#I heard they were there and I KNEW they had to see each other

[kekewrites]

Tw. insecure/introvert reader, angst(?), dark content, noncon kissing, implied noncon/dubcon at the end, jealousy, tension, mutual pinning, misunderstanding, hidden feelings, slow burn(?), stalking, toxic, sabotage, possessiveness, red flag, manipulation, dependency, no actual smut

***

Imagine being the childhood friend of the popular playboy in school.

He wasn’t just a typical playboy—he was popular for a good amount of reasons. He was, of course, hot, tall, with a pretty face, but he also had that effortless charisma. Easy-going, charming, funny when he wanted to be, and somehow still managed to keep decent grades. A good reputation wrapped in the kind of smile that made girls melt.

The only problem? His ongoing roster of girls. You honestly couldn’t pinpoint when or how he turned into such a flirt, it sort of just... happened. Maybe when high school hit, and puberty did him more favors than most. Whatever the case, he became that guy. The one you’d usually only see in dramas.

But it’s not like you had any business with that part of him. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You two had always been close. Childhood friends. Neighbors. Playmates since you were practically in diapers. Your parents knew each other well, your families comfortable enough to arrange sleepovers that turned into routine. You grew up in each other’s houses, like siblings. Always “the duo.”

But while he bloomed into the guy everyone wanted to be around, you... didn’t exactly shine the same way. You were a little plain. A bit on the bland side compared to others, especially compared to him. While he stood tall, you were shorter than average, often overlooked in group photos. You didn’t have much of a figure either, which made changing in the locker room a quiet kind of dread. Flat and forgettable. You’d never say it out loud, but you noticed the difference.

He lit up every room he walked into. You were just... there. Next to him. Always next to him. Just not quite enough.

But it was fine.

You never made a big deal about any of it. It’s not like you wanted the spotlight anyway. You were comfortable being in the background, comfortable not having all eyes on you. Sure, sometimes you got a few questionable looks when you were with Mr. Charming, but you learned not to care. Let them wonder. You were used to being the quiet one beside the star of the show.

Though, truth be told, you sometimes wondered too. Why did he always stick around? Even when the popular kids were constantly egging him on to ditch you and join them, he never really did. He’d flirt and play around, sure, but he always came back to you. As if none of the sparkle out there was worth trading for late-night game sessions and instant noodles in your room.

"Geez, why’re you in my bedroom...? I thought you were about to go to the concert with them," you asked one evening, raising a brow as he sprawled across your bed like it was his.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t wanna,” he replied, eyes already glued to the game controller in his hand. “Plus, I wanna spend time playing games with you.”

You rolled your eyes at the time, but deep down, your chest tightened just a little. Warm and confused all at once.

It was things like that, small, innocent moments that led to the never-ending question you kept hearing from people.

“Are you guys dating?”

You always shut it down quickly, automatically, almost on instinct now.

“No. Definitely not. I’m not his type, we’re just friends.”

Because that was the truth, right?

Right?

***

He heard you say it all the time.

“We’re just friends.”

You said it so naturally, like breathing. Like it was a fact. Like it didn’t chip away at something in him every time those words slipped from your lips.

But damn, you didn’t make it easy to believe.

Not when you smiled at him like that. Not when you laughed at his dumb jokes, even the ones no one else caught. Not when you looked at him like he was just him, not the guy with a line of girls and a reputation he didn’t even care for anymore.

He told himself he was just being a good friend. That walking you home—even when it meant doubling back—was normal. That flicking some guy’s forehead for looking at you too long was harmless. Just a joke. Even if something in his chest burned every time.

And maybe he leaned in too close sometimes. Maybe he hovered near your space a little more than necessary. But he didn’t do it on purpose. Not at first.

It’s just... you never pulled away.

You made it feel like he belonged there.

And then there were the little things.

The way you always insisted you weren’t picky, but he still remembered how you liked your noodles with less broth. The way he always brought an extra hoodie because yeah, you always forgot yours, and he didn’t want you getting cold. The way he chose the seat next to you, even if the room was empty. Always you. Always your side.

You never questioned it.

Except that one time.

"Why’re you always hanging out with me? I'm not exactly a party."

He remembered how you asked it with a smile, trying to play it off.

But it hit him harder than he expected. So he gave you the truth. Or at least… part of it.

"Yeah, but you’re my favorite kind of quiet."

You laughed, of course. Brushed it off like it was nothing.

But he saw the way you looked down after. The way your cheeks went warm. And he carried that moment with him, filed it away with all the other things he never said out loud.

And when people asked if you two were dating and you laughed and said “No, I’m definitely not his type”—he never corrected you.

He should’ve. God, he wanted to.

But instead, he just smiled. That same tight, hollow smile.

Because you were wrong.

You were so wrong.

You weren’t loud, or bold, or flashy like the girls who chased him, sure. But none of them ever made him feel the way you did.

And you never saw it.

You looked at yourself and only saw “plain.” But he looked at you and saw home.

And he stayed.

He always stayed.

That part? You never really understood.

But maybe… he was just too much of a coward to make you.

***

It happened one weekend night.

Your parents were out of town for a wedding (you didn't want to go along), leaving you with the house to yourself. You’d planned to spend the evening curled up with snacks and a cheesy drama, nothing unusual. The house was quiet, comfortably so.

Until a knock came at the front door. Loud. Repetitive.

You opened it, and there he was, him. Tall, flushed, and very, very drunk.

“Heeeyyy,” he drawled, grinning lopsidedly as he leaned against the doorframe. “Youuuuuu. I missed you.”

You blinked, completely stunned. “Wait—what the hell? Are you drunk? Where were you?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stumbled forward, and your reflexes kicked in just in time to stop him from falling face-first into your entryway.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, arms flailing as you tried to support him. “Jeez, you’re heavy, what did you drink?”

He giggled. Actually giggled.

“Dunno,” he mumbled, dropping most of his weight onto you like a sleepy sloth. “They gave me... stuff. Tasted like cough syrup. Missed your face though…”

You groaned, knees nearly buckling under him as you fumbled to drag his dead weight toward the living room. “You missed my face? Seriously?”

He made a noise that was suspiciously close to a whine. “Yeah… You didn’t come to the party. I waited. Got bored. Left.”

“You should’ve just stayed and sobered up instead of dragging your drunk ass here.”

But he didn’t respond. Instead, he slurred something completely incoherent and nuzzled into your shoulder.

You finally managed to guide him to the couch, huffing and trying to keep your balance. But as you bent to lower him onto the cushions, he suddenly shifted his weight and with zero warning, pulled you down with him.

“W-Wait—!”

You fell right on top of him with a muffled oof, and before you could scramble away, his arms lazily wrapped around you, holding you there like a living body pillow.

“Comfy,” he mumbled against your hair. “You smell nice.”

Your brain short-circuited. “Wha— I— Get off!”

But he didn’t budge. In fact, he snuggled closer, warmth radiating off him as he held you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Y’know,” he whispered, voice thick with sleep and alcohol, “I don’t like it when you say you’re not my type.”

You froze.

“I hate it,” he added, softer now. “So dumb. You don’t even see how much I like being around you…”

Then silence. Deep, slow breaths. He was already half-asleep, completely unaware of the way your heart was trying to beat out of your chest.

You didn’t know what to say.

So you said nothing.

And stayed there, quietly listening to the sound of his breathing, with your face burning and your thoughts racing, wondering if he’d remember any of it in the morning.

Your heart was pounding like it wanted to escape your chest.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your collarbone, his arms still wrapped around you in a lazy hold. Everything about the moment was too much—the closeness, the weight of his words, the way he mumbled "I don’t like it when you say you’re not my type.”

It should’ve meant something. Should’ve stirred something deeper. And for a moment, it did.

But then, reality hit.

This was him—the same guy who’d flirted with three girls just last week, the same guy whose phone buzzed with messages from different names at ungodly hours. The guy who could have anyone he wanted with just a glance and a half-hearted smile.

Your brows furrowed, the haze of warmth in your chest beginning to cool.

Of course he was saying stuff like that. He was drunk. Sloppy. Blurry-eyed. Probably mistaking you for someone else, or worse, just saying the first sweet thing that came to mind because it was easy. Because that's what he does.

The warmth in your cheeks faded. Your eyes narrowed slightly as you stared.

You sighed.

“Stupid drunk,” you muttered, voice flat and unimpressed.

He didn’t react, already halfway to sleep, breathing soft and slow like a knocked-out puppy.

You stayed like that for a moment longer, caught between the ghost of his words and the bitter edge of your thoughts. Part of you wanted to believe what he said. But the other part? The part that had watched girl after girl fall for him and get tossed aside like it was nothing?

That part just wanted to roll its eyes.

Still, you didn’t move.

Because even if you didn’t believe him…

His arms around you still felt kind of nice.

***

You two acted normal after the morning of that. He probably didn't remember what he said, which was a good thing for you. Moved on, like nothing happened.

It's been a few days after that and you were talking about someone new—a guy from your class, apparently. You had that little spark in your voice, the one he usually only heard when you were talking about food or finding a cute dog online.

He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“So yeah,” you said casually, biting into a snack as you scrolled on your phone, “he offered to walk me home the other day. I didn’t let him, obviously. But he was really nice about it. Kinda surprising.”

He sat beside you on your bed, leaning back on one hand, pretending not to care. “Oh? He did?”

“Yeah. I think he’s cool,” you said, voice light, unaware of how that single word stabbed into him harder than he wanted to admit.

He tilted his head, a smile pulling at his lips, one of those closed-eyed smiles he wore when he was being “harmless.”

“You do?”

You nodded, totally unfazed. “Mhm. He’s funny, smart. Kinda cute.”

There it was.

The trigger.

He sat up a little straighter, the smile never quite reaching his eyes now. “Funny, smart, cute?” he repeated, still with that casual tone. “Wow. Sounds like a real catch.”

You blinked at him. “Yeah, I guess. He’s easy to talk to.”

He snorted. “Right, right. Tall guy? Bit of a clean-cut look?”

You nodded again, chewing absently on your snack.

“Must be nice,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Bet he’s the type to open doors and call you ma’am too.”

You laughed. “I mean, manners aren’t exactly a red flag.”

“Oh yeah, totally,” he said, voice picking up heat now, even as he smiled. “So polite. Bet he irons his shirts and rehearses compliments in the mirror.”

You gave him a look, amused. “What is with you?”

“Nothing. Just sayin’—guy’s probably all talk. Bet he folds under pressure. Can’t even kill a spider without screaming.”

You raised a brow, “That’s a bold assumption.”

He scoffed, throwing his hands up, still smiling but not meaning it. “I’m taller, better looking, and I don’t have to try so hard to impress people.”

Your jaw dropped a little. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” he said, raising his bottle in mock-toast. “If you’re gonna go for someone ‘cool,’ maybe aim higher. You know. Someone who’s taller, funnier, better-looking, less try-hard. Maybe someone who’s known you since you were five. Just throwing that out there.”

“Huh?”

“And I bet my dick’s bigger than his."

You choked on your drink, “What?!”

He blinked. “What?”

You stared at him, stunned, and he just gave a tiny shrug like oops, did I say that out loud?

You laughed, shaking your head, brushing it all off like it was just another one of his weird ego trips. “Okay, weirdo.”

He didn’t respond right away.

He just watched you, jaw tightening slightly as you turned your attention back to your phone, entirely missing the storm he was trying to hide behind casual smirks and crude jokes.

You didn’t get it, because you didn’t think he looked at you that way.

***

After that conversation, things didn’t exactly change—but they didn’t quite go back to normal either.

He still walked you home. Still flopped onto your bed like it was his own. Still stole your snacks and your charger and your last bit of patience on most days.

But sometimes, you’d catch him watching you a little too long.

Not in the obvious way. Not like the way other guys did, staring with boldness and intentions written all over their faces.

No—he did it quietly. Like he was trying to memorize the way you smiled when you thought no one was looking. Like he was trying to figure something out about you… or maybe about himself.

Then there were the little shifts.

He started texting back slower when you told him you were talking to that guy again. Didn’t say anything harsh, but his replies were short. Blunt.

And when that same guy approached you one afternoon in the hallway, he just so happened to slide in between you two, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“Didn’t know you liked hanging out with traffic cones,” he muttered with a lopsided grin, nodding at the guy’s neon hoodie.

You laughed nervously, brushing it off. “You’re so dumb.”

But the guy left after that. Didn’t even try to keep the conversation going.

And when you asked him what that was about, he just shrugged.

“Didn’t like his face.”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t like anyone’s face lately.”

He smiled. “Yours is okay, I guess.”

And then there were those times when you were on your phone, texting, and he’d lean over your shoulder too quickly.

“Who’s that?”

“No one.”

“Hmm. No one has a name?”

You sighed, brushing him away. “Why are you so nosy lately?”

But he’d never answer. He’d just flop backward onto the couch or your bed and throw an arm over his eyes like he was bored. Or tired. Or both.

But you felt it.

Something had shifted.

He was getting quieter about the things he didn’t say. Quieter about how he stayed so close but kept himself just far enough that you wouldn’t really notice.

***

You didn’t say anything about it to him.

Not when you got the number. Not when you exchanged a few late-night texts with the guy from class. And definitely not when he asked who kept lighting up your phone and you lied—said it was your cousin, or some stupid group chat.

Because… if he wanted to keep treating you like you were just his best friend, then fine. Maybe you’d stop waiting. You were plain ol Jane anyway, at this rate you'd end up alone. Not like anyone would like you if you don't even try or put any effort to yourself. Maybe it was time to try something different.

Someone different.

So you said yes to a date.

It wasn’t a big deal. Just a small place near the station, casual, low-pressure. You wore a little lip tint. Changed your shirt twice. Checked your phone four times on the way there.

You even left the house without telling him.

Which was rare.

Because somehow, despite how frustrated you were, you still felt a little guilty doing something like this without him knowing. Scrap that! You shouldn't feel guilty at all, it's not like you're his girlfriend or something. Plus, this was your first date, you shouldn't even think of him.

You got there early. Sat at the little table. Smoothed your skirt out. Sipped water slowly.

And waited.

Then waited some more.

Minutes passed. Then a half-hour. Then an hour.

No messages. No call. Just… silence.

At some point, you stopped pretending to check your phone like there was something new. You just sat there, hands folded, eyes distant. Trying not to let it sink in too hard, but it did anyway.

He didn’t show.

No explanation.

No reason.

Just a reminder that maybe you really weren’t the type to be chosen after all.

By the time you got home, it was dark. You kicked your shoes off a little harder than usual, holding back the pressure behind your eyes. The house was quiet. Your parents weren’t home. Just you. And the lingering ache of rejection sitting heavy in your chest.

Maybe you shouldn't gotten your hopes up.

And then you heard the knock on your door. You already knew who it was.

He walked in like he always did, with a lazy grin and a snack in hand. You stared at him like you hadn’t just spent an hour trying to convince yourself you were worth showing up for.

“Yo. You were gone,” he said, tossing a drink on your desk like usual. “Didn’t text me back. Something happened?”

You looked up from where you sat on your bed, your voice dull. “No. I just… needed some air.”

He paused. The grin faltered, but only for a split second.

“…Did you go somewhere?”

You forced a laugh, shaking your head. “Just errands. Nothing interesting.”

He didn’t question it. He trusted you too easily. Or maybe he didn’t want to push. Instead, he stretched out beside you, letting out a sigh. “People are exhausting. I don’t get how you deal with them.”

You shrugged, keeping your voice light. “Guess I just have more patience.”

He turned his head to look at you then—really looked. Eyes soft, searching.

“You okay?”

You smiled, quick and small. “Yeah. Just tired.”

And that was the thing with him. He’d always pull back just when he was about to see something too real. Like he was afraid of what he might find if he looked too closely.

So, he let it go.

He reached for the controller on your desk, tossing it in your lap. “Wanna game ‘til we pass out?”

You nodded.

Because what else could you do?

You couldn’t tell him your date never showed up. You couldn’t tell him that for a brief moment, you thought maybe—just maybe—you could be wanted by someone else. That someone else could make you forget the way he made you feel without ever touching you.

***

Of course, he knew.

He always knew.

He noticed the shift before you even realized it yourself—how you started texting a little less when he was around, how you smiled down at your phone and quickly locked it when he leaned over. How you’d hum that soft little tune you always did when you were nervous or excited.

It didn’t take much.

One glance at your screen while you left it unattended. One name. One stupid string of texts about Friday and coffee and maybe I’ll see you there? :)

And it pissed him off more than he wanted to admit.

Not because he thought you weren’t allowed to date. Not even because he thought the guy was anything special.

No.

It was because you thought someone else could understand you better than he did. That someone else could earn what he’d spent years protecting.

You didn’t know it, but he was the reason most guys never got near you in the first place.

He wasn’t exactly subtle—especially in high school. Any guy who so much as looked at you too long got “the talk.” A casual hand around your shoulders. A stare that went a little too cold. A whispered “She’s not interested” even if you hadn’t said it yourself.

He made it hard for anyone to approach. On purpose.

Because you were his.

Not in the possessive, boyfriend kind of way. At least, that’s what he told himself. But in the I know every part of you, and no one else ever will kind of way.

So when this new guy started sniffing around, he didn’t wait.

He caught the guy behind the gym after class, right where the hallway cameras didn’t reach.

The guy flinched when he turned the corner and saw him standing there—arms crossed, calm smile on his face like this was just another casual run-in. But his eyes… his eyes were cold.

“Hey,” he said smoothly, stepping into his path.

The guy hesitated, confused. “Uh. Hey?”

“You’ve been texting her.”

The guy blinked, caught off guard. “I—what?”

He took another step closer. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been trying to take her out. Planning something for Friday, right? Café date?”

The guy laughed nervously, confused. “Yeah? I mean… she said yes.”

That smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah. She’s nice like that.”

Then the smile dropped.

“But let’s get one thing straight.”

The guy’s brows pulled together. “What are you—?”

He grabbed the front of his collar, shoving him hard against the wall, voice dropping low and sharp.

“You’re not gonna show up.”

The guy froze. “What the hell is your problem?!”

“I don’t like repeating myself.” He leaned in close, breath calm and voice terrifyingly even. “You’re going to leave her alone. You’re going to block her. And you’re never going to speak to her again.”

“You’re insane—!”

He smiled again, twisting the guy’s shirt tighter. “No. You’re stupid. See, here’s the thing. I’m the popular guy. Good grades. Everyone loves me.” He tilted his head, voice dropping even further. “You? You’re a background character. No one’s gonna believe some awkward little shit over me. You tell anyone I threatened you, and all I have to do is smile and say, ‘Who, me?’ And everyone will laugh and move on.”

He let go with a shove, stepping back as the guy gasped, fixing his shirt.

“You can call it jealousy. Obsession. Whatever makes you feel better,” he said, brushing invisible dust off his sleeve. “But here’s what it really is, I’m not letting someone like you anywhere near her.”

The guy stared at him, chest heaving.

He walked away with a casual wave. “Don’t forget. Friday? You’re busy~”

The guy didn’t show up.

And that night, when he dropped by your room and found you curled up and quiet, wearing his hoodie like a safety blanket, something in his chest twisted.

You didn’t say a word about it.

But he knew.

He could see the flicker of hurt behind your eyes. The soft smile you gave him—fake, practiced. The way you brushed him off like it didn’t matter. He wanted to feel satisfied. Victorious.

But it just made him feel worse.

Because no matter how much he tried to control things… he couldn’t stop that sadness in your eyes.

You didn’t even know it was him. Didn’t even know that all this time, the reason you felt so overlooked, so invisible was because he’d made sure of it.

Not because he wanted to hurt you. But because he couldn’t stand the idea of someone else seeing what he saw.

You were his quiet. His warmth. His constant.

And if someone else took that away from him?

He didn’t know who he’d be.

***

It started small.

You noticed it when you caught him glaring at someone you’d only spoken to once. When your texts started mysteriously going unanswered. When people who used to be friendly now looked at you like they didn’t want to get involved.

At first, you thought you were just overthinking it. Paranoia, maybe. You were introverted, bad at reading people. You kept to yourself more often than not, maybe that just meant people naturally faded away.

But then there were moments.

Moments where you caught the sharpness behind his smile when someone mentioned another guy’s name. Moments where his “jokes” about being possessive didn’t feel so funny anymore. Moments where he looked at you too long, too quietly, like he was thinking something he couldn’t say out loud.

And then that night—everything shifted.

He was in your room again. Like always. Sprawled out on your bed, head resting against your pillow like it belonged to him. You were on your floor, flipping through old game cases, trying to ignore the heavy beat of your heart.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” he said, tone light but eyes tracking every move you made.

You shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

You didn’t answer right away. You didn’t really know how to. Your mind had been a mess lately, spinning with everything you didn’t understand. Everything you were starting to understand.

“Do you…” you hesitated, eyes on the case in your hand. “Do you ever think people avoid me because of you?”

He sat up. Slowly.

“Where’s that coming from?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered. “It just feels like… people don’t even try anymore.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then he stood. Walked over. Sat beside you on the floor, shoulder brushing yours. You didn’t look at him. You felt like you couldn’t.

You looked up at him, finally and your breath caught.

He was quiet for a second. Then he said, voice low, “Maybe I like it that way.”

And then he kissed you.

Because his eyes weren’t teasing. They were serious. Dark. Familiar in a way that suddenly felt foreign.

Just like that.

No warning. No permission.

His lips were on yours—soft, warm, dangerous. It wasn’t rushed, but it wasn’t gentle either. It was sure. Like he’d been waiting. Like he’d done it a thousand times in his head already.

You froze.

For a second, your brain short-circuited. Everything blanked. Your body didn’t know whether to lean in or pull away. Because you’d thought about this before. God, had you thought about it. Wondered, dreamed, ached over it. But now that it was real…

You remembered the girls. The rumors. The way he never looked twice at them after he got bored.

You pulled back, breath catching. “Don’t.”

He blinked at you, surprised, maybe even a little hurt.

You stood, fast. Hands shaking. “You should go.”

He didn’t move.

Instead, he gave you a small, crooked smile. The kind you used to find charming. The kind that now made your stomach twist.

“Why?” he said softly. “I wanna stay the night.”

You stared at him.

He tilted his head, like this was all just a game, “We can play boyfriend and girlfriend again,” he said, voice low, teasing. “Like we used to when we were kids. Remember that?”

You took a step back. “That was pretend.”

“So~?” He stood too now, closing the space between you. “Let’s pretend again. This time I won’t leave.”

Your chest tightened.

You want to push him away, your mind reeling with the memories of him being a playboy.

“I said you should go,” you repeated, trying to keep your voice firm.

And you hated that your heart skipped. That your body remembered the kiss more than your mind could process it. But your gut? Your gut screamed something was wrong. You took another step back, putting space between you.

He didn’t move. His eyes tracked you like prey, something unreadable flickering beneath the surface.

"You used to let me sleep over all the time," he said softly, like he was reminding you of a rule you were suddenly breaking. “What changed?”

Everything, you wanted to say.

But instead, your voice came out smaller than you intended. “That was when we were kids.”

A slow grin tugged at his lips—but it wasn’t his usual smile. It was something darker. Almost sad.

“You’re acting like I’m a stranger.”

You clenched your fists, unsure why your throat felt tight. “You are. Lately... I don’t know what you are.”

Something in his jaw twitched. The grin dropped.

And then, suddenly he stepped forward.

You barely had time to flinch before you felt his hands on your shoulders, gently but firmly guiding you backward. Your knees hit the edge of your bed. You stumbled. Sat down.

His body was close. Too close.

Your breath hitched.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” he murmured, crouching slightly so he could look you in the eyes. “I’d never hurt you. You know that, right?”

You nodded slowly, heart hammering. But the unease wouldn’t leave.

He placed a hand beside your thigh on the bed, leaning in.

“Then why are you shaking?”

You didn't answer.

Because part of you didn’t know if it was fear… or something else. Something even more dangerous—doubt.

You tried to stand again, but he didn’t move back. He was watching you too closely. Like he was trying to read your mind. Like he already knew what was in it.

"I know you're confused," he said. "But deep down, you've always felt something too. I just had the guts to do something about it."

You opened your mouth, to argue, to tell him to leave again but nothing came out. Instead, you whispered, "I don't know what you're doing anymore."

His expression cracked for a moment—something bitter bleeding through.

“I’m doing what I should’ve done a long time ago.”

And for the first time, he didn’t try to mask it.

[scarletmika]

Cliché : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Summary: There's always a joke surrounding weddings that the Maid of Honor and the Best Man will end up falling in love; it's one of the oldest clichés in the book. When you're the Maid of Honor, though, Bob Floyd wouldn't have it any other way.

Warnings: insane amounts of fluff, insane amounts of pining (my god I couldn't stop), maid of honor and best man trope, kind of friends to lovers, language, Hangman is Hangman, female reader, reader is very creative and can dance, UCSD info might not be accurate I don't go there, suggestive and steamy but not explicit, language, probably incorrect descriptions of the Navy (my dad was a Marine, I'm doing my best lol)

Word Count: 13,515 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

“Natasha Trace, my best friend…will you marry me?”

The Hard Deck erupted into a chorus of excitement the minute that Natasha told Bradley Bradshaw yes through a curtain of tears. Bob was cheering right along with them, elated for his two best friends and to know that Rooster had pulled off the proposal he’d been stressing over for weeks now.

The couple had made the rounds in the moments after. Maverick and Penny were the first to congratulate them both, and Bob could’ve sworn he saw tears in their Team Leader’s eyes as he hugged Rooster. Hangman had a snide remark under his breath, but gave the couple both his heartfelt congratulations, followed by Fanboy and Payback.

“Couldn’t have done this without you, Bobby boy,” Rooster clapped his best friend on the back, bringing him into a tight hug before letting Natasha hug her back seater. “Bob’s been helping me plan this for weeks, making sure everyone would be here tonight for the engagement party. The greatest future best man a guy could ask for!”

“Bradley, it can’t be an engagement party without our families,” Natasha had quickly argued back, shooting Bob a bright smile. “But thank you, Bob. It means the world to both of us.”

“It’s what you both deserve,” he’d told them wholeheartedly. “Seeing my best friends happy is all I want.”

“Going back to your engagement party comment,” Bradley cut in, shooting his now-fiancée a cheeky grin as he gestured behind her. “Don’t think I didn’t think of everything.”

Bob laughed along with Rooster the second Natasha turned around, shouting in glee at her family standing directly behind her. She’d thrown herself into her mother and father’s arms, given her sister a tight hug, and a whole new round of tears had sprung as they admired the ring on her finger. Bob nudged his best friend with a grin.

“You did good, Rooster,”

“Oh, this is just the beginning,” Natasha’s attention was turned back to Bradley the second she heard him say that, raising an eyebrow as she missed the sneaky smiles on her family’s faces.

“What else could you have possibly pulled off tonight-”

“Give your man props, Nattie. He knew if he proposed to you without me in attendance, one of us would likely kill him,”

It wasn’t the first time Bob had ever seen you, but it was the first time he’d ever seen you in person. Natasha had shown him many photos of herself and her childhood best friend, the girl she considered more of a sister than anything else, many times before in all their time knowing each other and working together. He’d seen the elementary photos, the awkward middle school photos, the prom photos, and the intermittent photos taken throughout adulthood, anytime the pair of you could find time to see one another.

He hated that, based solely on photos and stories of you, he’d grown the most schoolboy crush in the world on you. He wasn’t sure if there was an “unspoken” code about crushing on the childhood best friend of one of your own best friends, but he felt like it definitely crossed a line.

Rooster was laughing from Bob’s side as you and Natasha practically bounced around in circles together, talking a mile a minute as you admired the ring sitting snugly on her left hand now. With arms wrapped around one another, you’d both turned back to the boys as Bob watched you flash a smile in Rooster’s direction.

“Bradley, nice to finally see you outside of FaceTime screens. And nicely done with the ring, I’m glad you took my advice,”

“Who was I to question the advice of the master?”

Bob felt his breath catch for a moment as your gaze finally turned to him, and he could see you fully for the first time in front of him.

God, you were even prettier up close than in your photos. 

“You must be the infamous Bob that I’ve heard so much about,” Bob wanted to melt under your smile as you flashed your attention toward him. “Thanks for keeping my girl safe in the skies.”

“Well- I’d say she keeps me safe more…”

“Team effort, at least take half the credit,” you’d joked to him, before Natasha had quickly pulled you into conversation once more.

It was stupid, Bob thought, to have a crush on a woman he’d never even met before. He couldn’t help it the entire night as he watched you talk and joke with Natasha’s family, the way you so effortlessly made conversation with the entire Dagger Squad, even though it was the first time you’d met them all. Through photos, videos, and stories alone, Bob had gained a schoolboy crush. But now, as you animatedly explained a story of you and Phoenix from your childhood, he could feel his crush growing from seeing your personality shine.

Thankfully for Bob, he’d barely have to see you. You’d fly home most likely the next day, and the next time he’d see you would be for wedding preparations. That’d be plenty of time to get over his dumb little crush on his best friend’s childhood best friend.

“I’m telling you, it was the funniest night of our entire lives!” Natasha was practically in tears, and so were the rest of the Dagger Squad members as you choked out your words through your own laughter. Bob had a hard time looking away from you as you spoke. “I’m up there on that stage, sold out high school theater guys, ready to give my really intense monologue, and suddenly the set wall just comes CRASHING down with Nattie here clinging onto it!”

“I warned them during set construction that the wall was just begging to fall down!” Natasha laughed, leaning back against Rooster with a shake of her head. “That was immediately the last time I let this one here talk me into helping with the school musicals. Never signed up again, no matter how much she begged.”

“And wait, this was opening night too?” Fanboy chimed in from his space beside Bob as both women gave him a nod. “That somehow makes it even funnier. I can’t thank you enough for bestowing us with the gift of these stories tonight.”

“Yes, yes, consider them a tiny gift for all of Nattie’s friends here tonight,” you turned away from the rest of the squad to look at your best friend, though. “It’s your engagement party, though, so I think it’s time that I gave you your gift.”

Bob could see the smirk on Rooster’s lips as he watched the pair. Bob, along with the ret of their friends, watched intently as well as you dug a key out of your back pocket, dropping it into Natasha’s hand without another word. Bob’s front seater cocked an eyebrow, examining the key in confusion.

“A key…how…nice?”

“Well, I have to make sure someone in this city has a spare key to my place,” Bob felt his breath catch for a second, catching onto your words before Natasha did, as you beamed at your best friend. “To my apartment, over in Logan Heights! If I’m going to be the newest Professor at UC San Diego, I’m going to need a place to live-”

If there was a contest for trying to break the sound barrier with a scream, or even how much one person could cry in a single night, Natasha Trace was pretty close to winning them both. Between her shouts of “YOU’RE MOVING TO SAN DIEGO?” and a lot of loud crying, as Rooster smirked, letting his friends know he knew about this surprise, Bob knew this night had quickly become absolute perfection in both of his friends’ eyes.

Bob also knew that now, his plan to squash his little crush on you had failed before it even had the chance to begin.

He’d managed to avoid seeing you for a few days, but that didn’t mean that Natasha had shut up about you. Every day, while thousands of feet in the air, he’d listened to her ramble on and on about how the pair of you had always wanted to live in the same city together once you were settled in your careers, and she was finally getting her wish. She’d also run about a thousand ideas for how to help you decorate your apartment by him, and somewhere in there had tricked him into agreeing to help herself and Rooster set up your apartment.

“I can’t thank you all enough for the help,” you’d told the three standing in front of you one early Saturday morning, giving them all thankful smiles, before turning to the multitudes of boxes stacked around your living room. “I…frankly have no idea where to start. The boxes are all stacked in their corresponding rooms, and there are a ton of IKEA boxes that need to be assembled in just about every room.”

Rooster clapped a hand on Bob’s shoulder, bringing the attention of both women back to the two of them.

“Good thing Bob and I are masters of IKEA furniture,” Bradley put on an air of confidence as he said it. “When Payback and Fanboy got their apartment a few months ago, we were in charge of all the furniture assembly.”

“And given that we managed to build a bedframe upside down, I wouldn’t call us masters,”

It was the giggle you let out at Bob’s comment that brought his attention back to you, an involuntary flush spreading across his cheeks. You gave a mock salute to the pair.

“Well, how nice it is to know I have such capable young men on my side,” you gestured with your head toward the hallway behind you. “I’ll steal Bob for help with the dining room if Natasha, you and your man can handle my bedroom without putting my bedframe together upside down.”

With another laugh shared, Rooster and Phoenix were quickly moving down the hallway toward your bedroom, but Bob caught the over-exaggerated wink that Rooster sent his way before disappearing into what he assumed was your bedroom.

Trying to calm the blush evident on his cheeks, Bob joined you in the dining room directly off your kitchen. You’d already set yourself down on the floor, breaking into the IKEA box laid before you.

“Can you take that so I don’t lose it while getting all these pieces out?” you’d laughed, handing Bob the instruction manual. He took it from you with a nod, quickly flipping through the packet in his hands.

“A ‘GRÖNSTA’, because that’s not a mouthful,” Bob commented under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear as you laughed again. He took a seat on the ground opposite of you,, placing the packet off to the side and helping you take pieces out of the box, while also trying to calm the heat still prevalent in his cheeks. “Doesn’t help that the instructions don’t make any sense.”

“Right? You’d think the Swedes would learn that their pictures aren’t very helpful,” you both shared a laugh as Bob watched you flip open the instructions, grabbing the pieces needed for the very first leg of the table.

It was torture, almost, being around you with a crush that felt so middle school being harbored inside of him. He barely knew you, but every time you talked and joked, he knew he was already digging himself deeper and deeper into a hole.

“You said the other night you’re a professor?” Bob had settled on asking you about yourself. You were Natasha’s best friend, and now you lived here; getting to know you was going to be inevitable. You gave him a slight hum as an answer, intent on screwing in the leg of the table to the tabletop that Bob was holding in place. “What uh, what will you be teaching?”

“I’m a professor in the art department, there’s like a whole slew of classes I’ll be teaching,” you explained to him as Bob held the table steady so that you could screw in another leg. “Music, theatre, dance, and probably whatever else they throw my way.”

You passed the tools off to Bob as you stood, holding the table upright on it’s two legs so that he could screw in the last two from the ground below you. Truthfully, Bob was thankful for the table between you two, because the more he looked at you, the more he couldn’t stop thinking about just how gorgeous you were in person.

“Take it you’re a creative person, then?”

“After some lead roles in high school musicals, followed by a stint on Broadway fresh out of college…yeah I’d say creative is a good word to use,” Bob laughed, moving out from under the table slightly to grab the final leg from just a few feet away, glancing up at you.

“Broadway? My older sister is a big musical fan, she’d go nuts knowing I know someone who was on Broadway, now,”

“Well, you can tell her that I’d be happy to tell her all about it sometime. I’ve got a whole slew of fun stories from different shows,” you gave him another grin, still holding up the unbalanced table. “I’m surprised Nattie didn’t tell anyone about my Broadway stint; she talks about it like a proud mother to whoever will listen.”

Bob found himself locked in place as he laughed at your comment, fidgeting with the last table leg in his hands as he smiled up at you, finding himself locked in conversation easily. Despite his raging social anxiety that Rooster and Hangman desperately wanted to fix, Bob found it entirely too easy to talk to you.

“To be fair, when we’re thousands of feet in the air, we have a few things to focus on for the sake of our lives,” both of you shared a laugh at his comment. “She’d told plenty of stories about you, though. Showed a lot of photos and videos, too.”

“Good, because she’s told me plenty about you,” Bob could see your grin widen, no doubt because of the red flush overtaking his skin at your comment. “Her incredibly smart and kind WSO with raging social anxiety. Not sure I believe that last part, you seem to be doing just fine.”

“On the outside, maybe. Typically, on the outside and inside, I’m about as useful as a newborn baby deer,”

The laughter that you let out as his joke, Bob decided, was now one of his favorite things. He was so entranced by it that he hadn’t noticed you’d accidentally let go of the table until it had fallen back on him.

The gasp you’d let out rang through the room, but it was broken apart by the laughter that seemed to be flowing out of you even harder now. Bob took a second to adjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose before shoving the table off of him. Your laughter paused for a moment as soon as the two of you locked eyes, before you both devolved into a fit of laughter that had Bob almost curled in on himself.

“I’m so sorry!” you had finally managed to get out words after a solid few moments, wiping tears from your eyes as laughter still broke through your words. “I didn’t mean to do that!”

“Good, because I don’t want to explain to Maverick that I died because of a ‘GRÖNSTA’,” the pair of you devolved into laughter again as you held out your hand for him. Bob took it, despite the full-body flush he felt at simply touching your skin, and let you hoist him back up to his feet.

“Alright, next time I see you, I’m buying you a drink as an apology,” you told him with a pointed look as you moved past him to grab the instruction book.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Ikea,”

“Hey!” Bob laughed as you gasped at his comment, whacking him lightly with the instruction booklet as you grinned at him. “There’s no way we’re making that my nickname!”

“I promise it’s better than any call-sign Hangman will come up with for you-”

“What the hell is happening out here?”

Bob turned on his heel to face the hallway just as you did. Rooster looked lost at what was happening outside the bedroom, as did Natasha, but Bob could see the slightest hint of a smirk on his friend’s face as she looked at him. Bob turned to look at you, just as you looked at him, and you both devolved into another round of laughter that had Rooster even more confused.

Bob Floyd hadn’t stopped thinking about you after that night. He thought about you constantly, how your hand fit and felt in his own, about your laughter, and about that beautiful smile on your face. He was in deep, and he knew it. You never left his mind until he saw you again at the weekly Hard Deck hangout with the rest of the Dagger Squad.

“Well, well, well,” Hangman’s Texan accent was heavy tonight as he turned his gaze away from the pool table before him, and the meaningless game he was playing against Coyote. “Phoenix brought her shadow along tonight!”

Bob turned his head, a smile crossing his lips at the sight of you walking up with Phoenix, two beer bottles in your hands as you rolled your eyes at Hangman’s comments, but Natasha was the one who spoke first.

“I was more so her shadow growing up, followed this one everywhere,” she nudged your shoulder before taking a seat at one of the high tops next to Bradley, smiling widely as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Figured, now that she’s settled in, it was time to start bringing her around to the weekly night out.”

The conversation continued, but Bob’s eyes and grin were glued to you. You made a beeline for his side, leaning against the high-top chair he was seated on and passing him one of the beers in your hand.

“Nice to see you, Lieutenant,” you teased him, clinking the top of your bottle to his own. “I did say I owed you a beer next time I saw you.”

“Thanks, Ikea, I’m sure it will numb the pain of that table falling on me,” Bob threw back, laughing as you lightly hit him on the shoulder the second he said that nickname. “Settled in well?”

“All thanks to you guys and that entire day full of furniture building,” you shot back at him, taking a swig of your drink as you turned to watch the pool game in front of you, still leaning against Bob’s chair. It had you close enough that Bob was overwhelmed by the scent of your perfume, and he decided in that moment it might be his new favorite scent.

He then scolded himself in his head for how weird that sounded. This crush was getting out of hand.

Coyote let out a groan as Hangman beat him once again, the latter letting out a loud whoop that had the rest of the Dagger Squad laughing. The pilot’s attention turned immediately to you, a frown appearing on Bob’s lips immediately as he recognized the flirty grin on Jake’s face.

“What do you say, little lady?” Hangman emphasized his accent even more, making a show of gesturing you toward the pool table with the pool cue in his hands. “Want to play a round?”

You hummed from beside Bob, leaning over him to place your own drink on the table as his face immediately flushed at the action. You didn’t seem to notice, stalking toward the pool table and picking up Coyote’s previous pool cue.

“8 ball or 9 ball?”

“9 ball, I’m all about making shots,” Hangman called back, gesturing toward his side of the table. “Payback can rack ‘em for us. What do you say, sweetheart? Ready to be partners with the greatest pool player Miramar’s ever had the pleasure of hosting?”

“Absolutely,” you shock back, and Bob paused in his sip of his beer as your gaze shot back toward him. “Let’s go, Lieutenant. You’re my partner.”

There was a collective laugh through the entire squad at the look of shock on Hangman’s face, that he quickly tried to wipe away and pretend as if your comment hadn’t affected him. Bob froze for a moment, but the inviting smile on your face drew him to your side within a heartbeat.

Hangman and Coyote were a good pairing, but somehow you and Bob managed to be just slightly better than them both. Bob let out a cheer as you sunk the final ball of the game, happily accepting the high five you sent his way as Coyote and Hangman groaned, having come so close yet so far from winning out.

“Nice shots there, Bob,” you shot at him, nudging his shoulder with your own as you placed your cue down on the table. Bob could feel the confidence he’d been feeling the last hour slightly fade at the close proximity to you, at the sweet smile you were sending up at him from your place next to him.

“Yeah uh- yeah, you too, Ikea-”

“Ikea?” Payback questioned as he and Fanboy hopped up to sit on the table next to the dejected Jake Seresin. He pointed between Bob and their newest friend. “Like…the Swedish furniture place?”

You laughed, your hand coming to rest on Bob’s forearm with a squeeze that had his heart fluttering in his chest.

“Inside joke, Payback, and it’s going to stay that way,”

Bob’s friend went to counter them with another comment when Natasha and Bradley returned to the group, an entire tray of beers in hand as Natasha whistled to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright guys, we’ve got another round of beers for the group,” most of them whooped and hollered as Bradley passed them all out, before Natasha turned to Bob and her best friend to hand them the two in her hands with a wide grin. “And two very special ones for our best friends.”

There was a beat of silence as Bob took his drink from Natasha, taking a swig before he felt something on the outside of the bottle. He turned it over in his hands, seeing a piece of paper barely attached by a thin strip of tape, Rooster’s handwriting scrawled across it:

You might be Phoenix’s back seater, but I want you to be my wingman this time: be my Best Man?

Bob almost felt tears in his eyes as he looked up at Bradley, who was waiting with a grin on his face. Overwhelmed with emotion, Bob simply nodded, standing up as he brought Bradley into a tight hug as the rest of the group realized what was happening before them and began cheering.

“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD, YES!”

Bob and Bradley both turned to see you flinging yourself into Natasha’s arms, the pair of you jumping and crying together. His eyes trailed to your bottle, long forgotten on the side of the pool table, with a piece of paper bearing Nat’s handwriting taped to the neck:

It was always going to be you: be my Maid of Honor?”

“You know what they say about the Best Man and the Maid of Honor, right Bob?” It was Bradley’s voice mumbled into his ear with a hint of teasing laced through it, his best friend’s hand clamped down on his shoulder with a squeeze. “It’s almost inevitable that they fall in love.”

Bob never had a second to truly process Bradley’s words before Natasha was getting the attention of the entire group once again, with you still glued to her side.

“It might also be a good time to tell you guys we picked a wedding date…we’re getting married in six months!”

The cheering of the entire group ceased for a moment before everyone seemed to shout all at once.

“WHAT?”

Planning a wedding was hard enough on the Bride and the Groom, and it was hard on the Best Man and the Maid of Honor as well. But to somehow turn it around in only six months, especially when almost everyone involved was a Navy fighter pilot who spent most of their time thousands of feet in the air, it made it even harder.

It was even harder for Bob, as he accepted his ‘schoolboy crush’ had grown into a full-blown crush on you, maybe even borderline infatuation, not even a month later than that night at the Hard Deck.

Bob had been a stumbling, blushing mess when you’d given him your number that night after the announcement. It made sense, given that it was going to be up to the two of you to plan most of the festivities leading up to the wedding. It was hard because, besides Bob’s growing affection for you, he couldn’t get the thought of what Rooster had mumbled to him out of his head.

He’d yet, though, worked up the courage to text you regarding ANYTHING other than wedding festivities planning…which were all conversations you had started first.

“Hard Deck, 6 p.m., don’t be late!” Phoenix called out to Bob as she walked away, tucked under Bradley’s arm as they made their way toward the latter's truck. “Hangman insists on that pool rematch tonight!”

“Let a guy shower first!” Bob called back, waving goodbye to his friends as he climbed up into his truck, wiping sweat from his brow. Another day that ended with over 200 push-ups from Maverick, and he refused to show up to the Hard Deck without showering first. Before he could put his car in drive, his phone went off, and his heart skipped a beat as he read your name across the screen.

Soooooooooo, huge favor to ask you here, Bobby…

Bob did his best to calm the hammering that his heart was doing inside of his ribcage. It was just a simple text, that’s all, asking for a favor. He’d texted you before, and while this potentially may not be wedding-related, he could certainly text you again.

Anything, what’s up?

Anything? God, could he make his pining any more obvious? He didn’t get long to mull over his own words before you’d already typed back to him.

My car is in the shop, and a coworker gave me a ride in today, but she had to leave early. I know I promised Jake that pool rematch tonight…any way you could swing by and pick me up from campus?

I know campus is WAY in the opposite direction from the Hard Deck, it’s totally okay if you can’t!

Was Bob freaking out inside? Absolutely. He knew you worked on UCSD’s campus, but he’d never been to your office; he had no need to go there. The last time he’d also been fully alone with you was building furniture and dropping tables in your apartment, and picking you up meant being alone with you…plus, it wouldn’t give him time to go home and shower, and the last thing he wanted to do was put you off potentially because he was sweating buckets in the San Diego sun all day.

Before he could psych himself out, as if there was a little Rooster on his shoulder coercing him, Bob replied.

Of course, send me your office address.

About a half hour later, Bob was forcing himself out of his truck and up to the doors of the building housing the Department of Theater and Dance, frantically trying to fix his hair so he looked semi-acceptable. He’d already had to convince himself that a fifth layer of deodorant was not needed, nor was a second spray of the spare cologne he kept in his car.

Walking through the doors and into the building you’d given him directions to, Bob realized fairly quickly that he was absolutely lost and had no idea how to get to your office. Spotting a receptionist off to the side, Bob made his way over to her and cleared his throat, asking politely for directions to your office.

“I didn’t think Siren had any meetings on the schedule for today…” the receptionist trailed off as she raised an eyebrow at him. Bob let out an awkward laugh, glancing to her nametag and making a mental note that her name was ‘Sydney’, before answering her.

“Uh, no ma’am, sorry for the confusion. I’m a uh…friend of hers. She asked me to pick her up,”

Sydney’s eyes seemed to widen as she smiled, happily sitting up now in the chair once he’d explained himself.

“Oh! You must be the Lieutenant. Bob, right?” he gave her a nod as she typed something at her laptop before turning back to him. “Siren told me you’d be dropping by and would probably need directions- oh, and don’t mind the nickname, it’s just kind of a little inside joke around here that stuck. Take those stairs up to the second floor, the right side is dance studios, and her office is at the end of the hall to the left!”

With a quiet thank you, Bob followed her directions up the stairs and down to the left, though he could hear the music blasting from the dance studios down the hallway. At the very end of the hall, he saw your name on the plaque outside the one door ajar in the hallway.

With a light push to the door, so as not to freak you out, Bob leaned against the doorframe as he saw you working away at your laptop, singing softly to yourself as your own music played. He smiled softly to himself at the sight, even though inside he was still freaking out over the entire situation.

“So…Siren, huh?”

You jumped slightly at the voice until you turned, seeing that it was just Bob standing in the doorway of the office. He watched as you gave a slight laugh, beginning the process of packing your things up as you explained.

“God, of course, Sydney used that in front of you,” you turned, shooting him another smile as you packed your laptop away. “Context to this stupid inside joke probably helps, doesn’t it? I taught a salsa class my first week here, and this one student of mine thought I was such a good dancer she explained that my ‘dancing was so captivating, like a Siren’s song,’ and the next thing I knew the entire staff was calling me that.”

“Not a bad nickname,” Bob tried to reassure you as you joined him at the doorway with your things. “Better than your callsign being your name…or Hangman turning it into baby-on-board instead.”

You rolled your eyes, taking hold of his arm in your hand and dragging him lightly from the office doorway to lock up behind you, hopefully unaware of the frantic beating of his heart at even the slight contact.

“I’d rather get called that than get named after leaving my wingmen out to dry,” you gave him a pointed look that he laughed at before your features softened into something genuine again. “Thank you for being my hero today.”

“Anytime, Ikea,”

It was only halfway through the night at the Hard Deck when you’d let slip to Penny your nickname at work, and like vultures, the rest of the squad was dying to hear the story.

It was that night that, after living in San Diego for a month and a half, Bob watched the rest of his team officially induct you as an honorary member of the Dagger Squad with your very own callsign: Siren. You were officially one of them, even though you basically had been since the moment you’d arrived in the city.

From that day on, something shifted for Bob. He’d chalked it up to the ease he felt around you, the way you made him feel like he didn’t need to be flashy like Hangman to be liked, and he’d found it easier to finally branch out and text you about things NOT related to the wedding. And slowly, but surely, he was stopping by the campus on his very few rare off days from work to bring you lunch, simply talk to you in your office, or offer you a ride to the Hard Deck, knowing full well your car was parked in the campus lot. 

Bob spent the next weeks slowly, but surely, falling in love with you in every way imaginable, and he knew it. It terrified him how easily you’d secured a place in his heart, and you weren’t even aware you had. Phoenix and Rooster had tried to pry the information out of him many times, wondering why he was so engrossed in his phone all the time or why he was suddenly so smiley, but he kept his lips sealed.

Besides, how was he supposed to tell the woman controlling the fighter jet that could kill him that he was kind of falling in love with her best friend?

It was one of those very rare off days that Bob found himself cleaning out his truck in his driveway, knowing that there were a few jackets and extra pairs of shirts, and pants to change into after leaving base that needed to come out of the car and into the wash. What he hadn’t expected was to find your jacket.

You’d worn it the night before to the Hard Deck, actually needing Bob to pick you up since your car was once again in the shop. The temperature was predicted to drop drastically that night, and since Payback and Fanboy had the bright idea to do ‘late night dogfight football,’ you’d told him that you wanted to ensure you were warm. You must have left it in his car when he’d dropped you off that night.

Bob hesitated for half a second before climbing into the driver’s seat of his truck. What if you needed your jacket? It totally wasn’t an excuse to see you.

Sydney knew him well at this point, simply waving hi to him as he entered the familiar campus building. He’d waved back, giving his thanks as she called out that you may not be in your office at this hour.

She’d been correct, but Bob had been by enough to know you had your class schedule written out on the board by the door of your office.

Contemporary Dance, 11:30 a.m. Room 149

The signs were easy enough to follow, leading him down the hallway toward the area he knew held the multiple dance studios. Your voice was easy enough to pick out as he stepped inside the room, catching you leading your class in front of the full wall of mirrors. He’d never seen you dance until now, but it only took a second to see why they all called you Siren.

You moved in a way that was graceful yet powerful, commanding and yet gentle all the same. Bob had to adjust the way he was leaning against the doorway, cursing himself for the fact that he was enjoying your dancing way too much, and the dirty thoughts in his head were fighting to come to the surface. You deserved more than being thought of in that way. You deserved a proper date, maybe over a nice meal with a walk along the beach. You deserved chivalry, for him to always open every door and walk on the outer edge of the sidewalk to keep you safe. You deserved more than his boyish, improper thoughts. What you deserved was the world, and Bob would give it to you if you just said the word.

You’d locked eyes with him in the mirror as the song and dance with your students came to an end, and his heart soared at the way it seemed your face lit up simply at seeing him. You bid a quick goodbye to your students, ushering them out of the room and onto their next class, before it was just the pair of you left as music still played over the room’s speakers.

“You didn’t text me and tell me you were coming?” you questioned the man, moving through the room to fix things up and put away anything your students had managed to move in the process of the class.

“You forgot this last night,” he held up your jacket. “Just figured I’d bring it back, sorry, I should’ve texted-”

“Bob, you’re more than welcome here whenever you want to come,” you cut in quickly, gesturing toward the far wall where your purse lay. “Thank you, just toss it over with the rest of my stuff.”

Bob did as you asked, now fully in the room with you, as he watched you fiddle with things around the room, moving them back to where he assumed they were before class had started. His hands found their way into the pockets of his jeans, keeping himself from wringing his hands together or from fiddling with the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel over and over again.

“I’ve never gotten to see you dance before…I get why they call you Siren,” he swallowed the small lump that seemed to form in his throat, slowly losing his nerve around you like he typically did. “Wish I knew how to do…all that.”

“Well, thank you, contemporary was one of the dance forms I primarily trained in during college,” you shot back at him, spinning on your heel to face him now as you tilted your head. “And come on, anyone can dance, it’s not that complicated.”

“That’s because you’ve never seen me try,” Bob laughed at himself, sheepishly rubbing at the skin on the back of his neck as he looked away from you. “I look like I have two left feet when dancing. Who knows how I’m going to survive this wedding in a few months.”

There was silence in the room before Bob heard you move. His eyes trailed back to you, watching as you grabbed your phone for just a moment, before the sweet sound of Kina Grannis’ voice overtook the room. His eyes stayed glued to you as you came to stand in front of him, holding out your hand with your palm facing the sky as you wore the prettiest, softest smile he’d ever seen.

“Dance with me?”

Bob thought surely that was the moment his heart was going to decide to give out on him, but in gazing at your kind eyes and smile full of affection, he placed his hand in your own and let you lead him.

God, your hand fit in his like it was made to be there.

He silently watched you, allowing you to wrap his one hand around your waist, giving it a squeeze before trailing your other hand to rest on top of his shoulder.

“Take a deep breath,” he followed your instructions as you gave a squeeze to his hand, still wrapped in your own. “Just follow me, I promise it’s not hard.”

Bob found his eyes glued to your feet as you slowly moved him around the room together, mumbling apologies every now and again as he stumbled or stepped on your toes, but you only ever gave him a comforting squeeze to his hand or shoulder. He never dared look up at you, afraid he’d lose all his cool if he had to look you in the eyes in this close proximity.

When he stumbled once more, you gave a small laugh, hand moving from his shoulder to his neck, gently tilting his jaw upwards to look at you.

“I promise it’s much easier if you don’t watch your feet,”

His eyes met yours, and it was like the entire world went silent in that moment, but the music playing through the sound system seemed to get louder.

But I can’t help, falling in love with you.

“There are those pretty blue eyes,” you teased as a blush coated his cheeks in seconds. It brought on another smile to see a similar one on your own, though. “Did Bradley tell you about their bachelor and bachelorette party idea?”

“He said they had an idea, just hadn’t told me yet,”

“Nat told me they thought a big combined party would be best, given that this friend group is just one giant pile of pilots,” Bob laughed, missing the feel of your hand on his jaw as it moved back to his shoulder. “Guess you and I have to get planning.”

“Maverick said Cyclone made it work so that we can all have a week off for it, just have to let them know when,”

“Perfect. Know what else is perfect?” Bob shook his head as your grin widened. “You are dancing perfectly since you stopped looking at your feet!”

Bob’s eyes widened as he looked down at his feet for just a moment, realizing you were right, before looking back up at you. It was like the world was throwing every sign in the world at him as the music seemed to feel louder once again.

For I can’t help, falling in love with you.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat once again, Bob mustered the softest smile for you he could.

“Guess I just have a great teacher,”

The weeks passed, and the wedding was only a month and a half out. You’d flown home with Natasha to your hometown in order to wedding dress shop with Nat’s sister and mother, and every detail had been meticulously planned out for the wedding. The venue had been chosen, a gorgeous little venue in the heart of San Diego just big enough to house the 150 or so guests that had been invited, and just a few blocks walk for the wedding party and family members who would be staying at the Lafayette Hotel San Diego.

The Best Man and the Maid of Honor had finalized the plans for the joint bachelor/bachelorette trip: a week stay in a gorgeous home by the Colorado River and just an hour’s drive from Lake Mead and Las Vegas, plenty of options for relaxing and true partying, just as Bradley and Natasha wanted. It had taken a while for Bob and you to hammer out the details, many dinners had been held in your office after stopping by, and many phone calls that managed to devolve into late-night conversations having nothing to do with the party planning. But Bob wouldn’t have it any other way.

He was hopelessly in love, and he knew it. Unfortunately for him, Bradley had caught on, too.

“Let’s go!” Natasha called out to the boys as they hopped out of Bradley’s truck, already running through the parking lot toward the campus building housing your office. “I want to get on the road before Hangman and the others beat us there. I want the best pick of the bedrooms!”

“Sweetheart, we’re the Bride and Groom, I’m pretty sure we automatically get best pick,” Nat flipped off her fiancé as the boys both laughed. The second she’d turned around, Bradley threw his arm over Bob’s shoulder and tugged him in. “So…want to finally tell me what’s up with you and little Miss Siren?”

Bob shook his head, trying to fight off the flush on his cheeks. The questions from Bradley on the topic had increased tenfold over the last few weeks, and it was getting harder to lie to him.

“We’re in charge of handling a bunch of the backend shit of your wedding, Rooster,” Bob managed to remind his friend as they reached the doors of the campus building. “We spend a lot of time together, that’s all.”

“But you’re in love with her, are you not?” Bob groaned, opening the glass doors and letting Bradley walk ahead of him. “I’m just asking! We can all see it, the entire squad has money in the betting pool for when you two will finally buck up and figure it out. Phoenix has interrogated her so many times and gets nowhere on it.”

“We’re about to leave on your joint bachelor/bachelorette trip, there’s enough love in the air with the two of you. Don’t worry about me and my non-existent love life,”

Bradley made another comment under his breath, but Bob didn’t catch it. His gaze quickly found Natasha at the receptionist's desk, talking to Sydney.

“I’ve been here once, but the building still confuses me. I can’t remember how to get to her office,” Natasha explained to the girl as Sydney simply laughed, waving it off.

“I understand. I used to get confused here all the time. It’s just up those stairs-” she cut herself off as she saw Bob and Bradley approach, her face brightening up at the sight of the former. “Oh, Lieutenant! You guys don’t need directions, he knows where he’s going. I think she canceled her last class of the day, so she should be up in her office!”

Bob felt that flush return in full force as Bradley clapped him on the shoulder.

“Not in love with her my ass,” he gave his shoulder a squeeze after mumbling the words before moving to his fiancée's side, and Natasha was just watching Bob with a cocked head.

“How often are you here, Floyd?”

Bob stumbled for a moment, his hand immediately coming to rub the back of his neck as he tried to find the words. He wanted to say he wasn’t here THAT often…but he knew that was a lie.

Like always, you somehow managed to save the day.

“Oh! I told you guys you could’ve waited in the car!” you’d called out, descending the stairs from your office with your suitcase for the week in hand. You bid your goodbyes to the two students walking at your sides, coming to stand beside Bob as you glanced around the small group with a questioning eyebrow. “I could cut the tension with a knife here. What did I miss?”

“Just…learning some new information,” Natasha settled on, a grin lighting up her face as she hooked her arm through your own, dragging you away from the two boys who could only laugh. “IT’S PARTY TIME!”

An almost 6 hours drive to the booked AirBNB for the week was a slight pain in the ass, but the four of you managed as you all continuously joked that you hadn’t ended up delegated to ride in Hangman’s truck with him. Bob couldn’t help the fact that every so often, his gaze drifted to the backseat in the rearview mirror, to where you and Nat were engrossed in a thousand different conversations that differed from his own and Rooster’s. 

Without fail, you seemed to be looking back at him every time with a small smile that he treasured as if it were the sun itself.

Hangman, Payback, Coyote, and Fanboy had, sadly, beaten the Bride and Groom’s group to the house, but any bitter feelings surrounding it were forgotten as they’d gotten a look at the gorgeous home in person. Nestled in an area of the desert with barely any neighbors and gorgeous views for miles, including the Colorado River just down the hill from the long driveway, no one could harbor any ill feelings about anything as the sun was setting over the mountains and bathing the entire home in red, oranges, and pinks.

Bob had taken his own suitcase and yours, ignoring your protests, and brought them into the house. Everyone seemed to be running about, checking out the amenities, as some people put their claims on the bedrooms already. Natasha had dragged you off in the direction of the game room when Bob caught sight of Rooster whispering to Hangman and Fanboy, all three men watching him with a smirk.

“Hey, baby-on-board,” Hangman called out for him, smirk growing ever cockier by the second. “The rest of us have already staked claim on rooms, and of course, the couple has to share. Only room left is the sofa bed room in the back of the house…think Siren would mind sharing with you?”

If Bob’s eyes could pop out of his head, they would’ve. He shook his head, already knowing by the smirks on all three boys’ lips that this was planned well in advance.

“Guys-”

“Hey, Siren!” Fanboy called out just as you’d reentered the room. You stopped dead in your tracks, cocking an eyebrow at the guys as you waited. “Claims have already been staked on most of the bedrooms, perks of being the first ones here. You don’t mind sharing with Bobby boy, do you?”

“Guys, really-”

“I don’t mind,” you’d cut off Bob’s comment as he turned to you, eyes wide. He wasn’t sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him, but he could’ve sworn he saw a flush cross your own skin as you looked at him. “Really, as long as it’s okay with you, I don’t mind.”

Bob looked back at the boys and their expectant smirks, then back to you, before finally taking a deep breath.

“Yeah…yeah, that’s fine with me,”

The truth was, Bob could barely focus on the entirety of dinner with the squad. He laughed, made jokes, and participated in conversations across the entire table the entire night, but his mind was stuck on the fact that he had to share a bed…with you.

Those nerves didn’t rest even as you both retired to your room for the night. The sofa bed had already been pulled out and made for the two of you. Bob had simply crawled into bed in silence, situating himself under the covers.

You entered the room moments later, having changed in the bathroom down the hall, and sent him a sweet smile as you crawled into your own side of the bed. Lying side by side, heads on their respective pillows, you both simply lay there and smiled toward one another.

“Sorry you got stuck with me,”

“I didn’t get stuck with you,” you’d rolled your eyes at his comment. “I’d take sharing with you over any of those Neanderthals any day.”

“Just promise not to drop any tables on me this trip, okay, Ikea?”

You’d laughed, even as you’d reached your foot out under the covers and kicked him lightly on the shin.

“If I managed to do that, I think I should get an award,” it was his turn to laugh as you flipped over, turning the bedside lamp off before tucking yourself into the covers. “Night, Bob.”

“Night, Ikea-”

“We’ve got to STOP with that nickname,”

He’d fallen asleep comfortably that night at your side, still laughing lightly to himself over that dumb little nickname he had for you that had found a way to stick. He wished his sleep had lasted longer, but it was quite the sight to see you leaning over him and shaking his shoulder with a grin.

“Get up!”

Bob groaned as you moved back to your side of the bed, reaching over to the nightstand to grab his glasses. The second his eyes focused, he checked the time on his phone. Slightly after 5:30 in the morning. Bob let out another groan when he saw the time.

“Why are you awake-”

“Just trust me and come on!”

He’d barely been out of bed and on his feet when you’d taken his hand in your own, dragging him down the dark hallways of the house. He wasn’t even fully awake enough to register your hand wrapped around his own.

The second you’d dragged him out onto the large patio deck of the home, he understood why you’d woken him up so early. If sunset had been pretty from this view, sunrise might’ve been even prettier.

The deep purple hues that crawled across the sky, blending into the fading night sky full of stars over the desert. The beginnings of reds and pink crawling out from the horizon, casting itself over the rolling desert hills and the Colorado River just barely in the distance, close enough he could see the colors reflecting off the water. He’d found himself leaning against the railing, gazing out at the colors for a moment before turning to you at his side, finding you already looking up at him.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”

You’d turned back to the view, but Bob’s eyes, full of wonder, stayed locked on you as he spoke.

“Prettier than anything I’ve ever seen,”

You’d stayed out there for awhile, small talk flowing through you, reminiscing on moments with the squad such as that terrible late night dogfight football, or the time you’d all watched on as Rooster handed Maverick’s ass to him in pool at the Hard Deck. Your hands sat on the railing next to one another, just barely touching, as your arms sat pressed up against one another. If Bob had more confidence, if he’d thought that maybe you felt the same for him, he might’ve taken the leap and reached out to take your hand in his own.

Neither of you had any clue how long you’d been out there admiring the view and simply talking. Bob heard a small noise behind you both after a while, glancing behind you both. Rooster simply stood in the patio doorway, a genuine grin on his face as he raised his coffee cup at his best friend with a wink, before leaving you alone together once more.

It was a week of memories that none of them would ever truly forget.

The entire day spent on the shores of Lake Mead was full of laughter, and what Fanboy had nicknamed ‘dogfight chicken’, though it didn’t have any different rules than a normal game of chicken did. You and Bob had reigned victorious through every single round, though Bob wasn’t sure how. His thoughts were flooded with you, and the impure thoughts he was having at the thought that his head was, quite literally, between your thighs as you sat on his shoulders, was driving him insane.

That next morning was worse for his thoughts, when he’d awoken early in the morning to you nestled in his arms, head resting against his chest, and his arms wrapped around you. He’d laid still like that for what felt like hours, both terrified of waking you up and freaking you out with the position you were in, while also savoring every second of it in fear it would never happen again. He’d pretended to be asleep when you finally woke up, letting you be the one to extricate yourself from his arms. Neither of you mentioned it to the other.

One full day and night had been dedicated to the Las Vegas strip and all it had to offer. Rooster was constantly nudging Bob in the side the entire day, reminding his friend that his eyes were supposed to remain on your face, not on the slit of the dress you wore running up and exposing your thigh.

No one knew who had drunkenly suggested it, but somehow they’d found themselves at a Magic Mike show. Plenty of videos had been taken as a form of blackmail as Hangman was subjected to a lap dance from the performers of the show, constantly telling Coyote to ‘piss off about it’ the rest of the night.

That next morning, Bob had woken up to you entangled in his arms once again. And the morning after that.

The Dagger Squad’s final day of the trip was spent together at the home, simply enjoying one another's company as more stories of everyone’s childhood had been shared across the board. Bob had even been roped into a story of him working on his parents' ranch back in Montana at one point, which prompted a whole discussion on whether Bob was technically considered a cowboy or not.

The WSO had found himself frozen in the kitchen that night, simply watching you from the window. You and Natasha sat on the patio together, pointing up at the light pollution-free sky as you seemed to be watching the stars, discussing what could be seen that night, hundreds of thousands of miles above your heads. He’d watched you throw your head back laughing, and that tug in his chest when he looked at you seemed to increase tenfold in that moment.

It wasn’t long later that Rooster was opening his bedroom door, coming to find that it was Bob standing on the other side of the door and knocking frantically.

“Bob-”

“You were right…I’m in love with her,”

“Well,” both boys turned, seeing Natasha had entered the hallway at just the right moment to join her future husband for bed and hear the conversation occurring. Bob’s blood ran cold, fearing the worst, but she simply smiled at him. “It’s nice to finally hear you admit the obvious.”

A long conversation with his best friends came with the feeling of a small weight being lifted off his shoulders, of finally having admitted his feelings out loud. They’d encouraged him to act on it, to tell you how he felt, but Bob couldn’t get rid of the nagging insecurity in the back of his head that he was never going to be good enough for you.

When he’d returned to your room that night and crawled into bed, you were still awake. You had both simply laid there in silence for a moment, staring at one another, and Bob could see the hesitation in your movements for just a moment. You seemed to throw your inhibitions out the window, moving across the bed and slotting yourself into Bob’s arms, curling yourself around him as you buried your head into the crook of his neck.

It threw Bob for a loop. Every night this week, you’d awoken like this, tangled together, but he’d assumed that it had just naturally happened in your sleep, that one of you reached out for the other. But you were awake, you were both aware of what you were doing, and yet you took the leap anyway. Bob chose not to push his luck, not to ask, and simply wrapped his arms around you, closing his eyes with you tucked right against him where he felt you belonged.

“Can I tell you something?” Bob whispered to you after moments of silence wrapped up together, neither of you addressing the compromising position you’d put yourself in.

“Always,”

“You…” Bob struggled for a moment, trying to find his words and the right thing to say. ‘Love’ was dancing on his lips, but his insecurities tugged it back in. When he spoke again, he knew he meant the words, even if it was not what he meant to say. “You’re my best friend. Don’t tell Rooster that.”

There was a pause, then a soft laugh, as you seemed to cling to him tighter, your words and breath ghosting over his skin.

“You’re my best friend, too. Just don’t tell Nat,”

There had been another shift in the relationship between you and Bob in those next few weeks leading to the wedding night, and everyone seemed to be able to see it. A simple confession, albeit not the confession Bob had wanted to say that night, seemed to change everything.

Anytime the group was out together, you both were glued to one another’s side. This time, unlike in the months prior, it was as if the pair of you had to be touching. If you were all walking somewhere, your arm was linked through his with your hand resting on his bicep. The entire group noticed the way that, as you all hugged one another goodbye at the end of a night, you and Bob seemed to linger in one another’s embraces longer than usual.

There was the night at the Hard Deck, laughing over some story Maverick was telling them from the glory days, that Bob felt your hand reach for his under the table, wordlessly slotting itself into his own. That moment replayed in his head every single day and night, even as he fell asleep late into the morning hours with you still on the phone with him.

They were the moments that he couldn’t help but replay constantly, even as he stood in the preparation room of the wedding venue, adjusting his dress whites to ensure that nothing was out of place.

“How are we looking over here, Rooster?” Hangman called out, moving through the room to check on the groom himself. 

“Ready to do this thing,” Rooster told him as Bob joined the pair across the room. Bradley placed a hand on each of their shoulders, his Best Man and his only other Groomsman, all standing together in their matching Navy dress whites, and gave them a thankful smile. “Thank you both for doing this. For being here with me.”

Bob grinned at his best friend as Rooster pulled them both into a hug, before it was go time.

Bradley was already stationed at the altar behind the double doors before them, leaving Bob to stand just behind the doors, ready to lead the charge down the aisle for his best friends to get married. He turned as he heard the voice of Natasha’s sister behind them, taking her place beside Hangman for the walk. His gaze then turned to you as you slotted yourself to his side, and it took everything in him not to whisk you off your feet the second he laid eyes on the form fitting, navy blue dress clung to your body, or the plunging neckline he was desperately trying to keep his eyes off of.

“She’s all set up with her dad back there,” you’d told him softly, winding your arm through his as your hand lay on his forearm, eyes never leaving his own. “We’re good to go the second the music kicks in. You ready?”

“Think Rooster would kill me if I wasn’t, he’s antsy down there,” you’d laughed, and Bob had smiled. His favorite sound in the world. “You…you look beautiful.”

“Right back at you, Lieutenant,”

There were smiles and tears throughout the crowd as you and Bob led the charge down the aisle, taking your places on either side of where Natasha and Bradley would stand. The second Natasha was escorted down the aisle by her father, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house, Rooster and you included. Bob found himself watching you, though, as you happily took Nat’s bouquet from her hands through your tears.

They recited after their Pastor, they exchanged their vows, but Bob found his eyes betraying him and glancing at you more often than at his best friends. Every time he looked to you, he found you were already looking at him.

He knew there was no going back the second Natasha Trace and Bradley Bradshaw were pronounced man and wife, that they’d pulled one another into their first kiss as a married couple, and his eyes had drifted to you in the celebration. All he could think in that moment was that he wanted that to be you and him, that he wanted to hold you and kiss you and call you his forever.

It felt like a blur to Bob what happened next. The entire Dagger Squad joined together to perform the Arch of Swords for their best friends, smiles never leaving anyone’s faces. Bob had sat right next to you during dinner, unable to keep his eyes off of you the entire time. Then, you’d rose to your feet and took hold of the microphone passed to you, preparing for the speech you’d spent your entire life writing.

“If you don’t know me, the truth is you probably indirectly do. Because any story that Natasha has told you from any point in her life? I was most likely at every single one of those,” you’d turned to Natasha the second you said that, and Bob could see the tears in both of your eyes. “Natasha, or as many in this room know you, Phoenix, you hit me on the head with a soccer ball in Kindergarten, and I knew from that moment on you would be my best friend. I watched you fall in and out of love with both soccer and softball growing up, witnessed you punch two middle schoolers who broke my heart, and watched you fall in love with the idea of someday flying F-18s for the rest of your life. I’m forever proud to say that I’ve watched you achieve everything you’ve ever wanted in life, and I’m so happy that I’ve gotten to be here for all of it. But most importantly, I’m glad your passion also brought you the love you have always deserved. Bradley, I’m proud to call you one of my best friends in life now, and I could not be happier to know that you two have found one another.”

You’d raised your champagne glass through your tears, as the room followed suit, even as Natasha silently sobbed from her place beside Bradley.

“They say that love is simply just a friendship that caught on fire,” Bob’s breath caught for just a moment, swearing that he saw your eyes flicker to him for just a moment, before you continued to talk. “May it burn bright for many years to come, and fly higher than you both do every day in the San Diego skies.”

There were still the remnants of tears streaming down your face as you took your place beside Bob once again, allowing Natasha’s sister to give her own speech. Bob watched you in silence before, in a leap of faith, reaching his hand out for your own. You took it without a word, squeezing onto it in a vice-like grip and refusing to let go.

The reception was in full swing, and everyone was in party mode. Natasha and Bradley were the stars of the show in their first dance, revealed in their speeches previously to have been taught by none other than you.

The bouquet toss had the entire Dagger Squad erupting into cheers, almost trying to carry you off the dance floor, the second Natasha’s bouquet seemed to find you among the young women in the crowd as if meant just for you.

You. God, you had consumed every ounce of Bob’s thoughts for weeks and months now, and tonight was no different. In the ever-changing landscape that was life, you were like the North Star in Bob’s eyes, his one constant since the moment you’d walked into the Hard Deck.

“As a wedding gift to us, could you just grow some balls and finally ask her out?”

Bob jumped, startled, as Bradley and Natasha appeared at his side from where he stood on the outside of the dance floor. He sighed, seeing the expectant looks on their faces, before glancing back to where you danced with the rest of the fighter pilots you’d grown so close to over the last few months.

“She’s, like, walking perfection on legs, guys. She could do better than the socially awkward fighter pilot that is…me,”

“Except she doesn’t want to,” Natasha cut in. She sighed, resting a hand on Bob’s shoulder before glancing out toward her best friend. “I’ve known her my entire life, Bob, and she doesn’t take to people the way she’s taken to you. She looks for you in every room, she talks about you constantly…she was dying to meet you just from the photos I’d shown you. I’ve never seen her act the way she does when she’s with you, Bob.”

The words sparked a small flame of hope in his chest, a flame just strong enough to push away the insecurities that begged to claw their way out. He looked back at his best friends, the glow of marriage surrounding them, with that flame of hope shining in his eyes.

“What if you’re wrong?”

“What if we’re right?” Rooster cut in, giving him a small shrug. “Maverick said it best to me months ago…don’t think, just do.”

Don’t think, just do. Maverick always knew what to say, didn’t he?

A slower song had begun on the dance floor, and Hangman could see Bob stalking their way. A smirk crossed the man’s face as he took hold of your hand, spinning you in Bob’s direction, before leading the rest of the Dagger Squad off the floor.

Bob stood in front of you, mustering every ounce of confidence he could find in him, as he held out his hand toward you, palm facing the sky.

“Dance with me?”

A smile might’ve been permanently etched into your lips as you took his hand in yours. Bob’s other hand immediately found your waist, his hand resting on your lower back as he tugged you into him as tightly as he could, your other hand resting on his shoulder as the iconic Berlin song played through the reception.

Watching in slow motion as you turn around and say…take my breath away.

Neither of you said a word for a minute, though your eyes never left one another as you simply swayed side to side across the dance floor, fully aware of the watchful eyes of your friends on you from the sidelines.

“You know…” you were the one to start the conversation, somehow managing to pull yourself even closer to Bob. There was a teasing tone to your voice, nose bumping against his for a moment. “I’ve been kind of waiting for you to ask me out for months.”

A weight seemed to leave Bob’s shoulders the second you spoke, his mind finally being calmed with the fact that you did, indeed, return his affections, that it wasn’t all a misunderstanding in his mind.

“Thought at first it broke some kind of friendship code to fall in love with your best friend’s childhood best friend. Then…I got scared you wouldn’t feel the same,” you laughed lightly at his comment, though Bob could see the way you brightened the second he’d said the word ‘love’ in his explanation. “How long…how long have you felt this way?”

“The schoolgirl crush started when I dropped that table on you, even though I thought you were plenty cute just based on the photos Nat had showed me before,” to was Bob’s turn to laugh as your hand traveled up to the nape of his neck, tangling gently in the hair now carded through your fingers. Somewhere behind them, he swears he could hear Fanboy cheer at the motion. “Somewhere in the midst of a bunch of mini lunch dates and dancing with you for the first time is when it changed.”

“I’ve got you beat there,” Bob countered with a laugh, looking down sheepishly. “After I picked you up from work that one time, when the rest of the guys started calling you Siren. It changed for me after that night.”

There was a slight tug on the hair threaded through your fingers, and Bob resisted everything in him not to let out a groan. His eyes flicked back up to you immediately, almost pleading with you not to do that again before he dragged you out of the reception, and he could see the amusement dancing in your eyes at the reaction you received.

“It's not a competition. We know now,” you slid the hand that rested in his own back up his arm, instead cupping his jaw in your hand as a shiver ran through his body. “Though, I thought I was being quite obvious with literally cuddling you in bed.”

Bob’s now freehand found your hip, eliminating any space between you both as if it were even possible. Given their surroundings, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were murmurs about how what was happening was far from appropriate for the setting they were in.

“It should’ve been. We can blame my insecurities for that one,”

He watched you in silence, still swaying to the beat of the song. Your eyes flickered, for the briefest of moments, down to his lips as Bob’s grip tightened from the sight.

Watching in slow motion as you turn my way and say…take my breath away. My love, take my breath away.

His eyes fluttered half shut, throwing caution to the wind now that he knew he had you, and leaned in. His lips were met with your finger pressed against them, though, and when he’d opened his eyes, your pupils may have been blown wider and your voice may have gained a slight rasp it didn’t have before, but there was clear amusement dancing across your features.

“Trying to kiss me at the wedding of our best friends? How scandalous, you know it’s their night to be the center of attention,” Bob groaned, even as his cheeks flushed, forehead falling to your shoulder. He felt your body shake with laughter before your lips ghosted over his ear. “We’ve waited this long, Lieutenant, what’s a little longer?”

Longer was torture, Bob had decided, but it was a torture spent with you still wrapped around his side. You’d danced the night away into the early hours of the morning with all of your friends, until it was finally time to end what was surely the best night of Natasha and Bradley’s lives.

The newly married couple had bid everyone goodbye before they were off to their own private villa for the night. The wedding party and family made the trek down the road together toward the Lafayette, Hangman and Coyote holding up a very drunk Payback who was belting Celine Dion down the sidewalk.

You’d thrown your head back laughing, hand intertwined with Bob’s as you brought up the rear of the pack.

The squad all said their goodbyes to Maverick and Penny, who’d essentially stood in as Rooster’s family, and to Natasha’s own family, before they’d made their way to the floor blocked off specifically for them. Everyone had thrown out goodnight, disappearing into the private rooms to sleep off their hangovers into the early hours of the morning.

Bob was the last the the Top Gun pilots to still be standing at his door. He’d fished out his own door key, before pausing before inserting it into the lock, glancing down the other end of the hallway.

There you stood, shoes in hand as you leaned against the doorway of your open hotel room. Your eyes never left his, and Bob’s room key found it’s way back into the pocket of his dress whites as he was across the entire hotel room floor in seconds.

Your eyes never seemed to leave one another as you both drifted into the room, Bob’s hand splayed across the edge of the room door, shutting it softly behind you both. The second it was closed, the room was only bathed in the soft, nighttime light of Dan Diego that poured through the curtains and the warm, yellowed glow of the single lamp lighting up the corner of the room.

Bob’s hands found your waist as yours found his neck, and he fell into you as if you were two atoms destined to collide with one another from the moment you met.

Your lips were soft against his, your lipstick already having been smudged off throughout the night from the many drinks passed between friends, but he could taste the cherry and vanilla Chapstick buried underneath. That simple taste elicited a groan from deep inside of him as his desire to simply feel you, to hold you, overtook Bob.

He backed you into the closest wall, right beside the door of the room, and your body immediately arched into him. His hand slid it’s way from your waist down to your thigh, digging into it as he hoisted it up around his own waist, the slit up the dress giving way to allow you to cling to him in earnest.

His hair was a mess as your hands moved into it, your lips never parting. He simply tilted his head, swallowing the moan you let out the second he gripped onto your waist tighter and tugged you impossible closer.

“Pretty sure Fanboy is right next door,” Bob had managed to mumble into your lips, unable to fully pull away from you. You nipped at his lower lip, this time a deep moan leaving him which had you giggling back into the kiss.

“I’ve waited long enough to kiss you, Bob Floyd. I don’t really give a damn if we keep him awake,”

Bob pulled back slightly in the dim lighting, hand leaving your thigh to instead cup your cheek, to simply observe and memorize everything about you. He loved you, he loved you more than he ever thought it was possible to love someone, and he never wanted to forget the look in your eyes right now as you looked at him through lust riddled eyes.

Your hand found his, removing it from your cheek and instead to your back. His breath caught for a second as it touched the zipper at the top, and one single look in your eyes had him tugging it down as slowly and sensually as possible.

Bob could feel your breath catch the second his lips found your neck, leaving a trail across your skin and down to your collarbone as the zipper finally came undone, the pool of navy colored fabric dropping into a heap on the floor.

You’d barely given him a second to truly admire the masterpiece he thought was you as a whole before you’d tugged him back into a kiss, your hands working overtime to gently undo the buttons holding his Navy dress whites together.

His hat was long gone on the floor, and soon every article of his dress whites joined it. He couldn’t help but smile as you laughed, watching him quickly lean down to grab the formal clothing of his and yours, folding it neatly into a pile in the corner. When he’d looked back up, you were standing just inches away, falling back into his arms without another word. His own breath caught, shiver running down his skin at the feeling of your soft, supple skin simply on his igniting a fire in him he’d never felt before.

Your hands came up, adjusting his glasses to sit on the bridge of his nose as they were meant to, and Bob wasted no time in pulling you back into a bruising kiss that had you falling back onto the lush, fancy bedspread behind you both.

As you’d crawled your way back up the bed, head hitting the pillows waiting by the ornate headboard, Bob simply hovered over you, taking you all in fully for the first time, memorizing every square inch of you that existed. He wanted it all committed to memory.

His eyes trailed back to yours finally, to the shining affection and adoration in them, and the words finally tumbled out of his mouth.

“I love you,”

Your hands cupped his jawline, bringing him back down to you to place a gentle, loving kiss on his lips that he sighed right into, leaning into the feel of you that he was already addicted to.

“I love you too,”

The pair of you stayed there for a moment, wrapped up in the sweetest and most loving of kisses that rivaled the passionate moment the moment you’d stepped into the room. Until Bob began to laugh lightly against your lips, the actions bringing a smile to your own face.

“What’s so funny, Lieutenant?”

He shook his head, backing up for just a moment to fully look down at you.

“It’s just uh…you know what they say about the Best Man and the Maid of Honor, don't you?”

Your laughter rang through the room immediately, and he knew Natasha must have said something to you along the same lines of what Bradley had whispered to him in the middle of the Hard Deck. Your hands ran down his shoulder, taking hold of his biceps with a small squeeze.

“Something about how they’re always destined to fall in love. God, how cliché of us,”

Every moment with you flooded Bob’s head in that moment as he looked down at you. From the moment you’d walked into the Hard Deck, to the moment he danced with you, to that fated trip where it all changed, and every moment in between. To now, as you laid almost bare before him, gazing up at him with love written across every inch of your features, as if you’d do just about anything he could’ve asked of you in that moment. And you would, just as he’d do the same for you.

So, his thumb ran across your lips for a moment, before he’d taken the back of your neck in his hand and tugged you upwards into another passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of love his body had into it.

“Yeah…but I wouldn’t have it any other way,”

[firelilyfox]

Cooldown

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Summary: You are having a migraine and Bucky is happy his bionic arm can do something good.

Words: 1k

Warnings: fluff, migraine, dating Bucky, couple kissing

_______________________________

„Have you seen her today?“ Bucky asked looking for you in the living room. 

Yelena shrugs. „Nah, she haven’t been around all day. But I’ve heard Sam talking to Ava about her having a nasty brain thingy.“ 

„A brain thingy?“ He repeated in confusion and a little alarmed. He’d known that Yelena takes things kinda easy but if y/n had a bullet in her head or something she wouldn’t be this … chill, right? 

„Yeah … like the thing that comes when you are stressed. What is it called?“ She takes a big bite out of the apple in her head searching for the right words to describe it. „A migraine!“ 

„Ah shit. That’s not good.“ Ava takes a sharp inhale in empathy. „Sucks. She must’ve get the real bad ones if she is up there all day. Poor thing.“ 

With each word Bucky gets more nervous about your wellbeing. He had headaches before and bad ones too, but he’d never knew the difference between that and a real migraine. The only thing he knew was that people told him they were way more painful. 

„What do you do to make them go away?“ 

Ava raised her eyebrows. „Make them go away? Ha. Buck you are just to cute!“ She laughs but Bucky wasn’t in the mood for jokes and his expression made it pretty clear that he wasn’t to be fooled around with right now. „Well, you do nothing. You just let them pass.“ 

„So she is just at the mercy of time to pass by?“ 

Yelena chuckles. „Look at you. All worried about your woman.“ 

A slight warmth creeps up his neck and he could feel his cheeks getting warmer too. „She is not my woman.“ 

„Aw cut the shit, Barnes.“ Sam walks in with a big cheeky smile. „We all know you are down bad for this girl.“ He pats Bucky on the back. „And the walls are thin, ya know.“ 

„Alright, alright. Enough“, he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighted in surrender. These people will be the death of him. „So what can I do to help her?“ 

„Make sure she drinks some water!“ Ava called. 

„Turn out all the lights. They hurt.“ Yelena adds rising the apple in acknowledgement. 

„And be quiet. Noise is just as painful as light. Especially if it comes from you.“ Sam laughs and gives Bucky another brotherly pat on the shoulder. Bucky flips him off immediately. He had a mission now, so he wouldn’t waste anymore time to talk to this knuckleheads. Bucky wanted to see his girl and make sure you get everything you need. 

The door clicked softly behind him. Your room was all dark except for a little gap in the curtains that let a bit of the sunset in. With a few long and soundless steps he made it over to the window and tucked the curtains tightly together to make sure not one inch would let any light in this room. 

„Mh… Bucky?“ You whimpered so silent he almost clutched his chest. Your pain was clearly hearable in you voice. 

„Yeah it’s me, doll“, he answered careful to not be too loud. „I wanted to check on you. The others told me you got a nasty migraine.“ 

Bucky stepped over to the big kingsized bed that was a big mess of pillows and different blankets. You curled up in the middle like a lost puppy. It was hard to see anything to clear but he could make out your silhouette. He sat down on the edge of the mattress. 

„I got you some water and painkillers just in case. Ava said they don’t work but I though maybe …“ 

„Can you stay? Please.“ You asked and reached blindly for this bionic arm. „I think I could need that right now.“ 

„All you want, doll. Of course.“ He didn’t hesitate and kicked his shoes off to snuggle up behind you. His armes opened wide in an invitation for you to hide away between them. But you had something different in mind. 

„Give me your hand“, you demanded weak. He obeyed without question and reached out his right hand. „No the other one, please.“ 

„What for?“ Bucky asked in confusion but still did as you told him. 

You took his bionic hand in yours and laid it on your forehead. A silent sigh of relief left your mouth. „That’s nice. God i feel like I’m burning up. You have no idea how much i needed you right now.“ 

Bucky chuckles softly. „If that’s what you want, doll, then I am always at your service.“ He places a soft kiss on your cheek while gently massaging your temples and offering you the much needed cooldown. „I’d do anything for you.“ 

„Anything you say?“ You ask with a smile in your voice. 

„Just say a word and you got it.“ 

„Kiss me, please.“ 

„Would that make the pain go away?“ Bucky asks amused and pushed himself up on one elbow. 

You slightly turned your head in his direction. All you could see was his pretty face in the darkness, only touched by the minimal light behind the curtain. „No but it would me help forget it. So will you help me forget?“, you ask sweetly. 

„Yes ma’am.“ 

You could feel his lips touching yours and this time Bucky was the one who sighted in relief. Gently tasting you as if you were the only thing important in this world right now. His cool bionic hand never looses the contact to your skin, worshipping you, protecting you from any harm. And it really worked. The headache slips almost completely in the background of your consciousness. There is only Bucky and his lips on yours. His warm hand on the side of your hip, gently pulling you closer to him. You let your hands wander up his muscled arms, over his strong shoulders and find his defined back. He let himself sink more on to you, followed the pressure of your hands pulling him down to you. 

Bucky pulled away, leaving the two of you a little out of breath. „Did you forget the pain already?�� He asked with a husky voice. 

„You’re a very good kisser.“ 

„That’s too much of praise. I would not say that my mouth can magically heal a migraine“, Bucky shakes his head with a little smile. „You should rest now. For real this time.“ 

You sighted in surrender. „Fine. You’re probably right. But you will still stay with me… right?“ 

Bucky placed a little kiss on the tip of your nose. „I wouldn’t leave you even if my life depended on it.“ 

[venusbyline]

Continuing on that competence kink I was mentioning on my blog, it's my personal headcanon that Aemond would get so hot watching his partner be physically violent. Hurting someone, or torturing someone, committing war crimes... (I mean, the way he looks at Daemon after he's murdered Vaemond- HELLO THAT MAN GETS OFF ON VIOLENCE AND BLOOD)

tbh I never knew about competence kink until that post of yours, but when I saw it... everything makes sense 🤭🤭 I wanna join him in his freakiness

btw, I wrote this two days ago but I forgot to post it 😭😭

⚠️: SMUT & DARK CONTENT. female!reader, dom!Aemond Targaryen, Targcest (twin brother/twin sister), competence kink, blood kink, blood licking, missionary position, non-graphic violence, implied Alys Rivers.

— high valyrian words used: Idaña (twin), Issa (yes).

There had always been something wrong with both of you.

Aemond noticed this when you were still children. He knew how angry you got when his bastard nephews teased him along with Aegon, he saw how you glared at Lucerys when the little boy gouged out one of your twin brother's eyes, just as he heard you mutter something about Rhaenyra deserving that scar on her arm after all that fight at Driftmark.

Your violent thoughts were just thoughts back then, but Aemond was not stupid. Despite trying to be a kind loving child, over time Aemond came to understand a little better what you felt.

He always liked your way of being, though. Sometimes he had lectured you if you expressed it around someone you should not, especially someone as prude as your mother. However, deep down Aemond liked to hear everything you had to say.

Alicent was furious when Aemond was younger and he went to talk to her about letting you start training with him and Ser Criston, after Aegon stopped being interested about swords. For the Queen, it was absurd for a girl to want to practice something like that, you were born to marry some lord and carry children, making more necessary alliances for the Greens when the right time came. After so much insistence from Aemond and even Ser Criston, who promised to your mother that no one but them would know that you were doing such a masculine activity, Alicent finally gave up on putting some sense into your mind.

Now, a few years later, you had proven a great worth to Aemond when you marched with him and Criston Cole to Harrenhal. Your dragon might be smaller than Vhagar, but you were willing to do anything he ordered during that war. After all, the two of you were twins and freak like each other.

Aemond felt horny watching you slit the throats of the men of the castle, your frustration at Simon Strong’s loyalty to the Blacks matching your twin's anger at the situation. The two of you were covered in blood as he sipped some wine with Ser Criston, because of Aemond's refusal to order the random woman with long black hair — the one whose life he spared, so he could keep as a servant — to draw you a bath yet...

Aemond wanted to see you like this for a little longer… Your silver hair was drenched in red drops, both a scarlet shade and a darker shade. You had killed so many people that the stains were a mess caused by other people's arterial and venous blood.

Ever since the entire family witnessed Daemon kill Vaemond Velaryon in front of everyone, the Prince Regent had been jerking off picturing what it would be like to see you committing all sorts of atrocities possible.

"Cole, leave me and my sister alone now." He ordered the knight, who nodded and left, taking the brunette servant with him.

"Feeling good, idaña?" Aemond teased, staring at you moaned with each deep thrust, the sounds of slapping skins echoing through the dark room.

You nodded, biting your lower lip at the feeling of your brother's cock sliding in and out of your warm cunt. He had already deflowered you many years ago, but nothing like that night. Aemond had never been so aroused and you had never been so tight before. "Mmm, issa..."

"Issa?" A low, husky chuckle rumbled from his chest, mocking your whining tone before he leaned down to nibble your neck, licking at the blood that dried there, the metallic, bitter taste making him growl and speed up the thrusts pace further. "Fuck... Your little cunt feels so fucking tight right now, sister. Such a freak thing, are not you? Just like me."

There was no need for a verbal response, though. Aemond had always known the truth. You were the only girl who matched the freak inside him.

[yelenaslyubov]

THE RISE (AND FALL) OF *THE NEW AVENGERS

*the new avengers // mood boards // part I // part II (coming soon)

PART I ⚡︎

╰┈➤ pairing: yelena belova x fem!reader

╰┈➤ warnings: language

╰┈➤ description: after the world is introduced to the new avengers in town, that very group grapples with the weight of their new stardom. they steal val away privately to argue their case and set their demands for the road ahead as the city’s new heroes.

╰┈➤ word count: 2.6k

Your vision was hazy as you looked out into the sea of people and reporters with their gaze fixated on you. There seemed to be no time in between every moment to catch a breath from what the last 24 hours entailed.

Now, your ears rang from the rush of your own adrenaline and the sheer volume of your surroundings. One moment you were celebrating your victory and the next you found yourself on the other side of a very malicious plan that you didn’t sign up for.

The group stood in front of the tarp they practically fell through with unsure glances back and forth. You could feel the shift in the energy surging around you. Each of you was part of a bigger project.

You had no idea things were about to get much more complicated.

“Ladies and gentlemen… meet The New Avengers.” You couldn’t see Val’s face, but you knew how much this was all falling into place perfectly for her.

This came as a shock to most everyone, with the obvious exception of Alexei who was already plotting every which way this would be his claim to fame. Then there was Bob. Though you and the whole team went through the traumatizing task of rescuing Bob from his own undoing, he didn’t remember a lick of what happened. It was only natural that he was standing on the sidelines cheering everyone on.

You felt paralyzed in the spotlight of cameras and microphones being shoved in everyone’s direction. The one person who was left unphased was Yelena. She wore a stoic expression, almost in awe of how everything played out. There was also something more. There was calculated action going on within her.

That’s when she stepped forward. With her chest held high, she creeped towards Val whose fake smile and joy never faltered as she acted for the crowd. Yelena leaned in until her hot breath was against Val’s ear.

“We own you now,” she whispered so cocky that you could practically see her face as she said it. She stepped back, satisfied with herself and the reaction she got out of Val.

You, Ava, and John were expressionless, not knowing exactly how to feel. There was a sense of hope that creeped up in the back of your mind. Maybe things would change for the better and people wouldn’t see you as much of a threat any longer.

Before you could stop him, Alexei cleared his throat and swaggered to the podium. He took the microphone out of Val’s grip, swiping it from her and claiming it as his own.

“I am the Red Guardian!” he shouted. Like most things, he didn’t get the reaction that he wanted. The crowd had gone silent faster than he could finish his sentence. You could practically hear a pin drop. “I know you are all so happy about my return to the spotlight.” More silence. “It is the highest honor to be leader for the Thund- I mean New Avengers!”

He gestured behind him, showing all of you off as if he was gaining ownership instead. You heard Ava scoff at the blatant lie and John grumbled under his breath. Leader my ass

“Alright, that’s enough,” Yelena said while grabbing Alexei by the shoulders and shoving him out of the way.

“We will be back!” Alexei shouted as he was dragged away. The noisy crowd of reporters sprung back into action the second all of you tried your best to leave. There were a million voices overlapping at once, making it hard to concentrate. It was hard to quiet the noise when everything was so loud.

Eventually the talking died down with every step away you made. You were able to survey the damage all of you created and you cringed. Now you understand why the Avengers were hated by so many. Sometimes the damage to be saved is far more excruciating than leaving things up to chance.

“Well, I think that went just swimmingly,” Val said with a satisfying sigh.

“Cut the shit, Val,” Yelena seethed, yanking Val by her arm towards the watchtower.

“I don’t see why you’re complaining here, Yelena. Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” You all looked at Yelena with curious expressions. “Tired of doing ‘bad guy’ gigs, but here you are protesting what you wanted all along. I made this happen for you.”

Yelena was standing across from you and you could see the fire behind her eyes beginning to build. She was going to do something she would regret. Maybe Val deserves it.

Yelena stepped forward to make a move, but she was stopped by an outside force. Her body seemed to relax and the fire was extinguished. She looked at you and frowned. It was your natural instinct to intervene.

“Stop doing that shit, y/n!” Yelena said.

“I’m sorry, it’s a habit!”

You couldn’t help the fact that you saw Yelena in a fight or flight position and tried to help without question. You slowed her pulse to a respectable rhythm; just enough to eliminate conflict but still excitable. Some may think it's a curse, but it’s a blessing in your eyes.

Yelena rushed towards the watchtower while the rest of you followed. Val tried to go unnoticed by staying back behind the group, but it was a lost cause. Bucky locked his hand around Val’s wrist and dragged her along with the rest of you.

“Leaving so soon?” Ava asked Val.

“Oh, you know, just lots of work to do!”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re coming with us,” Bucky added.

Everyone walked into the tower and headed towards the elevator. There was just enough room for everyone to be uncomfortably piled inside. All except for one.

“Uhm, are you guys sure it’s safe for me t…to come with you?” Bob asked.

“Don’t be silly, of course,” you reassured him while scooting over to the best of your ability. Bob crammed in with the rest of you. You were sure it was a sight to see, almost as if you were stacked inside a clown car.

You rode this way all the way up the elevator. You avoided the main area that was in need of repairs after your fight. One floor below that was another common area that seemed more fitting for gathering. A kitchen along with chairs dispersed and a couple couches were intentionally placed.

Bucky slammed Val into the closest chair and the rest of you surrounded her so there was no chance of escaping. She would be stupid to try and escape with the consequences of her own actions fighting against her now.

“There’s really no need for all of this,” Val chuckled in her usual high and mighty tone. “Do you realize how sweet of a deal you’re getting cut here?”

“At what cost?” John asked.

“At what cost, you say? That’s the thing, there is no cost. Really, I’m doing this out of the generosity in my heart.”

All of you laughed with each other.

“That was a really good one,” Yelena said.

Ava laughed. “I was almost convinced.”

John stepped forward towards Val, leaning down and getting close to her face. “We’re not going to be your little puppets that you get to use however you please.”

“Don’t you get it? That’s all you’ve ever been. To me, to anyone that’s ever ‘believed’ in you.”

She knew that would cut deep for each of you. Your rag-tag group had been used and disposed of plenty of times. It was salt in the wound to say the least.

“Fuck you,” you almost whispered.

John backed off a bit, figuring out how to work his angle. “Well it’s our turn now,” he said. “Whatever we say goes.”

“That little stunt you pulled in front of everyone was a mistake, and I meant what I said,” Yelena chimed in. “The only way you’re going to get what you want is if you listen to us.”

Val scoffed. “And why should I do that?”

“You’re forgetting one thing,” Yelena smirked while pacing a little in front of Val. “We have all worked for you and under you. We know all your secrets because we are the secrets. We may be disposable, but you just upgraded us to the most valuable in a matter of hours.”

Val’s face turned a nasty shade of red with every word Yelena muttered.

“So, that’s why you are going to listen to us. If not, we can change that very quickly,” Yelena said with the most sly smile that resembled a fox. She was enjoying this too much, just like everyone else.

Alexei stood behind Yelena with his arms crossed and head nodding as she spoke. It was easy to tell that Alexei was the most excited over this arrangement.

Val smiled. “You may think that you’re prepared for what’s out there, but you’re wrong.”

“We’re not prepared, not even a little bit. That’s why we have you,” Yelena said.

“What do you suppose you’re going to do with this one over there?” Val pointed to Bob tucked away behind the group. “He’s the one that caused all this, what do you think everyone is going to do the minute he steps out with you?”

You all looked at Bob who looked as if he wanted to crawl into a hole. Val did make a valid point. Bob wouldn’t be able to be seen with the rest of you without protest. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure if you wanted that either. What if things went wrong again and Bob turned against himself?

“So what?” Yelena said to your surprise. “He’s one of us. If he can’t be seen with us then we won’t be seen at all.”

“Don’t be hasty now,” Alexei interjected.

“You’re probably right. I don’t want to implode again and cause everything to go dark,” Bob said. “I like you guys, I do, but I’m not the hero you think I am.”

“Well I’m glad you came to your senses, Robert,” Val said, relieved. She went to stand up but her request was denied.

“Did I say you could get up?” Yelena snapped. “Stay!”

Yelena turned around to face everyone. You all looked to her for guidance now and she was trying to fill that role for each of you.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“Well she clearly isn’t going to tell the press anything without ruining her reputation,” Ava said.

“It is time to do the blackmail back.” Alexei grinned and cracked his knuckles.

“I guess that’s one way of putting it,” Bucky sighed. “I’ve done this before to a certain extent. We need supplies and accommodations if we’re really going to do this. I’m talking about crew and backup, weaponry, a base, and extensive planning. It isn’t going to be easy.”

The room was quiet, the only sound was Alexei’s suit rubbing against itself as he leaned in and whispered. “So does that mean I get new suit?”

“Is that really all you are thinking about right now!” Yelena whispered back.

“It really smells… and my helmet smells like rotten.”

“Is that what that is?” Ava asked.

“I mean if we’re talking specifics here, I clearly need a new shield.”

They all spoke over one another at a growing volume until Bucky interrupted. “Is this really important right now!”

“Kind of…” Alexei whispered.

“I don’t think you guys understand the gravity of this situation. It’s all fun and games until something goes wrong. All eyes are on us until further notice. Everyone will be watching our every move.”

There was a brief moment of silence to take it all in. Being a so-called superhero seems thrilling at a glance until you make one wrong move. Even something as simple as saving one person can cause you to lose hundreds more in its path. You had no choice but to live in the limelight now.

“Bucky’s right,” you say. “The only way we’re going to be able to do this right is with help and relying on each other. We were set up for failure the moment we were created, but we can change that. I… want to change that.”

Everyone turned to face an uninterested Val once again. “Those are our demands… more or less,” Bucky said.

“Oh, is that all?” Val asked sarcastically.

“You did this to yourself Valentina,” Yelena said. “Now you have to suffer the consequences.”

John laughed, more so to himself than anything. “We are going to make your life a living hell.”

Val looked at everyone, taking time to study each of you. “I’ll have what you need by the end of the week, but no promises.”

“No, you will have what we need,” Yelena demanded, “or else this,” she gestured to each of you, “won’t happen for you.”

“And what will you do then?” Ava dragged out her words.

“You’re nothing without us,” you finished.

Val seemed to choke back what looked like fear. “We’ll see about that.”

You all let her go the same way you came. Her heels clacked against the fresh flooring all the way to the elevator. She left with a ding and never looked back. All that was left was a helpless looking group of heroes that didn’t sign up for what was to come.

“I think that went really well!” Alexei said.

“What do we do now?” Ava asked.

“We wait,” Yelena answered.

“And plan,” Bucky added.

“And plan,” Yelena copied.

“We don’t have anything here, where are we supposed to go?” you asked.

“We stay. We set up here and plan for what’s next.” Yelena side eyed you. You weren’t sure where you and the assassin got off on the wrong foot but you hoped it would pass. The only way you would be able to make it out of this one is together.

She walked away to another part of the room exploring and others followed her initiative. You stood in place and Ava came over to you.

“She thinks you’re unpredictable,” she said.

“How do you know?”

Ava shrugged with her arms crossed. “I can feel it. You’re powerful and fickle, which makes people scared. People don’t like the unknown. It’s like they said, one wrong move and it’s over.”

She walked away now to join the others, leaving you with heavy information to digest. You knew that your powers could be unpredictable, and if provoked, you could easily become overpowered or do something you would regret.

Like usual you had come to find out, Bob stood away from the rest of the group. He stood near the window, looking down on the partially destroyed city. You walked over to join him.

“I guess we need to form some sort of club,” you said with a sigh. “‘The Outcast Avengers’ or something. Apparently we’re an unstable pair.”

Bob scoffed. “In that case, I must be the founding member.”

“Most definitely,” you laughed. “What are you going to do?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe I can be like head of communications.”

You laughed. “But isn’t that so degrading?”

“Not to me,” Bob shook his head. “I want to help any way I can and if staying back and helping behind the scenes is the only way I can do it, I will. I want to help.”

“That’s really brave of you, Bob. We’ll take any help we can get I’m sure.”

You both stared out the window as medical helicopters flew past and the sounds of sirens wailing down below echoed up to the tower. You sighed the first of many to come in the near future.

“We’re definitely in way over our heads,” Bob said. You let the words linger in the air longer before responding.

“Totally and completely. Let’s hope we don’t drown.”

.

.

.

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[mistressofthemanor]

masterofthemanor

For some reason - probably because he was too caught up with trying to untangle his emotions to make sense of them - Lucius had the impression that she was able to follow along and she knew exactly just what had upsetted him, so he simply gazed at her and attempted to explain what was wrong- or rather, why he was acting that way. "Yes... Bizarre. It's- I'm not sure. *shakes his head slighlty, tempted to brush it all off, but he tries to push on for her sake* It's just so odd to me... Yes, it is true and it's not new to me either *sighs* I guess I'm just not used to it, honestly" He admitted awkwardly, feeling like a fool for having that simple term get to him like that, however, he couldn't control his reaction and most importantly, he failed to realise that it wasn't the term itself that upsetted him, but the repressed trauma of an uncertain and dark part in his life it'd triggered. He didn't call or think of her as his ex-wife for a good reason, - usually referring to her by her given name or either as 'mother' or 'grandmother' when he was talking to Celeste or Ariadné- avoiding it as if it was some sort of fire that'd burn him each time he'd uttered it; and now, she was calling herself that and it didn't feel right for him... Not now- not even as a joke- not yet, when there was still so much uncertainty that could easily drive a wedge between them. It sounded sinister. "Yes, I've assumed... and honestly, it had an effect on me- a negative one" He admitted truthfully, then, seeing that she was approaching him, he took a step forward himself and held out his arms, resting both of his hands at either of her forearms as he seeked out her gaze, feeling slightly alarmed by the avalanche that'd been his impressions and worries. "I'm not comfortable with this, Cissa. I know we've drifted apart and... and we've separated when- you've left... *releases a heavy breath, struggling to find the right words to express his exact idea* I'm aware... and I'm sorry if this will upset you, but I just can't take this. Refer any other way to yourself, just not...- like that, please" He pleaded to her almost, frantically, as if the term would come true, if uttered... as if not uttering it and completely disregarding it, avoiding it would have made any difference in the past.

As she listened to him go on, the pieces started to fall in place. The only thing he could be upset and this taken aback by would be the term she had given to herself of 'ex-wife'. Narcissa stood still as he crossed the room with her, his hands warm on her arms, his voice thick with the kind of tangled emotion she rarely heard from him, not anger, not shame, not even regret, but something far more vulnerable: pain mixed with fear. It quieted something in her. She didn’t speak at once. She let her hands drift up slowly to cover his, her palms pressing gently against the backs of his fingers as if to still him, to ground him before she spoke. His words made her heart race facer in fear at first but as he went on, she realized what he was trying to convey.

“Lucius,” she said, barely above a whisper and she cleared her throat to bring more strength to it. Her voice didn’t carry the usual cool polish. It was softer and more fragile. “I shouldn’t have said it. Not like that. I wasn’t thinking about how it would sound to you. But you’re right…" She looked up into his face, into the furrow of his brow and the unspoken grief behind his eyes, and her own gaze gentled. “You never called me that. Not once. Even when I deserved it,” she admitted, a small, broken smile brushing her lips. “Even when I tried to pretend that we were… something less than what we were.” She paused, brushing her thumb along the edge of his wrist. She let the silence stretch, her breath matching his, steady and close. “I won’t call myself that again,” she said simply. “Not even in jest. Because I don’t want to be your ex. I want to be the woman who came back and stayed.” She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze again. “I left, yes. But I’m here now. And I am not leaving again.” Then, quieter still, Narcissa did her best to give an encouraging smile, in hopes of bringing them both to an understanding. “Alright?”

Bones of Contention

[pink-nostalgya]

Maybe was a bad idea

Natalie Scatorccio x Fem reader! Summary: After the rescue, the group tries to put their lives back together. Natalie, always the sullen one, clings to you because you're the only person who doesn't treat her like a basket case or a victim. But when an old friend from before the accident reappears in your life, Natalie becomes irritating, cutting and definitely jealous…though she'd never admit it. Author's note: Just heard Lorde's new single, what a woman.

Chapter one

It has been a few months since you have returned to normalcy, but a part of you is still there, in the woods, in the winter, hungry and cold. All of you despite the events are still quite close, at least in the first months, going to group therapies and calling each other continuously especially when journalists harassed the group to get a juicy story out of you, you felt that you alone could understand each other, and in a way it was true.

But someone was clinging to you, wouldn't let you get away from her and was always looking for you even if it was for a cigarette smoke outside a bar: your dear Natalie. To say that she was the most affected of the survivors is an understatement, as she let it shine through not only by her appearance but by the way she lived her life. She smoked like crazy and drank worse, took any drug you could get her hands on and lived anywhere she could, sometimes it was in motels other times it was at a friend's house she made in one night and most of the time it was your apartment, or as she saw it her own little hideaway.

With everything that had happened to them together and everything they didn't want to talk about, they all forced themselves to go to group therapy sessions where more than talking about their experiences outside, they talked about their current lives, trying to find the security they had lost during so many months. But without a doubt the one who was most against these sessions was Nat, she saw them as a waste of time and a constant migraine, especially because she had to see faces that were not so pleasant for her, but she didn't say anything for the good of all of them.

When she went, it was because you forced her to, you knocked on her motel door and waited until she came out, with her dark circles under her eyes and her messy hair, you forced her to change to go together. In the sessions she was quiet playing with her fingers, and if someone else ask her something she wouldn't answer, but if was you who asked her something she would answer in the most curt way, and to the other girls she wouldn't look them in the face, she couldn't do it, but with you she did. For you she would gave  a longer answer and looked you in the eyes, having a more delicate voice in spite of its raspiness.

You tried as much as you could to carry on as normal if that was even possible, you entered the local university to study literature and despite the constant stares of the people around you, you managed to live a quiet life, until a few months ago you met again with an old friend of yours whom you always assumed liked you.

He was a cute, attentive and recently changed boy with a confident and charismatic energy, nothing like that nerdy and shy guy you knew in high school, but it's college so you didn't mind and started a friendship with him, trying to start connecting with people on the outside. You saw Natalie every day so at one point or another you had to tell her of the new friendship. They were in your apartment smoking a cigarette in the window to your kitchen to avoid stinking of tobacco your place and you were with your hands in the food you were preparing for the two of you.

“That doesn't sound like the Steven I knew, sure it was him or his sexy twin by any chance?” she said incredulously at what you were telling her.

“It's been two years, a lot has happened in that time and people stop being who they once were.”

“Yeah, don't explain it to me,” she said, turning her gaze back to the window. She looked a little distracted after that, her mind full of doubts and thoughts that you didn't know, and no way was she going to let you do that.

Talks with him became more regular as time went on, and you couldn't be happier about it. It became for you the gateway to normalcy and new friendships on campus, becoming a more welcoming and less tense environment, now that people saw you more as the nice girl and not the freak from the accident. On the other hand Natalie became more distant when she noticed that, she no longer visited your house every day and only did so when she had nowhere else to go or missed your company the most, but whenever she did the passive-aggressive comments were not lacking, she looked angry or even irritated by all the socializing you were experiencing and it was only with you, the others could care less in her mind, but you, you were different.

“Him again?” she asked after you told her what you had done for the day, telling her that you had gone for coffee with Steven to study for finals but ended up more talking than actually doing anything ”Good, at least one of us has a life.”

But everything that was going on between you was triggered at a party you had been invited to after who knows how long, it was at the house of a girl you didn't know but you had taken some classes with her. You found yourself in the middle of the room with a drink in hand and everyone around you, you were a ghost in the crowd like before, like before everything happened, but now it gives you a peace as if things had stopped in time, as if nothing had happened. 

"T/n, you came," Steven said as he found you alone, happy to see you in the middle of the crowd. 

You smiled warmly at him and caught up with your days, him telling you about his boring morning and you about what you did with Natalie earlier that day.

"Scatorccio, I thought you stopped talking about her," he said quizzically, but you were confused and didn't understand that, especially when you were always talking about her. 

"What are you talking about, do you not listen to me or what?" you said still joking, thinking he just didn't remember, still not wanting to think of something ugly. 

"It's just... my friends say things about her, nasty things and I just don't put her together with you, cause you're nice, you know?" she said, thinking it was a compliment.

"What?" you said curtly, clenching your plastic cup, unable to believe what he was saying about her you looked at him with pent up rage, one that was out in the woods and now wanted to resurface.

"Okay, it was fucked up what she experienced..."

"We experimented" You corrected him with a tense jaw.

"You experimented" he corrected himself, this time already stumbling in his words, noticing and feeling your powerful look "Anyway, I know you experienced the same thing but she's too unstable and compared to you she's a total basket case, so if you want some advice from me you better stay away from her because you'll most likely become one in the future by her side."

Those who saw you at that party could not believe what they saw, that the pretty girl with everyone else threw a soda with vodka on Steven's polo shirt, and that you slapped him while you yelled at him what an idiot he was, letting out the accumulated rage that you felt inside you, since you came back and never let out. 

You left that party like a beast, with your legs as hard as a rock and your hands shaking from the adrenaline, so you decided to go to the only place where you knew the only person you wanted to see at that very moment was: the bar where you got drunk the first time.

You found her there playing pool alone, with her tank top that made her look sexier than she was with a cigarette on her lips. Seeing you walk in didn't make her move a bit, she just kept playing while you approached her. 

"You look like shit" she said when she had you next to her, watching you from head to toe without releasing her position so she could hit the ball.

"Well, Nat... I had a shitty night so I guess that goes hand in hand." 

"What the perfect Stev wasn't what you expected, or was it his friends this time?" she asked, this time noticing your state by the slurred and slow words, also with her need to look you in the eye, she only had it when multiple beers or half a bottle of vodka were in her system.

"Why do you care so much about who I hang out with Nat?" you asked not wanting to tell her what had just happened, but with doubt that her attitude was so weird since you were starting to have a social life without her.

"Are you here to make a speech or what?" she spits this time, avoiding your clearly embarrassed gaze.

"No, I just want to know why now that my life stopped being so shitty you look angry out of nowhere Nat" you said clearly annoyed.

"I don't care. Do what you want."

"Bullshit."

She left her position and stood extremely close to your face, so close that you could clearly feel her breath on your face and smell the alcohol in her voice "And what do you want me to say! That it drives me crazy watching you creep on someone who doesn't even deserve the sound of your voice? That every time you smile at a call from him it makes me want to shoot something? Well yeah, happy, I'm jealous as fuck! Happy?"

There was silence for a good few minutes, minutes in which you couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth and left you wondering. 

"No, I'm not happy. Because you could have said that earlier. Without me guessing clues like an idiot."

She pulled away from you a little as you continued to stare at her, not taking the intensity out of it making Natalie nervous as she felt it penetrate her to the depths of her soul. 

"I'm... I'm not good at that kind of thing" she said putting her hands in her pockets and with a slurred whisper.

"I know that. That's why I'm giving you another chance. Say what you really want to tell me, please Nat."

She was this time shy, scared of you and with your eyes locked on her she looked up at the ceiling and cursed to herself, while biting her lip trying to contain the wave of emotions she felt. But she decided to trust you, to trust the person she most wanted to see out of that hell and at least try the life she wanted out of there.

So looking next to you, with tears in her eyes, she sniffled and finally confessed to you what she felt deep inside.

"...I don't want him to touch you. Don't let him take the only good thing I have. Do you understand now?"

You don't know why you let her do that but in the end you did, she left you there perplexed and unable to react but a part of your heart was screaming at you not to let her go, the same one that took care of her when she couldn't even get up, the same one that visited her every day to see that she was still alive, the same one that forced her to go to therapy for fear that she would collapse in your arms and the one that that same night defended her to someone who didn't know who she was, your Nat.

[woso-story]

Through Thick And Thin - Part Three

Alexia Putellas x Reader - Other Parts

The second Mapi pulled into the hospital’s parking lot, Alexia was out of the car before the engine even stopped. She ran across the pavement, her boots slapping against the concrete, hair sticking to her face from the Barcelona heat. She didn’t wait for Ingrid or Mapi, didn’t bother with anything other than getting through the sliding doors and to the front desk.

“Excuse me, where is Y/N Y/L/N?” she asked, voice trembling. “She was brought in this morning—there was an accident. I need to know where she is.”

The nurse behind the counter looked up with a calm professionalism that only irritated Alexia more. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I can’t give you that information unless you’re a family member.”

Alexia blinked. “What? No, you don’t understand. I’m her girlfriend. She lives with me. We’ve been together for over two years—por favor, I just need to know if she’s okay.”

“I understand, but you’re not registered as family. Without permission or documentation, I can’t release any information.”

The panic that had been simmering in Alexia’s chest erupted. “This is crazy! I don’t care about the paperwork, I just need to see her! What if something—”

“Alexia!” Ingrid’s voice cut through the haze, firm but gentle. She walked up beside her and put a calming hand on her arm. “Wait. Didn’t Y/N make you her emergency contact here in Spain? She told me once.”

Alexia froze.

Her mind reeled for a second, and then—it hit her. Months ago, when the team doctor asked everyone to fill out a basic medical info form. A “just in case.” You’d asked her if it was okay to put her name. She’d laughed and said, “Sure. Nothing bad’s ever gonna happen anyway.”

But here they were.

She scrambled for her phone, fingers shaking as she searched through old emails and scanned her cloud drive. Minutes passed—each one like an eternity—until she finally found it. A pdf. Her name, bold and clear, under Emergency Contact.

She shoved the phone across the counter with a trembling hand.

The nurse reviewed the document carefully, and finally gave a small nod. “She’s in surgery right now. That’s all I can tell you for now. I’m sorry. You’ll have to wait until a doctor comes to speak with you. It may be a while.”

Alexia barely heard the last part. “Surgery?”

“She’s stable,” the nurse added quickly. “But we don’t have more information yet.”

It wasn’t enough. Nothing was. But at least it was something.

The three women moved to the waiting area, and for a while, none of them spoke. Alexia sat down, but she was anything but calm. She couldn’t stop crying. Her hands trembled in her lap, her chest heaving with shallow breaths. The fear was pressing down on her like a weight she couldn’t lift. Her body was here, but her mind was still racing—through all the things she should’ve said, should’ve noticed, should’ve done.

Mapi leaned in, wrapping an arm around her best friend. “Breathe, Ale. You have to breathe.”

“I can’t,” Alexia gasped. “I can’t stop thinking—what if—what if she doesn’t…”

“She will,” Mapi said quickly, even if her voice wasn’t entirely confident. “She will. She’s strong. You know that.”

Ingrid stood, silently walking outside. She didn’t say anything, but she knew what needed to be done. She called the team first. Then your family. One by one. Her voice stayed calm, but her hands were clenched the entire time.

---

The world returned to you slowly, painfully.

You blinked against the harsh light, the ceiling above you coming into focus through the haze. Your head throbbed. Your body ached. And your leg..

You tried to sit up but a sharp jolt of pain froze you in place. You cried out, breath catching in your throat.

Your eyes darted down.

Bandages. A cast. Your leg—immobile, elevated, swollen and bruised, wrapped tightly from mid-thigh down.

Where was Alexia?

You were alone.

The panic rushed in immediately.

You needed her. Her voice. Her presence. The way she always made you feel like everything would be okay, even when the world fell apart.

“Alexia…” you whimpered, your voice weak and dry.

Moments later, the door opened. A doctor stepped inside, followed by a nurse. He looked young. Kind eyes. But you didn’t care.

“Where is Alexia?” you croaked. “Please.. I need her.”

The doctor exchanged a look with the nurse, then nodded. “You’ve been in an accident. A car hit you. You’re safe now, stable. You were in surgery—”

“Where is she?” you said again, more urgently.

The nurse softened. “She’s here. She’s been waiting for you. We’ll bring her in now.”

Alexia was on her feet before the doctor even finished calling your name. She bolted toward him, eyes wide and desperate.

“She’s awake?” she asked, not waiting for permission. “Can I see her?”

“She’s asking for you,” the doctor said gently.

That was all Alexia needed.

She followed him down the hall, Mapi and Ingrid behind her. Her heart was pounding as they reached your room. The moment she saw you—small, bruised, tangled in IV lines and bandages—her legs almost gave out.

You looked up, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and the moment your gaze met hers, Alexia fell apart all over again.

She rushed to your side, carefully taking your hand—the one that wasn’t wrapped in a splint—and kissed your fingers. “I’m here,” she whispered, tears falling freely. “I’m here, mi amor.”

You clung to her hand, grounding yourself in her presence as the doctor explained everything.

“You suffered two fractures in your right leg—one in the femur, one just below the knee. We performed surgery to stabilize it. You also have two fractured ribs, a bruised arm, and minor concussion. Thankfully, your helmet protected you from something worse. You’re lucky.”

You stared at him in stunned silence, your body stiff.

“Will I… can I still play?” you asked quietly.

The doctor paused. His expression shifted—empathetic, but unsure.

“We’ll have to wait and see how your healing progresses. There’s a chance, yes. But there’s also a possibility that you won’t return to professional football. It’s too early to know.”

The words hit you harder than the car ever did.

You looked at your leg, at the cast, at the machines around you—and everything felt like it was crashing down.

Football was your life. Your identity. Your purpose.

You broke down, sobbing, and Alexia moved closer immediately. She leaned over, pressing her lips gently to your forehead.

“We’ll get through this,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Together. Like we always do.”

You wanted to believe her. You really did.

But the doubt had already taken root.

[loverboysturn]

— newboy!matt and sheriff'sdaughter!reader meet again.

au masterlist ꒰ here ꒱ | taglist ꒰ here ꒱ | main masterlist ꒰ here ꒱

꒰ midnight. saturday night ꒱

you’d always been told by your parents, especially your dad, not to drive around this late at night.

your dad would be out on his usual saturday night patrol by now, and if he knew you were still out on the roads at this time, he’d lose it. he’d be even more mad if he knew that you’d accidentally let your tank get almost empty and had no other choice but to stop at the gas station on your way home.

the town you had always lived in your whole life was small, and it was quiet, nothing really ever happened here but your dad being the sheriff made you feel more protected than most especially when you were out late at night. everyone in this town knew everyone and they all knew who you and your family were, they all called you baby, because of course, you were the sheriff’s youngest baby, it was a nickname given to you when you were younge and it had just stuck forever.

you pulled into the gas station, the only light being from inside the station store. it had a dark, cold and almost abandoned feel to it, the lights above you flickered where they were barely working, this place was so rundown but it was the only one in town that stayed open past midnight therefore your only choice right now.

as you stopped your car’s engine, you noticed that there was another vehicle here, it was a black truck, it was brand new and you recognised it almost instantly. it was nathan doe’s truck.

your stomach sank. it had been nearly two weeks since the bar fight incident, but everyone in town including all your friends were still talking about it, and you’d heard the rumours that nate had closely befriended matt, the mysterious new boy in town causing all the trouble.

you jumped out, pretending you hadn’t seen it but as you moved around your car, there he was standing there. matt.

he was leaning casually against nate’s truck, he had his hood up, a cigarette hanging from his mouth as he typed away to someone on his phone. it was dark, but you could still make out the cut on his lip and the purple bruise still lingering beneath his left eye. they looked like they were healing, but they were still there.

you pretended you hadn’t noticed him, hoping you could just fill up your tank and leave without being noticed. your hands were shaking a little, unsure why you suddenly felt nervous but you tightened your grip on the pump and carried on.

“does daddy know you’re out this late?”

matt’s voice was low, and you could now feel his eyes on you.

you didn’t look over at him, attempting to focus on what you were doing.

“do you know how bad smoking is for you?” you say, finally looking over at him.

he glances at you, then drops the cigarette to the ground crushing it under his shoe without saying another word.

your eyes meet then, neither of you saying anything else nor looking away from each other. his eye contact is intense, and it instantly makes you feel more nervous.

“i haven’t been able to stop thinking abo—“ matt starts to say, but he’s cut off by the sound of the store doors behind him opening.

nate appears, a drink in one hand and a box of cigarettes in the other. he tosses the box over to matt, looking over to you with a grin on his face. “oh, hi baby,” he says calling you by your nickname intentionally, but friendly as always as he makes his way round to the drivers seat of his truck. “you good?”

you nod, but your eyes stay locked on matt’s, as his are still on yours. he gives you a small nod, then he steps back towards the car as nate climbs in and starts the engine, but before matt gets in the truck, his voice is low, again.

“i’ll be seeing ya, baby.”

—

꒰ 🏷️ tags ꒱ @oopsiedaisydeer | @sturns-mermaid | @leaningoutthewindow | @bluestriips | @izzylovesmatt | @cykss | @backwardshatnick | @jaybirdie34 | @skye-44 | @marrykisskilled | @courta13 | @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee | @whore-for-pickles24 | @auttysturnz | @chrismyman | @urmama2464 | @kitty-meow-meow44 | @matts-247 | @j21l91 | @mattsturnzz24 | @iloveneilperry | @ilovesamgoldencoch | @nixizz | @pip4444chris | @msvalsius | @xlprkendal | @evansturn | @lovingpeachdefendor22 | @sheluvsthesturniolos | @moond0llie

[transboyswitchytales]

A Proposition

Professor Wanda Maximoff x Reader Student

Part 1, 2, 3, this is 4!

Hurt/Comfort/ FLUFFFFFF

Wanda has a nightmare, and you two have an early morning together. A sunrise and a new day is sure to take the pain away.

( Mommy kink, 18+ Will block you if under 18) It's really just fluff. Tooth rotting fluff, not just from the sweets they eat.

PS: This is really for the sweet and always supportive @franfineashell Without this lovely human, there would never have even been a part 2. It's her support that has me writing Wanda fics. So thank you a million times over for reading my silly shit and commenting. It's why I'm writing this at 3 am. You are the best.

My Masterlist

You heard her scream and jerked awake. Blinking rapidly, you couldn’t see in the dark at first, but your eyes adjusted quickly as Wanda thrashed in bed. 

You knew where you were ,and your eyes fell to your girlfriend. 

You grabbed her arm and she screamed and cried. Oh god, your heart broke at the sound. You started to shake her. 

“Wanda, baby, wake up. It’s a bad dream.” You say, and she’s quaking, but her eyes snap open. 

“What, oh god. Please, no, no .”

“Wanda, sweetie, it’s me. You are safe, it’s just a nightmare. You are at home, you are in bed. I’m right here. It’s all ok.” You tell her the facts, hoping it’ll ground her. Wanda was prone to nightmares, you were getting better at bringing her down from them. 

Wanda’s hands came up to your face, and she cupped your jaw and stared at you. Leaning down, you work the warm pads of your thumbs to wipe her tears. She closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of you. 

Of your touch, the feeling of your hands, the solid mass that was your body in bed with her. 

Wanda opened her eyes and studied you again. 

“I think this calls for a snack.” You whisper, and Wanda’s breath shakes a little, and she nods once. You know, after a particularly awful nightmare, Wanda doesn’t go back to sleep right away. You’d made the mistake once, rolling her onto her side and making her be little spoon. You cradled her from behind, arms wrapped securely. You were just about to fall back asleep when you felt her shake slightly. Your alarm bells went off, you’d been an expert in past relationships with the silent sob. That special type of cry where no sound comes out, and in the very act of silently sobbing next to someone, a part of you feels like it’s dying. Because the person next to you, feels a million miles away. And you are putting yourself in a box so they don’t have to deal with your tears. 

You turned so fast in that bed and flipped the light on. Shifting Wanda onto her back, you saw the tears. She’d apologized, and you’d kissed her and rocked her against your chest. Wanda had obviously never experienced a love like yours. Because as big as she loved you, you loved her back. 

There was something so insanely intimate about being loved and cherished in return. You’d never experienced it, and neither had she. 

Wanda was older than you, though not by a large number. There were times when the age was clearly not the same. There were times where language barriers made communication take a little longer. There were moments where being a student and a college professor made you have different opinions. 

But your love made everything that made you both different, so much sweeter. 

You might both be bambi at times in this love. But there was a language you both spoke for each other. Just like that finals week. 

I want to understand you,

I study your obscure language.

Alexander Pushkin that fucking Russian poet nailed it. You learned each other, you’d never watched Dick Van Dyke before. Wanda had never listened to Brandi Carlile. Both of these things were trivial, past partners wouldn’t take the time. But you understood that the little things that made Wanda, your Wanda, were important. 

So you watched the sitcoms, and you understood Wanda better. She didn’t have a childhood or stability. These stories where nothing terrible happens, this was her comfort, her safety. 

You watched every episode, and one day, you caught Wanda watching you instead of the grey TV screen. 

“You actually like this.” She’d said, and your heart broke. Why had no one ever taken the time to learn Wanda? 

But you were a hypocrite. Because one day, Wanda was on your phone and you were confused. So you looked over her shoulder, expecting, like previous relationships, that she was going through your texts. People before had been jealous and controlling, endlessly manipulative. So you’d assumed the worst. 

Only to see Wanda holding her phone next to yours. She was adding your playlists to her Spotify. While you were busy studying Wanda, she’d been busy learning you, too. 

You both were becoming fluent in how to love each other. Not just the way that made you feel good, but that broke through to the deepest parts of Wanda. So that you could support each other in hard times, and cherish each other in the moments that make relationships. When you came into the apartment one day you’d been so floored to hear Brandi playing on the speaker. Not because you’d put it on. But because Wanda missed you and put it on. Your heart exploded a million times over. 

So it made sense in moments like this. 

With a teary Wanda, that you’d learned her language. You got off the bed slowly, keeping the lights off. Wanda had never heard of the word ‘overstimulation’ but when you’d taught it to her, she’d understood. Turns out the feeling was universal and not just a word said in English. 

So you kept the lights off. You threaded your fingers in hers. Wanda loved holding your hand. You think it was because she’d been too late to hold Pietro’s when he died. And that her parents died young, and she didn’t get the comfort and reassurance that comes from two hands meeting. 

So you held Wanda’s hand at every opportunity. And you saw in those moments, Wanda relax, find strength, courage, and the reminder of your love for her. You held Wanda through every feeling. 

So she got out of bed, wiping the last of her tears with the back of her free hand, you guided her behind you out of the bedroom. Going into the kitchen, you walked over to the oven light and turned it on. It was low and not too much for the early morning. 

You pushed her to the counter gently, and you tapped it twice, instructing her to sit on it. It wasn’t Wanda’s style to sit on the kitchen counter. It was way more your style in fact as she talked about her day, you’d put your ass up on there. The first time you saw Wanda stop and think if she wanted to kick you off of it. 

You saw the cogs turn in her mind and waited. Wondering if this was something that made Wanda uncomfortable or something that was a learned behavior. Was this Wanda, or was this her experiences?

Her ex-husband, Vision, had been almost robotic; his OCD and life trauma invaded every aspect of his tortured linear mind. You’d never fault his mental illness. 

You did fault his need to control Wanda. To put her in a box and make her small. He wanted a pretty suburban wife, but quiet, so quiet that all she could do was serve dinner and play house. No opinions, he wanted a grey cut out of a woman. 

He’d never seen Wanda Maximoff. 

Wanda was so big, bright, and beautiful. She scrunched her nose in a signature adorable fashion when she teased you or you said some dirty joke that she couldn’t suppress her enjoyment of. Wanda sang in the shower, loudly, and could make anyone who tried to debate her on politics weep. Wanda was quick witted and determined. She wasn’t some two dimensional character, not a secondary character in a mans story, fuck no. 

 Wanda might seem small when she’s curled up on the sofa to read. But she had an army-sized bundle of trauma. Wanda had seen more than most people ever see in life, death, and war, yes, heartbreak of course. But she’d read mountains of books, traveled all over, and experienced life in such vivid, monumental ways. That when Wanda had decided to teach, it wasn’t because she couldn’t ‘do.’ Because she had done so much. And she’d wanted to inspire others to experience life. To fall in love with words the way she had, the way books and stories had saved her. 

Wanda had decided that day that she liked you on her countertops. Wanda had decided she liked your mess and the way you took up space. 

So, at four am on a Thursday, you waited for her. 

You eyed your strong and independent girlfriend again softly, not over intensely. You’d learned enough to know Wanda’s tells. 

You patted the counter, and Wanda lifted herself up and sat on it. Yeah, that was growth, because Wanda had never sat on a kitchen counter in her life. But she was. 

Wanda was in full color, and you bent down and kissed both of her knees. You didn’t linger in the moment as you turned to get to work in her kitchen. 

You didn’t want to put Wanda on the sofa, that was too far from you. And you knew the nightmare images hadn’t left her yet. Sticking like fly paper against her eyelids, that wouldn’t do. 

So you went to the pantry for a secret stash of sweets. 

You’d learned that your elderly girlfriend liked butterscotch pudding. It was by far the most geriatric of desserts. You’d teased her affectionately for it, saying ‘at least when we’re in the old folks home, you’ll be stocked.’ 

But Wanda liked it, so you bought it. You couldn’t believe how shocked she looked when you pulled it out of the grocery bag. 

‘I study your obscure language.’

You pulled out the milk. Because, for some reason, Wanda wasn’t lactose intolerant like you. Which still didn’t make sense, maybe it was because she wasn’t from the US. Anyway, you took the saucepan and you started to hum. It was soft and low, but you knew what it did to Wanda. 

You don’t need to turn to see Wanda smiling at you. You move over to her expensive coffee machine and start to brew. 

Wanda didn’t need to be taken care of, she didn’t require it. She’d dried plenty of her own tears. In fact, if Wanda was in the talking mood, you knew she’d be more inclined to be the caretaker. She was a domme, a top in and out of the bedroom. Wanda opened doors and demanded to pay, she liked your submission and enjoyed doting on you in all forms. But that was what made these moments so intense and special. 

Because Wanda didn’t let anyone do this, she let you see her like this. Wanda gave you this, allowed the intimacy of these nights, mornings, weekends. Where she let you give. And it was beautiful. 

You sing as you pour the milk in. Before grabbing butter and the chocolate chips, flour, brown sugar, cane sugar, the list went on. 

You sing through the cold air. 

‘You've got to grind, grind, grind at that grindstone

Though child'ood slips like sand through a sieve

And all too soon they've up and grown

And then they've flown

And it's too late for you to give

Just that spoonful of sugar to 'elp the medicine go down

The medicine go down, medicine go down’

You sing and then move to grab two coffee cups above the cupboard. You knew which one was Wanda’s favorite. You didn’t ever use it, you pushed it under her machine, and then found the one you’d stolen. It had a picture of Ilya Repin, the famous Russian painter. You liked him now because of Wanda. So you were happy to see his mustache in the mornings. 

You hummed the rest of the lyrics before you pressed buttons on the oven. Wanda cleared her throat. You understood she found her voice, and she’s collected herself enough to talk to you. But you don’t look at her, no spotlight needed; she knew you were listening. 

“You do like Dick Van Dyke.” She whispers in the cool night, in the dim light of the kitchen, with the person who loves her more than words can say. More than Alexander Pushkin, Julie Andrews, Mary Tyler Moore, or even Mr. Dick Van Dyke could understand. 

“He’s an icon and has never made anything bad, even if he gave us a terrible British accent.” You say as you pour the right amount of milk for her coffee. You take out a teaspoon, stirring it before you turn on your heel and walk slowly in between Wanda’s thighs. 

She takes the coffee and smiles into the cup, consuming a long sip. She’d made you give up energy drinks since the great library fiasco. So now you both drank coffee, every now and then tea at night to sleep, but coffee was your thing. Wanda made a happy noise at the taste. Coffee fixed everything. 

You put two hands on her knees and run your fingers up the outside of her thighs, soothing her. Wanda takes another sip before putting the cup down to the side. You wait patiently for your payment. Wanda knows it too, she looks pleased at your demand. Taking her fingers, she goes under your chin, teasing your skin before hooking behind your neck and bringing you to her waiting, wanting, lips. 

You kiss and it’s delicious like brown sugar. It’s soothing and sweet, it’s coming home after a long day. It’s kissing your best friend after decades of waiting. Kissing Wanda is better than anything and everything you’ll ever experience in this lifetime and the next. 

Wanda seems to feel the same as she overlaps her ankles around you and pulls you closer, deeper into her loving embrace. You could think of no better cave to grow old in. Wanda’s kisses are full of devotion and longing. Your head feels fuzzy as you don’t remember to breathe through your nose, you just be with her. 

Your mind is gone on vacation, toes curling, body erupting in goosebumps. Even after all of this time of kissing. 

It doesn’t matter. 

You can only hear one note.

Wanda. 

You are alarmed when the oven beeps and the kiss ends. Wanda is breathing heavily, and you realize she’s just as gone as you. Her lips are flushed and her face is red. She looks positively pornographic. 

“Malysh, I thought you were making pudding and coffee? Why is the oven on? And why is it interrupting our kiss?” Wanda looks like she’s pouting, which is funny because she’d never admit to pouting. You laugh and pull away from her, and she tries to grab your ar,m but you are faster. 

Going to the clean dishwasher, you open it and pull out a mixing bowl. 

“My girlfriend needs pudding, yes, of course. But also, she secretly loves these brown butter chocolate chip cookies I make. Annnd I know for a fact your period is starting soon and you love them.” You tell her, and Wanda licks her lips at the memor,y and you take it as a huge compliment. 

“The ones with the-” Wanda remembers, and you answer for her. 

“Sea salt, yup those ones.” You say, and you put the pudding mix into the warmed milk. Before getting out another pot for the butter. 

At one point, you go over to the living room and pick up a book Wanda had been reading while you were working on your essay. You hand her the book and she eyes it curiously. 

“Read to me?”

It was a thing for you two. It was intimacy of the prettiest melody. The sound of each other's voice and a good book, nothing tops it. Sorry Brandi and Dick, but it was something that made your heart sing. Wanda didn’t need to be asked twice, she understood your language. 

So she read aloud and you tried not to look surprised when she sat criss cross on the countertop, her sock feet now up on the kitchen surface. You were making history tonight, it seemed. 

When you put the pudding in the fridge and the cookies in the oven. You worked on the dishes and sipped your own coffee. Bending your neck to the side to pop it. 

Wanda eyed you and stopped reading, and you turned to her with a sour face. 

“Hey, Mrs. Audible, I’m not done with my audiobook. What are you doing?” You tell your girlfriend. But when her face grows sad, you are further confused. 

“You should go to bed, baby, it’s like five am. You’ve been up too long wit-”

“Hey, I’m spending very precious time with the woman I love. And the wee hours of the morning are not to be taken for granted. When the light comes up-” You use a wet fork to point to the window to the right. “It’ll come through there and it hits your auburn hair just right. And it turns this warm golden color, and your eyes…Well there’s nothing like it. So I’m gonna stay right here until I get my morning show. Then I’m going to make you, make us that omelet you saw online. But first, I want my audiobook back, and if my domme behaves, I’ll feed you cookies and teach you something truly sinful. But only if you read to me, the way only you can.” You flirt with Wanda, and her face morphs into pure love.

 She nibbles her bottom lip, you know that’s her sign, she wants to kiss you. But she gulps, licks her top lip, before opening the book back up and finding her place. 

Wanda reads to you, and you, in turn, finish the dishes. The cookies don’t take long, they have to be soft just the way Wanda likes them. You pull them out and you refill Wanda’s coffee. 

You take out the pudding and put it in a small ramekin. Then plate the big cookies, and you don’t have to invite Wanda. She’s been practically drooling, and you weren’t sure if it was because of your lack of bottoms or your baking. But you were going to try not to fight for her attention with a pastry. 

You both walked to the sofa. Wanda didn’t need you to tell her to grab your favorite throw blanket. Just like you didn’t have to ask her for the salt anymore, or ask if she had an extra pair of wool socks. Wanda just handed things to you wordlessly now, her extra pair of sunglasses while she drives, the aux cord, the ketchup packet. Wanda was just that good. 

She smoothed it out, and you broke your usual cuddle puddle. You sat facing her, and she arched an eyebrow but mirrored your body. Both of you sitting facing each other, leaning your side against the back of the sofa, with crisscrossed legs. 

She puts the blanket in the middle of you both so it covers your chronically cold feet. And she covers her lap too, which you know is because she can touch you under the blanket more easily. She did it so subtly, a hand on your inner thigh, her knee against yours, a foot against your calf. Wanda’s touch was a constant source of comfort for your winter-cold bones. An ache she alone soothed. 

“Professor, are you ready to be schooled?” You tell her seriously, and Wanda tries not to snort in laughter. 

“Please, teach me your ways, sugar junkie.” 

You didn’t take offense at the nickname. You simply took a big cookie off the plate. Showing it to her like you were teaching brain surgery. She eyed the cookie and looked at you like you were being ridiculous. 

But you turned the cookie down into the bowl and dipped it and she scoffed. 

“You did not just dip a cookie in pudding,” Wanda worded like you’d committed a felony.  You chewed and used your pinkie on the hand holding the cookie to brush the crumb off your lip. 

“You cannot knock it until you try it.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You think I’d steer you wrong?”

“I remember the taste of cherry slushie.”

“It’s not my fault Sokovia failed to have a 7-Eleven! That country failed you, your loving girlfriend is just trying to help. Now don’t be a whimp! You really are going to shy away from your two favorite desserts?” You pressure her, and she squints at you. You give her a look that is simply put as ‘I dare you.’ Wanda grabs a cookie, not breaking her stare.

She slowly dunks it and then bites it. 

Wanda’s eyes fall shut, and she moans. 

“Oh wow, right about Lana Del Rey, right about the talented Margaret Atwood. And I’m right about pudding and cookies. You know, I think you should adopt the cis man mentality.” You bait her, and Wanda coughs on her cookie and looks taken aback. 

“Which is what? Wearing Crocs to grocery stores? You want me to start drinking light beer?” Wanda jokes, and you break and giggle at the idea of her doing either of those things. Before you collect yourself once more. 

“No, the whole ‘my wife is always right.’ That really condescending ‘happy wife, happy life.’ You gotta start that shit, because I haven’t been wrong.”

Wanda glares at you, and you remember. 

“Ok, yes, the slushie and I really thought Disney Channel movies were going to age well, and some didn’t. Hocus Pocus did, though, and you liked that. But yes, some things were hit and miss. I’d like to remind you of the feeldoe.” You reminded her of the sex toy, and Wanda’s face broke into a dirty grin at the memory of the recently purchased toy. 

“That was a good rebuttal,” Wanda said and then stopped looking at her cookie. “Are we double dippers?” You tried not to laugh at Wanda’s question. You’d told her the biggest rude thing to do at a party was double-dip. And she’d remembered it as one of your pet peeves. You hadn’t brought it up in months, and she still remembered. Fucking Wanda Maximoff, man. 

“You’ve spit in my mouth and pussy, I think you can double dip your cookie.” You say crudely, and in the first month, Wanda would have choked on her own spit at your words. But now she just looked at you with this mischievous grin, at the memory, before double-dipping her cookie. 

Three cookies in, and you were full as you leaned behind you to the side table to sip at your coffee. The dawn was just starting to turn the sky a lighter shade of blue.

 It wasn’t full to glow yet. And Wanda turned to see you eyeing the slow morning transforming. 

Time was funny. Past, you never could have imagined a world where you felt safe. Where your college professor was your supposed one-night stand. Where you’d see Wanda again? 

You couldn’t imagine the melancholy of the future, where you’d remember this time. Where you’d want these small moments with Wanda back. Because the future would be different.

 You saw Wanda in it, of course you did. But you also saw kids, maybe a son? You saw a house with a yard, a garden, and a dog. Life would grow, and you’d remember this moment then. When you woke your lover from a nightmare. Where you made her a snack and you stole time like a thief. You stole a morning of kisses and whispers. You’d never be in this moment, ever again. And you were missing it already. 

Wanda’s hand found yours, but you didn’t say anything. Staring out the window, the steam from Wanda's and your coffee wafts up. 

The present version of you couldn’t imagine a better way to spend a morning. 

Wanda squeezed your hand, and you broke your thoughts to stare at her. 

“Play something?” She requested.

You felt like you were in a movie now. How did Wanda know?

“Now?” You asked knowing the answer and she gave you a gaze that said ‘don’t play coy.’ So you moved off the sofa, placing your coffee down. You ran to the bedroom, grabbing your phone. You walked back inside and you turned on her sound system. Connecting to the familiar Bluetooth that you named ‘Mama’s jukebox.’ 

You hesitated over a song before you went for something else. Wanda stood and grabbed just under your elbow. 

“No, pick the one you wanted first,” Wanda told you, and your soul flared deep inside. So you went back to it. You pressed ‘Runaway’ by Aurora. Throwing the phone onto the sofa and you closed your eyes. Like the lyrics and looking into Wanda’s eyes were too much. 

The song was loud, and you momentarily hoped the neighbors weren’t gonna be mad. But the lyrics hit you with such intensity, you felt naked now. 

I was listenin' to the ocean

I saw a face in the sand

But when I picked it up

Then it vanished away from my hands, 

I had a dream I was seven

Climbin' my way in a tree

I saw a piece of heaven

Waitin' impatient for me, 

Wanda grabbed your hips and she pulled you closer. You swayed and her forehead rested on yours. And you let out a shaky breath. 

Wanda was slow dancing with you at five am. And you’d never felt more seen by another person. 

And I was runnin' far away

Would I run off the world someday?

Nobody knows, nobody knows

And I was dancing in the rain

I felt alive and I can't complain

But no, take me home

Take me home where I belong

I can't take it anymore

You heard Wanda intake of a sharp breath. And you realized she wasn’t just slow dancing, just romancing you with her hips. She was listening to the lyrics. She heard you. 

Wanda was your home now. 

I was painting a picture

The picture was a painting of you

And for a moment I thought you were here

But then again, it wasn't true, dah

And all this time I have been lyin'

Oh, lyin' in secret to myself

I've been putting sorrow on the farthest place on my shelf

La-di-da

“My love, open your eyes. I’m not going to hurt you.” Wanda whispered and you did and you saw only love shining back. And you kissed her hard as she pulled your hips to hers. You dive into her, and she catches your every movement. Kissing you and swaying you gently. Rocking your body like she was the keeper of your battered and beaten heart. Your love, your best friend, your protector. Wanda kissed you, and you felt it in every square inch of your body. 

And I was runnin' far away

Would I run off the world someday?

Nobody knows, nobody knows

And I was dancing in the rain

I felt alive and I can't complain

But no, take me home

Take me home where I belong

I got no other place to go

No, take me home

Take me home where I belong

I got no other place to go

No, take me home

Take me home where I belong

I can't take it anymore

Your phone interrupts your main character rom-com dance. Wanda doesn’t release your hips but you both stop kissing and dancing. You sigh, frustrated and leave her grasp and you feel Wanda’s fingers hold you until the last possible second. Like the limbs of a haunted tree in a storm claw against a windowpane. 

You feel her against your lips and her hands even after you walk away from her embrace. She’s burned into you. 

You pause your extremely revealing song to see Darcy texted you. You sit on the sofa and read her extremely long message. Wanda seems to be nervous, her weight shifting from foot to foot. 

Wanda’s playing with her fingers, and you’ve seen this a handful of times. But you don’t question her. 

You text Darcy back first, knowing she's probably a tad stoned. It started off with a sex question and somehow turned into a question about her essay for Lit. And you easily answered both questions and did a quick Google search so you could send her a good source. For the link on F. Scott Fitzgerald. Not the sex question, that was just about multiple orgasms, and you answered that one easily without using a search engine. 

You saw Wanda look out the window and then heard her make a noise that was something between frustration and wonder. You send the message and set your iPhone on the coffee table. 

Looking up, you see the first bright rays of morning. They’re teasing the sky, not yet awake. But their hue is somewhere between a VW bug’s yellow and an orange that could only be described as a creamsicle ice pop. You look at the window with a sense of peace you’d only just discovered from loving Wanda. 

She turned, and you saw how serious she looked. Not the same face you had from the sunrise. But she crosses the distance, putting the pudding and cookie plate onto the coffee table quickly and sitting close to you. 

“Baby?” You say concerned. 

“I have a proposal for you.” She says serious and you try to lighten the mood. 

“Uh oh.” You make a fake worried look, and Wanda laughs outright. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She is playing along, but you see the tension in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, the last proposal you ‘proposed’ was for us to start juicing and you got that juicer and we did like mountains of celery and it made a thimble of juice. So, forgive me if a five am proposal has me a little hesitant. I’m sorry, baby, you tell me, I’m all ears. What’s your proposal?” You tell her, and you see she’s a bit more at ease now. Remembering who you are and how you talk to her. It makes her shoulders relax, and she looks more sure.

“Move in with me.” 

You blink. Not seeing that coming. 

“What?” You feel like you might be dreaming now. And Wanda, the sweetheart, she is. She doesn’t take your initial shock as a negative. She pushes through and grabs both your hands in hers. Wanda has this look in her eyes, and you’d seen it before now. But now you could place it, you saw it in her office that day. You saw it when she bought you a drink. God, what a woman.

Wanda’s eyes were shining now, and she declared her love like it was the only chance she’d ever get. 

Because this morning was quickly becoming day.

And another moment that would be a memory. 

And Wanda wasn’t going to let this morning pass without saying it.  

“Move in with me, you don’t need the dorm. You don’t even like going to the dorm. And the majority of your stuff is here-but that’s not why it’s not a convenience thing, god. No, it’s so much more than that.  What I mean is that I can’t spend another moment in this apartment without you. What I’m saying is I want you in every corner of my life. I am so in love with you. I love you more than I thought someone could love another person. It’s not the sex, which is mind-blowing. It’s not that you let me pick the shows at night, or that you actually enjoy them. Which is- wow. No, it’s that when I come into the bathroom and I don’t find your hair in the sink, I’m upset now. It’s a proposal for you to move in, yes, but it’s more than that. I need you. I need you everywhere, all over me, all the time. It’s not just the last few boxes of your stuff that is at your dorm, that belong here. I want to grow old with you, and I want to trip over your shoes that you refuse to put away in the closet. I want you forever. I thought I’d been scared before. I’d seen war and bloodshed. I’ve lost so many people. I can’t lose you. I won’t be scared and hold back what I know to be true. Is that you are it for me, the end of it all. No searching or wondering what life is going to look like, it’s you. For as long as I live, you will be it.”

You took a breath at the end of her words. Not realizing you’d held it the whole time she spoke. God, you never thought you’d get your When Harry Met Sally speech. And here she was. 

Looking better than Billy Crystal in his knit sweater. 

It was Wanda. 

But you couldn’t not tease her. So you hid your emotions and asked her very seriously’

“Wanda, if this is just because you like my brown butter chocolate chip cookies-” Wanda laughs and then leans over and kisses you hard. You are crying, and she is crying, and it’s a mess. Because you taste like cookies and coffee, and you can only hear the ringing of ‘forever’ with Wanda in your ears. 

Wanda pulls away and she wipes your tears now. 

“I’m not crying.” You lie, and it’s stupid because she doesn’t love you superficially. You don’t cry like an Instagram model, and she doesn’t want that. Wanda loves you, and your snot bubbles, too. 

“You cry for me Malysh,” Wanda says, and you sniffle. 

“I love you.” You whimper through more tears. Wanda nods and grins, and you brush away her tears again. You two would need to buy tissues after you moved all your shit. 

“So is that a yes to my proposal?” Wanda teases you, already knowing from your response. 

“Oh my god, yes. Stop, what are you like into me or something?” You tease, and Wanda pinches your side, and you giggle and hug her around her neck. Wanda places a million kisses against your cheek.

You end up back in your bed with the window wide open and sunlight casting its gorgeous rays over the bed and blanketing over your cuddling bodies. 

Wanda was tracing invisible patterns on your arm. Your legs were tangled, and you were facing one another, noses touching as you stared at her. You couldn’t believe people actually cuddled like this until Wanda. 

Because you wanted to breathe her air, and stare at her. Wanda and you whispered in the bed, secrets for only the other to hear in the early morning light. 

“Wanda?” You asked her, and she looked at you patiently. 

“Yes, my love?” She softly whispers back in your cocoon of light and cuddles. 

“Will you tell me what your nightmare was?” 

You don’t usually ask because when Wanda told you, it was so gruesome. So much blood and violence. Her parents' corpses and her brother lying in a morgue. But it had hurt her so bad this morning, and you were asking so maybe you could help in the future. It was a long shot, but maybe you could?

Wanda smiled a sad smile, before she answered. 

“You left.”

It sat there cold. Wanda’s hand stopped, and it came up to cup your cheek. 

You couldn’t believe it. 

War and death, so much horror, and what brought your lover to her knees this morning was you leaving. That was what had frightened her to thrashing, screaming, and crying.

 Wanda’s gaze didn’t shift, she wasn’t afraid. She’d told you the truth. It was her fear, her worst fear. And you bit your lip and shook your head. 

“Wanda, no.” You say and you don’t have to say more as Wanda gives you the most sorrow-filled mile you’d ever seen someone muster. 

“That’s my waking nightmare.” She admits, and you kiss her slowly before pulling back so she can see your face. 

“You brought me home. I’m not going anywhere.” You say so gently something snaps in Wanda, and she kisses you hard, and her hands fall into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer to her. 

The song echoed in both of your minds. 

No, take me home

Take me home where I belong

I got no other place to go

No, take me home, home where I belong, 

[pankowcrumbs]

You won't X Bucky Barnes

MasterList

Marvel MasterList

I’d always known loving Bucky Barnes would come with risks.

Not the usual risks heartbreak, misunderstanding, growing apart.

No. Loving Bucky was like loving a ticking time bomb. It was loving a man with ghosts stitched into his skin and trauma buried deep behind steel blue eyes. It was knowing he didn’t always trust his own hands, didn’t always trust his own mind.

And tomorrow, we were marching straight into the kind of mission that could break him.

Could break us.

I stared at the digital map glowing faintly across my desk, the soft hum of Stark tech barely audible in the silence of my room. My room on the compound.

The plan was clean. Precise. Split up. Retrieve the asset. Extract without being seen.

Easy in theory. In practice?

The Hydra symbols stamped on the mission file told a different story.

They weren’t gone. Not fully. Just hiding. Waiting. And now one of their buried facilities had surfaced, right in the heart of Siberia.

And Bucky was going in alone.

Not entirely alone there were failsafes. Sam on overwatch. Nat tracking from a safe distance. But if Hydra had even a scrap of the old programming…

If they caught him…

I stood abruptly, the anxiety boiling in my stomach as I crossed to the window. The New York skyline blinked back at me, calm and glittering like the world outside wasn’t on the verge of collapse.

I hated missions like this.

The ones where goodbye might actually mean goodbye.

The door creaked behind me. I didn’t turn.

I didn’t have to.

“Didn’t think you’d be asleep,” Bucky said softly.

“Didn’t try.”

I heard the door click shut. A moment later, the warmth of him ghosted at my back all leather and clean soap and something entirely him. His arms slipped around my waist, his cheek resting against the top of my head.

We stood like that for a moment.

Just breathing.

“I couldn’t stay in my room,” he admitted after a while. “Felt like the walls were closing in.”

“You’re scared.”

He didn’t deny it.

“I don’t want to be,” he murmured, “but yeah. I am.”

I turned in his arms. His eyes were tired. Sad.

“I don’t want to forget you,” he whispered.

My chest ached.

“You won’t,” I said firmly.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

He let out a bitter breath and pulled away slightly, running a hand through his hair.

“Y/N…” he said, eyes darting from mine to the floor and back again. “You weren’t there the first time I woke up after they wiped me. You didn’t see what it was like. I couldn’t remember my own name, let alone who I was to anyone else. I was just… empty.”

“You’re not that man anymore.”

“But what if they find a way to make me him again?”

His voice cracked. It scared me more than anything else.

I walked over, reached for his hand his flesh one, warm and calloused.

“You could forget your name, your face, your past but you’d still find me. Somehow.”

His brow furrowed. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because love isn’t something that just vanishes with memory. It’s in your bones. In your instincts. It’s why Steve found you even when you didn’t know him. Why you saved me when I was pinned under rubble in Tunisia without hesitating.”

He swallowed thickly. “That was different”

“No, it wasn’t,” I interrupted, stepping closer. “You didn’t know my name. Didn’t know I was Tony’s daughter. But you still carried me out. You knew.”

He stared at me.

Torn. Fractured.

Hopeful.

I reached up, my fingers brushing his jaw. “You’ll remember me, Bucky. Even if you don’t remember why at first… you’ll know I’m yours.”

His eyes shimmered.

And then, like something inside him gave way, he pulled me close and buried his face in the crook of my neck.

We stayed like that, clutching each other like we could stop time.

Minutes passed. Maybe more.

Eventually, we moved to the bed not to sleep, not exactly. Just to be. Together.

I lay with my head on his chest, his metal arm wrapped around me like a shield.

His heart thudded beneath my ear.

“I never thought I’d have this,” he murmured after a long while.

“Have what?”

“Someone who sees me. Not the weapon. Not the soldier. Me.”

I lifted my head slightly. “I see James Buchanan Barnes. I see a man who’s survived the worst things imaginable and still chooses kindness. Still chooses to love.”

He let out a shaky breath.

“You think I’ll come back to you?”

“I know you will.”

He was quiet for a beat. “What if I try to hurt you?”

“You won’t.”

“But what if I do? What if they get in my head and I don’t know what’s real anymore?”

I looked him dead in the eye.

“Then I’ll remind you. Even if I have to do it every single day until you believe me.”

His eyes welled again. He blinked rapidly, trying to hide it, but I saw.

“You’re too good for me,” he whispered.

“No,” I said, my voice fierce now. “Don’t you dare.”

He blinked at me.

“You are brave and broken and still healing,” I continued. “And I am in love with every single piece of you even the ones you think aren’t worth loving.”

He stared at me like he was seeing the sun for the first time.

“You’re not allowed to forget that,” I added, my voice softening.

“I’ll try.”

“No,” I smiled. “You will.”

He chuckled quietly, the sound low and rough. “Bossy.”

“I am my father’s daughter.”

Bucky groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

I smacked his chest gently. “Tony loves you.”

“Not at first.”

“Well, no,” I admitted, “but you did, like, murder people.”

“Allegedly.”

I snorted, laughing despite the weight in my chest.

He grinned too, but it faded quickly. His hand the metal one came up to brush my cheek.

“If I don’t make it back...”

“Don’t,” I warned, eyes flashing.

“Y/N”

“No. You will come back. You don’t get to give me a goodbye speech. That’s not the deal.”

“What is the deal, then?”

I leaned in until our foreheads touched.

“You survive. You come home. You remember me.”

“And if I forget?”

“Then I’ll find you,” I whispered. “And I’ll make you fall in love with me all over again.”

His breath caught.

And then he kissed me soft at first, then deeper, desperate. Like he was memorising the taste of my lips, the curve of my smile, the shape of my sighs.

When we finally pulled apart, I saw it.

The fear was still there.

But so was the hope.

“Sleep here tonight,” I whispered. “Just for now.”

He nodded, pulling me back into his chest.

And in the quiet, before sleep could steal us, he whispered one last thing into the dark:

“You’re my anchor, Y/N. If I ever forget everything else… don’t let me forget that.”

The snow was biting, sharp like glass on skin. My boots crunched over the crusted top layer of ice as I pushed further into the dark woods, my gloved fingers tight around the Stark rifle strapped across my chest.

Bucky had gone radio silent.

Twelve minutes and thirty-two seconds ago.

I knew because I'd counted every second.

He was supposed to check in every five minutes. Just a click on the comm. Nothing fancy.

But now there was nothing.

Static.

Silence.

And a hollow, clawing terror growing in my chest.

“Any sign?” Nat’s voice crackled through my earpiece.

I pressed a hand to the side of my head. “No. Still no contact. He was inside the facility fifteen minutes ago.”

Sam chimed in, voice strained. “I’ve got eyes on the perimeter. No movement in or out. Either he’s deep, or...”

“Don’t say it,” I snapped.

He went quiet.

I took a breath, trying to keep the trembling out of my hands.

He’ll be fine. It’s Bucky. He promised. He said he’d come back.

I forced my body forward through the brush, snow flurries kicking up around me. The facility loomed ahead half buried in the ground like some metal tombstone to Hydra’s sins.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

I made it to the entry point a rusted door half-covered by broken crates and steel debris. Bucky had gone in through here. We’d agreed I’d wait outside until his signal said otherwise.

But he hadn’t signalled.

And I couldn’t wait any longer.

“Y/N,” Nat warned over the comm. “Don’t go in without back-up. You don’t know what’s in there.”

“I know who’s in there,” I answered, and switched off the channel.

Inside, the air was stale and cold. The corridor walls were old, cracked concrete the kind that held screams and secrets. My boots echoed as I crept forward, weapon raised, every nerve on high alert.

“Bucky?” I whispered. “It’s me. Y/N. You in here?”

Nothing.

I reached a junction and checked the map display on my wrist a simplified internal layout, courtesy of Friday’s last scan. The cell chamber was to the left. I moved towards it, trying not to let my breath hitch.

Every footstep was heavier now. Like the air itself resisted me.

Please don’t be triggered. Please don’t be gone.

I reached the chamber door. It stood open. Splintered.

Like someone had smashed through it.

My heart skittered.

I stepped inside.

Blood smeared the walls not a lot, but fresh. There were Hydra guards sprawled across the floor, unmoving. Their guns had been melted, twisted like toys.

And standing in the middle of the room, back to me, was Bucky.

Motionless.

His metal hand twitched at his side.

“Bucky?” I said, voice trembling.

He didn’t turn.

Didn’t move.

My mouth went dry.

I stepped closer. “James?”

Still nothing.

I took one more step and that’s when he turned.

My heart dropped.

His expression was blank. Eyes empty. Shoulders square, like a soldier at attention.

“Bucky,” I said again, softly. “It’s me. It’s Y/N.”

He tilted his head slightly. No flicker of recognition.

I felt my knees weaken.

No. No, no, no.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, raising my hands. “You remember me, right? You were in my bed last night. You told me I was your anchor.”

Still no response.

He stepped forward.

I took a shaky breath. “You told me… that if you forgot everything else, you wouldn’t forget that.”

Another step.

Closer now.

I could see it the way his fingers flexed, the way his jaw tensed like he was preparing to strike. There was no warmth in his gaze.

No him.

He was the Winter Soldier.

And I’d lost him.

My body screamed to run, but I stood my ground.

“You made me a promise, Bucky,” I said, barely above a whisper. “You said you’d come back.”

He stopped, mere feet away.

We stared at each other.

I slowly removed my glove and reached for him my bare hand trembling in the cold.

“I’m not scared of you,” I whispered. “You could crush me, kill me, and I’d still look at you the same. Because I love you. Every part of you. Even this.”

A long beat.

Then, slowly almost imperceptibly something shifted in his eyes.

The faintest flicker.

His brow furrowed, like a thought was trying to claw its way to the surface.

“Y/N…” he murmured, voice hoarse. Uncertain.

My heart cracked.

“I’m here,” I said, stepping closer, tears stinging my eyes. “You’re not alone. You’re safe. Come back to me.”

His metal hand twitched again. This time, he raised it not to strike, but to touch. It hovered near my face, unsure, like he didn’t trust his own touch.

I placed my hand over his.

“You’re James Barnes,” I said. “And you’re mine.”

He blinked rapidly. Breathing hard.

Then he dropped to his knees.

Like the weight of it all had finally crushed him.

“Y/N…” he choked. “I didn’t know I couldn’t God”

I dropped with him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as he crumbled into me. His body shook against mine, cold and terrified.

“You found me,” he whispered, over and over. “You found me.”

I held his face, made him look at me.

“You came back,” I said, a tear slipping down my cheek. “Just like you promised.”

[golddustwomanwins]

Pastor Art Donaldson x single mom reader

18+

This could be shit for all I know but here ya go.

You moved to town a few months ago, after looking at the small little town and thinking it was perfect for you and your little girl.

It was that town where everyone knew and helped each other. Where you had nosy neighbors which were good at heart, dropping by pie and freshly made casserole. It was something out of a movie.

You settled in pretty quickly, your daughter finding friends in kindergarten and a smile gracing her lips everyday. It was the first time you could take a steady breath, letting it settle in your lungs without having to look over your shoulder.

Most of your weekdays were full with working, picking up Zoe from kindergarten, cooking, reading her a bedtime story and falling exhausted into bed. You were drained, the faucet in the kitchen was leaking for the past week and your car kept making rattling noises any time you handled the accelerator too roughly.

You ignored it. Knowing your daughter was happy and looked after was everything that mattered to you.

Every Sunday she’d beg you to take her to mass, despite you never raising her religiously, she’d always been interested in it. Despite it being the main reason why you had left your ex husband you still indulged her curiosity.

For her sake you took her to mass every single Sunday. And while your lips moved without actually saying the prayer your eyes couldn’t help but stay focused on the towns Pastor.

Reverend Donaldson was popular among the town’s people. Since it being such a small town everyone knew and valued the Reverend and his little community.

He’d help when something was broken, an elderly lady needed her groceries carried, a kid scraped its knee on the concrete. To pinpoint it, Reverend Donaldson was a Saint.

He even stopped by your place once when you were talking to Mrs. Robinson about your broken radiator. Art was quick to offer his help and you being overwhelmed by his innocent offer, agreed it. Like you said, he was a saint.

And he sure did look like it. Golden strands of hair gracing the top of his head like a halo. Skin pale and eyes translucent blue. He was cute. Especially with that concerned look on his face when a townie was pouring their heart out to him. He’d lay a hand on the shoulder, his gentle voice soothing, “God has his plans for you. May his path lead you to your deserved destiny.”

For you it sounded like utter bullshit but you’d never say that out loud. You had seen what utter devotion to a religion could do to people. Still, you liked him. Your daughter was obsessed with him, her cheeks tinting pink as she hid behind your leg as you introduced yourself to him the first time.

His hand was warm and sure as he shook yours.

“If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to reach out to me,” he had said, his eyes dipping to the collar of your dress for a moment.

You’d smiled politely and thanked him, knowing you’d never take him up on his offer. You could do everything alone. You always had. Little did you know that in this town people didn’t take no for an answer.

When the town’s elders giggled and told you to make a move on Reverend Donaldson, since he was a ‘serious catch’, only smiled politely, indulging their gossip only so far that you talked to him once and again.

It had been a bad week. The faucet in the kitchen broke again after you fixed it up, Zoe was particularly whiney for some reason, you’d slipped on a toy and busted your knee against the living room table, and you had bills to pay that seemed impossible at that moment.

Oh, and it was pouring rain, pressing against the windshield of your car. You could hardly see the road in front of you, headlights lighting up the mess of wet concrete and muddy dirt.

The rattling of your truck was loud enough to be heard over the music and the pouring rain but you happily ignored it. Zoe was with a friend tonight and you were looking forward to lay down and get some sleep for a few hours.

You had still over twenty minutes to drive when the rattling noise turned into a suspicious gurgling. Your eyes scanned the dashboard but everything seemed to be fine. You decided to ignore it until your car started to stutter.

“No, no, no,” you whispered, foot on the clutch as the engine slowly gave away. With a final huff your truck gave up, stopping in the middle of the road. You couldn’t help but stare at the path in front of you, now in the dark as the steady sound of rain filled the silence. You leaned forward, groaning, the steering wheel cold against your forehead.

It took everything in you not to cry in frustration. You didn’t know how much time passed while you tried to ignore the insistent sting in your eyes and the way your throat seemed to close off every time you took a breath.

A sudden honk made you sit up. You could see an old mustang in the rear view mirror, stopping right behind your car. The headlights of the car felt like a spotlight on you.

“Go around,” you called despite the fact that the driver couldn’t hear you. He honked again and you made a vulgar gesture with your hand into the backseat. Was this idiot too dumb to understand that your car wasn’t running anymore?

You flinched when someone knocked against your window. You could barely see the person through the pouring rain. The golden hair seemed almost brown now that it was wet, his cheeks and nose flushed from the cold.

Art Donaldson was standing at the side of your car in the pouring rain. You rolled down your window as you stared at him dumbfounded.

“Your car broke down?” He had to yell lightly over the rain. For a moment you could only stare at him. The way the usually carefully brushed strands clung to his head, beads of water rolling over his long nose and plopping down on his slightly blue lips.

“Do you need help?” Reverend Donaldson repeated and you swallowed softly. Your eyes flickered to the dashboard to somehow find an answer. You could decline. But that meant staying in this car miles away from home with no way to leave.

You’d call Jim to come tow your car, he was the local mechanic, but that would surely take hours.

“I’ll take you back into town and we’ll call Jim from there, come on,” it seemed like Reverend Donaldson was making the decision for you.

He pulled the car door open, pulling his jacket off his shoulders to hold it up as a cover for you. The two of you rushed over to his car, Art opening the door for you and getting you safely inside.

Once Art sat inside, he turned the heaters on fully, making you shiver slightly. His eyes caught the movement and his fingers went quickly to turn on the seat heater as well.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did.” There was no room for discussion in his voice. He drove off, slowly rounding around your car. It was weird to be this close to him. The car smelled of rosemary and incense. A crucifix was dangling from the rear view mirror, Jesus judging you condescendingly.

You tried to focus on the road but your eyes kept glancing back at Reverend Donaldson and the way his wet shirt clung to his chest. Were Pastors allowed to do sports? Because holy hell, the abs showing through his shirt needed to be studied and could not possibly be only from genes.

-

Art drove you back to your house, parking the car in your driveway before following you inside.

“I am sure I can find some clothes you could change into,” you mumbled distractedly, rummaging through your dresser, as the kettle whistled slowly on your stove.

“No need, it is fine,” he looked around your living room curiously, dolls and pink pearls scattered around the room. Pink princess shoes and glitter strands on the couch. He barely remembered your home from the last time he was here.

“No, I don’t want you catching a cold,” you dug out some gray sweatpants and a shirt from your ex husband and gave it to him.

His fingers grazed yours as he took the clothes and the contact sent a shocking current through you. You quickly pulled your hand back.

“You can change in Zoe’s room. She’s at a sleepover tonight.”

He nodded and left the room. Ten minutes later you both were sitting at the too small table beside the west window of your living room. You felt self conscious. With the chipped wood on the table, the faded writing on your teacups and the far too small chair Art was sitting on.

Everything seemed so small compared to him. His whole hand swallowed the steaming cup of tea, his knees banging against the table every time he shifted his legs.

“There is no need to be nervous.”

You looked up surprised from your tea. “Why do you think I’m nervous?”

Arts lips pulled into a soft smile. “It is part of my job to read people. To know what they need.”

You tilted your head at him.

One side of his lips pulled up, ending in an endearing, crooked smile.

“You’re doing a good job,” he said, his hand twitching around his cup of tea. Art was watching you intently as if he didn’t want to miss a single thing.

“I am?” You smiled shyly.

Art nodded, seemingly unsure before he reached out with his hand. His pinky grazed your knuckles for a moment.

“Zoe is a great kid. She’s happy and open for her age,” Art said. You trailed the pattern of the wood of the table with your finger.

“Well, I try.”

“I know you do,” his words slipped like warm honey over your skin. You looked up at him then, tilting your head.

“Are you doing it right now?”

He arched a brow at your question.

“Are you saying these things because you think that’s what I need to hear?” You clarified.

“I’m saying it,” Art noted. “Because it is the truth.”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his words. Oh no. You could feel it. The dam breaking. You were still laughing but now silent tears were slipping over your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffed. “I dont know why I’m crying.”

You blinked surprised when Art was suddenly on his knees at your side, softly brushing the tears from your cheeks.

“You’re a good mother,” he repeated as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. As if he was courageous enough to creep into the ugly and dark corners of your soul and face your insecurities.

You sank slightly forward, you knew you were going to be embarrassed about it after, and let Art hug you. He whispered sweet prayers into your ear as his hands softly stroked your back.

When you calmed down enough you leaned back and looked at him. His eyes were so open and worried it made your heart tug.

Without thinking you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. The moment you felt those soft plush lips of his you instantly pulled back horrified.

“Oh god, I am so sorry.” Your hand covered your mouth in shock.

“No—“

“I don’t know why I did that,” you went to stand up.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Art grabbed your neck to keep you from moving. You stared up at him with wide eyes and watched the inner tumult inside his blue eyes.

Your lips parted and his eyes dipped before his head moved. He was gentle as he pressed his lips against yours, a soft whimper falling from his throat. Your hands fisted his shirt desperately, hips connecting with friction.

Arts lips trailed along your jaw, soft sounds falling from him as your hands went for his belt buckle. He quickly captured your wrists and you looked up at him.

“I’ll make you feel good, promise.” And before you could say or do something, he grabbed you by the hips and lifted you onto the table. His hands were under the skirt of your dress in a matter of seconds. His hands were warm on your rain dried thighs, his gaze intent on your face.

“Relax for me,” one hand came up to press on your stomach and make you lean slightly back.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” Art whispered, his lips trailing hotly along your thighs, knees and hip bones. He placed a kiss on each knee, his grip on you sure but not too tight.

His plump lips trailed a wet path up your thighs, closer and closer to right were you were burning, writhing with pain. You sighed when he kept talking. “I know I shouldn’t, but you in those light sundresses. You know, last Sunday you didn’t wear a bra with your dress,” he groaned into your clothed cunt and you shivered, cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

“I was in a rush and forgot,” you mumbled quietly. “Ahh,” Art licked a long wet stripe over your underwear, “it won’t happen again.”

“Oh it will,” Art murmured, teeth dragging over your panties. “Those perky little tits looked amazing any time you went to your knees and prayed.”

“Fuck,” you moaned at his words, hand flying to his hair. Art looked up at you then, eyes so dark it looked like he was possessed.

His gaze stayed on your face as his fingers tugged the fabric of your panties to the side, slightly slipping through his fingers with all the wetness dripping from it.

“Jesus,” Art breathed as your glistening cunt came into view. His pupils blew wide before he dove forward, hands gripping your hips and pulling you to the edge of the creaky table.

A surprised gasp escaped you that dipped into a moan when his tongue licked your cunt.

“Oh, fuckk, Art.”

“Yeah, Baby. That feel good?” His voice vibrated against you, making you sure in pleasure.

Men had went down on you before but it had never felt that way. Art was fully devoted to eating you out, tongue moving with passion, fingers slipping through your wet lips before sinking into the hilt.

“God, I knew you’d be perfect. Take me like the Angel you are,” Art whispered to himself as he slowly fucked his fingers into you. His mouth kept licking and sucking, teeth tugging gently at your clit and making you see sparks.

“Art,” you whined, hand tugging at his hair and moving his head just the way you liked. Your hips started to rock on the creaky table as you palmed one of your tits, squeezing roughly.

“You can relax with me. I’m here for your pleasure and no one else’s,” Art murmured. “You taste like heaven, baby.”

His fingers fucked faster as he felt your walls starting to squeeze around him, small moans falling faster and faster from your lips.

“Art—I don’t think…I can’t—ahh.”

“You can,” he encouraged you, fingers curling and hitting just the right spot. “You’re always so good to everyone. Be good for me. Please.”

It was as if Art knew exactly what you wanted to hear. Hearing him beg was the last straw and when his fingers slammed into you, this time curling perfectly, you came right on his hand.

“Ohh fuckk, yes, yes, yes,” the breathy words fell from your lips as you arched your back, moving quickly as Art fucked you right through your orgasm.

When the fog in your brain slowly disappeared you noticed a cooling sensation between your thighs. You blinked at Art who was cleaning you gently with a wet cloth.

Once he was finished he tugged your panties back into place and stood up. His hands came up to your head securely and he pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead. The motion almost made you cry again.

“You’re okay,” he whispered and pulled you into his arms. You didn’t dare say anything not wanting him to move an inch.

[kurapikaspookie]

Hi! I have a request! — Where Sae and Rin coincidentally arrive home on the same day, and upon entering the house they find their younger sister lying on the couch curled up in pain due to an endometriosis crisis, which they and neither she (she always felt pains like this during her periods and never suspected) knew she had, making them worried and considering taking her to the hospital. — Something distressing at the beginning with the reader (sister) making funny comments trying to lighten the mood. Sae and Rin supporting each other despite their conflicts and very worried about their sister. She had nothing to do with Sae and Rin's fight and they continued to talk to her normally, but over time they ended up distancing themselves because of their older brothers' careers (well until that day).

⋆˚࿔ endormetriosis | itoshi brothers 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

As you lay sprawled across the crouch, clutching your stomach in pain, the feeling shooting through your bones, stirring cold tears from your eyes, you grit your teeth to subside your screaming. You had always experienced pain during your periods – but they had never been this bad, you thought it was a universal experience across all girls. It went from a dull ache in your lower stomach and back to a full blown stabbing feeling across you. Even the warmth of the soft pillows of your living room did nothing to reduce the pain, so you were left there, groaning of the overbearing feeling.

That was until you heard the door unlock.

Sae and Rin had most likely come back from Blue Lock on some sort of break, and god were you thankful for that. You couldn’t even call out to them, your head full of pain, screeching pain, the feeling ripping through your insides. You fell off the sofa and onto the ground with a thump, arms wrapped tightly around your stomach. You immediately heard something drop – some sort of bag, before rushed footsteps sounded across the room.

“What’s going on…” Sae’s voice.

“OH MY GOD – {Y/N}!” Rin yelled, running up to you. Two heavy hands fell across your shoulders, shaking you, doing nothing to subside the pain. “ARE – ARE YOU OKAY!? WHAT’S GOING ON!?” he shook you harder, his voice breaking furiously “ANSWER ME, DAMMIT!”

But you couldn’t. All you could do is groan in pain. You could hear Rin’s short, panicked breaths as he shook you, stuttering and stumbling over his words.

“{Y/N}… {Y/N} ANSWER ME! A-ANSWER…”

He paused.

“Sae-”

“I’m already calling the ambulance… just..” His voice trailed off, but it went rough around the edges, something it never did. He didn’t seem to come closer, but upon forcing your teary eyes open, your vision slightly blurred with tears, you could see a panicked Rin in front of you, his eyebrows furrowed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Sae was behind him, his back turned, but he fidgeted as he went on the phone, walking back and forth, the most erratic you’ve ever seen him. He eventually turned to you, walking with hurried steps, and crouching next to Rin. He had the phone pulled away from his ear, his teal eyes pulling yours in. His gaze was intense, his expression barely holding together as he stared you down.

“Just… just.. just breathe, okay?” Sae muttered, trying to calm you, even though he looked anything but. “You… you’re fine… just... the ambulance is coming…”

Rin snapped his head around, his eyebrows turning inward. “GET HER INTO THE CAR, ARE YOU CRAZY!?”

Rin was clearly out of his mind, his voice breaking as he tried to haul you up.

“Calm down – just – calm the fuck down, Rin!” Sae rose his voice, his arm spreading out to stop Rin. “Don’t move her. They’re coming. Calm down.”

Rin stared furiously at Sae, but he listened, his gaze falling back onto yours, his eyes filled with tears.

“{Y/N}… please…” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “You’ll be alright, right?”

You nodded slowly.

But you weren’t so sure.

It was only a few more agonizing seconds �� or minutes, you couldn’t tell – until you heard the sound of sirens. It was only a few more until your heard multiple voices, muffled by Rin’s crying, his attempts, yet terrible, to reassure you. Sae’s voice was somewhere in the background as your mind clouded up with thoughtless fog from the affliction.

“Yes… no… we just found her like this as we came in here… I don’t think she can talk… no… no…”

__

The air was silent. Silent and cold. Not from weather, but from the atmosphere in the waiting room outside your hospital room, a place were two brothers sat. Rin was crying ferociously, trying to muffle it all the same. He was furious – what could have possibly happened? Had he done something wrong? Had you hurt yourself? Will he see you again…?

The last question made him sick, forcing tears to cascade down his cheeks, his breathing heavier and heavier.

Sae couldn’t say anything. He was fighting to hold back his own tears, his eyes wide as he leaned his cheek on his fist. He just wanted you to be okay, this entire day was way too much.

He doubted he’d get any sleep.

But, the least he could do was comfort someone feeling the same way – he knew Rin was probably drowned in a tumult of emotions right now.

He seriously debated it. After all, Rin was a moody kid, and moody kids never accept help or any attempt at it. But, after weighing his rights and wrongs, the pros and cons, he turned toward Rin. His arm was shaking at first, but he eventually managed to make it rise to massage Rin’s back.

Immediately when he touched the boy, he slapped his arm off.

“Leave me alone.” Rin’s voice was the shakiest he had ever heard it to be.

Sae frowned, looking back down, ready to give up, but…

“She’ll be fine.” Sae said, not sure if he was reassuring Rin or himself. “We won’t loose her. We can’t, I won’t let it happen.”

“Stop being so optimistic, it’s making me even more sick.”

Sae sighed. “You should stop worrying like this. She’ll be alright.”

Rin paused.

“Promise?”

Sae turned to him.

“Yeah.”

{THIS IS UNFINISHED! It was late, so I'm just posting the short beggining! Hope you like it, part 2 is most likely next week - or tomorrow if im really feeling into it! I’m so sorry if I missed some parts of the request, please tell me if I do! I’m aiming for 10k words in this fic, packed with itoshi brother angst and reconciliation! Taglist: }

[tickled-p1nk]

What the Heart Wants ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

CHAPTER 1 | RESPONSIBILITY AND REFUGE

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: ̗̀➛ a/n: yes sir this is a multi-chapter fic, did it start out that way? nope. did it end that way? yes. : ̗̀➛ cw: none really, royal!dan heng x fem!servant!reader, reader is awkward and shy, meet cute, emperor!dan heng, royal!au, reader comes from a poor family, 2nd person pov, fluffy fluff to come, Dan Heng lies, secret identity trope, sfw : ̗̀➛ tags: @kimura-uzuri, @blushho

⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆˙⟡ ✦

Dan Heng had only come to the throne a short while ago and already had to deal with a war he hadn't started. There wasn't a moment of peace, being constantly bombarded with decisions that affected nations, the future, and living up to his father's legacy. None of this should have been his responsibility, especially since he hasn't even come to terms with his past and living up to his potential as Imbibator Lunae of his nation. But there was one thing… a refuge from all the chaos and pressure. A life without the expectations of status and leadership, somewhere he was safe, he could love and be loved.

You.

It started when you were working around the palace as a servant. Your family was poor, and you were sold to work at the imperial palace so they could pay off their debts. This was common practice for those in need, and it did have its benefits, a few at least.

Working at the palace, you never thought you would ever actually meet the emperor, the young leader of your warring nation. Though you did hear things, he was quite handsome and very skilled with the spear which was an odd choice for someone of his status. The women in the palace giggled about him but of course, none of you would ever have a chance with someone of his status. Or so you thought.

You ran into each other while you were cleaning the long hall. You were alone and quietly humming a song your mother used to sing to you. You missed your family If you were to be honest, you didn't know people here, though they were kind enough. They looked at you with sympathetic eyes, or envious ones, depending on where they came from. 

Suddenly, behind you, you heard footsteps, slowly came a young man. You eyed him cautiously, he seemed sleepy with heavy bags under his eyes, stress lines across his face despite his youthful appearance. He was fairly handsome if he were to fix his appearance a bit, short black hair and a lean but muscular build, you could tell due to his thin linen garb. He seemed like he was of high status due to the quality of his clothes, but nothing else signified status. You determined he was probably one of the more favored servants, though there was something about him that seemed eerily familiar.

He noticed your suspicious glances and became confused, does she not recognize me? He felt half offended and half amused. Well this is interesting.

Most people would have bowed their heads to him by now, it was the law, after all to bow in the presence of their emperor. He never really cared for it but it was strange to see someone not adhering to it.

“Can I help you with something?” You spoke, interrupting the staring contest.

“Oh no, sorry. Can I… help you…perhaps? Is there anything you require assistance with?” He wasn't used to making conversation where he was treated like an actual human being and not the answer to everyone's problems.

“Oh…hm…,” This handsome man was talking to you and asking if you needed anything, as someone who is starved for nurturing and love this was basically a marriage proposal, “could you help me reach the top of that shelf it's a bit too high for me to clean and I can't find a ladder.”

You expected him to go get a ladder or a stool if he knew where, not take the duster from your hand and do it himself.

“Oh! Uh….thank you.” You were a bit flustered, not only did you feel bad for having him dust the high shelves but when he was handing it back to you he was very close and very tall. You hoped he didn't notice how red your ears were getting at the moment “I didn't mean to make you do all that, my sincerest apologies.”

“Nonsense, I could reach it, and you needed help.” Dan Heng stated in a matter-of-fact tone, his teal eyes staring directly into your soul.

“What is your name, by the way? I didn’t seem to catch it,” you asked, despite the lump in your throat and the need to run away from this mysterious, handsome man.

He stared at you, stunned, I don’t want her to treat me differently, he paused before saying, “Dannie, and you?”

“Just Dannie?” you asked. It was strange to introduce yourself with what seemed like a first name.

“Yes.” He felt terrible for lying to an innocent person for no reason other than his selfish desires, but he wanted to indulge himself, just this once

“Hm, okay, Dannie, nice to meet you.”

You gave him your name, and you both stared at each other a bit, awkward silence taking over. You weren’t sure what to do or say after this point, not having much normal human interaction for the past year would do that.

Dan Heng, or “Dannie,” was the first to break the silence: “May I join you for the rest of your shift?”

You were surprised and perhaps slightly embarrassed but agreed nonetheless. It’s only to get to know the people I rule, of course, of course, yes, there was no other motivation whatsoever.

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: ̗̀➛ a/n pt 2: hello once more dear readers, and my darling dearest @all-skedaddle-and-no-bop

banner credit goes to: @kat_allioth on pinterest but idk who the actual artist is

stay tuned for the upcoming chapters!

masterlist next

[moraxine]

A Spark of Jealousy [Verso Dessendre]

pairing: verso x reader

words: 600

summary: verso hasn’t laughed with you, his decade long companion, in a while. But he does with Sciel. And you absolutely hate it.

PLEASE SEND ME REQUESTS FOR EXPEDITION 33 I AM BEGGING 🙏🏻

The glow of the campfire bathed the scenery in warmth, its crackle blending with the soft murmurs of the expeditioners. Stars pierced the misty night, and the air carried the scent of pine and earth. You and Verso, bound by decades of shared immortality, sat by the edge of the fire. Usually, you’d be at his side, sharing a quiet glance, but tonight, you sat apart, heart heavy with jealousy that felt both foolish and sharp.

You’d joined the team to guide them to the Paintress, their only hope to put an end to the gommage. It was a noble cause, one you and Verso embraced with steady resolve.

But watching him tonight, chuckling with Sciel, the group’s spirited scout, had cracked something in you. Her animated gestures drew his warm laugh—a sound so rare now, one that once belonged to your late-night talks. The way he leaned toward her, eyes bright, left you hollow.

Now you were staring into the fire, arms crossed. You were blinking intensely, in an attempt to prevent tears from escaping your eyes as the scene played back like an inescapable nightmare.

At least everyone had retreated for the night.

Well, almost everyone.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said, voice low, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you were quick to say, and a little too sharp. You regretted it instantly. It wasn’t his fault you were feeling this way.

He raised an eyebrow, settling closer you on the log. “Years together, and you think I can’t read you? Try again.”

You sighed in defeat. He was right, both of you knew each other so well it was getting ridiculous. Hiding from him was impossible.

And so, defeat was a one way street.

“You’re… different with Sciel. That laugh—I haven’t heard it in so long.”

Verso stilled, his eyes searching yours in the firelight. A faint smile curved his lips, but it was tinged with something softer, sadder. “Jealousy looks good on you,” he said, voice gentle. “But it’s misplaced.”

You looked away, throat tight. “It doesn’t feel misplaced. It feels like I’m losing you, Verso.”

In an instant, his hand found yours, warm and sure, grounding you like it always had. “Losing me?” he repeated, almost a whisper. “You’re woven into every piece of me. You’re my eternity, y/n.”

The ache in your chest eased as soon as you felt his touch, but doubt still lingered. “Then why does it hurt?” you asked, voice barely audible. “Seeing you light up for her…”

He squeezed your hand, pulling you closer. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t see it. Maybe I’ve been a bit too caught up with our new friends, but it’s you I need. Always you. We’re just helping out here like we’ve always done, yeah?”

You met his gaze, his eyes fierce with truth, and the jealousy began to dissolve. You nodded.

He was right. As cruel as it sounded, no matter what, in the end it would just the two of you left again.

“I feel so stupid,” you admitted, a small laugh escaping. “Getting worked up over a laugh.”

“Don’t,” he said, his thumb brushing your knuckles. “It’s not stupid. It’s us. And I love that you care enough to feel this.”

His smile turned playful. “It’s kind of charming, actually.”

You nudged him, warmth creeping back.

“Charming, huh?”

“Devastatingly so,” he teased, but his arm around you was steady, real. “I owe you a laugh, don’t I?”

“Several,” you said, leaning into him, the fire’s glow embracing you both.

And there’s no better time than eternity to make up for it.

[witchygagirlwrites]

“You don’t leave this bed until you’ve earned it.”

Your alarm rang and you reached out to smack it. You couldn't even remember why you had set the alarm. You didn't have work today. You shrugged and decided to make coffee but before your feet could hit the floor a set of strong arms slipped around your waist and you were pulled back against a solid chest "What was that atttitude last night about there ma'am?"

You knew this was coming. You loved Jay, you adored him with everything you had but you were human. Mood swings happened. Last night was one of those. Your feelings had gotten hurt by something a witness of all people had said and it sort of snowballed into you being a brat from hell and you hadn’t even wanted to have sex with Jay last night. You turned around to face him sheepishly “I’m sorry love” he nodded, a slow smile working its way onto his face “Did I do something?” you shook your head “No” “Did you just not want sex?” he asked and you shook your head again “I wanted sex, I always want to have sex with you it’s just that lady said something about me not being in your league..” he cut you off with a kiss “You let some women prevent us from loving on each other?”

You ducked your head but he gripped your chin to force your eyes to his “You don’t leave this bed until you’ve earned it in that case” you felt your face warm “What?” he nodded “You heard me, I get to do everything I wanted to do to you last night and anything that pops into my head now. I get to see just how many times I can make you cum, just how good I can make you feel so the next time any damn person puts a doubt in your head you can think about that”

“Ok” you replied and he smiled “Good girl” and pulled you into a kiss, tugging you over on top of him “Take that damn shirt off, I want to see all of you” he ordered and you grinned “Yes sir” as you slipped it over your head.