#But i’m still just so upset by this whole

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: The Fawn Instinct.

Pairing: Yandere!BatFam x Reader (DC).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: Implied Non/Con, Implied Dub/Con, Kidnapping, Prolonged Captivity, Social Isolation, Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, and No Actual Incest, But Boy If Those Freaks Aren't Trying. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

If it’d only been Bruce, you might’ve been able to live with it.

You didn’t love him, but you could imagine a world where you tried to. Most of it was circumstance; as upset as you were about the whole kidnapping thing, it wasn’t exactly a Herculean feat to endear yourself to the idea of being a handsome vigilante millionaire’s stay-at-home captive-spouse. You had no room in your heart for the stoic, reclusive, untouchable Bruce Wayne, but you could remember the adoration you’d once held for your masked hometown hero, the pride that’d once given you the force of will to all-but carry a half-conscious man in a torn cowl and a familiar suit into your apartment and lie to the cops when they came knocking. If the conditions had been different, if he’d spent a little more time as something more intimate than a stranger and a little less damning than a captor, then maybe, you could convince yourself to love him. Or, convince yourself to try, at least.

But, the conditions weren’t different, and you’d never quite had the time you would’ve needed to align Bruce Wayne with his more heroic alter ego. It’d been doomed from the start – Icarus jumping from his tower, already knowing his wings were destined to fall apart.

That aside, though, there was the more glaring issue: all his fucking kids.

Calling them kids might’ve been too generous, actually. Only Damian and Duke were younger than eighteen, and as far as you were concerned, they were your saving graces – Duke for meeting the bare minimum requirements for human decency and Damian for adamantly denying you were anything but an unwanted burden on his father. The rest were more-or-less adults, as little as you wanted to acknowledge the nonexistent age-gap between you and your gaggle of stepchildren. They were grown. They should’ve known better.

Tim, for example. He had to be… what? Nineteen? It wasn’t the pinnacle of maturity, sure, but he should’ve known you’d be able to hear your own sheets rustling through the bedroom door, should’ve assumed that you’d know he’d know Bruce would be out on patrol until sunrise. He should’ve known to wait until you were in another wing of the sprawling Wayne estate, somewhere far away from the master bedroom, or better yet, skipped rummaging through your things entirely. You knew better than to dream, though.

The door was still shut, but what was happening behind it and who was responsible were both foregone conclusions.  It was Tim, because of course it was Tim, and he going through your meager possessions, because what else would he wait until Bruce was gone to do? Cringing, you rested your shoulder against the steady wood and knocked gingerly. “…Drake? Are you in there?”

Immediately, the rustling stopped. You went on. “I think Bruce is out, if you need him. Is there something you’re trying to find?”

It was a good out. An easy out. Thankfully, he was smart enough to take the bait. A few seconds later, the door cracked, a disheveled Tim emerging with a dark blush spread over his pale cheeks and his hands shoved conspicuously deep into the pockets of his hoodie. It was a struggle not to roll your eyes. He couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d come out with his dick still in his hand.

Your cheeks ached as you put on your dozenth unstrained, unworried, everything’s-fine-because-why-wouldn’t-it-be smile of the day and moved aside to let him out. “I’ll let him know you were looking for him when he gets home,” you assured, like you couldn’t see the way his bright eyes were fixed to the carpeting. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help. You all are just so heroic – it’s still a little hard to believe I’m a part of this at all.”

“You’re perfect,” he muttered, and you pretended not to hear him, cocking your head to the side. When he corrected himself, his voice was a bit louder, a bit clearer. “Don’t worry, I… I found what I was looking for. You don’t have to bother Bruce.”

“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He’s so proud of you and your siblings, after all – it’s practically all he talks about.” A lie, but a fair one to tell. There was no reason Tim should have to know Bruce spent the majority of your time alone with his teeth buried somewhere in your neck, muttering paranoid fantasies about how many different ways you could be killed, mutilated, or otherwise indisposed by the members of his rouges gallery. “Honestly, sometimes, it’s hard not to feel like I’ve been here for years, rather than just a couple of months.”

You only realized your mistake when those bright eyes shot to you, suddenly wide and blown out with desperation. A hand darted towards you, and you stumbled out of the way, but not quickly enough to avoid Tim’s vice-grip on your forearm, to spare yourself the feeling of something cold and wet sinking into your sleeve. “You’re leaving?” The words seemed to slur together, spilling out too quickly to be restrained or refined. “You can’t leave. Bruce won’t be able to handle it, and Steph, she’ll—I mean, security-wise, we won’t be able to make sure you’re—”

Internally, you were keeping up a steady mantra of ‘Thisissogrossthisissogrossthisissogross.’

Externally, by some miracle, your smile never wavered, only growing sweeter as you cut him off with a chirping laugh. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, and then, after a slight lapse, “Would you mind letting go of me? It’s—uh, it’s kind of starting to hurt.”

As if on a switch, he let go of you entirely, pulling away as abruptly as he lashed out. There was a mumbled ‘I’m sorry’, and he made a swift retreat, disappearing around the next corner before you could so much as think about bringing up Bruce, again. You watched him go, only letting your expression fall once you were sure he was out of sight.

Without further caution, you slipped into your bedroom, glazing over the mess of pulled-out drawers, overturned clothes and scattered dirty laundry in favor of falling into bed, rolling onto your chest, and screaming into your pillow as loudly and for as long as your lungs would allow.

~

You tried your best never to be alone. It was a little draining, to be honest – having to keep a running chart in the back of your mind of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, constantly trying to guess whether it’d be safer to be alone with someone or if you were better off taking your chances on your own – but you’d learned your lesson the first time you’d fallen asleep in the Wayne’s at-home movie theater and woken up to Cassandra spread over you like a human weighted blanket, staring unblinkingly at your face and playing half-consciously with your hair. You tried not to leave yourself unguarded, after that.

Alfred was your first choice, Barbra your second, with Bruce as a distant third. Sometimes, you could get away with loitering near Damian (something you hated nearly as much as he did – you could only stand to be addressed as his father’s “jezebel lover” so many times), but Bruce was at one of Damian’s school events, leaving them both conveniently unavailable, and Alfred would be locked inside of his underground shooting range for another hour and a half, an activity you knew better than to interrupt. Meaning, you were on your own.

Meaning, you’d picked a very bad time to need something to drink.

The kitchen was deathly quiet, but you still made an effort to keep your head on a swivel as you made your way carefully to a corner cabinet, like stepping on the wrong tile would trigger a pit trap, or a flurry of arrows, or one of another million terrible things you hadn’t thought were possible before Bruce dedicated himself so entirely to proving you wrong. Mentally, you reviewed your haphazardly assembled schedule as you fumbled with the wood paneling and reached for a mug from the highest shelf. Tim was definitely out, touring local colleges on Bruce’s behest, Step was supposed to be in class, and Dick—

Your fingertips made contact with cool ceramic half a second before another, larger palm wrapped around yours, a broad chest pressing into your back as your mug was stolen out of your hand. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

And Dick was on bed rest with three broken ribs. Right. Of course.

You really shouldn’t have bothered leaving your room at all. Suddenly, dehydration didn’t sound like such a bad way to go.

“Let me get that, baby bird.” You cringed at the petname, but nodded, letting Dick confiscate your mug and with it, your ability to make a swift exit from a conversation you’d rather not have. “Green tea, right? I know it’s your favorite.”

“On the mark as always, Dick.” There was just enough enthusiasm in your voice to overshadow the despair. You waited until you heard the muted click of an electric kettle before turning around and settling against the counter. “I wish you wouldn’t dote on me, though. I already feel useless enough as it is.”

“Don’t sweat it, I’ve been going stir-crazy all week.” He flashed you a quick smile – tooth and beaming – before pulling open the silverware drawer and rummaging through it, like Alfred would keep his teabags with his cutlery. He was topless, wearing the same pair of black sweatpants he must’ve slept in. He didn’t plan to go out, clearly, and it wasn’t like you had much of an alternative. “This is just the basics, too. For a while there, I had your breakfast, lunch, and midnight snack preferences memorized.”

You forced yourself to smile, albeit, not as brightly as him. “…did you, now?”

“Mhm. B had us running in-person surveillance before he finally bit the bullet and brought you home, and—” He cut himself off with a sudden laugh, shaking his head. “And, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part. Oops.”

Mercifully, the kettle whistled before you could start to consider the implications, and you reached behind you, fishing two bags out of a teacup-shaped jar. It was easy enough to edge him out of the way, but not having to worry about pretending he’d ever made himself a cup of tea meant he could devote more of his energy to talking, so you still managed to lose, in the end. “He’s stingier with the surveillance footage, now. I’ve never seen him so jealous.”

“He can definitely be a little overprotective.”

You tried to keep your tone even, polite, but Dick was like his siblings – quick to action and slow to take a hint. A hand curled around the counter next to you, and you dumped an extra spoonful of sugar into the darkening water. “It’s just us in the manor, right?”

Another spoonful, just to be safe. “I think Alfred is—”

“Out for the day. Wayne Enterprise emergency – I let him know as soon as he finished down in the range.” In your peripheral, you watched his other hand come to rest on your opposite side, caging you in. “I wouldn’t mind the company, if you were starting to get lonely.”

Another spoonful. It’d be too sweet to drink, but anything not to have to look at him. “I’m afraid wouldn’t be a lot of fun, Grayson. Honestly, I was just planning on getting a little sle—”

“That’s perfect,” he cut in, too eager to wait his turn. “I’m a great cuddler.”

You curled your hand around your mug, hoping the warmth would be enough to ground you. Instead, it only burnt your palm, and for a second, you could imagine a world where your teeth weren’t buried in the plush of your cheek, where you didn’t have to remind yourself that turning around and splashing boiling-hot water on an all-but superhero’s face wasn’t a good idea. For a second, you genuinely considered it.

And then, a sound not totally dissimilar to thunder filled the kitchen; loud enough to leave your ears ringing and your adrenaline spiked. You flinched into yourself, but it only took a moment for fear to shift to relief as you noticed the bullet lodged into the wood less than an inch from your head. Your expression lit up just as Dick’s fell.

Without waiting for him to let you go, you slipped away – sprinting across the kitchen and throwing yourself into Jason’s – brave, bold, beautiful Jason – chest. He caught you one hand and finished re-holstering his handgun with the other, laughing as you hugged him as tightly as you could manage. Dick huffed, playful offense failing to mask real agitation, and you felt Jason brace against you. “Jerk off and shut the fuck up, Oedipus.”

Dick’s smile turned uneasy. “It’s good to see you too, man.”

“I didn’t come here for you,” he snapped, as short-tempered with his siblings as you wished you could be. He looked down, holding you that much tighter. “How’s my best girl holding up?”

“I’m just fine, Jason. I do think we have to have a talk about how you treat your brother, though.” You glanced over your shoulder to Dick. “A little privacy? You really ought to be staying off your feet, too.”

Reluctantly, Dick slinked out of the kitchen, hesitant to go but eager to nurse his wounds. You only went on once you were sure he was gone.

“It’s been awful. I found another hidden camera in my bedroom, and I think Tim’s tapping my—”

“I’ll do a sweep.”

He let you go, but you caught his arm. “Please, I know it’s important, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing. It was irrational – the way you let your guard down so quickly around Jason. The mask never slipped around anyone else, whether you were afraid of them or they were one of your rare, precious exceptions. Jason existed outside of the Wayne family, though, outside of Bruce’s corrupting influence. He wasn’t going to hurt you. More importantly, he wasn’t going to let anyone else hurt you, either.

“But I really don’t want to think about that, right now,” you finished. “Just… just for a little while, alright? I don’t want to constantly feel like I’m walking on eggshells, at least not while you’re here.”

Jason stood strong for all of three seconds. With the fourth, he sighed, buckled, and shook his head, his exasperation brimming with affection. “How long until Bruce gets home?”

“Six more hours. He’s not due to check-in for another three.”

“I’ve got my bike out front. How do you think he’d feel about a joy ride?”

And just like that, you lit up. “It’d give him a heart attack.”

Jason pulled you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Perfect.”

~

Unfortunately, Jason’s visits were few and far between. You had to find ways of fending for yourself, in the downtime.

“I miss the city.”

Bruce glanced over his shoulder, gaze flickering over you before returning to the buttons of his dress-shirt. You sunk that much deeper into the mess of sheets and pillows, taking some small amount of solace in the way the cool silk felt against your warm skin.

(Sex wasn’t something Bruce came to you for often, but when he did, you gave it to him willingly, albeit with no more enthusiasm than was absolutely necessary. You rarely enjoyed it and always regretted everything you did or said during the act, but it was better than the alternative. Part of you trusted him, trusted Batman, enough to believe that he’d take your refusal for what it was, that you wouldn’t have to say anything more than ‘no’. The remaining overwhelming majority was able to look around you, to remember the way he’d held you down as he forced a needle stocked with medical-grade sedatives into your throat, and recognize that your opinion probably didn’t mean very much to him. Still, you couldn’t let things get that bad. Even if you had to surrender every other facet of your being, you couldn’t let things get that bad.)

“You hated the city. You said your landlord was a tyrant and that even the criminals were living paycheck-to-paycheck.” And then, after a second of thought, “And that there were more rats in Gotham than people.”

“Well, he was, they are, and you know I love animals.” You pushed yourself up, keeping a sheet bunched against your chest as you slumped against the headboard. “I was tired and overworked – you could see that. But, things would be different if I was staying with, say, my wealthy trillionaire boyfriend in one of the penthouse apartments that I know he has because his youngest son got in trouble for bragging about them in school last week?”

Bringing up his kids was a dirty tactic – the fastest way to get Bruce’s undivided attention. This time, when his eyes shifted in your direction, they stayed there, and he made his way back to your side of the bed. He collapsed next to you and, with no resistance on your end, pulled you into his lap. He didn’t seem to care whether or not his immaculately tailored, freshly pressed suit was creased in the process, but you did your best not to squirm. “You want to leave the manor?”

The first half of a frown tugged at the corner of your lips. “That’s not what I—”

“Elevated pulse, avoidant eye-contact,” he muttered. “Something’s bothering you.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t wrong, either, but still. You would’ve preferred to be asked.

“…it’s your family,” you admitted, feigning guilt. “They’re all—” Horny, depressed, creepy little orphans. “—great kids, but it’s just been so much so quickly, and I think it… I think it might’ve been too much too quickly. For them and for me.”

“They adore you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Dick was close to moving back in when I decided it was too dangerous to leave you to your own devices.”

You melted into his chest, sighing. Reflexively, he curled around you – a good thing, if a bit claustrophobic. Bruce liked feeling like a shield between you and harm, between you and the world he couldn’t control. Hopefully, eventually, he’d realize he had more to shield you from than greedy landlords and villains who always seemed to be just out of sight. “It’s not that easy. It’s just been such a rocky adjustment period, and…” You curled your hand around his wrist and squeezed, hoping the force would be enough to communicate what you couldn’t put a word to. “I’m really afraid something bad might happen, Bruce.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider it. There was a kiss to your shoulder, solemn and lingering, then another to your cheek, more fleeting. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll give you space, if they’re told to.”

If he told them to. You doubted you held much authority, here. “And the apartment in the city? On the highest floor, tall enough to see from Gotham to New York?”

Bruce smiled, and your heart soared.

Then, he started talking, and it crashed back down, dying upon impact. “Once I know it’s safe for you, sweetheart.”

There was another kiss, this one to the nape of your neck, then another, lower down on your spine. A calloused hand slipped underneath the sheet still hugged against your chest, and you allowed it to.

Honestly, it would’ve been kinder if he’d cut you into pieces and fed you to the wolves himself.

~

You made a run for it as soon as the arguing started.

Arguing, not yelling – the distinction was minor, but significant. Yelling would’ve meant an injury, or a mission gone wrong, or something else that signaled a sudden complication that couldn’t be smoothed over with sugar-sweet sentimentality or orders issues with an ice-cold strictness. Yelling would’ve meant Bruce didn’t mind letting you overhear, which usually meant you didn’t need to be involved. Arguing, all hushed whispers and hissed explanations and vague warnings, was different. Arguing meant, more often than not, that they were arguing about you.

It was Tim’s fault, as far as you could tell. Barbara had been the one to find the conspicuously encrypted file on one of Dick’s civilian devices, the one to mention it to Stephanie as a point of concern who went to Tim within the hour, but it was still his fault. He’d gotten Bruce involved, let his need for approval tip the tenuously balanced scales that kept his family whole and you safe. He’d talked them all into waiting until Dick was close enough to confront in-person, stopping by for his weekly equipment pick-up and check-in. He was the reason you’d gotten close enough to hear something about ‘pictures’ and ‘inappropriate use of reconnaissance material’ before fleeing to the mansion’s foyer – the only part of the house you could be sure wasn’t occupied. If you were lucky, you’d only be there for half an hour or so, enough time for them to compromise on some non-solution and return to your carefully maintained status quo. If you weren’t, you’d spend the early hours of the morning—

Something small but forceful hit the nearest window, shortly followed by another projectile, then another. The glass was too thick and the world outside too dark to make anything out, but you didn’t need to see anything to know who’d come to your rescue.

Jason.

You rushed to the door, then hesitated. Jason would only get a slap on the wrist for luring you out of the estate, and Bruce could never bring himself to be that strict with you, but now might’ve been a bad time. Tensions were already running high. Your little disappearing act wouldn’t—

A sudden rush of footsteps clattering through the ceiling from the floor above you, hushed voices raised just to the point of audibility. None of it was entirely coherent, but Dick’s came the closest. You managed to make out a half-choked “If you’d just let me—” before someone cut him off.

With your better judgement reduced to buzzing static, you pried open the closer of a pair of huge, mahogany doors and slipped out of the estate entirely.

Of course, Jason was waiting outside, a small stock of pebbles still in his left hand and, of course, you threw yourself at him, letting him catch and spin you twice before setting you back onto your feet with an airy laugh. A pitch-black sports car was waiting at the end of the driveway, the engine purring loudly enough to drown the rest of the world out. “Rough night?”

“You have no fucking idea,” you muttered, breathless. “I don’t care where we go, just get me out of here.”

There was a reason Jason was your favorite. There was no argument, no prying, just his arm around your waist as he herded you into the passenger seat. Fifteen minutes and a little over fifty miles later, the mansion was little more than a dull glow on the horizon, and you could pretend you’d stopped thinking about Bruce entirely.

There was no effort to make conversation, as bad as you felt about pulling Jason into your prolonged tryst with self-pity. Instead, you sunk into the leather of his seat and fixed your gaze on the passing landscape, clinging to any detail you were able to latch onto as it flew by. It was possible, between the subways and boarded-over windows and perpetually overcast skies, to go days without seeing the sun in Gotham. Still, your life had felt brighter there than it ever did in Bruce’s estate.

Jason turned down a road you didn’t recognize, and you managed to find your voice. “Are we going into the city?”

“Even better.” He flashed you a smile, the engine purring as he accelerated. “You’ll like it, I promise. Just sit tight.”

As if you had much of a choice.

Road gave way to forest, forest to empty plains, and empty plains to the dilapidated remains of what you could only label as a long-abandoned amusement park – like Disney World if there’d been some terrible, possibly nuclear accident followed by twenty or so years of absolute neglect. Jason’s car glided past the rusted remains of an iron gate, past the corpses of rides buckled under their own weight, and came to a stop in front of a paint-stripped merry-go-round almost entirely sheeted be vines and weeds and overgrowth. You let out a low whistle as he threw the gear shift into park and, for the first time in any vehicle you’d ever shared with him, pulled his keys out of the ignition. He’d always left the engine running while visiting the mansion, but then again, you’d always been pretty eager to make a hasty escape, too.

“I love it, Jason. I’ve always wanted to get tetanus from a broken down carnival.”

“A fair, actually,” he corrected, slipping his keys into his jacket pocket. Like he expected you to try and steal them while his back was turned, or something. “My parents used to take me here, before I met B. There weren’t a lot of Ferris wheels after that.”

There was a short lapse, the sound of lips moving against teeth. You made the mistake of humming, of glancing over to him, of leaving yourself open for another question, and Jason, as nice as he was, was more than happy to take advantage of you. “So, when did you and B start…”

He trailed off, drumming his fingers against the wheel. You filled in the rest with a breathy chuckle. “When did I start sleeping with your dad?”

He jabbed an elbow into your side. “First of all, you can admit you’re fucking him or call him my dad, but you’ve gotta pick one.” You opened your mouth, already ready to spit out some dumb joke about what Bruce would’ve preferred to be called, but Jason cut in, sniping your stupid joke out of the air. “Secondly, answer the question. I get enough of your diversions back at home.”

“Being a buzzkill must run in family,” you sighed, but gave in quickly enough. “It happened once before the whole kidnapping thing, when he was staying at my apartment and sleeping off a broken leg. I hadn’t even seen him without his mask on at that point, but I figured it was a sign – destiny, or something.” You did your best to smile, slumping against the door. “It was dumb. He gave me a couple weeks after bringing me to the estate, mostly because of the crying and stuff, but things started up again pretty quickly.”

“Do you… like it?”

“Do you like asking about your dad’s sex life?” He flinched back, and laughing, you went on. “I guess I don’t care. There’s not a lot else to do.” You swallowed. “Would it matter if I didn’t?”

For someone with so many questions, he didn’t leave a lot of time for yours, the hypocrite. Moving on swiftly, he asked, “And the others, have they…?”

“No.” And then, after a beat, “Not yet.”

He seemed to relax, at that. His back was still straight, his shoulders still squared, but his grip on the wheel loosened, his jaw unclenching ever so slightly. You tried the handle – locked. Obviously. As if you’d ever get that lucky.

His voice was soft, sweet. The kind of tone you’d use on a child, or an animal, or a doll. “This would probably be easier in the backseat, right?”

“Let me out.”

“So you can go where,baby? It’s just us out here.” He laughed, resting a hand on your thigh. You slammed your shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge. “Hey, hey, this doesn’t need to get rough. I’m not going to be like Dick. The others – they’ll do it wrong, treat you like a cut of meat they have to get to before anybody else. I just need to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”

Nails embedded in leather, body crammed as far from him as you could force it be. You weren’t hyperventilating, but only because you’d stopped breathing entirely. “Let me out, Jason.”

“I love the way you say my name. It’s pretty, and delicate – just like you.” He sighed, shook his head. “I know you don’t get it, but I’m just trying to take care of you, like you’ve been taking care of me for the past few—”

“Stop acting like I’m your mom.” A sob fractured the final syllable, another bubbling up from deep in your chest a moment later. Your body was beyond the point of rationality, but the soft, preservational part of your mind wasn’t so beyond the point of seeking refuge. There was a way out of this, as ghoulish as it seemed. You couldn’t stop it from happening, but you could make it better. You’d regret it in an hour, when it came time to explain yourself to Bruce, but what happened in an hour didn’t matter, not if you couldn’t survive the next few minutes.

You might’ve done it, too – or, you might’ve tried, at least. You wanted to. You planned to. And yet, when you opened your mouth, there was only one thing you could seem to say. “I don’t want to do this, Jason.”

His nails bit into your thigh, his smile easing at the corners. For a second, you almost thought he’d pull away. For a second, you almost thought he’d sigh, straighten back up, and admit this was all part of some cruel, unfunny joke that the two of you would remember fondly, later on.

Then, he laughed and leaned forward, lips brushing against the top of your head. You felt him speak before you heard his voice, but the cloying reverberation alone was enough to tell you that you would’ve been better off never saying anything at all.

“Welcome to the family, sweetheart.”

[knottedhearts]

The space between us: B.E

a/n: This is part two, if you haven't read part one go read it!!.

The bedroom door stays closed for hours. You sit on the couch, the glow of the TV long since faded, leaving the room dim and heavy with silence. Billie’s words keep echoing in your head—“You’ll never get it.”

You want to give her space, but the ache in your chest grows unbearable. Finally, you stand and walk to the bedroom door, hesitating before knocking softly.

“Billie?”

No response.

You lean against the doorframe. “Look… I know you’re upset, but I can’t just sit out here acting like everything’s fine when it’s not. Can we talk? Please?”

Still nothing.

Sighing, you push the door open. Billie’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. Her dark brown hair falls in messy strands, and her blue eyes are puffy and red from crying.

Your heart twists. “Billie…”

She doesn’t look at you. “What do you want, Y/n?”

“I want to fix this,” you say softly, stepping closer. “I hate fighting with you.”

She shakes her head, her voice trembling. “It’s not just about the fight. It’s about how I feel—like I’m not enough for you. Like no matter what I do, someone else will always have more of your time.”

You sink onto the bed beside her, careful not to touch her yet. “You are enough, Billie. More than enough. I hate that I made you feel like you’re not.”

She finally looks at you, her eyes filled with hurt. “Then why does it feel like you’re always pulling away? Like you’d rather be anywhere but here?”

Your throat tightens. “I’m not pulling away—I promise I’m not. I just… I guess I didn’t realize how much it was hurting you. Luke is my friend, yeah, but you’re my everything. And I’ve done a terrible job making sure you know that.”

Her lip quivers, and a tear slips down her cheek. “I just need to feel like I’m your priority,” she whispers. “Not second place. Not someone you come home to when you’re done having fun somewhere else.”

You reach out, gently brushing the tear away with your thumb. “You are my priority. I swear. I’ll prove it to you—whatever it takes. I never meant to make you feel like you were second.”

She closes her eyes, leaning into your touch as more tears fall. “I hate feeling this way. I hate being this insecure.”

“It’s not insecurity, Billie. It’s love. You care so much that it hurts, and I get that now. I should’ve gotten it sooner.”

For the first time since the argument started, her walls seem to crack. She lets out a shaky breath and finally leans into you, burying her face in your neck.

“I’m sorry too,” she murmurs. “For yelling. For overreacting. I just… I need you.”

You hold her tighter, your arms wrapping around her like she might slip away if you let go. “I need you too. And I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

The two of you sit there in the dim light, the silence no longer heavy but comforting. The storm has passed, leaving behind something fragile but whole—something worth holding onto.

@d14n4ol < tag that asked for part 2.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

More Than Meets The Eye

Pairing: Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3.7k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Natasha stays over for a few days and kicks up drama for you and Bucky. She makes you realize that there is more than meets the eye when it comes to Bucky Barnes.

One in a Million Series

Square Filled: day-in-the-life (2024) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Natasha is usually very pristine and professional. She is widely known across the state as one of the best realtors the business has ever seen. She has clients who go for multi-million dollar homes, and she scores nearly every single sale she gets. If she acts out in public, it can largely affect her business, so she tends to keep to herself.

Not when she has alcohol in her system.

Like tonight. She’s in a fling with a musician who she only needs whenever she’s stressed, but it works for both of them. There aren’t any strings attached and they can still get their work done without the stress of a relationship. Natasha turns into a whole other person when she’s drunk. The slut in her comes out and she becomes even more bold. She’s normally shy and reserved.

Not tonight.

Whenever the musician is in town, he tends to stay at her place since he’s only in town for a few days. She texted you twenty minutes ago from a club downtown where the musician is playing. Clubs are not your thing but you’re there when she needs you. After checking in at the door, you push your way inside where there is a sea of people on the dancefloor.

You’re standing on a ledge that overlooks the club. You can either go upstairs where there are more private areas for people just enjoying the music with some drinks while the party is downstairs. From where you are, you can see Natasha and the musician on the other side of the bar.

“Natasha!” You yell even though you know she won’t hear you. You push your way through the sea of people, trying to ignore the hot sweaty bodies bumping into you. “Natasha!”

She turns when she hears her name. “Thank God, you’re here.”

“What’s going on?”

“I caught him with another woman in my bed! My bed!”

“You were gone. I have needs. What do you want me to do?” the musician groans.

“That’s my apartment, asshole! I want your shit out now!”

“I leave in three days. You get it back then.”

You can’t believe how he’s acting but you really don’t want to do this here and now. You grab her arm and pull her toward you. “Come on, he’s not worth it.”

“He’s at my apartment. I don’t want to go back there,” she groans.

“You can stay with me. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

She’d be more upset if she didn’t just have nearly eight shots earlier. Thankfully, she listens to you and leaves the club with you. Your car is in a gas station parking lot since there wasn’t any parking near or at the club.

“He’s not worth it, Nat.”

“I know, but still. It’s like I’ve got no game lately. All I want is a nice man who will take care of me.”

“Well, you got me.”

She wraps an arm around your shoulder. “I do have you. You’re my best friend.”

“I love drunk you,” you giggle. Ten minutes pass and you’re at your place. In the elevator ride up, you think about what the guys might be doing. “So, listen, the guys are home and I don’t need you to be all sexual and grabby like I know you get.”

“Got it,” she nods.

“I’m serious, Nat. Best behavior.”

“I hear you. Best behavior,” she grins.

“Wait here.” You open the door and walk inside. Bucky is playing video games, Steve is trying to read a book, and Sam is blowing straw wrappers at Steve. Some of them hit him and others fly on his book or lap. “Hey, guys. I have Natasha with me, and it looks like she’s going to stay with us for a few days.” Steve perks up at Natasha’s name. “Just letting you know, she is very drunk and she’s very bold and loose with her body. I am so sorry for whatever she might try on you guys.”

You open the front door and Natasha walks in with a sly smirk on her face.

“Natasha. Wow, you look amazing,” Steve says, forgoing his book altogether.

“Thanks, baby,” she grins.

“Okay, you can sleep on the couch tonight, and we’ll figure something out tomorrow. Let me get you some blankets and a pillow.”

You leave her with the guys and walk into your room. Seconds later, you hear the stereo turn on and loud music is blasted. You sigh knowing this was a possibility but hoped it wasn’t going to happen. When you walk into the living room, you see Natasha, Steve, and Sam dancing along to the music. Bucky is still on the couch, clearly not wanting any part of this.

“Natasha, you should really get some sleep.”

“Dance first! Bucky, come on!”

“I’m okay, really. I’m going to go to bed.”

She shimmies her way over to Bucky who stands up. She pulls him into her body, and he tries to politely get her off him.

“Natasha, come on. He doesn’t want to dance.” She lets him go and he slips by her easily. He looks at you as he passes but doesn’t say anything else. It looks like she won’t be sleeping anytime soon, so you put the blankets and pillows on the couch. “Okay, I’m going to bed. Keep it down in here, please.”

Ten minutes after you leave, Natasha starts to grow tired. Steve jumps at the chance to take her to bed even though he’s not going to do anything with her. He’s a gentleman and that won’t change even if she is intoxicated. He really likes her and if he wants to be with her, he’s going to have to show him he’s not just some fling she’s used to.

“Come on, let me show you to my bed.”

Steve wraps a strong arm around her waist and guides her to his bedroom. She flops onto the bed face first and is out like a light. Steve looks around and grabs a small blanket before draping it over her body. He joins Sam back in the living room and plops down on the couch with a grin.

“Why are you grinning?”

“She’s in my bed. I overheard some conversations she and Y/N have had. All she’s ever had are flings, so I’m going to show her that I can be the gentleman she needs.”

“Yeah, because that’s a way to get a girl into bed,” Sam laughs.

“Just you wait, Sam. It’ll happen.”

In the morning, you wake to Bucky nursing his second cup of coffee. Steve is sleeping on the couch which means Natasha must be in his bedroom.

“Good morning, Bucky.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Is that all you’re having for breakfast?” Bucky shrugs and you shake your head. “Not acceptable. You’re a growing man. You need proper food. I’ll make you some.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Nonsense. I want to. Do you like eggs? Pancakes? Waffles?”

“No, Y/N, I’m fine.”

“Eggs and bacon it is,” you smile. “You can have some with me. Plus, I’m sure Natasha and the guys will be hungry when they wake up.”

“I’m fine, Y/N. Stop being so nice to me. You don’t have to…”

“What?” you ask when he stops talking.

“You don’t have to take care of me.”

“Well, someone has to, right? Everyone deserves someone to take care of them every once in a while,” you smile and turn back to the food.

Bucky stares at you in thought. He nods and takes a sip of his coffee. At the smell of food, Sam and Steve wake up. The only person who is sleeping is Natasha, and you can only assume she is going to want a strong cup of coffee, so you start to brew a pot for her. Much like you assumed, she walks out of Steve’s room when she smells the coffee.

“Is that coffee?”

“Brewed a new pot for you. Extra hot. Extra strong.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

“Natasha. I hope you slept well,” Steve smiles.

“Thank you for letting me use your bed. You didn’t have to.”

“It’s no problem. Our couch isn’t the best, and I didn’t want your back all messed up.”

Sam looks at Steve who smiles knowingly. Natasha pours herself a cup of coffee while you plate the food. You slide one over to Bucky and smile at him.

“Eat. I can hear your stomach growling from over here.”

Bucky doesn’t say a word but accepts the food from you. After a nice breakfast, Natasha hops in the shower to wash of the stink from last night, and Steve strips his bed to wash the sheets. Natasha might smell good, better than most, but she reeked of alcohol last night, and he doesn’t want his bed smelling like that.

You get dressed in a green and white dress that goes down to your knees, and you walk into the bathroom where the lotion is. You pause when you see Sam standing by the sink with a toothbrush in his mouth… without toothpaste. Steve is standing by the towel rack looking at the large amount of products he keeps there. His hair is always silky smooth and his skin always looks amazing. He has some of the best products that you like to steal from time to time.

“What are you guys doing?”

“I’m brushing my teeth,” Sam says in defense.

“I’m just… doing things,” Steve mutters.

Bucky walks into the bathroom and pauses when he notices everyone else. “Is this a normal hangout spot now?”

“Nat, you’ve been in there for ages. Come on,” you say and squirt some lotion onto your hands.

“Sorry, I just can’t seem to find any towels that are bigger.” She slides the curtain back after she secures a towel around her body. All three men are big guys but their waists are slim, so they don’t need big towels, and all of yours are in the washer. “Oh.”

Sam stops brushing his teeth and stares at her while Steve blushes hard. He wants to look but every time he does, his face goes red so he clears his throat and turns away.

“Okay, come on. I have something you can wear.”

Bucky’s brain takes a few minutes to process what’s happening, so he freezes up when she tries to go past him. He barely gives her an inch to move, and you shake your head in disappointment.

“I am very disappointed in all of you.” You look at Bucky. “Especially you. I thought you were better than this.”

“I am sometimes.”

You walk into your room where Natasha is going through your closet for something to wear. You close the door to give her privacy, and she turns holding a shirt you got out of whim. Your style isn’t very flashy but she convinced you to get this shirt that exposes a bit more cleavage.

“No, I haven’t worn it yet. Yes, you can.”

“Thanks,” she grins.

She grabs a pair of jeans that she left over one time and puts those on along with the shirt.

“So, are we going to talk about last night?”

“I blacked most of it out. What happened?”

“You almost gave Bucky a lap dance, and it was cute to watch Steve gush all over you. That boy likes you.”

“Ooh, are we talking about boys?”

“Yeah, like your ex-boyfriend musician. Are you going to kick him out of your apartment?”

“He’s going to be gone in a few days. Can I just stay here until he’s gone?”

“Nat, that’s your place.”

“I know, but you don’t know this guy. He’s a PR nightmare. It’s best if I let him stay there until he’s gone.” You shrug. “Let’s talk about Bucky now.”

“Bucky? What about him?”

“Come on. You say Steve likes me? Bucky likes you.”

“No, he doesn’t. We’re just friends.”

“You can’t be just friends with these guys. Do you really think none of them have ever thought about sleeping with you?”

“Stop, it Nat,” you sigh.

Someone knocks on your door and Bucky opens it.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m going to the store. Do you need anything?”

“Yes,” Nat answers for you. “You should go with him, Y/N, to get that thing you really need.”

“I don’t need a thing.”

“Yes, you do. You need that thing you were telling me about.”

“I wonder what that is,” Bucky mumbles.

“She’ll be right out,” Nat smiles. She closes the door on him and turns to you with a smile. “This is perfect.”

You look at her and your eyes widen. “No, you’re not doing this. You’re not going to come in here and ruin what I have with them. I’m finally happy after Jack, and I really like these guys. I think they’re starting to like me, too.”

“Do you remember telling me about your perfect man? Bucky is everything on your list. Physically strong. Check. Nice smile. Double check. Tall. Triple check. Blue eyes, kind, caring, knows what he wants, and older. Check, check, and check.” She walks closer to you. “Plus, did you see his feet? A guy’s feet always point to what they want, and his were pointing right at you.”

“How would you like him to stand?” You stand and point both feet outward like a duck. “Like this?”

“Come on, go. He’s waiting for you.”

“Hey, are you ready?” Bucky calls out.

“Be there in a sec, bro!”

“Did you just call me bro?”

You pause. “Yeah. I’m coming.” You open the door. “Talk to Steve. I think he can be good for you.”

“Only if you talk to Bucky.”

“Bye,” you roll your eyes.

The ride to the store wasn’t as awkward as you thought it was going to be, but being in the store with all these people, all you could think about were Nat’s words.

“So, how long is she staying?” Bucky asks.

He has a very short list of items to get, and he goes through the different aisles and puts them in the cart.

“Only for a few days. Her douchey ex-boyfriend is staying in her apartment. It’s a long story.”

Everywhere you look there are different kinds of couples. Older, younger, same sex… Everywhere you look, you’re paying attention to their feet. One older couple has both their feet pointed at each other while another couple has theirs pointed away from each other. That couple looks like they don’t enjoy each other’s company as much. Is she right? Bucky says something but you’re too much in your own head to hear what he has to say.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Stop taking care of everyone.”

You look down and notice his feet are pointing right at you. “Oh, my God.”

“What?”

“What?” You look up at him. “Nothing. What?”

“What?” You move slowly around Bucky but he follows you by moving his entire body and not just his head. “What are you doing?” You keep moving around Bucky to get his feet away from you but he keeps turning so that they’re always pointed at you. “I know she’s your best friend, but I didn't mean to insult you. I’m just saying you don’t have to take care of her.”

“I know.”

You do a complete one-eighty around him, yet he still follows you with his feet.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. I’m just trying to see…”

“Look, I’m sorry if I insulted you, but what are you doing right now?”

“I’m just… walking like a friend.”

“Okay, we have one more item on our list and then we can go. We just need toilet paper.”

“I don’t use it,” you say slowly.

“You don’t use toilet paper?”

You chuckle nervously and shake your head. “I mean… That’s not what I meant.” There is some right next to you so you grab the first one you see and put it in the cart. “Okay, we can go now.”

“You’re so weird,” he mutters and walks to the cashier.

Fuck, Natasha. She said something and now she’s in your head like a goddamn parasite. You two leave the store and start the journey back home. Bucky stops at the light and turns to you with confusion on his face.

“Okay, what is going on with you, Y/N?”

“Why do you have to do that? Why do you have to say my name like that?” You imitate him. “Y/N. And why do you have to wear old man clothes all the time?”

“I’m not wearing old man clothes. You don’t like the way I dress?”

“No… I just…” You fan your face. “I just need some air.”

All the windows are open but Bucky doesn’t comment on it. Just then, a woman walks up to the window carrying a bunch of red roses and is trying to sell them at stoplights like this one. You respect her trying to make extra money, but you can’t deal with this right now. All you can think about is Bucky and the fact that you saw his giant penis and the way his feet kept pointing at you.

“Roses for the lady?” the woman grins.

“You want some roses? I’ll buy you some.”

“No, I’m okay.”

Still, Bucky takes out some cash and hands it over to the woman who then gives the roses to him.

“Here, take some roses.”

“No, I don’t want them.”

“They were two dollars. Just take the roses.” You have to get out of here. You unbuckle and open the car door before fleeing. “Y/N, what are you doing? It was a joke. Get back in the car!” you take off running down the street. “Y/N!”

You don’t care if you’re going the wrong way. You just needed out of that goddamn car. It takes you an extra twenty minutes to get home when it could have taken you five in the car, but you needed the walk. You trudge inside your apartment to see Natasha sitting on the couch with a realtor magazine in her hands. She likes to keep up with what’s popular around the city.

“I walked all the way home,” you pant. “I got out of the war and walked all the way home.”

“What happened?”

“You happened, Nat. You got in my head! His feet were pointed at me the whole time.” She nods and stands up. “Is it the way I’m dressed? Is it my posture?”

“Look, I’ll talk to him for you.”

“No, please don’t. Just let me handle this, okay?”

The door opens and Bucky walks in with the groceries. “Okay, what the hell happened, Y/N? I’ve been driving around for the last thirty minutes looking for you. We were in the middle of traffic and you just got out and ran away.”

“I was hot,” you mumble.

“You were so hot that you had to jump out of my car and run?” You lean to the right and fix your posture. “Why are you standing like that?”

“This is how I always stand?”

“I’ve never seen you stand like that.” He shakes his head. “Look, I was worried about you, okay? You can’t just… Don’t do that again, okay?”

Bucky walks away and Natasha grins at you.

“Are you even listening to him? He’s trying to tell you that he likes you.”

“No, he’s just saying he cares about me as a friend.”

“Let’s go ask him.” She takes two steps and you jump on her back to stop her. She turns into the fighter that she is and starts to wrestle you, and you two go crumbling to the ground. “I am trying to help you, Y/N!”

“I don’t need your help, Nat. I like being friends with him. Yes, he has a giant penis that I saw. Yes, he saw me naked. Yes, he might be my dream guy, but none of that matters. He’s my friend and all that will go away if I bring this up. What if you’re wrong? What if he doesn’t like me?”

“A big part of my job is reading people. How do you think I managed to score as much as I have? I’ve managed to talk down narcissists and misogynists to buy more than the selling price. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. You never make the first move.”

“I have before, Natasha. I’ve been burned too many times to let it happen again. I like living here and that might go away because ‘you can read people’. I know you want to take care of me like I take care of you, but I have to handle this. Me, not you.”

“Fine,” she huffs out. “Thank you for letting me stay, but it’s best if I kick Troy out of my place. You got your boy drama and I have mine. Plus, I have a showing later in Beverly Hills I can’t miss.”

“You’re always welcome here.”

She leaves the apartment and Steve comes out of his room.

“Is she gone?”

“Yeah, she is.”

Steve sighs and flops onto the couch. “I don’t know how to do this. She’s not like any woman I have ever met. I thought we had a moment while you were gone, but it’s like it never happened with her.”

“Natasha has been hurt so many times. She had flings because in the last relationship she was in, he… I shouldn’t tell you this, but I will say this. She’s going to make you work for it.”

“That’s what makes it worth it,” he smiles.

“Good luck. She could use a guy like you.”

You’re exhausted by the end of the night, so you do your nighttime routine before going to bed. The first thing you do is brush your teeth. The door opens and Bucky walks in just as you start. You lightly blush just as Bucky grabs his toothbrush. You stand there in silence for a few minutes before you spit out the toothpaste in your mouth.

“Hey, I’m sorry for how I acted before.” Bucky looks at you. “Nat said something that freaked me out, but I’m good now. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“It’s okay,” he says with a mouthful of toothpaste.

He turns to the sink again and continues brushing, and you notice his feet move away from you and back to the sink. To hide your smile, you continue brushing your teeth, and your heart flutters.

x

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[rottenherbs]

A Weasley Holiday (pt.2) // G.W x reader

Summary: After you arrived to the Burrow, you awoke from a quick nap for dinner. Afterwards everyone rushed outside to build a snowman, you and George more interested in other plans.

Word Count: 1.5k

Authors Note: SHORTY! Ive been busy with work and the holidays! Lots of socializing — Anyways, I have been slowly working on pieces as i can, not as fast as i could a month ago! But after the holidays ill be more inclined to whip out pieces like you’ve never seen. Thank you for reading!

[masterlist] (part one here <-)

Much Love, Saige

————————

You woke up from your slumber by your cheek being softly caressed. You didn’t dare open your eyes, too blissfully comfortable and warm underneath the sheets. You attempted to keep your eyes closed, enjoying every last touch George's fingertips gave you.

“Darling come on. It’s supper time, and mum made your favorite.” He whispered, his fingers now brushing your hair around your face. He admired how you looked in his bed, wishing he had gotten into bed with you earlier.

“She made Shepard pie?” You asked, your eyes glimmering up at George. He laughed lightly, his hand still cupping your cheek nodding in affirmation. He slipped a hand under the blankets peeling them back from your body, urging you to get up. You shivered dramatically, your once toasty body now exposed to the elements.

“Here you little freeze baby.” George turned and walked to his closet, searching meticulously for something to give you. You pulled the covers back over you, tucking your chin playfully as you waited. He rummaged for a while before turning and holding up a tattered sweatshirt. It had a large Hogwarts crest on the front, the imagery worn beautifully down. You reached out your hands excitedly, happy to wear any piece of his clothing.

“It’s from 5th year….a little tight on me now” He shrugged, turning back to the closet to pick something out for himself. Slipping it over your head, your arms snaked through the sleeves holding them up to your nose and inhaling deeply. It was reminiscent of his old cologne, one that he didn’t typically wear anymore. So nostalgic and sweet.

You eventually got out of bed and walked down the winding staircase to the kitchen, now bustling with activity. Harry arrived as well, taking a place at the table sending you a casual wave over. You and George broke off, you going towards the dining table and him off to help his mum in the kitchen.

“It’s so nice to see you here y/n.” Harry smiled, scooting over on the bench to make room for you. You gladly sat down, looking around the space once more.

“I’m so happy to be here.” You said breathlessly. Every minute felt like a dream. Like a true vacation in a quaint little home with your friends and family. This is what the holidays were about.

”We're gonna go out after supper, try to make a snowman if you’d like to join?” Harry asked, picking up his glass of water. Taking a sip, George bounded over before you could respond.

“Sounds like potential for a snowball fight.” He raised his eyebrows looking over at you. “Were in”.

You just shook your head, happy to participate anyway. Harry chuckled and shrugged his shoulders, all three of you enveloping into small conversation about the plans for the remainder of winter break.

Dinner was wonderful, and Mrs. Weasley berated you after you called her Mrs.Weasely attempting to give compliments to the chef.

“Call me Molly dear, please. I might as well pitch up a sign on the door for everyone.” She exhaled, laughing lightly to herself. “Mrs.Weasley, good heavens.” Placing a hand on her chest rolling her eyes playfully. “Now I know i'm not that old!” The whole table chuckled, your beating heart slowing down, suddenly less afraid that she was truly upset with you. It became quite apparent that you and Harry had trouble calling her Molly; you’d both rather call her mum (but you’d never reveal that).

After dinner you stayed back and helped clean up, placing the dirty dishes next to the sink as they magically lifted one by one and washed themselves. The system of housecleaning was easy and the chores were minimal meaning you, Harry, and the Weasley siblings were out into the snow in no time.

Everyone was bundled up to the highest degree, not risking any contamination of icy wind or snow inside their clothes. Each person was distinctly larger, several layers and large boots changed the dimensions of each of the boys, you as well. It felt as if you had your own padding and shielding, godric forbid you get hit with a nasty snowball. Unfortunately for you, the chances were high.

You and George limped outside, the snow was as high as your shins creating such resistance to each step you took. Finding a satisfactory pile, you turned to face George and fell on your back, the snow cushioning your descent very nicely. George laughed and followed your lead, practically belly flopping into the snow face down, rolling around like a freshly washed dog. His clothes were covered in the white dust, and he became almost invisible if you squint hard enough.

While George was busy trying to stand back up, his body slightly off balance from the accumulation of snow, you pounded a small mound of snow together in your hands, aiming it directly at his chest, or so you thought.

The snowball gracefully flew through the air, cresting just above his head and landing directly on his face, splattering the cold debris everywhere. Goerge yelped, falling to the ground, his hands clutching his chest dramatically.

“I've been SHOT. FRIENDLY FIRE FRIENDLY FIRE!” He yelled, rolling around the snow once more. You laughed heartily, rushing over to his flailing body.

“I didn’t mean to hit you in the face! I’m so sorry-“ You started to apologize, but George’s hand whipped up once you got close enough, pulling you to the ground swiftly. He wrapped his arms around you, both of you rolling on top of eachother, pushing and tossing snow in eachothers face playfully. Once you two were out of energy, you stopped to catch your breath, both laying up towards the sky.

Your cheeks were reddened from the cold air and the tip of your nose was frozen to the touch. You turned your head towards George who laid beside you.

“I just can't get enough of you.” He mumbled, looking over at you. You smiled, staring into eachothers eyes, nothing but the sound of Ron and Harry yelling in the background about the logistics of their snowman’s proportions. You couldn’t have been more grateful to be living in this exact moment as you were.

You glanced over at Harry and Ron, Fred now joining them with a pile of sticks, all to entranced in their snowman to notice you both. You looked back at George with a smirk on your face, feeling particularly flirty. You leaned over quickly placing a small kiss on his cheek and on his lips, hovering lightly before planting another. He looked at you with wide eyes, enjoying the kiss, but nervously checking on harry and Ron, a feeling of embarrassment if you were caught kissing.

Something deep in George’s core lit like a fire, his body reacting pleasantly to the idea of possibly being caught, that you two kissing was forbidden, or at the very least secretive.

His hands quickly grabbed your body, the barrier of the clothing frustrating his fingers, unable to fully feel your skin. Your lips were freezing, but warmed up lightly to the feeling of his, cascading gracefully and slowly alongside eachother. The kiss seemed to deepen quickly, both of your hands holding onto his face, pulling his body as close to you as possible. His hands held your jacket tightly, as if he was willing to rip it off of your body. You both laid on your side facing each other, bodies stiff and immovable, just your heads bobbing rhythmically.

George pulled back, resting his head on the snow completely out of breath. You bit your lip, watching him lay back, wishing he didn’t kissing you. Your chest was burning, itching for more contact. He pulled you onto his chest, now maneuvering your head to look up towards the sky. It had darkened severally since you all came outside, the stars now shining brightly.

“Do you believe we are all alone here. In our galaxy?” George whispered. The silence lingered between you two, taking the time to think of your own opinion.

“I’m not sure.” You finally responded. You weren’t sure. Would it be sadder that you were alone as a species completely in the universe, or too far to ever meet the other life, both ideas making your head spin.

“I think id be alright either way.” George mumbled. “I feel pretty satisfied with just you.” He leaned, whispering sultry into your ear. The hair on the back of your neck stood up, your body becoming hot again, not even the snow was able to cool your nerves. Your hands traveled back to his neck pulling him closer to you, the kiss resuming with the same amount of passion.

You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to last out in the cold, but you also weren’t sure if you’d be able to contain yourself if you both went inside

[aphrodyx]

We’re all we have

supernatural oneshot: Sam Winchester x Dean Winchester x y/n (mainly Dean)

tw//: mentions of death, mentions of suicide, self-hate, victim-blaming, and mentions of being unlovable

synopsis: you’ve been waiting for your brothers to come back from their hunting trip, however, you and Dean get in an argument. It makes you question his thoughts about you and your place in the family.

fem! reader x sam winchester, fem! reader x dean winchester, family au, some angst, and some foul language

an: sorry if this is shit, i just luv my bbs 🙁

It’s been a while, too long even. It’s been over a week since Sam and Dean went on their hunt in Valentine, Nebraska. It was suppose to be only a nest of vampires. Seven? Eight? Maybe nine? They could take them easily, so why is it taking them forever to return my calls. One last time, I swear if he doesn’t answer…

Pang! Pang! Pang!

“Open up y/n!” Dean’s voice muffled through the metal.

Seriously? Now they come what the hell. I rush to the door to open it.

“Hey! Hey! How’s my favorite girl doing?” Dean walks in shuffling around me, down the stairs to the table.

“Dude c’mon— hey y /n… how are you” Sam stopping in his tracks to acknowledge me with a soft smile.

“I’m angry and you know that, what the hell Sam!” I turn haltingly and follow Dean.

I pace around Dean, angrily waiting for an explanation. They were gone for seven full days with zero contact, and it’s not like we had an argument. Over 70 messages sent and 50 missed calls, I thought of the worse. They could have been dead in a ditch or heads ripped off; why didn’t they call me, text me, sent cass, absolutely anything to me to make sure they were still alive.

“Dean, I need answers right now!”

“Y/n, I’m sorry okay… I should’ve texted you. We’re alright, see?” Dean spins in a 360, showing himself injure-free.

“No! I’m sick a tired of these excuses, you’ve been so distant. You’re so quick to go from one hunt to another, your not slowing down at all. Im worried about you. You’re not eating good or sleep properly, and when was the last time you took a shower. Seriously?

“Y/n…” Dean starts getting frustrated walking up to her.

“Y/n…” Sam interferes, trying to calm her down.

“No! fucking talk to me! What’s the matter with you!” I slam my fist down on the table.

“My dad is dead! Do you know what’s that like? To have your father taken away from you and not even knowing who did it!” He slams his fist down, kicking a chair away.

“Dean, calm down please. Yelling at each other isn’t going to mend our problem right now” Sam puts his hand on his older brother’s shoulder.

“I lost him too, you know? He was like my dad too Dean?” I say up in his face.

“He wasn’t your dad though, as much as you think he was” He pushes around y/n and storms off to his room.

I stand there. Zero thoughts flooding my mind. Am I angry? Upset? I don’t even know. I know we aren’t actually siblings and I know John wasn’t my real dad, but… he took care of me. He took me in when no one else would, fed me, gave me a roof over my head, and a family: sam and dean. Why would he say that to me… did he really not consider me as his sister… as his family? I sniffle a bit, crouching down on the floor.

“Y/n…” sam says quietly, sitting down with me on the floor. “You know Dean didn’t mean that.. John was your dad too. He was a dad to all of us, you know… he takes grief harder than the rest of us”

Sniffle… Sniffle… Sniffle

“Still, I don’t know… that felt different” I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. “He’s never raised his voice up at me… I never wanted anything less for him.”

“I know… me too��� it’s just been a rough couple of weeks, he’s been sleeping terribly and drinking a whole lot more than usual” Sam rubs his face with his hands.

“It’s my fault though… I should’ve returned your calls and texts. I know you mean the best for both of us; I’ll be honest, it’s been rough for me too. I just… I don’t know ive kept my phone on silent and just didn’t want to deal with anyone… even you.”

Hearing sam confess his true feelings felt like a demon blade right through my chest. He didn’t want to talk to me either. All this time, they’ve been grieving. Maybe I didn’t truly understand, John did raise them all their lives. Their mom died when Dean was just four years old and sam at six months. I don’t know anything about how they feel. They’re broken and lost. A piece of them has been shattered and they can never get that back.

“Im sorry Sam. Im so sorry, ive been so selfish and I wasn’t caring about you guys at all and I-“

“No. Stop, you are the most caring, loving, kind-spirited person I know and I love you so so much. Dean is just… We’re just… We have a hard time regulating our emotions especially right now. If we give ourselves the chance to sit down properly, we’re going to lose our minds.” Sam exhales fast, holding his thoughts in for so long.

“It’s not you, I swear. But he shouldn’t have done that to you, it was fucked up and he knows it. I promise he will come around and apologize, you know he’s stubborn so it might take a couple of days, hours if you’re lucky, but knowing Dean… were pretty lucky all the time., right?” Sam chuckles, glancing at y/n’s glossy eyes. “Please stop crying, it hurts me a lot more than it does for you to see you like this.”

“I know… I’m okay...”

I had doubts, I know Sam says Dean said that out of frustration but I don’t know. I’ll give him some time though, I know he looked up to his dad for everything. He cared so much for him in deep admiration and devotion. Just like how I feel about Sam and Dean. I push myself off the floor, dried tears smudged on my cheeks.

“Rest now, you’ve had a long day, and there should be Chinese take out in the kitchen” I hug Sam: rubbing his hands up and down, letting him know I’ll be alright.

—————— ————time skip———————————

I lay down on my bed with music blasting in my headphones, listening to “Carry on Wayward Son” by Kansas; Dean’s favorite song. He told me anytime I’m upset, mad, happy, or confused I can always play this song and I’ll know what to do. I gave him space for a couple of hours and now I can’t fall asleep. I hate being in any grey area with Dean, he took care of me after John was gone on hunts as well. He was always there for Sam and I.

I hear a quiet knock at the door.

“Come in” I sit up, taking off my headphones to see who’s about to walk into my room.

“Hey… can we talk?” Dean says leaning against the door frame, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, what’s up” I scoot over making room for the both us on my twin xl bed.

“Y/n… Im so so sorry for how I acted with you today, I was a complete fucking jerk and I didn’t mean anything I said.” Dean spits out disappointingly. “John— dad. You lost him too, not just me nor Sam. You. You lost the only man who ever cared for you, loved you, knew you”

“Dean—“

“No. Let me continue. Dad was in your life for fifteen years. Fifteen! What right did I have to say that he wasn’t your dad either? I knew you since I was twelve, sammy was seven. We grew up together. We’re always and will be family. How the fuck could I say that to you?” Dean covers his face in his hands in shame.

“Y/n, ive been so selfish, I should’ve stopped what I was doing after dad died and just been there for you, for sammy. He’s been trying to stop me from going on all these hunts, but I won’t listen. I never listen. That’s my problem, im such an idiot.”

“Please forgive me, I didn’t mean it at all. Ive been in my head and these aren’t excuses but it’s just been so hard. It’s just always been so hard, and now dad gone just feels like my breaking point. I should’ve replied back to your calls and texts, Ive just been so angry and I just needed to kill. I needed to get out all these thoughts, and the voices out. I couldn’t stand a second staying in the bunker.” Dean’s softly sobbing now uncontrollably.

“Dean… I know… I just know how close you were with dad, I should’ve considered what would happen-“

“No, you shouldn’t consider anything. Im the oldest, I shouldve been there for you, and not the other way around. It’s just been so suffocating lately. I can’t breathe, I can’t walk, I can’t eat, for life doesn’t feel real anymore.”

I scoot closer to Dean, picking up his head.

“Don’t talk like that, we’re here still: sam, cass, and me. Your family is still here and we care so much for you. We are so loved Dean, please see that. I know it’s hard right now but going through this alone, and isolating yourself? That isn’t the way to go, we will get through this together. Like we always do. Family sticks together, Winchesters forever”

Dean’s glossy eyes reaches y/n’s; he reaches out, grasping to the sides of head, and brings it closer to him. Kissing the middle of her forehead, he says, “I never deserved you.”

“I never deserved you; I never knew I’d get loved like this ever again from people. Until John came, and told me it’s okay to come home with him. He told me he’d protect and care for me. But within all that, I never knew I would get two amazing brothers along the way.”

Dean rests his forehead against y/n’s. He takes her hand in his and squeezes it. Dean has always been this hard core man from the outside, but truly he’s just a hurt child. He always has been. It hasn’t been easy for him: losing his mom, being forced into the family business, surviving each hunt, and caring for sam. I could never blame his behavior now, he just hasn’t had the time to heal. He needs to heal, but he can’t.

“I love you a lot Dean, I hope you know that. I truly do.” I kiss the side of his head.

“I know you do, I love you a lot too y/n, you’re my little sister. Forgive me please.”

“I forgive you… but no more hunts, at least for now, we need to all take time and grieve, and spend some time together. No hunting business, no demon or angel business, just family. We can even go see Jodie for a few days?”

“Thank you y/n, seriously. Thank you for forgiving me because I don’t think I would have been able to sleep tonight if you didn’t. And yeah whatever you want to do: a family trip! Seeing Jodie will be amazing, little trip into the forest to the cabin.” Dean smiles facing y/n while pushing her hair out of her face.

“Perfect! We’ll tell Sam in the morning, it’s almost three a.m. we should probably try to sleep now.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he gets up and walks towards the door. Turning around abruptly, he says “thank you again, sweetheart. I know I let my emotions get the best of me, but I’ll try. I’ll try because I don’t want to make you feel like you don’t belong in this family. I could never let myself live again if I said that to you again.”

“I know Dean, trust me I do. Im glad we talked, dad wouldn’t have wanted this between us would he now?”

“No, he wouldn’t. He’s probably calling me an asshole for saying that to you, Im definitely on his bad side right now.”

“He knows we’re struggling, he won’t blame you and neither will I.”

Dean chuckles, smiling to the ceiling. I can still see how broken he feels inside, but it won’t go away in one night. It’ll take time and im willingly to help him out, im willing to help them both out.

“Goodnight y/n” Dean whispers

“Goodnight Dean” I whisper back.

[nickeverdeen]

Hi! Can I ask for male OBX characters walking in on their S/O changing?

Male Outer Banks characters walking in on their lover changing

JJ Maybank

JJ walks in with his usual chaotic energy, stops dead in his tracks, and just stares for a second before realizing what’s happening

He’ll quickly cover his eyes with his hands but peeks through his fingers, joking, “I’m being respectful! Totally didn’t see anything.”

JJ does a dramatic spin to face the other way, arms wide, like he’s trying to give you privacy but still wants to be funny

He’ll leave the room but stick his head back in to say, “Let me know when I can come back!” before finally closing the door

Later, he apologizes in his own way, which usually means awkwardly trying to make it up to you with snacks or jokes

“If you need help picking an outfit, I’m available,”

While he plays it cool, he’s 100% thinking about how good you looked the whole time he’s teasing you

Blames you for no reason

“How was I supposed to know you’d be in the middle of changing? You could’ve shouted or something!”

He’ll casually wrap an arm around you later, as if the earlier incident never happened, but it’s just an excuse to be closer

If you tease him back, he’ll actually get a bit shy and avoid eye contact for a few minutes

“You’ll never guess what happened,” he tells John B later, laughing about the whole situation

After the incident, JJ makes a big show of knocking loudly

Once he’s done joking, JJ makes sure you’re not upset

John B Routledge

John B quickly slams the door halfway closed, peeking around it awkwardly to apologize

He instinctively throws his hands over his face, muttering, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see anything!”

“I should’ve knocked—this is totally on me,”

He might stand there for a second too long, trying to process the situation before his brain kicks in to leave

Gets a bit playfully defensive

“Hey, you can’t blame me for this one! You should’ve locked the door!”

John B is respectful and leaves almost immediately, but you can hear him chuckling outside the door

“We’re cool, right? You’re not mad at me or anything?”

He starts loudly announcing, “Coming in!” every time he enters a room after that

Even if he acts cool, his mind replays the moment all day, making him blush when he thinks about it

He’ll sit on the porch later, wondering if he made you uncomfortable and how to make it right

He starts knocking on every door, even when it’s unnecessary, like when you’re in the kitchen

John B makes sure you know he didn’t mean to invade your privacy and promises to be more careful

Pope Hayward

Pope’s face goes red instantly, and he stammers out, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” before slamming the door shut

He spends the next five minutes pacing outside the door, shouting apologies through it

Even after he leaves, his face stays red, and he avoids eye contact for the rest of the day

Pope knocks on your door every single time after that, even if you’re in the middle of talking to him

“Why didn’t I knock? I always knock! What’s wrong with me?”

He’s extra careful not to look at you for a while, worried you’re upset with him

Pope spends hours analyzing whether you’re mad, embarrassed, or fine with it

If you tease him about it, he’ll stammer and go bright red all over again

“I swear I wasn’t trying to, like, spy or anything. It was just bad timing!”

Pope becomes hyper-aware of your privacy, going out of his way to give you space

He genuinely feels terrible about the situation and checks in later to make sure you’re okay

Unlike JJ, Pope doesn’t tell anyone about the incident, not even the other Pogues

Rafe Cameron

Rafe stops mid-step, his eyes widening as he realizes what’s happening, but he doesn’t look away fast enough

“Uh… I—wow—uh, sorry!” he stammers, quickly turning around but clearly flustered.

Even while apologizing, there’s a little smirk on his face because, well, he’s Rafe

He steps out of the room but keeps the door slightly ajar, peeking back in

Rafe tries to act casual, leaning against the doorframe afterward like it’s no big deal, though his ears are pink

He’ll later casually ask, “You mad at me for that, or are we good?” just to make sure you’re okay.

“Sorry… but maybe lock the door next time?”

Rafe takes his time leaving, pretending to adjust something in the room as an excuse to stay for a few extra seconds

He’ll be distracted for the rest of the day, replaying the moment in his mind with a small grin

If it’s just him and Topper, he might casually brag about it

[deweysdenouement]

“This stays between us,” Ernest instructs his brother as Frank silently stitches the small but deep wound on his right side. “Seriously. Not even if Dewey asks.”

“I’ve never been accused of being a gossip,” Frank murmurs, finishing his work with surgeon-like precision.

“Come on, you owe me one.” Ernest nudges him with his boot. “That man thought I was you.”

“I always tell you not to do that,” Frank scowls. “You should have let me take the hit.”

“You would do the same for me. You have done the same for me.”

Frank drops the used needle into the tray beside his couch with a clank and a blank expression. “That was different,” he says. “I didn’t know the poison was in the sugar. I thought the violence would start after the tea.”

“You expect too much civility from your side,” Ernest tells him. “They were trying to kill either way. Why let someone finish their breakfast?”

“They were very polite.” Frank pours rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad. “And J always…hey, do not scratch those stitches.”

“My associates just went for the gut.” Ernest winces at the burning sensation of the alcohol. “Didn’t take much of a look at me.”

Frank stares at him. He’s got the kind of stare that goes right through a person.

“What?”

“You’re upset,” Frank states.

“Alright, Captain Empathy.” Ernest rolls his eyes. “I scratched the stitches and it hurt, just get on with telling me off.”

“That would probably make both of us feel better,” Frank agrees. “But I’m asking you why anyway.”

“If you’d been the one who got stabbed, you’d have clammed up until the end of time,” Ernest says bitterly.

“We’re different people.” Frank puts down the cotton pad and folds his hands.

“I wish we were,” Ernest snaps, which he doesn’t mean to say at all, but his side is burning and a not-insignificant amount of his blood is on the floor.

Frank just nods. He doesn’t need any further explanation.

“Do you remember when we were little?” Ernest asks finally. “Before…before everything. And I cried because we all got different colour scarves for our birthday and I wanted red like yours?”

“So we’d match.” Frank smiles a little. “Yours was green.”

“And Dewey’s was yellow.” Ernest nods. “But Father sat us down and he told us that he didn’t want us to just be identical triplets our whole lives. He wanted us all to be as different as we could possibly be. That’s the only memory I have of him.”

“I remember,” Frank’s voice is soft. “I don’t think they ever mixed us up once.”

“I hate that they believed I was you so easily,” he says. Then, “No offence.”

Frank snorts.

“They don’t see a single tell,” he continues. “We’re one person on two sides. Where do you draw the line? What’s me, and what’s me pretending to be you? And what’s me pretending to be you pretending to be me? Are we both just pretending to be a manager?”

“Ernest.” Frank holds out a hand. “Stop.”

“Sorry.” Ernest shakes his head. “Too sincere for you?”

“I read the files on our parents,” Frank says quietly.

Ernest stills. Dewey had handed them each a copy of VFD’s records of their parents some years ago. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to read them, and neither had Ernest. He had been under the impression that Frank had never touched them either. The last he was aware, none of them knew a single thing about their parents beyond blurry, unreliable memories.

“How is that relevant?” Ernest says at last.

“Because…” Frank considers his words. “I looked at all these photos. I read people’s accounts of meeting them. Letters they wrote, diary entries. Even their school reports.”

“And?”

“And I’m nothing like them.” Frank smiles grimly. “I’m too neurotic, I was too clingy at school, I don’t laugh much. Our mother loved sesame and I’m allergic. Our father couldn’t focus on anything, but I can’t put something down until it’s finished. And they seemed so fun.”

“Where is this going?”

“Let me finish.” Frank huffs. “Our father questioned everything. He made trouble every single day at school, but it was because he had the strongest sense of justice any of those teachers had ever seen. He was charming and funny and he loved the sauna. He was a terrible dancer but a great singer. He wanted to be a cowboy when he was little.”

“Frank.” He can feel a dam starting to crack, something swelling to bursting in his chest.

“You’re not me,” Frank says sternly but gently. “You’re our father’s son. And that man is so loved and so missed. Which I’m told he would have been cocky about.”

Ernest laughs a little shakily.

Later, when he returns to his own room to rest, he finds a photo tucked into the pages of the book on his nightstand.

The man in it has a squarer jaw and darker hair, but the smile that looks back at him is like staring in a mirror.

[c0smickat]

A Sailor’s Song

(Image without text & border below)

[killerandhealerqueen]

You know, when I go on instagram and read comments about Logan (idk why I do that it’s safer on tumblr for the most part), they always say he was a shit driver but it’s like…none of them want to acknowledge the fact that he was driving a SHITTY car made with parts from the previous year, making it heavier AND he didn’t have the same upgrades as Alex. He was making the best of a shitty situation. I don’t think anybody could have done better than him in that car, honestly. But it’s always easier to blame the driver rather than blame the team, right?

[faramirsonofgondor]

we all know that when jamie said “it’s funny when roy’s yelling at other people” what he really meant was “that was so fucking sexy i want to jump his bones rn” but unfortunately the ted lasso writers are cowards 😔

[blowingoffsteam2]

Still sitting here stewing in the fact that the manga skipped Riku’s sacrifice

[shima-draws]

What the FUCK Furina’s backstory is so fucking sad??? The absolute TORTURE she’s been through. Shit dude,

[rainbeaudingo]

Since I really doubt we’re gonna get much more from the Kurogiri storyline I just wanna say I’m super disappointed.

Not that he died. But that it was so…meaningless. It delayed the inevitable for half a second. It didn’t help Tomura wake up. He didn’t really get a proper goodbye.

He was just a taxi. And that. Sucks.

[neonbodyache]

actually fuckedup so bad today i cant believe it

[musicalmoritz]

Shocked to see discourse on Sydney Novak’s sexuality, I thought the show made it incredibly obvious that she’s a lesbian. Not just that she likes women, they made her disinterest in men very clear through that scene where she said she suddenly realized why she didn’t like Stan. I haven’t watched the show since it came out so I can’t go too in depth with this but her journey was very clearly leading in the lesbian direction to me, like they could not have made it any more obvious. People need to learn that media analysis goes deeper than what’s shown on screen, a large part of it is being able to read between the lines. I think that’s why a lot of canon queer characters get their sexualities denied by the fandoms, some fans just refuse to use their brains lol

[apostatively]

Finding out folks’ respective opinions on the end of DA2 for the past few weeks while we all discuss whether DATV has been Good, Bad, or The Same has been a massive surprise for me.

I guess my perspective had been that Hawke didn’t fail to save the city, since Anders is not their dang legal dependent and potentially they’ve truly done their best to be there for him and support him while he’s been going through a particularly fucked-up time (at least in my worldstate). And since Hawke hasn’t been elected the Anything of Anything, and didn’t agree to take full responsibility for the entire city when Meredith or whoever named them Champion. Like yeah, okay, cool - this is probably ceremonial, right? They didn’t campaign for it and weren’t elected. And since they actively fight to put down immediate threats to the city in the final act - Meredith and (for some dumb reason) Orsino, and succeed at that and prevent as much loss of life as they are physically able…how is any of that sincere effort a failure? I’m not saying it isn’t possible to try your hardest and fail either, but in a situation that was never in Hawke’s control in the first place, that’s not what I see from the game’s ending at all.

A Hawke who isn’t purposely evil and doesn’t torture their companions or punch down maliciously on their community and acts in good faith has NOT failed to save anything, imo. There were always going to be circumstances beyond their control, and part of what makes them a hero is how much unnecessary pain and responsibility they willingly shoulder to try and protect anyone/everyone. If they fully supported their friends, with the exception of a potential DLC character, they all fight to save those who can’t save themselves, and they and the people they care about make it out in one piece.

There are multiple inevitable “failures” Hawke is set up to experience in the narrative, but the ending, fighting to defend others and living on another day with your family of friends, always felt like winning to me. I’ll probably replay DA2 multiple times over the next few years in search of hope or comfort.

Veilguard has not felt that way to me at all, because it’s intentionally not written with “your friends make it out” as an achievable win condition. Aside from the development hell resulting in a much shorter/more narratively limited game, I don’t understand how this feels similar to DA2 to some players.