#x y/n

[angel-writes-skz-here]

Oops

Bang Chan x AFAB! Reader Synopsis: Your sweet son, Hwan, is at the wrong place at the wrong time. Warnings: A little smut, oral (f. receiving) and a lot of fluff A/N: Thank you for the request! I sincerely hope you like it! I'm going to write more stories about these 3 because I'm lowkey in love with Dad! Chan now. Requests are OPEN!

You and Chris finally moved in together, Hwan was quickly adjusting to having his father around more and more, he wanted Chris to take him everywhere on the days he was off, play toy cars and dinosaurs and all the things.

The day came to an end at work and when you opened the door to your now shared apartment, the sight filled your heart with so much love.

Chan was on the floor on his hands and knees and Hwan was on his back playing ‘horsey’. Neither of them heard you come in and you shut the door quietly, listening at Christopher neighed and raised up, causing Hwan to squeal in excitement. Your smile only got wider as you could see how much more enriched your lives had all become. You really were a little family.

Chris turns around with Hwan balancing himself on his back and see’s you, his eyes grow wide before a cheeky smile plays on his face.

“Say buddy, you think Eomma wants a turn?” you blush at his innuendo and giggle.

“I’m good, you keep playing while I make dinner.”

“I want chicken nuggets!”

“You always want chicken nuggets,” you playfully tease your son as you run up to him picking him up and kissing his cheek. He bursts out into laughter and Chris raises up to his feet, rubbing his back.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re all ready old, Channie,” you tease. You offer him a wink and he smirks.

“I’ll show you who’s old later tonight,” he murmurs in your ear and you giggle swatting his chest. He kisses your lips, soft and deep. You sigh against him, a little lost in the moment before you hear Hwan get one of his robot toys and turn it on, breaking the sweet moment. You smile at each other as you look at him.

“I’ll make dinner,” he whispers as he takes your bag off your shoulder gently and sets it down in the kitchen. You step out of your heels and sigh as you sit down on the couch.

As Hwan requested, he got his chicken nuggets for dinner that night. The meal time is sweet, filled with conversations that your little one couldn’t help but be apart of.

“And then, appa took me to the park, we saw ducks!” he says excitedly.

“Oh my goodness! I wanna see ducks.” You say feigning jealousy.

“You have to go to the park,” your son informs you as if you didn’t know.

“I can’t see them anywhere else?”

“No,” he takes a bite and chews it absentmindedly. You two giggle at Hwan and finish the meal together.

-

The bedtime routine goes as usual. He wants both of you to tuck him in, but Chris to tell him a story.

“So the prince was a popular star, he ruled the kingdom but also the stage.” Hwan’s eyes sparkle at his father’s words.

“And he met his princess, his future Queen,” he glances at you before turning back to your son, “And she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But a dragon came and kidnapped the princess, taking her away from the prince."

“No!” he says dramatically as he puts his hands on his little cheeks in shock.

“But the prince saved her by slaying the dragon, and kissing the princess telling her how much he loved her and he swore he’d never leave her again. That she would always be safe with him around.”

“Yay!” Hwan claps his little hands and you smile nostalgically at him. Both of you kiss his forehead and Hwan lays down, Chan tucking him in. He shuts the door and you’re about to walk into the living room, before Chris pulls you into the direction of your bedroom.

“Chris!” You giggle as he shuts the door behind you. He pulls you by your waist to him and his lips mold to yours. The way the two of you fit together is as perfect and as natural as breathing.

“I was thinking,” you say in between kisses, “I have the day off tomorrow, why don’t I bring Hwan up the studio and let the guys meet him?"

“Sounds perfect,” he smiles before his hands playfully squeeze your ass. He moves his lips down to your neck, sucking, biting and licking over your pulse point.

“Ah, don’t leave a visible mark,” you warn him gently. He groans against your neck.

“I don’t want Hwan asking questions yet. I’m not sure he understands everything yet.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder for a brief moment before his lips ghost your ear.

“Fine, then get on the bed and I’ll leave them in places Hwan won’t see,” you can hear the smirk in his voice as your stomach feels the nervous excited heat flood in.

You walk over, swaying your hips a little dramatically and Chan is on your heels. Clothes are strown around the room, before the two of you get under the blankets and Chan holds himself over you. He kisses down your body, moans of pleasure quietly fill the silent room.

He licks a slow stripe up your core, your eyes fluttering closed as his tongue laps at your clit. Your hands find his hair, pushing his face deeper and he moans, the sensation and thought of making you feel good the only idea in his head. His finger works into your hole, hitting that perfect spongey spot just inside your entrance and your back arches off the bed.

-

Hwan stirs awake in his dimly lit room, thanks to his wolf chanmnight light, and rubs his eyes. He grabs his wolf Chan plush, because of course Chan said he had to have everything that was wolf chan theme, and drags himself out of bed. He hears weird noises coming from your bedroom, muffled but loud enough for him to be concerned about you.

“Eomma?” Chan freezes under the blanket and your eyes snap open. You look at the innocent little four year old who’s still rubbing sleep out of his eye. His cheeks slightly red from the tears he'd cried when during his nightmare.

“Hwan! Are you ok?” Your voice is frantic as you pull the covers up over you.

“Bad dream,” he sniffles and a few tears streak down his cheeks.

“Oh, baby,” your heart hurts for him, but you can’t exactly scoop him up at the moment.

“Where’s Appa,” he begins to whine and Chris slowly moves out from under the blanket.

“I’m here buddy.” He begins to full on cry now, and you look at Chan apologetically. Chris looks over at you and he knows the night between the two of you is over.

He runs over to pick up Hwan and takes him out of the bedroom so you can throw on a robe. When you walk out to check on your boys you notice them sitting at the kitchen table.

“What’s going on?”

“I thought ice cream might help,” Chris says sheepishly.

“You know he isn’t supposed to have sugar this late,” you light scold.

“He was crying, I mean look at him. He’s so happy. I really think it’s working!” Chan’s face is a picture of happiness, even if his night isn’t going as planned.

After the ice cream Chan scoops Hwan and wolf Chan both up and takes him to your shared room.

“What were you guys doing?” he asks once him and his plushie are settled between you.

“Uh,” you look to Chan for help.

“Eomma thought she lost something in the bed so I was helping her look for it.”

“Why were you making noises?”

“Because your Appa was being very helpful,” you kiss your son’s forehead.

“Come on, it’s time to go to sleep,” you try to encourage as you and Chan exchange knowing looks.

Tags: @breakmeoff

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[etsukomoonbeam]

So...you hate me? (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: You can't believe he said that to you.

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"Love. I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. I can feel it."

Azriel signed, leaning back in the chair at his desk. He is currently writing up a report on the latest mission his spy network completed in the Autumn Court. Well, he was writing until his beautiful mate had walked into his office.

"Love, what i said was that I was busy right now. But once I'm finished with this report, we can cuddle for so long that you'll be sick of me." He smiled, looking up at Y/N.

"Yeah, so you basically just said that you hate me." Y/N huffed, crossing her arms across her chest.

Azriel sighed again and as he went to try to reason with the beautiful high fae that stood before him, the door to the office burst open, Cassian stepping into the room.

"Oh let me guess... he hates you again?" The Illyrian smirked, looking at Y/N, who just nodded, "yup."

"Okay, well I'm gonna go back to this report until you two decide that I could never hate Y/N." Azriel turned back to his report, but could hear the door open and peered up to see Cass following Y/N into the hallway.

As the door closed, a third voice could be hear.

"How dare he hate you?! Hear me out, we can go on a date..." he could hear Mor exclaim as he facepalmed, dragging his hand down his face.

Females.

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

Hi everyone! I will be starting to tag people in my posts even if their just little random posts. I'm working on my ideas behind my big work, which we will be coming up soon on the first post of my story! Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!

Taglist: @circe143 @m4rybb

[meinii]

“just-because”

summary: Sylus takes you out on a surprise date (๑> ₃ <)

content: fluff

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

you have no idea where he’s taking you

Sylus only told you to be ready by seven, didn’t offer a clue about the plan, just dropped a single black box on the bed with a card that said, wear this for me

inside: a gown

not just any gown—one that fits your body like a secret whispered to silk. deep midnight in color, with delicate red accents that ripple like fire under light. the fabric flows when you walk, catching shadows and starlight all at once. it’s elegant. intricate. you in fabric form

you step into the living room, smoothing your hands over the skirt, only to find Sylus already waiting by the door. he’s dressed in black, as always, but tonight the sharpness of his tailored suit is softened by the smallest details—an undone button at his collar, the ruby crow pin at his chest, and the way his eyes stop on you like he’s forgotten how to speak

he doesn’t say anything at first

he just looks at you

“you’re staring” you tease, suddenly shy

“i’m trying to remember how to breathe,” Sylus says, voice low “you’re going to ruin me tonight”

you look down, flustered “you picked the dress”

“i didn’t think it’d look that good,” he mutters, more to himself than you, then he steps forward and offers his hand “come on, you’ve kept me waiting long enough”

he drives

not in one of his usual, inconspicuous cars—but a sleek, black luxury model you’ve never seen before. everything’s quiet inside, the city lights flickering past the windows while Sylus rests one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, thumb tracing idle circles, gaze locked on the road, but attention clearly on you

you keep trying to guess the destination

he doesn’t give it away

not until the elevator opens on the top floor of a building you’ve never noticed before—a towering place with crystalline walls and soft golden light spilling from inside. he leads you in without a word, ignoring the surprised looks from staff who clearly know him, guiding you past velvet-lined halls and private rooms… until you step into a glass-walled rooftop restaurant that steals the breath straight from your lungs

the view is unreal

the city sprawls below like something from a dream, all blurred lights and soft movement, stretching out in every direction. above, the stars are visible between drifting clouds and in the middle of it all—your table

lit by candlelight

a perfect arrangement of your favorite flowers waits at the center, delicate petals catching the flicker of flames. there’s no one else around. no other guests. no noise

just you. him. and the sky.

you blink “Sylus…”

he pulls out your chair for you, hand lingering at the small of your back “sit.”

you do, still dazed

he takes the seat across from you, resting his elbows on the table as he watches your expression shift—surprise, confusion, awe, and something softer, warmer. his smile turns smug, but there’s a gentleness under it, something only you ever get to see

“you like it?” he asks

“you did all this?”

“booked the restaurant. kicked everyone else out. had the dress made a month ago” he leans in slightly “i would’ve dropped rose petals from the sky, but i figured that was too much”

you laugh under your breath “you’re unbelievable”

“good unbelievable or bad?”

“good. really good”

he smiles just a little “good”

the food is flawless, each course arriving like clockwork, perfectly timed and plated like art. you talk. he listens. he talks. you tease. and every now and then, his foot brushes yours beneath the table, like he needs to remind himself you’re real

when dessert arrives—your favorite, naturally—you glance at him over the candlelight

“what’s the occasion?” you ask

he twirls the stem of his wine glass between his fingers “do i need one?”

“yes,” you say with a teasing grin “because this is way too perfect to be random”

Sylus leans back in his chair, eyes fixed on you like he’s memorizing something

“you’ve been through hell,” he says quietly “you’ve bled for me. cursed me. saved me. stayed with me”

you open your mouth, but he lifts a hand to stop you

“and i know i don’t say it the way you want to hear it. i don’t always give you soft things. but tonight, i wanted to give you something beautiful. because you are.”

your chest tightens

he stands, walking around the table, then crouches beside your chair. one hand on your waist, the other slipping up to your cheek

“this dress. this view. the flowers. none of it compares to you.”

you swallow hard “Sylus…”

he kisses you

slow. reverent. like you’re the last thing in the world he’s afraid to lose

when he pulls back, he whispers against your lips

“happy just-because.”

and somehow, that means more than any anniversary ever could

[i2rizz]

can i ask a version of “no way he pulled that”about shidou? where reader is not only gorgeous, she’s also like the total opposite of him, please and thank u💗💗

Sure girll! There were also other requests for shidou from anons so this is for yall too.

No Way He Pulled That Pt.11

There was a rumor floating around NEL.

Not the usual one about Rin and Isagi’s passive-aggressive arguments, or about Reo buying three new jet skis just to race them down the hallway (which did, in fact, happen). No, this one was different. More outlandish.

Apparently… Ryusei Shidou had a girlfriend.

Which—let’s be real—no one believed.

Rin straight-up laughed. "No woman with a functioning nervous system would voluntarily be with that thing"

Barou didn’t even entertain it. "You mean someone tolerates him?"

Even Isagi, ever the peacemaker, said, "He probably made her up"

Chigiri had the most logical explanation: "She’s probably imaginary and lives in his ego"

But Shidou kept talking about you like you were real.

"I got a volleyball queen, bro. She's got that ‘I could ruin your life and you'd say thank you’ kind of look! Trust"

No one bought it.

So when NEL organized a beach day—partly to relax, partly to stop Shidou from threatening to set the weight room on fire again—Shidou just grinned. "Hope y’all like volleyball"

It started like any other beach day: sunscreen flying, Bachira doing flips in the sand, Reo building a comically massive umbrella fortress, and Nagi lying facedown under it like a collapsed Roman statue.

Kaiser tried to start a game of beach soccer. Isagi threatened to drown him. Typical stuff.

And then someone said, "Hey, isn’t that a volleyball net set up down there?"

The boys looked.

Farther down the beach, the sun caught the glint of a net swaying lightly in the breeze. And then they saw her.

You.

You moved like poetry in motion.

Barefoot in the warm sand, black volleyball shorts hugging your legs, a fitted swim bra that left just enough to the imagination, and your hair pulled back in a loose ponytail that bounced as you leapt up—smack!—and absolutely spiked the volleyball over the net like your life depended on it.

The way your muscles flexed, the confident arch of your back, the way you laughed when you missed a hit but adjusted with ease the next second—

You were dangerous.

Not just beautiful—but lethal. That mix of elegant and athletic, with a face that belonged on the cover of Vogue and a presence that screamed: I could ruin your ego with a single comment.

And God, you were smiling. Not just sweetly—fondly.

Especially when your eyes drifted toward the group of NEL boys gawking from a distance. More specifically—to him.

Shidou, who had been unusually quiet for five whole minutes (a personal record), was grinning so hard it looked painful.

"That’s her" he said proudly, like he just dropped a nuke on their fragile psyches.

"NO WAY IN HELL!"

Isagi dropped his water.

Aiku blinked and whispered, "I think I’m in love with her already"

Barou scowled harder than the sun could burn.

Rin squinted. "She’s…smiling. At him?"

Chigiri looked personally betrayed. "You’re telling me he pulled that?"

Kaiser straight-up choked on his drink. "No. No way. This is PR. He hired her"

"Oh? She lookin’ this good for fun now?" Shidou smirked, tossing his shirt over his shoulder like the menace he is. "That’s my girl, boys"

As if to punctuate his statement, you jogged over after winning the set, your smile radiant, your arms glistening with a sheen of sweat, volleyball cradled in your hand like a trophy.

"Baby!" you beamed.

Baby.

The boys blinked.

You jogged straight up to Shidou, leaned into his space like you owned it (you did), and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He grinned so wide he developed dimples.

They lost it.

"THAT'S ACTUALLY HER?" Isagi hissed. "I thought he made her up!"

"No way," Chigiri muttered, looking personally offended. "She's normal looking. Like, emotionally stable and everything"

"Maybe she hit her head" Rin said.

"You think she's being held hostage?" Nagi offered.

"Blink twice if you need help!" Reo yelled across the sand.

You just laughed.

"What, didn’t believe me?" Shidou purred, arm snaking around your waist. "Told you I don’t cap about perfection"

You rolled your eyes, tapping his nose. "You also told me dolphins were just ‘ocean dogs,’ so forgive their skepticism"

"See?" Aiku hissed. "She’s funny, too! And she touches him without flinching!"

"She deserves an oscar for putting up w him" Isagi muttered.

"She needs therapy" Rin grumbled.

"She could kill me and I’d thank her" Bachira added dreamily.

Nagi, still lying facedown in the sand, mumbled, "Too much light. Can’t look directly at her"

Meanwhile, you turned to Shidou again, gently fixed his crooked necklace, and said, "You forgot sunscreen on your shoulders again, didn't you?"

The man who once bit a player on the field melted instantly. He looked like a golden retriever being praised.

"Oh my god," Barou said in horror. "He's soft"

"He let her touch him," Bachira whispered, stunned.

"He didn't bite her," Isagi added.

"He kissed her cheek," Charles muttered.

"Maybe she has a taser," Rin concluded.

You turned to them with a sweet smile and a wave. "Oh btw, I'm (Name)!"

Dead silence.

Then Bachira, bless his soul, grinned. "Can I get adopted into whatever romantic comedy you two live in?"

Shidou tossed an arm over your shoulder. "Don't get jealous now, losers. You could never"

And that was the day the NEL realized: Ryusei Shidou did, in fact, have a girlfriend.

Not just a girlfriend. A walking, talking goddess with soft eyes, who gently told him to stop harassing seagulls and actually listened when he started ranting about new goal techniques.

The worst part?

You actually liked him.

You laughed at his jokes. You held his hand. You kissed him like he didn't start fistfights just for fun. And every time he looked at you, it was like watching a rabid pitbull turn into a very confused housecat.

Shidou would grin and say, "Yeah, I'm the luckiest bastard alive"

And everyone else would whisper behind his back, "How the hell did he pull her?!"

And the cherry on top?

When Shidou turned and yelled, "Ey! Who wants to get demolished in volleyball by me and my queen?!"

You just smirked, tossing the ball in the air. "Losers serve first"

They never stood a chance.

[maevawrites]

'forbidden love' . . . jack abbott

✦ disclaimer/warnings?: medical inaccuracies, age-gape but not clearly specified (yay age-gap april), oneshot, jack abbottx f!resident reader, fluff, possible grammar/spelling mistakes, probably more but i can't think of any atm

✦ word count: 865

he's the mentor.

you're the mentee.

he's had years of experience.

while you're a fourth year resident, still getting used to the way your name sounds when someone calls you "doctor."

he's severallll years older than you.

and it feels like you're just now getting a hang of adulthood, learning how to push through all the chaos.

dr. jack abbott—the war-hardened night shift attending. with sturdy hands, and broad shoulders, he runs the pitt with precision and calm, like nothing phases him. like he's already survived the worst of it, and everything else is just noise.

after working under him for two years, watching how he works through traumas with a sort of silent confidence and unwavering ease, you couldn't help but start feeling something towards him.

trouble, is what you told yourself.

liking jack abbott would only bring trouble.

logically, you knew better. it felt forbidden to even think about him in that way, considering the ethics. the power imbalance. the un-professionalism it'd bring. but your heart? it had a mind of its own. beating entirely too fast whenever he's helping you through a procedure you've never done before, or when he murmurs good work after you've poured everything into a trauma.

now, you're sitting at the nurses' station trying to finish up some notes from the case you had just wrapped up, when all you could hear was the thumping of your heart in your ears.

you'd just worked on a case with jack and to say you were flustered was an understatement. he had let you take the lead—something you had noticed he usually didn't do with other residents. as you spoke with the patient, jack stood alongside you, agreeing to everything you had to say, only speaking to back you up or add a final thought. on your way out, as you both were throwing your gloves away, he gave you a firm nod. "did great doc." your ears immediately felt hot at the compliment and all you could do was muster a "thank you" before practically bolting off to the nurses station.

and now here you were, at the nurses station, pretending to focus on charting, still buzzing from the three simple words he had said to you.

still in your head, you hadn't noticed dr. ellis slid next to you.

"what's got your head in the clouds, doc?" ellis teased.

"nothing. nothing at all." you tried to play off.

she smirked, clearly not buying it. "right.." and then after she paused, then leaned in just a little. "so you're gonna tell me that dr. abbott staring at you right now doesn't have you day-dreaming just a bit?"

following her graze, you look up, and see a pair of eyes set on yours.

dr. jack abbott stood in front of the trauma board, hands in his cargo pockets, with his chin slightly tilted back. the glow of the screen illuminating his features.

but he wasn't looking at it.

he was looking at you.

your eyes widen and without thinking you give him a small smile—shy, unnerved, before immediately looking back down. ellis, watching the whole thing play out in front of her, lets out a chuckle.

"girl, i know damn well." she snorted. "you don't know a damn thing," you snapped back "a damn thing." giving her a pointed look and she raises her hands in surrender. "if you say so." she says laughing under her breath, walking away to find another case to work on.

you shook your head, attempting to regain focus but before you could do anything, a warm presence was standing behind you.

"how's charting going?"

you knew the voice. low, gravelly voice that makes your brain short circuit. it belonged to jack.

you spin you chair a tad to get a better look at him. "uhm, charting is going well. pretty riveting stuff you if you ask me." you say in a dry, humorous tone, trying to mask the tremble in your voice. lord did this man have an effect on you.

"riveting, huh?" he says with a crooked smile. arms crossed over his chest, causing his biceps to flex and fill up the sleeves of his scrubs.

you try not to ogle at him, maintaining eye contact the best you can. "i just wanted to come over and say again how you did really well in that case." his voice was lower, somehow warmer. "you stayed focused, worked efficiently, and took the lead." woah, does this man ever stop with the compliments? "oh—thank dr. abbott. couldn't have done it without a great teacher like you." you say sweetly. you really meant it. jack abbott was a damn good teacher and was someone you constantly looked up to in the emergency room. someone you wholeheartedly trusted.

he gave you a final, reassuring nod and then patted your forearm, giving you a quick wink before walking away.

you turned your chair back to your notes and slid down in your chair immediately. if it was even possible right then, you'd melt away.

your heart was beating faster than even and all you could think to yourself was:

yeah, we're in big trouble.

✦ maeva's thoughts: heyoooo!! i know i've been MIA but i hope this post makes it up to y'all. school has been whooping my ahh but i'm just trying to remind myself i have 5 weeks left and then i'm free from the shackles. i'm utterly obsessed with the pitt and dr. abbott. been on that since the couple scenes we saw of him in ep 1. also thought this song was prettyyy fitting for this piece.

i've been playing around with the theme of my blog and i honestly think it's pretty dope but y'all lmk what you think.

the gif is not mine!!

[kaysdelights]

when you're forced to marry an alien himbo | 🔞

words: 5004 fem reader x male main character w / au's: alien!au, himbo alien, arranged marriage, getting off in front of him summary: you're a brand new bride to a himbo virgin alien warrior that is obsessed with making you happy:) a/n: i told myself i wouldn't repost ALL of my shitty stories again for the millionth time while i figure out what i wanna do with my life BUT i desperately wanna get inspiration for this AU again because it was SO FUN TO WRITE! so im posting it again and also i need to tell myself i can do whatever i want to be happy D': okay love you <3 there is another part to this hehe also this has nothing to do with the other alien au i posted recently... i was just in a mood late last year writing about hot aliens lol

“You might want to have a seat when I tell you this, bestie.” You hear the impending doom in the tone of her voice coming in clearly through the speaker of your phone. “You’re an alien bride.” 

As if things couldn’t get any shittier for you. 

You got fired from your job because you were running late due to your car breaking down. You couldn’t afford to fix the part on your car because your bank account was overdraft due to your A/C breaking the week before. But it’s not like you could have even paid for the A/C when your boyfriend (now ex) broke up with you, drained your account for all he could, and took off with your sister to Vegas. Now you’re an alien bride thanks to the leaders of earth making a deal with the alien’s that they would protect all humans from the other invasive species of the universe if they send mate’s for the aliens in return. 

“Or, is it an alien's bride? Are you an alien bride if you’re human and you’re marrying the alien? Or, like, are you the alien’s bride because you’re the alien’s? You belong to the alien. The alien’s woman? Either way… that’s you, girl.”

The sound of your best friend rambling because she’s scared shitless for you barely snaps you out of your daze. 

“Is he rich, at least?” You sigh into the speaker. What’s one more weird and oddly specific thing that could go wrong? Just add it to the list. Alien, or maybe alien’s, bride? Check! “Because that would solve half my problems, Sera, and honestly when you’re only adding one problem back in, it evens out. Girl math.”

“Listen, you didn’t hear it from me-” But, you did. Sera works for the earth-intergalactic species representatives resources department. This is the only reason you’re finding out about this now. Normally people are just snatched up from their homes to go off and breed ginormous alien babies. Or, at the very least, marry an alien. You aren’t too sure on the specifics of what happens after that, but you have always been a little curious… “Your alien is a total hottie.” 

“What are you insinuating?” You gasp, part offended and part imagining how hot your alien husband-to-be actually is. “I just go up there and let this alien have his way with me to completely destroy me? I heard they’re not gentle! They’re mean and rough and ugly. So, really, how hot could he be?”

“You’ve never even seen one of them before!” She begins to whisper, as if someone is coming closer that could hear and potentially get her fired, or worse. “Look, you’re one overdraft fee away from homelessness. Don’t look at this as a bad thing. You’ve got no choice.”

You know she’s right. What other choice do you have? 

You’re beamed up to the alien spaceship that hovers earth the following morning. Literally. Beamed up in a blink of an eye. One minute you’re on earth, the next you’re surrounded by cold, steel walls in a circular room with two bags of your things and your cat, Jellybean. Jellybean hisses at thin air as he looks around, clinging to your shirt like it's his lifeline. His orange fur begins to fly when you try to soothe him, all before a sliding door opening to the right, and in walks the dreamiest, most charming, hunkiest man that ever hunked. 

Was this your alien husband-to-be? God, you hoped so. You were going to end it all if you haven’t even left earth yet, knowing this divine specimen exists and you couldn’t have a chance with him.

He clears his voice, a nervous smile on his lips, before he tells you his name. “I’m your husband.” 

Relief floods you. She was right. He is hot. Beyond hot. Your knees quiver as he steps closer, heart racing. As he walks into the yellow cast of the light overhead, you notice his brown, military style uniform, matching cap on his head, and black boots. Of course, all the aliens are trained soldiers well respected across galaxies for their skills in combat. It’s why earth so happily accepted their protection. They needed to remain safe, and the aliens needed mates. 

Jellybean hisses again to pull you away from the thoughts roaming. He looks down at the cat, then back to you. You expect him to be rude, mean even, maybe make an insulting comment, but he only smiles. 

“Would you like to see our living quarters? Let your friend get something to eat and drink while we settle in?”

“S-Sure.” Okay, you weren’t expecting that. Aren’t these aliens supposed to be mean? Horrid? Rough? Terrible? Ugly?! So far he was none of these things. He doesn’t even have a problem with Jellybean. Your ex hated Jellybean, but to be fair Jellybean hated him, too. 

God, speaking of, has it really been that long since you’ve been laid that you’re getting all hot and bothered over this alien just for being nice and not minding your cat? He leads you down corridors of metal until you’re suddenly thrust into a bustling living area full of other aliens and humans, lounges, TVs, little food carts with any option of burger, chicken wing, or pizza you could imagine. You name it, it was offered in those delicious smelling stands, though you wonder what kind of meat they used. Alien technologies are clearly far more advanced. Even their fauna was beautiful and ethereal looking, sparkling off the synthetic sun overhead while the koi fish in the ponds around them swam gracefully.

Though food and decor didn’t keep your attention for long. A couple you walk past looks as lovey-dovey in love as one could be. He’s much larger than her as she snuggles into his side while the two read the intergalactic news articles in the morning paper. She leans up and gives him a kiss on his cheek. As if she just couldn’t help herself, and you really can’t blame her either when you notice all of the aliens are pretty hot.

Not as hot as your alien, of course. There’s no alien like your husband. 

“Um, husband?” You shuffle your feet quickly to reach his side, grabbing onto his arm with the hand that isn’t holding Jellybean. 

“Yes, wife?” A shiver races down your spine at him calling you wife. God, were you really about to fall head over heels for an alien? The odds seemed likely. At this point, what did you have to lose? You only had everything to gain. Like a super hot, super attention and sweet alien husband who was no doubt packing downstairs. 

“Where exactly are we staying aboard this massive ship?” The alien spaceship was big enough to serve as a warning to the other space travelers to stay away, but also big enough to host every trained soldier from their home planet. 

“Just down here,” he says, leading you out of the living area down a more lively looking hallway with plants and pictures of army captains. Then he stops down another hallway in front of a door seconds before it slides to the right. “Right in here.” He carries your two bags through the threshold into the most normal looking foyer you have ever seen. Ahead are even a set of stairs made from hardwood floor. To the right, a kitchen. To the left, a living room. A house that jumped straight out of a magazine. You expected the alien spaceship to look like something from Star Trek, and part of it does, but some parts…

“This looks so…”

“Human?”

“Yes!” He chuckles at that, setting your things down while you let Jellybean  out of your arms to go sniff everything. “Why?”

“To make our mates more comfortable. To feel more like home.”

You can’t help your frown. “What if we don’t want it to feel that way?” Your voice is a whisper as you take in the surroundings. You’ve never lived anywhere this nice. It’s way too suburban, picket fence, three kids and a dog for you. 

“If the living arrangement is not to your standards, we can make changes.” There’s a frown on his face now. He actually looks disappointed you don’t seem happy. You definitely hate that look.

“It’s great! No worries!” You offer him the biggest smile you can muster, watching his grin return. “So, shall we get started?” you ask, beginning to take off your coat considering shoes were already left at the entrance. The coat falls to the floor before you begin unbuttoning your jeans.

“Wh-what are you doing?” He blinks a few times before turning his head from you. “If you needed to get changed, I could have stepped away.” He won’t look at you, so you stop fidgeting with your jeans. 

“Changed? No, I meant sex and alien babies.” He snaps his head at your words. “Isn’t that what I’m here for?”

“You’re here to be my wife.”

“Yeah… which means sex and then having alien babies. Right?” 

He looks confused. Now you feel heat rushing to your cheeks. You quickly pick your coat from the floor, covering yourself to not feel as exposed from your embarrassment. Not like it would help. He’s already eyed you up and down and back again at the mere mention of sex. 

“I’m… not sure.” He looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. “We were told marrying a human would give us strength, power. That what we receive from our mate would make us nearly invincible.”

Your jaw hangs open. “Excuse me?” You blink, taking a step toward him. “What the fuck are you saying?”

He gulps, not bothering to meet your eyes due to him cowering like you’re a foot taller than him. To be fair, you do have an intimidating gaze when things start to get complicated.

“Being with a human means being powerful,” he repeats, though it doesn’t make an ounce more sense. “We were told our humans would teach us what we needed to know to be successful lovers.”

You choke on your own spit from the words, coughing. “So being a good lover makes you more powerful?” You shake your head. “Being with me… being a good lover… makes you more powerful?” You’re squinting at him, no longer frustrated, but curious if he’s saying what you think he’s saying. If so, you have one hot himbo virgin on your hands and he’s in dire need of a sex lesson from you. 

“Yes, that’s it.” He nods, finally looking you in the eyes. 

“Well, you know what? My life sucks so what the hell? Whatever it is, alien husband, I’m going to make you more powerful! And you know what else? My life could still suck but at least I don’t have to go to work anymore and have Creepy Andy stare at my tits all day.” 

He frowns, anger spreading in his features. The shift in his demeanor is so sudden, it catches you off guard. “Is this Creepy Andy a problem?”

Oh… you like that. This alien is awakening something in you that makes you… horny? Scared? Maybe both. He’s big, and dangerous, and from another planet and it kind of turns you on he is willing to do, well whatever he would do to Creepy Andy if you said yes. No human man has ever made you feel this way. This stirring of excitement and adrenaline mixed with fear of the unknown washing over you as he looks at you like he would eat you up and worship you. Of course, what’s his has been threatened. From his tone, his posture, his words, you realize he’s a territorial man. So your hot himbo virgin alien is the jealous, protective type. Somehow you find him even more attractive.

“Not anymore,” you tell him, sighing, pouting, earning a little more of his attention which you realize you actually adore in the moment. He steps closer, placing hands on your arms. “I mean, it got pretty bad there for a while. He was always trying to flirt, and make weird comments about me, and just be creepy, you know?”

Okay, you didn’t have to go into detail, but to watch your new alien husband get worked up over another man’s comments about your body does something to your confidence. This alien has claimed you for his keeping, and it’s clear no one else should dare to even look at you or this alien super soldier will not be so nice.

“Where can one find this Creepy Andy?”

His question has you bursting into giggles. “Don’t worry about it.” You reach to pat him on the chest, feeling the hard muscle underneath. “It’s not something I have to worry about anymore.” 

You pull away to go get Jellybean settled in while he takes your things upstairs. After a while of soothing Jellybean and coaxing him out of his hiding place under one of the lounges in the living room so he would eat something, your husband comes downstairs to offer you a cooked meal.

“You cook?”

“Sometimes.” His sheepish grin has butterflies swarming your stomach. How can he be so hot, and intimidating, yet cute? You follow him into the kitchen with the standard fridge and oven, with a sink and dishwasher close by. Looks just like something you would see on earth, if it weren’t for the unique gadgets and interesting trinkets here and there. You assume they are alien created, and you’re curious how they work.

You guess a lesson on alien tools will have to be another day as he gets to work creating you a meal that smells delicious. He tells you it’s some sort of delicacy where he’s from, but you don’t question it. You haven’t eaten all day, too nervous about meeting him. So you take a bite, and to your surprise, it’s not half bad. There’s a few flavors you recognize in the dish, what look to be like noodles, and some kind of meat. You don’t ask the questions you normally would. You don’t want to spoil it if this is what you have to live with. 

“Would you like to join me while I wash up?” he asks while taking the plates away to place them in the dishwasher. A man who cooks and cleans up? You’ve died and gone to heaven. 

“Wash up? As in… shower?”

“Shower, bathe, whatever you wish to do.”

It’s hard to turn him down when he’s being so generous. “S-Sure.” Though, you are a little nervous. It’s been so long since you’ve even seen anyone in their underwear. Better to go ahead and get the awkwardness out of the way. This is your husband, after all. 

“I would love a bath. My muscles feel so tense from being nervous and I think I sweated so much from the anticipation of meeting you I would really like to wash up.”

He’s smiling at your rambling. Okay, you’re a lot nervous. Not that you don’t have confidence around men. You do and you enjoy taking charge and demanding what you want, but this is no ordinary man. This man is gorgeous, understanding, sweet, and kind. From out of this world. This man could have been written by a woman, maybe mother nature herself, and that’s what is making you so nervous. Why does he seem so perfect? You were so convinced the aliens were mean, and rough, and ugly, but he’s shown you the opposite. 

“Come with me,” is all he says before you’re following him up the stairs, down the hall into a room that looks more alien than human. The door slides to the ride to reveal marble steps leading to a dais filled with water. The platform sits low as a soft hum emits from the inviting bathing pool, lights glowing all around in alien markings you can’t decipher. 

“This is simply gorgeous,” you sigh, taking in the purple and blue fauna all around the room. Steam rolls off the water, shimmering beneath the glowing markings. 

“I’m happy it pleases you, I spent a while setting it up for you,” your big alien husband says, his tone giving him away that he could be blushing. “This is where I can bathe you every night while worshipping your body in any way you see fit. It is one of the more intimate ways we can bond so you can share your gift with me, so I feared I might be rushing things, but I admit, I was excited to show you.” 

You’re nearly brought to tears from the way he speaks to you as well as this steamy, inviting bathing pool he’s brought you to. Earth men could never. 

“Thank you,” you whisper a second before jumping into him. Your arms wrap around his neck while his hands pull you in closer. “No one has ever been this nice to me or done something so sweet.” He took you away from at least half your problems, doesn’t mind your cat, gave you a cozy, comfortable house to live in, cooked for you, built your own personal, lavish bathing pool, and wants to give you orgasms every night. Could your life get any better? You might have just fallen in love. It’s not too soon if he’s an alien, right? 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says, pulling away. “I just wanted to show you tonight, and if all we do is admire one another in our flesh then that’s okay with me.”

Your heart swells. Could your husband get any sweeter? “No, believe me, I want to.” Suddenly, you’re not feeling so shy. The confidence has returned in full force as you take your coat off once again, allowing it to fall to the floor.

“Well,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your eyes. “If you’re sure you’re comfortable…”

The mood shifts suddenly. You picked up on the tone of his voice, the uncertainty there. 

“Hey, are you alright?” You stop in the middle of unbuttoning your jeans once again, stepping to him to look into his eyes from below. 

“I just…” He lets out a breath and your heart sinks. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, either,” you remind him, reaching to give his hand a squeeze. “I’ll admit, this whole situation is bananas, and the fact that I have a husband who is an alien is wild to me, but we don’t have to rush anything just because that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

He looks into your eyes, the subtlest of wrinkles between his brows. “It’s just… my whole life I was trained to be a soldier. I’ve spent well over twenty of your earth years testing my combat skills, my war knowledge, my stamina and wit and endurance. It wasn’t until our last years in training did they talk about our need for a human mate from earth. I… I want to be a good mate to you, a good husband, because it’s important to both of our species survival, but I don’t know how.” 

Tears finally do begin to well behind your lids as he speaks. The familiar tightness tugs behind your eyes, heart breaking into pieces. You only thought about how the situation makes you feel, not how your new alien husband would feel. You feel a little sick at the thought of disregarding him just because he’s not human. Of course he has feelings and boundaries. 

“I’m sorry,” you exhale, shaking your head. His expression turns into confusion, brow wrinkling and lips parted. “I guess I’m just used to the men I’ve been with and their ability to only speak with their dicks. This is the most adult conversation I’ve ever had. I don’t know how many times I can say this, but earth men could never!” 

He chuckles as you speak, happy to see his smile return since he’s unbelievably beautiful when he does so. “I like the way you talk. It’s funny.”

“Funny?” You raise a brow, but you can’t stop yourself from grinning. 

“It makes me happy and I just want to keep smiling.”

Oh… he thinks you’re cute. Your stomach flip flops just the same as your heart. 

“Why don’t we start as slow as both of us need to.” You step away from him, gesturing toward the bathing pool. “Let’s just bathe tonight.” 

He agrees and you both begin to take your clothes off. There’s hesitation in every motion and he can’t stop stealing glances at you. Your jeans slide to the floor, his shirt follows. Piece by piece until you’re both naked before one another. His eyes travel down your body, taking in every enticing curve, every dip, every expanse of skin until he’s gulping. You take him in as well, the muscles twitching beneath your gaze, the smooth skin, the fact that his cock is half hard and growing as he looks at you. A big, thick, delicious looking cock that you aren’t sure how is going to fit inside of you, but God do you want to try. 

You don’t want to stare for too long because you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. If he was written by a woman, he was built by a God. It’s hard to pull your eyes away, but you finally manage to make your way to the edge of the steamy pool. The water is crystal clear, noticing glowing markings on the bottom and sides of the pool. The blue, shimmery light guides you to step down into the water, taking each step slow until you’re submerged up to your ribs. 

“How does it feel?” His voice behind you earns your attention. You turn to face him, watching as he follows your steps into the pool. The water comes to his waist as the two of you slowly dance around one another, gliding in the water as the heat relaxes your body. 

“Feels amazing. Like I’m being massaged all over. And what’s that smell?”

“Honey and rose. Comes from the water. The massage feeling is intentional due to the currents created from the vibrations in the walls.”

So that’s where the hum comes from. Interesting. “This is too cool, honestly.” You begin laughing, then he joins in. As if neither of you can believe the situation. All you can do is laugh. 

Until his smile fades and the mood shifts. “Can I see you?” he asks, and at first you’re confused, until his eyes sweep down your body. 

“Didn’t you see when we undressed?”

“I want to see all of it,” is all he says, eyes traveling down once again, and landing on the little V between your thighs. Your heart skips a beat. There’s no way you can tell him no. Not when he looks like he wants to eat you like his favorite dessert, he just may be a little confused about what toppings he wants. You’re willing to show him as you back up to the closest step to hoist yourself up onto the ledge of the bathing pool. His eyes are glued to you as you part your legs for him, giving him the perfect view of your pussy. 

He licks his lips, eyes darkening. The mood has shifted entirely. There’s a heaviness between the two of you now. One of longing and desire. He may not know all the intricacies of sex, but it’s clear he wants to. 

His exhale is heavy before he speaks. “Please, teach me.” He huffs again, like he’s struggling with holding himself together. “Teach me what I can do to make you feel good. 

You bite your lip for a second. “They didn’t prepare you for anything?”

“Not much. We got most of our knowledge from hearsay, though the basics were taught.” He takes another deep breath. “We expect our partners to teach us, that way their needs are met. It’s important to me for you to be pleasured properly. So, please, I’m not asking you to give me a lesson, I’m asking what makes you feel good…”

You inhale a sharp breath. The last thing you want to do is take things too far if he isn’t comfortable. Though, now you’re wondering if he just isn’t comfortable because he doesn’t want to let you down. That’s why it’s so important to him for you to show him.

So your hand falls between your thighs to begin stroking the soft skin of your pussy. Feather light strokes earn his attention quickly, watching so you only play for a few seconds. 

“If it makes you feel better,” you begin, middle finger finding your clit to begin teasing yourself there, “I’ve never done this with anyone before.” His eyes remain trained between your thighs, watching your finger softly circle your clit. 

“You’ve never touched yourself in front of someone?” he asks, and you bite your lip while shaking your head. A grin forms on his lips. “I’m your first?” 

You nod, then sigh when you dip your hand lower, finger easing inside of yourself to feel how wet you’ve become. Then you trace a line back to your clit, beginning to rub in slow circles once again. 

“I’m getting so wet already,” you whisper as he takes a step closer. “It must really turn me on when you watch me.” You don’t consider what you tell him dirty talk. It’s only the truth. You’ve never been watched like this. He takes another step toward you, and another, until he’s pressing his palms to the water’s edge near each of your thighs. 

“I hear it’s a good thing,” he says, looking between your pussy being pleasured and your head tossed back with lips parted. “If you get wet for me, it means you are enjoying yourself, yes?”

“God, yes…” Your fingers dip again, easing inside of you as your hips begin to roll against your hand. 

“Have you ever gotten this wet for anyone else?” he asks as his hand lazily falls onto your thigh, rubbing circles with his thumb. The added attention, even if so innocent and curious, adds to the pleasure, jolts of electricity surging from where he's touched you. 

“I don’t think so,” you tell him in a raspy breath, and once again, it’s the truth. He’s a jealous alien, so he needs reassurance. You feel yourself dripping onto the edge of the pool. No one’s ever made you this hot just by watching you. Normally you have to work hard to get yourself close, but you feel yourself on the edge of bliss within minutes. Slowing down, you bring yourself back in, wanting more than anything to make this moment last between the two of you. 

“Good,” he groans, and it nearly brings you right back to the precipice of your orgasm. “I want to be the only one that gets to see you like this. Touching yourself. Dripping wet for me.”

“Yes!” you cry out, falling back to lean on one hand as he grips your thighs, parting them wider for him to see. The other hand continues to work your clit in messy, quick circles. Your breaths deepen as soft moans escape your lips. You’re getting close to the edge again just from the way he watches you touch yourself. 

“The noises you make are making my cock ache, baby,” he nearly growls, suddenly full of sexual frustration, but he keeps it together. Warmth floods your body from the pet name. It’s never sounded so good coming from anyone else’s mouth. “Does it feel that good, or do you just enjoy me watching you touch yourself that much?”

“Both,” you whimper seconds before the pleasure is bursting from between your thighs. You couldn’t hold yourself off any longer, warmth surging through your body as the bliss takes hold. You cry out for him, reaching to wrap an arm around his neck and pull his body close as you ride out the pleasure. He takes hold of you, wrapping you up in his embrace until you’re coming down and catching your breath. 

Panting, shaking, he holds you against his naked body for what feels like an eternity. He strokes your hair and back, pressing his lips to the top of your head. 

When you pull away, you look him in the eyes, then your gaze falls to his mouth. “Will you kiss me?” you ask, and a darkness ignites in his eyes, the question fueling his evident desire for you. He leans in, pressing his lips to your own. Softly at first, just to feel each other’s skin, then he leans in further. He takes hold of you and the moment, slipping his tongue past your lips to play, to tease. You can’t help but moan against him, becoming lost in the very thing you swore was going to be terrible. 

He finally pulls away from you to begin tending to you as he would if he were really bathing you. He washes your body with the softest cloth and the same smelling gel from a little vial he had prepared. While he washes you, he explores your body, taking his time to go over every inch until you begin to feel worked up again.

When you’re both clean, he helps you out of the pool to dry you off. You giggle at the ticklish spots and he laughs at your giggling. He already has a cozy looking pajama set prepared on the bed which you will share with him when he takes you to the bedroom. 

When you’re dressed for bed, you snuggle between the sheets and he pulls you as close as he can to his body. 

“Good night, wife,” he whispers, placing a kiss against your temple.

“Good night, alien husband,” you reply, smiling to yourself since it seems, not half, but all of your problems have disappeared because of him. 

[pawbaton]

007n7 kissing y/n on the forehead

I heart single dad

[bingbongsupremacy]

The Lakeside Cabin

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warning: Y/N Use, swearing

Summary: The hate you and Bucky have for each other has gradually increased throughout your time knowing each other. This time, things went too far. Thanks to your arguments, you get sent on a unique consequential mission: You will both live together in a secluded cabin until you're able to come together and settle your differences. You're screwed.

This doesn't really follow the movies or shows.

*Not Proof Read*

No mentions of body type, skin color, or details of reader's appearance.

Pt. 2 (Coming Soon)

□□□□□□□

My mom always told me hate is a strong word.

It's not strong enough to describe the way I feel about Bucky Barnes.

Bucky Barnes.

10 percent muscle. 90 percent jackass.

I never wanted to hate Bucky. He just makes it very difficult to like him.

We have different personalities-I like being loud and outgoing. I love the spontaneity life has to offer and being around people. I can be rebellious and don't like it when people tell me what to do.

Bucky's the opposite. He lives in silence and routine. Everything has to go his way. He's grumpy and constantly has a gloomy grey cloud of isolation that surrounds him.

He does fine with everyone else. He's not exactly their best friend, but he's civil. He's willing to work together with them.

Just like he pisses me off, I piss him off. We trigger each other. We're always looking for an in -a way to catch the other when they slip up and help drag them down.

It doesn't help that some people on the team think the only reason we fight is due to some extreme sexual tension. The way they make stupid remarks or exchange looks when they see Bucky and me fighting makes my blood boil.

Don't get me wrong, Bucky Barnes is an attractive man. He's got beautiful eyes and an amazing physique. He's strong and mysterious -the kind of bad boy type guy that makes girls swoon.

But the attraction ends there. His personality totally kills the mood.

Things have definitely escalated since Bucky joined us at the compound last year. It started out with small, snarky comments and evolved to full-on verbal warfare: no filter, no tact, just venom and fire.

"Are you always this loud, or is it just when I’m around?" "Only when I’m trying to scare off emotionally stunted super soldiers."

"You know, I’d rather face Hydra again than spend another second dealing with your miserable ass." "I’d gladly leave you to rot with them if I didn’t know you’d screw up the escape plan."

"You know, for someone with a metal arm, your grip on reality is weak." "And for someone with a mouth like yours, it’s a miracle you’re still breathing."

Sometimes I don't even mean to fight back. I try to take the upper hand, face his words like a champ, and not let them bother me. It's just so difficult. When he starts the fire, I need to make sure it burns.

I know it bugs the team. We've been warned multiple times by Steve and Fury.

It's just so hard to stop.

I don't know why I do it. Maybe it's to get his reaction. Maybe it's because I like to get the last word. I don't know.

It's rare that the team pairs the two of us up on missions. They know the way things will play out.

We're only paired together in extreme situations in missions -situations where they need the best shooters in the group.

Situations like the one today.

Bucky and I haven't said a word to each other in half an hour.

The air is beginning to chill with the change in time. The sun is setting, casting a beautiful orange and pink glow over the chaos we're supposed to cover. If this were any other situation, I would be sitting down and admiring the beauty of nature. I love sunsets.

But this isn't any other situation.

Bucky and I are lying on the roof of an abandoned building a few feet away from each other. Our eyes are trained on the deteriorating warehouse across from us, fingers hovering above the triggers of our guns. The building, which looks like it's holding a bunch of secrets, is definitely holding a bunch of secrets -kidnapped human experiments and top secret information regarding planned attacks. The shady, untrustworthy exterior definitely matches the vibe of the horrors happening inside.

Outside of the warehouse are parked cars without license plates and scattered pieces of junk and broken machinery lying on rough gravel and yellowing grass.

Steve walks into my view from the left. He quietly guides, who are closely behind him. They stop behind one of the cars, using it as cover while Steve scans the area for any dangers. After the area is secured, the three begin making their way into the building through a side entrance.

Through my scope I briefly spot Tony as he enters through the other end of the building.

The comm in my ear gently crackles as Natasha's voice comes through. "I've got visuals on the northwest entry."

Steve's voice follows. "I'm placing charges."

"All right, folks," Sam chimes in. "Let’s make this fast and quiet. I’ve got eyes in the sky, but our rooftop lovebirds better stay sharp."

There he goes again, our number one shipper. He's so adamant about there being something between Bucky and me. It's annoying.

I choose not to let his words ruffle me, biting the inside of my cheek harshly instead.

Bucky ignores the jab as well.

The only sound between us is the soft click of his rifle adjusting. He ignores me, just as he always does.

The tension between us is strong. We're both annoyed. Neither of us wants to be here with the other one.

I try to focus on the task at hand. Observe. I need to observe.

It's difficult.

Every few minutes, I feel my attention shifting to the man in my peripheral vision. I watch him lie perfectly still, the only movement coming from his jaw, which he clenches and unclenches every so often like he's trying to hold back.

He probably is holding back. Something I did pissed him off. Something I do always pisses him off.

I shouldn't be distracted. I can't afford to be, not when the lives of innocent people are at stake. I need to stay focused.

This isn't about me or Bucky. This is about freeing civilians.

Because HYDRA is HYDRA, all hope for a smooth, easy mission is thrown out the window about 5 minutes later when Tony's voice breaks the tense silence.

"Cameras are down," Tony’s voice is quiet. "Something triggered the internal defense system—doors locking. They’re trying to cage us in."

"Bucky, Y/N, keep the perimeter secure." Steve orders, his voice more urgent than before. "Watch for backup."

I force myself to focus on the building below, knowing this could turn into a life-or-death situation. "Copy." I reply calmly.

Bucky stays silent beside me. He shifts his scope lower.

"You could at least pretend we’re working together," I mutter, frustration laced in my tone.

"Didn’t realize babysitting you required small talk." He snaps back without looking at me.

I roll my eyes so hard I practically see stars. "Right. Because you’re just so pleasant when you’re brooding in silence."

"Silence is better than listening to your constant whining."

"Whining?" I let out an annoyed laugh. "God, you’re insufferable."

"And you’re loud. Even when you’re trying to whisper, you’re loud."

We both freeze at the same time.

Footsteps.

Close and fast.

Fuck, just what we need.

I turn my scope, just in time to see a group of Hydra agents breaching the stairwell two floors below us.

"Oh, shit," I breath.

Bucky moves first. He's up in seconds, his rifle in hand. "We’ve got company."

"Team, rooftop’s compromised," I say sharply into the comms. "We’ve got Hydra climbing the building."

"How many?" Asks Steve.

"At least six, maybe more. All armed and in tactical gear." I get up, clutching my rifle securely in my hands.

"Get out of there. Now."

Bucky moves towards the door we entered onto the roof from. His steps are light but purposeful. He stands to the side of the door, barely waiting for me to get to the other side before opening it quietly.

Of course, he didn't wait.

He doesn't give a shit if I'm shot down. One less problem for him to deal with.

"Sacrifice me, I guess," I mutter snarkily. "It's not like I mind getting shot. Thanks for asking."

"Have you ever considered shutting up? You're going to give our location away." He hisses, still not sparing me a glance.

I can't resist. "Have you ever considered thinking about anyone but yourself before? I know it's a new concept for you -possibly a little difficult for you to wrap your brain around, but I promise you'll be slightly more tolerable."

"Ha ha." Bucky's tone is unamused. "Thanks for the life advice. I'd try it but I really just don't give a shit about what you have to say or your opinion."

We continue making our way down the stairs, eyes constantly scanning in front of us.

"Fuck you." I huff, annoyed by his presence. I just want to go home and get as far away from this man as humanly possible. I've spent enough time with him for today -for a lifetime.

"Very mature. What, can't think of anything better to say-" Bucky is cut off by the sound of gunshots echoing through the room.

Immediately, he's quiet, his lips tightly pressed together. He's pissed we drew attention to ourselves. He's so going to give me shit for this.

The next ten minutes are a blur. Everything happens so quickly.

Gunfire cracks through stairwells. We move, dodging, weaving through offices. We take down the agents who come at us, neither of us needing to speak a word. It's about survival right now.

Then Bucky has the nerve the piss me off again.

"I said left, Barnes!"

"You want to lead? Be my guest," he snaps, ducking behind a filing cabinet as bullets tear through drywall. His lips are pursed into a tight frown, his eyes crinkling with anger.

"I am leading! You’re just too busy trying to look cool to listen! Newsflash, Bucky. We're not in a fucking action movie. No one gives a shit if you look cool and mysterious." I hiss back, pressing myself tightly under a desk as the bullets continue to come.

"Right, because this is such a great time for your little ego trip!" He quickly shoots down two agents with ease before retreating behind the filing cabinet again.

"My ego? Oh, please -like you don’t walk around with a six-ton chip on your shoulder and a martyr complex the size of Manhattan!" I manage to take out the last agent left shooting at us.

"You don’t know the first thing about me." Bucky brushes past me, his shoulder roughly knocking into mine.

I don't let it faze me. I quickly follow him, still keeping my eyes searching the room. "And you don’t know the first thing about working with someone who doesn’t worship the ground you stomp on!"

"You think I wanted to be paired with you? You think I asked for this?" For the first time all day, Bucky's head snaps towards me. His striking blue eyes are dark and narrowed at me. His face is tense and clearly angry. "You're the last fucking person I want to be paired with."

By now, we're screaming. Our boots thud down staircases as we duck another volley of shots. He's pissed. I'm pissed. We're on the verge of quite literally killing each other.

And through all of it—

The comms were still on.

-------

When we finally burst out onto the street, smoke in the air, Hydra agents down for the count, I am heaving. My hands are shaking from adrenaline and rage. I can't stand one more minute with this asshole.

Bucky is beside me, jaw clenched like it might crack. We storm across the lot to where the Quinjet is freshly landed and waiting for us, steam hissing from its wings. The team is standing and waiting.

Sam crosses his arms slowly. "Well, that was subtle."

"Shut up, Wilson." I roll my eyes, wiping a little bit of blood from my hand onto my shirt.

Steve looks like he aged five years in ten minutes.

Natasha just raises an eyebrow. "You two done with your little lovers’ quarrel?"

I blink. "What—?"

And then it hits me.

The comms. The fucking comms.

"Oh, god."

Sam smirks. "Not gonna lie, I was really rooting for one of you to throw a punch. Or kiss. Hard to tell with you two."

I scoff. "Keep your fantasies to yourself."

"You’re both exhausting," Steve mutters.

Bucky looks like he wants to dig a hole with his metal arm and crawl into it. His face is slightly flushed -most likely from a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

I lift a hand. "I didn’t mean ...he’s just -this whole thing-"

"Sexual tension like that could level a building," Natasha deadpans, eyeing the two of us. "And apparently did."

"I hate him," I state.

"Right back at you," Bucky growls.

We glare at each other for a moment.

And then we both walk in opposite directions while the rest of the team stares after us like exasperated parents watching their toddlers throw tantrums.

The mission was a success.

Our dignity? Dead on arrival.

------

The silence on the Quinjet is suffocating.

We are barely five minutes in, and already I feel the tension crawling across my skin like static. No one is speaking. No one is even pretending to make small talk. Even Tony is quiet (Something I thought was impossible), which meant we had officially fucked up.

I sit with my arms crossed and my jaw clenched, staring furiously at a very interesting spot on the floor. Across from me, Bucky sits in his own simmering silence, eyes fixed straight ahead, metal fingers twitching like he wants to strangle a ghost.

Every bump of turbulence feels like a passive-aggressive nudge from the universe.

I get it. What the fuck else do you want from me?

Steve is seated beside the cockpit, flipping through a report like it owes him an apology. Natasha leans against the wall by the hatch with her arms folded, wearing the expression of a woman who'd just listened to two coworkers have a very personal argument on speakerphone.

Because she has.

Because everyone has.

Sam lets out a long, theatrical sigh from the back bench.

"Just say it," I snap without looking at him. I tightly clench my fists, waiting for his remarks.

"What?" he asks, all innocent.

Fucker.

"Whatever comment you’ve been chewing on since we left the ground."

He grins. "Oh, I wasn’t gonna say anything. I’m just wondering who’s gonna crack first and scream ‘I love you, you emotionally constipated bastard!’ because honestly, I’ve got twenty bucks riding on Y/N."

I open my mouth. Close it. Turn to glare out the window instead. If I could kill Sam legally, I would. At this moment, he's on the same level as Bucky on my shit list. "I hate you."

"You've said that a lot today," Bucky mutters.

I snap my head toward him. "And you keep earning it. Care to earn another one?"

He finally looks at me, face hard. "I didn’t ask to be stuck on a roof with you."

"Believe me, if I could’ve picked anyone else on this planet to crouch beside for two hours of pure hell, I would’ve!" I tear my eyes away from him as I roll them.

"Oh my god," Natasha mutters, dragging a hand down her face.

Steve stands up abruptly, closing his folder. "We’re debriefing in an hour. Separately."

He's tired of our shit.

Tony, from the cockpit, calls back, "Debrief? Nah, just show me the footage of their comms again. That was way more entertaining than the mission feed."

"Delete it," I hiss. "Or I swear to-"

"I enhanced the audio," he replies brightly.

Of course he did. Why wouldn't he?

Sam wheezes. Natasha covers a snort with a cough.

Bucky is back to brooding in silence, but I can feel the heat rolling off him. Or maybe that's me. I can’t tell anymore.

We don’t speak for the rest of the ride. But I can feel his anger in my bones.

This has been the worst day of my year.

------

When we arrive back at the compound, we're all instructed to fill out our mission reports. Of course, I fill mine out as honestly as possible.

According to Bucky, he does, too. Sure.

Then we're called into a meeting by Nick Fury. Of course we are.

I sit with my arms crossed, refusing to look at Bucky, who’s already slouched in the chair across from me like he’s being forced to endure a root canal. His jaw flexes. Mine probably looks the same. The silence stretches like wire, taut and ready to snap.

Fury walks in, holding two tablets. He doesn’t sit. He just stops in front of the table, stares at us for a second, and looks like he’s calculating how hard he’d have to throw them for one to hit me and the other to clock Barnes. His glare is sharp enough to slice a block of metal.

“Alright,” Fury says, voice low and loaded with irritation. “Let’s recap.”

He lifts one tablet and reads.

"Agent Y/L/N: 'Mission compromised due to Barnes' refusal to follow sniper protocol. Irresponsibility put my safety in danger. Verbally hostile. Referred to me as, and I quote, "a trigger-happy liability with the patience of a caffeinated squirrel.'""

My arms fold tighter. I stand by my words. "Accurate."

Fury doesn’t react. Just switches tablets and reads again.

"Sergeant Barnes: 'Agent Y/L/N compromised positioning with unnecessary movement, broke radio silence to argue during enemy fire, and nearly shot me during an escape maneuver. Refers to me as having, quote, "the emotional range of wet drywall.'""

Bucky shrugs. "Still stands."

I scoff. "Only because I didn’t include 'walking splinter with a martyr complex.'"

Bucky snaps, "Maybe if you'd shut up for two seconds—"

Sure, maybe it's a little immature, but we're both already in deep shit. I scowl as I mock him.

"Enough," Fury barks, slamming both tablets onto the table like they’ve personally offended him. His glare shifts between the two fo us.

The silence that follows is blistering. Bucky looks like he wants to say something else, but I throw him a glare that could slice through vibranium.

Fury pinches the bridge of his nose like this briefing is physically draining him. "You two do realize your comms were on the entire time, right? While you were sniping. Escaping. And—what did the tech guys call it—oh right: 'screaming like a divorcing couple on Judge Judy.'" He spits. His brows are furrowed in anger.

My face burns. Fucking tech guys.

Bucky mutters a sharp curse under his breath.

"And thanks to that little performance," Fury continues, "Tony enhanced the audio. Sam made a remix. Natasha uploaded it to the team drive under the file name 'The Sound of Sexual Tension.'" His eyes narrow. "Not to mention, you put yourselves and your teammates at risk."

"I’m going to kill him," I mutter. "Actually, all of them. I'm going to kill all of them."

"You’ll have to beat me to it," Bucky growls. His posture is stiff and straight. He looks ready to jump up and hunt them down the second Fury excuses us.

Fury claps his hands once. Loud. Final. "Great! You'll have plenty of time to coordinate the murder. Together."

My stomach drops. What does he mean? Together. I don't want to spend another minute with Bucky. "Wait, what?"

"You’re both being reassigned to Safehouse Bravo-Tango-Twelve,"Fury says, way too casually, "for a mandatory cooling-off period."

Bucky and I speak at the same time.

His tone is annoyed. "You've got to be kidding me." For a moment, he closes his eyes like he's wishing this was all a bad dream.

"You’re locking us in a cabin?" I demand, staring Fury straight in the eye. I'm ready to fight. No way am I staying in a cabin with Bucky, we'll kill each other in minutes. I'm not kidding.

"No. I’m locking you in a lakeside four-room, twenty-camera, panic-button-equipped safehouse with 2 weeks' worth of rations and no mission clearance until I get a report that doesn’t read like it was ghostwritten by a Real Housewives producer."

"You've got to be fucking with us!" I groan, leaning back further into my chair. This is a nightmare. "Tell me you're fucking with us."

Bucky leans back, arms crossed like he’s bracing for a fall. "I'd rather bunk with Hydra."

Fury leans down, voice low and lethal. "Don't tempt me."

He grabs the tablets, heads for the door, and pauses just long enough to twist the knife.

"Oh -and if either of you so much as touches the surveillance cameras, I’m putting you in a room with Loki for a week of trust-building exercises. You are not allowed to leave the premises. If this isn't sorted out by two weeks from now, someone will bring you more supplies until it is. You two decide how long you want to let your egos get the best of you."

The door slams.

I whip my head toward Bucky. He turns at the same time. We both have a similar glimmer of rage in our eyes.

"This is your fault," we snap in perfect sync.

This is a nightmare.

------

Taglist: @buckysdoll85

[linaslore]

h.s. | skinny dipping

a/n: i wrote this in two or three days after being stuck in a writer's block for some time and i have to admit, i'm pretty proud of it. it's a combination of different songs and bits and pieces of personal experiences as well. i hope you enjoy it!

warnings: some angst, language, slight mentions of bullying and parents' divorce. some details might be innacurate. english is not my first language. credits to the pics owners.

summary: harry and you used to be best friends when you were teenagers, but then you had a fight, which resulted in you drifting apart... until, years later, you bump into each other at a coffee shop. is it all water under the bridge now?

harry styles x f!reader.

🚫do NOT copy, translate or put my work thru an AI.

Moving was hard enough, but moving to another country? That was a whole new level. Understatement of the century, I know. 

You had moved to Madrid a couple of months ago to continue your studies in Literature and you were very happy with that decision. Why wouldn’t you be? It involved new people, learning and trying to communicate in a language that wasn’t yours, new food, new music… But this week… this week was tougher than others because it was tainted with homesickness – you missed your home in England. You missed your parents, your dogs, your best friends, you even missed your little brother, who got on your nerves most of the time, but you still loved him with all your heart, of course. Even though you had work and your studies to keep your mind busy, there was still a dark cloud above your head filled with nostalgia, loneliness, and sadness that followed you around. 

On Saturday morning, you woke up at 9 a.m., with faint sun rays peeking through your curtains, and, right there, you decided you didn’t want to be all mopey anymore. 

You grabbed your phone, opened the trains app and checked what it offered. You opted for buying tickets to a town called Chinchón – it was only one-hour away from Madrid and from the photos you saw on the Internet, it looked picturesque. Going on a one-day trip to a beautiful town, wandering through its streets full of history and interesting architecture, eating good food and getting some vitamin D was exactly what you needed to remedy your aching heart.

After having a shower, you got dressed in your usual comfortable outfit: a pair of black denim trousers, a white t-shirt and your favorite baby blue jumper. Trainers were a must on this occasion so you put on your black pair of Adidas. You went easy on the make up: a lick of mascara and a touch of pink glossy lip balm. You went for a classic braid and took out some strings of hair in the front to accentuate your face. 

Then, you proceeded to gather everything you might need for the day ahead: your purse, water bottle, some snacks for the train ride, your headphones, your sunglasses, the book you were currently reading, your journal, and some pens. 

Once you were all set, you stepped out of your house and went to the train station. You had a feeling today was going to be interesting.

And little did you know…

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The train ride to Chinchón was smooth and uneventful. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the tracks provided a soothing background melody as you flipped through the pages of your book. As the train pulled into the station, you gathered your belongings and stepped out into the crisp air, greeted by the charming sight of Chinchón's rustic streets.

You wandered through the cobbled lanes, taking in the town's quaint beauty. You visited Plaza Mayor and the Torre del Reloj. As it was only 11.15 a.m.; the streets weren’t packed with people, but there still were some early risers who were enjoying the peacefulness of those surroundings.

Continuing your exploration, you found yourself drawn to a more commercial part of the town, where the smell of freshly baked bread and coffee teased your stomach and reminded you that you hadn't had a proper breakfast.

You entered this charming café called Loki, which had a husky dog on its logo and you got closer to the counter to place your order: un flat white y un rol de canela, por favor (a flat white and a cinnamon roll, please). You had learned to say that phrase in Spanish as if your life depended on it. Then, you sat on a small table near the window, so you could do some people-watching.

Once you got your drink and food, you took the warm mug with both hands and, sipping some coffee, you enjoyed the coziness it brought you. You savoured the first bites of the cinnamon roll as you watched the world go by from that spot by the window. The streets began to stir. A cheerful vendor moving around with a cart of vibrant flowers; two women chatting animatedly; a small group of children hurried along, and their parents following them around. You smiled to yourself at the simplicity of these everyday scenes.

When you were done with your breakfast, you put on your headphones to listen to some instrumental music and grabbed your journal to write whatever came to your mind. It was an activity that usually helped you organize your thoughts and make sense out of your emotions. And you have had your fair share of those recently.

You were so caught up in your journaling that you failed to notice how crowded the coffee shop had gotten in the last minutes. You removed the headphones from your ears and let some of the people’s talks and whispers get to you.

“¿Latte con leche de avena y un croissant de almendras para Harry?”, you hear one of the baristas call rather loudly. Your body stiffened and your heart skipped a few beats. 

There ought to be more than one person in the world that asks for an oat milk latte and an almond croissant and also named Harry. It can't be him, right? That would be far too much of a coincidence...

The music on your headphones stopped when you pressed the pause button on your phone screen. You slightly turned your head to scan the café without seeming too obvious. You take in the sound of the coffee machine hissing, the clinking of the ceramic cups, the bits and pieces of strangers’ conversations, but your mind was focused on finding out if this Harry was the one you were thinking about.

Then, the air got stuck on your throat when you finally spotted him. Well, not exactly him, his back. However, you had no doubts it was him – you could recognize his tall and built frame anywhere, from any angle. 

Putting your headphones on again, you pretended to be writing in your journal while you debated with yourself internally what you should do. You did know each other, but it’s been over a decade since the last time you saw him, a bit less since you last talked. You had heard some stuff about him on the news and you did follow each other on Instagram, but that was it. You were practically strangers, acquaintances if you were being a bit generous.

Should I approach him and say hello? Maybe I should keep my eyes glued to my journal, sip my coffee and pretend I have never seen him, or should I…?

“Y/N? Is that really you?”, a smooth yet husky voice interrupted your internal monologue – and so your body’s ability to perform basic functions such as breathing. 

You looked up and your eyes met his green ones. After all these years, he was standing there in front of you in a coffee shop in a random town. He had a wide smile on his face, like he was genuinely happy to see you. You couldn’t help but mirror the warmth in his expression as you rose from your seat to hug him.

“Hi, Harry”, you whispered into his ear once you were wrapped around his arms. You tried not to think much of how soothing that felt.

“It’s so good to see you”, he rubbed your softly back before stepping away. He hesitated for a moment, then gestured toward the empty seat opposite yours. “Do you mind if I…” 

You shook your head before he could finish his question, inviting him to join you. He happily obliged, and after taking a sip of his coffee, his gaze wandered back to you. His eyes softened, scanning your face.

“You have grown up, have you?”, he questioned teasingly, raising his eyebrows once or twice.

You felt how all the blood in your body suddenly rushed to your cheeks.

“Oh, you’re one to talk…”

He let out a laugh and took a bite from his beloved croissant. It was your turn to look at him. He looked different, yet the same. His signature curly hair wasn’t as long as it used to be, but some curls were slowly growing again. His boyish features were replaced with more mature, refined ones, and he now had a neatly-clipped beard and moustache. Despite all these changes, the face saw (and loved) every day for most of your teenage years was still there. 

“Of all the places in the world, after all these years, I find you here. Isn’t that amazing?” he pointed out, giving you a half-smile but his voice carried a hint of disbelief mixed with nostalgia.

“Yeah, what is THE Harry Styles doing in Chinchón anyway?”, you lowered your voice when mentioning his name. He was wearing a cap and sunglasses inside the café. Those were proof enough he didn’t want any public attention.

“I’m here to film a new music video. We start shooting in a couple of hours, but I wanted to enjoy the town before that, so I woke up earlier and started wandering around”, he made a pause to sip his coffee. “I don’t get much holidays these days, so I have to make the most out of these situations", hs mouth tightened into a thin line. "And what about you, THE Y/N Y/L/N?”, he inquired, mocking your teasing tone.

“I don’t have many holidays either. I’m doing a graduate degree and working a minimum-wage administrative job, so I just came here for the day", you shrugged. "I needed a break from my routine… And missing home was making it worse.” He shot you a questioning look, not fully understanding what you meant by that last part. “I’m currently living in Madrid. I haven’t been to Cheshire since the winter holidays”, you clarified, and he nodded, impressed but not surprised. You always had this love for constantly learning new things.

The irony of all this situation was certainly not missed by you. The day you decide to do a trip to take your mind off your hometown, the universe sends you a breathing reminder of your old life. You could have laughed out loud.

He seemed to have read your mind because he said: “Like Alanis Morrissette said, ‘life has a funny way of sneaking up on you’”.

You nodded while smiling at the quote he casually came up with. Memories of the younger versions of Harry and you listening to Jagged Little Pill in his old bedroom back in Holmes Chapel flooded your mind. You could almost see and feel the band posters on the walls and the faint scent of old books mixed with Harry’s go-to cologne. You hadn’t realized until now how deeply that particular combination was embedded in your head still to this day.

The conversation then drifted towards small talk about your families, your careers and other things in between. It goes without saying that Harry won the contest for wildest updates from someone you hadn't seen in a while. Being one of the biggest musicians on the planet did the trick.

“I'm sorry, love, but I have to get going”, he said, checking the time on his phone. “I'm never going to hear the end of it if I show up late for shooting", you both laughed. "Anyways, it was great to see you”.

You nodded, agreeing with him out loud, but a voice inside your head protested, slightly disappointed he couldn’t stay. 

“Why don’t you give me your number?”, he continued, his tone sweet yet insistent. “So we can meet again. On purpose this time”.

“I’d love to."

That came out quicker than you even realized. You ripped a piece of paper from your journal and wrote your phone number. As you handed it to him, your fingers brushed briefly, sparking a subtle tingle. He glanced down at the paper, gave you a smile that reached his eyes, and tucked it carefully into his trousers pocket. 

Then he looked up and said, “Next time, I promise I'll be all yours.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

One random Wednesday night, you were halfway through studying for your exams when the screen of your phone lit up, indicating you had received a notification. It was a text from an unknown number. 

Unknown: I’ve been trying to figure out how to start this conversation in a witty, non-awkward manner, but it turns out I’m terrible. So I will play it safe: Hey, it’s Harry.

The so-called butterflies appeared on your stomach, and a foreign feeling of relief rushed through you. You forgot to ask for his number that day back in Chinchón, so you had no other choice but to hope he’d reach out. You started typing an answer shortly after saving his contact.

You: I agree, not one of your strongest suits, but it’s ok. Hi, H.

Harry: It’s been a long time since anyone has called me that. 

You: Well, you practically forced me to do it. According to teenage Harry, it was “waaayyy cooler and mysterious”🙄

Harry: Teenage Harry had a lot of questionable ideas. I guess “H” was not that bad, was it?

You: It had its charm, yes. But if I’m being honest, at the time I only agreed to do it just to humour me.

Harry: I’m going to pretend you’ve never said that last thing 😔

You: By all means. Denial has always been your thing.

Harry: Ouch, don’t get all sassy on me, Y/N. Or I might start calling you “pumpkin” again 👀.

You let out a laugh. He gave you that nickname after an incident with a spray tan. You actually cringed at the memory of how orange your skin looked. That scene on Friends with Ross’ tan was nothing compared to you. And of course, Harry being Harry hadn’t spared you one second.

You: And here I thought I was meeting a more mature version of yourself.

Harry: That’s wishful thinking, love. Now that I think about it, I didn’t get to call you “pumpkin” enough. It was quickly replaced by “dottie”. 

You audibly groaned, feeling the weight of Harry's teasing. You could practically sense his wide grin shining through his texts.

You: Oh, bloody hell. When are you letting that go?🙄

Harry: Never ever 😈 The image of you arriving at school wearing that polka-dot dress with the matching polka-dot leggins is forever embedded into my brain. 

You: It’s not my fault the 2000s had questionable fashion trends.

Harry: Can’t argue with that, dottie 🤷‍♂️

You rolled your eyes, but in reality, you were enjoying this conversation a bit too much. You were about to type your response when the three bubbles appeared again, so you waited for Harry to finish sending his following text.

Harry: For the record, I missed you. Being able to talk and tease each other like this. Feels like no time has passed.

You: Aw, look at you, all older and more sentimental 🥹

Harry: Oh, come on. Can’t a guy show his emotions without being roasted? 😠

You: Ugh, fine. For the record, I missed you too. But don’t let it go to your head.

Harry: Too late, pumpkin 😏

Ever since that night, Harry and you talked nearly every day — you texted, you talked on the phone and on some occasions, you even facedtimed. He was spending most of his days in the US, working on his new music. Meanwhile, you were buried in your books, studying for the upcoming finals, while balancing it with your assistant job. Despite the distance between the two of you, your conversations flowed effortlessly.

Reconnecting with Harry was hands down one of the best things that happened that year; however, you couldn’t deny it also reopened some old wounds from one of the most painful chapters of your life: the moment you fell out of touch. It may sound dramatic, exaggerated, but it hurt you so much more than any other break-up you have had, even to this day. 

You had been attached at the hip since you were little kids, living nearby in a small town, and all. Although you had other friends, he was your person, and you were his. He was your partner in crime in childhood adventures, and as you got older, your friendship developed into an unspoken understanding that no one else could match. He became your safe haven during the rocky waters of adolescence, always taking care of you, like that time he defended you from some bullies who had decided to pick a bone with you. 

And as you can imagine, the feeling of taking care of the other went both ways. You stood by his side when he was dealing with his parents divorce and even though you were just a little girl, you understood your best friend needed you and that he didn’t deserve to feel sad, so you invited him to your house every day to play with him or watch your favorite cartoons. 

You also had always encouraged Harry to follow his dreams, especially when it came to music. You didn’t like to brag, but you’d recognized his talent long before anyone else did, whether it was from hearing him sing along to the radio or humming melodies he’d made up in the moment. 

You had always admired him. You could never deny that the lines of your friendship were a bit blurred sometimes. Spending all this time together, sharing experiences, secrets, and interests, as well as seeing how beautiful he was (inside out) made you develop a crush on him. The fact that he was also your first kiss sealed the deal. It happened at a school party where your classmates suggested you play spin-the-bottle.

However, that was not it. You both were always very keen on physical displays of affection, so hugging, cuddling and holding hands in the most random situations were not foreign to you. So, how could anyone blame you for falling for him?

And deep down, you had a feeling he had felt the same, but neither of you had acted on it because your friendship had always come first. 

But then, The X-Factor came into the picture, and everything went south. You obviously supported him through every step of the way, in each and every audition, and you were the first one to find out the life-altering news: he was officially in One Direction.

Your mind later takes you to the memory of a quiet afternoon while you were lying on his bedroom floor, side by side, just hanging out, when he commented he was leaving for a tour through the UK and Ireland and that it also had prospects of expanding to the US and other parts of the world. You were on cloud nine for him; it was what he had always wanted.

Then he dropped the real bomb though — you still remember his exact words:

“Why don’t you come with me, Y/N?”, he asked shyly, in a whisper. “I don’t think I can stand being away from you for that long.” His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, a clear sign of his nervousness.

For a moment, you felt as if your heart would actually explode. You were thrilled to hear he would miss you so much that he wished you could accompany him. But then, reality sank in and you realized you actually couldn’t drop out of high school; your parents wouldn’t allow that. And besides, you had some dreams of your own that required you to stay there in England. You wanted to study for a university degree. You wanted to buy a house in Holmes Chapel. 

“Harry… I can’t go with you. My life is here, in Holmes Chapel. I can’t drop out of school for you. My parents won’t let me…”, you turned around to face him. “And besides, I want to stay here… I have some dreams of my own, you know.”

“I thought you would be by my side, no matter what”, he frowned, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, as if it would offer him any kind of consolation.

“That’s not fair, Harry. Being a musician has always been your dream, not mine. I want to stay here and go to college to study Literature.” You could feel anger boiling up inside of you. How could he just give you that low punch, after everything you’ve been through? “Just because I have different ambitions than you doesn’t mean I support you less or that I’m not happy for you.”

The way he just stayed there, without moving an inch to see eye to eye, either literally or figuratively, made you angrier. You got up from the floor, with your whole body trembling. You realized you didn’t want to talk or see him for now, so without saying anything else, you stormed out of his room and he did nothing to stop you. His sudden indifference hurt you far more than any other accusations could.

The days that followed your argument were filled with a heavy atmosphere. You talked to each other at school, but nothing more than what was necessary and you didn’t hang out much; only when other friends were present. You hated how forced everything felt. And it hurt like a shot to the heart. And worst of all was that the solution was pretty simple: talk to him to make him understand it wasn’t him, it was you, as cliché as it sounded, and that you wished him the best, and that’s it. But even from an early age, you both have had strong egos, so you wouldn’t talk to him unless he approached you, mainly because you felt he was the one who should start the conversation with an apology for the way he acted.

And then, just like that, the day he was was leaving finally arrived. Your mom casually met Anne in the supermarket that morning. She went there to buy some last-minute stuff that Harry needed, and she mentioned he was leaving that afternoon.

So, when your mum told you the news, you decided to swallow your pride and go to his house. You found him loading his bags in the car. You called his name, and he turned with a strange expression on his face, as if he was being caught doing something he shouldn't.

He was going to leave without saying goodbye? Without stopping by your house to see you one last time? The hurt on your face was not missed by Harry when the realization came down on you.

Despite all that, you forced a smile.

“I guess this is it…” You wanted to say so much. You wanted to tell him you were sorry for the fight, that you’d always support him, that you hoped this was the beginning of something amazing for him. But all you managed was, “Well, good luck, H.” 

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You could see something flicker through his eyes, and he got closer to you, opening his arms, inviting you into a hug. You swallowed your tears and obliged. “I’m going to miss you”, he finally admitted in a whisper.

“Me too.” You took advantage of the moment to slide a small piece of paper into the pocket of his jacket. 

“Harry, are you ready?”, Anne appeared at the front door, with her own bag and the car keys in her hands. 

“Yeah, all set.”, he pulled away from your arms and gave you a half smile.

Anne greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and got into the driver’s seat. Harry looked at you one last time and got into the passenger seat, not before letting out a sigh.

You can imagine how the rest played out. Watching Harry leave was hard enough… accepting he was gone, though? That was a whole different story. The physical absence wasn't the main problem; the worst part was the void he left in your daily life. Those moments where you’d spend time together, laugh together, share unspoken glances, or even argue about the silliest things had become glaring gaps in your world. It felt like living in a house where someone had removed a wall, and suddenly, all the rooms were exposed and fragile. And despite all your efforts, trying to replicate that connection with other people didn't feel right – it felt impossible.

But the pain wasn't just about missing him. It was the blandness of your goodbye.

You regretted leaving things as tense as you did; that silly teenage argument was the cause of the dilution of your beautiful friendship. After that day, you talked a few times here and there, but nothing had ever felt the same. The timezone differences and the different life rhythms you had were also other factors. So, the texts and the calls became fewer and farther between and felt more awkward each time, until eventually, they faded entirely. 

Your phone vibrating with a call brought you back from the trip down memory lane. You couldn’t help but smile at the contact name appearing on the screen.

“Hi, H.”, you answered with a warmth in your voice that you even surprised yourself. 

“Hey, pumpkin. How are you doing?”

“Can’t complain, honestly. You?”

“I can complain…”, he paused dramatically and then shot back. “And actually, I will.”

“Do tell. What’s troubling your poor soul?”

Despite the fact that you couldn't see him, he rolled his eyes at your teasing, but then a smile quickly formed on his face.

“I have to go back home next weekend for my cousin’s wedding.”

Your laugh came out without any warning, and you unconsciously covered your mouth with one of your hands. To Harry, it was one of the most beautiful sounds he had heard in a while.

“Oh, who has suffered more? Jesus or Harry Styles?”

“Spare me, pumpkin. That’s not the real issue though. The thing is…”, he cleared his throat, his tone became more casual… maybe too casual, as if he was about to recite something he had been rehearsing. “You have always been better at picking formal outfits than me, so I was thinking… why don’t you come with me and help me not to embarrass myself in front of my whole family?”

“H, are you serious? You have an entire team of highly qualified people whose bread and butter is to keep you from looking like a mess.”

“That is true… but what's also true is…”, he sighed defeatedly. “I want you to go with me. You know I love my family but they can be a lot sometimes. And my mum and Gemma also want to see you. And I remember you mentioned missing your family too, so... We can even go to the Yellow Broom for burgers and fries for old times’ sake, but please, come with me."

The weight of his words came down on you all of a sudden. Harry was practically begging you to go with him; the prospects of seeing Anne and Gemma, whom you loved; and your parents as well; the thought of burgers and fries from your favourite place ever. You bit your lip, your heart rate picking up, buzzing with this new information. But then, the insecurities striked back.

“I don’t know, Harry”, you said softly, tracing the edges of your phone with your fingers. You wanted to accept his offer, but all these harbored feelings and unresolved matters were a ticking bomb. “We’re not who we used to be.” If it weren’t for your serious tone, he would have laughed at your choice of words. “What if things don’t feel the same anymore?”, you questioned him, defeat hit your voice as well. You truly enjoyed reconnecting with him, but you couldn’t avoid not bringing up the past, not anymore. It was your elephant in the room.

“I know were not the same, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing, right?” 

There was a silence on your end of the line, so Harry took the chance to continue expressing his point of view.

“Look. I had been mentally kicking myself in the groin every single day at how I handled things that afternoon. If I could go back in time, I’d do it completely differently, believe me, but I can’t. I was just a kid going through a lot of stress, and I messed up, and I hated how we drifted away from each other. And I tried to reach out again, but I didn’t know how, and everything came out forced and weird, and I was also afraid you’d hate me, so I ended up doing nothing.” He paused to gather some air and then continued with his confession. “But the other day, when I saw you in Chinchón, something inside my brain clicked. Call it whatever you want, God, the universe, fate, a mere coincidence, but it reopened some doors I was forced to close. All our memories came rushing back, and while I was shooting my music video, all I could think about was you and how much I’d missed you.”

You swallowed hard, his words hitting you square in the chest. Part of you wanted to let go of all the doubts and fall back into the familiarity and warmth of Harry’s presence. But the other was trembling with fear at the possibility of feeling abandoned again.

“I know it’s maybe too much to ask, but if you do decide to accompany me, we’d have the chance to figure out who we are and what we can be now.”

You stood there, holding onto your phone, letting Harry’s words sink in. You closed your eyes in an attempt to suppress the tears that were threatening to spill. However, these weren’t sad tears; these tears were filled with relief, with joy. The road not taken looked really good now. 

“H… Ok. I’ll go with you.”

☀︎ the end!!!!! at first I thought of writing it as a one shot, but I got so excited to share this with you, that I decided to split it into two parts. i hope you enjoyed it. i had so much fun writing it. and of course, as always, i'd love to read your thoughts 💗

[victorianpuckbunny]

The same way

POV: how the players would react if you had the same lonely way home at night and you kept looking back at them anxiously

(fem reader)

Macklin Celebrini: He would also turn around all the time, because you do and as soon as you started running, he would also get panic that someone was chasing after you both and would start running too.

Luke Hughes: He would try to show you that you don’t have to be afraid of him and tell you things like "I'm not following you, I live in the same building and to be honest I'm too scared to fight so if you want we can walk home together so we both are safe."

Quinn Hughes: He would cross the street so that he is no longer walking directly behind you and walk deliberately slowly.

Jack Hughes: He would just stop and wait until you were far enough away before slowly moving on.

Trevor Zegras: He would hum Taylor Swift songs, engage you in conversation and tell you that he only weighs 75 pounds. By the time you arrived at the apartment complex, he would have told you his entire life story, started two half-arguments about the best Swift song and recited all the names of his current teammates and former teammates. But you would have felt safe with him the rest of the way home.

Auston Matthews: He would turn down another street and take a detour so you wouldn't feel followed.

Cole Caulfield: He would stare at his smartphone the whole time but continue to linger behind you as normal because he wants to hurry home himself.

Mitch Marner: He'd shout to you that he's just having the same route home also telling you his full name and his address. Eventually, you'd walk the rest of the way together, and he'd make you laugh the whole way by joking about your shared landlords.

Will Smith: He would call Macklin Celebrini via facetime and the only thing you would hear would be giggled bits of conversation about pajama parties, warm milk, cookies and donkeys.

Nico Hischier: He would start talking on the phone and speaking loudly in swiss in the hope that this would make you less afraid, but this would only make you run faster because you wouldn't understand the foreign language.

Curtis Lazar: He would cross to the other side of the street, then run faster and cross back in front of you, only to then pretend that you were following him.

[dimlylittorch]

A study on comfortable vs uncomfortable love:

the 141 x reader

My Masterlist🌱

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

Love is easy. Familiar. It ebbs and flows like the water in a stream, coursing through your veins and keeping you steady. Playful words, mindless touches. Waking up to a mass in your bed, trying to steal the blankets back while he snores, not caring if he rouses. Attempts to cook together, learning that sometimes take out really is just better. Television always playing in the background, constantly flicking the big light on because he lost something again. Yelps from the cold when he’s in the shower, and you just started a load of clothes in the washer. Building furniture together on the floor, reading out the instructions for him. Teasing nicknames followed by loving kisses. Getting your laundry mixed up, trying to put his clothes on in the early morning when you’re half asleep. Window shopping together and laughing so much in the quiet store that you get looks. Accidentally shrinking one of your sweaters in the dryer. Playing rock paper scissors over who has to pay. Falling into the pond while playing mini golf, scrambling to grab him. Gentle hands on thighs while in the car, arguing over the air temperature. Hiding his keys so he won’t leave. Trying to get stains out of his shoes while he feeds the pets. Struggling to put the sheets on the bed, eventually starting a pillow fight. Patting him to keep him awake while driving on a roadtrip. Spraying his cologne on your pillow. Helping him trim his hair while he tries to sit still. Curling up together after long days. Getting up to pee in the middle of the night and he goes with you, sitting on the counter so the two of you can talk. Familiar love. Comfortable love.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

Love is tense. Hesitant. It strikes through the air like lightning, electrifying your lungs and making it difficult to breathe. Awkward silences. Faint whispers of consent. Walking through the park, trying to think of what to say. A plushie as a gift, a small bond now tying the two of you. Bringing your favorite drink to your work, waiting quietly in the lobby. Tensing at each other’s touches. Fluttering hearts. Racing thoughts. Bedroom tours, showing off what you love most. Shy smiles, almost always followed by a little huff of air. Sharing headphones, exploring each other’s music tastes. Avoiding phone calls, opting to text instead. Not yet bold enough to toss compliments back and forth. Asking him to help you hang a picture in your home, annoyed that command strips ripped your paint off again. Looking at each other’s social medias at night, wondering what the other is doing. Waiting on the couch for him to come back during a movie night. Quiet talks after your dinner date. Gazes softening when they land on one another. Learning each other’s favorite colors. Contacts without profile pictures. Attempting to be brave, slipping your hand into his own in public. Staring into each other’s eyes before a kiss, small nods of confirmation. Watching a bad movie in silence, both too anxious to ask to change it. Grabbing onto his jacket in crowds, not wanting to lose him. Tenderly kissing his back as you explore his scars. Playing with your hair while you rest your head on his shoulder. Trials of cuddling, nervous laughs followed by contented sighs. Hesitant love. Uncomfortable love.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

Love is passionate. Excitable. It starts as a flame in your mind, quickly turning into a blaze in your heart. Flirtatious grins, relentless contact. Chasing one another down the hallway, squeals and laughs being heard by the neighbors. Losing time, forgetting dinner reservations. Long drives and scream singing. Washing your cars together, soapy sponges being thrown. Drunkenly stumbling home together, holding onto each other the whole way. Deep kisses, tight hugs. Starting to cook breakfast for you, only to turn and see you drinking a protein shake. Racing to see who can clean a room faster. Going to the pet store just to play with the puppies. Running through the rain together, laughing when you both slip. Being sick together, curled up under heaps of blankets, trying to get your chills to go away. Messing up your hair playfully, only to be fixing it seconds later until you’re satisfied. Asking what he wants for dinner, being met with a non answer. Shopping sprees together, walking out a showing off the clothes for him- just as he does for you. Avoiding grocery shopping until the very last minute. Childishly whining about your day, only for him to whine back about his own. Mismatched socks put away in drawers. Roses left on pillows. Windows open, yells filling the air when a bug gets in. Late night trips to the gas station for snacks. Arguing over which actor is hotter. Stalking peoples social media’s together, a mutual curiosity. Decorating his work laptop with stickers. Sudden gasps and fast apologies when he plays a little too rough. Excitable love. Comfortable love.

John Price:

Love is slow. Reserved. It creeps up your spine, burrowing into your soul and carving itself a home. Faint reassurances, low breaths against your neck. New and exploratory. Buying him a drink at the bar. Going car shopping with him, just to make sure you don’t get screwed over. Slow dancing to Frank Sinatra. Asking for his opinion on your outfit. Chuckles at dad jokes. Arguing over who’s going to pay for dinner, ensuring you’re well taken care of. Flustered feelings, a burn in your stomach. Discussing the meaning of life after too many drinks. Telling you about his job because you asked, unlike most. Stealing his favorite shirt to patch up where it was beginning to fall apart. Taking him to the ballet, him taking you to boxing matches. Antique shopping while he comments on how things these days aren’t made like they used to be. Writing him a poem and leaving it in his mailbox for him to find later, hoping he will smile. Shying away from his gaze, questions of if it’s too much. Learning the names of your stuffed animals simply because he cares. Anxious to take you out in public, age old fears riddling his mind. Sitting in his kitchen, stealing glances at one another. Wondering if you could help while he worked tirelessly at his desk. Admiring how he looked with reading glasses, quiet thoughts of how you were an angel. Wondering what your future together will bring. Running quivering fingers through his chest hair, kissing your forehead to calm you. Relaxed trips to the grocery store, a gentle hand on your hip. Adoration pouring from his lips, quiet sobs slipping past yours. Burrowing against each other on the couch, your face tucked against his neck. Reserved love. Uncomfortable love.

What I adore about this is that no matter the narrative, comfortable or not, it is still love. Whether it be shy whispers or professions of adoration- there is still that same underlying feeling. Love comes in many forms <3

i hope you guys liked this. i had such a lovely time writing it :3

if you’d like a nsfw version or a version for other characters, feel free to let me know!

[batboysanonymous]

A Thousand Kisses Later

Cassian x Reader

Summary: He held her face like it was the most precious thing in the world, like he couldn't kiss her fast enough, like he had loved her for centuries and still hadn’t gotten enough.

The war had ended three weeks ago. Three long weeks since Cassian had come back from the front lines bloodied but breathing. Since Y/n had sat beside his healing body in the House of Wind, her hand glued to his, whispering promises she wasn’t sure he could hear.

Now, he wouldn’t stop touching her.

Not that she minded. Not when the pads of his calloused fingers brushed her cheek like a prayer. Not when his palms cradled her face like he’d crumble if he let go. Not when his lips pressed tiny kisses over every inch of her face—cheeks, chin, nose, brow—like it was instinct.

She was seated cross-legged on their shared bed, hair still damp from a bath he’d drawn for her, the scent of lavender clinging to her skin. Cassian had taken one look at her—soft, flushed, relaxed—and crossed the room like a man starved.

Now she was giggling, helpless under the affection of a war-hardened general who kissed like he didn’t know how to stop.

“Cass,” she laughed, eyes squeezed shut as he pressed yet another peck to her nose, then her cheek, then her jaw. “That’s the fiftieth one.”

“Fifty-first,” he murmured, lips barely brushing hers. “And that’s for calling me Cass.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—Lord Commander General Cassian of the Night Court—”

His groan cut her off as he buried his face in her neck, letting out a dramatic sigh that made her laugh harder.

“You’re going to pay for that,” he murmured into her skin, voice rasped from laughter and love. “In excessive affection.”

“I’m already drowning in it.”

He lifted his head and cupped her cheeks again, his grin boyish and wicked. “Good.”

Another kiss. This one to her temple.

And another. Her eyelid.

And another. The tip of her nose.

She melted in his hands, the kind of love-sick, soul-deep softness that only a mate bond could bring. His thumbs swept gently across her skin, and she looked up at him with stars in her eyes.

“I missed this,” she whispered. “Missed you.”

His expression crumpled with emotion so fast she barely caught it. But she did. Because she knew him. And he hadn’t let himself feel everything that needed to be felt—not yet.

Cassian settled beside her, tugging her into his lap, her legs over his. His wings curled instinctively around her, a shield of warm, powerful muscle and love. He rested his forehead to hers.

“I was so scared,” he said hoarsely, voice barely audible. “That I wouldn’t get to do this again. That I’d never touch you again.”

Her heart cracked open. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, nose tucked under his jaw.

“I know. I felt it too.”

Cassian pulled back just enough to cup her face again. She loved when he did that—how reverently he held her, like his entire world existed between his hands.

“I made a promise,” he said. “Out there. That if I made it home, I’d spend the rest of my life making sure you knew how much I love you. Every damn day. Every moment I get.”

Tears pricked her eyes, and she nodded. “You already do. Every time you look at me like that. Every time you touch me like I’m...everything.”

“You are everything,” he said fiercely.

He kissed her again—quick, soft, sweet—and another giggle bubbled from her throat. He grinned, lips brushing the corner of her mouth.

“You laugh like you were made for me,” he murmured.

She scrunched her nose. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It does to me.” He kissed her again. “Your laugh is my favorite sound. Second only to your moans.”

“Cassian!”

He smirked, clearly proud of himself, before pressing a kiss just under her ear. “What? I like all your sounds.”

“I swear,” she muttered, cheeks warm, “you are the clingiest, softest Illyrian warrior in history.”

“I almost died. I earned the right to be clingy.” His hand slid around her back, pressing her tighter against him. “Now hush. I’m not done kissing you.”

He tilted her chin up again, and she let him. Let herself fall into him, into the warm hum of their bond that wrapped around her heart like velvet. Kiss after kiss after kiss, until she was breathless and smiling and so, so in love.

She brushed her fingers through his thick hair, letting her other hand rest over his beating heart. Cassian kissed her palm, then nuzzled into it, eyes half-lidded.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

“You deserve everything,” she whispered back.

His arms tightened around her, his lips brushing her brow.

“And yet, somehow, I got you.”

They sat there for a while in the hush of evening, the world slowed to a heartbeat between them. He didn’t stop touching her. She didn’t want him to. Every brush of his thumb, every lingering kiss, every whispered promise—it was a prayer they both needed.

“You really want to spend the rest of your life kissing me like that?” she teased softly.

Cassian gave her a slow, roguish grin. “Absolutely.”

“What if I get wrinkly?”

“I’ll kiss every wrinkle.”

“What if I snore?”

“I’ll wear earplugs.”

“What if I—”

He kissed her. Full and firm and breathtaking.

“I’ll love you anyway,” he finished for her.

She blinked up at him, tears rising again. And then she laughed—light and unguarded—her cheeks squished in his palms, lips pecked again and again by the male who had given her everything.

“I love you, Cass.”

His eyes glowed. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

Again.

“I love you.”

He kissed her once more, a thousand soft promises in one lingering touch.

And she knew—without question, without fear—that she would never stop hearing those words from him. Never stop being held like that. Never stop being his.

And he—gods help him—would never stop kissing her.

Taglist:@willowpains, @fanficscuziranout, @pham-tastical,  @lilah-asteria, @lreadsstuff, @shylahstarzz, @flintthegoodboyo, @saltedcoffeescotch, @okaytrashpanda, @mariaxliliana, @marina468, @tele86, @raccoonworld

Want to join my tag list? Drop a comment or check out this link to submit a specific series you would like tagged in! (Or if you just don't want to comment, that's okay too)

[drfleetflower]

Mislaid Conviction (Part Three)

Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x Reader

Summary: What was once strange becomes heartbreaking. You learn what about your time in District 13 was setting you on edge and what's worse... You learn about Haymitch's involvement in it. Your feelings for Haymitch versus what he has done creates conflict. Especially while you're still trying to grapple with the trauma from your imprisonment in the Capitol.

Warnings: ANGST, fluff, descriptions of torture, claustrophobia, coercion/bribery, drug use (morphling), mentions of alcoholism/substance abuse, bedrest and restraint

WC: 4.3k

Part One Part Two

You sat on the floor of some closet you found while running away from your problems. It was surprisingly empty, so you had no problem sitting in the middle away from the walls. Even so, it felt suffocating. You had to close the door, but the darkness didn’t bother you. In fact, it made the walls harder to see, tricking your mind into thinking maybe you were in a wide room instead of a restricting cage. Deep down though, you knew that you couldn’t even stretch out your arms. And unfortunately, the absence of light was too soon to disturb you, despite being comfortable at first. It made you realize the reality of being underground and that felt constricting too. 

At some point, you had begun gasping for air. Your hands found your throat and you clawed at your own skin. You were certain the walls had begun to squeeze you, the oxygen pulled from the room. It must be a vacuum, a machine targeting your lungs and ripping the air from them. Another, forcing the walls in on your body, squeezing you. Did Coin make this trap? Somehow knowing you’d pick this place to run?

Your hands broke free of your neck, giving up on scraping their way to your trachea. They grasped in front of them, desperate for the control to open the door. It slid open once your hand slammed against the control. You fell forward and caught yourself with your hands. You wheezed and coughed, eagerly swallowing gulps of air. 

You didn’t notice the pairs of feet until you had begun to breathe evenly, though still slightly shallow. You looked up to see two soldiers, noticeable by the communicuff they wore on their wrists. Neither of them were familiar to you. And, before you could bolt, they had grabbed you and were dragging you by your arms. You didn’t fight, too exhausted from the previous lack of oxygen. You had been running all day anyway. You couldn’t do it anymore.

You looked at the open closet before it was out of sight. The walls were just how they had been when you entered, and the walls, ceiling, and floor were all barren. No possibility of a vent sucking out the air. 

You were crazy. You realized this as the closet became a speck in the long line of doors. You hoped they were going to lock you up somewhere. You were hurting the cause, the rebellion. Wasting valuable time and energy on keeping you out of trouble. 

The men plop you down onto a hospital bed, restraining your waist, arms, and legs. Then came the syringe. Despite the fact that you weren’t resisted, it pierced your skin and you felt your arm become cold. Lights out.

---

When you came to, you squinted at the bright hospital lights. Deja vu. You were still strapped down and you had an IV stuck in your arm, but you could at least lift your head to find the room empty. When you turned your head, your neck stung and you realized you had done some actual damage to yourself earlier. Was it earlier? Was it yesterday? It was impossible to tell time. Your wounds itched like hell and you had conflicted feelings about your hands being inaccessible at the moment. 

It could have been minutes or hours until someone walked into the room, you didn’t want to lift your head again for fear that your wounds might just break open. Although, you didn’t actually know how bad the scrapes were.

“I didn’t think we’d end up back here, sweetheart.” Haymitch looked down at you, he didn’t sit like before. You wouldn’t turn your head to look at him if he did.

Not very sure of yourself, you glared up at him. Genuinely, no words came into your mind. What was the proper response? Even if you had one, you worried that if you tried to speak, tears would wet your face that you couldn’t wipe away. 

Haymitch looked from your eyes to your neck. There was a look of fear that crossed over his face, not concern. His gaze was distinctly fearful. Of what, you weren’t sure but a nagging voice in the back of your head told you he was scared that you’d hurt yourself. That you were beyond saving. 

His thumb and forefinger found your chin and he tilted your head from side to side, examining the harm. It stung but all you could focus on was his touch, it seemed to numb any other feeling. 

“Why did you do this?” He asked.

“Do what?” Your voice was hoarse, your throat sore, and you determined it must have been at least a day that you were put asleep.

His hand lingered on your chin before he retracted quickly, as if you hurt to touch. “Damnit! You don’t understand do you? You just don’t have a clue what’s going on here.” His voice was harsh and patronizing. “Coin played it nice at first. All you had to do was-” He stops himself, a huff leaving his lungs. 

“What?” You were genuinely confused now, but he didn’t answer. He looked off in the distance like he was listening to something else. “WHAT?!” You screamed. 

That caught his attention. But, before he could calm you down, nurses came into the room and inserted something into your IV. 

“You don’t need to do that.” Haymitch objected. 

You began to thrash, it didn’t make much of an impression though because of the restraints. “Haymitch!” You yelped.

In response, he became a bit frantic too, pleading with the nurses that he could calm you. They didn’t listen to him. Lights out.

---

When you awoke again, the familiar face was not the one you wanted to see. You groaned as the drug worked its way out of your system. 

“Do you even want to help the rebellion?” Thom lifted a brow. His speech warbled in your brain. 

“Yes-” You choked.

“Then why don’t you tell me what happened while you were in the Capitol?” It was a demand, not a request.

“Why…” You couldn’t wrap your head around this. This was extreme. 

When Haymitch had made the first inquiry into your stay at the Capitol, it was done out of care (or so you thought). The therapy sessions made sense, they couldn’t have another crazy Victor be the face of the rebellion or a face at all really. With how you had ended up, it was a good idea. Then, there was Thom’s first inquiry. That was strange, especially coupled with the continued interrogation from Haymitch. The attempted coercion? It didn’t make any sense. And now this.

“It’s not easy to talk about.” You finally answered. 

“How would you know? You haven’t said a word.” He said, an unhidden frustration in his voice.

“What does it matter? What does that have to do with the rebellion?” Your brows were deeply furrowed. 

Thom sighed and leaned against the wall. “We had liked to know if you were compromised at first, but quickly ruled that out after you talked to Haymitch. You see, Peeta was less than pleasant with his love.”

His words implied that Haymitch was your love and it sent a heat through your body. You felt the need to clarify, “Haymitch is not-”

He interrupted you. “After that, the goal was to learn the Capitol’s tactics. Maybe what you went through could give us ideas, or information to help Peeta.”

“So why not tell me that from the beginning?” You raised your voice and then your eyes darted to the door but no one came to knock you out.

“You would have been open if we had?” 

You were silent for too long, and if it wasn’t an immediate yes, it was clearly no.

“Right.” He said. “So talk now.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat. “Did Haymitch know?” You asked, despite knowing the answer.

He laughed in your face.

“Answer me!” You shouted, bracing yourself for the surge of nurses and the subsequent sleeping drug.

Still, they didn’t come.

“Do you want something to actually scream about? I can put you back in that closet. There’s a story there, huh? They put you in closets?” He was treating you like a petulant child and his threat rang in your ears.

“Give me Haymitch.” You demanded in a shaky voice. “Give me Haymitch and get me out of this bed and I’ll talk.”

“You’re in no position to be making demands.” He said.

You kept your mouth shut then, looking away from him as if he was nonexistent. You were in no rush.

“You-” He stopped, like Haymitch had, and grunted. “Fine.” Like his frustration from before, his annoyance went unhidden.

Thom unbound you from the bed and poked at your back, leading you to Haymitch’s room. With your hands free, you itched at your neck. Everything bothered you; your neck, Thom’s incessant poking, the sterile smell, the blinding lights. This place had not been what Haymitch presented when you arrived. Maybe that was due in part to your erratic behavior, but you had a feeling that District 13 was more brutal than you thought. This whole secret plan, the threats, the coercion. 

Haymitch seemed caught off guard by your presence. Maybe he didn’t know the extent of the plan Coin had concocted? 

You itched at your neck anxiously. Thom was still there. 

“Can I get privacy?” You scoffed.

“No.” Thom answered.

“Thom.” Haymitch said.

Thom rolled his eyes and left.

Then, silence engulfs the room for a long moment before you get the nerve to speak to him. 

“So, you knew about this whole plot against me?” You said.

“There is no plot against you, sweetheart. They just wanted all the information.” Haymitch sat down on his cot sluggishly, you could tell he was tired.

“Oh, okay. They just wanted to secretly lure me into spilling all my trauma to you, so they could use it to their advantage. Yeah, that makes it all better.” Your voice was thickly laced with sarcasm.

A weak argument, but Haymitch rested his elbows on his knees and said, “There weren’t many options.”

“And you love to lie, so why pick anything else?” It wasn’t hard to be mad at Haymitch, it never had been. But this was different from when you had first met. This wasn’t a petty fight started only because you liked getting on his nerves. Even when you were angry at him for leaving you in the arena it was different. Because, at least you understood his reasoning. You understood that it wasn’t a betrayal; it was a consequence of the plan. This time your anger could eat you alive. Your boiling blood could burn a hole through your heart. 

No, this was the easiest it had been to be furious with him. This was indeed betrayal. You just had to know to what extent.

“You didn’t answer my question.” You said after he didn’t reply to your insult.

“Which one?” 

“The plot against me. How much did you know?”

Haymitch was hesitant to answer. “About as much as you’d expect.”

“Haymitch!” The volume of your voice alarmed him.

“If you want Thom back in the room, you can just ask. I could get him. No need to get loud, sweetheart.” It was a subtle threat.

You called his bluff. “You could, but you won’t.” 

One of his shoulders raised. “Yell again and see.” He challenged.

All his response did though, was make you realize that you didn’t trust that he wouldn’t. You didn’t trust him. You were losing the only person you felt safe with. The only person you- You shook away the thought and tried to hold onto the last sliver of hope there was.

“How much did you know?” You asked again.

There was no point in him answering, nothing had changed since the first time you asked him, but he didn’t anyway. “I knew I had to get you to talk.” 

“When did you know that?” 

“The moment you got here.” He admitted. 

And out the window was the hope you held onto. You didn’t understand his motives. What would push him to let Coin use you in this way? Was he that invested in the rebellion and whatever possible use they could have for the ‘information’ you had? Or… Maybe District 13 was as brutal as you had wondered. 

You looked him over. He looked fine. Well, he looked better than when you had first been reintroduced. The lack of his favorite beverage wasn’t doing him many favors, but maybe he had managed okay without it. Unless, he wasn’t managing without it at all. Unless, that was the deal.

“What was in it for you? Or do you enjoy violating my trust?” 

“I think it’s your turn to start answering questions, darling.” He avoided the question.

“Don’t call me that.” You scoffed but scooted closer to him.

He laughed. “You’re giving me mixed singles.”

You don’t give him anything in return, using the closeness to scrutinize his eyes and attempt to smell his breath. His eyes didn’t seem all there as they traveled around your face, but as far as you could tell, he didn’t smell of alcohol. His breath fanned your cheek before he swallowed, only today’s lunch was present. He cleared his throat and roughly faced forward. 

“Are you claustrophobic?” He asked, clearing his throat again.

“What?” Your eyes remained trained on him and you weren’t moving an inch. But, he didn’t attempt to either.

He also didn’t take the bait to look at you, he kept his head facing the wall in front of him. “Your outburst in the closet. Don’t like tight spaces? That’s claustrophobia.” He explained.

“Then yes. I’m claustrophobic. But you would have been too. The walls were squeezing me to death.” You said. You knew it was ridiculous, that you must have imagined that aspect of your time in a random storage closet here. But, it was easier to open up this way.

“The walls were squeezing you?” He pokes.

“Yes.” 

“Not sure why they’d be doing that, sweetheart. Anything else happen?” He prods.

“Yes.”

“What?” Poke.

“The air was sucked out of the room.”

“Really? That why you scratched up your neck?” Prod.

“I couldn’t breathe.”

Poke. Prod. Poke. Prod. Poke. Prod. That was the rest of your conversation. A constant intrusion into your stay at the Capitol. Reliving the torture you had been put through for the sake of the rebellion. 

It seemed each one of the Victors had gotten their own brand of torture. Peeta had been hijacked, used as a weapon against Katniss. Johanna was waterboarded and electrocuted, and at the same time. You didn’t know the details on Annie and Enobaria, but they had nothing to do with the rebellion. You on the other hand, very much did. 

You explained to Haymitch, in gruesome detail, the extent of your suffering. Every night, you were put to sleep in a coffin, locked on the outside. On regular occasion, you were forced into a room where the walls crushed you. Not enough to cause too much damage, but enough to let the air leave your lungs. In the moments when the walls would let go, they only gave you minimal time to breathe, before they would turn on the vacuum attached to your head and over your nose and mouth. These instances were happening in between the usual torture, of course. The beatings.

Your words were visibly taking a toll on Haymitch. He looked sick, his skin drained of color and clammy. When he blinked, his eyes stayed closed for a long time. It seemed like he was trying to drown you out with whatever was going on in his head. He made indication he was even listening and you assumed there was a listening device on him or somewhere in the room. 

When you finished speaking, he hoarsely said, “Morphling.” 

This only served to confuse you. “What?”

“They’ve been giving me morphling.”

Oh. That was the deal. Something to numb the pain in exchange for getting you to share yours. They didn’t produce liquor here for obvious reasons, but morphling was fair game. They seemed to have an endless supply of it, so it was more sustainable than the rubbing alcohol. And, probably better for you. 

“So you traded me for drugs.” You said, though your words weren’t as bitter as you would have liked them to be. 

Haymitch’s hands were twitching and against your better judgement, you felt bad for him. Not only that, but getting all of that off your chest… It helped, if only a fraction. You would never admit that, of course. Haymitch wasn’t allowed to be right about anything. Not right now, at least.

“Does it help?” You asked.

“Not right now.” He wiped his damp forehead and looked at you for what felt like the first time in hours. Maybe it had taken you that long to account for all of the things the Capitol had put you through. His eyes were red and puffy, but you hadn’t noticed him crying. Was it the morphling? “I’m sorry.” He said.

The sincerity of his words struck you like a knife to the heart. That, and the fact that now you could clearly see tears staining his face. You had never seen him cry, you wondered if anyone had. The sight made your body seize and the words: stop it, to force their way from your throat like vomit.

There wasn’t much humor in it, but he did laugh and wipe his face. “Can’t.” He said, tears still breaking through his eyelids. He was a very quiet crier. 

That was a tame response, as you realized it was an awful thing to have said, especially coupled with the million times he had comforted you as you cried. He had also caused your tears the last couple days though too. But you had a deep urge to comfort him like he had you. 

Instead, you ignored his state altogether. “Are they going to take me back to the hospital?” 

“Not if I have anything to say about it.” He stood up, patting your leg, and you grabbed his arm.

“Are you miked?” You kept your grip on his arm as he sat back down next to you.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, wiping his cheeks again.

“Can you turn it off?”

He sighed, “Sort of.” He took off the small device, dropped it on the floor, and crushed it with his foot. He smiled. “I think they’ve taken enough, don’t you, sweetheart?” 

You nodded and suddenly noticed the still close proximity. His now shaky breath fanned your cheeks once again. “You really are high.”

“No, I just got my priorities straight.” 

“Are they going to send someone back?” 

He shook his head. “They'll be busy.” 

You took that in, instinctively wiping away the evidence of tears from his face. The flow had stopped for the time being. Your hands lingered. Your body screamed at you to let go, that he had yet to gain your trust again. You couldn’t bring yourself to listen. 

There was only breathing. Haymitch’s stubble lightly pricked your palms, and your pinkies felt the smooth skin of his neck. 

“Y/n…” He whispered, causing the moment to become more intimate, one of those rare times he used your actual name.

“What?” You whispered back.

He pulls your hands off his face gently. “I don’t deserve this.” 

“What is this, exactly?” You quirked a brow.

“Forgiveness. I don’t deserve it.” He clarified.

You considered this for a moment. “I haven’t forgiven you yet.” 

“Don’t.” He insisted. 

He was starting to get on your nerves again. He had caused this whole problem, and now he wanted to control how you reacted? You hadn’t even suggested forgiving him and here he was demanding you that you don’t. It made you want to contradict this, to forgive him out of spite. Maybe this was reverse psychology. He should know you well enough to know how you respond to being told what to do. You’re naturally drawn to do the opposite, to defy authority. 

You decided on a teasing approach, finally tired of the layer of seriousness that had settled over you. “I didn’t think I annoyed you to the point that you’d be willing to scheme your way out of my life.”

Like you refused to earlier, he didn’t respond to your attempt at banter. 

It was infuriating; the song and dance that you and Haymtich had fallen into. Nothing was ever simple. Every interaction you had with him since you were deposited in District 13 was a simultaneous push and pull. Maybe even every interaction you had ever had with him. And yet, as you had said many times, he was the only person you really trusted. Now, that was broken. You tried to force yourself to believe that was broken. But with the betrayal, there wasn’t a single other person in District 13, in all of Panem, that you were willing to be this close to. Maybe it wasn’t healthy to hang on to him as the only scrap of comfort you currently had, but you were still drawn to him despite all of the downs. 

“You know, whether or not you like it, whether or not I like it - which trust me, I don’t… We’re stuck together. I won’t have a moment of peace here without you. And I’m not going to let you start a morphling addiction.” You said firmly, “So, I’m forgiving you because you will make it up to me. I’m not infallible and I’m not going to pretend that if I had a substance that took away my pain even for a moment, I wouldn’t be tempted. I know I would. Because, in a way, you’re that substance. And we both know how well I’ve handled without you.”

Not well at all. Every time you had chosen to be away from him, you regretted it. Every time you had been forced away from him, you begged for him back. Like you were going through withdrawals. Of course, you likely handled it better than Haymitch parting with his alcohol, you were sure that adjustment was brutal. And for Coin to offer a different form of escapism to him? It was sick. A psychological form of torture she had inflicted onto him. And on you. 

It didn’t matter how much suffering the two of you had already been through, to her, even the slightest bit of information was worth putting you through more. For the sake of the rebellion? More likely, it was for the sake of control. It was another Game. And to survive Games, you needed Haymitch.

“Well?” You pushed for a response.

“Well... How do I make it up to you, sweetheart?” Haymitch was still so close, a breath away. 

Again, everything inside you was screaming at you to not do what you wanted to do, to not say what you wanted to say. But again, you didn’t like being told what to do. “You could start with a kiss.”

He barked a laugh, a genuine, hearty laugh. The idea was apparently so humorous to him. The sound was only quelled when he caught sight of your incredibly serious expression. Then his laughter was replaced with a look that was somewhere between horror and absolute confusion. “You don’t want that.”

You furrowed your brows. “Do you?”

“It’s not about what I want.” He brushed off.

“Well, I’m not going to force you to kiss me, so yes it is.”

Haymitch shook his head. 

“No? You don’t?” You tried to make out the movement.

“You don’t.” He stated again.

It was hard to believe he wasn’t deliberately trying to rile you up. “Yes, I do.”

He continued to shake his head. “You shouldn’t. And I shouldn’t.” 

“You shouldn’t kiss me or you shouldn’t want to kiss me?” You asked, hopefully.

“Both.”

You had almost forgotten what it was like to smile. “Then, I’ll kiss you. Win, win.”

Haymitch closed his eyes when your hand met his cheek and your lips soon made their acquaintance with his. He tasted like the grainy toothpaste every District 13 citizen was required to use. You had always expected that when you kissed, the sharpness of alcohol would flood your senses, but it seemed Coin had done her job in erasing that part of Haymitch. At least mostly, because in some odd way, he still faintly smelled of the stuff. Though, it was entirely possible that was all in your head. 

Yes, Haymitch was definitely your substance of choice. You let out a soft hum as the tension left your body and a pleasant fog passed over your mind. Haymitch’s reservations seemed to leave him as his arms wrapped tightly around you and his kiss became more careful. If he was rusty, muscle memory had kicked in quick.

You unconsciously chased his lips when they left yours, causing Haymitch to chuckle: hold on, sweetheart and recline harshly. 

“Sorry.” You breathed, slightly embarrassed. 

“I should be saying sorry.” He said.

“For what?” You wrapped your arms around him too.

“For kissing you. For everything.” He sighed.

You shook your head and corrected him. “First of all, I kissed you and I’m not sorry about it. Secondly, everything is much too much to be sorry about.” 

“Then I’m just sorry about hurting you.” He redirected.

“You already apologized for that.” You reminded him.

Haymitch seemed baffled by this. “And that was enough? Some words and a kiss?” 

You hummed in amusement. “Oh, not even close.” And went in for another.

[aventurineswife]

Dan heng, jiaoqiu, and aven and wife reader whose 6 yr kid is getting bullied at school. What are they gonna do abt it?

You’ll Never Walk Alone

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Jiaoqiu x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Female!Reader, Protective Parent, Emotional Struggles, Bullying, Family Dynamics, Healing, Parental Support.

Warnings: Mention of bullying, Parental angst, Emotional distress of a child, Themes of trauma, Manipulation (?), Mild language.

Dan Heng had always been a quiet and composed presence in your life. His demeanor, stoic and often distant, made it easy for you to trust him in times of uncertainty. Today, however, his usual calmness was masked with an undercurrent of tension.

You sat together in the living room, your six-year-old child curled up on the couch, eyes red from tears. Their small hands clutched a stuffed animal for comfort. You knew something had happened at school. The bully at school had made their life unbearable, and now it was time to talk about it.

Dan Heng’s eyes met yours, sharp and calculating as always, but there was a softness to them when he looked at your child. His voice was low, laced with authority but filled with care. “I’ll speak with the school. We can’t allow anyone to continue this behavior.”

You nodded, appreciating his decision. Dan Heng was a man of few words, but when it came to protecting his family, there was no hesitation in his actions. He stood up, his spear—glinting faintly in the corner, a reminder of his role as a protector.

“I’ll keep my distance from the bullies. This isn’t a matter for violence,” he said, his calm resolve taking over. “I’ll ensure it stops before it escalates further. But if they push, I won’t hold back.”

You watched him leave, feeling a surge of gratitude mixed with a sense of admiration. Dan Heng may not have been one for grand gestures, but his quiet strength and dedication would always protect those he loved.

Jiaoqiu had always been a thoughtful and considerate husband. His calm presence was a soothing balm in any chaotic situation. But when you told him about your child being bullied at school, his expression darkened for the first time in a long while. His eyes flickered with concern, and his usual gentle smile faltered.

“I can’t bear to see them hurt,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he stirred a pot of warm, healing tea. The herbs he used weren’t just for physical ailments, but for the heart as well. He knew this was one of those times when his healing touch would have to be more than just physical.

You sat across from him at the kitchen table, your child resting their head on your shoulder. “What do we do, Jiaoqiu?”

His gaze drifted to the window, lost in thought. The battlefield of his past had shaped him into a strategist, always seeking solutions even in the most difficult of circumstances. He placed the tea down before you and took a deep breath.

“First, I’ll speak to the school. I’ll use my influence with the Alchemy Commission. We won’t let this slide,” he said with a quiet strength that made your heart swell with pride. “But more than that, I’ll ensure our child feels empowered. Healing their heart, their confidence, is just as important as stopping the bully.”

He reached out, gently cupping your child’s face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “No one should ever make them feel small. I will help them see the strength they have inside.”

The warmth of his hand on your child’s cheek and the soft, comforting aroma of the tea filled the room. You knew Jiaoqiu would not just stop the bullying—he would help your child rise above it.

Aventurine, dressed in his usual flamboyant attire, leaned against the dining table with his signature grin, though his eyes were narrowed, focused on the news you had just shared. The weight of your child being bullied seemed to linger in the air like a game of chance he hadn’t expected to face.

“You know, darling,” he began, his voice smooth like honey but sharp with determination. “In situations like this, the best way to win isn’t through force. It’s about playing the long game, and ensuring the opponent makes the first move.”

You watched him carefully. Aventurine was a master of manipulation, but you could sense there was something deeper in his gaze—something he didn’t want to admit. He wasn’t just playing a game here; your family’s well-being was at stake.

“I’ll handle the school, of course,” he continued, his eyes glinting with an unspoken challenge. “I’ll use every resource I have, and you know I have plenty. But this... bullying? It’s not just about words or power plays. It’s about making sure our child never feels weak again.”

He smiled—but it was different this time. A hint of sincerity peeked through, as if the stakes of this gamble were more personal than anything he had faced before.

He paced across the room, one hand hidden behind his back, the other adjusting the cuff of his blazer, as if he were playing a game of chess in his mind. “I’ll ensure this bully regrets ever crossing our path. But more importantly,” he said, stopping in front of you, his voice dropping into something softer. “Our child will never have to feel small again. They’ll learn the art of strategy themselves. The bullies, as well as life, will become mere pieces in the game I’ve already won.”

As he returned to his seat, his smile flickered—almost imperceptibly. This wasn’t just a game to him. He would ensure that no one, not even a child, would be made to feel inferior in his presence.

You could feel the depth of his resolve in that moment, even if he didn’t say it outright. Aventurine would play this game to win—for his family’s sake. And as he winked at you, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of reassurance. The cards were already in his hand.

[kaxserlvr]

It was supposed to be a normal date. Just dinner, some casual conversation, maybe a walk through the park afterward. That’s all you and Kaiser had planned.

But a little girl, no more than five or six, standing in the middle of the park with a lost look on her face. Her tiny hands clutched a teddy bear, her eyes wide and teary.

You immediately crouched down to her level, your voice soft. “Hey, sweetie, are you okay?”

She sniffled, shaking her head. “I lost my mommy.”

Kaiser was standing beside you , arms crossed, looking annoyed. “We can’t just babysit some kid. We’re on a date.”

You gave him a side eye and ignored him, your focus completely on the girl. “Don’t worry. We’ll help you find your mommy, okay?”

The little girl nodded, wiping her eyes. Kaiser muttered something under his breath, but you didn’t catch it. You just stood up and looked at him. “Come on, let’s help her. It’ll only take a little bit.”

He sighed, looking around. “This is ridiculous.”

But even though he complained, you could tell he wasn’t going to walk away from a kid in need. He just stood there, reluctantly waiting for you to take the lead.

You guys spent hours walking around the park, asking around, checking every corner for any sign of the little girl’s mother. Kaiser was grumpy the entire time, rolling his eyes every time you knelt down to talk to the girl, offering her some comfort or reassurance.

But as the hours passed, something began to change in him.

The little girl clung to him more, her small hand reaching for his every time we walked. At first, he’d stiffen, pulling away, but then, slowly, he started to soften. Every now and then, he’d look down at her with something like gentleness in his eyes, even offering her a small smile when she’d giggle at one of his sarcastic remarks.

“You’re pretty good with her,” you said, glancing up at him as you guys walked down a new path, the girl holding onto his hand now.

Kaiser shot you a look, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m not the baby whisperer, you know.”

But his words lacked the usual bite. You could tell he was starting to enjoy the little girl’s company,how she’d shyly ask him to pick her up when she got tired, how he’d pretend to grumble but do it anyway. He was showing a side of himself you hadn’t seen in a long time, a softer, quieter side.

When you guys finally found her mother, a woman frantically searching the park. The girl ran toward her, and the woman scooped her up in a tight embrace.

“Thank you so much,” the woman said, tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

You smiled, patting the girl on the head. “Glad we could help.”

Kaiser, who had been unusually quiet throughout the whole ordeal, cleared his throat. “Yeah, no problem,” he muttered.

You both waved them off, watching the mother and daughter walk away. The entire experience had been exhausting, but something about it felt… right. Like you could’ve stayed with that little girl forever, and Kaiser might’ve felt the same.

You guys didn’t say much on the way home, the air between you both heavier than it had been before. When you got back to your apartment, you set your things down and flopped onto the couch, tired but content. Kaiser leaned against the doorframe, looking lost in thought.

“You okay?” You asked, watching him closely.

He looked down at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just studied you with an intensity you weren’t used to. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice quieter than usual.

“You really are good with kids,” he said softly.

You smiled. “I like to think so. I’ve always wanted a family.”

Kaiser didn’t respond right away, instead, he walked over to the couch and sat beside you . His arm brushed against yours, and you could feel the tension in his muscles. He looked at you again, his voice low, almost thoughtful.

“I’ve thought I didn’t want kids,” he admitted, his gaze flicking to the floor for a second. “Thought I wasn’t the kind of guy who could handle it.”

You tilted your head, waiting for him to continue.

“But after today…” His fingers grazed the edge of your hand. “I don’t know. Watching you with her… it felt like family.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you turned to face him, eyes wide. “What are you saying?”

Kaiser’s expression shifted, his jaw clenching before he sighed. “I guess I’m saying I was wrong. I could be… I could be good at it. At being a father, I mean.”

The words hung in the air, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. He seemed to be processing it all, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by a rawness that was completely uncharacteristic.

Finally, he looked at you, his face flushed. “It’s just after seeing how you are… I can’t help but think you’d be an amazing mom. And maybe… maybe I could be a good dad, too.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in.

He suddenly leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t know if we’re ready for that yet, but… I’ve been thinking about it.”

You couldn’t help but smile, reaching for his hand. “Maybe not now…but we’ll figure it out together.”

Kaiser stared at you, his face still soft, as if something inside him had shifted. He kissed you softly, and for a moment, it felt like you were already a family—no words needed, just the quiet understanding that whatever happened next, you’d be there for each other.

Always