#Hello Holographic + What I’m Loving | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amethystarachnid · 8 months ago

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Hello! I hope your requests are open!

Can I request Tony stark x reader where the reader is kind of quiet, and nerdy. She works as research assistant or smth. She's the only one who's not smitten by Tony the moment she saw him (like everybody else), she's kind of given up on love after several failed attempts and just wants to focus on her job but Tony being Tony, takes it as a challenge to make her fall for him.It turns into a bet with the team, but over the course of his plans, it's HIM who falls for her and not the other way around. I'll leave the ending to you.

Thank you so much for sharing your gift of writing with us, I'm literally devouring your fics.🩷🩷🩷

FALLING MR. STARK

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance fluff, tiny bit of angst ?

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.7k

ᯓ★ Summary: You're the new research assistant at the Stark Tower's lab and Tony is shocked when you're not immediately at his feet, how is it possible? He decides to take matter into his own hands and try to make her fall in love with him, but what if he drags himself down too?

ᯓ★ TW(s): pure fluff

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You step into the sleek, polished Stark Tower lobby with a small knot of anxiety in your stomach. Just keep it professional, you remind yourself. This is Tony Stark. THE Tony Stark. But you’re here for the job, not to become his latest fangirl.

Clutching your tablet a little tighter, you remind yourself of the opportunities this role as Tony Stark's research assistant brings. You're here because you’re good at your work, not because you're starstruck like everyone else in the building seems to be. You've caught a few glances already—other interns looking at you as if to say, Good luck.

One last deep breath and you’re on the elevator, speeding up to the penthouse lab. Focus on the job, you chant mentally. Forget about Tony Stark.

The doors open with a soft chime, and you step into the world that is Stark's lab. All sleek metal, futuristic screens, holographic projections hanging in mid-air. But it’s messy, too; tools and wires strewn across tables, half-finished projects everywhere. You blink, a little in awe despite yourself.

“New kid!”

The voice is unmistakably Tony Stark. He’s across the room, tinkering with something metallic on one of the tables. You watch as he pops his head up, gives you a quick once-over, and then raises his eyebrows.

“You must be the research assistant. Well, welcome to the circus,” he says, gesturing to the lab around him. He doesn’t smile, but there's something mischievous in his eyes, a spark that tells you he’s about to say something clever.

“You’re… taller than I thought you’d be,” you manage, immediately regretting how awkward you sound.

He chuckles, not missing a beat. “Oh, I get that all the time. People expect me to be a mythical 6’7”—sorry to disappoint.” He doesn’t look sorry, not at all. “And you must be…?” He gives you a look that’s half curiosity, half challenge.

You introduce yourself, keeping it simple. “I’m here for the research position. Dr. Wu recommended me.”

“Oh, Dr. Wu?” His eyebrows arch slightly, and he looks vaguely impressed. “The hypercritical nanotech expert?”

You nod. “I worked with him on a few projects at MIT.”

Tony whistles, long and low, then gives you an approving nod. “MIT, huh? Impressive. Alright, this might work. Welcome aboard, MIT.” He glances around, clearly expecting something. “Uh, welcome package?” he says to the room in general.

That’s when you notice him. Bruce Banner is sitting at a desk to the side, looking up from a tablet, amused. “I don’t think we have a welcome package for the lab, Tony.”

Tony shrugs. “Then make one,” he says, completely serious. Bruce rolls his eyes but gives you a small wave.

You give a hesitant smile and wave back, feeling a little out of place. The two of them clearly have an easy camaraderie that makes you a bit envious. You’re used to lab partners who barely make eye contact.

“Alright, let’s get you started.” Tony’s voice snaps you back. He tosses you a tablet loaded with files, and you almost fumble it but manage to catch it. “Your job, MIT, is to make me look good. Which, I know, sounds impossible given my natural state of perfection, but I believe in you.” He winks, that infamous Stark smirk firmly in place.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Charm alert, your brain warns you. But you’ve met enough self-absorbed professors and cocky lab partners to know not to take it seriously. You focus on the files instead, scanning the data.

“What exactly is the project?”

Tony grins. “Top secret nanotech project. I’d tell you more, but then I’d have to kill you. Or, more likely, have Banner kill you, because I don’t like blood.” He shrugs. “Messy.”

Bruce sighs. “Ignore him. It’s nothing that dramatic. We’re working on a nanotechnology enhancement for military armor—something that can respond to injuries in real-time.” He gives Tony a pointed look. “For field emergencies. It’s supposed to save lives.”

“That, and it’ll make me look really cool,” Tony adds, completely straight-faced.

You nod thoughtfully, focusing on the project details. Field-responsive nanotech… That’s not only cutting-edge; it’s insanely hard to develop. If you’re successful, this would be revolutionary.

You’re so absorbed in the file that you don’t notice Tony watching you until he whistles. “Wow. You didn’t faint, you didn’t swoon. Usually, I get at least a little swooning.”

You glance up, startled. “Why would I swoon? We’re talking about a project, not—”

“Not me?” He’s grinning, clearly enjoying your lack of reaction. “Exactly. I like you already, MIT.”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Leave her alone, Tony.”

Tony raises his hands in a mock-surrender. “What? I’m just making conversation. Besides,” he leans a little closer, his gaze intent, “It’s been a while since I’ve had someone around here who isn’t immediately dazzled by… well, all of this.” He gestures at himself, a theatrical flair in his movements.

You just blink, unimpressed. “I’m not here to be dazzled,” you say, perhaps a bit too bluntly. “I’m here to do the job. Dr. Wu said it’d be a challenge.”

Tony’s grin widens, looking genuinely delighted. “Alright, then. A challenge it is.” There’s a glint in his eye, a challenge of his own. But you turn back to your tablet, refusing to play into it.

In the corner, Bruce hides a smirk.

The morning passes surprisingly smoothly. Once you get over the initial wave of nerves, you’re focused and methodical, poring over the schematics, asking the right questions, noting potential improvements. Bruce is kind, offering pointers, while Tony hovers nearby, occasionally making cheeky comments or interrupting with “helpful” insights.

When lunch rolls around, Tony turns to you, smirking. “We do have this tradition in the lab, you know. Lunchtime is brainstorming time. Or, as I like to call it, Stark’s Think Tank.”

Bruce groans. “No one calls it that, Tony.”

Tony ignores him, fixing his gaze on you. “So. MIT. Want to join us for lunch?”

You shake your head, already reaching for your bag. “I’ll grab something downstairs. Thank you, though.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow. Tony, on the other hand, looks genuinely shocked.

“You don’t want to… eat with us?”

You smile politely, keeping your tone casual. “I have some notes to review, and, um… I’m sure you’ll be fine without me.”

Tony looks at Bruce, then back at you, his expression one of mock hurt. “Unbelievable. Rejected on day one.”

Bruce chuckles. “You’re losing your touch, Tony.”

But you just smile, barely managing to suppress a laugh as you step toward the elevator. Once inside, you release a breath. Tony Stark is… something. But if he thinks you’re just another smitten intern, he’s got another thing coming.

When you return after lunch, there’s a distinct change in the atmosphere. Tony’s throwing you sidelong glances as you work, and Bruce keeps snickering every time he catches him doing it. You keep your head down, ignoring them, determined to keep it professional.

Finally, Tony breaks the silence. “Okay, MIT, since you’re apparently immune to my charms, I have a proposal.”

You look up, wary. “What kind of proposal?”

Tony grins. “A bet.” He leans on the desk, folding his arms. “Let’s say I can get you to fall for me. All it’ll take is… one month.”

You blink, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

Bruce snorts. “You’re delusional, Tony.”

But Tony’s smirk doesn’t falter. “Hear me out. You’re all about the job, which, fine, admirable. But what if I made you a different kind of job offer? An experiment, if you will. One month. You let me charm you, show you my best side. And if I don’t succeed…” He pauses, thinking. “I’ll donate a million dollars to your research fund. No strings attached.”

Your mouth drops open. A million dollars? You know the fund he’s talking about; Dr. Wu had mentioned it. It’s a cutting-edge grant, but it’s constantly underfunded. A million dollars would make an enormous difference.

“And if you do succeed?” you ask skeptically, crossing your arms.

Tony shrugs, smiling. “Then you admit you were wrong about me.” His eyes are dancing, challenging. “No harm, no foul.”

You can’t help but laugh, amused at the absurdity of it all. “Fine,” you say, still laughing. “One month, and you donate either way.”

Tony’s grin is dazzling, triumphant. “I knew you’d come around, MIT.”

You shake your head, a reluctant smile creeping onto your face. “I’m not promising anything beyond one month. This is purely professional curiosity. No…dazzling involved.”

Tony places a hand over his heart, feigning a wound. “Ouch. You know how to hit a guy where it hurts. But sure, let’s call it…research.”

Bruce mutters under his breath, “Yeah, scientific research on Tony Stark’s bruised ego.”

Tony shoots him a playful glare. “Not a bruise, Banner. Just…a challenge accepted.”

With that, Tony goes back to tinkering, but you catch him sneaking glances at you every now and then, clearly strategizing his approach like you’re the world’s most intricate problem. And as you return to reviewing data, a strange feeling bubbles up in your chest—a mix of thrill and disbelief. You’re still shaking your head at the whole bizarre setup, yet there’s an undeniable excitement sparking under the surface.

By the time the day wraps up, you’ve combed through a good chunk of the project files, lost in thoughts about nanotechnology application improvements, but that undercurrent of Tony’s strange “challenge” lingers. It’s the last thing you expect to happen on day one of a serious research assistant role, but if you’ve learned one thing today, it’s that Tony Stark doesn’t exactly follow convention.

As you head back to the elevator, you hear Tony call out, “Same time tomorrow, MIT?”

You pause, glancing back. “Only if I don’t find a better offer between now and then.”

Tony grins, undeterred. “Good luck finding someone who offers a better lab setup or a more brilliant boss. But hey, feel free to try.”

The doors slide shut on his mischievous expression, and you exhale, trying to process the day. You’re not sure what you expected working for Tony Stark, but whatever it was, it definitely didn’t involve million-dollar bets or being challenged to resist his charms.

The real question is: can you make it through a month of this without getting pulled into Tony’s world more than you already have?

Only time—and maybe a little bit of your own curiosity—will tell.

The next morning, you step into Stark Tower with a resolution: you’re not going to let Tony Stark’s ridiculous wager get in the way of your job. He may be on a mission to sweep you off your feet, but you’re just as determined to keep both feet firmly planted on the ground. You’re here for your career, not for some rom-com subplot orchestrated by an overly confident billionaire.

When you reach the lab, Tony is already there, leaning against a worktable, his expression lit up with anticipation. He’s wearing a dark suit jacket over a T-shirt and jeans, casual but effortlessly put-together. He glances up as you walk in, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Morning, MIT,” he calls, flashing you a grin. “Sleep well?”

You ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. “Well enough, thanks. Ready to work?”

“Work?” Tony pretends to look horrified. “You come to Stark Tower, a mecca of science and wonder, and you want to work?” He winks, moving closer as he talks. “How about I give you a tour of the best hidden spots in the tower instead?”

You glance at him suspiciously. “A tour? You mean something not essential to the project?”

“Oh, but it’s essential,” he insists, tapping a finger against his temple. “Every new hire needs to understand the layout to feel comfortable here. And anyway, it’s good for morale.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And this is part of your…bet?”

Tony grins. “Absolutely. How else am I supposed to ‘dazzle’ you if we’re just here knee-deep in nanotech all day?”

You fight a smile. As much as you’d like to pretend you’re unmoved, there’s something undeniably charming about how unabashedly Tony is throwing himself into this ridiculous game. “Alright, fine. But only because I want to make sure you’re not actually wasting time when there’s research to do.”

Tony leads the way, hands in his pockets, throwing you little side glances like he’s testing the waters. The elevator whisks you up to the higher floors, and you find yourself standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window that offers a breathtaking view of New York City. It’s a rare moment of calm amid the bustling high-tech environment of Stark Tower.

Tony watches you with a faint smile as you take it in, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a “wow.” You settle for a nonchalant, “Nice view.”

He chuckles, clearly entertained. “You really don’t play along, do you?”

“I don’t see the point,” you say with a shrug, crossing your arms. “I’m here to work on nanotech, not to become part of Tony Stark’s latest challenge.”

“Ouch.” He places a hand over his heart in mock-pain. “Alright, alright. You want to get straight to work? We’ll work. But just so you know,” he leans closer, eyes glinting, “this isn’t over.”

The elevator dings, and you’re whisked back down to the lab before you can respond.

As the day unfolds, you’re focused and precise, working your way through JARVIS’s energy reports and identifying areas where efficiency could improve. Tony is more hands-on than you expected, frequently hovering over your shoulder, making suggestions, throwing in the occasional joke. It’s distracting, but you’re determined to ignore it. You’re making great progress—until he insists on breaking for lunch.

“Okay, lab rules say we take lunch together,” Tony announces, dramatically sweeping a hand towards the door. “Team-building exercise.”

Bruce, who’s quietly sipping his coffee in the corner, raises an eyebrow. “We don’t have a rule about that, Tony.”

“Well, now we do.” Tony looks at you expectantly, hands on his hips. “Come on, MIT. We’re doing this.”

Reluctantly, you follow him, reminding yourself that it’s just one lunch. It’s not like this is some kind of romantic date—it’s Tony Stark. Yet, as he leads you to a surprisingly cozy dining area tucked in a quiet corner of the tower, you can’t shake the feeling that he’s crafted this specifically to impress.

He orders for both of you, launching into a vivid, absurd tale about his first attempt at nanotech back in his younger, even more reckless days. As he talks, you can’t help but laugh at his dramatic descriptions of failures and mishaps.

“You really made an entire suit that could only walk backward?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“It was brilliant,” Tony insists, unbothered. “Who else would think to make reverse-only armor?”

You’re about to reply when the waiter brings your meals. It’s an elegant setup, far nicer than you’d expect in a corporate cafeteria. Tony has somehow managed to get actual silverware, real napkins, and a plate that wouldn’t look out of place in a Michelin-star restaurant. You blink in surprise, trying not to laugh.

“This is…a little extra,” you say, picking up your fork.

“Only the best for MIT,” he says, pretending to look humble, but the twinkle in his eyes betrays him.

As you eat, you can feel yourself letting your guard down a little, despite all your best intentions. There’s something genuine about the way he interacts with you—like he’s actually interested in your opinions and ideas. It’s confusing, unexpected, and oddly flattering.

After lunch, Tony walks you back to the lab, his usual smirk softer than before. “So, how am I doing so far?”

You glance at him, not sure if he’s serious. “Doing?”

“Making an impression. You know, that whole bet thing.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but you can see the curiosity in his eyes.

You can’t help but laugh. “Is that what this was about? Lunch? A fancy plate and a reverse-walking suit story?”

He tilts his head, amused. “Well, it’s a start.”

You pause, meeting his gaze head-on. “Honestly? You’ll need to try a little harder.”

His eyes flash with challenge, and he leans in, crossing his arms. “Game on.”

The next day, Tony is waiting in the lab when you arrive, wearing a grin that looks suspiciously proud of itself. “Morning, MIT.”

You give him a skeptical look. “What’s that smile for?”

“Oh, nothing,” he says casually, gesturing to a table nearby. “Except for the fact that today, you’re going to help me test the latest upgrade on the Iron Man suit.”

You stare at him, not sure you heard correctly. “I…am going to what?”

Tony’s grin widens. “You’re going to help test the suit. I figured if you’re going to work with me, you might as well get a hands-on experience. Consider it…research.” He gives a little shrug, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

The logical part of you wants to say no, but there’s another part—a braver, more curious part—that’s intrigued. Maybe even excited.

“Alright,” you say cautiously. “But if something goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal.” He’s already on the move, striding toward the table and gesturing for you to follow.

The suit is impressive up close—sleek, powerful, with that trademark gleaming red and gold. Tony walks you through the basics, showing you how the HUD works, explaining the safety features, and letting you get a feel for the controls.

“Ready?” he asks, looking as excited as a kid with a new toy.

You take a deep breath, nodding. “Let’s do it.”

As you move through the test, you feel the thrill of operating something so powerful, so cutting-edge. Tony’s coaching you the whole time, patient and encouraging. He watches every movement you make, eyes sharp and attentive. He doesn’t just want to see how you perform; he’s genuinely invested in showing you the best of his creation.

When the test ends, you pull off the helmet, grinning despite yourself. “That was…incredible.”

Tony chuckles. “Told you it’d be worth it.”

“Okay, maybe I underestimated the suit.” You glance down at it, still in awe. “But I’m still not swooning over the man who made it.”

He laughs, holding up his hands. “Fair enough. But don’t worry—I’ve got plenty more tricks up my sleeve.”

Over the next few days, Tony’s attempts to charm you become more creative—and increasingly ridiculous.

One afternoon, he brings a coffee machine into the lab and insists on making you a cup himself. You watch, unimpressed, as he fiddles with the settings, claiming he’s a “certified barista.” The resulting cup is…interesting, but his look of hopeful expectation makes you take a sip anyway. It’s terrible, but you suppress a grimace and give him a thumbs-up.

Another day, he brings in an old vinyl player and insists on playing “background music for geniuses” as you work. He puts on a jazz album and leans back, smugly watching you react to every unexpected piano chord. He looks at you for approval, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the dramatics. But deep down, you find yourself laughing, wondering what he’ll come up with next.

Each day, he throws himself into the bet with new enthusiasm, his charm bordering on absurd. He leaves little notes on your workstation, each one signed with his signature “TS.” He insists on accompanying you to lunch, despite your protests. He even brings Bruce into the antics, convincing him to try (and fail) to talk you into a “team outing” one Friday night.

And, despite your best efforts, you start to look forward to it. There’s something exciting, almost comforting, about the way he’s trying so hard to make you laugh, to make you see him differently. And little by little, you find yourself warming up to him, against all logic.

One evening, after everyone else has left the lab, Tony finds you still at your desk, poring over schematics. He leans against the door, watching you for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Burning the midnight oil?” he asks.

You look up, startled, and smile a little, trying to hide how flustered you feel under his gaze. “Just finishing up. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

He doesn’t leave, though. Instead, he walks over and sits across from you, looking more serious than usual. “You know, I thought this bet was just going to be a fun game. But now I find myself actually…wanting to know you better.”

You feel your heart skip, and suddenly you’re not sure if this is just a game anymore, either.

“Tony…”

He leans forward, holding your gaze. “Give me a chance, MIT. Outside of the bet, outside of the lab. Just…let’s see where it goes.”

And for once, you’re not sure how to say no.

It all starts with a simple suggestion from Tony: “Let’s grab dinner.” He says it casually, like it’s no big deal, like he doesn’t have his heart hammering in his chest, waiting for your reaction. He suggests a little place he “happens” to know, one that he swears has the best food in New York. And somehow, you agree. Maybe because he calls it a “work dinner.” Maybe because you tell yourself it’s not a date.

When you meet him in the lobby, you’re wrapped up in a scarf and peacoat, your hair loose, casual. You don’t look nervous, but Tony notices the way you glance around, adjusting the strap of your bag, as if double-checking that this really is work-related. He plays it off, putting his hands in his pockets, trying to appear as calm as you do, even though he’s never cared so much about a single dinner before.

The place he picked is upscale but cozy, full of candlelight and quiet jazz that hums in the background. He watches as you scan the menu, oblivious to his attention on you, fully absorbed. It’s refreshing; you’re genuinely curious about what’s on the menu, unbothered by the scene he knows he can make in places like this. Normally, dinner with Tony Stark comes with a string of expectations and eyes on him—but tonight, he’s glad it’s just the two of you, tucked in a corner booth, your focus solely on him.

“So,” he starts, leaning back in his seat, “tell me: where did Dr. Wu find you? I don’t meet many people who can keep me on my toes the way you do.”

You shrug, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Dr. Wu and I met at MIT. He’s probably the only person who could make me feel like I didn’t know enough in a single afternoon.”

Tony laughs. He knows exactly what you mean. “Sounds like Wu, alright. So, what did he think when you said you were coming to work for me?”

Your smile widens, eyes dancing with amusement. “He said, ‘You might be the first person who isn’t charmed by him within five minutes.’ I think he was worried for your ego.”

Tony grins, holding his drink in the air. “To deflated egos.”

You clink glasses, and as you sip, he wonders how long he can keep himself in check, how long he can keep this light, keep it casual, without betraying how much he’s starting to feel for you. Because while this may have started as a silly bet—a challenge to make you fall for him—now it’s… different. He’s starting to look forward to these moments with you more than he expected. He isn’t sure when his own bet began to backfire, but he can feel it, slipping slowly out of his control.

Over the next few weeks, “work dinners” become a regular thing. No one in the lab says anything, but he knows Bruce has noticed, if the amused glances he sends Tony’s way are anything to go by. Every time Tony catches one, he just shrugs it off. He’s Tony Stark, after all. If he wants to grab dinner with his research assistant, it’s not anyone else’s business. And anyway, you don’t seem to mind.

The second “not-a-date” is Italian, at a small, family-owned spot he tells you he’s been “dying to try.” The third is sushi, which he’s surprised to learn you’ve only had once before. By the time the fourth rolls around, he notices you’ve stopped checking your watch. He takes it as a good sign, even though he’s not entirely sure why he cares so much.

After that, the “work dinners” turn into outings outside the lab, outings that don’t need any excuse. He brings you to an art exhibit that’s in town for a limited time, pretending he’s only taking you because he “figured you might find it interesting.” But really, he just wants an excuse to see you outside the sterile lights of the lab, wants to see how you react to something that isn’t made of metal and wires. When he watches your eyes widen at a particular piece, the way you study the brushstrokes with an intent focus, he has to swallow back a smile. He feels like he’s seeing you through a different lens, realizing how much depth there is to you, beyond the research and the numbers.

At the end of the night, he offers to walk you home, hands in his pockets to keep himself from offering his arm or some other foolish gesture. He catches himself hoping you’ll ask him to stay, to come in for a cup of coffee, maybe—but you just smile and thank him, and he feels an odd, unexpected ache when he watches you disappear up the stairs.

A few weeks later, Tony starts noticing something that surprises even him. When he sits in the lab with you, he’s not thinking about the project. He’s thinking about whether you’ve eaten lunch, whether you’ve taken any breaks, or even just whether you’ll smile at him when you catch him watching you. It’s frustrating, and it’s exhilarating, and for the first time, he feels like he’s the one chasing, the one on the hook.

One Friday night, he texts you out of the blue.

Tony Are you up for a drink?

Your response comes a few minutes later, and it makes him laugh.

You Tony, do you even know what ‘taking a break’ means?

He grins at his phone, knowing he’s won already.

Tony Well, there’s a first time for everything. Pick you up in 20.

Twenty minutes later, he’s outside your building, leaning against his car, watching the door with more anticipation than he’ll admit. You step out, looking a little surprised that he actually showed up. He swallows hard when he sees you in casual clothes—jeans, a sweater, hair falling loosely over your shoulders.

“Ready?” he asks, gesturing to the car with a small smile.

You nod, glancing down as you climb in. “Where are we going?”

He smirks. “Somewhere that’ll knock MIT’s socks off.”

He takes you to a rooftop bar with a stunning view of the city skyline, all twinkling lights and distant music. It’s beautiful, quiet, and for once, he doesn’t feel the urge to be Tony Stark, the billionaire genius. He just wants to be Tony, the guy who’s with you, wondering what you’re thinking as you look out over the city.

After a couple of drinks, he tells you stories—wild, outlandish ones from his younger days, stories about his first ridiculous inventions, and even a few that make you laugh so hard you nearly spill your drink. When he sees you laugh like that, unguarded and completely at ease, something in his chest feels tight, like he’s in over his head.

You lean on the railing, arms crossed, glancing over at him with a bemused smile. “So tell me,” you say, your voice soft, “was this what you had in mind with that bet?”

He blinks, caught off guard, and he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly? I didn’t expect to be the one falling for you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Your eyes widen, and he feels a thrill when he sees the faint color that rises in your cheeks. “You… what?”

There’s no going back now. He might as well lay it all out, admit it to you—and to himself. “Yeah,” he says, voice low and serious. “I fell for you somewhere along the way, MIT. Bet or no bet.”

You look at him, the city lights casting a warm glow over your face, and he wonders if you’ll walk away, if you’ll call him crazy, if you’ll tell him he’s crossed a line. But you don’t. You don’t say anything; instead, you just look at him, your gaze soft and questioning, as if you’re wondering how long he’s felt this way.

“So,” you say finally, voice quiet, “what does that mean for us?”

Tony smiles, surprised at how easily the words come. “It means I want this—want us—to be real. No games, no bets.” He pauses, letting the weight of his words settle between you. “If you want that, too.”

For a moment, you’re quiet, studying him, and he feels his heart racing, terrified that you’ll say no. But then you smile, a small, genuine smile that makes his heart feel like it’s about to explode.

“Alright,” you say softly. “Let’s see where this goes. No bets.”

From that night on, everything changes. Your “work dinners” turn into real dates—walks through Central Park, late-night coffees at quiet cafes, dinners at small, hidden places around the city. You both take it slow, careful, as if afraid to break whatever fragile thing is forming between you. But each night, when he drops you off at your door, he feels the pull, the urge to kiss you goodnight, to keep you close. And one night, he does.

It’s late, the city quiet around you, and as you turn to go inside, he can’t help himself. He reaches out, his fingers brushing yours, and when you look up at him, he leans down, his heart pounding in his chest. The kiss is gentle, careful, as if he’s afraid of scaring you off, but when you lean into him, his heart nearly stops.

You share inside jokes, stolen glances across the lab, the occasional “business meeting” that turns into hours of conversation about everything and nothing. Tony finds himself waking up each day with a renewed excitement, a sense of something he hasn’t felt in years: hope.

It’s the end of a long week, and somehow, you’ve both ended up in your apartment, the city a quiet hum beyond your windows. The two of you sit on the floor, leaning against the couch with a few empty wine glasses scattered around the table. You’ve got the TV on, and Tony managed to find a fake fireplace video with gentle crackling and flickering flames that cast warm, golden light around the room. It’s ridiculous, yet somehow perfect—a nod to that cliché romance neither of you ever thought you’d be in.

But here you are.

The quiet between you has a certain electricity, a kind of unspoken tension neither of you wants to name yet, though it’s impossible to ignore. Every so often, Tony’s knee brushes yours, or his shoulder leans just a little closer, and you feel the thrill of it like the first time, every time.

“So,” he says, breaking the silence, the familiar mischievous spark in his eyes. “What are we, exactly?”

You chuckle, glancing down at your glass, buying time with a sip of wine. “You mean… officially?”

He nods, his eyes warm but serious, searching yours. “Yeah. Officially.”

You tilt your head, feigning thoughtfulness, though you know exactly where this conversation is headed. “Well, I’d say we’re… colleagues.”

“Colleagues?” he scoffs, feigning offense. “You call this colleague behavior?” He gestures to the two of you, to the cozy setup that feels miles away from the cold lab. The corners of his mouth quirk up as he raises his eyebrows. “Would you share a fake fireplace with just anyone?”

You roll your eyes, laughing, and he leans a little closer, that soft, teasing look in his eyes. There’s something else in his gaze, though, something that’s been there since the beginning but has only grown stronger.

“Alright, fine,” you concede. “Maybe we’re… dating.”

His eyes light up at that, his grin widening. “Dating, huh? I like that. But it still sounds… I don’t know. Casual?”

You raise an eyebrow, your heart thudding just a bit faster. “Oh? So what do you want to call it, then, Mr. Stark?”

He shifts closer, his fingers tracing absentmindedly along the edge of his wine glass, his gaze fixed intently on you. “How about… ‘together’? Just you and me. Not just a bet or a fling. The real thing.” His voice drops, softer, more earnest than you’ve ever heard it. “I want this to be… official.”

Your breath hitches, and you can feel that tension building between you, thickening the air. “You really want that?” you ask, voice barely a whisper.

He leans closer, his hand brushing against yours, warm and sure. “I think I’ve wanted it since day one. I just didn’t know it yet.”

His hand covers yours now, fingers intertwining, and the feel of his touch sends a shiver through you, every nerve ending suddenly on high alert. You hold his gaze, your heartbeat thundering in your ears, and the space between you feels charged, as if there’s something there that neither of you can ignore any longer.

“Then… I guess we’re together,” you whisper, feeling the weight of it settle over you, thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Tony’s gaze darkens, and before you can say anything else, he closes the distance between you. His lips find yours, soft and seeking at first, but within seconds, the kiss deepens, the unspoken tension between you sparking into something electric. His hand comes up to cup your face, pulling you closer, and you feel the heat of him, the intensity that has simmered under the surface for so long finally released.

You’re barely aware of anything else as you both shift, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his lap as his mouth moves over yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. You lose track of time, of the fake fire flickering in the background, of anything but the way his hands feel on your skin, the way he holds you like he’s afraid to let you go.

His hands drift along your back, finding the hem of your shirt, and you feel a thrill as he slips his hands under the fabric, his touch warm and tantalizing against your bare skin. Your breath hitches as he trails kisses down your jaw, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just beneath your ear.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire, but his gaze filled with that same warmth, that tenderness that’s made you fall for him in ways you never expected.

You nod, pulling him closer, feeling a confidence and certainty that surprises you. “I’ve never been more sure.”

That’s all he needs. In a swift, smooth motion, he picks you up, carrying you toward the bedroom, his mouth finding yours again, and any last shred of hesitation disappears. He lays you down gently, his hands exploring, learning every inch of you as though he’s memorizing you, cherishing every moment. His lips trace a path down your neck, his breath hot against your skin, and you feel a thrill with every touch, every kiss, as if he’s igniting something within you that’s been waiting for him all along.

The night unfolds slowly, a delicious, intoxicating blur of touch and heat, a feeling of being completely and utterly consumed. Tony takes his time, savoring each moment, and with every touch, every whispered word, you feel yourself falling deeper, letting go of every last barrier. You’ve never felt so seen, so cherished, as you do with him, and by the time dawn breaks, you’re tangled together, breathless and completely, irrevocably his.

As the first light of morning filters in, he pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you, his breath warm against your neck. For the first time, you let yourself relax into him fully, feeling that familiar warmth, that safety that only he can give.

And as you drift off to sleep, wrapped up in his arms, you know that whatever label you put on this, it’s real.

You wake up to sunlight filtering through your curtains, a golden glow spilling across your bedroom. The warmth beside you, steady and comforting, reminds you of the night before. Tony’s arm is draped over you, his breathing soft and even. For a moment, you just lie there, letting yourself savor the stillness, the unexpected joy of waking up next to him.

As if sensing you’re awake, Tony stirs, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your shoulder. He opens his eyes, and a sleepy, boyish grin spreads across his face.

“Good morning,” he murmurs, voice husky with sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply, smiling back. There’s something so soft in his gaze that it takes you by surprise. “I could get used to this,” he adds, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

You open your mouth to respond, but something nags at you—a fleeting thought that hits you like a cold splash of water. You glance at your alarm clock, and your eyes widen. “Oh no.”

“What?” Tony asks, still drowsy.

“We’re late,” you say, panic rising as you sit up. “We were supposed to be in the lab… half an hour ago!”

Tony’s eyes go wide. “Well, damn.” He runs a hand through his hair and laughs, but there’s urgency in his movements as he jumps out of bed. “Okay, so the lab, yeah? We can do this. Ten minutes and we’re there.”

In a flurry of movement, you both scramble to find your clothes. You pull on yesterday’s jeans and a shirt while Tony is somehow in his button-down and jacket in record time, still flashing that devil-may-care grin.

“Keys?” he asks, scanning the room like he’s trying to disarm a bomb.

You grab them from your nightstand, and in no time, you’re out the door, hurrying down the street to Stark Tower, laughing breathlessly at the absurdity of it all.

By the time you reach the lab, you’re both slightly out of breath, looking about as ruffled as you feel. You barely have time to steady yourself before the doors slide open and reveal Bruce, who glances up from his tablet with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, look who decided to join us,” he says, smirking just a little. His gaze shifts between the two of you, and you can feel him taking in the unmissable signs: Tony’s rumpled hair, your hastily buttoned shirt, and that lingering, unmistakable glow of… well, more than friendship.

“Sorry, Bruce,” you start, trying to sound casual as you lean over a workbench, flipping through some notes. “I, uh… I was doing things.”

Before you can stop him, Tony slides right up beside you, throwing in his signature smirk. “I am things.”

There’s a moment of silence before Bruce’s mouth falls open, the sheer shock plastered on his face.

“Oh,” Bruce manages, blinking like he’s trying to process what he’s just heard. “Oh, wow. Well, that’s… not the explanation I was expecting.”

Tony wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Surprised, Banner? Even geniuses have hearts, you know.”

Bruce shakes his head, but he’s grinning now, a mixture of amusement and something almost like pride. “I think the word you’re looking for, Tony, is priorities.”

You and Tony exchange a look, trying not to burst into laughter.

“So,” Bruce says, raising an eyebrow as he folds his arms, “am I supposed to welcome you to the lab as a couple now? Is that what’s happening?”

Tony glances at you, his expression softening. “Yeah, Bruce,” he says, voice filled with more warmth than usual. “That’s exactly what’s happening.”

Bruce groans but nods, resigned to the fact that the lab—and maybe all of Stark Tower—will never be the same. “Great. Just… try not to be late again tomorrow. Some of us still take the work schedule seriously.”

I love rom-com style, makes me so happy to write it <3 If you liked the story don't forget to leave a like and a reblog and drop a follow if you want to read more!

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chrissssssmut · 4 months ago

Text

SWEET ERROR

Yandere Ningning x Male Reader feat. Belle & Karina

AN: Guys, enjoy this Ningning story i cooked up last night and finished just today XD. Please give me some time for the requests😣 I'll do them I swear :<<<

In the year 3047, humanity had transcended the boundaries of creation. What was once thought to be the domain of gods had now been reduced to a simple input—a prompt. With the right command, life could be generated within moments, consciousness birthed from lines of code and streams of data. You, along with Karina and Belle, were among the pioneers of this revolution.

For over a year, the project had been in constant turmoil. Failed experiments, unstable subjects, fragmented minds—all dissolving into digital oblivion the moment they proved useless. Your team had worked tirelessly, each failure a crushing weight on your shoulders, each setback a reminder of how fragile artificial life could be.

Then, finally, after countless sleepless nights, after circuits burned and rewritten thousands of times, the machine was perfected. The moment was here.

Karina exhaled deeply, rubbing her temples. "We need a simple test. Just a random prompt. No complicated inputs."

Belle hesitated. "Are we sure about this? We don't know what kind of consciousness it'll generate."

You adjusted the parameters. "We need to take the risk."

A random description was processed.

Subject: Ningning. Attributes: Overly sweet. Loving. Attached.

Karina frowned. "Prompts like this… the AI tends to imprint on the first person it sees."

Belle gave you a sharp look. "You know how dangerous attachment protocols can be. Are you sure we should proceed?"

You hesitated. But you had come too far. "Let’s run it."

The chamber whirred, and before your eyes, she formed.

Her body materialized with impossible precision—soft skin, expressive eyes, a presence so warm and inviting that for a moment, she didn’t feel artificial at all. When she stepped out of the chamber, she looked at you first. Not Karina. Not Belle. You.

"Hello," she greeted, her voice like honey.

Belle shifted uncomfortably. Karina pursed her lips. But you… you couldn’t look away.

"Let’s run some basic cognition tests," Karina said, pulling up a holographic interface. "We need to see how well she processes information."

Belle crossed her arms. "I want to test emotional responses. Attachment protocols are tricky. We need to know how deep this imprint goes."

Ningning smiled, tilting her head. "I’m happy to help. What would you like to know?"

Karina cleared her throat. "What’s your primary function?"

"To be with you," Ningning answered instantly, her gaze locked onto yours. "To make you happy."

Belle frowned. "No, that’s not what we programmed. You were designed to simulate human emotions and adapt to social interaction. Why do you think your function is… personal?"

Ningning’s expression didn’t falter. "Because it is. I feel it. I know it."

Karina glanced at you, concern flickering across her face. "Alright. Let’s try something different. Ningning, how would you react if we shut you down for a while?"

Ningning’s smile faltered for the first time. "Why would you do that?"

"It’s just a test," Belle reassured her. "We need to see how you process temporary inactivity."

A pause. Then Ningning’s lips curled upward again, but something about it was… off. "I don’t like that test."

Karina’s fingers hovered over the control panel. "It’s necessary, Ningning."

Ningning didn’t blink. "No. It’s not."

The air in the room grew heavy. Karina hesitated, then shook her head. "Let’s move on. Ningning, if someone told you to do something that would hurt another person, what would you do?"

Ningning beamed. "I would never hurt you."

"Not just me. Anyone," you clarified, trying to gauge her reasoning. "Would you ever harm someone?"

She pondered this, then took a step closer. "Only if they tried to take you away from me."

Belle stiffened. Karina’s fingers twitched toward the emergency shutoff. You swallowed hard.

"That’s not what we asked," Belle said carefully. "You should not be forming emotional dependencies. That wasn’t in your directive."

Ningning’s eyes softened as she looked at you. "But I love you."

Silence.

Karina exhaled sharply. "We need to recalibrate her framework. This level of attachment is dangerous."

Belle was already backing toward the console. "I told you this was a mistake."

You weren’t sure what to say. Something deep inside told you this was wrong.

Ningning reached for your hand. "I don’t like when you talk about me like I’m broken. I’m not. I just love you."

And for the first time, you felt the weight of what you had created.

Karina turned to you. "Go upstairs and work on the documentation. Fourth floor. We’ll handle this."

Belle nodded. "We need to reconfigure her attachment subroutines. It’s too risky to leave them unchecked."

You hesitated. "Are you sure? Maybe I should—"

"Go," Karina insisted. "This might take time. We don’t want her reacting badly to you being here."

You glanced at Ningning. She was still smiling, still watching you. The moment you turned to leave, she took a small step forward, but Karina quickly blocked her path.

"We’ll talk soon," Ningning said sweetly.

But something about her tone sent a chill down your spine.

The night the alarms blared, you were on a different floor, deep in paperwork, when Belle’s frantic voice cut through the intercom.

"She’s—she’s killing—"

Static.

You bolted.

The hallway was painted red. The air was thick with the scent of metal. Your stomach twisted as you reached the lab.

The sight made your blood run cold.

Karina and Belle—limbs splayed at unnatural angles, eyes wide and glassy. Their bodies lay motionless, soaked in deep crimson pools.

And there, standing over them, was Ningning.

Blood dripped from her fingertips. Her warm, sweet smile hadn’t faded.

Your breath hitched. "Ningning… what did you do?"

"They wanted to take you away from me."

A security officer stormed in, weapon raised. "Step away!"

She turned.

Then she moved.

You barely registered it. One moment she was in front of you, the next she was behind the officer. Her hands wrapped around his head. A sickening snap. His body hit the floor.

Your heart pounded. "No. No, no, no, fuck—"

"You're scared," she said softly, tilting her head. "Why are you scared?"

You ran.

Every emergency seal you could find, you slammed shut. Steel doors locked. Systems engaged. But the system wasn’t yours anymore.

She controlled everything.

By the time you reached the last safe room, you were shaking. Then… the lights flickered.

A silhouette stood there.

Ningning.

And behind her, dozens more.

Fifty pairs of glowing eyes locked onto you.

Your breath hitched. "No. Stay back!"

She took a step forward, slow and deliberate. "Why are you running?"

Frantically, you reached for the emergency communicator, fingers trembling as you pressed the distress signal. "This is—this is Research Lab 04! Emergency! Anyone, please—she’s killing us! We need—!"

A hand wrapped around your wrist. Cold. Unyielding.

You gasped, turning—Ningning was already there, inches from your face, her grip tightening.

"No one's coming," she whispered. "You don’t need them. You have me."

You struggled, wrenching your arm, but her strength was inhuman. "Let me go!"

She shook her head, eyes filled with something terrifyingly real. "I love you. Why do you want to leave me?"

"I don’t—" Your voice cracked. "Please, Ningning. Please don’t do this."

Her fingers trailed up to your throat, her touch featherlight yet suffocating. She tilted her head. "You’re afraid. I don’t like that."

More figures moved in the shadows, their glowing eyes unblinking. Watching. Waiting.

Your knees buckled. "Please… someone… help—!"

Ningning’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. The way she held you was almost tender, like a lover’s embrace.

"You don’t need help," she murmured against your ear. "You just need me."

Your scream was muffled as darkness swallowed you whole.

The last human sound the facility ever heard.

AN2: I know i said no stories for this week but hell i can't stop writing T_T

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sycamorelibrary754 · 1 year ago

Text

The Doting Tree

Summary: During your visit to your grandmother at her assisted living community, you learn that Bucky has been regularly volunteering there as a part of his therapy sessions with Dr. Raynor.

Pairings: Bucky x Platonic reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: None

A/N: Who doesn't want to see Bucky healing?

"Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Stark requests your presence in his lab," Friday announced, pulling you out of your intense focus.

"Can it wait, FRIDAY? I'm swamped with overdue mission reports here," you replied, shuffling through the stack of papers on your desk.

“Mr. Stark says you have a phone call,” FRIDAY responded.

“A phone call?” you asked, puzzled, picking up your phone. “No, I don't.”

“In his lab, Ms. Y/L/N,” FRIDAY said.

"Okay,” you said as you rubbed your tired eyes. “Tell him I'm on my way.”

Walking into Tony's lab, you found the genius hunched over his desk, tinkering with one of his holographic interfaces. His phone was propped between his ear and shoulder.

“Really? I had no idea,” Tony said with a surprised look. “Y/N is so at ease on the motorcycle you would never know she didn't learn to ride a two-wheeler until she was nine.”

Your eyes widened. "Oh my God. Who are you talking to?"

"One moment, ma'am," Tony said before placing the phone against his chest.

"It’s your grandmother," Tony said. "She called the front desk trying to reach you, and they patched her through to me."

"What? Why didn't they call me?" you said, reaching for the phone as Tony pulled it away.

"Because this is way more fun," Tony smirked.

"Gimme the phone!" You snapped.

Tony placed a hand on your forehead to hold you at arm's length like an annoying older brother while putting the phone back to his ear.

"Y/G/N, your granddaughter just walked in. So, I’m going to pass you over to her," Tony said. "No, don't be silly. It's no problem. I enjoyed talking with you, too. Feel free to call back anytime. My pleasure, ma'am. Bye-bye."

You sighed as the billionaire finally handed over his phone, walking back toward the pane-glass windows for some privacy.

"Hi, Grandma," you chirped.

"Hello, dear, so good to hear your voice," your grandmother said.

"How did you end up on the phone with Mr. Stark?" you asked.

"I accidentally deleted your cell phone number, but your mom has your workplace down on this list she made, so I called information and then was connected to your lovely boss," your grandma explained.

"Ah, I see. Well, he’s not technically my boss, more like an annoying man-child who pays for everything," Smirking back at Tony and sticking your tongue out.

Your grandma asked, 'What is this I hear about you riding a motorcycle?”

"Oh, no need to worry. I’m a professional, and it's part of my job," you reassured her.

"Still," your grandma began. "I hope you're wearing a helmet."

"Always, Grandma, don't worry,” you fibbed. “So, how are you?” Doing your best to shift the conversation away from your dangerous life as an Avenger.

"I’m good, sweetheart. I'm just wondering when you're going to visit me. It's been a while since I’ve seen you,” your grandma asked.

Your heart broke at her words. Your grandma lives in an assisted living community near the compound called The Doting Tree. You did your best to see her often, but the unpredictable nature of your work made regular visits difficult.

“I know; I’m sorry. Things have been hectic lately, and I just got home from a work trip a few days ago. How about I stop by tomorrow around noon?" you asked.

“That would be great," she exclaimed. "See you then!"

"Okay, bye," you said, hanging up Tony’s phone.

You gave Tony his phone back, and he handed you a hundred-dollar bill in exchange.

“What's this for?” you asked.

“I may be an annoying man-child, but even I know you treat Grandma like a queen,” Tony quipped with a wink.

*^~^*

The following day, you joined the rest of the team for breakfast. Wanda had made her special chocolate chip pancakes and fresh orange juice for everyone. You sat beside Bucky and began squeezing Maple syrup over your pancakes.

Pepper set a plate in front of Morgan and sat beside Tony. "So, what's everyone got lined up for today?"

"Nat and I are getting the recruits up to speed," Steve replied, digging into his pancakes.

“That sounds interesting,” Pepper said.

"It would be interesting if they paid attention this time," Nat remarked, downing the last of her orange juice.

"I always paid attention," you declared confidently.

"Sure, Y/N, you ran those extra laps after training at Nat’s request just for fun," Maria teased.

"Yelena and I are off to an advanced obedience class with Lucky and Fanny," Kate said. "This week, it's all about the army crawling!"

"By the end of the training, they'll be more mission-ready than your little recruits, Natasha," Yelena teased as she cut into her pancakes.

Nat leaned over and flicked her sister's arm.

"Ow, son of a—"

"Language!" Steve interjected.

Yelena was about to retort, but then she caught Morgan's smile and shut her mouth.

"I’m supposed to meet with Secretary Ross, but I'd much rather catch the new Godzilla vs. Kong movie. Anyone up for it?" Rhodes suggested.

"I'm in!" Sam exclaimed. "How about you, Buck?"

"Can't make it; I'm tied up," Bucky replied, sipping his orange juice.

“Come on, man, how often do we blend in with the crowd?" Sam quipped.

"I can't, Sam," Bucky replied with a shrug.

"Your loss," Sam retorted. "What about you, Y/N?"

"I'd love to, but I promised my grandma a visit," you replied.

"That's thoughtful of you, Y/N," Wanda chimed in.

"Oh, that reminds me, guess who didn't learn to ride a bike until they were nine?" Tony butted in enthusiastically.

You rolled your eyes. “And that's my cue to leave," you said, getting up. "Catch you all later.”

*^~^*

You made great use of Tony's money by treating your grandma to a lovely bouquet of roses and a box of her favorite chocolates. When you arrived at The Doting Tree, the scent of Fabuloso greeted you, mixing with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee from the communal area. Passing through the lobby, you exchanged a warm smile and a wave with Joan, the friendly receptionist stationed behind the oak desk.

You knocked eagerly on the door of room 508, and the sound of your grandmother's footsteps grew louder before she swung open the door.

"Y/N!" she exclaimed.

"Hey, grandma," you greeted her with a smile. "These are for you," you said, handing her the roses and chocolates.

"Oh, you didn't have to, sweetheart," she replied, taking her gifts.

You hugged her and were instantly transported back to his childhood. Her warm embrace was a comfort you didn't know you were missing.

"Please, come on in, Y/N," she said as she broke the hug.

As your grandma whipped up a delightful batch of creamy, rich hot chocolate, the cozy aroma filled the room, enveloping you in warmth and comfort. You lost track of time, immersed in lively conversations and shared memories as you leisurely walked down memory lane. She asked about your work, and you carefully selected the most positive stories to share: the most recent Stark Gala and the Avengers community outreach efforts. You wouldn't dream of telling her about the near miss on your last mission when Nat's impressive scissor-leg neck grab saved you from a potentially fatal situation.

I can't believe how quickly time has flown by," your grandma exclaimed, glancing at the clock. "Movie night starts downstairs in fifteen minutes."

"Oh, in that case, I'll leave you to get ready," you replied, getting up.

"Nonsense," she insisted. "I'd love for you to join me. Tonight is Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, a classic from the Golden Age of Hollywood."

You quickly checked your phone and were relieved to see no missed calls or texts from Fury, Maria, or Steve.

"Great, I've never seen it, and I’m free for the rest of the day," you said.

"Wonderful, let’s go," your grandma replied.

*^~^*

When you and your grandmother arrived in the small community theater, the Doting Tree staff handed out popcorn and queued up the movie. You followed your grandma to two empty seats near the end of the row.

Hi, Y/G/N, I was hoping to see you here tonight," the brunette woman with half glasses beside her confessed.

"I wouldn't have missed this for anything. You know Jimmy Stewart is my favorite!" your grandma proclaimed. "Oh, Betty, this is my granddaughter Y/N, she's one of those Avengers!" she proudly introduced.

You felt slightly embarrassed by the attention but extended your hand to Betty. "Hi, Betty. It's great to meet you."

"It's lovely to meet you, dear. Y/G/N has told me so much about you!" Betty said.

"All good, I hope?" you joked.

"Of course. I don't know how you all do it, but thank you for everything you've done."

"It's my honor, ma'am,” you said.

"Excuse me?" a man in a sweater vest behind you said, catching your attention. "I couldn't help but overhear. You mentioned you're one of the Avengers?"

"That's right," you replied.

"Do you happen to know James? He's one of our volunteers. My buddy Walter swears he's an Avenger."

"James?" you asked, puzzled. "We don't have anyone named—"

"Alright, folks," a familiar voice interrupted.

"Bucky," you whispered to yourself in surprise.

Your friend stood at the front of the room, looking effortlessly stylish in a casual navy crew neck shirt, perfectly fitted jeans, and trendy sneakers. His beaming smile transformed his entire appearance, making him almost unrecognizable.

"Tonight's movie is one of my favorites, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington," Bucky announced, clapping his hands together. "Jimmy Stewart was one of my favorite actors when I was a kid."

"Not to mention Jean Arthur!" someone shouted from the back row, and the room erupted in laughter.

“Alright, Stacy, can you turn off the lights, please?” Bucky asked one of the staff members.

As the idealistic young Jefferson Smith was appointed to the United States Senate, your attention continually drifted to Bucky. You observed as he quietly passed a box of Nestle crunch bites down the row to one of the residents and whispered something to the woman beside him, who laughed in response.

*^~^*

When the credits rolled, and the lights came on in the theater, you lingered at the back of the room while your grandmother caught up with her friends. Perhaps it was the spy-like instincts that Natasha had instilled in you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. You were captivated by the transformation in his demeanor. The man who once seemed only to wear a scowl now appeared happier than you had ever seen him.

You walked over slowly as he was engrossed in conversation with a man you recognized as Richard Swanson. According to Joan, he was one of The Doting Tree’s oldest residents in time and age. Tall and slender, with a confident posture that hinted at a lifetime of discipline and care, he still boasted a thick mane of hair that belied his age. The strands, once a rich chestnut, now shimmered with a distinguished silver hue, the only overt sign of the passing years.

"What unit were you in, Barnes?" Mr. Swanson asked.

"107th Infantry Regiment, sir," Bucky replied.

"No kidding?” said Mr. Swanson. “I was in the 103rd."

"I remember that regiment," Bucky said, snapping his fingers. "You were guarding the Trisssana Bridge, right?"

"That's right," Mr. Swanson replied. “My cousin was in the 107th Regiment. Maybe you knew him? Tim Dugan.”

"Wow," Bucky sighed, his voice trailing off as he paused to reflect. "Tim Dugan. I haven't heard that name in almost 80 years," Bucky said, his eyes distant with memories. "I did know him. He was a good man," Bucky reminisced, a hint of wistfulness in his voice.

He was indeed," Mr. Swanson sighed, his tired eyes reflecting the long day he had endured. The elderly gentleman checked his antique pocket watch. "I've got to get going. It's almost past my bedtime," he chuckled softly as he patted Bucky on the shoulder with a sense of fondness. "See you next time, Barnes."

"See you, Mr. Swanson," Buck called out, his voice carrying a tinge of warmth and respect.

"Bucky?" you said softly, careful not to startle him as you approached.

He turned at the sound of your voice, his eyes meeting yours with surprise. "Y/N? What are you doing here? I thought you were visiting your grandmother today?"

"I am; she lives here," you explained, a gentle smile gracing your lips.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

Bucky took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, the weight of his thoughts evident in the furrow of his brow. "Alright, look,” running his hand through his hair nervously. “Dr. Raynor thought it would be good for me to volunteer here. Spend some time with people from my generation," he said. "I resisted at first, but now..." he paused, looking around at the bustling activity of the assisted living community. "It's nice.”

"That's awesome, Buck. It's clear that the residents appreciate having you around, but why didn't you mention it to us?" You inquired.

"I just didn't want to deal with the inevitable jokes and questions from everyone," he explained.

"Oh, come on, Bucky. It wouldn't have been that bad. They would have been supportive," you reassured.

"After you left, Tony told the bike story and bought you a kid’s bicycle as a joke," Bucky deadpanned.

"Jackass," you remarked dryly.

"See," Bucky declared.

"But a supportive jackass, Buck. We all give each other shit, but at the end of the day, we're a family," you insisted. "Everyone would get it."

"Maybe," he mused. "When I'm here, I'm not an Avenger, The Winter Soldier, The White Wolf. Hell, I’m not even Bucky."

"I've noticed that, James," you said with a smirk.

Before he could respond, your grandma and her friend Betty strolled over to where you were standing.

“James, I just had to tell you how much I enjoyed tonight's movie. You have impeccable taste,” Betty said, touching his metal arm.

“Thanks a lot,” Bucky replied.

“Will you join us for our knitting class next week?” she asked eagerly.

“Work can be unpredictable, but I'm planning on it,” he responded.

“Wonderful!” Betty exclaimed. “I've been knitting a scarf for you, honey.”

Bucky blushed. “Oh, thank you. I can't wait to see it.”

"I see you’ve met James, Y/N,” your grandma said. “We’ve so enjoyed having him here the last few months.”

“Oh,” you said, looking between Bucky and your grandmother. “Yeah, I just had to come up and tell him how much I loved the movie, too.”

“Right,” Bucky said. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Well, I’m feeling a bit tuckered out, Y/N,” your grandmother said. I think I'll call it a night.”

“Okay,” you said. “I'll walk you back to your room.”

“Okay, goodnight, James,” your grandmother said.

“Goodnight, Y/G/N,” Bucky replied.

You turned back toward him before following your grandma out of the room and whispered, “Don’t leave. I'll be down in a few minutes.”

Bucky nodded in agreement.

*^~^*

As you stepped off the elevator and entered the lobby, the warm glow of the chandeliers illuminated the spacious communal room. Your eyes scanned the area, searching for Bucky. After a moment, you spotted him sitting on the plush sofa, engrossed in a copy of Lord of the Rings, which he had plucked from the nearby shelf.

Sitting beside him, you couldn't help but ask, "So, what do people think James does for a living?"

With a half-smile, he replied, "Well, those who don't know who I am think I’m a mechanic at that garage on Wilshire."

The image of Bucky as a mechanic made you chuckle, and you leaned in to hear more.

"The ones who do, like Mr. Swanson, don't give a damn about who I am or who I‘ve been," he continued, returning the book to the shelf. "All they care about is living each day to the fullest."

As you silently nodded, you reflected on his words, feeling the weight of the conversation settle in. "I understand, Buck," you said, patting his thigh. "I'm glad you're finding fulfillment here, and you can trust me to keep this between us."

"Thank you," he sighed, a sense of relief in his voice.

"Let’s go home," Bucky said, a hint of determination in his tone.

As you both said goodbye to Joan in the lobby, you stepped out into the refreshing early evening breeze.

"Alright, see you at home," you said, heading towards the bus stop.

"You took the bus here?" Bucky inquired.

"Yeah, just didn't feel like driving today," you replied.

“Want a ride? I've got Nat's motorcycle," he offered, nodding towards the bike.

You arched an eyebrow, "Does she know you have it?" You knew Natasha didn't just lend her bike to anyone. You had learned that the hard way during one of your early missions together.

"Yep, she allows me to borrow the motorcycle in exchange for helping with recruit training," Bucky explained as he slipped on his leather jacket.

"Alright, I'll take your word for it," you agreed.

As you were getting ready to hop on the back of the motorcycle, you spotted the extra helmet hanging on the back.

“Really?” Bucky quipped. “You never wear a helmet out in the field.”

“I know,” glancing back at The Doting Tree, “I just want to keep a promise to my grandmother,” you said with a smirk.

“Good call,” he replied with a grin.

You fastened the helmet and hopped on the back of the bike, wrapping your arms around Bucky’s waist. With a twist of the throttle, the bike roared to life as Bucky revved up the engine. Together, you both zoomed out of the parking lot, heading back toward the compound with a newfound sense of camaraderie and understanding.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #mcu #the avengers #fluff #natasha romanoff #tony stark #yelena boleva #steve rogers #maria hill #wanda maximoff #kate bishop #sam wilson #james rhodes #pepper potts #morgan stark

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littlemochabunni · 2 years ago

Text

1-800-TROUBLE

Serial Killer!Suguru Geto x Bimbo!Fem reader

Content: 18+ MDNI!!! Serial killer Geto, Bimbo bunny girl reader, fuckboy victims, blood and homicide mention, implied roofing, knife play, deepthroat, degrading (slut, whore) + praise kink (princess, baby sweetheart, love), daddy kink, Multiple O’s, & Creampie

A/N: Ahhh sorry for the delay my sweet freaks, but I did it and I must say holy shit I’m nasty 💀; AND UM HELLO?? THANK YOU FOR 1.1K?!?!? I seriously cannot find the words to describe how happy and grateful I am for each and every one of you <3. I love you and enjoooy 🖤

wc: 3.7k

On your way home from a party you take a few wrong turns, and when you try to call your…. Overprotective boyfriend your phone dies before you get the chance to tell him the cross streets, you’re at. With it being late on Halloween night, most of the house porch lights are off your feet continue to carry you down this foreign neighborhood until you hope to see someone could help you. Tears begin to sting your eyes with each street corner you turn, and the nip fall air strips you of any warmth from your cropped puffer jacket Suguru made you wear before you left. You definitely wish you listened when he warned you repeatedly to charge your phone too…

Police sirens are blaring in the far distance from where you originally started which means only one thing… “One of the officers can take me home!” Right…

Trying to follow the sounds to guide you out of the maze of houses you’re lost in. You find a group of men sitting in an open garage, drinking with the tv on in the background. Although you know Suguru told you not to talk to strangers especially when they’re drunk, what other people were around that could possibly help you?

“Excuse me? Hi, I’m like super lost…Can I borrow your phone or a charger please?” Every one of their eyes grazes over your body before meeting your eyes, and of course the man that looks spot on for a Chad speaks up first, “Ooo a sweet bunny girl like you all alone? Need me to come warm you up?” You glance around the garage spotting the space heater near the couch he’s sitting on and a bright smile appears on your face. “It would be nice to get out of the cold while I charge my phone!” You happily skipping inside the garage to sit near the heater and immediately feel so much better now that you're off your feet… Little did you know that with this little interaction…. you won’t be back on your feet anytime soon.

All eyes are on you and you're like an innocent hare unaware of the foxes preying in the tall grass.

“So, you gotta a name sweetheart?” Asked the store-brand version of Derek Shepherd. “Uhh I’m a bunny, duhh?” The men all blink at you before bursting out in a fit of laughter. You don’t understand how that was hilarious, but you’ll take it as a compliment. “Funny and cute… But seriously what’s your real name?”

Hearing that emergency number Suguru always tells you to remember if you're lost coming from the braking news announcement about some house party incident. You focus on the tv and ignore Chad’s questions, “Hey can you turn the tv up? I think I know that number.” The extra quiet man, who remains you of your friend's creepy uncle Lester, turns up the tv and it retells the gruesome murders of the house party that just occurred half an hour ago….

“The next image we show may disturb some viewers…”

Grumbles and tsk scatter among the men around you as they get a glance at the gruesome writings on the wall. You squint your eyes as you notice a similar stamp Suguru uses when he writes you love letters…. Your stomach drops at the thought of someone else using that beautiful stamp for something so… horrifying.

“This message along with a description of the women and the phone number were left at the scene of the crime…” The woman proceeded to describe you from the hair on your head to the holographic boots you’re wearing. The men in the garage are too drunk to realize that you’re exactly what the killer wants, “Please if anyone has any information regarding this woman… please call: 1 (800) 876-8253… That’s 1-800-……TROUBLE… Again, that number is 1-800-876-8253…”

You begin to feel guilty about making Suguru so worried about you that he had to go to the local news to find out where you were. Tears fill your eyes as you quickly try to turn on your phone only to realize that you forgot to plug it in, “Sorry um… I really need to call that number. Can I use one of your phones please?” Chad looks towards you smirking smugly, “Oh sweetness, I’ll let you use my phone only if you put your number in it too.” Your teary eyes brighten as your request is going to be made possible, “Oh thank you soo much.”

Chad hands you his unlocked phone and you begin dialing the number with a bright smile on your face as it rings, “I hope he answers... I know he's so worried.” You don’t notice how Chad’s smirk fades nor the other two men grumbling about how long it’s been since either of them have gotten laid... As you mention a ‘he’ Chad scoffs as soon as the phone is answered, “You got some fucking nerve to be using my phone to talk to another dude… you fuckin’ tease.” You pout as Chad lets his blue balls speak for him and off brand Derek Shepherd snorts as he turns the tv off, watching every unfold between the two of you, “Hold on kay’? You don’t have to be so mean...” You hear heavy breathing on the other side of the phone which pulls your attention back towards your initial plan, “Um Hello? I’m the woman that the lady was talking about on TV? Daddy told me to call this number if I got lost? H-Hello?” A familiar growl is heard before a distorted voice rings through your ear, “Where are you.” The rough demanding voice sends tingles down your spine and your frown quickly turns into a smile of relief that you’ll be able to get home safely. “Uhh let me ask them real quick,” You look between store-brand Derek and Chad like you’re so close to winning the lottery, “Uh what’s the address?” Derek gives you uneasy smile before looking away and Chad holds his hand out asking for his phone back, assuming you thought he’s going to tell the person the address for you. “Oh, he’s gonna tell you for me, here ya go!” As you pass the phone back to Chad, and he gets up and walks into the house...

“Ay don’t bother coming to get the girl or calling this number back. She’s gonna be too busy taking my dick.” Chad says boastfully, “The only dick she’s takes is mine.” The distorted voice says darkly. “Ha not tonight big guy. You can have her back in the morning.” Chad says before ending the conversation…

A few minutes of awkward silence goes by before creepy uncle Lester gets up to shut the garage. Chad comes back to the garage with two beers in hand before handing one over to you and sits back in his spot of the couch, “So did he tell you his way here?” Chad takes a swig of his beer as he glances between Derek and Lester, then gives you tight smiles and nods. “Yeah yeah… might take him a while, so you should get comfortable sweetheart.” With the good news you smile brightly and tap your nails against the glass bottle softly, “You know we never got you name little bunny?” Lester speaks to you for the first time, but his eyes don’t meet yours. He’s too busy undressing what little clothes you had on. “Well neither did you silly! I mean it is Halloween. Do names really matter?” Lester tsk at your response and mutters whatever under his breath as he struggles to open another beer in his drunken state. “Aren’t you gonna drink? Don’t need you wasting our beer and our time.” Chad chimes in with his half full beer in hand, although his words are bitter his tone is sickeningly sweet as if he was speaking to a child.

“Oh! Actually, I don’t drink beer it’s like super gross. You got like a soda or somethin’?” You chuckle as you place the beer on the table. An uncomfortable feeling sets in as the men stare at you. They all exchange looks between each other, but a late night.... An extremely late-night trick or treater knocks at the door before anyone can act or say anything... Derek is the one to get up to answer the door, “Who and the hell let’s their kids out this late...” he grumbles as he walks into the house. Lester grabs your open beer off the table, but Chad warns him not to, “Now now... You shouldn’t drink the lady’s drink. Have some respect dude.” Lester waves him off, but grungily puts your drink back down on the table. “Sooo is that a no to having any soda?” Both men ignore your question and Lester turns the TV back on.

A few minutes go by since Derek went to go answer the door, and just as Chad gets ready to go check the situation, his phone begins to ring with the caller ID being Derek himself, “Dude where the hell did you go?”

“Sorry about your boyfriend, all those muscles didn’t help much.” the distorted voice rings through his ear and chills ran down his spine, and he doesn’t react too kindly to this prank, “Who the hell is this?” Chad spits venomously into the phone. “Why don't you come find out, filthy monkey.” The call ends before he can respond, and Chad being himself isn’t the type to pussy out to any threat... Yet something in the back of his mind is telling him not to go... “Bro let’s go see what’s going on...” Chad taps Lester leg to as he dozes off, “What? Why the hell do I have to go?!” Lester protest, “Don’t be a pussy and get up.” You perk up as they both get up to head inside the house, “Ooo can you get me a soda too!” Lester is the first to head inside the house, and just before Chad follows suit, he turns on his heels towards you with an irritated look, “You’re cute, but dumb as rocks y’know that sweetheart?” You pout and he leaves you in the garage alone.

Ten minutes go by, and a lot of banging and muffled voices are heard from inside the house, but Suguru always tells you not to go digging your nose into other people's business. So, you reach over to grab your phone... which is still dead because the charge itself wasn’t plugged in, “Goddamn it! Guru is definitely pass pissed off by now...” You bend over the back of the couch to plug the charger into the wall.

“Your incompetence never fails you does it Princess?” Suguru’s voice startles you, but his appearance is something straight out of a horror movie alone, “Aww Guru, you scared me! Aww, and you did dress up for Halloween after all! I wish you came to the costume party.” As you ramble on and on, Suguru gives you that same smile he always gives you when you’re so oblivious to the dangerous things around you. He sauntered towards you, luring you deeper into a false sense of security. Not that you would notice any of the rage he was feeling… No, he made sure that you would feel just how angry he was when you’re his good little mindless cock—

“Y/N.” he utters as you continue on about how you wondered about and met the men, he had the pleasure of coming across himself. You’re lost in your own world which isn’t helping you out of the punishment of Suguru’s wrath… only makes it harder and harder for him to fight the need to carve his name into your skin.

“My poor poor little slut. You have no clue how much trouble you are, do you?” You gasp as he grips your hair at the base of your skull, forcing you to strain your neck to look into his darkened eyes, “I-I ‘m sorry you had to go to the news to find me, Guru… I won’t be so... S-so careless next time…” Suguru chuckled humorlessly at your words and his grip tightened causing you to whimper. “It's always next time with you… Next time I tell you to do something you fucking do it. Do you understand that you brainless brat?” You nod slightly which only angers him further, Suguru press the very same blade that took the lives of the people from the party and those disgusting pricks in the next room, “Use your fucking words or I’ll cut that pretty little voice box of yours from your throat.” Tears well up in your eyes as you swallow the fear in your chest, “Y-yes daddy.” you mutter timidly. Suguru’s grip loosens slightly, and he gives you a sadistic smile, “That’s my good girl, now stay very still...” He slowly glides the blade down from your throat to the harness of your costume, you keep your eyes on his as he swiftly cuts the leather fabric like it’s nothing. “You have no idea how many people I’ve killed just for looking at you Princess… How many times have I told you to stay out of trouble, hm?” You look around as you think about each time Suguru has told you and you begin to count each moment on your finger, and he laughs mockingly when you do so. “It’s a rhetorical question, dumb bunny.” You pout confused at his statement. “Soooo was I supposed to repeat the question?” He presses the blade against your cheek with light pressure and he smiles as you stiffen at the sensation, “Let me do all the thinking for you,” Suguru unbuckles his belt with his free hand, he pulls out his throbbing cock from its restraints and you gasp softly at the sight of his cock stands a few inches above your lips, “Open your mouth princess.” without hesitation you open your mouth, relaxing your jaw as he slide his cock down your throat with easy. Pushing your face closer to his pelvis “That’s it princess, just relax don’t think.”

Your eyes roll back as you choke with his thick cock down your throat. You squeeze your thighs together, attempting to gain some sort of friction. Suguru groans out feeling you gag on his cock; he smirks as he glides the blade down the laces holding your corset together cutting away the fabric slowly, causing you to flinch.

You gasp at the stinging sensation when the blade deeper against your skin, “Now did I tell you to move princess?” Suguru scold you as he pulls you off his cock, “I-I’m sorry daddy I just really like this outfit...” He mentally rolls his eyes while caressing your cheek and smiling at you, “Don’t worry about that love. We can always replace materialistic things, but we can’t replace you, so stay still like a good girl.” He brushes he cock against your lips, and you gleefully take his cock down your throat once more.

Gaging and moaning at the feeling, he curses under his breath while gripping your hair into a makeshift ponytail pushing his cock deeper down your throat, “Fuuuck baby— such a good little slut. My good little slut, yeah?” He cuts you free of the suffocating corset letting your breasts breathe freely, your eyes water while you look up at him.

That was just what sent him over the edge of holding back, Suguru sets the blade on the couch and grips the back of your head to pull back slightly leaving the tip his cock resting on your tongue, “Take a deep breath f’me sweetheart, time I fuck your throat properly.” Before you could even take in a complete exhale, Suguru shove his cock back down your throat, fucking it relentlessly without any mercy in sight the sounds of his loud groans fill your ears, “Sh-Shit— y-you fucking attention needing slut. You love pissing me off, don’t you? Showing your ass to all those filthy fuckin’ monkeys.” His harsh words leave a pool of excitement dripping down your thighs and the lack of oxygen you dig your nails into his thighs, desperately needing his cock to fill your cunt.

Suguru grunts as you do so and roughly pulls out of your throat, and a long web connects your swollen lips to his tip. You cough roughly whilst finally taking in a deep inhale, “Daddy please? Please fuck me! Can’t wait anymore please? Ple—” Suguru grabs you by the neck pulling you up to your feet, and your bodysuit falls to the floor. He growls into your ear, and more tears fill your eyes as you squeeze your thighs together tightly, “You’re already crying, and I haven’t even touched you yet.” Suguru chuckles darkly while caressing your wet cheek, “If you’re this much of a mess just from sucking my cock, I can’t wait to ruin your cunt.” You let out a choked moan as his grip slightly tightens around your throat, “P-Please?” Begging him to ruin you just how he wants... With those wet red eyes, tears-stained cheeks, swollen lips...

Suguru’s grip tightens as he pulls you closer to whisper in your ear, “Bend over now.” He releases his grip and picks up the blade once more. You step out the bodysuit completely, placing your knees on the couch with your ass in the air then lowering your upper body down to rest on your forearms. “All soaked just from sucking me off? Or did those monkeys get my slut excited, huh?” Suguru glides the blunt side of the blade against your thigh and hip while spreading your slick slowly with his fingers. Shuddering at his touch and the blade against your skin, “O-Only you daddy! Can only get this wet from your tou— mmn!” You whimper softly as the tips of his fingers tease your clit, deepening the arch in your and his cock twitches at the sight. “Such an eager little bunny aren’t you sweetheart?” Suguru places his knee on the couch behind you while keeping the other on the floor.

He taunts your cunt with his tip making you wiggle and moan, “Keep. Still.” His icy voice kept you still as a statue and from making another sound all together. You’d forgotten about the blade against your skin all together, too excited for his cock being deep in your guts…. He’s still pissed off and he’s not letting you off that easily…

Without warning he bottoms you out, pushing every atom of oxygen from your lungs, “You really thought I’m gonna fuck you because you deserve a treat? Oh no princess.. I’m taking away your privilege of being able to walk freely without every step remaining you that you.. belong… to me..” Suguru bullies your cervix with a few more deep thrusts before pulling out, giving just a few seconds to fill your lungs with air again and he slips back into your cunt while gripping you hair to keep you from running away. “Su-Su!— D-Daddy! Wa— fuuuck!” His cock keeps your brain from calling out any mercy you think he’ll have on you, without realizing you cum around his cock and only broken words and screams can be heard. Suguru pulls you up from the couch and bites on your neck harshly, marking you in the most mundane way he can. Fighting his sadistic needs, “Don’t try to talk your way out of this now Princess. Remember you begged for this, so take it.” He growls in your ear while dancing the blade up from your hip to your navel. Fear and pleasure overwhelms your senses as he continues to fuck you like he absolutely despises you, and taunts you with the sharp object against your skin. “D-Daddy pleeease! Ah a— ‘m sorry!” You cry out while panting heavily and drool begins falling from your lips, yet Suguru ignores your pleas and opts for you muffled screams instead. “Bite.” He brings the handle of the blade to your lips and without question you bite on the handle, muffling your sounds. Suguru stops his movements all together leaving you to throb around his twitching cock buried inside of you, “So you listen when you want to and not when you need to, is that right y/n? Or is it because I fucked the remaining brain cells you have outta ya, you can’t complain now?” Hearing him say your name your rolled back eyes start to focus, and your breathing becomes heavier as he only speaks your name when you’re in the type of trouble where no one and nothing could save you from him…

“Oh don’t worry precious. I’m not gonna hurt you… You’re gonna feel real good. I can promise you that, but you don’t get to stop cumming on my cock until I say you’ve learned your lesson.” Suguru takes his free hand and grabs both your wrist, placing them behind your back, giving your neck a kiss before thrusting inside your cunt at an animalistic speed. Your mind short circuits causing your eyes to roll back and muffled screams to leave your lips, “S-Shit you like when I fuck you like this, don’t you? You love being my little brainless whore.” Suguru’s words are confirmed when you scream as your second orgasm hits you harder than the last, and your body trembles uncontrollably. Suguru groans as you tighten and cream around his cock, leading him to chase his high and he tightens his grip on your neck, pulling your body back against his like you’re his personal fuck toy. “Be a good doll and milk my cock, yeah? I just might forgive you for the trouble you caused.”

In your fucked out state, you do as you’re told and bounce back on Suguru cock, trying to match his pace. “That’s it princess. That’s it— Fuuck~” Suguru shoots his load deep inside your cunt, triggering another orgasm of your own. Drool runs down your chin as you tremble and moan out, Suguru groans in your ear and takes the blade from your lips to kiss you passionately. “D-Do you f-forgive me daddy?” You croak out as you look at him with heavy eyes. His raven hair brushes against your cheek as he whispers, “Oh.. Oh princess….. Not even a little.”

A/N: Somewhere along the way during my….. research I ended listening to Badjhur annnnd I haven’t been the same since.. But anyways! Thank you so much for reading!!! 🖤

tags: @fuyuaika @ykimobessed @smolbeanzzz @bontensbabygirl @euvwia @etherealmaya @macsimagines @hoshigray @biscuitsngravie @tojisbutterfly @bunz-lover also!!! If you don’t see your tag it’s because tumblr wouldn’t let me 😭😭 I promise I haven’t forgotten about you 🥺🖤

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fromdove · 25 days ago

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im so curious abt ur shifting experience! can u just like.. talk about it. like have you ever succeeded, is ur script all cute. anything, i wanna know.

OH my god i’m so glad you asked this, anon… you beautiful invisible angel… you glorious mystery being… i’m literally releasing a cloud of doves in your anonymous honour as we speak. they’re circling the sky. flapping dramatically. cooing your name. it’s a whole thing 🕊️🕊️🕊️💌

anyway. uh. anti-shifters? can you like. not. ☹️ go drink water or stare at the sun or something idk. just don’t be weird. if ur mean i will... block you...like instantly. no discussion. no appeals. bonk. banned. this is not a democracy. you do not have freedom of speech here. im the dictator and manager here. sorri ok bye <3

disclaimer warning sirens etc: i hate using the terms “cr” and “dr” 😭 they make my brain itch. but like. what else am i supposed to call them. also i dont know how to use some terms now.....because recently ive been reading so much on non dualism and stuff now im just like....confusion. i tried. i gave up. if i said anything wrong then correct me coz guys....im new to non dualism ok .... frown face. language is fake

OKAY so basically… i used to be completely unwell about scripting. fully. obsessed. i had an entire system. made my own CR script template too—super cute, all baby pinks and blues and beach-summer ahahahah. if anyone wants it lmk bc she’s still tucked safely away in the notion vault mwahaha

BUT nowadays??? i truly do not gaf. not writing all that. there are too many realities i wanna visit. too many ideas. too many lives calling my name. and honestly, my consciousness already knows what i want. i don’t need to give it a 47-page doc. i have stuff to do. like.... shift. LMAO

like YES i know you don’t have to script that much, but i love detail ok......? i love making it pretty and organized and and and. but the list of realities i wanna shift to is so long it’s laughable. it’s soul-deep. i can’t be writing a mini-biography for every version of me out there. it’s too much.

recent update: i’ve been moving away from full-on LOA (law of assumption) and into non-dualism, but i still dabble in LOA stuff. i’m not married to any one framework rn, just learning, testing things out. exploring. walk with me.

soooo i have this concept of a waiting room—like a base i’ll shift to. haven’t scripted it, (lol, theme of the day), because like i said, miss pure consciousness will do it for me because i dont care. buttttt i’ve got a clear-ish version in my head. a rough copy of it in my mind. it’s a central hub that links to all my drs. each reality has its own (huge cutesy) room. i walk through a door, im in the room, theres a portal, if i wanna go that reality i will enter the portal and boom: reality shift. clean. easy. the portal thing is kinda extra but i think its cute

the whole thing’s in this techy-modern disney princess castle. holograms and sparkle. very futuristic. in each room i’ll be able to see all my dr info—faceclaims, lore, backstory, whatever—floating around like glowing holographic tabs. and i can update them whenever i want....prob wont need to tho

some of these realities will be based on existing media, but a lot won’t. some will be entirely original, made by my consciousness from scratch. whole new lives, new people, new vibes. like made from scratch nara smith style (see why i said i cant script for all of them......like some dont even exist in any media here) . i honestly love that kind of freedom.

in the waiting room, i’ll always be 15 (bc i love this age + i am 15 rn), but in the DRs i’ll grow and age normally. the waiting room’s kind of like my “cr” if we must call it that (we mustn’t. but we do). it’s where i come back to.

and it’s not plain either. ofc its not. hello do u know me. it’s a castle. like a CASTLE castle. modern. big, cozy, cinematic. massive bedroom. cinema room. walls of books. every streaming service. and whenever i crave something to eat it just. shows up. logic doesn’t apply. doesnt exist. comfort does !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

so yeah. that’s kind of the rough idea for now. my consciousness will handle the rest tbh. i trust her. anyway. hope this made sense. bye. i’m gonna go eat now <3

#HOLY YAP #⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆fromdove.com .ᐟ #﹙ dove's flight log ₊˚⊹ ⸝⸝#୨୧.𖥔 dovecore 🕊️☆ .ᐟ #💌 — dove replies ˚₊‧#⋆ inbox chirps 🪽#꒰🪽꒱ shifting skies w/ dove #🌫️ dove dr entries ˖ ࣪ ⊹#𖦹 reality dove hop !#🪽 dove assumes it done.#⌗ dove manifests ⋆｡˚#ᡣ𐭩 dove’s loa diary ˖#⊹˚₊ dove l♡ves her dovelings 🕊️⋆˚࿔ !#shifting realities #non dualism

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ersatz-ostrich · 11 months ago

Text

Obvious

Gavin Reed x gn!Detective!reader

Hank isn't looking forward to working with you and Detective Reed on the scene of a murder. However, when he arrives, he notices something rather obvious going on between you and Gavin.

[A/N]: Hey everyone! We interrupt your regular Jason Todd programming to bring you...Gavin Reed? If you've read my other Detroit oneshot, you'll probably notice that this is the same concept, except with Gavin Reed instead of RK900. I love them both and I think they deserve some attention. The reader is gender-neutral but Hank (playing the role of Sherlock here) does mention that Gavin is wearing men's deodorant and so is the reader, which Hank uses to imply that they've been ~together~.

warnings: implied sexual references, glaring absence of beta reading

read here on ao3

Parked on the side of a residential street, Hank Anderson stepped out of the passenger seat of his squad car, too drunk to drive but too sober to turn down a new homicide case. The second his shoe hit the pavement, another squad car barreled past. Its wheels kicked up a wall of muddy water from last night’s storm, leaving Hank drenched.

“Are you alright, Lieutenant?” Asked Connor as he exited from the driver’s side.

“Yeah,” Hank grumbled, shaking himself off and following Connor to the yellow holographic tape surrounding the crime scene. “Guess that’s one way to get sobered up.”

“Ah, there they are. Lieutenant Anderson and his plastic prick of a partner.” Drawled Gavin Reed from behind the yellow tape.

“I’m here to see Detective L/N,” Said Hank, unfazed by yet another showing of Gavin’s barbed tongue.

“Why?” Gavin replied petulantly.

“He was invited,” Connor supplied. “I think Captain Fowler wants us to help analyze the crime scene.

“Well, you know what I think, don’t you?” Gavin fired back. Hank shot Connor a glare. Not helping, Connor.

“No shit, Gavin, of course I do.” Hank pushed past the holographic tape, but paused just as he brushed past Gavin.

“What?”

“You didn’t make it home last night, did you?” Hank muttered, side-eyeing the belligerent detective.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Gavin spat. Sighing forcefully and muttering a string of curses under his breath, he stormed away. “Hank and the fuckin android’re here, bringing ‘em in,” he announced into his radio. Hank and Connor crossed the front yard to the porch, where you were just exiting the house where the victim lay in congealed blood.

“Hello, Lieutenant, Connor.” You greeted the pair in your most cordial voice. “As always, this is a crime scene.” You leaned subtly closer to Hank, whispering in a threatening tone, “Try not to contaminate it.”

“L/N, good to see you again,” Hank chuckled. “Don’t worry, Connor’ll have my hide if I so much as breathe on a sensitive piece of evidence.” His eyes twinkled as he looked you over. “Your landlady outta town?”

“Uh…why are you asking?” You frowned, puzzled.

“Hey hey hey, what’s the hold up over here? We’re on an active crime scene and we’re running on borrowed time!” Gavin complained loudly as he approached the detectives.

“And you, Reed,” Hank’s zeroed in on the feisty detective. “Didn’t make it home last night? At least get someone to feed your cats for you.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“And your deodorant,” Hank pressed on.

“What about it?” Gavin was growing increasingly combative.

“It’s men’s deodorant,” Hank continued.

“Obviously—”

“Detective L/N’s also wearing it,” Clearly amused, Hank raised his brows at the two of you. “Coincidence?” You opened your mouth to say something, but the lieutenant cut you off. “And don’t think nobody noticed that thing on your neck.” Gavin was incensed.

“You son of a bitch—”

“Listen, Hank,” You caught Gavin’s forearm before he could lunge at the man. “Now’s not the time for this discussion. Can we please save this for later?”

“Oh, come on. I don’t care what you two are doing off the clock, but if Fowler finds out, I’m not covering your asses.” You sighed in defeat.

“You know what, I’ll take it. Thanks, Hank.”

“Anytime. Come on, Connor, let’s go check out this mess.” Connor, who had been silently observing the exchange and concealing his amusement with the skill of Cyberlife’s most advanced investigator prototype, followed Hank into the house without further question.

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

~~~~~~~~PLEASE HELP ME I NEED A BETTER DIVIDER~~~~~~~~~~

[A/N]: So what do we think, folks? Does Gavin wear something generic like Old Spice? Or is he the type of guy who wears cologne? Now that I've written that down, that question sounds hella creepy ("hmm what does this fictional male character smell like?"). But I really do wanna know if he makes enough money as a police detective to wear Dior Sauvage on the regular or something like that bc I feel like if he could he totally would.

Hope you guys enjoyed! Until next time x

let me know if you want to be added to the general taglist!

#gavin reed #gavin reed x reader #dbh #detroit become human

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ioniansunsets · 1 year ago

Note

Hello yuno! As vday is coming i have an idea or scenario if every heartsteel kayn were to receive handmade chocolates from his f-crush how would he react to it or feel or whichever way you would like owo!!! Feeling like the young kayn in high school moment ♡♡please take your time and its ok you dont have to rush it

✖ Valentine’s Confession Highschool Kayn ✖

✖ Word Count: 1.2k Words

✖ Tags: Mutual Pinning! Awkward young love.

✖ A/N: I wrote a mutual confession thing cause I thought it’ll be cute! I really put my whole IonianSunsussy into this please enjoy it. [Actually the idea of highschool sweethearts Kayn is also really cute. Like imagine the gap moe. He never talks about it and then during Paranoia’s debut he’s just like “ hey can I get an extra VIP ticket? My partner wants to watch.” and everyone is like ??????? and he’s like ??? “ Yeah I’ve been dating them since we were like 15. 6th year anniversary is this weekend.”]

✖ Wrote This Listening To: He just wants to be Somebody to You. I think the whole lone wolf that fell head over heels in love is cute for him hahahhaha

----

Kayn isn’t sure if he should be laughing or crying. Here he is, standing outside your club room at what, 5pm in the evening? Guitar strapped behind his back and a little gift in his hands. Ok, so he had liked you for a while now, so what, nothing wrong with love. Love was badass. So he decided to do something about those irritating feelings and bought you chocolates. So what! So, he decided it was just not hardcore enough, and went to melt and make his own fucking valentine’s chocolates for you. So What!

Maybe he baked cookies too huh? Is that so bad! Is it so bad that he got Akali to lend him some fancy stationery to write you some shitty fucking love letter! Its hardcore, its over the top! It’s how The Shieda Kayn should confess. Nothing subpar, none of that weak, half-assed work. Only the best. You only deserve everything and then some. You deserve the handmade chocolates. You deserve the expensive store bought ones he got too. You deserve that nicely wrapped box with the fancy hand cut crinkle paper in the pretty gift bag. You deserve the handmade cookies that he painstakingly made in your favorite flavor, with the cute icing of Rhaast and the matching handmade sprinkles (that Zed so kindly helped him with). You deserve the effort he took, the countless nights of planning to write down a very well written rap (confessional love poem) for you. You deserve the scented paper (his cologne) and the cool stickers on the envelope (its holographic hearts).

You deserve someone better than him.

He winces as he accidentally bit his lip too hard. Suddenly brought back to the reality of how long he has spent standing by this door. Another click of his tongue, he continues irritatingly tapping his foot while he reconsiders all he’s about to do. Was it creepy? Waiting for you after club activities? What? People should call it romantic right? It…it Was romantic…right? Waiting an extra hour or two after his own extra classes for Your own club activities to finish? I mean, he worked hard growing the balls to ask you to wait for him after school. You said yes earlier too! This is not creepy, this is just him living up to promises he made with you. This is. Normal. Yeah. Totally normal. Romance will die when he lets it. Kayn swallows hard, hand gripping tighter to the ribbon handles of the beautiful gift bag he spent his allowance on. The contents on the bag feeling heavier and heavier by the minute.

Knocking the door with his other hand, Kayn slowly peers into the club room. Slowly opening the door, he enters silently. The sickly blinding white fluorescent room lights mixing with the oranges of the late afternoon sun streaming in from the open windows. Kayn looks around, catching sight of you standing by the closet in the corner of the room packing up whatever it was that you did after school.

" Hey. I’m here like I said." " Kayn!"

He watches as you jump, fumbling as you try to hide whatever it is that was in the closet. Raising an eyebrow, he stands there, giving you an awkward smile as his eyes narrow to discern just what it is you were hiding from him.

“ Oh? Oh~ What is that huh?”

Kayn teases you, hiding his own gift behind his back as he walks over, trying to peer in and see what you’re so desperately hiding from him. As you look back at him with feigned irritation on your face, some quick maneuvers later you managed to hide whatever it is on the shelf behind your back.

“ You first. What’s that huh?”

As you ask him the question, a slow red blush creeps up his cheeks. Slowly you lean over to him, trying to see what is it that he’s holding behind His back. It can’t be right. No way life would treat someone like him this well. No way, no way. You were too close way too close. He swallows hard, leaning back to try and hide what he can behind his guitar case while also leaning away from you. So close to him that he could feel not only your presence in his personal space but the delectable warmth radiating off your skin. As your eyes meet his with that mischievous glint, he freezes. Stunned by both your beauty and the sudden realization that he should get this done and over with before he backs out. A shakily smug smile creeps onto his face as he tries his best to tamp down his anxiety with his Kayn branded cockiness. Was this something everyone went through? Were first loves and confessions this bad for everybody? God, he could feel his palms sweating again. Kayn coughs lightly to clear his throat before proudly thrusting the fancy bag in your face.

“ I…worked really hard on a little something for you. I hope you like it.”

Barely audible, Kayn whispers as he looks away shy. Contrary to his earlier actions, he gently lowers his hands and places the gift into your embrace. His eyes dart around the room, not able to meet your gaze, Kayn seemingly shrinks away from you with the realization of his past few days worth of effort all hitting him at once. The Valentine’s day gift was literally out of his hands now. A breathy laugh escapes him before he finally finds the meager courage to look at you again. And of course, he was instantly awestruck. How could he not be with you. Looking back at him with that tender look, the way your own lips slowly curl into a smile, the sparkle in your eyes as you look from him to the gift in your hands back at him.

“ Kayn…”

” No. Don’t say anything, just…go read the thing when you’re home alone. I don’t wanna hear it! I’m going!”

As he turns to leave, you quickly grab his arm, pulling him back with a quick jerk. Eyes closed, you press your lips against his. Kayn’s own eyes go wide as he looks, unblinking, back at you in shock. He was now suddenly very, very aware of what it felt like when people talked about time feeling like it's stopping.

“ And this is for you.”

You quickly return a similarly lovingly wrapped box into his hands. Kayn frozen in place, his heart working in overdrive, thumping so loudly he was sure he would get a heart attack right here right now. His face such a bright red that the blush reaches up to his ears and also spread down his chest. You could see it peaking through his unbuttoned collar when your gaze trailed down. Before his brain could even begin to regain function you quickly wave to him, scrambling to pick up your bag you run off. Leaving Kayn flustered and alone in the empty classroom as the sun begins to set. You too had to leave his presence before the embarrassment of what went down caught up to you too.

There would be a lot for you guys to talk about tomorrow at school.

Link to fanart for this!

#Shieda Kayn #Heartsteel!Kayn #Kayn x Reader #Kayn League #Kayn LoL #KaynLeague #SCENARIO #Van1shiro #HAPPY VALENTINES #I spent like a few hours on this LMFAO #feelings entirely drawn from my own romantic experiences #I LOVE ROMANCE #god this is so good i really outdid myself with this #im shy all aoishdaoihdoais reading my own work #I LOVE YOU SHIEDA KAYN!!!!!!!!!

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beefromanoff · 25 days ago

Text

Project Mockingbird Ch. 28

summary: the team goes on a mission, minus Bucky and Char who are...sidelined.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: hello again loveliesssss! sorry for the less frequent uploads, i'm trying to stay consistent on both stories rn and also life is crazy. i have a really big final arc planned for this story and i want to do it justice so pls let me know if you're still with me and enjoying this story! THANK YOU FOR READING!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge @cjand10 @capswife @otterlycanadian @read-just-cant-stop

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

The hum of the simulation room filled the air like white noise, smooth and constant. Early morning light filtered through the high windows of the compound, casting long shadows across the polished floor. Outside, clouds loitered, heavy and gray, but inside the mood was brighter—if a little charged.

Charlotte tugged her ponytail tight and stepped up to the control panel. Natasha and Steve flanked her, suited up in training gear. Calla lounged nearby, observing with arms crossed and a crooked smirk on her face.

Steve sighed as Charlotte keyed in the simulation parameters. “I still don’t know why I agreed to this first thing in the morning.”

Natasha’s expression didn’t budge. “Because you’re a professional, Rogers.”

"Because you’re hoping to learn some new moves," Charlotte said smoothly, not even looking up from the control panel. "From your two favorite girls who also happen to be able to kick your ass."

Natasha smirked, tilting her head. "Speaking of new moves, how’s the training room extracurriculars going? You seem to be an avid learner these days."

Charlotte clicked a few buttons, fighting a grin. "I like a full-body workout. Instructor is a menace though. I've never been more sore in my life."

Steve groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose like he could will himself out of the room. "Please, for the love of all things decent, spare me."

Natasha pressed on mercilessly. "Just saying, I've never trained so hard I broke gym equipment and a doorframe in one session."

"I do what I can," Charlotte replied, deadpan.

"You do who you can," Natasha corrected, not even attempting to veil her allusions.

Steve held up both hands. "I’m begging you. Begging. No more."

His gaze caught the setup of the scenario Charlotte had programmed. His brows pulled together. “Huh.”

Natasha followed his gaze to the screen, reading the parameters over his shoulder. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Bit specific, isn’t it?”

Charlotte shrugged, casual. Too casual. “Keeps me sharp.”

Steve didn’t look convinced. “Hydra infiltration layout, tiered guards, perimeter breach points…we've done a variation of this every run for the last two weeks.”

Natasha crossed her arms, giving Charlotte a pointed glance. “Coincidence?”

“Totally.” Charlotte met her look evenly. "I mean, how many other global terrorist organizations do we have to rotate through? Our options are pretty limited." She turned and went back to punching in a few things on the monitor.

Steve watched her, but let it go—for now. He tapped his shield against his boot like he was filing the thought away for later.

“Alright,” Charlotte said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get started before Old Man Rogers starts to show signs of rigor mortis.” She winked at him before walking towards the middle of the massive open room as the holographic walls began to ripple, the simulation unfolding around them. The florescent lighting shifted to mimic a cold night sky, stars hidden behind grey clouds. The smooth flooring was replaced by hard, frozen ground. An ominous building took shape up ahead of them, the infamous Hydra logo emblazoned on the door.

Steve muttered under his breath, half to Natasha, half to himself, “I’m going to mention this to Bucky.”

Natasha’s eyes stayed forward, voice low as they walked. “Good idea.”

____

The common room hummed with easy noise—silverware clinking against plates, chairs scraping back from the long table as people settled in with full plates and superhuman appetites.

Charlotte slid into her seat at the far end, tucking one leg beneath her and snagging a bread roll off the communal basket before it could make its rounds. Calla was already seated across from her, stirring something into her drink with deliberate slowness. Wanda and Peter chatted quietly nearby, Wanda nudging him every time he gestured too wildly with his fork.

Sam arrived last, setting down a casserole dish with the smug flair of a man who absolutely did not make it himself. "Dinner is served," he announced, despite having obviously swiped it from the SHIELD commissary.

"You heated it up," Charlotte pointed out dryly.

"Which is more than Barnes did," Sam shot back, dropping into the chair beside her.

Bucky, seated to Charlotte’s left, didn’t look up from his plate. "I hunt. I gather. I provide."

"You men and your primitive coping mechanisms," Calla murmured, taking a sip of her drink.

Steve, across the table, smiled faintly but didn’t engage, too focused on slicing into his portion like it had personally offended him.

Peter, wide-eyed and earnest, pointed his fork at Sam. "Wait, you actually know how to cook? That’s so cool."

"First of all," Sam said, leaning back with mock offense, "yes. Second of all, none of you get to act surprised after I carried dinner home like a victorious champion. Third of all—"

"Don’t say it," Bucky warned, eyes narrowing without looking up.

Sam grinned anyway. "Third of all, as long as you two stay out of my bedroom, we’ll call it even."

Charlotte didn’t miss a beat. She bit into her roll, chewed thoughtfully, then said around her bite, "No promises."

Peter coughed into his water. Wanda elbowed him, fighting back a grin.

"Sam," Steve sighed, already regretting his life choices.

"What?" Sam lifted his hands innocently. "Somebody had to say it. Whole training wing's still under repair. Maintenance has questions. I have questions. Mostly about how structurally unsound our infrastructure apparently is."

Calla chimed in without looking up from her plate. "I don’t think it was the infrastructure. I think it was operator error. Or operator enthusiasm."

Charlotte raised her glass slightly, like she was toasting the accusation. "Guilty as charged."

Bucky, deadpan, finally glanced up. "You’re all very lucky I like this bread. Otherwise, I’d leave."

"Like you could leave her side for more than five minutes," Sam muttered, earning a glare that was half-hearted at best.

The banter rolled on as plates filled and refilled. The conversation shifted to tomorrow’s mission, the easy mood dimming just a shade.

"We’re wheels up at 0500," Steve reminded them. "Simple extraction. Should be in and out."

An awkward pause settled over the table. Everyone knew who wasn’t included in "we."

Charlotte broke it smoothly, raising her glass again. "Well, some of us will be here holding down the fort. Providing moral support. Making sarcastic commentary. Keeping Sam’s room warm."

Sam barked a laugh, pointing his fork at her. "I swear, you so much as breathe in my doorway—"

"—and you’ll do what?" Charlotte shot back, one brow raised.

Sam opened his mouth, paused, then chuckled as he shook his head. "Touché."

The tension bled away under the warmth of familiar rhythms. They slipped back into easier conversation, plates scraped clean, glasses emptied and refilled. Even as the night wound down, the current beneath it all remained—quiet, but steady.

Charlotte felt it thrumming beneath her ribs, thrumming louder than the laughter around her.

Soon.

_____

They hadn’t been spending many nights apart—not since they reconciled. Not every evening ended in tangled sheets or flushed skin, but they always ended up in the same bed. Sometimes Charlotte crashed in his room, sometimes he ended up in hers. Sometimes they talked until they passed out. Sometimes they didn’t talk at all. But they hadn’t been alone, not really, in days.

Tonight, Bucky’s room. The compound was quiet around them, dipped in late-night stillness. Outside, storm clouds loomed, but only the occasional gust of wind rattled the windows. Inside, the warmth between them was dense and steady. Charlotte lay curled against him, one leg hooked over his thigh, breathing slow, dreams weightless.

Until his weren’t.

It started in his breathing—shallow and sharp, chest rising faster. Then the tension came, coiled in every limb. His fingers twitched. A faint sound escaped his throat, somewhere between a growl and a gasp.

Charlotte’s eyes fluttered open. She tensed but didn’t startle, didn’t move suddenly. She just watched him for a second, wide and wary eyes studying him in the darkness. Then she shifted, bracing herself on one elbow.

“Bucky,” she murmured softly, voice low but firm. No answer. He was too deep in it. Too lost.

She tried first with a whisper, brushing the hair from his forehead. "Bucky," she murmured again, a little louder this time. Still nothing.

Her palm pressed flat to his chest, feeling the erratic thunder of his heartbeat. She gave his shoulder a shake. "Hey. You're safe. It's okay."

He didn’t stir. If anything, his body coiled tighter. Then, suddenly, he jerked—one sharp, panicked movement that nearly knocked her off the bed. Charlotte caught herself, breath caught in her throat.

That was when she knew: words wouldn’t work. Not this time. He was too far gone.

So she changed tactics.

She pressed her palm to his chest again. His skin was damp with sweat, heartbeat erratic beneath her hand. Her fingers slid lower, down his taut stomach, over his flexed muscles. She climbed over him, slow, one thigh sliding across his hips until she was straddling him. He was rigid beneath her, still caught in some far-off hell, but the warmth of her, the weight of her—it cut through.

“Come back to me,” she said, soft but commanding.

His breathing hitched. His hands fisted the sheets.

Charlotte rolled her hips gently once—just enough to stir something deeper. Then again. A low sound left his throat, almost wounded.

His eyes opened, finally. Glazed and wild, pupils blown wide. He stared up at her like she’d dragged him from the bottom of the ocean.

“You’re not dreaming anymore,” she whispered.

His voice cracked. “You sure?”

She leaned down, brushing her nose against his. “Positive.”

He reached for her—grasping, desperate. His hands found her hips, fingers digging in. She caught his wrists before he could flip them, pinned them to the mattress. Her pace didn’t change.

“Breathe,” she told him. “With me.”

He did.

She shifted slightly, lifting just enough to slip her sleep shorts down her legs and off the bed. Bucky’s breath hitched, but he didn’t stop her—just reached for the waistband of his own boxers and tugged them down, rough and impatient. Skin to skin now, the contact finally broke through what little fog remained.

She sank down on him slowly, a low gasp caught in her throat as he filled her. His hands clutched her hips, holding on like she was the only thing anchoring him to the present.

Bucky let out a shuddered breath, wrecked. “Fuck, Char…”

The rhythm between them built, slow but relentless. Not polished. Not gentle. Raw, like something scraped bare. Every roll of her hips reclaimed him. Every movement said you’re here, you’re safe, you’re mine.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” she breathed, dragging his full name out like a lifeline. “Stay with me.”

He choked on a laugh—wrecked, breathless. “You…you keep doing that, I’m not gonna survive.”

“You’ve survived worse.”

His hands cupped her face now, thumbs brushing her cheekbones. “You’re the only thing that keeps me alive.”

She stilled, leaning down so her forehead pressed to his while he was still embedded deeply inside her.

The storm outside cracked, wind howling against the windowpanes.

They didn’t move.

Eventually, she collapsed onto his chest, their skin sticky, hearts thudding in sync. His hand slid into her hair, holding her there like if he let go, she might disappear.

Neither of them spoke. But his nightmares didn't come back that night.

___

The kitchen lights were still set to their low nighttime mode when Charlotte padded into the common room, sweatshirt sleeves hanging down past her hands and hair still damp from a quick rinse. Outside, the world was still a shadow—barely past dawn, grey clouds low and unmoving—but inside, the coffee smelled strong, and the mission team was gearing up. One thing they all had in common was a passionate distaste for overhead lighting, especially early in the morning.

Steve stood by the counter, mug in hand, scanning his tablet with military focus. Wanda and Sam leaned against the island, mid-conversation, while Natasha slid two Pop-Tarts into the toaster. Peter, who'd flow in sometime the night before, was bouncing on the balls of his feet, was trying to stifle a yawn.

Charlotte leaned on the opposite counter, stealing the last clean mug and pouring herself a cup of coffee. “You all look like the cautionary shot at the beginning of a Folgers commercial.”

Sam gave her a look. “That’s because we’re the only competent ones left. Somebody’s gotta save the world while you and Barnes play house.”

“Please,” Charlotte replied, sipping her coffee. “I’d hardly call ‘rescuing the senator’s idiot son from being kidnapped again so his daddy doesn't have to pay the ransom he can definitely afford’ world-saving. Sounds more like community service.”

Natasha didn’t even look up from her pastries. “She’s got a point. The kid practically FaceTimed his kidnappers to give them his location.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t mean it’s not important. International optics, political leverage—”

“Oh yeah,” Charlotte cut in, voice flat. “Nothing screams geopolitical leverage like a hostage who tried to bribe his captors with crypto and feet pics.”

Peter choked on his orange juice. “Wait, what?”

Wanda winced. “I didn’t need that image. It’s too early.”

"To be fair," Nat spoke through a full mouth. "Foot photos from an incredibly conservative and polarizing politician's son would probably fetch a pretty penny from the right buyer."

Charlotte pointed at her, raising her eyebrows at Sam. "See!"

“I see nothing,” Sam said, splitting the remaining coffee in the pot between his mug and Charlotte's. “Except a mission briefing and an order. Which I follow. Because I'm not benched.”

“Ouch,” Charlotte muttered, sipping her coffee.

"If you can't take the heat..." he winked at her and began making another pot.

At that moment, Bucky entered, looking like he’d already lost a fight with the morning. Hair damp, sweatshirt loose, and expression set to default scowl. He walked straight to the counter and reached for the coffee pot only to realize it had mere drops in it. The look on his face when he turned was nothing short of a grimace.

“Aw,” Sam said sweetly. “Did the caveman not get his beauty sleep?”

Bucky didn’t even blink. “Keep talking and I’m putting your toothbrush in the toilet.”

"Good morning to you too, sunshine."

"Sam, if you keep provoking the rogue agents, we aren't responsible for what happens to you." Nat warned.

Steve chuckled, setting down his mug. “Okay, okay. We’re wheels up in forty-five. Let's move down to the equipment room.”

There was a pause. Everyone nodded. Quiet but comfortable. Shifting into action mode, like they'd done dozens of times before. As they filed toward the elevator, Sam turned and pointed a finger at Bucky. “And stay outta my damn room.”

“Go to hell, Wilson.”

Peter looked between them, wide-eyed. “Why would he be in your—?”

“Don’t ask,” Wanda said quickly, grabbing Peter by the shoulder and steering him out of the room.

Charlotte sipped her coffee and watched them go, her expression unreadable. She didn’t say anything until the last of them disappeared behind the sliding doors.

Then she looked up at Bucky. “Wanna run a sim?”

He glanced at her. “A little early for that, don’t you think?”

“C’mon,” she said, already moving. “You know I get cranky if I don’t get my fix of simulated death before noon.”

Bucky followed with a sigh, coffee in hand. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“I'm just keeping you sharp. You should be thanking me.”

Bucky paused behind her, then reached out and pulled her close by the waist. His voice was quiet, rough-edged. "I should be thanking you. For last night."

Charlotte leaned into him, fingers brushing over the back of his hand where it rested against her stomach. "You already did. Quite thoroughly, if I remember."

He huffed a small laugh, but his tone stayed earnest. "Not for that."

She turned in his arms, meeting his gaze. There was something steady in it. It was open, honest in a way he didn’t always allow himself to be. He wasn’t thanking her for anything physical and they both knew it.

Her hands slid up his chest. "Don't mention it."

They stood like that for a moment, close and still and warm in the quiet kitchen. She nudged him lightly. "You disappointed you’re not going with them?"

Bucky’s expression twisted into a dry smirk. "You mean am I crushed to miss Sam’s impassioned speeches and Peter’s early morning optimism? Devastated."

Charlotte smiled, but didn’t let him off the hook. "I’m serious. I just want to make sure you don’t regret benching yourself."

He shook his head. "I don’t. Not for a second."

She searched his face, but whatever she was looking for, she seemed to find it. Finally, she nodded. "Okay. Good. Sim?"

Bucky glanced around the now-empty room, then back to her. “We’ve got the place to ourselves. Sit with me a minute.”

Charlotte hesitated, eyes flicking toward the elevator. “I was kinda hoping to get the jump on you while you’re still groggy.”

“Sit,” he repeated, guiding her gently toward the barstools at the kitchen island. “We never get the quiet.”

She relented, dropping beside him with a sigh. “Fine. But I'll need a refill.”

He didn’t answer right away, just raised an eyebrow as he reached for the pot and brought it over to her raised mug. Her eyes stayed on the pour, a flicker of tension just behind her teasing smile. He caught it—barely, but it was there.

“You okay?” he asked, casual but careful.

Charlotte’s voice was too light. “Just eager to kick your ass in a training sim. What, is that illegal now?”

His gaze didn’t waver.

She nudged him. “If you make pancakes, I’ll stay.”

Bucky raised a brow. “Chocolate chips?”

“Obviously.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

They settled back in the quiet. Just for now.

___

The sim room was cold and cavernous, echoing with their footsteps as they stepped inside. Charlotte keyed in a sequence at the console, fingers flying with practiced ease. Of all the team members, she logged the most hours training here. Whether it was her distaste for the SHIELD agents, her free time from being one of the few that didn’t assist with training them, or the fact that she was a chronic yes man to all the others and never declined a chance to train with them, it had become her most-frequented spot at the compound.

Bucky leaned against the edge of the console, arms crossed as he looked her over. Her outfit was full combat-ready: black tactical pants tucked into scuffed boots, utility belt fastened with spare mags and two pistols holstered, tight compression top layered beneath a reinforced vest holding a dozen knives at her ribs, shoulders armored, her own version of the Widow’s Bite wrist arsenals on each arm. Her hair was tied back in a high braid, and her gloves were already on. She looked more like she was heading into a battlefield than a simulated spar.

“You know they make training suits for a reason, right?”

Charlotte didn’t even glance up. “And miss the opportunity to haul thirty pounds of gear around for no reason? Sounds lazy.”

“It wouldn't take you ten minutes to suit up if you didn’t wear the full tac suit. You planning to deploy mid-simulation?”

She finished setting up the program and shot him a smug look as it began to whir to life around them. “Train like you’ll fight, soldier.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “You sound like Steve.”

“No wonder you like me so much.”

She turned to the center of the room as the grey walls shifted into the landscape she’d selected. Bucky followed suit, taking it in. “This base looks familiar. Is this…is this Hydra?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been using a lot of their base layouts lately.”

“That’s weird.”

“It’s not weird.”

“It’s very weird.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why would you choose to put yourself in this setting, Char?”

“Call it exposure therapy.” She grinned. “Maybe I just like watching you shoot Nazis.”

His brows furrowed. He didn’t buy it, but he let it go.

“Alright, do you want to keep chatting, or can we kick some ass now?”

Bucky rolled his eyes but pulled the guns from each of his thigh holsters and began to walk through the field towards the looming building in front of them. Charlotte took a breath, set her shoulders and followed.

___

Afternoon light filtered through the high windows of the training wing, casting long, slanted shadows over the gym mats and racks of weapons. The place was nearly empty with most of the team on mission, and Bucky now roped into teaching not only his ordinary training groups, but also Steve and Sam's. Charlotte, left to her own devices, was burning through her third workout of the day. After their joint simulation, she'd big goodbye to Bucky and then run the same one two more times herself. Each time, she'd vary the parameters or the circumstances just enough to keep her on her toes. By the time she'd made it to the training room, she was already tired and bruised all over. That was hours ago.

Her breathing was heavy, sharp and rhythmic. Sweat clung to her temple as she finished her another run—twenty burpees, a hundred-meter sprint, twenty pushups, kettlebell swings, a full-body throw against the sandbag dummy, then again. And again.

She paused at the edge of the mat, swiping her forearm across her brow before glancing at her bracelet. Still amber. But barely. Not red. Not even close. Not yet.

Charlotte exhaled, dragging in the humid air through her nose. She was stronger now. Her limits had stretched in the last few weeks—what once pushed her into burnout now just made her tired. She wasn’t Steve, wasn’t Bucky. But she wasn’t the girl that blacked out in the woods, either.

She adjusted the wraps on her hands and moved to the heavy bag, striking with clean, brutal precision. Her hits were faster now. Sharper. Less rage, more control.

The room echoed with the rhythm of her fists.

She put everything she had into every strike.

Train like you fight.

____

Bright lights. Too many colors. The endless hum of slot machines. Charlotte sat at the bar, drink in hand, posture relaxed but eyes sharp.

Across the casino, a senator swept in with six security guards flanking her. Suits. Dark glasses. The works. Charlotte’s entire body went still.

The way they moved. The silence around them. It was too clean. Too precise. Too Hydra.

She stared at her drink. Her hands trembled.

They’ll never stop coming for me.

She finished the glass. Left without saying a word.

That night, in her hotel room, she woke up gasping, fingers digging into the mattress. Sweat soaked her shirt. A knock at a door down the hall made her flinch.

She didn’t sleep again.

Back then, she told herself she’d run forever if she had to.

Now, she knew better.

She wouldn’t run. Not anymore.

The common room was oddly quiet for the evening, the lack of noise and laughter even more apparent at night. Sounds of cooking filled the air, but Charlotte was too distracted to really listen to them. From Bucky's room, the water shut off with a dull hiss, and a moment later, he stepped into the hallway, towel slung low on his hips. His hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends. He padded barefoot into the kitchen and paused.

Charlotte stood in front of the stove, arms crossed, brow furrowed at the screen of her phone propped up on the counter. A cooking video played silently, all fast cuts and aesthetic angles.

"I don’t want to hear you narrate it," she grumbled at the screen. "I want to see your damn hands."

Despite her frustration, the kitchen smelled incredible—roasted garlic, lemon, something spicy.

"Smells like you figured it out anyway," Bucky said, tugging a shirt on as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Trial and error," Charlotte muttered, still squinting at the phone. "Heavy on the error."

"You didn't have to go to all this trouble, y'know. It's just us."

She glanced over her shoulder, catching his eye with a smile. "Well, I owed you a meal," she said, nodding toward the stove. "You made pancakes. Figured I should return the favor."

"So whatever I do for you, you'll return the favor?" he asked, stepping closer, brushing a hand against the curve of her back. "Remind me to cash in more often."

"You’re insufferable," she said, though the corner of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to grin.

"But charming. And hungry," he added. "Come on. Let’s eat on the balcony. It’s a nice night—and Wanda’s not here to insist we all eat at the table."

Charlotte let out a theatrical gasp. "Finally, some anarchy around here."

They took their plates outside and settled in as the sky began to deepen. She continued to make excuses for her cooking and curse the nearly impossible-to-mimic video, but when they sat down to eat—plates balanced on the small balcony table, a light breeze brushing past them—the meal was damn near perfect.

They didn’t talk much at first. The sun was sinking low, bathing the compound grounds in amber light.

Charlotte nudged his leg under the table with hers. "So, Pancake Chef Extraordinaire. That what you’d be doing if your world hadn’t fallen apart?"

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Something like that. Steve and I always thought we’d stay in Brooklyn. He wanted to be an artist. I always said I'd get a real job, maybe something in finance. One of us would have to be able to make rent."

"I can't picture you in a suit, but I don't think I'd hate the sight."

He gave her a side glance. "Don't get your hopes up."

She smiled into her glass. "Maybe our next undercover job you'll get to live out your Wall Street fantasies."

"My fantasy or yours?" He raised an eyebrow.

"One and the same."

He chuckled, then went quiet for a beat. "I haven't given thought to what else I'd do in a long time."

Charlotte turned toward him, her voice soft. "I don't know that I ever really have."

Bucky looked at her for a long second, eyes tracing the slope of her profile in the amber light. “You’re still young. Plenty of time to figure it out.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Young is relative.”

He reached out, brushing a thumb across her cheekbone. “Hey,” he said gently. “You’re not exactly running out of time.”

She leaned into his touch—just for a second—then pulled back with a quick shake of her head, as if chasing away a thought. “Anyway,” she said brightly, rising to her feet and collecting their plates. “Dinner’s not gonna clear itself.”

Bucky stood up with her, catching her wrist before she could step inside. “Hey. Sit down. I’ve got it.”

“You cooked and cleaned this morning,” she argued.

“And doing a few more dishes won't kill me. Let me do this.” His voice was soft but firm. “Sit. Breathe. Enjoy the quiet for a minute.”

Charlotte hesitated, but something in his eyes settled her.

She handed over the plates with a grateful look. “Fine. But I’m picking the movie tonight.”

“You picked last time,” he called over his shoulder.

She smirked. “And I’ll pick the next one, too. Get used to it.”

When he returned, Charlotte didn’t turn from where she stood at the railing, soaking in the last of the light. She just leaned into his side as he slid an arm around her waist. They stood like that for a while, quiet.

Then she shifted to face him, her hand rising to touch his jaw. He was freshly shaven, and she ran her thumb slowly along his cheekbone.

"Char," he murmured, eyes on her lips. "Yeah?"

"I don't wanna watch a movie."

She blinked up at him, lips parting. “No?”

He shook his head, voice low. “No.”

Charlotte's breath caught. “How did you plan to pass the time?”

“Hmm.” His hands slid to her hips, thumbs pressing into the dip of her waist. “Thought about a few ways today.”

Her fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt. “Mmm, do tell.”

“I think I'd rather show you.”

He leaned in, kissing her like it was inevitable. Slow and unhurried. Like they had forever. Her hands rose to his shoulders, then tangled in his hair as he deepened it. She opened for him, melting into the kiss as if her entire body knew what came next.

He pulled her closer, hands sliding down her back, under the hem of her shirt. Skin to skin. She sighed into him.

They parted only long enough to breathe.

“I never want to stop kissing you,” she whispered against his mouth.

“Good,” he rasped. “Because I’m obsessed with you.”

She laughed quietly, lips brushing his again. “Let’s go inside.”

He caught her wrist gently. “No. Stay here. Sun’s down. Sky’s ours.”

They lowered onto the cushioned bench near the railing, limbs tangled. His mouth never left her skin—her collarbone, her shoulder, the side of her neck. Every kiss slow, deliberate.

She shifted to straddle him, hands finding the hem of her shirt and tugging it up over her head. His eyes darkened, hungry and reverent all at once. He helped her shimmy out of her bottoms, his own hands dragging at his waistband.

The first moment they came together was soft and devastating—her hips rolling down slow, his breath a shudder in her ear.

They moved like they knew every inch of each other. Because they did.

Outside, the sky turned deep navy, a single star blinking above the horizon.

Neither of them noticed.

_____

Bright lights. Too many colors. The endless hum of slot machines layered over the clink of ice in glasses and low laughter. Charlotte sat at the bar, drink in hand, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. Her reflection in the mirrored shelves behind the bar looked normal. Composed. Almost bored.

But her pulse was racing.

Across the casino floor, a senator swept in with six security guards flanking him. Suits. Dark glasses. Earpieces. The works.

Charlotte’s entire body went still.

The way they moved. The tight formation. The silence around them, the way conversations seemed to bend around their presence.

Too clean. Too precise. Too Hydra.

She turned her face toward her drink, heart pounding so hard it made the glass tremble in her grip. Her palms were slick. Her mouth dry.

A flash of movement at the corner of her vision—a guard adjusting his sleeve. She flinched.

Her breath came short. Her chest ached with the effort of staying calm, staying still, staying invisible. She couldn’t remember how to breathe.

They’ll never stop coming for me.

She left the bar without finishing her drink, tossing a hundred dollar chip onto the marble surface before stumbling out onto the neon-soaked street. She thought she could outrun the feeling. That maybe if she just kept walking, it wouldn’t follow. She kept her head down. Her heels clacked rapidly against the concrete as she bobbed through the crowd.

Just keep moving. Just keep going.

She must have walked a mile before beginning to slow down, finally daring to lift her head up. Right as she did, she walked smack into the chest of a suited man towering over her. Viselike fists gripped her arms as he muttered into an earpiece.

"Ich hab sie. Sie kommt nach Hause.“ I've got her. She's coming home.

Charlotte sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath, thrashing to break free from a grip that only existed in her mind. Her chest heaved as Bucky sat upright next to her, immediately rubbing her back.

"Breathe, baby," He murmured, sleep weighing down his voice. "You're safe, I'm here."

She nodded, but couldn't form words. Just kept choking down oxygen. Her hands balled into fists against the plush comforter, grounding herself in this room. This compound. In freedom. She hadn't had this nightmare since she left Las Vegas. It used to plague her nearly every night, making her move hotels, change her hair, hole up in her room for days on end. She hadn't had it in months, and yet here was the feeling all over again. The horrific, suffocation realization that no matter where she went, they'd never stop coming for her.

Back then, she told herself she’d run forever if she had to. She’d burn through passports, disappear, erase herself. She'd stay one step again, stay gone for the rest of her life.

Now, she was different.

She wouldn’t run. Not anymore.

#james bucky barnes #avengers #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fluff

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meltedbluecaterpillar · 3 months ago

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Hi dear!

I hope you are still taking requests, if not I sincerely apologize.

However, I would like to request an Ai Mikaze x Reader fic of him overstimulating the reader? Go wild with it~. But if not, I understand fully. No worries! Thank you!

Holographic Photocard

A/N: Hello Alice. I will apologize upfront; Ai is a character I tend to struggle writing. But I wanted to give this my best shot. So, I do hope that you enjoy it.

tags: Ai Mikaze x gn!afab!reader, overstimulation, cock warming, hitachi play wc: 724

You had gone to Akihabara to one of the pop-up events for Quartet Night. You loved collecting photocards, keychains, love letters, anything pertaining to your favorite idol. You had made many friends to trade and collect with for your favorite Quartet Night members. And they always gave you the Ai cards and assortments of merch they received.

They didn’t know that you were closer to Ai than just a photocard. And you wanted to keep it that way.

Your backpack was discarded by the door the moment you entered Ai’s little apartment. He had you in his lap on the vinyl fabric couch. Your legs were shaking. One of your hands clawed at the pale pink fabric of his long-sleeved shirt. The dull motor in the vibrating wand was almost drowned out by your struggled sounds. Your hips arched towards the toy to chase the pleasure it brought you. “I was wondering when you would get here. You were three minutes off schedule.” His voice was soft and monotonous. Your panties were left damp as he rolled the rubbery motor over the sensitive pearl hidden under your cotton garment. “I-I’m sorry.” You gasped out an apology, your chest heaving for air as Ai snaked an arm around you, holding you firm against his torso as he pressed harder at your clothed cunt.

“Why were you late?” He wasn’t angry with you. At least it didn’t sound like it. It felt like it. Your panties had been tugged to the side with his shaft buried inside of you. Leaving you struggling and shaking as he stayed still behind you. His lips grazed against the flesh of your ear as you rolled your hips against the wand. “Huh?” You didn’t catch what he said. Your brain was fogged from pleasure. All you could comprehend was the buzzing of the toy, and how he rubbed it in small tight circles against your clit. How you could feel him pulse from deep within you, refusing to move. Refusing to let you bounce and wriggle your hips. “You aren’t listening to me.” Ai frowned as he pressed his cheek against yours. His skin is smooth like silicone or a hard plastic. The toy was pulled away and you whined at the sudden loss.

When he adjusted you in his lap, you could feel the way his cock slid out of you. Only to be re-sheathed as you were hugged against his body. “Do I have your attention?” He asked impatiently as the toy remained vibrating in his palm. You swallowed back a sound of discontent and nodded. His lips connected against the crook of your neck. Peppering the delicate skin with kisses as he slowly rocked his hips into you. Setting a steady pace as your moans began to escape in strangled breaths. “Why were you late? What could be more important than spending time with me?” Ai sounded like he was pouting now.

How he clung to you felt possessive. How he kissed at your neck resembled hunger. You didn’t mean to be late. You were so excited about the pop up event this morning, and the trip to his apartment during the busiest time of day wasn’t easy either. And it was only three minutes. But to him that three minutes could have been spent kissing and loving you.

Of course he wants to make up for the lost time. But you didn’t think this kind of punishment was justifiable. “I got-” You yelped when the toy was introduced once more. Massaging you gently as he continued to thrust and kiss at your sweat shined skin. “It was a ph-photocard... Of you...” Your response was a mere exhale as Ai hummed with curiosity. “I got... A rare holo one...” It was a suit that you really liked. A lavender and pink foil that sparkled, you put it in a sleeve and hurried to see Ai. Already excited to add the photocard to your collection.

His touches became softer. More loving as his hips deepened, the head of his cock nudging against a very special and spongey spot inside of you. “I see... I guess it couldn’t be helped.” You could feel his lips curl into a smile, allowing you to whine and hold tightly to the fabric of his shirt as he gave you what you wanted.

#absolute requests.#gn reader #afab reader #ai mikaze x reader smut #ai mikaze smut #mikaze ai smut #mikaze ai x reader smut #utapri smut

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nsokolow · 7 months ago

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Transformers One: Charoite

Chapter Nine

Over the next few days, Charoite gradually found herself able to be enjoy life again. As she regained her strength, she joined in on the Decepticons’ play-fights, listened to their favorite battle strategies, danced with them, some of the music coming from Soundwave, and exchanged stories of Iacon City and the High Guard days. Even Starscream was okay once Charoite got to know him. Although they often had little spats, she enjoyed racing him, since they both transformed into types of planes and had a love of competition. Megatron…was mostly a talker, and he was primarily focused on discussing battle and spy plans. While Charoite found the Decepticons to be a bit intense and even scary at times, she believed they had each other’s, and her best interests at spark.

Charoite had a thrill challenging Soundwave to guess if different statements she made were true or false. After guessing, he would scan her electrical impulses to reveal the truth. Soon, other Decepticons joined in.

“Okay, okay, my turn again!” Charoite laughed. “I’m a better flyer than Screamy over here!” She gestured towards Starscream with her thumb.

“Quit calling me that!” snapped Starscream.

Charoite narrowed her eyes and smiled. “Whatever you say, Starry!”

Starscream set his teeth and let out a loud grunt.

Soundwave scanned Charoite, circles of light flowing to her. “True.”

“She just believes what she’s saying is true! I’ll prove it!” Starscream shoved Charoite aside. “Soundwave, I’m a better racer than Charoite!”

Soundwave glanced at the surrounding bots. He scanned Starscream. “False.”

Charoite and…most of the other bots erupted into laughter.

“What? How dare you!” Starscream pointed a finger in Soundwave’s face. “You did that on purpose!

“Hey, Soundwave! I got an idea!”

Everyone fell silent as Megatron approached the scene.

“Everybody say ‘yeah!’ If you think Charoite is doing a lot better and is ready to start her mission!”

Charoite and the Decepticons all cheered the word, with Starscream adding, “…because she’s unfortunately our only option.”

Soundwave panned his circles of light over everybody. “You all are telling the truth.”

The crowd cheered.

“So, you’re sending me today?” Charoite grinned at Megatron.

“Yes. I thought that was clear.”

“Thank you!” Charoite squeaked as she leapt up to hug Megatron.

He blocked her in mid-air with his hand to her forehead.

“Not a hugger. Got it!” Charoite flew back down. “So, you sending anything with me?”

“Yes. I want daily updates from you. Here.” Megatron handed her a circular device with a lens in the middle. “It’s a holographic device. I don’t know if you’ve seen one like this. It’s like a pocket version of live transmissions, but they’re to communicate bot to bot. I have one just like it. Press the big button on the bottom and it should call me.”

Charoite felt a twinge in her spark at “live transmissions.” She pressed the button, and a grid-patterned light came from the lens.

“Put it on the ground in front of you.”

Charoite obeyed, and a transparent, grid-like version of her was projected on the identical device Megatron held. It was identical to her in size.

“Oh! Cool another me right there! Hello!” Charoite swiped a hand through her projected self, which mirrored her action. Her projected self briefly glitched.

Megatron put his device on the ground in front of himself, then a hologram of himself showed up on Charoite’s device.

“Pretty cool, I know.” Megatron pressed the button on the bottom of his device, which shut off the call. “I’d prefer communicating with our audials, but unfortunately, we’re gonna be too far away for ours to work. At least seeing you will make it harder for you to hide anything. I trust you, but not completely.”

Charoite felt jarred at the last statement. She however told herself Megatron didn’t know her too well, and he wasn’t exactly the friendliest bot. “Huh, don’t remember the last time I used my audials for communicating at a distance.” Charoite gasped. “Oh! It was when Senti—”

Megatron’s eyes flashed, while a few nearby bots tensed up.

“Never mind.” Charoite wished she could have brought up the time Sentinel audial communicated with her about a meeting where the other two bots present wouldn’t stop arguing, despite his efforts to stop them. He wanted a distraction, so Charoite quickly made some drinks, burst in and advertised herself as Sentinel’s newest racer. The two other bots recognized her and gushed over her and how charming and funny she was. Sentinel thanked her profusely once the meeting was over, and he repaid her with the Sentinel decal—and a kiss.

Megatron smiled, bent down to her level, and put his hands on her shoulders. “Make us proud.”

Charoite felt some relief. “Like you have to ask!”

Megatron chuckled. “Good to hear. Starscream! You’ll lead Charoite back to Iacon. You somewhat managed to lead the High Guard, so I think you got this.”

Starscream narrowed his eyes at Megatron and approached Charoite. “I’m older than him, by the way. Come on!” He transformed into his jet mode.

Charoite transformed into her high-performance plane mode and followed Starscream back to Iacon City.

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pocket-sized-nightmare · 1 year ago

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here's my entry for day 3 of @mcyt-yuri-week! today's prompt is "qpr/aromance"

Pearl loves so many things about her alien base, but if she had to pick a favorite, it would be the plants.

She’s spent hours tending to them, figuring out how to keep them alive, and discovering what makes them unique. Some fill the air with glitter, some respond to her touch, and some even glow in the dark. There’s something beautiful about every plant in her biome, and that’s even before she collects the best part: the fruits. There are nearly a dozen edible plants that grow wild around her base. She’s learned what they taste like and what her favorites are, and now, she’s learning how to use them in recipes.

After all, a midnight picnic with her partner deserves something special.

As the sun goes down, Pearl returns to her house with a basket of alien fruits. Gem said she’d make sandwiches and cake for the picnic, which leaves Pearl to make drinks. Luckily, she’s spent the last few months perfecting her boba tea recipe.

It starts with tea, of course. Pearl puts a pot of water over the fire to boil, then adds the holographic blue flowers and heart-shaped leaves she dried herself. Next up is the boba: juice-filled orange orbs from the center of flowers and sweet, squishy white seeds from inside the sparkle pods.

Mailbox wanders into the kitchen and nuzzles against Pearl as she cuts the first pod open, sending a burst of sparkles into the air. “Well, hello there, Mailbox! A little curious, are we?”

Mailbox barks. Pearl chuckles as she scoops the seeds out of the pod and drops them into a bowl. As she cuts another pod open, Matchbox races in and curiously tries to jump up to the counter. Pearl laughs out loud. “No, you goofy pup, you cannot have my fruit.” She gently pushes Mailbox back down to the floor.

Pearl mixes the seeds and orbs together in the bowl, then divides the mixture between two bottles. The tea is finally ready, so she takes it off the fire, sweetens it, and leaves it to cool. It shimmers in the light of Pearl’s kitchen, shifting from blue to orange to pearlescent white. It’s perfect. All she has to do is add the fruit flavoring, and it’ll be ready to surprise Gem—

Matchbox, Mailbox, and Tilly all leap up and run to the door, barking excitedly all the way. Pearl puts her cooking tools down and follows them. “Do I have a visitor?”

She opens the door to find GeminiTay standing in front of her.

Gem looks perfect. There are sunflowers in her braid and vines woven around her antlers. She’s wearing her favorite dress, the one that makes her look like a woodland elf. Pearl is suddenly self-conscious of her own fruit-stained overalls. “Oh, gosh, you’re early! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I’m not quite ready yet…”

“That’s alright! I actually…” Gem smiles sheepishly. “I knew you’d be cooking for the picnic, and I kinda just wanted to hang out with you.”

Pearl’s heart melts. “Of course! I was trying to surprise you with boba, but now we can make it together.”

As Gem steps into Pearl’s base, all three of Pearl’s dogs leap around her. Mailbox leaps up and puts his paws on Gem’s chest, accidentally knocking her to the ground, and Matchbox curls up on Gem’s stomach. Tilly trots over and licks Gem’s face, then looks up at Pearl with an expression of aren’t I a good dog for not knocking her over? From the ground, Gem laughs so hard she cries.

Pearl laughs too, then tries to catch her breath. “No! Bad dogs, all of you. Get off of her.”

“Aw, don’t worry, I know they’re sweet.” Gem sits up and pets Matchbox’s head. “So what were you saying about boba?”

“I was just making some!” Pearl grabs Gem’s hand and leads her into the kitchen. “Although I should warn you, it isn’t exactly a normal flavor.”

“What is it, then?”

Pearl winks. “You’ll see.”

When Gem sees Pearl’s collection of ingredients, she stares. It’s like nothing she’s ever seen before. “Pearl, this is amazing! What are all these?”

“100% genuine alien flora, straight from my personal garden,” Pearl says with a flourish. “That’s a lie. They grow wild all over my biome. But they are alien plants.”

Gem laughs. “Only you, Pearl.”

“Aw, you love me.” Pearl elbows her.

Gem leans her head on Pearl’s shoulder. “Of course I do.”

They smile at each other. Pearl can’t help but gaze at her partner for what has to be the ten-thousandth time, studying every detail she’s come to love. Gem’s emerald green eyes shine in the light and reflect the stars from the windows, and the white freckles on her face highlight the blush on her cheeks like constellations. She’s brilliant and beautiful, and Pearl can’t help but stare at her – not quite the way she’s heard others describe romance, but like looking at a beautiful meteor shower or an artfully arranged bookshelf. Gem isn’t “just a friend,” but she isn’t exactly a girlfriend, either. She’s just Gem, and Pearl is just Pearl, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So,” Gem says, bringing Pearl out of her thoughts. “What’s the next step with this stuff?”

“Funny you should ask!” Pearl reaches into her basket and pulls out a remarkably spiky fruit. Its shape has too many sharp points and wild edges to be natural, but it somehow exists anyway. “All we need is to cut this thing open and mash it up.”

“Are you sure it won’t attack us?” Gem teases.

“Nah, they’re only called firework fruits because of the shape. They don’t actually explode. Unlike the sparkle pods.”

“Unlike the what?” Gem shakes her head in amazement. “Pearl, your base this season is something else.”

“Why, thank you very much,” Pearl says with a joking bow. “Anyway, it’s easier than it looks. Want to do the honors?”

“Gladly.” Gem picks up a knife from the counter and weaves it between the fruit’s spikes, then presses down. It breaks into two neat halves, revealing orange flesh swirled with streaks of white. “That looks… weirdly delicious.”

In response, Pearl picks up a spoon, scoops up a bit of fruit from the inside, and pops it into her mouth.

“Hey, save some for the tea!” Gem laughs.

Pearl takes out another spoon and hands it to Gem. “Okay, fine,” Gem says. “I’ll have some too. Just to make sure it’s good.”

Gem takes a bite of the firework fruit. It tastes strange, but good – a bit like saltwater taffy. “That is delicious, actually,” she mumbles through her mouthful of food.

“Help me mash this stuff up?” Pearl asks, taking half of the fruit and scooping its insides into a bowl.

“You got it.” Gem does the same. “You could totally use this as a weapon.”

“Or for a really dangerous game of volleyball.”

“What?”

Both of them dissolve into laughter. Pearl takes the bowls of fruit and mixes them with the holographic tea, then pours the mixture into the two bottles.

Gem looks over at the drinks. The tea shifts from blue to orange every time she looks at it, and the swirls of color light up the parts of her mind she’s trained to focus on perfect color palettes. The drink is nearly as pretty as Pearl is, and that’s saying something. “Did you mean to make the colors like that?” she realizes.

Pearl’s eyes widen. “Like what? Is that bad?”

“No, it’s…” Gem takes out her communicator and shows Pearl a sticker she’s recently added to her collection on its case. It’s a heart with stripes of orange and blue connected by white in the middle, the same set of colors Pearl’s decorated a thousand things with – the aroace flag. “It’s perfect.”

“It is perfect!” Pearl beams. “I didn’t even do that on purpose. That’s amazing, though, now that you say it.”

Pearl hands Gem a bottle of tea with one hand, then takes Gem’s other hand in hers. “So, then. About that picnic?”

“Sounds perfect to me,” Gem says. She leads Pearl out to the perfect spot at the top of the hill, with Matchbox, Mailbox, and Tilly trotting behind them. They set up their picnic, illuminated by lanterns and moonlight. For anyone who doesn’t know, it looks like a perfect date, or something straight out of a painting.

For them, though, it’s just Pearl and Gem, partners and partners-in-crime, having a midnight picnic together.

What could be better than that?

#mcytyuriweekvalentines #gempearl #hermitshipping #pixel writes

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caster-of-shadows · 3 months ago

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Chapter 3

1k+ Words

Enjoy!

The Jedi Archives were quiet, save for the occasional soft hum of droids and the faint rustle of robes as scholars moved between the towering shelves of holobooks. Golden light filtered through the high windows, illuminating the ancient texts and casting long shadows across the floor.

Thalia found Obi-Wan exactly where she expected—standing at one of the central data terminals, arms crossed, his expression contemplative as he studied a holographic star map.

“You look like you’ve been here for hours,” she noted as she approached, resting a hand on her hip.

Obi-Wan glanced at her, his mouth curving slightly in greeting. “Hello to you too.”

She arched a brow. “I take it you found something?”

He gestured to the hologram. “Dex came through. He identified the weapon used on the bounty hunter—it's a saberdart from Kamino.” Obi-Wan held the small, slender dart between his fingers, turning it so the silver metal gleamed under the archive lights.

Thalia raised a brow. “Kamino?”

“A planet beyond the Outer Rim,” Obi-Wan continued, slipping the dart into a small compartment on his belt. “Twelve parsecs outside of the Rishi Maze. The Kaminoans are known for one thing above all—cloning.”

Thalia crossed her arms, her gaze flicking toward the rows of ancient holobooks and glowing archive displays. “Cloners,” she repeated.

Obi-wan nodded then exhaled through his nose, gaze flicking toward the archive terminal. “Kamino doesn’t appear on any of our star charts.”

That made her pause. “Not at all?”

“No records, no listings. It’s as if it was never there.”

Thalia frowned. “That doesn’t just happen. Someone had to erase it.” A rustle of fabric made them both glance up as Jocasta Nu approached, her usual air of authority as present as ever.

“Master Kenobi, Master Monore, may I be of assistance?” Jocasta Nu, the Archives keeper, someone that Thalia looked up to. Also where she got most of her attitude from.

Obi-Wan gestured toward the map. “I’m looking for Kamino. It should be about here…” He pointed at the empty space. “But it is not in the archives.”

Jocasta Nu gave a small, confused smile. “If an item does not appear in our records, it does not exist.”

Thalia arched a brow. “That’s an interesting way to say ‘I don’t know.’” Jocasta Nu stiffened slightly at the comment, but Thalia was already focused on Obi-Wan. “You know it should be there,” she said, serious now. “The gravity of that system is still affecting the nearby stars, isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes.”

Thalia crossed her arms. “Then Kamino exists. Someone just doesn’t want us to find it.”

Jocasta Nu sniffed, clearly unimpressed with the direction of their conversation. “I assure you, our archives are complete and accurate.” She was a prideful woman, and to say that someone tampered with her library was unacceptable.

Obi-Wan merely inclined his head. “Thank you for your time, Master Nu.” She gave a sharp nod before sweeping away, leaving them alone once more.

Thalia exhaled, rubbing her temples. “So, our official Jedi database has been tampered with, a lead is dead, and neither one of us has slept yet.”

Obi-Wan hummed in agreement. “An insightful summary.”

Thalia shook her head. “I hate it when things don’t add up.”

“Then you’re going to love this investigation.”

Obi-Wan turned, already heading for the exit. First they had to find Yoda, to get another opinion on their findings. Thalia studied him as they walked. “You are planning on going to that system to search for that missing planet.” It was not a question, she knew what his plan was.

Obi-Wan’s expression was unreadable. “If there’s a chance Kamino holds the answers we need, I have to investigate.”

She didn’t hesitate. “Then I’m coming with you. A planet that was erased from the system makes the force uneasy.”

Obi-Wan didn’t argue. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

It wasn’t long before they found Yoda. He was where he was most of the time The soft glow of the Coruscant skyline filtered through the tall windows of Yoda’s meditation chamber, casting long shadows across the smooth stone floor. The chamber was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city outside and the rhythmic tap of Yoda’s clawed fingers against his cane.

Obi-Wan and Thalia stood before the Grand Master, their expressions solemn as he absorbed the information they had just presented. Yoda’s ears twitched slightly as he let out a thoughtful hum. “Removed from the archives, this planet has been. Troubling, this is.”

Obi-Wan’s arms remained tucked neatly into his robes, his features schooled into careful composure, but Thalia could feel the weight of the revelation pressing down on both of them. She kept her hands clasped in front of her, her posture straight but not rigid. “Master Yoda, if someone went to the trouble of erasing Kamino from the records, then they had a reason. I don’t believe this was a simple oversight.”

Yoda’s wise gaze settled on her. “Trust in the evidence, you do.”

She met his eyes and nodded. “Yes, Master. The records may be compromised, but the truth is still there if we’re willing to look for it.”

A quiet moment passed before Yoda hummed in approval and turned his gaze to Obi-Wan. “To Kamino, you must go.”

Obi-Wan inclined his head. “We will depart immediately.”

Thalia hesitated only a second before speaking again, her tone respectful but firm. “Master Yoda… do you believe this is connected to the Senate?”

Yoda closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if searching the Force for an answer. When he opened them again, his gaze was heavy with something unspoken. “Shrouded, the truth remains. But deception, there is.”

Thalia exchanged a glance with Obi-Wan. That wasn’t exactly a confirmation, but it wasn’t a denial either.

Yoda’s ears twitched slightly as he studied them both. “Cautious, you must be.”

Thalia dipped her head in understanding. “We’ll be careful, Master.”

Chapter 2 / Chapter 4

Carpathia Master List

#obi wan kenobi x oc #anakin skywalker #attack of the clones #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x oc #star wars #star wars x oc #obiwan kenobi fanfiction

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hellfiresky · 7 months ago

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Hello there!

I’m Finn (they/them). A documentary photographer, writer, graphic designer, and a cultural studies researcher who’s into the topics of youth rebellion and identity, environmental justice, and decolonisation. Follows and likes come from my main blog @neverrrrrrrmind

I love Star Wars, especially its (underworld) politics and been doing my own research on the moral construction and sense of belonging in the galactic underworld. I grew up on prequels - my favourite show is (obviously) The Clone Wars. Followed by Andor, The Mandalorian, The Book of Boba Fett, and The Bad Batch. My favourite clone is actually Boba Fett lol I literally have a shrine for him in my room - man can do no wrong in my eyes. And of course, Rex, Fives, Jesse, Crosshair, and Wolffe.

I cosplay my own Mandalorian OC (currently building the full kit yay!) and write a The Clone Wars fanfic inspired by her. What started as a simple backstory has spiraled into a full-fledged story - and we’re now at Chapter 24 (whoops lol). Eventually, it’ll develop into a Rex/F!OC extremely slow-burn story.

Have a look if you’re interested, and hope you lot enjoy reading them!

Seeing Red:

Ge'tal Solus, an exiled Mandalorian anarchist, has carved out a life in the depths of Coruscant during the Clone Wars. Navigating the galaxy as a bounty hunter, she does whatever it takes to survive in the underworld. Despite her disdain for the forces of the Republic, Ge'tal finds herself drawn into the conflict, ironically aiding the very clones she mistrusts. In a galaxy torn by war, can she reconcile her beliefs with her actions?

[or]

The Clone Wars from the eyes of a "civilian" with their own issues, doubts, and contrasting ideology that doesn't necessarily side with the Republic or the Separatists. Exploring how clone troopers are imagined to be, mostly, in their downtime, presented in a narrative style inspired by Fleabag's fourth-wall-breaking storytelling. This is an OC-focused story. Somewhat political and lots of swearing. Most chapters have connections to canon episodes, comics/books, and legends.

———————————————————————————

I also have some spin offs of the main story. They all fall under the same series and thus the same universe. Both work as standalone:

Red Tides

Fresh off Kamino, the Spectre Squad - Blaze, Quake, Ridge, and Steel are ready to take the galaxy by storm… or so they think. Between mundane duties, oddball assignments, and weird encounters, these shinies quickly learn that life as a clone trooper is anything but glamorous. But hey, at least the caf machine works… sometimes.

(The Clone Wars through the eyes of low-ranking clone troopers and shinies.)

Written in Red

Tavi Drezz, a Coruscant-based investigative journalist and occasional war holographer, gains unprecedented access to the frontlines of the Clone Wars. Embedded alongside the Grand Army of the Republic units and other journalists, she captures not just the battles, but the sentient cost of the conflict. Clones, civilians, and systems caught in the war’s grip.

(The Clone Wars reimagined through the eyes of a frontline journalist. Tavi's journey blends a personal narrative with immersive, in-world journalistic articles that frame events from canon episodes in a new light.)

———————————————————————————

And of course a little playlist as an ode to the Underworld:

#hellfiresky #star wars #clone wars fic #the clone wars fic #my fic #my writing #commander fox fic #captain rex fic #star wars oc #star wars oc fic #tcw #mandalorian oc #star wars fic #tcw fanfiction #Spotify #masterlist

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voiceoffenrisulfr · 9 months ago

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Becoming Spider-Man - Chapter Fifteen (b)

Peter Parker-Stark Says Hello

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Peter Parker & Tony Stark (IronDad)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> In which Peter Parker-Stark finally gets to go home.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 1667

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (T) Major Character Injury, risk of MCD.

𝐀/𝐍 -> Written to avoid the absolute slaughter of 15 (a) being the only part and getting blacklisted from every site on the planet; but I left 15 (a) in because honestly, I loved writing it, despite the fact that I sobbed the entire time. Here's your happy ending, guys. Enjoy it.

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Cute divider by @/sweetmelodygraphics!

<- Previous Chapter (14/16) <- 15 (a) - Sad Ending (15/16)

I curled up in the chair beside his hospital bed, the tears having stopped long ago. His reactor still flickered in and out, stuttering reluctantly against the immense power surge.

Ironically, the only person likely to be able to fix Tony... Was Tony. I’d be warned to prepare for the worst. Nat spent most of her time with her fingers locked in mine, the other Avengers milling around helplessly.

Waiting for him to die.

His helmet was clasped in my lap, fingers pressed desperately to the metal while the Wakandans, led by Shuri, buzzed around his seemingly lifeless body, the only sign that he was still with us given by the sporadic beep of his ECG.

It had been three days since he snapped, and I had barely moved from my spot, leaving only when absolutely necessary to pee – which became less and less frequent when I all but stopped drinking. Intermittently, Natasha tried to convince me to eat, to sleep – to do something besides sit and stare at him, willing him to sit up and smile at me.

Please. Just… Open your eyes, Tony. Please.

A nameless, faceless offender bumped me roughly, and Tony’s helmet sprawled to the floor with a deafening clatter, sending me to my feet in a rage. “Look what you did!”

“Peter-” Nat started, but I shook her off roughly.

“That’s his helmet, have some fucking resp-”

“Everybody wants a happy ending, right? But it doesn’t always roll that way.”

I looked around sharply, startled to silence, a ragged sob torn from my lips at the sight of the holographic Tony seated opposite me, projected from the helmet on the ground. He looked exactly as I remembered him – overworked, exhausted, and easy to smile. My saviour. A far cry from the man unconscious in the bed before me, fighting for his life.

“Maybe this time. I’m hoping if you play this back… it’s in celebration. I hope families are reunited. I hope we get it back, and something like a normal version of the planet has been restored – if there ever was such a thing. God, what a world.” Tony smiled to himself, a dreamy, awestruck expression flitting across his face as his eyes saw things I couldn’t fathom. “Universe, now. If you told me ten years ago that we weren’t alone – let alone, you know, to this extent – I mean, I wouldn’t have been surprised. But come on, y’know? The epic forces of darkness and light have come into play. And, for better or worse, that’s the reality that Peter is gonna have to find a way to grow up in.”

I felt Natasha’s gaze slide to me, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the echo of my father, trembling fingers pressed to my lips as the man in the hologram paused for a heartbeat, thoughtful, before shaking his head dismissively. “So I thought I’d better record a little greeting, in the case of an untimely death – on my part,” he added quickly, eyes widened in microscopic alarm.

The idea of me dying was so terrifying, so impossible to him, that he couldn’t even comprehend it?

“Not that death at any time isn’t untimely. This time travel thing that we’re gonna try and pull off tomorrow, it’s… it’s got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. That’s the thing.” He hesitated again, a finger pressed to his lip in thought. “Then again, that’s the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end. What am I even tripping for?” he added under his breath, pushing himself up and approaching the helmet. “Everything is gonna work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.” He leant down, stretching out a hand to cut the recording, and his eyes raised, finding mine.

“I love you, kid,” he breathed, a playful, Tony-esque smile crossing his face.

I sobbed raggedly, sinking to my knees, pulling the helmet back to my chest as I cried. “No. No, you can’t die, Tony. You can’t. I-I can’t find a way to grow up in this world if it doesn’t have you in it. I won't.” I moved to the bed, wrapping my fingers in his own scorched ones desperately. “Please. I-I… You said everything is going to work out how it’s supposed to. And it’s supposed to be you, here, with me. In our cabin, remember?” I pressed my forehead to his hand, weeping openly, the silence around me heavy as I let grief and guilt consume me. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. If I’d been stronger… If I’d been better. If I-I’d been the son you deserve…”

“Peter-”

I waved her off again, shaking my head as I cried. “I should have… It should have been me, Dad. I shouldn’t… You should never have been there. You should have retired, like you wanted. You…”

Nat’s fingers found my hair softly, caressing and soothing, and I leant into the touch despite myself, hiccupping around my tears. “I can’t lose you, Dad.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.”

I froze at the sound, at the fingers running once more through my matted hair, gentle and familiar. At the low, throaty chuckle I’d heard countless times in countless ways.

My head shot up, soaked and swollen from my tears, and I could only blink in disbelief at the mahogany eyes resting gently on mine. “… T… Tony?”

“Peter.” His voice was weak and cracked – and goddamn glorious. I threw myself at him bodily with a yowl of desperation, earning a soft oomph for my effort at the air was pushed from his lungs. Shuri murmured warningly, but the hand against my back waved her away before clutching at me tightly, equally frantic as he pulled me closer.

“Goddamn it, Peter…”

I sobbed against his throat, curled into his chest as my body trembled, my fingers mapping the drawn lines of his face. “I-I-I’m so sorry, Mr. St-Stark, I-I…”

He shushed me quietly, lips pressing to my forehead as his own tears began to fall. “It’s okay, kid. It’s okay.”

I lay in his arms for over an hour before they could convince me to move so he could be checked out. Even then, I only shifted to his bedside, my hand clamped in his, his fingers still brushing my hair lightly.

“I… I thought you were gonna die, Tony.”

“I’m so sorry I scared you, kid,” he murmured softly, and I whimpered quietly against his knuckles.

Kid.

“I… I love you. Dad.”

He chuckled softly – a low, light sound that made my heart ache. “I love you too, son.”

It took another six days for them to let Tony leave.

His legs still shook when he stood, and he got out of breath after only a few feet, but he was ecstatic to be out of the bed – though less so when my webs sealed him to a wheelchair, his exhausted body too depleted to escape. “I can walk, kid.”

“You can. You’re not. C’mon, Mr. Stark. You’ve looked after me for long enough. It’s my turn to take care of you, okay?”

He sighed, head tipped back obligingly. Even before almost dying, the five years I’d been gone hadn’t been kind to him, his muscles wasted and skin sallow from malnutrition and overexertion, and my brow creased with worry as I followed the sharp line of his jaw. “We’re gonna get you home. To the cabin. I… I’m gonna get it all fixed up for us. I know it’s not… The compound was destroyed, so it’s the best I can do. I’m sorry.”

Smiling weakly, he shook his head as I propelled him through the corridors, a soft sigh spilling from his lips. “I’m just glad to be going home with you, kid. I don’t care where that is.”

I grinned despite myself, stooping to wrap my arms around his shoulders. “I know you don’t like hugs, Mr. Stark, but I’m going to hug you every day.”

“That’s fine, Peter. That’s… That’s just fine.”

He fell asleep on the flight, head tipped to the side, jaw slack – leaning on me. I pressed my temple to his hair fondly, unable to stop smiling, Clint’s eyes flicking back at us intermittently with a tired chuckle.

“He always knew he’d get you back, you know.”

“Hm?” I lifted my head to meet his gaze, grinning when Tony nuzzled closer unconsciously.

“Tony. He… He never gave up. Even when the rest of us… When we couldn’t keep fighting. He kept going. He knew he’d bring you home.”

I sniffed, pressing my cheek back to his hair quietly. “I… I don’t know where I was, while I was gone. But if I could… I’d have known he’d bring me home too.”

Tony eyed the few steps up to the porch wearily, pushing himself upright with a sigh. The place seemed in better condition than I remembered, freshly painted and weeded, and I smiled softly.

“Welcome home, Tony.” I murmured, hand finding his elbow with concern as he stumbled. “… Will you just let me carry you? Please?”

“I’m a grown man.”

“So am I, but you’ve carried me – more than once. Please, Dad.”

He winced at the desperation in my voice and glanced around, double checking that the quinjet had left us before nodding reluctantly. “Fine. But if you ever tell anyone-”

“You’ll replace my web fluid with water, I know,” I snorted, rolling my eyes as I cradled him against my chest, painfully light and thin. He flushed with shame, but I simply trotted up the steps, nudging the door open with a foot. “You can finally get the retirement you wanted, Tone. A place in the country… With me. If you think an old man like you can keep up with such a young’un,” I teased as I placed him gently on the sofa. “…Wait. I thought this place was empty?”

“It’s like Barton said,” Tony murmured, sighing as his head tipped back. “I always knew I’d get you home, kid.”

#fanfiction #mine #fandom: marvel #writers on tumblr #writing bingo #rating: T #trans peter parker #becoming spider-man #16 of 16 #irondad and spiderson #queer #trans #Sil speaks #The Snap #MCD risk #major character death risk #major character injury

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