, either. He didn’t know what he looked like anymore.

There was a knock. Soft. Then the door opened slowly.

Steve stepped in, already in a charcoal suit, tie neat. He looked uncomfortable—like the fabric didn’t sit right on his soldier’s frame. But his expression was soft. Tired. Familiar.

“We’re headin’ out,” Steve said, voice low. “Last call if you wanna come.”

Bucky didn’t look at him.

Just kept twisting the chain of his dog tags—cool, rhythmic, constant.

He already knew what today was.

Your wedding day.

And somehow, it felt like his funeral.

Today, you’d be someone else’s wife.

You’d wear white.

You’d say I do.

And Bucky would watch the sunset knowing he wasn’t the man you wanted forever with anymore.

“I’m not coming,” Bucky murmured, finally.

Steve didn’t answer right away. He stepped in, let the door close behind him.

“You could,” he said. “Nobody would mind.”

“I would.”

Silence.

Steve sighed. “You’re not… excluded, Buck.”

Bucky let out a breath that could’ve been a laugh. Could’ve been a choke.

“I know.”

His fingers stopped moving.

“I just don’t think I can watch it happen,” he whispered.

Steve looked at him for a long time. “You love her.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

“I’m glad she’s happy,” Bucky said eventually. “I mean it.”

Steve nodded, quiet.

“But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

The room fell still again.

Steve walked over, rested a hand briefly on Bucky’s shouler, “It’s okay, Buck.”

He hated how gentle his voice was. Hated that he needed it.

“You did good, letting her go.”

Bucky didn’t look at him just clenched his fist over the tags.

He didn't say anything else. He couldn't.

And then Steve turned to leave. Gave him one last look over his shoulder.

“I’ll tell her you said congratulations.”

The door clicked shut behind him. And Bucky just sat there. Still. Breathing like it hurt. The silence swelled again. And then—

Something snapped.

He stood. Abruptly. Too fast. The chair scraped.

His breath caught. He stared at the door. His chest was tight. His heart too loud.

He didn’t know what he was going to say. Or do.

But he had to see you.

Just once.

One more time.

Before he let you go completely.

────────────────────────

The Plaza, Private Bridal Suite – New York, Late Morning, June 2016

The room was silent.

Soft light filtered in through lace-curtained windows, dust floating like quiet confetti in the air. The kind of stillness meant to calm. The kind of stillness you’d prayed for.

You stood in front of the mirror, veil draped over the back of a nearby chair. The dress fit perfectly. Your hair was set, every pin tucked just so. Everything was exactly how you had planned it.

And still…

Your fingers trembled as they traced the edge of your neckline.

Your eyes studied your reflection like it was a stranger.

This was supposed to be the beginning. The start of your real life.

You’d earned this. You’d survived. In 2012, the doctors confirmed it—after Thor's help, your cells had finally stabilized. The tesseract’s grip had faded. You were free.

You were aging. Like everyone else. Like you were supposed to. And you’d cried.

Out of relief. Out of fear. Out of the overwhelming weight of time returning to your body.

But you hadn’t gone back to your old self.

You hadn’t gone back to her.

The wild girl who danced barefoot. Who loved a soldier with reckless joy. Who pressed her cheek to a metal dog tag in the dark and whispered “come back to me.”

You buried her.

Built something new. Something safe.

You found someone who loved the woman you became—quiet, poised, a little haunted but finally real.

And today, you were marrying him.

Your hand hovered over your heart. But there was this… ache.

It didn’t make sense. Everything was perfect.

The dress. The weather. The man waiting at the altar. But something deep inside your chest was pulling.

You pressed your hand flat to your ribcage, as if that would stop it. It wouldn’t.

Because it wasn’t fear. It wasn’t doubt. It was something else.

Something… missing.

And you didn’t know why.

You didn’t hear the door open. You didn't hear it close. You didn’t hear the footsteps behind you.

You were too lost in the mirror. In the image of yourself. The one everyone else would call beautiful. Radiant. The woman who made it. Who endured.

But all you saw was someone still trying to believe this was real. Still trying to make that ache go away.

Then—

A voice. Low. Familiar. Reverent.

“You look beautiful.”

You flinched. Spun. Your breath caught. Because he was there.

Bucky.

Standing just inside the door, tux fitted like it was cut from memory, his long hair combed back, bowtie slightly uneven—because of course it was.

He looked… God.

He looked unreal.

You hadn’t seen him in months. Not since you’d started wedding planning. Not since the night you said goodbye with your eyes but not your mouth.

But here he was. Right in front of you.

You stared at him. And he stared right back. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

The air felt too thin.

And somehow, it wasn’t the dress that made you feel exposed—it was his eyes.

Because he looked at you like he still remembered the curve of your smile before it broke. Like he still saw the woman from 1942. And every version you became after.

“Bucky,” you whispered.

It was all you could manage.

His lips parted like your name was the only thing holding him together. He took a breath.

And the world, for just a second—stopped turning.

Your throat was tight. It ached just to breathe.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Your fingers brushed against the fabric of your gown, like that would steady you. Like anything could.

Bucky’s eyes dropped briefly to your hand. And lingered.

On the ring. Silver. Simple. Clean.

His mouth twitched—not in a smile. In something like memory.

“For him,” he murmured. “Not you.”

You blinked. “What?”

He nodded at your hand. “It’s silver. You always liked gold.”

You looked down. And for a second, the breath you’d been holding collapsed in your lungs. Because he was right. You did like gold. You always had.

“Bucky…” your voice broke around the name, fragile.

He stepped closer. Not much. Just enough to be near.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I just—I needed to see you. Just once.”

You couldn’t speak. Could barely stand.

His voice was velvet and gravel, threaded with every unspoken word you’d buried over the years.

“I didn’t come to stop you,” he said. “I just… I didn’t want the last time I saw you to be the memory of you walking away.”

You closed your eyes. Because it hurt.

Everything about this—his presence, his voice, his knowing you even now—it made your chest feel like it was folding in on itself.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered.

“I know.”

“But you are.”

“I am.”

Silence. Thick. Unforgiving. And still—you didn’t move. You swallowed, but it didn’t help.

Your voice came out thinner than you meant it to, laced with something between ache and awe.

“You’re alive…”

You shook your head, barely. “But I still feel like I’m mourning you.”

The words hit the room like a confession no one had earned but had to be said anyway.

And maybe you were mourning him.

Not just the man in front of you, breathing and solid, with his tux and his sorrowful eyes. But the man you were supposed to have.

The one who never got to put a ring on your finger. The one who never came back from that train.

A tear slipped free before you could stop it. Bucky moved before you even registered it—just one step. But it was instinct. Memory. Love.

His fingers brushed your cheek, feather-light, catching the tear like it offended him. His metal hand didn’t flinch. He held you like he might break something sacred.

You leaned into the touch before you could stop yourself. Sighed softly, shakily.

He studied you like you were the most precious thing on earth.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured, voice low, rough-edged. “It’ll ruin your face.”

You let out something between a laugh and a sob. “It’s already ruined.”

“No,” he said, softly, firmly. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your breath stilled. His thumb traced the damp track left behind. His brow was drawn, eyes dim but focused like the moment might disappear if he blinked. And in his silence was everything neither of you could say.

I loved you. I still do. But it’s not mine to hold anymore.

You didn’t mean to reach for him. But you did.

Arms around his waist. Face against his chest. The scent of him—clean, warm, familiar in a way that shattered you.

And he held you. Not like someone about to say goodbye. But like someone who already had. His arms wrapped around you like they were the only safe place you had left. One flesh, one steel. Both trembling.

You could feel his heartbeat—steady, slow, heavy.

He lowered his head, nose brushing your hair, your temple, your jaw. And he breathed you in. Like he wanted to memorize you one last time. Like this was the end of a dream he had held onto for too long.

You held him just as tightly.

Because what else could you do? What else could you give him, when your name was about to become someone else’s?

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered.

And the silence that followed was louder than any scream. You didn’t say it back. Not because it wasn’t true. But because it was.

A knock shattered the stillness. Soft. Gentle. Final. You both froze.

Your hands lingered on his back for just one more second. Then slowly—too slowly—you pulled away.

You crossed the room. Heart in your throat. You opened the door.

Tony stood there in a sleek tux, his mouth already forming some sarcastic line until his eyes locked on you. And for once—he said nothing.

He just looked at you. Then softly, “You ready?”

You didn’t answer right away. You turned.

Bucky stood in the shadowed half of the room, just behind the edge of the door. Out of sight. Out of reach.

But your eyes found his. One last time.

He didn’t move. Didn’t smile. But he nodded. Just once.

You nodded back. And then turned.

You took the bouquet Tony handed you. Slipped your fingers into the loop of your veil.

And when he offered his arm, you rested your hand on it gently.

You didn’t look back. You didn’t need to. Because some part of you would always be in that room.

Wrapped in arms that could no longer hold you.

────────────────────────

The music swelled—soft, elegant, perfect.

You held onto Tony’s arm, bouquet trembling slightly in your hands. Your veil floated gently behind you, trailing over polished marble floors beneath glittering chandeliers.

The room was everything you’d never imagined as a little girl. Beautiful. Grand. Full of carefully curated perfection.

Your eyes lifted—

And there he was.

Cole.

Waiting at the altar. Back straight. Eyes soft. A man who had held your hand through everything, who had made you laugh when you thought you’d forgotten how.

But as your steps echoed down the aisle—

Your mind drifted. Just for a second.

And the year wasn’t 2016 anymore.

It was 1946.

And you weren’t in Upper Manhattan.

You were in a modest little church in Brooklyn—St. Mary’s of Carmine, two blocks from the tenement you’d grown up in. The kind of church with creaky pews and peeling paint, where sunlight spilled through old stained glass like warm memory.

And waiting at the end of that aisle…

Was Bucky.

Fresh-faced. Hair neat, eyes wide and red-rimmed like he’d already cried and might do it again. He looked at you like the whole damn war had been worth it just to see you in white.

Next to him—Steve. Grinning, proud, a little choked up but trying to play it cool.

You weren’t wearing silk or designer lace. Just a simple, sleeveless dress. No name label. Just love stitched into every seam.

And you were walking toward forever.

The fantasy faded as the room came back into focus—music, flowers, the soft murmur of guests.

Cole was still there. Still smiling. Still waiting.

And you loved him. You really did.

But as you neared him—hand still resting on Tony’s arm—you couldn’t stop the ache that curled low in your chest.

Because somewhere in time, in a church that never stood long enough… You’d already walked this aisle once before.

Your steps slowed. Tony gently squeezed your hand, then released your arm, stepping back as you took your place at the altar.

The air was still.

Cole turned to face you fully. His eyes were soft, steady, full of the kind of love that didn’t need grand declarations.

And maybe that was why this could be real. Why this was.

Your fingers trembled slightly around your bouquet. You glanced up once, just once, to the soft light pouring through the high windows.

The music faded. The pastor cleared his throat gently.

“Dearly beloved…”

You looked forward again. At Cole. At the future you had chosen.

Even as another version of you, in another year, in another universe, still stood in a Brooklyn church, whispering I do to a boy with a medal on his chest and stars in his eyes.

And maybe that version of you would always live, tucked away in a corner of your heart.

But this one? This you—

This you was ready.

The ceremony had begun.

And you didn’t look back.

A/N | Yes chat, we all crying rn, I don't know how many times I made myself cry writing this. Lowkey think this should be left like this, but if ever I write a part 2, it would be like post-blip, Tony's dead, Steve's dead, and cole died somehow, and you're suffering from postpartum and grief, and Bucky's there always to be there for you.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes smut

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inupibaldspot · 1 year ago

Text

Back off,kid.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : (Teen)Gojo is jealous over (kid) Fushiguro having a crush on you.

Fushiguro Megumi always wonders if he made the right choice every time a white-haired sunglass wearing teenager walks into the house.

The tall older boy would grin as his hands form a salute. “You doing good Megumi and Tsumiki?”

He was as useful as the indoor plants. Fushiguro thought.

Gojo wasn’t much good at cooking and neither helped with cleaning, probably because of his rich background—but he did spoil them with lots of food and pocket money but he wouldn’t ever admit that.

As much as Fushiguro would love to throw insults at Gojo, he holds back his tongue each time; Tsumiki would send sharp glare and nag him if he did.

The first friend he brought to visit them was a girl; it was after Gojo went missing for a while and when Tsumiki inquired about it ,he simply said one of his dear friend went cray-cray as his finger twirls at the temple of his head.

The girl had short, brown hair with a distinct smell of cigarette; her name was Shoko Ieiri. She wore an impressed look when she entered the house as she looked over to Gojo. “Heh— The place is pretty neat,Gojo.”

Fushiguro looked to Gojo who placed some groceries on the counter top with a proud smile on his face. “I know right!” Gojo replies.

The young boy frowns. “It’s Tsumiki who keeps the place clean.” Shoko gives Gojo a stare before she cackles.

A week later when Tsumiki was still in school with club activities, another person makes an appearance ,you. He could faintly hear conversations between you and Gojo through the front door on how you’d actually wanted to visit them sooner but was bombarded with mission before it swings open.

The first thing Fushiguro noticed was how Gojo seemed to make you enter first— other times he barges in without a care for Shoko— his hands near your back with a slight space, without touching it. Why was Gojo being nice?

You blink at the dark haired boy. “Fushiguro Megumi, right?” Gojo peers from behind as you smile. “Did you eat?”

“Not yet. Waiting for Tsumiki to get home.” Fushiguro thinks you’re the first person who is kind of decent.

You nod take plastic bag from Gojo’s hands and lift up it, your smile widen. “I’ll make you some good stuff then.”

“I want to eat your cooking too,y/n.” Gojo chirps in only to be ignored. And to your credit, it was actually good. He didn’t remember the last time he had something this good home made.

After that, your visits seemed to increase which Fushiguro Megumi did not mind, in fact he was getting fond of your presence. You helped with food, cleaning which lessened the load on Tsumiki plus you also helped him with his studies.

“You seemed to get it now, Megumi.” Poor kid, blushes a bit hearing your compliment. “Practice this set of questions and I think you’ll do pretty well on your tests.” You smile.

Fushiguro nods as he does as you say, face still heated up. He looks up at you, who was reading a book. Your hair slightly in your face, lips slightly parted with eyes focused. You were extremely beautiful and as much as he wouldn’t admit it , he had a big fat kid crush on you.

“Megumi-chan.” Suddenly he is shoved to the side as a body makes way in between you and him. It was Gojo who sat in between. “Move over~ This seat is mine.”

The boy frowns and so did you, not liking Gojo’s action. “Don’t interrupt the kid, who is studying.” Kid? Ouch…You huff as your move over, despite you complaining you make space for him, focus back on your book.

Fushiguro watched as Gojo leans closer to you, almost resting his head on your neck as he looked over to your book; after a while eyes slowly moved over to you, his expression softens.

Gojo smiles as he tugs a piece of hair behind your hair, to which you don’t react as if it was normal. Thee older man then turns his head to Fushiguro—oops,he got caught staring.

The white haired boy then grins, a condescending one in fact as he mouths out the following words.

‘y/n-is-mine.” Fushiguro huffs. ‘back-off.”

·:*¨༺ Part 2༻¨*:·

Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? out other here

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo imagine #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro imagine

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 4 months ago

Note

i’ve never made a request before so sorry if this is bad but if you could write something about matt murdock with a fake dating trope like that would be so cute, especially if there’s feelings realized during/after it :)

a/n: i swear, i tried to just keep this short and sweet like how i usually keep requests, but then the fantasy i came up with was just too fun and too much like a fucking romcom not to just let myself go ham and turn it into a full-on long fic

word count: 3778

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

Leaning your weight against the bar, you waited for Josie to return with another round of beers for you and your friends, who still remained exactly where you’d left them, all clustered around the pool table further into the space.

Absentmindedly, you fiddled with the ring so often glued to your fingers, passing the heirloom from each digit and sliding it onto the next. It had been your grandmother’s, and ever since her passing, the simple golden circle with a little jade embedded at the cusp of it, rarely stayed in your jewellery box as the act of simply glancing down at it on your finger somehow offered you a drop of comfort in moments of mundane gloom.

As the heirloom arrived at your left ring finger and slid down over the knuckle, a familiar voice suddenly emanated like an echo after the bar’s front door had swung open.

“Y/n?” your whole body froze up at the unexpected timbre.

Slowly, you twisted around to discover none other than your ex, wide eyes trained on you as he clutched the hand of a leggy blonde.

“Henry!” you gasped, hoping they mistook the horrified look on your face for innocent shock, “oh my god…”

Without any warning, the next thing you knew, he’d yanked your stunned form into a hug, “how the hell are you?” he clapped your shoulder as if you were old school chums, “it’s been so long.”

“I’m–, uhm, fine,” you managed to reply.

“Yeah?” he smiled, the insincerity in your tone completely flying over his head, “that’s great.”

Simply to be polite, you awkwardly asked, “…how are you?” even though you truly didn’t wish to know the answer.

“I’m good, yeah, life’s been kinda crazy lately because–, oh,” he suddenly paused to glance back at the girl by his side, “Y/n, you remember Rebecca, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed and offered her a glance, fearing steam might billow out of your ears at any moment, “hi.”

“Hey,” she smiled brightly as she tossed her luscious locks over her shoulder, “and please don’t mind him,” she clapped a palm over Henry’s chest, “he’s just freaking out, you know, usual guy stuff before finally getting tied down.”

“I’m sorry,” you blinked, nearly pinching yourself to test if this was a nightmare or not, “before what?”

Rebecca then held up her left hand to flash you the massive rock nestled on her fourth finger.

“I finally popped the question!” Henry grinned and draped an arm around his fiancé.

“Wow, oh wow, that’s–…” you sputtered as the blonde promptly shoved her hand in your face for you to get a better look, “that’s a really big rock, right there, on your finger…” your touch floated up and tilted her palm slightly, the light from the neon sign close by glinting in the diamond, “congratulations…”

“Thanks!” she smiled down at the ring herself before her fingers suddenly captured your own and twisted your hand around, “oh wait, congrats to you too!”

“What?” you still simply tried to keep breathing through this agonising gut-punch of an encounter.

“I know they say that size doesn’t matter,” Rebecca eyed the tiny green stone that adorned your grandmother’s ring, “and it doesn’t! I mean, that’s so pretty,” she uttered in a sugary sweet and insincere tone that made you feel as if you were back in high school again, “understated, simple.”

“Ah, no way,” Henry peeked down at your hand, “you’re engaged too?”

“Uh…” you let out a shaky breath, “yep,” the lie then suddenly flew out past your lips before you had a chance to stop it, “that’s me! I’m getting married.”

“That’s amazing,” your ex let out an airy chuckle, “who’s the lucky guy?”

But before your lips could part and let out another lie, Josie returned, “here you go, hon,” and slid four beer bottles across the bar to you before adding, “and would you tell Foggy to stop sitting on the edge of the pool table? It’s old and I can’t be responsible if it breaks on him.”

“Sure thing,” you promised and snatched up the drinks.

“Is that your man?” Henry cast a glance to the lawyer Josie had gestured to, “Foggy, was it?”

“Foggy?” a soft giggle couldn’t help but bubble out of your lungs, “no! Don’t get me wrong, he’s great, but no, sadly, he’s already taken.”

“Then who is it?”

“Is it the other guy over there?” Rebecca chimed in as they both sent their glances towards your friends, “the one in the light blue shirt and tinted glasses?”

“Uh, yeah…” you squeaked as you slowly turned to look at Matt as well, “that’s–, uh, that’s him,” you watched as he readjusted his grip on the cue stick in his hand, “that’s my future husband…”

“Hm,” a sliver of judgment slipped out of Henry, “wouldn’t have pegged him to be your type.”

“Well, maybe my type has changed,” you stated, letting your lingering resentment show before you noticed how harsh it had come out and your stomach immediately began to twist and knot in regret, “I–…” you swiftly winched, “sorry,” and averted your gaze, “have a nice evening, uh–, I’m gonna go back to my friends,” you stumbled as you tried to escape.

Though as you turned to walk away, Henry’s voice found your ears one last time, “bye!” before you heard his fiancé turn to him.

“Pookie? Would you order me a cosmo?” her voice began to fade into the background, “I’ll go find us a table…”

You simultaneously felt as if a truck had just run you over as your feet carried you back towards your friends, yet also completely numb, as if you’d been turned into a floating ghost of the person you used to be.

“Who the hell was that and why do you look like you’re about to throw up?” Foggy asked cautiously as he grabbed two of the bottles in your grasp and handed one off to Matt.

Passing one of the remaining drinks off to Karen, you then lifted your own up to your lips before tipping it back and downing around half of its contents. Once you tilted the dark green bottle back down, you were out of breath as you began to explain, “that,” you wiped your bottom lip with one of your knuckles, “was my ex,” you used that same finger to hazily point back over your shoulder, “and his fiancé,” your eyes stayed fuzzy as you added, “who happen to be the girl that he cheated on me with for a year before I one day finally caught them together.”

“Oh my god…” Karen breathed, her bottle frozen halfway on its journey up towards her lips.

“It was on easter,” you shared, “he thought I had gone back home to see my family, but I’d actually decided to secretly do this whole big surprise, like I thought I was in fucking rom-com or something,” you sighed at your past self, “but then when he got home from work, and I was all decked out, waiting on the bed, in bunny ears and everything,” you heatedly gestured to the top of your own head, “he wasn’t alone.”

“Wow…” Foggy stared.

“Yep…” you exhaled heavily, taking another swig before you made the mistake of glancing back over your shoulder just as Rebecca shrugged off her coat and slinked onto a stool at one of the small tables, “fuck!” you exclaimed as if you’d just stubbed your toe, “she’s even hotter than I remembered. How is that possible?”

“Oh, she’s not that pretty,” Karen tried, but you swiftly cut her off.

“You shut your face, she’s basically a human-sized Barbie,” your glare roamed one last time from the top of her platinum locks to the bottoms of her high stilettos, “god…” you sighed as you finally averted your gaze and lifted your bottle to drown your sorrows, “I was such an idiot back there. It was like my brain just stopped working and–, oh my god!” your palm shot up to cover your mouth as you then suddenly recalled the lie that had slipped out. Slowly, your wide eyes drifted to Matt, who still remained silent, “oh no…”

“What is it?” Foggy chimed in.

“Matt…” you uttered tensely, knowing your friend well enough to be aware of just how much of the interaction with your ex he had overheard, “I am so sorry…”

“What?” Karen’s glance darted between you both, “what’s going on?”

Paralysing embarrassment churned your stomach and choked out any attempt you made to share the truth. But luckily, as your erratic heartbeat thumped and found Matt’s sharp ears, he eventually filled in instead, “…they thought that she was engaged as well and then assumed that I was the guy.”

“I am so, so sorry,” you gasped, “I don’t know why I didn’t correct them.”

But to your amazement, Matthew simply shrugged and offered you a reassuring smile, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“I was just fiddling with my ring and then they just–…” you then snuffed out your frantic explanation and instead repeated once again, “I’m sorry…”

Saddling up beside you, Karen planted a palm on your shoulder, “hey, if that was my ex, then I’d wanna give him some of his own medicine as well,” she stated, “if not just straight up cut off his balls, which is what he really deserves.”

A faint smile then began to soften your expression as you glanced around at your supportive friends, Foggy briefly reaching out to pat your other shoulder.

But as you averted your eyes to the nearly empty bottle in your grasp, a thought suddenly struck you like a bolt of lightning, “wait, I have an idea…” your gaze slowly lifted to lock on Matt, “I mean, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, I totally get it, but would you mind, just while they are here, to–, uhm…”

Cocking his eyebrow, he finished your sentence, “…to pretend to be your fiancé?”

“I know, it’s stupid, and I should probably just go home right now instead of playing some weird and immature game of revenge or whatever,” you uttered as you made the decision to lie in the grave you’d dug for yourself, “but I would forever be in your debt, I'm serious.”

Sucking in a breath, he barely had to think about it before he murmured, “sure.”

“Really?” you gasped, your brows shooting up, “you’ll do it?”

“Yeah, why not?” Matt shrugged, “it’s the very least he deserves for treating you like that.”

“Oh,” you crossed the short distance between you two and threw your arms around him. It took a second before you felt him hug you back, but when the alcohol got to your head and made you mutter, “I love you,” into his shoulder, a low chuckle rumbled in the lawyer's chest before you parted ways.

“So,” Karen then began to fish out the colourful spheres and roll them back into the green felt, “do we still wanna play another game?”

“Hell yeah,” Foggy picked a cue stick back up before adding a playful threat, “you’re not beating me again this time, Page.”

Once the table was set up for another round of pool and you were a few turns in, your gaze couldn’t help but wander back towards the other end of the bar too often to keep track of. Though, soon on one of the fleeting looks, your eyes grew wide as you discovered you weren’t the only one sneaking glances.

Discreetly, you shifted closer to Matthew and leaned in to whisper, “he’s looking over,” however, when he then draped an arm around your frame, you couldn’t help but stiffen up, as you hadn’t thought that far in the plan yet, “what are you–”

“Shh,” Matt hushed your squeak, “just lean into me,” he shifted to stand tall behind you, arms enveloped around your form as he slowly drew you back against his chest, “smile,” his low voice tickled the shell of your ear and caused goosebumps to erupt across your skin, “and don’t look at him.”

Redirecting your vision back towards the game before you, you narrowly managed to catch sight of the silent slut-shaming the other lawyer flashed his friend with but a glance, before he went back to the mischievous mission he was on.

“Foggy, would you quit it?” Karen grumbled at the man beside her as he wildly waved both of his hands in her periphery, successfully knocking off her concentration as she tried to line up her shot.

“No way,” he kept up his flapping, even causing Karen’s golden locks to get picked up by the breeze he produced.

“You’re cheating.”

“Nope, I am not touching you nor the table,” he stated as if he was in court, “distracting you doesn’t break any rules.”

And as she finally made her attempt, the ball didn’t go in, causing her to explode in a roar, “damn it, Fog!”

“Ha, ha, yes!” he jumped as she straightened back up, “you know, I taste something right now, what could that be? Oh yeah, victory. And it tastes sweet as candy store.”

“Urgh,” Karen rolled her eyes at him before her glare landed upon the both of you, “Matt, your turn. Would you please set him in his place?”

“Gladly,” Matt chuckled, and as he shifted closer to the pool table, he nudged your side and asked, “hey, would you give me a hand?”

Swallowing a chuckle as you already knew he very much didn’t need it, you cocked an eyebrow, “you want my help?”

“Yeah,” he uttered clearly and let his real message seep through his tone, guiding your gaze to flicker back toward Henry, who’s stare was still locked upon you both, “so come help me.”

“Oh!” it finally clicked in your brain, “right,” and you swiftly slid in beside him.

With bated breath, you grabbed Matt’s hand that wasn’t clutching the pole, and guided it over the ivory ball that rested close to one of the corners. As you began to map out and tell him where each of the other spheres were, your eyes flicked over to notice just how close you now stood, as your nose nearly grazed against his stubbly cheek as you murmured guidingly. When you retracted your touch, you barely noticed how a few of Matt’s fingers reacted, faintly following your fading palm for but a second before it floated back down to the white orb below it.

Once he’d made his shot, you lingered in the proximity and whispered, “do you think they’re buying it?”

“Hm?”

“This,” your eyes momentarily flickered back towards your ex across the bar, “us.”

Matthew’s brows then floated up as you reeled him back in to the matter at hand, “oh, I–, probably.”

“Or should we do something else?” your mind kept on spinning, “I don’t know, I feel like I’ve completely forgotten how all of that works,” you shared, “kinda just numbed and cut off that part of myself after he broke my heart, it was just how I had to get through it, shut down a little bit because suddenly romance was terrifying…”

“...can I ask you something?” he asked quietly after a breath, and when you offered him a hum in confirmation, he uttered, “are you still in love with him?”

Time stretched out before you finally replied, “I was, for a very long time…” your voice stayed small, “…but no, not anymore… I kind of thought I was, but then seeing him again cleared it all up. All I feel when I look at him now is rage,” you exhaled, “and pity, just because I know him too well, know everything that’s messed up about him…” silence encumbered you both for a moment before you then opened your mouth once more and said, “so, should we hold hands or something?” you asked plainly, though when a genuine laugh then began to billow out of Matthew, your eyes blinked up at him as your brows swiftly knit together, “what?”

“You know,” he tried to snuff out his chuckle, “if I was actually your fiancé, I wouldn’t just stand around and hold your hand all night,” he then leaned in the short distance till his lips nearly tickled the shell of your ear, “I would have dragged you into the bathroom by now and forced the whole bar to hear us fuck.”

“I–, u-uhm,” you flusteredly stammered as your face began to heat up, “y-yeah, yeah, that’s good too,” you barely registered your own words as they slipped out past your lips, “if that’s what you wanna do–, I mean! Shut up!” you squeezed your eyes shut as soon as you regained your own senses, “just hold my hand, you dick,” you cursed over his laughter as he swiftly slipped his palm into your own.

“Cut it out, Karen,” Foggy’s voice cut through your haze and caught your attention.

Glancing over, you spotted as Karen was giving him some of his own medicine, pettily leaning into his eye line, “what? You were the one saying that distractions weren’t against the rules,” she continued to glare in hopes of throwing him off his game, “why? Is this not working? Do you need me to scream directly in your ear instead?”

“Oh, would you?” he sarcastically looked to her, his pitch climbing up high at his words, “going deaf in one ear is exactly what I need to beat you.”

As your wandering gaze then flickered back towards the opposite end of the bar, your eyes grew wide as you spotted only Rebecca still seated at the small table, pink cocktail in her grasp.

“Shit,” you spotted Henry as he crossed the room, confidently walking precisely in your direction, “he’s coming over,” you hissed, and in your muppet-like panic, your hands clasped each side of Matt’s face and yanked him in for a kiss.

At first, he froze up as you continued to freak out, but then, as his broad palms slowly slid over your waist, all of your alarm began to melt away. It felt as if you were drifting off to sleep as you relaxed into the kiss. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined that kissing Matt would feel like this, not that such a fantasy was something you pondered often or even at all, but as you felt his tongue flicker out to dance softly against your own, your knees beneath you wobbled as you lost yourself completely. How long the peck drew out remained a mystery, as when you eventually parted, the reasoning behind it wouldn’t emerge in your memory no matter how hard you tried.

Though as you stood there, blinking back at Matt, still utterly spellbound by the unexpected feelings currently bubbling and bursting inside of you, the man now standing off to the side cleared his throat and brought you back down to earth.

“Bunny–, I mean, Y/n,” you whipped your head around to catch sight of your ex, “just thought it would have been awkward if I didn’t come over here to introduce myself before me and Becca took off,” he muttered before his gaze fell to Matt, his arms slowly fading from your form, “I'm Henry, nice to meet you,” your ex then offered his hand, though the lawyer by your side didn’t grasp it, even if his heightened senses had lent him to pick up on the gesture.

“Matt Murdock,” he uttered on a cold exhale.

Stuffing his rejected palm into his pocket, Henry then asked, “what do you do?”

“Matthew’s a lawyer,” you took over, slotting yourself into Matt’s side before you dramatically clasped a hand over his chest, “saves people for a living. That’s actually why we’re out celebrating tonight, he just won yet another case.”

“Oh, well congratulations then,” Henry offered in well-forged petty politeness.

“Yeah, I was there, watching him do his thing,” you uttered as some bitter goblin of resentment then took over your soul and caused you to say, “and oh boy, I tell you, if only it would have been socially acceptable for me to interrupt the trial just to rip his clothes off, because wow.”

A scoff then rippled in Henry’s chest, “okay, sure,” his stare upon you narrowed as he then grumbled, “we both know you’re not exactly the groupie type of girlfriend.”

“Well, maybe your sorry ass was never worth her supporting you in that way,” Matt suddenly cut in, “maybe because you never bothered treated her that way in return,” his guess hit the bullseye, “and maybe that has a little something to do with why I was the one to put a ring on her finger and not you,” your heart thumped in your chest as Matt’s touch returned to the small of your back, protectively sliding over your waist as he continued to speak in a low and chillingly stern tone, “that or you really are as terrible of a lay as she told me you were, during those very first nights when she finally learned what it was like to be with someone who wasn’t a complete fucking idiot.”

Utterly stunned, you watched Henry’s expression as he scrambled his brain for a way to crawl back from that, but eventually, when no suitable words came to his pea-sized brain, his feet slowly began to shuffle back till his hand had snatched up his fiancé’s and he’d yanked her with him out of the bar.

As the door swung closed behind the pair, a celebratory squeal burst from your lungs, “oh my god! Matt, that was incredible!” you jumped in place before throwing your arms around him, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

Tangling his own arms around you, he uttered, “I’m sure we’ll come up with some way you can make it up to me.”

And as you withdrew, just enough to smile back at him, your gaze began to drift back down towards his lip just before Foggy’s voice cut through the palpable tension.

“Do I need to remind you guys that you’re not actually engaged?”

“No,” Matt then murmured as the two of you parted ways, quietly enough for his words to be completely inaudible, “but we could be...”

“What?” you glanced over at him.

“What?” he echoed in return, though a bit too quickly.

“Did you say something?”

“Me? No,” he tried to conceal his lie with a cough, “I-I, uh, think it’s your turn,” he then changed the subject, gesturing to the pool table behind you.

#lea’s writing #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #matt murdock hurt/comfort #matt murdock fic #daredevil fanfiction

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hhoneylemon · 1 month ago

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mohawk!mark x tamaranean!reader who’s curious

“did they hurt?”

mark sits still, hands holding your thighs to keep you in place in his lap. your breath fans across his face as you lean close, poking each of his piercings.

one on each eyebrow. one at each corner of his lips. he sticks out his tongue so you can poke the little ball. you even dot the ones on his ears.

“not really. a little tingle, maybe.”

he tries not to shiver when you lean in to kiss each piercing. from ear to other ear to eyebrows to lips to tongue. it’s slow, each kiss delicate. during the last one, your tongues gently massage each other while his tongue piercing rubs against you.

you pull back, a smile forming on your lips. he smiles back, eyes drooping lazily. the sight of you on top of him is so heavenly.

“i want to get the same ones to match you, then.”

his fingernails leave small indents in your thighs as his hands raise to your face. he shakes his head, thumbs hooking to the corners of your mouth. he turns your head side to side.

“you look perfect as is. all pretty and sweet.”

you pout. he leans in to kiss the corner of your mouth, callused hands running down the sides of your face and neck until planting on your shoulders.

“maybe your ears. i’ll get us matching jewelry.”

your little smile was all he needed. this relationship stuff was too easy.

A/N: i love starfire… everything i ever do is dedicated to her. any criticism is helpful <3 inspired by this fic by my beloved friend @lazy-ahh.

masterlist

#mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #gn reader #male reader #fem reader

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moonlit-imagines · 2 months ago

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Headcanons for being the youngest Avenger and joining the Thunderbolts*

Thunderbolts x reader

warnings: spoilers!!! blood and guns and death n such u know the drill

a/n: i gave y/n unspecified powers until about halfway through so i just based the powers on an oc i am weak

prompt:

you’d always been the odd one out in the avengers, being the “young one” was not easy

like, you were teens during the battle of new york

sure, you were respected as a valiant hero, one of earths mightiest, but there was struggle in not having many peers to lean on

when you had wanda around, things were a little different—but that didn’t last long at all

then the blip happened, you survived, your world crumbled, and you got everyone back—but nothing was ever the same and it took its toll on you

the avengers disbanded, everyone left went their separate ways and you realized that the avengers, your family, were all you’d ever known

so you found your footing elsewhere, tried to stay in touch with those who you found comfort in. people you could count on

this included sam, clint, and bruce. rest were either preoccupied, plotting less than ethical things, or you just weren’t close with to begin with

“yeah, this kid—kate—she reminds me of you. she’s a bit more clumsy, awkward, and desperate, but it made me think of you…having another young person aspiring to save the world and all. or at least new york” -clint over the phone

“it’s nice to hear, thanks for checking in. hopefully she doesn’t accidentally destroy any buildings like i did” -you

“well, about that—” -clint

you always really enjoyed when they called you first, but no one was calling for your calling

you didn’t know how to not be a hero, it was really fucking frustrating

you were only made an avenger that early on because you had powers, and you were already a public hero. it’s not like you could get a job at a coffee shop, as entertaining as that would be

that’s when bucky called you one day, and you didn’t get close with bucky until steve died. yeah, you helped him out of a bind in germany, but that was about as far as it went. you were just acquainted because of sam

but bucky knew how it felt to be alone, lost, misguided, all that

and he just decided to run for congress

“y/n, i’d like you to be my advisor. there’s no one i could trust more—that would agree to this, that is” -bucky

“are you serious?” -you

“about running for congress or the advisor thing?” -bucky

“both i guess?” -you

“yeah, i’m serious” -bucky “i heard from a mutual friend you were still trying to find your place after…you know, everything. i am, too. so i’m asking you as a friend if you will join me on this path. it could be good for both of us”

and that it was, bucky won the election and you were now being paid decend money to be bucky’s #2. it felt right

you’d briefly been a government employee as an avenger, but now you were a lot more autonomous in a sense

yes, you had a lot of red tape, but it beat that sense of impending doom you had living with the avengers

you and bucky fought to keep new york safe in a different way. fought for the little guy. tried to clean up the system a bit

that included getting valentina allegra de fontaine impeached from her job as the head of the CIA

if there’s anything bucky and you knew about intelligence agencies, they needed to be as clean as possible. or else you’d have disasters like hydra infiltrating shield and secret human experimentation and super soldiers and child assassins. all that good stuff

you backed it, regardless of what little sway you guys had

you gave him a death glare as he was interviewed about valentina’s impeachment and all he could do was say “worrying” 10 times in a row

“we need to work on your public speaking” -you, immediately following his embarrassing comments

“yeah, i know” -bucky

you and bucky lived nearby each other, you relocated to brooklyn following the new job

so when necessary, you’d lean on each other

let me be clear that this is strictly friendship. lightly professional. the teo of you have seen dark days in your own respective ways. you were both turned into weapons without any say. had a hard time controlling it for a long time. made some terrible mistakes. tried your hardest to move up in the world. carry demons with you. misery loves company.

and right now, being new to the office, not a lot of other government officials were fond of you two. there was a lot of distrust.

first, we have the hydra super soldier who’s ledger is running with blood. his slate was wiped clean, but that doesn’t mean the people see him differently. it was a miracle he was voted into office to begin with

then there’s you, the late-20s, early 30s former avenger who was never quite taken seriously due to your youth in the public eye. you were viewed as dangerous due to your powers, as well, and some people feared you two would use your abilities to influence and intimidate

so you advised taking a very gentle approach to congressman barnes, that way no one felt threatened

that was until you and bucky went rogue to bring in valentina’s covert ops team as a last ditch effort to get her impeached

bucky bombing several CIA vehicles? not very gentle

but fun and refreshing? check!

“it’s been a while since i’ve been able to stretch my legs—the suit’s a little tight, though” -you

“you’re still rocking it” -yelena

“aw, thanks! we’re not letting you go” -you

then the rogue assassins and you guys get into it about a guy named “bob” and then bucky gets a call about “bob” its a whole mess. whatever

“okay, looks like we’re letting you go” -you

“hey, i meant it, your suit still looks good! im not even tied up anymore and i’m still saying it!” -yelena

“she’s right, you look awesome” -ava

“yeah, i need to change. my range of motion is severely limited” -you

you guys got to NYC to go confront valentina…at the old avengers HQ

you got a chill down your spine as you arrived

“you good?” -bucky

“yeah, yeah. just a lot of memories here” -you

this was the moment where it clicked for the rest of the team that you were an AVENGER. a real avenger. you were close with natasha. you knew the real steve rogers. you fought alongside thor and the hulk and wanda maximoff. and here you were kicking it with what alexei was calling “the thunderbolts”

“don’t get all misty eyed, we’ve got work to do” -john

lets note that this interaction took place after bucky crashed a commercial sized truck into the lobby, you’d just beaten everyone’s asses, and valentina invited you all upstairs

and there she was at the bar pouring a drink for herself and for just a small moment you saw a glimpse of tony stark standing in front of you again. giving you a smug smirk and asking for your ID before he made you a shirley temple. even after you were of age.

and a darkness overcame you a moment while you stood there. you were in sokovia standing next to pietro maximoff as he laid facedown on the ground. you were perfectly safe, didn’t even notice he was down. you never even realized he was beside you he was so fast. you heard wanda’s screams and you panicked, froze, didn’t know what to do. you were watching yourself go through these motions again.

and then bucky’s hand touched your back and you snapped back to reality, meeting the infamous “bob” for the first time

or as valentina called him, sentry

and immediately you were disturbed, there was something off about his presence

and immediately the team began to attack

you even hit him with a shock as powerful as thor with mjölnir, but he didn’t even flinch

it was futile, he was knocking you guys around like you were nothing

but he had this strange, kind demeanor about him too

once he ripped bucky’s arm off, it was time to GO

you all evacuated the building, a place you once called home, and wandered down the streets of new york. pathetic

and not even five minutes went by before a new form of this guy was literally turning people into VOIDS

“you know, buck, i’m starting to get real tired of shit like this happening in manhattan. this doesn’t happen in brooklyn AT ALL” -you, beginning to attack once again

you were the only thunderbolt with ranged powers—literal thunderbolts, if you will

but that didn’t seem to be doing much

the rest of them were mostly using guns and that also wasn’t working, so this became more of a rescue op

you liked fighting with bucky, it’d only happened three times before this. in germany, wakanda, and the avengers compound

and yelena reminded you so much of natasha, you knew exactly what the next move would be

alexei was…well, he took some inspiration from cap, you could see it you guess.

john walker was difficult. send tweet

he was trying though. you guess.

ava was more of a loner. she kind of reminded you of wanda. you missed her

when you saw yelena vanish, the LAST thing you wanted to do was to do the same

but bucky assured you that you were in it together

he took your hand and you walked into the darkness together

and ended up facing the worst pain of your life

for him: amputation, brainwashing, brutal torture, murder, losing steve

for you: the accident that gave you powers, sokovia, the blip, loneliness, mistakes that cost lives

but you powered through. you got bob. you saved new york. and for you, it wasn’t the first time!

and the moment valentina introduced you as the new avengers, you clenched your teeth and bucky nearly had to hold you back

you agreed to stick together to keep valentina in check, much to sam wilson’s dismay

“oh, hes gonna kill us” -you

“he’s not the only one” -bucky

“oh, my god. clint’s gonna kill me” -you

“eh, barton sees you as one of his kids, i’m sure he’ll give you a stern talking to” -bucky

he did.

you cried.

he gave you a big hug after and apologized for yelling.

and there you were in avengers tower again

just like you were 15 years ago.

“you used to live here, no?” -alexei

“i did. i did a long, long time ago.” -you, about to have a full on meltdown

“that’s great! you can show me around, then. please, show me your old room!” -alexei

he did know how to lift your spirits, for sure

and then there was yelena, who so desperately wanted to feel closer to natasha

“will you tell me a story, please? it would make me feel closer to her” -yelena

ironically, hanging out with yelena made you feel closer to nat

“well, nat trained me a good bit when we joined the avengers. she taught me how to fight, to not depend on my powers, to be a spy, to use weapons. i would be who i am today without her” -you

“yes, that’s great and all, but give me specifics!” -yelena

“okay, she LOVED desperate housewives. she’d make me sit through HOURS of it when we were off-duty. it was a great distraction. when we came back from sokovia and moved into the new compound, she had me on that couch for three days straight” -you

yelena snorted laughing

she also loved to spar with you

in a way, you felt like a sibling to her these days

in the way she was raised, at least

you laughed everytime you noticed a little “oopsie” val overlooked before the full remodel

“oh, my god. i once shocked the microwave while i was half asleep and i shorted out the whole building. this dark mark in the wall is the explosion of the microwave that led to the power outage” -you

“how long did it take to fix?” -ava

“about 10 minutes. tony was thoroughly embarrassed it took him that long” -you

there were also little dents and dings and bullet holes and such, especially it what was formerly the training room and being revamped for an even better one

“the last time i was here was when ultron booted up and sent the whole iron legion in after a party with the avengers. it was actually quite horrific, i thought the avengers were gonna disband right then and there. i thought i was going to be homeless” -you

“jesus, you sure talk about your past a lot” -john

“oh, sorry, would you rather i talk about yours?” -you, semi-threatening

he backed off

you tried to make as many new memories as you could, but everything seemed to remind you of the past

all you knew is the people needed to look up to something and that had to be the new avengers

and to have a former avenger on it? that was good for optics

did it make you feel stuck from time to time? uh yeah, you never really could escape your past

but the congress thing kind of fizzled out

so this was the next best thing

“alexei is calling me, hold on” -you

“y/n! i need directions” -alexei

“okay, where are you?” -you

“twenty third floor. i do not know how you lived in this maze as long as you did! i cannot find anything around here” -alexei

“hang on. you’re lost inside the building?” -you

you’d go to your favorite restaurant in manhattan with bucky sometimes, just to get out of the tower

“so, be honest with me. is this what you want?” -bucky

“i want to feel like i belong. and i do” -you

“because it’s familiar?” -bucky

“basically” -you

you explained that it still was an adjustment. you felt like you were seeing ghosts in a sense

but it was like a do over too

a chance to be the hero you grew up to be, to make steve, tony, natasha, clint, bruce, and thor proud

sam was still a little pissed about it. rightfully so

but making breakfast with bob, training with yelena, drinking with alexei, having heart to hearts with bucky, shit talking with ava, and ignoring john was not the worst thing to happen to you

you heard over exaggerated war stories, had eventful training, shorted out the microwave again, started to give john a chance, found a friend in bob, and more in this new life

and you were always meant to be an avenger, your calling was to protect the world. thats why you guys formed the avengers 15 years ago. so you did it in the name of the family you’d never forget.

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

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hayatoseyepatch · 1 year ago

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Description: Getting kinky with the windbreaker boys. I have so many thoughts about these men and I just needed to get them out of my system. Characters: Toma Hiragi, Ren Kaji, Haruka Sakura, Hayato Suo, & Yamato Endo. Word Count: 2.2k Tags: fem!reader, brat taming, praise, somnophilia, edging, mommy kink, dacryphilia, consent non consent, choking, degradation, oral (fem!receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk.

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a/n: These are more like thirsts than headcannons but oh well. I might expand on some of these eventually and turn them into full fics if I can sit down and commit to it. It the mental illness, innit? Regardless, I hope you enjoyed these little blurbs! Special shout out to @foxyfiction & @to-eden for helping me with the prompts for some of these, you both are amazing. <3

I also have a masterlist now, if you’re interested that could be found : HERE

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Brat Taming

Hiragi had enough of you today, your skirt pulled up high, a constant switch in your hips while on patrol today with the Tamon team. Constantly teasing him, whether it was pulling him into an alley for an impromptu make out session, bending over in front of him letting him catch a glimpse of your already wet panties, or rubbing against his perpetually hard cock as you “just needed to slip past him real quick”. He was patient, tension building throughout the day coming to a fever pitch when you had both made it back to your shared apartment. He was on you in moments, lifting the back of your skirt to lay a harsh lap to you ass. Grabbing a fistful of your hair as he growls in your ear. “ I want you on that bed and I want you completely bare, do you understand?” He releases you hair, watching as you strip for him, climbing on the bed moments after you do.

Grabbing a hold of your cheeks with a rough hand he forces you to look up at him, eyes glazed over with arousal. Squishing your cheeks he props your mouth open, shoving a long digit past your lips. He grins as your mouth instinctively wraps around the digit, pumping the finger in and out of your lips, eyes rolling back as he feels your tongue wrap around the digit. Sucking his teeth as you shoot him a wink as he stuffs a second digit in your mouth. “Such a fucking brat, you know that?” He forces your thighs apart, free hand punctuating his words with a harsh slap to your dripping cunt.

His fingers sliding down, his fist two digits using your saliva that coated them to rub fast smooth circles against the sensitive bud. “Don’t forget your still getting punished baby.” He tsks giving you a sharp toothed grin. “Look at your pretty cunt, clenching around nothing, poor baby.” He coos, leaning down to your ear, lips grazing the shell to whisper. “You’re going to have to come from just my fingers before you can have my cock baby, think you can do that for me, hmm?”

Praise (Receiving)

Kaji had lost his temper once more, today a fight had broken out. One of the members of the opposing gang had harshly grabbed your arm, tugging you against him spitting extremities about the things he plandded to do to you. The words coupled with the fear in your wide eyes had Kaji seeing red. Completely blacking out in a fit of rage, he hated his, he especially hated you seeing him like this. The few times he had lost his temper in front of you, he ran, unable to face you. But not this time, you wouldn’t let him run from you. Grabbing the sleeve of his jacket you were quick to take him back to your apartment, silencing whatever apologies or exasperations with your lips against his.

Walking him backward toward your bedroom you wait for the back of his knees to hit the mattress. Pushing him to sit down as you climb on his lap. Mouths entangling in a heated embrace, clothes being pulled from each others bodies in a rush of passsion. Kaji trails kisses down your exposed body, lips wrapping arount a perked bud taking your nipple into his mouth. You rocked your hips against his, gronaing into the air. Your hands unfaten his pants, and with his help you pull his cock from his pants. You give him a smile, stroking his cheeks, eyes soft with fondness. “You're such a good boy Ren, always so good to me.”

You coo, the praise falling from your lips as you place one more kiss to his lips. Moving to grab him by the base, positioning him at your entrance, the desperate look in his eyes is all the confirmation you need to sink down on his length. You bite your lip, letting out a whimper at the feeling of his thick cock filling you to the brim. You tangle one hand in his hair, pulling lightly on his blonde strands, while the other moves up to his shoulder, nails digging into the skin. Pulling away only far enough to mumble into his lips. “Fuck, Ren.. Feel so good, you fill me up so good baby. I love you so much.”

Somnophillia

You wake feeling something warm between your legs. It isn’t long before your head is thrown back against the pillows you were once sleeping soundly against, voice crying out in pleasure as your boyfriend’s tongue draws slow patterns on your sensitive clit. You look down at him eyes lidded with sleep and now lust. “Haru.. what are you doing?” You mumble, blinking the sleep from your eyes. Between your thighs you can feel his cheeks heat up, a feirce blush on his features. He barely pulls from your cunt, mumbling against your center. “Couldn’t sleep, needed to taste you, ‘m want you so bad.”

He groans, hips rutting into the mattress, desperate for some friction to his aching cock. Any further arguments are silenced by a loud moan erupting from your lips, Sakura licks a fat stripe up your clit brfore reattaching his lips fully to your nub. He eats your cunt with such desperation, as if he needed to conume you to keep air in his lungs. His tongue is soon replaced by the rough pad of his thumb, head ducking lower to slide his tongue inside of your entrance, sliding against the silk walls of your pussy. He groans deep in his throat, the vibrations of the noise only enhancing the pleasure you’re feeling. ”Always taste so fucking good, need more..” He groans, pulling from your center, he slides up your body lips attacking yours with reckless hunger. He slid the material of his boxers down in one swift motion, grabbing himself by the base of his cock, collecting your wetness on the tip of his cock using it to ease himself inside your velvety walls.

He lets out a loud groan as he fully sheaths his cock inside you, head dipping to capture your lips with his own. The kiss is immediately laced with hunger, teeth clashing and tongues dancing in each others mouths. He pulls away, heavy breaths fanning against your lips as he sets a harsh steady pace from the start. “Fuck baby… can’t even sleep without you consuming my thoughts. Need you desperately… constantly.. feel like I’ll lose it if I’m not inside of you.”

Edging/Mommy Kink

You place a delicate kiss to his lips, trailing your kisses down his body until you were situated between his thighs. Looking up at him with hooded eyes from your current position. “You weren't lying baby boy. Look at how hard you are.” You grin, not letting him answer as you gave a few experimental tugs to his cock. Leaning up to lick a fat stripe from his base to his tip, collecting the pre come that had been steadily dripping since you had begun. Pulling away and leaning up once again, you grab his face in your hand, forcing his mouth open before letting your saliva mixed with his precum drip from your mouth to his. Placing a hand over his mouth, you lean down to his ear. “Swallow baby, I want you to taste us.”

You take his shock as an opportunity to lower yourself back down between his legs, swirling your tongue around his sensitive mushroom tip, taking as much as your throat would allow, hollowing your cheeks. Beginning to bob your head up and down on his cock. Choji tugged at the cloth around his wrists, restraining himself as much as he could to not buck his hips. Failing miserably as his body writhed under yours He cried out as he felt your warm mouth around his cock, tears collecting by the corners of his eyes. Whimpers and cries falling from his lips as he found every ounce of restraint to not let his body betray him. The could in his stomach building once more for what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening. He didn’t want to fuck all of this up and receive punishment even further. “Mommy, please your mouth is so warm… be careful. I dont wanna come.. too soon.”

You grin around him, looking up at him through your lashes, nearly removing yourself from him before plunging back down, taking him until you feel him hit the back of your throat. You do this a few more times before pulling yourself off his cock with a 'pop'. You make your way up his body, getting impatient yourself, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. Straddling his abdomen, right above where he needed you most, pressing your lips against his in a heated kiss. Desperately trying not to show that you were just as affected by your actions. You grab a fistful of his hair, tugging harshly, effectively separating your lips as you speak against his lips. “Tell mommy what you want baby boy. Go on, use your words I want to hear you.”

Dacryphillia

Each one of your pleas fog his mind with uncontrollable lust. Wram brown irises drowning in it. “So desperate for me already, darling, we havent even begun the main event.” He teases, directly into your ear, as he finally lines the tip of his thick cock with your entrance. Suo had been teasing you for what seemed like hours. Pulling orgasm after orgasm from your overstimulated cunt. Having made you come undone on his fingers and tongue several times, your pussy having felt desperatly empty without his cock filling you. He grins as you whine, his head just barely probing your entrance. “Please, Haya.” You whimper desperate for him to do something, anything, tears blurring your vision as they collected at your lashline.

“Please?” He tiles his head in mocking obliviousness. “Please what princess? Gotta tell me what to do or I cant help you, tell me what is it that you want?” He coos, free hand sliding up your stomach, thumb circling a pert nipple. Grinning he leans down tugging on your earlobe with this teeth, breaths fanning against your ear as he continues to speak. “Want me to fill this pretty pussy up with my cock? Feeling you flutter against me, whimpering out my name from those beautiful lips. Is that what youre asking for my pretty little bunny?”

He grins eyes lithe with mischief as you continue to babble, words coming out in a jumbled mess of pleas and calls of his name. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, desperation for him consuming your entire being. Suo’s hand coming up to caress your cheek. Thumb swiping at the tears that cascaded down your face. “Oh, sweet baby” He purrs, slipping the same thumb past your lips, letting you taste the salty wetness of your tears. “Crying for me already? We’ve barely even started.” He giggles, hips lurching forward, slamming into you to the hilt with one swift movement of his hips. Groaning as your back arches from the bed, eyes rolling back with a scream of his name being forced from your lips. “As much as I’d love to hear you beg for it, ive been waiting for too long for you my princess.~”

Cat and Mouse/CNC

Your breaths come out in heavy pants, your heart racing in your chest, your feet slamming against the grassy terrain as you run as fast as your legs can carry you. The shadow of the figure on your tail looming behind you. You pushed further, weaving in and out of trees to shake your assailant. The dark wooded area was easy to get lost in. You had only paused your running for a moment, attempting to take in your soundings, looking for a route to escape. Attempting to catch your breath, you were sure you had lost him. Just as you were about to turn on your heel and take off once more your eyes shoot wide, feeling fingers of a large hand wrap themselves around your throat. Your attacker using their grip as leverage to shove you roughly against a tree, the larger figure looms over yours. Tattooed fingers squeezing just enough to make gaining air flow a bit difficult. Lips grazing your ear as he leans down to your height. “Gotcha~”

Endo’s piercing blue eyes lock with yours, leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. Tongue invading your mouth, free hand coming up to cup your dripping cunt. Fingers circling your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. He smirks against your lips as you moan into his mouth. Pulling from you, he quickly removes your soiled panties, running his finger between your soaked slit. Bringing his finger to his lips taking in the way you taste, moaning around his fingers.

“Fuck doll, you taste so fucking good. Already so fucking wet for me.” He uses his thumb to force your mouth open, spitting a glob of saliva between your parted lips. “Go on babydoll, taste yourself.” He chuckles as you instinctively swallow, turning you in his embrace so your bent over. Flipping up your skirt, he leans back to take all of you in, eyes hungrily wracking over your exposed sex. Parting your folds with a thumb, watching as your entrance contracts around nothing a large grin splits across his face as he lands a harsh slap against your ass. “Gotta remind you who this belongs too huh? This cunt is mine princess.”

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Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! I already have a part two in mind for this, so keep an eye out. Until then, see you later!

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tojisbbg · 7 months ago

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𝙢𝙖𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙚?

❝fuck me like you mad at me, baby; i need a freak to drive me crazy!❞

♡ sae itoshi ♡

wc: 14.5k

a/n: i love my nonchalant princess sm. the storyline is a bit long 'cause i got carried away lmao. but trust the process guys, it's good i promise ;)

reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated <3

content: sae itoshi x fem!reader, reader plays for blue lock (yes, what a queen!), eventual smut, sae is filthy lol, all acts are consensual, disclaimer: i have no knowledge on soccer or how the games work in general lmfao, porn with plot, not edited.

---

jealousy has never been a pretty look, nor has the toxic radiation of arrogance.

it's funny how men can be threatened to such miniscule things, afraid that it'll bruise their strikingly huge egos; bigger than their dicks!

yes, the world is unfair, and sadly women will never be seen as equals. unfortunately, we live in a time where what's in our pants determines our self-worth like some kind of auctioned price tag.

but, you weren't about to label yourself with a price tag stamped on you by a man.

and what better way to do that than being annoyingly damn good at something that was created for men.

the way soccer has deeply nestled itself in your veins was something that most definitely wasn't on your bingo card. you grew up in a small town where people were familiar with each other, being able to tell apart who was a neighbor and who was a stranger.

your dream was to graduate high school with honors and attend a prestigious university in a foreign country; following your passion of becoming an aspiring cardiologist.

but, of course, the criteria list was as big as your ambition. you were required to do a bunch of stuff, such as volunteering for community service, internships, maintaining your grades, and most importantly.... play a sport?!

if there's one thing you absolutely hated in the world, it would have to be playing sports. you weren't athletic at all and you felt limited because where you lived barely had any inclusivity for female players.

but, the university admissions office wanted an all-rounded student, so, you had no choice.

you begged your school's boys soccer coach to let you play. the old man was a tough cookie, hard to crack, but with enough pestering; he gave in. more so, he thought you'd be the one to give up and not show up on the second practice session.

but, to his surprise, you held your ground. in no time, your body went through a series of changes. you became more toned and lean, your strength and stamina gradually increased as well.

the guys on the team ridiculed you multiple times when you struggled to understand the rules or play strategy; but, they'd soon swallow their own words after noticing how in every game it always seemed like you had woken up as someone new.

your adaptability, stamina, improvisation and intuition resulted in you to easily climb up the ranks; replacing the team's captain who served for 2 years.

naturally, your school gained popularity for having such a strong soccer team, and you became the infamous ace card; even though you were the only female player on the team.

of course, you didn't really care about all that. after all, you were doing this in order to prepare a neat and tidy application to ship yourself somewhere else to pursue your dreams. so, you'd mindlessly played against other schools and ultimately; lead your team to victory.

win after win after win.

what you didn't expect was that a lady with short auburn hair has been eyeing from the very beginning; spectating like a creep.

your senior year of high school came by and you were a few months away from graduating. your applications have been submitted and you felt like someone freed you from the shackles of stress. you spent your eighteenth birthday with friends and family, of course, being teased by your relatives of how your body was becoming "more like a man" or whatever the hell that means.

spring had just begun and your acceptance letter has come in the mail. you eagerly opened it, practically screaming in happiness as you almost tripped down the flight of stairs to announce to your parents-

"i'm going to yale!"

you had finished your last soccer practice for the season. while you were about to head in the direction of your house, you saw a lady with short auburn hair approach you.

you tried to ignore her, maybe she was walking towards someone behind you? but, you couldn't hear anyone behind you. she politely smiled at you, almost as if she could read your mind.

"uh, can i help you?" you asked, confused.

"you're y/n, right?" she confirmed, making you cock an eyebrow.

"yes, that would be me." you answered, a bit taken back from her sudden acknowledgment of your existence.

"i've been watching you for quite some time now, and i must say, you are a fine piece of talent for the world of soccer!" she enthusiastically praised, making you look at her with a dumbfounded expression.

"uhm, thank you?....creepy." you awkwardly expressed your gratitude, while mumbling the last part. but, it seems that she very loud and clearly heard you, chuckling at your words.

"listen, i've been watching the most talented soccer players in different parts of japan to recruit. my dream is to create the best soccer team in japan that will win the world cup. so, i created the blue lock project." she passionately explained.

"nice." you blandly responded, making her stare at you like you have two heads.

"are you not getting it? i'm recruiting you to the blue lock project, y/n." she frowned, but her words were still registering in your head.

blue lock project?

world cup?

this must be some joke. so, you laughed at her face like it was one.

"i tried to put past the whole creepy stalking you did on me but this is the most absurd thing you've said so far in our short interaction. you're asking me, a woman, to play in your all-men soccer team that you're planning to perfect for the world cup? listen, lady, i think you need to go home and take a nice nap to clear your head." you scoffed, readjusting your duffel bag as you prepared to walk off, only to be halted as she grabbed your wrist.

"wait! please, just think about it! i know... i know what you're thinking and i get it. us women, we don't get these kinds of opportunities and when we do, there's always some level of competition and gender-bias. but, as a woman myself, whose ambition is to craft the perfect japanese soccer team, i want a woman to play in it. i want a woman to win the world cup! please, i'm requesting you, reconsider." she begged, making your mouth slightly drop.

you sigh heavily, looking at her with stern eyes.

"i'm sorry, but, you'll have to achieve that dream with someone else. i'm not cut out for this life, soccer isn't even my dream. besides, i'm going to america in a few months to attend university there and become a doctor in the future. i hope you can find another woman to play in your team. good luck." you offered a small apologetic smile, making her eyes glimmer with disappointment as she watched you walk away.

a few weeks had passed and you'd just graduated. your flight to america was quickly approaching, so you were busy packing. you suddenly heard a knock at your bedroom door, which cracked open to reveal your mom.

"sweetheart, someone by the name of anri teieri is looking for you." you mom informed you, making you furrow your eyebrows.

"who now? i've never heard of that name in my life." you responded, making her shrug and she ushered you to come downstairs and figure it out.

so, you followed behind her only to be horrified to see the same lady from a few weeks back.

"you again?!" you gasped, speed walking to the door.

"ah, sorry for the unannounced vis-"

"lady! this whole stalking thing is really getting out of hand! i-i mean, how did you even get my address?! god, i feel like i'm being watched like a hawk! last warning or else i'll report you next time!" you threatened, absolutely baffled. her eyes widened, quickly holding her hands up as surrender.

"please, hear me out. i'm not stalking you! i was escorted here by your coach. i... i wanted you to reconsider!" she expressed, her face displaying desperation.

"what part of what i said to you back then don't you understand? i don't have a passion for soccer." you glared, making her face turn to a frown.

"you can't be good at something if there's no passion to drive you! and you... god, you're damn amazing! your goals, your precision; it's unmatched! y/n, please, it's not only that i want you... no, i need you on my team." she persuaded, making your sigh in annoyance.

"even if i wanted to, i can't. it's too late, i already confirmed my spot at the university and my flight is this weekend." you informed her, trying to make peace.

"that's okay! i'll have my team call your university to place you on a guaranteed waitlist, your spot will still be secured. please, just play for the recruitment matches in blue lock. i promise, if you're eliminated; then you can fall back on this. we'll even pay for your tuition cost and flight expenses." she tries to negotiate and you let out a defeated grumble.

"fucking hell, fine, fine. i'll do it." you agreed, making her eyes light up.

"yes! thank you! thank you so much, y/n." she smiled brightly, digging through her purse before pulling out a small card.

"that's the address to the blue lock facility. the mock matches will be taking place this weekend. i'll see you then, y/n." she hands you the card, making you hum.

the hell did you just get into?

---

so, luck has a weird way of working out, and it turns out that you were able to make it out of the recruitment matches. you were officially on blue lock's team.

well, that happened about four months ago. so far, you're still not sure if it was worth quitting and falling back on your safety option, which was still laid on the table by anri.

"jeez, i thought that the only time a woman would've given me a hard time was after i got married." isagi teased, making you chuckle as you laid on the indoor feild.

"hope you don't get married any time soon, your future wife is gonna have a hard time in social spaces when her husband is getting cancelled every two to five business days." you smirked, making him gasp.

"y/n! i thought we were gonna move past that." he huffed, making you laugh.

"what? about the fact that you become a slur machine when you get pissy?" you egg further, making him roll his eyes before cracking a smile.

"but seriously though, those were some killer goals you made today. especially the far distance one you did, man, it got me sweating! how'd you do it?!" his freakishly big blue eyes peered at you, making you rub the back of your neck as you tried to recall that moment.

"uh... don't know, honestly. it just felt right at that moment and my legs moved on its own to score, i saw the opening and knew it was time." you tried your best to explain in order to give him the most accurate answer possible.

"so what you're saying is... you play based on intuition?" isagi's eyes widened, but, his shock only gained a mere shrug from you.

"guess so." you replied, making him let out a dry chuckle.

"fuck, you're more goated than i anticipated." his eyes glimmered with some odd sparks of a mix of inspiration but at the same time a hint of envy.

"now you're just buttering me up, if you think i'm gonna give you the charred sides of my steak today, it's not happening." you stuck your tongue out, making him let out a dramatic sigh.

"well, it was worth the try." he joked, making you playfully jab his side.

after practice and training sessions for the day ended, everyone had dinner as per usual. you sat with pretty much whoever you felt like you wanted to be around with that day. you were good friends with majority of the blue lock members, keeping a low profile and not really interested in creating unnecessary beef.

isagi wanted to be the best striker? great.

reo? awesome.

nagi? spectacular.

rin? fantastic.

you couldn't give two flying fucks about becoming the world's best striker. you were pretty much shoved into the whole situation by anri's big (creepy) puppy eyes. your friends knew about your whole recruitment process, earning you a mix of bustles of laughter along with some of them weirdly having more admiration towards you.

in short, you had no interest in becoming the best striker. it required too much thinking, too many friendship break ups, and so on.

as long as blue lock makes it to the world cup and wins, everything's peachy because anri got what she wanted from you.

dinner was over and it was still quite early for bed. you decided to go to the shared lounge space, where a big tv was installed in the middle of the room. you were bored and thought maybe you'd watch a movie or rewatch old match; whatever the hell was more interesting than being in the four walls of your shared room with nagi, yuki and rin.

you walked into the lounge area, only to be surprised by seeing all three of your roommates present.

"so now we're having group meetings without me?" you playfully snark, making yuki chuckle.

"me and nagi had a feeling you'd use your imaginary sixth eye to sense us here." he joked, making you laugh.

"they're actually my spidey senses, get it right. you guys being together always means being up to no good." you said before squishing yourself before rin and yuki, as nagi opted out to sit on the carpeted floor in front of your legs.

"yeah, we were coming up with strategies on how demolish the U-20 team." nagi lazily added onto the conversation, making you hum.

"oh, those guys. who's even on that team anyways? i was kinda asleep when ego was talking about it." you sheepishly smiled, making rin scoff.

"seriously? this game is an important debut for blue lock, and you're out here sleeping in meetings? dumbass." rin nagged, making you roll your eyes.

"jeez, sorry mr. perfect, i got tired 'kay? now stop leaving me in the dark and tell me more information about this team." you looked at the pair of teal eyes, trying to count how many under lashes he had in the meanwhile.

"it's japan's national team that's composed of the best japanese soccer players that are under the age of twenty. one them being the biggest pests in my life, itoshi sae." rin enlightened you, and you watched a slight darkened shift in his eyes as he mentioned the foreign name to you.

"itoshi sae? he shares your last name, your older brother?" you asked mindlessly, as you thought out loud.

"what do you think, smartypants?" rin deadpanned, giving you an obvious look, making you chuckle.

"sorry, i didn't wanna assume. listen, your family trauma is yours, buddy; i'm not here to mediate or play therapist, so you can be assured i won't dig further in. but, regardless, he's an opponent. so, just like everyone else, i'm gonna try my best to make sure we win." you offered an encouraging smile.

"whatever, this game is just a stepping stone for me. i'll prove to him just how good i am and make him eat his words." he spoke through gritted teeth.

after about an hour of socializing with your roommates, it was getting late and there was early morning training the following morning as per usual. so, you told your roommates to head back without you and you'd come a bit later; so you bid them goodnight.

after being alone in the lounge, you decided to do some research on this special specimen the entire blue lock facility has been bustling about; itoshi sae.

and with each click of a new article, interview or soccer match; you were horrified and mesmerized at the same time.

how can a human being be so cruel, brash, cocky... but so fluid, sharp and agile? he's worse than a criminal.

the way he shits on japanese soccer.

the way he's convinced that the best striker has yet to be born, let alone in japan.

the way he fucking plays... it's almost arousing; making adrenaline pump through your body as blood rushes all around your blood vessels.

what is this feeling?

this new profound inspiration, ambition and drive you're feeling?

god, why did you wanna suddenly have itoshi sae kneeling in front of you on the damn feild?!

you turned off the tv and decided to call it a night. while you were walking through the hallway in the direction of your room, you see a sleepy rin walking towards you.

"rin." you call out, making him look at you with half-lidded eyes.

"huh? jeez, you still didn't sleep? whatever, i don't have time for your jokes, i gotta piss real bad." rin tried to cut the conversation short, but you grabbed his wrist to stop him from leaving.

"wait. you need to hear me, rin. i don't know if you consider me as a friend or foe, not that i care, but i want you to know that i share the same vision as you." you looked at him with determined eyes, making him cock an eyebrow.

"the hell are you talking about, y/n?" he asked, confused.

"i don't know what kind of gold your brother is hiding that people want so bad. everyone is meat riding him, but i just don’t get it. yes, he has exceptional skills. but, in my eyes, he's just another nuisance of a midfielder who likes to show off." you sprinkled in some insults, but for some reason, that seemed to bother rin a little.

"listen, i hate that prick, but don't water down his play. he played in spain’s youth team and he’s competed against national teams. he’s not just any midfielder, he’s a prodigy, whether i like to admit it or not." rin weirdly defended (?) his brother.

"so he’s got a taste that soccer exists outside of japan, big deal. he’ll be tasting my ass when i crush him during the game." you smirked, making his eyes widen.

"do you know how much weight your words need to have to make a claim like that? you're so naive. anyone who wants to crush itoshi sae has to become the world's best striker; and that's my goal." he glared.

"rin, i don't need to become the world's best striker to crush your brother; 'cause i already am." you bodly stated, not even understanding yourself and where this confidence came from. but, rin looked rather shocked before an unknowing grin tugged on his lips.

without a doubt, talent runs in the itoshi family. both rin and sae possess a strong talent for soccer. although rin knows that he hasn’t leveled with sae yet, he was still very strong.

that was until you came along.

you waltzed your way onto the field, as if it was your personal ballroom floor and you danced with the players. you predicted everyone’s moves, while yours remained a mystery.

rin could still remember how you painfully defeated him in one of the selections and to rub it in his face, you selected him on your team, basically calling him your bitch in other words.

ouch.

people underestimated your abilities because you were a woman, but many people in this same facility didn’t even have an ounce of your skill.

(cough igaguri cough)

"i see, so this is your ego. i'll be looking forward to your play, y/n, and then we'll see if you can live up to your words or eat them." rin darkly chuckled, making you hum.

"night night, rin." you waved at him, deciding to release him from your shackles so he could go pee.

"yeah, yeah, g'night." he half-waved back, before you both went opposite directions.

suddenly, soccer became something that now intoxicated your mind.

---

"y/n!" you heard the familiar high-pitched voice, finishing putting on your jersey shirt as you turned around.

"oh, anri." you gave her a small wave, watching her approach you.

"ready for the game? i know maybe you didn't expect to come this far, but trust me, i envisioned this for you. listen, i know my desires of having you in the blue lock project was selfish of me, but you truly are a precious gem to us." anri spoke with a gentle voice, her words very powerful and encouraging.

of course, the auburn haired woman was expecting some kind of snarky remark or maybe even your eyes rolling at her; your typical responses because you didn't care much about the blue lock project or soccer to begin with.

what she didn't expect was for you to crack a smile, making her eyes widen.

"y'know, at times, i felt like purposely failing the training stages or mock matches; just so i could get out of here through elimination. but, for some odd reason, i couldn't. failure is not a part of my nature, anri. yes, i was forced into this, but it's 'cause i'm damn good at what i do. i was brought here with no internal purpose or passion for soccer, but, things changed over night. quite literally." you decided to give her a slice of your heart to offer some of your true emotions.

"this is different, y/n." her expression and tone was nothing less than pure shock.

"i found meaning in my place here at blue lock. i want to play the kind of soccer that doesn't just make me win, but, makes my blood course through my veins in excitement. i want to feel alive when playing it. now, i found someone who just might let me have that." you grin at her, brushing your hair. anri gave you a puzzled look, trying to think of who could possibly change your heart like this.

"who?" she asked, curiosity pouring out of her eyes.

"itoshi sae." you smirk.

---

“so hungry- ow! ow! ow!” you screamed in pain, trying to kick away nagi, who was helping you stretch out your legs before the game. the match would start in about tenish minutes. you were sprawled on the ground, both of your legs being parted into a split to help your muscles stretch.

“almost done, stop being such a hassle.” nagi smacked your calves, making you glare at him as you continued to whine and fuss from the burn traveling all over your legs. thankfully, the torture was soon over.

“alright you dusted lumps of talent, today’s match could be life changing for all of you if victory is brought onto blue lock. get into your positions and good luck to you all.” ego spoke and the doors opened, everyone walking outside into the large stadium.

you heard people cheering at the top of their lungs, looking around to see the majority wearing and holding merch that branded itoshi sae’s name. you snorted in disbelief, rolling your eyes.

“ass kissers.” you mumbled to yourself before continuing to walk to your place. you waited for the other team to come out and just on cue, they walked in. you quietely observed each one of them as you familiarized yourself with their traits.

the person whom you’ve been waiting for finally arrived onto your dance floor, u-20′s number ten, itoshi sae. he felt your intense stare on him, turning his eyes to now look right back at you. you gave him a smirk before waving your hand at him, earning a cocked eyebrow from him as he just rolled his eyes at you before looking away.

“how rude.” you huffed to yourself and before you knew it, the game began.

you ran to the center where the ball was freely rolling and even though a bunch of other players were running like a herd of buffalos at the ball, you knew they couldn’t get it.

“you see the ball? well, now you don’t!” you giggled as you placed your foot in front of the ball before turning your feet, making the ball rotate as you kicked it backwards.

as the ball was now running in the opposite direction, you swiftly jumped over aiku’s feet, running to chase the ball as your feet was bumping with it. you happily hummed, your eyes still aware of your surroundings as you noticed sendou and aiku now at your sides.

“hey, pretty lady! that wasn’t very nice of you.” you look over at aiku who was coming towards you, extending his annoying long legs to overpower your movements.

"bite me, snake." you smirked before noticing isagi at your peripheral vision, kicking the ball right between sendou's legs to pass it to your friend.

you panted, trying to catch your breath as you watched isagi getting in position as he tried to make the direct shot, only for it to be struck down. your eyes widened as you saw the player with blonde hair and pink tips use his head to stop the goal from going in.

you read his name on his shirt, shidou.

“what the hell.” you furrowed your eyebrows, running towards the previous formation as shidou passed the ball to the auburn haired male. sae surpressed isagi and chigiri’s speed and then with one quick motion, the ball hit the net.

“that fucking blonde cockroach.” you heard rin swear under his breath, sweat drizzling down the sides of his face.

this was going to be interesting.

the match continued on and u-20 was in the lead. your legs practically felt like jelly, looking at the score board with read 3-3. majority of the goals were made by shidou or sae on the u-20 team, they were devouring everyone and anything in their way.

as for blue lock, the first goal was made nagi, followed by barou and then isagi. both teams were now tied and slowly the 90 minute clock was running out; as there was only 20 minutes left.

this was the last chance, within those 20 minutes, a goal will be made and that team will take home victory.

fuck, you felt like throwing up.

you were getting pissed off, mainly because of the fact that the only person holding everyone back was rin. you knew that there was some kind of drama going on between the itoshi brothers, but rin wasn’t playing in the right state of mind.

“rin, pass!” you yelled, watching him go berserk as he had his tongue out and was drooling. rin looked at you with a clouded look before snickering.

“out of my fucking way, dumbass.” he shoved you away, rejecting to pass the ball to you when you were at a perfect range to shoot. you saw that his main goal was to go head on head with his brother, but that was ultimately a bad idea because sae was protected by shidou as back up.

“y/n! you okay?” you heard reo ask as he ran besides you.

“yeah, i’m fine. but, i don’t think rin is.” you breathed out, trying to catch up to rin who was running in full spped. suddenly, in an attempt to go around shidou, he accidentally kicked his leg when the both of them tried to kick the ball.

“fuck.” you cursed, hearing the whistle blow.

“itoshi rin, yellow card.”

“idiot.” you murmured under your breath as you took this as a chance to steal the ball from rin. you were now in the middle of the feild and the goal was still in a pretty far distance for you to shoot.

suddenly, you felt an arm over your chest in an attempt to block and delay your movement. you looked over to your side and your heart jumped in your chest as you met with the striking teal orbs of the star of the show; the player you've been looking forward to play against so much that you couldn't get a wink of sleep.

itoshi sae.

“my, my! didn’t your mommy teach you not to touch a woman without her permission? you’re naughty, sae.” you teased, trying your best to keep your leg ahead of his. you knew that sae’s main skill was his sharp shooting range and that if he somehow got control over the ball right now, it’d be game over.

you watched over his moves through his game recordings numerous amount of times to predict his play style.

shamelessly, your eyes watched how his meaty and juicy thighs flexed while he ran. you couldn't help the feeling of your stomach tightening, as having such a handsome guy all up on you made your panties twist.

“shut it, you little minx.” sae grumbled, and just as you felt his legs coming to swing faster, you used your right foot to kick the ball to the side.

“you-” he looked at you with wide eyes, only to receive a cocky smile.

“see ya!” you finally able to escape him as your main concern was now to get past shidou who was guarding your shooting point.

"so we meet again, girl. blue lock's ace, a woman, who's been taking the soccer world by storm." you heard shidou cackle as he hovered side to side. you chuckled, hitting him with fast dribbles.

“yeah and you’re about to find out why.” you grinned, kicking the ball directly upwards before leaping into the air, lightly swinging your feet at a calculated angle with a gentle impact. it was enough to make the ball fly past his shoulder, and you quickly ran around the distracted male to catch up with the ball.

the hardest obstacle was down.

"shit, you're cool as fuck, girl." shidou muttered under his breath, still in disbelief from the move you just pulled to move past his block.

in the distance, sae watched you like a hawk, amazed by your game tactic.

it almost seemed as if you weren’t human as no one in this entire universe could’ve predicted you to do that.

not even the prodigy himself.

there was no way in hell any player could've passed that block with shidou and sendou cornering you.

damn, you literally defied the laws of physics.

you were still at a pretty far range to shoot, but, the goal was swarming with dangerous players who were firm to not let you have that opening.

"ah, how annoying." you sighed.

of course, your moves annoyed sae as he was now lunging towards you, trying to stop you from advancing any further. the auburn haired male was pissed, no, beyond pissed as he ran besides you.

“can’t get enough of me? you get me so excited, sae!” you exclaimed, watching him frown as he struggled to predict when the ball was going to move left or right based on your footwork.

"just what are you, woman?! i've never met a player like you!" sae angrily spoke, panting while he tried to take control over the ball. you smirked, feeling like your heart was about to combust just from being acknowledged by him.

"are you falling in love with me?" you asked with a cheeky smirk.

"fucking brat." he scoffed.

“i’ll call this goal, ‘if i score, then sae gets to fuck this hole’, ‘kay?” you taunted and then what happened next was beyond shocking.

you were in no position to shoot and strike a goal, the range was still far and the goal was blocked. shidou was advancing and you were slowly getting cornered with sae on your side and sendou advancing towards your other side.

but, it felt right.

no, no, it is right. this was the perfect timing, the perfect position-

the perfect moment to score a goal.

if you can't find an opening on the field, look above and create your own, that's your play style.

you diagonally cut through his run, making the tip of your feet scoop the ball as you kicked it in the air. another jump and now you were in the air, as you spun and swerved your body to the left, giving the ball a powerful kick.

your eyes watched the ball zoom past the goal keeper’s head, hitting the net as you came back down on the ground. sae blinked dumbfoundedly at you, trying to process what the hell just happened.

the crowd roared with cheers.

you collapsed on the ground, breathing heavy as the whistle blew, time was up and blue lock scored the winning goal thanks to you. before you could even register your win, you were swooped off the ground by your teammates as they huddled while lifting you in the air, a tsunami of praises and congratulations was showered on you.

“hm, wait. i’ll be back.” you patted nagi’s shoulder to usher him to put you down, as he carefully placed you back on the ground.

you walked over to u-20′s players who were sitting on the grassy field, faces expressing scowls and sadness from their bitter defeat. yet, you saw sae standing unbothered as shidou was blabbering to him about some random nonsense, before noticing you approaching them.

“oh, would you look at who came to pay us a visit.” shidou sneered, giving you narrowed eyes as you shrugged.

“i'm not interested in you, blondie.” you snapped at him, making him slightly irritated by how you spoke to him.

sae didn’t want to become involved with this little feud you had going on with shidou, silently watching you both fuss and fight over today’s match. he had to admit, watching you play had riled him up.

both sexually and mentally.

the announcers were urgently instructing all players to evacuate the field as the game has been over since fifteen minutes ago. you heard your team members call your name, so you decided not to waste more time.

"before i forget to keep my promise that i made with rin.” you remembered, your lips curling upwards cheekily. you placed your index and middle finger on sae’s lips as if you were hushing him, before bringing those two fingers to tap your butt cheek.

“choo~” you smooched the air, watching sae’s jaw drop. shidou could slowly feel his blood boil and swore that if you weren’t a woman, then he would've long broke out into a fist fight with you.

"bye-bye." you waved at sae before running the opposite direction to where your friends were standing.

---

you entered the backstage of the stadium for only player entry. you were excited to finally get out of your uniform and take a cold shower after such an intense game. curious eyes were scanning for blue lock's locker room as you hummed a little tune, until someone grabbed your arm and pulled you into some room.

“what the f-” you yelped, only to have your words be muffled as the person clamped their hand over your mouth. you looked up and saw that it was sae, looking down at you with sharp teal eyes.

“well, well, well. just the person i've been waiting for.” he snarked, his voice sending chills down your spine. you realized that you were in u-20's locker room with him. your hands quickly came up to peel his hand off of your mouth.

“the hell is wrong with you? someone might come inside and get the wrong idea.” you furrowed your eyebrows, trying to turn your heels and leave the bathroom. however, with one swift motion, you were now pinned against the door as sae caged you between his arms.

"you've been annoying the shit out of me ever since i've known about your existence. i've watched the recorded tapes of your mock games at blue lock and though the other players never stood out to me... you were always the odd one out. the way you'd play on the field like you had no fucking clue the hell you were doing but at the same time; it felt like you outsmarted everyone. i can't believe i fell into that trap today even after analyzing you to the core." he bitterly spat out, making you look at him with bored eyes.

"listen, mr. prodigy, i get it that this might be your first loss; but taking it out on me won't change the scores." you nonchalantly replied, somehow making his skin burn in anger even more.

"you’ve got some real talent, I’m not gonna deny that. but your little hat-tricks are a bit immature, aren’t they?” he questioned, making you shrug.

"as long as my team's winning, i don't care." you answered, making him chuckle, the corner of his lips lifting up slightly at your bold proclamation.

"hah! that’s a dangerous mindset. arrogance isn’t always a good look for a player. but i gotta admit, it fits you.” sae sneered, a smirk etched on his lips.

"confidence not arrogance, don't get it twisted." you corrected him, shooting a glare at him.

“oh, really? confidence, hm? or maybe you’re just in denial about being a little arrogant?” he continued to taunt you, making you darkly chuckle.

"go back to school and learn the difference, sae. i can tell you're lacking up here since you went to spain so early. poor you." you pouted, jabbing at his temple.

"yeah? let's talk about you, miss. yale. you wanted to become a doctor, no? only to end up as ego's puppet for blue lock. poor you." sae mocked your words, his insult made your jaw lock.

"how the fuck do you know that?" you said through gritted teeth, his face glimmering with amusement.

"i have a good sense of every player's background to know how much of a pain in my ass they're gonna be during a game." he cockily remarked, making you roll your eyes.

"oh please, you're like the soccer princess, always getting his way. you stupid dumb brat, always wanting stuff and getting it 'cause you're a lump of talent who went international as a youth. you whisked away shidou from our team, who's gonna be your next BL victim?" you scoffed, shoving him off of you to place some distance between you two.

"excuse me? that’s a bit rich coming from you. i do have talent, yes, but i’ve worked hard for it. you don’t know what i had to go through to get where i am now, so don’t act like you know everything about me." sae’s smirk fades slightly, replaced by a look of annoyance at your harsh words.

"uh-huh. so, you cried to your management that you wouldn't play in u-20 against BL unless you could pick whichever BL player you want to join you? how lame. you think you're the best?" you asked, voice laced with irritation from how much he was pissing you off.

"i didn’t ‘cry to my management’, they just know what i have to offer. and yes, i do think i’m the best. i’ve proven it on the field time after time.” he stepped closer to you, now hovering above you with his annoyingly tall height.

damn the itoshi brothers for inheriting such good genes.

"i heard it with my own ears. when ego and your managers were having that meeting, i happened to pass by the conference room. you're quite the brat. aren't you supposed to be the older itoshi?" you poked fun at him, giggling a little at the end.

"you… you eavesdropped on the meeting? and you’re still throwing a fit? how immature can you be? it was a strategic decision and you know it. picking the right players to my advantage is part of the game. you’re just mad that i chose shidou.” sae scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"mad? hah! don't make me laugh. you could have the pink tip blonde freak for all i care! listen, itoshi, i could win with or without shidou being on my team, got it? i'm damn fucking good at what i do, 'cause if i wasn't, then my ass would've been halfway across the globe by now. i'm the muse to this whole orchestra out of all you mediocre artists. strategic decision? seems more like a cry for help. what are you? five? picking and trading toys? please, give me a break. i'd rather quit soccer than have you make me your bitch." you angrily spewed at him, making his eyes narrow at your words.

sae is stunned into silence for a moment, taken aback by your fierce and fiery declaration. he takes a moment to process your words, before responding with a sharp edge to his voice.

"you got an awfully talkative mouth, huh? ever thought of putting that mouth to some good use than spewing all this bullshit?" he harshly squished your cheeks together with his hand, making you wince a little.

"sorry that i can't match your brattiness, it's not in my nature to act like a lukewarm spoiled brat." your words were slightly muffled, but it rang clear in his ears, especially the familiar word you picked up most likely from his younger brother.

"lukewarm, hm? did my shit of a little brother teach you that? you seem to be close to him, having the nerve to approach me after the game and pull that little stunt of yours to keep the so-called promise you made to him. what kinda promise? that you'd make me kiss your ass?" sae cocked an eyebrow, peering down at you as you couldn't help but count his under lashes.

"it was just a stupid joke, you don't have to act like i shoved the damn soccer ball up your ass." you rolled your eyes, making him let out a dry chuckle.

"nah, it's not that. it's just... you seem to be a woman of your words; but you're forgetting the promise you made to me." he smirked at you, his eyes darkening with lust.

"what?" your eyebrows furrowed in confusion momentarily.

you tried to recall what you even said to him. when you’re on the field, you tend to spew out random shit from your mind and mouth, not thinking twice about it.

“you scored the winning goal, didn’t you?” sae helped you remember, his hands coming down to wrap around your waist before he pressed himself on you.

“i’ll call this goal ‘if i score, then sae gets to fuck this hole’, ‘kay?”

your words rang in your mind loud and clear, your eyes widening in shock as you realized what you’ve done. sae noticed you expression, his smirk widening as he knew that you were all bark and no bite.

but, that’s what made you seem more alluring to him.

“whimping out, sweetheart?” he said, a fake pout forming on his lips. what he didn’t expect is your arms wrapping around his neck before harshly pulling him towards your face. you crashed your lips on him, roughly kissing the soft-pillow like flesh.

“you said it, i’m a woman of my words, sae. besides, not everyone gets the chance to fuck the world’s best striker, y'know. so, you’re welcome.” you grinned against his lips before playfully biting down on his lower lip.

"you vixen." he whispered against your lips, warm breath fanning over yours before he locked you in another searing kiss. your fingers weaved through his soft auburn hair, following the rhythm of his lips. sae's hand was still cupping your jaw, keeping you in place as he tilted his face slightly to the side, the new angle allowing him to kiss you deeper.

you felt his thigh intrude between your legs, spreading you open as he rubbed his muscular quad against your clothed pussy. the small friction alone was providing enough stimulation to your throbbing clit that made you gasp a small moan; making him smirk against your lips before cheekily using the provided entrance to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

you felt the wet muscle gently poking yours occasionally before slowly wrapping around your tongue. the wet sounds of your mixed salivas and mingling tongues followed by the smooch noise echoed throughout the empty locker room; making your pussy drip with arousal.

your head was spinning, both from sae's intoxicating cologne along with the heated kiss. your face was flushed and your brain was practically turned into mush.

you sucked on his bottom lip before giving it a gentle nibble. the both of you soon pulled away, breathing heavy from the lack of oxygen due to the breath-taking makeout session you just had; a string of saliva connecting the both of your lips.

fuck, he looked so sexy like this.

sae's hair was dishevealed, cheeks tinted with a slight pink, teal eyes half-liddedly staring at yours like a sly siren and his lips plump from the intense kissing.

he leaned forwards, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your jawline before moving down to your neck. your mouth was slightly agape, soft whimpers ocassionally slipping out of your lips as you felt him kiss and lick the soft flesh of your neck. he gently bit down before suckling the area, making your breath hitch.

"h-hey! you're gonna leave a mark." you stuttered, but sae couldn't find it in him to care. in fact, the thought of him marking you up everywhere sent blood straight to his cock; making him impossibly even harder than he already was.

"so? i don't see the problem. what if i want all the other players to know i claimed you as mine?" he spoke in a low tone, almost as soft and alluring as a whisper. you could feel him rub the bridge of his nose against your neck; sending goosebumps all over your body.

"i don't belong to anyone." you meekly responded, though you tried to sound as stern as possible; obviously failing to do so. sae let out a dry chuckle, finding your answer a bit amusing.

"oh really? i'm hurt. you pulled out so many cool tricks from your sleeve during the game, flirted with me on the field, saying lewd things to me before scoring, promised my little brother to have me kiss your ass... all of that just for me to notice you, no?" he teased, his hands going south as he traced the outline of your hips before harshly pushing them down, making you grind against his thigh.

"f-fuck." you moaned, feeling yourself getting wetter by his actions. however, sae wasn't complaining, seeing how your facial expressions were twisting with pleasure made his mind fog up with lust.

"bet you were thinking about this while playing on the field. imagining all sort of naughty things you'd want me to do to you, hm? god, never would've expected blue lock's ace to be... such a slut." he snickered, his hands moving behinds to give your ass a firm squeeze followed by a harsh spank; making you yelp.

"i wasn't!" you tried to defend yourself, finding a convincing voice by shooing away your horny thoughts.

"you sure about that, princess?" sae grins, his hand cupping your clothed pussy before using his slender fingers to rub against your slit. he could feel your wetness, making him scoff.

"you're dripping and still have the nerve to lie to my face? there's two things i hate in this world. number one is losing and the second thing is liars; two things which you already violated. i should punish you, no?" he darkly chuckled, before pulling you back into a mind-blowing kiss.

"wha.." you tried to comprehend what his words meant, but it seemed that he preferred to show you.

"strip." sae mumbled under his breath, tugging at the waistband of your shorts. you swallowed harshly, trying to clear your head and maybe push him away.

you knew this was wrong!

it was one thing teasing and riling each other up on the field, but fucking your enemy? what would your team members think if they ever found out?

holy shit, what would rin think?!

but, fuck, it felt so right.

you couldn't deny the fact that sae made you feel so hot and bothered, both on and off the field. and the way he was towering over you with his staggering height and angelic yet demanding voice.

you were under his spell; unable to resist anymore... not that you were in the first place.

you grabbed the hem of your jersey before peeling it off of your body, a small sheen of sweat covering your body made your skin glisten under the dim lights of the air-conditioned locker room. you threw your shirt to the side before sliding off your shorts; the last article of uniform meeting the same fate as your jersey on the floor.

you now stood exposed in your half-naked glory; in a pair of baby blue laced panties with a matching bra to go with it. sae's eyes followed your movements with striking anticipation, trained on your body as he shamelessly drank in the sight of your beauty.

you were perfect in every shape and form.

your body was lean and fit, lacking muscle mass unlike other players; but you were toned. his eyes focused on how your tits sat so prettily within the cups of your bra, making his hands itch to hold them instead. his eyes trailed down, being able to see your beautiful plump round ass even from the side; he wanted to touch the soft bare flesh so bad.

after all, it was his biggest fetish.

sae took slow strides towards you, predatory eyes never leaving your body as he hovered above you. he grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes while his other hand danced along your spine; pulling you close to him.

you smelled so feminine and sweet; like a subtle peach scent.

"you have no idea what you do to me and it's driving me insane because i wanna ruin you." he confessed, making you give him a sly smirk.

"then what's stopping you?" you boldly replied, and it seemed as if the gears in his brain stopped working.

"damn right." without another word, he grabbed the back of your thighs and swiftly lifted you up in his arms. you wrapped your legs around his waist, arms lacing around his neck as you kissed the side of his neck and peppered his face with soft kisses. he chuckled, giving your ass a light spank while walking over to the bench, sitting down while you straddled his lap.

you noticed he was still fully clothed, making you pout. he cocked an eyebrow in confusion at your expression.

"why am i the only one naked? take off your clothes too." you huffed out, making him laugh.

"how rude of me. why don't you take the honors of stripping me then, princess." he rubbed the palm of his hand along your sides, making a shiver run down your spine.

you nod obediently, you hand reaching down with fingers hooking under the hem of his jersey. you lifted the article of clothing above his head, revealing more and more of his extremely toned and muscular body with each heightened inch of the fabric. you threw away the shirt to the side, eager hands now touching the soft flesh of his bare chest. your eyes shamelessly wandered, noticing how defined his abs were, his pecs looked so juicy and plump, broad shoulders and his biceps were so fucking thick it made you wonder how it'd feel for them to lock you in a headlock.

you scooted off his lap, standing up before grabbing his wrist to pull him off the bench and follow your steps. you grabbed the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down; now leaving him in his calvin klein boxers; your eyes going down and noticing the prominent bulge inbetween his thick muscular thighs.

fuck, you just knew he was long and thick from how big the bulge was.

your mouth was salivating, wanting... no, needing a taste of him. you were about to drop down to your knees, only to be halted by sae as he grabbed your hands.

"not yet. bad girls don't deserve my cock in their mouth without paying for their punishment first." sae grinned, pulling you back on the bench as he sat down.

"bend over." he blurted, patting his thigh. your eyes widened, wondering just what was up his sleeve.

you gulped, crawling over his lap as you used the palm of your hands to support you, as you were now bent over his thighs. his palm gently caressed the dome of your ass, you shuddered as you felt his feather-like touches.

"what a beautiful ass you have, darling." he lewdly complimented, making your knees weak as your panties dampened from his words.

"t-thanks.." you squealed when you felt a tight slap on your cheek, making you jolt. sae smirked at your reaction, squeezing the abused flesh afterwards.

"i knew you were gonna be an interesting player, just by the shape of this pretty little ass of yours." sae spoke in a seductive tone, making you clear your throat as you looked back at him.

"seems more like an excuse for you to be a pervert." you snarked, earning another harsh spank on your ass cheek; making you wince.

"careful with that mouth of yours, princess. pervert or not, yours is hard to miss when you're flaunting it to me." he scoffed, groping the supple fat in his palms.

"now, let's see how much you really know about me." sae smirks before leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your ass; making you gasp at the soft gesture.

"huh?" you breathed out.

"what's the number on my jersey?" he suddenly questioned, making you give him a puzzled look.

"10." you responded, making him smile.

"good, that's exactly how many times i'm gonna spank this sweet ass of yours. so, better keep count in case i accidentally miscount." sae sadistically smirked at you, playfully biting your ass cheek before giving it a wet smooch; making you tremble and his ministrations didn't even start.

you were facing away from him, heart pounding in your chest and then came the first impact.

smack!

it was a tight spank, making your body jolt as the pain spread into a sadistic pleasure across your body.

"one." you muttered, swallowing down a moan.

"keep hiding your moans and i'll double it." he threatened, making your eyes widen as you shook your head.

then came the second slap, making your thighs clench as the impact sent shock-waves right between your legs. you whimpered in pain and pleasure, closing your eyes as your knees shook beneath you. god, you were aching for him to touch you, even if it meant this.

"t-two." you breathed out.

"good." sae teasingly praised, rubbing his palm on the now warm surface of your ass cheek, making you shake.

but, it didn't last long until the third spank came down on you.

then the fourth... fifth... sixth... seventh... eighth... ninth...

each slap getting slightly louder and harder, making you moan like a bitch in heat as your skin tingled from the harsh impact. you were heaving, eyes fluttering shut as you tried to muster the strength to keep yourself lifted and not collapse on his thighs.

"last one, gotta make it count, right?" you could feel him sadistically smirk, patting the bruised flesh.

sae slapped your ass once more, making you gasp as you felt him squeeze the supple fat of your cheek right afterwards before giving it a few gentle spanks all around; making you cry out.

"ten!" you cried, looking back at him with a dazed look, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

sae took a moment to drink in the sight in front of him. your back arched, ass in his face as the bruised red-plump flesh was warm against the palm of his hand, your begging face and disheaveled state; it made him wanna toy around with you even more.

"what a good girl you are, y/n." he peppered feather like kisses on your ass, making you bite your lips as you tried to contain yourself.

"please.. please, stop teasing. i-i can't anymore." you embarrassingly begged him, making him grin.

"you can't? how unfortunate. i guess we should stop then." sae suddenly proclaimed, shrugging as he pulled you up to sit on the bench, the cold material of the hard wood making contact with your warm spanked ass made you wince as it stung. but, you were quick to wrap your hand around his bicep, stopping him.

"n-no! that's not what i meant." you licked your lips, crawling back on his lap as you kissed his jaw.

"then tell me what you want, princess." he whispered in your ear, playfully biting your earlobe, sending chills all over your body.

"touch me... i want you to touch me, sae. i need you so bad." you cupped his face, looking into his glimmering teal eyes. it was a bad habit, but you couldn't help but count his damn under lashes.

"yeah? want me to play with that naughty pussy of yours, hm? bet she's dripping for me." he lewdly spoke, making you nod as your brain was no longer in your head but your pussy.

"m-mhm, so wet for you, sae. need you to touch it, pretty please?" you kissed his neck, before giving it a gentle bite followed by a teasing kitten lick.

"okay, since you asked so nicely, cariño." sae gave you a boyish smile, the spanish term of endearment slipping off his tongue so seductively.

he placed his hands on the sides of your waist, gently turning you around so that your back was against his chest. sae leaned down, kissing down your neck till he reached your collarbone, licking your skin before biting down gently.

you gasped, your hand going behind his head to find purchase in his hair. his hands came up, roughly pushing the cups of your bra down, making your tits spill out. his eyes widened, mouth salivating at the site of your perky nipples swelling from being neglected.

"you're driving me insane." sae cursed under his breath, his hands now cupping your tits as he gave them both a gentle squeeze. you moaned from the sudden fondling, breathing becoming irregular.

he rolled your buds between his index and thumb, giving them both a slight pinch; making you swallow hard. you squirmed in his hold, getting a bit antsy.

"patience." he warned, making you whine.

sae's slender fingers moved down, ghosting along your hips before hooking under the waistband of your panties. with one swift motion, he pulled the laced fabric down your legs, lightly throwing them to the side.

your breath hitched at the sudden exposure, cold air hitting you right between your legs, making you automatically clench your thighs together. however, your actions displeased the auburn haired male, making him slap your thigh.

"you want me to touch you or no? spead your legs, girl." sae commanded, making you shyly widen the gap, but not fast enough as his patience was wearing thin.

he opened his legs a little wider, forcing your own to follow in suit as your legs were drapped over his. a satisfied smirk ghosted on his lips as he peered down.

"spread your lips open, cariño, let me see her." sae took your hand, guiding it to your wet cunt.

you followed his order, using your index and middle finger to spread your pussy open, making him shamelessly look at the mess between your legs. your wetness was coating your slit, webbing on your sopping folds as he could see your swollen clit peaking out.

"hmm... beautiful, such a pretty pussy. give her a little spank." he kissed the side of your head, your eyes widening at his request.

"huh?" you stammered, making him glare at you.

"go on, spank her. 'cause if i do it, then it won't stop at one." sae threatened, making you swallow the lump in your throat. your hand shakily hovered above your dripping cunt before giving it a wet slap, making you jolt from the impact, a moan escaping your throat.

"another one." he egged further, and you followed.

"ngh, sae." you slurred out his name, leaning against his chest as your heart raced.

his hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting your head to the side to give him access to your lips. sae crashed his lips onto yours, knocking the wind from your lungs. his free hand trailed downwards, grazing against your hand that was inbetween your thighs.

sae replaced your fingers with his, the pad of his index finger gently caressing your clit. you moaned in his mouth, feeling his finger run up and down your wet slit. he began to rub your clit at a leisurely pace, making your eyes roll back from the stimulation.

he was so good at multitasking, ensuring that his lips continued to mold onto yours; tongues dancing in a fierce battle. he sucked and licked your lips, not giving you time to breathe.

without warning, you felt the tip of his finger brushing against your hole. you gasped, feeling it protrude in the tight opening.

"s-sae!" you moaned out his name, feeling him thrust his finger in, your warm wet walls clamping down on his digit.

"shit, you're so tight. how you gonna fit the real deal, princess?" he chuckled, thrusting his finger back and forth to loosen you up before adding a second one.

you didn't really have a long history of sexual partners, you weren't a virgin, but your experience in sex was still pretty lowly average. of course, you'd masturbate and get yourself off.

but, you never really had the chance to do it after entering blue lock because privacy was very limited when you're sharing rooms and bathrooms with other players.

sae scissored his fingers in and out, your slippery walls making it a little easier for him to glide his digits inside. the room was filled with the wet sounds of him fucking his fingers into your hole; your legs trembling and you breathed heavily while moaning his name.

"sae! f-fuck, oh my god... hnghh-" you felt his pace increase, his free hand massaging your tits, pinching the neglected pebble.

the whole scene looked like something straight out of a porno.

you're spread out on his lap, his hand inbetween your thighs as three of his fingers were working their way fucking in and out of your messy whole, your juices leaking out onto the bench, tits splayed out while being fondled with his hand; while his lips ocassionally pulled you into sloppy kisses.

"w-wait! fuck, it's too much!" you cried out, your hand shooting down to grab at his wrist, but the pressure you applied was nothing compared to his strength.

"you can take it. come on, cariño, make a mess for me." sae encouraged, keeping the brutal pace of his fingers as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. you felt the tightening sensation in your core, face heating up as your eyes shut tight; knees growing week as you cried out in pleasure.

what both you and sae didn't expect was that you squirted everywhere.

"there we go." he praised, slowly thrusting his digits in and out now, his hand drenched in your juices which were now dripping down your thighs and onto the bench.

"god damn..." you mumbled under your breath, trying to calm down from the high. you were still dazed out, feeling the loss of contact as he pulled his finger out; wet and webbed with your cum as you looked up at him.

sae gave you a sly smirk, bringing his cum covered fingers to his lips before pushing them in his mouth, sucking your juices off. your eyes widened at his actions.

"so sweet." he commented, watching your eyes cloud with lust.

"have a taste, princess." sae's fingers cupped your wet cunt, running his fingers against your slit to get them wet again, making you wimper as he grazed against your sensitive clit. he brought his hand up to your lips, watching you open your mouth as he shoved his fingers in, pressing his digits down on your tongue while you suckled them; tasting yourself.

"you're so cute when your mouth isn't yapping nonstop. i knew we could put that mouth to some better use." he snickered from above you, making you roll your eyes and you playfully bit down on his fingers.

"heh, as expected... always so feisty." he grinned, leaning down to press a soft yet teasing kiss on your lips. you smirked into the kiss, a cheeky finger going down to hook under the waistband of his boxers, slinging it against his stomach; earning a groan from his lips.

"off." you blurted out, making him chuckle.

"eager are we?" he taunted, watching you stand up and wait for him to slip out of his boxers.

once he did, god, you weren't expecting any less.

you oggled at the sight, he was fucking hung to say the least; standing at least a good eight inches. his cock was long and thick, balls hanging heavy and his blush colored tip oozed with beads of precum. your mouth watered and without any hesitation, you dropped to your knees.

your hand was barely able to wrap around his girth, holding onto his hard cock firmly. you saw his jaw clench, shuddering under your touch as you began to slide your hands up and down his shaft. you thumbed at leaky tip, spreading the oozing precum before bringing your thumb up to your lips, licking it while looking up at the gorgeous man before you.

"fuckin' tease." sae grumbled, his hand pushing away the loose strands of hair cascading on your face, tucking it behind your ear to get a good look at your pretty face. he unclasped your bra before throwing it over to the side, hating how it was getting in the way.

a single vein ran up the underside of his cock, your tongue tracing its outline before wrapping your lips around the tip of his dick. your tongue circled around the sensitive flesh before shoving more of his length down your throat. a guttural moan escaped his mouth, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled your head closer.

"fuckkkk... just like that, pretty girl." he groaned out, looking down at you bobbing up and down his hard cock. of course, he was so big that you couldn't fit all of it in your mouth. so, whatever was left behind, you made sure to have your hand do the pleasing.

sae felt like his dick was gonna burst any moment, never feeling this kind of intense pleasure before; and he's had his fair share of experience with women.

but you? no, you were different.

you knew how to push his buttons, how to rile him up, how to toy with him... fuck, you knew him.

the way you twisted your hands along the base of his shaft, fondling with his balls ocassionally, while your mouth was doing wonders. the way your wet muscle suckled and licked his tip, your throat tightening as you swallowed his dick; it drove him to the edge.

"god, you're so perfect. so good, s-shit, i'm gonna cum." sae moaned, grabbing the sides of your head as he began to thrust his hips forwards, throat fucking you. your eyes widened, grabbing onto his thighs as you tried to match his rhythm, gagging on his length as tears welled in your eyes.

"fuck, fuck, fuck! take it, shit, take it all." he breathed heavily, pushing your mouth as far as you could take him, holding you there as his cock twitched in your mouth; sticky white ropes of cum painting your throat.

you swallowed as much as you could, releasing his cock with a lewd pop, but he wasn't done cumming.

fuck, he cums so much.

sae jerked his cock on top of your face, the warm liquid coating your cheeks as you closed your eyes, some of it dripping down to the valley between your tits.

you opened your eyes with a fucked out expression, lazily smirking as you scooped some of his cum from your tits before sucking it off your finger. sae watched you with his mouth slightly open, his slightly limp cock now hardening again.

"god, you dirty fuckin' girl." he lowly chuckled, using his thumb to smear his cum on your cheek before scooping some and placing his thumb on your tongue.

"yummy." you giggled, licking his thumb.

"c'mere." sae pulled you up, tapping the underside of your thigh to usher you to jump. you followed, feeling his arms hooking under your thighs to securely hold you; your legs wrapped around his waist and arms wrapped around his neck.

you felt his dick sliding between your folds, making you whimper as he walked further inside the locker room towards where the showers were. he opened one of the stalls, stepping in before locking the door behind him.

sae turned on the water, the warm water running down both of your bodies. his hands came up to cup your face, slowly washing away your cum-stained face as his fingers gently rubbed against your skin.

"you're so pretty, princess. even when you're covered in my cum." sae smirked, making you chuckle.

"yeah?" you smiled, a soft blush creeping up to your cheeks. he hummed in response, leaning down to press soft kisses on the wet skin of your tits, before popping one of them in his mouth.

"sae.." you softly breathed out, pulling him closer as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, suckling gently while cupping your ass.

"okay, no more of these games. i need you, y/n." he confessed, releasing your nipple from his mouth before pinning you on the wall. sae lifted one of your thighs, taking a hold of his cock as he began to rub the tip of it along your slit.

"fuckkk.." you cursed, the delicious feeling on his tip brushing against your clit provided you with so much pleasurable stimulation. despite the warm water, sae could feel your slick coating his cock with every push and grind of his meaty cock between your glistening folds.

the tip of his dick poked at your entrance, making your breath hitch. sae began to slowly push the tip in, making you wince in pain as he released a breath he didn't even realize he was holding.

"g-god, you gotta relax, cariño. you're so damn tight." sae groaned, gently thrusting his tip in and out of your hole. you moaned against the flesh of his neck, pleasure pumping in your veins. suddenly, he pulled out completely before with one swift and hard thurst; ramming in his whole length, making you scream in a mix of pain and pleasure.

"shhh... it's okay, pretty girl. look at you taking me so well, how slutty." he reassured you in the most lewd way possible, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he began to quicken the pace of his thrusts. you could feel his cock swelling with blood inside your velvety slick walls, the single vein deliciously rubbing your insides.

"nghh, sae! f-faster, please." you begged, your mind clouded in a fucked out haze as you couldn't even form coherent sentences. however, sae was equally as consumed in pleasure as you, giving into your requests as his grip on you was firm, fucking into you at a brutal speed.

the room was filled by gasping breaths, the wet slapping noises of skin going pap! pap! pap! and of course the combined harmonization of you two horny fucks moaning.

suddenly, the locker room door flung open, followed by the noisy chatter of his teammates.

your eyes widened as you looked at sae, who had stopped his movement and had an almost copy-paste expression as you.

"huh? the shower is still going." aiku took note as footsteps drew closer to the showers.

red alarms went off in both of your heads as sae quickly lifted you in his arms, trying to erase the evidence of having another person in the stall with him.

"who's in there?" sendo asked, making sae roll his eyes.

"it's me, you half-witted monkey." sae calmly replied, rolling his eyes when he heard aiku cackle at his comment.

"no wonder why we missed you, little genius." aiku teased, making sae huff out in annoyance.

you were praying to god that they left soon because you were still quite literally impaled on sae's hard cock, clinging onto him for dear life so that your legs aren't spotted beneath the stall.

"you think you're so high and mighty, huh? mr. prodigy. but, just so you know, i've been a long-term player on this team and i've devised many plans with aiku! so have some respect." sendo snickered, his voice echoing in the locker room.

you felt sae shift, his cock rubbing against your walls from the movement making you bite down on your lower lip to contain the moan that was itching to leave your throat. he noticed, an evil smirk tugging at his lips.

"yeah? and what good was brought during today's game under your useless leadership?" sae taunted, now rocking his hips back and forth, lightly swinging you forwards as your eyes widened at his movements.

the tip of his cock kissed your sweet spot, making your eyes screw shut as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"what did you say to me, you freak?! the scores of today's game was out of our control! nobody could've predicted that weird girl's movements." sendo complained, anger projecting towards you.

"blaming your incompetence on someone else's skills is not a good look, captain's ass-kisser. maybe you should look at your own faults before dragging person b." he defended your name, continuing to thrust in you slow but hard, making you bite down on his shoulder as your nails dug in his back.

sae let out a low breathy moan, which was muffled under the sound of the pouring shower; only allowing you to hear it by your ear.

"hey, hey, stop. no more fighting, guys. what's done is done, we can't change the scores. that girl has some powerful talent, no one can deny it; and it must be true if the prodigy himself admits it. anyways, we're gonna be on the bus, so finish your shower soon." aiku mediated and soon the both of them left as their footsteps disappeared; the locker room door slamming shut.

you lifted your head and faced the older itoshi, a glare shooting at him. however, he didn't seem to be bothered as he gave you a small grin.

"you think this is funny?! your team members were literally on the other side of this stall door, sae! we could've gotten caught." you nagged, making him roll his eyes.

"relax, they didn't see anything. now, let's continue where we left off." he settled you down, his dick slipping out of you as he turned you around. your tits were now pressed against the wall, his flushes body pressed against your back as you felt him grind his cock against your ass, a cheeky hand coming down to grope the supple fat before giving it a small slap.

"p-put it in." you whined, still a bit pissed off from getting cockblocked by his stupid team members.

sae chuckled at your impatience, but decided to not tease you on it. in one fluid motion, he thrusted his cock inside your wet hole.

"hnghh.. sae.." you moaned, feeling him fondling with your tits while pressing feather light kisses on the expanse of your shoulder. his thrusts were much more sharper and faster than before as he grew desperate to chase that feeling before you both got walked-in on.

your cunt was wet and dripping onto his shaft, the sheer length of his thick cock was gliding smoothly in and out of your warm walls. sae could feel you clamp down on him, hugging his dick as he continued to fuck you at a brutal pace.

"fuckkk, feels so good." he moaned next to your ear, his hand coming up to cup your face and tilt it back, leaning down to pull you into a sloppy kiss full of tongue and the clash of teeth.

his tip grazed your g-spot, making your knees tremble as you cried out in pleasure. your core tightened, feeling his cock twitching in your pussy, indicating that he was close.

"shit, gonna cum... you want that? want me to fill you up? stuff you to the brim and make you my bitch?" sae groaned, pressing ocassional kisses on the sides of your jaw.

"yes! yes! fuck, please, make me your bitch. cum inside of me!" you begged, face contorting in pleasure as you began to see white, eyes screwed shut as you panted.

you were so close, feeling like you were gonna burst. sae's free hand came down, rubbing your clit to add onto the stimulation, making you shake.

"cum for me, cariño." he whispered as he continued to fuck into you, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing throughout the showers. a guttural moan ripped out of your throat as you creamed all over his cock, drenching his shaft in your fluids before feeling him momentarily speed up his thrusts; sending you into overstimulation. a ring of white cream forming at the base of his dick.

"s-sae! too much, oh my-" you cried out, before feeling his warm and sticky cum coating your walls, fucking it deep inside you. the sensation alone was enough to make chills run down your spine. sae held you close, his grip on your firm and tight as he held you in place, sloppily and lazily shoving his cum deeper into your wet cunt.

"fuck... god damn, you're something." he panted, swallowing hard before pulling you into a soft kiss.

yeah, scoring that goal was definitely worth it.

---

after you both cleaned up and finished actually showering, you realized that all your shit was in the locker room designated for blue lock. you sighed in annoyance as you stepped out of the stall, body wrapped in a towel as sae was still naked with only a towel loosely wrapped around his waist.

"i'm so screwed. i don't even have my clothes to wear back outside." you grumbled, making him look in your direction.

"blue lock's locker room is right next door, just run there." sae suggested, making you roll your eyes.

"wow, thank you so much, genius. there's like cameras everywhere in the halls and my team members might still be there." you rolled your eyes, hearing him chuckle.

"yeah, then i guess you are screwed." he smirked, making you glare at him.

"and who's fault is that?"

"not mine."

"you pulled me in here and actually screwed me. now i'm double screwed, you horny fuck!"

"and? don't say you didn't want it as bad as i did."

"well at least i have self-control."

"right, says the one who was slobbing on my dick."

"sae!"

your face was now covered in a blush from his crude words, watching him dry his body before reaching for his clothes. you took this as an opportunity to slap his ass.

spank!

"did you just-" his jaw dropped, looking at you with wide eyes as you stood there giggling.

"serves you right." you stuck out your tongue and you saw his eyes darken as an evil smirk tugged on his lips.

"oh, so you wanna play like that, huh? seems like ten wasn't enough for you? c'mere." he began to walk closer to you, making your heart drop as you quickly clutched onto your towel and ran as fast as you could out of the locker room; faintly hearing his chuckle echoing behind you.

"fucking psycho." you breathed out in slight fear, the door slamming behind you as you walked towards blue lock's locker room. that was until-

"oh, y/n! what are you doing out here?" anri's voice rang clear in your head as she stepped out of blue lock's locker room. you began to panic, what the hell were you supposed to say?!

"o-oh, anri! what are you doing here?" you nervously laughed, making her cock an eyebrow.

"i was doing a final check and realized everyone else is on the bus except you. mind telling me what's going on?" she pointed her pen at your clearly naked form.

"o-oh, yeah, uhm. our locker room was full 'cause the guys were showering, so i decided to use u-20's since their team started loading their buses first and it was empty." you explained and just because god's timing had to be so precise; sae fucking walked out.

he noticed you getting interrogated, thinning his lips to prevent himself from laughing his ass of at you.

you noticed him from the corner of your vision, glaring at him as he snorted. anri saw him, the both of them doing a mutual bow before he left, looking back you with a smirk.

that fucking piece of sh-

"y/n?" anri called out again.

"h-huh?" you refocused yourself on her.

"then why are you still naked?" she asked.

"ah, right, i forgot to take my clothes with me." you tried to sound as convincing as possible.

"uh-huh. and i suppose those marks are from the game?" she smirked, pointing her pen at your chest and neck, heat rushing to your face.

"a-anri, i can explain! it's not what you think, i promise." you horribly lied, making her chuckle.

"right... anyways, go get changed and meet us on the bus. by the way, that was an amazing goal. blue lock couldn't have won without you. so, yeah, you deserved to treat yourself." anri winked at you, making you internally scream in embarrassment.

she was your manager for fucks sake!

"ahahah, right... i'm gonna go get dressed. see you in a bit." you quickly excused yourself to get dress.

fuck you, sae itoshi.

literally.

---

after returning back to the blue lock facility, you were drained both from the game earlier and your little session with the soccer prodigy. all the players were called in the conference hall as ego gave his motivational speeches along with announcing the international teams everyone will be assigned to.

"oh, shit. bastard munchen? that's in germany, no? pretty cool, isagi." you commented, making him chuckle.

"yeah, i'm so excited! noel noa is on that team, he's my favorite." isagi eagerly replied, making you smile.

you watched your name appear on the screen and right below you was bachira.

"oh, we're gonna be together, y/n! fc barcha in spain." bachira exclaimed as he high-fived you, happy to have a close friend go with him.

"spain? oh shit..." you gulped, realizing that you'll be seeing more than just one familiar face there.

meanwhile...

"sae! sit down, have some refreshments." sae's manager smiled, his voice dripping with money hunger as the auburn hair male rolled his eyes.

"i literally just got off my flight, i couldn't even take a fucking piss yet." he grumbled, sitting on the couch with his legs crossed. the poor auburn haired male was tired and it didn't help that he had to sit inbetween the most annoying fucking people ever to exist: sendo and aiku.

unfortunately, while you both were too busy in hornyland, it completely slipped out of both his and your mind that both his clothes and your clothes were scattered on the floor.

so, in short, yeah; they both knew you two were fucking in the showers.

"hey, since when did you wear baby blue laced panties under your uniform, little genius?"

"what?"

"your shit was all over the floor along with a pair of bra and panties, dumbass. you fucked that crazy chick from blue lock, didn't you?!"

"well, you know, your contract is expiring soon with new gen xl. you'll be renewing it, right?" the old man nervously laughed, making sae sigh.

"well, no shit. but you could've waited a few more days or something." sae snatched the paper from the table, clicking the pen and before signing, the old fat man said something that caught his ears.

"well, you know, you got an offer to play under fc barcha. they're adding members of blue lock in that team to prepare for the u-20 world cup." he informed, making sae look up in curiosity.

"blue lock members? do you know who?" sae asked, now wanting to know more.

"ah, well, i don't have the list on the top of my head. but, i know the girl that scored the winning goal for the last game is playing on the team. shit, sorry for bringing that up." the man apologized, realizing that the topic of losing might still be a small wound on the prodigy.

but, sae couldn't be bothered any less. a smirk ghosted on his lips as he threw his pen on the table.

"cancel it." sae declared, ripping the contract in his hand, making his manager's eyes widen.

"s-sae! what are you doing?!" the man panicked, not understanding where this sudden change in heart was coming from.

"i'm accepting the offer to play in fc barcha."

---

you were just about to get comfortable in your bed, though the annoying sound of nagi's snoring was ticking you off. nonetheless, your body was too tired and drained to pay too much mind to such small things.

that was until your phone buzzed.

"the fuck.." you huffed in annoyance, grabbing the device before unlocking it, seeing that it was a message from an unknown number. a gasp leaving your lips as your eyes widened when reading it.

unknown number: see you in fc barcha, cariño.

3K notes · View notes

reilemon · 3 months ago

Text

Powdered Gold

⚠ MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY) ⚠

♡︎ synopsis: When you invited Caleb to stay at your place in hopes of rekindling your friendship, you didn’t realize you’d be inviting the feelings you shunned years ago. You both changed, but what you feel for each other hasn’t—and maybe, this time, you’ll be brave enough to reach for it.

♡︎ pairing: Caleb x fem!reader

♡︎ tags: fluff, angst, smut, Caleb calls you pipsqueak (and always will in my fics), Caleb is a virgin, but reader isn't, oral (both of them giving and receiving), creampie as always

♡︎ word count: 10.3k

♡︎ a/n: this is my first time writing Caleb, so pls be nice to me ok??

♡︎ this is not beta read but i'm still giving a shout-out to my bestie ♡︎@its-de♡︎

divider by @/anitalenia

Caleb’s voice echoes from the bathroom, breaking you out of your thoughts. “How many body lotions does one person need?”

You roll your eyes but don’t respond immediately. Instead, you smooth the fabric of his shirt between your fingers before placing it on a hanger in your closet. Then you go to the bathroom.

You lean on the doorway, crossing your arms, “You’re not being a very pleasant house guest with comments like that.”

He’s standing in the shower, placing his travel size toiletries in one corner, his back turned to you. “And you’re not bein’ a very nice host for making your guest sleep on the sofa.”

You roll your eyes again.

This was your idea. That’s what you remind yourself as you watch Caleb settle into your space like he’s always belonged there. You were the one who matched your vacation days with his, and invited him to stay here instead of a hotel.

It made sense. You hadn’t seen much of each other since he came back, just a few meetups here and there, a handful of nights at his place. But now, for the first time in what felt like years, neither of you had somewhere else to be.

The sight of him here, snooping around your bathroom after setting down the toiletries you know he’ll use up in a day before inevitably stealing half of yours, warms your heart. When you’re like this - so close to him, grabbing his wrist to drag him out of the bathroom because ‘why are you inspecting every corner, you’re so weird!’ - and when he lets out that impish chuckle as he says ‘but I need to get acquainted with my vacation place.’ - it feels like nothing has changed.

Like there are no threats in the shadows. Like both of you haven’t lost a little light in your eyes.

But you have.

And now, watching him here, so effortlessly at home in your space, you’re not sure if it’s comforting or bittersweet.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

Time quickly passed while helping him unpack and putting away his stuff, and now it’s already dinnertime and you’ve worked up an appetite. You glance, from where you’re sitting on the sofa, at Caleb who’s rolling up his sleeves before opening your fridge. Before he can ask you anything, you stand up and start walking towards the coat rack.

“Since I am such a gracious host,” you begin, earning Caleb’s attention and he turns to you, “I’ve decided to spare you of your cooking duties on your first day – “

“It’s dinnertime.” Caleb intercepts, with a mock offence in his voice.

You ignore him. “We’re going to one of my favorite places to eat.”

He closes the fridge and turns to you, crossing his arms. “That is too vague. Do I need to change and wear something fancy? Is it your treat?”

“Do you want to come or not?”

“Sure!”

You toss him his jacket and when you reach for your purse you remember something. “Oh, wait – I got you something.”

You dig into your purse and pull out a brand-new lip balm, holding it up with a triumphant look. Caleb eyes it, then sighs.

“You’re so thoughtful. Thanks.” His flat tone as he accepts it makes you grin.

“It’s extra moisturizing so I don’t have to keep looking at your dry lips.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh? Why do you want to keep staring at my lips?”

Heat spreads across your face instantly. You immediately look away, mumbling, “I’m not staring.”

He hums, unscrewing the cap as he tilts his head. “What was that, pipsqueak?”

You exhale sharply, ignoring him. But the moment he swipes the balm across his lips, with orange glow of sunset spilling over his face, you can’t help but steal a glance. And you just know he catches it. But, for once, he doesn’t tease. He just smirks knowingly.

You grab your jacket a little too quickly. “Let’s go.”

He doesn’t say anything, just follows, still smirking as he tucks the lip balm into his pocket.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

By the time the two of you return to your apartment, you feel sleep already overtaking you. The dinner turned into wandering around some shops, then you had smoothies, then Caleb insisted walking around more to burn off calories. Usually, an evening like that wouldn’t be so tiring if you didn’t spend the whole day cleaning and tidying up, and then picking him up at the train station. And there were these waves of butterflies in your stomach, that would appear whenever you thought of him. It was draining, and frustrating.

But not confusing.

You thought those feelings had disappeared. You really did. But as the years passed and you started a new life here—new city, new people, new experiences—you told yourself you’d moved on. You had to.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you fluff up his pillow after slipping it inside a fresh and clean pillowcase. You already took a shower, stole one of his baggy shirts and paired them with pajama shorts and fuzzy socks. While he’s in the bathroom, you decided to set up the bedding on the sofa, since you’re sure he must be tired as well, even if he’s not showing it. As always.

Though your body feels like velvet, heavy with exhaustion, you still accept Caleb’s suggestion to watch a movie before bed.

"We don’t have to watch it tonight." Caleb lingers in the doorway, eyes flicking over your sleep-heavy expression.

"I’m fine!" You try to sound convincing, but you’re already tugging the duvet over yourself. "I just need to lie down."

Caleb huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he watches you nestle deeper into the cushions, head resting on the pillow meant for him.

"It’s so nice and cozy in here," you murmur, voice already thick with drowsiness. The crisp, freshly washed bedding cocoons you, pulling you under.

He chuckles, stepping closer and tapping your legs, silently telling you to move. "You’re just trying to convince me that this is comfortable for me."

Before you can protest, he takes your legs and settles them over his lap.

Your body stiffens at the contact. This is normal. It should be normal. It’s not the first time he’s had your legs in his lap. You inhale deeply, telling yourself to relax, to stop overthinking. You’re just getting used to his presence again.

Though, suddenly, you don’t feel so sleepy anymore.

The movie plays on the TV, filling the space with voices and background noise. Comfortable silence settles between you both, broken only by occasional remarks—mostly Caleb critiquing the acting. Of course he can’t keep quiet even during a movie. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but the annoyance fades the moment his hands slide under the covers, grazing over your shins.

He glances at you, voice low. "You seem a little tense. Was the walk too exhausting?"

Your breath catches for a second before you close your eyes, exhaling slowly. His fingers press against the tight muscles in your calves, kneading gently.

"Maybe a little." you murmur, your voice softer than intended.

He murmurs a small apology, letting his hands make it up to you. He presses and kneads with just the right amount of pressure, his thumbs digging into spots that unravel you far too easily.

Heat blooms deep inside you, catching you off guard.

He works his way down, his palms smoothing over your ankles, rolling slow circles there before moving to your feet. The added texture of your socks only makes it worse—the friction, the warmth of his skin through the fabric, the way his thumbs press into the soles of your feet, it makes it so much harder to focus on the movie.

You bite your lip, pulse thrumming. A small sound threatens to escape your throat, and you swallow it back before lifting your legs off his lap. You murmur a small “thank you” and curl up on your side, your gaze now glued to the screen.

Caleb teases you, saying you look like you’re about to pass out. And even though you mumble a half-hearted protest, swearing you’re still awake, your eyes flutter closed before the movie is over.

His presence might be the source of your simmering frustration, of all the feelings you’re trying to ignore—but it’s also the most comforting one you’ve ever known.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

When your eyes open, it’s already morning. Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over your room. You’re warm, nestled beneath the comforter, a plushie tucked securely in your arms. A sleepy smile tugs at your lips as you nuzzle against it. You don’t remember how you got to bed, but you don’t need to think too hard about it. Caleb must have carried you here last night, just like he always used to, slipping back into old habits as if no time had passed at all.

The scent of something familiar drifts in from the kitchen, rich and savory. He’s up, moving around the kitchen, already making breakfast.

You stretch lazily before dragging yourself out of bed, moving through your morning routine. After freshening up and changing into more presentable loungewear, you step into the living room.

"Look who’s awake!" Caleb’s voice greets you the moment you enter. His back is turned as he works at the counter, only glancing over his shoulder briefly before returning to whatever he’s preparing.

You groan, voice still laced with sleep. “I don’t want to hear the usual ‘by the time you got up I already jogged’ and blah blah blah!” Caleb laughs at your mocking tone, shaking his head as he grabs a pair of plates from the cabinet. He starts setting the table, saying something in response, but his words blur in the background when your eyes catch on something unexpected.

A pillowcase. His pillowcase.

It’s hanging on the drying rack by the window, the fabric swaying slightly from the morning breeze. Your brows knit together.

"When did—why did you wash this?" You gesture toward it, confusion clear in your voice. "It was completely clean."

Caleb barely falters. "It was, but I drooled on it last night," he says easily, still arranging the table. "Didn’t want to make too much noise, so I hand-washed it."

You huff a small laugh, tempted to tease him for drooling, but for some reason, you don’t. Maybe he was exhausted. Or maybe your scent bothered him. Your stomach tugs uncomfortably at the thought, but you brush it off before it can settle. Don’t be ridiculous.

Instead, you take a seat across from him, scanning the breakfast spread. He made everything you like in the morning—even bought coffee from one of your favorite coffee shops. The warmth in your chest is immediate, dangerously soft, dangerously familiar.

“You should quit the colonel position,” you look up from the bowls and plates, meeting his gaze properly since you walked in – he’s already watching you, a hint of amusement in his eyes, “A – and be my personal chef.”

Damn it.

Heat creeps up your neck at the stumble in your voice.

He shakes his head with a small chuckle, setting a glass of water in front of you. "I wouldn’t mind that."

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

The room is bathed in the dim, flickering light of the television, casting soft shadows across the coffee table cluttered with half-eaten snacks. The scent of buttered popcorn lingers in the air, warm and familiar, mixing with the faint traces of Caleb’s cologne. He sits comfortably beside you, one arm draped along the back of the sofa, his posture relaxed, his focus on the screen in front of him.

You should be watching too. After all, you’re the one who recommended it, but Caleb wanted to wait, saying he’d rather watch it for the first time with you instead of on his own. And now, here you are, barely paying attention at all.

Your eyes are glued to the phone screen, and every so often, a quiet giggle escapes you, fingers tapping swiftly against the glass as you reply to messages. You don’t notice the way Caleb’s gaze flickers to you from the corner of his eye. You don’t register the barely-there tightening of his jaw as you keep getting distracted, your smile aimed at a screen instead of him.

At first, he says nothing. He lets the minutes pass, lets you have your moment, but with every small laugh, every glance downward, his patience begins to fray at the edges.

Who the hell is so funny?

He shifts beside you, stretching slightly, making himself known, a silent reminder that he’s still here. But you don’t even glance up.

Fine.

The movement is swift—before you can react, Caleb reaches over and snatches your phone out of your hands.

“Caleb!” You protest in disbelief.

He leans back against the sofa, holding your phone just out of reach, with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

"I thought we were watchin’ this together?"

You blink at him, momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity, before a scoff escapes you. "Did you seriously just take my phone?"

He shrugs, turning it over in his hands, inspecting it, like he has every right to.

Your eyes narrow. "That is a violation of privacy."

His smirk widens slightly, thumb hovering just over the screen. "So what were you laughin’ at?"

You sigh in defeat. Time to change the tactic.

You lunge for your phone without hesitation, but he’s faster—his arm lifts easily, keeping it just out of reach, and he leans away, making you chase after it.

"Caleb—!"

The next few seconds is a blur of limbs, the glowing screen of your phone, and breathless laughter.

You scramble onto your knees, grappling at his wrist, stretching upward, trying to reach the device, but he moves effortlessly, dodging you like this is nothing. You nearly lose your balance in the process, your hands bracing against his chest—

Fuck, those muscles are strong.

Caleb chuckles at your failed attempt, his grip on your phone still firm, completely unbothered by your struggling.

You’re not giving up that easily.

With renewed determination, you grab at his wrist again, pushing against him with your full weight, throwing him slightly off balance. Your bodies end up in a tangled mess of limbs as both of you topple on your side onto the cushions. His body is so close, his warmth suddenly everywhere. Your breath catches, but you don’t have time to dwell on it, because you notice a slight flinch when your fingers brush against his ribs.

You blink up at him as realization dawns, slow and sweet and far too tempting.

Caleb’s expression shifts instantly. "Don’t."

A slow, dangerous smile spreads across your lips.

You dig your fingers into his side, and he twists in protest, his muscles flexing as he tries to escape you. His laugher is light and carefree - and it is the most unfairly attractive sound you’ve always loved.

You falter for a second too long.

Caleb doesn’t waste the opportunity. Before you can react, he grips your wrist, and with ridiculous ease, he flips you onto your back. By the time you catch your breath, he’s already caging you in, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand.

Everything stills for a moment. His breathing is heavier now. Yours is too. The TV hums softly in the background, but neither of you are listening. Your phone has slipped onto the carpet, forgotten. His grip isn’t tight, isn’t restricting, but it keeps you in place. Caleb’s gaze lingers on you, no trace of teasing left in his expression. And something about that - the way he’s looking at you, about the weight of his body pressing against yours, how his chest rises and falls above you—sends a slow, unbearable warmth curling through you.

But then, just as easily as he pinned you down, he lets go. You sit up quickly, forcing a small laugh, brushing off the moment like it was nothing. Caleb leans back against the sofa, running a hand through his hair before reaching down and lazily tossing your phone back to you.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop stealin’ your stuff. For now.”

You roll your eyes, unlocking the screen, but you hesitate for a second before speaking. “I know it was rude to text during the movie,” you admit, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “I was just talking to my friends about tomorrow.”

Caleb doesn’t react at first. He’s stretching out his legs, seemingly unfazed, “Yeah?” his voice is too neutral. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“I already made plans to go out with them.”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression, something quickly buried, masked with indifference. He exhales through his nose, nodding, like he’s completely unbothered.

“Cool.”

"I won’t be out late," you say quickly, feeling a pang of guilt. “Just a couple of drinks, maybe some dancing. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He makes a noncommittal sound, eyes flicking back to the screen, but his jaw is tighter now.

You hesitate, studying him for a moment, before offering a small smile. "If it makes you feel better, you can come pick me up.”

That makes him glance at you, his eyes softer now. “Yeah. Alright.” Then he takes the TV remote to pause the movie, and now his full focus is on you. “So, what are you gonna to wear?”

The question makes you flustered, warmth spreading across your cheeks. “I don’t know.” You admit quietly. It is the truth, which is why you’ve been texting your friends during the movie. But he hasn’t seen you in anything revealing before—not really. Not outside of tiny glimpses in summers past, when you’d lounge around in shorts and tank tops, never once thinking about how his eyes followed you.

And it shouldn’t be a big deal. It wouldn’t matter if you weren’t so unbearably attracted to him.

You spent too much time getting ready this morning. From the cozy loungewear you’d picked out before breakfast, to the outfit you chose for your day out with him, to the subtle refresh of your makeup before settling down for the movie—it had all been intentional. Every choice, every small detail, designed to make you look effortlessly good.

“Why don’t you show me the outfits you had in mind?” He asks, leaning back against the sofa, “Maybe I can help you.”

You force yourself to exhale, keep your tone light. "Fine. But don’t be annoying about it."

Caleb smirks, tilting his head slightly. “No promises.”

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You disappear into your room, trying to shake off the ridiculous way your body reacted to that simple suggestion. You shouldn’t care. It’s Caleb. He’s seen you barefaced and half-asleep, wrapped in blankets, wearing mismatched pajamas. He’s been around you long enough to know every version of you.

You exhale slowly, smoothing your hands over the fabric of your dress. It’s soft beneath your fingertips, sleek and form-fitting, hugging the shape of you in a way that suddenly feels too revealing. You refuse to dwell on it.

You smooth your hands over the fabric before stepping out, ignoring the way your pulse picks up the moment you re-enter the living room.

And the moment you do, Caleb stills.

He doesn’t shift, doesn’t smirk, doesn’t offer some offhanded remark the way you expect him to. He just watches, his gaze moving over you. Then, his brows pull together slightly, his head tilting as if he’s weighing something in his mind.

"Hm. I don’t know."

You gasp, almost appalled at the comment. “What do you mean you don’t know?” You’re trying your best to sound normal, and not like your cheeks are burning under his gaze. He looks effortlessly handsome, sprawled across the sofa with his arms draped over the backrest, legs spread in a way that makes him seem both completely at ease and utterly in control of the space around him.

His eyes lift to yours. "Turn around for me."

The request is effortless, spoken with the same ease as everything else he says. But something about it—the quiet authority in his voice, the way his gaze stays locked onto yours, unblinking—makes your skin prickle.

You try to shake off the thought, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Turn around? What, am I on a runway?”

A smirk tugs at his lips. “Exactly. Indulge me.”

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You try on another dress, stepping out with a little more confidence this time, expecting at least some approval. But Caleb only exhales, tilting his head slightly, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

"Not my favorite."

You huff, retreating into your room once again, determined to find something he can’t find an issue with. But it becomes a pattern. No matter what you put on, Caleb always has something to say.

"That one’s not very practical."

"You’ll be freezing in that."

"It’s fine, I guess."

But you’re not stupid. The pattern is glaringly obvious—the more revealing the dress, the less he seems to like it.

After one final unimpressed hum from him, you let out an exasperated breath. There’s a pile of clothes on your bed and your muscles are aching from the endless zip-twirl-sigh routine. “Okay,” you snap, sharper than intended, “you’re officially no help.”

Caleb smirks, stretching his arms overhead until his shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of toned stomach. “Just bein’ honest.”

You roll your eyes, reaching for your phone on the coffee table. "Whatever. I’ll just ask my friends."

You barely hear whatever excuse he’s offering now, his voice a low murmur in the background as you tap out a message. Then, an idea pops up in your head. You glance up from your screen, cutting him off mid-sentence. “You should go out as well.”

Caleb stops, his gaze flicking to yours, just for a second. Then, he shakes his head, exhaling lightly. “Clubs aren’t really my scene.”

You nod, finishing your message and sending it off before locking your phone. You lean your shoulder against the wall, the cool surface pressing against your heated skin.

"Well, who knows—" your tone is casual, "you might meet a cute girl."

His laugh is hollow. “Doubt that’s happening.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head slightly, feigning innocence. “You have someone back home?”

The room stills.

You notice Caleb’s jaw shifting just slightly before his frown deepens. It’s not irritation—not exactly.

"I don’t." His voice is steady. Then, his gaze sharpens, latching onto yours, his expression more serious than before. "I would’ve told you, like I promised."

A breath catches in your throat.

"Like we promised."

Caleb’s words linger. I would’ve told you. Like we promised. You stare at him, throat tightening as his gaze sharpens—he’s studying you, dissecting the guilt spreading across your face.

“You never told me,” he says, voice deceptively casual, “if you ever liked someone.”

Your phone buzzes in your hand, but you barely register it. You don’t want to answer this question. You swallow, but your throat feels dry. "We weren’t talking as much." The words come out quieter than you intend, "It didn’t seem relevant."

“Relevant.” He repeats.

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze even as something in your chest tightens. "You can’t deny we grew apart, Caleb." The words claw their way up, bitter and ugly, “And you're the one to talk - as someone who decided to go no-contact for months.” and the second they leave your mouth, you regret them.

You watch his face shift from stunned to something that looks an awful lot like hurt.

Before he can speak, you sink onto the sofa beside him, your scarred knee bumping his. “I’m sorry.” you curl your fingers into the fabric of your dress to keep from reaching for him. “I didn’t mean that.”

His eyes soften and a sigh leaves his lips. Then, the faint pressure of his palm settles on your head, the familiar gesture offering comfort. “You don’t have to apologize,” he says, voice low.

You lean into his touch, eyes burning. “But I am sorry.”

“I know.” His hand stills, heavy and warm. “So am I.”

The admission is so quiet you almost miss it. You glance up, but he’s already looking away, jaw clenched against whatever else wants to spill out. So am I for leaving. So am I for coming back broken. So am I for loving you like a man who was never meant to fly—reaching for the only light that ever felt like home, even knowing that if I get too close, you’ll be the one who burns.

You don’t press. Instead, you let your shoulder bump his. He exhales, tension seeping out of him as his hand slips down to cradle the nape of your neck. "Come on, pips." His voice is quieter now, lighter. "We should get some sleep."

The argument dissolves, but the ache remains—a bruise you’ll both keep pressing, to remind yourselves it’s real.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

Even though it was late, you had insisted on finishing the rest of the movie, clinging to the familiar comfort. You slipped back into the playful banter – you had whined about the pile of clothes still sitting on your bed, blaming him for it. Caleb, ever unbothered, had only smirked and offered to neatly put them away tomorrow.

While he was in the shower, you took the time to make up the sofa, tucking the sheets with more care than necessary. When he stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp, skin warm from the heat of the water, you didn’t comment on the familiar citrus scent clinging to him—the scent of your body lotion.

You’d exchanged a quiet goodnight before retreating to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

Grabbing the pile of discarded clothes, you stacked them onto the armchair in the corner, ignoring the mess for now. You had planned on wearing your usual pajama tank top, but Caleb had insisted you wear one of his shirts again, claiming it was more comfortable.

You’re here now - lying beneath the comforter, pajama shorts brushing against soft sheets, the soft fabric of his shirt enveloping you, and yet still— you’re completely awake. Your eyes remain wide open, staring into the darkness, as if sleep might find you if you just keep pretending you’re not thinking about him.

You shift beneath the comforter, rolling onto your side, then onto your back, only to flip your pillow to the cooler side and press your cheek against it. The softness offers no relief.

A deep sigh slips past your lips, but the weight in your chest remains.

I should have told him.

You should’ve told him about the men you’ve dated. You should’ve kept your promise. That’s what he did. But you tell yourself, keep comforting yourself, that at some point your lives drifted apart. When time and distance made him feel more like a memory, you thought it didn’t matter anymore.

Except it did. It mattered to Caleb.

He’d said it plainly —I would’ve told you—as if keeping that promise was as simple as breathing. No loopholes. No expiration dates.

Your breath hitches slightly, something twisting in your chest. You roll onto your side again, eyes drifting toward the empty space beside you.

The dull ache in your lower back pulls at your attention, a stiffness lingering in your shoulder. You shift slightly, frowning at the discomfort— a souvenir from last night when you’d fallen asleep on the sofa. He had carried you to bed, made sure you were comfortable. And now, he’s the one out there, sleeping on the same sofa, crammed into a space too small for him.

The guilt creeps back in.

Finally, with a sigh of surrender, you throw off the covers and rise from your bed. You move carefully through the dark, the wooden floor cool beneath your bare feet as you make your way toward the living room.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

The apartment is silent, save for the faint hum of the city beyond the windows, and as you reach the doorway, you pause, peering inside. Your eyes take a moment to adjust, but you can already make out the shape of him—Caleb, stretched out on the sofa, one arm draped over his stomach, his breathing steady. For a second, you think he’s asleep -

"Can’t sleep?" His voice is quiet, but in the stillness of the apartment, it still makes you flinch.

You step closer, your gaze meeting his, even in the dark. “You should sleep in my bed tonight.”

There’s silence for a moment. You can’t make out his expression, but you can feel the hesitation in the way he exhales slowly.

Then you hear a soft chuckle. “I’m perfectly fine here.”

You narrow your eyes, irritation mixing with your exhaustion. Of course, he’s being stubborn. Any other night, you might have tried to coax him with teasing, maybe thrown in a snarky remark or the fact that he’d be doing the same thing for you if the roles were reversed.

But it’s late, and you don’t have the patience for an argument you know you’re going to win anyway.

So instead, you move without warning.

With one swift motion, you snatch the duvet right off his body, yanking the pillow from beneath his head before he can even react. A startled breath escapes him, but you don’t wait for a protest.

You’re already retreating toward your bedroom, grumbling under your breath, "I’m trying to be nice here."

Behind you, Caleb exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. He doesn’t argue this time, just watches for a moment before finally pushing himself up from the sofa and following.

By the time he steps inside, you’re already back beneath your comforter, curled on your side. The mattress shifts slightly as he settles in beside you, his presence familiar yet suddenly overwhelming.

“Goodnight,” you say, too stiffly.

“Night.” His reply is softer.

You close your eyes, and the fact that he is sleeping in a comfortable bed eases your mind long enough to let you drift off to sleep.

⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

When your eyes blink open, the darkness feels denser, heavier. The digital glow of your nightstand clock blinks 3:07 AM. You're not sure if you ever truly slept or if your mind simply hovered somewhere between dream and wakefulness.

The room is silent, save for the distant murmur of the city and the steady rhythm of Caleb’s breathing behind you—deep, even, grounding. You listen for a moment, letting the sound soothe you, lulling your nerves the same way it always used to. From the sound of it, he managed to fall asleep.

Slowly, carefully, you shift onto your other side, moving as if the smallest rustle might wake him. Your body rolls toward him, your eyes adjusting to the dark until his silhouette takes shape in front of you. He’s asleep, facing you. The moonlight spills in through the slit in the curtains, illuminating his face with delicate silver light. His brows are relaxed, mouth slightly parted, and one cheek is gently squished against the pillow.

Seeing him like this makes you smile, faint and bitter-sweet. He looks like a memory. Like all those nights you used to crawl into his bed after a nightmare, when he’d shift just enough to let you under the covers, barely awake but always aware of you, always there.

But the warmth of that memory fades almost as quickly as it came. Guilt rises like bile, acrid and insistent.

I don’t blame you.

You should have said that. You wish you had. When you apologized earlier, when you sat beside him trying to make up for your comment, you should’ve said that too. Because it’s true. You don’t.

You understand why he disappeared. You understand why he didn’t call, why he let you think he was gone—you know that he did it to protect you.

But the girl who slept with his necklace clutched in her fist for months, who scrubbed explosion residue from her hair until her scalp bled—she blames him. A splinter of her still does, lodged too deep to dig out.

Your eyes sting, but you blink quickly, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

You focus on the rhythm of his breathing, his lashes that cast delicate shadows on his cheeks, the slight sheen on his lips. He is right here.

So close you could reach out and touch him. So close you can feel the warmth coming off his body.

And yet, so impossibly far.

But wasn’t he always?

Hadn’t he always felt just beyond reach, even when you shared the same space, the same roof, the same memories?

You had spent so many years convincing yourself he didn’t see you that way—that his devotion was born out of duty, not desire. That he was bound to you by shared history, not longing. You told yourself that he saw you as something fragile, something to protect—not something to love.

But there were glances. Touches that lingered longer than they should have. But he never crossed the line. Never let himself want aloud.

So you told yourself he didn’t want to. That he couldn’t. That you weren’t something he was allowed to reach for.

And that’s why you found distractions. That’s why you chased comfort in other people. Because if you couldn’t have him, you had to have something.

But now, lying here beside him, in the quiet of your own bed, there are no distractions. No excuses. No distance left to hide behind. And suddenly, you wonder—

What if he wanted more?

What if he was always waiting for me?

You could wake him now. Could trace your fingertips over his eyelids, could say the words that have lived in the marrow of your bones since before you knew their name. I loved you then. I love you now.

But your lips won’t move. Your hand won’t reach out. Instead, all that comes is the memory of the aching regret that followed you around when you grieved him, whispering your sins in the dark - You should have told him. You should have been brave.

But now—he’s alive. He’s here. He’s right beside you.

But nothing is the same.

And even if you let yourself reach for him, even if you handed over every buried feeling and begged him to take it—the world around you hasn’t changed.

The people who tried to destroy you once are still out there, still watching, still hunting. There are still shadows at your back, and Caleb has always been the one who walks toward them first.

And if you lost him again—really lost him—

You don’t know if you’d survive it.

Because if regret was unbearable before, the devastation of another goodbye—this time after knowing what it’s like to have him— would split you open, would leave you hollow as the day you buried an empty casket.

You don’t realize the tears have started to fall until your vision blurs, until a soft sniffle betrays you. Caleb stirs - he takes a slow inhale, then a deeper one. You still, but it’s too late. His eyes open—drowsy with sleep—but the moment they land on you, on the shimmer on your lashes, they sharpen with clarity.

"What’s wrong?" He whispers softly, concern clear in his voice.

You swipe hastily at your cheeks, the salt sting lingering on your skin. “Nothing,” you lie, offering a trembling smile. “Just a nightmare.”

He doesn’t question it. Doesn’t search your face for more or press for the truth he knows you’re not giving. He just reaches out. His hand finds yours first, then the warmth of his palm presses against your side, gentle as it invites you closer.

You hesitate, just for a moment. But then your body moves on instinct, pulled to him like it always is, like it always has been. He shifts onto his back, making room for you, letting you tuck yourself against his chest, his arms wrapping around you.

You let yourself melt into him. Let yourself take comfort in the solid warmth of his body, in the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing against your cheek. Your tears dry slowly, absorbed by the fabric of his shirt. Your fingers trace the chain around his neck, finding the pendants, the metal warm from his skin.

And you listen to the heartbeat beneath your ear.

Strong. Steady. Real.

He’s alive.

He’s here.

He’s yours, if you want him.

The fear is still there. The shadows haven’t disappeared. The world is still dangerous, still cruel, still capable of breaking him again.

But here, in the cradle of his arms, with his heartbeat syncing to yours, you finally understand: bravery isn’t the absence of fear.

So, maybe…

If that’s what sits at the end of this—if tears and heartache is what awaits you—then let it be. Let the hurt come. Let it hollow you. At least the emptiness will echo how fiercely you loved him.

You lift your head from the steady rhythm of his chest, propping yourself on your elbow, your face hovering just above his. Your eyes find his in the moonlight—half-lidded, warm, still laced with sleep, but softened by the sight of you. A small, barely-there smile touches his lips, a quiet relief. His thumb brushes your cheekbone, calloused and warm, and you lean into his touch, your lashes fluttering shut. Then you feel the press of his lips against your forehead, featherlight and lingering.

When your eyes open again, he’s still watching you. Your faces are close now, close enough that your breaths mingle, close enough that the brush of your nose against his sends a soft shiver down your spine. You glance down at his lips, drawn to the place you’ve denied yourself for too long.

His fingers still on your cheek.

And when your gaze returns to his, you see it - the look you’ve spent years misreading. The one you chalked up to pity or duty, something you’ve caught glimpses of over the years and turned away from. Something you didn’t recognize at first. Then later, refused to acknowledge out of fear.

But now, there’s no more running.

You shift closer slowly, cautiously, as if giving him time to stop you if this isn’t what he wants. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. His eyes dart to your lips, just once, but it’s enough.

In that stillness, you close the distance.

The kiss is soft. His lips are warmer than you imagined, but still a little chapped. He goes utterly still, as if fearing the slightest movement might dissolve this moment. But when you press closer, his hand slides to the back of your head, his other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him.

And when you finally pull back, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes still closed.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming.” he murmurs.

You smile softly, and press a delicate kiss to his eyelid.

“You’re not dreaming, Caleb.” you whisper.

His lashes flutter open. His gaze searches your face like he’s still trying to understand how this happened. His hand rises to your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth with aching gentleness. And then he moves. This time, he closes the distance. His mouth moves over yours, his breaths shaky against your skin. There’s no practiced skill, no calculated seduction—just raw, aching want, tempered by the fear of wanting too much.

Your hands slide from his chest to the nape of his neck, fingers threading into the silken, messy hair. He groans, low in his throat, the sound vibrating through you as his tongue brushes hesitantly against yours. It’s clumsy, earnest, his nose bumping yours, his teeth catching your lip by accident.

“Sorry,” he mumbles against your lips, but you laugh—a soft, breathless sound—and pull him closer.

“Don’t be.”

You lean into it, guiding him with soft sighs and quiet hums.

His hands hold you tighter now—one on your back, the other slipping down, splayed at your waist like he doesn’t know how to stop touching you now that he’s started.

And when your lips break apart for breath, you don’t pull away. You rest your forehead against his, and you whisper, barely audible, "I don’t want to stop."

He exhales, "Me neither."

Your fingers tremble slightly as they wander from his hair, along the line of his jaw, your thumb brushing the corner of his mouth before trailing lower. Over the column of his throat, skimming the pulse beneath his skin, before drifting lower—over the planes of his chest, the ridges of his abdomen. You feel the way he shivers beneath your hand, how his muscles tense slightly.

His breath hitches when you tug at the hem of his shirt, fingers curling there, his gaze locking onto yours.

He doesn’t need you to say it.

Without a word, he sits up, the sheets pooling at his waist as he yanks the shirt over his head. The fabric falls to the floor, and for a moment, you just stare—you’ve seen him shirtless before, but never like this. Never yours.

You gently press against his shoulder, coaxing him to lie back down, and he does so, collapsing against the pillows. You swing one leg over, your thighs bracketing his hips, but you hover just above him—close enough to feel his heat, yet far enough to let him breathe. You lean down to reclaim his mouth, your hands framing his face. The kiss deepens, and you tilt your head to better taste him, to feel more of him. He gasps into your mouth, one hand slipping to your lower back, the other lowering—slow, unsure—to brush against your bare thigh, the contact making you shiver.

And still, his hand doesn’t wander, doesn’t explore. It lingers like he’s afraid of being told to stop.

You pull back just enough to see his face, your breaths mingling between kisses. Your hand covers his where it rests against your leg, and you guide it higher, to your hip, where your skin is warmer.

You hold his gaze. “You can touch me, Caleb.” Your voice is soft, “Wherever you want.”

His eyes widen slightly, color blooming high on his cheeks. His fingers flex against your skin, then he speaks, “I don’t… I’ve never—” He swallows hard, and you see the flicker of frustration in his eyes, not at you, but at himself, at his own nerves.

“I know,” you whisper, your hand slipping up to cradle his jaw, your lips brushing just beneath his ear. “It’s okay.”

Then, slowly, you lower yourself until your hips meet his, the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against you. His head falls back with a groan, eyes squeezing shut. Heat blooms through your belly at the contact, and your hips rock forward just enough to make him shudder.

His hands clamp down on your hips, holding you still. “Wait—wait.”

You freeze, pulse thrumming in your ears. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” he says, eyes snapping open. “Just… let me—” He swallows, his voice dropping to a plea. “Let me do this right.”

You smile, and brush his hair away from his eyes. “There’s no right, Caleb. Just us.”

He exhales, nodding, and then his hips roll upward tentatively, the friction drawing a gasp from both of you. His thumbs press into the soft curve of your hips as they continue to move against him in a slow, rolling rhythm. The thin barrier of fabric between you—his sweatpants, your pajama shorts—only amplifies the heat, the friction of every roll of your hips against his. His breath hitches, his eyes fluttering closed, as you grind down again, your own shorts riding up, the seam catching just right. He curses under his breath, hips jerking up to meet yours, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs.

You want to feel all of him, nothing between. And the way his hands start to roam, still cautious, still learning, tells you he’s thinking the same thing.

You shift slowly, rising from his lap with a final roll of your hips that leaves him gasping, lips parted, brows knit. His hands fall away reluctantly, his eyes flickering with confusion and curiosity. Your hands trail down his chest, over the taut planes of his stomach. His muscles jump beneath your touch, his breath hitching when your fingers graze the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Wait.” His hand covers yours, trembling. “You don’t have to—”

You lift his palm to your lips, “I want to.” Your gaze holds his. “Let me show you how much.”

He swallows hard, but nods.

You hook your fingers into the fabric, tugging gently. He lifts his hips, letting you peel the layers away, his eyes never leaving your face. When you finally see him, all of him – hard, heavy, straining for you, you feel a fresh heat rise in your chest, in your belly, deeper.

When your eyes meet his again, you find him watching you just as intently—like he’s searching your face for any flicker of doubt. But there’s none. At first, his body tenses—thighs taut beneath your touch, hands clenching the sheets under him. He tries to hold still, tries to be polite, tries to hide the way his hips twitch when your lips press to the sensitive skin just below his navel.

“Breathe.” you whisper against his skin, and you feel it when he does - shoulders softening, jaw loosening, a low groan slipping past his lips as you finally take him into your mouth. You take your time, learning what makes his body melt under your touch. You relish the way his hips stutter when you swirl your tongue, the broken whimper he tries to smother with his fist, the devotion in his voice when he rasps your name.

Gradually, his iron grip on the sheets loosens, one hand resting on the back of your head, and his hips finally start to move to the rhythm you set.

His breath starts to come faster. You feel the change in his body—the way his thighs tense, how his fingers flex and twist in the sheets. “Wait—” His voice is rough. “If you keep going, I’m gonna—”

You don’t stop. You slow, just for a moment, lifting your eyes to his flushed face. You reach for him, one hand sliding up his stomach, calming. “It’s okay,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the sharp cut of his hipbone. “Let me take care of you.”

He groans at that, head turning into the pillow. He doesn’t speak again, but his muscles start to twitch, his legs falling wider, hips stuttering as your mouth picks up the pace. His moans become deeper, more raw, and then your name spills from his lips again.

“I’m—fuck—I’m close—”

You hum in acknowledgment, not letting up, your hands gripping his hips as he shudders beneath you, and then—he falls apart. You taste him on your tongue, feel every desperate pulse of release as his thighs tremble beneath your hands, coming undone in your mouth—helpless and wholly yours.

You don’t pull away. You stay with him through it, coaxing him through the final tremors. You only ease off when he makes the faintest sound of overstimulation, brushing your lips one last time to the hollow of his hip before sitting up.

Caleb is panting, eyes closed, arm thrown over his face.

But when you crawl back up his body, he opens his arms instinctively, pulling you into his chest, where you hear his heart is thundering under your ear. And after a long pause, his hand cups your cheek and kisses you softly, tasting himself on your lips.

His breath is still uneven, and there’s a slight sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. But he sits up, and for a second his eyes search yours again—asking permission without words. You nod once, and his fingers curl around the hem of his shirt you’re wearing.

He pulls it up slowly, his eyes tracking the reveal of your stomach, the curve of your breast, watching the way your chest rises and falls a little faster under his gaze. His hands tremble, just slightly, and you can see it - that mixture of reverence and disbelief in his eyes. He bends to kiss you again, before his mouth trails down your jaw, your neck, the flutter of your pulse.

He guides you onto your back, and shifts to follow, half-hovering over you. His lips trail kisses along your neck, your breasts. You arch into him, a gasp escaping as his tongue flicks over your nipple, and he hums in response, the vibration rippling through you.

His hands move lower, fingers hooking under the waistband of your pajama shorts. He pauses, “Is this okay?”

You nod, your voice failing you, and lift your hips. He slides the shorts down, his knuckles grazing your thighs, his breath hitching when you’re finally bare. For a moment, he just stares. Fading moonlight spills across your body, catching the sheen of arousal between your thighs. A shaky exhale escapes him as he drags a single finger across the wetness, his touch featherlight.

But before he goes further, before his mouth finds its way to where you’re already pulsing for him, something else catches his eye. The faint scar across your knee. Fading now, but still there. His thumb brushes gently along the uneven line, before he leans forward and presses a kiss to it, the silent apology making your heart flutter.

Then his mouth drifts lower, lips brushing against the soft skin of your inner thighs. The first flick of his tongue on your folds is so startlingly gentle you flinch. A soft laugh escapes you, breathless and giddy, goosebumps blooming on your skin.

Caleb stills, lifting his head, brows creased in confusion.

“You’re tickling me,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair in reassurance.

He huffs a laugh against your skin. “Got it,” he murmurs. His mouth presses more firmly, his hands holding your hips as his tongue parts your folds and he groans at the first taste. Your back arches off the bed, a moan slipping out, and it spurs him on. One hand stays braced on your thigh, the other moves to gently trace one fingertip around your entrance, testing. You whisper yes, please, and that’s all it takes. He sinks a finger in, his eyes flicking up to watch the way your face shifts—lips parted, brows gently pulled, the rise and fall of your chest now uneven.

His mouth finds your clit, more confident now. The heat of his tongue, the wet pressure of his lips - it’s clumsy but it’s honest, driven by need and the desire to learn what makes you tremble. Then his finger finds that spot inside you, the one that makes you fist your hand in his hair, the one that makes your toes curl. You whisper yes, yes, yes, and you swear you feel him smile.

His free hand finds yours, interlacing your fingers against your belly.

“Look at me,” he rasps, and you force your eyes open, “Want to see you.”

Your body is starting to unravel beneath him, soft moans spilling from your lips, your thighs trembling.

“Another,” you pant, and he obeys instantly, adding a second finger. His rhythm stutters at first, but you guide him with whispered pleas, your hips rolling against his hand. His tongue flicks faster, his fingers pumping in a deep, steady curl, and you’re suddenly so close to the edge. His name spills from your lips like a prayer, and he growls against you, as if your climax is his own.

And when you fall apart with his name on your lips and your hands tangled with his, Caleb doesn’t stop. He holds you through it, lets you ride it out, his fingers easing only when your thighs start to shake, when your hips twitch with overstimulation. He pulls back, resting his forehead against your inner thigh, his breaths ragged. His erection strains against the sheets, but his focus still on you, always on you, even as his hand trembles where it grips yours.

You pull him up, his body collapsing over yours, and kiss him slow and deep, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hips grind reflexively against your thigh, a broken noise escaping him, but he doesn’t push. Just holds you, his head dipping into the crook of your neck, your hands cradling his damp hair.

Neither of you speaks for a long moment. Just breath and skin and the quietness of the morning twilight.

His fingertips trace along the curve of your side, not teasing, just feeling. Like he can’t quite believe you’re here.

Then he murmurs—soft, regretful, honest:

“I should’ve been your first.”

The words make your heart skip a beat. Still, the way he says it isn’t bitter. There’s no accusation in his voice. Only ache.

You draw back just enough to meet his eyes, your palm resting flat on his chest, right over his heartbeat. “Then be my last.” You whisper.

His breath hitches, eyes widening for a split second. He presses a kiss to your temple, before he meets your eyes again.

“Do you… have anything?” A pause, his gaze dropping to your lips. “Protection?”

You pause for a moment. Then you nod, brushing your fingers over his jaw.

“Left drawer,” you whisper.

He hesitates, his thumb circling your hipbone. “We don’t have to—”

“I know.” You press a kiss to his furrowed brow. “But I want this.”

He shifts to reach for it, but you catch his wrist. “Wait.”

His eyes snap to yours, brows furrowed.

You trace the skin with your thumb, suddenly too sheepish to meet his gaze. “We don’t need it.”

He stills at your tone. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." You finally meet his gaze, “If it’s you… I don’t want anything between us.”

He exhales, shakily, the tension in his shoulders softening as his arms wrap around you again.

When your legs shift, parting around his hips, you feel the hard length of him press against your entrance, and it pulls a soft gasp from you both.

Caleb stills. One hand rests by your head, the other cradling your jaw, thumb stroking softly across your cheekbone.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, threading your fingers into his hair, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth.

He exhales slowly, trembling slightly as he reaches between you, lining himself up. The head of him nudges your entrance, already wet and aching for him. You feel the pressure first, a stretch that makes your breath catch. He sinks in just a little—then stops immediately when you tense.

“Too much?” he breathes.

You shake your head, running a hand down his back. “No… keep going.”

Inch by inch, his body presses into yours, your warmth pulling him in, taking him deeper. His jaw clenches, a guttural sound caught in his throat as your walls flutter around him, as your hand curls over his bicep for something. His restraint is palpable, sweat beading at his temples as he presses deeper, his hips rolling in shallow strokes until he’s sheathed fully inside you.

For a moment, neither of you moves. His necklace rests warm against your collarbone, the metal shifting slightly as his chest heaves above yours.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers, his lips grazing your temple.

You kiss the corner of his mouth. “I will.”

His thrusts start slow, each one sinking deeper than the last, his eyes locked on yours as if searching for permission with every roll of his hips.

“Fuck,” he grits out suddenly, halting his movements with a trembling inhale. His entire body shudders as he lowers his forehead to your shoulder, nose brushing your throat, lips finding your pulse.

“I need a second…” His voice is breathless. “I don’t want this to end yet.”

You cradle his jaw, lifting his face up so you can look at him. “You don’t have to be perfect,” you whisper, your thumb brushing his cheekbone. “Just be here. With me.”

His gaze falters, then finds yours again. He draws back just enough to move again, slow at first, like he’s trying to find a rhythm that won’t break him.

One of his hands tangles with yours, fingers lacing tightly together as he presses it into the pillow above your head. The other slips between your bodies until his thumb finds you, pressing a gentle, slow circle over your clit—and it draws a gasp from you, your thighs tensing around his hips.

“Like that?” His voice is hoarse.

“Yes,” you breathe, hips chasing the movement of his hand. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

He groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he leans in to kiss you again—messy now, all teeth and parted mouths. He keeps moving inside you, each thrust dragging along your sweet spots, and the rhythm of his thumb against your clit grows more confident, bolder with every breathless moan you give him. He watches you with blown pupils, flicking between your face and the place where your bodies meet, as if committing every detail of your pleasure to memory.

His forehead drops to yours, the weight of his body pressing deliciously down as his thumb circles faster, more intently, chasing the way your thighs begin to tremble, the way your grip on his hand tightens.

Then his hips shift—just a little, but enough for a sharp discomfort to shoot through you. You suck in a breath through your teeth, a soft, involuntary “ah—” escaping your throat.

He stops immediately. Every muscle in his body locks, his expression flashing from concentration to concern in an instant. “Shit—did I hurt you?” he asks, breath still ragged.

You shake your head quickly, already reaching for his face, your palm cradling his cheek. “No, no,” you whisper. “Just... not like that.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, your heels pressing against the small of his back, gently urging him into a better angle. “Here,” you guide, your voice low and coaxing. “A little lower. Like that.”

He swallows hard, still frozen in place, but the panic softens as he watches you, sees that you still want this. He nods, his throat working with the effort to calm himself.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmur, brushing your thumb along his jaw. “I promise.”

He exhales on the word promise, and then he moves again. His brows draw together, not in worry now, but in focus, lips brushing your cheek as he resumes the rhythm that had your body unraveling.

Your nails dig into his shoulder as he grinds deeper, the angle just there, the friction so exquisite your vision blurs.

“Caleb—” you gasp, voice cracking as the pleasure rises sharp and fast inside you.

“I know, I know.” he rasps. His hips snap harder, deeper, the slap of skin echoing as you spiral closer. “That’s it,” he grits out, his thumb pressing harder. “Let go. Let go for me.”

When your thighs lock around his waist, when your walls clench around him in a sudden, overwhelming spasm, your release rips through you - deep, intense, every nerve alight. Your back arches off the bed, a cry spilling from your lips as you pulse around him, your fingers clawing into the sweat-slick skin of his back.

“Fuck—” His rhythm stutters, his thrusts turning erratic. With a shattered groan, he buries himself to the hilt, his hips jerking as he spills into you, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath a ragged pant against your lips.

For a heartbeat, you’re both still, just a tangle of sweat and shared breath, his necklace resting between your breasts, now warm from the heat of your skin. Then he collapses against you, his weight comforting and grounding, his lips brushing your collarbone. His arms curl tightly around you, one hand tracing slow, mindless patterns over your hip, and the other splayed beneath your shoulder. You exhale slowly, your fingers sliding through his damp hair.

You’re not sure how long you lie there like that, tangled and breathless, your hearts gradually slowing from their frantic rhythm. The first sliver of sunlight filters through your curtains, golden and gentle. You tilt your chin to study him, how sunlight looks like powdered gold over his lashes.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, eyes still closed.

“You’re beautiful,” you say, because it’s true, and because you know it’ll fluster him.

His nose scrunches, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Men aren’t beautiful.”

“You are.” You brush the hair from his temple. “Like a pouty Renaissance angel.”

He only chuckles, burying his face against your chest.

You tilt your head to kiss his temple, your voice a soft murmur against his skin. “Come on. Let’s wash up.”

He groans. “Or we could stay like this forever.”

“You’re sweating all over me.” you protest, already nudging at his side.

He lifts his head just enough to squint at you. “You liked it when I was sweating five minutes ago.”

You roll your eyes, pushing him off with a laugh as you both untangle from the bed. The sheets are a mess, still warm with everything that happened, and your thighs ache, making you bite your lip as you stand. You grab a towel and toss one at him too. He catches it, looking far too smug for someone who was blushing just an hour ago.

As you step under the warm spray, Caleb holding your hand for stability, something crosses your mind.

“Hey… did you really drool on the pillow?”

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