#I should’ve done my homework

[e77y]

Girl who rear-ended me left me on read for a week after I sent her an estimate and is now claiming she’s not the one who did the damage. Lmao

[littler0b1n]

I painted Prismo on my wall lol

[freddyyeti]

Doth I dare post my Valentine’s art now… on one hand it’d be about 8:35 for the 85% of my oomfs who’re East coast warriors … but on the contrary it’s 5:35 where I am so hmm.. decisions decisions

[sailermoon]

dude I’m so sleepy from walking around in the sun for 4 hours 😭😭😵‍💫

[knitting-gay-nerd]

i just knit half a hat only to discover that my gauge is vastly different in stranded colorwork than plain stockinette for some reason and as such it cannot fit on an adults head

It was looking so good too

[sunnyyflowerrs]

obligatory i posted a new chap reblog, chap 14 is up 🔥

hey itafushi truthers this is a shameless promo for the fic i’m writing, a modern setting au with firefighter!itadori and detective!megumi. it’s mostly silly, but i’m gonna be posting pretty often so hit it up and show some love if you can 🫶

edit: currently on chapter 14!!

[purinfelix]

── .✦ such a mess together - p. sunghoon

summary: the cute little girl you tutor is always going on about how you should date her smart, good-looking older brother, so why is your annoying, cocky classmate opening the door instead of her? ────── academic rival Sunghoon x reader || sfw, tension, can you tell i love the enemies to lovers trope LOL. || w/c: 3.5k (everyone clap jet is finally writing full length fics !!!)

a/n: ok whos shocked yet another enemies to lovers fic from yours truly - but i cant help that this trope is the most fun to write !!!!!!!

Shocked doesn’t even come close to describing how you feel right now. 

You feel as though if you widen your eyes anymore they’ll pop right out of your head, but the thought of him seeing you make such an embarrassing expression forces you to calm yourself. Slowly, he narrows his eyes, clearly not any less confused about this than you are. 

“The hell are you doing at my house?” he spits, thick brows furrowed as he looks you up and down. 

You’re about to reply with something equally as snarky, but you’re interrupted by a small head popping out from underneath his arm - which is outstretched to hold open the front door. 

“You’re here!” Yeji squeals in excitement, ducking past him to throw herself around your waist. You stumble backwards a bit, putting on her head to steady yourself as you laugh softly. 

“Hey,” you breathe out, though your eyes don’t leave those of the man in front of you, whose confusion only grows. “I’m here to tutor her,” you say curtly,  almost in disbelief that you’d have to spell it out for him this much. 

Though it’s not like you’re in much of a position to say much else because, really, you should’ve put the pieces together a long time ago. Being young and uninterested in her studies, Yeji had managed to spend most of your lessons together chatting about her life instead of doing her homework and so you had been told a lot about her - and her mysterious older brother who was rarely around because he was always busy working part-time or studying at university. At the time, you didn’t think twice about the fact that he went to the same university as you or that the times she mentioned him having exams always coincidentally lined up with yours - though now you’re beginning to think maybe you should’ve. 

Details like that were easy to forget though, especially when Yeji paid far more attention to the other details about her brother which she deemed far more important. You had spent many afternoons passively listening to her talk about how smart, sweet and tall he was, how he was “practically a prince” - all the while trying to get her to finish her algebra questions. You had even brushed it off when she mentioned that the two of you would make a good couple, and how it was a shame you had never met before. 

But Yeji couldn’t have been more wrong, because you actually had met her brother, and far more than you would’ve liked to for that matter. In fact, prior to today, Park Sunghoon had been nothing more than a nuisance in your university life. The one to constantly challenge your points in discussions, to steal your perfect front-row seat or to beat you by a singular mark in final exams. In your eyes, he was nothing but a cocky, good-for-nothing know-it-all who had been unfairly blessed with unnatural good looks which he used to trick your poor female classmates into liking him. 

All the details matched up though, times, places, hell they even had the same last name - but it had never occurred to you to put two and two together. Despite this, the shock of the initial realisation pales in comparison to the fact that you now how to continue with your lesson - whilst he sat in the next room over, glaring at you the entire time. 

You shifted in your seat nervously, eyes darting between Yeji’s exercise book and the strict gaze of her brother. Seriously, just what was his problem? - you’d never done anything to seriously wrong him, and if you did, you figured the fact that you were helping out his younger sister would be enough of a reason for him to let down his guard for once. But still, he sat there, completely uninterested in the video game he had loaded up as an obvious excuse, eyes locked on you. 

The weight of his gaze only made you more anxious and when you brought a hand up to hold your pencil you noticed the slight tremble in it. You couldn’t help but feel irritated, not just at him for being so distracting, but also at yourself for letting him get to you so easily. 

“I think he’s looking at you because you’re so pretty,” you heard a small voice mutter beside you catching you off guard. You let out a small laugh, about to calmly tell her to focus on her work but when you raise your eyes to look at her brother in the next room you notice that, for once, he’s avoiding your gaze, clearing his throat out of what almost seems to be nervousness. 

“Nice try Yeji, but I think your brother just doesn’t trust my tutoring skills.” 

She tilts her head, considering this for a moment - then with the same innocent bluntness as before, she shrugs. "Or maybe he's just grumpy because he got dumped."

A deafening silence falls over the room, and your pencil freezes mid-scratch as you glance up just in time to see Sunghoon's entire expression shift. His eyes widen for the briefest moment before his features twist into something between horror and annoyance. "Yeji," he hisses in warning, eyes shooting daggers at his sister, "shut up."

But it's too late, your interest is piqued and despite the harshness in his tone you can't help the smirk tugging at your lips at the thought of finally having some leverage against him.

"Wait," you say, tilting your head as you look at him, "Park Sunghoon ... got dumped?" 

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand across his face. "It wasn't- I didn't-" he stops himself, visibly irritated at the two of you. "That's none of your business."

Yeji, completely unaffected by her brother's obvious distress, hums to herself as she flips a page in her book. "She was really pretty too, she muses, "but she said he was too emotionally unavailable and always busy with school."

You blink in disbelief, then, unable to stop yourself, you laugh. "Shocking," your tone is dripping with sarcasm.

Sunghoon snaps his head towards you, eyes narrowing as if daring you to continue. "What did you say?"

You press your lips together, feigning innocence, but Sunghoon knows you too well for that and his glare only deepens. And for the first time, instead of just irritating you, the sight of him so obviously affected by your words is a little entertaining.

Interesting you think to yourself as you continue with the lesson, now far too aware of how the tension in the air has shifted ever so slightly. He doesn't move from his spot in the other room, or stop staring at you two, but now whenever you look up at him, instead of being able to meet your gaze he quickly looks away, pretending to be occupied with his game. You can't help but find it just a little amusing. 

Soon your lesson draws to an end and you begin to pack your materials away into your bag, thanking Yeji for working hard and listening to you - though you're interrupted by a deep rumble in the distance, followed by the sound of light rain. By the time you make it to the front door though, it's gotten much heavier and the plans you had to catch the bus home seem bleak. It isn't like you have much choice though, and you pull your hoodie over your head with a defeated sigh.

"You can't walk home in that," Yeji announces dramatically, clinging to your arm as she looks out at the heavy rain. Suddenly she perks up as if met with a great idea, and turns to her brother - who has been pretending not to listen from the living room. "Hoonie, can you drive her?" 

He barely looks up from his phone, though there's a slight delay in his response. "No."

"Why not?" she pouts.

"Not my problem," he mutters.

You roll your eyes, typical you think to yourself as you step towards the door. "It's fine, Yeji, I'll just-"

"You're seriously going to make her walk in this rain?" Yeji cries out as she walks over to her brother on the couch, "What if she gets sick? Then I'll be sad, and when I'm sad I don't do my homework. And if I don't do my homework, I'll fail and when I fail-" 

"Fine," Sunghoon groans, rubbing his temple as he pushes himself off the couch in a swift movement. He walks past you, grabbing his keys and twirling them around his finger coolly. "Get in the car before I change my mind," he says sternly.

You narrow your eyes at him and are about to deny his offer but the rain doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon, and you're not stupid enough to reject a free ride out of pride alone. 

"Alright," you sigh, shooting Yeji one last thankful look before following her brother out to his car. 

"You live in the dorms on campus, right?" he asks casually. The rain hits the windshields of his car with a harsh rhythm, filling the silence between you two as you get in. The hum of the engine is the only other sound as he pulls out of the driveway, one slender hand lazily resting on the wheel. 

"Yeah," you say curtly, not even stopping to wonder how he could've known that. You're too busy holding a grudge against his ability to make every move seem so gracefully effortless, even turning a steering wheel. 

You sit stiffly in the passenger seat beside him, eyes fixed straight on the road ahead. You'll admit the car is nicer than you expected - spotless, the faint scent of something clean, a little floral, in the air - but you refuse to acknowledge it, just like you refuse to acknowledge that being here, alone with him, feels weirdly intimate. 

It doesn't help that he hasn't said another word since you both got in, not that you were expecting him to, but still - the awkward silence feels heavier than it should. You steal a quick glance at him out of the corner of your eye once the car reaches a red light - only to find that he's already looking at you. 

Your breath hitches for just a second, but you recover quickly in hopes that he won’t notice your reaction. “What?” you huff, raising an unimpressed brow. 

His eyes turn back to the road just as quickly, expression unreadable as the light turns green. “Nothing.” 

You sink back in your seat and the silence resumes, but with its temporary break, you feel compelled to keep up the conversation, even if it means more childish bickering. 

“I hope you don’t expect anything in return for this,” you say, turning to face forward again - but your attention piques once you hear a faint noise from him. It’s something you’ve never heard before, something just quiet enough that you almost didn’t hear it over the drumming rain, but you’re glad you did because you swear you just heard Park Sunghoon laugh. 

"When have I ever expected anything from you," he spits, but the usual malice in his tone is tinged with amusement.

"I'm just saying, don't think that just because you're doing this for me that anything's going to change," you huff, "if it weren't for Yeji you probably couldn't care less about me anyways." 

Sunghoon hums, the corners of his lips twitching as if he's holding back another laugh - he doesn't deny it, which somehow annoys you more than if he had outright agreed. Instead, he just shifts gears smoothly, eyes fixed on the road and you hate the way you find your gaze lingering on his profile for just a little too long.

"You sound disappointed," he muses after a beat.

You scoff defensively, crossing your arms. "Yeah, right." You've always hated how easily he could read you.

He just nods ever so slightly and doesn't press for more but the silence that follows feels a little different now, less tense. You shift in your seat and try to ignore the way your heart is starting to beat just a little too fast or the fact that you're waiting for him to say something. 

After a moment, he exhales, fingers tapping the steering wheel. "For the record," he sighs, his tone almost confessional, "I don't not care about you."

You crane your neck, searching his face for any sign that he's messing with you right now, a glint in his eye, his signature cocky smirk - but his expression is again unreadable. Instead, you watch the outline of his jaw shift slightly, almost as if he regrets his words, but he doesn't take it back.

You swallow nervously, unsure entirely of what to do with this new information. "Good to know," you say slowly, looking away before he can see how much that single sentence has affected you. 

As you do, you're suddenly desperate for an opportunity to change the topic. "How come this whole time I never knew you had a younger sister?"

"Well it's not exactly like you know much about my personal life," he scoffs - and you have to admit he's right.

"I mean, it's not like you're an open book or anything," you reply, "takes me ages just to figure out what you're thinking half the time with that blank expression. It's hard to believe you and Yeji are even related."

"Right because a guy my age should totally be acting like a middle school girl," he nods mockingly.

"You get what I'm saying," you sigh, going quiet for a minute as you think about what to say next. "She looks up to you a lot, you know," is what you land on, trying to balance your tone between sounding casual and earnest. 

You watch as he scoffs, and shakes off your comment with a slight shake of his head. "I'm serious," you say, "she talks about you like you're a superhero or something, even when she complains about you, it's obvious you mean a lot to her."

Even though his expression barely changes, you watch his fingers tighten slightly on the wheel - and the beat of silence before his response is enough to tell you that he's not used to hearing things like this. You find it interesting how even though you're practically complimenting him, he responds as if he's unsettled.

"Whatever, she's young and annoying," he finally mutters - though for the first time, there's no real malice to his tone, only something defensive.

"You're deflecting," you point out. This side of him, the one that's quiet and easily affected by your words, is one you've rarely gotten to see and if you're being completely honest, you're enjoying this far too much to let it go. "I think you like knowing she looks up to you." 

He huffs, clearly growing tired of your prying. "And I think you like hearing yourself talk."

You roll your eyes, but before you can shoot back with another remark, he beats you to it. "And whilst we're prying into my personal life, Yeji mentioned something interesting earlier."

You pause, suddenly wary. "Oh?"

He flicks his turn signal on, voice infuriatingly casual. "Apparently, you remind her of my ex." 

You feel your stomach lurch, followed quickly by a heat creeping up your face. "Excuse me?" is all you can manage to say.

His lips curl slightly, and it becomes clear that he only mentioned this to see your reaction. "Not in looks or anything," he clarifies, glancing briefly at you before focusing back on the road. "Personality-wise, she said you both have a way of getting under my skin."

You scoff, feeling an odd mix of feeling, irritation and something you don't really want to name. "Wow, should I be flattered or insulted?"

"That depends," he muses, "my ex was kinda terrible."

"Seriously?" you gape, shocked at how bold he's being in sharing this with you, "sounds like you're just butthurt from being dumped." 

He actually laughs - fully this time, not just the ghost of a chuckle he let out before. It's still short, and a little quiet, but for some reason it makes your chest tighten.

"Relax," he says, tone laced with amusement, "she wasn't all bad, but she did have this habit of always arguing with me, nitpicking things I did just for the sake of it."

You avoid his gaze, picking up on his signals just a little too quickly. "Sounds familiar," you mutter as you look out the car window at the rain.

You don't need to turn back to know his smirk depends, "Exactly."

The air has shifted completely now. The tension is still there, humming under the surface, but it's now covered by something else - something lighter, more playful, and charged in a way that makes you hyper-aware of how close the two of you are.

Then, just as you think the conversation is over, he speaks again - this time softer, almost absentmindedly.

"But I guess the difference is, I never really cared what she thought of me." 

It's such an offhand comment, something he's thrown out just to fill the silence. But something about it sticks to you, lingering in your mind as you nod, unsure of how to respond, and so you don't.

You spot the familiar sight of the dorms approach in the distance and even though you're compelled to feel relieved that this torturous car ride is drawing to an end - a tiny part of you can't help but feel a little disappointed that this seemingly rare opportunity is ending. Swiftly, he pulls up to the front entrance, parking smoothly and effortlessly.

As you move to undo your seatbelt, he stops you once again with his words. "Hey, I hope you're not going to stop tutoring Yeji, by the way," he's turned to face you now, but his eyes are avoiding yours. 

You furrow your brows, both at his words and his unusual expression. "Why would I?" you say slowly.

"Well, I mean, I just figured because of me and everything-" he begins to ramble, and it's the first time you've seen him stumble over his words like this.

"Relax, I hate you, not her, remember." You say it in the same teasing tone you've always used for him, but it seems to land heavier than you expected with how he turns back to face the steering wheel, his lips forming a thin line.

You linger for a moment, and something about the air between you feels different - like you're standing on the edge of something neither of you can name. Sunghoon's hand is still resting on the gear shift, his fingers drumming against the leather in a steady rhythm. 

"Right," he replies curtly, almost to himself and you can sense just a hint of disappointment in his tone.

You should leave it at that, you know you should. But something about the way he's gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly, or how his jaw is tensed ever so slightly, makes you want to press just a little further.

"Unless," you hum, tilting your head slightly, "you'd actually miss me if I stopped coming around?"

"Yeji would," he replies almost immediately - but you don't miss the way his shoulders go rigid for just a fraction of a second before he speaks.

"You didn't deny it," you smirk.

At this, he finally looks at you and there's something about the way he does it - something heavier than the usual irritation or exasperation you're used to. His gaze lingers, his expression unreadable and for a split second, you wonder if you've pushed too far. 

But then, he exhales, something softer flickering across his features before he quickly pulls them back into indifference. "Just get out of my car before I start charging you for emotional distress."

You roll your eyes, but do as he says, reaching for the door handle and pushing it open just as the rain continues to pour outside.

"See you next time, Park," you say, "and drive safe."

"Don't tell me what to do," he huffs, though there's a playful tone in his voice as he smirks at you.

You return his look, satisfied, and finally push the door shut - watching as he shifts into gear, headlights illuminating the street. You know you should get inside and out of the rain immediately but you can’t help but watch as he drives off, heart thrumming in your chest as you find the beaming smile on your face lingering. You shake your heard at yourself, almost as if to shake away your thoughts, before turning to head into the dorm. 

What you don’t see though, is the way Sunghoon glances in his rearview mirror one last time before turning away, just to catch a glimpse of you before you do. 

[luveline]

hotch x reader with new baby girl, honestly i have no ideas just anything with girl!dad aaron lovey fluff is all i want, he’s just so lovely ily jadey 💕

thank you for requesting! fem, 1.4k

Hotch is so hungry he genuinely wonders if it is acceptable to collapse and beg you to make him a sandwich. He probably would if Jane hadn’t tired you out so fiercely that morning; learning to crawl is hard on both the baby and the mom. 

It’s not his turn to make dinner, but he is, because he doesn’t really care who’s turn it is. He has the tortellini on a low heat, the veggies toasting to a golden brown in the oven. 

He wonders if having a baby isn’t what you thought it would be. It’s certainly not how Hotch imagined it, because Jane is gorgeous and he couldn’t be more in love with her, but she’s also very hard work. Hard work you often perform alone. You don’t seem upset, only tired, and so making dinner is his pleasure. It’s as he’s finishing up that he wonders if he should’ve offered to put Jane down instead. 

He’s trying so, so hard to be the best father and husband that he can be. He might always find it difficult (but it's an effort he’s always willing to make). 

“Dad?” Jack asks. 

“Yeah?” 

“Dinner almost done?” 

Hotch wraps an arm around Jack’s front despite his wriggling. “Almost,” he says into Jack’s hair, “did you wash your hands?” 

“I always wash my hands. Did you wash yours?” 

Hotch laughs. Steals that extra second with his arms around Jack before he pulls away. “Of course I did. I’m gonna go make sure everything’s okay in babyland, okay? And then we’ll fill in your homework diary.” 

Jack nods and goes back to colouring. In babyland, the living room, outfitted with toys and swings and sleepers, you and Jane are slouched on the floor. You’re leaning against the front of the couch with Jane in your lap while she looks up at you. At eight months old she’s more than fond of a cuddle. Her eyes are wide with love and awe alike as you rub the bridge of her nose with your pinky finger, the closer you get to her eyes, the more they squint closed. You repeat the motion over and over again. “You’re feeling sleepy,” you whisper in a funny tone, “you want to nap badly. You’re gonna sleep for a long couple of hours so mommy can have a bath.” 

“Mom can have a bath,” Hotch says. 

You don’t startle, but your surprise is evident in the way your hand slides up her back. “I’m kidding around.” 

“No, it’s okay. You go take a bath, I can have her.” 

“She might not like that.” 

Jane has clingy syndrome. “Does it matter?” he asks sincerely. If she cries, she cries, and he will try his hardest to comfort her. 

You smile slowly, and sweetly. “Okay, I’ll be quick. I don’t want to miss dinner.” 

“Dinner’s ready when you are.” 

Hotch crouches down to begin the transfer. “Hello, little love,” he murmurs, sliding his fingertips carefully behind her back. She’s warm, her onesie soft. “Can dad have a kiss?” 

Jane is a quiet baby. It’s normal that she might not start speaking for a few more months, but beside the occasional ‘bababa’ or giggly laugh, she doesn’t have much to say —not unlike her father. Her communication lays instead in affection. Her emotional intelligence is in the highest percentile, certainly. 

Not that Hotch is prone to bragging. “There’s my smarty,” he hums, pulling her gently into his arms before he stands. She looks at him with equal parts curiosity and annoyance. 

He can guess what she’s thinking. Why is dad picking me up? 

She looks for you with a wobbly lip. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, can’t dad have some time with you? You’ve favoured your mommy all day.” Hotch brings his free hand to her cheek to stroke it. She loves it, immediately tipping her face into his hand, tickled and huffing as he leans down to kiss her nose. “Please, can I have a kiss?” 

He kisses her cheek. She gives a spitty one back. 

You slink away while she’s distracted and he carries Jane to the kitchen, turning the oven off with one hand, and pushing a chair out with his foot to sit. Jack’s eyes brighten with her arrival, colouring pencils pushed aside. “Hi, Janie.” 

Jack waves at her. She waves back. 

He shifts Jane further into his arms to press lazy kisses over her ear. “My baby,” he murmurs, nearly inaudible against the hum of the washing machine in the utility room and the gentle patter of rain on the windows. “She’s my smart girl. Just like her brother.” He strokes her head back to see her and her baby-lashes. “Hm? You’re my smart girl, aren’t you?” 

She tucks herself into the curve of his neck.

“She knows how to wave already,” Jack says, “when will she be able to say my name?” 

“Pretty soon, bud. Babies tend to learn things in little jumps. She’s making sounds, the babbling she does? That’s a stepping stone. Next she’ll say mama, and then mom, and then we can teach her all sorts of words.” 

“Like crawling to walking.” 

Hotch smiles as Jane leans back against his hand. “Exactly. Jane isn’t the only smarty-pants, huh?” 

Jack smiles in return. “You look happy.” 

“I am happy. So happy, because I’m so lucky to be your dad.” 

“Is it weird?” 

“What?” 

Jack shrugs. “Being a dad.” 

“No, it’s never weird. Sometimes weird stuff happens. Like when we all panicked thinking we couldn’t fine Jane just to realise I was holding her,” —Jack giggles ferociously at the memory— “and, you know, sometimes things get pretty gross.” 

“Like spit up.” 

“Exactly. But being your dad isn’t weird. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. I’m lucky…” He kisses Jane again indulgently. “To have ended up with another child as perfect as the first.” 

“Dad,” Jack says, squirming and pleased at once. 

“What?” Hotch laughs. He has spent a long time proving to Jack that he’s not as serious as he was, a long time trying to keep his promise, and he can see now that it worked. Jack shakes his head and goes back to his colouring as a smile apples his cheeks, not for a moment surprised that his dad loves him without hesitation. 

Hotch beams to himself, absolutely full to the top with love as he lifts Jane up just enough to make her smile too. “Oh, nummy!” he says, taking a big pretend bite of her belly. 

You take a long, long time in the bath. He ends up serving Jack’s plate when his son hints that he’s hungry, and giving Jane another couple of ounces of milk. She grows sleepy on his shoulder. With some soft taps to her spine and a handful of loving shushes, she falls asleep there. 

Sentimental, he thinks, Aw, my girl, and begins to rub her little foot through her onesie. 

You find him standing in the kitchen, hip to the counter. He’s not doing anything besides holding Jane, Jack’s plate abandoned at the table and his cartoons playing from the living room. Hotch should’ve put Jane down for a nap in the bassinet in the living room, freeing his hands to tackle the mess of dishes he’s made preparing dinner, but he honestly hadn’t thought about moving. He’d been perfectly content to hold her and rub her wiggling foot. 

“Sorry I took so long,” you whisper. 

“No, no, you take as long as you need. You look better.” 

You ease between Hotch and the counter, situating yourself in a snug corner to see Jane’s face more clearly. You look at her with love, and then you lean up to kiss his cheek. “I knew you’d get her to nap. You’re amazing.” 

“She likes all the same stuff as you and Jack,” Hotch whispers with a soft laugh.

You pause for a second. Careful, you bring your hand to his cheek, a gentle fist turned with knuckles inward as you stroke his cheek with your index finger. “Can I take a photo of you?” 

“What for?” he asks. 

“I wanna remember it. And it’ll be nice one day to show Jane.” 

“To show her what?” 

“You, Aaron. Show her how much you love her.” You drop your hand to his shoulder for a squeeze. “You’ve gotten even kinder since she was born. Did you notice?” 

It seems you’re feeling sentimental as well tonight. Your long bath has washed away the stress of a longer day. 

“Okay,” he says, too in love with your smile to disagree, “but just one.” 

[plum-pastry]

The Real Monsters

Stranger Things au

Eddie Munson x Reader

wc: 1.5k

Summary: At Hawkins High, survival means being seen, but for a cheerleader who has it all on paper, the pressure to stay perfect is quietly suffocating. When Eddie Munson’s cafeteria theatrics unexpectedly hit a nerve, she’s left wondering if the school’s resident freak just saw something she’s been trying to hide.

· · ───── ·𖥸· ────── ·𖥸· ────── ·𖥸· ───── · ·

Hawkins was an easy town to fit into. Most people would expect me to say, “Keep your head down and mind your business, and you’ll be fine,” but that’s not the truth. If you wanted an easy life in Hawkins, you had to be seen. Seen for your intelligence, athleticism, or your clique. You needed at least one of those things to survive Hawkins High and unfortunately for me, I had all three.

See, one will get you a pass in being bullied. Nancy’s smart, she held down the school newspaper and no one wanted a bad picture or article of themselves spread around school. If your brain is useful to someone and your wardrobe wasn’t absolutely abysmal you might just survive. 

If the odds are in your favor and you can have two safeties you’ll thrive. Steve was on the basketball team, an easy in to popularity. But Steve didn’t just have popularity, he created it. At Hawkins High, he was the gravitational pull. And while you didn’t need to be smart or strong, orbiting King Steve kept you safe. But after he graduated, we had to find a new center of gravity. My group, the girls from the cheer squad and the basketball players, stepped in to form the new solar system of elitism. This is the group you want to have lunch and be seen around campus with. 

Having all three of the safeties would make you think that I ruled the campus, but I don’t. I do my homework, I go to cheer practice, and I eat lunch with the group then I go home and start studying for the next test. I run practice in my head for how I could have done better, and analyze every word and look that was given to me at lunch that day. Having all three puts a target on you, for people who are waiting for you to make a mistake. But still, you wouldn’t want it any other way. Because being in makes life easy…

Right?

***

I looked at myself as I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and patted my cheeks to try and wake up. The bags under my eyes sat heavy on my face and I knew that everyone at the table will say something about it. I exhaled hard and grabbed my compact out of my purse that hung on my shoulder. I should’ve been in my cheer uniform but I hated the feeling of eyes looking at my body as I walked down the hall. So I opted for blue jeans and a light pink sweater that was tucked in the front of my pants with a brown belt. 

The makeup built up nicely under my eyes as I heard the door to the restroom open. Chrissy walked up behind me and wrapped her arms around my torso. I smiled and patted her arms in return. She moved to the side of me and laughed watching me struggle to cover my lack of sleep.

“This is why we’re waiting to eat lunch?”

The sound of my compact snapping closed echoed in the quiet restroom as I stuffed it back in my purse and looked at her.

“I look like death on legs Chris. I just had to cover up a few dark spots.”

“You wouldn’t look like the walking dead if you actually got some sleep.”

She raised an eyebrow at me and crossed her arms as I avoided her eyes.

“I just need to study a little bit more tonight,” I looked at myself one last time then tucked my arm into her elbow linking us, “and then I’ll rest my mind for a day before Mrs. Kimmly’s exam, but until then I’ll cover my regrets with a little makeup.”

She shook her head at me but her smile never left her face, “You are such a perfectionist.”

We walked out of the restroom and made our way to the cafeteria. People waved at us as we passed. You wouldn’t typically see this type of mingling by cheerleaders but me and Chrissy are different from the other girls and jocks. We didn’t find joy in being mean to people or being seen as stuck up bitches. Before we opened the door to the cafeteria Chrissy stopped us and leaned in close to my ear after looking around in both directions.

She cupped her hand around her mouth and my ear and whispered, “You should try weed.”

I pulled back quickly and I knew my eyes were the size of two dinner plates as I looked at her with my mouth gaped open. 

“What did you just say?!” I whispered shouted to her as her cheeks grew in a pink hue.

She shrugged her shoulders but I could tell she was regretting her words to me as a line formed in between her brows.

“I’m just saying, you’ve been really stressed and you said you wanted to relax before your exam.”

“By relaxing I meant going to Family Video and flirting with Steve Harrington so I can get Footloose for free. Then going back to my house to paint my toes and stuff my face with chocolate chip cookies.

She looked at me with a questioning face before letting out a soft laugh.

“That was very specific.”

Now it was my turn to shrug and blush.

“That’s just the way I relax.”

She grabbed my hand and smiled, “That’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with spending time by yourself and doing things you like.”

I smiled back at her and squeezed her hand gently before stepping closer to her to whisper, “And there is nothing wrong with smoking weed.” I pulled back to look into her eyes. They glistened as tears threatened to fall, but her smile didn’t waver. 

“I’m here if you need to talk Chris and I meant what I said. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with weed, okay?”

She gave me a big hug and when she pulled back she wiped her eyes and giggled a little bit. 

“Thanks for not judging me. I mentioned it to Jason once and he almost had an aneurysm. You should have seen how red his face got.”

I laughed at her comment imagining Jason’s face turning red and then exploding. I tried to imagine confetti floating in the air but couldn’t because I knew if Jason’s head exploded nothing but hot air would come out.

“He’s probably picking his hair out wondering where I am. Are you ready to head in?” She asked as she nodded towards the cafeteria. I nodded and we linked arms before walking in together. 

The atmosphere between the hallway and the cafeteria should be studied by scientists. The two large doors we just pushed through were like an opening to a portal that brought you to a world of loud laughter, food being tossed across the room into someone’s mouth, and–

My gaze shifts to someone standing on top of a table and that someone is no one other than Eddie Munson. What is going on?

I placed my purse down at the usual table and I listened to the tail end of what I assumed was a dramatic speech. 

“But as long as you're into band or science ...or parties or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets…”

Jason quickly stood up and directed his attention to Eddie

“You want something, freak?”

I watched as Eddie put two fingers on his head to make devil horns and stick his tongue out making a strange sound. I rolled my eyes at both of them and got in line with Chrissy for a lunch tray. I grabbed whatever looked the least suspicious. Chrissy, of course, took an apple. We paid and started making our way back to the cheer table. 

When we walked back in from the line, Eddie was still on the table, talking low to his friends.

“It's forced conformity.”

Then he jumped down and shouted, “That's what's killing the kids!” 

A girl jumped from his loud voice and his friends laughed at his theatrics. Me and Chrissy walked in his direction and he backed up to make room for us to pass but he held eye contact with me as he said the last words in his speech.

“That's the real monster.”

I stopped in my tracks and held his gaze, a scowl etched on my face. He smirked, then dipped into a mocking little bow. Chrissy tugged me away and I heard Eddie and his friends laugh. I slammed my tray on the table and sat quietly with my arms folded over my chest, my appetite gone now. Chrissy’s eyes shifted towards me a few times but she didn’t bring up my soured mood. 

When the bell rang for the end of lunch I quickly dumped my tray and walked out curtly telling Chrissy I’d see her later. I didn’t know why it got under my skin, but I knew it had something to do with Munson’s words, and the way he looked at me when he said them. Like he saw something I didn’t want seen. I wasn’t sure if Munson was talking about conformity, the school, or me—but either way, it made me angry and… a little embarrassed. 

Could he see right through me? I hoped not. But something about the way he looked at me made me think he already had.

· · ───── ·𖥸· ────── ·𖥸· ────── ·𖥸· ───── · ·

Omg Hi! If you actually read this thank you so much! This is my first time writing fanfic so please excuse any grammatical errors or anything like that. I just wanted to take up some of my free time by writing a story about our beloved Eddie Munson. This will be a series so I'm hoping to get the next part out soon! Thanks for reading ♡.

[robo-writing]

Kinktober Day Two: DOFP! Logan - Thigh Riding | Kinktober Masterlist |

He heard you walking in before you made your presence known, leaning against the doorway with a smile across your face. The moment you walked into his office he knew what you were up to—it was practically written on your face.

“Hiya honey,” you say. “Working hard?” “Yeah, grading,” he replies, red pen twisting in his hand. “But something tells me that’s not what you really wanna ask me.” “You know me so well,” you answer, a sultry look on your face as you walk to his desk. The sway of your hips almost distracts him from his original goal—almost.

“Baby, I’ll take care of you in an hour, lemme get these done,” he says, pointing to the stack of papers on his desk. By the pout on your face, his answer was less than satisfactory.

“Come on,” you drawl, pulling his attention away from homework and towards you, hands cradling his face, the stubble of his beard tickling your palms. “You’ve been here all morning, you need a break…”

You kiss at his face, from his nose to his cheek, his resolve slipping with each press of your lips. Once, twice, sneaking in a few onto his lips that threaten to turn into something more before Logan gently pushes you away, holding your hands in his own.

“Promise I’ll treat you good,” he whispers, kissing your hand. “But I gotta finish grading these or Chuck’ll have my head.”

You nod your head reluctantly. You get it, of course you do, but that doesn’t mean you still can’t be upset. He looks back at you apologetic, kisses you once for good measure, then returns to what he was doing. 

It’s now that you resort to plan B. Logan’s busy grading papers, and you’re busy not getting fucked. So, you make do with what you have. 

You snake your way under his arm, much to his confusion, then take your spot on your favorite seat—his lap.

“What’re you doing there?” He says confused, but you ignore him. You make yourself comfortable, press yourself as close as you can into his warm embrace as his free hand reaches up your back.

“Really baby, I can’t—“

“I know you can’t,” you interrupt. “So let me handle it.”

Your thighs squeeze around his larger one, and suddenly the gears click into place. His confusion now replaced with something more carnal, he licks his lips at the feeling of your barely clothed pussy against his thigh, groaning when the scent of your arousal fills his nostrils.

“Fuck,” he groans, and you hum in response. Fully pliant against his warm body you rock yourself. Slowly, methodically, back and forth, grinding yourself against Logan’s body as he watches you in awe, his work forgotten at the sight of you.

“Can feel how wet you are,” he says, hand reaching up to your hip but you’re quick to catch it, tutting in disappointment.

“You have papers to grade professor, grade them,” you gasp, and it’s now that Logan grasps the full extent of your punishment. 

“Baby,” he starts, but you’re quick to interrupt him, a whimper forcing itself from your throat. 

“Don’t ’baby’ me, you’re the one who’s busy right now,” you answer, a shiver running up your back when you find just the right angle. “Now, keep going.”

This is torture. He’s in hell. You’re fucking yourself in his lap and all he can do is sit there and listen while you moan his name into his ear and slide your cunt onto his leg, leaving it nice and slick from your juices. He can’t even touch you.

You whine his name with every pass, nibble at the exposed skin of his neck and taste the salt that lingers as you fuck yourself stupid on his leg, shame long gone. Any thoughts of grading long since left him, now he’s focused on you and your shaking form. Dick throbbing in his pants, he can only watch helplessly.

He should’ve just fucked you when he had the chance.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hello could you write one where the reader is basically buckys kid and they get hurt and try to hide it from him but he notices something is up and it isn’t until it’s really bad he finds out? I know very odd sorry

Didn’t Want To Worry You » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Adopted Teen Daughter!Reader

Summary: You didn’t want to worry Bucky when you tell him you hurt yourself at school, but he somehow finds out.

Warnings: Fluff, language, crying, nicknames

Age of reader: 15 years old

A/N: Thank you for the request @parasitichamster14-blog 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

You were hoping that your dad wasn’t home yet. You didn’t want him to know that you hurt yourself at school today. In gym class, you guys played basketball and you got knocked down and fell onto your wrist. Now, it won’t stop hurting. You should’ve went to the nurse’s office for an ice pack, but you had a feeling that she was going to call your dad.

You looked around the apartment when you got home from school, wondering if your dad was home or not. You didn’t see him and assumed you were in the clear. Or so you thought. He came home shortly after you did.

“Hey, doll. How was school?” Bucky asks as he hugs you.

“Good.” You replied.

Bucky noticed the way you were holding your left wrist against your stomach. He was hoping that you weren’t getting sick or something.

“Do you have a stomach ache or something?” He asks, referring to the way your wrist was against your stomach.

“No. I hurt myself at school is all.” You say.

“How?” He asks.

“We were playing basketball in gym today and I got knocked down and I fell onto my wrist wrong.” You tell him.

“Be careful next time, kiddo. I don’t want you to end up with a broken wrist or something.” He says.

“I will.” You say.

You went to your bedroom and closed the door behind you, sighing to yourself. You hate that you didn’t tell your dad that your wrist hurts really bad, but you didn’t want to worry him. He’s a worrier when you’re sick or hurt. You took an aspirin for the pain and did your homework. The pain subsided till you were almost done with your Geometry homework.

“Doll?” Bucky knocks on your bedroom door. “Are you finished with your homework? I was thinking that we could go out for dinner.” He says.

“Almost.” You say with a smile.

Bucky nods and smiles, closing your bedroom door so you can finish your homework. Your smile fades away. You winced in pain, holding your wrist. You finished your homework, trying not to let the pain get to you. You put your homework back in your backpack when you were done. Bucky was watching TV when you walked in the living room.

“I’m done with my homework.” You say.

“Where do you want to go eat?” Bucky asks, shutting the TV off.

“What about that diner we like?” You suggested.

“Good choice, kiddo.” He smiles.

On the way to the diner and during dinner, Bucky watched you wince in pain every time you moved your left wrist. It was starting to get worried.

“Are you sure your wrist is ok?” Bucky asks.

“It’s fine, dad. It’s probably going to have a bruise on it tomorrow or something.” You say.

Bucky took that as an answer. He kept his eyes on you. On the way home from the diner, Bucky could tell you were holding back tears due to the pain you have in your left wrist. He pulled over into a random parking lot and put the car in park.

“Show me your wrist.” Bucky says.

“Dad, I’m fine.” You say.

“You’re clearly not. I can tell you’re in pain.” He says.

You stared at your dad for a second before rolling the sleeve of your sweatshirt up. Bucky took a look at your wrist.

“I hate to say it, doll, but I think your wrist might be sprained.” Bucky says.

You whined, your eyes filling with tears.

“You’re going to be fine, doll. Let get you checked out in the emergency room and then we’ll go home, ok?” He says softly.

“Ok.” You almost whispered.

Bucky took you to the emergency room to get your wrist checked out. Your anxiety was through the roof. You didn’t want to be there. Lucky for you, your dad stayed by your side the whole time.

“I want to go home.” You whined.

“We’ll go home in a little bit.” Bucky says softly.

You pouted and slouched in the chair. You sat up straight when the doctor walked in the room.

“Good news is your wrist isn’t broken. Bad news is it’s fractured and you have to wear a wrist brace for a few weeks.” The doctor says.

Bucky felt relieved to hear that you don’t have any broken bones. He is curious to know why you didn’t tell him that your wrist was hurting earlier.

You got a wrist brace and then you finally went home. You were set up in the living room and watching your favorite movie.

“Doll, I want to talk to you for a moment.” Bucky says, sitting down next to you.

“Am I in trouble?” You asked, pausing the movie.

“No. I want to know why you didn’t tell me you were hurt earlier.” He says.

“You worry about me a lot and I didn’t want to worry you.” You say, feeling bad.

“I worry about you, because I love you and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He says softly.

Your eyes teared up. Sometimes you forget how much Bucky cares about you like you’re his own child. That’s why he adopted you shortly after he saved you from HYDRA a few years ago.

“Don’t cry, doll. I’m not mad at you.” Bucky almost whispers, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” You apologized.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. I understand.” He says softly.

“Yes I do. Sometimes I forget how much you care about me.” You say, your voice cracking.

“Oh babydoll…” He whispers. “You don’t need to apologize for that.” He whispers again, kissing the top of your head.

Soft sobs slipped past your lips. Bucky held you, his hand rubbing your back to comfort you. Your crying stops after a few minutes.

“I’ll always worry about you, doll. You’re my kid and I love you.” He murmurs softly, kissing the side of your head.

“I love you too, dad.” You smiled up at him.

You pressed play, picking up where you left off on the movie. Bucky watched the movie with you. You learned that you shouldn’t hide any kind of injury from your dad.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[ilysungho]

prompt 1: “how do you want me to fuck you?” With soft dom best friends, Myung Jaehyung and Kim Leehan (helping their friend orgasm 🤭)

a/n: not sure how to write threesomes but i hope this is good... also i apologize for taking so long! i've been putting off finishing this 'cause i felt like i wouldn't be able to write this up well if i don't put some thought into it. anyways, PLEASE let me know how this is written! i'd love any and all feedback and criticism <3 enjoy my loves! wc: 2k contains: softdom!leehan, softdom!jaehyun, sub!reader, leehan x reader, jaehyun x reader, leehan x jaehyun x reader, jaehyun is in love with you, leehan's just a chill guy, ex!taesan mentions, degradation implied, masturbation mention, threesome, experienced leehan, virgin jaehyun, fingering, penetration (p in v), unprotected sex (don't!), lowercase intended, prompts italicized

leehan had been studying your face for a while, sitting across you and jaehyun at the table. his eyes focused on how you scrunched your eyebrows and moved your pencil furiously to try and solve the equation at hand.

"no not like this y/n, do this instead." jaehyun's hand wrapped around your own as he scratched the right way of getting the answer down. you weren't the best at math but at least you had jaehyun to help. on the other hand, you didn't know why leehan tagged along, but you didn't mind the company of both your best friends.

the room fell quiet again with the three of you focusing on your homework. suddenly, you felt a foot touch yours, socks rubbing your own to get attention. "hani cut it out. i'm trying to finish the stupid homework here."

"can we do something fun instead? this is so boring, i'm already done with most of mine." he bent backwards, groaning in frustration. you looked up to see the veins on his neck protruding, immediately looking back down to forget the sight in front of you. a faint blush rose on your cheeks while you kept your head down, the pencil scribbling harder.

jaehyun noticed the sudden shift in your demeanor, squinting his eyes to read your behavior. in all the years he knew you, he could tell that the expression on your face meant that something turned you on. he remembered a time when you were dating taesan and texting him, suddenly getting up with the same blush to go to your room. he didn't mean to hear the moans coming out of your room as you masturbated to your now ex's voice on call, him saying things that made jaehyun want to punch his face for taking time away from his best friend. his best friend he had come to like. and he couldn't help being so protective over you.

on the other hand, to leehan, his actions were out of pure frustration. he had no intention to make you feel a certain way, but if he knew, he'd take full advantage of the situation. it wouldn't be the first time he tried to, but he hadn't done so since your break up. he'd rather sit there with you and listen to you let out your emotions, rubbing your back while you cry, telling you words of comfort.

both the boys had their attention on you while you hid your face in the paper you had to turn in in a couple days. jaehyun’s puzzled mind took a hold of your hand again, gently but strongly moving it away so you would look up.

“what jaehyun? let me finish this please.”

“why is your face red?” leehan interjected upon seeing the expression he hadn’t caught before.

“w-what? nothing, its h-hot… that’s it!”

“no, i know that face.” jaehyun looked at you with sharp eyes and pursed lips.

“what f-face? i don’t know what you’re talking about!” the saturation on your cheeks heightened at his face and low voice.

“you make that face when you’re turned on. you think i wouldn’t know after seeing it come up so many times while talking to that ex of yours? i’ve heard how you go into your room to moan and fuck your fingers while he called you things he never should’ve.”

leehan sat across amused listening to the story his friend shared with him. jaehyun’s irritated voice got louder as he leaned ahead into you, trapping you between his arms against the edge of the desk. you sat extremely still and quiet, scared to confirm the true story since you’d never talked about that side of you before.

taking a deep breath in, you got up to excuse yourself to the bathroom. but the blond’s hand tugged on the hem of your pants, making your stomach churn at the sudden flutter of his skin touching yours. “don’t leave now, y/n. you’re not in the mood to study anymore right? then why don’t we have some fun now?” his sickly sweet smile only made it worse as he pulled you down to sit on his lap, jaehyun watching the entire interaction while moving to sit beside leehan.

"yeah, you know that we can help you right? we're your best friends after all, so trust us ok?" you stared at jaehyun, hearing his words coated with a hint of lust. the 3 of you never shared stories of sexual fantasies of encounters, so the whole situation pointing in that direction had you confused but also... excited?

there's no way i'm excited right now... leehan and jaehyun are just my friends, so i wouldn't want to do anything. hell, i don't even see them in this way, so why am i looking forward to what will happen?

leehan's hands on your thighs got you out of your thoughts, rubbing the pants you wore just enough to where the friction produced some heat to your skin underneath. jaehyun's face came near yours, as if to ask for permission to kiss you. you pursed your lips though, scared to know what will happen next. "just kiss him y/n, he's been dreaming of it anyways."

your breath hitched at leehan's words, jaehyun face only getting closer to you when you finally gave in. the kiss felt like fireworks to jaehyun. he's dreamed of anything to do with you since forever, but he too didn't want to change his relationship with you if it meant he could stay by your side. but how could he not take the opportunity right in front of him? he'd be stupid not to.

his lips tangled with your own while leehan kissed your neck. your hands reached up to pull jaehyun's face closer to you, while leehan's held you down on his lap. everything felt like too much while being between the two guys you gave control to, grinding softly on the lap you sat on.

leehan let go and sat back, watching the scene in front of him while leaning against his arms. your kissing partner then switched his position to sit on top of your lap, essentially putting the weights of you both on leehan. you were too entranced by the way jaehyun expertly kissed you, his tongue now exploring your mouth while you let out moans into his.

any and every sound you let out went straight to jaehyun's dick as you felt him get hard on top of you, while leehan got hard under you from the pressure. he was so very amused by everything happening on top of him, but he too wanted to get some control. so he waited while he wrapped his arms around the two of you, as he went back to kissing and sucking on your neck.

jaehyun let go of the kiss, catching his breath as he looked dazed from the most magical kiss of his life. a string of saliva kept you two connected until you let out another moan from leehan's sudden biting. the boy on top of you removed his shirt, after which he took of yours as well. he went straight to kissing your chest, massaging the skin under your bra. leehan helped jaehyun then, unhooking your bra from behind so he could take if off.

unknown to you, leehan tapped on jaehyun and signaled to take you to bed. at the former's cue, the latter let go while leehan held you bridal style before lying you down on your mattress. now, jaehyun's had his fair share of make outs with a couple people before, but it's never gone ahead of that when he wanted to save himself for you. on the other hand, leehan's essentially been fucking around to find his tastes, so this one would just be another playtime for him.

“so how do you want us to fuck you? actually scratch that, i'll decide.” leehan taking on the dominating role, both your best friends' gentle hands touched you softly, feeling your skin to their hearts' contents. but jaehyun did take a backseat, seeing how leehan touched your rather sensitive parts with expert fingers. his touch had you shivering as he brought his fingers over the cloth on your clit. "lift your hips for me, y/n." leehan said out loud, you obeying his command as he slipped the garment off of you with ease. jaehyun leaned against the wall behind while on the bed, reaching for his boner as he watched how his trusted friend worked you over yourself, fingers reaching into you making you whine.

"jae, don't touch yourself. do what i'm doing right now ok? make sure to, you'll make y/n feel good this way then." jaehyun gulped as he nodded, paying attention to everything leehan did. but most of all, to the sounds you made, how your face looked down to where it felt the best, how your mouth was slightly agape. just everything about you had jaehyun absolutely on edge as he watched and thought about how he'd going to finally be able to have you.

feeling your juices squelch around, leehan felt he prepped you enough to where jaehyun can now take over. giving the reigns to his the other male, he sat back and watched as his friend got in position, inserting his length into you easily with all the foreplay. you can feel how he shakes on top of you while he's trying his hardest to stay calm. yet he can't help but feel so many emotions because he's just so in love with you and wanted to savor the moment.

jaehyun thrust into you softly, keeping a slow but steady pace as he got used to your walls hugging him. his focus fell on you as he watched the way his dick got swallowed whole by your cunt, not believing his eyes at the visual. the very scene he wished for had finally been happening before his eyes, and he couldn't feel more thrill and happiness than now.

putting his eyes back on you, jaehyun leaned down to kiss your face as your back arched up to meet his body. your bruised lips once again danced with his as he furrowed his eyes and kissed you ever so deeply. the feelings he put behind the kisses you shared told everything you hadn't known before, but alas, you were scared to think of any change to your relationship.

to the side though, leehan watched the scene go down. he watched how jaehyun pulled out his length so slowly before going back in, just as he had taught him to with his fingers. he watched how your body reacted to the pleasure the boy gave you as you hugged him from below. and he watched how the kisses between you fueled his friend to not stop. to him, all he needed was to watch and that'd be enough. he prefers watching than working anyways.

at that, he pulled out his own cock, moving his hand on it with the speed jaehyun worked you out, keeping quiet to hear all the noises coming out of the two of you. he observed the two of you so closely, feeling even the slightest of changes and following along to the two of you. his precum coated his dick, continuously sliding his hand up and down to the harmonious view between the two of you.

now, with all the time leehan had spent fingering you, the knot in your stomach felt close to coming undone as jaehyun's thrusts got erratic in you. he himself felt close, yet he didn't want to let go of your perfect cunt until he felt you come around him.

"come for me, y/n. please..." the boy pleaded so sweetly against your ears as you whined against his too. leehan chimed in from the sides, telling you to do as the older boy told you to. hearing all the voices had you finally willing to let go, telling the two you are about to come as jaehyun increased his speed with rather sporadic thrusts.

feeling your cum coat his throbbing cock, jaehyun's sense heightened as he pulled out and cummed on your tummy almost immediately. falling on top of your body, the boy breathed down your neck with a spent voice about how good you felt. at the same time, leehan got between your legs to stuff his cock into you.

"don't forget about me."

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 10 - Always On My Mind

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: I'm only a girl, about to make Bucky Barnes drink boba.

Chapter Title from Good Days by SZA

Word Count: 13.9k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Things get better, and worse.

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff

Chapter 9 - Chapter 11

Read on A03!

You don’t want to look him in the eyes.

Bucky’s right there, all the time, and it’s so fucking hard to look him in the eyes.

He might see it. He will see it. When he says something in a slight Brooklyn accent—deep and rough and commanding—while looking at you with the I’ll pull you apart if you ask me to, Butterfly. See what you’re really made of, gaze.

Those things together are dangerous. His voice has been in the commanding tone a lot, and you don’t think he’s even doing it on purpose. Or maybe you’re just weaker to it. There is less of a fight in your body against him anymore. Less of a desire to win, and an entire shift in what constitutes winning.

It wouldn’t be Bucky leaving. Not anymore.

That’s part of the issue.

Because if he’s looking at you and seeing into you—just like he always does—while using his commanding, no room for argument tone, you might just fucking tell him. You might be rambling about nothing at all, and Bucky might say your name in the way that’s trying to get your attention, and you’ll fucking slip because none of your mastered control fucking works around him.

“Did you know there’s no such thing as a fish?” You’d asked him last week, lying flat on your back in your office, and Bucky had frowned over you.

“Of course there’s such thing as a fish. I saw one yesterday.”

“Where did you see a fish?”

“At the harbor- That’s not the point.” Bucky had leaned further forward, his tongue flicking slightly over his lips. 

He’d been doing that a lot lately.

It hadn’t been helping. 

“I think it is the point.” You’d hummed pretending to look at your nails so you don’t have to look at him. “Why were you at the harbor?”

“My therapist gave me homework.” 

“To go see fish?”

“To go see something bigger than me.”

You’d blinked at him. “What?”

“It was supposed to remind me that in the grand scheme of things, we’re all just dots or something.” Bucky had been glaring at you, but it wasn’t for you. What Bucky glared at you for you, it made the fluttering part of you whine, and he looked like he wanted to eat you alive a little. 

This was just grumpy. Annoyed.

And you should’ve looked away. But Bucky had never told you about therapy before, and you didn’t want to fuck that up. Friends. He was your friend. And friends listen and talk to each other, looking each other in the eyes and not thinking about their friend grabbing them by the waist and pulling them up to their chest and kissing them stupid and breathless-

Friends don’t do that. 

You needed to stop doing that.

“That sounds like a stupid exercise.” You’d hummed. “We are all small, but the kind of too insignificant to create change mindset leads to lethargy and apathy.”

Bucky had raised his brows, and you’d given him a small smile.

“Laziness and-“

“I got apathy.” Bucky had shrugged. “Just needed the first one. And the Doc said that I’m supposed to let go of some guilt ‘cause of it.”

“Did you?”

“No. Just smelled like freakin’ fish for the rest of the afternoon.”

You’d giggled, and Bucky had blinked at you. And done the tongue thing again.

“You gonna elaborate on the fish aren’t real thing, Butterfly?”

“No.” You’d given him a wide, teasing grin. “Good use of elaborate.”

Nostril flare. “Thanks. Fish are real.”

“They’re not.”

“Kid, you say a lot of funny things-“

“Aw, you think I’m funny-“

“Yes. Shut up.” A heat had spread through your stomach at the sharpness of Bucky’s words. Like they were obvious. And he’d just kept fucking talking. “But fish aren’t real isn’t even a good joke.”

You’d shrugged, twirling your hair between your fingers. “It wasn’t a joke.”

Bucky had grunted your name, and your smile had hurt your cheeks. 

“There was this guy who studied fish all across the world, and he found out that there was no common denominator in what we call fish. It’s too broad a term for the ecological diversity. It would be like calling every single land animal a primate. It’s just inaccurate.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.” You’d stuck your tongue out at him. “Told you.”

“Sometimes you just say shit, Butterfly.” He’d shrugged. “And you’re real good at selling it. That was your truth voice, but I wasn’t just going to buy fish aren’t real right off the bat.”

You’d frowned at him. “What’s my truth voice?”

Bucky had frowned, scanning over you with the I’ll pull you apart gaze again, and you could’ve fucking sworn his voice had dropped when he finally spoke. “You smile more.”

That wasn’t a voice thing. You’d wanted to argue that you smiled a lot anyway, but you didn’t, and this was why you weren’t supposed to look at him or know him in the first place.

But you hadn’t managed to agree. He’d sounded so sincere, and knowing that about you meant he’d been paying attention to you. And your smile. It made the raw part of you keen and settle so comfortably, and this was all getting very confusing, very fast.

But Bucky hadn’t seen it on your face, so you’d held his gaze. You could manage it. It was impossible and daunting and dangerous, but so it goes. You’ve survived worse than a crush.

Because that’s what this was. Is. Won’t stop being. Just a crush. 

And that’s fine.

You can’t control a crush. It’s a chemical reaction in your body to someone attractive, who you get along well with, and want intimacy with on a level a little above physical. And Bucky’s the first viable option since you met Miles—his skin isn’t sagging off his body, his teeth are all still in his mouth, he’s not a trust-fund prick who’s heard about your past and thinks he can do whatever he wants to you, and you don’t see him as a brother—so you’re going to be more susceptible to his charms.

Sort of charms.

Bucky doesn’t really have charms. 

Not normal ones.

“Why are you making that face.”

You’d frown at him from your desk a few days ago. “What.”

“You’re making a murder face.” Bucky had said, his arms crossed over his chest as he sat across from you. He’s been doing that a lot, lately. Only moving to the couch when you moved to the floor. “Who’s the sorry asshole of the other end of it?”

“There’s no idiot-“

“Yes, there is.”

“James-“

“You’re destroying the paper.”

You’d glanced down, and he’d been right. You’d been shredding some unimportant report, scattering and arranging the pieces over your desk in one of those weird patterns you couldn’t stop making. 

Bucky had given you a slightly smug look, and you’d rolled your eyes.

“Shut up.”

“Who are we killing?”

You’d blinked at him. “We?”

He’d nodded, grinning at you from his eyes, and he was luring you. Baiting you into thinking about anything but the dumbass fuckhead lawyers you really needed to fire. 

You’d taken it.

And Bucky didn’t need normal charms. Normal charms were a hidden trap. One of those baited bear-traps, hidden until the promise of something sweet and a lot of colorful leaves. Normal charms had gotten you on the leash you had now. Bucky’s charms told you exactly what he was trying to do, because there was no Show. From either of you. Ever.

That was where the crush had to come from. You’re growing attached to Bucky because you don’t have to preform for him. And his job is to protect you—even if he hasn’t actually done that yet—so it gives you a sense of security that you haven’t had in a while. And he’s so handsome it makes you a little dizzy, and he only does that tongue thing more and more, and he pays a lot of attention to you because you’re together all the time.

It’s the perfect storm for a crush. 

But that’s all it is. All it will get to be.

You can’t leave Miles. That’s just a blanket, obvious statement that should be a kill switch—you can’t leave Miles, so there’s no future with Bucky—but only seems to make the crush grow, because now you’re getting pathetic little fantasies about Bucky saving you. About him looking on those stupid cameras and seeing a worse night, then bursting through the door and carrying you to safety.  

That won’t happen. Bucky doesn’t care about you that much—nobody who can see you could—so it’s just a fantasy. A really, really dangerous fantasy. 

And you don’t need Bucky to save you. You’ve survived this long by yourself. And you can’t be saved, because this isn’t like Tony on the balcony, offering you an escape from the wilderness life had dropped you into. You were the idiot. You gave Miles the bond. Nobody gets to save you, because that’s just not how this fucking works.

So you had to come up with other reasons for the crush to die. 

Bucky’s doesn’t want you like that, is a big one. He couldn’t. You’re you and he can see it, plus he knows who you were, and nobody ever reallywants you when they learn that. Bucky might not have minded it as your friend, but as more is a different story.

You’re damaged goods.

He won’t want that.

You want him to want that. If he wanted that, you might melt about it. But he won’t. So the crush has to die.

It won’t. No matter how many reasons you give it—he’s Sam’s friend, he doesn’t even know about the bond, there’s no future there, he didn’t even like you until last month, let alone want you, he can see you and that’s dangerous—the crush just keeps rooting deeper and deeper into your body, twining over all your nerves and blooming up your spine with the Mist.

At least you know. Now that you know, you can adapt, and keep moving.

You can find just the right amount of cover for Bucky to never see the slight flush you’ve developed whenever he looks at you, or the sheer levels of ditzy your smile reaches under his attention. You just have to start giggling more, at whatever you hear. And smiling like a dummy at other people. And leaning your body closer towards random co-workers, even if they’re not the perfect kind of warm like Bucky is. 

You’ll need be careful of keeping it as a crush, though. A crush will fade, and then you’ll get to have a friend. You really want a friend. You haven’t really had a friend since Tony, and he’s incredibly dead.

And Sam doesn’t count. Sam’s a brother, a pseudo-uncle. There’s no world where you lose your relationship with Sam, because if he was going to be sick of you, it would’ve happened a long fucking time ago. You’ve given Sam an uncountable amount of reasons to tell you to fuck off, the least of which was being friends with Tony.

But Sam’s family.

So he stayed.

Friends are different, though. You think.

You don’t have enough experience in the field to say for sure. Your only benchmark wasn’t exactly an average friend experience.

But you talked to Tony about—almost—everything. Just like you’ve been talking to Bucky. And friends do things for each other. And spend lots of time together. And know a lot of things about each other.

Tony knew about your family. And your childhood, and your past.

The only thing he didn’t know about was the bond. He would’ve tried to fix it, not understand that it is the fix. You’re the overloaded, unbearable thing, and the bond keeps you in check. Tony would’ve said that was dumb, and started looking for ways to remove it. Then he would’ve called you an idiot for giving it to Miles—Tony had never liked Miles, calling him Satan’s Little Helper even before the long nights on the bathroom floor started and the bruises began to gather—but still helped you all the same. That’s what friendship Tony had been. Both of you being too much, all the time, almost in a competition to see who could break the other first.

You’d made Tony watch sweeter, happier things, just like you were doing with Bucky. Your logic had been you have a daughter now, Tony, you can’t make her watch John Wick. And he’d listened to you, because Tony always listened to you. Pepper had once compared you to two little dogs, running in circles and sniffing each other’s butts, trying to out dog the other all the time.

Bucky’s not like that. He’s more along the lines of a bigger, better-trained dog that never barks, and only bites. Just sitting and watching you chase your own tail with vague amusement on his features. When you’d talked to Tony, it had been a sparring match. 

Talking to Bucky had become more like a dance. Everything flows, and you have to move with him. Not faster or louder. Even if you’re doing most of the talking, Bucky’s good at finding the right places to jump in and take over.

And Bucky’s really far from being Tony. In a lot of ways. You have to explain a lot more things to Bucky, but he never counters it with something he knew. Bucky just absorbs your words and stares at you with an expression you can’t really read. You could always read Tony’s expressions. He was horrible at hiding them, and worse at pretending he was hiding them.

And you’d never looked at Tony and wanted to know everything about him, but maybe just because he told you everything.

You’d never wanted to tell Tony everything about you, because the things you kept hidden were for everyone’s sake.

You never dreamed of Tony saving you. You were terrified of it. 

You didn’t want to be his problem.

But you want to be Bucky’s problem. You are Bucky’s problem. You’ve already made his life impossibly complicated. And if he saved you—which he won’t, and you’ll only entertain the thought on the longest and darkest of nights, when there’s no one around to see—you think he’d do it right. You have no proof of that, just like you have no proof that he’d want to save you at all, but you just think he would.

There had never been that same instinct with Tony.

You’d never had vivid sex dreams about Tony, either.

And Tony had never looked at you and ignited a part of you that hadn’t existed before.

Maybe that’s just a Bucky thing. Maybe whenever he looks at Sam, there’s just a little piece of him that flutters and blossoms under Bucky’s gaze. And the same thing happens to Sarah, and they just never warned you about it.

That’s probably not the case.

It doesn’t help that you’ve never really seen Sam and Bucky be friends, so you can’t tell if this is how Bucky is with all his friends—all two of them, which is still better numbers than you have—or he’s just like this with you.

If he’s only like this with you, you’re not allowed to read into that. Or think about it. Or let it bloom and grow into something like hope, because this crush needs to wither and decay as fast as possible, or a lot of things will be in danger.

But Bucky’s not making that easy.

Of course he fucking isn’t.

“Chinese or Mexican?” 

You frown at him, sitting across the desk, his attention on his phone. “What?”

“For lunch.” He mutters, glowering at the screen. “Why are there so many fucking choices?”

“Because we live in a city. Hold on, Buck, I need to pull up the website-“

“No.” He looks up at you with a firm, almost violent gaze of determination. “I’ve got it.”

“You’ve…” You pull your lip between your teeth, scanning over him carefully. His whole body is tensed, like he’s about to try and jump on a grenade. “Got it.”

“Yes. I do.”

You raise your brows. “Convincing.”

“Shut up.” His glare falls back to his phone. “What’s boba.”

“It’s a type of tea. With little balls in it.”

“Little balls-“

“They’re called tapioca.” You shrug. “You’d hate them. They’re kinda gooey.”

Bucky pauses, looking between you and the phone with another unreadable expression. “Do you like them?”

“Yeah, but-“

“They have chicken too.” He mutters, and it’s his low, mostly to himself tone. “I can eat chicken.”

“Congratulations on that, but-“

“You like red meat more.”

You blink at him, and the fluttering part of you is going haywire. You have to bite you cheek to get your thoughts back together from a haze of his attention, the Mist rising so fast up your spine you feel a little dizzy. “Yeah. I do.”

“Is calamari a red meat?” Bucky frowns slightly. “Nah, it’s a fish. Worked that one out myself.”

He licks his lips again, and gives you an almost proud expression.

There’s the better trained dog. The Doberman, asking you for a treat. 

“Good job.” You try to make your voice a dry, sarcastic drawl. If Bucky hears the nervous breathiness, it doesn’t show.  “James.”

He grunts, his attention back on the phone, and you take a long, deep breath.

“You’re not gonna like boba tea-“

“We’ll see. How about- They’ve got like a sausage and cheese sandwich thing. You want that?”

“Yes, please. But- What about the Jell-o, I told you you’d hate that and you did-“

“Technically you said Jell-o is shit, James, don’t eat it.” He shoots you an amused look. It’s not helping. “It did taste like shit. I shoulda listened.”

Jesus Christ. “But- Listen now, Bucky, you won’t like it-“

“You like it.” He shrugs. It’s too casual a movement, and it’s spreading a fuzzy feeling over all your nerves. “So far you’ve been a pretty solid authority on good things, Butterfly. And if I hate it, you can say told you so. Not that complicated.”

Not that complicated. Friends trust each other’s opinions and tastes, so it’s not that complicated.

Nobody really trusts you like that, and Sam’s told you that Bucky never trusts other people like that, but it’s just not that complicated.

But the Mist doesn’t seem to get the memo. It just keeps rising. 

You were right. Bucky hates the boba. One little tapioca shoots up the straw and into his mouth, and he spits it out like it was poison.

“Fuckin’- What the hell was that?”

“Boba.” You hum, grinning at him from around your own straw. “Can I say told you so?”

Bucky snorts. “Knock yourself out, sweetheart-“

“Told you so.” You reach out one hand. “Gimme.”

Bucky blinks. “I was just gonna trash it-“

“Don’t.” You flex your fingers with a pointed look, and Bucky passes you his cup with a sigh.

You give him a small smile, swapping the straws in your cups and sliding your previous boba back across the desk.

He doesn’t take it. “What are you doing.”

“I’m giving you that one.” 

“It’s the damn same drink.”

“Wrong.” You shrug. You’d been ready for this. You’d known he’d hate the tapioca, but he’d gone out of his way to order lunch for you, and you wanted him to do it again. “Those,” you nod to the cup, Bucky still eyeing it wearily. “Are popping boba. They taste like strawberry.”

Bucky’s nostrils flare. “Strawberry.”

“Yep. Try it.”

He doesn’t move, and you sigh.

“C’mon, James. Trust me.”

That works to well. Bucky grabs the cup with a cautious hand, gives you an odd look, and takes a slow sip.

His eyes widen when the popping boba hits his mouth. 

But he doesn’t spit it out.

You won.

He likes it.

You knew he’d like it. You’d ordered it because you’d been so fucking certain Bucky would like the lighter, softer flavor of the popping boba, and the gentle sensation is always calming, and you were right.

A new game starts, after that. It’s maybe more crucial than the first one, because the first one was all biting and mauling each other for the sake of the Show. The first one, the prize was you get to keep going, alone, just as it’s supposed to be.

This game has no prize. And you’d really fucking lost the first game, because you’re never alone anymore. Bucky’s everywhere. He’s with you every waking moment, sitting on your couch or across your desk or fucking looking at you. Always looking at you, and you can’t ask him to stop, or you’ll have to explain why.

You don’t want to say why.

Nothing good can come of telling Bucky that you can feel it when he’s watching, and that does odd things to your body. And that now you think of him whenever you look at your bookshelf, and a vague thought of would Bucky like that crosses over your head. He’s there—in your head, which is far more concerning than out of it—whenever you eat good food, and want to share it with him to see that rare smile. When you trip and almost don’t steady yourself, because you’ve gotten so used to Bucky catching you. Whenever you do an orange coded, boring and horrible meeting, and you wish he was there to tell you that you didn’t have to.

Whenever Miles reminds you that you’re not the type of girl that gets to say no, honey, and you can almost see Bucky’s silver-blue eyes on yours, his voice in your ear say that shit’s not your fault either.

He’s fucking everywhere, so there needs to be a new game. And there’s no Show to be found, in this one. It’s just a game for the sake of playing.

And Bucky’s a really good playmate. 

It starts after the boba. The next day, Bucky drives you to work—just as always—and follows you into your office with only his usual small nod to Grace. Then he’s standing up with his phone in hand, and you frown at him from across the desk.

“Where are you going?”

“Downstairs.” He grunts, and you tilt your head at him.

“Why?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s my building, I’m allowed to worry about it.”

“Well, stop worrying about it.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re being weird.”

He shrugs it off. “I’m always weird.”

“No. Not like this. What’s downstairs.”

“I said-“

“I heard you. I’m not accepting your answer.”

Bucky raises his brows. “Not accepting it.”

“Nope.” Your arms fold over your chest, and you raise your chin as you hold his gaze. “And you’re not supposed to leave me alone anyway. What if Hydra comes?”

“Hydra won’t come.”

“But they might.”

Bucky sighs your name, glancing down at his phone. “I gotta go-“

“Get something?” You shrug at his tight nod, turning back to your computer. “I’ll send Grace down to get it.”

Bucky pauses. “Your assistant.”

“Yep. Just tell me what she needs to look for-“

“I’ll tell her.” Bucky snaps, whipping around and almost stomping to the door, muttering low words to Grace that you—apparently—don’t get to hear. 

“Is it a secret bomb?” You ask as he returns inside. “Are you finally trying to kill me?”

“If I wanted to kill you, I’d just do it. Wouldn’t need a secret bomb.” He pauses, a small frown on his face. “But I won’t. I don’t want to kill you.”

You feel a like you’re floating, because Bucky said that like it was really important for you to understand. Like you might have spat in his face or tossed him out just for his joke.

And he’s just staring at you, standing tall before the desk with his shoulder thrown back, rather than dropping into his seat. You can’t tell if he’s waiting for permission. He shouldn’t be. You’re not his boss. 

You still offer him a small smile, and tilt your head slightly. “Aw. I don’t want to kill you either.”

That was the right thing. Bucky’s shoulders relax, and a smile twitches on his face. “You couldn’t if you tried, Butterfly.”

“I think I could.” You shrug. “I’m tricky, Buck. Fast and wily.”

“I’m fast and wily. You’re overconfident.”

“I am not.” You pout at him, and his nostrils flare. “And confidence is half the battle.”

“Not the winning half. The winning half is bullets and skill.”

“If you’re not confident enough, yeah.” You shrug. “When Hydra comes, I just have to convince them they can’t take me.”

He snorts. “As much as I’d like to see you try that, I don’t think it would end in your favor.”

“That’s loser talk, Sargent. You think I wouldn’t win?”

“I think,” Bucky’s voice is slow, and his gaze is driving right into your ribs. “That if I threw you into the jungle for a week, I’d come back to monkeys braiding your hair and the birds brinin’ you water.”

“Oh.” You frown, turning over the words in your head. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” Bucky gives you another odd look. “You know how to punch, kid?”

“Yes.” Your answer is too quick. Bucky hears it—of course her does, asshole—and gives you a pointed look with those fucking eyes. You crack under nothing but the Mist. “No.”

He grins. “That’s what I thought. We’ll fix that.”

Before you can ask, there’s a knock on the door. The quick double knock that means it’s Grace, and no one else.

“Mr. Barnes?” Her head pokes in, and Bucky draws back to his full height in half a second, his features becoming somehow more unreadable. You’re not sure what just happened. 

“Did you get it?” He asks, walking back across the room, and Grace gives a small, nervous nod.

She keeps looking at you. Like you’re supposed to know what’s happening.

You don’t.

“Good. Thanks-“ Bucky pauses, and Grace looks like a deer in headlight. “Grace.”

“You’re welcome.” She whispers, shooting you another look, and then she’s gone.

“Bucky, what-“

“Coffee.” He cuts you off with a grunt, and when you turn, that’s really all it is.

Bucky’s holding coffee. 

Fancy coffee. The kind that they put little leaves in, that’s never worth the price.

You always buy the coffee when you were buying for Grace. She deserves it. And because of that, you have your own order.

The order in Bucky’s hands.

“Did you get Grace some too?” You blurt before you can think better, and something strange flashes over Bucky’s face.

He’s back in the eased form. Where he’s looking down at you with an almost unnoticeable smile that starts into his eyes.

You wish you knew what it meant.

“Yes.” He thrust your cup forward. “Here.”

This is so stupid. It’s just coffee. 

The right coffee. That Bucky got for you.

Unprompted.

For you.

“Thank you.” You whisper, trying to keep your voice even, even as the Mist rises up and up and up your spine. 

His grin grows. Spreads over his face like some sort of beautiful, blossoming vine that just reaches everywhere. Even his hair looks softer. 

His chest puffs a little bit out. Like he’s proud.

Like he won.

He’d known. He’d known that you’d gotten the popping boba just for him. 

He has to have known. Bucky must have figured it out, and this is his payback.

But he doesn’t get to have the last word.

So the game begins.

You order next. Sandwiches for lunch, but not because that’s the goal. The sandwiches are a cover for the desserts.

“What’s that.” Bucky points to the paper cup-holder, and you grin at him.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a milkshake. Didn’t they have like, soda shops in your day?”

“Yeah, but I was poor, sweetheart. And Steve and I spent all our money on Coney Island.”

“Did they not have milkshakes there?”

He rolls his eyes. “Smart mouth, Butterfly.”

“Shut up.” You mutter, and you get lucky. Bucky’s too busy staring at the milkshake to see your flush.

“Why is it pink.”

“Because it’s mystery flavor.” You hum, rolling your own straw around its plastic cup. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “No, it’s not.”

“You’re no fun-“

“Butterfly-“

It’s not good how you’re just responding to that now. 

How you expect it.

“Bucky.” You grin back at him, lowering your tone to match his, and he scowls. “It’ll be good. Try it.”

“Tell me what it is-“

“Cotton candy.”

Bucky blinks. “In a milkshake.”

“Yep.”

“Why.”

“We’ve got all kinds of flavors now, Sergeant Barnes.” You lean back in your chair, your gaze still trapped on Bucky’s as you hold up your fingers, and start to count. “Neapolitan. Banana. Peppermint. Peppermint stick. Brown Cow. Rocky Road. Banana split. Blueberry. Hawk-chock. Mango. Hulknana-foster. Stark Strawberry. Regular strawberry. Purple cow.”

Bucky gives another look. It’s firm, but not angry or annoyed. There’s something soft under it that you really want to see more of, and casts the Mist out over your spine.

You’re a little dizzy from it.

“You done?”

“Yeah.” Your grin doesn’t waver, and the look on Bucky’s face grows. “Which one of those do you think was fake?”

Bucky’s brow draws together, his tongue flicking out over his lips as he thinks. “Purple cow.”

“Close. Brown cow. And Hawk-chock. That was a failed Hawkeye brand pitch.”

Bucky raises his brows. “Too close to cock?”

“Too close to cock.”

He chuckles, and takes the milkshake. 

He likes it. 

You win that one.

But Bucky wins the next one. He orders lunch from the diner a few blocks down, and gets you a burger.

“How’d you-“

“’S what you got after the play.” He grumbles, pushing the container forward, and you swallow.

“Oh.”

It’s all you could manage. 

He’s really been paying attention.

Of course he had. He’s Bucky.

You up him the next day with the correct sushi order. He ups you with Indian food, and ordering himself something new. With the ten flaming peppers from the menu. And he lets you watch while he tries it, and grins at you when he barely even flinches.

“How-“

“I told you. Wakanda.” He pauses, and you know this Look now. Drawn brows and no blinks, but no anger either. He’s really, deeply thinking, because Bucky seems to think a lot. “They’d like you.”

This Mist rises. “Cool.”

“You’d like them, too. Like it there. They’ve got a whole lotta books.”

“Could I read them?”

“No.” He shrugs. “But you’d figure it out.”

You would. You always figured it out.

It does something to your skin and gut—something tingly and hot and molten—that Bucky knows that too.

You make him try a big, fancy cookie. And an acai bowl. And ramen noodles, that you buy from the corner store and teach him how to heat in the microwave. You’re on a roll.

The Bucky brings you lunch. 

That he picked up. 

From the deli by his apartment. Like you fucking mean something. Mean enough to stand in a deli for, when he can’t even handle the subway.

It makes your crush worse.

All of this is making your crush so much fucking worse. Bucky’s being nicer and nicer to Grace, and that makes something in you glow because people always look her over.

She mentions her dog to Bucky one morning, and now he asks about it every morning. Then he’ll ask about the Boy, and you’d be suspicious for why he’s not pushing for the Boy’s name anymore, but you’re too busy staring at his muscles flexing as he opens the door to your office. He’s still opening the door to your office, and you’re going to go fucking insane. 

You almost lose all together—your mind and this new game—when you climb into your car next week, and Bucky passes you stickers. Lots of stickers. Of dragons and cats and flowers and a disco ball. There’s a little Captain America shield, and a Death Star, and-

“What’s that?”

Bucky glances at you as he starts the car. “Lightsaber-“

“No, this one.” You hold up a little Sky Bison. “This is from Avatar.”

“I know.”

You raise your brows. “Did you watch Avatar.”

“Yes.”

“Did you like it?”

He nods, and you think this smile is going to be etched onto your face forever.

“All of it?”

“The first two seasons so far.” He grumbles, like he’s just as angry about this as you are thrilled. “They’re relaxing.”

You hum, settling fully into your seat, and Bucky shoots you a Look.

Furrowed brows. Three blinks.

This one means confused.

“You gonna say it?”

You give him a perfectly innocent smile. “Say what?”

“The thing.”

“What thing?”

“The-“ He scowls, glaring out at the road. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I do.” You hum, turning another sticker between your fingers. “But if we’re both thinking it, and we both know it, I don’t have to say it.”

That’s how you, against all reason, win that round. Even though Bucky opened a new door where things—not just food—are allowed, you win.

And you hold the lead. You order the next round, plus you get Bucky a traveling mug. A stainless steel, solid mug.

“Look.” You pretend to throw it, grinning at him the whole time. “You can take someone out from fifty feet.”

“Fifty feet?” 

“Yeah.”

He gives you a vaguely amused look. “That’s pretty far, Butterfly.”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I’m not good at distances. It’s to hold your coffee. You can even put it in your stupid backpack.”

“Hey.” Bucky gives you a mockingly firm tone. It still creates the fuzzy feeling. Maybe hotter. “I like my backpack. It’s reliable.”

“And so,” you hold up the mug. “Is this.”

He rolls his eyes, but takes the mug.

You get more paper, the next day. 

“You shredded it all,” he mutters as he shoves it into your hands, and you had. And he gets you another lunch from the deli, because he seems to have noticed you like it. 

But you’re still winning.

You keep winning. And this is a fun game to play.

Your nights are still long. Miles still lingers like a poisoned fog whenever Bucky drops you off at night, and you still have to draw the Show together before you walk through the door.

But the days are good.

You’re doing your job, and being useful, and it’s not like wading through a swamp. You smile when you see Bucky in the garage, and he smiles back, and then it’s like a lighthouse through the day. Bucky’s there. He’ll be there. He’s becoming a given, and that’s dangerous, and you don’t care because it makes the Show easier.

You get breaks from it. You can smile and drawl at all the suits without worry, because later you’ll joke with Bucky behind the door. You can drift through all the meetings, and go through all the motions, and lie below Miles in bed with your gaze fixed on the ceiling, and occupy your brain with more important things like Bucky.

Far too much time in your mind, dedicated to Bucky.

There have been more dreams. 

A lot more dreams. 

“Look so fuckin’ gorgeous.” Bucky groans your name above you, and you can’t stop the whine that escapes your throat.

Your mouth is stuffed with his cock. And his flesh hand is tangled in your hair, the touch soothing as he guides you up and down, letting your nose bump his abdomen before pulling you almost fully off, letting you slightly lick the tip-

“Jesus, babydoll, you’re so-“ When your eyes flutter up, Bucky looks as wrecked as he sounds.

You moan around him, starting to grind onto the air as you double your efforts—swallowing and sucking on him, letting yourself choke on his dick as one hand traces up his muscles thigh to play with his balls—and Bucky hisses.

“Fucking hell, just like that, so fucking good, such a good girl-“

You squeak, and Bucky’s chuckle seems to echo around the whole universe.

“I know, Butterfly, soon. I’ll make you cum all over me, soon as I- Shit-“

He pulls out without warning, spraying his cum all over your face, and when he comes down, he’s looking at you with another-

It’s not unreadable. Somewhere in the back of your addled brain, you know that’s Bucky’s love-face. Slightly pouting lips and flaring nostrils and his tongue flicking out, because he’s told you he doesn’t want to ever be anywhere good but you.

You think he’s told you that. You don’t know how, or when. Just that it makes you feel a little fucking irreplaceable and entirely happy, and the Mist is building and slowing down all at once.

You wish you could remember.

But right now all that’s really in focus is Bucky, smearing his cum over your cheek with a thumb, before pressing that same thumb between your lips for you to suck. 

He groans your name as you do, and he says it like a song. A war drum. Something that he’s shouted from the pews of a church.

You smile up at him. 

And it’s all so good.

Your eyes shoot open, and your skin is stuck to the slightly cracked tile of the bathroom floor. Papers scattered around you, the boy asleep in the soft light coming through the window.

The dreams are vivid. Strangely vivid. And the Mist is always right at the base of your skull when you wake up.

But they’re not only sex dreams.

They’re starting to be something close to domestic. A false waking, where you’re in a bed, and your eyes flutter open with long breaths instead of darting open and thrashing like a feral, trapped animal. Or another lunch, but Bucky’s just there to give you food and eat with you, and then he kisses you on the brow and leaves, and there’s a picture of him on your desk. Then you’re sitting on the couch, your attention on your laptop while a movie plays in the background, and Bucky’s slumped against you with his metal arm around your shoulders, and-

“You’re not payin’ attention, sweetheart.”

“I’ve seen this one,” you mumble, your fingers still flying on the keyboard. “We’re watching it for you.”

He hums, and his lips are right on your fucking ear. “If it’s for me, I want you watchin’ with me.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I just need to-“

“You always need to.” Bucky pulls your laptop away, setting it down on the coffee table—that’s not your coffee table, it’s wooden and worn and there’s no trash but still a lot of clutter—before tugging you half into his lap. “I’m feeling neglected, Butterfly.”

You roll your eyes, but still curl into his body, dropping your head back on his shoulder to pout. “I gave you a blowjob like two hours ago.”

“But you didn’t let me return the favor-“

“Bucky-“

“C’mon,” his lips trail up your neck, and your nails scrap against his metal arm. “Lemme take care of my girl. She can get back to tryin’ to kill me after.”

“I’d never kill you.” You say weakly, and Bucky chuckles. 

“Not on purpose, no.” Two fingers trace over the lines of your panties, and now neither of you are paying attention. “Sing for me, pretty girl.”

Bucky’s fingers rip off your already ruined underwear, and his thumb presses onto your clit, and-

Apparently, sometimes the domestic dreams turn into sex dream. But they’re still just dreams. Ideas your brain is likely creating to escape the reality of Miles.

But Bucky’s part of your reality and life too, now. And there’s still the lingering question in your head of when will it drop. When will it be ripped away.

But Bucky doesn’t seem like the type to go quietly. 

And he’s not really trying to go at all anymore.

He got you a book he thought you’d like.

Didn’t suggest it. Or tell you about it, so you could find it.

He bought it. 

For you.

You’re staring at it as he holds it out for you. It’s a hardcover. Glossy.

New.

“I, uh,” you clear your throat trying not to let your half-panic at the gesture show on your face. This is too much. Not enough. You need to say no because this is so much, but it’s also perfect, and you’re feeling a little lightheaded. “I have a Kindle.”

Bucky frowns at you. “This isn’t to start a fire, kid. You’re supposed to read it.”

“I- I know.” You spin your pen in your hands, trying to keep your voice. “A Kindle is an e-reader. Like one book that’s also all of them.”

Bucky shakes his head. “That’s fuckin’- The future is weird.”

“It’s actually not that novel an invention anymore. You can, uh- There’s an app I can put on your phone-“

“I only just got one of those smartphones. I’m not doin’ apps anytime soon.”

“But-“

Bucky says your name, and there it is. The commanding voice. “Take the book.”

“I could’ve bought it myself.” You whisper, your eyes locked onto his. 

And you could’ve. You have the money for it. All the money for it. And Bucky might not. You don’t know how much Sam is paying him—shit, you need to check if Sam is paying him enough, and if he’s not you’ll make up the deficit, but that’s not the point—but it’s not going to be more than you, and if he’d just told you to buy the book you could’ve and this whole, dizzying feeling would’ve been avoided-

“Stop thinking.” Bucky grunts, pushing the book further forward, and you swallow.

“I- I wasn’t-“

“Yeah, you were. Take the book, Butterfly.” 

“But-“

“No. Take it.” His eyes narrow. “If you don’t, it goes in the trash.”

You glance back down at the cover, trying to buy yourself time until you can think of a really, full reason to say no. “Brave New World?”

“Yep.”

“What-“

“It’s a sci-fi book.” He mutters, and you can still feel his gaze. “Read it in high school.”

“Oh, so a million-“

“Stop trying to distract me.”

Fuck. “I would never try to distract you, James.” You give a sweet smile, and his nostrils only flare. 

You don’t understand that Look yet. His gaze is as intense as usual, and he’s standing a little taller, but his features are so neutral you’d think he was stone if you didn’t know better. But you do, and there’s something to the Look. There’s something to all of Bucky’s Looks. And you’ve gotten better at working them out, but this one…

You have no fucking clue.

“It a dystopia book.” Bucky’s voice is low, his words careful, and you’re sort of clinging onto every one of them. “Like that Hunger Games thing you wanted me to look at.” He scans over you slowly, doing the fucking tongue thing again, and you’re sitting down, so why do you feel so fucking dizzy-

“You should read the Hunger Games.” You mumble, twirling your hair between your fingers. “You’d like it.” 

“I’ll read it if you read this.”

“Buck-“

“Take the fuckin’ book, Butterfly.”

Stalling and distracting isn’t working. It’s time to switch tactics. “Or what?”

That’s the same Look from before. You still don’t know what it means. “Or else.” 

“Wow. Smooth words, James-“

“Just take the damn book.”

You’re not going to win this. Bucky’s not going to waver, and the Mist is too high up your spine, and his gaze is too intense, and you lose. You take the book with a fake-pout, and Bucky grins, and this game is far too important now. 

Bucky’s not going anywhere. You don’t want him to go anywhere. It hits you when he gives you the book, but it almost knocks you out a few days later, when you do more than just lose.

“Wait.” Bucky grunts, and you frown at him as he digs through his backpack, shooting a quick glance to the door.

“Bucky, the meeting’s starting soon-“

“It’s starting in twenty minutes.” He drawls your name, giving you an amused look. “Just hold on, I gotta- Here.”

He pulls out a Coke bottle. A Cherry Coke bottle. And shoves it into your hands before you can even think to protest.

“Orange meeting.” Bucky mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. Like he’s trying to block you from handing it back. “Thought you could use it.”

You could. This was one of the stupid finance meetings where you have justify every single bit of money the foundation has spent with words that aren’t just believe it or not, this money isn’t for making more money. It to take care of people, and if you have a fucking problem with that, take it up with Tony’s grave. And at least five of the suits always try to hit on you—although that number has gone down since Bucky started standing behind you all the time—and you’re always exhausted after, and he got this for you.

Because he knows. He knows orange meetings on your schedule means horror. And he’s trying to make it better, and it worked.

Because Bucky knows you.

You’re wiped out. You can’t even call this losing, because it feels painfully good, and if this is losing you want to keep losing forever. 

He knows. You. That’s what the game is. Was. Knowing each other.

Just like you know Bucky’s still doing all his stupid therapy exercises, and that since the harbor thing didn’t work, he’s supposed to go to the planetarium. 

“Does she think the ocean just wasn’t, like, big enough?”

Bucky snorts, shaking his head. “Or I just wasn’t tryin’ hard enough.”

“That’s stupid.” You mumble, bouncing on your feet in the elevator, turning the Coke in your hands. “You should go to the aquarium instead.”

“Should I?” Bucky raises his brows, and you give a small nod.

“The ocean itself is just a lot of water. The aquarium will have penguins, and seals, and turtles-“

“And fish?” Bucky’s grin is shit-eating, and his shoulders are relaxed, and it makes him somehow more handsome.

“Choke on my balls, Barnes.”

“Smart mouth.” He hums, his grin not falling for a second. “I’ve never actually been to an aquarium. They weren’t more than tanks, in my day.”

You shrug, picking at the Coke bottle’s label. You will not take the old man bait. “Then you better fix that. Go to the aquarium. You can get in for free, too, if you say you’re with me.”

“With you?”

“We donate a lot.”

“Ah.” Bucky pauses, his brow drawing together, but this isn’t just the thinking look. There’s something more. Something deep that’s living in the stupid fucking tongue flick. 

You hold his gaze. You don’t know how to do anything else anymore, and it’s steadily proving to be more than enough to break him.

When Bucky clears his throat, the sound is rough. 

You can’t fall over.

He’ll catch you.

And it will make everything worse.

“I’m doin’ another bio class.” He mutters, still looking at you. “Aquarium might be good for that.”

“Oh.” You give a soft smile, and the Mist feels like it’s glowing. You helped. “Good.”

“Yeah. And, uh,” Bucky lets out a long, slow breath, and you realize you’re leaning forwards. Trying to get closer. You don’t know how to draw back away. “I don’t know how to, uh, name drop. Never have. Doin’ it with Steve was weird, and I’d rather shoot myself than do it with Sam, but-“ He coughs again. You feel a little blurry in your gut. “I can go. And just pay. But if you’re not doin’ things-“

“I’ll go to the aquarium with you.” You say before you can overthink it. “We can go on Sunday?”

Bucky blinks, then gives you a tight nod. “Sunday. Thanks.”

“Of course.” You shrug, looking back down to the coke bottle. The coke bottle he gave you. 

Fuck.

“I’ll pick you up? In my car?”

Bucky shakes his head. “We’ll meet there. I, uh- I wanna take my bike.”

“Okay.”

“And then we can look at all those fish that aren’t real.”

You grin back up at him. “You’re really fucking stuck on the fish thing, aren’t you.”

“It’s insane,” Bucky grumbles. “Fish are real. It’s like saying birds aren’t real.”

“Birds aren’t real. They’re government drones.”

All that gets you is an eye roll. “Whatever you say, Butterfly.”

“You could at least pretend that one got you-“

“But if I don’t pretend,” he grins at you. “It’ll make you actually gettin’ me all the better, right?”

Your flush might be hot enough to burn the building down. “Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Somehow you manage not to fall over. Or over think. You get through the rest of the meeting, and day, and drive home and dinner with Miles, all without falling over or letting yourself dwell on it at all.

But then you move to the bathroom, and it slams into you.

You’re fucked. Bucky knows you, and you’re fucking fucked. You want to keep knowing him, and being around him, and doing things just a little more for him than anyone else because he doesn’t seem to think it’s too much. That you’re too much. And if he does, it obviously doesn’t bother him. Not enough to try and get away from you. Bucky should be trying to get away from you, but he’s not, and you don’t want him to stop, and the crush is growing. Rooting and spreading over your intestines, until you can feel it a little all the time.

This is different from Bucky just seeing you. From just looking through the Show. Seeing past the show doesn’t tell him what types of books or drinks you like, or make him keep such steady conversation, make you flush.

That’s the knowing you part.

And you know him. You think you know Bucky, at least more than most people—which is a low bar—and enough to understand he does really want you to go to the aquarium with him. He wouldn’t ask if he didn’t.

That can be a friend thing. Friends do things together all the time. You go to dinner with Sam all the time, and that’s not more. This doesn’t have to be more.

It might be. 

It can’t.

Too much effort is taken, to focus your attention back on the Hydra codes. For so long, it’s just been numbers. Numbers and names and a lot of mythological words—Babel and Scylla and Hades and Lupa and Brigid—that mean nothing apart, but must mean something together. Unless Hydra’s goal is to just fucking confuse you, there has to be a pattern. 

And you don’t find it. Not tonight.

But you do find something worse. Something more important.

It’s the first name you recognize. 

Zemo.

You know that name. You’ve heard before. From Tony, and on the news, and from Sam, and-

Oh.

Oh fuck.

All it takes is a quick google. You don’t even have to skim the Wikipedia page. 

Baron Helmut Zemo is best known for framing James Barnes for the death of King T’chaka.

He wasn’t a part of Hydra. You don’t think he was a part of Hydra. You remember when the whole Sokovia mess happened, and you know a little more than most thanks to the postcard Sam sent you, explaining that he was sort of an enemy of the state now, but Hydra was only something in the bylines. A means for Zemo’s cause, as you’d understood it. 

Yet that’s his name. In the code.

And you can only think one thing about it. It’s an acceptable thought, it’s related to what’s happening right now.

But it’s still all you can think. And there’s no escaping it.

You need to tell Bucky.

——————

Bucky’s had friends. 

Before the train, he had plenty of friends in passing. People who he got along with well. Easily. Who he’d talk to and joke with, never stressing about what he was saying because Bucky-before-the-train had charm. Swagger. Smooth words and a sparkling grin that his ma said was real good at getting him into trouble, then right back out of it.

He’d always—not always, not now, but he wasn’t allowed to be angry about that—had Steve. But that was his brother. He’d talked to and told Steve about damn near everything. All the books he read and the girls he got into bed and how when the war was over—which it had been, but not for either of them to see it—what he planned to do with the future.

Get a job, maybe something where he got to make things, and bring the world further into the future. Maybe one day he’d have gotten good enough to meet Howard Stark—this was before he could only remember how to break things, and before he killed Howard Stark—and get his name put somewhere that people read it. Find a sweet girl. Settle down and have a family. Have more friends, because Bucky-before-the-train hadn’t looked at people and only seen the shadows on their faces.

Bucky-after-the-train still has friends. But they’re friends whose shadows he learned to like.

Friends means Sam and Sarah, and the big old guy down at the deli who knows his order now.

Her order.

It’s Her order. And the guy at the deli must have picked up on the fact that it’s for a girl, because now Bucky gets a wink whenever he takes it.

And She’s not his girl. And She’s not sweet, but Bucky-after-the-train hasn’t really got a taste for sweet things anymore, and Bucky-before-the-train would’ve been thrown off his damn rhythm into kissing the ground at Her feet, if he got to meet Her.

She doesn’t have any shadows. She has the Moon, and all those perfect cracks that make knowing Her like a drug. Bucky keeps finding new cracks and colors and patterns in Her, and he doesn’t know what to do with any of them, but he’s far too gone to try and ignore them anymore.

She was not a friend in passing. If Bucky’s worked out anything about Her at all, it’s that she doesn’t do things in passing. That’s just not how She operates, and it fits well into his log. She doesn’t stop moving because the only other option—at least to Her—would be sitting still. She talks fast with no thought, or slow with so much thought Bucky can hear Her damn brain moving. When She ate, food was either shoveled into Her mouth or poked at with a fork. When Bucky watched Her work, She was either typing so fast he was convinced She couldn’t actually be writing coherent sentences, or staring at Her screen until Bucky grabbed Her attention.

She was all or nothing. She was either talking and giggling and bouncing and grabbing all of Bucky’s attention by the throat, or not moving at all and making Bucky a little feral with worry.

Because he worried about Her now. That had crept up on him, without warning. How he’d lie on the floor at night, and wonder if Her bed was soft enough for Her. If She had to share it with that asshole, or if he was finally back out of town. If She’d mind sleeping on the floor, or if Bucky would be allowed to curve himself over Her, she’d be enough for him to stick out sleeping in a bed-

He wasn’t allowed to think like that. Not about his friend, who had a boyfriend. Who already had too many people reducing Her to just a body in a bed. And She’d be more than just a body, if Bucky got to have Her, but he couldn’t think about that. Not when he was supposed to be in control.

He’d let the first thoughts slide. They really had snuck up on him, so he just needed to build his defenses higher.

But all of Her had snuck up on him.

And Bucky’s defenses might as well be a fucking pillow wall, when it came to Her. 

Because just like everything else, She didn’t do friendship casually. She was all in. 

On Bucky.

As a friend.

And he’d never had a friend like Her.

She listened to him and talked to him and got him things, always looking at him like he was the only thing in the whole universe. She somehow had picked up on things about him in three months that had taken Sam damn years. She laughed at all his jokes, even when they weren’t that funny—Bucky was still learning how to tell jokes that weren’t stabbing comments meant to pry something open again—and never expected more from Bucky than he could give. She didn’t seem to expect or ask anything from Bucky at all.

It made giving Her things all the better. Made that heat turn into a hurricane of pride and a kind of satisfied smugness that was also a pre-Hydra feeling. More than a pre-Hydra feeling. A new feeling, where he was getting himself into trouble and didn’t really want to get out of it. 

Not when She kept smiling at him. And laughing for him. 

Bucky was addicted to it. 

But damnit, there were far worse fuckin’ vices to have. Far, far worse than the most beautiful creature in history—She had to be a creature, because nothing in Bucky’s brain seemed to be able to work out how She could just be a person—knowing Bucky, and letting him know Her back.

He hadn’t been able to stop himself from asking Her to go to the aquarium. That was part of knowing Her, was figuring out that if Bucky asked and meant it, She’d give it to him.

Bucky shouldn’t be allowed to have that. He didn’t deserve Her coins or books or doe-eyes, paired with the honeyed and feline smile, and Moon turning and shifting in Her eyes. He’d break it. She wasn’t delicate, but She was fragile, so Bucky would crush Her, just like that butterfly in the garden.

And there was a difference, between delicate and fragile. Delicate things at least looked the part, and She had that slight glint in Her eyes that told Bucky She’d bite anything that tried to touch Her unwanted. 

But She was still fragile. 

She looked fragile right now. Her leg bouncing under Her desk, Her lip pulled between Her teeth, another paper being destroyed under Her quick fingers.

“You doin’ alright, Butterfly?”

She blinked up at him, and Her nod wasn’t convincing. None of this was convincing. She looked like a squirrel, trying to find where She could store something for winter. Adorable and frantic and-

Small.

She looked a little small. And She wasn’t shaking, but small was still too much. 

The gut feeling was twisting and clenching, and now that was hot too. Almost burning up into Bucky’s heart, making it pound a little harder than it should be in his chest.

That might just be Her presence. The heat usually came just from Bucky knowing She was near him. 

But something still felt off. She wasn’t talking, or working, or even lying flat on the floor—She did like lying on the floor, and She also seemed to like Bucky, so who was to say She wouldn’t like Bucky and the floor, and that really wasn’t the damn point—and something felt like it was wrong. 

Everything had been fine this morning. Same two guards—Harlow and Cooper—as every weekday morning, except for Monday’s and Friday’s, when one of them would have the day off. They were good men. Harlow had done two tours in Afghanistan—Bucky still wasn’t sure why he’d needed to be there, and She’d tried to explain it, and he’d just ended more confused than he’d started—and Cooper had been a combat medic and boxer. They never looked Her anywhere but in the eyes, and She gave them a slightly warmer smile than most other people. They called Her Ma’am, and never acted like Bucky was a problem.

Bucky trusted them to do their jobs well, and after the second Hydra contact they’d even talked to him about new security measures to take.

The building was secure.

She was secure.

Bucky still couldn’t shake the feeling in his gut.

“You sure?” He pushed just a little further. He needed to check. 

“I-“ She let out a long, slow breath, the thinking pout forming. That wasn’t good. “If I tell you something, you have to promise not to overreact.”

“Should I be ready to overreact?”

“No?”

Bucky gave Her a flat look, trying to ignore how the gut feeling was starting to bubble. “You’re not a good liar, sweetheart.”

She scowled. That was adorable too. “Fuck off, I am a fantastic liar, you’re just- you’re you-“

“Me?”

“Shut up.” She snapped, and at least She wasn’t small anymore. She was prickling, and Bucky knew She couldn’t actually hurt him, but the Moon was turning, and this heavy weight over his chest felt a lot like dread.

“Are you gonna tell me the thing I’m not allowed to freak out about?”

She started running a hand through Her hair. Bucky wanted to grab a fistful of it and tip Her head back, kissing Her until she was full of only good things, giggling and soft against him-

Not the time. Not his place.

“You won’t freak out.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She blinked at him, the Moon flashing, and nodded slowly.

Then Bucky heard it.

A tick. Tick. Beep. Tick. Beep.

It didn’t have the weight of an explosive. Those were often only tick, tick, tick. But a clock was tick, beat, tick. 

This was a beep—automated—and a light, softer tick. The mechanism wouldn’t be heavy. Wouldn’t be holding something heavy. 

“Buck-“

“Shut up.” He grunted, trying to keep his attention focused on the sound. 

Her eyes narrowed, the wolf look flaring as Her lips curled slightly. “Excuse me?”

The tick, beep, tick, was getting lighter. Quicker. “I said-“

“I heard you.” She snapped. “I will not shut up, James, you look like you’re about to break something, and-“

Bucky didn’t bother to keep listening. Tick, beep, beep, tick. Two beeps couldn’t be good, and it was getting louder as well closer. He stood up without a word, marching to the door. 

There was a voice he didn’t recognize on the other side. Quick and nervous. Male. Tick. Beep.

“James Barnes, if you don’t sit the fuck back down and tell me why you’re-“

He said Her name, keeping his voice low and firm. “Do you have any appointments right now.”

“No, but-“

“Any appointments in the next half-hour.”

“It’s 3pm on a Friday, Bucky. Nobody wants to meet with their boss at 3pm on a Friday. Now can you please fucking tell me-“

“Shut up.”

“Stop telling me to shut up-“

He snapped Her name again, and this tone was doing wonders in making Her listen. He’d need to remember that. “You told me if I ever wanted you to shut up, you would. Right fucking now, you need to shut up. Understood?”

“I- No, because you’re not explaining.” She crossed Her arms, raising Her chin up, and there was a crack that Bucky could see on the surface. Not fear. Something a little wrathful that was making Her try to seem bigger than she was. “I am not doing fucking shit until you tell me why.”

“God fucking-“ Bucky marched back across the room, yanking her forward by Her sleeve and covering her mouth with a hand.

Her eyes went wide, and he felt a slight brushing feeling on his palm.

It was a good thing he’d used the metal one.

She was trying to bite him.

“You’re a fucking-“ Not was not the time to be in slight awe of Her for having the nerve. “Goddamnit, Butterfly, I’m trying to help you-“

Her eyes narrowed, and Bucky let out a long breath, holding Her gaze.

“Listen.” He hissed. “There is a man outside your office, and I think he was sent from Hydra with a fucking chem bomb.” She froze, and Bucky let out a long breath. “You’re going to stay put, I’m going to call Sam, and we’ll figure this out. Blink twice if you understand.”

She blinked, and Bucky gave a short nod.

“If I move my hand, are you going to behave?”

Bucky didn’t know why he chose those words. But he did know that She was giving him the doe-eyes, and he needed to goddamn focus, but She was also starting to shrink, and he wanted to fold himself around Her.

He could. Metaphorically. Bucky lowed his hand, and he would fold himself around Her by keeping her safe right where she was. 

“Bucky, Grace-“

His hand shot back up, but She dodged it, trying to move around the desk.

Shit.

Then Her words caught up with his head.

She was trying to go out there. She was trying to fucking kill him.

Bucky hissed Her name, trying to move to block Her. “I told you to stay put-“

She shook Her head, weaving around him, and goddamnit- 

Bucky threw himself forward, and he did get to fold himself around Her. He got to pin Her to his chest while She thrashed around, trying shove him away so She could do something brave and kind and fucking stupid.

“Grace is out there, we have to- Fucking let go-“ Her voice was rising, higher and higher as She moved. “James, I fucking- I can’t just leave her, Bucky-“

He had to cover Her mouth again.

She was still trying to bite him.

“You are not leaving her.” Bucky lowered his mouth to Her ear, keeping his words firm. “The bomb is probably on a timer. And Grace is not Hydra’s target. You are. If you open that door, sweetheart, you’re done.”

Her movements grew almost feral, with nails and more biting, and kicks aimed for his tight. If Bucky didn’t have his arm and the serum, She might have done some actual damage.

“You need to fucking- Shit-“ Bucky groaned as Her elbow hit his sternum. “Alright, let’s do this.”

That confused Her enough to pause, and Bucky grabbed the opportunity. He hauled Her down onto the couch, keeping his palm pressed firmly over Her mouth and fully pressing his weight over Her’s.

Now She was just staring at him. 

It wasn’t helping anything.

“Grace is going to be fine, if you just fucking listen. Okay?”

Blink.

Doe-eyed blink.

Not the point.

“Good.” Bucky grunted, keeping himself planted across Her body. He didn’t fully trust Her not to ignore him and sprint for the door the moment he moved. “Here’s how this is gonna go. Tell Grace to say that you’ll let the man in yourself, and that she needs to get off this floor. Take the elevator, not the stairs. Tell her to call 911 and make security shut down the building. Do not tell her why.” Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Civilians freak out when they hear why. I will call Sam, and you’re gonna sit in the furthest corner of the office. I will stay with you until the building is clear. Once the man realizes the door isn’t opening, he will try to break it down. Do not move. The chem bomb with go off, and we are going to stay here until we get the clear. Got it?”

Blink. Bucky let out a long, heavy breath through his nose, and in almost perfect timing, the computer let out a soft ping sound. Likely Grace, asking if she could let the man in. 

When Bucky let Her go to do her part of the job, She wasn’t feral anymore. She was small, but not shaking. Almost too still, a slightly glossy look in Her eyes.

She wasn’t speaking at all. She typed the message, then drifted over to the corner. 

Bucky shouldn’t be worried about that. 

He really needed to stop worrying about what he should or shouldn’t do with Her. Or at least get a better idea of what that stuff meant. Otherwise he was going to lose his damn mind.

His name was James Buchanan Barnes. Her desk was blocking to office door, because he’d moved it there himself. It was a Friday, simply due to the flow of time. He liked how She was listening to him now, even if it was for such a horrible reason. He didn’t like- 

Wrong. 

He fucking hated how he’d been right. After about two minutes, whatever sorry fucker had the bomb started to bang on the doors, shouting for Her to fucking let him in and that She couldn’t escape them. And Bucky wasn’t sure how he’d ever thought She was Hydra. She was horrible at fully covering Her emotions, and right now he could almost taste the fear rolling off of Her. 

The desk started to rattle, and the man must be slamming himself into the door. Bucky’s best guess was that it was some random idiot who owed Hydra, and had been made to pay his debt like this. By getting Her.

That would mean She was really important to Hydra. They didn’t just waste debts like that. It was either a life of labor, or this type of one-time service that guaranteed freedom. And you were never really free. 

But the idea of it was nice. 

Bucky fucking hated how She’d curled into herself, too. How Her head was dropped to Her knees, drawn up to Her chest, and Her breathing was so fucking shallow and fast as She tried to block what had to be coming.

He needed to protect Her from this. All of it. Whatever he could, his mission was to keep Her safe, and he was supposed to be done with missions, but this one didn’t seem so bad. Protecting something that made everything better. He didn’t think when he moved. Bucky grabbed Her because there couldn’t be another thing to do. Wrap himself around Her. Make some use of yourself and do your job, and keep Her safe because if she never gets to laugh again, that might be the worst thing in the world.

He wanted to keep holding Her here for a while. He wanted to pull Her face into his chest. He wanted to, at the very fucking least, make Her breathing slow down, because the rapid sound of Her fear was worse than that clock Sam kept on his office wall.

Tick. Beep. Tick. Beep. Beep. Beep.

There was the loudest rattling sound yet, a long and horrible hiss, and Bucky was getting a lot of wants today. He turned Her head so Her face was pressed against him, and She didn’t fight it, but he still cleared his throat to explain. She couldn’t be allowed to think Bucky would just grab Her like that for any reason but normal, platonic care. 

His rotten, slightly molded heart had alternate motivations, made of how he could suddenly smell Her sweet shampoo, and he felt clean despite the everything about this.

Part of his explanation was for himself. Just so he could pretend he wasn’t getting dangerously close to having a fourth want, that started and ended with Her. He had no right to want at all. And less than a right to want Her.

“I’m trying to block you from breathing it.” He muttered in Her ear, and he could’ve sworn She relaxed. “Case some gets under the door. I can take it. You can’t.”

She nodded against him, still completely silent, and Bucky didn’t know what else to do. They just had to wait this out, and he was fine with silence, but She obviously wasn’t. And She was so fucking still. 

It really was worse than the shaking. The shaking seemed to have a hidden fury under it.

This was just dreadful, awful fear. 

“Steve used to jump on bombs.” Bucky muttered, and he wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing. “Back in the war. He had guts and heart, but he was this scrawny little kid that a bird could knock out. A bird did knock him out, once. Pigeon shat of his head, and he fell over. I nearly fell off the pier laughin’, then had to swear on my Ma not to tell anyone.” Bucky frowned at the air. “Shouldn’t’ve have told you, should I.”

She didn’t answer, but Her breathing had slowed, so Bucky kept talking.

“They’re both dead, now. Steve and my Ma. Well, Steve’s alive. Sorta. I ain’t talked to him.” His accent was slipping a lot more than he wanted, but She wasn’t pulling away. Her breathing was even, now. He couldn’t stop. “He woulda liked you. Steve. I probably would’ve needed to grab him to stop him running out there, too. And I’m pretty sure you would’ve jumped on that bomb, if I let you. So…”

Bucky trailed off, unsure where he was going. He didn’t know Her that well. But that didn’t stop the very clear, vivid image in his head of if She did tackle the bomb-man. And She walked like Steve did, too. With a high honor that was mostly made of paper, and a command that was earned and measured, that didn’t fucking work on Bucky. 

No amount of chest puffing and rousing words had ever worked on Bucky. He’d liked to try and buy into them, before the war, but there had never been any point but trying to be part of something. The war. His squadron. Someone’s life.

He was pretty sure Steve had known that didn’t work on him. That he just wanted to do it. 

Make something. 

Bucky had been thinking a lot about making things, lately.

Now was not the time to dwell on that. 

She’d twisted in his arms, and She was looking at him. Right at him.

Christ, She was beautiful. The Moon shining in Her eyes and Her hair framing her face like some sort of painting. More than a knockout. Maybe a fucking coma. 

Bucky’s voice was a little hoarse, when he finally spoke. “I just, uh, I thought it would help if I talked-“

“It is. Helping.” Her voice was so small, and Bucky swallowed. “Please don’t stop.”

Fucking Hell. She was so close, and Her body was so soft against his, and Her lips were a little swollen from being chewed on earlier, but Her features were perfectly open. No more mask at all. Not right now. 

It was somehow more beautiful. And Bucky wanted to hear what Her giggle sounded like without it. What Her smile looked like, and how She moved when she wasn’t trying to make the world part around Her. If She’d stop moving for good reasons, because She was all or nothing, so there had to be stillness that could be born from-

Control.

Bucky nodded at Her, dragging his focus back together by force. He would not lose control. That would maybe be more unforgivable than anything Hydra ever made him do.

“Saw my first bomb at the Stark expo.” He muttered, trying to drag something up from his head. “Went with Steve, and some girls. They were sweet, but I, uh, I don’t remember their names.”

She let out a soft laugh, even as Her face returned his shirt. That was a really good sign. “Because of the brainwashing?”

“Sure.”

“Wow, James.”

“When I was remembering things, I wasn’t focused on remembering random names of long-dead ladies, kid.”

She shrugged against him. “Maybe they thought about you until they died. You ever think of that?”

“No.”

“There are those smooth words that got you dates.” She hummed. “That’s what got them to remember you. The sweet-talking Sargent boy who showed them a bomb.”

“I was a Sargent man.” Bucky grumbled, and She laughed again. This really was working. “And I didn’t show them a bomb. Howard Stark did. I- Really wish I didn’t kill Howard.”

Bucky didn’t know why he’d said that. He wasn’t sure why he was saying anything. But She wasn’t running, and Her breathing was still even.

She’d even twisted to look at him again. And there was nothing predatory or venomous in Her gaze. It was still just open. 

So Bucky kept talking. And he didn’t let himself keep thinking about it at all. 

“Wish I didn’t kill any of them,” he said slowly, holding Her gaze. “But I- He was my friend. Good guy. I, uh- I admired him. Wished I could make things like that. I wouldn’t have, if I could. They had to do a full reset on me, after. Apparently I was distressed.”

It wasn’t a lot. Short words. No short of long speech like She’d given him on Sam’s roof. 

But it was the most he could manage. 

And Bucky added two things to his log about Her. 

First, he wanted to make things. He had before the train, and then it had been dead, and now he wanted to do it again. And he wanted to make something for Her. He could give it to Her like he’d given Her the book. To prove that he really was listening. That he liked Her company, and he liked Her more, and he liked the things She’d said he would, so maybe Bucky could do something like that for Her in return. And making Her something would just be more. And Bucky might want more—most, all—of Her, no matter how horribly that might end.

Second, there was a flip side of Her being calming to listen to. She was calming to talk to. He’d said all that, and She hadn’t sprinted away or looked at him with pity or tried to make him say more. What he’d said was enough. 

A little bit of Bucky felt like he was enough. 

And that was the most better he’d had since he’d been free.

“Bucky?” She mumbled, scanning over him carefully. “Remember when you promised not to overreact earlier?”

He grunted, and She took a deep breath. That couldn’t be good.

“I need to tell you something.”

“Butterfly, wh-“

“I’ve kind of, sort of, absolutely been working on breaking the Hydra code myself?” Her words were rushed, like She was afraid they’d get away from her if she wasn’t careful. “And I- I cracked it. I sort of cracked it. Cracked some of it. Enough of it. Got something from it that’s understandable. And not just a bunch of numbers. So I, uh, yeah. I need help.”

Help. She needed help. Bucky’s help. She hadn’t let Sarah carry Her plate at game night and he’d seen Her take work from Her assistant, but She wanted Bucky’s help. For the second time, it was Bucky who She was asking for help.

He could sit in that later.

Right now had to be about how She’d broken the Hydra code herself.

Bucky said Her name as carefully as possible. “Sam’s had a whole team on that for months with nothing. Not a single word.”

“I know.” She mumbled. “But I- I didn’t want to just do…nothing. And it didn’t look like a code to me, it looked like art.”

Of course it did. 

Bucky really wished that didn’t make so much fucking sense. Everything would be easier if that made no fucking sense. 

“What did you find.”

She blinked at him. “You… believe me?”

That was a stupid question. Now didn’t seem like the time to tell Her that. “Yes. What did you find.”

“You have to promise not to overreact again-“

He grunted Her name, and She swallowed.

“Zemo.”

For a second, there was a high ringing in Bucky’s ears. “What.”

“I- know. I’m sorry, but I need your help figuring it out, and I know about the whole… Thing. And I can’t tell Sam because this isn’t his thing, and I- I thought you might actually listen to me.”

Listen to Her. She wanted Bucky to help Her, and listen to Her.

It wasn’t useful to keep thinking of himself a goner.

But it was accurate. 

And She was still talking. Seeming to get away from Herself. 

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. But I- I don’t know how to do it myself, and I could, if I had to. But it’s a lot, and I’ve never dealt with that before, and I could try but I- I’m not- I don’t know how it would go. And I couldn’t leave. I can’t leave. And I- I want to- and I- What if- I don’t know how, and I’m not- I don’t know why they’re doing this, and I don’t- I don’t know how Bucky- I don’t know how-“

This. This was what Bucky had meant by fragile. This was one of the worst things he’d ever seen. She was shaking in Bucky’s arms and curling slightly further into him, and Zemo was a name he’d never wanted to hear again, but the sound of Her staggered and fearful breaths was worse. So much worse. 

It was like watching an animal in a trap. Trying to claw itself free but just mauling its own leg. 

Bucky wasn’t going to crush or break Her. He wouldn’t.

But he would do anything to make Her feel better.

Make this better, because that was another thing he could do. Something to do, to make things better, and he’d still be angry at Zemo but he’d get over it. For Her.

“You’re gonna be fine.” Bucky muttered, pulling Her right back into his chest, and not thinking about it beyond instinct, and doing something. “You’ll be alright. I’ve got you. We’ll figure it out. I’ll help. You’ll be fine, Butterfly. You’ll be fine.”

That sounded like something that should help. The kind of thing his Ma had said when he’d had nightmares as a kid. She’d even run her hand over Bucky’s back, the way Bucky was rubbing Her’s now. 

And his Ma couldn’t have known how not fine things were going to be. That all of Bucky’s teeth and nails and hair turning into snakes wasn’t even close to the true horror he’d know. 

But Bucky wouldn’t let his words to Her be a lie. He’d promised to keep Her safe, and he could actually fucking do something about it. So She would be safe.

She let out a high, soft breath against him, and relaxed, and She trusted him. To touch Her. Hold Her, even just like this.

Bucky would keep Her safe. 

His name was James Buchanan Barnes, and he didn’t do missions anymore. Didn’t take orders or do anything he didn’t want to.

He wanted to do this. Let Her keep making things better, and keep consuming him too much for him to drown himself, and give Her whatever the hell She wanted, without a price. 

Bucky was going to keep Her safe. 

From Hydra.

And anything else that dared to try and shred Her into something small.

End Note: Bucky is my dream man. Sassy and horny and obsessed with his yapping girl.

Thank you so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[1pepsiboy]

Walking in on You - Matt Sturniolo Smut (request)

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: eating out, riding, profanities, and more...

A/N: Uhm... yeah, this one got away from me. I did not plan for it to be this long, but here we are lmaooo Thanks for the love recently, hope you enjoy this one!!

***

You laughed as you and Matt entered the backstage room. 

“Why did you have to mention my biggest fear? You know they’re going to use that against me now.”

Your boyfriend chuckled. “You don’t know that, babe.”

“But you do.” You shot him a look, both eyebrows raised and your lips pressed in a firm line. “They’re going to pull a prank on me.” 

His blue eyes looked deeply into yours as a smirk set on his lips and he rested his hands on your shoulders. “They’re not going to, (y/n).”

You rolled your eyes with a small scoff. You turned the TV on and put on HULU, then grabbed your laptop out of your backpack by the couch. Was it an item you should’ve left lying around here? Probably not, but you only left to go eat food after the three did a soundcheck and rehearsal. 

“What should we watch?” You asked as you signed into your account. 

Matt narrowed his eyes at you and sat down on the couch. “Don’t you have writing to do?”

You thought about it, then shook your head. “Nope.” 

“I think you do,” he replied, a little knowingly. “Look, I’ve never been, like, good at getting work done, but you should do it.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Now Matt shoots you a look, similar to yours earlier, but way more sassy. It was sexy the way he crooked one brow and slightly scrunched up his nose. 

Once again, you rolled your eyes at him, and removed your shoes. Basically your way of doubling down on the fact you didn’t have work to do. (But you did, definitely did. That paper was due at the end of the week, and it was Tuesday.)

“Matt, watching one episode won’t kill me. How about Rick and Morty?” You clicked on the resume button for Rick and Morty and it began to play the next episode from where you left off. 

Matt sighs heavily, being dramatic, and glides a hand through his hair, failing to keep it out of his face. “Yeah, yeah… But after, okay? The agreement was you’d keep up with classes if you came on tour, babe.”

You put your hands up in defense. “Okay.” You smiled and cuddled up next to him to watch your thirty minutes of freedom before homework. 

***

You groaned as you saw the ending credits roll and the next episode got ready to play. It was writing time, or maybe not. You had your mind on naughty things since he made that sexy expression. 

Matt looked down at you. “Homework time.”

“Or…” You moved to straddle him and lazily draped your arms on his shoulders. “We could make out a little. That always gets the juices flowing.”

He giggled under his breath. “You really don’t want to do it?”

“Hell no. It’s too much thinking, but this isn’t.” You leaned in, closing your eyes, and kissed his lips softly. As your kisses continued, you tangled your fingers in his fluffy collocks and brushed against his covered cock. You released your hair out of its pulled back style as you repeated your slow, pressure intensifying movements. 

Your hair slightly fell in your face, but instinctively, Matt brushed it back with his hot hands. You loved his hands. You’d love him to touch every square inch of your body with them. 

“I want you,” you breathed, twirling your tongue with his. 

In one fairly swift movement, Matt had you lying on your back and he was on top. Your lips smashed together, more feverishly now. His throb rested against your covered heat. You couldn’t stop the small moan from escaping. Fuck, he made you go crazy. 

Suddenly, Matt pulled back and he attempted to catch his breath as he shook his head. “You need t- to do homework.”

You scoffed a little. “Matt, for fuck sakes. You’d rather watch me write an essay than fuck me?” You tugged him back down by his sweater and kissed him. “I’d rather fuck first,” you whispered into his ear. 

The two of you tug his sweater and tee combo off and brushed your lips together again. Fuck, they melted with yours so easily and tasted so sweet. It helped that he had ice cream for dessert. 

Matt’s lips curled into a small smile against yours and, without notice, his hand rested on your heat beneath your jeans. Soft circles from his hand caused your insides to burn. You still wanted skin contact though. When you were going to reach down to take his hand and slip it underneath your lace, he pulled back. 

“Matt,” you whined. 

He chuckled as he made hot butterfly kisses down your neck. His slight facial hair tickled and you tried not to giggle. He stopped short because of your sweatshirt. He pushed it up and you took the liberty to tug it off from there. Now, Matt continued his kisses as he played with the straps of your tank, revealing the straps to your bra. He placed kisses on your mostly exposed chest. 

“Matt, I love your lips, but I’d rather have your hands.”

“You sure about that?” he asked, eyeing your lower area and licked his lips. 

You let out a slow, low breath and swallowed hard. “I feel like my answer is irrelevant either way.”

He smirked and his hands found their way to remove your jeans. His face disappeared between your legs, all you could see was his hair. It wasn’t long before there was the sensation of his tongue and lips. Every little flick, lick, and kiss caused your body to shake, and you tried to control your breathing. You didn’t want to come too early and give him that satisfaction. But fuck he was so good and knew exactly how to play with your pussy. 

“I… I want you… inside. Not thi- Fuck. Yes… Yes… Matthew!” You reached down to grip his hand that held your hip as your toes curled. You grunted to suppress the urge to moan loudly. All the aches rolled into pleasures.  

Matt reappeared, wiping his mouth, and a cocky grin was placed on his face. He moved back up to kiss you on the lips. 

“Fuck you.”

He laughed under his breath as he unbuttoned and unzipped his baggy jeans, and then he pushed them down. Your kisses were getting sloppy, but that didn’t matter as you felt him push his tip in. You grabbed his shoulders and pushed him in deeper. 

A sweet groan escaped Matt’s lips. “Fuck, baby.”

His skin against yours riveted as your motions worked together. Matt started to speed up, but you shook your head. You breathed, “Keep it slow, baby… Oh, god, keep it slow.” 

You moved to sit up so you could ride him and control the grinds more. You whipped your hair back as you kept the pulses going. Your body screamed in the hot flesh. Matt’s hands found their way to your back and unclipped your bra. You let it fall and he pulled you in to place kisses everywhere on your chest; taking more focus on your sensitive nipples. His tongue flicked them and it caused your body to shudder. 

It suddenly occurred to you that anyone out in the hallway passing would most likely hear you. At least the sound of the TV drowned you out a little. 

You could feel yourself ready to come. You were so close. “Babe, come with me.”

“I’m fucking trying, babe.” Matt laughed under his breath. He seemed to focus more and he lightly moaned as he tilted his head back with his hands on your divots. His rings were going to leave imprints on your sides for sure. 

For his benefit, you made your thrust pace a little faster and, instantly, he picked back up. You gripped onto anything you could as pants barely escaped your lips. 

“Fuck, (y/n),” he whimpered. 

You giggled breathlessly and it was then you both reached your heights. You enclosed him as he stiffened. You felt the lower half of your body shake as aching moans left your hot lips. Your eyes studied each other before you kissed again, and danced your tongues together slowly. 

You cradled into him as you sat on his lap, enjoying some small silence and you lightly tangled your fingertips in his messy hair. His fingertips brushed on your shoulders and drew designs.

“I love you, Matt,” you sighed contently, snuggling your head into the crook of his neck. You closed your eyes and hugged your arms. Matt’s arms instinctively wrapped around you and he kissed your forehead. 

“I love you too, (y/n).”

The door to the backroom swung open and your eyes cracked wide open. “Don’t come in!”

“Don’t look, bro!” Matt exclaimed, his voice cracking a little. “Get the fuck out!” 

“What? Why?” Nick questioned, not pleading to your warning. He took one glance, an immediate disgusted look crossing his face, and yelled, “No. Absolutely not. What the actual FUCK is wrong with you two?” Then he slammed the door shut.

There was another yell, “THE BACKROOM HAS BEEN TAINTED. NO ONE GO IN THERE. I REPEAT, DO NOT GO IN THERE. UNLESS YOU WANT YOUR EYES TO MELT INTO YOUR SOCKETS.”

The two of you gave each other nervous looks and then laughed.

“Should we, like, go after him?” you asked. 

Matt kissed the side of your head, then your nose, and then your lips. “No, that was a sign. Homework, babe.”

You made a long, dragged out huff. “Fine.” You got up to put your sweatshirt and panties back on as he also got slightly more decent. Then you pulled your laptop closer to you. “Can I sit on your lap and write?” 

Matt giggled and waved you over. “Always, babe.” 

[neos127]

WITH GREAT POWER COMES GREAT RESPONSIBILITY

pairing. spider-man!jake x gn!reader genre. fluff + hcs notes. had to make this bc i’ve been a spider-man fan for like 2827282 years and i love jake sooooo ! wc. 1.4k

• EVEN though he’s a wall crawling superhero who can stop a bus with his bare hands, spider-man jake is a complete nerd who can’t pull a girl. despite his charming good looks and gorgeous smile, he is avoided like the plague (like all spider-man movies which makes no sense bc they’re hot !!!)

• but somehow, he was able to get your attention. you, the person who was liked and envied by a lot of people in school. you were on track to a good college and had a stellar internship at oscorp. you were absolutely perfect in jake’s eyes- and he was in yours.

• jake never made the first move with you, too scared of rejection. he was surprised when you suddenly spoke to him one day, asking if he was okay after getting into an altercation with flash thompson. “you know my name?” he stuttered, blushing when you laughed at the question. “well of course, but i just wanted to make sure you knew your name. seemed like you hit your head pretty hard.”

• after that it seemed as if the two of you ran into each other everywhere. on the street, in the library and even this one cafe that jake often went to. this helped jake get to know you more and fall even more in love with you.

• jake was always flustered around you and you noticed it. his ears or cheeks were red when you directed your attention onto him and you picked up on his nervous habit of playing with his glasses. it was adorable and made you constantly question why none of the girls in your school wanted him.

• whenever the two of you would study at the library, jake had trouble keeping his eyes off you. you were so pretty when focused and it just made his heart flutter. when you became so tired to where your eyes started drooping, jake began to finish your homework for you. you scolded him for it, but he didn’t mind, wanting to help you out in any way he could.

• your first date with jake was a disaster when the boy forgot his own strength out of nerves and collapses the table you were about to eat dinner on. jake made an amazing home cooked meal for the both of you at his aunts place for your first date. he felt embarrassed about not being able to take you anywhere fancy but you brushed it off and gushed about how romantic he was. unfortunately jake had no idea how to act normal around you and caused the dinning table to break. you were in shock that the legs gave out simply by him leaning on it, but jake just assured you that it was a really old table.

• when the two of you became official, jake desperately wanted to tell you his secret, but he also doesn’t want to put you in danger. it was hard to keep making excuses, but he couldn’t get you involved in his dangerous lifestyle. you started to become suspicious and a bit insecure in the relationship. all you wanted was for jake to trust you, not understanding why he wouldn’t tell you what was going on with him.

• when you’ve had enough and tell the boy that you need a break, he nearly looses his shit. jake was hoping to stay in a relationship with you without having to mention his alter-ego, but he soon realized that was a stupid dream. later that night he ended up knocking on your window as spider-man which was honestly terrifying from your perspective. you thought that maybe you had done something illegal and he was going to take you in. as soon as you opened the window, you began to word vomit.

“i know i should’ve watched the movie in theaters instead of an illegal website but im saving my money for this new purse i want!”

“huh?”

• jake takes his mask off in the midst of your rambling, causing you to stop short. your jaw was on the floor for about a minute and the silence made jake was to take a dive out of your window. before you could speak, he began to explain everything, reassuring you that the lie had been tearing him apart inside. he had only wanted to protect you. you cut off his rambling with a kiss, telling the boy that you forgave him and that it was killing you to be away from him.

• you had a lot of questions about his powers, wanting to know what exactly he could do. it always made you giggle to see him stick to the ceiling so he would often do that when you were sad. seeing that cute smile on your face was enough to make his whole day.

• jake offered to take you swinging around the city one day but you denied him at first. you weren’t too big on heights and was terrified that he would drop you. “i’m the strongest man in the world how could i drop you?” he asked, making you roll your eyes and grudgingly agree. turns out— the experience was terrifying and jake accidentally released you from his hold mid air. he caught you shortly after, but the mini free fall you took made you demand that he take you to the ground. you didn’t talk to him for about an hour afterwards until he bought you your favorite ice cream.

• jake is the definition of golden retriever. it’s insane how bubbly and giddy this man is…does he ever get mad?? you often wonder. even with all the stress he’s under from being spider-man he’s just so happy. he claims it’s because you’re now in his life.

• one time jake crawled into your room, badly bruised and bloodied causing you to freak out. you immediately dropped your homework on your bed, racing over to the boy. he flashed you a weak smile as you set him up in your desk chair, trying to reassure you, but it was useless. as you fixed him up with whatever you could find in your first aid kit, you scolded him about not being more careful. he stayed silent and took it, knowing that you cared about him deeply and hated to see him in such a condition.

• randomly one night you asked why he still wore glasses even though his eyesight had been fixed after the spider bite. he claimed that it reminded him of how his life used to be, and he found comfort in the normalcy of it. you could never understand, but you emphasized and told him that the look was very attractive. jake couldn’t hide the blush that spread across his face.

• this boy’s metabolism is absolutely insane. if you cook dinner for the both of you, he has about four servings before he’s finally full. he’ll also eat all the snacks in your fridge, so it’s best to not get too attached to whatever’s in your fridge. it’s astounding to you how he still manages to keep his body the same, but you assume it’s because of his powers.

• he will go on the nerdiest rants ever and because you love jake so much, you listen. when it happens to be about physics or math, you kind of tune out, focusing on his puppy dog eyes and pouty lips. sometimes if he starts to ramble, you’ll lean over and kiss him, making the boy’s face flush red.

• patching jake up after his patrol usually ends up with the two of you making out on the floor. it doesn’t go very far when jake starts wincing because of whatever pain he is in, but you love the feeling of his lips on yours whatever chance you get.

• he almost lost you to one of the villains he was fighting and it had to have been the scariest experience of his life. jake could never imagine life without you, and seeing you injured simply because you knew spider-man made his head hurt. you tried reassuring him that you were alright multiple times, but jake didn’t listen as he cried and held you in his arms. it was a close call, and he wouldn’t have it happen again.

• despite his busy schedule with school and spider-man duties, he tries his best to make time for you and spoils you rotten when he can. he’s such a sweetheart and lives for the smile on your face whenever you see him.

• spider-man jake is truly the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

©neos127

[ziggyzolch]

Headache (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: If you could describe yourself in three words, they would be: little shit speedster. Causing trouble was your favorite pastime, and you've never been caught. That would change, however, when an angsty witch is assigned to capture you.Warnings: Cursing

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

❅❅❅

The stench of vomit and cigarettes fills your nose as you duck and hide in an alley next to a nightclub. Wiping sweat off of your forehead, you peek your head out of the alley and watch the police cars that were chasing you turn the wrong corner. After making sure the coast was clear, you let out a breath then fall to the ground in laughter. “Idiots.” You push out in between giggles.

Being a little shit was your specialty. From egging random houses to stealing the batons of unaware police men, there was nothing you weren’t up for. Graffitiing police cars wasn’t something you did often, but definitely what you had just done. You were adding the finishing touches, pubes, to the massive penis you just spray painted on the car when a cop finally noticed you. It was embarrassingly easy to outrun him, you can’t blame him though.

You discovered your superhuman speed the first time you got caught messing around, and your shit-headedness increased tenfold. The early years of your childhood were a mystery to you, only rarely getting short, useless flashbacks to being in a lab of some sort. You figured that's where your abilities came from, but in all honesty you didn’t really care. Whatever you didn’t remember was not your problem.

A good 3 minutes of laughing later, you catch your breath and sprint back to your dorm, ignoring the glowing red light at the corner of your eye.

❅❅❅

Walking into your dorm room, the first thing you notice is how cold it is. The door closes behind you, a red mist dissipating around it. Your eyes widen and you let out a quiet ‘What the fuck’ before the sound of your chair moving catches your attention. Your window was open. The first explanation you think of is that your roommate is playing a stupid prank. “You aren’t funny, Kate. Why are you even still up-” You pause, a figure suddenly appearing in front of you.

That is most definitely not your roommate.

They cover your mouth right when you're about to scream.

“Shh, she’s sleeping. Move.” The stranger, which you now know is a woman, turns you around and pushes you out of your dorm, her hand still covering your mouth. Your thoughts start racing. ‘What the fuck! I should’ve brought my rape whistle with me. This is definitely human trafficking. Couldn’t they kidnap me tomorrow, I have homework-’

The woman turns you around “Shut up! For fucks sake- ew!” She stares at you in shock. Did you just lick her hand? After an awkward stare off you finally speak, “Fuck you, rapist!” You turn to run when you’re stopped by a…red cloud?

You can hear her voice getting closer while she stomps towards you, “Don’t even try to run, and I’m not a rapist you little shit.”

“Let me go!”

“That’s not happening.”

“Yeah cuz you’re a RAPIST.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, “Tony told me you were a handful but I didn’t think it’d be this bad.”

“Yeah well…Fuck you and Tony!”

“Oh my god.”

“Rapist!”

“Enough!” You’re about to reply with another accusation when red fills your vision.

Wanda picks you up from where you passed out and sighs in exasperation. Tony’s in for a ride.

❅❅❅

Next Part

A/N: This is the first chapter! I'll probably upload more on AO3 and Wattpad, @ziggyzolch on both :)