#she's just like that... on your couch... why did you let her in... look at her...

[deadbydemand389]

Lights down low

Story:He’s dramatic, you’re possessive, and together you’re chaotic soulmates with unresolved sexual tension.

Warnings⚠️: fluff,a lil spicy ,soft emotions, language, horny best friend energy, 18+ only.

It was Julia’s boyfriend’s birthday party — parents out of town, house packed to the brim, music shaking the windows four blocks away.

“I told you he came in two strokes and had the audacity to call me a slut after. You give one frat guy a chance, flash him a phenomenal pair of tits, and suddenly you’re the villain.” You huffed, on the way to the party, Erik right by your side — best friend, occasional fuck buddy, eternal chaos.

“You do have great tits. I can vouch,” he said, sipping from his half-warm beer like it was gospel.

“Thank you.” You flashed him a wicked grin.

“So was that why you climbed through my window two weeks ago? All desperate like a virgin on sacrifice night?” he tilted his head, smirking.

“Nope. That was three weeks ago. I was just ridiculously horny from reading smutty fanfics on Tumblr. Might’ve been ovulating too. Who knows?”

He chuckled — deep, amused, unbothered. He’d never said no to you, and hell, it didn’t look like he was about to start now.

“I’m not even gonna ask, you horny little menace.” He tossed his beer into the bushes and lit a cigarette.

“Shut up. You love me.” You bumped into his shoulder playfully.

“I love your tits more. They never insult me. They’re always so… welcoming.” He took a drag and passed it to you, and you took a pull like it was second nature.

“Don’t get a boner now — we won’t even make it to the party. And I told you, I’m not into exhibitionism anymore,” you muttered, rubbing your temples like that’d make the memory of last time disappear.

“Hey, remember that girl Jessica I was telling you about?” he asked, casually mid-drag.

Blood. Boiling.

Jessica.

The bitch who bullied you in tenth grade for wearing glasses — she’s the reason you stab your eyeballs with contact lenses every damn day. You never told Erik, didn’t want to drag him into decade-old girl drama.

“Yeah… what about her?” Your voice dropped cold, your eyes sharper.

“Julia invited her. I’m taking Jessica straight to Dicktown tonight. Think she’s ever been fucked by a guy with a dick piercing?” He looked up toward the sky, like praying for divine guidance straight to her panties.

Your mouth literally watered at the thought of his pierced cock. Not the time, not the moment.

“She seems like the type who’s into bad guys. Total bitch energy,” you muttered, almost too low for him to catch.

You arrived at the house — chaos already in full swing. Music thumping. Lights low. Bodies swaying.

“Remember the safe word?” he locked eyes with you, that dark glint saying he was ready to burn the whole night down.

“Order 66,” you nodded, resolute.

“Good girl. Let’s get this party started.”

Blush. That praise? Always got you.

The safe word wasn’t just for hookups gone wrong. It was your shared code for everything:

too horny

not horny

bored

needed a stomach pump

post-fight emergency exit

or just an excuse to ditch the world and curl up rewatching Twin Peaks until sunrise.

You walked through the door and split up — he was already greeting his bros with beer in hand, every “what’s up, dude?” dripping charisma. The life of the party.

You were swept into your girlfriend group, cocktails flowing, hips moving, laughter spilling everywhere.

But halfway through the night, something in your gut told you to flee. Or maybe... chase. Erik was on your mind. Erik with Jessica was twisting your stomach in knots.

And there he was.

On the couch.

With her.

That blonde bitch — plastic smile, nails too long, hand on his chest, toying with his chrome hearts necklace. The matching one you two bought last summer after working shitty jobs all season to afford them.

Rage. Pure, hot, uncut rage.

“What the fuck is she doing with my Erik?” you whispered, then froze.

My Erik? Where the fuck did that come from?

You tried to breathe, calm the storm, but when she leaned closer, fingers lingering way too long on that necklace — your necklace — something snapped.

That was it.

He might hate you for what you were about to do.

But fuck it.

Fuck her.

You walked toward him like a damn magnet, fueled by liquid courage and spite. Thank the gods you wore your Converse — any other shoes and you’d have face-planted ten steps ago from the cocktail of vodka and adrenaline coursing through your veins.

He could spot you in any crowd. That’s how deep you were carved into his brain.

“Hey, Peach, what’s u—” He didn’t get to finish.

You straddled his lap without warning and crashed your lips into his, making a mess of his breath, his thoughts, everything. His hands moved on instinct — just like they had a hundred times before — gripping your waist, pulling you closer like he was afraid you’d vanish.

The kiss was raw. Unfiltered. Tongues battling, breaths lost, your little moans slipping out like secrets. You pulled away, chest heaving, lips swollen, and shot the blonde devil sitting next to him the most wicked, satisfied smirk in your arsenal.

Erik knew exactly what game you were playing — and he was all in. That damn smirk of his? Criminal.

“Sorry, honey. He’s taken.” You said it sweetly, like sugar laced with poison, while Erik kissed along your neck like he was staking a claim. Which, let’s be honest — he was.

Jessica’s jaw dropped like she’d just seen a ghost. A ghost with better eyeliner and a hotter boyfriend.

“Oh my God… Googles, is that you?” she sneered, voice sugary and fake — the kind of fake that cracked if you pressed too hard. “I didn’t even recognize you! You looked so goofy in high school.” She fake-laughed, Barbie-style, still clinging to mean-girl habits like they were designer purses.

Her words hit like a sucker punch — suddenly you were seventeen again, crying in front of the mirror, hating your reflection, ripping off your glasses and wishing you could be invisible.

You tightened your grip on Erik’s shoulders, grounding yourself. Rage simmering. Shame choking you.

But just as Jessica thought she had the last word —

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Erik snapped, venom in his voice.

Jessica gasped, clutched her pearls (probably metaphorically), and scurried off like a coward dressed in glitter.

“What a bitch,” he muttered, exhaling hard, hands still warm on your waist.

You leaned your head into the crook of his neck, breathing him in like therapy. He ran a hand through your hair gently, coaxing your attention.

“You good, Peach? Want me to execute the order, Lord Sith?” he teased, voice light but eyes scanning you for real damage.

You giggled, quiet and real. “I’m fine now. Let’s go home.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek, and to your surprise, it made him blush. Actual blush — like a schoolboy who just got kissed behind the bleachers.

You climbed off his lap, already missing the heat of him, the pressure of his bulge pressed against you — but you laced your fingers through his and tugged him toward the door.

“I drank so much I can barely walk,” you groaned once the night air hit your face like a slap.

“Come on.” He turned his back to you, crouching slightly. “Piggyback time.”

You didn’t hesitate. You climbed on like it was second nature, arms around his shoulders, head resting against him.

“Look… it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Erik exhaled, voice softer than before. Oh no. He was mad. Shit. Maybe he really did want to hook up with Jessica, and you’d just ruined his night with your stunt.

“But—can we at least acknowledge how hot that move was?” he grinned suddenly, shaking his head. “Like, damn, Peach… you nearly made me cram my pants.”

You burst into laughter, unable to help it. Dork.

“That was exactly my intention,” you said smugly, ruffling his hair.

Then, more quietly: “I guess… I didn’t want you to seal the deal with Jessica. She used to bully me in high school. For looking like a nerd.”

The words left your lips in a rush, and with them, a weight you didn’t know you’d been dragging all night.

Erik stopped walking. He gently set you down from his back, turned to face you — and you could instantly see it in his eyes.

Hurt. Not at you — but for you.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” His voice was low. Serious.

You felt like absolute trash.

“I—I didn’t want to ruin your plans,” you stammered. “You seemed excited, and I didn’t want to step in over some… stupid thing that happened ages ago.”

You couldn’t look at him. Your eyes were glued to the ground, guilt wrapping around you like vines.

But then his fingers curled gently under your chin, lifting your face to his.

“Peach,” he said, voice suddenly a balm. “You saved me. She was boring me to death. I swear, I’ve never had a conversation so dry in my life. It was like talking to a blank Google Doc.”

You laughed—half-sob, half-snort.

“All I could think about was how to get out of there and find you. Every second with her felt like a second without you.”

Your heart clenched.

He pulled you into a hug, kissing the top of your head with reverence like you were the most sacred thing on Earth.

“And for the record?” he murmured against your hair, “you looked hot as hell in glasses. I'd have fucked your brains out in the library if I’d known you back then.”

You laughed again — he was the only one who could make you laugh in moments like this.

“Big words for a man with blue balls,” you teased, looking up at him, mischief reloading in your eyes.

“If we don’t fuck in the next thirty minutes, I will collapse and perish like a Victorian orphan.” he groaned.

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him into you, crashing your lips against his in a kiss— rough, possessive, and long overdue.

“So… I’m taken now, huh?” he whispered against your lips between kisses.

You couldn’t hide your smile anymore. The wall inside you had crumbled.

“You’re mine, Campbell,” you said, arms wrapping around his neck, eyes locked on his like a promise.

He grinned.

“Always were. Always will be, babe.”

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

"I love you! Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?" Joel Miller

Angry Confessions ❤️‍😠

bio : this story is part of the Angry Confessions series (you can still be a part of it)

requested by : @picketniffler thank you!

warnings: QZ Boston, smuggling, jealousy, suspicion of another sexual act, quarrel, gun

“This is really good stuff. You have an eye, girl.”

You smiled. The older man was looking through the things you brought back from your last trip outside the walls of QZ with interest. Somehow you managed to find a small stash of medicine, which gave you the opportunity to set your own terms.

“You should hurry up.” Joel muttered, glancing around the corner of the building. FEDRA had been actively searching for smugglers lately and he didn’t want you to end up in prison.

“Your friend is very nervous.” The older man laughed, then winked at you. “Anything else you’re interested in?”

“Got coffee?”

Joel frowned and glanced at you quickly. You weren’t a big fan of coffee, and certainly not the shit you’d been drinking lately. Would you like to trade what you found for this?

“Give me a moment.” The man said and nodded at the man standing in the doorway, watching your exchange. He was about forty, and Joel could clearly see how his eyes had been glued to you since you had appeared on the street.

"Steve, this young lady is looking for coffee."

Steve smiled, folding his arms across his chest. "Does she have anything to trade?" he asked.

"She brought some really good stuff."

"I think if she added one smile to that and let me invite her for a drink, we could work something out." Steve added, and you were about to respond when someone unexpectedly did it for you.

"That's enough. We don't need coffee." Joel snapped, grabbing your bag. "What we traded is enough. Let's go."

You looked at him in surprise. You only managed to nod at the older man, who only said, “Come back next week!”, and Joel pulled you out onto the crowded street.

You had to take a dozen or so steps before you managed to free your arm from his grip. “Are you crazy? What was that supposed to be?”

Joel didn’t answer. He pushed through the sidewalk like an icebreaker, and you tried to keep up with him. It wasn’t until you reached your apartment and the door closed behind you that he spoke to you.

“We don’t need coffee,” he snapped. “You’re not trading this.”

“Why not?” you wondered, placing your bag on the scratched table. “You’ve been saying for weeks that you’d give anything for a decent coffee, and now…”

“You’re not trading with this guy!”

“Why not?! You can’t stop me!”

You were right. He couldn’t. You were partners, and nothing else connected you. Whatever Joel did, you had the right to decide for yourself. But you didn't see what he saw. You were too focused on the exchange to look at the guy...

"I didn't like the way he looked at you." Joel finally spoke, sitting down on the couch with resignation. "You didn't see that."

You watched him carefully, trying to understand what he meant. "Steve just said that..."

"For a smile or a drink, he could..."

"That's not what he meant!"

Joel interrupted you, shaking his head. "You know perfectly well what he wanted."

It was only then that you understood. Joel's suspicions seemed irrational and exaggerated to you, but he was too stubborn for you to try to explain it to him.

Finally, you shrugged. "As you wish, Joel. I'm going to take a nap, I'm exhausted."

You didn't bring it up again, even though it hung between you like a fog. For the next few days, you focused on your work, leaving early and coming back to your apartment late. You barely saw each other.

Yes, he missed you. Joel would never admit it, but your presence had a soothing effect on him. In this fucked up world, you were the only bright spot, the reason it was worth coming back to these filthy four walls. No, he didn't like the way this guy looked at you, or the way others did, but he couldn't say anything. You weren't his, even though he wanted to.

He felt it the moment he entered the apartment. The smell of coffee filled the apartment, and Joel felt his heart speed up. He was right. There was a large cup of coffee on the table, and a box of beans next to it.

"Don't you want to try it?" he heard your voice from the door to your bedroom. He looked over.

Your hair was damp, and your shirt was stuck to your body. You needed to take a shower.

“Where did you get that?” he asked more sharply than he had planned.

“I traded,” you replied with a shrug.

“With Steve?”

“Does it matter? It’s coffee, Joel. I know you’ve been dreaming about it and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Fuck, I don’t care what you want! I told you not to trade!” he snapped, slamming his hand on the table. You jumped.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” you hissed.

But Joel’s brain was already working at full speed. Coffee. You, fresh out of the shower. There was a trade. What could you trade for those beans? He didn’t want to know the answer.

In the meantime, you approached him, clearly irritated. Joel was acting strange, but you didn’t think your little gesture would piss him off so much.

“I think you’re overreacting,” you finally said. “It’s just coffee.”

“It’s not just coffee.” He shook his head in resignation. Suddenly, however, he looked up at you, and then moved it to the cup. "I'll kill him."

"W-what? Who? Joel!"

But he had already opened the drawer in the dresser, pulling out the revolver hidden at the bottom. Your voice barely reached him, because the rage was boiling in his veins. He finally felt it - you poked him hard in the shoulder, and several bullets fell out of his hand and rolled on the floor.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" - you shouted at him. "You treat me like... like... You don't talk to me! I don't know what's going on! Fuck! It's just fucking coffee!"

He looked at you with rage. Although his eyes shone strangely when they met yours. "I love you! Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy now?" he growled. "You know perfectly well that Steve wanted more from you. And you gave it to him! I'll kill that son of a bitch!"

“You love me?” your quiet voice didn’t even reach his ears.

“He’s looking at you like a hungry dog ​​at a piece of meat. Fuck! Fuck, son of a bitch! You shouldn’t have gone to him!”

Another nudge. And another.

“I wasn’t at Steve’s!” you said loudly, and Joel blinked in surprise. “Amy upstairs needed medication for her baby. I helped her. Her husband had coffee. He shared it with us.”

“Amy?” Joel repeated, as if he had misheard.

“Yes, Amy! Not Steve,” you explained. Relief spread across Joel’s face.

He swallowed hard, his brain slowly connecting the dots. Finally, his brown eyes widened in understanding. “I thought…”

“You thought wrong.” You cut him off, shaking your head and folding your arms across your chest. “I wanted to do something for you, and you acted like an… idiot.”

With a soft clatter, he placed the gun on the dresser and looked down. “I’m sorry. I should have…”

“You should have told me what was going on. Do you really love me?”

Joel’s cheeks flushed. You didn’t need more, and a small smile formed on your lips. Before you could say anything, your warm hands grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss. It was mind-blowing. He kissed back with such energy, with such force, that your knees buckled.

“You’ll be the death of me.” he whispered between breaths, grabbing you by the waist and trying to reach the couch against the wall.

“You’re being dramatic again, Miller.” you laughed and kissed him again.

[unluckilyimnot]

“My girl looks so pretty tonight” Yelena x fem!reader

A man hit on reader during a gala

post-thunderbolts, jealous/protective yelena, ~1k

From this list

Note: not my best work but it's still cute I think. Imma do one with bucky for sure

masterlist

Yelena wasn’t sorry for showing up almost an hour late, but she was sure Valentina already found a wonderful excuse for her late entrance. She was kind enough to wear the black dress when she really wasn’t in the mood. It was really tight, clinging to her skin despite the small on her ribs and on the side of her leg. Some of the sewing around her neck scratched her skin uncomfortably and she wasn’t exactly happy about the heels, but at least her arms were free from any fabric. She had to admit she looked good in it.

Walking inside with a not so good faux-smile, she didn’t wait a second before she grabbed a flute of champagne and started wandering around the huge ballroom, looking for her teammates. She hadn’t seen you nor Ava all day, she wondered where you’ve been. Ava doesn’t show up much in the first place, but you happened to linger around the common room more, mostly to keep Bob company. She missed your face and the way you murmured along to the song you’re listening to on the couch so without really realizing it, she went looking for you first.

Her eyes fell on Ava first, she was hard to miss since she couldn’t really leave her suit, but she still looked pretty. Her hair was well done and she had some makeup on, just enough to make her gaze deeper than it already was and her lips sharper. Yelena smiled her way when they made eye contact and she stopped by a second to greet her and the guests she was talking to. She wasn’t the best at it but did her best, yet it was written all over her face that she just wanted to leave already.

“Have you seen y/n ?” Yelena asked quietly in her ear, still following the conversation the best she could. Ava nodded behind Yelena.

“She’s stuck with that guy for at least fifteen minutes, please help her out,” she said as quietly before taking part in the small talk again, leaving her space to leave.

Yelena’s jaw clenched when she saw the way the man looked at you, eyes roaming over your body like it belonged to him. The dress was amazing for sure, exposing your chest just enough so it wouldn’t be considered vulgar, the front of the skirt cut prettily so the long back fell perfectly behind you and let’s not get started on the beautiful and puffy long sleeves. You were breathtaking, and she really hated that he could see it as well.

With a confident walk, enough so that nobody tried to stop her to ask stupid questions, she successfully arrived beside you and wrapped a protective arm around your waist. Your face lightened when you saw her coming, a beautiful smile finally showing up and she saw that, for a second, he thought it was for him.

“My girl looks so pretty tonight,” she said calmly, leaving a kiss on your cheek along with a small lipstick stain. “Don’t you think ?” she turned his way, staring at him intently, enough to make him shift and fix his tie.

“She is yes,” he said a little too quickly for her liking. His eyes still lingering on her body, but now also checking her out and she definitely didn’t want to know what was going on in his sick mind.

“If you’ll excuse us, our Boss is looking for her.” Yelena smiled at him before guiding you quickly away from him, her expression shifting instantly to a frown. “For god’s sake why was he nasty like that,” she spat not even a few steps away, but still making as much space between you and him.

You laughed sadly at her, obviously not having any answer to give her, but really loving the way her hand never left your waist as you made your way among the crowd. When she finally stopped in a corner with fewer people, you smiled at her, laying a hand on her waist as well where her skin was exposed, trying to make it more casual than it looked, as you held your empty flute in the other hand.

“Thank you, Lena, you saved me there,” you giggled, not missing the way the frown disappeared from her face.

“Next time just go to the bathroom, oh my god,” she groaned, her accent thick in annoyance as she rolled her eyes.

“I’d rather have you coming to rescue me,” you said softly as you pushed your nose into her cheek. A smirk formed on her lips.

She shifted closer to your face until her lips brushed against your ear. “I’d rather keep you by my arm all night.”

Your cheeks flushed at her words, you felt suddenly hot as her breath lingered a second around your neck, making your breath hitch in your throat. You played it cool, giggling while you looked away, not believing it. She’ll be the death of you if she keeps flirting like that. When you dared looking back in her pretty green eyes, you knew it was something she said without meaning it. It was a promise. A dumb smile bloomed on your lips and you leaned closer into her.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” you confessed, holding her fingers as they fell off your waist a few minutes ago. She scoffed quietly, before shaking her head.

She grabbed your waist again as she realized you two have been away far too long for it to look acceptable. You didn’t want Valentina to nag all the way back to the tower, but her hand never left your waist or arm for the rest of the night. Even if there were annoying people around, it was way more bearable with Yelena holding you protectively, leaning on seductively to whisper in your ear from time to time – even if it was just nonsense, it made them talk.

Valentina would rather have to deal with rumors of them dating than not seeing them around any gala, right ?

Let me know if you liked it !

[zyart-jpg]

"My Boyfriend"

Pairing: Wooin Yoo x Reader

Summary: You get shitfaced drunk and couldn't recognize your own boyfriend.

Word Count: 2,042 words

Tags: Fluff, Comedic, Established relationship, Drinking

A/U: I'm just bored and couldn't sleep so it might have some typos and stuff :)

“…You sure she only had cocktails?”

Wooin sighed, already bracing himself as Joker’s voice deadpanned behind him. They both stared at you draped over one of your girl friends, giggling incoherently as you clung to her like a sleepy octopus.

“Geez,” he muttered, rubbing his temple as a dull headache started to creep in. “How much did she drink?” he asked, stepping forward to gently peel your limbs off the poor girl.

“She only had a couple of cocktails! We didn’t think she’d knock out this fast,” your friend laughed, watching as you whined the moment your boyfriend started disentangling you.

“This is exactly why I told her to stick to mocktails,” Wooin groaned. “Come on, babe, you’re not a damn koala.”

He lifted you off the velvet couch, and you turned to him with a slow, exaggerated glare, slurring something unintelligible as you batted his hands away from your waist.

“…What?” he blinked, completely lost. “What did you just say?”

You shifted stubbornly in his hold, squirming like a restless cat as you tried to slink away—still frowning up at him with glazed eyes. Determined, you attempted to scoot back toward your group of friends, mumbling something under your breath. 

But the effort was pitiful at best; Wooin barely had to move before he was tugging you right back against him, steadying your swaying form with one arm securely wrapped around your waist.

“I have a boyfriend—get lost—!” you slurred defiantly, your words thick with the weight of every overpriced cocktail you’d downed. 

Your eyes narrowed up at him in a drunken haze, and you jabbed a finger weakly at his chest, as if you were accusing a stranger of crossing the line.

The group froze. A beat of silence. Then chaos.

Laughter exploded—a few gasped, one covered her mouth, another nearly collapsed onto the floor.

But Wooin’s reaction said the most.

He stared at you—blank, expressionless—until a visible twitch formed in his brow.

“…What?” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Seriously?”

You only squirmed more, like you hadn’t just publicly declared him a creep. He grunted, adjusting his grip as you tried to crawl away again like a stubborn little gremlin.

“I know you have a boyfriend, dumbass,” he snapped. “It’s literally me.”

You blinked slowly, forming a dramatic ‘oh’ of confusion.

Then, with zero hesitation, you pouted and mumbled, “You don’t look like my boyfriend—he’s hotter.”

Wooin froze. Somewhere behind him, Joker snorted.

“…I swear to god,” he hissed, hauling you into his arms and marching off as your friends howled in the background.

You let out a dramatic gasp, your fingers weakly clawing at the air as Wooin, with zero hesitation or remorse, slung you over his shoulder like a sack of particularly uncooperative rice. 

The world tilted violently and spun beneath you, your vision a blur of neon lights and distant laughter. Somewhere behind you, your friends were still waving you off, one of them even taking a video while the other giggled like you were being kidnapped by a man hired off Craigslist.

“N-Noooo—put me down! I told you—I have a boyfriend—ugh—” you whined, your fists pathetically thudding against his back like a cat batting at a door.

“Yeah, I told you—I am your boyfriend, genius,” Wooin muttered through gritted teeth, adjusting his grip as you squirmed. “And if you keep moving, I swear I’m going to let you fall straight into that bush.”

Unbothered by your threats—or your lack of core strength—he marched out of the club with practiced ease. The bouncers barely spared a glance, already used to Wooin’s regular appearances and your... more theatrical exits—with one of them even giving him a lazy thumbs up.

“Babe, seriously,” Wooin groaned as he hoisted you higher on his shoulder, narrowly dodging another jab from your spiky heel. “Quit kicking—you’re gonna stab me.”

“I am going to!” you slurred with determination.

“This isn’t a K-drama, babe. I’m not carrying you through a cherry blossom field. You’re deadweight—and you smell like a cupcake that lost a war,” he grunted.

You gasped, scandalized. “How dare you—Wooin would never say that,” you slurred with tipsy conviction, your words tumbling over each other like they were swimming through jello.

“I am Wooin!” he snapped, exasperated as he reached the car. “And I would say that. I have said that. Multiple times. Be serious.”

You squirmed in his arms, pouting hard as your hand shot up to grab a fistful of his hair—now fully visible since his cap had been knocked off during your little escape stunt earlier.

“Nooo,” you whined, narrowing your eyes at his exposed head like it had committed treason. “My Wooin wears hats. Always. You’re not him. You’re… you’re a fake. An imposter.”

Wooin let out a strangled noise as you yanked. “OW—what the hell?!”

He seized your wrist, peeling your fingers off like you were a drunk little crab. “Quit it. Seriously—”

“No,” you muttered, blinking slowly before jabbing a wobbly finger at his face. “He’s realllyyyy hotter.”

His mouth fell open. “I—What?!”

You slumped further against his back with the dramatic exhaustion of a tragic heroine, letting out a long, exasperated sigh like life had personally let you down.

“He’s got this whole… like… sassy... teasy… um… cutie-boyfriend vibe,” you mumbled dreamily, fingers flopping in the air as if painting a masterpiece in your mind. “You’re just… mean.”

Wooin blinked, insulted. “My what vibe now?!” he repeated, waving a hand at his own very real, very exhausted face. “You think I don’t have cutie-boyfriend energy?! I invented that energy!”

You let out a pitiful noise and lazily raised your hand, cupping his cheek with all the grace of a sleepy toddler—your thumb gave his skin a gentle, almost patronizing pat.

“Don’t worry, stranger,” you slurred with deep sympathy. “You’re still cute. You’ll find someone... someday.”

There was a long pause.

Wooin slowly closed his eyes like a monk trying to transcend the physical plane.

Inhale. Exhale. Don’t scream. Don’t cry. Don’t throw her into a bush.

“I’m going to lose my mind,” he muttered.

You hummed, squinting blearily as your cheek mushed against his shoulder. Your voice came out soft, syrupy, and very drunk.

“You sound like him… when he’s grumpy…”

“Because. I. Am. Him,” he snapped, arms aching and patience rapidly dissolving.

You gasped like he just told you he was Santa Claus. “No way…”

“Yes way.”

“…Prove it.”

Wooin stared at you, jaw dropping in disbelief. “WHY would I need to prove I’m me?! Who else carries you around like a drunk possum on weekends?!”

As if to make a point, he jostled you slightly—hoping it’d shake some clarity into your alcohol-soaked brain.

Instead, you immediately made a noise that was dangerously close to gagging. “Urrgh—stop—don’t shake me, I’ll explode…”

He froze. 

“Okay—okay, alright. No exploding,” he muttered, surrendering with a sigh as he finally opened the car door and shoved you gently into the passenger seat like a soggy bag of groceries. 

He knelt beside you, brushing your hair from your face with a look that somehow balanced between fondness and emotional collapse.

Just as he opened his mouth to argue again, a quiet voice cut through the chaos:

“…She left this.”

Both of you turned toward the sound. Joker had appeared silently by the car, holding out your glittery, obnoxiously loud purse like it had personally offended him.

He blinked once, eyes shifting from Wooin’s frazzled expression to your dazed pout, then back.

Wooin just stared. “Thanks, man.”

Joker gave a short nod—but didn’t leave.

Instead, he stayed rooted beside the open car door, watching with quiet amusement as you blinked up at Wooin like he was an unusually talkative stranger. 

Your brows were furrowed in drunken suspicion, lips pushed into a pout, gaze wobbling with confusion. You squinted, side-eyed him, leaned back, then forward again—as if the closer you looked, the more convinced you were that this man couldn’t possibly be your boyfriend.

Joker sighed internally. It was always something with you two—some chaotic mess he had to witness. And like always, he was fully prepared to walk away and pretend it never happened.

But something caught his eye.

His gaze drifted downward—settling on a familiar pair of obnoxiously bright yellow sunglasses tucked neatly in the cup holder between the front seats. He blinked, one brow lifting in quiet realization.

Quietly, he glanced back at Wooin, studying him more closely—No cap. No shades. Just tired eyes and a vein twitching dangerously at his temple.

“Oh,” Joker muttered, as if everything suddenly made sense.

Without another word, he tossed your glittery purse onto the car floor by your foot, then leaned into the car with smooth, practiced ease.

Wooin leaned back slightly, confused. “Uh—what are you—”

Joker ignored him, reached between the seats, and grabbed the sunglasses. And before either of you could even stop him, Joker gently—deliberately—placed the yellow frames on Wooin’s face, letting them settle over the bridge of his nose with a soft click.

The moment they were on—

Gasp.

Your eyes widened with cartoonish drama, pupils dilating like you’d just seen a celebrity in the wild.

“WOOIN!” you squealed, voice going from suspicious slur to full-on musical joy, like a drunk Disney princess who just found her lost prince.

Your boyfriend didn’t even have time to react before you launched at him—wrapping your arms around his neck like a needy little octopus with abandonment issues.

“I found youuu!” you cried, sniffling dramatically into his shoulder like he’d just returned from war.

Wooin froze mid-breath. Arms stiff at his sides. Eyes staring off like he was processing a trauma in real-time.

Joker, meanwhile, had already turned away, rolling his eyes like an exhausted babysitter clocking out for the night. He gave a lazy wave over his shoulder and walked off, not even acknowledging the emotional crisis he just solved like it was nothing.

"Are you—are you serious right now?" Wooin muttered, utterly betrayed. “I was with you the whole damn time and you only recognize me when I put on my stupid glasses?!”

You ignored the tone in his voice entirely, already snuggling closer with a dreamy sigh. You were halfway in his lap at this point, body practically melting against his like you were a cat claiming her favorite seat.

“Mmm… they make your face look kissable…” you mumbled, your voice soft and sleepy as your lips brushed the corner of his jaw. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck like it was instinct, sighing deeply like you finally found your favorite pillow.

Wooin didn’t flinch this time. He just exhaled, quietly amused, one hand coming up to steady the back of your head while the other rested firm around your waist. 

“You always get clingy when you’re drunk,” he muttered under his breath, half-scolding, half-smiling as he shifted you into a more comfortable position. Your leg draped across his lap now, and he let it stay there.

You didn’t reply—just hummed happily as your fingers combed lazily through his hair, completely unbothered by the fact you were practically melting into him in the passenger seat of his car.

He glanced at you with the corner of his eye, already anticipating the next thing you’d say.

“Some creep dragged me earlier…” you murmured faintly, lips brushing against his neck again as you pressed your cheek against his collarbone. “He was mean…”

“That was me,” he said flatly.

You let out a sleepy whine in protest, arms tightening around him in soft defiance. “Nooo… he smelled different…”

Wooin sniffed. “I carried you through a crowd while you threatened to puke on my back.”

“…Still wasn’t very nice,” you pouted, the words slightly muffled against his shirt.

He snorted. “You basically called me a creep.”

“I was scared,” you mumbled.

He didn’t say anything after that—just quietly ran his hand up and down your back, letting you melt against him like you always did when the alcohol finally slowed you down. His jaw relaxed. His heartbeat settled. You felt warm and familiar in his arms, even if you were currently calling him a stranger with bad vibes.

“…He was kinda hot, though.”

He blinked.

“Okay—you’re walking home.”

“What?! Wooin would never say that!”

“He just did.”

[pinkpurplesunrises]

Letters to No One - Chapter 3: The Things We Carry

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Reader (wlw).

Theme: Ghostwriter x Athlete | Slow Burn | Angst | Emotional Intimacy | Happy Ending.

POV: 2nd person (you), emotion ally immersive.

Setting: Barcelona, Present Day.

Previous chapters: chapter 1, chapter 2

ACT: I

Writer's note: really hope you enjoy this series as much as I enjoy writing it.

You’re in her apartment again.

It’s the third time now, and still, she hasn’t told you why she chooses here over a café. Maybe it’s the way the silence doesn’t echo. Or maybe she’s just tired of being looked at. Here, she doesn’t have to perform.

She sits cross-legged on the floor, back resting against the couch. No makeup. No façade. You sit opposite her, notebook untouched in your lap, voice recorder silent for now.

She’s twisting a hair tie between her fingers, her thumb moving in small anxious circles. You’ve learned to wait when she does that.

You don’t speak. You let the quiet do the asking.

Eventually she says, “Can we talk without it being for the book?”

You blink. “Of course.”

She hesitates. Then reaches forward and turns off the recorder herself.

Her eyes don’t meet yours when she speaks. “You know I tore my ACL last year. Everyone knows that. It was all over the news.”

You nod softly. “Yeah. I remember.”

She’s quiet again. Then:

“I didn’t think I’d come back.”

Your stomach drops.

“Not just physically,” she clarifies. “Mentally. I couldn’t see myself on a pitch. I couldn’t see myself at all. I’d wake up and feel like my body had betrayed me. Like I wasn’t anything without the game.”

You watch her closely. Not just her words. Her hands. Her breathing. The way her voice falters around the edges.

“I was in bed for days at a time. Told everyone I was rehabbing. But I was... disappearing.”

You move slowly, placing your notebook aside. “Did anyone know?”

She finally looks at you. Her eyes are darker now. Tired in a way that has nothing to do with sleep.

“Maybe they guessed. But no one asked.” A bitter smile. “Or they asked the wrong things. ‘How’s your knee?’ Not ‘How are you?’”

You whisper, “How are you now?”

It’s a simple question but it stops her cold.

After a long pause: “Better. Not fixed. Just... better.”

You nod. “That counts.”

She tells you about her dad after that.

Not in some poetic, sweeping moment. Just in pieces. Fragmented. Like it still hurts to name all at once.

“He died when I was a teenager,” she says. “I used to dedicate every game to him. Still do. Even now. But I think people forget that he was a person, not a symbol.”

You listen.

“He wasn’t perfect. He made mistakes. But he saw me. Not just as an athlete. As a girl who liked drawing, and hated math, and had posters of Xavi and Shakira.”

You smile. “Taste.”

She almost laughs. “I was eleven.”

Then she says quietly, “I still look for him in the stands sometimes. Like maybe if I score the right goal, he’ll come back.”

The silence between you grows tender. Not heavy. Not sharp. Just real.

You realize you can’t sit here and pretend not to feel this. Not just what she’s saying but what it’s doing to you.

So you say:

“My last relationship ended because I was too quiet.”

Alexia looks at you. Eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

“I thought listening was enough. I thought being safe was enough. But eventually she said I felt like a mirror. Not a person.”

Alexia doesn’t speak. Just listens. The way you’ve been listening to her.

“I’ve always been the one behind the words,” you admit. “Ghostwriting, editing, never bylines. I’m good at being invisible. But sometimes... I don’t want to be.”

She nods slowly. “I know that feeling.”

For a moment, there’s nothing between you but breath and softness.

Then she says your name. Again, slower this time. A deliberate invocation.

You meet her gaze.

“I don’t think you’re invisible,” she says.

And it’s not flirtation. It’s not kindness. It’s truth.

Your throat tightens.

You reach for the recorder, but don’t turn it back on. Not yet. Instead, you open the notebook and quietly write down what she just said.

Alexia watches you, eyes lingering.

When you’re done, she asks, “You’re writing that for the book?”

You look up at her, your smile small but honest.

“No,” you say. “This one’s for me.”

That night, you write in Letters to No One.

You close the file with your hands shaking a little.

She let me see the broken pieces today. And instead of feeling honored, I felt responsible. Like I’d been trusted with something delicate. Something living.

And maybe that’s what intimacy really is. Not touching. Just being allowed close enough to watch someone tremble, and choosing not to run.

I didn’t fall in love with her voice. I fell in love with her pauses.

Because you know this isn’t just a job anymore.

And you don’t know how to stop.

----------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 4: The Turning Point

[emmiesoverthemoon]

almost

pairing: t.o.p x reader tags: drabble. angst. friends to lovers (sort of). part of the emmieverse drabble special—see here

you had always loved seunghyun quietly.

not the kind of love that asked for anything in return—just a constant hum beneath the skin. a devotion unspoken, tucked into silences and soft glances, never meant to be noticed.

but tonight he looked like a ghost of himself.

the sharp lines of his face slack with exhaustion, voice sanded down to something fragile.

"do you think she still thinks about me?"

you blinked. the words struck something deep, something raw.

"i have no idea," you answered, and the unsaid truth sat heavy between you. because i think about you constantly.

he exhaled. leaned further back against the worn-out couch in your living room, where you had spent too many nights like this—shoulder to shoulder, almost close enough to pretend.

"you always tell the truth," he murmured. "i like that about you."

a bitter smile tugged at your lips.

you like a lot of things about me, you wanted to say. just not enough.

"someone has to," you said instead.

you watched him from the corner of your eye. he looked so tired. too many sleepless nights and memories he couldn't outrun.

you had seen every version of him.

you had stayed when others left.

held him through silence. praised his art when he forgot it had meaning.

you had given him every version of your love except the one that asked for something back.

"what if i can't do this anymore?"

his voice cracked at the edges. he was not just talking about her—you knew that. it was everything. the weight of the world on his shoulders. the pressure. the grief.

"then let me," you whispered. "let me carry it. for a while."

his eyes finally met yours.

and something in them shifted.

"why would you do that?"

your throat tightened. you almost could not speak.

"because i love you," you whispered. "i have, for a long time."

the silence that followed was not cruel. not sharp. just still.

suspended in the space between what was and what would never be.

when he did not say anything, you stood.

because loving someone should never feel like waiting to be chosen.

"i cannot keep pretending," you said, gently. "not anymore."

and you left.

not because you wanted to—but because some kinds of love deserve more than quiet corners and late-night almosts.

ty mer! i hope u like <3

taglist (ask to be added here): @burlesquerade @makeitworse @petersasteria @gdinthehouseee @aizshallnotbefound @floofeh-purpi @ldydeath @wcnderlnds @ttturnitup @breakmeoff @sherrayyyyy @ricecake9999 @leni111 @scream-queen-25 @spiritualgirly444 @fairyprincesslvr21 @loonybunny1 @uuchii @sherxoo @m-325 @slut4junho

[hellfirebarnes]

Slow-Burns Part 6

@crowleythesexydemon

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 7 PART 8

I split this up in several, shorter parts because I know the feeling when you want to read a fic but don't have the time or energy to get through a 10k+ words one. Also if you hate my writing you can just read part 1 and then leave it. Win-win I guess?

Anyway, this is set after Thunderbolts so if you haven't seen it - spoilers I guess? It absolutely does not follow canon, but yeah better to be safe than sorry.

Summary: Bucky has fallen. Hopelessly. And the only thing more hopeless is his team trying to help him get to the end of this slow-burn.

Bucky x fem!SHIELD!reader

1.3K Words

Fluff, ''normal'' violence and descriptions of injuries. For sure out of character stuff, but I am who I am. Your appearence is barely desribed what I can remember, I think your hair and a couple types what clothes you're wearing?

You're referred to as ''Agent'' and ''Sunshine'' in a desperate attempt from me to not use Y/N.

Let me know if there's anything else I should warn about.

Otherwise, enjoy :)

The living room was a mess.

Yelena and John were yelling over the TV. Bob was trying to build what he claimed was a “treat tower” out of Oreos and pretzel sticks. Alexei was playing the Russian national anthem on his phone, loudly, for no reason. Again.

And in the middle of it all were you, cross-legged on the rug, helping Bob reinforce his structure with toothpicks.

Bucky sat on the edge of the couch, trying to look like a person who was totally relaxed and cool and not desperately in love with the woman on the floor surrounded by snacks and chaos.

“Bucky,” you said suddenly, tilting your head back to look at him upside-down. “Wanna help?”

His mouth went dry. Help? With a snack tower? With Bob? While you were smiling at him?

“Sure,” he said. It came out hoarse.

Before he could move, John flopped onto the couch next to him and tossed a ball of socks at you. “You never did laundry last week. Admit it.”

“Your evidence is circumstantial,” you replied, catching the sock and throwing it back. “That could be anybody’s weird smelly sock.”

“Don’t change the subject!”

Bob popped up beside you like a jack-in-the-box. “Hey, you want to test the structural integrity of the top floor?”

“Obviously.”

And just like that, your attention was gone again.

Bucky swallowed hard and sat back defeated. Trying to act normal around you when John and Bob existed was like trying to shout during a hurricane.

Bucky was watching the team train from the training room's observation deck, arms folded, expression unreadable, when Ava appeared beside him.

She didn’t say anything right away - just leaned on the railing and watched Yelena sweep John’s legs out from under him.

Finally, Ava spoke. “You know, for a trained assassin, your poker face sucks.”

Bucky didn’t even flinch. “Not trying to hide anything.”

“Mmm.” She gave him a look. “You’re doing the brooding thing again.”

“I’m always doing the brooding thing.”

She smiled faintly, turning toward him. “You’re not the only one who notices the way you look at her.”

That made him pause.

“She doesn’t,” he said eventually. “Or she does and she’s being kind about it.”

“She’s not being kind,” Ava replied. “She’s being herself. That’s why it matters so much to you.”

He stayed quiet, eyes drifting back down to the floor where you were laughing - completely at ease between John’s antics and Bob’s constant orbit.

“I keep waiting for the right moment,” Bucky admitted. “But they’re always there.”

Ava snorted softly. “Yeah, because they love her. That’s not going away.”

“I know.”

“You think being close to someone like that will be easy?” she asked. “You’re not falling for someone quiet, Bucky. You’re falling for someone who makes chaos feel like a home.”

He blinked at her.

“You want her attention?” Ava said. “You’ll have to earn it. Not with noise. With presence.”

He looked down at you again. And this time, he didn’t just see you. He felt the ache of wanting to be someone you could look at the way you smiled at the rest of the team. The way you smiled at him when no one else was pulling at you.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

Ava gave him a half smile and walked away.

That evening you were grabbing tea when you spotted Bucky leaning at the doorway, casual but clearly unsure of what he was doing there.

“Hey,” you greeted, warm as ever.

“Hey,” he replied. Then, braver this time, he added: “Did the snack tower survive?”

You laughed. “Bob tried to eat it mid-structural test. So… no.”

He grinned. “Sounds about right.”

You stood in silence for a beat, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“I liked seeing you laugh today,” he said, and instantly regretted it.

But you just blinked, then smiled, a little softer than usual. “I like when you try to laugh,” you said. “You’re getting better at it.”

Before he could say anything else, Bob’s voice echoed down the hall: “SUNSHINE! YELENA’S DESTROYING MY NEW OREO BLUEPRINT!”

“Coming!” you called back, already turning. But before you left, you bumped Bucky’s arm lightly with your elbow. “You should’ve joined us.”

He watched you go, heart in his throat. Maybe next time… he would.

Val looked far too smug for this hour.

“All right, sunshine patrol,” she said, clapping her hands once. “You’re headed into the charming little arms of an illegal weapons facility disguised as an olive oil distribution center. Get in, disable the transport grid, recover intel, don’t die. You know, Tuesday.”

You blinked blearily. “Do we at least get actual olive oil?”

“No,” Val said. “You get Bob in cargo pants. That’s your reward.”

Bob raised both fists in the air. “I love cargo pants!”

John groaned into his coffee. “It’s too early for him to be like this.”

Yelena slumped dramatically over the table. “It’s too early for anything.”

Alexei slapped a hand down on the map. “We go in hard. We go in fast. And we protect Sunshine with our lives!”

“Alexei,” Bucky muttered, “we’re all in the same amount of danger.”

“Not emotionally,” Alexei replied, with a very pointed glance toward Bucky.

It was supposed to be clean. Quick.

Instead, you were running down narrow metal walkways, gunfire ricocheting off walls, with Bob carrying the server hard drives over his head like a toddler with a bucket of toys.

“Bob, why-” you started, ducking under a burst of gunfire.

“I don’t want to crush them in my pockets!”

Bucky took out a guard coming up behind you, catching a glimpse of your wild grin through the chaos, hair wind-blown, tactical vest half-unzipped, laughter on your lips even in the heat of it.

You tossed him a flash drive mid-run. “You trust me too much,” you shouted.

“No,” he shouted back, “I just know what you can do!”

John jogged past them both. “God, are you flirting? Now?”

“Always,” you deadpanned, leaping over a pile of crates.

You made it out. Muddy. Bruised. Still laughing.

Alexei had an arm around Bob’s shoulders as they climbed into the jet. “Look at us! Victorious! And clearly, this mission proves that Sunshine and Bucky are soulmates, no?”

Bucky nearly tripped on the ramp.

You blinked. “Wait- what?”

“Absolutely,” Alexei said, entirely unfazed. “You threw a USB across a hallway into his heart!”

“That’s not where I was aiming,” you said, biting back a smile.

Bucky felt his brain short-circuit.

John gave a long-suffering sigh and climbed aboard. “Somebody sedate him.”

On the jet Bucky sat across from you, watching you curl up against the wall, one earbud in, hair mussed. You looked soft in this light. Tired and beautiful and so very real.

Alexei dropped into the seat beside him, nudging his knee. “You know, you’re going to have to do something eventually.”

Bucky didn’t look at him. “What if I mess it up?”

Alexei looked at him, strangely serious for once. “You won’t. Because it is not about being perfect. It’s about being genuine. And you, my brooding friend, are the real thing.”

Bucky glanced at you again. You were mouthing the words to your song, unaware of them.

Alexei leaned in a little closer. “You love her.”

Bucky exhaled. Yeah. He did.

And the terrifying part? It didn’t feel like a falling anymore.

It felt like coming home.

That night, back in his room, Bucky sat on the edge of his bed, staring at a small, wrinkled note you had scrawled on a post-it once during a mission debrief. Just a silly doodle of him next to Bob with the caption: Thunderbrooding & Goldie B.

He’d kept it.

He rubbed a hand over his face, heart pounding. Then stood. Opened a drawer. Pulled out a small, slightly dusty notebook.

And began to make a list.

“Operation: Court Sunshine.”

1. Don’t panic.

2. Talk to her like a person.

3. Make her laugh.

4. Show up.

5. Be someone she can lean on.

6. Ask her on a real date.

7. (Bring snacks.)

8. Try not to die of nerves.

9. Don’t let Bob beat you to it.

[yuh13lo]

More than a toothbrush | chris sturniolo

Chris had been dropping hints for weeks.

Little nudges like, “You know you don’t have to bring your bag every single time,” or, “Wouldn’t it be easier if you left your favorite hoodie here instead of packing it back and forth?” But every time, she’d wave it off with a quiet smile and a soft, “I don’t want to intrude.”

Chris hated that word. Intrude. Like she wasn’t already one of the most comforting, important, loved parts of his life. Like she wasn’t already someone who curled into his side like she belonged there—because she did.

It finally hit him one Thursday night.

She was standing at his bathroom sink, balancing her skincare bag on the edge of the counter. Face wash, serum, moisturizer—all her little products lined up for the five minutes she’d need before they’d crawl into bed.

“Why don’t you just leave it here?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the tub, shirtless and barefoot, watching her apply something with a dropper like it was a science experiment.

She blinked at him through the mirror. “What?”

“Your face wash. Your serum. Your…eye goo, whatever it is. Just leave it. Keep it here.”

She shook her head with a soft laugh. “Chris…”

“No, I mean it.” He stood up, walking behind her and resting his chin on her shoulder, arms loosely wrapped around her waist. “I hate that you keep acting like this isn’t your space too.”

“It’s your apartment,” she said gently. “You share it with your brothers. I’m already here all the time. I don’t want to overstep.”

Chris turned her to face him, hands warm on her hips. “You’re not overstepping, baby. You’re home. I want you here more. I like seeing your stuff in my bathroom. I like when your sweater’s on my desk chair or your socks are mixed in with mine. And I love when your toothbrush is next to mine.” His voice softened even more. “I wanna see more than that.”

Her brows furrowed slightly, the weight of his words settling into her chest.

“Chris…”

“Look,” he said, brushing a hand down her arm. “Leave a couple outfits here. Your face stuff. Your fuzzy pajama pants that I boughtl anyway. You already spend most nights here. Let yourself exist here without it feeling like you’re on borrowed time.”

She looked up at him, eyes glassy in that tender-overwhelm way he’d come to recognize.

“Are you sure?” she whispered.

He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want this—us—to feel permanent. I don’t want it to feel like you’re visiting. I want it to feel like you’re just…home.”

A long silence passed. Then, slowly, her lips curled into the softest smile.

“Okay,” she whispered.

The next day, she showed up with a little duffle bag. Chris didn’t make a big deal out of it—just helped her unpack like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She lined up her face products in the corner of the bathroom counter. Hung a hoodie or two in his closet. Left a drawer half-filled with leggings and oversized tees. And when she noticed him gently folding her socks into the top drawer next to his own, her heart cracked wide open.

Later that night, they were tangled on the couch watching a movie when she whispered, “I like having my stuff here.”

Chris kissed the top of her head, arm snug around her. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I plan on organizing all of it anyway.”

She laughed, leaning closer, and it felt—finally, fully—like hers too. Like more than just a visit.

Like home.

[supercorpkid]

North

Supergirl. Supercorp. Lena Luthor x Kara Danvers.

Word Count: 4.5k

Notes: loosely inspired by Clairo's song 'North'.

The key sticks in the lock. 

Of course it does. The house has been abandoned for years—so long Lena forgot it even existed until she needed somewhere no one would think to look.

The door groans open, and stale air breathes out like something exiled and forgotten. She doesn’t step inside. Not yet. Just stands there, one hand still on the key, trying to summon something—anything—from this place.

If she stares at the couch long enough, maybe a memory will surface. Lex and Lillian playing chess. Lionel with his whiskey, some heavy book cracked open on his lap. Maybe a younger version of herself curled by the fireplace, small and shadowed, just trying to be unnoticed.

But nothing comes. Not even when she forces it.

Her mind is playing tricks on her, because the only voice she hears—the only presence she feels—was never here.

Kara Danvers doesn’t even know this house exists. And still, Lena swears she can hear her, “Hey Lena, come snuggle on the couch and watch a movie.” She shakes her head as if to shake the voice inside her brain off.

The place smells like dust and old wood, varnish gone sharp with time, a ghost of lakewater and damp earth. But when Lena breathes in, it’s Kara she feels in her lungs. 

That’s why she left. That’s why she ran. Because everything in her penthouse smelled like Kara. Like sunlight and laughter, like warmth that creeps in on you. It smelled like sweet nothings and heavy comfort. Sun-warmed cotton, bare skin, and smooth-talking.

It clung to her pillows. Her couch. Her clothes. It haunted the house with invisible hands, brushing over her shoulders, curling against her spine.

Kara stayed over.

Just like that. No excuse. No justifying why she didn’t go home. She curled up on the couch with Lena like she belonged there. Head on Lena’s thigh. Gentle fingers tracing the seam of her trousers. Not sexual. Not not, either.

“You always smell like lavender. It's my favorite.”

Lena didn’t know what to say. Her heart was already beating too hard. Kara had looked up at her with those wide blue eyes and smiled like she’d just said something innocent.

In bed, later that night, she pushed it further.

Whispered as a secret in the quiet of the night, under the same darkness, surrounded by the same blanket, “Goodnight, my heart.”

And Lena's heart, god, it screamed. All of the sudden there were flashing lights. Sirens in her bloodstream. Every nerve buzzing like something terrible was about to happen—because something always does. When she lets someone close enough to touch the parts of her no one should reach—awful things happen to everyone involved.

She’d said nothing. Turned her back to Kara and stared at the wall like it might save her.

But it didn’t. Because Kara stayed the night. And in the morning after, she made coffee like it was her kitchen. She danced around in socks, humming some stupid song under her breath, calling Lena love like Lena had earned it. But…

Did she?

Lena could feel herself splitting down old fault lines. Cracks she’d plastered over years ago beginning to open again.

So she ran.

No note. No goodbye. Just a bag thrown together in ten minutes and a car aimed north.

Now the lake stares back at her through tall windows like it knows the truth.

This wasn’t supposed to be her story. She wasn’t supposed to be the one who fell first. She should’ve had the upper hand. The control. The distance. All the things she learned in this very house—maybe, probably—to wield like weapons.

But Kara had gotten under her skin. Sweetly. Softly. Like honey. Like flowers growing under your feet. Like something that gets you before you even notice it's there.

And somehow, impossibly, Kara is still here. In the creak of the floors. In the way the light moves across the walls. In the ache behind Lena’s ribs that won’t subside.

How is it that Kara's warmth seems to have followed her all the way here, when it should be a place filled with nothing but resentment and expensive art?

Lena drags herself upstairs. The bed is enormous. Cold. Blinding white. Too Luthor.

She strips it bare.

The old sheets go in a pile on the floor. She buys new ones. Drives an hour into town to make sure they’re not satin, not high thread count, not something Kara would sink into with a smile. These are scratchy. Beige. Soulless. That’s what she needs.

She buys too much food. A way to tell herself that she is here to stay. That, this time, she won't shake this feeling in two to three business days. No. This time, it's deep. Nestled inside her like marrow and she knows she will need weeks to get over her love for Kara Danvers. 

Maybe— maybe she even knows she will never truly get over it. She just needs to be functional before going back to National City.

There's a text on her phone, when she glances down at it. Kara’s name. That stupid heart Lena had added next to it. Pink. Soft. Mocking.

It’s not the Luthor way, she tells herself. Then again, perhaps it’s the most Luthor thing she’s ever done—this brand of operatic madness. Because she’s out the door before she can stop herself.

Underwear and a T-Shirt. Nothing else. Not even shoes.

She runs and runs—through grass, down the slope, straight to the edge of the lake. Breath ragged, chest burning. She keeps running.

And then, she stops just short before the water meets her toes and flings her phone so far into it, she knows she will never get it back. 

She doesn't even know what the text said. It doesn't matter. A hello at this point could have killed her.

She stares at the lake for about ten minutes until it dawns her, whoa—that was dramatic. And completely unnecessary. The superwatch is still perfectly fastened to her wrist, of course. Because while she may have lost her mind for a second, she’s not insane enough to throw that into the water.

She draws a breath and turns toward the house. Resigned. She walks back up the slope with wet grass clinging to her ankles and mud drying on her calves. Every step heavier than the last. By the time she makes it back inside, she wants to scream.

Because—what was that? What was all of that?

The sleepovers. The touches. The pet names. The way Kara looked at her in the mornings like it was already theirs, like Lena was something she could keep.

And then—nothing.

No explanations. No confessions. No kiss. 

Never a kiss. 

Was it all a game? Was she just… practice? A warm place to land until Kara figured out who she really wanted?

Lena knows Kara. Knows her heart, or thought she did. And she wants to believe that Kara wouldn’t play with her like that. That she wouldn’t be cruel.

But what if she is just too good at it?

That’s the part Lena can’t stand—the possibility that none of it meant anything. That Kara can smile and touch and whisper like that, and still walk away unscathed. That she can call someone my heart like it’s nothing.

And maybe Lena was foolish for believing it. For letting herself think that this could be different. That Kara—sweet, sunny, ever-loyal Kara—could see her, really see her, and still stay.

Lena rips open the fridge. The door bounces back from the force of it. She stares inside like it's supposed to offer her answers, and then laughs—a bitter, hollow sound that barely makes it out of her throat.

She’s angry now. And it’s better than being sad.

Because it hits her—how pathetic she must’ve looked. Curled up on the couch with Kara. Letting her lay there, tracing lines onto her trousers like that didn’t mean anything. Like she wasn’t branding Lena at that moment. Whispering things no one had ever said to her before and expecting her to survive it.

And what did Lena do?

She smiled. She let it happen.

God, what kind of Luthor was she? A bad one. One that would be scrutinized if anyone else from her family had seen.

She was twelve. Sitting in the lounge of this very house, legs tucked up under her as she watched Lex play chess against their mother. Lillian didn’t even glance at her as she moved a rook and said, flatly, “People who are soft don’t get to win.”

Lex had chuckled, cruel and easy. “People who are soft get turned into weapons.”

Lena had pretended not to care, pretended it wasn't about her they were talking about. Had pretended her heart wasn’t cracking just a little when Lionel looked up from his whiskey and said, “See, Lena. You have to learn that no one will like you if you’re soft.”

She stares at herself on the nearest shiny surface. Her hair’s a mess. Her eyes are red. She looks like someone who didn’t learn.

Kara had walked right into her life with sunshine and sweetness and meant it, and Lena still managed to fall for it like a fool. Like a Luthor desperate to believe she could be loved.

No. No.

This was her mistake—thinking she could be soft. Thinking she could lay back and let someone like Kara hold her and stay the night without consequences.

She grips the counter tighter.

If she’s going to break, she’ll do it on her own terms.

The wine doesn’t even taste good.

She finds it in the cellar, one of the few things in this house she vaguely remembers liking. Dusty bottles, stupid labels, vintage worth more than most people’s cars. She doesn’t care. Just pops the cork with shaking hands and drinks straight from the neck, mouth tilted, jaw tight.

She finishes and starts another bottle in the same breath. Manages to get halfway through it, before she stumbles her way upstairs again. Leaves her clothes in a trail behind her like she’s shedding everything Kara ever touched.

The sheets are beige. Soulless. Chosen for their lack of memory. And yet…

She throws herself into the bed—and freezes. The scent hits her before she’s even fully underneath. That fucking smell.

Not Kara, not exactly. Not like her skin or her perfume. It’s subtler. But it’s there. That warm cotton softness, that trace of vanilla from Kara’s shampoo. The smell of safety. Of being held.

And Lena chokes on it.

“No,” she whispers, fists already twisting the pillow, dragging it out from under her to throw across the room. “No—no—no.”

She tears the blanket off, throws it down, tears at the sheets like they’ve betrayed her. Which they have. Which everything has.

“I bought these. I chose them,” she says, voice rising, cracking. “You’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to be anywhere near me.”

But Kara always was good at sneaking in.

Even now, even here—hundreds of miles away, behind locked doors and miles of dirt road—Kara got in anyway.

That’s what breaks her.

Not the wine. Not the bed. Not the house or the lake or even the fucking text she never read.

It’s the realization that no matter how far she runs, she still brought Kara with her. Kara Danvers is in her blood now. Every breath tastes like her. Every ache leads back to her.

She sinks to the floor beside the bed, knees drawn to her chest, arms around them like a cage. And then the tears come. Angry. Humiliating. Loud.

Not the elegant kind that slides down cheeks like poetry—no, these are the kind that rip their way out. Ugly. Shaking. Snotty.

“I hate you,” she sobs into her own arms. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—”

But she doesn’t. God, she doesn’t.

And that’s the worst part.

She presses her face into her arms and tells herself it’ll pass. That she’ll wake up tomorrow and feel nothing.

But the ache only gets louder.

Because right now, she doesn’t believe Kara ever meant it. Not really. Not the hand warm on her tight, not the pet name, not the staying over, not the never leaving.

And that’s the part Lena can’t forgive.

She cries until her throat hurts. Until she’s gasping more than sobbing. Until her body is wrung out and her skin feels too tight for her bones.

Eventually, she drags herself into the bed again—not because she wants to, but because the floor is cold and she’s shivering. The sheets are still warm from her outburst, but the smell lingers. She hates that it’s in the fabric, hates that it’s in her. That even now, Kara feels closer than anyone else ever has.

She stares at the ceiling in the dark, blinking through the leftover tears, and lets the silence press in around her. No phone. No noise. Just her, alone in the bed she tried so hard to make sterile.

She wants to hate her. But Kara never gave her a clean wound. Only the kind that keeps reopening.

She kind of wishes Kara had kissed her and then disappeared. Slept with her and then laughed. Lied, cheated, done something she could hold like a weapon. But Kara hadn’t done anything like that. She’d just stayed. She’d lingered.

She’d said things like goodnight, my heart.

And Lena—idiot, idiot—she’d believed it.

That’s what gets her again. The punch of it. The humiliation of how deeply she let herself believe. Like some wide-eyed farm girl in a high school movie, not someone raised by wolves in thousand-dollar suits.

“Luthors weren’t built to be this stupid,” she mutters bitterly into the mattress.

But she was. Somehow, she was.

Because when Kara smiled at her like that—when she touched her hair like it was silk, and called her love like it meant something—Lena believed her.

And now she doesn’t know how to stop feeling Kara in her bones.

She’s surviving on tears. And anger. And wine, obviously.

Usually, by now, she would’ve gotten over it. She would’ve reasoned with herself—told herself it was ridiculous. That having this many emotions about one person is not only unhealthy, but maniacal.

She’s not Lex. She’s not about to become the kind of person who spirals over Kara Danvers like he did over Clark Kent.

Only… Lex didn’t want Clark to kiss him breathless and say he was in love.

Or maybe he did. It would explain a lot more.

Maybe Clark played with Lex’s feelings the same way Kara plays with hers.

Kara leaned in too close one night, in the penthouse. Close enough that Lena could see her own breath stutter in Kara’s glasses. Close enough that when Kara whispered something—I swear this lipstick drives me insane—and then kissed her cheek like it was nothing. She thought she would die.

But her hands had stayed on Lena’s hips for a second too long. Her eyes had dropped to Lena’s mouth like they’d meant to.

And Lena, like a fool, had tilted forward.

Just slightly. Just enough to ruin everything.

But Kara only smiled. Like Lena had misread the whole thing. Like they were playing some game Kara never agreed to start.

And then she’d left.

Went home like she hadn’t just lit Lena’s entire ribcage on fire and walked out before watching it burn.

Maybe it wasn’t even romantic. Maybe it never was.

Maybe Kara’s just doing that thing people do—keep your friends close, your enemies closer. Whispering sweet things to keep her soft. Keeping her roped in, just in case. For leverage. For safety. So she’ll always know where to find her, if she needs to.

Maybe that’s all Lena ever was. A safety net. A contingency plan with good taste in wine and a huge bed Kara liked sleeping in.

Because how else do you explain it?

How else do you explain the way she keeps coming back? The way she touches Lena like it’s second nature and then pulls away like she didn’t mean it? Like Lena imagined the whole thing?

God, maybe she did.

Maybe that’s the real Luthor curse—not the madness or the ambition or the name carved in stone—but the delusion. The desperate, pathetic hope that someone like Kara Danvers could ever mean it when she calls her love.

Before she realizes, it’s been a week.

Look, Lena is a pathetic mess when it comes to Kara Danvers. But she’s better than that. She’s smart. Resourceful. Half a Luthor—for whatever that's worth.

So she comes up with a plan. A damn good one.

She keeps herself busy with the stupid house. Cleans it. Throws things away. Hides others in the basement. She gives herself a clean slate. Somewhere she can almost see herself living for real. After all, she does have a portal.

But when her mind plays tricks on her, she has a contingency plan.

She runs. Down the slope and straight into the freezing lake, until her body is fighting just to survive. Until the cold shocks her brain quiet again.

It isn’t a perfect system, but it helps.

Until it doesn’t.

It works until she’s dragging herself out of the lake, soaked and shivering and breathless—only to see Kara standing at the edge. Just waiting. Her mind is either powerful enough to conjure Kara here, or she’s been found.

She freezes.

Literally and figuratively.

Kara says nothing at first. Just looks at her like she’s not cold, not dripping, not trembling from the inside out. Like she’s something Kara’s been watching for a long time.

Lena wants to scream.

Instead, she walks right past her. Leaves a trail of lakewater and bruised dignity all the way up to the house.

“Wait—”

Kara follows. Of course she does.

“I’ve been texting. You just disappeared, and I had no idea—”

Lena slams the door behind her like it might keep the words out. Like it might keep her out. Even though she knows Kara is strong enough to break it open if she wants to.

“Ever think I didn’t want to see you?” Lena snaps through the door. Her voice shakes more than she means it to.

No way—no fucking way—she’s letting Kara into this house. It’s been hard enough trying to scrub away the smell of memories, the echoes of touch, the look Kara left her with.

“Lena.”

It comes out in that stupid, pleading tone Lena hates. Or loves. The one only Kara ever uses. The one no one else would dare use. The one she’s addicted to.

Kara’s at the window now. Hand pressed to the glass like she could reach through it.

Lena blinks hard. Maybe she’s still hallucinating. Maybe Kara’s just a trick of the cold.

But when she opens her eyes again—

“Lena, please. Let’s talk.”

It makes Lena laugh. Sharp. Bitter. It bounces off the clean walls she’s spent a week pretending weren’t the ruins of her heart.

“Why are you running?” Kara asks. “Why were you half-naked in a freezing lake all the way up north, alone? Why are you acting like I’m the reason for all this?”

A shiver crawls down Lena’s spine.

She realizes, belatedly, she’s still mostly naked—and freezing. She grabs the robe by the door, perfectly placed from all the other times she’s had to defibrillate her emotions back into submission.

Still, the shiver doesn’t stop.

Because Kara is right there on the other side of the glass, asking all the questions Lena thought she’d buried. The ones she thought they’d both already answered.

“Let me in?” Kara says. So softly it nearly undoes her. It’s the gentlest thing Lena’s ever heard. It makes her knees shake.

“I have let you in. So many times.”

Kara’s lips part like she might argue—but she doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t. She just stands there, blinking like she wasn’t expecting that.

Lena laughs again. Bitter. Broken. “You want to talk? Now? After all this time pretending there was nothing between us?”

“I wasn’t—” 

“Yes, you were,” Lena cuts in. “You always were. Pretending it didn’t mean anything when you looked at me like that. When you touched me like that. Like it was nothing when you whispered things no friend would say and left before I could answer.”

She’s shaking again. Robe clenched in both fists like armor.

Kara’s eyes go wide. “That’s not— I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“No,” Lena says, stepping forward, voice low and sharp. “You were just trying to keep me. Keep me around. Keep me wanting you so you’d never have to decide if you wanted me back.”

Silence falls. Heavy. Too big for the room.

Kara looks down. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” Lena agrees for an entirely different reason. “It isn’t.”

They stare at each other through the glass. Kara looks like she might cry. Lena already is—but the tears are stuck somewhere between fury and ache.

“You don’t get to show up here like this. You know why I ran. You’ve always known.”

Kara presses her forehead to the glass. “Baby. Please. This isn’t how we should talk.”

“Like what? With something between us?” Lena huffs a laugh. “This is the only way I can talk to you—so you don’t sneak in again and tear down all my walls and make me love you like I’ve never been hurt.”

Kara doesn’t flinch. She just watches her. Tender and unflinching. Like Lena's breaking along the same fault lines Kara has traced with her hands a thousand times before.

“I never snuck in,” Kara says quietly. “You let me. Every single time.”

Lena’s breath stutters.

“And every single time, you ran. When it got close. When it got good. You ran.”

Lena stiffens. “Don’t turn this on me—”

“I’m not, I’m not blaming you. I’m just saying I knew. I saw this coming.”

Lena blinks fast. Her voice drops. “I thought if I stayed gone, you’d stop caring.”

Kara shakes her head. “I thought if I gave you space, you’d come back when you were ready. Like you always do.”

Lena just stares at her, like seeing her for the first time. Like something she believed is quietly cracking apart inside her.

“I keep trying to reach you, but every time, you disappear. You know it’s not just me, Lena.”

A breath catches in her chest. She follows Kara’s eyes to the door. "Please?”

And that does it.

With trembling fingers, she unhooks the latch. The door creaks open like even the house is holding its breath.

Kara doesn’t move.

Lena breathes in, sharp and shallow. “I hate you for being right.”

“I know.”

“I hate that I still—” Her voice breaks.

“I know.”

Kara steps in. Slowly. Carefully. Like approaching a wounded animal, unsure if it’ll bite or collapse.

“I didn’t come here to win,” she says. “I didn’t come to pull you back.”

“Then why did you come?”

“To be here. If you want me to leave, I will. But I couldn’t let you think I didn’t care.”

Lena’s lip quivers. She stares at Kara like she’s trying to find all the parts of her she’d rewritten as apathy. As abandonment.

“I thought you didn’t want me,” she whispers.

“I’ve always wanted you.” Kara says it so fast, so sure, there’s no room left for doubt. “But you have to want it too. You have to want it enough not to run when we’re close. When we’re almost there.”

Lena looks away—and this time, the tears come. Quiet. Unstoppable.

“I know you’re scared,” Kara says, softer now, each word wrapped in care. “I know they taught you to question everything—especially love. But you don’t have to question mine.”

And something in Lena breaks. She exhales like there’s a crack in her chest—like something old and heavy has finally given way.

“I thought you were playing with me,” she whispers. “Because it was convenient. Not real.”

Kara flinches, her face folding like the words physically hurt. “Lena, you’ve always been real. I want to give you everything. I just need you to stay when it gets real. We have to stop doing this to each other.”

Lena wipes her face and finally meets her eyes. “I always thought it was you pulling away… but maybe it’s been me. This whole time.”

Kara steps closer. Still not touching. Just there—radiating warmth like sunlight through winter glass, soft and sure.

“Let me stay?” she asks. “Let me in again?”

Lena’s voice is barely a breath. “And if I want you to stay forever?”

Kara’s smile is huge, warm, uncontainable. Like the sun breaking into the house, rewriting its history. It reaches the darkest, dustiest corners. And it does even more in Lena’s heart.

“It’s the only way I know how when it comes to you, my heart.”

Lena doesn’t speak. She just breathes Kara in like she’s been underwater for days and only now found air again.

Then, quietly, like the words might break her even more than silence already has, “Hold me?”

Kara doesn’t answer. Doesn’t need to.

She steps forward and wraps her arms around Lena, careful at first, like she still might be pushed away. But the second their bodies meet, Lena exhales, a choked sound against Kara’s shoulder. She’s still shivering, damp and cold, but Kara’s warmth is immediate, all-consuming, the kind of heat that sinks into bone. And so she just melts.

Her arms circle Kara’s waist like she’s anchoring herself to something real for the first time in days. Maybe longer.

Kara pulls back just enough to cup Lena’s face, her thumbs brushing the tears away like they don’t scare her, like she wants to touch every part of the pain and still stay.

Lena’s eyes flutter shut, then open again. Steady now.

“No more waiting,” she says, voice raw. “No more running. Make me yours in a way none of us can deny anymore.”

Kara’s breath catches. Her gaze flicks to Lena’s lips like it’s instinct—like she’s been holding back for years and suddenly can’t remember why.

She kisses her.

Soft at first—reverent, trembling with everything they just said. But Lena makes a sound, a tiny, desperate thing in the back of her throat, and Kara deepens it without hesitation. Her hands slide into Lena’s hair, pulling her closer like she’s trying to fuse them together. Like there’s no world beyond this room, this kiss, this moment.

And Lena burns. From the inside out. With just a kiss, Kara surrounds her again. The warmth creeps in slow and steady—the smell of vanilla, sun-warmed cotton, and bare skin. It’s everywhere. It wraps around her like a weighted comfort, like coming home.

And Lena wonders, dazed and breathless, why she ever ran from this. Because this—this feeling, this touch, this one person—is the best she’s ever had.

When Kara finally parts their lips for air, Lena already knows what’s coming. Knows it like a vow. A promise etched deep into something eternal.

“No more dancing at the edge of us,” Kara murmurs.

And Lena, heart thudding, voice barely more than a breath, answers with her own vow—soft but certain: “No more hiding our feelings.”

Kara lifts her like it’s easy, like it’s always been meant to be, and Lena wraps her legs around her without hesitation. She’s laughing through her tears now, breathless, alive.

She used to think love like this would ruin her—but it’s the only thing that ever made her brave enough to stay.

[witless-winion1]

“Okay, I’ve heard me and Ctimene look the same,” Odysseus said, leaning backwards. “But why- how- are you two doing that?”

Eurylochus crossed his arms, standing beside where Odysseus sat on his bed. “Did one of you teach the other?”

Polites and Ctimene just smiled, eerily similar and equally skilled in their big, pleading puppy eyes. “Please, guys?” Polites begged. “It’ll be fun. Eurylochus said just the other day he wanted to try a new style!”

“And we promise to be gentle!” Ctimene added, kicking her legs innocently, lying on her stomach on the couch in Odysseus’ chambers.

“Nuh-uh, I’m not falling for that! You’re never gentle,” Odysseus shook his head.

“Come on, that was a year ago! And you just have a super sensitive head!”

“Of course I do. It’s because of my big brain,” Odysseus muttered, crossing her arms. Eurylochus rolled his eyes.

“Well, you know I can be gentle, Ody,” Polites protested. “So maybe I can do yours, and Ctimene can do Eury’s?”

“Yeah, I can do yours! Euryclea taught me!” Ctimene nodded, sitting up. She made eye contact with Eurylochus, who held it stoically for a moment before looking away, his blush barely visible.

“I suppose that will work..”

Odysseus glared at Eurylochus, the traitor. The taller teen just shrugged back.

“Come on, Odysseus. I’ll just brush it and braid a few strands.” Polites reached up and ran his fingers briefly through the boy’s medium-length brown hair. “It’ll be fun!”

Odysseus hesitated before sighing and getting up. “Fine. Okay. Just be careful.”

“You and your scalp,” Ctimene teased as she grabbed Eurylochus by the wrist and pulled him to sit on the floor in front of her. Polites chuckled as he guided Odysseus into a similar position on the other two’s left.

Eurylochus hesitantly leaned his head back as Ctimene and Polites briefly squabbled over who got the brush first. Odysseus glanced over at him. “This is your fault. You’re a weak, weak man. Can’t resist the charms of a fourteen-year-old.” “I’m fourteen, too,” Eurylochus muttered, like that changed anything. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re not so much better. You’re two years older, you let a fifteen-year-old convince you.”

Said fifteen-year-old relinquished the brush to Ctimene. “What does age have to do with hair?”

“Both of you are weak, how about that?” Ctimene chimed in, placing a hand on Eurylochus’ head and tilting it straight ahead before starting to carefully brush out his natural hair. Eurylochus held still for her to work, not a single flinch made.

“Fine,” Odysseus muttered, leaning into Polites’ hands as the other boy began carding his fingers through the growing strands again.

“Ow. Polites…”

“Sorry, sorry. How’s that?”

“Better…”

“‘Mene, you’re pulling my hair out.”

“You’re going bald anyway.”

[svt-ara]

ara and hoshi have been good at hiding. the galances and the stolen touches. to the world they are just two idols in the same group— nothing more. but behind the cameras and the eyes of others, the two steals seconds that taste like freedom and what love looks like. maybe today, lying side by side on the cold floor they'll forget the world watching for a moment.

𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘 fluff, a lil bit of angst cuz they always have to hide

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 secret relationship, mild language and that's all i think

𝗪𝗖 1.3k

𝗔𝗡 its soo late and i don't even know if what i wrote makes sense but i felt ispired and i couldn't let it go. hope yall like it

𝓜asterlist

ara and hoshi have been together for awhile now, they were used to hiding.

they were used to hide the loving gazes they give themselves when someone who doesn't know— and doesn't have to know— was around. they were used to hide the intimate touches when they were touch-deprived for too long in front of the cameras. hoshi is known for being clingy, a tight hug or a squeeze of cheeks every now and then wasn't a big deal— neither for fans or for the staff. the members were used to the random times they disappear during one of their night outs drinking, hiding between the shadows just for a cuddle or for a pick on the lips that they didn't want to show.

you have to call others fools if they didn't notice anything at all— it wasn't obvious, they were good keeping everything lowkey. ara was good, hoshi on the other side had his times.

there were days where he was good at keeping his cool, just some gazes lingering on your face for a couple of seconds or his giggles when you had something fun to say. he was the frist to knock you off if the jokes weren't funny at all, leaving an awkward grin on your lips.

then, there were other days when everything you did was too cute for him to handle, he had to show how whipped and proud he was for her girlfriend.

[ friday, hybe building ]

ara bowed as she put her feet in the big room, greeting whoever was in there— members, staff, backup dencers. her brows frowned as bliding lights met her eyes but she had to recompone herself quickly noticing the cameras already rolling, pointed straight on her face. ara showed her best smile as she waved her hand to greet carats but her gaze was already searching for something, or— better say— someone. her typical crescent moon eyes were the last thing the camera captured.

her steps seemed a little bit rushed trowards someone, someone who lowkey was already waiting for the girl as soon as her face peeked through the door.

«am I the last one to arrive? were y'all waiting for me?» her hands rushed to her tracksuits pockets, freeing her hands from her iphone and the mask she was wearing minutes ago. her gaze pointed down, locking eyes with the brunette guy who was comfortably sitting on the small couch almost taking all the space with his legs wide open.

«we weren't starting yet» hoshi didn't seem really interested on what she had to say— he was more invested on how she looked. her long brown hair covered the half of her face making him squint his nose lightly, he needed to see what was his.

that's why his hand naturally reached her hair, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. ara blinked as his fingers gently brushed against her cheeks, its was quick— so quick that no one would've noticed if they weren't looking— but her breath still got caught for a second, both for the gentle contact and beacuse of the fear. the fear to be seen, to be exposed.

sometimes she wished they could just stop pretending, stop hiding, stop waiting for stolen seconds when none was looking— or hope no one was doing it. sometimes she wished she could've just show their innocent love folding in front of everyone eyes— it was only silent.

«yah hoshi, quit laying on the couch!» dino's voice broke the unspoken tension between the two '96 liners, snapping both of them back to the loud dance pratice room. ara galanced back as she was just facing the brunette guy, clearing her throat— an attempt to not let the awkwardness of the situation reach her cheeks.

«yah, you!» hoshi pointed at the maknae, finally getting up from the couch he was sitted on for too long, reaching him. sometimes ara was happy about how he reacted to these kind of teasing, shifting the attention to him instead of her— that would just be a mass of embarrassment and red cheeks.

ara let out a quiet breath, almost as if she had been holding it the entire time she stood there, relieved that the attention was no longer on her— or so she thought. she didn't dare to look at hoshi again, not after how the skin of his hand intimately brushed againist the skin of her full cheeks.

she turned slightly, pretending to adjust the sleeves of her tracksuit as her eyes followed the backup dancers warming up pretending she was already on work mode, pretending she wasn't thinking about him. the music started, the boys spread across the room in their usual chaotic energy, some joking, some stratching and some yawning as if they hadn't slept in days.

ara followed behind silently, moving to her spot on the pratice floor. the sound of her sneakers scraping lightly againist the polished wood as she stole one last galance trowards him laughing at something seungkwan had said, already back to being his normal self. pratice went on as usual— sweat, laughing and some horribile jokes. ara moved with precision her body, focused enough to not get scolded.

when they finally got their five-minute break, ara collapsed on the floor catching her breath. she stared at the cealing for few seconds, blinking slowly and arms streached out. «ten minutes, i just need the minutes to come back to life» she muttered under her breath, not really talking to anyone. the coreography of super was pretty insane.

it didn't take long before she heard footsteps approaching her. a shadow blocked her view of the cealing and before she could even react hoshi was already above her, his arms wrapping her waist. the weight of his body pressing on ara's chest made her wincing in pain, her head lifted slightly from the floor.

«yah, there are cameras still rolling» she hissed. her voice was sharp but still low, she didn't want to catch the attention of anyone. hoshi just chuckled softly in response, leaning on the girl a little closer.

«they're off» he said, an hint on uncertain could be heard in his voice «i think» ara face snapped back to boy as best she could've. «you think?» on of her eyebrow slightly raised, «not really the kind of certainty i need when youre pratically on top of me» her tone was ironic, but everyone could also hear the hint of nervousness that laced around.

the boy didn't moved at frist, he just stared up at her with the familiar playfull spark that decorated his dark pupils often, the kind that always made her feel like she was seconds away from giving in. and probably that's what she liked the most in him, the playful spark he never seems to lose attracted her.

then, with a dramatic sight, he moved beside her lying down the cold wood floor like they weren't both sweaty and being watched— maybe, ara felt that. their fingers barely brushed against each other, not fully touching. «i missed this, even if you're always around» hoshi murmured, his voice softer now that she even struggled for a moment trying to catch what he said.

but she didn't say anything, she didn't give him a proper answer— he didn't need to have one. her gaze shifted from the cling down to his figure laying on the floor with arms and legs wide. her lips curved just a little, almost like they were being shy, like they wanted to be a secret too.

[the-roo-too]

candy -> ning yizhuo ver

aka the fluff alphabet

admiration (what does she absolutely adore about you)- dedication. being with someone from the industry is hard enough, especially if you’re not an idol yourself. ning admires the fact that you’re putting up with all the stupid bullshit you two face—her company, obsessive fans, paparazzi…

body (what’s her favourite body part of yours)- can i say cheeks? imo ninging likes to cup your face and gently caress it with her thumbs :3 bonus points for making cute noises at you as she does so

cuddling (how she likes to cuddle)- i’m gonna say on the couch while watching something :3 AND I KNOW IT SAYS HOW NOT WHEN but like, yk how cuddling on the couch looks like

dates (what’s her ideal date)- smth extravagant 😔 you don’t have money? that’s fine, she does and she’s gonna spoil you! you have money? great, you can spoil her this time!

emotions (how does she express her emotions around you)- more open than the other members UNLESS she’s mad about something. you might need some serious negotiation skills if you want to rip out of her why is she mad

family (does she want one)- 100% and you cannot convince me otherwise. she definitely gives off the vibe of someone who’d want family with you one day, but only when she settles down after aespa and all that

gifts (what about gift giving)- big on gift giving! but also loves when you do it back. loves when you give her things because you saw it in the store and thought of her but if you made it yourself? oooh, she’s yours 🙂‍↕️

holding hands (does she like to hold hands)- for sure :3 i’m gonna go a step further and say she’s big on pda

injuries (what would she do if you got hurt)- WILL baby you into health and i mean that. until you’ve recovered you’re keeping your ass in the bed and letting her play the housewife

jokes (does she like to joke around)- a little prank or two are healthy in relationships. harmless pranks i mean. like stealing your hoodie and pretending to not know where it went, then you see her live on instagram with it

kisses (how does she like to kiss you)- cheek kisses! my cheek lover ningning agenda continues. what can i say? oh, and if you have a bit chubbier cheeks? 🥴

love (what’s her love language)- gift giving, as was already mentioned. but also i feel like she highlights it by making sure to get you matching stuff. keychains, shirts, hats. you name it

memory (what’s her favourite memory together)- yizhuo DEFINITELY has a secret song she recorded just for you in her voice notes. imagine she plays it for you on your first anniversary, cheeks red from embarrassment? that moment replays in her head everytime you two have a disagreement and she needs to calm down

nighttime (how does sleeping with her look like)- i think ning is a calm sleeper. she wakes up and falls asleep in the same position. very easy to wake up though, so sometimes you accidentally rip her out of her sleepy state if you move around a lot while sleeping

oddity (what’s one quirky thing about her)- she keeps random stuff from your dates. like literally has the receipt from your first date in her wallet. won’t ever admit it tho, it’s a bit embarrassing..

pet names (what does she like to call you)- every classical pet name in the book. i don’t see yizhuo as someone who has some extraordinary nicknames for you. mostly uses baby/my love/pretty.

quality time (how does she like to spend time with you)- she likes making you sing with her. the great vocalist she is, ningning LOVES karaoke. and you love ningning so you better learn to hit those notes

rush (does she rush into things)- nope. she feels that maybe you’re the one but you guys take it slow. healthy slow ofc. a very healthy relationship in general

secrets (how open is she with you)- depends on her mood lmao. as i said earlier, unless she’s super mad, she’s like and open book.

time (how long did it take her to confess)- confess that she likes you? probably the moment she asked you out for the first date. but that she loves you? … might take a year or so

upset (what’s her reaction when you’re upset)- gives you space. when you’ve both had time to think about what caused you to be upset, she apologises first. then you can try to solve the issue

visibility (is she afraid of the public opinion)- 100% 😭 all aespa girlies are after karina’s boyfriend drama the last time. i don’t think y’all gonna be going public until well after her career ends

warrior (how often do you fight)- not a lot and mostly over minor things like where to get take out. the biggest fight you’ve had was probably when on a variety show a male idol was flirting with yizhuo and she was too dense to notice so you got angry and jealous

x-ray (is she able to read you)- you’re not an open book like she is, but she tries. the success rate isn’t 100% but she’s doing her best, ok?

yes (how would she propose to you)- long after her career ends, probably on a romantic trip. i’ll say she tried to propose a couple times before but was interrupted by minor fights or weather conditions lmao

zen (what makes her feel calm)- thinking of a future with you <:) when she’s done with aespa and idol life and being constantly exposed to the public, and when you two live a happy life together. the thought of settling down with you in the future makes her feel better and helps her when she feels like giving up

part of [the fluff series]

[kendallroydefender]

Blood & Honey - Part 3 (Jax Teller x Reader)

Summary: When you take a teaching job in the quiet town of Charming, the last thing you expect is to cross paths with Jax Teller - outlaw, single father, and the leader behind the town's most infamous motorcycle club.

Authors Note: thank you to everyone for so much love for this series! There will be 5 Parts in total🤍

Gemma sat at the table drinking coffee with Abel next to her.

”Did you have fun with Daddy last night, baby?“ she asked the child.

Abel, completely unaware of the bomb he was about to drop, nodded excitedly.

”Yeah,“ he grinned ”Miss Y/n made pancakes!“

Gemma paused mid sip.

”Miss Y/n, huh?“

Abel nodded again ”She had a sleepover with Daddy again.“

Gemma stared at him for a second. Then with a amused smirk she leaned back in her chair.

”Well, well, well…“

Later she caught Jax alone, and didn’t waste any time.

”So you’re gonna tell me why Abel just told me why his teacher is havin‘ sleepovers at your place?“

Jax groaned.

”Don’t-”

”Just sayin', you could do worse.“ She patted his cheek, mockingly sweet. ”Hell, you have done worse.“

"Glad you think it's funny," he muttered, running a hand down his face.

"I think it's interesting," she corrected, exhaling smoke. "You really think I wasn't gonna find out?“

Jax smirked despite himself, leaning back against the counter.

"She's been helping with Abel, and we've been spending time together.“ he shrugged.

"You let a woman sleep over around Abel, and she's makin' pancakes in your kitchen?" she echoed. "Please.

I gave birth to you, Jackson. I know what it looks like when you're gone on someone."

Jax didn't answer at first. He just looked toward the hallway where Abel had wandered off to play with his toy cars.

"Is this serious?" Gemma asked then.

He hesitated, then nodded once.

"Yeah," he said. "It is."

Gemma gave a small, satistied nod and stubbed her cigarette out.

"Then don't screw it up." She grabbed her bag.

"And maybe tell her to stop leavin' shoes by the door if you're tryna keep it subtle. I tripped over a sandal this morning."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Your eyes fluttered open. It was light out. You furrowed your brows, confused for a moment about your whereabouts. Then the last night came rushing back to you.

You and Jax, you had dinner at his place. Afterwards you talked for hours later lazily making out on his couch like horny teenagers. You had planned to leave but then Jax had said ”Just stay, baby. It’s getting late.“

And you didn’t really protested. Your car was at your place anyway so you had no intention to walk. Even though you knew Jax would have driven you if you’d really wanted to leave.

You glanced at the clock, that’s when your peaceful morning ended. 7:40.

”Shit! Jax! Wake up!“ you jumped up

He groaned from the couch where you two had fallen asleep.

”What’s wrong?“ he said, rubbing his eyes.

”We overslept and I- Fuck! My car is at my place.“

He was way too calm about it, pulling you close again.

”Guess, you’re ridin‘ with me then.“

You stopped for a second.

You looked through his kitchen drawers, still in his shirt.

You found Poptarts, because of course he had those, putting them in the toaster while scrambling into your jeans.

”You’re really makin‘ breakfast now?“ he teased as he walked back into the kitchen.

”Well, excuse me for trying to provide some nutrition in this lawless household.“

Jax smirked, stepping behind you, hands on your hips

”Lawless, huh?“

”Completely.“ you grinned at him taking the poptarts out of the toaster.

Abel walked into the kitchen.

”Good morning, honey“ you smiled at him

He mumbled a little sleepy Good morning back.

”Here’s your breakfast. You ready?“

He nodded.

”Jax, do you have a spare toothbrush?“ you asked brushing your hair with his brush.

”Uhh, what do you think?“ he shouted back

”Really?“ you looked back into the kitchen

”Lawless, remember?“ he grinned making you roll your eyes with a smile.

You all piled into the car. It was slightly beat up. Some stuff laying around in it. A plastic dinosaur toy, a empty juicebox, a old SAMCRO Hoodie.

The drive was domestic in a way you didn’t wanted to think about. Abel in the backseat looking out the window, still tired after being woken so abruptly.

You watched them for a moment. Jax pried his eyes off the street, blue eyes finding yours. A smile appeared on his face and you couldn’t stop the same look on your face. And you didn’t wanted to stop it anyway. You genuinely felt happy. A warm feeling spreading through your whole body. This was right,

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were sitting on the couch next to Jax, a few evenings later. Not really concentrating on anything that was going on on tv.

"Alright, darlin. Spit it out," he said, nudging you lightly.

You let out a small breath, shifting to face him.

"I have to talk to my headmaster about us."

His brows furrowed slightly. "Why?"

"Because I don't want them finding out from someone else. Small town like this, people talk. And I'd rather they hear it from me than from some gossipy parent who thinks I'm making bad choices."

Jax smirked a little. "Bad choices, huh?

That what I am?"

You rolled your eyes but smiled, nudging his arm. "You know what I mean. You're a parent at my school, Abel’s in my class."

The smirk faded slightly. "You think they'll have a problem with it?"

You hesitated. "I don't know. I hope not. But I can't pretend it's not a risk."

Jax was quiet for a moment, his fingers brushing over your knee.

"You want me to come with you? Talk to them myself?"

You smiled softly, shaking your head. "No, I can handle it. I just... needed to say it out loud. And if they do have a problem with it, we'll figure it out."

Jax's hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb grazing over your skin. "We will," he promised. "Ain't lettin' anyone decide this for us."

You sat across from your headmaster the next morning, hands folded in your lap, keeping your posture composed even though your stomach was twisting with nerves.

"I just wanted to be upfront with you about my relationship with Jax Teller," you said, keeping your voice steady. "I understand the situation, and I wanted to bring it to your attention myself rather than letting it become gossip around town."

The headmaster, an older woman with a sharp but kind gaze, nodded slowly. "We appreciate your honesty. And to be clear, we don't have any rules against teachers dating parents. That's not the issue."

You swallowed. "But Jax is?"

She didn't answer right away. "His history does give us some concern, yes. We have to consider the reputation of the school, as well as the safety of our staff and students."

Your stomach clenched, but you kept your tone even. "I understand your concerns.

But I also know Jax. And the man he is with Abel is not the man people assume he is."

The headmaster studied you for a long moment before sighing. "We're not taking any action against you. Your personal life is your business. But I will say: be careful.

Small towns don't forget, and people will always have their opinions."

You nodded. "I know."

”I Appreciate you coming forward about this.“

You left the office with your heart beating hard but a weight lifted off your shoulders.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You had debated telling him the whole evening. You didn’t want him to hear small town gossip about Brad asking you out.

”So.. something happened at work today.“ you started

You were sitting next to him on the couch, legs over his lap, his hands rubbing your calves.

Jax glanced at you

”Yeah?“

”One of the teachers asked me out.“

You felt his hand stopping.

”That so?“

You nodded

”I told him no, obviously.“ you told him, gesturing between you.

”Just wanted you to hear it from me before someone tells you some twisted story about it.“

”You didn’t have to tell me.“ his voice was softer now.

”I know.“ you murmured, a hand running over his arm ”But I wanted to.“

”Guess I’ll have to make sure he gets the message then.“ he said, slight smirk coming back.

You rolled your eyes, smiling

”You don’t have to fight everyone, Jax.“

He grinned now, pulling you closer

”Nah, sometimes just a look does the trick.“

And sure enough the next morning he insisted on driving you to school. Abel was with Gemma so it was just you two.

”That him?“ Jax asked nodding to the teacher standing near the entrance.

”Yeah,“ you told him.

The guys clean cut, probably the 'safe' option for someone like you. The kind of guy you probably should be with. But you’re not. You were with him.

Jax couldn’t help it, when the guy looked over something primal kicked in.

As you unbuckled Jax stopped you with a hand on your thigh.

”Hey.“ he said, his voice lower now

You knew what he’s about to do. Having seen Brad watching you.

A slow smile tugged at your lips ”Jax…“

There was amusement in your tone, but also something soft.

He leaned in close.

”Just makin‘ sure there’s no confusion, darlin‘“

Then he kissed you, not just a quick goodbye peck. It was slow and deep, his hand coming up to rest on your neck, keeping you close. Your fingers curling against his jaw, instinctively.

When you parted, you were a little breathless. A little huff left your lips ”Subtle.“

Jax just smirked, his thumb running over your bottom lip, before pulling back.

”Have good day, baby.“

You don’t even tried to hide the smile on your face as you walked up to the building, passing Brad.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The evening was getting late. Opie had come over earlier. It was the first time you’ve met Jax’s best childhood friend.

Abel was building Lego on the floor when you noticed him getting tired, small eyes blinking hard to concentrate.

”Ready for Bed, bud?“ Jax asked, his son nodding.

”Can you read me a story?“ he asked then looking at you. You smiled ”Of course.“

Jax felt flooded by warmth then. The way Abel asked as if it was natural that you were here. And he supposed it was, you had spent a lot time with both of them the last months.

You took Abel’s hand walking away with the boy. Just before you disappeared they could hear you say

”How about a pirate story tonight?“

The second you were gone Opie let out a low chuckle

”What?“ Jax asked, glancing over

Opie watched him, amused

”It’s gettin‘ real, huh?“

Jax didn’t answer right away, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

”Yeah.“ he admitted after a moment, a small smile spreading on his face as he looked down the hall where you had disappeared into.

”Good for you, brother.“ Opie said. He left soon afterwards, wanting to go back to Lyla and the kids. Jax went to find you as soon as his friend left.

You laid next to Abel, the boy getting more tired by the minute. You looked at him for a moment. You had always wanted children but you hadn’t had your own yet. No boyfriend of yours had wanted kids or didn’t wanted them with you.

But now you let yourself imagine what it could be like. You had already grown to love this little boy in such a short time, just like his father. It felt good. To have people you could imagine being your family. A feeling you never had before, not like this.

Jax was standing in the doorway. Looking at you and Abel, in bed, reading in a soft tone. The way Abel shifted closer, trusting, he felt safe. He couldn’t help but notice how you fit there, like you had always meant to be here.

And he let himself imagine what it could be like. If you’d be here every night, living with them, reading to Abel every night, reading to your kid too, maybe.

You looked up at him then, catching him in the doorway. A smile spread on your face, soft and warm.

”He’s out.“ you whispered

And Jax could only nod, not trusting himself to speak because if he did he might said something he can’t take back, something that’s been on the tip of his tongue the last weeks more and more.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were over at the clubhouse to drop something off for Jax he’d left at yours. Part of it just an excuse to see him. Even if this wasn’t your world you liked to see him in his element from time to time. And Jax liked it, you definitely wouldn’t come here if he had a problem with it.

Chibs walked past you, clapping Jax shoulder.

”Jackie boy, you got a minute?“

That made your ears perk up. Jackie Boy.

You turned your head slightly, hiding the amused smile. Jax gave Chibs a nod before glancing back at you.

”Jackie boy, huh?“ you said, voice full of mischief.

He let out a groan, shaking his head

”Don’t start.“

”No, no, I like it. It’s cute.“ you grinned, stepping closer ”Why didn’t you tell me that’s what your friends call you?“

”Because I knew you’d do this.“ he grinned.

You gasped, asking with fake innocence ”Do what, Jackie Boy?“

Jax narrowed his eyes but the grin told you he wasn’t actually mad.

He reached out, curling an arm around your waist pulling you into him.

”Careful, darlin‘“ he murmured, voice low and teasing

”You don’t wanna start something you can’t handle.“

You bit your lip, tilting you head

”Oh, I can handle it.“

Jax chuckled, pressing a short kiss to your lips before he walked into the direction Chibs had disappeared to.

It was later that night, when you two were curled up onto his couch. Abel already in bed. It was quiet, he drew slow circles against your skin.

Neither of you had spoken in quiet some time. He was tired but you could tell that his mind was still running.

You shifted onto your stomach, leaning on your arm, looking at him. Lifting a hand, fingers softly brushing over his scruff. He met your gaze, blue eyes now soft in the dim light.

”Jackie Boy.“ you murmured, barely above a whisper.

Something in his expression shifted. The way you had said it, none of the teasing, the playfulness from before. It made him feel some way.

”You never let me call you that.“ you said your thumb tracing over his cheekbone. ”But I like it.“

Jax leaned into your touch, letting out a slow breath

”Yeah?“

You nodded and he didn’t told you to knock it off this time. Just pulled you closer, pressing his lips against yours.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was late when Jax came home. The house was quiet, the only light coming from the kitchen lamp, you had left on for him.

He shrugged off his Kutte, blood drying stiff on his knuckles, on his sweater.

It wasn’t his blood, but that didn’t make things better.

He rolled his shoulders, pushing away the weight of the night, of the things he had to do, things he would have to do again.

He walked down the hall, stopping by Abel’s room. Cracking the door just enough to see him sleeping soundly in his bed, stuffed lion clutched in his arms.

He moved towards the bedroom, knowing you were inside.

The door cracked open and you looked up.

”Hey.“ you murmured, tiredly

”Hey.“ he exhaled

Your eyes flicked down, catching the dark stains on his clothes, red streaks on his hands and neck.

Jax swallowed

”I need to clean up.“

You nodded and he set in motion again, turning when he heard the sheets ruffling

”What are you doing?“ he asked, a feeling rising in his throat, was that the moment where you would leave?

”Helping.“ you just answered.

”You don’t-“ he started ”You shouldn’t have to see this.“

You stepped closer, tugging on the hem of his hoodie.

”Jax.“ you said, voice steady ”I want to see every part of you.“

He took a breath, half a mind to argue but he was too exhausted.

"I knew who you were from the beginning." Your voice was soft but firm, filled with something sure.

"I knew, and I still wanted you. I still want you."

Jax took a breath.

”I’m not gonna run.“ you told him firmly but still soft

He looked at you, he wanted to believe you. That you were ready for it. And when you looked at him like that, he did.

He helped you get his Hoodie off.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away.

Jax exhaled tilting his head back. You know you should probably feel more taken aback by knowing about the Club business, about your boyfriend coming home in the middle of the night with blood on him. But you had made your peace with that. You knew about him before you started anything with him. There was no big reveal, no shock. This was something you had to accept the moment you let him in your life.

Jax watches her as you kneeled in front of him, his fingers flexing against his knee.

You started with his knuckles, bruised and split from whatever fight he'd been in.

Her touch is careful, gentle, and when you glanced up, you found him already watching, something unreadable in his expression.

Cleaning the dried blood from his face, pressing the ice pack to his ribs, your fingers brushing against his skin so delicately it makes something inside him clench.

"You're good at this."

You huffed a quiet laugh, not looking away from his wound. "I'm an elementary school teacher. Patching up rowdy boys is part of my job."

That made him laugh, though it quickly turned into a wince as his ribs ached in protest. You immediately pulled back, brow furrowing.

"Jesus, Jax," you murmured, softer this time.

"How bad is it?"

He shrugged. "I'll live."

You pressed your lips together, clearly unhappy with his answer, but didn’t push. Instead, you focused on cleaning his knuckles, carefully wiping away the dried blood. Your hands are so gentle it made his chest tighten.

Jax watched you, his eyes tracing the way your lips press together in concentration, the way your fingers ghost over his skin.

"You mad?" he asks after a moment.

"I don't like seeing you hurt." You sighed.

”But no, I’m not.“ your voice was softer, your hand tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear.

”Come on, let’s go to bed.“

[demie90s]

Hello can you do Juju x R where they’ve always been best friends since they were little. Everybody is convinced that they are dating, but they always say they’re not… until something gets caught in the background of Dom‘s live

Not Dating

Juju Watkins x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: We’ve been best friends forever. Everyone swears we’re dating—we always say we’re not. Then Dom went live, and something caught in the background. Let’s just say… the internet had a field day.

Warnings: Friends to lovers, public outing, background kisses, playful denial, soft chaos

Word count: ~ 0.5k

It was always me and Juju.

Back to backyard hoops, hide-and-seek in her grandma’s yard, pool days, party nights, game days. Wherever she went, I wasn’t far behind. People swore we were dating by middle school—hell, even our coaches gave us the “no PDA” talk in tenth grade.

But we always laughed it off.

“Nah, that’s just my best friend.” “Ew, never.” “Y’all read too deep.”

And somehow… it always worked. Until Dom went live.

It was post-practice, late night. Everyone was lounging. Juju had just showered, hair wrapped up in a towel like a crown, skin glowing, hoodie hanging off one shoulder. I was in the kitchen grabbing snacks. Dom was on the couch, half upside-down, scrolling through filters and yelling at Vic who was already cracking herself up in the background.

Viv: “LOOK at this! Why I look like a boiled peanut?”

Dom: “Girl, that’s just your head.”

The comments were going crazy, all caps, emojis flying. I walked past the frame, said something slick about Dom’s socks not matching, and Juju—halfway into detangling her hair—just smirked and shook her head.

“You don’t even know what you talkin’ about,” she called toward me.

I leaned against the bathroom door while she sat at the counter, towel now off, curls falling down her back. We weren’t even thinking about the live. I was watching her comb her hair like I hadn’t seen her do it a hundred times. She was talking about how tired her legs were. I was talking about how that one assistant coach needed to shut up with all his sideline hollering.

Normal. Easy.

Dom in the background still narrating her own life: “Y’all, Juju over there pretending like she’s not vain. She been in the mirror for twenty minutes. Look at her.”

Viv: “She been fine, let her detangle in peace.”

Juju laughed soft, rolled her eyes, and kept brushing.

And then—without thinking—I walked in behind her. Slid my arms around her waist. Rested my chin on her shoulder. Kissed her cheek. It was cute.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just leaned back into me like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I whispered, “This so lightskinned.”

She said, “Shut up’.” I grinned. And that’s when Dom turned the camera.

Dom: “WAIT—WAIT—WHOA WHOA WHOA—UH UH UH—“

Vic: gasping “OH. OH SHE KISSED HER. SHE—DOM, REWIND THAT—“

Chat blew up. Caps. Emojis. “I KNEW IT!!!” “STOP PLAYINNNN” “EXCUSE ME????” “THE WAY SHE JUST—” “PAUSE.”

Dom was on the floor SCREAMING, laughing so hard she dropped her phone. Viv’s voice went high-pitched like she just saw Beyoncé walk in.

“Y’ALL BEEN DATING THIS WHOLE TIME?!”

Juju looked me dead in the eyes. I looked back. She said nothing. Just smiled that famous juju smile. I shrugged.

Dom still yelling in the background: “Y’ALL BEEN LYIN’ FOR YEARS! I NEED AN OFFICIAL STATEMENT—A PRESS CONFERENCE—A SOFT LAUNCH POST—SOMETHING.”

But we just kept doing what we always did. Juju brushed through another curl, leaned her head against mine, and said under her breath— “so damn extra”.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @zizi-bee-yapping @kaliblazin @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey

[magicalqueennightmare]

Echo-Part 12 (Final)

John Walker x Reader (nicknamed Echo)

You finally believe John when he tells you he loves you and the two of you look to the future, together

Mention of past torture

When all of you got back to the tower, you tried to stand on your own but your ribs had gotten stiff. John was on his feet, picking you up before you could protest as Sam helped Joaquin off the jet. Both of you needed to go to medical to get cleared. You had signs of beatings, even if they hadn’t gotten to actual torture yet. He was sure that had to have hit close for you.

You laid your head against his chest “There’s that super soldier that has no issue carrying me like a teddy bear” he laughed lightly “Teddy bear? Honey, I’m thinking we shouldn’t have let you go to sleep. I think you have a concussion” you cut your eyes up at him and god help he thanked everything in him he didn’t stumble from the look in your eyes. You loved him. This amazing woman he held in his arms loved the broken excuse for a man he was. 

“No concussion. You just carry me around like a kid carrying their favorite teddy” you teased and he grinned “You are my favorite teddy” and you rolled your eyes “God you suck at flirting sometimes” then laid your head back over. 

When he walked into medical, one of the nurses told him to lay you on the gurney. “Walker, can you leave while we give her the exam?” he wanted to say no, he wanted to stay. One look from you and he nodded “Ok, can someone let me know when I can come back?” “Of course”

“I’m ok John” you assured him, tugging his hand to pull him down to press a kiss to his lips before the nurse shooed him out. She turned to look at you “That man, I swear he is an annoyance when it comes to you” you laughed weakly “How’s that?” 

She started to help you out of your suit into a gown. You could hear Joaquin cutting jokes with the nurse he got. “He’s been calling and giving orders. A pain in the ass, like we don’t know what we’re doing. Men in love, I tell you” you felt your heart drop. Yeah, men in love. 

Once you were changed into the gown she folded your suit “I’ll send this up so they can get it repaired” “Thank you” she walked out so you could wait for tests, pulling your curtain for privacy. As soon as the ward was empty you heard Joaquin whistle so you whistled back. 

“Ninja girl, we still alive?” he called out and you laughed “You know it bird boy” and laid your head back. You knew how this routine went. It would take a while, even if John was being a pain in their asses. 

When John walked into the common room Yelena, Sam and Bucky were the only ones in it. “How are they?” Sam asked and he shrugged “I got ran out of the wing” Yelena laughed “I'll go check. I’m not an asshole”

She walked past him onto the elevator. He finally let himself catch a breath. You were home, mainly in one piece. “She’ll be ok” Sam spoke to no one in particular.  “What did Joaquin mean by how protective she is?” he asked, looking at Sam. He knew you had one hell of a protective streak, he knew you were strong but there was something underlying to Joaquin’s words.

“She made him promise to let her take it worse if it came to torture” Sam admitted and he dropped down onto the couch, his head in his hands “Why? I mean I’m not mad but why?” Bucky shrugged “She knows her limits, kid doesn’t” 

“It’s because that’s what her unit did for her” Sam clarified and John’s eyes flew up “What?” Sam looked from him to Bucky “You didn’t know?” he shook his head “No, she’s never wanted to talk about…I’ve never pushed her”

“I read the reports. The reason why she took it so bad. John, she survived it because her unit died for her” “I never knew” he whispered and Sam nodded “She’s probably gonna have a hard time for a little while. She relived the trauma” “I’ll be there to help her” John promised.

You were sitting up talking to Yelena when the doctor came back in “Good news, no concussion. Just the stitches and taking it easy on your ribs until you heal” you pouted “So I’m grounded” he nodded “Afraid so” Yelena smiled “Bob will keep you company” 

“I can come hang out!” Joaquin offered from three beds down. You laughed, holding your sides “At least we have a plan going forward. Doc, can Yelena go retrieve me some clothes now?” he nodded “Of course and if she’d like to retrieve Mr Torres some clothing too, that would be nice”

She laughed “I’ll get them both something so their asses aren’t hanging out” and headed for the elevator. The doctor told you as soon as you were dressed, you and Joaquin both could leave. “So, you and Captain Grumpy cat huh?” Joaquin teased and you groaned “Oh lord, can I please use that name on him?” he laughed “Go ahead babe”

You grinned, turning to face him since your curtains were currently open “Yeah, we’ve known each other for a long long time” he nodded “He seems like he really loves you, not just saying because of the underground base full of dead men…though that did help push his case” you shook your head “You’re insane Torres, I swear”

He laughed “And yet, your friends are me, former assassins, Bob and Sam. Your boyfriend is well..John. Are you saying you’re sane?” you shook your head “Of course not”

You groaned lightly as you moved in your sleep. John was wide awake in the bed next to you. He was afraid to fall asleep and you need something or have a nightmare. Instead he listened to the light sounds of pain that would fall from your lips as well as you talking to the members of your unit. Sometimes it was orders, other times it was jokes. Sometimes you even talked to Lemar in your sleep. It broke his damn heart.

You suddenly jolted awake “NO TAKE ME DAMMIT” he grabbed your arms as pain shot across your face and your eyes landed on him “John?” he nodded “Yeah baby, you’re ok. I’ve got you”

He could feel you shaking as he pulled you closer. “I’m sorry” “It’s ok baby. I love you, feel free to wake me up” that was only the second time he’d told you that. He’d waited until you were a few days out of being injured. He didn’t want you thinking guilt was what had him saying it. He did love you, any worries be damned. 

He held his breath as you lifted up from his chest to look at him “Do you mean it?” he nodded “I do honey, I love you” your eyes filled with tears “Then why didn’t you say it back? I thought that meant you didn’t love me, that you were still in love with Olivia, that I wasn’t good enough for someone yet again”

“Oh Echo, no baby” he pulled you into his lap, being careful of your ribs. You curled around him, “I love you John, I have for a while but I was afraid to say anything. Then when I said it and you were silent? That hurt so bad” he pressed a soft kiss to your lips “I know baby but please believe me when I say I love you. Even before I loved you, you were my other half. I couldn’t do this without you. When Bucky said you were taken? Everything stopped”

You nuzzled at his neck, kissing the flesh there “I just tried to protect Joaquin as much as I could” you whispered as he slipped his hands under the shirt you’d worn to bed to trace patterns onto your flesh “I know, Sam told me” 

You nodded “John, I need to tell you something.” you sniffled and raised your eyes to his. “What baby? You can tell me anything” tears started streaming down your face “They’re all dead because of me”

His eyebrows furrowed and he didn’t have to act like he was confused, he simply was. “Who baby?” “My unit. Waldorf, Jones, McAdams, Henderson, Pennant, hell even Corson. The same men that you once backed down from harassing me? They saw me have the chance to walk away and chose to come back. I earned their respect, their loyalty and they gave me their lives in return” 

“What happened?” he asked and you started to play with the hair on his chest, to keep your hands busy as you spoke “When we got hit, Henderson and Jones died first. They tried to keep them off of us” you swallowed hard but he remained silent. If you were finally trying to get this out, he was letting you.

“Pennant was next..then Waldorf..McAdams and Corson died taking beatings…torture methods that would have been used on me” you buried your face in his chest. “Look at me sweetheart” he spoke quietly and when you raised your eyes, seeing the broken look in them? It made him wish he could do something, anything to fix it.

“They made their choices. They protected you because you’d earned their respect for them to do so. I thank whoever is listening for those men, for you being right here. You did no wrong baby. You can’t possibly hold that guilt and love me. I’m horrible, you? You are a fucking angel”

You laughed wetly, playfully slapping his chest “Don’t fucking lie now John” he nodded “You are. A demonic little, insane angel. Those men knew what they were doing keeping you alive. You would have done the same for them. You did the same for Torres. I love you Echo. You are the most amazing thing that could have ever happened to me and if I ever one day become a man that actually deserves you? Then I’ll finally be good”

You shook your head, pressing a kiss to his lips “I love you John, good or bad. Guilty or not. You’re not a perfect man, so far from it but you keep trying to be better and that counts” he smiled and pulled you a little closer “I love you too” you grinned before catching his lips in a kiss that was not in the least bit innocent or soft. He shook his head “No, I could hurt you” “Not if I’m on top, please John? I need to feel something good baby. You always make me feel good” you whispered into his mouth and he groaned lighty “Are you trying to kill me?” 

You pulled back from his lips and grinned “Never, I’m an angel remember” he laughed and pulled you back into another kiss “Well angel, I guess since you’re hurt this once I’ll let you have your way with me” you whimpered lightly and he nearly fell apart then and there, especially when you whispered “Good boy” as you rolled your hips down against his. 

A thought occurred to you and you froze “Where are my dog tags?” he grimaced, holding an arm around you and leaned to reach his hand into the table next to the bed “I’m sorry honey” you raised an eyebrow as he reached into the drawer and handed you one thick dog tag “John?” you rolled it over and realized it was all three of them.

“What happened?” you asked and he flinched “I had them in my hand, we were trying to find you. I didn’t mean to” he was so worried you’d be mad but you just turned it over in your hand, a light laugh espacing you “Guess a part of you, me and Lemar will always be together. Huh?” and laid the tag back over into the drawer before pressing a kiss to his lips “But you better count your lucky stars I love you because if any one else would have fucked up those tags? I would’ve killed em”

He grinned “That is the lowest on the list of reasons why I count my lucky stars that you love me but I’ll gladly add it to the list”

@desimarie12

@linkpk88

@prongsdotjpeg

[reesereadsalot]

omg could you do routledge!reader where jj is dating kie bc he's in love with reader but knows jb would never let it happen so reader gets all sad and there's some tension there bc jj and reader have been so super close since childhood like reader, jb, n jj were the og trio and something happens that sparks jj to confess (also unless you want it differently, could jj just be a rebound or a fling or something to kie so her and reader don't end up hating each other bc that's my queen my home girl 🤞). Pope knows full well that the two of them are in love and possibly tries to slap some sense into one or both of them

literally in love with this req (marry me pls) anyway ofc!

I involved Pope but I wanted reader to slap some sense into the boys (JJ and JB) instead of another person trying to do it because she’s apart of the og trio.

shy!reader and JJ’s first kiss . . .

warnings: drinking, smoking, being drunk, kissing/making out, fighting, blood

word count: 1.5k

The first time you saw them kiss, you thought your heart broke. JJ was sitting on your couch with Kiara next to him and they were kissing. It was dark outside, when the world was quiet. There was a mess all over the house of random cups and other trash.

The party had been your idea. At your house. Of course you didn’t tell anyone that though. You let John B handle the invites and telling everyone. You probably would’ve died before you let anyone know it was your idea and your planning.

The party had been fun until JJ got drunk enough to kiss Kiara in front of everyone. You didn’t know JJ likes Kiara. He didn’t tell you. He always tells you when he likes a girl.

The party was over and they were still making out, drunk as fuck. You couldn’t lie, you were drunk too. You wanted so badly to yell at JJ. Scream at him for not realizing that you liked him. Loved him even.

Well, no one could doubt that you did in-fact love him. But it probably wasn’t in the way you really did love him. You had been friends with JJ for forever. Ever since he became friends with JB, he became friends with you. You all did everything together. Then came Kie and Pope and now Sarah. You are all a little family. But, it started with JJ, John B and you.

You just sighed heavily and grabbed the nearest joint you could find. You grabbed another cheap red cup and filled it with some strong alcohol that you probably couldn’t read in your state. You plopped into a seat on the front porch and lit the joint. You didn’t know how long you had been outside, staring at the stars until you heard a voice.

“Damn, smoking a joint without me?” You startled at JJ’s voice and looked at him. His grin grew wider when you met his eyes and you felt heat creeping up your neck. “I can’t believe this.” He said in mock offense. He grabbed the join from your two fingers and takes a drag.

“This is mine too.” He plops into the seat, next to you.

“Sorry.” You mumble before taking a drink from your cup. The alcohol burns on its way down your throat. You look at JJ and realize why you’re out here in the first place. You gulp down the rest of your drink, coughing afterwards.

“Slow down!” JJ laughs patting you on the back to help your coughing. “What’s got you all mopey?” He teases.

“‘S nothing.” You slur looking at him, plastering on a fake smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. JJ’s smile disappears. He takes off the red hat he was wearing to run a hand through his hair. He places the hat on top of your head.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” He asks, this time with more sentiment.

“Nothing you should worry your pretty lil’ head about.” You giggle at your own words. You couldn’t even tell why you were saying things like that. You reach for the blunt again but JJ puts it above his head. “Give that to me.” You slur reaching to grab it. You almost fall over before he catches you, putting a hand on your waist. The hat falls off of your head.

“I think it’s time to call it a night.” He says with a soft smile, still trying to tease you.

“Why don’t you go back to Kiara and leave me alone.” You grumble, trying to grab the joint from his hand.

“Is that what this is about—Kie?” JJ asks you, his smile fading. Him and Kiara were just friends with benefits. Nothing serious.

“No.” You say abruptly, heat crawling up your neck and onto your cheeks once again. JJ barks out a laugh and you furrow your brows at him. “What’s funny?” You ask, voice sharper than intended.

He stares at your face searching for any signs of a joke. This has to be a joke.

“Are you jealous?” He tries to sound teasing but his voice is quiet, calm. He genuinely wants to know. You snort at his words, trying to deflect.

“Why would I be jealous?” You ridicule.

“I don’t know, why would you?” He asks, words edged with something you can’t quite make out. You stare at him unable to come up with an answer other than the truth under his piercing gaze. “Me and Kie are just a fling anyway, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t?” You perk up at his words.

“No, it doesn’t.” He basically whispers the words.

The air between you two gets thicker with a tension you don’t have the strength to name. Your faces inch towards each other, unable to resist. JJ smells faintly of cologne mixed with the smell of weed and alcohol. Unable to take the tension any longer, he kisses you. At first, you’re surprised but then you melt at his touch.

The kiss is not as calm as you imagined it to be. It’s filled with hunger and desire that hasn’t been met for far too long. You close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in the kiss. JJ’s fingers tangle in your hair pulling you closer to him than you already are. His tongue grazes your lips, begging for entry. You gasp at the sudden intrusion which allows him to fully enter your mouth. Your tongues tangle with each other. You wrap your arms around his neck and get lost in the new sensations of your feelings.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

You pull back from JJ immediately, cheeks turning pink. You take in a deep breath and look up at your brother. His face is a mix of fury and revulsion.

“My sister, JJ, really?” John B yells getting the attention from the other pogues inside. JB grabs JJ by the bicep and shoves him off of the porch. JJ charges at your brother.

“Guys, stop!” You step in front of them before they can get a hand on eachother. You face John B. “It’s fine, really.” You try to reassure him.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into getting involved with him!” He yells, you step back from him running into JJ’s chest.

“Hey man, lay off her.” He defends you, carefully pulling you behind him.

“Oh, I need to lay off her? She doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into!” John B takes the chance with you out of the way to swing at JJ. You can’t really tell what’s going on with your drunkenness and the adrenaline. Both of them are just laying punches at each other in every direction.

“Stop! Stop!” You yell but it’s no use they won’t stop. You step closer trying to grab either of them. “Guys, just stop! Let’s—“

Pain erupts on your face and you fall back into the grass. You let out a cry of pain and bring a hand up to your nose. You sit up on the ground and look at your hand. There’s blood. You let out a sob.

“Are you okay?” JJ asks you cupping your face in his hands. “Dammit man, you hit her!” He yells at John B.

“I hit her?” John B argues back.

“Stop! Stop fighting!” You yell at them, anger evident on your face. Tears flowing down your cheeks. JJ looks back at you, wiping the tears with his thumb.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He says to you, concern written all over his face. “Pope, can you get a tissue or something?” He asks Pope and you look back at the house. Kiara, Pope—who went back inside the house—and Sarah saw the whole thing. Saw you get hit. Saw you fall down. You blush under their stares.

“Hey, hey, just look at me, okay?” JJ moves your head with his hands. “Don’t focus on them.” He tells you, wiping some blood from under your nose. He places a quick peck on your lips and you smile at him. The pain is less evident with JJ comforting you.

John B and JJ gran each of your hands guiding you to the seat on the front porch. Pope had grabbed the tissue and brought it back by the time you sat down. JJ wiped your nose for you, planning to hold the tissue until the bleeding stopped. You slapped his hand away, snatching the tissue and keeping it on your nose.

The boys sat in silence in front of you, too petty to apologize or say anything first.

“Are you both going to keep fighting about this?” You spoke up abruptly, tired of the silence. John B just shook his head no.

“No, sorry.” JJ mumbled.

“Okay, hug it out now.” You smiled at your own words. They both wrinkled their noses in disgust. “Do it.” You said gesturing with your free hand for them to hug. They hugged quickly, breaking free almost immediately.

“No more fights, okay?” You asked them, needing confirmation. They didn’t utter a word. “Okay?” You said sharper, louder this time.

“Yes ma’am.” They both said at the same time. You barked out a laugh at their antics.

“You’re both stupid.” You pushed their faces away from yours with your hands, the tissue forgotten on your lap.

“You love us.” John B said, laughing.

“Yeah, you love us.” JJ echoed.

“Shut up.” You grumbled, pulling them both into a hug. “Please don’t fight over me.” You begged and you felt them both nod on your shoulder.

“I still don’t want you with JJ.” John B tried to scold you but you pushed him away with a groan.

“Oh my god, actually shut up.”

tags: @mojitrvo | @kieeslove