#Gear warning Alert

[skyvoice-holymicro]

Install SkyVoice Alert 500 and stack the odds in your favour! Fly safely

[winterarmyy]

My Person

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which Sam's question forces Bucky to reveal his true feelings to his so called "friend", Y/N.

Pairing: tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Words: 3.2k++

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, fluff, wee bit of angst, bucky is so adorable in this I WANT HIM SO BAD, also he is a bit feral. I feel like he can be more feral than this but you know, he doesn't wanna scare her away lol. This is just a result from surge of need so might not be too much of plot but I hope you enjoy your reading, anyway.

Inspiration: This post right here by @black-cat-2

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Sam took notice on every single crooks and corners as he followed Bucky's dragging footsteps from behind. It wasn't that he didn't want to help him but Bucky refused the offer right on the bat, saying that the serum will fix him up sooner or later.

The aftermath of their final battle with the flagsmasher was chaotic to say the least. With the splitting sides of public opinions of the new Captain America and the whispers about how the former winter soldier saved a bunch of civilian tonight had been the talk of the town.

But both Sam and Bucky decided not to think of it too much,  especially when both were exhausted from the fight. Not to mention Bucky was injured. Although Sam knew damn well that the soldier can managed himself to a hotel to rest for the night like he always does, but as a worried friend, or rather a babysitter some would say, he insisted to accompany Bucky all the way through.

And Bucky was not in the mood to argue; Sam is as equally stubborn as Steve used to be, so he let the man do whatever he wants.

It was clear Sam was suspicious of where the hell did this terminator brought him to, but mostly he was curious. He thought he would just accompany him to the nearest hotel but nope. After taking an Uber, the next thing he knew, Bucky was leading him into this apartment building, that was obviously not his.

"Last time I checked your apartment was in Brooklyn. When did you get a place here?" Sam asked as Bucky stopped at one of the identical looking doors.

"It's not mine" Bucky replied truthfully as he removed the glove from his fleshed hand and pressed his thumb at the top of the door handle.

Sam eyed him with a look on his face when he sassed at him, "Said the guy who is currently unlocking the doors with his fingerprint."

Bucky simply rolled his eyes before the chiming sound alerts that the door was unlocked. Bucky opened the door to let Sam inside before he himself got in after him. "Seriously, man. If I knew you can afford having two apartments I would've asked you to pay for tonight's dinner. That's the least you can do..." Sam's words died as his eyes scanned the apartment.

Whatever he was expecting the apartment to look like, it was far from it. He surely was not expecting the place to be fully decorated with complete set of furniture in every area of the room. Whether it is the living room area, or the huge kitchen that was also equipped with built-in oven.

Even with the lack of light, Sam could see the color pallette on the walls were definitely not what Bucky would go for. The sentimetal trinkets on the shelves, the sweet fragrant of the scented candles; everything was the very opposite of what Bucky's apartment in Brooklyn looks like, feels like.

This, it felt like home. Warm and inviting. Quiet and serene.

"You know what? I take that back. Whose house have you broke us into?" Sam asked, almost in awe rather than shocked, "I know for a fact that this ain't your house."

Bucky huffed a heavy breath as he remove his tactical gears, "I didn't say it was mine, remember? Or flying with the pigeons in the sky had made you forgot how to undertand human language?" there was an unfiltered sarcasm in his tone that didn't go unnoticed by Sam.

So obviously he got defensive and unknowingly increase his volume as he countered, "Woah woah, that was uncalled for. And for your information pigeons can't fly as fast a my wings, and rest assured that I--"

Bucky swiftly stomped towards him, eyes wide almost in anger, while his metal hand reached to cover Sam's mouth, "Can you shut the fuck up, she's probably asleep and your noisy ass will wake--"

"Bucky?" A tiny yet groggy voice interrupted the conversation causing both of them to turn their attention to the source. The figure peeped itself from the bedroom, her uncertainty made it that only half of her body was revealed through the doorway.

Her squinting eyes indicates how recent she was woken up from her sleep and Bucky flashed a quick glared at Sam for that. Sam simply shrug with his hands the air as a response. He was still confused who is this woman and why were they in her house.

Bucky's tight features softens as he called for her, "Hey, babydoll. What are you doing up?"

Recognizing that voice anywhere her feet made her way to him, "Heard some noises." She answered shortly as her knuckles find her eyes and rubbed it lightly. The closer she gets, the clearer Bucky can see the dark circles under her eyes, signifying how much she was lacking of sleep.

His heart squeeze a little at the sight, "M'sorry, sweetheart." it was as if their bodies were magnets that they naturally found each other. Bucky opened his arms wide for her to find her rightful place in his embrace.

"It's okay" she mumbled against his sturdy chest. "Welcome home." She continued.

You'd be surprise to know how much the former winter soldier absolutely adore the feeling of her lips moving against his skin. Even if it was blocked by the fabric of his shirt. It always felt good and he swore he could not get enough of it.

Bucky leaned down on top of her head, inhaling the strawberry yogurt scent of her shampooed hair, "Yes. I am home, indeed." His hugged got tighter, crushing her just enough to make those pretty little sounds slipped her from lips.

Strings of hushed moan kept purring in her throat when Bucky lightly swayed her from side to side; his fleshed hand drawing invisible circles on the back of her waist, while his metal hand gently squeeze the back of her neck.

If she let him pamper her more than this, they'd probably forget that Sam was in the room. Unabashedly had his mouth agape at the sight in front of him. He was not sure whether he wanted to look away or to continue staring because no amount of explanation will suffice to answer his questions.

Peeking from Bucky's shoulder, she smiled warmly as she finally acknowledge the unexpected guest, "You must be Sam. I've heard a lot about you."

She tried to wiggle an escape from Bucky arms, but it was no avail; he was not planning to let her go any time soon. She ended up dragging the enormous koala bear who was stuck on her back as she offered Sam a handshake, introducing herself.

"Good things I hope." Sam took her hand and lightly shake it as she replied, "Of course." As much as he wanted to keep his eye contact with her, it was extremely hard when the grumpy super soldier that he knew was basically melting in crook of her neck.

"I don't want to be rude but the two of you are..." Sam purposely left his words hanging, hoping that one of them would finish the sentence before he let out his assumption, however both of them remained silent. The woman was blinking at him confused, while Bucky was practically still drooling over the her.

"...Lovers?" Sam ended his sentence with an uncertain tone.

Both of them went rigid to the question but before Bucky could say anything, she answered first, "No!" She almost shouted, taking a deep breath before she rephrase her answer, "No. I mean yes. We're not... like that."

"So, you guys are friends then?" Sam quirked an eyebrow to her answer, and seeing Bucky's silence, he guessed that the super soldier might liked her more than just 'friends'.

"Yup, we are. We first met when Bucky was on the run from Hydra, before you guys found him. It's a long story, really." And by the time she explained the shorten version of their story, Bucky finally drifted his attention to Sam, a deep frown decorated his brows as he was mentally asking, "How much longer are you going to stand there? Get the fuck out."

Sam should be offended by his silent orders but considering he came in the middle of the night, uninvited, he realized that he should leave them be,"Then, let that be a reason for us to meet again. You can tell me all about this meet-cute of yours later. I don't want to keep you away from him any longer. Especially when he is staring daggers at me."

She lightly tapped on Bucky's arms, and quick frown at him followed after as she non-verbally asking him stop glaring at Sam. Needless to say, Sam removed himself from the scene after they, or rather she, bid him goodbye.

As soon as the doors closed, Bucky has her back pressed against the door, wasting no time than to capture her lips. A gasped from her made it easy for him to slip his tongue inside. He kissed her slow yet so hungrily as if he was starved of the taste of her sweet mouth against his.

Bucky broke the kiss momentarily just to whisper, "I missed you so much, babydoll." With his thigh in between her legs, he guided her clothed core to slowly hump against him. "Missed you, too." Her beautiful moans only encourage his cock to swell even more than it already was.

Breaking the kiss, Bucky let her catch a breath as his glazed eyes adored her soft features. He still remembered the day when he first met her.  When he escaped from Hydra's control, he was determined to keep his life down low. Don't attract to much attention, follow the schedule and stick to rules.

And his schedule was never interesting, it was always:

- write his journal entry

- find/do odd and non-permenant jobs for money

- grocery shopping and cooking

- watch the news

- and mostly just stay at home

Obviously, Bucky knows how to use the internet and all those modern devices that they have nowadays, but he never understand them; the 'social media' and the 'viral' things were never really appealing to him. So one day he decided to pay a visit to a small local library; hoping to find fimiliar solace in books instead.

What are the odds that both of them reach for the same book at the same time? After the multiple exchange of: 'Oh, I'm sorry, here take it.' 'No, you take.' 'No, please I insist.' They ended up meeting on a common ground; making a decision to sit down and read together. Turns out, spending a few hours with her at the library was the most peace he had since forever.

Bucky had a strict routine and rules. But the moment she asked him if he want to spend more time with her while she was there, he was ready to break all of it. And he did; for 7 days straight.

She was his first sense of freedom. His first choice in life.

Though, back then he was on a run, for presumably a lifetime, while she was on business trip for a week. So, they lost contact after that, especially when Bucky was running around with the Avengers and fighting aliens, but fate seemed to be on their side when they were reunited again in New York.

It's a miracle that she even recognized him. Little did he knew, he wasn't the only one who got hooked on the first few hours of that reading session had.

Though, he was extremely grateful that she reach out the moment she recognized him; no hesitant, no doubt. Just a confident and cheerful shout of his name in middle of the park that he walks through everyday.

The first thing that came out from her mouth after calling out his name was a compliment of his new hair cut and how she can see his beautiful eyes more clearer now. And that alone had made Bucky absolutely red in blush.

Weeks after that, she often joined him with his daily walk, making it their routine instead of just his. And months into this newly founded 'friendship', they found solace in each other's arms, comfort in each other's touch, and this quickly become their new favourite activity to do together.

Though none of them ever actually discuss their status but their body language suggest that they are more than just friends.

Especially with the way Bucky was rubbing the tip of his leaking cock on her clit; so desperate yet so gentle. Just like how he always does when he makes love to her. But, tonight he felt different. Maybe he was just needy or maybe it was the way she admit that they were not lovers when Sam asked about their relationship.

It was true. But, it felt so wrong.

"Am I just a friend to you, doll? Bucky leaned forward, his forehead met hers, his hot breath tickling her skin.

His tongue briefly passed in between his lips as he spreads her legs further, revealing her dripping cunt for his display, "Do your friends touch you like this, hmm?" His husky whisper as he rubbed his hardened length in between her slit, brushing against her clit.

"Do your friends kiss you all over like me?" She moaned breathily, as he bit and kiss the softness of her breasts; easily leaving his marks as if she was his to claim.

And without any warning, his cock slammed straight into her hole, stretching the walls to his size causing her to yelp in painful pleasure. Bucky let out a satisfied groan as the tightness of her around him, "Do your friends fuck this tight little pussy with their cock like me?"

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from pulling and pushing his hips to meet hers, his fingertips was practically digging into the flesh of her hips, moving her in time with his thrusts, "What am I to you, baby?" Honestly, it was hard for her to form complete thoughts, let alone reply to his question when he was fucking her so good.

Gone was the gentleman she knew for the past years, the koala bear that she spent hours on the couch cuddling to a movie marathon with. Now, there was only this feral beast, hungry for pleasure, insatiable to devour her whole body and soul.

Each roll of his hips pushed her further from her sober thoughts, focusing only on the wild look on his face, his huge body hunched over hers, his throbbing cock kissing her cervix. Any answer she was trying to convey was lost at the tip of her tongue; there were just the mewling mess, as she fell apart underneath him, compliant to his every thrust as his cock ramming within her. "Tell me. Come on, now. Use your words."

Bucky was almost losing his mind, from how bad he wanted to cum and how stubborn she was for not answering his questions. He pushed her legs up and wide as his thrust punctuated to his words,  "What. Am. I. To. You?"

It took her a couple of long moans at his roughness, before she could utter a single word, the only correct answer to his question, "Mine."

He groaned approvingly, pulling back just enough to slide his metal between their bodies. "I'm yours?" Those hard, cold fingers that she loved so much was quick to find her clit. She was already sensitive from all the friction of his rutting, and now was he relentlessly assaulting the swollen nub, "Then, does that make you mine as well huh, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Bucky. You're mine. And I'm yours. All yours. Pleasee"

Her back arches off the bed, toes curling tight as her nails dug into his skin and across his back; To have some kind of a leverage to hold as the overwhelming pleasure surged through her body.

"Yeah, that's right, babygirl. You're mine and mine alone. Mine to love, mine to fuck. Yes?" Bucky taunted her with both his words and the way he rutted into her wet pussy, as if he himself was not close to the egde.

The sound of skin to skin clashing intertwined with the sounds of her pussy squelching around his cock, his girth kept pounding straight into her sweet spot to the point that only lewd whimpers of plead were spewing out of her lips, "Yes, yes yes. Oh Bucky please,, fuck,, I'm cumming!"

"Cum, sweetheart. Let me feel that tight little pussy of mine cum around my cock" He hummed approvingly as he picked a deeper and harsher pace, causing her mouth to fall wide open and her eyes screwed shut as she felt her whole body shook as she came. "Yeah,, that's it, doll. That's my girl. fuckkk,, feels so good baby, gonna make me cum inside you if you keep choking me like that."

"Please, Bucky?" A breathy moan of his name passed her lips as she her walls spasm with need. Bucky groan to the sensation, he was sure that her pussy was already full of his precum, considering how it has been leaking inside her for so long, "Want my cum in you, pretty girl?"

Batting her eyes through her lashes, she stared up at him, pleading., "Need it, please."

"Oh fuck, you got it, sweetheart." Throwing his head back in pleasure, shutting his eyes solely to focus of the feeling of her wet and tight cunt, Bucky's pace quicken as he chased his high, "Hmmm,, fuckk,, gonna stuff you full. You'll leaking for days, babydoll. Then, I'm gonna keep filling you until you can't live without my cum inside your pussy."

Hearing such dirty confessiom only triggers her to near orgasm, "Yess pleasee i want it. Need it, bucky." Surely enough she came again when he hit that special spot inside her.

"Ahh,, fuck ahhh,, I'm cumming shit pussy so good m'cumming fuckkkk", Bucky couldn’t even stop himself from rutting in and out of her sweet pussy as his cock pulsed, especially when her cunt was sucking him in deeper.

His head fall down to watch his cock disappear inside her before squeezing it shut again when the white spurt of cum shoots against her walls. His jaw was loose as his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape to allow his loud groans contaminated the silenced room.

His thick endless cum warm her insides and the honeyed moans hanging off her lips to its own accord as Bucky hunched over her frame, pressing his face in crook of her neck, breathing heavily as she was. After awhile, a broken sound of his voice stopped the silence, "Do you really mean it?"

He refused to look at her in the eyes, afraid of the rejection that might come his way but she proved him wrong by holding him by his cheeks, leading his eyes to align with hers,

"Bucky. You, my dear, are my bestfriend; you are my heart, you are my person. And there is no one in this world that I'd rather spend my whole life with besides you." Her words was nothing but the truth and Bucky knew that.

His heart swelled with joy yet he didn't know how to express it other than, "I love you, doll..." there was pause as if he was gathering the pieces of his soul to offer it to her, "...So much."

And she accepted it with her whole heart, "I love you too, Bucky."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I was gone for awhile but never too long. Hope you enjoy this little drabble 👀

[temiizpalace]

☆┊SHOPPING SPREE!

SUMMARY: finally having a day off and permission to leave the campus, you take your beloved boyfriend to the mall! where does he like to shop?

CHARACTERS: all dorms

GENRE: fluff

WARNINGS: none

NOTES: IM STILL WORKING ON EVEN REQUESTS I PROMISE! this is a brain kickstarter yk

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

SPORT STORES

as soon as you walked into the doors of the mall, his eyes dart towards the sporting goods store. he’ll go where you want to go, but give him like ten seconds pretty please? just a peek at the sportswear! in order to stay fit and look continuously good for you, this is a mandatory stop. and as expected, he looked at running shoes, windbreaker jackets, sports balls (don’t be immature) ((i am immature and did that on purpose)), water bottles, everything. he bought matching sports gear for the two of you so you can work out together! don’t worry, don’t worry, it won’t be too difficult. now, where did you want to go? holding your shopping bags adds to his workout so please don’t hold back. shop to your hearts content.

deuce, jack, epel, silver, sebek

CLOTHING STORES

knowing that you wanted to go to the mall opened a gateway of opportunity for him. what you may ask? well, malls have clothing stores. this means not only can he buy outfits for himself, he can also buy outfits for you! if you’re comfortable with that of course. if you are comfortable with that, he’s giddily going through clothing racks, presenting you an outfit that has a balanced mix of both your own and his style. Seeing you wear the outfit was just breathtaking, he could cry. if you didn’t feel comfortable with him picking your outfits, please pick his. he’ll wear whatever you buy! to him, it doesn’t matter. there was something just so intimate buying outfits for each other.. (along with other purchases, you guys bought cheesy matching couple shirts)

ace, cater, jade, kalim, rook, malleus

DESIGNER BRANDS

he immediately walked towards the expensive side of the store and almost gave you a heart attack. like ??? hello?? you forget he’s rich sometimes. he doesn’t mind paying for you, that’s actually the least of his worries. stop being shy and just take the damn card. he’ll cover everything so go enjoy yourself. he just so casually purchases expensive jewelry likes it’s nothing, baffling you to see how nonchalant he is about his money. he bought you such an extensive wardrobe. designer shirts, pants, shoes, you name it and he’s got it. he takes pride in the fact he can buy such expensive things for you because you get to rely on him. not in a controlling way, but in a way to let you know you’re not alone and he’s here to help. so anyways here’s a $80,000 thaumark sunglasses kit.

leona, azul (lowkey cried looking at his budget), kalim, vil, malleus

ALT/POP-CULTURE STORES* (??)

skips all the clothing stores and designer stores and walks straight into hot topic (or stores similar). look, this is his kinda store. judge all you want (please don’t) but he’s going inside to purchase whatever the flip he wants. oh my gosh, something even slightly tying to his interest? purchase. something slightly tying to your interest? yes he’ll take the entire stock. wanted to get you anything and everything. he bought tons of shirts and stuff for you guys to share and trade so spoiler alert but next sleepovers gonna be pretty crazy. he thinks it’s cool to see you talk about stuff you like, so taking you to a store that has pretty much everything you’ve ever watched? you’ll be rambling for hours! he’s all in! of course, he’ll get his own fair share in. thank god you don’t think he’s a weirdo tho.

cater, jade, idia, lilia, malleus

ANYWHERE YOU GO

he’s down for literally anything. take him anywhere and he’ll be happy. this gentlemen carries all of your bags for you and takes you wherever you wish to go. clothing store? you’ll look good in anything. let’s go. sports store? always good to stay active. let’s go. designer brands? you’ll look stunning. just overall he’s happy so long as your happy, the location won’t matter much to him. even if you offer for him to decide, he respectfully declines and encourages you to pick another spot. he just loves you!!

riddle, floyd, kalim, jamil, rook, ortho, lilia

STRAIGHT TO THE FOOD COURT

as soon as he smelt the aroma of food in the air, he’s gone. he made a straight beeline towards the food court and intends to stay the course. shopping can wait, he needs to eat. he must admit it’s not as good as the food at nrc, but it’s wayyy better than nothing. he must build energy, who knows how long he’ll be inside that mall! fast food can only be so good for so long, so now he’s slowly regretting not going into an actual restaurant but he already paid so he’ll suck it up. after he finishes eating tho, you’re free to go wherever you please. just give him a breather he ate too much.

trey, ruggie, azul, jade, epel, lilia

A/N: this is ASS

date published: 9/24/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[naffeclipse]

Charm Brought It Back Pt. 4

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

Once more, I return with @jackofallrabbits and I's Hocus Pocus AU, and I'm so excited to introduce @deliasmilkshake's cover art as well! Thank you so much to Delia for their beautiful work! <3 Now we return to the boys hunting down their darling bride while the reader discovers more of what unfolded in the past.

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, heavy touching, injury, blood, violence, (temporary) animal death, and (temporary) character death.

———

In the far distance, a thick column of gray smoke chimneys up into the night sky, blotting out the light of stars. You look back again. The road has curved and how bends around homes and the beginning of small-town business. Windows are decorated with stickers of pumpkins and cauldrons with glowing green soups, and scarecrows line the corners. The pavement becomes a sidewalk underneath your feet. In an awkward gait, balancing upon the stint of his one leg and his only good foot, Michael stays close beside you.

A tear drips from your chin onto the bloody, dirty fur of the rabbit in your arms. Vanessa’s body is warm to the touch. You clutch her to your chest.

“It’s okay,” Michael murmurs. He lifts a putrid, rotten hand as if to pat your shoulder, but stops and lowers it again. “She’s not dead.”

“Michael,” you half sob, half snap. “She’s not breathing.”

“She will breathe again.” He holds your gaze. Twin pinpricks of white flame burn in his black, sunken eyes. “It’s part of the curse. She can’t die.”

You stare at him, disbelief squeezing your throat. You gently slot your fingers through the soft white coat of the woman who no longer has her own form. The brothers did this. The witches’ curse clench Michael tightly in a dark fist of unholy power. His body has dissolved into a walking corpse. 

Will the same happen to Vanessa? Will she now return as a rotting rabbit corpse? Your gut twists at such a thought.

Why can’t the witches take it back? Why can’t they stop and make it right? Is this the reason they were hanged by Michael’s ancestor—because they casted harm upon everyone?

You can’t bear to think of this anymore. The rabbit is small in your arms and you want to clean away the blood drying on her pale fur. 

A few cars honks at another. The night is well past the witching hour. The faint pounding echo of music from a party pricks your ears. Hunching over Vanessa, you wonder if she’s ever been outside of the brothers’ home for all the years she was cursed. 

Her long ears fall flat against her skull. You gently pet her and whisper an apology. It’s your fault.

You rest your hand over her and weep again, almost stumbling down the sidewalk before Michael pulls you closer to a brick wall of a building. A soft movement pushes back against your fingers. You stop and look down at the rabbit.

Her little torso expands in the slightest, then deflates. Then again. Her body moves with life.

“Vanessa?” You touch her in the slightest. Have you gone mad or is she breathing?

“Augh.” You hear her voice slip out from the rabbit’s mouth. “How did you escape? Is Michael with you?”

In dumb silence, you watch Vanessa lift her head and blink her green eyes up at you.

“Where are the witches?” she asks, terribly serious.

The gears of your mind spin. You’ve read accounts of sickly and comatose people being buried alive through the 17th and 19th centuries. Premature burials. Sometimes, out of fear of the person not truly being passed, bells would be fastened to their fingers with a string so if there were any movement. The ringing struggle would alert any grave attendant or family members nearby that the deceased was, in fact, alive. A few days would be spared to ensure death is final before they would be buried.

But you held her motionless body in your hands. Her body is caked in blood.

“You were dead,” you say, breathless with horror.

“Now I’m not.” Her pink nose twitches. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Are you alright?” Michael’s brow creases in the slightest while looking over her. “That couldn’t have been… pleasant.”

“Dying never is.” She pauses. Her ears prick before falling back against her skull. She presses a paw to your collarbone and pushes herself up in your arms to be face to face with you. A whisker brushes your chin. “Are you crying?”

“No, well, yes, but I was so scared you were gone!” You wipe a hand across your cheek, smearing salty tracks of tears as you try to stop another sniffle. “How did you survive?”

“I didn’t. I died, and the curse brought me back.” Her ears give an annoyed twitch. “Aren’t you listening?”

“I’m sorry.” You bite your bottom lip. You pet her head once. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

She falls silent. The weight of her green eyes falls over you, and for several breaths, she simply stares before the quiet of the street is broken by her small voice.

“When the brothers cursed me, the villagers knew they had done something to cause my disappearance but no one mourned me. I only had Afton…”

Michael shuffles a little closer. You ignore the stench of rotting flesh and hold Vanessa’s gaze. A weariness lays upon her head, a kind of exhaustion that a hundred years of sleep couldn’t cure. More than that, she seems sad and alone. 

You hold her tighter.

“I tried to get his attention.” Her eyes slide to Michael for a heartbeat then away again. “He said he could do nothing for me but give me a clean, painless death. I allowed him. He snapped my neck in his hands.”

You gasp sharply. How could he do that so quickly, without hesitation? A sickness swirls in your stomach.

“That’s horrible,” you utter. “He didn’t try to help you break the curse?”

Her paw falls down from your collarbone and she sinks deeper into your arms. She avoids your gaze.

“When I came back to life, I begged for his help. He told me to never return to him again—there is no hope for me and he would not tolerate the presence of dark magic. I would leave or else he would sic his hound on me.” She stops a moment, the silence thick. “He thought his hound’s teeth would kill me for certain. It did not.”

The unmistakable air of shame clings to her small body. Michael’s fists clench as his eyes widen. You catch the grind of his molars through the threads of flesh stretched over his cheeks and share the same fury over such an injustice. 

She was his right hand.

“Vanessa…” You touch her little head. “I’m so sorry.”

“He should not have abandoned you,” Michael seethes through his teeth. “Why would he toss you aside so heartlessly?”

Vanessa doesn’t look at Michael, the descendant of the man who betrayed her in her hour of need.

“Afton was right.” Her eyes turn upon you like shards of emerald, glinting in shattered pieces. “The curse can’t be undone.”

“No,” you whisper. “There must be a way.”

Your thoughts spill slowly like molasses. The brothers knew she would come back to life—even if throwing her off the roof is cruel and horrifying. Did they care? Did they think they could have you then if they removed every last obstacle between you?

Are they capable of being better?

Michael turns towards the street, his brow furrowed and his teeth set in a furious grimace. His darkly rotten flesh catches on a yellow streetlight, slashing over the angler cavity where his nose once was. The silence twists into you as you gaze at both of your companions.

They need your help. But how do you undo curses in a night when you just discovered witches and their magic?

“We have to keep moving.” Michael straightens like a soldier, his words faraway while his fists continue to hang at his sides. “Come on. Follow me.”

Further along the pavement, you spy a couple of people walking. You stiffen in place, glancing at Michael in alarm but he nods back at the people. He continues walking forward, undaunted. You follow him closely, peering back at the strangers to find them dressed as aliens and cowboys and devils. 

Costumes.

“We can blend in for a while, hide out,” Michael says.

“But…” You look down at yourself, your sweat almost falling off of you due to the tears and holes littering it, and the rabbit in your arms looks no better than a murder victim. Not to mention that Michael is the living dead.

“The witches only have one broomstick left and they’ll have to pick us out like needles in a haystack.” He tugs on your elbow and you follow. Vanessa nestles against your chest, strangely silent after coming back to life. Is that usual for when she resurrects? Is she in pain or does she need to rest after such an ordeal?

Deeper in town, the streets become bustling with people wearing pirate eye patches and waving hooks around, and bad, neon printed 80s costumes. They flow towards a high school, the gym doors held open where you find flashing orange and white lights with a sharp backdrop of music pounding through the air. The threat of a headache scrapes against your temples.

“We just need to hide until dawn. Then they will die.” Michael glances back at you while he drags you further inside, past the doors and into the crowded, stuffy floor of the gymnasium. 

Your shoulders sink. Scratching softly at Vanessa’s back, gently scraping away flakes of drying blood, your mind becomes lost in the thunderous overlap of voices and music. Michael keeps weaving through the crowd in a relentless march.

Death sounds too cruel of a fate for anyone. You gently pet Vanessa while she scans the room with a slight alarm. Has she ever seen a modern celebration of Halloween? She may know it better as All Hallows’ Eve. The brothers will be no better in facing such a commotion of shifted cultures and costumes and technology. 

The brothers were hanged, and Vanessa remained trapped in a rabbit form.

If the brothers die, Michael and Vanessa will remain trapped in their curses. Your heart is heavy and your feet are slow to keep up with Michael. There must be another way. 

The ceremony.

You bump into a person dressed as a firefighter and Michael glances back impatient before he drives you deeper into the gym. He finds a dark space behind the punch bowl table and tucks you both into its shadow. The flare of bright, orange lights dances across your feet before darting away. 

A twist in your chest tightens around your lungs and you become breathless. You don’t know what to do. The ceremony could mean giving up your very life to spare the witches of their untimely demise at the bells tied around their wrists. Maybe you can convince them still to give up the dark hold they have over your friends.

You could marry them. You blush softly at the thought, but your insides are knotted and caught in tangled. Can all three of them share you? Would they love you or use you simply to save themselves? Will they hurt your friends again?

Vanessa’s death and revival leaves you raw and thin-skinned, and the night spins you endlessly on uneven footsteps. You hardly notice the spill of fog beginning to sweep over the dance floor. The people in colorful costumes and makeup hoot and holler as the music changes to a slow, haunting speed.

“No.” Michael curses right beside you. “How did they get here so fast?”

Shooting a look at him then following his glance towards the entrance, your entire being grows hot and cold in a snap.

The brothers stand in the entranceway. Their cloaks and capes fall over them, hiding their unusual attire for the era but little masks the strangeness of their disk-like faces and the array of sun rays and a glittering dark hood upon another. They survey the room with a bewilderment that is both fascinating and disgusted. Eclipse stands between Sun and Moon, his head high while his eyes scan the many people, hunting for you.

The breath in your throat hitches. You could tell them that it’s alright, it’s only a festive celebration. It’s become a holiday to dress up and eat sweets and sugars, and have spooky fun and get scared sometimes. Would they understand that? Would it be less frightening and otherworldly to them if you did?

“Michael,” Vanessa hisses. Her little paws press sharply against your arms as if she means to bound away.

“Stay low,” he instructs firmly. “Stay close beside me.”

“Wait, Michael, please,” you utter but he’s already grasping your arm and striding onwards. The music swallows your voice. The pressure of tears builds until you blink and register how wet your eyelashes have become.

There shouldn’t be any more death tonight.

As you’re pulled along like a lost soul, you look back to the entrance way. For the briefest moment, Eclipse skims over the party. You suck in a sharp breath. 

He snaps his head, as if called, and locks eyes with you. You startle but can’t look away. The molten hues of his gaze holds you in place like chains. His smile expands to show off a mouthful of sharp teeth as he mouths two words.

Found you.

You duck your head, your heart in your throat, and scurry after Michael. Vanessa wriggles out of your grasp. Jumping to the floor, she hops between people’s feet and stays perfectly close to Michael despite the fog filling up the space and causing you to cough. It tastes fake and syrupy. Did they curse a fog machine? Or is this something more supernatural? 

The music begins to murmur and strike strange chords. You twist your head, briefly searching the floor in your confusion for the cause of the thick, velvet smoke. Michael almost knocks into a couple dressed as a bottle of honey and a bee. Vanessa says something, lost to the crowd. The song begins to rise and envelop the room in a haunting echo. Your head begins to swim.

Someone takes your hand. Warm digits wrap claws around the bones of your knuckles and hold tightly. You gasp. In one motion, the dancer slips you out of Michael’s grasp and spins you back into the crowd. 

For a heartbeat, Michael whirls around, his eyes, pinpricks of ghostly white, flash to you. Vanessa cries your name. Smoke and party goers cut you off from your friends as you’re effortlessly lifted over the floor.

Lost in a dizzy haze of pale wisps and swinging footsteps, you twist in the hands of your abductor and find an all too familiar crown of yellow sun rays and a beaming, wicked smirk.

“Sun?” You try to wriggle out of his hold but he’s locked onto your hips.

“Hello again, sunshine.” Sun spins you effortlessly, his cape pillowing behind him and summoning more thick fog to cloak you between dancers, stuck fast in the song as if they were sinking in mud, unable to notice the witch slipping his palms higher to hold off your waist. He pulls you flush against his chest. “I adore meeting you like this, but perhaps we might spare the rest of the night for such events? Perhaps after the ceremony.”

Your heart flutters within you like a bird. The heat of his touch sends goosebumps prickling down your flesh as you rest your hands on his shoulders. You look up into his pale eyes with desperation dripping from your every edge.

“Wait, Sun, I can’t leave Michael and Vanessa.” You try to twist back to search for your lost companions but the fog and party lights cutting over the thickness blind you equally.

He bares his pale bone teeth. Effortlessly, he twirls you over the dance floor as your poor feet attempt to keep up. The witch balances the delicate art of keeping you just on the verge of collapse without leaving you embarrassed and fallen. His arm wraps around your waist and lifts your hands above your hand to spin you like a top before reclaiming you once more.

“Of course, you can! Let’s take you far away from all these dreary people,” Sun whispers into your ear. His lips brush the shell of it. Your breath catches. “I will keep you warm. I will keep you safe. I will dance with you forevermore.”

Your lips are locked, caught between pleas to spare your friends of their curses and a temptation far greater. The promise of never being alone. The hope of kindness throughout your days and love throughout your nights. You never realized how cold you were before the brothers traced your body with their hands—how warm another person is when they hold you with care.

“Please,” you whisper. You cling to his shoulders. “I can’t leave them.”

“You will have your husbands,” Sun lifts his head, haughty but steadfast, “You will have me.”

He lowers himself to you and you are caught under his mouth as it travels slowly down your cheekbone. A heat surges through your core. He dots your nose with a peck before his eyes, sultry and softly glimmering, lower to your lips.

“There’s no need to fear now that I have you.”

Carefully, you hold still, waiting for the snap of teeth or the tenderness of his lips Sun slowly, agonizingly closes the gap between himself to you, and his mouth brushes your own—

Hands hook your hips from behind and lift you into the air, twirling you out of Sun’s stunned grasp and then furious gaze. You squeak in alarm. The world spins with music and lights and smoke.

“Brother,” Sun snarls in the way one lion might at another for stealing its meal.

“Share, brother,” Moon speaks as calm as a lake-surface at midnight. “You’ve squandered enough time with your foolish antics.”

Your hands immediately fly to the arms supporting you above the crowd. For one brief moment, you see above the thick concoction of smoke and party-goers and find Michael on the edge of the dance floor, frantically scanning the gymnasium.

You try to lift your hand to signal for him, but Moon sets you back to your feet before you have a chance to regain his attention.

“Come with me, my little mouse.” Moon shadows your back. “It will soon only be us. Alone.”

His hand slips over your waistline. Driven by pure instinct, your fingers curl around his claws while the sleek, sharp tips slide through a hole in your sweater.

“Moon?” You turn your head back, confirming the dancer holding you hostage now. He glides you forward through the crowd. His scarlet eyes are sharp with focus, but they soften the moment they meet your gaze. Weaving through costumed individuals, Moon takes you into a dark alcove along a wall, where the smoke swirls in lazily wisps and the other dancers remain at bay.

“I have wanted for you far longer than tonight.” He gently turns you back to face him and he clasps your hands between his. His black cloak falls against his back like a shield. An unmistakable understanding washes over you: you are safe. Even if you are separated from your friends.

“Moon, I…” Your tongue fails to locate the words stuck behind your molars.

He gently opens your arms and takes you against him. With one hand wrapping around your waist, his other slips up the nape of your neck. He gently cards through the hair at the bottom of your skull in a lulling, gentle motion.

Your eyelids flutter. In your weakness, you rest your head on his shoulder. Moon hums a low, harmonic sound in his chest—a lullaby for a lover. It rumbles sweetly against your heart.

He steps softly, swaying in a sort of moonlight waltz that would be better suited for a homey kitchen than a busy dance party. Regardless, Moon pays no mind to any other bodies in the room.

“Come with us,” he whispers against your hair. “Leave the witch hunter and rabbit.”

Your fingers curl against the soft fabric of his white, billowy shirt. The urge grows stronger still. It could be a fairytale. A Grimm storybook of a lonely historian and three witches.

But you screw your eyes close, and breathe.

“No.” Your footsteps follow his lead so much better, slowly twirling together. “Moon, Michael and Vanessa have suffered enough.”

Moon’s teeth flash like fangs in the dark. 

“You don’t know what they have done, what they will do,” he growls so dark and low.

A shiver overtakes you, but you gently lift your head. Moon clutches the back of your neck in the manner of a man fearful of losing something and never getting it back, despite your closeness to his body.

“I don’t know what you and your brothers have done,” you speak softly, truthfully. “I don’t know what you will do.”

A gentleness overtakes Moon. His hand slips up your cheek to cup your face.

“We would never harm you,” he whispers. “I will never hurt you.”

You lift your hand to cup his own. The coolness of his palm cradles you sweetly, a longing tipping his claw as he carefully keeps them from your flesh.

“Brother.” A new voice sounds gently beside you. “Allow me.”

Beside you both stands Eclipse. He holds out a hand. Moon gently nods, but scarlet gaze eyes linger on you with longing as he slowly takes your hand and sets it in Eclipse’s. Moon slips into the supernatural smoke and the movement of bodies enchanted by music. A backwards glance, then he’s gone.

You face your new dance partner. His gaze is golden and gleaming in the dark alcove you’re pressed against. He gently holds your hand up in a proper position of a dance—at least you think so. You’ve never danced with someone before. He touches your waist and on instinct, you place your palm on his shoulder. His black cape swishes gently around him. His crown of red rays circle the air like a king above his queen, and you find yourself blushing under such a thought.

“There were festivals in the village when we were alive,” he says in a low, sweet voice, “We could never attend. Sun longed to dance with others to proper music and Moon could have been compelled out of the shadows for just a night, but the people wouldn’t have us.”

You listen carefully as he swings you gently across the small space. Smoke spills at your feet but Eclipse sweeps it away with the sway of his cape, and endlessly, you revolve together.

“No one would have us. No one would give us a moment to speak for fear of curses.” Eclipse’s eyes lower, and a grim smile touches his lips. “They weren’t entirely unfounded. Afton was right to fear us, but he turned the village against my brothers and I. He accused us of stealing their children.”

A sharp, hidden anger, like a blade sheathed, flashes behind Eclipse’s eyes. Your heart grows heavy while you try to not step on his feet, but he always seems to move his black shoes out of the way before you can.

“Did anyone know?” you ask softly.

There is so much lost to history. Tablets and clay figures and marble sculptures cracked and buried. Letters. The truth.

As true witches, they were framed, used as a scapegoat. 

Eclipse softly presses his palm to the small of your back. You step closer. He looks down at you, his golden eyes wide and tittering between dreams and despair.

“No.” He gently steps back to lift your arm above your head and allows you to twirl slowly. An enchanting moment of twisting. Then, you return to him, clasping his hand tightly. 

“I’m sorry.” Your fingers curl over the soft fabric of his cape. “So many have been killed because of false accusations or ulterior motives… but I don’t have to tell you that.”

He chuckles sardonically. “No.”

He looks you gently over. He waltzes and you follow him in a small curve of soft steps.

“I was bone scrying one night.” Eclipse sweeps back a strand of your hair from your face, his touch velvet and light. “The villagers’ hatred was growing and I was afraid for my brothers. I needed… hope.”

You close your eyes briefly as he turns his hand, and using the back of his finger, strokes your cheek.

“Then I saw you.”

Your eyes fly open. Brow crinkling, you think of ancient fortune tellers and seers, those who claimed to see what was to come and to promise those who sought their advice that all would be well.

But that is history. This is magic.

Eclipse holds your gaze unflinching.

“You couldn’t have,” you whisper, despite yourself. “I am no one.”

His hands tighten upon you. He stops dancing. Your heart flits within you until he clutches you close in an embrace that melts your bones and loosens your muscles. 

“You are everything to us. You are our bride. You are the one who lit the starry candle to save my brothers and I. You are the one whom I love so dearly, and have waited centuries for.”

He bows and presses his forehead to yours. You breathe in a soft gentle musk and spice, and it’s as if you were home. Not your empty, cold house, but home.

“I would wait a hundred more to behold you. I would crawl out of my grave to find you. Little comet, you have been the one light in my dark death, and I will vow myself to you as your husband for as long as you will have me.”

A thickness cakes your throat. Emotion, heavy and dripping, spills into your chest. You clutch his hands. 

“Will you say ‘I do’ my bride?” 

Everything within you sings to answer him. Your silence paints your lips with faltering and fear. The sting of sorrow in the corner of your eyes begins to wet them. 

His claws curl tighter around you. His expression burns low and hot, desperate and fierce.

“Are you not lonely?” he asks in a husky tone. “Do you not understand all that my brothers and I can give you? You will know only love and certainty. You will be warm and safe. You will have all our powers at your fingertips.”

“Eclipse.” You lift your head.  A bubbling sorrow overtakes you, and your cheek drips with a tear. “I can’t. Not until Michael and Vanessa are free of their curses.”

The damning of his silence is lethal. Eclipse doesn’t move as smoke wisps by and your heart skips a beat in your rib cage. His eyes are wide and unreadable. They bore into you. You almost squirm but hold fast against his crushing attention.

“Can’t you take away their suffering? Can’t you undo the damage done?” you ask softly, your voice threatening to break. “Please. I will perform the ceremony with you and your brothers before sunrise. All I ask is this.”

A battle unfolds within the witch. His claws twitch and his lips long to curl into a snarl, but he breathes softly instead.

He moves once and presses one soft kiss to your mouth. You close your eyes.

“Very well.” He straightens. He mumbles something low under his breath, overlapping and thick with magic, and you still as he gathers you closer.

You almost can’t comprehend that you’ve agreed to marry the witches.

In the midst of a swell of energy so hot and dark, you wonder if a summer night could be conjured on an October early morning hour, Eclipse lowers his lips to your ear and whispers, “I put a spell on you.”

Your heart thunders. Your fingers twist into the white flowy fabric of his shirt, and the witch takes you into his arms. The fog swirls, beginning to rise and circle you both as if you stand in the heart of a cyclone. Faster and faster still, until you’re forced to close your eyes and hide your head against Eclipse’s chest.

His fingers stroke your spine softly. The air changes, the music ceases, and you breathe in crisp, forest air. You don’t dare open your eyes.

Eclipse hums.

“And now you’re mine.”

[yandere-3-sagau]

Yandere!SAGAU x Secret!Creator!Reader Part 2.5

Short Summary: After encountering a group of hilichurls on your way to Inazuma, you discover the benefits that come with being the creator of Teyvat. (i couldn’t sleep so i decided to keep my flow of thoughts going.)

characters: Xiao

warning(s): blood, violence, heart attack, ooc characters, xiao being weird

Previous | Next

─── ･ ｡ﾟ✧: *.☽ .* : ✧.───

You’re on your way to the harbor, pushing Grandpa Fuyi in his wheelchair. The grass crunches beneath your feet as you put a bit more force in pushing him. The two of you travel on the outskirts of the town away from the dirt path that leads to the main town.

Not long ago, a deep feeling told you that if you were to enter through the main town you’d definitely run into Zhongli. Just the thought of it sent shivers down your spine. To avoid being seen, you decided to take a detour.

As you’re walking, you see a group of hilichurls resting with their weapons laid by their side. You slow your pace, being very careful with your movements…but as your eyes scan the area, you feel your heart drop in your chest. Not far from the group of hilichurls, you see the large figure resting against a tree beside them… a mitachurl.

It’s your first time ever coming across one and even from a distance away you can tell how large they really are. Their size in real life is incomparable to the size you’ve seen on your screen. The sheer size of the monster makes you freeze in your tracks. Sweaty hands tightening on the handles of Grandpa Fuyi’s wheelchair, you slowly begin to back away. However, the squeak of the wheels, albeit quiet, is enough to wake them.

They, jump up, alert. Their eyes immediately turn to the two of you, snarls echoing into the air. The mitachurl wakes as well, the ground shaking as it jumps up. Their loud roars wake Grandpa Fuyi up. He realizes the situation you are in and you can feel how hard he’s shaking through the handles of the wheel chair. You too, are filled with terror, not only in fear of your life but for Grandpa Fuyi’s.

Despite his fear, he yells at you.

“R..Run… run away!” His voice finally snaps you out of your trance and you quickly begin to wheel him away as fast as you can. But your pace isn’t fast enough and Grandpa Fuyi knows this as well.

“Child… leave me…”

Your eyes widen and when you process his words, a tear falls from down your cheek. The glittering crystal falls to the ground as you continue running.

“No!” you tell him. Your voice is shaky, a stark difference to Grandpa Fuyi’s which is surprisingly steady. It’s as if he’s accepted his fate.

“It’s alright… I’ve lived long en-“ you interrupt him immediately.

“Are you insane?!”

You keep on running. You hear a low hiss in the air and you stumble, cursing when you feel a sharp pain in your back. You head twists, glancing down behind you to see golden blood dripping from your clothing and an arrow sticking out from your lower back.

Your pace slows from the pain, sweat dripping down your face. You can hear the footsteps grow louder and the ground shakes heavily from the mitachurl’s stomps. A slight turn of the head tells you that it’s too late to run as the mitachurl has caught up.

Unable to run any longer, the gears in your head turn fast as you think of way to get out of the situation. The mitachurl is only a few feet away from you, your body now filled with adrenaline.

The mitachurl swings his club, you can feel the wind as it comes down towards the two of you. As a last attempt to protect him, you shield Grandpa Fuyi with your hands up, hoping to take the majority of the blow.

Just as you feel the club collide with your arm, a golden light blinds you. The light clears and all of a sudden you see the monsters launched away from you, slamming into the ground, their bodies slowly disappearing.

Who… who saved us?

Your eyes scan the surrounding area for your hero, until you realize that it’s only you and Grandpa Fuyi. Realization sets in and you stare at your hands in shock.

Did I… was it me?

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when you hear Granda Fuyi gasping. You turn to see him grasping at his chest. It seems like the weight of the situation finally weighed down on him as his face is scrunched up in pain.

“My chest…” you kneel by his side, eyes wide. You panic once more, not knowing what to do. He’s having a heart attack.

Amongst your racing thoughts, an idea flashes in your head.

I-I’m the creator, you think.

You stare at your hands before placing them on his chest. A few seconds pass and nothing happens. Grandpa Fuyi’s groans of pain continue, frail hands clawing at your hands on his chest.

Your pillar, the one person to help you, is dying and you can’t do anything about it. Your hands shake, tears falling down. The tears harden into crystals, some bouncing off onto the floor, the others piling onto his legs as you lean over him. Grandpa Fuyi is too dizzy from the intense pain that he doesn’t even notice.

The time you spent together flashes through your head. You think of the times he helped you, the times he stayed awake late at night to comfort you when you couldn’t sleep from the fear of unfamiliarity. His kind smile and his corny jokes that took you a while to even understand.

As you’re lost in your thoughts with your crystal tears still steaming, a small light suddenly flashes from where your hands are placed against his chest. Letting out a gasp, you wait for the light to die down.

Grandpa Fuyi begins to relax and his eyes flutter shut. Your heart drops in your chest. It isn’t until you hear the soft sounds of his breathing that you realize he’s fine. You let out a cry of relief, resting your head on his knee.

Finally, you start to calm down and your breathing evens out. However, as the adrenaline leaves your body, the pain starts to sink in. You reach for your back, flinching as you feel the wooden arrow stick out. You curse, unsure of what to do. You know if you pull it out, blood will rush out like a champagne bottle with the cork popped off… but if you try and get help, your identity as the creator will be revealed.

Your eyes squeeze shut for a moment before you open them and grab a shirt from your bag. You rip the shirt into strips and roll up one of the strips into ball. With a deep exhale, you reach for the arrow, hoping for the best. Your hands pause, scared of the pain that is soon to come. However, with no other options, you force yourself to build up courage.

Finally, you rip it out, the pain of your skin tearing causing you to cry out. You can feel the blood pour out of you so you quickly press the cloth ball to your back and apply pressure to the wound. You wince and bite your lip to silence the scream you want to let out. Using the other strips from the ripped up shirt, you clumsily wrap the wound as best you can.

Finally finished, you let out a sigh, the pain still radiating from your body. After a bit, you realize you’re still out in the open with the sun almost completely set. The danger starts to sink in again, so you stand up, ignoring the pain. You wipe your hands, thankful for your black clothes that hide the golden blood stains before rushing Grandpa Fuyi to the harbor. As you rush, you forget to clean up the crystal tears and puddle of golden blood you left behind from the disaster you just experienced.

Filled with desperation and the need to leave Liyue, you don’t notice the figure standing on a hill not far from you, watching as you leave.

—

Xiao was doing his nightly rounds when he heard the echoing stomps of a mitachurl. He quickly rushed over to the danger, spear grasped tightly in his hand.

He arrived just as the mitachurl attacked you. Xiao cursed, seeing the mitachurl’s club collide with your arm, thinking he’s too late.

However, he’s shocked by the golden light that erupts from your form, knocking back the monsters and destroying them with a bright flash.

Xiao’s feet are locked in place as he finally takes a good look at you. At the golden liquid that seeps from your body and the crystal tears that pile on the ground. His heart is pounding in his chest so hard, he swears he can hear it.

Is he hallucinating?

He’s trying to make sense of what he saw but by the time his racing thoughts slow down, you’re gone.

Dazed and unsure of reality, he slowly shuffles over to the place you were just at, the scent of blood growing stronger as he draws near. Xiao drops to his knees beside the puddle of blood and tears. His hands shakily touch the heap you left behind. A choked gasp leaves his mouth as looks at the warm, golden liquid on his hands. Just by touching it, Xiao feels like his karmic debt has somehow lessened just a bit.

It’s you… it’s really you…

He’s delirious, unable to control his actions as his hands scoop up more of your blood, bringing it close to his face as if he wants to cover himself with the proof of your existence.

Xiao wrestles back his self control and his rationality returns. Though he’s able to calm down, the need to see you remains. Xiao jumps up to his feet, ready to chase after you but he stops in place.

What would he say to you?

That he knows you’re the creator?

What would you think of him?

Surely you’d be disappointed with him for not coming in time to stop you from getting hurt. Xiao doesn’t think he can handle it if he saw you stare at him with disappointment. Just the thought of it makes his heart clench.

Although he’s reluctant, he fights the urge to follow you. It takes a while and several deep breaths but he’s able to tame his impulsiveness. Now, somewhat calm, he bends over to collect your tears, very carefully placing them in his pocket like they’re his most prized possession. After collecting your tears, Xiao leaves, intending to share the news of your arrival with the other adepti.

—

You arrive at the harbor, breathing heavily. Grandpa Fuyi is still fast asleep. With a slight limp from the pain, you go around asking each of the ship members which boat you can take to Inazuma. However, each of the ship members give you the same answer.

The only ship leaving for Inazuma is the Crux. Despite it be being black, your clothes are still soaked with golden blood. You’re unsure if you can handle the chance of meeting both Beidou and Kazuha without them noticing anything. You want to give up but the radiating pain from your wound fills you with a sense of urgency that forces you to accept.

That’s how you find yourself in the lowest deck of the Crux, surrounded by sleeping ship members. Grandpa Fuyi lays on a cot by your side, not once waking up from his deep sleep.

You wait for a while, making sure every one is asleep before heading to the small bathroom. There, you take the time to thoroughly tend to your wound as well as wash out the golden blood from your clothes. As the last of it slips down the drain, you stare at yourself in the mirror, thinking back to all of the events that occurred.

You start to wonder, what other powers do you have?

You decide to experiment. Thinking back to aspects of the game, your thoughts land on one of the most useful devices… waypoints. The traveler is able to use waypoints to go anywhere they want in Teyvat. Deciding to put your powers to the test, you think of a place you want to go to. You rule out Inazuma, since the Crux is already on its way there.

Still unsure of any limits you may have to your powers, you decide on somewhere nearby, hoping that if it does work, you’ll still have enough juice to teleport back. Although you feel a bit wary on entering Liyue again, there’s a part of you that doubts the teleportation would even work.

This doubt allows you to close your eyes and concentrate. Your mind forms the image in your head and you feel a sudden rush of power. When you open your eyes, you’re exactly where you imagined, inside the Wangshu Inn.

You smile widely, excited over having discovered a very useful power.

“Y… Your grace,” a voice full of wonder calls out to you from behind. Your head snaps to the side, all excitement draining just as quickly as it came.

Xiao’s yellow eyes are wet as if he’s about to cry. A loud thud reaches your ears as he drops onto his knees in front of you. Ever since he saw you, your image was constantly on his mind. Because of your sudden appearance, he thinks that truly heard him, his desire to see you so deep that you decided to answer his prayers. His eyes are filled with an intense admiration and a twisted sense of worship.

“I-I… It’s an honor-“

“Fuck.”

Previous | Next

[fluentmoviequoter]

Girls' Trip (Plus Tim)

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x shy!fem!reader

Summary: You and Lucy go on a road trip together, but Tim crashes your girls' weekend when the car breaks down.

Warning: just fluff, the car breaks down but Lucy + r are safe

Word Count: 1.3k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest (this is Tim when Lucy doesn't invite him😂)

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Tim says as he clips Kojo’s leash to his collar.

“No, you won’t,” you remind him softly. “Lucy and I are going out of town for the weekend, remember?”

“Right,” Tim agrees skeptically. “Because you and Lucy alone for a whole weekend sounds like something you’d do.”

“Yeah, she’s picking me up in the morning.”

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” You nod, and Tim gently lifts your chin to meet your eyes. “Anything at all.”

“I will.”

Kojo licks your hand in farewell and wags his tail as he follows Tim outside. You release a breath before you walk to your room to double-check that everything you need for the weekend is in your bag.

“Good morning!’ Lucy cheers when you step outside. “This is going to be so much fun! Our first girls’ trip!”

You smile at her enthusiasm and try to fight off your building shyness. Since you started dating Tim, Lucy has become one of your closest friends, but her outgoing attitude can bring out your shy side.

“Okay, get comfortable, but not too comfortable,” Lucy says as you walk toward the car. “We’re stopping before we get far to load up on snacks. We have to get essentials.”

“Sounds good,” you reply as you buckle your seatbelt.

As Lucy reverses out of the driveway, you text Tim to let him know that you’re leaving, you love him, and you will see him and Kojo when you get back.

“Hey, since you have your phone out, you can control the music for now. Partly because we need good music for a girls’ trip, but I also don’t want to accidentally wear you out by talking the whole drive.”

“Have you had coffee already?” you ask, though you think you already know the answer.

“You and Tim both do that,” she points out. “But, yes, I needed to make sure I had the energy to get us all the way there and then make our spa appointment.”

“Thanks for planning everything,” you say before turning on a playlist with songs you and Lucy both like.

“Of course, that’s what best friends and future maids of honor are for,” Lucy answers.

After a quick stop for snacks, you get on the interstate to begin the several-hour road trip to the resort Lucy reserved for you. The trip seemed last minute to you, but you found out after she invited you that Lucy wanted to get to know you more and ran everything by Tim as she planned the weekend. Having a friend like Lucy is a big step for you, but you already love her and think she is maid of honor material. If you and Tim get there, and you aren't too shy to say yes when he asks, of course.

“Okay, so I was thinking,” Lucy begins before she trails off and looks at the gauges on the dash.

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

“Something feels weird. We have gas and the temperature is okay, but it doesn’t usually feel like this. I’m going to get off at the next exit.”

You alert her to the upcoming exit and give her directions to a nearby truck stop. Tim taught you the importance of stopping somewhere safe no matter where you are or what you’re doing, and you unconsciously follow his advice today.

“It won’t go back in drive,” Lucy laments as she fiddles with the gear shift.

“Do you want me to call Tim? We’re still pretty close,” you offer.

“He’ll kill me for this,” Lucy whispers before she says, “Please.”

You pull your phone out as Lucy turns the ignition off. Tim answers immediately, and before you finish telling him what happened, he is in his car and asking for the address of the truck stop. He tells you to stay with Lucy and in the car, for the fifteen minutes it will take him to get there, and he ends the call.

“He said he’ll be here in fifteen,” you tell Lucy.

“That means he’s bringing a shop and acting like it’s a code 3 emergency,” she muses with a smile.

“He treats most things like they are, especially if I’m involved.”

“He loves you,” Lucy says. “A ton.”

Tim’s shop pulls up beside your door, and Tim surveys the area before he gestures for you to open the door.

“Nice job picking a safe location, Lucy,” he says as he hugs you.

“Oh, that wasn’t me.”

Tim winks at you before he rounds the car to pop the hood. You watch him as Lucy tells him what happened. He looks good, you think, though he almost always does. He’s still in civvies, so when he bends over the front of the car, you don’t worry about him messing up his uniform. Lucy chuckles beside you, and you look away from Tim quickly.

“What?” you ask her.

“Nothing, you’re just staring at him. It’s cute, like Sam in Transformers.”

“Wouldn’t that make me the girl?” Tim calls.

“How did he hear that?” you murmur to Lucy.

“I’ve been dating you, my hearing improved,” he jokes as he stands. “Try it now, Lucy.”

Lucy gets in the driver’s seat and turns over the ignition. It shifts smoothly into drive before she places it back in park and thanks Tim from her seat.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” you say as he closes the hood.

“Of course. I want to follow you for a few minutes to make sure it keeps running okay. It looked like it was just the transmission fluid,” he explains.

“No!” Lucy calls, leaning over the console. “You can’t crash girls’ weekend! You get her all week; I want a turn.”

“I’m not crashing anything, Chen,” he explains, shifting into his grumpy TO voice. “I want to make sure you get to the county line, if that’s okay with you. Or do you want to break down somewhere there isn’t a well-lit truck stop?”

Lucy huffs but waves anyway. Tim kisses your head and opens the passenger door so you can join Lucy. As she pulls out, Tim follows her and stays close as you get farther from LA. Half an hour later, you get a text from Tim that he’s turning back, and you promise to call him if anything else happens. His responding text that he’ll miss your voice makes you look away from your phone like it’s him. Hopefully, he won’t manage to make you shy all weekend from several hundred miles away.

“And we’re free,” Lucy muses as she watches Tim exit in her rearview mirror. “Does he always make you that shy?”

“Usually,” you answer.

“Well, it’s a good thing you have me then. I can protect you from his vicious onslaughts of attention.”

You laugh at Lucy’s phrasing, and then you both yell together when you see a billboard for a homemade candy and ice cream store at the next exit. Despite your delay and Tim temporarily crashing your girls’ weekend, you and Lucy are already having a great time. By the end of your trip, you may have a maid of honor for a wedding you haven’t even thought about.

Bonus:

Tim walks into the bullpen and sighs. He misses you already, and the velvet box hidden in his nightstand has been on his mind more the past few days.

“You miss her,” Angela accuses when she sees him.

“Of course I do, she’s not as annoying as the rest of you,” Tim replies.

“That’s why you started dating a shy girl? So she wouldn’t talk as much as the rest of us? That’s messed up, Timothy.”

“Well, if that's how you feel,” Tim begins before pausing. “I guess I’ll ask someone else to help me plan the proposal.”

“I’m sorry,” Angela says while she reaches out to grab Tim’s sleeve. “Let me help, it will be perfect.”

“We have to one up girls’ weekend,” Tim points out.

“Trust me, we will.”

[uyuuma]

“ MATTE BLACK ”

satoru gojo x fem!reader ღ MDNI.

❥ summary. your boyfriend, satoru gojo, is driving you home from a long day out. you decide to repay him for the fun date, while he's fuckin' driving. (damn girl, can't wait till you get home first?)

❥ warnings. nsfw, female anatomy, praise kink, using pet names, oral (male receiving), deepthroating, hairpulling, this is all while he drives btw, etc.

❥ a/n. mb guys ik it's been a few months but i'm having horrible writers block. i have a bunch of drafts atm. wrote this cos i may or may not have done this irl >:) also this is bc im still coping with ch 261 in jjk

❥ wc. 3k

"Are you sleepy, baby?" A voice asked softly, ripping you from the dream-like state you were under. You blinked rapidly, little droplets forming on the corners of your sleepy eyes. A quiet yawn escaped your lips as you stretched in your plush seat. You turn your head to look over at Gojo, as he lovingly glances at your sleepy form in his passenger seat. Your lashes drooped as your mind slowly regained consciousness, rubbing your eyes to wake yourself up from your groggy condition. Gojo let out a chuckle as his eyes stayed glued to the road ahead. "Sorry baby, didn't mean to wake you from your precious slumber." he apologized, his faint smile being illuminated from the bright red lights on the dashboard. "S'okay baby, didn't mean to fall asleep anyway." you muttered, another yawn threatening to escape your throat. You looked ahead at the road, it was a straight freeway that stretched out for miles on end. It was already dark out, hardly any lighting besides the bright headlights of his car. It was slightly mesmerizing to you, seeing the surrounding environment race by in a blur. You could tell you were still quite a ways from home, you were in a very rural area. No cars, buildings, or signs of civilization have passed by since you woke up. "Poor baby, we had such a long day together. You should nap some more, it'll be a while till we get home, 'kay?" Gojo rested his large hand on your thigh, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze. He moved his hand so that he could cup your cheek, trying to further coax you into going back to sleep. You giggled, shrugging your left shoulder so that you could lean into his palm. "I'm fine, Satoru... I'm not that sleepy." You kissed his hand and leaned back into the chair, peering out the windshield to see the sparkling stars in the night sky. As he withdrew his hand to change gears, you moved yours to fiddle with the radio. Gojo always gives you aux because you are his pretty princess that he loves to spoil. He didn't mind whatever songs you chose to play, even if your playlists were an incoherent mess. You tapped on the screen, skipping a couple of songs before landing on the one you wanted.

You grinned, satisfied with the choice. Gojo also seemed pleased by your choice as he gently bobbed his head to the beat. He shifted gears again then rested his hand on your thigh once more. A gesture which was normally so innocent and comforting had your head spinning. You weren't sure what had suddenly caused you to feel so worked up, but it certainly caused you to become more alert. You bounced your other leg in anticipation, sorting through your options. You want Gojo now. In fact, you were down bad for him all day, but since you two were enjoying the day together you brushed it off. But now it's different, now you have privacy. Now you were cooped up in his Dodge Challenger, home still miles away. Come to think of it, his car was definitely one of his prized possessions as he always took amazing care of it. The interior was always so clean, the matte black seats and dashboard almost disappeared into the night. It smelled faintly of his cologne and the 'black ice' tree car freshener that hung from his rearview mirror. The masculine blend of scents added to the growing arousal pooling in your tummy, as if his car was full of pheromones. But even if it wasn't the way he cared for his car or the hypnotic aroma that danced around your senses, just the way he drove enchanted you. He drove with such confidence, only needing one hand on the wheel. The way his veins would pop out of his pale hand when he would switch gears. His long legs shifted somewhat to hit the gas or clutch. It was as if your boyfriend mastered the art of driving. It was the true reason you made him drive most of the time, Gojo believing it to be because you weren't as confident in driving. Nope, the true reason was that you were too enamored with being his little passenger princess to ever dare getting into the driver's seat again. Realizing that you were full on ogling Gojo as he drove, you shifted your observant eyes to take in his handsome face. He was focused on the road, his right hand now holding the wheel. His left arm rested against the car door, propping up his tired head on his fist. His body language was fatigued and you understood that he too, was drowsy. Your lips tugged into a frown, growing empathy and guilt in your body. You wanted to find a way to keep your boyfriend awake, while also repaying him for spoiling you all day.

That was when your gaze settled on his crotch, a little idea popping into your head. You knew exactly how to spoil him back and you weren't waiting till you guys got home to do it.

"Satoru..." you muttered, a lilt to your soft voice. You rest your hand on his thigh this time, fingers stroking the rough wrinkles in his dark jeans.

"Yes, princess?" He asked curiously, his thigh twitching from your little touches.

"Want to repay you for today." you hummed, your head leaning onto the edge of your seat. You batted your lashes at him innocently, not sure if he could see from the dark interior.

Per his immaculate eyesight however, he saw how you put on an innocent act. He cocked his head in confusion, a small laugh leaving his lips. "Baby, you don't owe me anything. Don't be silly." he assured you.

You pout, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. Of course he wouldn't let you pay back monetarily... however that's not what you meant.

"Not like that..." you mewled. You guided your hand down to his crotch, fingers caressing the fabric that separated you from his cock. You smirked, feeling how his dick stirred underneath his jeans. Seems like he wanted you too.

He sucked air in through his teeth, a sharp hiss escaping his lips. "Naughty girl..." he muttered, his gaze remained fixed to the freeway.

"I'll happily take you as payment then." He chuckled, moving his left hand to grip onto the steering wheel. His now free hand met yours as he pressed your palm harder against his length. He groaned, letting himself enjoy your touch for a little longer. Once he grew impatient he began to unbuckle his belt with right hand, left hand still steering the wheel. He undid his belt and moved the strap of his seatbelt so that it was resting against his abs. He followed suit with unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. The sounds of the clanking belt buckle and zipper sent shivers down your spine and a familiar warmth to your cunt.

He skillfully hooked his thumb into the waistband and bucked his hips up to lower his jeans. He pulled his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock. It was half hard but even in its softer state it was big.

In an instant your hand gathered his length, giving it a few pumps to get him to 100%. He let out a low groan, his grip tightening on the steering wheel's leather.

You lazily slid your palm along his cock, enjoying the feeling of him growing inside of your grip. You knew you were efficient at your job when his cock became too much for just one hand to hold. His blushing tip started to gush with precum. He twitched in your grasp as you wiped the sticky fluid with your thumb.

Your mind became so dizzy and cloudy, watching how his abs flexed and body shuddered from any small movement you made. You admired the fluffy white happy trail that lead down his pelvis. It all was too much for you to handle any longer.

You could feel your slutty little mouth salivate, hungry to finally shove him into any hole you could fit him into.

To be completely fair, it was a difficult task to fit him anywhere. His dick was just so long. You always bruised the back of your throat whenever you sucked him off, but it's so worth it.

You finally shuffled in your chair, moving your hips so that the seatbelt that constricted your lap was now beneath your shins. You sat up, the only thing keeping you safely tied to your seat was the chest strap.

Gojo's ears perked, hearing how your movements caused the belt to zip in extension to your body. The chest strap slid down your upper body and nestled itself between your stomach and pelvis.

You were lucky that the center console was low, it gave you perfect access to his lap. You leaned over it, your head lowering over his throbbing cockhead. He let out a sigh in relief as your lips finally touched his aching cock. You teased him a bit, giving his leaky tip a few kisses before sticking your tongue out. Your tongue licked a fat strip up his warm shaft, earning you a muffled groan from Gojo. You grinned, looking down at how your spit glistened on his skin as if admiring your work.

Gojo grunted, feeling how the cold air pricked at the saliva you left behind. He felt himself lose his patience, his grip on the wheel tightening. His right hand felt around, trying to keep his gaze attached to the street. Once he felt your hair, he lovingly stroked your head, a small chuckle leaving his throat.

"Princess... you're testing my patience." He croons in a gentle, yet warning manner. His fingers intertwined with your hair so that he could give it a tug.

You gasped, feeling the slight sting in your scalp from his commanding yank on your locks. Averting your gaze from his lap to look up at him, you could make out his strong features even in the darkness. His sharp jawline and the way his mouth contorted in a cocky grin made your mind run wild. You decide to comply with his warning, knowing your delicate throat wasn't prepared to take his relentless pace yet.

You roll out your tongue and open wide, slowly taking his length into your mouth. His breath hitched feeling how your tongue glided against his skin, how you hollowed out your cheeks and clenched around him so heavenly.

"Good fucking girl..." he sighed, dragging out the syllables in bliss. His fingers slipped from your hair, so that he could gently rest it atop your crown. His hand only ever left your head when he had to switch gears.

You immersed yourself into the act, bobbing your head up and down to build a delicious rhythm that you knew Gojo couldn't resist. You could hear his breathing became labored, even with your eyes closed you could imagine how his built chest heaved underneath that tight black shirt.

Gojo's attempts to concentrate on his driving and the road ahead became extremely challenging as he felt his girlfriend's throat swallow him up so well. He desperately wanted to throw his head back, for his long white lashes to flutter shut as he let you take over. However, it wasn't exactly an option at this point in time so he controlled his urges for the time being.

You were fully occupied with dragging your tongue tantalizingly against his length, not caring about how much saliva had started to pool on his pelvis. It felt so lewd to swallow him up while he drove you home, knowing how much restraint he had to use to make sure he didn't run the car off the road. The thrill and danger of it all made you moan messily into his slick skin, inhibitions already out the window.

Feeling your mouth reverberate as you moaned, sent his eyes to dart to the back of his head. Although, it was momentary as he remembered he was supposed to be driving. He forced his body to keep the involuntary movements to a minimum, trying to hone all of his energy into heavy breathing and moans.

Gojo was normally never this vocal, but right now he was pouring all of his bliss into sounds. His grunts only fueled your resolve to take him deeper and deeper... until...

'GLUK!' You choked as his tip prodded past the back of your tongue. Your lungs burned as you held back a cough, mentally cursing yourself for forgetting how lengthy your boyfriend is. You went to remove him from your mouth to gasp for air when your neck felt resistance, stopping you in your tracks. "Mmph!" A muffled cry escaped your mouth as Gojo held your head in place.

"Shhhshhh... doin' so well for me baby. C'mon, practice breathing through your nose like I showed you." Your white-haired boyfriend preened, his hand unwavering as he held down your head.

You were definitely going to give him shit for this when you got home, but in this instance you were cock drunk enough to let this slide. In fact, your body gave into his touch almost immediately, your neck no longer fought against his push. You could feel his cock reach the deepest parts of your throat, a place that you had always struggled to let him into.

Your lungs ached and burned from a lack of oxygen, so you took note of his words as started to breathe through your nose. As you blew air out your nose, it tickled the white hairs that decorated Gojo's pelvis.

Gojo was so proud of how well you were taking his dick down your throat, he could feel his orgasm building quickly. His knuckles were turning white from the incredible grip that he held on the steering wheel. If you could see it, you would undoubtedly drool from the sight of his veins popping out along his knuckles.

He could no longer help how his hips thrusted lightly into your face or how his foot dangerously pushed down on the gas pedal harder and harder. Just the way you were struggling to take him made his head spin in ecstasy. His eyes darted between the road and your pretty little head going down on him, biting down on his lip as he felt himself near the edge.

Before he knew it, he checked the speedometer and his eyes widened in shock.

"Oh shit!" He whisper-shouted, his hand flying out of your hair and onto the shifter. He let off the gas, hit the clutch, and switched gears as he slowed down the car in a huff.

"Fuck princess... makin' me go a hundred here." He chuckled, slight panic still left in his voice. The panic very soon melted away as you sucked in your cheeks and moved your head at a mind-numbing pace.

"Christ..." He huffed as your throat molded to the slight curve of his cock, your muffled moans and hums made him swear he could see god at this very moment. You became so absorbed in his praises that you didn't feel at all panicked that he almost went 120 mph while your face was nestled in his lap. In fact, that only excited you further.

"Fuck baby... m'almost there!" He whimpered, not daring to change the pressure on the gas pedal any further. He held down your head, cock twitching as he prepared to fill you with his load.

You groaned, feeling how he definitely bruised the back of your throat with that last push, your nose pressing into his skin as he gave one last buck.

"Fuck, m'cumming so hard!" Gojo grunted as his muscles tensed up. You suddenly felt the warm sensation of his hot seed spurting down your throat. You swallowed to the best of your ability, the thick fluid causing your esophagus to feel dry. Gojo let out a few more groans and grunts, before his hand let go of your head.

Your head shot up, gasping for air as you recovered from the brutal throat-fucking you just received. Your hands gently held your neck as you came down from your own high.

Gojo's breathing was still heavy as he composed himself behind the wheel. He chuckled, pulling his pants back up since the warmth of your mouth was lost. He glanced down at you every-so-often to make sure you were recovering okay.

"You did such a good job, baby." Gojo praised, his hand coming down to stroke your hair again.

"Throat is sore 'cause of you." You rasped, a slight scowl on your face as you came to your senses. Although you were pouting, you still made sure to help him zip up his pants and buckle his belt.

"I know, I know... I may have gone overboard a bit." He nervously laughed, his fingers pinching your cheek to tease you.

You sat up, hissing from the pain in your ribs from bending over the center console for so long. You must've been too wrapped up in the act to realize how uncomfortable the position was.

You readjusted yourself in his matte black seat, properly buckling yourself to the chair as to not violate the law (as if you weren't doing so a few minutes ago). You fixed up your hair and swallowed thickly, your throat definitely needed some water eventually.

"You were such a good girl f'me though. How about we get you an ice cold slushy and some cough drops to soothe your hard-working throat?" Gojo recommended, his hand resting on your thigh once more.

Your face instantly went from a pout to an excited grin. "Yes, please! Can I pick which gas station, though?" You asked, fingers already tapping the gps to find the closest preferred rest stop.

"Of course, anything for my princess." Gojo responded, being unable to hide the sappy tone in his voice.

Gojo did however hide a smirk though, knowing he was definitely inspired to do more lewd activities in his car again.

This was only the beginning for him and his beloved passenger princess.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

The Witch's Bodyguard

(2) I hide and cower in the corner, conversations getting hard

Actress!Wanda Maximoff x Bodygaurd!Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda has to do an interview and is a little anxious about it

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: None this is just a set up and establish chapter

A/N: I'm so glad you're all looking forward to this series!

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop @rroyale-109 @wandanat01 @scarlizziee @nixxnsworld

@snoozingredpanda @wandamaximoff-simp @mrsromanovaa @sweet--escape17

@natashamaximoff-69

Your fist collided with the sand filled bag, stopping it dead in its tracks. Breathing hot and heavy after a two hour workout. You grabbed for your towel, sitting down to wipe away the sweat from your face as the feeling of a cold water bottle hit the side of your neck.

“I heard you finishing up so I figured I'd bring some water.” You hear Wanda say from behind you. Your tumbler is forgotten beside you as you take the bottle from her. You'd been here only a week, but Wanda quickly learned you're a creature of habit. The early wake up time, workouts that lasted the same amount each day. She was taking notice of the little things.

“Thank you. We have to go out for that interview soon, right?” You ask as you receive a nod. Your eyes flicked down to her hands. Her fingers fidgeting with the rings on her other hand. You could tell she was nervous, but it wasn't your place to say anything so you simply stand up. “I'll be ready in 10. Is Bucky ready?” Your voice is firm, commanding, but devoid of any unnecessary inflection. Bucky's reliability is another aspect of your job that you've come to depend on. Wanda simply nods as the two of you leave the at-home gym.

You head back to your room in the house, taking a quick five minute shower before dressing in your army pants, boots, and a plain white top. You also put on your bulletproof vest and holster your pistol.

As you swiftly gear up, the weight of the bulletproof vest is a familiar comfort against your chest. You've worn it through countless missions, and now it's become a staple of your attire as Wanda Maximoff's bodyguard. The pistol snug in its holster feels like an extension of your body, a tool of protection that you've trained with extensively.

Exiting your room, you find Wanda pacing in the living room, her nervous energy palpable. Bucky stands nearby, his posture relaxed but alert, a testament to his own years of military training.

"Ready to go when you are Ma’am," you state, your voice steady and authoritative. Wanda nods, her eyes briefly meeting yours before she gathers herself. She's still adjusting to having a constant shadow, someone who anticipates her needs before she even realizes them. You can sense her wariness, the uncertainty lingering beneath her composed façade.

As you escort Wanda to the awaiting vehicle you place your hand on the small of her back. A small gesture to reassure her that you’re here. You keep a vigilant watch on your surroundings. Every passerby is a potential threat, every noise scrutinized for signs of danger. It's second nature to you, this constant state of alertness, but you can see how it unnerves Wanda, the way she glances around nervously.

During the drive to the interview location, Wanda remains quiet, lost in her own thoughts. You respect her need for space, allowing her the silence she seeks while remaining vigilant for any potential threats. Bucky engages in small talk, attempting to lighten the mood, but you remain stoic, your focus solely on the task at hand.

Arriving at the interview venue, you scan the area, assessing the security measures in place. Satisfied with your observations, you usher Wanda inside, your presence a silent reassurance amidst the chaos of flashing cameras and eager reporters. Your hand once again finding it’s place on the small of her back.

Throughout the interview, you remain at the perimeter, a silent sentinel watching over Wanda's every move. You catch the subtle shifts in her demeanor, the way she navigates the questions. To most people she probably looked normal, but to you it was obvious she was anxious as she waited for questions to come her way with her other coworkers. She fidgeted with her rings again as she looked over the crowd. When she catches your eye you can fully see the panic and you do something that surprises you both. You make a silly face and she starts smiling with her brows furrowed. So you make another and get a chuckle out of her. It made you happy to be able to ease her tensions.

As the interview draws to a close, you guide Wanda and Bucky back to the vehicle. Once safely inside, you exhale a silent breath of relief, the tension slowly dissipating from your shoulders. You looked over at Wanda you also seemed to be much more relaxed now that it was over.

======

You sit in the dim glow of the fire, the crackling flames casting dancing shadows across the room. The warmth seeps into your bones, a comforting embrace after the long day's work. With a book in hand, you delve into its pages, immersing yourself in a world far removed from the reality of your duties.

The rhythmic tapping of keys fills the room as Wanda works diligently on her laptop, her focus unwavering. You steal a glance at her from time to time, noting the furrow of her brow as she concentrates. There's a sense of determination about her, a drive to excel in everything she does.

The silence between you is companionable, each lost in your own thoughts yet connected by the shared space. It's a rare moment of tranquility amidst the chaos of your lives, a chance to simply be without the weight of the world pressing down upon you.

As the night stretches on, the fire burns lower, casting elongated shadows that dance along the walls. You reach for your cup of tea, the warmth seeping into your hands as you take a sip. The aroma of chamomile fills the air, soothing and calming.

Eventually, Wanda closes her laptop, the soft click of the lid echoing in the quiet room. She stretches, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she settles back into her chair. You close your book, marking your place with a gentle touch before setting it aside.

"Long day," Wanda remarks, her voice breaking the silence. You nod in agreement, the events of the day still fresh in your mind. Despite the challenges, you feel a sense of accomplishment, knowing that you've kept her safe once again.

"But a good day," you reply, your voice low yet filled with assurance. Wanda meets your gaze, a hint of gratitude shining in her eyes. In that moment, you realize that despite the differences between you, there's a mutual respect that binds you together. "Time for bed?" You ask, but Wanda shakes her head, making you raise an eyebrow.

"A little longer." Her voice is soft. "Just want to relax without work for a bit. Let my mind shut off." She looked at you, eyes looking so tired. Like she could fall asleep in her chair as she curled up her legs and rested her chin on her hand to look over at the fire.

You let her be, picking your book back up to read a little more. It was only a few minutes until you heard her breathing even out, looking up from your book to find her asleep. A small smile on your face. This seemed to be a thing. Half of the week Wanda was falling asleep somewhere other than her bed and you'd have to take her to bed.

You lift Wanda effortlessly, her slight frame feeling feather-light in your arms. She stirs slightly as you gather her, her grip tightening instinctively as she nestles closer to you. Her warmth seeps into your skin, a comforting presence amidst the quiet of the night.

As you ascend the stairs to her room, you navigate with ease, your steps sure and steady. Wanda's soft breaths tickle the nape of your neck, a gentle reminder of her vulnerability in this moment of repose.

Reaching her bedroom door, you push it open with a gentle nudge, the soft click echoing in the stillness of the night. The room is bathed in moonlight, casting a silvery glow upon the familiar surroundings.

Carefully, you lower Wanda onto her bed, tucking the covers around her with a tender touch. She sighs contentedly, her features relaxed in sleep. For a moment, you simply watch her, the moonlight casting shadows across her peaceful face.

With a sigh, you turn away, leaving her to her dreams. It's become a routine, this silent vigil over her rest, a duty you've come to embrace with quiet determination.

Exiting her room, you pause in the hallway, your gaze lingering on the closed door. In the stillness of the night, you can't help but feel a sense of protectiveness wash over you, a silent vow to always keep her safe.

With one last glance, you continue down the hallway, the echo of her soft breathing lingering in your mind. As you settle into your own room, you can't help but reflect on the complexities of your role as her protector, the unspoken bond that binds you together even in the darkest of hours.

And as sleep finally claims you, you find solace in the knowledge that for tonight, at least, she rests easy under your watchful gaze.

[skyvoice-holymicro]

𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧 𝐀&𝐏/𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐬, 𝐅𝐁𝐎'𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐬 ? 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐨! 𝐋𝐋𝐂'𝐬 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐂𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰. 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 - https://holymicro.com/index.php?route=affiliate/login . . . #A&P #fixedbasedoperator #aviationrepairshops #holymicro #affiliates #affiliatemarketing #sales #marketing #opportunity #airframepowerplant #airframepowerplantmechanic

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

A part of you, a part of me

Summary: Joel’s been down this road before, he’s seen all the signs, and he knows before you ever do that you’re pregnant.

Warning: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut, unplanned pregnancy, crying, fluff, pre-outbreak Joel. Established relationship, cream pie, pet names, cussing, pregnancy tests, just a bunch of happiness because that’s all Joel deserves in this world. 💜😭

A/n: I can’t say Joel has a breeding kink… but I can certainly say he makes me have one 😌

Joel Miller Master List

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Joel remembers everything from Sarah’s mother’s pregnancy, all of the signs that lead up to them finding out. And surely enough it was beginning to show in you.

It started one autumn morning, when he woke up to find you nestled in beside him, face pressed into his chest, snoring slightly, hair in disarray. You were the picture perfect definition of someone getting the best sleep of their lives.

The only reason it concerned his was the fact that you never slept in past 6. You were always up before Joel, making breakfast for him and Sarah and more often than not Tommy, taking Sarah to school with a sweet kiss to his lips before you’d dash off to work yourself.

Brushing the hair from your face he whispers softly, “Honey?” You grumble something unintelligible, pulling a smile from him. “Honey it’s 7:20.” You’re slow to open your eyes, hazy and still leaded with sleep as they focus in on him, his dark hair sticking up around his head like every morning, “You okay?”

“M’ just really tired… think you can take over this morning?” You whisper, reaching up and cupping his cheek, the stubble of his beard scratching your palm.

“Of course baby. You need me to call work? Want a day to relax?” You smile at his concern, knowing he’s already gearing himself to go the extra mile to make sure you start to feel better.

“That would be really nice.” He kisses your lips gently before leaving you to sleep in, and you end up sleeping most of the day away.

Joel’s quick to notice that you start to get more tired as the days progress, usually a morning person you were now sluggish and downing two cups of coffee just to stay alert, you’d stay in bed a little longer and go to sleep a little earlier.

Initially he’d chalked it up to being stress at work, you were an associate for a designer company, making all the hotels and houses around here ‘fancy looking’ as he would say. It was a big, busy job that you were very passionate about.

But then came the emotions and cravings, not anger or frustration like Sarah’s mother, but you cried, and you cried a lot. The alarm bells should of gone off when he found you one night in the kitchen after everyone had gone to bed. You were sitting at the counter crying, no you had been sobbing, and Joel feared the worst until you blubbered out that you just really, really wanted ice cream.

Him finding you like that only embarrassed you more, adding to the water works as he dragged you in for a tight hug, smoothing his hands up and down your back.

“I-I think I’m just PMSing.” You hiccuped bashfully, hiding your face against his chest as he kissed the brown of your head.

“It’s okay, we will go get some tomorrow, it’s Saturday and we can take Sarah with us to the little parlor in town.”

Two months in to your sudden changes is when it all came to a head, he wasn’t being nosy, had actually just walked into the house about to announce himself when he heard you on the phone.

“I don’t know Jenny, works been stressful, I definitely haven’t been eating right and I just don’t have the energy to go to the gym like I use to. Hell even my periods plying hide and seek with me. I thought about making a doctors appointment-“

Whatever else you say is lost on him as he stops dead in his tracks, his muscles tensing and mouth drying up. He makes his legs move, taking him around the corner and into the kitchen. You don’t notice him at first, giving him the perfect opportunity to just look at you, to really look at you.

At the sake of sounding corny… You really were glowing, face a little rounder, body filling out in different ways, curves softening under your clothing. The changes were slight, not so prominent yet, but he can see it.

His heart speeds up, emotions rolling through him like the ocean in a storm.

You are pregnant.

Walking closer he catches your attention, making you crack a wide smile that has his knees going weak. “Hey, Jenny, Joel just got home I’ll talk to you later… love you too, bye.”

Setting the phone down, you go to stand but Joel’s in front of you, dropping to his knees and capturing your hips in his hands. You let out a startled yelp, hands coming to rest on his arms squeezing gently.

“As adventurous as I am, I don’t think the kitchen is t-.”

“We need to talk.” His serious expression extinguishes your excitement, panic flashing through you instantly.

“What’s wrong? Is Sarah okay? Tommy?”

“Yes, they are fine, we need… we need to talk about you.”

“Me? Honey I’m fine, what do you mean?” Nervous laughter bubbles up in your throat, mind racing in every possible direction this conversation could go.

Joel rolls his lips together, glancing to your stomach then back to you. Your face is contorted with confusion, your grip tightening on his arms. “When… how long has it been since you’re last period?”

You scoff at his question, eyes rolling slightly as your posture relaxes. “Baby I don’t know, I haven’t been tracking it like I usually do. Between Carol and Tray calling out of work I’ve been given both of their projects to present, that’s two on top of my other two. And -.” You roll your eyes, temper rising, “and get this, two of them are so within three hours of each other, now how in the world am I supposed to-.”

“Darlin’.” Joel cuts off your rambling, one large hand shifting to your softer stomach, rubbing slow circles as he watches the confusion melt into realization and then back to panic as your eyes drop to your stomach.

“N-no… no Joel we.. we always use condoms.”

He gives you a look that says you’re lying through your teeth, which you are, there has been a few times over the past couple of months, after you’ve both had one to many drinks where you’ll wake up in the morning, slick between your thighs.

Joel watches your face pale, body shaking in his grasp and he pulls you a little closer with the hand on your hip. “How long?”

Swallowing you finally look at his face, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, expression pinched with… worry? Upset? Is he scared? Your own fears rise eyes flicking between his and something in his chest cracks open at the look on your face.

“M-maybe two months… I-I really don’t k-know.”

He nods, rubbing slow circles into your stomach, already knowing but needing to be sure. “Let’s take a trip to the store okay?”

*~*~*~*~*~*

You’re both quiet sitting on Joel’s bed, two positive pregnancy tests laying in between you. You are fighting back tears, stiff and trembling, waiting on Joel to blow up.

You’ve only been dating for three years, kids have never been a topic of discussion seeing as Joel already has Sarah, he’s been through the baby phase. Then there’s the fact you don’t officially live with him, though you’re apartment in the city is only visited when you need to do laundry. Almost every moment of the day is in this house or at work… does that me this will change everything?

“I’m… I’m so sorry Joel.” You finally whisper, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.”

“What?”

“I should… I should of been on the pill, I should of been more careful… I didn’t mean to do this to you.” The absolute devastation in your voice makes Joel move, kneeling down in front of you like earlier, this time his hands are on your waist, thumbs stroking the sides of your changing belly.

“Don’t you dare talk like that, you didn’t do anything to me. Yes I’m scared, I’m scared shitless but fuck baby… I’m over the moon.” Your watery eyes dart to his and he’s smiling, joy shining in his soft drown eyes making something inside your body relax for the first time in hours. “Now… I know-I know we didn’t plan this but I mean… This is us. This right here.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to your stomach making you giggle breathlessly. “This is a part of me and a part of you that… God it’s so wonderful and you’re so wonderful and I love you so much, I love this so much.”

Tears brim his own beautiful eyes, hands gently squeezing your sides, curling into the fabric of your tank top as he searches your tear streaked face. “You my sweet girl, are going to be the most amazing mother.”

Whatever reservations, whatever doubts you were holding onto flood from your body with the shaky breath that escapes through your trembling lips, and without thought you lean down, capturing his lips in a kiss, one that pours every little emotion you don’t know how to communicate into him.

Joel stands, lips never leaving yours and pushes you back gently onto the bed, fitting himself between your legs as the kiss slowly turns hungry. You’re burning from the inside out, tears still escaping down your cheeks, as Joel settles himself over you, mindful of his weight.

“Shhh don’t cry honey.” He breaths, lips moving down to your jaw, working the skin with sloppy kisses.

You tilt your head back, body thrumming with sudden need. “H-happy tears.” You manage to squeak out, hands tugging at his t-shirt wantonly. “Joel… I want you, please I want you.” You beg, arching your back pressing your hips up against him searching for some form of friction.

“I know baby, just relax. I’ll take good care of you.” He mumbles against your throat, a hand finding your pajama shorts and tugging them down, exposing your bare cunt to the cold air. He sits back, pulling your shorts over your ankles with a low growl. “Fuck baby, you’re so wet for me already.” Joel swipes a fingers through your folds, gathering your juices and circling your clit.

You whine into the air, closing your eyes as another pulse of arousal shoots through you, heart hammering against your ribs. “Please… Don’t tease me please.” The tears now streaming down your cheeks are out of desperation, your hands finding his belt and yanking at the worn leather.

Joel only chuckles with a shake his head, helping you unbuckle the belt and open his jeans, shoving them down far enough for his cock to spring free. You groan at the sight, letting your legs fall further open as you grab a fist full of his t-shirt pulling him to you.

“Need my cock that bad baby? Can’t wait any longer?” He groans as he runs the tip along your soaked folds, bumping your swollen bud making your hips jerk.

You shake your head, watching his cock as he slowly presses the head into your opening, your lip caught between your teeth.

“Hey,” Joel’s fingers find your chin, lifting your gaze to his and he feels like he might blow his load then and there. Your eyes simmer with pure lust… pure list and want and love and your looking up at his through your long lashes making his breath hitch in his chest. “Eyes on me when I fuck you, wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum.”

“Y-Yes sir.” You nod weakly, head resting back on the pillows as you hook your ankles around his waist.

“What a good girl you are.” He slowly thrusts in, savoring how you stretch around him, always so tight and warm. A low moan falls from your lips, legs tightening around him encouraging him to go deeper and he obeys, sinking into you completely.

You both stay still for a moment, breaths labored and hearts pounding. Joel keeps himself propped up with one hand, the other pushing your shirt up just under your breasts, finding its place on your small bump.

Joel pulls out half way before sinking back in, moaning and closing his eyes briefly as he finds his pace, deep and slow making your eyes roll and body languid below his. You can feel each bump and ridge of his cock, rubbing your walls in just the right way that your orgasm builds quickly. “So pretty, always wanted to put a baby in you, never thought I’d get the chance.” Your pussy squeezes around him your soft whimpers follow. “Yeah? You like that?”

“F-fuck… yes Joel… yes.” Your grip tightens on his shirt, anchoring yourself to him as pressure begins to build in the base of your spine.

His voice drops, the timbre in his drawl making your blood thick in your veins, head heavy and empty. “Just gonna have ta’ keep you pregnant then, barefoot in ma kitchen, swollen with all my babies.” Joel’s thrusts speed up, his mental image of you driving him closer and closer to his own orgasm. “I need to feel you cum for me, cum on my cock baby.”

His fingers find your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you nearly scream, the pressure radiating out into your abdomen pulling your muscles tight. You nod feverishly, panting out some form of yess and please, teetering on the cusp of oblivion, just for him.

Joel groans, eyebrows drawn together and thrusts turning sloppy, he can feel your pussy spasming around him and he knows he won’t last much longer.

“Let it go baby, let it happen, cum on my dick like the good girl you are.”

And it snaps, the tension flooding from your body as your orgasm erupts, a silent scream forming your lips into that perfect O shape that Joel loves so much, and as your cunt clenches down on him he stills, rope after rope of thick cum painting your quivering walls. He moans loud and deep, a shudder raking through his body as his eyes close and he basks in the euphoria washing through him.

Your legs shake around his twitching hips, whining pitchy and out of breath and Joel finally moves his fingers from your sensitive clit, splaying his hand across your stomach.

“You’re gonna be such a good mama.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

You both wait until after your first doctors appointment to tell Sarah and Tommy, over a lovely family meal.

“This is so good.” Sarah mumbles out around a mouth full of homemade lasagna making everyone laugh.

“Thank you, it’s my mamas recipe.” Joel’s eyes lock with yours, a smile tugging at his lips as your heart pounds in your ears, ready to spill the beans like you’ve planted. “I hope one day I can pass it on to you and your little sibling.”

It takes Sarah a minute, but Tommy stops eating immediately, his eyes growing wide, head wiping up to look between you and his brother, the smile that spreads across his face makes your heart warm.

“Ooo I’d love to try and cook it with you some time, I like learning new…” The realization dawns on her then, her jaw dropping open, shock taking over her expression and Joel can’t help but laugh.

“Really?” Sarah turns to you, and you’re already nodding, tears filling your eyes at the same time hers do. “I’m going to be a sister?”

“Oh honey…” She’s out of her chair and crashing into your open arms in an instant, crying against your chest as you bury your face into her curls, holding on tightly.

Tommy embraces Joel, patting his back roughly as Joel beams, watching his two girls over Tommy’s shoulder. This moment, this instances is all he’s ever dreamt of.

[em-ontv]

may i request for more soldier boy please? <3

Of course you may, I was waiting to write another piece about him. I love these little asks because it helps motivate me. Hope you like this, anon! <3

Damsel in distress.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x lover!fem!reader (who's a member of Payback)

Summary: when you received a call for help, you immediately got into action, only to find out that the person on the other side isn't exactly a stranger...

Warnings: cursing/profanities, no use of y/n, Ben being a drama queen, time taking place around the mid 1900s (I know they didn't have flip phones at that time but just pretend Vought had some high tech-y stuff), English isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, apologies beforehand :)

Word count: 776

———————————————————————————

Your flip phone rang in the middle of a half-baked briefing session with Crimson Countess and Mindstorm, the two of them squabbling while your mind wandered off. You were half listening, but it was mostly white noise, nodding from time to time to give them the idea that you actually gave a fuck.

When the phone rang in your pocket, you were more than ready for the distraction.

"Got a call. Gotta take it," you said, stepping out before either of them could ask for details.

"Hello?"

"Help— fuck, I need help!" The voice on the other end was frantic, strained.

"Calm down. Where are you?" you cut them off, your heart pounding in your chest. The voice was familiar but you didn't think too much of it, not when the man seemed to be in so much distress.

"Help... please, you gotta come. I'm— I'm trapped, and I don't know how much longer I can—”

The phone crackled with static, and you could barely hear the voice on the other side anymore.

"It's— shit, just get here! I'm at the old warehouse on 5th… please."

The call ended abruptly. Just like that. The line went dead before you could get another word out. No further instructions. Nothing. Your jaw tensed, stuffing the phone back into your pocket. Probably some dumbass who got themselves caught up with the wrong people. But, honestly? You cursed yourself for having that itch that dragged you into this kind of shit.

You knew it was stupid to go charging in without more intel, but something in that voice had triggered your instincts. It had the kind of urgency that couldn't be faked. So, you grabbed your gear and headed out without a second thought.

When you arrived at the warehouse, the place was dark and reeked of mold. The air was thick with tension, your senses on high alert as you moved through the shadows, your weapon drawn.

Then you heard it — a low groan, coming from somewhere ahead. You tightened your grip on your weapon, pushing forward until you reached a large, open space. And there he was, crumpled on the floor like a discarded doll, Soldier Boy. Ben.

The one and only.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you snapped, lowering your weapon as anger and disbelief spread across your face.

You nearly rolled your eyes so hard you saw the back of your skull. Of course it was him. Who else would be dumb enough to pull this kind of stunt?

"Fuck... you made it," he was sprawled out, one hand clutching his side, his face twisted in what you might have believed was ‘pain’ if you didn't know him better. "Took you long enough."

There wasn't a single scratch on him. No signs of a struggle, no bodies, not even a broken bottle in sight.

"You're the one who called? You had me thinking someone was in real danger, you asshole." you kneeled down beside him.

Ben coughed, trying to gain some of your pity until a knowing smirk inevitably made its way onto his lips. "You couldn't resist, huh? You always were a sucker for a damsel in distress."

You stared at him, deadpan. "You're about as much of a damsel as I am a fucking knight in shining armor."

He let out a theatrical groan again, like it was some big effort to sit up, and you resisted the urge to kick him while he was down. Then, he pouted, actually fucking pouted.

"You do that again and I'll put you out of your misery for good." you pointed a finger at him. You were pissed — more at yourself for falling for it, even for a second. But Ben? He was having the time of his life.

"Aw, come on, can't you just play along for once? It was a good fucking plan." he grabbed your hand and pressed it against the side of his face, flashing you a shit-eating grin.

You stayed silent, shaking your head in pure disbelief. You stood up and so did he, getting to his feet with the ease of someone who hadn't just played dead a minute ago.

"I missed you." Ben added after sensing your silence. "You’ve been so busy last month I've barely seen you."

"Yeah, well, don't pull shit like this again just because you're feeling needy."

"Needy?"

"You heard me." you exasperated.

"I just wanted to see you in action, get the blood pumping." his hand went to the small of your back and pulled you closer, lips pressing kisses along your jaw.

"Next time," you sighed. "Just fucking ask."

"Yeah, yeah. Love you too."

[innorogers]

Lull

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: So this is when you understood the difference between making love and banging, or, in this case, fucking.

Warning: Fluff / SMUT / MINORS DNI / 18+ / Unprotected Sex /

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Sharon Carter, Natasha Romanoff

Also: Thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️ Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist (DM, comment, repost and tag, whatever works)❤️ You don't need to read the previous chapters but it will definitely enhance the experience if you do.

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare | 5: Awakening | 6: Dusk | 7: Hypnagogia

You slipped through the streets like shadows, holding hands, hearts racing, eyes darting over your shoulders, every sound amplified by the silence of the night. The Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder – or ‘Magic Stark-Potter Thing’ as Steve was calling it – had granted you some safe time. But time was fragile, and you both knew it.

Your powers pulsed beneath your skin, guiding Steve with quiet certainty. You could feel the city’s pulse, see through the walls, and peer into the hidden corners of every alley. You led him down paths that no one else knew, invisible threads pulling you toward safety. The streets, immersed in late hours after midnight, stretched before you like the remnants of some secret map.

When you reached a narrow street swallowed by the night, you knelt down and moved a pile of old garbage cans aside, revealing a small, grimy basement window. You glanced back at Steve, and gestured for him to follow you down.

Turned out to be an underground club, and the party was just getting good.

The air was thick with the smell of alcohol, sweat, and smoke. Neon lights painted the walls in erratic colors—electric blues and deep reds—while people shouted over the pounding music, their laughter swallowed by the deafening noise.

You exchanged a look with Steve as you pushed through the crowd. His usual composed demeanor flickered, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene while staying close behind you. You weaved through the press of bodies, brushing against strangers lost in their own worlds, music vibrating through your bones as you both made your way to the other side. It felt like a different universe—one that was wild, loud, and completely unaware of the chaos lurking outside its walls.

“I need a computer!” You raised your voice so he could hear.

“I really don’t think you’ll find one here.” He almost laughed, holding your waist and waving through the people around you as you moved forward.

“I know.” You tilted your jaw. “But that’s perfect, look.” You pointed to the computer they used as a register to take orders. “An older one, probably. I need to enter an untraceable code; our network is probably compromised, so I need to notify the only being who can’t be hacked or corrupted.”

“Really?” Now he was intrigued. “Who?”

“Vision.” You continued to scan the place as you moved through the dancing crowd. “These machines won’t work, they’re plugged into their private network. I’ll need something connected to the outside. C'mon… let’s go to another floor.” It was a huge underground bar, so you held Steve’s hand and moved to the stairs.

“I think we’ve got company.” Steve tightened his grip as he noticed some guys entering the floor. They looked like military—tense poses and sharp, alert eyes scanning the place. He looked up and saw more of them on the floor above, near the exits and moving through the whole place.

“Let’s go, we don’t have much time. I think there’s some gear on me that’s making us trackable.” You hurried with him to go down, but stopped when those military men started coming from downstairs. You pulled him aside, hiding in a dark corner, but they weren’t leaving. Steve’s figure—tall, handsome, blonde—was too easy to recognize. A lot of women (and men) were looking at him with flirtatious eyes, intrigued.

You passed by corridors and stairs full of people, using your powers and his sensitive perception to navigate the space. The men didn’t notice you were there, but their eyes were everywhere.

You felt Steve’s body tense beside you, ready to attack at any moment, and the place would turn into hell if that happened. You cupped his face, pulling him closer to the wall, your eyes scanning behind him.

“I’ve always wanted to do this with you…” You smirked as the men passed by, and with your hand on his neck, you kissed him deeply.

Shit. Steve’s body went rigid.

This was the worst place and the worst time, but somehow, it felt so right. He’d almost forgotten how much he needed this. The moment your lips met his, your body pressed against his, the scent of smoke and debris clinging to you from the chase. But your kiss, it grounded him—reminded him why every risk was worth it.

He kissed you in the flicker of shadows, under the flashing lights, in a dark corner of an underground club. Drunk, dancing strangers moved in their own ecstasy, oblivious to the danger. It wasn’t something he ever imagined doing, but then again, you always brought the unexpected. And again...How could you ever think he’d choose anyone else over you? Over this?

He deepened the kiss, pinning you to the wall, his tongue brushing yours, and it felt so right… you tasted like sweetness, laced with something wild, like sin and salvation entwined.

“Steve…” You broke away, eyes still on the men as they passed, and he lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist. You grinned. “I really don’t think this is the time…”

“Well…” He chuckled, voice rough. “I think it’s the perfect time for this.”

“Come on. Let’s move now that we have the chance.” You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before starting to move.

Taking advantage of the lack of enemies in sight, you made it to the last floor through doors and hidden passageways and arrived at what seemed to be a VIP room.

“There we go.” Your eyes locked onto a computer next to a more sophisticated bar. “That’ll do.” But as you approached, Steve’s senses sharpened, picking up the tension of a threat.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw a group of men—tall, armed, and bearing the unmistakable faces of movie villains. Why do they always look like the bad guys? He sighed, slowly rolling up his sleeves. Well, it was about damn time. He had been holding back this feeling of wanting to punch someone ever since a bomb exploded near your car.

“Mmm?” You turned back and noticed the surroundings. The only guy who had been on a date at a corner table rushed out with his partner as soon as the room filled with the approaching men, circling both of you. He was even polite enough to close the door behind him.

“Oh.” You blinked at the 1, 2, 3… 15 men surrounding you.

“Gentlemen, there’s really no need for this to escalate…” You advised as the tension thickened, movements slowing to a crawl before the inevitable first strike.

“Shut up, doll. We’ll take care of you later.” Said the man who seemed to be their leader, smirking at you. “And believe me, you’ll be well attended.”

“Oh … you really shouldn’t have said that.” You shook your head, already sensing Steve’s fists clenching in response.

“Sir, you’re about to get the smash of your life…” You spun just in time to grab the bartender’s hand as he reached for a weapon beneath the desk, a fight breaking out behind you. “Please don’t do that.” You blinked at him. “I just need to borrow your computer, okay?”

“Um…” The bartender, startled by your strong grip, noticed the Avengers logo on your gear and quickly reconsidered. “Um… this thing runs on Windows Millennium. Like…Yikes.” He gestured at the ancient machine. “Don’t you need something, I don’t know, more modern?”

“It’ll do, thanks.” You hopped over the bar counter and began typing. “If it doesn’t send Vision a signal, it’ll at least ping him with a virus warning.”

The moment Steve moved, the air shifted.

The first punch landed with the force of a freight train, sending one of the goons crashing into a table, shattering glass and upending chairs. Chaos erupted in the room as fists and bodies collided. Steve ducked under a wild swing, his movements sharp and precise, retaliating with a brutal uppercut that left another attacker sprawled on the floor. Damn, this is so boring. A punching bag in the training room felt even heavier.

One of the armed men lunged at him with a knife, but Steve twisted to the side, catching the man’s wrist and flipping him over with ease. The crack of bones echoed as the thug hit the ground hard, and Steve was already turning, launching a swift kick into another man’s chest, sending him crashing through the VIP room’s thin partition wall.

“Babe, you got that?” He moved his head, avoiding a knife—or whatever sharp thing was coming from the back—grabbed the guy by his arm, and twisted it like a towel.

“Just a sec.” You were typing the commands as bottles clinked and tables flew across the room, the thumping bass from the club floor below barely audible over the grunts and crashes of the fight. 

“Just… okay, there.” You turned to the bartender: “Do you want me to upgrade this system for you?”

The bartender wanted to answer, but suddenly bent over as a guy was thrown and hit against the wine cellar. He covered his head and screamed, so you raised your eyebrows and took that as a no.

With only three men left standing, they hesitated for a moment, locking eyes with each other as if silently deciding who would make the first move. But that took forever, and Steve was getting bored. He lunged forward, grabbing the nearest man by the collar, lifting him effortlessly before slamming him down onto the tables, the impact scattering bottles and glasses across the floor.

Before the next guy could even react, Steve spun, delivering a swift elbow to the second man’s jaw, sending him reeling backward into a bookshelf, knocking it over with a deafening crash.

The last man, clearly outmatched, pulled out a gun in a desperate attempt to regain control. But Steve was faster. In one fluid motion, he ducked low, dodging the shot, and surged forward, ripping the gun from the man’s hand and delivering a bone-crushing punch to his gut. The man doubled over in pain, gasping for breath, before Steve finished him off with a knee to the face, leaving him crumpled on the ground.

The room was now littered with unconscious bodies, shattered glass, and overturned furniture.

“Wow…” You said in awe. “You didn’t even sweat.” You were thinking that he sweats more when he’s in bed with you.

And he laughed, thinking the same: “I’m saving that for later.”

Just as the dust was settling and Steve was wiping his hands clean, the door burst open, and Tony sauntered in, his suit gleaming in the dim light.

"Everybody freeze!" Iron man said in a mechanical voice behind his helmet, raising his hand and pointing at… nothing. Then he lowered it, noticing the room was still, filled only with men groaning in pain on the floor, while you and Steve rolled your eyes at him.

"What? I was already nearby when Vis delivered the message just three seconds ago. It's not like I'm late..." He raised an eyebrow at the sight of unconscious bodies and broken furniture, clearly unfazed by the chaos, as the team led by Maria and Sam entered the room with their weapons raised.

"Get 'em all; we need intel," Steve sighed as he walked over to you. "There’s a lot of interrogation to do." He pulled you close. "C'mon, let's go home."

It was almost sunrise when you arrived at the compound. You slept a bit in the car, and when the heroes started debating in the command room about the next steps and strategies, you stretched your body and headed to the dressing room yawning.

You needed a cold water shower to clear your mind before helping Tony and Bruce decipher all the information. Plus, you had to get out of this suit that smelled like grilled cement, ashes, and burnt fabric.

Ugh, you were a mess. You opened the locker and started unzipping the gear when you suddenly heard footsteps behind you.

Steve’s arms locked around you before you could turn. He restrained your wrists as a frenzied kiss landed on your lips, fingers laced with yours, pinning you against the wall. While holding you captive with one hand, he explored your wrists with the other.

He was burning.

The kiss deepened, and all the feelings he had been holding back since the car chase, was poured into the embrace. 

He was so turned on by everything that had happened—the adrenaline, the action, the danger, and the risks. He was impressed, and aroused, so fucking aroused.

He knew you were special, but you didn’t even blink during the chaos. 

There were explosives, drones, and the entire freaking Iron Army chasing you in a car, and you didn’t step back an inch.

This unyielding, unwavering, fierce-as-fuck version of you was driving him insane.

“Steve…?” You broke the kiss because you needed air, though you were enjoying it. “Are you okay?” Didn’t you just kind of… escape from death?

“Better than ever.” He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “I need you.” He said this while lowering your gear’s zipper, inhaling as your breasts sprang free from your clothes. He groaned, kneading them with desperate need.

Oh, okay… You moaned, tilting your head back when he sucked and lapped at them. Your gear was only half off as he pulled down your pants, kicked them aside, lifted your leg around his waist, and plunged into your already soaked folds.

Oh, wow. You gasped in awe as your inner walls stretched wide, completely filled by him, and your bodies slamming against the lockers.

And that’s when you understood the difference between making love and banging, or, in this case, fucking. 

Yup, what you’d been doing every night was making love. But this… 

This was Steve fucking you. And fucking you hard.

The pace was brutal, pounding with relentless intensity. He held your leg and gripped your ass to keep you in position. With one hand on your neck, forcing eye contact, he fucked you harder and harder.

His voice was hoarse and raw, groaning with lust. When he saw you bite your lip to stay quiet, he smiled and quickened his pace.

“I’ve wanted to do this since you kissed me in the nightclub…” He said, his body slamming into yours, locking you against the lockers.

“Keeping you like this in a dark corner, making love to you in the middle of the crowd…” With those images in mind, he murmured in your ear, his thrusts becoming stronger, admiring how waves of pleasure overtook you, making you pressed your leg tighter to his waist, your breath coming in silent gasps, pleading for more.

“Steve…” You could barely whisper. You couldn’t catch your breath as he pounded into you, shaking your body with the force of his thrusts. Your nails dug into his back, trying to hold back your voice, biting your lower lip so the moans wouldn’t escape. You didn’t even know if he had locked the door—someone could walk in at any moment.

But he was so hard, his pace so fast and relentless, completely out of control.

Steve never came before you did. He always made sure you were satisfied first. But this time, he cums when you finally gave in and moaned his name, his release hot and thick inside you.

Before you could even process it, he pulled out and turned you around.

Your breasts hit the lockers as his hands gripped your waist. He positioned you, and just when you were about to inhale, he was inside you again.

Fuck! This felt so good…! Steve never felt this urge, never wanted this so bad, his eyes darkening with further lust and desire, his hands pressing your waist and squeezing your bouncing ass cheek as he sees how he thrusts inside out of you. 

You are so tight, so wet, so fucking perfect for his cock, as you were tailored made for him. He was probably hard since you commanded him in the car, with that badass attitude and fierce determination, and now you were leaning there, with your elbows against the locker, your tits bouncing as he strokes, your ass cheeks marked as he squeezes and rubs them, and your folds still dripping remains of his last cum. Totally at his mercy. 

Fuck, this is hot.

He was going wild. Seeing you trying to mute what at home would be the sweetest or wildest moan, only spur him on, driving him to fuck you with greater velocity, snapping forward with greater intensity. 

“Let go, babe…” He said, snapping his hips forward. Each thrust hit that perfect spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through both of your bodies. “Let it go… Cum for me honey… Come on… I know you’re about to…”

He leaned forward, grabbed your face, and kissed you fiercely, his tongue claiming yours. His hand found your breasts, tweaking and tugging at your nipples until they stiffened, begging for attention.

“Fuck, baby… You feel so good…” His voice was a ragged, hot breath near your ear. His fingers found your clit, rubbing fast circles as he continued to fuck you. 

Your moans were loader, and your clit was so sensitive, it couldn’t take more contact, Steve’s thumbs rubbed faster and stronger, and as he continues to fuck you in your spot, when he feels your walls about to clamp, he just whispers in a determined tone in your ear. “Cum, now.”

It was like he had a switch that controlled your body. Your inner walls clenched at his command, and you gave in, cumming long and hard around his cock, your body trembling. All you were making was lust sounds, mumbling his name, trying to breathe and to recover to the ecstasy that went from your clit to your mind. 

“That’s it, my love…” He smiled with satisfaction, hissing through clenched teeth, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you into another fervent kiss.

When his lips sealed yours, the thrusts became faster and rougher, uncontrollable moans escaping as his hands roamed over your breasts. His movements were frenetic, chasing his own orgasm.

You moved with him, drunk on lust, oblivious to everything else. You felt his hands squeezing harder, his gasps becoming heavier, his cock growing bigger and stronger. Finally, he buried himself inside you, erupting and flooding your depths with a hot load of cum. His hips jerked involuntarily as the last drops spilled inside you, and he was finally satisfied.

“Oh…god… fuck, babe…” He had one hand still rubbing your tits, another pressing your clit and feeling his cum overload your folds, and his body resting in yours, covered with sweat, gear at his feet, when the extreme edge washed over him. “That…was…amazing.”

"Steve..." You panted as he pulled out and turned you around, instantly leaning into him. "I need to sit..." Your knees were weak, and your thighs hurt a little, but in a good way, a very good way.

He let out a soft laugh. "I’m so sorry..." He kissed your forehead as he lifted you onto the bench and covered you with his shirt. "Did I hurt you? Oh..." He winced at the marks on your waist and thighs, nearly bruised from his hands.

"Shit, babe... I’m sorry I got carried away." His voice softened, apologetic. "Does it hurt?" He pressed a kiss on your wrists, where he had also been holding on so tight. "Fuck... I’m sorry."

"No." You grinned and kissed him back. "It was amazing..." You leaned toward him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "I loved it. We should have more missions like this."

"As much as I’d love to..." He smiled and brushed a strand of hair out of your face, holding you close. "I hate the danger around you. But hey..." He hesitated for a moment. "About what I said earlier..."

"'Cum, now'?" You imitated his voice, and he let out a loud laugh.

"No, earlier..."

"Mmm..." You recalled your eidetic memory. "'Keeping you like this in a dark corner, making love to you in the middle of the crowd'?"

Your eyes brightened. "You wanna go back to the nightclub so we can make out?"

Steve actually considered it for a second. "We’ll talk about that later... but no, I meant what I said in the car before the Iron Army attacked us like Ultron’s possessed children."

"Yeah..." You didn’t remember. Well, no, you weren’t listening. "I was distracted by the giant bomb headed toward us, babe... I’m sorry I didn’t hear."

He leaned back, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Okay, what I was saying..." Now he was looking right at you. He cupped your face, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. "I think it’s just been proven how deeply, madly, utterly in love I am with you. I don’t have eyes for anyone else..."

"Ohhh!" Now you connected the dots. "So we’re talking about my insecurities because you hung out with your gorgeous ex-girlfriend all day?"

"She’s not..." Steve sighed, then softened his voice. "Well, there. There’s nothing for you to be insecure about. I love you. Only you. And I think I’ve proven my desire to be with you forever with the ring..."

"What?" Now you were shocked. "Wait, what?" You sat up straight. "Was the ring really... really... a ring?"

"Of course it is. What else would it be?"

"Um... you said it was a tracking device."

"It is." Steve sighed. "But eventually, when all this is over, it will be just a ring that means: you’re the love of my life, and I want to be with you forever." He smiles at your incredulous face, and holds you in his embrace, placing a kiss on your forehead: "In this life, and all the lifetimes to come. I want only you."

You stared at him, speechless, feeling the warmth of his arms around you and the weight of his words settling in. His gaze was so full of love, it made your heart race. For a moment, you couldn’t find the words, but then you leaned into him, resting your forehead against his.

"Steve..." You whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I don’t know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything." He replied softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "Just... stay with me. That’s all I need."

You smiled, your heart overflowing. "Yes." You kissed him back. "Now. Always. Forever."

"Okay, now that we’re good..." He lifted you up in his arms. "C’mon princess, let’s take a bath, we are a mess here."

Oh. You raised your eyebrows. You don’t know who he’s kidding; you both know how this was going to end.

The End but TBD :)

Continue to:

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Divider Credits: to the wonderful @cafekitsune

And that's a wrap for chapter 8! Wohoo, I'm so glad I've made it to write a complete smut!! xD I really suck at writing it in english :D So with so many wonderful writers out there, thank you for reading up to here, hope you enjoyed it :D And thanks everyone for participating in the poll last post xD Can't believe fluff won, come on some angst and then a fluff and happy ending won't hurt, right? xD

I'll see you next friday for chapter 9! Wow 9 chapters!! <3

Tag list: @vioplay19 / @jamneuromain / @steviebbboi / @heletsmelovehim / @otterlycanadian / hisredheadedgoddess28

*can you let me know if I've missed anyone in the taglist? thanks <3

[thirdsaltyhunter]

Heavier

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean's reaction to a fem!reader that's a metalhead

Warning: none, sexism? if you squint like really hard

A/N: its implied that the reader is adopted/ related to Bobby in some way, not proofread all mistakes are my own

The Winchester brothers had been staying with Bobby for a little while. You hadn't known them very long, but you had quickly found your similarities. Dean had been outside fixing up the impala and Sam was helping. When the boys came in to get out if the heat, they were greeted by the delicious scent of food and the sound of metal music playing from the kitchen. Usually they never heard your music. You often listened through earbuds, but this was your home and the house had been empty until they came in.

The boys shared a look of intrigue and poked their heads into the kitchen. You were standing over the stove cooking dinner and moving to the beat, clearly 'in your zone'. You and Dean had had brief conversations about music. He knew you shared a love of bands like the Cure, Metallica and Black Sabbath, but this was heavier than he listened to. Honestly, he thought it was pretty awesome.

Sam elbowed his brother in the side. "Dude, how does it feel that a girl has a more badass music taste than you", he teased with a grin.

"Shut up." Dean shoved his shoulder.

You turned around from the stove, their bickering alerting you of their presence. You turned the knob on the radio to turn down your music causing their heads to snap back to look at you.

"You boys hungry?", you asked, trying not to laugh at the fact that they looked like two children who had been caught.

"Hell yes," Dean responded, nudging you from in front of the sink to wash the gear oil off his hands.

"Yes please," Sam said politely.

You smiled at how different they were sometimes. Sam was much more personable than Dean was. But you were starting to like Dean's gruff, cocky attitude, even if he annoyed the hell out of you sometimes.

After Bobby joined the boys at the table, you sat plates of good food in front of them. Dean smiled appreciatively at you. Good music taste and a good cook. Yeah he was really starting to like you.

[rileyslibrary]

The Log Cabin: Hurt

Synopsis: You and Ghost are on your way towards your shared vacation in Scotland.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Notes:

This is the second part of the story. Here’s Part 1 if you’re interested.

Hurt/comfort.

Render by @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot.

No warnings. Lots of emotions towards the end, though.

———————————————————————

“You sure?” You ask as you approach a red light.

Ghost closes his eyes and leans back in his seat. He lets out a long and loud sigh behind his mask.

“This is the fifth time you’ve asked if I’m sure,” he protests. “Ask me again, and I will throw you out of the bloody car.”

He won’t do it. He used the exact same threat when you voiced your concerns the third time. You understand him, though; you’re not even on the highway yet, and you’ve been bugging him with your insecurities.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper and lower your head to the water bottle you’ve secured between your thighs.

He turns to look at you, then shifts his focus back to the road as the traffic light turns orange.

“I don’t do charity work when it comes to vacations,” he reassures you and changes gears. “I’m absolutely certain of my decision.”

You drive through the city streets, trying to reach the highway. You look out the car’s window; there are curious glances directed at you from the outside. People look alarmed, old ladies clutch their purses tighter, and fathers hold their children closer.

You can’t blame them; they’re looking at two masked figures in a car filled with tools and gear in the backseats.

“We look like we’re about to rob a bank, don’t you think?” You ask, concerned, as you observe a woman ushering her son into a store upon spotting you.

“Don’t take it off yet,” he warns you. “Wait till we get to the highway.”

He’s right. His face is unknown in the city, whereas yours is, and any identification could link him to you. That’s why he handed you a plain black balaclava before you left the base, ensuring your mutual anonymity. It’s a small city, after all.

“What if we get stopped by the police?” you ask. “Someone might have alerted them.”

He shakes his head. “Unlikely,” he replies. “The police is familiar with me and my car. Many soldiers keep their identities concealed due to the base. Civilians aren’t accustomed to it, that’s all.”

He stops at a zebra crossing and motions with his hand at the people waiting, giving them permission to cross the road.

“Look at them,” he whispers as he watches them successfully reaching the other side of the pavement. “So eager to display their faces, like they’ve never done anything sinister in their lives.”

You look at him from the corner of your eye, wondering if his words hide a twinge of guilt or envy—a yearning for freedom, just like those civilians crossing the street. They are free to walk as they please, while he is doomed to wear a cloth on his face until he’s away from anything human.

You tug at your mask. “It’s getting quite stuffy in here; mind if I...” you say and motion towards the car’s A/C controls.

He shrugs. That’s your “go ahead” sign.

You enter the highway, and he removes his mask. He reaches into the back pocket of his seat and tugs his balaclava there. He scratches his left cheek.

You follow his lead but tuck yours into your door’s side pocket. Now that your mouth is free from obstructions, you can drink water. You open the bottle and drive it into your mouth.

“Easy with the water,” Ghost advises. “We won’t find any stops for the next three hours.”

“Three hours?!” You ask.

He nods, his eyes still fixed on the road, indifferent to your shocked reaction. He reaches into the side pocket of his door and pulls a pair of sunglasses out. He secures them on his face.

“I have never seen you with sunglasses before.” You comment.

He smirks. He looks very handsome when he does that. Not conventionally attractive, though. He has a very rugged, almost weird, to point out beauty. Like those second-hand objects you find in an antique shop; they are bizarre to look at, but you can’t shift your eyes away from them. You want to study and analyse them as closely as possible.

You stare at his profile and notice him looking back at you. He still has that smirk on his face. You divert your attention back to the road.

“Sorry.” You murmur.

He looks ahead and his smile widens.

After some time, you reach your first stop; a service station with a convenience store, and fast food joint. Ghost asks if you want to grab a bite, and you shake your head. In response, he motions towards the side of the gas station.

“Loo’s over there. I’ll refuel the car.”

You hurry to the restroom; the last thing you want is to hinder his program. You better be as fast and efficient as possible.

When you return, Ghost is already in the driver’s seat. You settle into your seat beside him, apologising for your delay. He clicks his tongue.

“You went to the restroom; no need to fret.” He says as he hands you a few snacks he bought from the convenience store.

“For me?” you ask, surprised.

“For you,” he confirms and starts up the engine. “So you don’t start whining that you’re hungry when we are in the middle of nowhere.”

The rest of the trip is beautiful. The landscape shifts profoundly, from the mundane colours of the city to the towering trees that grow denser, with hues of green more vibrant than any photo could capture. The radio plays some mainstream pop music, which doesn’t suit the scenery but makes everything less awkward between you.

Occasionally, you spot a flock of sheep and comment. Ghost doesn’t respond but shifts his gaze from the road to where you’re pointing so he can give you his full attention. He smiles every time, and you wonder whether he’s genuinely happy or just trying to act friendly. Then again, when did Ghost ever try to act friendly? He’s enjoying it as well.

You must have reached the outskirts of civilisation now since the radio has started to make white noise. He switches it off.

Silence. Awkward silence.

“Sorry.” He says, which is very ironic since he was the one who lectured you a few hours ago to stop apologising for things you can’t control. “I don’t have any CDs.”

An arrogant chuckle escapes you. You didn’t mean to come across that way, but there’s no need for CDs; although the car isn’t new, it has built-in Bluetooth. You wonder if he knows it.

“Do you mind?” You ask, showing him your phone.

He looks at it, raising an eyebrow from behind his sunglasses. He must be thinking you’re asking for permission to call someone.

You connect your phone to the car’s Bluetooth and launch Spotify. Music starts playing again. His attention alternates between the radio and your phone.

“Why don’t you look at that!” He remarks. “I knew you could do that; I just never bothered to figure out how.”

“I’ll show you later.” You reply.

“Do you take requests?”

You nod and smile. “What’s your poison, Lieutenant?”

“Johnny Cash.” He replies. “Hurt.”

You nod again, search for the song and press play. You try to enjoy the scenery, focusing on the trees and farms passing by, but Simon’s choice of song wraps around you.

“I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel

I focus on the pain

The only thing that’s real.”

You turn to look at him. He holds the wheel with one hand, his other resting on the car’s window. He leans against it, his face propped on his hand.

“And you could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt.”

You want to comment on the song, but your throat feels tight like something’s choking you. You swallow hard.

“What have I become?

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know goes away

In the end.”

Tears fill your eyes, threatening to escape. You don’t have sunglasses like Ghost does. It’s a matter of time until he notices.

“If I could start again

A million miles away

I would keep myself

I would find a way.”

It’s sadness, melancholy—that's what you’re feeling. But is it for Ghost and his poor song choice? Or is it for you?

For your family, your friends, and the vacation you won’t get to enjoy with them? Who are you mourning exactly? He seems to be at peace with his choices. When will this bliss come to you?

Will it ever come to you?

“Hey,” he calls out, and you turn to look at him.

Too late; he already noticed.

“It’s okay,” he soothes you. “Let it out.”

As if you wanted his permission, you begin to cry uncontrollably. You gasp for air. Ghost presses a button on his door which forces your window to open slightly. The crisp air slaps your face, but you focus on the pain, just like the song says. Your nails bite into your palms as you squeeze your fists, and that water bottle falls from your legs onto the car’s floor.

Ghost reaches over, turning the volume higher as if he’s permitting you to cry as much as you want and scream as loud as you please. You turn your head to the side, looking through blurred vision at the colours of green blending together.

He clasps your fist in his hand. You refuse to relax it.

“It’s okay.” He repeats as you pass the blue sign marked with a white ‘X’ that welcomes you to Scotland. “It’s going to be okay.”

Your first unclenches and you open your hand.

———————————————————————

Part 3 (final) this way ->

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - Turmoil

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, angst

Trigger warning: The reader is attacked, tied up, and given Scarecrow's fear toxin, thoughts of dead loved ones, blood - Damian is vengeful and goes after her attackers.

For the past couple of weeks, you'd been trying to explore your new relationship with Nikolas. He was everything a boyfriend should be - kind, considerate, fun to be around. You'd gone on the typical dates: dinner and a movie, a casual walk through the city, lazy afternoons hanging out in your dorm. It was easy. But there was one problem.

Every time you studied his face for too long, the same sad realization crept in. You weren't as attracted to him as you were... to Damian. Fine. You admit it.

Nick was the sweet, sunshine type. The kind of guy who would make you laugh and take care of you. But Damian... Damian was bad. Brooding. Sharp edges and quiet intensity. The kind of man who made your pulse race and your mind wander to places. You could picture Nikolas holding your hand, but with Damian, you saw someone who would take control. There was a thrill in the idea of letting go, handing the reins over to him, not having to think for once.

For days, you'd been teetering between the smart choice - Nick - and the one that made your heart beat faster, the one you couldn’t stop thinking about, no matter how much you tried. Especially at night.

It didn't help that the three of you came across each other on campus often. There were many times when Nick came to meet you after class and walk you to your research lab, and you would catch Damian glaring at the two of you, his arms cross and his eyes narrowed. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed when you caught him looking - ironically, you were the one who redirected their gaze to the floor in shame. It was all backward.

Meanwhile, Damian had buried himself in his routine. His training, his classes, his late-night patrols, and of course, his fellow elites; heiresses, models, and children of Gotham's 1%, who he was always captured with at night clubs, as your roommate helpfully showed you on her twitter reccomended.

In reality, Damian tried anything to drown out the thoughts of you in his head, the memory of you looking up at him with your soft, vulnerable eyes. The moment he rejected you replayed more times than he wanted to admit.

He didn’t need distractions right now. Not while you were off with Nikolas Hill, laughing at his jokes and letting him kiss you, hold you, touch you whenever he pleased. Damian scoffed at the idea. Hill was a decent guy, sure, but nowhere near your match. But if you wanted to waste your time, that was your right.

He was in the middle of his evening workout when his earpiece beeped, drawing him from his train of thought.

"Robin?" Oracle’s voice filtered through.

"Hm?" he responded, still lost in his own head as he lowered down and pushed up with one hand.

"Are you on campus right now?"

Damian stilled, suddenly alert. "No. Why?"

"There’s been an attack."

His blood ran cold. "Where?"

"Maddison Hall."

His mind flashed to you. Maddison Hall was where you spent most of your time working with Professor Kace and the other researchers. Before he even had time to process the rest of her words, Damian was on his feet, every nerve alight with tension.

"I’m on it," he said, already moving.

"Wait, Robin, I don’t have all the -"

Her voice cut off as Damian turned off his earpiece, barely taking time to grab his gear before he was out the door.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

The sight before him nearly made Damian drop his father’s "no-kill" rule on the spot.

You lay crumpled on the cold floor of the lab, hands bound behind your back, duct tape muffling any scream for help you tried to make. You were shaking as if trapped in some nightmare. Your eyes, which he was used to always being filled with curiosity about the world, were wide with terror, streaks of black mascara ran down your cheeks. It wasn’t just the sight of you restrained that twisted his insides but also the fear he saw on your face. A look he never wanted to see again.

His instincts screamed to go to you, to comfort you, to pull you into his arms and shield you from whatever horrors had been forced into your mind. But a darker instinct also conflicted within him the instinct to find whoever did this and end them along with their entire bloodline.

He freed your wrists and removed the tape from your mouth, but his gaze was already scanning the room, searching for the coward who had done this to you.

"Oracle," he growled into his comm, barely containing his fury. "Do you have any visual on the perp?"

"Damn it! Nothing yet. They must have disguised themselves as a student," Oracle’s frustrated voice crackled in his ear. "Damian, is she -"

"Yes," Damian cut her off, pulling a syringe from his belt. "It’s Fear Toxin."

You whimpered, still lost in the hellscape the toxin had built in your mind. Damian injected the antidote into your shoulder. Watching you writhe in pain made his blood freeze. He lifted you into his arms as gently as he could and moved toward the door, but the growing crowd of students outside only irritated him further.

"Move," he barked, his voice low and dangerous. "She needs a hospital."

Halfway to the nearest emergency center, he changed his mind. He wasn’t taking you somewhere filled with people who would ask questions, who could poke and prod at your fragile state. Instead, he shot a grappling hook to a nearby rooftop, pulling both of you up and away from the crowd.

As your vision started to clear, you groaned, your body trembling in his hold. "R-Robin…" Your voice cracked, laced with panic. "My parents... they z please, you have to save them."

"It’s not real," he said softly, kneeling and holding you as close to him as he dared, providing a warmth that helped ground you. "The toxin made you see things that weren’t real. Is that what you saw? Your parents?"

You nodded, tears filling your eyes once again. "I saw them die. Please, you have to - " You fumbled with your pockets, desperately trying to find your phone, anything that could help you reach them.

Damian’s hand gently wrapped around your wrist, stopping you. His white lenses stared down at you, and for a moment, you wished you could see his eyes, see the real person beneath the mask. "Your parents are fine."

His voice, deep and calm. There was something about the way he spoke - so sure, so steady - that made you believe him.

"It’s not real?" you asked, voice trembling, trying to keep yourself from breaking down completely.

He nodded. "Call them. You’ll see."

Your hands shook as you fumbled with your phone, which was now cracked. You dialed the number, waiting for what seemed like forever for each each ring. Then she finally picked up.

"Honey, thank God!" Your mom’s voice came through. "Are you okay? I’ve been watching the news - what’s going on over there?"

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to sound normal. "I’m fine, Mom. I’m just… in my room. Is everyone okay?"

"We’re fine, sweetie. Just worried sick about you."

“I’ll visit tomorrow,” you blurted out, tears stinging your eyes. "I’ll come home tomorrow."

Your mom’s voice lifted in relief. "That’s great! Be safe, honey."

After hanging up, your body gave out. Your knees buckled, and a sob you’d been holding in finally broke free. You fell onto the ground, unable to stop the tears. He caught you, lowering both of you to the ground until you were sitting in his lap.

In his hold, you didn’t feel the fear you expected from someone like him. You’d heard stories, read articles about this Robin. How he wasn’t like the others - scarier, more brutal, more dangerous. But here, in his arms, you felt safe.

The tears wouldn’t stop. Your mind kept replaying those awful images, the sound of your parents’ screams still echoing in your ears.

"I thought I lost them," you sobbed, shaking uncontrollably.

Damian’s heart clenched. He had seen people cry before - mostly because he caused them to. But seeing you like this, broken and terrified, was something else entirely.

Damian’s first instinct was to say, "I thought I lost you," but he bit back the words, instead holding you close, his gloved hands cupping your cheeks gently. "I'm so sorry," he whispered hoarsely, barely audible over the city's noise. "I'm sorry."

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

You were not the same after that night. Trauma clung to you with every thought. What happened in that lab left you scarred, destroying your sense of safety.

The last time Damian had seen you, he was still in his Robin suit. You’d been shaking, eyes glassy with the aftereffects of the fear toxin, but you insisted on going home to your dorm. Damian’s instincts screamed at him to take you somewhere safe, to keep you in his apartment where he could protect you, but he complied with your needs.

And as much as it killed him, he had to let you go.

What stung worse was the sight that awaited him at your dorm. Nikolas was already there, pacing anxiously by the entrance, his hair still wet from his swim meet. The moment he saw you, he rushed over, pulling you into his arms as though you were fragile enough to break. Damian’s fists clenched as he watched Nikolas cradle your face in his hands, checking you over with concern.

The sight of Nick’s resting possessively staying on the small of your back as he led you up the stairs twisted something deep inside Damian, but he pushed it down. He had no right to feel that way - not after he had pushed you away first.

You didn’t show up to physics the next day. Or the day after. A week passed, and still nothing.

He wanted to reach out - every part of him screamed to check on you - but that wasn't his job anymore.

Then, one day, his phone buzzed.

Nikolas Hill: Damian, hey. It's Nick Hill.

Nikolas Hill:Just thought you should know, y/n broke up with me. Got me flowers and chocolates. It was... pretty sweet, actually 😅. It's the nicest way I've ever been dumped for sure.

Nikolas Hill: Anyway, I’ve seen the way you look at her, man. You should go for it. Really.

Nikolas Hill: And you might wanna check on her... she dropped out of Kace's research project. Not answering anyone’s calls or messages. We’re worried.

Damian stared at the message, his stomach tightening. You dropped the project? And now you weren’t talking to anyone?

He didn’t wait. The next day, he was at your parents’ house, knocking on the door. A middle-aged woman half his size answered, her eyes widening as she took took him in - her gaze flickering between him and the sleek, black Camaro parked outside.

"Hello?" She said.

"Hello, ma'am. My name is Damian... Wayne." He flashed her the best smile he could summon, as his gaze flickered between her and the home behind her, searching for you.

Her eyes widened further. "Wayne, as in...?"

"Yes, Bruce Wayne’s son."

"Oh my!" She nodded, her eyes still studying him. "How can I help you?"

"I’m a friend of y/n’s." Damian explained. "She hasn’t been to class for the past couple of weeks, and I wanted to check on her. Is she alright?"

Her surprise grew, her lips parting slightly. "She never told us she had... a friend like you." There was a slight note of disbelief, as if the idea of you being close to someone like Damian Wayne didn’t quite compute.

Damian raised a brow. Why wouldn’t you tell them about him? Were you... ashamed?

Before he could respond, she stepped aside, inviting him in. "Please, come in. I was just finishing up dinner. Would you like to join us?"

"Is your daughter home?" Damian asked, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was an urgency behind his words he couldn’t hide.

Your mother nodded, turning around and calling you downstairs. "Honey, you have a visitor!"

Just then, you appeared at the top of the small staircase, and the breath caught in his throat. You were a ghost of the person he remembered. Dark circles rimmed your eyes, your cheeks hollow and your body frail. The t-shirt you were in drowned you as it slipped off your shoulder, revealing how think your collarbone had become. Have you been skipping your meals?

Your usual spark of curiosity was replaced with something far darker—sadness.

You froze when you saw him before forcing yourself to recover and quickly make your way down the stairs, grateful for the 5 minute shower you decided to take just before you were called down. Damian may see you in a bad state, but at least hell be smelling 'coconut sunshine' bodywash. As you came to stand in front of him, barefoot, and without your high heels, you were even shorter and had to look up at a less comfortable angle. Your hand came up to rub the opposite arm, Damian's heart ached when he saw the bruises circling your wrists from the rope that was used to restrain you.

"Hi." You spoke softly.

"Hi," he replied, voice dripping with what seemed like disappointment. "You haven’t been to class. I wanted to check on you."

"I’m alright," you lied, your voice weak and shaky. "Just... spending some time with my family."

Damian tool a quick sweep over the room, the small, homey space that felt miles apart from the opulence of Wayne Manor or his apartment. It was cozy, filled with the scent of warm food, a stark contrast to the sterile, minimalist world he was used to.

But that wasn’t what was on his mind. He couldn’t stop staring at you, trying to reconcile the person in front of him with the one he knew.

“Do you want to go out? Get some air?" Damian asked.

"No," you answered quickly, then paused. "I mean... you can stay for dinner, if you want."

Damian tucked his hands into his pockets, fighting the growing frustration inside him. He didn’t want dinner. He wanted answers. “I was hoping for some privacy.”

You eyed him warily, a look of distrust flashing across your face, and it hit him like an insult. You didn’t trust him anymore? You ungrateful brat. If you only knew who was under the mask that day you were rescued. It enraged him, though he didn’t show it.

“Nikolas told me you broke up with him,” Damian said, lowering his voice. “And dropped Kace’s project.”

You shrugged weakly, your shirt dropping lower down your shoulder, which you didnt notice as you avoided his gaze. "Yeah. I did."

Damian’s arms itched to touch your bare skin. He took in a deep breath. "You’re also about to lose your scholarship," he pressed, his tone more insistent now.

Your brow furrowed. "How do you know that?"

“It’s a research scholarship. They won’t keep paying you if you’re not involved in research.”

There was a flicker in your eyes. Either anger, maybe annoyance. But it wasn’t indifference. And that’s all Damian needed. You were still there under this facade. He wasn’t going to leave. Not without you.

"Damian, thank you for visiting. But right nows not a good time." Before you could open the front door for him, his hand shot out, stopping it in its tracks.

“That’s not very nice,” he said, his voice low and firm. “Your mother invited me for dinner, and I accepted.”

"Damian - " you started, but your mother’s voice interrupted.

"That’s wonderful!" she exclaimed, oblivious to the tension. "I was just finishing up the potatoes."

The scent of dinner filled the air, but Damian couldn’t focus on anything except you. You were trying to slip away, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

After dinner, when your parents went to bed, Damian asked you again to walk with him. You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper when you spoke.

“I’ve tried,” you confessed. “I can’t get past the door. Every time I do, I... panic. I shut down."

The vulnerability in your voice was enough to shatter whatever resolve he had left. You were hurting, deeply, and it killed him to see it.

He stepped closer, his voice restrained. “I'll help you.”

But you just shook your head, pulling away. "I'm tired."

“It’s late,” Damian agreed, his voice soft but commanding. “You should go to sleep.” He nodded toward the stairs.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. "Thats not what I meant. I dont what to sleep."

But your body betrayed you, and before you could say anything else, you yawned. A small, defeated sound that you tried to hide but failed miserably.

Damian grinned, raising a brow as he looked down at you. “You sure about that?”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat. "I... I can't go to sleep," you admitted quietly, the words trembling on your lips. "The nightmare comes back when I do."

Damian sighed, his expression softening, though the fire in his eyes never wavered. He understood - he had his own problem with nightmares, demons that lurked in the dark corners of his mind. “Try again now,” he said gently, leading you to your livingroom couch. “I’ll wake you up if it happens.”

You shook your head, the fear bubbling up inside you. But his unyielding gaze stopped you.

“Y/n,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something raw, “you need to rest. I can’t stand seeing you this tired anymore.”

His words hung in the air, the concern behind them tightening something in your chest. You hesitated, searching his face for reassurance. "You'll wake me up?"

“Yes.”

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t argue with him. Not when his eyes held so much insistence. Slowly, you lay down on the couch, your head sinking into the cushion. The moment your eyes closed, sleep washed over you.

But it didn’t last long.

Within minutes, you were tossing and turning, whimpering softly as the nightmares clawed their way back into your mind. Damian watched as you struggled even in your sleep. Then, gently, he reached for you, pulling you into his lap with ease. You felt so small in his arms as your back came to rest against his chest, his lips brushing your hair.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, “Youre okay, your alright.”

Your eyes fluttered open, wide and panicked as you gasped for breath. You looked around frantically before your gaze landed on Damian. “Damian, my parents - they’re - ”

“Upstairs, sleeping,” he said, his voice firm. “They’re okay.”

You blinked, your eyes darting toward the stairs as if you needed the reassurance for yourself. You made to get up to go check on them, but his grip stopped you, pulling you back against him.

“Yes.” Damian spoke quietly but with intent. “I’m right here. Nothing will happen to either of you."

You nodded slowly, the tension draining from your body as you rested your head against him. The warmth of his presence was enough to lull you back into sleep, though it didn’t last. The nightmare came back, and so did Damian’s voice, pulling you out of it every time.

It happened a few more times throughout the night. Each time, you would whimper, trapped in your dreams, and he would wake you, then hold you until you fell asleep again. Halfway through the night you began clinging to him, your arms snaking around him to hold him closer, sensing the safety he provided even in your sleep.

Not minding one bit, he could still see the toll it was taking on you, the way you couldn’t even get through one night without being haunted by what Scarecrow had done. It made his blood boil. It fueled a dark, vengeful fire that burned hotter with each of your nightmares.

He swore to himself, as he watched you sleep restlessly, that he would make Scarecrow pay for this - for the pain, the fear, and the nightmares that took you from him.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

On his third night of patroll, Robin cornered the man in the Scarecrow mask, ripping it from his face with such force the strap snapped. The man trembled, backing into the alley wall, his eyes wide in fear.

"I'm not him! Please!" The man’s hands shot up in surrender, sweat pouring down his face as he eyed the rest of his team, who were knocked unconscious. He hoped.

"Where is he?" Damian’s voice was low, dangerous. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"I-I don’t know!" the man stammered. "I swear! A different one of us is made to wear that thing every night in case you show up!"

Robin’s jaw tightened. His eyes were cold and merciless. He didn't care if this man knew or not. He wanted an outlet, something to absorb the endless rage boiling in his chest. He sighed, cracking his knuckles slowly, deliberately, like a predator preparing for the kill. "Then you'll have to do."

The thug whimpered. "No, no, no-"

The Red Hood arrived on the rooftop, surveying the scene below. His eyes narrowed as he saw Robin beating the life out of the cowering henchman. The tension in his youngest brother's posture was unmistakable. Jason eyed the rest of the henchman team, laid out and bleeding in different spots on the ground.

"Uh, I’m gonna need backup here," Jason said into his comm.

"Why? Too much for you to handle?" came Dick’s teasing voice over the line.

"Nah, but someone’s gotta protect these poor bastards from Robin."

There was a pause. Then Bruce spoke up. "...on my way."

Damian couldn’t hear anything but the pounding in his skull, his vision narrowing to the terrified man in front of him.

"Robin!"

The first punch landed hard in the guy’s gut, causing him to double over, gasping for air. Then the fists came, rapid and unrelenting, from left to right. Each blow was calculated - not enough to kill, but enough to inflict the kind of pain that lingers, that leaves a mark deep under the skin.

The man’s blood splattered against the wall, his groans turning to pitiful whimpers as he weakly tried to shield himself. But Damian was relentless, his fury a tidal wave, drowning out any sense of restraint. This was for you. The helplessness he felt when he couldn’t save you, the guilt for letting you go, for not being there when you needed him most. Every punch was a punishment, a way to exorcize his own demons.

"Robin!"

By the time he stopped, the henchman was barely conscious, slumped against the wall, gasping for breath through cracked ribs and bloodied lips. Robin stood over him, panting, his chest heaving. His hands, covered in the man's blood, twitched. He wanted to keep going. Needed to keep going.

"FUCK!" Robin roared, the sound reverberating off the brick walls.

"ROBIN!" He was grabbed by a pair of strong arms, slamming him against the wall. "Jesus, what the hell’s wrong with you?" Jason's voice chastised him behind his mask.

"Back off!" Damian shoved Jason hard, his eyes wild, untamed.

"How about fuck no?" Jason growled, pressing his forearm against Damian’s throat, forcing him to stay still. Over the years, Damian grew taller than Tim, matching Dick in height, but Jason still had maybe an inch on him. The elder stuggled to hold his brother back. "I need you to calm the hell down!"

Before Damian could retaliate, Batman arrived, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "What the hell happened?"

Jason shot a look over his shoulder. "Your kid happened."

Batman’s eyes fell on the battered man, then on Damian, still shaking with fury, fists clenched, ready for more. "Damian," Bruce said quietly.

"Its what he deserves." Damian’s voice was low, venomous, each word dripping with barely contained rage. "He hurt her. He broke her."

Batman’s expression shifted as he understood. You. The girl who Damian was bringing home from school. The one who’d been ripped apart by what happened to her.

"And how is killing this nobody helping her?" Bruce asked, his voice steady but firm.

Damian’s lips curled into a cruel smile. "It's not." His eyes glinted with a dark amusement as he stared into his father’s unflinching gaze. "But it sure as hell makes me feel better."

Bruce sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He knew this wasn’t about justice. This was about catharsis. Damian was unraveling, and if Bruce didn’t stop it now, there’d be no pulling him back. "You’re off patrol," Batman ordered, stepping toward him.

Damian sneered, shoving him back. "Like hell."

"It’s not up for debate."

Damian’s glare intensified. "I’m not stopping until he’s dead. I’ll bury him - "

"Robin." Batman’s voice was calm, controlled. "You’re going home."

Before Damian could react, he felt a sudden sharp pinch on the side of his neck. He staggered, his vision blurring as his hand flew to the dart embedded in his skin. "Wha - " His legs gave out beneath him, and darkness closed in before he could reach for the antidote.

Batman caught him as he slumped forward, unconscious. "Get him home," Bruce said to Jason, his voice heavy with regret. "Ill take care of this mess."

Jason nodded. "You know he's not gonna forgive you for that."

Bruce glanced at Damian’s unconscious form. "I know."

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Damian woke up groggy, his vision blurry as he blinked against the harsh lights of the Batcave. His arms were strapped down to something cold and unyielding. "Damn it. Let me go!" His voice was a snarl, filled with rage and frustration.

"Negative," Bruce's calm, gravelly voice responded. He approached from the shadows, no longer in his suit but in a sweater and jeans, the cowl replaced by the face of a father. "You killed someone tonight. Did you know that?"

Damian gritted his teeth, pulling against his restraints in fury. "Who gives a shit?" He thrashed, his breath coming in sharp gasps. "Let me go, now! She's alone - "

"She's fine," Bruce interrupted firmly. "Oracle is monitoring."

Before Damian could spit back another response, the Batcave’s voice system activated with Oracle’s voice. "I have visual on her right now. She's at home, watching TV with her family. Safe."

Damian's chest heaved, but the confirmation did little to ease the burning tension in his veins. He didn’t care that she was safe. He needed to be there with you. Protect you.

"How long are you going to keep me like this?" Damian glared at Bruce, eyes flashing with anger.

"You're too worked up to be set free," Bruce said, his tone unwavering. "I don't want you making decisions you’ll inevitably regret."

"I won't regret jack shit!" Damian roared. "Scarecrow's overdue for a visit to hell!"

"'Overdue for a visit to hell,'" Jason's voice echoed from somewhere in the batcave, but Damian couldn't see him. "Goddamn, this kid's more dramatic than you, bats." Jasons chuckle echoed alongside his footsteps as he entered the batcave.

"Thank you, Jason." Bruce said sarcastically.

"Youre welcome."

"Damian," Bruce's tone was deadly serious. "I don't think you heard me clearly. You are a murderer."

Damian's jaw clenched before he spat, "Bruce, do you even understand what 'League of Assassins' means? I've been a murderer. Since I was ten." His voice cracked slightly, the anger mingling with something deeper - something broken.

The tired lines of his fathers face grew more pronounced. "And when I took you in, I made both you and myself a promise to end that cycle." His voice was softer now, but no less firm. He stepped closer, his presence towering over Damian, not as Batman, but as a father. "You were a child, Damian. You didn’t know any better. But you do now. You don’t get to decide the outcome of human lives. When you do, you become the very thing we fight against. The very thing she fears."

Those words landed hard, and Damian stopped struggling.

The very thing she fears.

He pictured your face, pale with terror, your haunted eyes. Damian swallowed hard, his throat tightening. "Fuck."

He hated it. Hated that the old man was right. His whole life had been about violence, about using pain to solve problems.

He glanced up at Bruce, anger creeping out of his voice. "I don't know what to do."

Bruce’s expression softened, the hard edge of Batman fading away as his fatherly concern surfaced. He sighed, his own guilt simmering beneath the surface. "Be there for her. That will be enough."

Damian stared up at him, resisting the urge to punch him for that unhelpful advicr. He didn’t know how to be that. How to be anything but the weapon he was trained to be.

"I don’t... want her to fear me," Damian whispered, his voice barely audible. At least he didn't think he did.

Bruce reached out, his hand resting on Damian’s shoulder, a rare gesture of affection. "You can't solve this one as Robin. Nor the League’s heir. Just Damian."

For a moment, Damian closed his eyes, letting his father’s words sink in. His breath slowed, and the fury that had been burning inside of him all night began to fade into something else - epiphany. He had to fix you himself. He had no qualm playing therapist, whether you wanted him to or not.

When he opened his eyes again, he met Bruce’s gaze, still defiant but quieter now. "I know what I have to do."

"You do," Bruce said with a firm nod.

Damian had a new goal in his mind now, bringing you back. His jaw was tight, but his breathing was steady now. "Untie me," he said quietly. "I’m calm."

Bruce hesitated for a moment, and then he slowly unstrapped his son’s hands. Damian sat up, rubbing his wrists, though his mind was far away - thinking of you and the promises he had made to himself.

"Not so fast." Bruce spoke up. "You're still in trouble. Tomorrow, you will bring in... 10 juvenile delinquents into the station -" Bruce knew Damian especially hated dealing with kids - he had to hold back with them - "to make up for the shithead you killed tonight. And you'll do two hundred push-ups now."

Damian scoffed at the easy challenge. "Fine,"

"Jason, sit on his back."

"What?!" Damian spat out in protest as Jason rolled his head back in laughter.

The next morning, Damian barely made his way to your doorstep, limping over sore limbs. He had his work cut out for him with you, and he would start with getting you alone.

[brunchable]

The Stakeout: Day 2 || Steve Rogers x Agent!FReader.

Day One | Day Three

Words: 8.2K Themes/Warnings: Steve checking you out non-stop. Unspoken feelings towards each other. Growing tension. Sexual Attraction. Eventual Smut. Being stuck with each other. Summary: Your touch is light, barely there, but it sends a shockwave through him. He freezes, his breath catching as you traces a slow, lazy line down the front of his shirt, your eyes never leaving his. There’s a playful challenge in your gaze, like you're daring him to react, to give in to the tension that’s been building between you.

Night has fallen, casting long shadows across the grimy streets as you and Steve sit across from each other in the dimly lit apartment.

You’re dressed in black, your face partially covered by a mask, ready for the mission ahead. Steve’s expression is serious, his blue eyes sharp as they skim over the map laid out on the rickety table.

“We got orders to plant bugs in the building across the street,” Steve begins, “You’ll handle the lower floors, I’ll take the upper ones. We need to aim to be in and out in under fifteen minutes.”

You nod, the plan clear in your mind, but it’s hard to ignore the way your pulse quickens when he looks at you.

“Got it, Captain,” you reply, trying to keep your voice light. “You know, I’ve always loved a good stealth mission. Nothing like risking life and limb in the dead of night.”

Steve’s lips twitch into a faint smile, but he’s already moving, checking his gear. “Just stay sharp.”

“Always do,” you mutter under your breath, following him out the door.

The streets are deserted as you approach the target building, the only sounds the distant hum of the city and the soft crunch of gravel under your boots. The night air is cool, but it does nothing to quell the restless energy buzzing under your skin. You can’t help but steal glances at Steve as you move—he’s so composed, so controlled. It’s infuriating how he can make everything look so easy, even when you know it’s not.

When you reach the building, Steve signals for you to stop. You crouch beside him, your shoulders brushing as you wait for his command. 

“Ready?” Steve whispers, his voice low and steady.

You nod, the seriousness of the mission settling over you like a weight. Steve gives a quick nod in return, then signals for you to move. You both slip into the building through a side entrance, the door creaking softly as it closes behind you.

Inside, the building is dimly lit, shadows clinging to the corners. You and Steve split up as planned, your footsteps nearly silent on the worn carpet as you head for the lower floors. Every instinct tells you to stay alert, but it’s hard to shake the lingering thoughts of last night—the way Steve’s presence felt so close, so overwhelming.

“Focus, Y/N,” you whisper-sang to yourself, shaking off the distraction as you plant the first bug. “This isn’t the time to be daydreaming.”

As you move through the building, planting bugs with ease, you can’t help but let your mind wander. It’s always been this way with Steve—this push and pull between professionalism. You’ve always prided yourself on keeping things light, using humor to deflect, but lately, it’s been harder to keep that distance.

As you finish planting the last bug, a sudden sound makes you freeze. Footsteps—coming from above. Your heart skips a beat as you listen, trying to determine where they’re coming from. They’re too close for comfort, and you quickly slip into a nearby alcove, pressing yourself against the wall.

Just as the footsteps draw nearer, you feel a hand close around your wrist, pulling you further into the shadows. You nearly gasp, but you recognize the grip, the presence. 

It’s Steve. 

He pulls you close, his body pressing against yours to shield you as the footsteps echo past the alcove, the shadows hiding you both from sight. The space is tight, forcing you to be impossibly close. Steve’s broad frame hides you completely, his chest rising and falling just inches from your own. 

You pay attention to his warmth, the strength in the arms that cage you in, protecting you from the unknown threat just beyond the alcove. Your pulse quickens, not just from the danger, but from the way his body feels against yours.

You try to keep your breathing steady, focusing on the situation, but it’s almost impossible when you can feel every breath he takes, when the scent of his cologne fills your senses. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can hear it, you’re pretty sure he can hear it too.

His eyes dart down to meet yours, and in the dim light, he studies your features up close—closer than he’s ever allowed himself to before. The curve of your lips behind the mask, the way your eyelashes brush against it as you blink, the subtle flush on your skin from the adrenaline—it all captivates him in a way he didn’t expect.

“Stay still,” he whispers his voice an octave deeper, so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

You nod, swallowing hard as you force yourself to stop daydreaming about him. 

“What?” You whispered, feeling the weight of his stare.

“Shhhh.”

Steve continues to study your face, memorizing every detail in the dim light. He knows he needs to move, to shift away before the moment becomes too charged, but for just a few more seconds, he allows himself this small indulgence—this brief moment of letting his guard down in your presence.

The footsteps grow fainter, the danger passing, but Steve doesn’t move right away. He stays close. You’re too focused on keeping your breathing steady to notice the way his gaze softens.

Finally, Steve pulls back just enough to give you space, though the tension remains thick and heavy. He clears his throat, forcing himself to focus. 

“That was close,” he murmurs, his voice steadier now, though there’s a lingering softness in his tone.

“Who? us or the enemy?” you whisper back, your voice barely audible as you try to regain your composure. Your heart is still racing, but you chalk it up to the near-miss, to the adrenaline of the mission.

Steve huffs, “You know what I mean.”

Just as you’re about to make your way back to the exit, the sound of more footsteps stops you in your tracks. These are heavier, more deliberate, and they’re getting closer. You and Steve exchange a glance, the same realization hitting you both at the same time: you’ve been compromised.

“Run,” Steve says, his voice low but firm. There’s no hesitation, no time for anything but action.

You take off, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallways as you race for the nearest exit. The sound of pursuit is right behind you, the men who’ve been tailing you now closing in. Your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline surges through your veins as you push yourself to move faster and try to avoid bullets as they fire away aimlessly.

“Stay close!” Steve shouts over his shoulder, leading the way down a twisting corridor. You follow without question, your mind racing as you try to anticipate your next move.

The hallways seem to stretch on forever, every turn leading to another identical passageway. You’re not sure how long you’ve been running, but you can feel the burn in your legs, the sting of sweat in your eyes. The footsteps behind you are relentless, growing louder with every second.

Finally, Steve skids to a stop in front of a heavy door, pushing it open with a grunt of effort.  

“In here!”

You dive through the door, Steve right behind you, and he slams it shut just as the men round the corner. The door shudders under the impact as they try to force it open, but it holds—for now.

You and Steve find yourselves in what looks like a storage room, shelves lined with dusty boxes and old equipment. The only light comes from a single flickering bulb overhead, casting long shadows across the floor.

“This way,” Steve says, nodding towards a narrow staircase in the corner. “It should lead to the roof.”

You nod, following him up the stairs as quickly as your tired legs will carry you. The staircase is steep, the steps creaking ominously under your weight, but you don’t stop, even as your breath comes in ragged gasps.

At the top, you burst out onto the roof, the cool night air hitting you like a slap in the face. The city sprawls out below you, the streets quiet and still, but you know it won’t be long before the men catch up.

“Over here!” Steve calls, leading you to the edge of the roof. You follow him, your heart pounding in your chest as you look down at the alleyway below. The drop is steep, the kind that makes your stomach lurch, but there’s no time to hesitate.

“We need to jump,” Steve says, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. He glances at you, his blue eyes filled with determination. “I’ll go first. You follow right after. Don’t wait.”

You nod, swallowing your fear. “Right behind you.”

Without another word, Steve takes a few steps back, then runs toward the edge, leaping off the roof with the kind of grace only he could manage. For a split second, you watch him sail through the air before landing on the roof of the next building, rolling to absorb the impact. He’s up quickly, turning to face you, motioning for you to follow.

You take a deep breath, backing up to get a running start. The rooftop blurs as you push off, launching yourself into the air. For a heart-stopping moment, you’re weightless, suspended between two buildings with nothing but the hard pavement far below. Then, with a jarring thud, you land on the other side, your knees buckling slightly as you hit the ground. Steve’s hand is there to catch you before you can stumble.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice filled with concern, though there’s no time to linger on it.

You nod quickly, trying to catch your breath. “Yeah… but seriously, Steve,” you gasp, leaning against the wall of the rooftop for support, “do you ever just... slow down? It’s like trying to keep up with a human freight train.”

Steve chuckles softly, the tension easing just a fraction. “Sorry, I’m used to running at a different pace.”

You shake your head, still panting. “Yeah, well, next time, maybe give the rest of us mere normal person a heads up before you go full throttle.”

He smirks, but the levity is short-lived as the sound of boots pounding against the rooftop behind you snaps you both back to reality. The men are right on your tail, and you need to keep moving.

Steve grabs your hand, pulling you across the roof toward a fire escape on the far side. The two of you race down the metal stairs, your feet clanging loudly against the steps as you descend. The sound is deafening in the stillness of the night, but you don’t have the luxury of stealth anymore.

By the time you reach the alleyway below, your legs are burning, and your lungs feel like they’re on fire. But you keep moving, Steve’s hand still gripping yours as he leads you through the narrow streets. The city is eerily quiet, the shadows deep and menacing under the dim streetlights.

“Almost there,” Steve mutters, more to himself than to you.

You don’t know where he’s leading you, but you trust him. You’ve always trusted him. Even now, with your heart pounding and your mind racing, you know he’ll get you out of this.

As you round a corner, Steve suddenly pulls you into a small alleyway, pressing you against the wall as he checks the street ahead. His body is close, too close—again—and for a moment, you ask the gods what acts of kindness have you done to deserve this as a prize?

“Focus,” you silently remind yourself, forcing your thoughts back to the mission, back to the danger that’s still looming over you.

But it’s hard—so damn hard—when Steve is this close, when every nerve in your body is hyper-aware of his presence. The tension between you is electric, charged with everything you’ve been trying so hard to ignore.

Steve peeks out from the alcove, scanning the area for any sign of your pursuers. When he’s satisfied that the coast is clear, he turns back to you, his expression softening for just a moment. 

“We’re almost there. Just a little further.”

You nod, your voice caught in your throat. Steve’s gaze lingers on you for a beat longer, as if he wants to say something, but then he pulls away, the moment gone as quickly as it came.

He leads you through a series of twists and turns, until finally, you reach what looks like an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city. Steve pulls open a rusted door, motioning for you to go inside. You slip in, the darkness swallowing you up as Steve follows, closing the door behind him.

Inside, the warehouse is cold and musty, the air thick with dust. It’s a far cry from the safe house you were expecting, but right now, it feels like a sanctuary. You both take a moment to catch your breath, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“God, Steve,” you pant, leaning over with your hands on your knees, trying to suck in as much air as possible. “Next time, could you at least give me a piggyback?”

“A piggyback?” Steve chuckles, the sound low and rich, and for a moment, it cuts through the tension, easing the tightness in your chest. 

You smirk, despite the burning in your lungs. “I’d say it’s worth a shot.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Steve shakes his head, still smiling, but there’s a flicker in his eyes, like you just gave him permission to act.

“Steve, I—”

But before you can finish, a loud crash echoes through the warehouse, cutting you off. Your heart jumps into your throat as you both spin around, searching for the source of the noise.

“Stay here,” Steve orders, his voice tense as he moves toward the noise.

You nod, watching him disappear into the shadows. The fear that you thought you’d shaken off earlier comes rushing back, but you force yourself to stay calm, to trust that Steve will handle whatever’s out there.

Seconds feel like hours as you wait, your ears straining to pick up any sound, any sign of Steve. But the warehouse remains eerily quiet, the silence only broken by the occasional creak of the old building settling.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Steve reappears, his expression grim. “It was nothing—just some old crates falling over. We’re still clear.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, relief washing over you. But the tension is still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, reminding you that you’re not out of the woods yet.

“Let’s get some rest,” Steve suggests, though you can tell he’s still on high alert. “We’ll head back to the apartment at midnight.”

You nod, though the idea of rest feels impossible right now. Still, you follow his lead, settling down on a makeshift bed of old blankets and crates. Steve takes up a position near the door, keeping watch as you try to rest.

× × × ×

At midnight, you and Steve make your way through the quiet, shadowed streets back to the apartment, the tension of the night starts to ease, replaced by a more playful energy. The cool night air nips at your skin, and the adrenaline from the chase has left you feeling both drained and energized. Steve walks beside you, his presence steady and calming, even as your mind starts to drift into lighter thoughts.

You stretch your legs as you walk, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Y’know, thanks to you, my legs feel like I’ve done three thousand squats. I could really use a piggyback ride,” you add with a playful grin.

Steve glances at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, is that right? And here I thought you were keeping up just fine.”

“Keeping up?” you scoff, still grinning. “I was practically dragged to keep up with your super-soldier speed. My legs are gonna need a week to recover.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to suffer. The offer for that piggyback ride still stands.” Steve chuckles, his eyes gleaming with amusement. 

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I’m just kidding, Steve. You don’t actually need to—”

But before you can finish, Steve stops in his tracks, turning to face you, “No, no, I’m serious. If your legs are really that tired, hop on. I’ve carried heavier loads before.”

“Steve, I was joking. I can walk just fine.” You raise an eyebrow, caught off guard by his sincerity. 

He crosses his arms, clearly not backing down. “Well, maybe I’m not joking. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his persistence. “Are you really going to make me do this?”

“I’m not making you do anything,” he replies with a grin. “I’m just offering. Besides, I’d hate to see you struggle to keep up with me.”

You give him a playful shove, still grinning. “You really don’t know how to take a joke, do you?”

Steve smirks, taking a step closer. “I take jokes just fine. But I’m also a man of my word. So, are you going to let me give you a ride, or are you going to keep pretending your legs aren’t tired?”

You hesitate for a moment, but the playful challenge in his eyes makes it impossible to resist. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” he says, turning around and crouching slightly. “Just get on.” 

With a dramatic sigh and a smile, you finally give in, climbing onto his back and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The warmth of his body against yours is more comforting than you’d like to admit, and you can’t help but smile as he straightens up with ease.

“See? I told you,” Steve says as he starts walking again, his tone light but with an underlying flirtation. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

“Fine, I’ll admit it,” you tease, resting your chin on his shoulder. “This is pretty nice. But don’t get used to it, Rogers. I still prefer running on my own two feet.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his back. “We’ll see about that. You might start asking for a piggyback every time.”

You laugh softly, enjoying the easy banter. “In your dreams, Cap. I’m only letting you do this because you insisted.”

He smirks, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “Well, I’m glad you let me. I’d hate to see you struggle to keep up with me.”

You playfully tighten your grip on his shoulders, leaning in close to his ear. “Next time, I’m leaving you in the dust.”

“We’ll see about that,” he replies, his voice warm with amusement.

As you approach the apartment building, you almost wish the walk was longer. The playful bickering and the closeness are a welcome change from the tension of the night. When Steve finally stops just outside the door and gently lets you down, you can’t help but feel a little disappointed that it’s over.

“Thanks for the lift, Rogers,” you say with a playful grin, trying to hide how much you actually enjoyed the brief closeness.

“Anytime,” he replies, his tone light but his gaze lingering on yours for a beat longer.

You both step inside the building, the warmth of the apartment quickly wrapping around you. The tension of the night hasn’t completely disappeared, but as you exchange a small smile with Steve, you feel a little bit lighter, a little bit closer.

STEVE’S POV

As we approach the apartment building, I find myself wishing the walk was longer. The playful bickering, the closeness—it’s a welcome distraction from everything else, but it’s also a reminder of how much has changed, how much I’ve tried to hide. And how much I can’t deny it anymore.

It wasn’t always like this between us. I remember the first time I met Y/N, and how she immediately stood out in a room full of voices. She was late to a briefing, but instead of slipping in quietly, she walked in with a confidence that turned heads. She made a sharp comment that silenced the room, and I remember thinking how different she was from anyone I’d ever met. She was funny, witty, never afraid to challenge anyone, not even me. It was refreshing, seeing someone who wasn’t intimidated by the title of Captain America, someone who saw me as just another person in the room.

But it wasn’t just that. There’s a lightness to her, a kind of effortless grace that makes everything seem easier. She’s the kind of person who can make you forget about the weight of the world, if only for a moment. Her laugh—God, her laugh—is like music, the kind that seeps into your soul and makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, things will be okay. And her smile… her smile could brighten even the darkest day. It’s not just a smile, it’s a promise, a silent reassurance that no matter what happens, you’re not alone.

Y/N is the kind of person who can make a room come alive just by walking into it. She’s got this energy about her, this warmth that draws people in, makes them feel like they matter. And when she looks at you—really looks at you—it’s like she sees right through to the core of who you are. It’s disarming, and for someone like me, who’s spent so long building walls, it’s terrifying. But it’s also the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.

Somewhere along the line, things shifted between us. I started noticing the little things—the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s deep in thought, the way her eyes light up when she talks about something she’s passionate about. I noticed how she can turn a bad day around with just a few words, how she can make me smile even when I don’t want to. And then there are the moments when I catch her looking at me, and I feel something deep inside, something that tells me this is more than just a crush.

It’s more than that. She’s more than that. Y/N is… everything. She’s the person I didn’t know I was waiting for, the one who makes me want to be better, not because I have to, but because she deserves the best of me. There’s something about her that feels like home, something that makes me think maybe, just maybe, I’ve found the person I’m supposed to be with.

But I know the dangers that come with my life. I know what it means to love someone, to let them in, only to lose them. I’ve seen what happens when the people I care about get too close, and the thought of Y/N getting hurt because of me… it’s unbearable. 

So, I told myself not to take action, not to let these feelings grow—but where did that take me? I tried to keep things professional, to remind myself of what’s at stake. But the more time I spend with her, especially on this mission, the harder it becomes to convince myself that keeping my distance is the right choice.

This mission—it’s been pushing us together in ways I didn’t expect. The close calls, the adrenaline, the constant need to rely on each other—it’s making it impossible to keep pretending. Every time I’m with her, I feel my choice slipping away. 

When we finally reach the door, I stop and gently let her down. As her feet touch the ground, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to let go, that doesn’t want this moment to end. I’ve been so focused on the mission, on protecting her, that I haven’t allowed myself to think about what I really want. But in this quiet moment, with her so close, I can’t help but think about it. About her. About us.

“Thanks for the lift, Rogers,” she says with that playful grin that never fails to make my heart skip a beat.

“Anytime,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light, though my gaze lingers on hers for a beat longer than it should. There’s something in her eyes tonight, something that makes me think she might feel the same pull I do, the same connection.

As we step inside the building, the warmth of the apartment wrapping around us, I can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted between us tonight. The tension of the mission, the close calls—they’re all still there, but there’s something else too. Something that’s been building for a while now, something I’m not sure I can keep ignoring.

I know I shouldn’t let myself get distracted, especially not now, but as I catch her eye and we exchange a small smile, I realize I’m not sure I have a choice anymore. Whatever this is, whatever’s growing between us, it’s real. And for the first time in a long time, I’m not sure what to do about it.

But I do know one thing: Y/N is special. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted but never thought I deserved. Maybe, it’s time to stop running from that. Maybe it’s time to stop fighting what’s right in front of me, to let myself feel what I’ve been trying to bury for so long. Because if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that Y/N is worth the risk. She’s worth everything.

× × × ×

While I was busy adjusting the equipment on the table, the steady rhythm of the water running in the shower fills the small apartment. It’s a comforting sound, something normal in the midst of all the chaos. Y/N’s in there, humming a song—one that I don’t know, but it’s light and carefree, and it brings a smile to my face. It’s hard not to smile when it comes to her.

I try to focus on the task at hand, tightening the screws on a tiny transmitter, but my mind keeps wandering. The past day has been intense, to say the least, and it’s getting harder to keep my thoughts from drifting to Y/N. Especially when she’s just a few feet away, in the bathroom without a door—well, let’s just say it’s seen better days.

That door… I broke it this morning. It was supposed to be a simple thing, something I didn’t even think about. But of course, nothing is simple when you’re me. I was just trying to open it, just a regular, everyday task. But the hinges must’ve been older than I thought, or maybe the wood was rotting—who knows? One gentle push and the entire door gave way with a crack that echoed through the apartment like a gunshot.

Y/N had just stepped out of the kitchen and the look on her face was priceless. She stood there, spatula in hand, staring at me and the door lying on the floor between us. I remember her blinking a few times, as if she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened, and then she burst out laughing—a full, unrestrained laugh that lit up her entire face.

“Steve, you don’t have to knock down doors just because they’re in your way,” she’d teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

I’d tried to stammer out an explanation, but she was too busy laughing, her eyes sparkling with amusement. And honestly, it was worth the embarrassment just to see her like that. Ever since then, the door’s been a lost cause. It’s propped up against the wall in the corner now, like some sad, defeated piece of wood, a constant reminder that maybe I don’t know my own strength—or maybe this apartment just wasn’t built to withstand a super soldier.

Now, with Y/N in the shower, humming away, there’s no door to shield her from the rest of the apartment. I’m doing my best to give her privacy, keeping my eyes firmly on the equipment in front of me, but it’s hard not to think about how thin the walls are, how her humming is the only thing cutting through the silence.

Her humming grows louder for a moment, and I can’t help but smile. She’s singing now, her voice soft and sweet, and I feel that familiar warmth spread through my chest. It’s the same warmth I felt the first time I met her, the same warmth I feel every time she looks at me with those bright, knowing eyes.

I glance over at the door—or what’s left of it—leaning uselessly against the wall. I really should fix it. The water shuts off, and I hear the sound of her moving around in the bathroom—or, well, the bathroom area. My heart does that little skip it’s been doing more and more lately, and I can’t help but wonder if she feels the same way. If she’s thinking about me the way I’m thinking about her.

“Steve?” Her voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

“Yeah?” I call back, keeping my eyes firmly on the equipment, though I can feel my pulse quickening.

“Everything okay out there? You didn’t break anything else, did you?” she teases, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

“Not this time. Everything’s still in one piece.” I laugh, shaking my head. 

“Good to know,” she says, and I can hear the rustling of a towel as she dries off. “You really should do something about that door, though. Not that I mind the view, but it’s a little drafty in here.”

I can’t help but chuckle at that, even as I feel a blush creeping up my neck. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” I say, though we both know it’s probably going to stay propped against the wall for a while longer.

I stand to turn around, assuming that it’s finally safe to—

Damn.

The sight of her stops me dead in my tracks. My eyes land on her, and it feels like the air’s been knocked out of me. She’s wearing a gray tank top that clings to her in all the right places, showing off the subtle curves of her body, and satin pajama shorts that rest low on her hips, the fabric shimmering slightly in the dim light. It’s such a simple outfit, nothing extravagant, but the way she looks in it… I’ve never seen her like this before.

Her hair is still damp, curling slightly at the ends, and the way she’s standing there—casual, completely at ease—only makes her more captivating. The softness of her pajamas contrasts with the confidence in her posture, and I can’t help but let my gaze travel from her bare feet, up her toned legs, to the curve of her waist, and finally, back to her face. She looks so effortlessly beautiful, and I’m struck by just how much she’s getting under my skin.

I must be staring longer than I should, because she catches me. Her eyes lock onto mine, a playful glint in them as she realizes what’s happening.

“You know, Steve,” she says, crossing her arms as she leans against the wall, her voice teasing, “you really should be more careful with those doors. They’re not all built to withstand super soldiers.”

I try to pull myself together, but the grin that’s tugging at my lips is impossible to suppress. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that,” I manage to say, though my voice sounds rougher than I intended.

She narrows her eyes, tilting her head slightly as she steps closer, clearly enjoying the way I’m reacting to her. “What’s the matter, Rogers? Never seen a woman in modern pajamas before?”

I can feel the heat creeping up my neck, and I force myself to meet her gaze, even though every instinct is telling me to look away before I make a fool of myself. “Not like that,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

“Not like what?” she asks, her tone playful, but there’s something more in her eyes, something that makes my pulse quicken.

“Not like… you,” I finally say, my voice betraying me as it drops lower.

She grins, clearly amused by my struggle, and then she takes another step closer, her eyes locked on mine. The space between us is too small—this is different from when I caged her against the wall before—and I can feel the warmth radiating off her. She’s close enough now that I can see the way her damp hair clings to her skin, the faint sheen of moisture still on her arms, the way her tank top dips just enough to draw my eye without being obvious.

“You know, Steve,” she says, her voice softening as she reaches out, her fingers lightly grazing the fabric of my shirt, “you’re awfully tense. Maybe you should relax a little.”

Her touch is light, barely there, but it sends a shockwave through me. I freeze, my breath catching as she traces a slow, lazy line down the front of my shirt, her eyes never leaving mine. There’s a playful challenge in her gaze, like she’s daring me to react, to give in to the tension that’s been building between us.

My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can’t seem to find the right words. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and the worst part is, I’m not sure I want her to stop. But I’ve always prided myself on self-control, on being able to keep my emotions in check, and right now, that control is hanging by a thread.

“You’re making it a little hard to focus,” I manage to say, though my voice sounds strained even to my own ears.

“Oh, am I?” she asks, her tone full of innocent curiosity, but her fingers are anything but innocent as they slowly drag down the length of my torso, stopping just above my belt.

She takes another step closer, her body brushing against mine, and I have to fight the urge to reach out, to pull her closer. I can feel the warmth of her breath against my skin, and every muscle in my body is screaming at me to close the gap between us.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm, but it’s no use. She’s got me completely off balance, and she knows it.

“Maybe a little,” she admits, her eyes dancing with mischief as she leans in, her lips dangerously close to my ear. “But it’s just so much fun to see you squirm.”

I swallow hard, my hand coming up almost on its own to rest on her hip, the touch more intimate than I intended. She doesn’t pull away—instead, she seems to lean into it, her body fitting perfectly against mine as if this is where she was meant to be.

“Y/N…” I start, but my voice trails off, lost in the overwhelming sensation of her so close, of her teasing touch, her soft laughter.

“Yes, Steve?” she whispers, her lips grazing my ear ever so slightly, sending a shiver down my spine.

“I…” I’m not even sure what I want to say. My mind is a blur of thoughts and emotions, and all I can think about is how much I want to close the distance between us, how much I want to feel her lips on mine, to see if she tastes as good as she smells, to—

Before I can finish the thought, she pulls back just enough to look up at me, her expression softening as she sees the conflict in my eyes. She reaches up, her hand gently cupping my cheek, and I lean into the touch without thinking.

“It’s okay, Steve,” she says, her voice full of understanding, of warmth. “You don’t always have to be in control.”

For a moment, everything else fades away—the mission, the danger, the risks—and all I can focus on is her. The woman who’s standing in front of me, the one who’s managed to break down my walls piece by piece, the one who’s become so much more than just a partner, more than just a friend.

I don’t know how long we stand there, the world around us disappearing, but eventually, I find my voice again, though it’s barely more than a whisper. “Y/N, I…”

But before I can say anything else, she gives me that teasing smile again and steps back, leaving me standing there, breathless and completely unprepared for whatever just happened.

“Come on, Steve,” she says, her tone light and playful once more. “You’ve got a door to fix, remember?”

I blink, the reality of the situation slowly coming back to me, and I can’t help but laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. “Yeah… right. The door.”

She winks at me, turning to head toward the kitchenette, her laughter echoing softly behind her. “Good luck with that.”

And as I watch her go, I can’t help but wonder just how much longer I can keep pretending that this is all just part of the mission. Because whatever just happened between us—it’s real, and it’s getting harder and harder to resist.

× × × ×

The lights are off, and the room is wrapped in darkness, save for the faint glow of the city outside seeping through the thin curtains. The bed, still small, forces Y/N and me to lie close, though we’re both facing away from each other. Our backs are almost touching, but not quite. 

I close my eyes, trying to force myself to sleep, but it’s no use. My mind’s racing, thoughts spinning with the events of the day and the way she teases me and then leaves me hanging. 

In the darkness, it’s easier to admit things—to myself, at least. Like how I can’t stop thinking about her, how every time she looks at me, it feels like she’s seeing right through me. How much I wish I could just reach out and close the distance between us, to feel her warmth, to know she’s really there.

But I’m Captain America, and she’s my teammate. I can’t afford to let my guard down, not when there’s so much at stake. So I stay quiet, even as the silence between us grows more unbearable by the second.

Just as I’m about to give up and turn over, I hear her voice, soft and tentative in the darkness. “Steve?”

“Yeah?” I respond, my voice low, almost a whisper. 

She hesitates for a moment, and I can hear the uncertainty in her tone when she finally speaks. “Do you ever think about… what happens after all this? After this mission, I mean. We’ve been at this for years.”

I blink, caught off guard by the question. It’s not what I was expecting, but it hits closer to home than I’d like to admit. “Yeah,” I say slowly, choosing my words carefully. “I think about it sometimes.”

“What do you see?” she asks, her voice barely more than a whisper now, like she’s afraid of the answer.

I hesitate, not sure how much to reveal. 

“I don’t know,” I admit finally. “Sometimes, I wonder if there’s anything for me after all this. It’s hard to picture a life that doesn’t revolve around being an avenger.”

There’s a pause, and I wonder if I’ve said too much, but then she speaks again, her voice soft and contemplative. 

“I think about it too, about what I’d want if I wasn’t… doing this. If I wasn’t constantly in danger, or running from one mission to the next.”

I turn slightly, just enough to see her outline in the darkness, the curve of her shoulder, the way her hair spills over the pillow. 

“What do you want, Y/N?” The question slips out before I can stop it, but now that it’s out there, I can’t take it back.

I can almost hear the gears turning in her head as she tries to figure out how much to share. Finally, she sighs, the sound heavy with unspoken thoughts. 

“I guess… I want something normal. You know, a place to call home, people who care about me, who I can come back to. Maybe even… someone who makes me feel like I’m more than just a pawn.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. 

“You deserve that, Y/N,” I say quietly, the words slipping out before I can think better of them.

“What about you, Steve? What do you want?” She turns her head slightly, just enough for me to see the outline of her face in the dim light. 

It’s a simple question, but it feels like the hardest one I’ve ever been asked. I don’t know how to answer, not really. What do I want? I want. . . what she’s talking about. I want that sense of normalcy, that connection, that feeling of being more than just a symbol, more than just Captain America. But more than anything, I want her.

But I can’t say that. Not now, not here, not when we’re lying in the dark, trying to pretend this is just another mission. So instead, I let the silence stretch between us, hoping she doesn’t push for an answer I’m not ready to give.

“I don’t know,” I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes, I think I’ve been Captain America for so long that I don’t know who I am without it. But… I’d like to find out.”

She doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, I think maybe she’s drifted off to sleep. But then she shifts slightly, her hand moving closer to mine, just brushing against it. The touch is so light, so tentative, that it sends a jolt through me.

“I think you’d still be Steve Rogers,” she whispers, her voice so soft I almost don’t hear it.

Her words linger in the air, hanging between us like a fragile thread. I want to reach out, to take her hand in mine, to say something, anything, that would bridge the gap between us. But I’m afraid—afraid of what it would mean, afraid of what might happen if I let myself feel what I’m feeling.

And then, as if reading my mind, she asks the question I’ve been dreading. “Is there… someone you like?”

Her question stops me cold, my heart thudding in my chest. Do I tell her now?

“There was someone,” I started slowly, my voice rough, the words catching in my throat. “Peggy… she was important to me. She’ll always hold a special place in my heart. But that was a different time, a different life.”

I can feel her listening intently, her silence encouraging me to continue. But when I try to find the words, it’s harder than I expected. “I've moved on. . .”

I can feel her processing my words, trying to understand what I’m really saying.

“Steve,” she says softly, almost tentatively, “what about now, do you have eyes on someone now?”

“Yes,” I whisper, the word barely audible, but it feels like a confession. “I do.”

There’s a moment of silence, and I feel the tension tighten around us, her breathing shallow beside me. Then she speaks, her voice steady but tinged with something I can’t quite place. “I see… Well, whoever she is, she’s very lucky.”

I want to say something, to tell her that the person I like is right here, lying next to me, but the words stick in my throat. The tension in the room feels almost unbearable, and I’m caught between wanting to tell her everything and fearing what that might mean for us.

She shifts slightly, turning so that our backs aren’t just facing away but are instead lined up against each other, the warmth of her skin seeping into mine.

“Goodnight, Steve,” she whispers.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” I reply, my voice soft, but laced with the emotions I can’t quite express.

× × × ×

I now lie on my back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to will myself to sleep. The mattress is lumpy, the space too small, and my feet are hanging at the edge of the bed. But that's not what's keeping me awake.

It's her. It's Y/N, lying just inches away from me. I can't get comfortable, can't seem to find a position where I'm not feeling every breath she takes, every slight movement she makes.

The night is colder than I expected. The thin blanket we share isn't doing much to keep the chill away, and I can feel the temperature dropping as the minutes tick by. I try to focus on that, on the cold, on anything other than the fact that Y/N is right there beside me.

But then she moves. In her sleep, she shifts closer, nestling into my side as if seeking warmth. Her body presses against mine, soft and warm, and I go completely still, my throat felt tight. She doesn't wake up, doesn't realize what she's doing, but the effect on me is immediate.

I feel a pang of guilt at the rush of heat that spreads through me, settling low in my abdomen, but I can't help it. Her head rests against my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck, and I can feel every curve of her body pressed against mine. My arm is pinned under her, and I don't dare move, don't dare disturb her sleep, but it's torture. Sweet, excruciating torture.

I close my eyes, trying to think of anything else-ice water, long runs in the freezing cold, anything to distract me. But it's no use. My body reacts to her, to the way her leg is draped over mine, to the softness of her chest against my side.

I grit my teeth, trying to ignore the growing discomfort under my sweatpants. It's like my body has a mind of its own, reacting to her bod in a way I can't control. I remind myself that she doesn't know what she's doing, that she's asleep, and that I need to be the one with control.

But control feels like it's slipping through my fingers, especially when she shifts again, her body pressing more firmly against mine. Her hand rests against my chest, just above my heart, and I'm sure she can feel how fast it's beating, even in her sleep.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but then the scent of her fills my senses, and it only makes things worse. I'm stuck between wanting to pull away to give myself some relief and the unbearable thought of losing the warmth of her against me.

She mumbles something in her sleep, her breath tickling my neck, and I clench my fists, trying to anchor myself. It's a losing battle. Every time she shifts, every time her body presses against mine, it sends a wave of heat through me that sends my heart into a frenzy.

I try to adjust slightly, to move my hips away from her to lessen the tension building inside me, but it's nearly impossible without waking her. My body aches with the need to do something, anything, to relieve the pressure that's growing unbearable.

The cold that once bothered me now feels like a blessing, something to focus on instead of the warmth of her body against mine. But even that's not enough. The way she's curled into me, seeking my warmth, is driving me crazy and it's taking everything in me not to respond, not to give in to the need that's clawing at me.

I bite my lip, hard, trying to distract myself from the growing tightness in my pants, but the pain is nothing compared to the torture of having her so close, yet knowing I can't do anything about it. My mind is racing, torn between the guilt of my reaction and the primal desire that's becoming impossible to ignore.

She shifts again, and I feel her leg slip between mine, her thigh brushing against the very part of me that's been causing me so much grief. I suck in a sharp breath, my entire body tensing as I try to resist the urge to move, to not create any friction.

Jesus I feel like a pervert.

She just nestles closer, her body seeking mine, and I'm left lying here, completely helpless against the storm raging inside me.

I can't move. I can't breathe. All I can do is lie there, staring up at the ceiling praying for some kind of distraction, for anything to take my mind off the way her body is stuck against me. But there's nothing. Just the cold, the darkness, and the tightness in my pants.

Eventually, she settles, her movements slowing as she drifts deeper into sleep But the damage is done. I’m left lying there, heart pounding, body aching. Sleep is out of the question now.

I close my eyes, trying to will away my erection, trying to push down the feelings that are threatening to overwhelm me. But it's no use. 

It's going to be a long, long night.

Tags: @lafrone