#response to reader feedback
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novankenn · 2 years ago
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2am - General Response to Complaints
FIRSTLY, again, I will APOLOGIZE for not correcting the story tags when I chose to let the story evolve in the way it has. That is my fault and there is no excuse for this mistake.
Characters - Sorry to break everyone’s bubble… but characters are plot devices… it is their reactions, actions and lack there of, to external and internal situations that push a plot forward.
Portrayal of Pyrrha - Yes, I have Pyrrha as recovering Alcoholic/Addict… which why her actions as I portray them are to quite a few readers horrendous, they are also portrayed in the light that she was severely under the influence…
 Alcohol/Drugs alter and lower inhibitions, often changing personalities in the process. A meek person who over indulges can turn violent.
I have seen this, and actually been a victim of this…
I also knew a couple that because of alcohol lead to a man kicking in the head of the mother of his children, killing her.
Additional point in case it was missed, though it is implicitly stated in the summary… Pyrrha’s fame finally crushed her, and she took up an unhealthy coping mechanism…
SOMETHING TO CONSIDER : It hasn’t been addressed yet… but there is a strong possibility/implication that Pyrrha has been repeatedly raped due to her addiction (you can’t give consent if you’re blacked outed/incapacitated by alcohol)
Cheating - Jaune and Pyrrha were ONLY a couple in the loosest sense of the word until just after Azalea’s third birthday. So anything that happened from that point forward isn’t cheating, it is Pyrrha, caught in a self-destructive downward spiral because of her addiction(s).
Pyrrha Not feeling like Pyrrha - Sorry to burst any bubbles here, but ANYONE who uses Pyrrha past Volume 3 (where she dies as a plot device to give Jaune justification to chase after Cinder/assist Ruby) has to make her “feel” less like cannon Pyrrha. RT/Monty made her one dimensional… she was just wholly a plot device She had no growth, she was just there to train Jaune and then die. Giving her any growth means interpreting what she would be like if she had lived through vol 3. This story happens after GRADUATION.
Azalea - again a plot device as all characters are, and as in RL children of broken relationship are often a point of conflict for the parents.
Azalea wanting her parents back together - is not a conflict between Jaune-Pyrrha…is actually a conflict between Azalea-Jaune, neither Jaune nor Pyrrha control what their daughter wants/thinks.
She’s only there to give Jaune/Pyrrha a reason to still be in each other’s lives, and that is correct to a point, but she is also there to show that originally Jaune x Pyrrha had a good relationship that fell apart.
She is also a lynch/influence for Jaune and Pyrrha to deal with the baggage between them.  Could this lead to a romantic reconciliation? I do not know.
Pyrrha Character Assassination - sorry, but that’s not happening. I am at no time/place simply stating Pyrrha is a terrible person. The “She’s a Disaster” comment is another character stating their opinion… it’s not a fact.
Shitting on Arkos/Pyrrha - Sorry, I know it looks that way, but it is not happening, and regardless of your opinion if you read carefully you will see a fair bit of the “conflict” after the breakdown of the relationship is because of other people’s actions, and abuse of Pyrrha when she was under the influence.
Jaune has no flaws - He does… they're just not as obvious… Pyrrha’s flaw is right in everyone’s face (Alcoholism/Addiction)...
He’s not over Pyrrha (still holds a torch for her), he has a mental illness (Severe Depression) that leads him to self-harming behaviors
Prior to others forcing him to get help (which will be shown in a flashback) he attempts to commit suicide… this loving father who was denying to seek treatment was about to abandon the daughter he loves in the most permanent way possible. Yes, Depression is an illness, but choosing not to seek help/ignoring the need to get help is selfish.
I know this from personal experience - because I deal with this daily and now have to take mood stabilizers, anti-psychotics, and anti-depressants for the rest of my life.
He’s a coward… he has been avoiding/unable to follow through with having a complete separation from Pyrrha (hence others being able to torment him through their own malicious intent, through Pyrrha’s unlocked scroll)
He’s a COWARD… he has been avoiding coming out to his own daughter about the nature of his and Reese’s relationship. Azalea only sees Reese as “Daddy’s Special Friend”... he’s been avoiding for at least a year the conflict of a young child feeling that one of their parents was trying to replace the other parent
Support Structures -
Jaune - his family, his doctor, people from his gym, and Reese
Pyrrha - Her mother, her sponsor (David Scarlet), and her friends (Yang is implicitly named, but others are implied)
End Game/Story Arc - Pyrrha if you hadn’t noticed is going through a redemption arc. While pretty much all the prose is focused on Jaune and his struggles (so far) Pyrrha is getting herself out of the pit she had fallen into. It is obvious now that I have to show this fact in more explicit/obvious detail.
Some final notes… Alcoholism is a disease that compels you to drink to feel normal, but as a consequence it often leads to over indulgence as those afflicted continue to chase that feeling. It is NOT a choice 1.4% of the word’s population (that’s 1.1 million people) have alcohol addiction/dependency issues. SO it is not unreasonable for Pyrrha to suffer from this disease.
So this could be considered a long “rant” though it is not intended as such. It is a breakdown of what I was trying to portray in this story. Can I do better? Definitely. Should I have changed the tags once the end game evolved from an ARKOS relationship, YES I should have.
This will be the last time I discuss “complaints” with this story. If you don't like the story, that is totally acceptable. If you think it is terrible, again, that is perfectly reasonable. Personal tastes differ.
However, if you wish to discuss the story… consider instead of just complaining about why you don't like it, maybe offer some feed back on HOW it could be IMPROVED, or how I can correct flaws in my technique, writing style, or characterizations for future stories.
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eyra · 8 months ago
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I don’t usually do discourse on this blog but that last reblog hit the nail on the head. Reader interaction is at an all time low for fic authors and whilst I’m eternally grateful for any and all kudos and comments that I do receive, I feel as if in the past couple of years there’s been this weird migration of comments - they’ve left ao3 and they’re on tiktok instead. So, rather than people leaving comments on my fics, they leave their comments on the videos of people reccing my fics. I see tiktoks about my fics and they’ll have double, triple the number of comments that the fic itself has. It’s so lovely that people are talking about my writing, but it’s just a very strange phenomenon and a very odd feeling when you have a fic that you assume wasn’t overly well received because it has hardly any comments on ao3, but then you see a tiktok full of comments with people saying that it’s their favourite fic.
And I’m going to say something potentially controversial here but not ONCE have I seen a tiktok creator, whose content relies solely on other people’s fics, say anything along the lines of “leave the author a comment if you enjoy the rec.” Literally never ever seen this. And I think that’s a real shame.
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cornucopiawrites · 2 months ago
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This post is a brief exploration of Makima's self-awareness, self-perception, and state of contentedness in Part 1 of Chainsaw Man. It's (hopefully) going to be one of several analyses that I hope to make in the future. My goal is to examine a recurring headcanon(s)/theory(ies) in the CSM fandom pertaining to Makima's character: that she is unfulfilled in life, seeks a platonic relationship, is unhappy, and is in denial about one or more of the three. I believe the above is false, and will attempt to explain my reading of her character. But first, to summarize my perspective: From a character focused, perhaps "psychoanalytic" reading,
Makima is a character that is content, grounded, and very self-aware.
In re-reading Part 1, I think that the best illumination on Makima's personality and view of herself happens during her confrontation with Reze:
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The "Town Mouse and Country Mouse" fable is a central motif in the Reze Arc. It doesn't need to be summarized in-depth; but here's a panel that sums it up:
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So we have two contrasting lifestyles: a treacherous life with big rewards, vs a simple life with simple pleasures.
Makima appears to identify with the country mouse. I think she brings this up to Reze partly because she overheard her conversation with Denji, but also because she might sympathize with Reze's own desire for a simple life. But what's really important to this reading is the twist she puts on her identification:
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The reference to a farm in the country clearly brings to mind the rustic, simple lifestyle of the country mouse. But, as Makima admits, she doesn't mind when other country mice die. She "couldn't tell you why" but she does find it "very calming."
Said in another way, she sees value in killing others to ensure her own satisfaction.
Makima is a functioning sociopath, and understands and fully accepts this about herself.
Obviously, this isn't a groundbreaking statement. But it's important to keep in mind that she understands this about herself. She even casually instructs Aki in her methodology and perspective on power structures:
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But what's interesting is that Makima doesn't need much to be content. In essence, she longs for the life of her "farmer friend", be they real, metaphorical, or whatever. It's a subversion of her nature as the Control Devil. Rather than desiring absolute domination, as her true identity would suggest, Makima's desires are fairly simple.
For one, it's clear that she is fond of taking care of the creatures of her domain: her dogs, the devils and humans in her division, and humanity as a whole.
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I actually believe this other panel, during her meeting with Kishibe can be taken at face value:
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And if we take this other conversation with Kishibe during the Control Devil arc...
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Her goals in the manga essentially equate to taking better care of her farm.
Her other desire is food. I don't see this talked about much, but girl likes to eat.
When she thinks she has defeated CSM, she tells Pochita that he can now look forward to plenty of square meals and naps. First of all, let's address a critical thing:
Makima is not interested in an equal relationship with CSM.
Her desired outcomes are binary: either be defeated and devoured by him, or defeat and control him. (Again with the eating.) After all, when she thinks she's beaten him, she emphasizes that she's beaten him twice now (best two out of three?), that he belongs to her, forever:
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Not an equal relationship. Not at all.
And what's she excited to do, now that she's won? Get to work, changing reality? Eventually. First, Makima wants to unwind. Pochita is a lucky loser, since he gets to look forward to plenty of square meals and restful naps:
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(Notice how Denji leaving the corpse pile almost looks like he's crawling out the ground. Like a rat in the crops, perhaps? Furthermore, he exploits her sociopathy — her not bothering to ever know his face and scent — to beat her.)
She doesn't make it a secret that she enjoys food. Look at what she tells Tendo and Kurose, when they insist on going back to Kyoto:
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It's tempting to call Tokyo her "farm." Or at least her homestead, perhaps. Because on her trip to Kyoto, she laments having to meet with the "big wigs." Now, this does support the interpretation that Makima has a role in a heirarchy, and is an underling to someone or something. And perhaps that is true. But I don't think the power dynamics is what make the meeting stressful to her. Being in the middle of a bureaucratic heirarchy doesn't necessarily bother her.
She just doesn't like leaving her homestead:
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I do too, sister.
With all this in mind, I hope this convincingly supports the idea that Makima is self-aware of her own personality, place in life, and desires, and is content with her life as it is (something very, very few Part 1 characters can attest to).
I think I'll stop here for now. As I've said, I hope to write up more about her in the near future. (Life's been hectic and busy; fortunately she's basically my comfort character — my working farm B&B.) But I will offer one final thought:
I feel as though Makima's perceived happiness (or lack thereof) and emotional stability gets extra scrutiny from readers due to her role as a female villain and figure of authority. I think, unconsciously, any character that is competent, manipulative, and successful is more threatening to a "general audience" if that character is female. That's something I hope to touch upon in the future.
Thanks for reading, if you got this far! Thoughts are welcome, of course. Especially if you disagree — I love reading people's takes and ideas about Makima.
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fableforger · 3 months ago
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"lesser god" immediately put me on alert.... :<
The writing is good, really, but I don't think I can enjoy a story where I have to play such a weak and humiliating MC. I just can't stand it.
But good luck with the game anyway...
Totally fair reaction — "lesser" can definitely set off alarm bells. To clarify: it’s meant in the mythological sense — not one of the Twelve, not a throne-bound Olympian. But the MC? Still divine. Still dangerous. Still capable of burning down temples (if that’s your thing).
Either way, thank you for giving the writing a shot — and for taking the time to comment. Wishing you only the best, wherever your next story takes you. 🕊️
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hangmanbradshaw · 1 year ago
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Do you ever wonder what it would be like to read your own fic? Like with fresh eyes as if it wasn't yours and see how it comes off?
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lordsardine · 1 year ago
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well the fic is getting somewhere
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amywritesthings · 2 years ago
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I wanna punch Erwin so bad but also why is he so hot in the new chapter??????????????????????????? AMY PLEASE
LMAO, NOT YOU SAYING HE'S HOT IN THE NEW CHAPTER I'M--
Okay I guess I see it. I like my Erwin Smith with a dash of crazy. BUT NOW I'M LOOKING AT YOUR PROSPECTIVE KINKS LIKE.... FRIEND, DO WE HAVE TO TALK? SKDFJSDKFJ (I'm kidding, this made me laugh so hard. I hope you liked the update. Erwin's smokin' when he's being all demanding and power-movey and shit.)
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navybrat817 · 2 months ago
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Miss Navy! What if the reader joined the thunderbolts and fooled around with Bucky?
Bahaha. I have a thot, nonnie.
Not Exactly a Secret
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Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: You and Bucky are really good teammates... and more.
Word Count: Over 1.1k
Warnings: Kissing, implied smut, humor, team bonding (kind of), Thunderbolts spoilers, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Using this beautiful @nixakimbo edit for reasons (you know why if you've seen Thunderbolts!). ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
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In hindsight, they all should've seen it coming.
You were the last to join the team and easy to get along with. You could roll with the punches and keep up with Alexei, put John in his place when he stepped out of line, sympathize with Bob, and have a blast with Yelena and Ava. Hell, you even congratulated Bucky on his six month stint as a Congressman and swore he made a difference. He admired your kindness. He admired you.
The team thought Bucky was just being extra welcoming since he always found an excuse to be around you. If you offered to cook for the team, he was beside you in the kitchen ready to help. If you wanted to spar, he dropped what he was doing to go to the training room. And if you suggested a movie night, he sat next to you with your favorite snacks ready to go and a blanket in case you got cold.
Everyone noticed that Bucky smiled more when you were around. He laughed more, too. Turned to you for advice and didn't mind staying up late to chat or exchange books. Your room also happened to be beside his and he spent a lot of time in there, more than a regular teammate should.
The recent movie night you snuggled against him and started to doze off. If anyone else had tried to snuggle with him there was a chance they'd lose a hand, but not you. “Mmm. You're so good to me, Bucky,” you said when he picked you up.
“You know me. Just being a good teammate,” he replied, holding you close the way a boyfriend would and not at all like a teammate.
Yeah, they should’ve seen it coming.
Bob stumbled upon you by accident. He had forgotten his hoodie in the common room after one of the movie nights and froze when he spotted you and Bucky making out on the couch. He stood there for a full minute torn because he wanted to get his hoodie back, but he didn't want to interrupt. He ultimately decided against it when Bucky pushed you back on the cushions. On top of his hoodie.
“I’ll just… I’ll get it tomorrow. And I’ll wash it. Yeah, yeah. I'll do that. It’s fine. Everything’s fine,” he mumbled as he went back to his room.
You were kind enough to wash it yourself the next day and offered to buy him a new one, but he declined. It was nice that you offered. And he was happy because he saw how happy you made Bucky.
Yelena caught the two of you in the training room. For a moment it looked like Bucky was trying a new move on you and she almost asked him to show her how it was done. Tilting her head after a few seconds, she realized what she was seeing wasn't a defense move at all. If there was any doubt, the grunt he let out and the moan you gave him in response when some clothes were moved aside told her very loud and clear what was happening. And it would've been rude to stay and watch.
“Oh, I'm not sparring on that mat again,” she muttered.
She did spar on it again after Bucky cleaned it twice.
Ava didn't catch the two of you doing anything. She phased in the kitchen one day while Bucky was eating and making a mess. The exasperated look on your face when you tossed him a paper towel was adorable, as was the smile you two exchanged. Bucky never looked that soft around anyone else.
“You eat pussy like that?” Ava asked to get a rise out of Bucky when another drop of sauce hit his shirt.
“Yeah, he does,” you said without skipping a beat.
Ava laughed, thinking it was a joke at first, before she caught Bucky staring you down and licking his lips. You bit your lip and Ava almost phased out of the room to give you two some privacy. You beat her to it by sauntering out of the room with a smirk, the super soldier hot on your tail and leaving his mess behind.
“Thank you for not using the counter since we eat here!” Ava called out after the two of you.
Bucky had you on the counter the next day so he could eat, too.
Alexei found the two of you in his limo tangled up in each other. You couldn't explain why you and Bucky decided to fool around in there, but you wanted to have some fun and the limo was there. And it was clean. The Red Guardian wasn't at all upset. In fact, he felt honored that the Winter Soldier wanted to have sex in his limo and blasted “Pony” to set the mood.
“That’s what I talk about!” he cheered before Yelena dragged him away.
She also decided then and there that she’d always ride in the front seat of the limo.
John was the last to know, which surprised no one. After a successful mission, he realized neither you nor Bucky had answered a question he asked. Whatever smartass comment he began died in his throat when Bucky unashamedly kissed you. There was nothing gentle or chaste about it. It was a deep, filthy kiss and he felt like a perv watching.
Bucky must've thought something similar since he gave John the finger all while he continued to kiss you and you gripped his hair.
“Are you guys…” John trailed off since the rest of the group didn't seem at all surprised by the display. “Wait, did everyone know? Was I the only one who didn't know?”
“Yes, dime store Captain America.” Ava rolled her eyes. “Everyone knew.”
Whether it was the insult of being the last to know, John looked offended. “Even Bobby? And since when did the two of them become a thing?”
Bucky broke the kiss to glare at the blonde. “Yeah, asshole, Bob knew,” he replied.
“And it wasn't really a secret. We just hadn't officially announced it,” you said, giggling when Bucky’s lips found yours again.
Apparently the display was the official announcement.
“I really did know,” Bob smiled before he cleared his throat. “I, uh, found them in the common room.”
“Training room,” Yelena said.
Ava nodded. “Kitchen.”
“Limo!” Alexei shouted, hitting his chest. “My limo.”
“Jesus Christ,” John muttered.
Bob shrugged. “I think they make a good couple.”
“Of course, you do,” Yelena said, a small smile forming on her face as you and Bucky carried on. “I think so, too.”
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Yeah, lovelies. Loved the film. Not at all sorry. Catch more shenanigans with Game Nights. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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thyme-in-a-bubble · 4 months ago
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too big
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a/n: honestly, bless this man for being such a dick (and having such a dick, holy fuck i’m gonna pass out)
summary: cock throbbing in his grasp, he stared down at your pussy as he swept his intimidating girth against it, “you know, you have been such a fucking tease for way too long… only giving me handjobs or rubbing that little cunt on me, basically taunting me, while the rest of these assholes get to have you, all of you, anyway they want,” he stopped nudging your buzzing pearl and instead dragged through your petals till he found your opening, quivering and dripping as he nuzzled against it, “I’m fucking tired…” he groaned slowly, “…so I’m done waiting… I’ll finally feel this fucking pussy wrapped around me whether you like it or not.” 
warnings: innocent!reader x frat!bucky barnes, stepbro!steve rogers, frat!ari levinson, marc spector, ransom drysdale, curtis everett, lloyd hansen, andy barber, thor odinson, scott lang, miguel o'hara, frank castle, billy russo, smut, dark content, dubcon halfway through, college au, polyamory, kissing, corruption kink, shower sex, bondage, exhibitionism, voyeurism, crying, dacryphilia, dirty talk, size kink, gaping, belly bulge, manhandling, overstimulation, orgasm denial, edging, multiple orgasms, squirting, impact play, pain kink, spit kink, choking, masturbation, oral, fingering, anal, pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, bukkake
word count: 6770
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
take her under your wing au masterlist | 101, intro to the au
masterlist | join my taglist 
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“Ah, not yet,” your stepbrother groaned over the booming music, that rocked the frat house, as he cut the sip of his beer short, “if you really don’t wanna be here anymore, can’t you just like go up to my room and wait?”
“Seriously?” a long sigh flowed from your lungs, “then I’d rather just walk back to my dorm alone, I don’t even know why you insist on escorting me like I’m a child.” 
“Because you shouldn’t walk alone at night,” Steve shot back as his gaze continued to keep his focus on the party around him, “don’t be a brat, just go wait upstairs.”
“Well, can’t someone else do it then if you’re so busy, your majesty,” your comment earned you a glare. 
“You’re my responsibility,” he stated, the bridge of his nose twitching heatedly as he glowered down at you, “I’m not just gonna dump my problems on my friends for them to deal with.”
“Wow, okay,” you nearly choked on the lump that promptly formed in your throat, “I’m sorry for being such a burden then,” you muttered before spinning around and storming up the stairs. 
The door to Steve’s room slammed shut like a crack of thunder behind your spine. 
Chest still heaving, you stared down at the ground for a long moment before you finally managed to force your feet to move once again and peel you away from the door. You flopped down onto the bed with a heated huff, blinking up at the ceiling before your gaze flickered to the night sky twinkling on the other side of the windows. 
Though as you laid there, your stepbrother's last words nearly swallowing you whole as they played on a loop in your brain like a plague, a different sound suddenly caught your ears and caused your cheeks to instantly heat up with something other than fury. 
Reverberating through the thin wall, shrill moans were tangled with deep ones, some that were familiar, though you didn’t place them till the female whines started screaming out his name. 
��Bucky, Bucky, Bucky–,” the cries rang out each time the thud of a headboard thumped against the wall. 
And though you couldn’t make out every word, you still thought that you could hear Bucky’s low timbre crackle in dirty soliloquies, fractured sentences that soon persuaded your hands to subconsciously drift down along your frame.
Though by the time that your fingers had found their way down your pants and stuffed up your hole, rocking them to the same rhythm of the pounding that nearly cracked through the wall, the door to Steve’s room was suddenly ripped open and you tore your hand away from your cunt. 
“I am only gonna say this once, so you better fucking listen up,” he grumbled as he kicked the door shut behind him, “I–… am sorry…” he struggled to huff, “there, you happy now?” 
The lewd noises that echoed through the wall didn’t faze him at all as he apparently was so used to such background noise in the house that he barely registered it at all. 
“So, you don’t think I’m a burden?” you uttered, propping yourself up on your elbows as doubt stiffened your words. 
“…no…” resisting a roll of his eye, he instead faintly shook his head as he began to walk closer, “you’re not a burden… a brat? Yes,” he stated, “but I guess you’re not that bad…” a slight smirk twitched at his lip before he then bent down over you and kissed you. 
Though as it turned out to not just be a swift peck he’d sought after as he layed down at top of you, one of your palms pressed against the centre of his burly chest before you twisted your lips out of the way, “wait, wait,” your head faintly shook as you tried not to succumb to his intoxicating kiss, “no, if we do this, then we’ll both just fall asleep here.” 
“Would that really be so bad?” a soft scoff crackled in his throat. 
“I wanna sleep in my own bed tonight,” you tilted your head as you blinked up at him, your brows gently knitting together at the plea, “I didn’t even wanna come tonight.” 
“Oh, come on,” he leaned back down till his nose ghosted against your own, “I’m too tired to walk across campus right now, and if I’m tired, then I can only imagine how you must feel. Come on, just crash here tonight, do it for me,” he croaked, “and you’ve been so boring all evening, barely had a sip of anything, so at the very least you owe me this.” 
“But–”
“You can pop in some earplugs, then you won’t even know the difference,” his lips began to flutter across your cheekbone till his voice tickled your ear, all the while the party right downstairs still boomed above his manipulative murmurs. 
And though you knew that it wasn’t true, that even if you could somehow block out the noise, you still couldn’t stop the base from rocking the entire house and make you dizzy as you laid in your stepbrother’s bed. So, as fear arose inside of you at the thought of telling him no, you instead heard yourself timidly whispering, “…alright…”
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You’d managed to slip out of Steve’s bed without waking him up before you then sneaked down the long hallway to borrow the upstairs shower. 
Though once the water was drizzling down upon you, in the relaxing steam that floated around your form, your thoughts couldn’t help but drift back to the night before, though not of the manner that your stepbrother had put you to sleep, but instead to the sinful sounds of his best friend that you’d overheard. 
Swiftly, the pads of your fingers began to draw needy circles over your clit to try and dull the scandalously intruding thoughts, though even when you detached the showerhead to spray the gush of water directly against your pussy, a dire problem continued to stand in your way, like you were peeping over the edge of a cliff, too petrified to jump by yourself. 
However, as time began to slip away from you, the door suddenly barged open.  
Your stifled whimpers promptly ceased echoing in the shower as your eyes snapped to the figure now standing in the doorway. 
“B-Bucky!” you dropped the showerhead in your humiliated scramble to twist your nude frame out of his sight. Picking it up as it began to spray up into your face, you swiftly spun around and splayed your hands across your frame in a feeble attempt at covering yourself up.   
“You do know that this door locks, right?” he chuckled as he gently pushed the door closed behind him, the one that you had apparently still been half-asleep when you forgot to bolt, “that’s twice now,” he pointed out with a grin as his stare pierced through the fogged up glass, deja vu smacking you in the face as well, as he reminded you of the incident that had happened over the summer break, “I think if it ever happens a third, then I should win a prize or something.”
“Get out!” you screeched, embarrassment eating you alive. 
“Why? So that you can go back to getting yourself off?” 
“I–,” your head swiftly soared to catch sight of him over your shoulder, “I wasn’t–…” before you squeezed your eyes shut and huffed, “oh my god, I hate you…” 
“I know,” he simply smiled at your groan before he shifted to go grab his toothbrush from the cabinet.
But before he could be on his way and slip back out, your head started spinning as your gaze traced him on the other side of the glass, going about his business as if you weren’t standing stark naked one single meter away from him. 
“W-wait!” you then heard yourself squeak right as his fingers reached for the door handle. Glancing back over his shoulder at you, the words that then slipped out of your lungs were accompanied by a shiver that trickled down your spine, “…could you–…”
Blinking back at you, his eyes faintly squinted as a smirk plagued his lips, “could I what?” 
“Well, I just–,” your breathing was ragged as you averted your gaze, “I’m having a bit of trouble making myself–, uhm…”
“Aw,” his broad shoulders gently shook in a laugh as he then began to mock, “what’s the matter? Can you not make your little pussy cum? Have you still not learned how to do it on your own?” 
“I–, n-no!” you hastily lied, “I’ve totally done it myself, loads of times, what are you talking about?” even though the truth actually was that the sought-after high was still too overwhelming to reach on your own, “I just right now when I tried that it won’t happen… I–… I don’t know what’s wrong with me…” 
“Well, maybe you’re doing it wrong,” he shrugged, “or school’s just got you crazy stressed out or something, so it can’t snap into place.”
“Yeah?” a small drop of assurance settled within your belly, “…so would you maybe–, I mean, I know that you’ve done it for me before, but still, could you maybe help me out a tiny bit?” 
A big huff flowed from his lungs as Bucky then pretended that your request was something he wished to be no part of, “alright,” he teasingly grumbled, “I guess I could lend you a hand, but just saying, it’ll cost you.” 
“Cost me?” 
“Yeah,” he tried to keep a straight face, “I don’t give out favours free of charge.” 
“Fine,” a short giggle bubbled out of you as you assumed his dramatic terms were but a joke, “I promise I’ll be your getaway driver on your next diamond heist or whatever.”  
His tongue briefly flickered out to wet his lips before he simply chuckled condescendingly in return, “you’re cute,” before he then began to strip out of his sleepwear. 
Though you probably shouldn’t have been surprised, in your mind, you had merely pictured that he would stay on the other glass a moment longer to give you the guidance that you needed, only explaining what you should do and nothing more before he then left you to carry it out on your own. 
“What are you doing?” your eyes instinctively grew wide as his clothing hit the tile floor. 
“Sweetheart,” his head swiftly cocked, “you literally just begged all pathetically for my help,” he pushed his underwear down, revealing his beast of a cock, already half-hard and heavy, resting like a freaking baseball bat against the top of his thigh, “so that’s what I’m doing,” he brashly stated before he then joined you in the shower. 
Grabbing your face with both of his hands, he then held you in a kiss until the tension in your body gradually began to fade away. When you started to suck in deep breaths through your nose, truly landing in the devilish deal you’d just agreed to, one of his fiendishly, inked hands then began to wander. Skimming down over your wet skin, his palm first caught your tits, briefly giving one of your nipples a teasing tug, before his touch strayed down to knead your ass and draw you that much closer to his frame. 
With the showerhead still clutched in your hands, hugged closely to your body, and gushing onto the both of you, the drawn-out kiss then broke when Bucky’s hand snuck down between your legs. Swiftly, he sought out your clit, already puffy and throbbing from the way you had bullied it mere moments earlier. 
However, then, as you blinked up at him, mouth falling open in a gasp, he suddenly spun you around for your spine to be pressed up against his brawny chest, before stealing the showerhead from your grasp. 
Extending his thumb, he dexterously switched the settings and changed the flow of water from several small and gentle streams to one thicker, and much stronger, jet. 
A whimper rolled off your tongue as he then held the gush down to spray its firm pressure directly against your little pearl, and as you had already been so worked up when he found you, it didn’t take very long at all before you finally tasted that sweet high that you still weren’t yet brave enough to catch on your own, his expert touch instead guiding you there. Your eyes squeezed shut as, not only your head fell back against his broad shoulder, but your knees also threatened to give out, lending him to snake a swift arm around your waist to keep you from collapsing entirely. 
“Oh my god,” you panted, completely melted back against his bulky physique, “how did you do that so fast?”
And as the muffled grunt, that had vibrated in his chest at your unravelling, morphed into a cocky chuckle that tickled your ear, he simply murmured, “you’re welcome,” before he then pressed a peck to the top of your head and began to tilt your body back away from his. 
But at the loss of contact, one of your hands suddenly shot out in desperation before he could disappear completely, “wait, please I–,” you gasped foggily, “more–, I want more–, please don’t stop–”
And as you peeked over your shoulder to meet his eye, a glimmer flickered in his blue ones, “oh, looks like someone’s getting greedy,” he smirked, “you finally developing a taste for all of this? Becoming the little slut we’ve been telling you all along that you actually are?” 
“No, I’m not a–,” you couldn’t even echo the same word out loud, “…Bucky, please? I just–, I can’t do it on my own–, I mean, not like you or any of the others can…”
“Well, you’ve just not had enough practice yet,” his palm swept up to find your jaw as he took a step back in your proximity, “you’ll get there if you just listen to Steve and stick with all of us,” he uttered as he turned your head for his lips to capture your own.
As he kissed you over your shoulder, his now raging hard-on digging into the softness of your bottom, he then blindly slotted the showerhead back into place on the wall, lending the water to drizzle down over the both of you as he swept his tongue ravenously against your own. 
His feet then began to shift on the wet floor, and steered your own to move slightly as well, till your tits smooshed up against the cool tile wall of the shower. When his lips then faded and began to migrate down and past your neck, you continued to peek back at him as he then sank down onto his knees behind you. Grabbing your hips, he yanked your butt closer to his head till your back was arched and your arms were folded up against the wall for support. Burying his face in between your thighs, he then spent the next chunk of time eating you out till he once again had you tumbling over the edge.
Though after you’d cum this second time, he feverishly reached up and shut off the water before he plucked up your dazed form and dragged you out of the shower, planting you instead on the counter beside the sink. 
Still all dizzy, you swayed slightly as Bucky then took a few steps away from you, enough to be out of your reach. 
“I wanna see how many of your fingers you can fit inside that pretty little pussy of yours,” he demanded as his stare coasted down to your core, utterly on display as your limp legs hadn’t drifted closed yet. 
“W-what?” you breathed, still too hazy to keep your heavy eyelids from temporarily blinding your vision. 
“You heard what I said,” he briefly let a dollop of spit drop down into his open palm before he then grasped his thick girth and initiated a silky stroke, “show me.”  
Though try as you might, the max you managed to cram inside of your drooling cunt was three of your digits as your stare stayed glued on his fist working over his big cock. 
However as he watched you reach your capacity, he then stepped back up and, with his free hand, joined your own touch between your thighs. At first, as his gaze found your own and held it captive, the tips of his fingers traced your hole, all stretched out by your comparatively thin digits. But then, gradually, he traded your own touch out with his. To begin with, his finger hooked under one of your knuckles to pull one of your fingers out of your pussy, barely waiting any time at all before he then swapped places with it and slid his own digit in beside the two of yours that remained.
The stretch sent a shiver trickling down your spine and you swiftly tilted closer to crash your lips messily against his own. 
And soon, none of your own fingers remained as he instead stuffed you full. Though you thought that two of his thick digits were a struggle, he somehow managed to work himself up and double it to four after he had coaxed your own touch away, his thumb being the only one he couldn’t cram inside, instead stretching it up to sweep against your swollen clit and roll it under the broad pad. His other hand stayed on his dick as your pussy began to stain his fingers with your cream, leaking needily into his palm. 
Though just before you could cum once more, his zealous touch suddenly disappeared, denying you of the luxurious sensation once again. As you desperately reached down to take care of it yourself, he swiftly swatted your hand out of the way. 
Both of his palms, still sticky from your essence as well as his own spit, then floated up to grasp the sides of your face before he then uttered, “grab my cock,” and frantically, you fulfilled his command as you shared his hot breath, “both hands, that’s it, good girl,” a gravelly groan rumbled in his throat as you wrapped your fingers around his fat girth and attempted a gentle stroke, “rub it against you,” he murmured as the tip of him was already mere inches away from your throbbing clit, “rub that big cock against your pussy, go on.”
And as you then tilted your hips and began to drag his hardness through your folds, parting your petals for his girth, a pout found your lips as you peeked down at his size as your juices soaked him, “why do you have to be so fucking big…” you heard yourself whine, “it’s not fair…” 
“Aw, what’s wrong, huh?” he huffed out a cocky grin as he promptly leaned in a bit closer, “are you tired of not being able to take me? I thought you liked all the fun ways we make it work since you won’t let me even try to stick it in, how scaredlittle you think I’m too huge for it to ever work.” 
“You are, that hasn’t changed, I’ve accepted that,” you puffed as you continued to tickle the bulbous tip of him against your core and drive yourself closer to the edge once again, “but I can just still, simultaneously, be a little sad about how I can’t do that with you, even with how crazy you make me, which is a mystery in itself, I don’t get it, frankly I think you’re a complete and utter asshole, but–, fuck… it’s like I lose my mind when I’m around you… all of you… I can’t even enter this house without forgetting my own name…” 
But then, just before you could catch another orgasm, a low growl crackled in Bucky’s throat as your words caused him to finally snap, grasping your frame and tossing you over his shoulder before he nearly ripped the door off its hinges from how feverishly he yanked it open.
Stalking down the long hallways that slithered throughout the upper floor of the fraternity, fear arose in you at the thought that someone might spot you, though as you squeaked about it through your billowing laughter, Bucky only smacked your ass in return, lending you not to notice the handful of doors that clicked open behind you. 
As you reached his room, your giggle still remained as he dropped you down upon his bed. You were too focused on him as he sank down over you to notice how he hadn’t bothered to shut the door. 
Messily making out, his fingertips tickled your sides as he wrestled you lightly, grasping both of your wrists and pinning them above your head before his hips then grinded down against your own. Though your legs didn’t manage to tangle around him before he then flipped you around to lay on your stomach beneath him. 
It continued to be all fun and game as he twisted your squirming hands down to the small of your back, even as he reached for a pair of handcuffs that rested on his nightstand before swiftly clicking them around your wrists, as you merely thought that it was something new and exciting, not him on the verge of crossing a line.
Though as he then yanked your hips up off of the mattress, your knees curling beneath you as your face and shoulder smooshed further into the bed, you playfully wiggled your ass back at him as you fully expected to feel the touch of his fingers or his tongue once again. But to your surprise, when you did feel something brush against your weepy cunt, your giggle finally ceased, gradually fizzling out as you realised what exactly it was that you were feeling caress against you. 
“Wait, what are you–,” your neck twisted further as you tried to catch a glimpse of what he was doing, though only managed to spot his silhouette looming behind you. 
Cock throbbing in his grasp, he stared down at your pussy as he swept his intimidating girth against it, “you know, you have been such a fucking tease for way too long… only giving me handjobs or rubbing that little cunt on me, basically taunting me, while the rest of these assholes get to have you, all of you, anyway they want,” he stopped nudging your buzzing pearl and instead dragged through your petals till he found your opening, quivering and dripping as he nuzzled against it, “I’m fucking tired…” he groaned slowly, “…so I’m done waiting… I’ll finally feel this fucking pussy wrapped around me whether you like it or not.” 
“But I’m not ready–, Bucky, wait!” you tried to wiggle away from him, but he only grasped your ass and brought you back flush against him, “let’s just talk about this for a second–”
“What’s there to talk about, huh?”
“It won’t fit!” you yelped into the sheets.
“Yeah, probably not,” he smirked from behind you, “but I don’t care… I’ll just make it fit,” he uttered before then attempting to sink it in, though without success, his massive cock instead slipped through your slick folds and dragged roughly across your clit. 
“Bucky, please! I’m scared!” you whimpered as his fat tip continued to nudge at your hole, smearing the mess leaking out of you further against your core, “you’re gonna break me in half!” 
“I know, fuck, I know,” he chuckled darkly as he kept up his efforts, “your little pussy is just too goddamn tiny for this,” he pointed out before continuing anyway and trying once again to bury himself in your warmth, though this time failing as well, “fucking shit!” he exclaimed as rage began to bubble within him, making him huff like a bull behind you. 
With a smack against your propped-up ass, he then took a step back before making his way around the bed to the nightstand. Once he’d grabbed a bottle of lube, he briefly dipped down to smother your frown with a peck. 
“Please, Bucky,” you tried to plea once again, “you can stop now. You tried and it didn’t work, so just–, we can do something else, whatever you want, just please don’t try again.”
“But this is the only thing I want,” he murmured before kissing your nose and disappearing back behind you once more.
As he settled back into the same position as before, he liberally glazed his cock with some of the lube, as well as smearing some on your already slick pussy too, even pushing some inside of you with one of his long fingers. 
And as he then attempted a third time, snapping his hips with all of his might, the very tip of him finally popped inside and an actual scream erupted from your lungs, partly from the severe stretch as he split you open with his monstrous girth, but also just from the pure shock of it miraculously working. 
“Ah!” your vision blurred up with tears and you could barely breathe as your poor pussy ached around his obscene size he tried to wreck you with, “Buck! It’s too big! It’s too big!” your mind began to grow fuzzy as you’d never experienced such an intense sensation before, “o-oh, fuck, please take it out, it hurts!” 
“Oh yeah, does it?” his palm swept up the goosebump-ridden skin on your back before he caught the cuffs that linked your wrists together, crudely tugging on them to drag you further down onto his cock, cramming even more of him inside of you, “it sure fucking looks like it, goddamn… I should take a picture of this shit, you’re so fucking stretched out right now, it looks like you might actually break on me,” his other hand drifted to your core to trace the way you struggled to take him. 
“Oh fuck, too much–, too much!” you began to sob as he began to buck his hips and bury himself further inside of you, “t-that’s too deep, Bucky!” 
“No, it’s not,” he chuckled breathlessly through a groan as he continued to stretch you to fit him, “I’m barely halfway.”
“Half–,” you gasped as it already felt as if he was so deep that you could feel him everywhere. From your toes that curled to all the way up in your fucking throat, there wasn’t a single part of you that didn’t flicker and spark for him like a bomb about to go off. 
And as he huffed behind you with every laboured thrust, his hips snapping to crave his way deeper into your sweetness, his hands on you got rougher as they began to come down upon the curve of your bottom, smacking it and making you clench achingly around him at each blow. 
The sniffles that filtered through your strangled moans then found Bucky’s ears, and he briefly tore his stare away from where he split you apart, to glance to your face and spot the tears that rolled down your cheeks. 
“Are you fucking crying right now?” he couldn’t help but huff out a faint and amazed laugh, “aw, that’s okay, baby,” your mouth then fell open as one of his thumbs moved to plug up your tiny asshole, “you can cry if you need to…”
But through the piercing stretch that terrorised your soul, like shocks of electricity flicking through your nerves, you began to notice the euphoria slowly overpowering the pain, confusing you from how the two mixed and mingled. And then suddenly, Bucky’s greedy thrusts started to sound wetter and wetter with each sloppy slam into your soaked pussy, soon coming to a crescendo when your walls promptly squeezed down around him so tight that it forced his huge cock back out as your cunt achingly gushed around nothing and your wobbly knees collapsed beneath you.
Though as you came crashing down upon the bed, he wasted no time at all sinking down with you, “fuck… you’re doing so good for me, you know that?” your eyes rolled as he hummed directly in your ear, “just a little bit more, okay? Just relax around me, let me in,” he groaned as he struggled a moment to stuff himself back inside, pushing past your trembling sensitivity to make room for his length once again.
Though when he sank in, a low and blissful groan rumbling in his chest, it vibrated against your spine as he nearly crushed you as his hips began to roll and rut down into you, burying himself even deeper than before. 
“Be a good girl, just lay right there and take it while I finally get to use this tiny little hole of yours,” he grunted as his efforts overstimulated you so fiercely that your legs trembled violently beneath him and drool began to trickle out of the corner of your mouth, soaking the sheets below, “mould you so good around me, make you take me, fit me perfectly, just the way you should, make you a pretty little fuckdoll for me…”
Though your face was twisted to face the door, it was a struggle to keep your eyes open, lending you only to notice the figures that filled up the exit when one of them took a step to the side and spoke up as he knocked on the neighbouring door. 
“Yo, Steve!” Thor slammed his fist against the door till it creaked open, “bro, come out here.” 
“Yeah, you gotta see this, man,” Ransom called out as well, his feet remaining in the threshold so his stare could stay glued on your cockdrunk visage. 
And when your stepbrother stepped out to spot what was happening just in the next room, he swiftly leaned his form against the doorframe as a wide grin bloomed on his features. 
“Holy shit,” Steve chuckled breathlessly as he stared at the pair of you in amazement, “well fucking done, Buck!” 
“Thank you,” the man that squished you further into the mattress chuckled smugly as he tangled a burly arm under your chin and let his inked bicep flex against your pulse and choke you lightly, “thank you very much.” 
“I mean, I for sure thought you’d have to hold out even longer,” Steve tilted his head slightly to catch a glimpse of how your cream stained Bucky’s cock as it helplessly leaked out of you, forming a messy ring around his fat girth. 
“Well, sometimes patience doesn’t get you what you want. Sometimes you just gotta stop playing by the rules and make life your bitch,” Bucky grunted before his lips began to nibble at your ear, “right, Y/n?” 
Scarcely registering their sinful words through your fucked out fog, all you could reply with was a slurred, “mmngmphh…” your mumbled moan only triggering Bucky to grow even more cocky than before. 
“That’s right, baby, I knew you could fucking take it. You didn’t, but I sure did,” he panted against your neck, “see, if you weren’t such a little prude, then you would have gotten this big dick so much earlier, wouldn’t you have liked that? Instead of being such a brat and making me wait till everyone else had gotten to use you as their own personal little fucktoy to get off with.”
And though you tried to answer, you instead heard your stepbrother chuckle over your pathetic moans, “fucking hell, look at how wrecked she is. Buddy, I think you might have actually broken her,” before he glanced over his shoulder at Thor, “hey, go get the other. Wake them up if you have to, they shouldn’t miss another second of this shit.” 
You barely noticed as the rest of the fraternity slowly filtered into the room as your eyes soon fluttered shut and yet another orgasm rocked your sense, your cunt creaming all over Bucky’s excruciatingly thick cock. When he then suddenly flipped you around onto your back, you dizzily discovered the audience that had formed as you hazily blinked around the crowd. Some were lined up behind Bucky, others off to the side of where you laid melted against the sheets, and a few remained staring in the doorway, though over half of them had already freed their own dicks, while the remaining few that hadn’t yet still only palmed their palpable tents as they watched intently.
A shrill yelp bubbled up your lungs as Bucky then tapped the hefty weight of his length against your overly sensitive pussy. Your legs were folded and crumbled on either side of your frame as he sloppily rubbed himself against your mess, letting the rest see just how much he had ruined you.
“You guys wanna see how pretty I can make her gape for me?” Bucky asked the others as his gaze stayed glued to your little hole, nuzzling against it as it looked as if it had snapped back into place, almost like he’d never been in there at all. 
And with the cheers that promptly rumbled behind him, he then repeatedly rammed his cock inside your cunt before retreating completely with the lewd pop of your poor pussy letting go of his monstrous girth. Each time he slid inside, he gradually ventured further, burying himself deeper before pulling back out and watching as your hole steadily relaxed for him, moulding to his size. At first, your leaky entrance only winked back at them all a brief moment before snapping back into place, till you eventually gaped properly enough for them all to applaud in awe as Bucky paused a moment to grasp you with both of his broad palms and spread you wide, holding you open for everyone a moment longer before your hole quivered back into place. 
Struggling to keep your eyes open, you then forced them to blink as you felt Frank momentarily step up beside you and swiftly free your hands from the cuffs that still kept them bound behind your back, seeing as you couldn’t possibly escape now that you were so cockdrunk you could barely stay awake. 
All of their deep voices and lewd comments washed over you like a stormy sea, crashing into you and making you even more lightheaded than before. 
Ari then shifted to kneel down next to you and scoop his palm under your head, tilting it up for your hazy vision to flicker down to the unobscured crude view of how your pretty pussy got impaled by Bucky’s obscene size, stretching you apart way beyond your limits. 
And as he mercilessly drove his cock into you, his balls managed to smack against your slick skin as he finally buried himself completely inside of your warmth, the tip of him not only diving deep enough to kiss your cervix, but to bump and bully against it with such force that it caused you to repeatedly lose your breath. 
You had never felt so full before in your life, surely too full, as even though you were blinking down at the hard evidence before you, you still didn’t fully believe that you were capable of such feats, of taking him the way that he made you. 
“O-oh, fuck…” you shakily whimpered when you caught sight of the way his monstrous size bulged through your belly, making it seem as though he was fucking straight through your pussy and into your guts.
Your teary eyes then flickered to find Steve in the crowd before one of your hands weakly grabbed for him. Seeing as it was the very least he could do, he granted you the comfort and closed the short distance, trading places with the frat’s president, before he grasped your trembling palm in his own. 
“Damn,” you faintly heard Curtis mutter as he stared, his girth ever throbbing in his fist, mirroring the rest of them, “maybe you should just make her cockwarm you for the rest of the day, just as a precaution to make it easier for you next time.”
“Oh, you’re right, she might need that princess treatment,” Steve murmured as he raised the back of your palm up to his lips for a brief peck, “you’d let him do that, wouldn’t you, sis? For me? Be good for my best friend?”
“Uh-huh,” you found yourself panting as their words flew straight over your dazed head as it jostled on the mattress each time Bucky’s hips snapped against your ass, your zealous slickness being so messy at this point that it clung to his skin as well and kept you both connected in glossy strings, like spiderwebs, each time his efforts retreated. 
“Shit,” Marc groaned as his fingers, tightly wrapped around his own dick, began to speed up, “this is so hot… I think I might blow my load.” 
“Me too, fuck,” Scott harmonized. 
“Cum in her mouth,” Bucky uttered, “go on, be a good girl, open up for them,” before you then felt your stepbrother beside you pry your lips apart mid-moan. 
And as the pair stepped up and, one by one, painted your breathless tongue with their essence, you heard Lloyd rumble firmly, “you better swallow every single drop they give you, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, doesn’t it taste good what you do to them, to all of us?” Billy purred before he let a dollop of spit drop from his lips into his palm as he paused momentarily before silkily stroking his length one more to you. 
“Maybe if you beg real pretty, it could become your dessert after every one of your meals,” Miguel suggested with a smirk, “but only if you’re good, then maybe you can have the privilege of being our little cumdump.” 
“Is that what you want?” Andy uttered huskily, his fevered efforts stealing some of his breath, “you wanna be Kappa Alpha Nu’s official little toy? Just be all fucking adorable and help us get off?”
But then Bucky let out a low chuckle as he shifted your feet to rest up upon his broad shoulders, “you’re saying that like she isn’t already…” he grinned proudly before sinking down closer and folding your body in half.
Your free hand clawed at his bicep as both of them flexed to keep him from crushing you as he tilted down to kiss you ravenously. His rhythm picked up till it reached a desperate pace, pumping his fat cock into you as he groaned against your lips. Though even after you felt his big dick twitch inside of you and pump your pussy full of his cum, his efforts didn’t cease, only degraded slightly as he shivered above you, stubbornly fucking you till you unravelled as well. 
With a ragged moan, he finally withdrew from your haven and reached down to messily rub his touch against your poor pussy, all swollen and puffy as it squirted once again for him, your juices weakly gushing all over the bed as his load too trickled out.
It was all a blur after that. 
At first, as you still laid there, panting and twitching at Bucky’s overstimulating touch that he hadn’t yet freed you from, the three frat guys who were looming right beside you, Thor, Curtis and Andy, decorated your heaving tits and stomach with their hot cum. 
After that, one by one, Miguel, Billy, Frank, Ransom, Lloyd and Ari stepped up and came wherever their heart desired. Some chose your exhausted face, all cute and breathless, blinking up at them, while others elected to finish on the soft peaks of your boobs, making you flash them your soft tongue, or even just paint your puffy pussy white and add to the mess already sticky and sore between your limp thighs. 
And lastly, having clearly edged in order to grant himself the honour, your stepbrother let go of your shaky hand and slotted himself in between your legs. Wasting no time teasing you, he plugged the very tip of him into your wrecked hole, making your whole frame briefly jump and quiver on the mattress before your soreness clenched around him and milked him dry as he swiftly emptied his balls inside of you. 
“Well, I think it’s official,” Steve exhaled when he finally pulled his dick back out to admire his cum slowly leaking out of you, “she is finally ready and broken in enough for us to start having some real fun…” his eyes then briefly flickered around to his friends beside him as he uttered, “gentlemen?” before his gaze once again returned to you, “let’s begin.”
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© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 
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misswynters · 8 months ago
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Strapped up
Sevika x afab!reader / wc: ?
WARNINGS: 18+, smut again, riding, sevika with hexcore strap (i delivered), dom! sevika & switch!reader, BITING, rough rex, mating press, teasing, misspellings?
similar writings | Brothel
also on ao3 (not yet, under doorkiluv)
a/n: sipping on my ginger tea while i wait for yalls reactions, also pls give me feedback (and don’t only just like but also reblog and comment 🫶🏼)
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You thought life couldn’t get any better. Standing in the same room with sevika, with whom you shared a special relationship with. You didn’t exactly know what kind of bond you guys had, but it was one filled with pleasure and love. Which brings you back to the current moment on had, sevika leaning against her bed frame. She looked amazing as always with her powerful build as a warm glow soften the edges of her place, which stood at the heart of Zaun. Her eyes followed you, a faint smirk on her lips as she watched you approach, her usual guarded expression giving way to something more inviting, almost hungry.
"Come here," she commanded softly, her voice smooth and warm, a note of challenge woven into her words. As you climbed onto her lap, Sevika's hands settled on your waist, her fingers strong and grounding as she held you close. The slight hum of her hextech prosthetic reminded you of the power she wielded over you. You couldn't help but shiver under her touch as her gaze slowly roamed over you.
As you settled, she adjusted the strap on her hexcore, its soft glow flickering against her skin as she tilted her head, a lazy grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. She looked up at you, her eyes flickering with amusement and something deeper, a silent confidence that made you feel like she knew every reaction she could pull from you before you did. You braced yourself, anticipation thrumming through your veins as her hands tightened on your hips. The strap was long, thick and had glowy blueish veins. Just by looking at it barely inches away made you feel wild, wondering how it the world it would fit.
Sevika guided you down onto her with a firm grip, setting the pace. She filled you slowly, letting you feel every inch of her as she watched your face. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn't hold back a moan as you sank down. You could feel the subtle hum of her strap resonate within you. Sevika's smirk widened at your reaction, a faint chuckle escaping her as she took in every flicker of response. "Good," she murmured, her voice low and approving, fingers pressing into your hips to draw you down harder, setting a steady, demanding rhythm. "That's what I like to see... you taking all of it."
Her words made your face flush, and her hands held you tight, grounding you against her hips as she gazed down towards you. The wet, squelching sounds that your folds made filled the room, mingling with your soft moans as she urged you to keep going. Every time you tried to pull back, Sevika's grip would tighten, her gaze holding you in place. “Not so fast," she whispered, a hint of a smirk pulling at her lips. "I'm not done with you yet, we are just starting."
The intensity of her hold and the firmness of her voice left you breathless, and each time you moved, she met your rhythm with an unwavering strength, amplifying the sensations that were already overwhelming. The roughness of her hands against your hips alongside the hum of the hextech strap as she bounced you on her cock, left you trembling as you tried to keep up with her.
"Look at you," Sevika murmured, her voice a mixture of admiration and amusement as she took in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. Her eyes traced over you slowly, savoring every detail as she adjusted her grip. She placed her hands around your waist as she laced her fingers together, guiding you to a deeper angle that made you gasp. "You're something else, aren't you? Never thought you'd be able to handle all of me."
With a firm grip on your waist, Sevika shifted beneath you, her strength effortlessly flipping you over so that you were now pinned beneath her. You felt a thrill at the way she moved confidently. She loomed over you, her eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity, a mixture of dominance and affection in her gaze as she took in your flushed expression.
"You trust me, don't you?" she murmured, her voice a low, tantalizing whisper as her hands found your thighs, pushing them up toward your chest. Her grip was steady, but there was an undeniable gentleness in the way she held you, ensuring you were comfortable even as she positioned you to her liking. You barely managed a nod, but that was enough for her. With a satisfied smirk, Sevika leaned forward, planting a brief, possessive kiss on your lips before she pulled back, her gaze flicking down to where your bodies met. Her strap glowed against your wet folds as she slid it between them, you were so wet that it was completely coated with your arousal.
She shifted her hips, the intensity start to build as she pushed in deeply, her pace starting slow and measured, as if she was trying to savor each thrust. But soon enough, she picked up speed, finding a pace that left you gasping, your hands clutching onto her thick biceps as she began to push into you with a force that sent shivers through you. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound punctuating each movement. However you hardly noticed, too lost in the sensation as she pushed you closer to the edge with each rapid thrust.
As Sevika held your legs pressed up to your chest, driving into you with that unrelenting rhythm, you felt yourself unraveling under her touch. The wet, slick noises filled the room, each thrust punctuated by the steady creaking of the bed. The overwhelming sensations left you clinging to her shoulders, your voice breaking into desperate, pleading gasps. "Sevika, please," you whispered, nearly breathless, your hands gripping her broad shoulders, digging in with every surge of pleasure. "Don't stop... please, just like that... harder."
A wicked smirk crossed her face as she caught the raw desperation in your voice. "So needy," she murmured, her tone thick with satisfaction. "Look at you, begging for more. You want me to ruin you, don't you?" Sevika's hands tightened on your thighs, spreading your thighs further open as she drove into you with powerful thrusts. Her gaze never leaving your face as she took in every reaction, every shiver and gasp.
You nodded, too caught up to feel anything but the sheer need flooding through you. "Yes... please," you gasped, almost incoherent as she picked up the pace, pushing deeper and harder. Your thighs shook under her iron grip, pinned against your chest, each thrust sending a surge of sensation that left you on the edge of surrender.
Driven by the intensity, you instinctively leaned forward and bit down on her shoulder, desperate to ground yourself through the torrent of pleasure. Sevika froze for a heartbeat, her breath catching, and then she let out a deep, approving growl, her gaze dark and delighted as she felt the imprint of your teeth. "Oh, you like it rough, huh?" she murmured, her voice a husky whisper as she gazed down at you. "Good. Hold on tight, then."
Instead of slowing, she surged forward, her pace turning rapid, unyielding, her thrusts deep and forceful, spurred on by the way you clung to her. "Bite me all you want," she encouraged, her voice sultry, almost daring. "I want to hear how much you need this."
"Sevika, please-don't stop," you begged, your voice breaking into soft cries as the bed protested under her relentless rhythm, creaking with each thrust that left you gasping. "I... I need more, please... harder."
She chuckled, her fingers gripping your thighs even tighter, pressing them to your chest as she drove into you with renewed fervor, clearly enjoying every sound that escaped your lips. "Oh, you're not getting off easy," she taunted, her voice rough with pleasure. "I'm not stopping until you're completely spent... until you're begging for mercy."
Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, drawing helpless cries from your lips that only seemed to spur her on. Her gaze flicked down between you, and a wicked grin crept onto her face as she noticed the slick, glistening mess where you were connected, a white ring forming with each deep push. "Look at this," she murmured, her voice thick with pride. "Look at the mess you're making for me."
Her words sent a shiver through you, heightening the need coursing through your veins, and you clung to her even tighter, breathless, pleading. "Please, Sevika... I can't... I can't take much more."
"There you go," she whispered, her voice a mixture of praise and satisfaction as she watched you unravel beneath her. "Taking my cock so well... just like I knew you would." Her words sent a thrill through you, and you felt yourself clench around her, your breath hitching as she continued to move with unyielding precision. Her pace only grew, each thrust bringing a fresh wave of pleasure that left you breathless, your body arching up into her as you felt the pressure building to an overwhelming peak. She noticed, of course-she noticed everything-and her smirk widened as she leaned down, her mouth brushing against your ear as she murmured, "Relax."
The way she spoke, commanding yet tender, was enough to send you over the edge. You felt yourself shudder beneath her, your release leaving a mess between you both, soaking the sheets and intensifying the slick sounds with each movement. Sevika slowed only slightly, savoring the way you trembled beneath her, her gaze filled with a rare softness as she held you close, letting the softness of the moment sink in.
As the aftermath of the moment settled over you both, Sevika shifted back just enough to look down, a smirk slowly curling at the corners of her mouth. She took in the scene beneath her the sheets soaked and rumpled, your flushed face, and the way your body still trembled slightly from the intensity of it all.
"What a mess," she murmured, a teasing glint in her eyes as she caressed her thumb along your thigh, feeling the warmth that lingered there. "Didn't know you had it in you." Her tone was low, playful, and laced with that familiar, effortless confidence. "You really couldn't hold back, could you?"
"Maybe... maybe I wouldn't have made such a mess if you hadn't been so relentless," you shot back, meeting her gaze with a playful glint of your own, though the flush on your cheeks betrayed just how affected you still were. "Besides... I think you enjoyed it just as much."
Sevika let out a low, approving chuckle, her fingers still lazily tracing over your thigh. "Oh, I enjoyed every second," she replied, leaning down until her lips brushed against the shell of your ear.
"And don't think I didn't notice how you were clinging to me, begging for more." You bit your lip, her words making your heart race again. "You're the one who kept pushing me. I... I could barely keep up," you admitted, voice soft yet tinged with playful defiance. "You make it impossible to resist."
Sevika's smirk deepened, her thumb stroking along your jawline as she took in every detail of your expression. “Good," she teased. "I want you like this-completely undone, messy, all because of me."
You shivered under her gaze, but you found yourself smiling, a bit of daring creeping into your voice. "Then maybe... next time, you should try to keep up with me."
Her brows lifted, clearly intrigued by the challenge, and her smirk softened into something warmer, more intimate. "Oh, I'm looking forward to it."
to be continued…
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8K notes · View notes
novankenn · 1 year ago
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How would your baby crazy Mama Arc react if Jaune got a girlfriend who could not have child at all?
Well first would shock and utter disappointment, but Momma Arc (Jasmine), is a kind and caring woman and would welcome Jaune's significant other with warm and open arms.
As baby crazed as she is, she is still a mother and has a heart the size of Remnant. Hence her absolute ability to cow anyone who threatens her children/loved ones with but a look and the tone of her voice.
In the end there are more than one way for her to get her dream of grand children... and adoption is not off the table. Children are meant to be cherished, loved and guided.
NOW if Jaune and his significant other chose to not have children at all, that would make her catatonic...
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miupow · 1 year ago
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hear me out...chan trying to fit it in but he's too big and he's whispering all kinds of stuff trying to get you to take it and you're frustrated and needy and you're just so !! done !! because it feels empty and he's so close yet he's not in and finally finally, his thick tip catches and he inches in agonizingly slow simply to hear you whine for it
꒰୨୧◞ ⤷ ❛❛ TOO BIG ! ❜❜ .ᐟ bang chan.
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[ ⟡ ] ── minors do not interact ! ⭑ fem!reader , soft dom!chan , est. relationship , monster cock chris lol , size kink , dirty talk , praise kink , daddy kink , missionary/mating press , unprotected sex , bulge kink
a/n ⸝⸝ happy (late) comeback day !! i’m not very proud of this drabble but it’s here and i’m posting it anyway lol <3 save me big dick chris.. save me..
♡ ⸝⸝ ꒰ m.list ꒱ ‧ ꒰ reblogs and feedback appreciated! ꒱
“it’s too big, channie,” you whimper, peering down between your legs— the big fat tip of chan’s cock throbs an angry red as he slides it up between your pussy lips, taps it against your fluttering hole. your ankles dangle in the air over his shoulders, thighs pushed up to your chest by his body pinning you against the mattress, so close you could feel his hot breath, ache for a kiss from the plump, spit-slick lips he bit in arousal. he grips the base of his shaft in one hand, guiding it to push at your rim; you’re frightened by the sheer size of it, thick as a can, veins fat and pulsing… the pressure of it was already overwhelming yet you roll your hips down eagerly, desperate for it to slide in and fill you up.
“shh, stay still, babygirl,” chan coos so sweet, his veiny hand splayed out across your tummy. “and take this fucking cock. daddy knows you can.”
your pussy is making it difficult, so wet chan’s cock misses your hole, slides up your folds to bump against your clit. you shake in pleasure and frustration, reaching your hand down to take ahold of chan’s cock yourself— chan lets you with a warm smile, his thick arms shaking with every slick twist of your hand.
“you need me that bad, baby?” he chuckles, breathless. “thought you said it was too big.”
“i’m so empty,” you whine in response, angling his flared head to spear your core. “need your big cock, daddy—“ finally, finally his tip catches and slides in, sudden yet so achingly slow, your eyes rolling back in tandem with chan’s deep, guttural groan; the stretch burns deliciously, clouds over your senses as your mouth drops open in a moan for more.
“there you go, baby, just like that,” chan continues to bully his cock in past your tight rim, slow and gentle— but there’s nothing gentle about the way he fills you up, inch by fat, throbbing inch stretching your wet gummy walls to their limits. you can feel every ridge, every vein drag hot and heavy… you let go of his shaft in favor for scratching deep red marks into his flexing bicep, scrambling for something to hold on to and ground you. “daddy’s good girl, taking his cock so well— feels so good, doesn’t it?”
“b-big—!” you croak in a daze, an echo of your earlier sentiments; it was all you could manage to make yourself say, rendered brainless in an instant as chan’s blunt cockhead kisses your cervix. “so— so fucking big! ‘n deep, daddy, fuck—“
“yeah?” chan huffs, hips stuttering flush against yours. “am i too big for your little cunt, baby? feel me all the way up here?”
he presses down on the bulge his cock makes in your belly, causing the both of you to keen, your little dripping pussy fluttering around his cock as he twitches inside of you; you desperately want him to move, start pounding your pussy like you’ve been wanting so, so badly… you eagerly nod at chan’s teasing words, buck your hips the best you can folded in half. “yes, yes!” you wail, voice slurred, “give it to me daddy, please!”
“you’re so pretty when you’re begging for me, angel,” chan grins crookedly, pulling his hips back to slide himself out of your hole. you hold your breath in wicked anticipation. “beg some more and i’ll give you what you need.”
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gyuuberryy · 26 days ago
Text
don't look back!
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pairing: yandere!jungwon x reader
genre: backrooms au, thriller, psycho!jungwon
synopsis: while working late at the waterpark, you slip through reality and fall into the nightmare realm known as the backrooms. you think you’re alone—until you meet jungwon, a charming boy who offers comfort, survival tips, and the promise of an escape together. but something about him doesn’t feel right. the more time you spend together, the more his affection turns eerie... and the deeper you fall into his trap.
warnings (MDNI 18+ only!!) : smut(corruption kink, oral f receiving, fingering, mild marking/biting, unprotected sex), yandere themes, obsession, slight horror themes, manipulation, slight dub con, choking, some degradation, dom!jungwon, swearing, not proofread
note: this is probably my darkest work, and also my first time writing smut!! i hope you like it >///<
word count: 10.3k
backrooms au collection
if you liked this please comment or reblog to give me your feedback! <3
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you had been working late at the waterpark again, the last employee left on closing duty.
the usual nighttime sounds surrounded you—the steady drip of water from the slides, the faint hum of the filtration system powering down, the occasional creak of the structure settling. it was peaceful in a way, being alone in the empty park after hours, though tonight the silence felt heavier than usual.
you pulled your hoodie tighter around yourself as you walked past the wave pool, the water still and dark now that the pumps were off. your sneakers squeaked against the wet tiles, the sound echoing strangely in the vast, empty space.
as you moved toward the tower of spiral slides to complete your final check, you couldn't shake the feeling that the air had grown colder, thicker somehow.
that was when you heard the first laugh—a high-pitched, playful sound that seemed to come from the top of the blue slide.
you froze, your grip tightening on the flashlight. that couldn't be right. you'd checked every area twice already, made certain no guests remained. the park was supposed to be empty.
"hello?" you called out, your voice steady despite the sudden chill running down your spine. "the park is closed."
there was no response at first, just the continued dripping of water and that odd, heavy silence.
you were about to dismiss it as your imagination when the laughter came again, closer this time, seeming to bounce off the fibreglass walls of the slides.
your pulse quickened as you approached the staircase leading up to the slide platform. the metal steps were slick with condensation under your hands as you climbed, your flashlight beam cutting through the darkness.
"if someone's up here, you need to leave now," you said, forcing authority into your voice even as your palms grew damp.
when you reached the top, the mouth of the slide gaped before you, a circle of darkness that seemed deeper than it should be. you crouched to shine your light down its length, expecting to see nothing but empty plastic. instead, there was movement—something pale flickering at the edge of your vision.
before you could react, the world twisted around you. it wasn't wind that pulled at you, but something far more unnatural. the slide's opening seemed to stretch, the darkness within it suddenly alive and hungry. you tried to scramble back, but your feet slipped on the wet platform.
as you fell forward, you realised this wasn't just a slide anymore. the walls pressed in around you, warm and yielding like flesh, the air thick with the cloying scent of chlorine and something decaying. you flailed, trying to find purchase, but there was nothing to grab onto as you tumbled through that impossible space.
then there was only nothingness.
the impact knocked the air from your lungs before you even realised you'd stopped falling. your elbows stung where they'd slammed against the tile, your ribs aching like you'd been folded in half.
for several terrifying seconds you just lay there, gasping, your vision swimming as you tried to remember how to breathe. when you finally managed to push yourself up, your hands slipped on the damp floor—not the smooth fibreglass of the slide, but something older and cracked that felt wrong.
the slide was gone.
you whirled around, panic rising like floodwater in your chest, but there was only a wall behind you—water-stained wallpaper peeling away to reveal moldering drywall beneath. the cheerful cartoon dolphins printed on it were faded, their smiles stretched and warped where the paper bubbled.
your breath came in short, sharp bursts as you staggered to your feet, the room tilting dangerously around you. this wasn't possible. you'd just been at work. you'd just been checking the slides.
the space around you stretched endlessly in every direction, a nightmare parody of the waterpark you knew. the same blue-and-yellow colour scheme, but bleached and sickly under flickering fluorescents. the wave pools were empty except for stagnant puddles that reflected the ceiling back at you in distorted fragments. the air clung to your skin, thick with the scent of mildew and that same overpowering chlorine sting—but underneath it, something sweet. cloying. like fruit left to rot in standing water.
"hello?" your voice cracked on the word, barely louder than a whisper.
when no answer came, you tried again, louder: "is anyone here?" the sound died almost instantly, as if the humid air had swallowed it whole.
you moved forward without meaning to, your sneakers sticking slightly to the tacky floor with each step. the lights buzzed overhead, their flickering intensifying as you passed beneath them. down one hallway lined with lockers rusted shut, past another shallow pool that had no visible edge—just tile that stretched on until it blurred into the distance. your fingers trailed along the wall for balance, coming away damp.
a sound from above made you freeze. not the creak of old pipes, but something... wetter. like flesh dragging across metal. you didn't look up. couldn't look up. your pulse roared in your ears as you forced yourself to keep moving, your breath coming too fast.
in the reflection of a murky puddle, you saw something move behind you—a pale shape where nothing should be. when you spun around, there was only an empty hallway. but the puddle rippled, as if whatever had been there had just stepped out of view.
you broke into a run.
the corridors twisted in ways that made no sense, leading you past the same cracked mirror three times, past a snack stand with its menu board melted like wax. your lungs burned, your thighs aching, but you didn't stop until you reached a small kiddie pool tucked between two crumbling walls. its cheerful mosaic tiles were chipped and faded, the painted sea creatures now just vague smudges of colour. you collapsed beside it, pressing your back against the wall as you struggled to catch your breath.
that was when you heard the whistling.
low. off-key. a tune you almost recognised but couldn't place. your blood turned to ice in your veins.
the sound was getting closer.
you scrambled behind a rusted lifeguard chair, its paint flaking away under your desperate grip.
the whistling continued, unhurried, accompanied now by the steady tap of footsteps against tile. a shadow stretched long across the floor before its owner appeared—a boy, maybe your age, dressed in a staff polo that looked freshly laundered. his black hair was neatly styled, his sneakers pristine where yours were soaked. the name tag on his chest caught the light when he moved, but the letters swam when you tried to focus on them.
he saw you immediately. of course he did.
"there you are," he said, as if you'd been keeping him waiting. his voice was pleasant, almost friendly, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. they stayed dark and unreadable as he took a step closer.
"it's not safe to be out alone."
you pressed yourself harder against the wall, your mouth dry. he looked human. normal. but nothing here was normal.
when he extended his hand, his fingers were clean. no dirt under his nails. no dampness on his skin.
"come on," he urged, tilting his head slightly. "before they find you."
above you, the lights flickered again. somewhere in the distance, something heavy dragged itself through water.
his smile never wavered.
your fingers twitched before you even realised you were reaching for him—some primal part of your brain screaming that warmth meant safety, that another human voice in this suffocating silence was worth clinging to, no matter how wrong this all felt.
his hand closed around yours without hesitation, his skin almost feverishly hot compared to the clammy chill clinging to your own.
"i'm jungwon," he said, pulling you to your feet with unsettling ease, like your weight meant nothing.
his fingers lingered a second too long when he let go, leaving behind a tingling imprint that made you want to rub your palm against your jeans.
"you're lucky i found you first."
the words slithered under your skin. first before who? before what?
he was already moving, his steps light and certain against the warped tiles as he led you down another decaying hallway. you followed because there was no other choice, your sneakers squeaking against the damp floor while his made no sound at all.
when you opened your mouth to speak, your voice came out cracked and thin: "where—"
"this place doesn't have a name," he interrupted, glancing back with a smile that didn’t crinkle the corners of his eyes. "not one you'd understand."
his gaze flickered over your face, lingering on the way you bit your lip, the rapid flutter of your pulse in your throat.
"i call it the aquatic sector."
your breath hitched. the backrooms. those creepy internet stories you'd skimmed late at night, half-believing, half-mocking.
"like... the backrooms?" you whispered, the word tasting absurd even as it left your tongue.
jungwon's smile didn’t waver, "something like that." he said it so casually, like he was discussing the weather, and the sheer normality of his tone made your stomach twist.
he turned a corner without checking if you followed—of course you did, where else would you go?—and you realised with a jolt that he knew this place. the way his shoulders never tensed at the distant, wet sounds echoing through the pipes. the way he stepped over a particular cracked tile without looking down, avoiding the dark stain spreading beneath it like he’d done it a hundred times before.
when he finally pushed open a door marked staff only, the room beyond was so jarringly intact it made your eyes water. clean towels stacked neatly on a shelf. unopened cans of fruit lined up in a tiny pantry. a battery-powered lantern cast warm light over a faded couch, its cushions dented from use. it looked like a lifeguard break room plucked straight from your own world and dropped here, untouched by the decay choking everything outside.
"this zone's safe," jungwon said, watching your face as you took it in. he grabbed a water bottle from the cabinet and held it out to you, the plastic crinkling in his grip. "but only for now."
your fingers trembled as you took it, the condensation cool against your palm. you wanted to drink so badly your throat ached with it, but the way he watched you—head slightly tilted, dark eyes tracking the bob of your throat as you swallowed nervously—made your grip tighten without opening it.
something about the way his smile didn't reach his eyes, about how his uniform was still perfectly dry when your clothes clung damp and clammy to your skin, about how he'd known exactly where to find you in this endless maze.
"you should drink," he said, softer now.
he took a step closer and you could smell the faint citrus of his shampoo, so out of place here it made your pulse skip.
"you'll get dehydrated fast in this sector."
his fingers brushed yours as he reached to twist the cap off for you, and for a dizzying second you considered letting him. his touch was the only warm thing in this entire place. but then the pipes above you groaned, a wet, meaty sound that had you jerking back, the water bottle slipping from your grip to roll across the floor.
jungwon's expression darkened for just a second—a flicker of something sharp behind his pleasant mask—before he sighed and crouched to retrieve it.
"you'll learn," he said, more to himself than to you as he placed the bottle carefully on the table.
outside, something heavy splashed into one of the pools, the sound echoing through the thin walls. when you tensed, jungwon's hand settled between your shoulder blades, warm even through your damp hoodie.
"don't worry," he murmured, his breath stirring your hair. "i won't let anything hurt you."
the promise should have been comforting. so why did it feel like a threat?
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time bent around you like wet paper, the hours stretching and warping until you couldn’t tell if minutes or days had passed.
jungwon became your only constant, your lifeline in this rotting, endless maze. he told you where to sleep (the staff break room, always with the door locked), when to hide (when the lights flickered in a pattern that wasn’t random), which corridors to avoid (the ones with the faint smell of overripe bananas). but he never explained why.
"don’t follow the laughter," he said one evening, or what you thought was evening, as you both sat cross-legged on the floor of the break room, sharing a can of peaches.
the syrup was too sweet, clinging to your teeth, but you ate it anyway because hunger gnawed at your stomach like a living thing.
you frowned. "what laughter?"
jungwon’s fingers paused where they’d been tracing patterns on the tile floor. he didn’t look up.
"you’ll know it when you hear it. it sounds almost human. almost." his voice dropped on the last word, and something in his tone made you set the can down, your appetite gone.
"that’s not an answer," you muttered.
he finally lifted his gaze, his dark eyes unreadable. "it’s the only one i can give you."
you wanted to push, to demand more, but then the walls breathed—a slow, wet expansion of the water-damaged drywall that made you recoil. jungwon didn’t even flinch.
"also," he continued, as if nothing had happened, "don’t trust water that moves on its own. and never, never go into a glowing slide."
"why not?"
he leaned forward suddenly, close enough that you could see the faint scar on his lower lip, the way his pupils swallowed the dim light.
"because some doors only open one way," he whispered. then he pulled back, his smile returning like a curtain falling.
"eat your peaches."
you noticed things, over time. the way the walls never dripped when jungwon was near, how the flickering fluorescents steadied when he walked beneath them, as if they were afraid to sputter out in his presence. you noticed how he watched you—constantly—his gaze lingering on the way you tucked your hair behind your ear, how your fingers trembled when you were tired.
and then you found the notebook.
it was tucked under his pillow, the leather cover worn soft. you hadn’t meant to snoop, but he’d been gone longer than usual (to "check the perimeter," whatever that meant), and the silence had pressed in on you until you needed something to focus on besides the sound of your own heartbeat.
the first page was a sketch of your face, rendered in startling detail. your lips slightly parted in sleep, your eyelashes casting shadows on your cheeks. you turned the page.
another. another. dozens of drawings, all of you—your hands clutching a blanket, your back arched in alarm when something had banged on the door the night before, your tear-streaked cheeks from when you’d broken down sobbing your third day here.
your breath caught.
"you’re beautiful when you’re afraid."
you hadn’t heard him come in. jungwon stood in the doorway, his head tilted, his expression unreadable. your fingers clenched around the notebook, the paper crinkling under your grip.
he stepped closer, his movements smooth and predatory.
"just kidding," he murmured, but his eyes—dark and endless—never left yours.
he pried the notebook from your hands with terrifying gentleness, his thumb brushing over a sketch of your crying face. "you’re beautiful all the time."
the air between you thickened, the silence broken only by the distant sound of something heavy dragging itself through water. jungwon didn’t seem to hear it. his gaze burned into you, possessive and hungry, and for the first time, you realised the most dangerous thing in this place wasn’t the shifting halls or the things that lurked in the water.
it was the boy standing in front of you, smiling like he already knew every way you’d break.
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the air in the filtration room had been particularly thick that day, clinging to your skin like a second layer of sweat as you followed jungwon through yet another routine patrol.
you'd memorised the path by now—past the cracked wave pool tiles, left at the concession stand with its permanently stuck "hot dogs $3.99" sign, right at the third set of rusted lockers.
his flashlight beam cut through the perpetual twilight, illuminating dust motes that swirled like tiny galaxies in the stale air.
"wait here," jungwon said suddenly, his hand squeezing your wrist just a bit too tight before releasing.
the filtration tunnel gaped before you both, its mouth dark and damp.
"i need to check something. don't move." his smile didn't reach his eyes as he said it, the way it never did anymore.
you nodded, forcing your breathing to stay even as you watched him disappear into the tunnel. the moment his light vanished around the first bend, your body thrummed with nervous energy. this was it. you'd been watching for weeks, noting which corridors made him tense, which doors he always locked extra carefully. the copper-scented hallway to your right had been his most consistent avoidance.
the first step away from the tunnel entrance sent a jolt of electricity up your spine. your sneakers made barely a sound against the slick tiles, your movements practised after so many days of following his lead through these endless halls. the chlorine-copper smell grew stronger with each step, so potent it made your eyes water and your tongue feel coated in pennies.
halfway down the corridor, your foot caught on something soft. you barely stifled a scream as you looked down to see what appeared to be a waterlogged park uniform, the fabric bloated and discoloured. something about the way it lay—too flat, too empty—made your stomach turn. you stepped over it carefully, your pulse pounding in your ears.
the maintenance ladder appeared like a mirage, its rusted rungs nearly blending into the water-stained wall. you tested the first step with your weight, wincing as the metal groaned in protest. every creak seemed deafening in the silent hallway. as you climbed, the air grew noticeably colder, each breath forming visible clouds that dissipated into the gloom above you.
at the top, the platform was smaller than you expected, barely three feet across. the glowing slide pulsed before you, its eerie green light casting strange shadows across your trembling hands. up close, the hum you'd noticed from below vibrated through your teeth, setting your nerves on edge.
you hesitated, one hand hovering over the slide's entrance. jungwon's warning echoed in your mind, but so did the memory of his sketches, the way his fingers lingered just a beat too long when he touched you. the way he'd started saying "we" instead of "you" when talking about the future.
the decision crystallised in an instant. you launched yourself forward, the slide's surface shockingly cold even through your clothes. for one glorious moment, you felt weightless, the current carrying you forward with exhilarating speed.
then the world twisted.
the temperature plummeted so fast your muscles locked in protest. the smooth tunnel contorted violently, the walls rippling like disturbed water before going rigid at impossible angles. your scream caught in your throat as you were flung sideways, then upside down, the laws of physics abandoning you completely.
when you finally crashed into a brackish pool, the impact drove what little air remained from your lungs. the water tasted foul—salt and something organic, something living. you thrashed toward the surface, your limbs heavy with exhaustion and terror.
breaking through into the air brought no relief. the cavernous room stretched endlessly in every direction, the ceiling lost in shadow. the pool's edges weren't tile but something porous and veined, pulsing faintly in time with your racing heartbeat.
then you saw him.
jungwon stood perfectly still at the water's edge, his clothes soaked through as if he'd swum through miles of tunnels to reach you. water dripped from his hair into his eyes, but he didn't blink. the quiet rage radiating from him was more terrifying than any monster this place could have conjured.
"didn't i say," he began, his voice deceptively soft as he stepped into the pool, "not to trust glowing slides?" each word carried the weight of betrayal, his hands flexing at his sides.
the water resisted as you tried to back away, its viscosity suddenly wrong - too thick, too clinging. jungwon closed the distance effortlessly, his fingers wrapping around your biceps with bruising force as he hauled you onto the slick ground.
your body hit the floor with a wet slap, the impact reverberating through your bones. jungwon loomed over you, his knees caging your hips, his breath coming in sharp bursts that fogged in the frigid air. up close, you could see the way his pupils had swallowed nearly all the brown in his eyes, leaving only thin rings of colour around bottomless black.
"you could have died," he hissed, his voice cracking on the last word.
one hand came up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing roughly over your cheekbone.
"do you have any idea what's out there? what would have happened if i hadn't found you?"
tears spilled hot down your cheeks, the salt taste mixing with the brackish water still dripping from your hair.
"i just wanted to go home," you choked out, your voice barely audible over the distant, watery echoes of the cavern.
jungwon's expression fractured. he pressed his forehead to yours, his nose brushing against your tear-streaked skin.
"this is your home," he whispered, the words vibrating through your skull. "i'm your home."
his grip gentled as he pulled you upright, his arms wrapping around your shivering form in a mockery of comfort. one hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back until you had no choice but to meet his gaze.
"don't ever do that again," he murmured, his lips grazing your temple. the kiss felt like a brand.
"next time..." his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly in your hair. "next time i might not be able to save you."
the unspoken threat hung between you, heavier than the humid air, darker than the endless corridors stretching in every direction. as he helped you to your feet, his arm slung possessively around your waist, you realised with dawning horror that you'd just proven his worst fear.
and in doing so, you'd given him the perfect excuse to never let you out of his sight again.
that night, something inside you finally cracked open—not with the sharp snap of defiance, but with the slow, inevitable splintering of resistance worn down by exhaustion and something dangerously close to surrender.
you sat shivering on the edge of his mattress, the damp fabric of your clothes clinging to your goosebumped skin like a second layer of shame. the scent of chlorine still clung to your hair, undercut by something darker—something organic and vaguely sweet, like fruit left to rot in standing water, which seemed like a recirring scent in this place.
jungwon knelt before you, a threadbare towel in his hands, his movements methodical as he dragged the rough fabric up your calf. the friction should have warmed you, but you only felt colder with each pass, your skin pebbling under his touch.
"you never listen," he whispered, his voice almost affectionate, the way one might scold a beloved but wayward pet.
his fingers tightened slightly around your ankle—not enough to hurt, just enough to make the bones shift under his grip.
"do you know how many rules you broke today?" his thumb pressed into the hollow beneath your ankle bone, a silent demand for your attention.
you swallowed hard, your throat clicking with the motion. "i just—"
"shh," he interrupted, pressing a finger to your lips. his skin tasted like salt and metal. "i know what you were trying to do. but we don't lie to each other, do we?"
his hand slid higher up your thigh, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there, just shy of bruising. "say it."
your breath hitched. "no. we don't lie."
"good girl." the praise curled warm in your stomach despite everything.
his thumb hooked into the waistband of your soaked shorts, tugging them down your legs with agonising slowness.
"i should punish you," he mused, his breath hot against your inner thigh as he pressed a kiss there, "but you look so pathetic like this."
his teeth grazed your skin—not biting, just testing. "all shivering and wide-eyed. like a drowned kitten."
you should have stopped him. should have pushed him away. but your hands stayed limp at your sides, fingers twitching against the mattress as he pulled you closer to the edge, his grip firm on your hips.
"jungwon—"
"tell me you're sorry," he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing the crease of your thigh.
your pulse pounded in your ears. "i'm sorry."
"for what, exactly?" his tongue darted out to taste you, just once, making your stomach clench.
"for—for trying to leave." the admission tasted bitter on your tongue.
he hummed, the vibration travelling straight to your core. "and?"
"for not listening." your voice broke on the last word.
his mouth found you then, soft at first—just the barest flick of his tongue that made your toes curl. then deeper, firmer, until you couldn't stifle the gasp that tore from your throat. your thighs trembled around his head, your fingers twisting into the sheets as he worked you open with his tongue, each lick sending sparks up your spine.
"that's better," he murmured against you, the vibrations making your hips jerk.
"this is what you need, isn't it? to be reminded?" his fingers dug into your hips, holding you still as his tongue circled your clit with devastating precision. "to be taken care of?"
you couldn't answer. your thoughts had dissolved into static, your body no longer your own. when you whimpered his name, he hummed in approval, the sound curling low in your belly.
"use your words, sweetheart." his breath was hot against your soaked skin. "tell me what you want."
"please—"
"please what?" he nipped at your inner thigh, just hard enough to sting. "you have to say it."
your vision blurred at the edges. "please don't stop."
he rewarded you immediately, his tongue laving over you in broad strokes before he pressed two fingers inside, curling them expertly until your walls fluttered around him.
"like that?" he asked, his voice rough. "you want me to make you cum? to remind you who you belong to?"
you nodded frantically, your hips rocking against his hand.
"say it." his fingers stilled inside you, denying you the friction you craved. "say you're mine."
the words stuck in your throat for only a second before you choked them out: "i'm yours."
he crooked his fingers just right, the heel of his palm grinding against you in time with each thrust, and you shattered—your back arching off the mattress, your walls fluttering around him as pleasure ripped through you like a riptide.
he kissed you after, his lips tasting of you, his grip bruising on your jaw as he held you in place.
"you're mine," he said again, his voice rough, his pupils blown so wide they swallowed the brown of his eyes.
"no one else gets to have you. not even reality."
his words settled into your bones like a curse. you wanted to protest. wanted to tell him you belonged to yourself, that this place wasn't your home, that you would find a way out. but when he pulled you against his chest, his heartbeat steady under your ear, you didn't resist. and when his fingers traced idle patterns over your hip—claiming and possessive—you let him.
because the worst part wasn't the way he touched you.
it was the way your body arched into his hand when he reached for you again.
the way your breath caught when he whispered, "again."
the way you obeyed.
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after that night, the invisible leash around your throat pulled taut like a noose gradually tightening. jungwon became your shadow, your keeper, your only tether to anything resembling safety in this rotting labyrinth.
when he did leave—always with that same murmured excuse about "checking the perimeter"—the backrooms seemed to come alive with malicious intent. the first time it happened, you sat perfectly still for exactly three minutes after he left, counting each second by the erratic drip of water from a ceiling pipe.
then the lights began stuttering like a dying man's pulse.
"jungwon?" you called out, immediately hating how small your voice sounded.
the hallway ahead warped suddenly, the tiles rippling like water disturbed by some unseen force. when you turned to run back to the break room, the door you'd just come through was gone—replaced by a staircase that definitely hadn't been there before, its steps slick with something dark and viscous.
"no, no, no," you chanted under your breath, pressing your back against the wall as the staircase shifted again, the top step now leading to a ceiling vent far too small for any human to crawl through.
that was when you heard it—a wet, clicking sound from the darkness beneath the stairs, accompanied by the unmistakable scent of overripe bananas and something metallic. your stomach turned as the clicking grew louder, more rhythmic, like dozens of tiny bones knocking together.
jungwon found you exactly seven minutes later curled behind a stack of mouldy pool noodles, your nails digging bloody crescents into your palms.
"i told you not to wander," he sighed, crouching before you.
his fingers were warm when they pried yours open, his thumbs rubbing circles into your clenched fists.
"what did you see?"
"the stairs—they moved," you gasped, still trembling. "and there was something under—"
"shhh," he interrupted, pressing a finger to your lips.
his eyes darted to the hallway behind you, suddenly sharp. "don't say it out loud. this place listens."
he helped you stand, his arm slipping around your waist in a way that might have been comforting if not for how easily his fingers spanned nearly the entire width of your torso. "let's get you cleaned up."
you tried to assert yourself exactly once, three days later.
it started as a simple request—"i need space"—but the words came out cracked and brittle, like you were begging rather than demanding.
jungwon paused in the middle of rewrapping your blistered foot (when had you gotten blisters?), his head tilting in that unnervingly precise way of his.
"space?" he repeated, the word curling oddly in his mouth.
his smile bloomed slow and sweet, like blood spreading through water. "oh, sweetheart. there's nothing but space here."
his fingers brushed your ankle, trailing upward with deliberate slowness.
"endless, hungry space." when his hand reached your knee, he squeezed just enough to make your breath hitch. "i'm just protecting you."
you swallowed hard. "from what?"
jungwon leaned in so close his lips brushed your ear, his next words a warm puff of air that made you shiver.
"from what happens to pretty things that get lost in the dark."
he pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searching yours.
"this place listens to me. you don't want to hear what it says about you when i'm gone." his thumb traced your lower lip. "the way it licks its chops every time you stumble. the way the walls whisper about how sweet you'd taste."
that night, you woke abruptly to the feeling of something cool and padded encircling your wrists. your eyes flew open to find yourself in jungwon's lap, your arms secured to the bench with what looked like salvaged lifeguard rescue tubes—the orange foam frayed but still sturdy.
"w-what—" you stammered, panic surging as you tugged against the restraints.
"shhh, just for your safety," jungwon soothed, his fingers already carding through your hair. the casual ease with which he held you down sent ice through your veins.
"you were thrashing in your sleep again. nearly rolled right off the bench." he held up a can of peaches, the syrup glistening in the low light. "let's get some food in you, yeah?"
when you turned your head away, his grip tightened fractionally in your hair.
"now, now," he chided, popping the lid with a metallic snick. "none of that."
the first syrupy slice pressed against your lips was cold and cloying. "open."
the fight drained out of you with terrifying speed. by the third bite, you were chewing mechanically, the sweetness coating your tongue like medicine. jungwon's approving hum vibrated through you as he wiped a stray drop of syrup from your chin with his thumb—then sucked it clean with a soft, satisfied sound.
"good girl," he murmured, kissing each of your knuckles in turn. the shackles stayed on all night.
as the days bled together, resistance became a distant memory, as foreign as sunlight or fresh air.
his touches became your only constants—the steadying hand at your elbow when the floor suddenly slanted, the broad palm spanning your back when a corridor narrowed unexpectedly, the strong arms that lifted you effortlessly over patches of suspicious-looking water. in the hot pool (the one oasis in this rotting place, its waters always perfectly clear and heated), he would wrap around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder as the steam curled around you both.
"feel good?" he'd murmur, his hands drifting along your arms beneath the water.
you'd nod silently, too tired to lie or protest. his heartbeat against your back was the only rhythm left in this place, the only thing that still made sense.
the backrooms themselves seemed to worship him. puddles stilled when he approached, their surfaces going eerily smooth. hallways straightened obediently at his approach.
once, when you caught your reflection in the pool's surface, it grinned at you—wide and knowing—even as your own face remained carefully blank. when you jerked back with a gasp, jungwon just tightened his arms around you.
"just a trick of the light," he murmured, but his smile didn't reach his eyes.
the question burned in your chest for days before you finally found the courage to whisper it one night: "what are you?"
jungwon went very still, his fingers pausing where they'd been tracing nonsense patterns on your bare shoulder. for a long moment, the only sound was the distant drip of water and your own too-quick breathing.
"i used to be like you," he said at last, his voice soft with something almost like regret. "scared. lost. convinced there was a way out."
his hand returned to your shoulder, his thumb brushing the knob of your collarbone. "then i stopped pretending to be afraid. stopped fighting what this place wanted from me."
his lips grazed your temple, lingering just a second too long. "you'll understand soon."
the promise should have terrified you. should have sent you scrambling for escape. instead, a warm heaviness settled in your chest, spreading through your limbs like syrup. when he pulled you closer, you went without resistance, your head finding its familiar place against his shoulder.
outside your fragile bubble of warmth, the backrooms groaned and shifted—but here, cradled in jungwon's arms, the world held its breath. you closed your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing lull you into something like peace.
somewhere along the way, you'd forgotten how to fight.
somewhere deeper still, you'd stopped wanting to.
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it had been weeks—or maybe months, you had no idea how the warped time her worked—since jungwon had let you out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time.
you'd practised the request of wanting to sleep alone in your head for days, carefully framing it as concern for his own rest rather than your desperate need for space.
"you look tired," you ventured one evening as he rubbed your sore feet (when had you started letting him do that?).
your fingers played with the frayed edge of his sleeve, the fabric soft from countless washes in the pool's filtration runoff.
"maybe... maybe you should take a night for yourself. i'll be fine here."
jungwon's hands stilled on your instep. the silence stretched so long you could hear the drip-drip-drip of water from the ceiling vent counting out your racing heartbeat.
when he finally looked up, his smile didn't reach his eyes—those dark, fathomless eyes that always seemed to see straight through you.
"one night," he conceded, his thumb brushing the delicate bones of your ankle. the casual possession in that simple touch made your stomach clench.
"but scream if you need me." his fingers trailed up your calf, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "the walls carry sound beautifully here."
he left you in a small bunkroom near the filtration systems, the space eerily pristine compared to the decay everywhere else. thick blankets covered the narrow bed, their faded nautical patterns almost cheerful under the glow of luminous pool tiles embedded beneath the frame.
you waited until his footsteps faded completely before letting out the breath you'd been holding.
the second the door clicked shut, the air grew heavier, pressing against your skin like wet hands. you told yourself you wouldn't sleep—just rest your eyes until morning came, whatever that meant in this endless place. curling up on the bed, you pulled your knees to your chest and stared at the door, straining to hear anything beyond the ever-present hum of machinery.
every sound became magnified in his absence. the walls creaked like old ship hulls, the pipes groaned with more than just water pressure, and every distant droplet echoed like approaching footsteps. at one point, you swore you heard whispering—not words exactly, but something like the hiss of water through cracks, forming almost-syllables that prickled the hairs on your neck.
"it's just the pipes," you muttered to yourself, your voice thin and unconvincing in the heavy air.
pulling the blankets over your head, you tried to focus on your breathing, but the fabric stuck to your lips with each panicked exhale.
when the bed suddenly shifted beneath you—just a slight dip, like someone had sat at the foot—you nearly screamed. your muscles locked, every nerve ending alight with primal terror as you waited for the inevitable touch, the breath against your neck.
but nothing came. the silence that followed was worse than any sound, thick with anticipation and something else—something watching.
by the time jungwon returned, you were curled into a tight ball, your face pressed against your knees to muffle the quiet sobs wracking your body. the door opened without a sound, but you knew it was him from the way the room immediately stilled, the oppressive weight in the air lifting as if by command.
"oh, sweet thing," he murmured, his voice dripping with false sympathy as the mattress dipped behind you.
his hands were warm where they slid under your shaking form, gathering you against his chest like a child. you hated how easily you folded into him, your body betraying your mind with its immediate relaxation.
"see?" he whispered into your hair, his lips brushing your temple. "you're safest when i'm touching you."
you wanted to protest, to push him away, but your limbs felt leaden, your resistance worn to nothing by the terror of the empty hours. when your fingers twitched weakly against his chest, jungwon made a soft, approving sound and kissed your forehead.
"shhh, i know," he murmured, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck.
his thumb stroked the sensitive skin behind your ear in slow circles. "you just needed to learn, didn't you? needed to see what happens when i'm not here to keep you safe."
his kiss started soft, just the barest brush of lips. but when you didn't resist, it deepened, his mouth hot and insistent as his tongue slid against yours. the taste of him flooded your senses, metallic and sweet like the canned fruit he always fed you, and some broken part of you responded without thought, your hands fisting in his shirt.
when you didn’t pull away, he pressed deeper, tongue slipping past your lips with practised ease. he kissed you like he had the right to. maybe that’s what terrified you most.
“see?” he whispered against your mouth, tasting you in slow drags. “you’re already calmer.”
you weren’t. not really. but your breathing had steadied, your muscles unknotted just enough to stop trembling, and your arms were curled weakly around his shoulders. it felt… safer. wrong, but safer.
he coaxed your top over your head with ease, discarding it like it meant nothing. his hands were warm and slow as they skimmed over your skin, trailing reverent touches across your ribs and stomach.
“let me take care of you,” he murmured, more command than offer, but spoken like a promise. “you were scared without me. i know. i felt it.”
his mouth moved to your chest, kissing your collarbone, then lower. when he sucked your nipple into his mouth, you flinched, but didn’t stop him. the heat of his tongue, the way he hummed low in his throat when you arched into him—it made your stomach twist, shame and need tangled too tight to separate.
“you don’t have to think,” he murmured, his palm sliding down your side. “just let yourself feel.”
you should’ve said no. you didn't want his presence right? but you didn’t push him away, instead clung closer to him whispering a breathy okay. because your limbs still felt heavy, your brain still foggy with the memory of isolation and the cold silence of the bunk.
and his hands were so warm.
he kissed his way down your stomach, pausing to bite gently at your hip before nudging your thighs apart with his palms. his eyes flicked up, reading your expression in the low light. your breath hitched.
“tell me to stop,” he said. his voice was calm, but something coiled underneath it. “i’ll stop if you ask.”
you didn’t. you couldn’t.
and that was enough.
his mouth met your folds with agonising slowness, tongue sliding through you like he already knew exactly where to touch. he teased you with slow flicks, warm and wet, circling your clit until your hips twitched, then pulling away just to hear you whine. you hated how quickly your body betrayed you.
“you’re already dripping,” he murmured into your skin. “sweet thing… you missed this too, didn’t you?”
his fingers slipped into you without resistance, two of them stretching you gently. the stretch made you gasp, your walls clenching around him instinctively. he crooked them slightly—finding a spot that made you buck, unbidden—and smiled against your thigh.
“so sensitive,” he cooed, kissing the inside of your knee. “so good for me, even now.”
he kept going until your legs were trembling, slick pooling where his wrist met your body. you were panting, eyes hazy, brain empty of anything but the rhythm of his fingers and the hot drag of his mouth against your clit.
when he finally pulled back, you almost whimpered at the loss.
he stripped without a word, the soft rustle of fabric the only sound between you. when he hovered over you again, cock in hand, he paused at your entrance.
“i’ll go slow,” he said. “i want you to feel everything.”
he pushed in with a groan, hips moving with infuriating control, stretching you inch by inch. the burn was real. but so was the way you clenched around him, the way your legs wrapped around his waist out of instinct.
“fuck,” he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. “you feel like you were made for me.”
his rhythm started slow—careful, deep thrusts that filled you completely, his fingers locked with yours on the sheets. his other hand hovered at your throat again, resting lightly as if to say remember who’s in control.
and still, you didn’t push him away.
you didn’t want to.
you’d tried to sleep alone, and it had nearly broken you. here, at least, you could pretend his touch was warmth and not some strange obsession.
he moaned when you clenched around him, and his thrusts picked up pace, harder now, deeper. the bed creaked beneath you, his hips slapping into yours with a rhythm that turned everything else to static.
“you’re mine,” he growled, breath hot against your ear. “you know you’re mine.”
your orgasm hit with sudden force, tearing through you like a cracked dam. you cried out, shaking, your nails digging into his back.
jungwon swore, driving into you once—twice—before he spilled inside you with a shudder, pressing in so deep it felt like he was trying to disappear inside your body.
neither of you moved for a long time. he stayed buried in you, breath shallow, arms wrapped tight around your waist like he couldn’t bear the thought of letting go.
“you won’t ask to be alone again,” he whispered against your hair. “will you?”
you didn’t answer. your eyes were already drifting closed.
he pulled the blanket up and curled around you, possessive and still, his fingers tracing lazy shapes across your stomach, like he didn't want to stop touching you.
“good girl,” he said softly. “sleep now.”
and you did, not because you felt safe.
but because you were too tired to be afraid.
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the next night, jungwon’s fingers interlaced with yours in the dark, his grip just shy of painful.
"i want to show you something," he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. you hadn’t even heard him approach—he moved through these rotting halls like a shadow given form.
"it’s late," you whispered back, your voice hoarse from disuse. the words tasted like a lie because you both knew time didn’t exist here.
jungwon’s thumb stroked your knuckles, a mockery of comfort. "it’s always late here," he said, pulling you to your feet with effortless strength. "come on."
he led you to the broken diving board—the one with cracks spiderwebbing through its surface like veins. you’d passed it a hundred times, maybe more. but tonight, under the flickering glow of the emergency lights, something was different.
"watch," jungwon breathed, pressing your palm flat against what looked like solid wall.
beneath your fingers, the surface pulsed like a heartbeat before peeling away with a wet, tearing sound. your stomach lurched as a hidden alcove revealed itself, the air inside stale and thick with the scent of mildew and something sweet.
"what is this?" you choked out, trying to recoil, but jungwon’s arm banded around your waist, holding you in place.
"ours," he said simply, stepping inside and dragging you with him.
the shelves were lined with artifacts—your waterpark nametag, the plastic slightly warped as if melted. your favourite silver bracelet, the clasp broken, the chain tangled in on itself like a strangled snake. the hoodie you’d been wearing that first night, the fabric stiff with dried pool water and something darker.
"the place gave me these," jungwon murmured, running his fingers over each item with reverence.
his nails scraped against the nametag, the sound making your teeth ache. "it knew you belonged here." he turned to face you then, his eyes glowing an unnatural blue in the dim light. "just like i do."
your breath came in short, sharp bursts. "that’s not—that’s not possible."
jungwon stepped closer, the wall sealing shut behind him with a wet, sucking sound.
"you feel it, don’t you?" his hand rose to cup your cheek, his skin fever-hot against yours. "the way the water stills when you touch it? the way the lights flicker when you’re scared?"
his thumb brushed your lower lip, his grip tightening when you tried to turn away.
"you were always meant to be mine."
you wanted to scream. wanted to claw at his face until that smug certainty bled out of him. but your throat closed up, your voice abandoning you just as it had so many times before.
jungwon’s lips crashed into yours, wet and cold like the slide that had brought you here. his teeth caught your bottom lip, sharp enough to draw blood. the taste of him flooded your mouth—chlorine and copper and something alive, something wrong. behind you, the pool water began to ripple without any disturbance, parting in perfect symmetry as if making way for something unseen.
"see?" he panted against your mouth, his fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close. "even it knows."
the days bled together after that. you watched, numb, as the backrooms bent to jungwon’s will.
you sat cross-legged by the pool’s edge, trailing your fingers through water that had gone suspiciously still. jungwon watched you from a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest.
"make it move," he said suddenly, nodding toward the water.
you blinked. "what?"
"the water." he stepped closer, his shadow swallowing yours whole. "try."
you shook your head. "i can’t—"
"try," he repeated, his voice hardening.
you swirled your hand through the water, creating weak ripples that died almost immediately.
jungwon sighed, crouching beside you. "you’re thinking too small."
he placed his palm flat against the surface, and the water recoiled as if burned, forming a perfect circle around his skin.
"it’s not about force. it’s about knowing." his eyes locked onto yours. "knowing this place is yours."
you swallowed hard. "i don’t want it."
jungwon’s smile was all teeth. "liar."
the punishments grew subtler but no less cruel. when you tested him—when you asked one too many questions or pulled away from his touch—the backrooms themselves turned against you.
"why won’t you let me leave?" you demanded one night, your voice cracking.
jungwon, who had been humming under his breath while braiding a strand of your hair around his finger, went very still.
"leave?" he repeated, the word dripping with amusement. "oh, sweet thing. there’s nowhere to go."
the lights chose that moment to flicker violently before plunging you into darkness. something wet dripped onto your shoulder from above. jungwon’s fingers found yours in the dark, his grip vise-like.
"shh," he murmured, though you hadn’t made a sound. "it’s just angry you’d even ask."
when the lights returned, his knuckles were smeared with something dark and glistening. you didn’t ask.
sleep became your only respite, though even that was tainted. jungwon insisted you rest curled against him, his arms banded around your waist like living restraints.
"sing to me," he’d whisper into the nape of your neck on the bad nights, when the walls groaned a little too loudly.
his voice would curl around words you didn’t recognise, the language guttural and wrong.
"it’s an old lullaby," he explained once when you stiffened. "the first thing this place taught me."
sometimes he’d disappear for what felt like hours, returning with his hands stained rust-red under the nails and a smile that made your stomach drop.
"someone else got lost," he’d say, wiping his fingers clean on a towel that was somehow always pristine afterwards.
his eyes would roam your face hungrily, as if comparing.
"but they weren’t you."
the unspoken always hung heavy between you—they weren’t special. they weren’t his.
eventually, he began allowing you to explore—always with him, always with his hand clamped firmly around yours. the invisible leash between you grew shorter each day, tightening whenever you strayed too far.
"why do you hold my hand so tight?" you asked once, your voice barely above a whisper.
jungwon stopped walking, turning to face you. the hallway seemed to hold its breath around you. "because i can’t trust you yet," he said simply, his free hand brushing your cheek. "but you’re learning."
you held his hand not just out of fear, but because his skin was the only warmth left in this rotting place. because the hollow in your chest ached when he wasn’t near. because you couldn’t remember what your reflection had looked like before it started smiling at you with too many teeth.
the pool became your twisted mirror. no matter how still you stood, how blank you kept your face, your reflection always grinned back—wider each time, its eyes darker, its features sharpening into something that wasn’t quite yours anymore.
"she likes you," jungwon said one day as you stared at your warped reflection, his chin hooked over your shoulder. his lips brushed the shell of your ear. "she knows you’re staying."
and now it felt like you did too.
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the tallest slide loomed before you—the same one that had first swallowed you whole months (or was it years?) ago. only now, it twisted upward into the flickering fluorescent void, its plastic edges blackened and glistening like the inside of a living throat. you could feel it breathing, each pulse of the structure sending warm, damp air washing over your face. jungwon stood behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist in a mockery of tenderness, his chin resting on your shoulder as you both stared into the abyss.
"it's beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, his lips brushing your ear.
his fingers traced idle patterns on your stomach through your thin shirt.
"i've been waiting so long to show you this."
your throat tightened as the slide emitted a low, wet hum that vibrated through your shoes and up your spine.
"what... what is it?"
jungwon chuckled, the sound dripping with amusement.
"it's our way forward, sweet thing."
one hand rose to cup your chin, tilting your face toward the spiralling darkness.
"this one leads deeper. to where the water is warm and the lights never flicker," his thumb brushed your lower lip, "where nothing can ever separate us."
you swallowed hard, your pulse rabbiting in your throat. "i don't understand."
"you will."
his arms tightened around you, pulling you back flush against his chest. you could feel his heartbeat against your shoulder blades.
"it's where we belong. where you've always belonged."
when you turned in his arms to face him, your hands came up instinctively to brace against his chest. jungwon was already smiling, his dark eyes gleaming with something ancient and hungry. up close, you could see the way his pupils dilated—not round anymore, but slit like a cat's. when had that happened?
"we'll be happy there," he promised, his voice dropping to a whisper.
his fingers tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make you gasp. "no more running. no more fear. just you and me. forever."
the word hung between you, heavy and final.
you searched his face—the boy who had fed you when you were starving, who had shackled you when you tried to leave, who had kissed you with teeth that were just a little too sharp. the only constant in this endless, rotting nightmare.
"what happens to me if i say no?" you whispered.
jungwon's smile didn't waver, but something dark flickered in his eyes. behind him, the walls groaned, the sound wet and pained. a single drop of black liquid oozed from the ceiling, landing with a splat between your feet.
"oh, my love," he sighed, brushing your hair back from your face with terrifying gentleness. "that's not an option."
the slide pulsed again, the hum rising to a fever pitch that made your teeth ache. your reflection in the pool behind you grinned, wider than any human mouth should allow.
jungwon's hands slid down to grip your waist, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh there.
"trust me," he murmured, his lips grazing yours. "you want this."
and the terrible thing was—
you did.
you took a shuddering breath, your fingers curling into his shirt. jungwon's smile widened, triumphant and tender all at once. his forehead pressed against yours as the slide's opening stretched wider, the darkness inside beckoning.
"together?" you whispered, the word tasting like surrender.
jungwon's laugh was warm against your lips. "always."
you closed your eyes—
and let yourself fall.
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ALTERNATE ENDING
you found it again.
the tallest water slide in the entire park—the one that had pulled you into the nightmare when this all began. even after everything, it was still here, standing exactly where you remembered it, though now it shimmered faintly with a green glow that pulsed gently from within the tunnel’s mouth.
jungwon stood beside you, just slightly behind your shoulder. he didn’t say a word. his silence was heavier than any threat he’d ever spoken aloud.
when you turned to glance at him, the absence of expression on his face was more unsettling than any of his smiles. he wasn’t smiling now. there was no softness, no cold affection, not even the hint of disappointment.
“it leads out, doesn’t it?” you asked, your voice quiet and unsteady, though you already knew the answer.
it had to lead out. you felt it. everything in your chest ached with the possibility.
jungwon didn’t answer. instead, he reached for your wrist. his fingers curled around it tightly—not enough to hurt, but firm in a way that told you he was prepared to hold on if you ran.
“it doesn’t matter,” he said eventually.
his voice was calm, too calm, as though your desperation was something he didn’t need to take seriously.
“you don’t want to leave.”
but he was wrong.
you did.
you wanted to leave more than you had ever wanted anything in your life. your body was already bracing to run, every instinct firing all at once. your heart pounded in your chest, loud and fast, and your mouth had gone dry with the weight of the decision forming behind your teeth.
the tunnel wouldn’t stay open forever. the backrooms would shift again. the slide could vanish. and jungwon—he wouldn’t give you another chance. if you hesitated now, if you gave him even one second longer to read your fear, he would never let you get close to this kind of freedom again.
you looked at him—really looked. at the boy who had trapped you with soft hands and quieter lies. who fed you, touched you, claimed to protect you from the things out there when he had become the worst thing in here. the fear in your chest rose like bile.
“jungwon,” you breathed, but the rest never came out.
instead, you ripped your arm free.
his fingers slipped from your skin, and before he could react, you turned and sprinted toward the tunnel, your bare feet slapping loudly against the damp tile. you didn’t look back. you couldn’t.
he called your name, but it came out ragged—loud and broken in a way that didn’t sound human. his voice echoed across the walls of the abandoned park like something that belonged underground.
but you kept running.
you threw yourself into the slideheadfirst, and it swallowed you without hesitation.
the slide gripped you instantly, and the light blurred as you careened downward. the curves of the tunnel twisted your body in every direction, and each sharp turn sent jolts of pain up your spine. the green glow surrounded you, too bright and too close, pressing in like it wanted to consume you. your lungs burned with the pressure, and your arms flailed for anything to hold onto, but the walls were smooth and slick.
you were falling, spiralling, unmoored in a tunnel that didn’t feel like it was ever meant to end.
and then, just as suddenly, it did.
you hit the ground hard, the concrete beneath you unforgiving and wet. the impact knocked the wind out of your lungs, and you lay there for a moment, stunned and breathless. the world spun behind your eyelids as you coughed, your body shaking violently.
but then you realised something was different.
the air you were breathing—it was real. it wasn’t thick with that damp, humming rot of the backrooms. it was cool and dry, laced with the familiar scent of chlorine, dust, and cheap coffee. the silence around you had edges again. and above you, warm sunlight filtered through cracked skylights, casting real shadows onto the floor.
this was the waterpark.
the real one. the one that didn't stretch endlessly into pools of nightmare
you were back.
you pushed yourself upright, palms scraping against rough tile, and looked around with wide, disbelieving eyes.
everything was where it should be. the vending machines stood in their proper place. the lazy river looped around peacefully in the distance. the walls were solid. your own breathing echoed back to you. you had made it.
you had escaped.
your chest clenched as a sob rose up from your throat, and before you could stop it, you were crying. laughing and crying at the same time.
you curled your arms around yourself and let it all out, letting your body shake with the unbearable mix of relief and exhaustion.
you were safe.
you had finally done it!
but then, just as you began to steady your breathing, a sound broke through the quiet.
it came from above, from deep within the vents lining the ceiling—soft at first, almost unnoticeable. but as it grew louder, the shape of it became clear. it was a whistle.
your breath caught in your throat. the sound was too familiar, it was the same off-key melody jungwon always hummed when he thought you were sleeping.
the first footprint appeared in the puddle you'd left behind—larger than yours, the edges too perfectly defined against the concrete. then another, materialising closer as if someone invisible was walking toward you. the water in the lazy river began to ripple against its current, forming patterns that looked disturbingly like grasping fingers.
your hands shook as the lights above you flickered once, twice, before plunging the park into darkness.
the temperature dropped so fast your breath fogged in the air, the hairs on your arms standing on end as the silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
then suddenly, cold fingers brushed against your ankle, their grip tightening like a vice.
"did you really think," jungwon's voice whispered from right behind you, his breath chilling the nape of your neck, "that i'd let you go that easily?”
“i will make you mine no matter what”
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𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr
˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱
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kiszjuli · 4 months ago
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𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 ──── [𝐋.𝐃𝐇] 𓈒  𓈒  𓈒 
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( 이동혁 ) ; 𝐟𝐞𝗺!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝗼𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐜𝐤
──── in which your parents had always told you to stay away from boys like haechan. boys with cocky smirks, black eye liner, bruised knuckles, and a reputation that came with warning labels. you never had a reason to listen until you were assigned to tutor him after school. it should have been simple. help him pass, get it over with. but there’s something about him that drew you in, and you didn’t want to pull away.
✦ drama, fluff/angst, slow burn(ish). forbidden love? ; tags. goodgirl!reader x badboy!haechan, suggestive, your parents are literal jerks, swearing, mentions of fighting, kissing !!, protective!haechan, corruption? but not really, lmk if i missed any ! ;
𓂃 w.c [ 15.3k / 22.7k ]
!! not proofread !!
▸ j.note ; i hadn’t planned on making this fic so long but emo haechan does something to me i guess. also pls pls give feedback i want to improve my writings in the best way possible and i know my writing needs a lot of work, so constructive criticism is encouraged.
▸ this is part one of two and part two can be found here .ᐟ
© kiszjuli 2025 ⟳ likes & reblogs are appreciated
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you had never been the type to chase trouble.
your life had always been structured, predictable, mapped out like a perfectly folded brochure of all the things you were supposed to be. the good daughter. the responsible student. the girl who never gave anyone a reason to worry.
your parents raised you with expectations as solid as the fence that surrounded your house. good grades, early curfews, polite smiles at dinners. you were the kind of girl who double-checked her answers before turning in a test, who texted home before she was even late, who never spoke back even when she wanted to.
it wasn’t that you minded. not really.
your life was safe—comfortable.
weekends were spent with the same close friends, at the same coffee shop on the corner, drinking the same latte every time and reviewing notes for exams that were still weeks away. after school, you went straight home, sometimes stopping by the bookstore if you had extra time, flipping through pages of novels where the main characters lived lives far more reckless than your own.
and you liked it that way. you liked knowing where you belonged, knowing exactly what came next.
because trouble was for other people. rule-breakers, risk-takers. the kind of people who never thought twice about consequences. people who didn’t care.
the kind of people like him. lee donghyuck—or as he preferred to be called, haechan.
lee donghyuck had always been a name whispered in the hallways, wrapped in either amusement or warning. he was the boy who skipped class but somehow still seemed to do well, the boy who wore silver rings on his fingers, black eyeliner and bruises on his knuckles, the boy who flirted with everyone but never let anyone close.
he was reckless in a way that made people watch him like a fire they couldn’t look away from.
and you? you were the girl who had spent her whole life avoiding flames.
science had always been your best subject.
there was something reassuring about it—formulas that always worked, reactions that could be predicted, rules that never changed. if you followed the steps, you got the right answer. it was logical. reliable.
but not everyone saw it that way.
from the back of the classroom, haechan let out a quiet sigh, loud enough that a few students glanced his way. he was slouched over his desk, barely pretending to take notes, the end of his pen tapping lazily against his open textbook.
“can anyone explain why increasing the concentration of reactants speeds up a chemical reaction?” the teacher asked.
your hand went up without hesitation.
“because a higher concentration means more particles in the same space,” you answered. “so there’s a greater chance of collisions between them.”
“correct,” your teacher said, nodding approvingly.
from the corner of your eye, you caught movement. haechan had lifted his head just enough to glance in your direction, his gaze slow and assessing. when you turned to meet it, he didn’t look away, but just studied you, the corner of his lips twitching like he was in on some joke you weren’t part of.
your teacher moved on, scribbling equations across the board, but haechan didn’t so much as pretend to care. he stretched, tipping his chair back onto two legs, hands folded lazily over his stomach, like he was just waiting for the bell to save him from all of this.
you turned back toward the front, exhaling through your nose. it annoyed you, yet you didn’t know why.
it didn’t matter, it had nothing to do with you.
he didn’t matter.
or at least, that’s what you had always thought until today.
you were halfway through packing your books when you heard your name.
“could you stay back for a moment,” your teacher said, just as the last bell rang.
you paused, glancing up as students shuffled past your desk, their conversations blending into white noise. you couldn’t think of a single reason you’d need to stay—your grades were perfect, your assignments were always on time, and you definitely didn’t cause any trouble.
but then the teacher said another name.
“donghyuck, you too.” you heard him correct the teacher of his name under his breath.
your fingers curled around the thick textbook you were shoving in your bag.
he was slouched at his desk, twirling a silver ring around his finger, eyes half-lidded like he hadn’t gotten enough sleep. it took him a second to react, but when he did, it was with an exaggerated sigh, dragging himself upright like even this was too much effort.
the classroom emptied around you until it was just the three of you, the weight of the silence settling in as the teacher folded her arms over her desk.
“haechan,” she started, “you’re failing. if you don’t pass your next exam, you’re going to have to repeat this class. and you know what that means.”
he leaned back on the closest desk to the teacher’s, completely unfazed, crossing his arms. “that i get the pleasure of spending another semester with you?”
your teacher didn’t so much as blink. “it means you will not graduate with your class. you need this credit.”
that got a reaction. his arms uncrossed as haechan’s smirk slipped, just slightly.
“which is why,” she continued, turning to you, “you’re going to tutor him.”
your mouth parted slightly. “wait—”
“you’re the top of this class,” she cut in, before you could protest. “if anyone can help him pass, it’s you.”
you swallowed. the request made sense—on paper. but logic didn’t stop the heat of his gaze as it flickered toward you, as he finally seemed to take you in.
slowly, he let his eyes drag up and down, taking his time.
your unwrinkled clothes. your neatly done hair. the way you clutched your bag like it was a lifeline.
his lips curled at the edges, something amused, something almost lazy, and yet, you felt it. the weight of being looked at like that.
“seriously?” he drawled, tilting his head, eyes still on you. “her?”
your spine straightened. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
he smiled like he’d already won. “nothing, sweetheart.”
your teacher exhaled sharply, already tired of him. “this isn’t optional. you’ll meet and study together, and if i hear that you’ve skipped even once, i will not hesitate to let you keep your failing grade. understood?”
haechan sighed, tipping his head back like this was the greatest inconvenience of his life. then, with the ghost of a smirk still tugging at his lips, he muttered, “yeah, yeah. whatever you say.”
you could already tell. this was going to be impossible.
you walk out of the classroom first, stepping a little harder than intended. this wasn’t how you planned to spend your semester. tutoring some guy who didn’t even try, who slouched in his seat like he was too good for all of it, who looked at you like you were something to be amused by.
the hallway was mostly empty now, students already heading home or to their next activities. you were almost free, when a voice called out behind you.
“so, tutor, when do we start?”
you didn’t stop walking. “the library. after school tomorrow.”
haechan caught up easily, his pace unhurried, like this was all some joke to him. “ugh, the library?” he groaned. “how predictable.”
you glanced at him, unimpressed. “where else are we supposed to study? a convenience store?”
“actually, yeah.” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, shooting you a smirk. “sounds more fun. we could get snacks. maybe a drink. aren’t tutors supposed to motivate their students?”
you exhaled sharply. he’s messing with you. you knew it, and yet, somehow, he still got under your skin.
“you don’t need motivation,” you said flatly. “you just need to study.”
“eh, debatable,” he mused. “i think what i need is a tutor who’s a little more flexible. less ‘strict teacher,’ more ‘cute classmate who wants to help me succeed.’”
you stopped walking.
haechan took a few more steps before realizing you weren’t next to him anymore. he turned, an eyebrow raised, just as you crossed your arms.
“okay, let’s get something straight,” you said, voice firm. “this isn’t a favor. i don’t want to tutor you, but i have to. and i don’t care if you think it’s boring or predictable, because it’s either this or you fail. so if you actually want my help, show up tomorrow. on time. otherwise, don’t waste my time.”
for a second, he just looked at you, head tilted like he was reevaluating something.
then, instead of answering, he let his gaze drag over you, slowly, like he was seeing you for the first time.
you stiffened under the weight of it, but refused to look away.
after a beat, he grinned.
“damn,” he murmured, almost to himself. “you’ve got a little fire under all that perfection, huh?”
you huffed, turning on your heel. “just be there.”
“yes, ma’am.”
you ignored him.
but as you walked away, you could still feel his smirk and stare burning into your back.
you barely stepped through the front door before your mom called out from the kitchen.
“you’re home later than usual.”
you set your bag down by the entryway, slipping off your shoes. “the teacher kept me after class.”
that was enough to get both of your parents’ attention. your dad looked up from where he sat on the couch, while your mom leaned against the counter, a slight crease forming between her brows.
“for what?” she asked, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.
you exhaled, already bracing yourself. “she assigned me to tutor someone. he’s failing, and she thinks I can help him pass.”
your dad hummed approvingly. “well, that’s nice of you. who is it?”
you hesitated for half a second.
“haechan.”
the shift in the room was immediate. your mom stilled, and your dad turned completely this time, exchanging a glance with her before turning back to you.
“him?” your mom repeated, her voice careful.
“yes, him.” you folded your arms. “why does it sound like you already know who he is?”
your dad sighed, setting the paper aside. “people talk, sweetheart. he’s got a reputation.”
you rolled your eyes. “so what? he slacks off in class?”
your mom pursed her lips. “it’s more than that. skipping school, getting into trouble, hanging around the wrong crowds…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “just—be careful around him, honey.”
there it was. the warning.
and, of course, the assumption that you couldn’t think for yourself.
you sighed, rubbing your temple. “i’m not hanging out with him. i’m tutoring him. in the library. with textbooks.” you glanced between them. “pretty sure that’s not a crime.”
your mom didn’t look convinced, and your dad only leaned back in his seat, his expression unreadable.
“just don’t let him pull you into anything,” he said. “kids like that don’t change.”
you bit the inside of your cheek, a flicker of irritation curling in your chest.
they made it sound like you were helpless. like the second you spent time with him, you’d suddenly throw your whole life away. everything you’ve built for yourself.
you shook your head. “it’s not that serious.”
and before either of them could say anything else, you grabbed your bag and headed for your room, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary.
they were overreacting.
they didn’t know him.
and neither did you.
session one - monday february 23rd
the school day dragged.
it wasn’t any different from usual; classes, notes, the occasional group discussion, but today, there was a lingering awareness hanging over you. a ticking clock in the back of your mind, counting down to the inevitable.
you weren’t looking forward to tutoring haechan. but you had a job to do, and if he didn’t show, well… that was his problem, not yours.
by the time the final bell rang, you had already secured a table in the library, setting out your textbook, notebook, and a few highlighters. everything was neatly arranged. you had a plan, a structured breakdown of the material he needed to catch up on.
and yet, fifteen minutes passed.
then twenty.
you checked your phone, tapping your pen against your notes.
was he seriously going to ditch on the first day?
finally, you heard footsteps approaching, and then a familiar voice, drawling, “damn. you’re really taking this seriously, huh?”
you glanced up to see haechan standing there, hands in his pockets, looking completely unfazed. like he hadn’t just wasted almost half an hour of your time.
you exhaled sharply. “you’re late.”
“fashionably,” he corrected, dropping into the chair across from you.
you leveled him with a stare. “i don’t think that applies to studying.”
he shrugged. “guess we’ll find out.”
already, your patience was wearing thin. you pushed the textbook toward him, flipping to the section you had marked. “let’s start with reaction rates. you need to understand how—”
he wasn’t listening.
instead of looking at the notes, he was looking at you, head tilted slightly, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“you always sit this straight?” he mused, tapping his pen against the table.
you blinked, looking up from the textbook. “what?”
“just saying. you’re sitting like you’re taking an exam or something.” he leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “relax. tutoring’s not life or death.”
you ignored the heat creeping up your neck and flipped open your notebook instead. “can we focus?”
he hummed, like he was considering it. then, before you could continue, he leaned forward slightly, eyeing your arrangement of highlighters and pens.
“bet you highlight in, like, five different colors.”
you clenched your jaw. four, actually, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of being right.
when you didn’t respond, he grinned, undeterred. “does tutoring me ruin your whole ‘perfect student’ reputation?”
you inhaled slowly, gripping your pen a little tighter. “only if you fail,” you said flatly.
he let out a soft laugh, finally glancing at the textbook. “alright, alright. hit me with the science.”
you exhaled, pushing past your irritation. this was going to be a long session.
but one way or another, you were getting through to him.
the next hour closed and you left the library still irritated—but more at yourself than him.
why had your heartbeat picked up when he had leaned in? why had his teasing stuck in your head longer than necessary?
get a grip.
the school hallways were mostly empty by now, just a few stragglers grabbing things from their lockers or heading to practice. you stopped by your own locker, swapping out your books for what you needed, then headed outside.
the late afternoon air was crisp, the sky shifting into a soft orange glow. you walked home, already thinking about how you’d explain the session to your parents.
(you wouldn’t. you’d just tell them it happened and leave it at that.)
continuing your walk, barely making it past the school you hear a voice from behind you.
“yo, tutor.”
your head snapped up.
haechan. again.
he was leaning against a lamppost a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets, the same knowing smirk playing at his lips.
“we should celebrate.”
you frowned. “celebrate what?”
“me actually getting an answer right, obviously.” he straightened, stretching his arms behind his head. “c’mon, don’t be boring. you never just—i don’t know—do something on a whim?”
you had remembered the question he got right—which was simply the question you had answered yesterday in class. you narrowed your eyes. “if this is your way of trying to get out of studying next time—”
“relax.” he chuckled. “just messing with you. see you at our very serious study session next time, tutor.”
and with that, he strolled off like he hadn’t just left you standing there, your thoughts an even bigger mess than before.
session two - wednesday the 25th
you told yourself you wouldn’t get annoyed this time. you even mentally prepared for his usual antics before heading to the library.
it didn’t work.
haechan was late again. this time only by ten minutes, but still. he strolled in with an iced coffee in one hand, a lazy grin on his face like he hadn’t kept you waiting.
“you get extra credit for showing up on time, you know.”
“damn, should’ve known,” he drawled, sliding into the seat across from you. “maybe next time.”
you sighed, pushing the textbook toward him. “no distractions today.”
“that’s asking a lot.”
“it’s not.”
to your surprise, he actually made an effort. at least at first. he followed along as you explained reaction mechanisms, even nodded a few times like he understood. but the second things got even slightly complicated, he leaned back and groaned.
“why do i even need this? it’s not like i’m gonna be a scientist.”
“you need it to pass.”
“passing is overrated.”
“says the guy who’s literally failing.”
he just grinned, spinning his ring around his finger. “touché, sunshine.”
the nickname caught you off guard, making your stomach flip in a way that was foreign to you. whether he noticed your shift or not, he continued to use the name anytime he talked to you.
progress was slow, but you managed to get through two topics before he started messing around again, twirling his pen, asking dumb hypothetical questions that had nothing to do with chemistry.
“if i fail, do you fail too? since you’re my tutor?”
“no.”
“damn. no stakes for you then, huh?”
“just the overwhelming frustration of having to deal with you.”
“you wound me.” he clutched his chest dramatically, then smirked. “you sure you’re not starting to like our little sessions, though?”
you rolled your eyes. “go home, haechan.”
he laughed as he stood up, giving you a lazy salute before walking off.
session three - friday the 27th
miraculously, haechan was on time. but that didn’t mean he behaved.
“don’t look so shocked, tutor.” he plopped into his usual seat. “i can be responsible when i wanna be.”
“so, you just choose not to be?”
“exactly.”
today, he actually put in a little more effort, asking questions instead of just guessing his way through answers. you started to think, maybe this tutoring thing wouldn’t be a total waste of time.
and then, halfway through, he got bored.
“okay, pop quiz,” he said, snapping his book shut. “if you had to get a tattoo, what would it be?”
you blinked. “we are not doing this.”
“come on, humor me.”
“fine,” you muttered, flipping through your notes. “something small. simple. maybe a quote.”
“predictable,” he teased. “what if i said i’d get your name tattooed?”
you shot him a deadpan look. “then i’d question all of your life choices.”
he laughed, drumming his fingers against the table. “nah, i’d get something cool. a dragon or something. or maybe—” he wiggled his brows. “a chemical equation, just for you.”
“how generous.”
“i try.”
somehow, even with the distractions, he managed to retain at least some of what you covered. as you packed up, he tapped his pen against the table.
“hey, sunshine.”
you glanced up, not missing his smirk at your responding to the name.
“don’t miss me too much over the weekend.”
“leave.”
he laughed all the way out the door.
session four - monday march 2nd
you were already exhausted from the start of the new week, and haechan wasn’t helping.
“mondays shouldn’t exist,” he grumbled, dropping into his chair.
while you agreed, you had to keep him focused. “you still have to study.”
“brutal.”
you launched straight into the material, ignoring his dramatic sighs and complaints about how unfair school was. surprisingly, he focused for a solid thirty minutes—until he caught you tapping your foot.
“you’re impatient today,” he observed, tilting his head.
“or maybe i just want you to actually learn something.”
“i am learning. look,” he pointed at an equation. “i even remember this one.”
you checked. he was right.
“wow,” you deadpanned. “you have a functioning brain after all.”
“careful, that almost sounded like a compliment.”
despite yourself, you bit back a smile.
the session ended with him actually completing the assigned questions, granted, after a lot of coaxing. as you packed up, he tapped the table again, just like last time.
“see you wednesday, sunshine.”
this time, you didn’t tell him to leave.
you did however, roll your eyes as he walked away, still grinning.
session five – wednesday the 4th
it was one of those days.
haechan was late—again. not by much, but enough to make you grit your teeth when he finally strolled in, a bag of chips in one hand, looking like he had nowhere better to be.
“don’t look at me like that, sunshine.” he smirked as he slid into his seat. “traffic was brutal.”
“you walk here.”
“damn. caught me.”
you inhaled sharply through your nose, pushing the worksheet toward him. “just start.”
he did. kind of.
five minutes in, he was tapping his pen against the table. ten minutes in, he was spinning his rings. fifteen minutes in, he was leaning back in his chair with a yawn.
“haechan,” you warned.
“hmm?”
“can you at least pretend to care?”
he grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “depends. does it bother you?”
you shook your head. “whatever.”
“relax, sunshine.” he tilted his head. “you’re cute when you’re annoyed.”
you ignored the way heat crept up your neck. “just answer the question.”
he glanced at it. “mm… ‘catalyst slows down a reaction.’”
you shut your eyes, inhaling deeply. “no. it speeds up a reaction—”
“eh, close enough.”
“no, it’s not—” you cut yourself off, exhaling sharply. “are you even trying?”
“nah.”
that was it.
“then why the hell are we even doing this?”
he blinked at you, momentarily caught off guard. but you were already pushing back your chair, stuffing your notes into your bag with sharp, deliberate movements.
“if you fail, that’s your problem. not mine.”
you didn’t wait for a response. just walked out, leaving him sitting there—still smirking, but something in his expression had shifted.
session seven – monday the 9th
the session was supposed to be like any other. you’d prepared the material, you had everything set up, and you were expecting the usual. you didn’t expect haechan to show up on time—or at least not to show up with an actual sense of purpose.
he slung his bag over the chair and slumped down. his usual cocky grin wasn’t there.
“what’s wrong with you?” you asked, surprised at how… serious he seemed.
he didn’t answer right away, instead just staring at the notes in front of him with furrowed brows.
“this is dumb,” he muttered under his breath.
you raised an eyebrow. “what’s dumb? the concept? the subject? or… you?”
he flicked his eyes to you, but there was no usual smirk, just irritation. “all of it.”
you frowned. “this isn’t the usual ‘i don’t care’ routine. what’s going on?”
he didn’t meet your eyes, instead flicking through the textbook like he was hoping to find a way out of this.
“i just don’t get it,” he said, voice tight.
you sat back, eyeing him carefully. you were so used to him breezing through everything, acting like he didn’t care, so this sudden frustration was… different. it threw you off.
“you’ve got this. we’ve gone over it before.”
“yeah, well, it’s not clicking today,” he shot back, rubbing his temples like he was battling a headache.
you leaned forward, speaking more gently than usual. “haechan, this stuff isn’t hard. you just have to stop shutting down every time it gets tough.”
he looked at you for a long moment, eyes soft but frustrated. he clearly didn’t want to admit that maybe, just maybe, you were right.
“i don’t shut down,” he muttered. “it’s just… everything else is easier. this? it feels like i’m failing at something i can’t even explain.”
you blinked, taken aback. haechan never let anything get to him, at least not this much.
“okay,” you said, shifting your tone to something a little more reassuring. “we can take it slow. i’ll help you through it.”
but even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t just about the chemistry. there was something deeper in his frustration—something he wasn’t saying.
he sat back in his chair, massaging his temples. “maybe i just don’t get it because i’m not supposed to. i’m not like you, sunshine.”
“no, you’re not,” you said softly. “but i know you can get it. you have to try.”
there was a long silence between you, and for the first time in a while, you realized that your usual teasing, quick comebacks wouldn’t fix this.
haechan’s eyes met yours for a fleeting second, something raw in them. then, he sighed.
“this is stupid,” he muttered, but there was a softness to his voice. “i’ll try.”
and for once, you believed him.
days later, sunday dinner was quiet, just the soft clinking of utensils against plates and the low hum of the tv in the background. your parents had been giving you a look all evening. the kind that meant they had something to say but were waiting for the right moment.
you didn’t have to wait long.
“so,” your mom started, too casually. “how’s tutoring going?”
you didn’t even glance up from your plate. “fine.”
“fine?” your dad echoed. “that’s it?”
you shrugged, poking at your food. “what else is there to say?”
your mom set down her fork. “is he at least putting in effort?”
you huffed. “define effort.”
they exchanged a glance, the kind that made you feel like a kid again, like they already knew exactly what was going on.
“we just want to make sure he’s not wasting your time,” your dad said. “if he’s not serious about learning, you don’t have to keep doing this.”
“he’s… getting better,” you admitted, though you weren’t sure if it was entirely true. he was trying, in his own way, but it was a slow process.
your mom still looked unconvinced. “just be careful, sweetheart.”
you frowned. “careful?”
“boys like him…” she hesitated, choosing her words. “they can be a distraction.”
“he’s not a distraction,” you said immediately, but the way she raised an eyebrow made your stomach twist.
and then— “you’re not getting a crush on him, are you?”
you nearly choked. “what? no. why would you even—?”
“because it happens,” your dad cut in, giving you a pointed look. “you spend enough time with someone, and next thing you know, you start making excuses for them.”
“i’m not making excuses.” you leaned back in your chair, suddenly desperate to get out of this conversation. “and i definitely don’t have a crush on him. it’s just tutoring. that’s it.”
they didn’t argue, but the look in their eyes said enough.
session ten – monday the 16th
you weren’t sure why your parents’ question was still echoing in your head. it was ridiculous, really. you didn’t have a crush on him. just because he was annoying, and cocky, and had that stupid smirk that made your stomach flip sometimes—no. not sometimes. never. it didn’t matter.
but still, as you walked into the library, setting your bag down at the usual table, you felt weirdly… off. distracted.
you pulled out your notes, trying to shake the thought, but haechan just had to say something.
“damn, sunshine. you look tense. bad day?”
you jumped slightly at his voice. he was standing next to you now, one hand gripping the chair as he spun it lazily before sitting down. he was late, as usual, but this time you hadn’t even noticed.
“fine,” you said quickly, focusing on your notes.
“you sure?” he tilted his head, leaning forward on the table. “you look like you’ve got something on your mind.”
you did. but there was no way in hell you were going to tell him what.
“it’s nothing,” you said, too quickly. “let’s just get started.”
but as the session went on, you found yourself more distracted than usual. every time he leaned in, every time he ran a hand through his hair, every time he smirked at something that wasn’t even funny, you thought of your parents’ voices in your head.
“you’re not getting a crush on him, are you?”
no. you weren’t. you refused to.
but then he tapped his pen against the table, glancing at you through his lashes. “you’re really off today, sunshine. what’s up?”
and maybe it was the way he said it, or maybe it was the fact that you hated how observant he could be, but you snapped.
“you. you’re up. why do you talk so much?”
he blinked, clearly not expecting that. then, he grinned. “because you like it.”
“i don’t.”
“liar.”
you groaned, running a hand down your face. this session was going to be impossible.
session twelve - friday the 20th
you had a feeling he wasn’t going to show up.
maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t texted all day—not that he ever really did, but usually, there was something. some offhand comment about how he was so tired or how he was mentally preparing for another “brutal” study session. but today? nothing.
still, you sat at the usual table, notes spread out, waiting.
and waiting.
and waiting.
until finally, you checked the time and realized it had been forty-five minutes.
you scoffed, shoving your notes back into your bag with more force than necessary. of course he wouldn’t show up. of course, he’d waste your time like this.
this was exactly why you didn’t like him.
not that you had to remind yourself. but things like this. his impulsiveness, his lack of reliability, the way he did whatever he wanted without considering anyone else, made it so much easier to not like him.
except, if that were really true, you wouldn’t be this pissed off.
you stormed out of the library, typing out a single text before shoving your phone deep into your pocket.
“seriously?”
no greeting. no unnecessary words. just that.
and when he didn’t respond, you told yourself you didn’t care.
even though, somehow, he was all you could think about for the rest of the night.
the weekend was quite eventful.
saturday -
you weren’t mad.
at least, that’s what you told yourself as you pulled out your laptop that morning, trying to focus on the essay you’d been putting off. it had nothing to do with him. nothing to do with the fact that he’d completely wasted your time yesterday. it wasn’t like you cared.
but when your phone lit up beside you, your heart jumped a little too fast. you grabbed it instinctively. only to see a notification from your bank about your spending this month.
you exhaled sharply, tossing your phone aside. see? you weren’t waiting for a text. because you weren’t expecting one. because you didn’t care.
still, you had to physically stop yourself from checking your messages every hour, and by the time the afternoon rolled around, you were in a terrible mood.
saturday night -
“so let me get this straight,” your friend, karina said, stirring her drink lazily. “he didn’t show up. didn’t text. and…now you’re mad about it.”
you scowled, leaning back in your chair. “i’m not mad.”
she raised an eyebrow. “you sure? cause you seem pretty mad.”
you crossed your arms. “i just don’t like when people waste my time. it’s inconsiderate.”
“right.” karina smirked, tilting her head. “but it’s weird, isn’t it? because you weren’t even this mad when you thought he wasn’t taking tutoring seriously. but now? now he misses one session, and suddenly, it’s a big deal?”
you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “that’s not the point.”
“mhm.” she sipped her drink, clearly unconvinced.
you refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction, but as you stared down at your untouched food, a thought crept into your mind.
was she right?
sunday afternoon -
you spotted him before he saw you.
standing by the counter at the campus café, looking as unbothered as ever. hoodie slightly loose around his shoulders, rings glinting under the dim lighting as he scrolled through his phone.
he wasn’t avoiding you, then. because avoiding would at least mean he knew he did something wrong.
the irritation that had been simmering all weekend bubbled over. before you could think twice, you were already walking toward him.
“oh, hey, sunshine.” he glanced up as you stopped beside him, smiling like nothing had happened. “you look cute when you’re brooding.”
you didn’t waste time. “you didn’t show up.”
he shrugged, slipping his phone into his pocket. “yeah. something came up.”
“something came up?” your voice was sharper than intended, but you didn’t care. “you could’ve at least said something.”
he leaned against the counter, studying you with an amused tilt of his head. “why? you miss me?”
your fingers curled into fists at your sides. because he was doing this on purpose. pushing, testing, waiting to see how much you’d react. and you hated that it was working.
“you’re unbelievable.” the words came out in a breath, laced with frustration.
and then you turned on your heel and walked away before you could say anything else you’d regret.
but the worst part? the absolute worst part?
he was still in your head, and you didn’t know how to make it stop.
session thirteen - monday the 23rd
for the next two weeks, you and haechan had to change locations as club was having their meetings in the library. you moved to a classroom near the library.
monday’s session wasn’t a disaster. in fact, it was almost… normal.
he showed up—five minutes late, but that was practically on time for him. he didn’t ignore the notes you laid out, didn’t spend the whole time spinning his rings or making dumb comments. he even answered a few questions correctly, which honestly shocked you.
“so you do pay attention sometimes,” you muttered when he got one right.
“wow, sunshine.” he grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “say that again. maybe i’ll start believing you actually like having me around.”
you scoffed, underlining something in your notebook just to avoid looking at him. “don’t push it.”
he chuckled but didn’t push. and for the first time since this whole tutoring arrangement started, things actually felt… okay. he was still distracting, still teasing you every chance he got, still doing that infuriating thing where he leaned back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. but at least he was trying.
and that was enough.
for now.
later that week, things changed.
session fifteen- friday the 25th
you were still in one of the school’s empty classrooms, finishing up some notes for yourself. it was already late when you heard the classroom door creak open.
too late for a tutoring session. too late for him to be here at all.
you looked up, expecting a janitor, maybe a teacher. instead, you saw him.
“oh my god.” your breath caught when you finally glanced up. “what happened to you?”
he looked…rough. a split lip, a bruise already blooming on his cheekbone, dried blood crusted near his eyebrow. his knuckles were bruising and stained with a little blood, like he’d been swinging at something—or someone.
“nothin’.” his voice was quieter than usual, the usual cockiness dulled by exhaustion. “just a bad night.”
“bad night? you look like you got your ass kicked.” you frowned, already standing. “who—why—”
“doesn’t matter.” he waved a hand, like he wanted to brush it off, but even that small movement made him wince.
you sighed, shaking your head as you grabbed your bag. “stay here.”
he didn’t argue as you left, and when you came back a few minutes later, first aid kit in hand, he still hadn’t moved. just sat there, fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh, like he was waiting for the fight to start back up again.
but when you stood in front of him, tilting his face up slightly so you could dab at the cut on his lip, he stilled.
“you don’t have to do this,” he murmured.
“you don’t have to get into fights.”
he huffed a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it.
when you knelt beside him and took his hand in yours, he barely reacted, letting you clean the dried blood from his knuckles. his skin was warm under your touch, but you ignored that. just like you ignored the way his eyes were fixed on you, dark and unreadable.
for a while, there was only silence. the soft press of gauze against his skin, the quiet scrape of your nails as you brushed away the dried blood. and through it all, he just watched you.
like he didn’t understand why you cared.
“you’re not supposed to fix me, sunshine,” he said eventually, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “just tutor me.”
you didn’t look at his eyes. “maybe i just don’t want to watch you fall apart.”
his breath hitched slightly. and maybe you imagined it, but for the first time, the fight in his eyes flickered. just for a second.
he didn’t say anything else. but something shifted in that moment.
because later, when he went home, he touched the bandage you had carefully pressed onto his skin, fingers lingering there longer than necessary.
and even though he would never admit it. maybe not even to himself, that was the moment he started falling for you.
after that night, things feel different. you tell yourself they’re not, that nothing’s changed, that you’re just imagining the way your chest tightens when you catch him looking at you in the middle of a study session. but it’s there, lingering in the spaces between words, in the silence that lasts too long, in the way his teasing remarks don’t land the same way anymore.
the next session, he actually tries.
not in an obvious way—he’s still late, still sighs dramatically when you hand him a practice problem, still taps his pen against the table like he’s counting down the minutes until he can leave. but when you ask him a question, he answers. when he gets something wrong, he listens when you explain instead of brushing it off.
session sixteen - monday the 28th
“so, what, you’re suddenly serious about passing?” you ask, watching as he leans forward, elbows braced against the table.
he tilts his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “maybe i just like seeing you all impressed when i get something right.”
you roll your eyes. “trust me, you’d have to try way harder for that to happen.”
but you don’t mean it. because when he mutters the right answer under his breath, brow furrowed like he’s actually thinking, something twists in your stomach. you shove the feeling down before it can take root.
then, he starts showing up.
not just to your tutoring sessions—those are still scheduled, still predictable, still something you can control—but to other places. places he shouldn’t be.
like when you’re sitting outside between classes, notebook open in your lap, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over the pavement.
“wow,” his voice cuts through the quiet, lazy and amused. “you really do study all the time, huh?”
you glance up, frowning as he drops into the seat across from you. “what are you doing here?”
he shrugs, peeling the label off his drink. “nowhere else to be.”
he stays. doesn’t do much—just picks at his rings, tosses casual comments your way, complains about the weather. at first, it’s just once. then it happens again. and again.
“you know you don’t have to sit here, right?” you say one day, not looking up from your laptop.
“i know.”
he doesn’t leave. and you don’t tell him to. maybe that’s your first mistake.
the evening air is crisp, biting at your skin as you step out of the library. you tug your jacket tighter around yourself, putting your earbuds in as you start down the quiet path leading off campus. most of the streetlights flicker on as it got darker.
you don’t hear him at first.
not until he falls into step beside you, hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched.
“hey, sunshine.”
you nearly trip, ripping an earbud out as you whip your head to the side. “what the—why are you here?”
he doesn’t look at you, just keeps walking like this is the most natural thing in the world. “walking.” he motions in front of him.
“walking where?” you press, your suspicion growing.
he exhales, tilting his head toward the sky as if debating whether to answer. finally, he shrugs. “just making sure you get home okay.”
you slow your steps. something about the way he says it, like it’s just a fact, like it’s obvious, throws you off balance.
“i don’t need a bodyguard,” you mutter.
“yeah, i know.”
“so why—”
“just shut up and keep walking.”
the words should annoy you. they do annoy you. but something in his casual but firm tone, like he’s already decided he’s doing this whether you like it or not, leaves no room for argument. so you walk, stealing glances at him every so often, watching the way he shifts his weight, the way his fingers flex like he’s holding back something he’ll never say out loud.
“this isn’t a habit now, is it?” you ask after a few minutes.
“depends.”
“on what?”
“on whether or not i feel like doing it again.”
you roll your eyes but don’t push.
when you finally reach your place, you stop at the fence, hesitating. you should say goodnight. you should say thanks, maybe. but before you can decide, he’s already a few steps away, hands still buried in his pockets, gaze fixed ahead.
“see you later, sunshine.”
he doesn’t look back. doesn’t wait for a response.
but for some reason, you watch him walk away anyway.
you should be asleep.
but you’re not.
instead, you’re lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the walk home in your head like a movie you can’t turn off. like the flickering streetlights, the cold air, the steady sound of footsteps beside you—his footsteps—are all burned into your mind.
you shift onto your side, pulling your blanket up to your chin. it’s stupid. he didn’t do anything, didn’t say anything that should be lingering like this. all he did was show up. all he did was walk.
but still.
“just making sure you get home okay.”
he’d said it like it was nothing. like it wasn’t a thing.
but it was. wasn’t it?
you sigh, rolling onto your back again. your phone sits on your nightstand, screen dark, no notifications. not that you expected any. he’s not the kind of guy to text. but still, some stupid part of you wonders if he’s thinking about it, too.
not about you. just—about anything.
maybe he’s already asleep, completely unbothered, already moved on. maybe it meant nothing to him.
but then again—
“depends.”
“on what?”
“on whether or not i feel like doing it again.”
you close your eyes, exhaling slowly.
you don’t know what’s worse. the fact that he might actually do it again.
or the fact that you kind of want him to.
session nineteen - monday april 4th
you check the time again.
ten minutes late.
with an annoyed sigh, you tap your pen against the open notebook in front of you, debating whether to give up and leave. it’s not like he hasn’t done this before. showing up whenever he feels like it, acting like he’s doing you a favor by even bothering. but this time, it’s grating more than usual. maybe because things have been different lately—less antagonistic, more… whatever this weird tension is that neither of you have acknowledged.
and then, just as you’re about to slap your notebook shut, a chair scrapes against the floor.
“took you long enough,” you mutter without looking up.
“miss me?”
the smirk is there—you can hear it in his voice even before you meet his gaze. he leans back in his chair, stretching out like he has all the time in the world. no apology, no excuse. just him, always testing your patience.
you roll your eyes and push his notebook toward him. “just open your book.”
the session starts off okay, at first. he’s actually trying—not a lot, but enough. he answers a few questions, gets some right, listens when you explain the ones he gets wrong. but there’s something off about him today.
he’s restless. more than usual.
his fingers tap against the table, his rings clicking against each other in a way that makes your nerves buzz. he sighs every time you correct him, leans back so far in his chair that you’re convinced he’s seconds away from tipping over. but most of all, he’s not looking at you.
not in the usual way, at least. he usually stares—lazy, smug, like he’s waiting for you to snap. but today, it’s like he’s avoiding your gaze altogether. like he’s somewhere else.
“what is wrong with you today?” the words slip out before you can stop them.
haechan raises an eyebrow, finally meeting your eyes. “me? nothing. maybe you’re just extra grumpy today.”
you glare. “maybe i wouldn’t be if you were actually focused.”
he clicks his tongue, shutting his notebook with a dull thud. “yeah? and what if i don’t feel like it?”
your patience snaps. “then why are you even here, haechan?”
silence.
his expression shifts—just barely, but enough for you to see it. the way his jaw tightens, the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he looks away.
and then he speaks so quiet, almost to himself.
“good question.”
your breath catches. because suddenly, it doesn’t feel like you’re talking about tutoring anymore.
neither of you speak after that.
the rest of the session is stiff, words clipped and movements sharp. when it ends, he doesn’t throw a smug remark over his shoulder, doesn’t tease you like he usually does. he just stands, slings his bag over his shoulder, and walks out without looking back.
you stay sitting there long after he’s gone, staring at the empty chair next to you.
heart pounding for reasons you don’t want to think about.
session twenty - wednesday the 6th
wednesday’s session is quieter than usual. it’s like there’s a wall between the two of you—still the same awkwardness, but with more… space.
haechan is more focused than before, but there’s a distance in the way he engages with the material. no smart comments, no teasing, just a steady silence as he works through the problems. every time your fingers brush over his paper to point out a mistake, there’s a brief, electric pause. neither of you comment on it, but it lingers, like a promise neither of you are ready to make.
but by the end of it, he’s gone without a word. not a smile, not a look. just the door shutting quietly behind him.
session twenty one - friday the 8th
friday’s session is different.
when he walks in, there’s a heaviness about him, something off—his face is bruised again, his lip split like last time, hair slightly tousled, and there’s a subtle tremble in his step like he’s not sure whether to be here or not. his eyes avoid yours as he slides into the chair across from yours, too close to be casual but too distant to be comfortable.
the silence between you is charged from the start, but it’s not the playful tension you’re used to. it’s thick, raw, almost uncomfortable.
you can’t help but stare at the bruise blooming across his jaw, the scrape on his chin, and the other cuts scattered across his arms. the anger and adrenaline radiate off him in waves, but there’s something deeper underneath all of it—a tiredness.
you try not to let your voice crack, but the concern breaks through anyway. “what happened?”
haechan doesn’t meet your gaze. his eyes are dark, like he’s trying to bury something under all that nonchalance. “it’s nothing.”
you don’t believe him. obviously. not looking like that. “haechan, don’t lie.”
finally, he looks at you, and there’s something in his expression that makes you freeze—raw vulnerability laced with a bitterness you can’t quite place. “someone said something about you,” he says quietly. “something i didn’t like.”
you feel the weight of his words like a punch to the gut. “what do you mean?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper, but there’s no hiding the unease creeping into your tone.
he’s quiet for a long moment, his fingers tapping restlessly against the table as he thinks about how to phrase it. then, he just blurts it out: “i fought over you.”
it takes you a second to process. “what?”
he looks at you, this time, eyes searching yours like he’s looking for something. “they were talking about you. bad stuff. i couldn’t just sit there. i—” his words falter, like he’s not sure why he’s even explaining this to you.
you don’t know what to say. your heart beats harder, faster. “so you just…?”
“i lost it.” he’s not ashamed, not exactly, but there’s something about the way he says it that makes you feel like he’s letting go of more than just the fight. “i couldn’t stand it. i had to do something.”
and that’s when it hits you—the depth of everything he’s been hiding behind those sharp smirks and sarcastic comments.
without thinking, your fingers move—just a soft brush against his darkening knuckles, like it’s the only thing you can do to make sense of all this. you feel the heat of his skin underneath your fingertips, and the contact burns, even though it’s so small.
haechan’s breath catches. there’s a moment of complete silence, and then he slowly, so slowly, moves his fingers that were under yours.
you hold your breath, fingers trembling just a little. and then, as if testing the waters, he slides his fingers up to rest his hand against yours. you found your hand opening up, as your palms touched slightly. his finger tips grazing your with a ghost-like touch. for a second, neither of you moves. there’s a fragile, delicate tension that seems to freeze the room in place.
and then, without saying a word, he lets his fingers gently curl around yours.
it’s slow, tentative, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. but when you don’t, when you let him, he doesn’t hesitate. his grip tightens just enough, not too much—just enough to say this matters.
your heart races, and your breath hitches, but you don’t pull away. you don’t want to.
you let your fingers slip into the spaces between his, moving carefully, slowly.
there’s no hurry. just the quiet sound of your breaths mingling with the subtle click of his rings as his fingers settle between yours.
his eyes drop to your hands, studying the way you fit together, the way your fingers slide against his, perfectly and effortlessly. it’s intimate in a way that makes everything around you disappear. there’s only the soft warmth of his hand in yours, the quiet thrum of something unspoken growing louder between you.
he leans forward slightly, his voice quiet, almost like a confession. “i fought because of you,” he says, the weight of his words settling between you two like a secret you didn’t expect.
you want to say something, want to ask why, but the words don’t come. your chest feels tight. why would he do that for you?
his thumb strokes the back of your hand, the motion slow and careful, and you feel the heat of his touch seep through you. “i couldn’t just let them say shit about you,” he murmurs, his voice raw. “no one talks about you like that and gets away with it.”
you finally meet his gaze, your chest tight with something you can’t name. he holds your hand gently, but there’s a possessiveness in his touch, something protective that you can’t quite ignore.
the air between you is thick, filled with the weight of everything unsaid. he doesn’t let go of your hand, doesn’t move away, and neither do you.
you’re not sure how long you sit there, fingers entwined, the world outside of this moment fading away. but somehow, it feels like everything has changed between you two in that quiet, intimate touch. Something that didn’t need to be spoken but felt.
neither of you moves, not yet. not until it’s time.
saturday -
saturday morning arrives with the lingering weight of haechan’s words from the previous session. “maybe we could grab a coffee or something. no tutoring… just…”
his voice still echoes in your mind as you get ready. you don’t know why it’s making you nervous. you’ve spent hours with him tutoring, in tight spaces, talking about everything under the sun, but this feels different. it’s not about grades or chemistry anymore. it’s about you and him—just two people.
when your parents asked where you were off to, you brushed them off with a simple. “studying at the café,”.
at 2 p.m., you arrive at the cafe a little early. your heart beats louder in your chest as you stand outside, looking at the door, unsure whether you should go in first or wait. but before you can make up your mind, haechan appears. he’s wearing a hoodie and jeans. his messy hair adds to the vibe—relaxed, but there’s an intensity in the way he walks towards you.
“hey,” he greets with that familiar teasing smile, but it’s less playful today, more reserved. he watches you for a beat, like he’s trying to gauge how you’re feeling.
“hey,” you respond, your voice steady but your insides twist with something unfamiliar.
the conversation starts easy, like a continuation of your tutoring sessions, but it quickly morphs into something more personal. you laugh at his jokes, and he cracks a few of his usual sarcastic comments. but this time, they don’t feel so cutting—they feel like an invitation, an effort to connect.
you tell him about your favorite subjects, and he talks about his struggle with science (which he completely tries to play off like he doesn’t care about). somehow, you both end up talking about your childhoods, your families, and some awkward high school moments. the more you talk, the more the layers fall away, and you realize this is more real than you expected. he really wasn’t some monster that everyone seemed to paint him as.
as you finish your drinks, there’s an uneasy silence between you two. haechan runs a hand through his hair, and you shift in your seat, unsure of what to do next. the energy between you both is charged now—unspoken words hang thick in the air, and it’s almost unbearable.
“well, sunshine,” he says, his voice softer than usual, “i guess I’ll see you on monday?”
you nod, too quickly, almost relieved to escape the pressure of the moment. “yeah, monday.”
you both stand, and as you turn to walk away, you feel his eyes on you. you can’t tell if it’s admiration or something else, but the way he watches you feels different now.
sunday -
sunday passes quietly, but the space between you and haechan feels wider, even though you just saw him the day before. you try not to think about the little moments—the way he looked at you, how close you both were, how much you wanted him to say more. but that’s the problem, isn’t it? you both left so much unsaid, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.
he doesn’t text you at all. the silence is deafening. you tell yourself it’s probably a good thing; after all, you don’t need to overanalyze everything, right? but then again, why does it feel so heavy?
you end up spending the day at home, alone with your thoughts. the weekend was supposed to be simple, a break from the usual, but now you can’t shake the feeling that it’s more complicated than that. haechan has always been complicated, but now you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something, not sure whether to jump or step back.
session twenty two - monday the 11th
by the time monday rolls around, you’re feeling restless. there’s a shift in your mood. a nervous energy that you can’t shake off, and when you step into school, it feels like you’re waiting for something to happen. you can’t decide if it’s anticipation or dread, but either way, you’re drawn back to the tutoring session.
when haechan finally walks into the classroom, you can’t tell if he’s acting like everything is normal or if he’s pretending. he gives you a short wave, but it’s not his usual playful smile. it’s different now. there’s something more cautious in his movements.
you both settle into your usual rhythm—he’s late, of course, but he’s quieter today. you’re not sure if that’s because of the weekend or if it’s something else entirely.
the session goes well, mostly. it’s like before, in the sense that you both get through the work, but there’s an added tension. he looks at you a little longer than he usually does, his eyes scanning your face as if he’s trying to understand something. the usual teasing is absent today, replaced by a different energy—more subtle, more cautious.
by the end of the session, you can’t help but feel like you’re caught in this strange, unspoken limbo between what you both were and what you might be. you still don’t know where it’s going, but you’re both standing at the edge, unsure whether to jump or wait to see what the next step will be.
session twenty three - wednesday the 13th
it’s the final session before the break, and everything feels different. the air feels thicker, charged with something neither of you are saying but both know is there. you both sit at the desk, the tension palpable, but neither of you are focused on the notes in front of you. it’s like the classroom walls are closing in, and neither of you can breathe easily.
you keep glancing over at him, trying to stick to the lesson, but he’s just… there, too close, too present. the words he’s saying are just noise in the background as his eyes flicker over you every time you speak, his gaze heavy, simmering. you know it’s not just the subject anymore. something has shifted.
“you’re not listening,” you say, your voice sharper than you intend.
he looks at you, not surprised, but not unaffected either. “neither are you,” he replies, and there’s something in his voice that’s too calm. too knowing.
you press your lips together, trying to keep your composure. “well, you’re not even trying.”
he smirks, leaning back in his chair slightly. “again, neither are you.”
there’s a challenge in his voice, and it sets something off inside you. something snaps. you stand up more abrupt than you anticipate, trying to collect your thoughts but only feeling more overwhelmed by the space between you two. you feel like you’re suffocating under the weight of the tension, like there’s something about to break, and you don’t know if you want to stop it or let it happen.
you cross your arms, pacing around the small desk, trying to cool the heat you feel flooding your chest.
“why are you so difficult?” you murmur, more to yourself than him.
“because you make it easy,” he says, voice low, leaning forward, his eyes locked on you in a way that makes your knees weak.
he stands up slowly, the movement purposeful, and your heart skips a beat. the space between you is closing, and before you can make sense of what’s happening, he’s there, standing right in front of you.
his hand brushes against yours, and you feel it like a spark, his fingers just grazing yours before he holds your wrist lightly, tugging you closer to him. you can’t move, rooted in place by something deeper than just attraction.
and then he kisses you.
it’s a kiss that’s full of everything you’ve been holding back. the anger, the frustration, the need for something more that you don’t know how to name. it’s messy, urgent, like both of you are desperate to see how far you can go without letting go. your hands find their way to his chest, pushing against him as you kiss him back, just as hungry, just as eager.
you feel his grip on your wrist tighten, pulling you closer as his other hand slides to your waist. the kiss deepens, and the world around you disappears. it’s just you and him, the heat of his lips against yours, the press of his body against yours.
you can’t help but give in, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, your breath coming faster as the intensity builds.
and then, just as suddenly, it breaks.
you pull back, hands trembling, and you stare at him, your heart pounding against your ribs.
you feel guilty.
you glance away, trying to catch your breath, but all you can hear are the voices from the past—the warnings your parents gave you, the things they said about boys like him.
“boys like him are trouble.”
the words echo in your mind like a warning. trouble.
you can’t ignore it. your heart sinks, and a cold wave of uncertainty washes over you. this is trouble.
you step back, trying to create some distance, trying to make sense of it all. “this isn’t… supposed to happen.”
he stays silent for a beat, his expression unreadable. then, quietly, he says, “i don’t want to stop.”
you shake your head, backing away, but you can’t seem to find the words. everything’s spinning in your head. he’s trouble, but you want him.
“haechan,” you whisper, feeling a rush of heat rise to your cheeks, “i—this was a mistake.”
he doesn’t say anything, just watches you as you grab your things, your heart heavy in your chest.
you don’t know how to fix this, don’t know how to untangle the mess you’ve just made of your feelings. you only know that walking away is the only thing you can do right now, even if every step you take feels like it’s pulling you away from him and yet dragging you closer at the same time.
you leave without another word, but as you walk down the hall, your mind is still stuck on him.
this isn’t what i signed up for… but then again, maybe it was.
the following night is unusually still, and you lie awake, mind tangled in the events of the past week. your thoughts keep drifting back to him—the kiss, the way he pulled away, and the uncertainty that followed. you toss and turn, trying to shake off the feeling, but it’s like something’s pulling you in. just as you start to think you’re finally starting to calm down, a soft knock at your window breaks through the silence.
your heart jumps in your chest, and for a second, you freeze. there’s no mistaking who it is. haechan.
you rush to the window, heart racing, but you pause for a brief moment to glance at your door—your parents are just down the hall. still, curiosity outweighs caution, and you push the blinds up quietly, barely believing your eyes.
there he is, his silhouette framed against the dim streetlights outside, standing on the roof near your window with that familiar, confident smirk that sends a strange rush through you.
“how’d you get up here?” you whisper after opening the window, your voice shaky, heart still pounding in your ears.
he shrugs as though it’s the most normal thing in the world, but you can’t ignore the way his arm strains as he grips the window sill, his veins flexing beneath the fabric of his shirt. your eyes flicker down to his arms, and for a moment, you forget to breathe, your gaze catching on the way the muscles ripple as he pulls himself up with a small thud.
you wince, then immediately shush him, raising a finger to your lips in an exaggerated, playful gesture. “my parents are gonna hear you!”
he flashes that trademark grin, but it’s softer this time—almost sheepish, like he wasn’t expecting this much resistance. “sorry,” he whispers, giving you a quick, apologetic wink before pulling himself through the window with a bit more flair than necessary. you can feel the heat radiating off him as he steps inside, and for a brief second, you both just stand there in the quiet of the room.
there’s an awkward pause as he dusts himself off, glancing around your room as if trying to find a reason for being here, but then his eyes land on you. his expression softens just a little, that familiar cockiness fading away for a second.
“didn’t mean to sneak up on you, but… figured i’d take a risk. can’t sleep, you know?”
you laugh softly, a little nervously, though you can’t quite explain why. there’s something about him being here, standing in your room in the dead of night, that’s thrilling in a way you’re not ready to admit. “did you…climb the tree?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow at him.
“yeah,” he grins, his tone light, almost teasing. “it’s not that hard. plus, i thought i’d get your attention somehow.” he shrugs as if this is a totally reasonable thing to do. but when his eyes meet yours, there’s something behind them. something vulnerable, something unspoken.
“you’re crazy,” you mutter, but there’s no malice behind it. instead, your voice is soft, fond. you step back instinctively as he moves toward you, not sure if you want to step away or let him close the gap. you should be more concerned that he was here. if your parents found out, you have no idea what kind of reaction they’d have.
he looks at you for a moment, his gaze flickering over your face like he’s studying every detail. you can feel the tension building between the two of you, and even though you know you should step back again, you stay rooted to the spot. there’s a pull between you that neither of you can ignore.
“i just… couldn’t stop thinking about everything. about you,” he admits, the words coming out quieter than usual. he doesn’t sound like the usual confident haechan; there’s a vulnerability in his voice now, something raw that you’ve never heard before.
you blink, caught off guard. the air feels thick with unspoken words, and for a second, you’re at a loss for how to respond. your heart hammers in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you move a little closer to him.
his eyes widen slightly when you step forward, but he doesn’t move away. instead, he reaches for your hand slowly, almost hesitantly. his fingers brush over yours, the lightest touch that sends a jolt through you. it’s so quiet, so soft, but it feels like the whole world has paused. you glance down at his hand—his fingers are rough, the veins on his arms standing out against his skin.
you look back up at him, meeting his eyes, and he squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a slow, almost intimate motion. there’s a quiet understanding between the two of you, a silent acknowledgment of everything that’s been building between you.
“you’re here,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, but it feels like it carries the weight of everything you haven’t been able to say.
he gives a small, lopsided grin, his thumb still moving over your hand. “yeah. i guess i am.”
and then, without another word, he leans in, and this time, when your lips meet, it’s not chaotic. it’s slow, deliberate, like the two of you are finally giving in to something you’ve been avoiding. his hand slides up to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as if he’s memorizing the feel of you.
the kiss is soft at first, tentative, but it deepens as the moments stretch on, his other hand moving to gently to him by your back, pulling you closer. everything else fades away. the hesitation, the uncertainty and you lose yourself in it.
when you finally pull back, both of you are breathing a little heavier, the space between you still charged with the emotions neither of you knew how to express. you glance at the door again, your mind briefly flashing to the consequences of this. but for a moment, you don’t care.
“this is… insane,” you whisper, your voice trembling just slightly.
he leans his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “i know. but i don’t think i can stay away.”
for a moment, you both just stand there, breathless, sharing the same quiet understanding. you’ve crossed a line you never thought you would, and for the first time, you’re not sure what comes next. but you know this: you can’t go back. not now.
after that night, everything changes. things between you and haechan aren’t just charged—they’re different. there’s no more pretending that what happened didn’t mean something.
friday the 15th
the next day at school, he’s there—leaning against his locker like usual, surrounded by his close group of friends, but his eyes are on you the second you walk in. it’s not just a glance this time. it’s intentional, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll look at him, if you’ll acknowledge what happened between you the night before.
your heart races, but you force yourself to act normal. your parents had been none the wiser about his late-night visit, but that didn’t mean you weren’t still thinking about it. thinking about him. you take a deep breath and head toward your first class, but just as you pass him, his fingers catch your wrist. it’s subtle, barely a touch, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.
“you’re not gonna ignore me now, are you?” his voice is low, teasing, but there’s something real underneath it.
“not here,” you murmur, pulling your hand away, your face heating up as you disappear into the crowd.
you glance around—people are watching. of course they are. it was unusual for a student like and a student like him to interact. let alone lee haechan and you.
but you can feel his gaze on you for the rest of the day.
after school -
he catches up to you before you can leave, cutting you off near the entrance. “so, sunshine, are we gonna talk about last night? or are you just gonna pretend i didn’t climb a damn tree for you?”
you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “you could’ve fallen.”
“but i didn’t,” he grins, stepping closer, dropping his voice so only you can hear. “what, you worried about me?”
you are, but you won’t admit that. you sigh. “i don’t know what you expect me to say.”
his smirk fades just slightly, a flicker of something more serious in his eyes. “say it wasn’t nothing.”
you hesitate, because you can’t say that. you won’t lie. but you also don’t know what this is.
before you can respond, a voice calls your name from behind. one of your classmates. someone who shouldn’t be seeing you with him like this.
“i have to go,” you say quickly, stepping away.
he doesn’t stop you, but as you walk away, you hear him call out, just loud enough for you to hear—
“i’ll see you later, sunshine.”
and you know you will.
saturday night -
you get a text from him.
haechan: come outside
your heart leaps into your throat. you glance at your bedroom door, listening carefully. your parents are still awake. sneaking out has never been something you’ve even considered before, but now…
your fingers hover over your phone.
you: are you insane?
haechan: probably. but i wanna see you.
you hesitate. but only for a second.
and then, for the first time, you take the risk.
the door clicks softly behind you as you step onto the porch, the night air brushing cool against your skin. you shiver slightly, but you ignore it, your pulse already picking up when you spot haechan waiting just beyond the porch light’s glow, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie.
he steps forward as you approach, but then—he stops.
his eyes flicker down, lingering.
you suddenly realize what you’re wearing—silk shorts, the kind with delicate lace at the hem, barely brushing mid-thigh. paired with a thin, loose sweater, it’s nothing that scandalous, but under his gaze, you feel the heat creeping up your neck.
his tongue swipes over his bottom lip before he exhales, tilting his head. “damn, sunshine. if i knew sneaking into your thoughts at night got me this kind of welcome, i would’ve done it sooner.”
you cross your arms, giving him an unimpressed look despite the warmth spreading in your chest. “i wasn’t exactly expecting company.”
he hums, taking another step closer. “yeah? so you just wear this to bed every night?” his voice dips lower, teasing, but there’s something else there.
you roll your eyes, but you can’t ignore the way your stomach tightens. “are you done staring?”
his smirk deepens. “not even close.”
“why are you even here?” you sigh, trying to steer the conversation before you combust under his gaze.
his expression shifts slightly, something more serious flickering beneath the teasing. “couldn’t sleep.” he shrugs, eyes still on you but softer now. “kept thinking about you.”
your breath hitches. you weren’t expecting that.
you hesitate, shifting on your feet. “and what exactly were you thinking about?”
he doesn’t hesitate. “that kiss. both of them.”
you inhale sharply, your heart picking up speed.
he watches you carefully, stepping just close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. “tell me i’m the only one who’s been losing sleep over it,” he murmurs. “tell me you don’t think about it too.”
you should brush it off. should laugh, roll your eyes, push him away like you always do.
but you don’t.
“…maybe a little.”
his lips quirk, but it’s not his usual cocky smirk—it’s softer. more real.
“thought so.”
before you can even react, his fingers find yours, brushing over your knuckles before lacing them together. it’s slow, deliberate—like he’s testing the waters, waiting for you to pull away.
you don’t.
he exhales a quiet laugh. “you’re in trouble, sunshine.”
you swallow. “why?”
his thumb traces over the back of your hand, and when he looks at you, there’s something almost fond in his eyes.
“’cause now that i’ve got you like this,” he murmurs, “i don’t think i can let go.”
you should go back inside. your parents are asleep just down the hall, and this is the kind of thing they warned you about. sneaking out into the night with a boy like him, hand in hand, heart racing in ways it shouldn’t.
but you don’t let go.
“come on,” he says, his grip tightening just slightly, like he’s afraid you might change your mind. “let’s go somewhere.”
“what? where?” you ask, but you’re already following him down the steps, his hand warm against yours.
he smirks, eyes glinting in the dim light. “trust me.”
and for some reason, you do.
the night air is crisp, cool against your skin as the two of you walk through the quiet streets. neither of you say much at first, just the soft scuff of your footsteps on the pavement, the occasional flickering of a streetlight overhead. it’s reckless, it’s stupid, but for some reason, it feels right.
he leads you toward a small park a few blocks away, one you haven’t been to in years. it looks different at night—emptier, quieter, like a hidden world that only the two of you know about.
“seriously?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “you dragged me out of bed for a playground?”
haechan grins, tugging you toward the swings. “come on, sunshine. live a little.”
you huff, but you sit anyway, the chains creaking slightly as you lean back. he takes the swing next to yours, feet planted on the ground, arms draped lazily over the chains.
for a moment, neither of you speak. the city hums softly in the distance, a car passing now and then, but here, in this little forgotten space, it feels like you’re in your own world.
then he breaks the silence.
“so,” he says, voice quieter now. “are you gonna tell me why you kissed me back?”
your fingers tighten around the swing’s chains.
you should lie. should brush it off, make a joke, something.
but instead, you glance at him, finding him already watching you, his usual smirk nowhere in sight.
“…i don’t know,” you admit.
he exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head. “wrong answer, sunshine.”
you frown. “oh? and what’s the right one?”
he leans in slightly, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him even in the cool night air. his voice drops, teasing but serious all at once.
“that you can’t get me out of your head, either.”
your breath catches.
you could argue. you could deny it. but instead, you just look at him, your heart pounding, and realize—maybe you don’t want to.
the morning after sneaking out with haechan, everything feels different.
your room is the same, the sun filtering through your curtains, casting warm streaks of light across your sheets. your parents are in the kitchen, the smell of coffee and toast drifting down the hall like any other saturday morning. nothing has changed.
except it has.
because your mind won’t stop replaying the night before. his voice, his hands, the way he looked at you under the dim glow of the streetlights, with that same dark eyeliner you’ve grown to like. the way he leaned in just close enough that you thought he might kiss you again but never did. the way your heart had pounded the entire walk back home, fingers still tingling from where he had held them, warm and steady.
and the worst part?
you didn’t want it to end.
you go through the day pretending everything is normal.
you do your chores, respond to messages, attempt to start your homework—but it all feels distant, like your mind is somewhere else entirely. every time your phone lights up, you half expect it to be him. but it never is.
and then, just when you think you might be going crazy, your mom’s voice cuts through the quiet.
“you’ve been distracted all morning.”
you blink, looking up from your untouched notebook at the kitchen table. your parents are sitting across from you, your dad flipping through the newspaper, your mom watching you with knowing eyes.
“i’m fine,” you say quickly, too quickly.
she hums, not convinced. “it’s not about that boy, is it?”
your heart stops. “what?”
your dad turns a page in the newspaper, not looking up. “the one you’ve been tutoring,” he says simply. “you know, the one we told you to be careful around.”
your pulse stutters. “it’s—no, of course not.”
your mom raises an eyebrow. “really? because ever since those sessions started, you’ve been acting a little… different.”
“and now you’re all spaced out,” your dad adds, still not looking up. “not getting a crush on him, are you?”
you scoff, forcing out a laugh that sounds almost believable. “as if.”
your mom exhales, satisfied for now. “good. boys like that, they’re nothing but trouble.”
your chest tightens. they don’t know anything. “so you’ve told me.” you sigh.
but instead of arguing, you just nod, mumbling something about needing to study before quickly escaping back to your room.
and the moment the door clicks shut behind you, your phone finally buzzes.
haechan: you up, sunshine?
you hesitate for half a second, holding back the small tug at your lips before responding.
you: yeah, why?
his reply comes instantly.
haechan: meet me? same spot.
your heart skips. you don’t even hesitate.
you: be there in 10.
the air feels heavier, like the wind is carrying something unspoken between you. you spot him before he sees you—leaning against the swing set, hoodie pulled over his head, one hand twisting a silver ring around his finger. he looks lost in thought, gaze fixed on the ground until he hears your footsteps.
his head lifts, and when he sees you, his lips twitch into a smirk—lazy, like he knew you’d come.
“thought maybe you wouldn’t show,” he says, rocking back on his heels.
you cross your arms, standing a few steps away. “why?”
he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “figured maybe you started listening to your parents.”
you raise a brow. “you’re eavesdropping now?”
nah,” he says easily, stepping closer. “just know how people see me.”
you don’t respond. instead, you take a step closer, letting the silence settle between you.
“so,” you say after a beat, “why’d you call me out here?”
he exhales, tilting his head as he watches you. “needed to see you.”
the words come so easily, like he didn’t even have to think about them. like it was the most natural thing in the world.
your pulse stutters, but you keep your expression even. “and now that you have?”
he grins, stepping closer until there’s barely any space between you. “now?” his voice drops lower, eyes flickering over your face. “now i wanna know why you came.”
you swallow. why did you?
you should have ignored his message, should have listened to every warning sign telling you to stay away.
but standing here, heart pounding, heat rolling off him in waves—
you realize you don’t regret a damn thing.
“i wanted to see you too.” you say lowly.
after that night, something shifts.
it starts slow—an unspoken understanding, a magnetic pull that neither of you acknowledge but never fight.
one night turns into another. and then another.
sometimes, he climbs through your window just to talk, arms crossed against your windowsill, voice hushed as he tells you about his day. other times, he doesn’t talk at all, just pulls you close and kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.
and maybe you should be afraid too—afraid of how easy it is to let this happen, to want more. but you’re not.
you find yourself around him more at school, too.
it’s not obvious, not at first—just stolen glances across the hallway, his shoulder brushing yours when he passes by, the flicker of a smirk when he catches you looking.
but then he starts waiting for you after class, hands stuffed in his pockets, always acting like he just happened to be there. like it wasn’t intentional.
and you let him.
because somehow, being near him feels natural now. even with the tutoring sessions over. he seemed to be doing pretty well in science now anyway.
the nights are different. the nights are yours.
sneaking out is reckless, dangerous, a risk you wouldn’t have taken before. but now? now it’s routine.
sometimes, you meet at the park, swinging lazily under the glow of the streetlights. sometimes, he drags you into the city, leading you through neon-lit streets, hands brushing in the dark.
and sometimes—most nights, actually—he’s at your window.
it always starts the same way: a faint rustling, the quiet scrape of sneakers against bark, and then, moments later, his head poking through the window frame with a grin.
“you’ve got to stop leaving this unlocked, sunshine,” he teases, even though you both know you won’t.
and every time, without fail, you roll your eyes, but you don’t stop him when he pulls himself inside, muscles flexing, veins prominent under his skin as he steadies himself.
the first few times, you told yourself this was temporary—just a phase, just him being him.
but then there’s a night where he doesn’t just talk, doesn’t just steal a few kisses before leaving.
there’s a night where he lingers.
where his hands settle on your waist, where he backs you up against your wall, where the air between you is thick with something unspoken, something dangerous.
where he kisses you deeper, hands tracing slow patterns against your skin, like he’s memorizing you.
where you let him.
because at some point, you stopped trying to fight this. stopped trying to pretend you didn’t want it.
because at some point, you stopped caring that he was the kind of boy your parents warned you about.
it was one of the nights he had skipped into your room, you greeted him with a smile and things went from there.
his breath is warm against your lips, hands gripping your waist as he backs you into the wall.
he’s been teasing all night—touching you just enough to leave you wanting more, murmuring things in that low, rough voice that made your pulse stutter. but now? now there’s no space left between you, and neither of you are trying to fight it.
his fingers press into your sides, slow and steady, like he’s testing how much you’ll let him take. his lips brush yours once, twice—just enough to make you chase him before he finally kisses you like he means it.
and you let yourself fall into it.
your hands slide into his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands, tugging just enough to draw a quiet groan from his throat. his body presses closer, chest rising and falling against yours, the heat between you dizzying.
“you’re gonna drive me crazy,” he murmurs against your lips, voice thick, almost strained.
you don’t even get the chance to answer before he kisses you again, harder this time, like he’s losing whatever little patience he had left.
his hands slip under your shirt, fingertips skimming your skin, sending shivers up your spine. and you should stop this, should put some distance between you before it’s too late—
but then his hands tighten on your hips, and you feel the way his heart is racing just as fast as yours, and god—
you don’t want to stop.
“tell me to leave,” he murmurs, lips trailing along your jaw, down to the hollow of your throat.
you swallow hard, tilting your head back as he presses closer, as his hands continue their slow exploration.
“tell me you don’t want this,” he says again, but there’s no teasing in his voice this time—just something raw, something vulnerable, something almost pleading.
and you should. you should.
instead, your grip tightens in his hair, and you whisper back, “i don’t want you to.”
his response is immediate—his hands slide lower, pulling you flush against him, and he groans against your lips like he’s just lost whatever last shred of control he had.
“fuck,” he exhales, forehead resting against yours. “you’re really gonna be the end of me, sunshine.”
but he doesn’t stop.
and neither do you.
when you finally pull your mouth from his, his lips are swollen, breath uneven as he leans into you, hands still firm on your waist like he can’t bring himself to let go just yet.
you don’t want him to.
but somewhere between the heat of his touch and the way his body presses against yours, reality creeps back in.
your parents are just down the hall.
he shouldn’t even be here.
“we should stop,” you murmur, though the words barely make it out, still breathless from the way he just kissed you.
he exhales sharply, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he tilts his head back to look at you. his pupils are blown wide, jaw tight like he’s forcing himself to pull back.
“yeah,” he mutters, voice rough. “yeah, we should.”
but neither of you move.
his thumb brushes against your side, like he’s memorizing the feel of you.
“sunshine,” he says softly, like a warning.
you know you have to let him go.
but when he leans in one last time, mouth hovering just over yours, you don’t stop him.
“just one more?” he murmurs, but it’s a lie.
one more turns into two, then three, then a lingering kiss pressed to the corner of your lips, like he’s reluctant to leave you at all.
but eventually, he does.
he steps back first, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to ground himself, like he’s trying to pull himself together before he does something you’ll both regret.
“guess i should go before i completely fuck this up, huh?” he says, forcing a smirk, but you see the hesitation in his eyes.
you nod, but you don’t trust yourself to say anything.
he moves toward the window, but just before climbing out, he looks back, gaze flickering over you—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your fingers are still trembling just slightly.
and then, instead of saying goodbye, he just grins.
“try not to miss me too much,” he teases, but there’s something softer beneath the words. something real.
and with that, he’s gone, disappearing into the night like he was never there at all.
except—he was.
you press your fingers against your lips, as if you can still feel him there, and then, you smile.
it’s embarrassing, the way your stomach flutters, the way your cheeks heat up, the way you actually giggle like some lovesick schoolgirl.
you should not be this giddy over a boy like him.
but you are.
and you couldn’t find it in you to care anymore.
it was another saturday night, around 12am, your parents long gone to bed.
his hands are warm against your skin, fingers teasing under the hem of your shirt as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer.
you’re not even thinking anymore—just moving, just feeling. stumbling over your own feet as he walks you back, laughing quietly when you almost trip over a pile of books.
“shh,” you whisper, barely suppressing a giggle.
he grins against your lips. “that was you.”
“doesn’t matter,” you breathe, fingers curling into his shirt, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath the fabric. “just be quiet.”
he hums in amusement, hands sliding up your sides, his touch slow, deliberate, testing. “you always tell me what to do, sunshine?”
“someone has to.”
“mm,” he leans in, lips brushing your jaw, hands slipping beneath your shirt, pushing the fabric up just slightly—waiting for permission.
you exhale, whispering a word of approval.
he doesn’t hesitate. he tugs your shirt up, just enough to expose more of your skin—
knock.
the door swings open.
“what are you doing—?”
you freeze.
haechan freezes.
your mom stands in the doorway, eyes locking onto the scene in front of her—haechan’s hands still on you, his hoodie discarded on the floor, your shirt lifted just enough to make it painfully obvious what was happening.
for a second, no one moves.
no one breathes.
haechan is the first to react, stepping back so fast he almost knocks over your chair. he runs a hand through his hair, like he’s trying to play it cool, like there’s any coming back from this.
you don’t dare turn around.
your heart pounds in your chest, face burning hotter than ever before. this time not with the same heat.
your mom inhales sharply, voice eerily calm.
“downstairs. now.”
the finality in her tone sends a chill down your spine.
haechan glances at you, expression unreadable, but you can’t look at him.
because this time, you’re really in trouble.
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▸ j.note ; finally releasing this lmao it’s been in the sm basement for quite some time now
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asiatic-apple · 1 month ago
Note
I need the smut mirror sex prompt with Sylus and female reader please
Your wish is my command, anon ;) I’m still a little unsure about what Sylus’s dirty talking would be like…If y’all have any feedback on how I wrote it here, lmk what you think!
Requests are open for my follower celebration
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Breathtaking view
Sylus x female reader
Prompt: mirror sex
Content: lots of praise, hair pulling (but it’s gentle), slightly rough fucking…but sylus remains a gentleman, a moment of possessive!sylus, creampie
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The ornate floor-length mirror across from Sylus’s bed at Onychinus’s base felt a little over the top when you first saw it. But now, you’re starting to understand its appeal—and why Sylus positioned it with the perfect view of his large bed.
You're on all fours at the edge of the mattress, facing the mirror with your back arched and hands gripping the silk sheets. And Sylus is behind you, fucking you with a rhythm that has your thighs trembling.
He usually doesn’t take you like this. Normally, he likes the moment to be more intimate, his body pressed against every delicious curve of yours. He likes to cradle you in his arms and use his weight to keep you in place while he overwhelms you with deep thrusts.
But tonight, he can’t deny there’s something special about this view.
“Look at that,” he groans, low and reverent. One palm glides down your spine while the other grips your hip tight enough to bruise. “So perfect…”
You try to focus on the mirror's reflection—the sight of your flushed face, mouth parted, body jolting forward with each powerful thrust. But your eyes are drawn to him. The way his gaze is locked on you like he’s memorizing every detail, every shudder, every moan.
You cry out when he hits that perfect spot inside you, making your arms buckle and your head drop forward onto the sheets. But there’s no real reprieve from the intense pleasure. He folds his strong torso over your back, his thrusts not missing a beat while he presses warm kisses to your shoulder and neck.
“Eyes on the mirror, sweetie,” he rasps, voice thick with desire.
All you can do is whimper in return. You’re not sure if you have the strength to stay upright when Sylus fucks you so deep, his cock kissing your cervix with each roll of his hips.
And he knows it. He always knows. His fingers slip up the nape of your neck, threading gently into your hair before giving a firm tug at the roots. It’s not too rough. Just sudden enough to make you yelp and lift your gaze.
The moment your eyes meet his in the mirror, he slows, just for a heartbeat. It’s not hesitation. It’s just a quick check-in. Ready to stop if you need to tap out.
But you don’t. You want this. Your body tingles with pleasure when he resumes the rough pace of his thrusts, fucking you a bit harder now that he has your attention.
“That’s it,” he growls, that trademark smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t look away.” Your cunt clenches around him in response, and he lets out a noise that’s guttural, downright feral. “Fuck…just like that,” he groans between the sounds of your pussy slicking him up with more of your arousal. “You’re squeezing me so well, sweetie.”
You whine his name, hips pushing back against him instinctively. You’re lost in the heat of his words and the stretch of him inside you.
“Such a precious little thing,” he murmurs, almost to himself.
His eyes never leave the reflection. He’s drinking in the sight of your body—how gorgeous every dip, curve, and soft roll is while you writhe from the pleasure.
And while he’s lost in admiring you, you’re just as caught up in him. The way his muscles flex with every movement. The way his skin glistens with sweat. The sharp lines of his jaw clenching when he grits his teeth. You’re hypnotized by his strength, his hunger, his absolute focus on you.
Then his arm snakes around your waist, and his fingers slip between your thighs to lazily circle your clit.
“Beautiful,” he whispers, still mesmerized by you and talking mostly to himself. “And you’re all mine.”
He fucks you like he plans on keeping you forever. And he kisses your neck with such gentle affection—it’s a dizzying contrast to how hard and deep his cock moves inside you.
Watching yourself like this, seeing how your own body seems to glow with confidence, it makes you moan even louder. Only Sylus brings out this side of you. And he loves it. He loves knowing how his words, his praise, encourages you to love yourself harder. You deserve it all, and he’s proud of you for accepting both his cock and his affection so openly.
The two of you get lost in the sinful image of your bodies intertwined, appreciating how sexy you look together. You’ve always brought out the best sides of each other.
It’s that feeling—the recognition that Sylus completes you and you complete him—that has your fingers clawing into his bicep as he thrusts into you harder, chasing both your highs at once.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Sylus says between breathless grunts. “Come for me.”
With one more circle of his fingers and a deliciously deep thrust, you fall apart on his cock. Your mouth parts in such a pretty ‘o’, and Sylus eagerly watches every twitch and shiver of your body through the mirror.
He follows a breath later, hips jerking one last time as he spills inside you with a rough groan of your name.
After such passionate lovemaking, even someone as strong as Sylus can’t stay upright anymore. He collapses beside you, careful to roll you over so you don’t get stuck beneath his heavy body.
The two of you need a few minutes to catch your breath, and he pulls you into his arms to pepper sloppy kisses all over your sweaty skin.
“Hm, you always look good, sweetie,” he murmurs, between kisses full of adoration. “But tonight? You were breathtaking.”
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websterss · 2 months ago
Text
THE WOES OF BOWTIES AND MISSING PUZZLE PIECES — ROBERT REYNOLDS
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REQUEST: reemoony asked: loveeee your writing and I hope this request reach you. Can you make Bob and y/n are liking each other but they never say it but everyone is well aware of their feelings. One day Bob having a rough day and void jumps out, creating quite a chaos. She tries to talk him through it but void being void thinking she’s a liability for them, he “consumed” her. Few moments after that he turns back into Bob & other people came back from void but not her. Angsty angsty but with happy ending please. Sorry if this complicated, just change it into what you feel right and easier.
WARNING(S): SPOILERS?? me trauma dumping on page 24 for the plot (google doc verified) ANGST AND MORE ANGST, mentions of toxic relationship, someone dies, Bob needs a hug, and a kiss, and lots of reassurance, and probably therapy, happy ending I swear!! I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote this one, folks. I hope I hit everything, this should've been two parts lmfao. I am not responsible for your therapy bills.
WORD COUNT: 18,593 (don't kill me I was on the roll)
PAIRING: Robert Reynolds (Sentry/The Void) x fem!reader
A/N: I hope you enjoy it! :) Feedback is always welcome! I was truly second-guessing posting this. I’m starting to feel like I don’t have the writing means to handle Bob with such care like some of y'all do.😭 but here we are. This took me a week y’all, ya girls tired <3
MASTERLIST
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The evening had come around the corner faster than Bob could grasp. Alexei was making last-minute calls to use their time wisely so that they might show up to the event at a cordial time. He would have if he could get his hair to cooperate with him.
"Knock. Knock." Yelena announces, tapping on Bob's ajar door. He stands in front of the floor-length mirror in the corner of his room. His black tie attire contrasts with the baggy, loose-fitting hoodie and sweats he wears around the place. The fitted tux does nothing to hide his trained physique.
Yelena exclaims with earnestness. "Wow! Look at you!" She's whistling for effect. Impressed by how well he cleaned up. "Do I smell cologne on you, sir?" Her smile grows.
He stood straight, his eyes widening in the mirror as he turned to face her. His gaze softened, taking in her all dolled up and out of her usual tactical gear. The green was different from the black she wore. He thought then and there that she should wear more colorful outfits. He nods once, dipping his chin to nuzzle his nose into the collar. He inhales deeply.
"It's the one you gifted me for my birthday…Thought I’d give it a try…Thanks…You're not so bad yourself. You...You look beautiful." He smiles sheepishly as he spares her another once-over, bashful.
Yelena grins, thoroughly pleased to hear Bob’s compliment. In the best of ways, it was pleasant to have her efforts noticed.
“Why, thank you,” She responds with genuine gratitude. She spins in place, the skirt of her emerald green dress flowing flawlessly with the motion. She sits on the edge of the bed, flopping down, grabbing one of Bob’s pillows to hold onto. “You look good in a suit, bud. Almost ready?"
"Yeah...Yeah, just need to finish up with my hair. That's all. It’s not...responding well to the hairspray you lent me, though." He pulls at a strand. Bob’s hair was relatively problematic. No order, flow, or movement that made sense to the careful eye.
Bob turns back to the mirror. Messing up his hair, parting it to the left, before parting it to the right, trying to maintain its order, but he’s made no progress, thus far.
She smirks, amused by his struggle. "Ah, the woes of getting ready. I should have given you gel; it works miracles better than that stuff. Why don’t I take a look, huh? Maybe I can offer my expertise. We do share the same hairstyle, after all." She rises from the bed, approaches him, and notes the tousled locks that stick out at various angles.
“I don’t wanna take up more of your time…”
“Nonsense.” She motions for him to come here to begin her work. "So….trying to impress anyone?"
Bob glances down at her before focusing back on himself. He tilts his head, feeling the way the suit hugs him. The jacket stops at his waist, not swallowing him whole like his hoodies, which secure him like a blanket. Everything fits justly. He feels exposed. Yelena pauses her movements, watching the uncertainty take over his frown, as though he’s weighing something significant. The tension is all in his shoulders.
"No...not really…Just–trying to make myself look the part." His response was vague, not giving away the reason for his meticulous grooming.
Yelena quirks an eyebrow. She’s perceptive. Nothing gets past her, especially when it comes to her teammates. She hums as she moves behind him, scrutinizing his hair from a new angle. "Really? Just trying to look the part?" She questions, her tone filled with skepticism. She playfully runs her fingers through his hair, testing its resistant nature. "So, you're not trying to impress a special someone? Not even the pretty lady getting ready across the hall from us?"
Bob pauses momentarily, caught off guard by her direct assumption. He turns his head towards her, a slight flush appearing on his cheeks. He can't completely mask his surprise at her astute comment.
"N-No." He shakes his head a bit too quickly.
Yelena smirks, her keen insight confirmed. She can see right through Bob's attempts at nonchalance. His sudden denial made it even more apparent that he was trying to hide his infatuation. There was no hiding behind it though. They all knew.
She steps closer to him, her gaze never wavering. "So you got all dressed up and started messing with your hair for an hour, just for the sake of looking the part?" Yelena cocks her head slightly to one side.
"Yes." He nods his head stubbornly. "Just trying to look the part..." He swallows nervously before he fixes his attention back to his appearance.
Yelena lets out a faint laugh at his repeated insistence. Her eyes narrow playfully; she ruffles spots of hair here and there. She moves over to the other side of him before continuing her touch-ups. "Y'know, Bob..." She starts, her voice low and light. "You're not a very good liar." She places a hand gently on his shoulder, leaning in slightly. “I’ve thought you better than that, sir.”
"I'm sorry…" Bob releases a sigh.
Yelena continues to fiddle with his hair from the new angle. Her touch is gentle. "S’alright… You try to hide it, she tries to hide it. You both are not very good at this thing. But we all see the way you look at each other." She speaks with a soft but knowing tone. As if she's been patiently waiting for him to acknowledge his feelings. "You see her like she’s the quiet that fills the void inside you, all the noise goes out and she’s there, bringing you that peace, and she sees you like you’re the sunrise she’s always been eager to see after she’s been living in the dark her whole life."
Bob laughs, the sound nervous, mixed in with a scoff. He's in denial. "I…I don't know what you're talking about."
Yelena chuckles at this, her smirk growing. "Oh, come on, Bob." She moves around him again, standing before him, her eyes meeting his gaze pointedly. "You think we haven't noticed how your eyes light up whenever she enters a room? She stumbles over her words when you ask her a simple question. Your gross motor skills somehow fail you when you see the tiniest hint of her smile? And she spews weird little facts that no one can make sense of." She shakes her head slightly, amused. "You're in love, as is she, and we can all see it. Last week, you fumbled a book when she spoke to you in the kitchen."
"I slipped..." Bob looked down, shrugging his shoulders, feigning indifference to your past interactions.
"You were sitting down. The book was closed."
Bob begins to teeter back and forth to try to calm himself. "Are…Are you done?" He meets her gaze through the glass. His eyes flitted up to his now messily but organized hairdo. His eyes crinkle at the sight. "It looks the same."
Yelena chuckled, her eyes gleaming. His words felt like a cover, a desperate attempt to deflect from the truth. She playfully patted his shoulder before moving closer, standing directly behind him again. She perched her chin on his shoulder. "You shouldn't fuss so much, you look great. As for your unruly hair, I only messed with it a tiny bit." Yelena pinched her fingers. "Figured some part of yourself should remain true tonight..." Yelena reached up to tousle it for show. "Also, I have it on good authority that a certain birdy has told me she likes it when it resembles a bird's nest." He doesn't miss her wink through the glass.
He still can't help but release his doubts to the widow. The way his self-esteem remains low. “I don’t feel great, Yelena. This…This isn’t me. This suit, my hair, and the nice shoes. It feels like I’m putting on a mask.”
"Bob, listen to me," She says, squeezing his shoulder. "I know it might feel weird. It is a bit weird. You're wearing a fancy suit with your hair slightly combed and shoes that aren't sneakers." She lets out a faint laugh. "But you're not hiding yourself away. Putting yourself into a box approved by Valentina." Yelena gently turns him around to face her. "You're just allowing yourself to be seen in a different light.” She squeezes his shoulder again, reassuringly. "You deserve to feel great about yourself."
"I feel good in sweatpants." 
Yelena laughs heartedly this time; she loves how adamant he can be. "We all do." She gives him a light, playful nudge. "But that's not going to fly tonight. You're going to wear the suit, you're going to go out with your friends, have a great time, all while looking good." She grins, her tone light.
"I don't feel good though..."
Yelena senses his unease. She meets his gaze again, her expression serious yet compassionate. "You are incredibly good looking, Bob. You're just not used to feeling that way, seeing yourself in that way. We've all had these moments. Hell, I've had my share," She admitted, her smile briefly fading. She quickly catches herself and tries to uplift the mood again. "It's just one party. How bad can it be?" She nudges him again, this time laying a playful punch to his chest. "Just this once, humor me. Let yourself experience something out of your normal routine." She reaches up to fix a strand playing stubborn. "Also, the little birdie has told me she loves the sight of a man in a crisp suit, too." She nudges him twice with her elbow.
"Okay." He laughs at her incredulous antics and light teasing. A beat passes before his brow furrows. "We have a bird?"
Yelena bursts into laughter at his question. "Oh my god- No." She grabs him on the arm to ground herself. Her voice filled with mirth. “Bob, no. We...We don't have a bird." She shakes her hands and head. "It's just a figure of speech. It means I have inside information. It's- Oh Bob." Yelena's shoulders slump in defeat. Bob offers a timid grin before he laughs lightly with her, finally understanding what she meant.
"Oh right...Y/n’s the bird. I-I get it now." Bob rocks back and forth with a solid nod.
Yelena playfully rolls her eyes but can't help but smile at Bob's delayed reaction. "Yes, she's the bird.”
Bob glances back at his reflection, still weighing his options. "Is it too late to change into my robe?"
Yelena chuckles at his attempt to escape the situation. “Well, you certainly can’t show up to a gala in pajamas. Sorry, buddy. No PJs tonight. You're stuck in the suit until the party's over." She grins at him, her tone playful but filled with determination. "And I'm also eighty-eight percent sure Valentina will kill you if you set foot into the venue looking like you just rolled out of bed, so the tux stays on."
“It wouldn’t be the first time…” He avoids her gaze, his cheeks still dusted with a slight tint, a mixture of embarrassment and reluctance. A bit of his inner turmoil was still cracking through the surface. "I… I should stay home tonight."
Yelena's eyes soften once more as he suggests excluding himself from the event tonight. "No, no. You're going, Bob. Don't even think about backing out now." She steps closer to him, her gaze steady and firm. "You look great! Listen to me; we want you to get out of your robes and that blue sweater you always wear. Take you out for once since you're always here at the tower. Bob, surely you wouldn't want to miss the chance to see how stunning Y/n looks in her evening gown, would you? Gorgeous." She emphasizes.
Bob falls quiet for a moment, contemplating her words. His mind drifts, picturing how you might look all dressed up. Your hair done all nice, maybe some jewelry, nothing too flashy, since you preferred decorating your fingers and ears with simplistic pieces. He can't help but wonder what color might adorn your perfect smile. Red, maybe orange, perhaps that color you told him was called mauve, with your lips lined.
I...I bet you look pretty. He thinks.
Yelena grins, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. She can see the thought of you in his mind, the vivid image of you dressed to the nines igniting a spark in his expression. She catches his brief moment of daydreaming before he catches himself, his gaze snapping away from the pillow to meet hers. 
"Bob..." Yelena's voice edges amused.
"I just..." Bob starts, then lets out a frustrated exhale. "I'm not really... I'm not the party type, you know. I always stayed indoors growing up. I never went out much. I never had this. Friends who wanted to be around me. This gala is far from my normal routine. I don’t think letting me go out so soon would be a good idea. It’s been a year. You guys said it yourself, you don't want to risk Void getting out again. You...You guys would be better off going without me. I can stay behind…I don’t mind."
She understands that he harbors doubts and fears about his place among them.
"Bob..." Yelena tilts her head, staring at him pointedly, her voice gentle yet firm. "We aren't keeping you locked up to contain 'Void'. It's not about that. Not anymore." She reaches up to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You're not a ticking time bomb, you never have been. We want you there with us. Even Y/n, alright? If it puts your mind at ease, even for just one second. She was the one who suggested we bring you along with us. Not because we feel it’s our obligation, and no one can watch you. But because we genuinely want to see you out of this place, cleaned up! We don't want to see you holed up in this tower forever, okay?"
Bob's heart skips at the mention of you wanting him there, too. He fidgets momentarily, avoiding eye contact by looking down at his shoes. The polished shine on them reminded him that he could have these things now. The privilege of owning nice things.
Nice things never last long. In his life at least.
“Okay…” His mind whirls with the never-ending feeling of being a bother and a burden. He's hesitant, torn between his desire to attend and his habitual tendency to keep to himself. He bites his lip, the urge to decline the invitation was tempting against the subtle want of not wanting to be stuck at the tower…alone. "I just..." His hands lingers over his naked collar. 
Her voice is gentle with a hint of encouragement. “You what, Bob?” She waits for him to verbalize his concerns; she’s patient.
"No...It's stupid." He brushes it off with a laugh.
"No, say it!" She encourages.
"No. I should stay home-"
"Bob, tell me." Yelena dipped her head to meet his eyes. He gives in after a moment. 
"...I don't know how to put a tie on." He laments, lamely gesturing to the fabric he had tossed on his bed moments earlier, having given up on trying to do it himself. His father was absent from teaching him how to put one one. He never did get to bond over a silly thing, such as a tie with him. The rite of passage, or whatever they call it. The transition into becoming a man, knowing how to tie one yourself.
Yelena chuckles softly at his confession, her amusement tinged with empathy. Her eyes flicker towards the abandoned tie on the bed.
"Oh, Bob..." She gently pats his shoulder this time. "Don't worry; we can sort it out, alright." She takes his hand and guides him to sit on the edge of the bed. She picks up the tie, draping it around his neck. "You know... You could have just asked me." She says gently, wrapping the tie around his neck.
"You already helped with my hair." He shakes his head.
Yelena playfully rolls her eyes at his stubbornness, carefully ensuring one end is slightly longer. This difference would account for the tie’s eventual knot later. Yelena crossed the longer end over the shorter one, then pulled it under the shorter end and through the loop around Bob's neck. She continued folding the shorter end at the widest part to create a bow shape.
"Yes, but that's no excuse. You could have asked. Nothing wrong with asking for more help." With the bow shape firmly in place, she brought the longer end directly over it. Pinching the bow shape and the longer end together, carefully threading the longer end through a loop she had opened in the back of the bow. She then pulled both ends to tighten them in place.
"See? Sorted out." She pats his chest, stepping back to look over her handiwork and adjusting the fabric until she is satisfied with how it sits at his neck.
"Thanks...I was never taught how." Bob trails off, not wanting to bring forth thoughts of his father. They were never pleasant.
She notices the hint of melancholy in his voice upon mentioning not being able to put on a tie, but she chooses to move past it, not wanting to dampen the moment. Instead, she pats his chest once more, grinning. "Don't worry, Alexei doesn’t either." She winks at him once more. 
He nods out of curiosity before he even registers what he's asking. "Does…Does Y/n know how to tie a tie?"
Yelena raises her eyebrow at his question. She tries to hide a smirk, realizing where his mind is currently at. "Hmm...You know, I'm not entirely sure. But..." She pauses, enjoying the moment. "If I had to guess, I'd bet she would. She's got an endless amount of skills hidden beneath the surface. Surely tying ties is a secret she has, wouldn’t hurt to ask her about it."
"I-I wouldn't put it past her…She's great at everything." His admiration was not lost on her.
"That she is..." Yelena smirks. “You should tell her you know. That you’re in love with her.” She nudges his foot with her heel.
He wrings his hands together, leaning onto his elbows placed on his knees. As tempting as it sounds, he wouldn't be able to gain the confidence to execute it. Confessing to you how he felt. The feelings he harbored. "No…It’s better this way. If I keep it to myself."
Yelena's expression softens at his reluctance. She sits next to him, considering his words. "Bob, listen to me. Life…it’s too short to keep something like that to yourself. I've seen you around her, the way your worries fade. That sense of security that she brings you. That you bring to her. It’s all in the risk worth taking." Yelena continues, choosing her words with care. "Don't let fear keep you from telling her how you feel. You'll never know what might happen if you don’t take that chance."
He meets her gaze. His locks falling over his eyes, hiding him. "What if I mess it all up?”
“I don’t think you could.” 
“And if I do…I don’t want to hurt Y/n.”
“Relationships get messy, Bob, it’s part of growing together. Do you think we’d be here today, as the new avengers if we continued to butt heads every time?”
“No…”
“You have nothing to lose.” Yelena encourages. “Trust me. Just be yourself. Tell her how you feel, and before it’s too late, alright.”
“I'll think about it…" Bob stands up as Alexei's voice rings out from the hall, indicating it was time to head out. With a sigh, Bob steps out of the door frame, ready to face whatever the evening has in store.
-
Bob had a completely different idea about how the night would go. Surely, there would have been busybodies intrigued by his presence and would approach him. Possibly ask him about his powers, his involvement, and what he brought to the table, but that was not the case as he continued to stand in the corner of the venue. Alone. His hands were messing with his cuff links to help pass the time. He raised his hand occasionally, sparing a timid greeting to the passersby who gave him a side eye. He wasn’t aware how much of a wallflower he was being, but he was nonetheless immune to the judgeful stares. He might've guessed that his longing gaze also made people whisper and gesture towards him. The fact that he was staring in one particular direction caught everyone’s curiosity. 
He was looking at you, mingling and laughing with people he didn’t know. He couldn’t stop staring at you since you met the group in the living room. Yelena wasn’t lying when she said you looked gorgeous.
It felt like time itself stopped and nothing else moved, nor mattered, except you. Walker didn’t fight the shit eating grin on his face when he heard Bob’s sharp intake. The kid was so far gone that he had to nudge the man after you had complimented his appearance. 
“And here I thought you were reluctant to go out with us. You look good.” Your sweet grin was making him visibly malfunction. You gave a nervous laugh, looking down as the minutes passed without him saying anything. Heat warms your cheeks. “Did I say something wrong?” Your eyes crinkle with embarrassment. 
“No, he–“
“–Oh!” Bob stumbles to the right from Walker’s nudge. “T-Thank you! You don’t look nice- No you do! You look nice…I meant to say you look nice. You’re beautiful…You look beautiful!” Bob grows flustered. “T-Thank you.” 
“Geezus.” Walker scoffed, walking away from you both. 
“You know you can take your eyes off her for a second, right? She’ll still be there, I promise.” Bucky comes up to him from his peripheral vision. Bob’s face flushed with embarrassment, having been caught. He dips his chin before he locks eyes with the soldier. “Here.” He offers a rounded glass—a golden liquid swirling in its confinement. 
“Thanks…” He carefully encircles his hand around the glass and takes a sip. A loud cough erupts from his chest, making him lean over. Bucky chuckles briefly before helping him back upright and patting his chest. 
“Scotch on the rocks. Thought you could use some liquid courage. Get some hair on your chest.” Bucky pulls away. Bob watches as the man’s eyes avert, inspecting the room. He blended in well, unlike himself. No one looks twice at Bucky. No one suspects him of anything bad. 
“F-For what?” Bob cleared his throat, trying to get over the burn. 
“You’re gonna ask her to dance.” Bucky declares.
“I’m…I’m what?” Bob whips his head to peer at him. Then, back to you, you hit a man with your hand across his chest, throwing your head back. How could he ask you to dance when you looked to have been having a swell time across the room?
“Gentlemen…What are we talking about over here?” Walker chimes over. A hand in his pocket, a rounded glass tucked into his palm, faced down. 
“I told Bob here to go ask Y/n to dance.” 
“No wait- I wasn’t-“ He protests. 
“Ha– That I want to see. Do you even know how to dance? Can you dance?”
“Well, no… I can do the Charlie Brown in the cha-cha slide though…” 
“You don’t say…” Walker closes his mouth. He shakes his head at Bob’s enthusiastic confirmation. “Maybe teach the kid a step…or two.” Walker lifts his drink to his lips. Bucky pats Bob comfortably against his back, his chin face down, embarrassed that he admitted his lack of dance skills. “Before he asks her.”
“I should’ve stayed home…” Bob muttered to himself. 
“No you shouldn’t have. You just need a wingman.”
“A wingman?” Bob’s brows crease. 
“Yeah, someone who can help you get the girl. That gives you advice on how to look good in front of her.” Bucky's words cause Bob to look down at himself.
“What more could I do to look okay? Y-Yelena already helped me do my hair and tie.” 
“This will have nothing to do with your appearance. You already got the face and the build, kid, don’t worry about that. I just meant more of teaching you how to hold yourself confidently and how you speak to a woman.” 
“But Yelena told me to just be my-“
“Forget everything Yelena has told you. Let us help you, alright.” Walker butts in. Bob wrings his hands, he wasn’t too sure about the whole ordeal. Yelena told him to take the chance, to tell you how he felt before it was too late, to be himself, because that’s who you were drawn to. Now the guys were telling him he had to work on himself, on their way to giving him tips on how to bring out his confidence, it didn’t make sense. 
“I don’t know…I wanted to do it on my own terms. N-Not right now…She’s busy.” 
“She’s networking.” 
“I don’t want to pull her away to tell her how I feel…” The idea felt selfish. He didn’t want to be the one to tamper your fun night.
“Trust me, kid. You’d be doing her a favor. She’s miserable.” Bob turns, inspecting your joyous body language. If your discontent looked like you were happy, then so was he. 
“Maybe we should wait-“
“Oh.” Walker draws their attention. Bob turns to him before looking back at you. “Trouble in paradise.” Walker quips, gesturing to the new fellow that caught their attention. Your smile disappears when you turn around to face the hand that tapped your shoulder. 
“Who’s that?” Bob glances back at the troubled expression of his teammates. He rocks back and forth on his heels. Nervously waiting to know of the man, who brought you displeasure from what he could tell. He watches you shake your head no, turning and walking away from him and the group you mingled with. An unsettling torment rumbles in his chest, when the guy grabs your upper forearm, halting your retreat. 
You quickly turn your head around; a quiet disagreement begins. A few other guests glance over at you both.
"Sadly that is Y/n's former partner. His name is Ryker Stride.” Bucky reveals the information about your ex-boyfriend that you failed to talk about. To him at least.
"I had no idea she was with someone…" Despite the fact that he didn't look like your ex, Bob couldn't help but let his wandering thoughts get the better of him. He felt insignificant compared to how Ryker held himself.
“They weren’t together for long, they hit month six before she ended things with him.” 
“Is it ‘cause he’s an asshole?” He didn’t like the way he grabbed you. You pulled your hand back, before you walked away, Turning a corner out of sight. 
“Unfortunately.” Bucky sighed. Walker watched the scene unfold, before an idea struck him. 
“Go save her.” Walker urges, noticing Ryker following after you. 
“What?”
“I didn’t stutter. Go!” Walker nudged him a few steps forward, but Bob only shakes his head. 
“I-I don’t think it's a good idea…Walker, Yelena told me to not get into trouble before she left me here. I-“
“Oh my god! It’s not like you’re gonna kill the dude, you're just gonna follow them, make sure she’s okay. And if he so much lays a hand on her, then you slightly intervene, use a bit of that strength of yours to show him you don’t mess around when it comes to her. It’s completely harmless dominance. Show how much of a gentleman you are. Trust me, she’ll be kissing you by midnight, you’ll thank me later. Promise.“ Walker steps up to him, pats him on the chest. 
“I don’t know…I think we should get Yelena. Get her opinion on this.” He reels into himself, not believing he could carry it all out. He was a gentleman, he thought so, so did Yelena and you, why would possibly getting a man’s hands off you further highlight the fact he’d never do such a thing as lay a hand on a woman. It felt risky…but was this the risk Yelena encouraged him to take things with you further?
“I think it could work.” Now Bucky, mauled it over. 
“I don’t want to hurt anyone. It’s risky…” Bob kept insisting.
“No. It’s not. You should go save her.” Walker persisted. “This is your chance and you’re seriously not gonna take it?” He scoffs. “If you’re not gonna do it, then I will. The guy’s a prick anyway.”
Bob couldn’t believe what he was hearing. First, the guys suggested he should ask you to dance, and now they want him to barge in like some knight in shining armor? Did they seriously expect him to just waltz over to you, interrupt your conversation with your ex, and play the hero? But what really caught him off guard was the fact that he actually considered it. Sure, he didn't think much of your ex when he saw his hand on you, but to intervene?
Walker and Bucky continue to implore him, emphasizing the importance of this moment. Telling him to man up. He knew this was the opportunity to act, but as usual, his nerves get a hold of him. With a hesitant look at the super soldiers, he nods once and moves with small steps in the direction he saw you go.
-
Bob felt nervous when he came to a stop around the corner. Your anger evident with every grit of your teeth. It was daunting to see you so worked up. His brows furrow as he saw Ryker hold you in the exact same position.
You wished you hadn’t walked away from the crowd. Crowds kept you safe, they granted you witnesses if something were to happen to you. Much like so. 
"Let go." You grit your teeth at the man preventing your exit.
"Let's talk about this-"
"There's nothing to talk about. I gave you your answer. I ended things with you for this exact reason. Your aggressive, abusive, and right now a real pain in my ass. If you can't be a grown-up about it, that's a personal issue. Not mine. Let go." Your voice lowers, firm in your conviction. 
“No come on, give me a chance to explain myself. I told you I was going to work on myself-”
"Ryker if you don't take your goddamn hand off me so help me-"
Bob was torn from the sidelines. He understood it wasn’t his place to interfere, but his heart began to beat faster as the conversation between you and your ex grew more heated. He clenched and unclenched his hands, taking a few steps towards the altercation. He had to say something, but he also didn’t have a clue how to approach.
"She...She said let her go." A dark, low rumble emits behind you. The rasp in Bob's voice usually sent a tingling sensation down your spine, but upon seeing how intensely he glared at your ex, and the way his shoulders curled in around himself. It did nothing but give you goosebumps. Bob's gaze settled on his hand, the one currently leaving impressions of his fingers on your skin. Your gaze stays on him as you catch a flicker of amber in his eyes. No. 
"She said, let go." Bob’s gestures with a pointed finger. A nervous laugh emits past his lips. It does nothing to ease the tension.
Ryker's hold on you tightens at Bob's words. The defiance in the man's demeanor only fueled his determination to maintain his grip. "Mind your business, freak. This doesn't concern you."
Your heart hammers as Bob’s eyes go full gold. “She said let go…”
You turn back to the stubborn fool with cogs and nuts for brains. "Ryker, let go of me now." You push against his hand, which doesn't let up at all. "Terco! Suéltame!" You curse at him. "You have a death wish. Surely, that’s the case!" You feign sudden revelation to his unrelenting grip. You shove against his chest, before looking back at Bob, exclaiming frantically. "Bob, I'm fine. Go find Yelena!"
"He's bruising you..." His gaze was unmoving from Ryker's grip. “He shouldn’t be hurting you.”
Bob steps to move closer, but your desperate attempt to keep him away from the impending situation stops him in place. His gaze flicks rapidly between Ryker’s tight hand on you and the sight of your growing distress.
"Bob, it's fine!" You curse under your breath, as you try to hide the pain you begin feeling, etching your features. "Ryker!" A disheartened chuckle slips past your lips, but it's not joyous. Bob didn't misplace your whine. "You're drunk, go home. You're making things worse-"
Ryker's grip on you persisted, his drunken state only fueling his stubbornness even more so. He ignored your attempt to diffuse the situation; a scoff left him. "The only one making things worse is this pri—" His words were slurred and then interrupted. Bob stuck a hand out before Ryker's grip lifted off of you, and then he flew towards Bob. 
Bob didn't hesitate to grip the intoxicated man's neck.
"You were saying?" Bob's raspy growl was not missed.
Ryker croaks, his airway being cut off by Bob's hand around his throat. He tries to form words, but only a strangled gasp leaves him.
"Bob..." You step closer to them. His cerulean eyes meet yours, and a speck of hope fills you, thinking he's not far from being helped. "Bob, can we talk about this?"
His grip doesn't loosen on the guy. Bob's eyes are locked onto yours for a split second before returning to Ryker, the grip on his neck more harsh than what is necessary. His demeanor had changed; his usually soft-spoken words and timidness were gone. He stands straight, shoulders squared. A subtle but commanding aura emanated from him. He was losing an eternal fight that the eye couldn't see, but you saw the signs. His lack of empathy, dissolving, a rugged exterior slamming down like a shutdown protocol. You didn't like the man who wanted to take over.
"Bob?" Your heels click softly with each approaching step. "Listen I know Ryker's a piece of shit okay. It's why I broke up with him..." You put your hands out to show him you mean no harm. "I thought I wanted him gone at one point in my life too, but contemplating about the asshole in such a way didn't feel worth it anymore." Ryker pays you a glare. "Bob, he doesn't deserve one second of your time." Bob clenches his jaw as he peers down at your darkened marks. He twitches as he tries to think through his inner turmoil.
"No, no. He shouldn't have hurt you. He put his hands on you." Bob's voice cracks. "I don't like it when people hurt you..."
"Yeah, well, people do stupid things when they're drunk. He's an idiot." You give Bob a pained smile. "I'm fine. Nothing serious." He still had Ryker in his grip. The man was turning red.
"He-He deserves it." With one final tightening of his grip, Ryker falls limp. You barely register the crack, surely his neck. The sound haunts you as the hairs on your arms rise again.
You watch as Bob releases Ryker. The man flops to the ground, unmoving. Your heart picks up as you realize what he's done. Your eyes go wide before you swallow the lump in your throat. "Bob, you...Did you-"
Bob's gaze was locked on Ryker's unconscious form, and he finally turned to look at you, noticing you had backed up. A flicker of realisation passes across his expression at your reaction and withdrawal. Bob's gaze remains steady, his eyes devoid of the softness you're used to, replaced by something else. Hatred.
"He had it coming." Bob's tone is firm, his voice still hinting at his usual timidness, but tinged with a hardened edge. "He hurt you. What gives him the right to do that to you? To anyone? I did him a favor." He nods more to himself.
"You didn't need to kill him."
Bob's gaze intensifies as he keeps your gaze, the look unyielding. The gold in his eyes is more prominent now. The tension was dense, the moment hanging in the air, thick like fog. "He deserved it." Bob's tone, confident and cold. No remorse. "He hurt you."
"Oh my god…No it wasn’t necessary.." You release a sigh.. "H-He just held my wrist."
Bob's eyes narrow. He scoffs in disbelief. "And you were wincing, were you not?" He steps closer to you, closing the distance. You never liked his gold eyes. Not when he was looming over you.
You hold your head high, trying not to let your gaze waver from his intimidation. "I'm fine. Killing shouldn't have been your first choice. It never should result in death unless the situation requires it. I could have knocked him out, Bob..."
"Maybe you're too kind." The intensity in his gaze was unbroken. "Sometimes, people like him don't understand anything but violence."
"I don't think you do either..." You wished you could have taken it back the second the words fell past your lips. "I didn't mean that-" You close your eyes. Regret hitting you.
Bob recoils at your words, flinching as though you hit him. "I think you did." His gaze sharpens, hurt and confusion flashing across his features.
"No." You insist.
The intensity in his gaze doesn't let up, even as you try to retract your statement. "No. You did mean it." His tone is stern. Grim. It cuts through the air like a knife. "You think I'm as violent as him, is that it?"
You only keep shaking your head, even as he corners you against an adjacent wall. "No. I think-"
The weight of his body is imposing, shadows slowly casting over him starting from his shoes as he corrals you into the wall. His hands find the space beside your head, trapping you in as he leans in close, his voice low and sharp. “Why shouldn't I use my full potential, especially when a damsel is distressed? I'm strong, so why wouldn't I try to help someone in need? Though I'm starting to think this damsel wasn't worth the time or energy anymore. Since she's yet to thank me. I came here to save you from that asshole.”
Your lip trembles as you reach for your gun. You act fast on impulse. Switching the safety off your weapon with precision and speed before a shot rings out. Surely someone's heard it go off.
Bob's reaction was instantaneous as pure adrenaline surged through his veins. He acted on instinct, seizing your wrist in a firm grip. He holds your gun-wielding hand steady. The weapon was aimed at a spot just past his right ear. His voice is eerily calm. “You missed.” 
Your outcry was real this time as the gun slipped out of your hand. Out of reach now. Bob held your wrist, much like Ryker had. Only this grip was severely cruel, whereas Ryker's was bruising you, Bob could easily break your wrist with slightly more pressure applied. "Y-You're hurting me-" You shove against his chest. He was unfazed by your attempts.
"And you were going to shoot me....God, why do we even keep you around?" Your eyes widen as the shadows reach up to his torso.
"'Cause I'm one of you..." You arguably strain.
He doesn't allow himself to give in to your words; he doesn't soften or falter. You press the left side of your face into the wall as he sneers and breaths heavily into your cheek. "You sure about that?" His tone was condescending. He pulls you into his chest, dragging you away before you know it.
-
A yell breaks out when you're thrown across the venue’s dance floor. Your body hits the ground roughly, sending you rolling before you stop face down into the ground. You lay there trying to gather your bearings.
He threw me! Your thoughts alert you.
"T-That hurt..." You mutter to yourself as you take note of the crowd, stepping back and away from the center. Separating a path as Bob, halfway transformed into Void, approaches with steady, slow footsteps.
"Y/n!" Yelena makes for you, but you shake your head.
"No, no, don't." You held your hand out, halting Walker and Yelena from approaching you. Your face fell when you noticed them reach for specific spots on their attire. Weapons. Hidden from wandering gazes. Had they anticipated this to happen? "Stay back!" You warn, pushing off the ground with shaken legs. Your chest rises and falls heavily, trying to push through the pain of being thrown like a rag doll.
"B-Bob stop!" You cry out, a rasp to your voice.
Bob's eyes remained fixed. Golden. The shadow within him, consuming his being. His expression was almost feral. He stops in front of you. He had no hesitation and no mercy. No, not for you. No more.
Bob watches you stumble forward with an unsettling lack of regard. Even though he had been rougher with you than he'd like, his demeanor didn't soften. He begins stepping towards you. "You're a drawback." His tone is harsh, lacking the usual warmth he holds towards you.
Your head falls into your shoulder, defeated and solemn, as Bob's demeanor doesn’t change. Black overshadows his delicate features. He is no longer the timid and awkward man you thought you knew. Now, he is Void—a twisted, broken force to be reckoned with. The two white dots for eyes stare back at you hauntingly.
No trace of warmth or familiarity in his eyes. Just a tormenting, head tilt directed at your vulnerable state. "A liability." His head tilts to the other side now.
Yelena steps closer to you. A hand was held out in front of her, ready to shove you behind her. She was all too familiar with the Void's dislike for you. He hadn't been too kind to you in your shame rooms. Giving you hell the most when the group rejoined in the attic. He hated you, hated how you made things quiet for Bob. You provided a sense of comfort and a safeguard for him to fall back on. Void wanted you gone. Now more so than ever.
"Bob?" Yelena gives it a go before she reaches for you.
Instantly, you're yanked by your wrist, slamming into his chest, forcing you to meet his menacing stare. You watch his wickened grin grace you, the white dots for his eyes reflecting the sliver of hope within him. Barely there.
"No!"
"Let her go!"
"Bob, let her go!"
"Bob, if you can hear me. Stop this!"
Multiple safety clicks are echoed all around the room. You turn briefly, locking eyes with Ava, Yelena, and Walker, directing their pistols' ends towards the shadow man. Bucky is on standby with his weapon of choice. You lock eyes with him, shaking your head. Their hesitance to shoot is noticeably painful.
"You can't be trusted." Void continues speaking slowly, calculatingly, each word falling heavy and deliberate, as the shadows consume you from your heels. "You act impulsively based on your emotions. You're a waste of time. You're only making him weaker."
The shadows wrap around your ankles, coiling around them, consuming them in darkness. You feel the shadows creep up your legs, snaking their way up your body, now to the halfway point of your waist. It didn't take a genius to know what was happening. "Then get it over with already..."
He chuckles darkly before you see your friends and various guests begin being turned into shadows. Void's gaze flickers around the room. People start to scream and flee, while others begin to try to fight back. He remains unfazed by the panic as he lifts you to his eye level, the shadows reaching your chest now. "You don't matter...you never will." You release a gasp, your eyes closing as the shadows curl over your head like a hoodie. Then your body's gone from his grasp. No shadow in sight.
-
Bob sat up, startled. His eyes snapped open, his breathing heavy and ragged as he shook his head and ran frantic fingers through his now messy curls. His heart raced in his chest. "What..." He muttered, trying to shake the remnants of the horrid nightmare from his mind.
"Bob?" He whips his head up fast, causing him a sudden dizzy spell, before he locks eyes with Yelena on the ground. He begins to register not only her disheveled state but also various other bodies, sitting up from the ground as well.
"What the hell..." Ava curses as she goes to stand. Yelena followed suit, as shadows started to disperse from each figure that had stood in the room a while ago.
"What happened here?" Bob, nervous, stood up, trying to find his bearings.
"Great, you don't remember."
Bob's confusion grows as he takes in the sight of everyone around him. He rubs his temples, trying to make sense of what's happening. "I...I don't know..." He shakes his head, feeling dazed and disoriented. "I was... dreaming, I think. It was a nightmare. But, I can't remember much."
"It's fine, Bob." Yelena waves him off.
Bob rubs his hands over his face, trying to shake off the remnants of his nightmare. The group is gathered in the venue, their surroundings in disarray. Chairs toppled, tables were knocked over, and the floor was littered with shattered glass. "What happened here?" He asks again, taking in the state of the room.
"Void." Bucky sighed.
Bob's heart sinks at the mention of Void. He knew all too well the damage and chaos the other guy brought with him. "Void did this?"
"Yeah..." Walker nods. "But from the looks of it, you only maintained it here, so I call progress." Bob was lost.
"I did? I don't remember anything. I only remember seeing Y/n talking to that Ryker guy, before everything got fuzzy again."
The mention of your name had them freezing. Yelena looked to him before her body swirled around in search of you. Yelena's eyes widen with realization. 
"Y/n... Where's Y/n?" The room falls silent as they begin to realize the absence of your presence in the venue.
"What's with the long faces?" Bob wrings his hands together, not understanding the concerned glances everyone threw his way. He turns his head like they do, eyes darting around, falling onto multiple strange faces, searching but never really finding what they looked for. "What's wrong?... Where's Y/n?" His body tenses, dread seeping in.
"What do you mean, where is she?" Yelena's heart plunges. "Bob?" She inched closer, trying to get a read on him. "D-Do you remember anything?"
"No, I told you all that I know. I saw Ryker with Y/n before everything got dark." Bob glanced over to Walker and Ava's hardened gazes. He curled in on himself. He didn't need to be a genius to know something was wrong and that he was at fault. "W-What do you mean? Where is she?"
"Alright, kid, quit messing around. Where'd she go? We all came back, so why didn't she?" Walker rolled his eyes, not in the mood for his oblivious antics. "Where is she, Bob?"
"I-I don't know where Y/n is? What did I do?" Bob frantically shrugs his shoulders.
"No." Dread fell over Yelena's face. "No, no, no." Yelena cupped her stomach.
Bob noticed Yelena's expression, confusion etched on his face, "W-What's going on? What did I do?"
The group looked at him in pity, their faces riddled with worry, fear, and confusion—all except Bucky, who remained silent and stoic. Everyone waited for Yelena to speak. Yelena's voice was shaky, her words softly spoken.
"You didn't do anything." Yelena's eyes started to water, her body trembling. "No..." She looked around the room once more. Nothing. "Okay...Okay. How do we get her back?" She highlighted.
"Get her back?" Bob shook his head.
"You're asking us?" Bucky pointed to himself. "How would we know?" He perplexes.
"I...I don't know!" Yelena's breathing grew ragged, on the verge of tears. She blew raspberries. "She can't be gone...we all came back, there's that!"
"Yeah, but she didn't." Walker voiced everyone's dread. His tone grew sharp and impatient. He pointed to Bob, "Why is that Bob? Why didn't she return like the rest of us?"
"Surely there's some reasonable explanation for this-" Ava tried leveling the situation.
Bob's expression turned somber, his eyes darting to each person searching for an answer. He stuttered, "I...I don't know why. I swear, I don't know. I...I'd never ever hurt her, I promise. I'd never hurt her." 
Yelena's voice was shaky, her words barely above a whisper. "We know you wouldn't, but she's gone. Maybe still in the Void, and we need to get her back."
"The question is how, though?" Walker queried.
Yelena shrugged, her eyes reddened and puffy. "I got nothing...." Everyone remained quiet.
Bob wrung his hands together before a suggestion conjured up in his mind. "W-What if you knock me out?"
The group froze, all turning to look at him in disbelief. 
"What?" Yelena furrowed her brows, confused by his reasoning. 
Ava chimes in, disagreeing. "That doesn't even sound plausible."
Walker let out a scoff. "Knock you out? Are you out of your mind? What good would that do for us?"
"We risk the Void escaping again!" Alexei voiced his concern. "It is a no from me!"
"Sorry, it was just an idea. I thought it could work- Sorry." Bob shakes his head, letting his head fall to the ground again. Bucky, the more level-headed of the group, weighs the idea before speaking.
"Bob..." Bucky steps forward, his gaze fixed on the distressed male. "What do you mean by that? Why do you suggest that we knock you out?"
A spark of hope ignites behind his eyes. Someone's taking a chance on his idea. Bob nods before saying, "Maybe if you guys knock me out. I could find her...in here." He peers up through his lashes at the soldier, gesturing to his temple. "It was just an idea..."
Bucky's gaze remains locked on Bob, contemplating his proposal. Yelena moves from her spot, placing her hand on Bucky's arm. "Bucky, you can't be serious."
"You got a better plan… We don't have anything to go from. It's better than nothing. It could work..." Bucky shrugs at Bob, who straightens. Bob stares at Bucky, surprised that he was on board with it. He turned to the others, waiting for their opinions.
"But how can you know for certain... that it will work?" Yelena counters.
"It's a stupid idea," Ava mutters, shaking her head.
"Alright, how hard do I have to hit him?" Walker begins removing his blazer, rolling his white dress shirt up to his elbows. 
"Woah woah woah! Let's think this through, there are other ways we can do this!" Yelena cuts in frantically.
"She's right, punching him won't phase him."
"Then how the hell are we supposed to knock him out?" Walker complained.
"You could..." Bob swallowed back a lump. "You could choke me..."
Ava whips her head over to Walker's baffled gaze. She nudges him with a shit eating grin. "Choke him!" She urges.
Bucky places his hands on his hips, and a heavy sigh leaves him. "You sure about this, Bob?"
A mixture of nervousness and determination washes over Bob's face. Bob nods, trying to seem brave. "Yeah...I'm sure. I have to try…For her. I wouldn't be able to live with myself, you know?" He lets out a faint laugh, but his smile only lasts a few seconds.
A grimace is on Yelena's face as she watches the scene begin to unfold. Bucky places a firm hand on Bob's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Don’t kill him, Walker. Do it quickly, just enough to make him unconscious. Got it?” 
Walker shakes his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this." He approaches Bob, hesitant about his decision. He grabs Bob’s forearm before making him turn around. His back now faces him. "Sorry in advance, kid..." Walker swallows hard before he wraps his arms around Bob’s shoulders. It's not long before his arms tighten around his neck. Bob protests, raising his hands to where Walker's hold reduces his oxygen. He knew he had to give in, for your sake, but he'd be lying if he said the whole plan was terrifying.
Bob tries to resist even as he meets Yelena's pained expression. Bucky's head turns away so as not to look, but he thinks twice before looking back, to be there as his source of comfort as he starts tapping against Walker’s arms.
"You'll be fine, kid. Just relax, alright? Don’t fight it." Bucky tries to reassure him. Bob feels the pressure build up in his head and lets out a gasp before he nods. His eyes flicker back and forth between gold and blue. His throat feels like it's being crushed, not the most pleasant thing he's experienced, but what's worse is the way Yelena is watching him. Not at all okay with this. She never liked seeing him hurt.
His eyes meet Yelena's, and her eyes are filled with dread. He manages to mouth his words with a weak smile. I’ll. Find. Her.
Bob's eyes start fluttering. His expression starts drooping as he's on the verge of passing out.
The world blurs as he starts to feel the rush; his head starts pounding. Then his surroundings turn dark. The pressure becomes too intense, and he goes limp. His body falls into Walker’s arms. Walker sighs, letting his arms unravel from his neck before he walks backwards, gently laying the man on the floor. He stays crouched next to him, hating this more than anything. “Now what?”
"We wait." Yelena chimes in solemnly. Grabbing a discarded chair, planting it before her unconscious friend, and plopping herself down on it. “And hope this work.”
-
Bob didn’t know how long he had been roaming through his shame rooms before a particular doorway appeared. The brown door, sticking out like a sore thumb from the white walls of his childhood home, his shame room, where his dad was screaming at him, asking him where he was going. He gave his father one more glance before he rushed towards it. Opening and slamming it shut behind it. But as he put his force behind the shove. The door itself caught on the doorframe. He tried again, but it wouldn’t budge, leaving behind the hope that it would close, but a thin space between the doorframe and the door prevented its enclosure. 
“It doesn’t close…The floor is sunken there.” A high-pitched voice raises the hairs on the back of his neck. He pushes himself from the door before he swivels in place. A small child greets him on the floor. 
"Y/n?" Bob inched closer to what he presumed to be your younger self. You were donning a pink and purple sweater, a sequined puppy plastered on the front of it. A few sequins turned over like you had run your hand across them. Black leggings worn out and fuzzy purple socks on your feet. A mirror of your adolescence.
Your younger self looks up as he approachs. He met her gaze before she pointed to the other end of the room. “She’s over there.” 
He swiveled around, scoping the room's entirety, until his gaze settled on his goal. His search concluded as he saw you curled underneath a desk. His shoulders slumped at the sight. Your face was dazed, staring straight ahead. Eyes barely blinking. You, too, donned the puppy sweater and leggings. Different from your dress, which you looked lovely in tonight.
You hadn't even bothered to acknowledge his presence as your younger self kept trying to build a puzzle laid out before her. An image of a snowman, in a forest surrounded by trees. A few pieces were chipped, and one, unbeknownst to him, was missing, lost, meaning you'd never fully complete it over the years of trying to, in this room.
"Y-Y/n." He reveled in saying your name out loud.
"I don't want to talk to anyone." Bob turned to look back at the child, placing another piece in its correct spot. 
Bob crouched down to be eye level with you under the desk. He held his breath, waiting for any sort of reaction. For a flash of recognition, but there was nothing. No response.
"I-I didn't mean for you to be trapped in here." His voice shook.
Bob's expression twisted into one of deep regret. He reached out to touch your knee but stopped himself, his hand hovering a few inches above as it trembled. His gaze flitted to your younger self. She seemed focused on the puzzle piece in her hand, utterly oblivious to his internal torment. The sight only intensified his agony.
"I–" He opened his mouth to reply, perhaps to reassure you, but no words were forthcoming. "C-Can I join you?" Bob fell back on his bottom and gestured gently to the center. Your younger self looked up.
"Sure." She barely peers up at him, unbothered by his request, but holds out a piece to include him all same.
Bob accepts the piece, his fingers lightly brushing against hers as he takes it. He turns it over in his grasp, examining the surface of it before looking back at the puzzle. He slides his piece into place, his movements careful but precise, ensuring a perfect fit.
"Thanks." He murmurs, his gaze drifting back to your younger self. He swallows hard, his jaw clenching as if chewing on words he couldn’t quite muster. He lets something out for now. "I've never been good at these..." Bob confesses, "Could never finish them. Sit still."
"It's okay...We've never finished this one, but we keep trying to." The child's disheartened smile makes him want to break down.
Bob nods curtly, his throat tight. The sight of your indifference nearly unravels him. He turns his attention back to the puzzle, trying to ground himself in its simple but comforting task. He picks up another piece, turns it over.
"I’m... I can't-" Bob stops short, clearing his throat as it threatened to close up. He tries again. "I can't believe I did this to you." He whispers, more to himself than anything. "I wish I had more control over my powers. I could have saved you the pain."
"We're not mad at you for it. We promise." Your younger self reassures. Handing him another piece after placing another perfect fit down.
Bob's breath hitches in his chest. Your reassurance is like a balm to his wounded soul. Hearing those simple words from you, from her, eases some of the guilt that has been consuming him. He accepts another piece from you, gently placing it into the puzzle again.
"You… You should be." He mutters, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. "I put you in here." His gaze flicks back to her face, taking in her innocence, how calm she remains. It's infuriating. Why are you not raging at him? Shouting? He deserves it.
"The Void put us here." You corrected him. "What's being upset over it gonna accomplish?" Your younger self hovers her hand over a certain area; uncertainty flashes behind her eyes. You're hesitant. Bob, conflicted, reaches forward and guides her small hand over to a spot he thinks it will fit. It does. "Thanks." She’s appreciative before enthusiastically grabbing another, ready to advance in the puzzle's completion.
Bob's heart clenches as you respond rationally. It's eerily shocking how mature you are for your age. The way you forgive so easily is at odds with the guilt he feels. Yet, somehow, your words have an undeniable power over him. He can feel the grip of the Void's hold on him loosen ever so slightly. He helps you slide in the next piece as it clicks into place. Your giggle warms his heart. The corners of his lips curl up at the sound.
"How can…. How can you be so calm about this?" Bob can't help but ask, his voice tinged with disbelief mixed with awe.
"I-I have to..." Your younger self falters. Her composure glitched before she blinked and continued as if nothing had happened. She avoided his gaze, looking back down at the puzzle. "We have to be. Otherwise, what comes next would be unbearable."
Bob's brow creases with concern at the glitch. A ripple in your memory, the imposed calmness that he couldn't miss, faltering. The way you had been referring to yourselves as we, never as I. He was getting somewhere. At least he hoped he was.
"What…" He hesitates, but curiosity gets the better of him. "What's coming next?"
"Ya estoy harta!" Your younger self flinches as a glass breaks in the distance. "Vete con tus pinche putas! Ya no me importa! Largarte! Largarte!"
"Ya no puedo! Ya basta. Pinche loca ya no puedo!"
Bob immediately tenses, ready to protect you and your younger self from whatever threat looms, but as the shouting continues in the distance, he recognises something familiar in the language. Spanish.
"Is... Is that...?" He whispers, knowing the answer but hoping he's wrong.
"S-Spanish." Your body convulses and twitches as the vulgar language is spoken. Feeling gross. You try to block them out, pausing your puzzle making, your hands harshly slammed against your ears. Tears form in your eyes as the screams only continue. You run over to the door, banging and kicking it. The kick makes the door widen, before you push against it. 
"Shut up!" Bob flinches as your small body screeches. "Shut up! Ya cállate!" Your outcry only intensified. Your body shaking with sobs. "Shut up! Shut up!" You turn the lock, knowing it serves no real purpose. Your bedroom door barely closed. The doorframe stopped it from entirely shutting. You've never been able to lock it, not once. You turned and walked over to a corner where a dresser sat. You go to push it until it starts sliding across the floor. Pushing with everything you had in your tiny body, until it sat in front of the door. Blocking them from entering. You didn't want them near you. You kick the wall next to it in anger. To have them hear just how upset they made you. Hoping your meltdown would cause them to stop, to see how much they’re hurting you. You go far as to grab something heavy launching it into the wall too. The bang as agressive as your parents anger. 
It's not long before you move to where you remain under the desk. Your younger self crawls underneath with you. Scooting herself next to you as your older self ticks and shivers at the language exchanged. Your younger self cups her ears and lets out an ear-piercing scream. All the while, yourself sheds a tear. It's only then that he finally gets a real reaction from you. You turn to your younger self wanting to save her the pain. You wrap an arm around her and tuck her in close to your side.
Bob is frozen in place as the scene unfolds before him. The sheer desperation in your voice is gut-wrenching; you just want it to stop. He watches with staggered breaths as your younger self curls into you. The shouting and screaming continue in the background.
He wants to move, to grab the dresser and shove it through the wall, to put an end to the shouting and the pain taking place on the other side of that door. But he remains where he is, watching yourself try to help your younger self find solace. His eyes dart to the blocked door, listening to the muffled yelling from outside. He grits his teeth, anger bubbling within him.
When he turns back to look at you both. Your younger self is nowhere to be found beside you. "Here!" His head turns to the child sitting before him again on the floor. Another puzzle piece was offered to him once again.
How long did you relive this before he got here? The memory had reset again, he realized.
Bob's hands tremble as he gradually accepts the puzzle piece. Peering down at the upright face, snow-like texture painted on the piece to help him determine where it could go. He stares at it, guilt slowly seeping into his bones as he lifts his head to watch your younger self concentrate on the image the pieces were curating.
"How...How many times has she-you-" Bob can't even fathom how long you've been sitting under your desk, to appear so numb to everything. "How long have you been in here?"
"This is loop ten." Younger you, spares him a pinched grin. It doesn't reach her eyes.
Bob's stomach churns at the revelation. Loop ten? You've had to face this same scene ten times over, stuck in an endless cycle. He wants to scream, to tear everything apart, to make it stop. But he can't. He's just a participant in this twisted nightmare. His eyes shift between the puzzle and your younger self, his guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders, but he'd be damned if he didn't try. He had to try; this was you he was talking about. You'd done so much for him; he owed you that much. To push past how scared he was of screwing things up even more.
Your younger self looks up, halting her movements. "I-I can't finish it." You finally refer to yourself in first person. You look down at the puzzle. "I just wanna finish it."
"You want to finish the puzzle?" Bob questions, his words tinged with both confusion and understanding. He glances at the puzzle, taking in the incomplete image. It's beautiful in its own way, even without all the pieces. But the thought of you stuck in this repetitive loop, trying to complete it, it's unbearable. "You... You don't have to finish it." He says softly, his hand hovering over yours, unsure if he can even change your mind within the confines of this memory.
"I want to." Hope. A small spark ignites within Bob as your younger self expresses her determination. He picks up on the subtle changes in your expressions, the way your younger self glitches and gives way to glimpses of your older self. He clings onto this as a sign of change, that he can somehow alter this loop. 
His back straightens. He looks back at you under the desk. You were still there, but a sliver of hope had him realizing you wanted to crawl from underneath there. "I... I get close, and then I never do. There's always a piece missing." The child's brows furrow with frustration. You go to place the remaining six pieces before pulling your hands into your lap.
"Missing piece?" His eyes flick back to the puzzle, taking in the image, searching for what could be amiss. Then there it is, the center spot, vacant. His gaze darts around the room. "Maybe it's somewhere else? In a drawer? Or under the bed?" He muses, his mind racing with possibilities, until the screams of your parents have him glancing at the door. He glances down at you, then at you under the desk. 
"Hey!" You peer up at him. "Just... Just focus on me. Listen to my voice…not theirs. Okay?" With labored breaths, his grin grows as he tries to reassure you from the shouting behind the door. "Where would you look first?" Your younger self gets up and heads for the door, when suddenly you appear criss-crossed before him. His eyes widened, trying to gain your attention this time. "Y/n? Hey!" He exclaims, reaching forward, touching your shoulders. "Hey. Hi, oh my god hi!" You turn back to face him after having peered over at the door.
"B-Bob?" Your voice croaks.
"Yes!" Bob lets out a sigh of relief. He can't help the small laugh that escapes his lips. "Yes, it's me. Me Bob. That's me!" He gives a firm nod, still holding onto your shoulders. He leans down to meet your gaze. "I'm so sorry. The team told me what happened and how Void got out and ruined everything. How everyone came back, but you never did. I... I should've stayed home. I knew it was a bad idea to go to that gala, but the team insisted, you insisted, on getting me out of the tower, and...I screwed everything up again. Like I always do. But I'm here. I'm here and I want to make things right. I'm gonna get you out of here." His conviction bled through.
Your eyes glisten. You looked so small compared to the confidence you carried around him and the others earlier in the evening. You flinch, glancing over your shoulder as another vulgar word reaches your ears. "D-Don't listen to them." Bob turns your chin back over to him.
Bob forces a pinched smile as your attention returns to him. He squeezes your shoulders, his fingers gently kneading into your flesh, trying to ground you. "You want to finish this puzzle…We'll finish it." He says firmly, his eyes never leaving your face.
You muster a nod before looking at the blank spot, mocking you from its completion. Bob pulls back. Your younger self begins screaming and pushing the dresser towards the door. Your eyes close as a tick rakes through you. Bob takes note of your reaction, how the side of your ear hit your shoulder blade. Your younger self finishes under the desk, before she appears beside you and Bob. The puzzle resets back to its previous state of incompleteness once again. 
Loop eleven.
He shifts his eyes down to your hands, something you twirled around mindlessly, catching his attention. His brows furrow as he reels in the object you acquired, the thing you fiddle with, it was the piece you needed to finish the puzzle.
You had it this whole time. His eyes soften.
"It seems almost selfish..." You concur.
His mouth parts as the realization dawns on him. "You..." Bob whispers, his words lost in awe. "You had it this whole time?" His gaze switches from the piece in your hand back to your face.
Your younger self's determination and stubbornness faded, replaced by the realization that you were holding onto the very thing you sought all along. He's struck by the simplicity yet irony of it all. You were so close to finishing the puzzle, but blinded by what was literally in your hands to do it. He shifts and turns to your younger self, peering up at you, expression expectant, waiting, filled with melancholy. She goes back to adding the six final pieces again. 
"This stupid piece…That I could never find. I threw the puzzle away when I couldn’t finish it. It’s so stupid…"
Bob looks at the puzzle piece, a mix of emotions roiling within him. He feels a pang of guilt, knowing how long you'd been trapped here, the endless loop of trying to finish the puzzle without realizing you possessed the very thing needed to complete it. Your younger sits back, wringing her hands together, a mirror of his timidness. It brought him a sense familiarity, something he weighed on now, that you both had something in common. He reaches out, gingerly taking your younger self's hand, before looking back at you.
"It's not stupid." He reassures you. "Sometimes… we search for things so hard we forget to look in simple places." He pauses, his gaze lingering.
Your inner turmoil was evident. You dig a hand into a side pocket of your sweater, he hadn't known was there. "It was in my pocket..." You scoff. Shaking your head. "This whole time!"
Bob watches you, the realization settling in for both your younger and older selves. Younger you then mirrors your actions, stuffing her hand in the pockets, only to pull them out and be left empty handed. It was a poignant moment. "You-" Bob can't even finish the sentence, words momentarily lost on him. It was so simple.
Bob couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, a bittersweet sound. The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on him. You had been carrying the solution to your problem all along, hidden in your pocket. He shook his head, his expression a mix of disbelief and amazement. "I-I once lost my phone…It was in my hand the entire time." A lopsided grin took over his features. ”Though I’m pretty sure it was the meth that hindered my senses from realizing it was there the whole time...” He trails off, noting that his attempt to offer a similar experience did nothing to comfort you.
"It’s not the same…" You shake your head. 
Bob breathes a faint laugh at your pouting, the sound of it reverberating across the room, a stark contrast to the ongoing shouting and aggression outside the room. "I think...I think you'll be okay." He chides gently, trying to bring light to the situation.
“How do you know that?”
“‘Cause you guys helped me…Help me still.” He corrects
Your hesitance was not lost on him. You peer up through your eyelashes, then back down to the piece. "What if this doesn't fix anything?"
Bob pauses as he takes in your question. The weight of it hangs in the air, his earlier optimism faltering for a moment. Hearing your apprehension only solidified the concern. Bob's smile fades into a serious expression. He takes in your younger self’s small form, then to you, the way your shoulders are slumped, and the anxiety settled in your eyes. "I don't know if it will." He admits earnestly, his voice soft. "I just...I just really, really hope it does. It has to."
"Is this all it takes…To just fix it?" You twirl the piece around mindlessly. "This single piece my ticket to getting out of here?"
Bob looks at you, really looks at you. The piece of paper board between your fingers spinning in a rhythmic motion, your eyes filled with a mix of peace and anguish. He sees the way your breathing picks up and the way your eyes dart around the room. He can see how much this effects you, the battle between your logical side and the part of you that's been trapped here for who knows how long, trying to meet in the middle. Conclude a final resolution.
"I...I don't know." He replies eventually. He tries. "I...I mean, you all saved me with a hug." He laughs, its nervous but light, then lets it die out. Bob wants to reassure you, to tell you that this piece will fix everything, but he can't because he's never been great at it. You were the one always putting him back together. You always had the right thing to say and knew when to apply it in your heart to hearts. "So what's to say you can't be fixed by a puzzle piece?"
"Just like that?"
Bob nodded. "Just like that." He affirmed. He knows the simplicity of it, the absurdity, the notion of such a simple thing being the key to your liberation, could probably be seen as laughable. But he didn't see it as such, it might’ve been laughable—yes, but it wasn’t to him. Hope flared in him, a spark of optimism that the solution was so simple, so ridiculously easy. "Yeah…just like that." He repeated, his voice resolute, putting your worries and fears to rest.
"Just like that..." You shed a tear, echoing his words. You take a deep breath, hearing your parents argue once more before you reach forward and place the piece in the center. Your body convulses as you begin to sob hysterically, your younger self sighing as you finish it for once. Bob's lip trembles as he pulls you into his chest.
He holds you tightly, your body trembling against his. His grip is firm yet gentle, a silent reassurance that he's there. His heart aches as he listens to your sobs. The sobs wrack your frame as your emotions come out, a tidal wave of relief and frustration breaking through the surface after what feels like a lifetime. He rubs small circles on your back, whispering soothing words into your hair, as his own eyes glisten with unshed tears.
"I’m sorry I put you in here. I’m sorry." He whispers into your hair. "It's okay. I've got you. I-I got you."
-
“Guys.” Walker alerted the team as a shadow appeared beside Bob’s body—a dark silhouette, mirroring your form. 
The team looked over, frozen at the shadow's sudden appearance. Bucky took a cautious step forward, and Yelena rose from her chair.
It felt like you had woken up from a deep slumber when you came to. Everyone watched as your tar-like self was slowly revealing itself, like a sheet unveiling you. The shadows released you, shedding away from your form down to your heels. A sigh escaped from you as you pushed against the floor. Your dress draped around you like a blanket as you peered up at your team and the guest who lay witness. You hear a grunt to your right, you turn and watch Bob come to as well. His eyes were trying to settle amongst the warm lighting surrounding the gala. His suit was wrinkled and left in disarray as he sat up. Yelena's heels clicked closer as she reached down to help you stand. "Oh my god!" She pulled you in closer for a hug. You were still finding your bearings. "Thank god. I thought we lost you!" You peer over to see Bob take Bucky's arms appreciatively.
Bucky pulls Bob to his feet, and a sigh of relief leaves him as he sees him finally become aware of his surroundings. He pats Bob on the back a few times, his grip on his palm tight.
"I knew you could do it, buddy." Bucky greets him with a small smile, his expression slightly worried as he observes his disheveled appearance.
"Thank you?" Bob blinks a couple of times, a forced smile on his face, before it fades. "Do what exactly?"
"You don't remember-" Bucky confirms. "You brought Y/n back from the-" Bucky's words were interrupted by the touch of Alexei's grasp on his upper arm and the sound of Walker's words.
"Bucky...Let's debrief him later. Not right now." He suggested. "She's back and safe. We'll deal with it at home. Not here."
"Is everything okay?" Bob's gaze flickers over to see you surrounded by Yelena and Ava. They were checking you over, making sure everything was okay.
Were you hurt?
He looks back at Bucky, his expression hardening. "I brought Y/n back from what?"
"Not here, kid." Walker reached forward to pat his shoulder. "You did great, that's all that matters-" Walker inhales deeply as Bob's hand tightened around his wrist.
"Don't- Don't call me kid." Bob closes his eyes, his irritation getting the better of him as his eyes glow amber for a split second. He gestures a pointed finger at Walker. "From what?"
Alexei steps forward, placing a gentle hand on Bob’s tense shoulders. "Easy there." He cautiously speaks. "Everything is fine now."
Bob's face remains stern, his gaze steady, irritation clear in his expression. "Tell me."
Walker and Bucky exchanged a worried look, both of them noticing the change in Bob's demeanor. "Not now," Walker repeated, his voice firmer this time, his grip on Bob's hand that held his wrist, not letting up either. Bob sensed the clear indication that Walker wasn't going to elaborate, not in the middle of this venue. The commotion from earlier was probable cause for them to high-tail it out of there. Bob’s stubbornness didn’t help their favor.
Bucky leaned in, his tone low, hoping to diffuse the situation. He closed his eyes before giving in.  "Look, Void got loose, okay? Something happened. Everyone came back, Y/n didn't." Bob's grip falters, his eyes softening at the information. "Later, okay? We'll explain everything later. But we should probably leave, head home."
"What do you mean she didn't come back?" Bob's confusion only grows. His eyes shifted over to where you were reassuring people that you were fine, who asked if you needed a doctor.
"No, no. I'm okay. Really." He heard your voice bellow out from the short distance between you.
Bob couldn't help but watch as you shook your head, waving off any worried busybodies, and he found himself torn. Part of him wanted to let it go, to leave it be as Bucky and the others insisted. But there was another part of him that yearned to understand. He couldn't leave without answers. He pushed against Bucky's arm, which was trying to ground him.
"Yelena-Yelena!" He called out to her. She waved off another guest, who couldn't mind their business.
“Yes, yes, fine. All is good and well now.”
"Oh my god, what a mess! Is she okay?" Valentina's voice became apparent. Where did she come from? "Y/n, dear, the second you don't feel like yourself, say when. I got medical on call, alright."
"Oh no, I'm fine. I don't need a medic to come-"
"Oh my god, Valentina. She's fine. I promise. Don't intervene." She grew annoyed with Valentina's facade of sudden concern. She wasn't worried about your well-being, just worried about maintaining your image in the public's eye. Valentina continued with her rambling about how much she cared and would prefer it if you were checked over. "Oh my god, we don't need a medic here, ТЫ УПРЯМЫЙ МУЛ!" Yelena cursed. Who knows how Valentina would settle this mess with the press? She double-takes at the sound of her name being called before her attention settles on Bob's concerned one.
"Is she okay?" He mouths.
"She's fine," She waves him off. "Promise." She then nods before rolling her eyes as Valentina rants about having let him out of the house. He reciprocates her nod before his shoulders relax briefly at her assurance, his worry slightly lessened. But something still gnawes at him. His gaze drifts over to you again, his expression turning solemn as he sees the fake smiles and the feigned concern that some are displaying. You didn’t need their fake niceties.
His gaze lingers on you, trying to garner any sign that you weren't fine, but it wasn’t long before you locked eyes.
You catch his gaze, then begin excusing yourself from the small crowd, as a sense of anxiety overcomes you.
"Excuse me-" You politely muttered as you made your way toward him. It was as if a gravitational pull was urging you to him. The room, the people, everything else faded into the background as your focus solely centered on him.
Bob straightens at your approach, taken aback as you nestle yourself into his chest, your arms wrapping around him.
Startled, he initially freezes for a few seconds before his body relaxes, molding into you. His arms naturally encircle your form, pulling you into a tight embrace, his chin perched on top of your head. Your scent and warmth enveloped him, a sense of comfort washing over him. You felt like home.
"Hi…" Bob's voice, a soft whisper, reached your ears as he greeted you. You feel his hands mold more firmly around your waist, a gesture that makes your heart skip.
"Hi..." You return the greeting, your own voice just as soft, finding solace in the familiar sound of his breaths. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah..." His response short. “Are you okay?" He emphasizes, a hand gently stroking your exposed back.
"I'm fine." You wave it off.
Bob's eyebrow raises, his expression doubtful as he peers down at you. "You sure...?" He questions further, knowing you're prone to downplaying. But so was he.
“Yes and no.” A nervous laugh resounded from you.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” He offers, even though he’s not sure what he’s saving you from. He’s caught glimpses of your past before, not that you’d ever truly forego the idea of talking to him about it. He was much alike you in the manner of only giving surface levels of his ugly past. You both only knew what you allowed to be seen.
“You did. You helped me.” Your words, their simplicity, but all the more effective, affectionate, sure. He helped you? How could he have helped you, but have no recollection of it? You smile sweetly as you reach to place a kiss on his cheek. Was this your thankfulness wrapped up in an act of endearment? “You might not remember it, but you were enough, and you were there." You nod suringly.
He looks at the way you're molded against his chest. How his hands fit and embrace your figure like he's ready to protect and shield you from harm's way. The way your softened eyes perceive him in this lightheartedness. Like he's somehow hung the stars in your night sky. He can't help but wonder what he's done. What he's done to be truly worth being perceived delicately. You look like you're scared he'll disappear right before your eyes, when he's the scared one, thinking you'll break under his touch.
"Bucky’s saying Void got out again..." He looks down between your bodies. "I should have stayed home- I made everything worse-"
"You did nothing wrong, okay." You reach up, cupping his face gently, lifting his chin so he'd meet your gaze. "You did nothing wrong." You insist. He places his palms over your hands. Leaning into the warmth your touch brings him.
“I remember him..." He nods at his sudden recollection. It comes to him in bits and pieces. "Ryker." His hands slide up your wrist to the purple indentations marring your wrist, contrasting your skin's original shade. He opens his eyes, hoping he's wrong when he peers at the discoloration. But your hurt wrist only brings forth the truth. Telling him everything he didn’t want to be true. He feels guilty for even letting the asshole execute the action, he tries to conjure up ways he can make the injury vanish. Would a kiss heal your wounds? Take away his mistakes? He opted not to, but he was tempted to do so. "He bruised you." He nods, firm and sure.
"Bruises fade, Bob." There you go again, downplaying someone's unforgiving behavior.
"A bruise might...The memories won't." You shake your head at his trepidation. "Why didn't you fight him? You...You're capable of defending yourself?" Bob looks into your eyes.
"I didn't want to escalate the situation..." You shrug dismissively..
"But he hurt you? He hurt you, and I couldn't stop him in time, I-" He pauses, when it hits him like a tidal wave. The way various shouts echo through his head. Your voice bellowing in anguish. A flash of your face painted with pain.
You had been thrown across the center of the venue's dance floor. You rolled and then landed awkwardly on your stomach. Your once neat hairdo was disheveled in your sudden state. You pushed up with your heels and palms.
"Y/n!" Yelena made for you, but you shook your head.
"No, no, don't." You held your hand out, halting Walker and Yelena from approaching you. "Stay back!" You warned.
"B-Bob stop!" You cry out, a rasp to your voice.
"I hurt you..." Bob's eyes widen in fear. He tries to pull your hands away from his face. It was as though he were the Flint Striker and you were the one caught on fire. He was burning you. "No, no, no..." His eyes close as he gently grips your palms and lowers them to your waist. You didn't want to let him go. "I make everything worse. I should have stayed home- I didn't mean to hurt you-"
"Bob." You begin your reasoning. “No, I’m fine. You saved me! You got me out of there, everything’s better now.” You reach for him when he flinches. He hates how your face falls, even more so, when he denies you proximity.
“I-I should’ve stayed home.” He accepts before making his way back to Bucky, asking if they could leave.
“B-Bob!” You call after him, your dam cracking, hearing faint clicks approach your form from behind, you look up.
“Come on. Let’s get you both home before Valentina makes an ever bigger show.”
Yelena.
You peer at her, eyes glistening. She tilts her head, an apologetic smile on her face.
“Come on.” She wraps a blazer around your shoulders. One that smelled oddly like the shaggy-haired man. You were dreading the car ride home, that much certain.
-
“So you instigated him?” The drive back to the watch tower was nothing short of an unbearable experience. Your scowl and crossed arms giving way to how pissed off you were. Bucky and Walker avoided your harsh, directed stare. Bob had sat to your side, curling in on himself as the tension only intensified. His hands were warm, a mock of how close your skin was to touching, but he’d more than likely pull away.
Dreadful.
Now you all had made it out of the elevator with the team hot on your trail. Your heels clicked heavily against the floors. Bob stood off to the side slowly discarding the tie Yelena had done for him. He looked down at the fabric. Messing with it idly to distract himself from the fight he knew would break out. His shoulders reflected that of a small child anticipating his parent’s anger, slumped over on his tall frame.
“I wouldn’t say that? It was more of a friendly bit of teasing. All we did was give him the nudge he needed to confess the undying love he has for you.” Walker sighed as he went over to the bar. “We saw how pissed Ryker was making you…told the kid to go save you or to stop bitching about how much he wants to be with you.”
Asshole.
“So you hazed him and made Void come out.”
“Well, when you put it that way…” Walker trails off.
“You’re unbelievable!”
“Look, we didn’t mean for it to happen-“
“Didn’t mean-“ You laugh incredulously. “Spare me, Walker. No one can function properly, when you’re down everyone’s throat with childish antics. What were you even thinking?”
“Y/n, you don’t need to stick up for me-” Bob tried to create space between you and the Soldier.
“He wasn’t.” Bucky stepped in. Running a hand down his face tiredly. “We thought it’d be harmless, Y/n. Why would we ever intentionally put him through that sort of thing?”
“I told you we were gonna get him out of the house so he good have a fun night. Did I not tell you I wanted no weapons for tonight? To not wound him up to the point of his other self being unleashed. I was gonna come back after I handled Ryker. I had it handled.” You sneer at the man. Tears forming in your eyes, shaking your head at his ignorance.
A scoff to your left makes everyone’s head turn. Bob fiddles with his tie, his head shaking, a half smile settled over his face. “He bruised you…that’s not handling it.”
“Bob-“ You sigh.
“It…It wasn’t their fault, Y/n. If anyone’s to blame, blame it on me. I went after you…”
“No-“ You protest.
“Bucky and Walker only brought the idea up to me...It was my choice alone. I made the decision…to check on you. But now…I-I should have stayed home-“ Bob shakes his head. “Valentina was right…I shouldn’t have been let out.”
“Valentina can dig her grave and lie in it. I’m tired of her trying to keep you locked up here. You’re allowed to go outside when you feel like it! You’re not under house arrest, she can’t confine you to this place-”
“I just make everything worse.” Bob's brows pinch together. You cup your stomach as tears begin to spill down your face.
“No. You don’t. Don’t think like that. You don’t, I promise.” Your protest further escalated his self-loathing.
“Void took hold of you from what everyone is saying, and for whatever reason, felt the need to keep you from getting back to us. He hurt you, I hurt you.“
“But that’s not on you! That wasn’t your fault! It was mine. For thinking I could somehow bring you back down from in there.” Your eyes meet his temple. “I made things worse. I mean—I shot a bullet at you! I could have knocked him on his ass, but I didn’t and it wasn’t the right call for me to make.” You argue.
“We’re one whole. How is it not my fault?” His shoulders slumped, looking at the team’s conflicted expressions. “Am I wrong?” He breathes a laugh out. “Nothing ever turns out great when I’m around.” He slowly retreats towards the stairs. “I told you guys I should’ve stayed home...” 
“Bob please…” You call after him.
“Let him go.” Bucky orders. You turn back to look at your teammates. 
“D-Did I just ruin this things between us?” You let your arms flop down to your sides.
“No…it’s not your fault. This isn’t your fault at all.” Bucky reassures you. He walks over to you and squeezes your shoulder.
“Why didn’t you knock him on his ass?” Walker questions.
“I was going to,” You snapped back at him. “-but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I don't know...It felt like I was back there again, enduring his abuse when he grabbed me...I guess I froze." You shrug nonchalantly. "Then Bob showed up...and I couldn't think straight. Couldn't think of a way not to escalate things further, but I only made it worse, and it cost Ryker his life in the end...Cost Bob a fun night."
"He killed him?" Walker closes his eyes; your turmoil didn't do anything to hide it. He didn't miss the coms from the authorities either, claiming one casualty earlier on their way out of the venue.
You looked at the floor. "He did...and he doesn't need that put on him. So don't fucking tell him." You warn.
"I think Bob should decide that for himself, no?" Bucky raised a brow at you. "What happened to letting him make his own choices from now on?"
“Well, he wanted to stay home, but we all kept insisting he go out with us. So I don’t know anymore! And I'm not deciding for him..." Your hands were balled into a tight fist. "He should decide, yes, but when he's ready. He doesn't need to know about it right now...It just happened and a part of me isn’t too upset with him about it, but he's in such a vulnerable state right now...I feel like it’ll only do more harm than good...It'll be another thing for him to hate himself over...He doesn’t need that right now.” You say softly. “You guys should have seen him when we were in the void…He’s so capable and we take his gifts for granted.”
“We never thought he was incapable, it's why we agreed to allow him to make his own choices, decide what he eats for dinner, allow him to find his own hobbies. Tonight was just a one-time incident where we peer pressured him into leaving his room, when he didn't want to."
“Well, that peer pressure backfired, didn’t it?” You said under your breath. You run a hand down your face in frustration. “God, he didn’t even want to leave his room...Did you see how uncomfortable he was at dinner? You said it yourself, we coerced him. And I’ve never seen him more upset about it...” You turn your head, peering at the staircase. "Was it stupid of me to think we could show him a fun night out?"
"No. We all wanted the same for him." Yelena shakes her head. "It's not stupid."
"Then why does it feel like it is? He's probably up in his room beating himself up for even stepping outside."
"'Cause you love him..." Yelena gave you a pinched tired grin.
You look away from her. Your shoulders slumped as your eyes burned with unshed tears. It was quiet. No one was sure of what to say. You closed your eyes as that familiar pain in your chest returned. "I do. I love him..." Your voice broke. "But this isn't about how I feel. It's about him." You shake your head. "He was just starting to feel a little more secure with himself in public...He's gonna hate himself for thinking he ruined everyone's night. I could see it in his eyes...The last thing he needs is to feel guilty over something he has no control over." You continue.
"It's not fair to him...He's had it rough for so long, and every time there's progress, something bad happens that takes him thirty steps back." You let out a small scoff. "Maybe I never should have brought up the idea of a night out in the first place...How can he forgive me after a night like tonight?"
"'Cause he loves you too." Yelena tilts her head at your self-deprecation.
You look at her. Your body stiffens, and your chest tightens as you let her words sink in. "But what good is it to love me if it only brings him pain? How long before that love fades to nothing because of my negligence?"
Yelena shakes her head, taking your hands in hers. "You can't doubt yourself, or his feelings for you. I know it's difficult, but the last thing you need to do is start putting yourself down and feeling sorry about tonight." She squeezes your hands.
Bucky stood next to you, his arms crossed over his chest as he nodded in agreement. "You know that you mean a lot to him right?"
“And he only agreed to go out because you wanted him there with us.” Yelena admits.
“Also, we might’ve encouraged him to confess his feelings for you, but he wanted to do it at his own time…I should have stopped then and there, kid. I’m sorry.”
Bucky’s admission only added to the weight that sat heavy in your chest. You look over at him and nod slowly, unable to form words.
Yelena gently rubbed you on the back. “You know he can’t stay inside that room forever. You both need each other." Yelena chimed in. “Plus he can’t go a day without his cereal so there’s that…”
"He'll come to his senses..." Walker gives you a faint grin. “He’d be stupid not to.”
“T-Thanks guys…” You step back from Yelena’s hands. “I’m gonna be outside if you need me…gonna clear my head.”
“Want some company?” Ava offers surprisingly.
“N-No I’m okay.” You brush her off before you head out to the roof.
“Take the time you need, little one.” Alexei chimes after you. You raises a thumb in the air in your exit.
When you're out of sight, Walker asks. "What time is it?"
Bucky checks his watch. "Just a quarter till midnight. Why?"
At the realization, Walker takes off towards the staircase. "Walker, what are you doing?" Yelena called after him.
"Keeping my promise!" He called from over his shoulder. “You'll see!” Bucky, Yelena, Ava shared a look as he ran up the stairs and disappeared.
"What the hell is that about?" Yelena gapes before shaking her head. “Whatever, I’m going to bed. Someone make sure Y/n doesn’t jump off the roof.”
“I don’t think we have to worry about that…” Bucky shakes his head.
-
You hadn't fully registered how the cold breeze stung you until you felt a jacket fall over your shoulders.  You had been so caught by New York's optics that you missed the metal door creak open. You jump at the sudden contact, thinking you'd see someone beside you, but you had to turn further around to see the man of the hour, who had been running through your mind, stood at the door. You take note of the hand he lowers back down to his side. Putting two and two together about how the jacket made it to you. He made it float. "Bob..."
“Walker said you might be cold…” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Right…I-I was...thank you." You turn your head, nuzzle your nose into the fabric as you insert your arms through the arm holes.
He nods his head. “Welcome…” His chest feels tight watching you snuggle into his jacket. His gaze settled down in front of him. Neither of you say anything. The sounds of New York City echo throughout the night air. Car engines, taxi cabs, faint horns in the distance. Time did seem to stop up here, whereas life continued down on the streets. It was oddly comforting. "C-Could I join you?"
You look back at him, surprised by his suddenness. "Yeah...Yeah of course."
He nods then takes the spot next to you; awkwardly fidgets with his fingers in his lap. He turns his head, looking at you in his jacket. It was a sight for sure...He tried to ignore the way his heart palpitated in his chest.
He tries to focus on the sound of the wind and the city in the distance. But his eyes linger on you, taking in your form. How the evening sky envelopes you in its darkness, distant lights from neighboring buildings causing a warm hue to make your face visible to him, the way the wind nipped at your nose, and your sniffles took over you...He couldn't deny it...You looked beautiful, so carefree.
You turn at the right time and catch him gazing at you. Your eyes crinkle with a hint of heat that rushes up to warm your cheeks. You both emit a nervous laugh, settling your eyes onto your laps. His hands wring together, yours fiddling with the jacket's sleeves.
The silence continued, but this time, there was an obvious tension in the air. The both of you were hyper-aware of it. His eyes continued to dart between you and the city lights. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything..."
His heart stutters in his chest. He takes a shaky breath, his nervousness building. He looks back at you. You look at him reassuringly, like you genuinely meant that one word...Anything.
It makes it difficult for him to get the next words out. "...It’s a stupid question." He rubs the back of his neck. 
“That’s okay.”
"I-I just-" He sighs, his jaw clenching as he looks out at the city again. "This might sound weird...But do you know how to tie a tie?" He swallows down any anxiety, forcing his gaze back on you.
“Oh.” Your eyes widen at the peculiar question. “Do I know how to tie a tie?” You ask again to ensure you heard him right. Bob nods yes. 
“Sorry...I warned you it was a stupid question. Just...Forget I asked, okay?" He rubs the back of his neck again, looking away.
"No, No...It's okay. If you really want to know. I do."
His eyes flicker with curiosity, meeting your gaze. "You...You do?" He quirks an eyebrow.
"Yeah. Why do you ask?"
He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but there was an underlying hint of something in his eyes. "Oh, I was just...I was just curious, that's all...I can’t put one on myself...Yelena did it for me, but I…" He trails off, looking back at the city. "I just thought maybe...You could-" His words die in his throat, cutting himself off before he lets any more words slip. He shakes his head, his hands continuing to fidget in his lap.
You register the implication. "Teach you?" You try.
His breath hitches in his throat as you finish his sentence. He looks back at you, his eyes a mix of vulnerability and relief. He could sense the anticipation in your gaze, waiting for him to respond. "Y-Yeah...Teach me." He finally manages to rasp out. "So Yelena won't have to anymore..."
"Yeah, I can. Tell me when okay." You grip his hand. He nods.
"O-Okay..." He looks down at his lap. Your touch is soft and warm. He can't help letting the guilt eat at him. You were being so gentle with him when he was anything but. "I'm sorry I hurt you..."
"Don't-” You shake your head. “Don't do that. Don't apologize." You squeeze his hand gently. "It wasn't your fault...You weren't in control."
"But that doesn't change the fact that my other half hurt you!" He snaps back, his grip on your hand momentarily tightening. You both look down at his hold, his shoulders lose their tension before he's holding you like you're made out of porcelain.
"Look at me, please." You request softly. He raises his head, trying to avoid eye contact. His chest tightens, knowing he can’t hold your gaze for too long. "It wasn't you."
His jaw clenches, his eyes stinging. "I should've stayed here...Then I wouldn't have ruined the night." His breath shakes, the words leaving him in a broken whisper. His eyes meet yours, tears blurring his vision. He hated this—all of this.
Tears sting your eyes as well. Your free hand reaches up, brushing his cheek gently. His eyes flutter at your touch. "You didn't ruin anything..."
He shakes his head, refusing to accept the comfort you try to offer him. The guilt is too heavy, weighing him down like a thousand-pound weight. He feels so undeserving. "I did...I always do. I-I..." His voice trails off, tears spilling down his cheeks.
"No-" Your hand cups his face, forcing him to look at you. "No, you don't. You might make mistakes, but you don't always screw things up. You're a good man, Bob. You're so much more than what you think of yourself..." You lean your forehead against his. “You’re good.”
He tries not to melt at the way you say his name. His face falls forward, leaning his forehead into yours. He closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of your touch, your words. "How can you say that? Especially after tonight..."
"Because it’s true.” You softly run your thumb over his cheek, catching another tear that slips down. “You are such a good man.” You take a shaky breath, trying to find the right words. “You’ve been through a lot…You’ve been beaten down many times…but you keep bouncing back up.” He’s still against you, his breathing ragged as he lets the comfort of your proximity soothe him. “You brought me back from the Void, you didn’t leave me…You’re so good!” You breathe out a laugh. "I wish you'd see it yourself."
He can’t speak, the lump in his throat preventing him from doing so. Instead, he closes his eyes tighter, relishing in the sound of your voice. He’s desperate to soak up every word you say, to have them sink in, become second skin. He’s been deprived of something so simple for so long, to hear the one person he cares about say those words…It’s making him unravel at the seams. When he finally speaks, it’s barely above a whisper. “Do you love me?” 
The question hangs in the air like the sound of a church bell. You take note of how he’s looking at you. The way he leans into your touch, seeking the comfort of human contact that he’s been deprived of. Your hand gently cups his chin, your other moving to rest over his heart. His gaze is fixed on yours like an anchor, waiting for you to respond. You can read the desperation and need in his eyes, the vulnerability that he's trying so hard to conceal.
You see a man wanting, no, begging to be loved. To be told that he's worthy of it despite believing otherwise. You look at the way he's clutching your hand, desperate for some kind of reassurance. He's hurting, still so damn broken, but not loving him with every fiber in your being would hurt you more. "Yes…God, I’d be stupid not to." You breathe a laugh.
Your words hit him like a tidal wave. His heart stutters in his chest, the grip he has on your hand clenching involuntarily. His eyes search yours again, looking for any sign of deception, anything to tell him you don't really mean it. But all he sees is complete honesty looking right back at him. He shakes his head; a broken laugh escapes his lips as his chest tightens at the confession. "Yeah…You really mean that?"
His questioning. It only hurts you further. So you cup his face, bringing him closer so you could look into his eyes. “I do. I mean it...I love you.” He flinches. He’s frozen, eyes searching your face, waiting for you to take it back. You don’t. 
You run your thumb over his skin, gently brushing your nose against his. You see tears form in his eyes again, and suddenly, his hands are on your waist. Gripping the material of the jacket he gave to you, pulling you close. “Can you repeat it?” He finally croaks out.
“I love you…” You’d tell him three thousand times if he asked.
He shivers; the tremble of his chin is barely noticeable. “Again?” You’re suddenly pulled into his lap with a soft force. The grip he has on you is tight, not rough, as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
"I love you." You trace his jawline. He lets out a shaky breath. It's not long till you're leaning in to capture his lips with yours.
The first touch of your lips against his has him releasing a low groan. His eyes flutter as he melts into it before he suddenly pulls you flush against him, desperately trying to savor it—savor your touch. His lips move against yours in a frenzy, his hands gripping you tighter on your hips. The kiss is filled with need, a longing he can barely contain.
He can’t get enough. The taste of you was so sweet and warm. He’s been deprived of such a simple thing that now his body screams for it. His heart beats wildly in his chest, his hands exploring every part of you he can reach. He can feel your body against his, its heat, that only adds fuel to the fire. The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate and desperate than you expected from him. When you pull back to gather your bearings, to allow oxygen back into your lungs, you can’t help but cry. Bob, already second-guessing the little make-out session, feeling he's done something wrong, was relieved when your words deterred his troubled thoughts.
“You're good, you're worthy, and you are so loved…” You wipe the remaining tears with the back of your hand. "If you ever take anything from this conversation, Bob, let it be those three words. You deserve to be wanted. To be happy, to be loved…"
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