#I’m probably just doing something wrong

[ladyfocalors]

Trappola's Guide To Winning (Your Heart)

summary: Ace overhears that you have a crush on someone, and for whatever reason, it bothers him. His solution? Offering to "help" you impress your crush, all while acting like he doesn’t care. His advice is half-serious and half-sabotage, but as time goes on, you notice his mood shifting.

pairing: ace trappola x gn!reader

warnings: miscommunication(?).

word count: 2.3k

ace trappola time! he is such a lying liar and a big denier. writing him was a bit tricky so i went a bit with my gut here. i will just have keep writing/reading about him until i get it! also thank you so much for the love on the riddle fic. i promise i read all your replies and reblogs! they make my day <3

Ace Trappola wasn’t the type to get so hung up on things (that was debatable). So when he overheard you telling Deuce and Grim that you had a crush on someone, he should’ve just let it go.

But he didn't.

"You have a crush?" he had repeated, standing behind you with his arms crossed.

"Were you eavesdropping?" You had turned around, startled.

"Not my fault you were talking so loud," he had shot back, avoiding the question. "Who is it?"

You had pressed your lips together, glancing at Deuce and Grim for help. Grim just cackled and said, "Why do you care? You jealous or somethin', Ace?"

Great question. Why does he care? And no, he was not jealous. Imagine being jealous of an idiot you liked! (He actually didn't know why he cared. Maybe because he was curious. Yeah. That was it.)

"I don't," Ace lied immediately. "I'm just shocked, that's all. I mean, really, Prefect? I thought you had better taste."

You narrowed your eyes. "You don't even know who it is."

"Exactly!" Ace threw up his hands. "I'm already questioning your judgment. What’s so great about this mystery person anyway?"

A small smile tugged at your lips. "I don't know. They’re just… fun to be around, I guess. They always know how to make me laugh."

"Sounds like an idiot." Ace scoffed.

"I like idiots."

Ace scoffed but found himself momentarily stunned into silence. That was the kind of thing people said when they were absolutely down bad, wasn’t it? His stomach twisted uncomfortably. Gross.

"Prefect, you should just ignore him," Deuce advised, probably sensing trouble. "He's just messing with you."

Ace was messing with you, sure. But also, not really. Kind of. His stomach was twisting in an unfamiliar way, a strange discomfort settling into his chest. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one bit.

Why did you have to go have a crush? Most importantly, why did he feel like he was losing to someone?

But he was Ace Trappola, and Ace Trappola didn’t lose. Not even to some mystery crush of yours. So he grinned, masking whatever this weird feeling he didn't want to feel was, and said, "Well, whoever it is, you’re in luck. Because, out of the kindness of my heart, I’m willing to help you win them over."

You gave him a questioning look. "Kindness? You sound like the Headmage with that talk."

"That hurts, Prefect. Comparing me to Crowley of all people?" Ace looked very offended.

"Well, forgive me for not trusting your kindness."

"Wow. No faith in me at all, huh?"

"Yeah, ‘cause you're totally not up to something shady." Grim snickered.

Ace shot Grim a withering look before turning to you. "Listen, I'm a romantic genius. Who better to help than me?"

You gave him a flat look. "I can think of a hundred people off the top of my head."

"Wrong," Ace said, leaning in with a grin. "You won't find better advice anywhere else."

"Okay, fine. I will take your so-called advice." You said with a defeated sigh.

Ace had won. Well, sort of.

Winning would be getting you to drop this whole crush thing entirely—something he was starting to want more and more as each minute passed. But for now, he’d settle for the next best thing: being the one you turned to for help.

That meant he had the advantage. That meant he could steer this however he wanted.

(And definitely not in the direction of some other loser getting your attention.)

"Alright, first things first: you gotta get their attention." Ace said, laying on your couch as you busied yourself with assignments, while Deuce peeked at your notes and Grim laid flat on the bed. "Make them notice you. You know, stand out."

You frowned at his words. "I feel like I already stand out. I'm the only magicless student in the whole school."

Ace waved that off. "Yeah, but that’s not the right kind of standing out. Make them curious about you. And you make them jealous."

"What?"

"You heard me." Ace said, tilting his head smugly. "Nothing gets people to realize their feelings faster than a little jealousy. Trust me, works every time."

Deuce looked dubious. "That sounds kind of–"

"–like bad advice?" you finished.

Ace scoffed, sitting up on the couch now. "C’mon, it’s basic psychology. If they see you getting cosy with someone else, they’ll start thinking, ‘Oh no, I’m gonna lose them!’ and boom, feelings unlocked."

"And how’s the Prefect s’posed to do that, huh?" Grim asked.

Ace shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe flirt with someone cool and charming." His grin widened. "Like me, for example."

You felt uneasy. It was stupid. You knew it was stupid. Ace didn’t know he was your crush, which meant you had no right to be upset. Still, hearing him offer you advice even if it sounded terrible and also offer himself so casually made your stomach sink.

You forced a laugh. "How noble of you to volunteer."

"What can I say?" Ace grinned. "I’m a giver."

Deuce frowned. "I don’t think lying is the best way to-"

"Okay, okay, plan B then," Ace cut in. "You should act a little harder to get."

"Harder to get?" you repeated.

"Yeah. Make them work for it." Ace leaned forward with an amused glint in his eye. "I mean, you’re not easy, right?"

Grim made a noise of disgust, and Deuce turned pink. "Ace, that sounds–!"

"I mean personality-wise, you weirdos," Ace huffed, cutting Deuce off for the umpteenth time. "Jeez, get your mind out of the gutter."

Ace ignored him and then turned to you. "But yeah, you should be a little distant. Y’know, act like you don’t care too much."

Act like you don't care too much. The words echoed in your mind. If he liked you, he would be jealous and wouldn't try to help you. Right?

It was fine. You would just take his advice and use it on him. After all, he was your crush. And if he really didn’t feel the same way, then at least you’d have your answer.

For the next few days, you followed Ace’s advice to the dot.

And Ace didn’t catch on. At first.

You made sure to get his attention, like he had said. Not in an over-the-top way, which would be very weird for you, but just enough to throw him off. Like sitting next to Deuce more often during lunch. Smiling a little too enthusiastically at other people. Being just out of reach whenever Ace tried to tug you into whatever ridiculous scheme he had cooking up that day. When he complained, you shrugged and told him, "I’m busy, Ace."

"Oh, busy now, huh?" Ace had scoffed, but he didn’t seem too bothered. Not yet.

The jealousy part took a little more effort, mostly because you weren’t great at flirting and Grim had outright refused to help you with any ideas, calling the whole thing "a pathetic excuse for a love scheme." But you had to be committed to the bit, so you pushed on, casually dropping compliments around Ace—never to him but always near him.

"Deuce, your hair looks nice."

"Jack is really strong, don't you think?"

"Isn't Silver so pretty? He looks like a prince."

Ace didn’t think much of it at first.

Well, he thought about it, but not in the way that meant anything. It was just weird, that’s all. A little annoying. Maybe a tiny bit irritating. But not because it bothered him. No, he wasn’t one of those weirdos who got all jealous just because their best friend was paying attention to other people. That would be ridiculous.

It was just that… who even complimented Deuce’s hair? Deuce had the most normal hair. And Jack? Sure, the guy was strong, but you sounded way too impressed about it. And Silver? Pretty? Like a prince? Okay, maybe, but why did you have to say it out loud?

And why were you so out of reach?

It wasn’t a huge difference, not really. Just enough that made him confused. He’d reach for your sleeve to drag you somewhere, and you’d slip away with some excuse. He’d call your name, and sometimes you’d brush him off.

It didn't matter, he told himself. (He told himself a lot of things lately.)

Things didn't change until Deuce had to smack him (not physically) out of the denial phase.

"You’re so obvious."

Ace blinked out of his daydreams. "What?"

Deuce stared at him like he was the dumbest person alive, which Ace took immediate offense to. He was not dumb. He just… hadn’t figured out whatever Deuce was talking about yet. Which wasn’t his fault, obviously.

"You like them," Deuce said, as if that explained anything.

Ace scoffed. "Duh, I like them. The Prefect is my friend."

"How do you know I was talking about the Prefect?"

Oh… crap. When did Deuce get so smart?

"Because who else would you be talking about?" He tried to play it off, but the heat rising to his face betrayed him. "You’re making weird assumptions, Deuce."

"You like them," Deuce repeated.

Ace let out a sharp laugh, crossing his arms. "You're insane. I don't, I helped them. With their crush. You think I'd do that if I actually liked them?"

Deuce gave him a long, exasperated look, then exhaled through his nose. "Okay. Let’s say you don't like them. Then explain why you have been sulking so much and acting so bothered?"

"I am not!"

"You nearly bit my head off when they complimented my hair."

"Well, maybe I don’t like lying," Ace shot back. "Your hair is just hair, Deuce."

Deuce’s eye twitched.

"And anyway," Ace went on, louder, "you’re ignoring the important part here. The Prefect has a crush. Not on me. So whatever you’re implying is wrong."

"No."

"What do you mean no?" Ace burst out. "What happened to backing up your friends?"

"You’ve been helping them impress their crush, right?" Deuce asked. "Then why does all your advice sound like sabotage?"

"That’s not–" Ace began, then stopped. The words stuck to the roof of his mouth, unwilling to come out, because… well.

He liked you.

Ace felt the world shift uncomfortably. That gross twisting in his stomach he had been ignoring for days? The irrational irritation every time you looked at someone else for too long? The fact that he had been so convinced that you having a crush was some sort of personal loss?

Everything made sense now.

"This is bad." he stuffed his hand into his pocket, turned on his heel and left his dorm, setting off on a long, aimless walk. Maybe fresh air would clear his head. Maybe it would make this realization feel less like a punch.

You didn't like him. You never told him who you liked and he was so caught up in denial that he didn't even bothered you to ask.

No, no. That wasn't fair. He liked you and made you follow his terrible advice (you didn't have to but you did). He already came so far and he didn't want to pretend he didn't like you.

The least he could do was be honest with you.

And, Ace Trappola wasn't a coward.

(Okay, maybe he was. A little. But not about this. Not about you.)

So after what was possibly the longest walk of his life, he turned back toward Ramshackle, his heart thudding against his ribs.

Ace had already spent enough time being an idiot. He wasn’t going to waste another second.

You had just finished dealing with Grim’s latest round of whining about dinner when a knock at the door made you pause.

You weren’t expecting anyone. Grim was still sulking about his empty stomach, so with a sigh, you moved to open the door, only to be met with the last person you expected.

"Uh," you started. "Are you in trouble with Riddle–"

"I like you." The words left his mouth before he could stop them. He looked vaguely horrified, like he hadn’t planned on saying it so fast. But now that it was out there, he couldn’t take it back. "Like, really like you."

You froze at the admission.

Ace sighed but continued. "Look, I get it, okay? You like someone else, and I already dug my own grave, but I had to tell you. Because, because if I didn’t, I’d be lying, and it sucks, and–"

"Ace–"

"–I mean, I probably made things worse by trying to help you and made you follow bad advice, which is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and–"

"ACE!"

He finally shut up.

You exhaled, heartbeat loud in your ears. "You are my crush. I used your advice on you, idiot."

He stared at you, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"Huh?" he said, very eloquently.

You rolled your eyes but smiled. You moved ahead to pull him in a hug. He immediately froze, standing stiff as a board. It took a few seconds for his brain to finally catch up to him and he returned your hug with a laugh.

"So all of that–"

"–was me following your advice." you finished his sentence, pulling back enough to look at his face. "You sabotaged yourself without realising it."

Ace groaned dramatically, letting his hands drop to his sides. "I played myself. I actually played myself!"

You laughed, shaking your head. "But at least now you know I like you back?"

Ace looked at you, then his usual cocky grin came back to his face. His hands settled awkwardly on your arms. "Yeah… yeah! Of course you like me. Who wouldn't fall me?"

You smacked his arms away. "Don't get too smug about it. Just be grateful I like idiots."

He could only smile at you, happy to have you back again.

He felt lighter, his heart fluttering with joy.

© ladyfocalors

[syluxs]

a moment of boldness

pairing: sylus/reader

summary: you and sylus have always been just friends--flirty friends, sure, but still just friends. that is, until you "accidentally" text him a request for a sexy picture.

notes: the banner used below is from starmocha

it was late, and you were feeling extremely bold.

sylus had always been your favorite person to flirt with--effortlessly charming, sharp-witted, and just cocky enough to make it fun. but tonight, for reasons you’d blame on exhaustion (or maybe just boredom), you decided to take things a step further.

so you sent the text.

y/n: send me something sexy :)

you stared at your phone, heart pounding. you could still unsend it. you could say it was a joke. or--

ding.

sylus: Did you mean to send this to me?

you bit your lip as you tried to suppress a smile, trying to decide how to play it off. before you could type a reply, another message popped up.

sylus: Should I be honored?

oh, he may be enjoying this.

y/n: oops. my bad. wrong person.

a lie. a stupid, dumb lie. but maybe it would save you from complete embarrassment, the feeling of regret and shame suddenly starting to bubble up in you.

sylus: Shame. I was just about to take my shirt off, too.

you stared. he was definitely messing with you.

y/n: oh don't let me stop you.

sylus: Oh? But it wasn’t meant for me

y/n: i mean, if you really wanna send one, i won’t stop you.

y/n: this is actually strictly for scientific purposes

you could already imagine the smirk on his face through the screen. sylus loved teasing you, and this was prime material. you pictured him leaning back, phone in hand, eyebrow raised as he typed out his next message.

sylus: Oh, so this is about science?

y/n: yep. purely educational.

sylus: Interesting. What exactly are we studying here?

y/n: so the effects of good lighting on abs?

a pause.

then--

sylus: You know, if you wanted to see me shirtless, all you had to do was ask.

your face was burning. he was having way too much fun with this.

sylus was ridiculously attractive--something you’d been painfully aware of since the moment you met him. it was one of the main reasons you even entertained this back-and-forth in the first place. you weren’t the type to flirt for fun unless there was at least something there. and with sylus? yeah, there was definitely something.

but that didn’t mean you were about to let him have the upper hand.

y/n: ok fine.

y/n: i’m asking.

another pause. you stared at the typing indicator, your heart doing somersaults. then--

ding.

a photo.

you clicked it open, and--oh.

the lighting was almost too good, casting sharp shadows and highlighting every inch of his defined muscles. sylus was sprawled across his bed, one arm propped behind his head, the other was holding his phone at just the right angle. his shirt was completely gone, probably tossed aside somewhere out of frame, leaving his toned chest and sculpted abs completely exposed.

if this was someone else, you would've immediately blocked their cringey and sleazy ass. heck, you won't even bother sending them a message in the first place.

but this is sylus. and sylus is... sylus.

his skin was golden, the warm light accentuating the dips and curves of his lean, athletic build. every ridge of his stomach was sharp, his v-line disappearing beneath the waistband of his... boxers? honestly, you weren't sure as you've never seen him wearing sweatpants or the likes. jeans were the most casual piece of bottoms you've ever seen him wore. anyway, whatever it was, it hung just low enough to make your mouth go dry.

his hair was tousled, just messy enough to look effortlessly perfect, like he had just run his fingers through it. strands fell across his forehead, making him look even more attractive.

but it was his expression that sent a rush of heat through you.

he wasn’t just smirking. he also has this half-lidded gaze, sharp yet lazy, look in his eyes, like he knew exactly what effect this was going to have on you. one side of his lips was curled upward, his jaw sharp enough to cut, and his entire posture screamed unbothered confidence.

it was a picture sent to ruin you. and it was working.

your brain short-circuited, hand flying to cover your mouth.

sylus: Scientific enough for you?

you swallowed. you could play this cool. you had to play this cool. you need to play this cool.

y/n: hmmm

y/n: needs further study

sylus: Oh? So you need more evidence?

y/n: obviously.

sylus: you’re insatiable.

y/n: and you love it.

sylus: I do.

your breath hitched. why did he not say something snarky? his reply felt like… more than just flirting.

before you could overthink it, another message popped up.

sylus: So… Still just friends?

your breath was caught in your throat. it wasn’t the first time he’d said something like this--little comments, teasing remarks that almost sounded serious.

sylus had always flirted like it was a game, but sometimes, just sometimes, it felt like there was more to it. like he was waiting for you to pick up on something you kept ignoring, 'cause why the hell would sylus want anything more with you? what would he even get out of this? he's sylus--gorgeous, tall, rich, he has everything. you were just… well, not to sound insecure, you.

so you did what you always did. you brushed it off.

besides, if he wanted something more, he will need to be more direct as you're not the type to just assume things.

y/n: friends who do scientific research together!! :DD

the typing bubble appeared. then disappeared.

you stared.

was he actually thinking hard about what to reply? sylus never hesitated. he always had a response ready, always knew exactly what to say to keep the conversation rolling, to keep you flustered.

but this time, he was pausing.

when the typing bubble popped up again, your heart pounded.

then--

sylus: Hm, okay think I like this study group.

your stomach flipped.

y/n: yeah….... me too.

you exhaled, staring at the screen a second longer than necessary. this was just how you and sylus were--pushing, teasing, toeing a line neither of you acknowledged. and yet, something about this felt different. seriously, you asking, and him sending a topless picture? is that still playing around?

this time, sylus didn’t reply right away. a full minute passed. then another.

you were overthinking, just because he always never lets you be the "last chat".

your phone buzzed. not a text.

a call.

sylus.

you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

you hovered over the answer button, heart racing. shit, your hands were even trembling a bit. from excitement? from nervousness? who knows.

then, before you could stop yourself, you picked up.

"so," his voice came through the speaker, smooth, amused, but lower than usual. "do you need a minute, or are you done losing your mind over me?"

your stomach flipped violently.

no, you were not gonna let him have the upper hand.

"w-what?" you stammered, cursing yourself immediately. and hung up.

but you were too flustered to speak with him right now.

sylus had always been a gentleman--not in an obvious, in-your-face way, but in the way that mattered. he never pushed, never demanded, never made you feel like you owed him anything. you never said it out loud, but you always appreciated that about him.

and even now, after sending you that picture, he wasn’t asking for anything in return. no sly requests, no hints that you should even the score. nothing.

maybe he just wasn’t interested like that. maybe this was just another game to him.

sylus was a lot of things--cocky, insufferable, too smooth for his own good--but he was also a big consent king. if he wanted more, he’d want you to say it first.

he didn't even hint that you should return the favor.

but now, you were thinking about doing it anyway.

your fingers twitched. would it really be that crazy?

he’d been teasing you all night, knowing exactly what he was doing. but what if, you turned the tables on him?

what if you made him flustered?

[slutoru1207]

No Goggles Mark x Reader

imagine Mark finds you first—but he’s not the same. And he’s not letting you go.

The world was eerily still. The kind of quiet that felt wrong.

You weren’t sure why you had stopped walking. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was that strange, gnawing feeling deep in your gut.

Or maybe it was because something was watching you.

A shadow flickered above the crumbling rooftops. You barely had time to blink before he landed just a few feet away, the impact cracking the pavement beneath him.

Casual. Effortless.

Like he wasn’t even trying.

Your breath hitched.

No goggles. No hesitation. Just those golden eyes locked onto yours, gleaming with something unreadable.

Then—

“Oh. Hey.”

Your stomach flipped.

Because his voice?

Way too casual.

Way too normal.

Like he wasn’t standing in the middle of an abandoned city staring at you like he’d just run into an old friend.

Like he hadn’t been missing for months.

Like he hadn’t—changed.

“…Mark?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

His head tilted slightly, his eyes flicking over you like he was trying to piece something together.

Then, just as quickly—

“Oh wow. This is crazy.”

His expression brightened—like actually brightened, a crooked grin tugging at his lips as he stepped forward.

“You’re real,” he said, almost in awe. “That’s wild. Like, seriously, what are the odds?”

Your heart pounded. What?

“I mean, you could’ve been a hallucination.” He gestured vaguely, his movements animated—too animated. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Probably not the last, either.”

A laugh—a real, genuine laugh—bubbled out of him.

And it was terrifying.

Because it was him.

But it wasn’t.

Your hands clenched at your sides. “Mark, what happened to you?”

He blinked.

Then, in one smooth motion, he closed the distance between you.

Way too fast.

Way too close.

And suddenly—his face was inches from yours.

His golden eyes narrowed slightly, his head tilting just a little to the side.

“…Huh.”

You swallowed hard.

“…Huh?”

He stared at you for a beat longer before—grinning.

Like he’d just figured something out.

Like he knew something you didn’t.

“This is weird,” he mused, tapping his chin, his other hand still casually tucked into the pocket of his suit. “Like, I remember you. I really do. But the details are all fuzzy. Like a dream, y’know? Or maybe a really bad WiFi connection.”

He gave a shrug.

A shrug.

Like this wasn’t some life-altering moment.

Like he hadn’t been gone.

Like you hadn’t been searching for him for months.

Your throat tightened. “Mark—”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong.” He held up a hand, as if stopping you mid-sentence. “I know you were important. Really important. And I’m, like, 80% sure I loved you.”

A pause.

Then—

A slight smirk.

“Maybe even 85%. But, y’know. Math was never my strong suit.”

Your stomach dropped.

He was joking.

JOKING.

Like this was just some normal conversation.

Like he hadn’t just ripped your heart out with his words.

Your hands trembled. “You’re not the same.”

His grin didn’t fade.

If anything—

It widened.

“Ohhh. That’s a classic,” he said, nodding sagely. “'You’ve changed.’ Super dramatic. Very cinematic.”

He gave a mock shudder.

“God. If I had a nickel for every time I heard that, I’d—well, I wouldn’t need nickels. Because I can just take what I want. But still.”

A chuckle. A real, amused chuckle.

You wanted to throw up.

Your Mark—your Mark—was gone.

And this Mark?

This Mark was laughing.

Your stomach twisted. Your fingers curled into fists at your sides.

“I don’t believe that.”

He arched a brow. “Oh?”

“You’re still in there,” you whispered. “Somewhere.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“…Damn.” His expression flickered with something unreadable, his tongue clicking against his teeth. “You’re really going with that one, huh?”

His voice dropped.

That light, teasing tone? Gone.

And suddenly—

You weren’t looking at Mark anymore.

You were looking at something else.

“I mean, I get it,” he continued, voice smoother now, almost mocking. “That whole ‘I know there’s good in you’ thing? Classic. Timeless.”

He leaned in just a little more, his breath ghosting over your skin.

“But you wanna know the best part?”

Your pulse pounded.

His fingers lifted, barely grazing your jaw.

“I don’t need to change back.”

Your breath hitched.

“I don’t even need to remember everything about us.” His lips barely curved into a smirk.

“Because I already know how this ends.”

Your heart stopped.

His golden eyes locked onto yours.

“You’ll stay.”

The words weren’t a question.

They weren’t a plea.

They were a statement.

Inevitable.

Final.

Because in his mind—he had already won.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Can't Have One Without the Other 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your marriage is on the rocks.

Note: I asked about husbands and all your hoes said Bucky (with a few Sy's in the middle). I wasn't intending on a whole series but I thnk it would be fun to have husband!Bucky turn a bit desperate.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Living alone is tough. You've always found that it's best to keep a routine. Not too strict, you have to make room for spontaneity. You can't let the days turn grey. Take them one at a time but don't count them.

You haven't been to the cafe in a while. It's been longer since you came alone. Still, the house was too constricting, your home office like a cell, You can get some work done over a cappuccino, maybe even get a bit of pep. 

Lately, you've been exhausted and you shouldn't be. You're in bed so early that you're usually knocked out around eight or nine. You fall asleep in the glow of the television, watching some ridiculous syndicated drama. It's just enough to keep your frustration from fermenting.

Routine. Wake up, ready, eat, work, forget to stop for lunch, only walk away from the screen when your eyes are dry and you can't stop yawning, give up on the healthy home meal and order in. Sleep alone with your rings on the nightstand.

You taste the cappuccino and sigh. It's sweet but the delight it brings is bitter. That's the happiest you've been in weeks and it's because of a damn espresso.

You pick up your pen and go back to shading. There's nothing there. It used to be that your work made you smile. Art used to be your haven. Now it's the only thing keeping you from thinking too much.

"Oh, what are we working on?" The stranger asks as he nears your table. You retract your pen and reluctantly look up. "An artist in the wild."

Ugh. You should be flattered. It's obvious the man in his cycling gear is flirting. Or trying to.

"Just work. Need it done by three," you explain curtly, hoping he takes the hint.

"Oh, wow, you get paid for that?"

You hesitate, "um, sure."

"I don't mean--" He cringes, "anything by it. It's good. I just... most people would love to be paid for their passion."

Passion? What even is that? You look down at the panel and shrug. The series needs to be killed. It was well past sense long ago. Now the writer is only writing for the paycheck and you're not doing much different.

"I know you already have a drink but maybe I could treat you to something from the bakery. I love their scones," he suggests.

You have to swallow a scoff. The guy's nice. He's not doing anything wrong. It would be flattering if it was another time, another context. If he wasn't offering to add another layer to padding around your middle. The rolls you can't even call love handles because they only make you hate yourself.

"That's sweet but--"

"But she's married," a deeper voice undercuts.

You flinch. You glance up as Bucky approaches. He could probably hear the awkward interaction before he even entered. You're not concerned about that, but you are unnerved to see him there. To see your husband for the first time in a month without warning.

"Oh, uh," the guy rubs his neck and backs up, eyeing Bucky's metal arm. "Sorry, I--" The man chokes on his tongue and quickly flees, forgetting the bakery treats as he flits through the door. He fumbles outside to unlock his bike and you watch him with a frown.

"He was being friendly--"

Bucky drops into the seat across from you, "to my wife."

"I was about to tell him," you set the pen against the tablet so the magnet snags.

"Oh, about to show off your rings?" He nods to your hand. Naked. You left the bands by the bed.

"I forgot. Late night," you shrug. "You didn't tell me you were on your way back."

"I wanted to surprise you," he leans forward and puts his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together. "Looks like I got the surprise. You're not home. You're here, flirting with bike jockeys."

"I wasn't doing that," you shake your head. 

The accusation is scalding. Does he not remember the girl who didn't realise he was flirting for a whole year? Not like he was ever very good at communicating.

"How was the mission?" You ask evenly. You hold back the resent, tamp down on the promises he made that he wouldn't be away that long again. It's not use hiding, he can hear your pulse, but you still do.

He sighs and reaches for your cappuccino. He takes a sip. His thoughts weave between his brows as he tastes it and gulps tightly. Another thorn in your side. He could eat the whole damn display's worth of scones and muffins and not gain an ounce. That small coffee will cling to you.

"Long. Bullshit," he answers. "Good to be back."

You nod. You can't speak. If you open your mouth, it will all tumble out. He won't apologise so why are you going to make it an issue?

"Well, I'm almost done here," you fold over the cover of your tablet. "If you wanna finish that," you point to the cup.

His cheek ticks. He squints. He leans in further and slides the cup back to you.

"'Welcome back, honey. So happy to see you,'" he snarls derisively, "'I love you, husband.'"

The last consonant is sharp. You wince. You shrink in your chair as you keep your hands on the tablet.

"You surprised me, Bucky. Really." You sniff, "I missed you."

He stares at you. That same look that convinced a young girl he was annoyed by her. That assured you he didn't care about those stupid lines you made on paper, the drawings of Victorian figures and fantastical maidens. The one that melted away drop by drop. The ice is back in his eyes. Or maybe this time, it's in yours.

"Miss you too, babe," he pushes himself back in the chair.

You grab your bag and slide the tablet inside. You rest it in your lap and grab the cup. You drain it as the flavour turns sour in your mouth. Bucky huffs and stands before you can.

"Come on," he says, "let's go find those rings."

You stand and hook the strap of the bag over your head. You send him a look, "really, I forgot."

"Seems like," he grabs your hand. "Forgot a lot."

He drags you to the door. You put your head down as you let him. The insinuation in his words strangles you. Is he really that obtuse or is this projection? You're not the one who forgot this marriage.

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

~{Heyyy, so I got this idea from This post by @nightingale-prompts so all credits go to them and I hope this is somewhat good and I’m sorry if I butchered it}~

•Demon Boy•

The YJL has failed to stop the cult summoning.

Wait let’s go back for a second and see how we ended up here. The last mission the YJL was on was….a disaster to put it shortly but now is not the time to unpack all of that so their mentors thought it would be safer to put them on a very low risk mission with little to no risk of fighting.

And this was met with less then pleased reaction so here the YJL was in a random town in between Gotham and Metropolis that has only ever had petty crime and the very race villain coming through to get any from the hero’s and the YJL was bored and they thought that they were just going to be here with nothing to do until the could go back to the watchtower and give the most bland report in the history of hero’s.

Until Raven felt a very powerful sudden change of magical power, She immediately told the others and they started to run to where it was coming from which was a very old warehouse and the doors were locked.

So with some help from YJL members who can fly they all got onto the roof where luckily there was a large roof from years of being open to the elements for many years, that’s when they see the group of the probably cultists around a summoning circle and by the looks of it the YJL have to work fast.

So the YJL drop down from the roof and a fight breaks out as some more cultists were in the blind spots from the hole in the roof ~{We’re just going to skip over the fighting as I am terrible at writing that lol}~

The YJL got the cultists down.

Well some are passed out while others are bond with rope that Robin has for…some reason while the more responsible members were talking about how they would explain to their mentors why they didn’t call them immediately but that was cut short as they had apparently missed one as they heard some movement and they saw the most likely head of the cultists put a bloody hand in the circle and it started to fill with a black tar like substance. The YJL all jumped by ready to fight whatever came out of the circle.

The tar from the circle started to make a more humanoid shape and it looked like it was trying to take the shape of someone around the YJL age and after a few seconds the tar shattered like glass with a golden glow and a screech that made everyone cover their ears from the body the tar had made.

The boy? Had short black hair with a few strands of hair being white and he had tired glowing gold eyes, He wasn’t wearing anything on his body but some bits of the tar stuck to him and luckily covered his bits and he had gold markings all over his body.

While the YJL are trying to think about what the hell just happened the boy look to them with tired eyes and equally tired smile and said “Oh Hey~”

…..

OH NO HES HOT

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Background•

Danny was just catching up with some much needed sleep in his Lair

After about the second year of being a halfa he with Jazz told their parents (With Sam and Tucker outside with a Go-Bag in case this goes down hill) about Danny being Phantom and they were both very surprised and very upset with themselves for fighting him and all the things they said around him and than when Danny asked why they were not upset with him for being a ghost and they said that they love him even if his a ghost because he’s there son no matter what (and no Jazz he is not crying!!)

Maddie and Jack after calming down enough immediately start to go through all their ghost hunting stuff and make it safe for Danny to be around and grab all of their research and put it into box’s and stuff that shit into the attic to never see the light of day again and everything felt perfect for Danny.

Until the G.I.W did something dumb.

They had made a shity bomb that can somehow actually damage the earth very badly if even one thing goes wrong out of some outdated Fenton tech they still had after Maddie and Jack cut all ties with them and they some how got a hold of the blueprints from the portal and remade it and they sent the bomb into it.

You can guess how that went

So now everyone from that planet is dead most people just fade as in their life they didn’t come into contact with ecto but guess who did, The Fentons +Sam and Tucker so now we have

•Jazz who running around the Ghost Zone giving therapy

•Sam who is going with Undergrowth to random world and beating the shit out of people who destroy the environment

•Tucker who is now intuned with his past lives and going to find the people who took his stuff

•Maddie and Jack also running around the Ghost Zone trying to learn as much as possible

And while the others are doing this Danny is just chilling in his lair getting some much needed sleep until he hears the bubbling of tar and the hum of a summons…

Why can’t Danny just SLEEP.

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Little Facts•

•Like in my Misunderstanding Vampire Au where the Etco looks green in Danny’s world it looks gold in the DC one and for plot convenience and because it would be fucking funny for me Danny doesn’t really notice the difference

•I headcanon that the Ghost Zone is semi-sentient but no thoughts just vibes so when it feels something is going to attack it it just sends it back at them and the Ghost Zone makes whatever is trying to hurt it a power up so when it get sent back whoever did knows not to pull that shit again

•Danny isn’t an Ancient, he’s just chill

•Fade means they didn’t become a ghost while Faded means true death for a ghost

•The YJL are having a Time right now

•Danny just wants to sleep god damn it

•Maddie and Jack are living their best afterlife

•Tucker is wondering why so many people just had his things like what the hell?????

•don’t worry Dani is here to! She’s just jumping worlds to see what she can find right now she’s traveling with two brothers and a angel for some reason

-•—••••••••••••••••—•-

•Appearances•

Danny- isn’t wearing anything

~{And that’s it! Hope I did this well anyway got to go and terrorize some of the assholes from the church with the local witch coven byeeeeeee}~

[gublernatural]

spencer’s hand traced up her side, pulling her impossibly closer to his chest. her hands were resting comfortably against his chest, basking in the firmness of his peck muscles. spencer’s thigh were pressed against, searching for friction anywhere he could find it. spencer is unsure of where his body ends and hers begins, too entranced by the feeling of her lips firmly against his.

it was messy; a rushed, spitty, spur of the moment make-out session upon spencer’s return from an absolutely brutal case, that had lasted over a week. to say she was desperate for him was an understatement. she’d been literally dreaming of his return since the day he begrudgingly pulled himself from the warmth of her comforter. she remembered watching him search for the dress pants he’d arrived in, needing something to wear until he could get to his “go-bag”, which he’d left at the office in a rush to make it to her place in time for their friday night movie night.

spencer slid his right hand to the back of her, attempting to press her even closer. as his hand settled just underneath her jawline, spencer pulled himself away, just for a brief second to mutter: “jesus, honey,” in exasperation. his lips were back on hers before she even really comprehended what he’d say. as his expression clicked in her brain, she jerked away, suddenly nervous that she was doing something wrong.

with blown pupils and a beautiful confused face, she looked up at him, “did i do something wrong?”. if spencer wasn’t ridiculously hard in his slacks, he probably would’ve coaxed over to the couch, sat her down and discussed the worry that was apparent on her face. “no, baby,” he cooed, stealing a quick peck from her. could you blame him? “your heart is just beating so fast,” he clarified as he traced his thumb over his jawline, emphasizing his palm that was pressed against her pulse point.

without hesitation, and a bit rushed, she spoke, “oh, i’m just excited,”. her lips were against him before his cheeks could redden at the idea that she was so excited to be kissing him that her heart rate was significantly increased. he smiled into this kiss, slowing down just a tad. he was excited too. and he was excited to show her just how much.

[daryltwdixon]

Would you write something for Joel where he is patching reader up after a patrol gone wrong, lecturing her about how she should be more careful and stuff, and eventually they end up kissing?

Joel Miller x Reader drabble

Jackson!Joel, fluff, protective, slightly angry, Tommy cameo, reader is hurt: mentions of blood & first aid notes: Hiii thank you for your patience I know this has been in my inbox for forever 😅 hope you guys don't mind I've been doing blurbs/drabbles for requests lately! the creative juice is on E and keeping them short & sweet lets me have more fun!

Your boot slips on the mess of red beneath you—a smattering of blood you’re trying really hard to forget is your own. Your hand presses against your ribs, your shirt torn and soaked through by the time you stumble through the door of the small shed.

"Sit down," Joel orders, voice rough. It’s not a request. He’s already pressing a hand against your shoulder, forcing you onto a storage bin in the dust covered shelter. The plastic groans under your weight.

"I’m fine," you argue, wincing as the words pull at the wound.

Joel scoffs, shaking his head as he kneels in front of you. He’s still catching his breath, hair damp at the temples, hands stained in blood that’s not his own. His fingers press against your side, peeling back your shirt, his touch gentler than his words.

"You don’t get to say that." His voice is sharp, angry, "Not after what you just pulled."

You don’t answer, don’t argue. He’s right. It had been reckless. You’d put yourself between Tommy and an infected, took the hit so he wouldn’t. There hadn’t been time to think.

Footsteps pound outside, then Tommy’s shadow crosses the doorway. His eyes sweep over you, widening.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters under his breath.

"I’m fine," you hiss again.

Joel exhales hard, muttering something under his breath that you don’t catch, but you know him well enough to know exactly what it is. Something about stubbornness. About stupidity. Probably both.

Tommy steps closer, his gaze flicking between you and Joel, and for once, he’s quiet. He must see it—the way Joel is wound so goddamn tight he might snap.

“You’re losin’ a lot of blood,” Tommy mutters, glancing down at the crimson soaking through your shirt. He shifts his weight, slinging his backpack off his shoulder to dig for something.

“She knows,” Joel bites out before you can say anything, his hands already outstretched to take the first aid kit from his brother. His movements are sharp, precise—borderline aggressive—but his hands are steady. Always steady.

Tommy takes the hint, nodding once before backing toward the door. “I’ll keep watch.”

And then it’s just you and Joel.

The silence isn’t comfortable. It’s thick, suffocating, stretched tight between you like a tripwire waiting to snap.

His fingers press into your ribs, searching for deeper damage, and it takes everything in you not to flinch. Not from the pain (okay maybe a little bit from the pain), but from the way his jaw flexes when he sees the gash beneath the fabric.

“Should’ve let me take the hit,” Tommy had shouted earlier, before Joel had practically shoved him out the door of the building swarming with infected. And maybe you should have. Maybe you shouldn’t have thrown yourself into danger without thinking.

But you did.

Joel pulls a bottle of antiseptic from the kit, cracking the cap off with more force than necessary. He’s quiet, but you can feel his anger buzzing beneath the surface, pulsing like a live wire.

“This is gonna sting,” he warns.

You barely have time to brace before the liquid meets your skin, sending a sharp burn through your ribs. You hiss, gritting your teeth, but Joel doesn’t look up. He’s watching his hands, jaw locked so tight it might crack.

“You got a death wish?” He asks quietly, almost under his breath.

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“You heard me.” His hands are still on you, pressing gauze to the wound, but his gaze finally lifts, dark and unreadable. “’Cause that’s sure as hell what it looked like out there.”

Your lips part, but he’s not done.

“I don’t need you throwin’ yourself in front of shit for Tommy, for anyone.” His voice is rough, worn thin. “Damn sure don’t need you gettin’ yourself killed for it.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you admit. “It just… happened.”

Joel shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “That ain’t good enough.”

You should be frustrated. Maybe you are. But there’s something else underneath it—something thick in your throat as you stare at him. Because this isn’t just anger. This isn’t just him lecturing you for being reckless.

This is fear.

Joel’s hands curl against your side, the bandages warm against your skin, and for a second, you swear you feel him tremble.

Your breath stutters, "Joel—"

“No.” His voice is raw. “I can’t—” He exhales hard through his nose, shaking his head, gaze darting away like he’s already said too much. His hands work at the bandage, tying it off to keep the gauze in place. His fingers are rough, purposeful, but there’s something frantic in the way he moves—like if he just keeps working, keeps his hands busy, he won’t have to deal with whatever the hell is breaking open inside of him.

Your heart feels like it tightens in your chest. You want to tell him that you’re fine, but it’s a lie and you both know it. You want to tell him that it won’t happen again, but that’s a lie too.

So instead, you reach out.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, just enough to keep him there, just enough to stop him from pulling away.

He goes still.

Not just his hands—his whole body. His breath catches, his muscles tight beneath your touch. For a second, he just stares at where your fingers wrap around his wrist, like he’s trying to decide whether to pull away or hold on.

And then his shoulders drop, his body slumping forward just slightly. Like he’s exhausted. Like he’s done.

It’s not just anger, not just fear—it’s the man who has spent years keeping people at arm’s length because he knows exactly what happens when he lets them in. The man who tells himself, every single day, not to let this happen. Not to let himself care. Not to let himself love.

But then, for the first time in all the years you’ve known Joel Miller, he finally breaks.

The space between you disappears.

He moves fast, faster than you can process, his hands gently finding your jaw, like he’s trying to ground himself in the feeling of you, in the fact that you’re still here.

“I can’t lose you.” His voice is low, almost too quiet, like the words barely make it past his throat. But they hit you like a hammer, cracking through the wall he’s kept between you for so long.

Then, his lips crash into yours.

It’s not soft, not careful. It’s desperate, raw, laced with something you can’t name. Like he’s spent every moment holding himself back and has finally stopped fighting.

A sound escapes you, something caught between surprise and relief, but you don’t hesitate. Your hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until there’s nothing left between you but heat and the sharp edge of his breath.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes find yours, his breathing uneven.

“You gotta stop scarin’ me like that,” he murmurs, voice rough against your lips.

You manage a weak, breathless smile.

“No promises.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head, before kissing you again.

[naughtyneganjdm]

Closer

Summary: Being new to town, Y/N visits an old fashioned diner where one of the employees, Butch Slater, catches her eye. After their first meeting, she can't help but shake the feeling that she is being followed every night. When they finally have another encounter, it reveals secrets from her past and the truth about Butch Slater.

Characters: Butch Slater & reader (OC, third person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63811372

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, female reader, very horror themed, oral, bloody play, choking, smacking, spanking, knife play, unprotected p in v, rough sex, toxic relationship, ass play, anal, dubious consent, reader is a bit of a freak, depictions of Butch's kills, etc.

Notes: I had @meiplays ask me to write this and I started to write it a while ago, had life get in the way and then finally finished it. The italics in the story are meant as a flashback.

Moving to a new town was never easy for people, but it was something that Y/N felt like she had been doing her whole life. So it was never something she felt like she had a problem with. It was easy for her to fit in. All it took was finding the ‘it’ person for her and she was able to get along with people in that town like she had known them her whole life. That was her talent. Fitting in. Mostly because she had to.

“You should really stop staring,” one of her co-workers spoke from across the table they were sitting at in the local diner of the new city she had just moved to. The co-worker looked over their shoulder in the direction that Y/N had been staring to see the employee that was working the grill cooking the burgers. “You’re not supposed to focus on people’s scars. It’s rude.”

“I’m not…” she felt her throat go dry when the sound of a bell being rang had her sitting up straight at the booth they were seated in. “I’m not staring at his scar. It’s not even that big of a scar.”

Looking back toward the cook that was there, she felt her throat go dry while he prepared the next order. The sound of oil sizzling when he dropped something into the fryer had her jumping and the person sitting beside her laughed.

“You’re jumpy,” the co-worker teased causing her to let out a stressed breath. Still watching the cook, she took notice of how clean he looked. Dressed in all white with a black bow tie and black gloves on. It was meant to match the old diner that he was working at, but for a cook, he kept himself phenomenally clean. Lifting her stare to gaze upon his profile, she felt her throat go dry seeing the hint of his prominent dimples. A moment later, the cook turned and his hazel eyes met hers forcing her to look away. “What is it with him?”

“Nothing,” she lied, waving her hand about when the others laughed at her reaction toward the man behind the counter that was no question older than her.

“You’re not turned off by him, you’re actually turned on by the poor sap, aren’t you?” one of them spoke causing a round of laughter to burst out amongst the table provoking her to grow hot at the idea of them making fun of her. “If his face wasn’t already a mess by that scar eating up the upper right side of his face, how large do you think that age gap is?”

“There is nothing wrong with his face,” she defended him from afar, forcing herself to look down toward the table while the rest of those sitting at the table eyed over the cook. “And so what? A lot of people have daddy kinks and are into older men. I’m suddenly the only one that you’re going to mock?”

“Y/N, the only reason he works here is probably because he can’t get a job anywhere else with that gnarly scar over the side of his face,” one of them mentioned, sucking in a sharp breath when he got a good look at the scar that was near the cook’s temple and eyebrow area. “Then again, you aren’t going to find many job selections here with people dropping like flies.”

“What’s that?” she asked, smirking when the cook looked back at her again with his right eyebrow arching in curiosity. A salt and pepper colored beard covered his chiseled jawline. His graying hair was messy in comparison to everything else that was pristine on him.

“Oh come on. This town is known for people dying. You had to know that’s why you got such a good deal on the house that you did. The company is just desperate to get anyone with a college degree to work here. So they probably kept that information that people die like crazy here from you,” another one piped in, grunting when they noticed that she had locked eyes with the cook. In the moment she should have been listening to them tell her about the history of the town, but she was too busy gazing upon the older man that she had been looking upon earlier. “Why don’t you just call him over here?”

“Stop,” she frowned, burying her head into the palm of her hand when one of them whistled loudly. “Please don’t.”

Snapping their fingers had her groaning out when they managed to get the attention of the cook. With an odd expression, the man headed over toward the table and in his hand he was still carrying the cleaver that he had been using to cut things with.

“What can I do to help you fine folks?” he gave a half smile, his eyes falling upon Y/N when she dropped her hand slowly from her eyes. With a scrutinizing look, his eyes narrowed and he gazed upon her as if trying to remember something. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“You know, I was gonna ask you the same thing,” one of her co-workers spoke up having the cook’s eyebrows bounce up in amusement when he turned his head slightly to get a look at him. “I feel like I’ve seen your face somewhere, but I can’t place it.”

“I just have one of those faces,” the cook suggested with a grunt getting a few stray laughs from the table. Hearing them respond that way had his thick eyebrows bouncing up and a half smirk tugged at his features.

“Trust me Scar, your face is one someone wouldn’t forget,” her co-worker retorted provoking her to smack her hand down in over the center of the table causing all of them at the booth to jump. There was anger in her face that her co-worker shamed the cook for his physical deformity.

“Don’t call him that,” she demanded with an angered breath getting a snort from the co-worker that attacked the cook. “He has a name.”

“Ah, don’t worry. I don’t mind. But my name is Butch. Butch Slater,” he introduced himself, using his free hand to place it in over the center of his chest. A few of her co-workers snickered at his name and he managed to give one of them a side eye. “Is there something I can help you folks with?”

“Yeah Butch, Y/N here wants to know if you’re single,” the co-worker that had called out originally to him smacked at the center of her back causing her to tense up in frustration. “Apparently, she likes your look and is into older men. So how about it Butch? Are you taken?”

“Only by my job,” Butch responded, dragging his tongue out across his bottom lip when he heard the sound of someone calling out to him. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“I can’t believe you guys did that,” she sighed after Butch walked away from the table to go back to work. Lowering her head in embarrassment, she hated the way that they were acting. “It’s so damn immature.”  

“Nah, I think that was a good thing,” the co-worker that called him Scar spoke up. “I think he’s a creep. You should really stay away from him.”

“I think you’re a creep,” she balled up a napkin and tossed it at them, noticing that out of the corner of her eye that Butch was staring out at her. Their eyes locked and he bit down on his bottom lip. Forcing herself to look away, she went back listening to the others at the table talking, but she couldn’t help but be embarrassed with the way her co-workers treated Butch.

After that whole experience, she was eager to go home. During her walk home, she got the strangest feeling that she was being followed. But she realized that was a normal feeling she had since she made it to this town. That feeling of being followed always lingered, but you would look behind you and no one was there. It was just an eerie town.

Days passed after that moment at the diner. The one thing she did realize? The longer she was in that town, the more murders she was noticing. They weren’t kidding when they told her people dropped like flies here. It especially got strange in the coming days when a few of her co-workers were at the opposite end of a brutal attack. And that’s when she started to really pay attention. That sensation of being followed only increased for her.

On this night? She found herself walking home quicker than normal. Most of her walk home, she heard footsteps following her. Desperately she tried to convince herself that she was paranoid. That this was nothing other than a coincidence, but it did seem ironic that it was all of her co-workers that were winding up dead.

Once she got into her house, she was swift to lock up all the doors and windows. Heading into her kitchen, she let out a tense breath when she noticed that one of her drawers was open. One thing about Y/N? She was meticulous. That drawer was not open when she left this morning. Swallowing down hard, she eyed over the phone that was at the corner of the room.

Turning on her heel to reach for it, she felt the power of someone grabbing a hold of her making her hiss out. Falling backwards, she breathed unevenly when the strength of an arm wrapped around her neck. Struggling to stay up on her feet, she felt her body being dragged backwards toward the middle of the kitchen away from the phone.

“You’re something else,” a raspy voice grunted from behind her. What followed was the tip of a sharp kitchen knife digging at the flesh of her neck right under her jawline. “You’re a hard one to follow, y’know that?”

“Obviously not that hard,” she exhaled loudly, trying to push herself up onto her feet. Grunting out, an incredible amount of force spun her around. Fingers dug into her jaw causing her to wince with the pressure. A firm shove had her stumbling back and falling in over the center of her kitchen table. Items fell from the table when her eyes finally locked with Butch’s. He looked like he had the last time she had seen him. Wearing his pristine, white uniform that matched the older diner aesthetic. His eyelids were heavy while he stared down at her. By his steady breathing, she could tell that he wasn’t nervous or anxious at all. He was used to this kind of thing. Hissing out, she felt his fingers curling firmly around her throat.

“I remember you,” he grunted, dragging the blade slightly down the side of her face drawing out a wince from her as a line of blood followed. “It may have been a few years, but you’re not easy to forget. The moment I saw you, I knew…”

“You knew what?” she panted, her fingers curling around his wrist. Attempting to get up just led to him strengthening his grasp on her throat. By how strong the force was, it made her release a pained sound.

“You’re the one that got away,” he slurred, lowering down to drag the length of his tongue along the line of blood that was left over the side of her face from where he had cut her. Humming out, he gave her an arrogant smile and bobbed his head about. “Your hair may be different, but you haven’t changed much. I knew then it was stupid to leave you in that diner. I should have known you’d come looking for me.”

FIVE YEARS AGO

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” the frat boy Y/N had gotten into a fight with spat, leaving a line of blood dripping from his bottom lip. An arm was wrapped around Y/N’s waist pulling her back and away from the havoc that she caused. After a group of friends followed her out of the diner into the parking lot to harass her, it led to them getting in a fight. When the girls unsuccessfully attacked her, the men that were in the group took their shot. One of them ended up with a broken arm and on the ground in agony after she kicked him in the balls. The last one had grabbed her from behind and she had bit his arm to the point of breaking the skin before managing to bite at his bottom lip when he tried to choke her. “You’re done. You’re finished. Do you know who I am?”

“Enough,” Butch’s voice demanded of Y/N while she kicked in his arms trying to get at the last remaining man standing in the group after she kicked all of their asses.

“Yeah, you hold that crazy bitch back,” the boy scoffed, wiping at his bottom lip realizing there was an extraordinary amount of blood coming from the area she bit him. “We’re gonna get the police up here and deal with this.”

“Good luck with that. As far as I can tell this was self-defense,” Butch kept his arm firmly wrapped around Y/N’s waist while she fought him every step of the way. With his free hand, he pointed toward the old camera that was on the corner of the building. “That’s at least how the cops will see it when they get the footage.”

“Fuck you man. You two were made for each other,” the boy scrambled to reach for his friends working to get them up from the ground.

“I said enough!” Butch snarled at Y/N with her still trying to get at the boy threatening her. Squeezing his arm firmly around her showed that he meant it and she unhurriedly began to relax in his arms. Leading her back into the empty diner with him, he led her over toward one of the stools and forced her to sit down. “What was all of that out there? I thought those kids were your friends.”

“Fuck them, they’re all assholes,” she grunted under her breath, her eyes following Butch’s movement as he walked around the counter to reach for a clean cloth. Running it under the water, he moved back around to take a seat in front of her. Wiping at the cut that was under her eye had her wincing sharply and he smiled.

“How much of this is you?” Butch stammered dragging his thumb across her bottom lip that was covered with blood. Getting a closer look, he could tell that it wasn’t hers and it made him snicker. “You are a ball of fucking fire. Aren’t you?”

“I didn’t like the way they were treating you,” she explained swallowing down hard with Butch wiping at her bottom lip to get the blood from it.

“Why do you care so much?” Butch huffed, dropping his hand down at his side while still clinging to the cloth that was in his hand.

“Why do you care so little?” she countered, frowning at the idea of him consistently blowing off the way that the college kids in town treated him. They often frequented that diner because it was so close to the school and open later. And after seeing Butch, she was enamored with him. With his quiet nature and his ruggedly handsome good looks.

“Because I know they will get theirs,” he informed her shaking his head with his thick eyebrows furrowing. It had her huffing out and an involuntary smile tugged at his features. “I don’t worry about those things.”

“Well, I like you and I don’t like the way they treat you,” she alerted him, leaning against the counter when he stood up again and went to grab ice for her to put on her face.

“Why?” he inquired, lowering back down to his seat and outstretching his hand to place the ice in over her face.

“Because it’s wrong and it makes them assholes,” she scoffed eliciting him to chuckle again with the bridge of his nose wrinkling. “What?”

“I mean why do you like me?” he wondered, biting at his bottom lip when she grabbed a hold of the ice and put it to her face. “You know nothing about me.”

“I just can sense a presence in you,” she answered him, tipping her head to the side when she looked him over in the old-fashioned outfit that they had him in. “I think we’re kindred spirits.”

“I think you are so very wrong my dear,” he snorted, leaning back in his seat causing her to frown. “You have no idea what I’m like.”

“And yet, you’re drawn to me too,” she suggested setting the ice down on the counter beside her.

“Because you’re a customer,” he reminded her, getting up from the seat and moving around the counter again. Placing his hands on the edge of the counter, he stretched them out and braced his weight. “You’re a college student. I’m an adult. There’s quite an age gap between us.”

“I’m an adult too, thank you. I can drink,” she defended herself, getting an amused rumble in return from Butch.

“I’m not someone to be interested in,” he warned her, leaning back and folding his arms out in front of his chest. “I’m not really someone to get involved with people. Relationships, sex…it’s not my thing.”

“What is your thing?” she asked, genuinely interested since he seemed to be doing his best to blow her off.

“Murders mostly,” he answered her leaving a moment of silence between them until he cracked a smile. Rolling her eyes, she shook her head and went back to icing her face. “I really am a killer when it comes to relationships.”

“Well, maybe you haven’t found the right girl,” she thought aloud, standing up from the seat that she was in to head over toward the open area of the counter to move behind it.

“Customers aren’t supposed to be back here,” he educated her on the rules, pointing over toward the sign that was up on the wall. It made her snicker when she stood before him. Outstretching her hand, she placed it in over the center of his chest and made him suck in a sharp breath of air. “What are you doing?”

“Testing something,” she whispered, closing the distance between them. It was obvious when she pressed their bodies together that he was tense. Tipping up on her toes, she hovered her lips in over his having his eyelids growing heavy. The sound of his breathing grew louder and it made her smile. Faintly dragging her bottom lip in against his had his long eyelashes fluttering to a close. Starting off slow, she continued to press tender kisses there. Balancing her hand in over the center of his chest made him groan out when he finally started to kiss her back. His right hand lifted, his fingers grabbed a tight hold of her jaw as the kiss grew in strength. Snaking her hand between them, she palmed in over the front of his white pants drawing out a low rumble of a groan. “You’re getting hard. So I don’t believe you.”

“This doesn’t usually happen,” he explained, looking between the two of them when she started working open his belt. Swallowing down hard, he leaned in to nip faintly at her bottom lip. The sound of her purring out drew chills down his spine. “Is this what you do? Find older men to take advantage of?”

“Just you…” she hovered her lips in over his again, whimpering out when he hungrily stole a kiss from her with his tongue brushing out against hers. Managing to get his pants open, she reached inside to palm over his body through the material of his white boxer briefs that clung to his body. Tugging at the waistband and pulling downward allowed his hardening erection to bounce free. “Oh…wow.”

“Mhmm…” he hummed, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat when she lowered down to her knees in front of him. Licking her lips, she curled her fingers around the base of his girthy length. Lifting up enough on her knees, she brought the swollen tip to her lips and started to press wet kisses at the sensitive flesh. Staring down at her, he seemed emotionless in the moment as if he was trying to prove something to himself. By the time she took him into her mouth, it had his lips parting with his head tipping slightly back. Bracing his hand back on the counter behind him, his fingers curled firmly around the edge of it. There was no rushing this. She was incredibly focused on pampering the first few inches at first. Bobbing her head unhurriedly over him before pulling back, making sure to drag her tongue along the underside of his shaft. When her tongue would drag across the area where the underside of the tip met the shaft, it had his hips flexing forward toward her. “Fuck.”

Closing his eyes, Butch licked his lips and hummed out when she started to take more of him into her throat. They were confident, determined movements with her tongue lapping at his body working hard to get him near an orgasm. When he finally let out the first raspy moan, it sent chills down her spine. Working his pants down further with a tug, she used her free hand that wasn’t wrapped around his cock to caress at his testicles getting his thighs to flex at the sensation.

Wincing out, she felt his fingers sinking into her hair making sure he had a firm hold of it. In that moment, she felt the force of him pushing her further down his cock taking back a majority of him into her throat. With a gagging sound, her eyes slammed shut and she reached up to grab at his hips.

“Relax your throat,” he instructed, forcing her further down until her nose was buried against his groin. Moaning out, he kept her there with her turning a light shade of red. Her eyes were getting wet and by the time he finally let her go, she pulled away from his cock with a wet sound. Gasping for air left his hard cock bobbing in her face after what he had just pulled. Instead of stopping, she just caught her breath and then got back on her knees. This time she was a bit rougher in the way she gave him a blowjob working with both her hands and her mouth. Cussing out, he tipped his head back with his hands shakily trembling with how meticulous she was being in attempting to get him to come. The sound of something hitting the floor was heard and she look to see that it was the chef’s knife. “Don’t worry about it, don’t stop.”

Doing as she was instructed, she continued to pleasure him with his hips starting to bounce up toward her movements. Gratifying her with the most addictive sounding moans had her keeping up with the pace. Grasping at the back of her head, he didn’t force her this time to take more than she could handle. He just wanted to hold onto something.

Watching her closely, he could see her eyes slam shut when the first sign of his orgasm hit the back of her throat. Continuing to swallow around his cock had him bucking his hips up toward her. She wasn’t lacking, swallowing down every last drop of his come until he pulled her away from him with a wet popping sound filling the air.

What surprised her was how quickly he was pushing himself back into his pants and working them together. His breathing was still broken, but he appeared to be upset that he let things happen like that, “You need to leave.”

“Did I do something wrong?” she questioned gazing up at him with her big eyes. His eyes dropped to her wet lips and his Adam’s apple bounced uncomfortably in his throat. Reaching down, he grabbed a hold of her and firmly pulled her up from the ground.

“I said you need to leave,” he repeated with a hiss, pulling back together the belt in his pants.  When she wasn’t leaving, he hooked his arm around hers and led her toward the door. “I said leave!”

“You didn’t have as much gray back then,” she reminded him, getting his hazel eyes to narrow when instead of being scared she gave him a smile. “Nor did you have that scar.”

“Well shit happens,” he grunted, his fingers curling around her neck firmly in attempts to bring her to a panic over the fact that her life laid in his hands. Surprisingly enough, she didn’t look panicked, at all. Instead she just seemed amused which only interested him more. “How about you? Do you still have your scar?”

Keeping her down with his fingers curled around her throat, he set the knife aside and reached for the bottom of her shirt to push it up her abdomen. Like he remembered it, there was a scar left over her abdomen that made her suck in a sharp breath when his rough fingertips dragged across the flesh.

“You left me there to die,” she reminded him causing him to smirk with his thick eyebrows bouncing up as his stare lifted to her. “You stabbed me and then you left me in that building as it was burning to the ground.”

“Please don’t,” the frat boy that had threatened Y/N begged for his life with Butch standing over him. The woosh of the flames starting to grow around them made Butch take a quick look back at the fire that he started. After Butch had forced his co-worker’s face into the burning oil in the kitchen, the body had fallen causing the oil to spill out and easily start a fire in the diner. Scrambling backwards, the frat boy was whimpering when Butch started to approach him further. Butch had already made his way through all of his co-workers along with the other college students that had joined the frat boy in the diner today. Looking around, the frat boy searched for anything that could help him since he knew that he couldn’t overpower Butch. Strangely enough he had learned rather quickly that even though Butch was skinny, he was incredibly strong. “Why are you doing this?”

Silence followed, “Is this because I hit that bitch? Is that why you’re doing this? You’re angry that we ganged up on her?”

Again nothing. And it only made the frat boy whine more when he felt the booth slamming into his back from him crawling backwards. He couldn’t slide back any further, “Listen, do you want money? I can get you money. My father is rich as fuck. I can get you whatever you want. I promise we can��”

Cracking a smile, Butch raised his hand up bringing attention to the cleaver that he was holding onto. In that moment, the frat boy was going to continue to beg, but instead a final, firm swing of the cleaver left it buried in the flesh of the young man’s neck with a squelching sound filling the air. Admiring his work, Butch chuckled and pulled the cleaver out. The tugging motion caused a spray of blood to cover Butch’s white outfit in the dark crimson color. The sound of the body hitting the ground hard was heard when the puddle of blood started to surround Butch’s white sneakers.

A scratching metallic sound filled the air forcing Butch to look away from his last kill. Smirking, Butch’s eyebrow arched in curiosity when he headed over toward the table at the center of the diner. Using his strength, he flipped the table over and heard the gasp of Y/N when he found her hiding underneath it.

“Please,” she begged when he knelt down before her, his eyebrows furrowing when she looked toward the multiple bodies surrounding them.

Truthfully, she looked more battered than he would have liked her to be. Her right eye was swollen. There was a wound over her eyebrow that was bleeding extensively. And her bottom lip was split. When she came into the diner today, Butch had ignored her, which is what he had been doing since she had given him a blowjob that night. Instead of making a big deal of it, she ordered a soda and started studying in her normal booth. That’s really what started all of this. The group that Y/N had attacked the other night had come to the diner knowing that she would be there. And the boys had brought some of their friends from the fraternity. When they approached the table, Y/N made some sort of wise crack at them before they all started to gang up on her and attack her.

Originally, Butch had planned to drag this whole thing out, but it was all too easy when everyone was in the same place at once. Going to stretch out his hand had her shuddering away from him. What she had obviously seen was him killing everyone and it made him smile. “Please don’t.”

“I knew you were going to be my star as soon as you walked into the place,” Butch explained, licking his lips and giving her an arrogant smile. Humming out, he nodded over toward one of the cameras that was hanging up. Confused, she looked up in the direction wincing as Butch dragged his thumb out across her bottom lip to collect some of her blood. Bringing it up to his lips, Butch sucked the metallic taste from his thumb and then groaned. “The fans are just gonna love you. Your badass attitude. How hard you fought. How your want to protect me is what led to your downfall. Oh they are gonna eat it up…”

Outstretching his fingers, Butch grabbed the chef’s knife that was laid out across the floor that was dripping with blood. Wiggling his fingers at her, he motioned her forward getting her to let out a panting sound, “I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be a hard sell at first. The audience always loves the good girl, but then you proved you were a bit of a skank when you blew me. And as you know, in any good horror movie, the slut always has to die.”

Hooking his fingers into her hair, he yanked her head back and swallowed down hard when she winced, “But, then again…I came to realize that you weren’t the slut. No, I actually believed you when you told me I was the only man you threw yourself at. It didn’t take long for me to find out about the abuse you took when you were young from your piece of shit father. It explains your feelings toward me. Your rage. Your want to be accepted by an older man. An older man that you hardly know.”

“Star?” she finally spoke up, looking back toward the camera again shaking her head when he pressed in closer to her. “This…this is real life. Not some sick and twisted movie Butch.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Butch brought the blade up to his temple with a wicked smirk. Holding his hands out dramatically, he shook his head and sucked in a sharp breath of air. “This? This is the Hot Grease Massacre Part Two. Now with the first film, there were no standout characters. No one was really likeable. There were the typical helpless woman leads that deep down no one wants to root for. But you? You’re going to give them that hope. That want to see you live. It is gonna sell big.”

Crying out, she felt Butch tug her head back further when the sound of something exploding in the background was heard. With a dramatic expression, he looked back to her and gave her a large, wicked smirk.

“Of course, it’s gonna end the same exact way as the last. No survivors,” he informed her hearing the fear in the way that she was breathing when she tried to crawl back and away from him, but he wouldn’t allow her. “But they will get over it. It will last for a short time until they want their next fix of brutal murders and blood.”

“I don’t care that you killed these people,” she insisted, her lips parting with Butch tipping his head to the side. “I hate them anyways, I told you that I thought we were kindred spirits. You just did what I’ve always wanted to do but never had the strength to.”

“So now you’re a little serial killer in the making?” he prodded at her, pulling her into his arms, getting her to press her back against his chest. Wrapping his arm firmly around her throat had her whimpering out with her fingers curling around his arm.

“I really liked you,” she reminded him with a tremoring breath pulling out an amused rumble from his throat.

“Oh, I know and that blowjob is something I won’t soon forget. It’s not often that I find myself actually attracted to my stars,” he stated, dragging his tongue up over the line of her blood that was sliding down her face. A tremoring breath escaped her when he looked toward the camera again. “I think the blowjob is gonna be a great add to the film. People love sex and violence. You really did me a favor there. I don’t usually care for sex, so I wouldn’t have thought to put that in the movie. Nah, I don’t get off to the idea of fucking. I get more pleasure from getting to rewatch my kills. So you were a surprise.”

Lining the large knife up at the center of her chest had her gasping out when he raised it just enough, “What do you think? A swift plunge to the heart? It resembles a broken heart. I think it would be a beautiful ending if you ask me. A life full of pain. Your heart finally getting the last break.”

“You don’t have to do this,” she blurt out when it seemed like he was in fact going to stab her in the heart and it made him stop. “You can take me with you. I’ve got nothing here anyways. I hate everyone and everything.”

“I’m not ready for a sidekick yet,” he hushed her, stroking his thumb along the curve of her jawline. “Nah. I don’t think people would be ready for that.”

With a grunt, he felt the sensation of her biting into his arm and he groaned out when his grasp loosened from her. Taking advantage, she scrambled to her feet and ran for the door letting out a disappointed sound when it was locked. Hitting at it over and over again only brought out the most bone chilling laugh from Butch.

“I’m glad you’re fighting. I was worried after they attacked you that this would be all too easy for me,” he stood up from the ground, clutching tightly to the knife that was in his hand. “The chase is the best and most thrilling part.”

“Give me a chance to prove myself,” she begged of him, using chairs to put a distance between them. It had him dodging them when they moved throughout the diner. Half of it was burning down and she knew that there was nowhere for her to run. “You don’t scare me. I still like you and I think we can make this work. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” he hushed her with a tip of his head. “I’m just gonna hurt you.”

“Why? Because you like me? And that goes against your rules?” she snapped at him, getting around one of the larger tables having him staring out at her from the other side of it. “Someone comes along and actually makes you feel something for them so you have to make an example of them? Prove to yourself that you don’t have feelings for them?”

“You’re not gonna talk your way out of it,” he stressed to her, going to move around the table but she was quick to circle the table before heading back toward the counter. When she scrambled behind it, he swiftly followed after her letting out a disappointed breath when she held up the handgun that the owner had kept there. “Oh, that was smooth. Lemme guess, you saw that when you were down on your knees?”

Going to approach her had her shooting the gun in his direction, but purposely missing provoking him to let out a deep rumble of an amused breath, “Didn’t you ever hear that you shouldn’t bring a knife to a gun fight?”

“Oh, I like that. Maybe I’ll put that on the sleeve for the video tape,” he was amused with her comment holding his hands up with a shrug of his shoulders. “Go ahead. Shoot me.”

There was a long pause when the sound of some of the roofing falling down was heard. It only distracted her for a moment before she turned back to him again. Lowering the gun had him giving her a strange expression, “I’m using this as a gesture to prove to you what I mean. I don’t want to kill you. And whatever you are doing here? I want part of it. I have nothing to go back to unless I want to appease my abuser for the rest of my life. You’re the first person I’ve felt a connection to in a long time. I think you feel the same. You have a want to protect me.”

“I’ve been planning to kill you this whole time,” he smirked, tipping his head to the side with his eyes narrowing out at her. “It only hurts more when the person you thought you cared for turns out to be the man that is gonna kill you. Doesn’t it?”

“So you’re going to kill the one person that is the most like you?” she wondered, her face twisting with confusion. “You had the chance to kill me the other night when I was doing what I did, but you didn’t. You could have just let me die tonight, but you stopped them from killing me. You like me. And I think finding out about my past makes you want to protect me more.”

Setting the gun down on the counter, she pushed it out and away from her having Butch’s face scrunching up. Closing the distance between her and Butch had him tensing up before her. Shakily placing her hand in over the center of his chest she went to move in to kiss him but he stopped her. Instead he stared out at her and gave a big smile after a long moment.

“A final kiss never hurt,” he declared, lowering down enough to bring their lips together in a passionate sweep.

The warmth of the diner burning around them was hot, but instead of worrying about the potential of blowing up along with this building, he continued to kiss her. The taste of her blood still lingered on her lips, but as he brushed his tongue out against hers he didn’t seem to have a care in the world about that. Tipping his head back slightly, his eyelids were heavy while he stared down at her. Right now, he was speechless. And that didn’t happen much. How that kiss made him feel had him thinking things out.

Stepping in closer to her, he wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in against the side of her neck. Placing the knife above her back where he knew he would get her heart, he felt her fingers stroking at the back of his neck where the curls of hair were.

“You can teach me. You don’t have to be alone through all of this,” she whispered pressing a kiss against his earlobe, getting him to lower the knife. “I can help you. We can find a new place and…”

A gasp filled the air when her body jolted. An immense pain filled her lower abdomen and she dropped her head to see the blood that was now covering her light-colored shirt along with his hand. Butch had taken his time to bury the knife into her. Swallowing down hard, her eyes lifted to his and she could see that his hazel eyes were gazing upon her wanting to experience her every emotion. A moment later, he pulled the knife from her body and dropped it to the floor. Grasping her in his arms as she went to fall, he lowered down with her to her knees. Hushing her, he curled his fingers around the back of her neck and stroked at it with her falling in against his shoulder. With a half smile, he helped lay her back against the ground feeling her shaking in his arms.

“Good girl,” he praised her, dragging his thumb out across her bottom lip. Kissing her one final time, he stood up from the ground and stared down at her until her vision faded to a black.

“Is that what I did?” he grunted, a muted laugh escaping his throat when he reached for the knife again. Dragging it across her abdomen under her belly button with a small amount of pressure broke the skin. An excited breath escaped him at the sight of a few blood drops sliding down her flesh from the small wound. “Funny how I brutally killed everyone, but you that night. You didn’t think it was strange that I stabbed you in an area where there were no major organs or blood vessels? Originally, the plan was to stab you in the heart.”

“So you’re saying you didn’t leave me to die?” she winced when he lowered his head to drag his tongue along her skin to collect the blood. Groaning out, his eyes came to a tight close at the taste of her. “I’m lucky I’m not burned from the fire or dead.”

“Six films and you’re the only one that I never finished the job with,” he educated her on what he had filmed causing her to let out a shuddering breath. “Strange, isn’t it?”

“You know, it took a while to find one of the video stores that carried your films,” she informed him, getting him to lift his head up to stare out at her. “Where I watched every single one of your movies. And you’re right. I’m the only one you kept alive. I also noticed that you kept the blowjob out of the second movie.”

“Well, some things were made to stay personal,” he suggested with a wicked smirk, giving her a wink. “Not that I didn’t keep that shit for myself. Y’know, sex never really did it for me. But there was something about you…that always made me so hard.”

“And are you hard now?” her eyebrow arched in curiosity eliciting a deep rumble of an amused sound from his throat. Dragging his tongue out across his bottom lip, he set the knife down again and pulled her to the edge of the table stepping between her thighs. Leaning in over her had her breathing growing louder. His hand was still firmly wrapped around her throat when he rubbed his hips up against hers. Her eyes fluttered to a close with the sensation. “So what are you going to do now?”

“I guess that depends on you,” he thought aloud, his lips hovering in over hers. “You see, I’ve been following you for days. And I can’t wrap my mind around you and what you’re trying to attempt here. Are you trying to get your revenge? Finally be the one to end me? Or do you just want me caught? Especially with all those killings. So brutal.”

There was a silence between them with her eyes narrowing and her breathing becoming steadier, “Are you trying to mirror my killing style? Lead them to me?”

“You saw that?” she whispered with his thick eyebrows bouncing up in amusement.

“Oh, I saw that. And frankly, I felt a few things. Pissed off that you were stealing my kills before I could get to them,” he started, his Adam’s apple bouncing in this throat as he stared down at her. “But the other thing I felt?”

A gasp escaped her throat when he reached for the top of her shirt with his free hand. With a firm yank it had the material tearing, “Well I was so fucking turned on. How easily you killed those people, the look in your eyes? You’re nothing like that girl I left in the diner that night. You’re scared of nothing. Even you pretending with me earlier, I can see in your eyes that your fear? It’s gone.”

“Did you ever think I was doing it to prove my worth?” she hissed out, her hand reaching up to curl her fingers around his wrist. An amused expression tugged at his features when his hazel eyes lifted. “Maybe I was just building our next feature.”

“Our?” he repeated, grunting out when she was quick to move and reach for the knife that he set down beside her on the table. Bringing it up to his throat surprised him, but an amused laugh escaped him. “Look at you.”

Digging the blade firmly enough into his flesh broke the skin and it had his hand loosening from around her throat. Rolling her eyes, she lowered the knife but still kept a firm hold of it. Lifting up just enough brought them closer together with the warmth of her breath pressing in over his lips, “I don’t want to kill you, I never did.”

A gasp escaped her throat when his lips came crashing down over hers. The kiss was hungry and powerful with her reaching up with her free hand to sink her fingers into his messy hair. Dropping the knife down beside her, her hands reached up to grab at the collar of his white shirt. Using her strength had the buttons tearing from his shirt and falling onto the table bouncing out across it and onto the floor. Caressing up over his neck, she reached for the ridiculous bowtie that he wore and tugged it so that it was pulled apart.

There was a sense of awe in his eyes when she reached for the knife and teased the tip of it to trace shapes over his slender abdomen. There were already visible scars that were left on his body, but they didn’t seem to phase her. Watching her with want and desire, he couldn’t help but smile with what she was doing, “I’ve just been trying to get your attention.”

“Well you have it,” he assured her, wincing out when he felt her nicking at his flesh with the blade. Looking down, he saw some of his blood dripping down his body and it made him moan out. Lowering back down over her, his mouth started peppering wet kisses over her jawline and toward the side of her neck. Dropping the knife, her grasp on his hair tightened forcing his head back. Lifting up enough, she dragged her tongue across the wound she left on his neck provoking another deep, raspy moan to escape him. “Fuck.”

Using his strength, he tore at the rest of her shirt working to get the tattered material from her body. Reaching for the cup of her bra, he pulled it back revealing her breast to him. It had her breathing growing louder when his tongue circled her nipple before taking the bud in his mouth. Suckling at it had it turning into a hard bud with him groaning against her flesh.

Pushing up unhurriedly, he started to work her pants from her body tossing them aside once he got them from her legs. Reaching for the knife that she dropped, he used it to cut her panties from her body getting her to purr out when he pulled the torn material from her body.

“You do realize what this means?” he teased the tip of the blade along her inner thigh with his other hand caressing down over her abdomen. “If you agree to this, you’re mine. And only mine.”

“That’s all I want,” she confessed, wincing out when she lifted her head to see him putting enough pressure into what he was doing to leave his initials at her inner thigh. Dropping the knife, he lowered down onto his knees and hooked his arms firmly under her to drag her closer to him.

Starting to kiss at her inner thigh drew out a pant from her. Lifting up on her arms she watched him drag his tongue out across the lines of blood that he left on her flesh from where he put his initials. With a wicked smirk, his eyes met hers and he licked his lips. There was a bright red color left over them from her blood which only further had chills flooding throughout her veins.

Burying his head between her thighs, Butch started pressing hot, wet kisses over her body drawing out whimpers from her that only fueled him further. Drawing his tongue out over the length of her sex in slow, unhurried movements had her reaching down to hook her fingers into his hair. Circling his tongue around her clit had her purring out with her hips lifting up toward him. Originally, this was not how he thought his night would end up, but he wasn’t hating it.

Leaning back, he licked his lips and dragged his tongue out flat against her sex starting at her entrance upwards toward her clit. Humming out, he put a firm amount of pressure on her clit before repeating the same motion several times having her hips arch up toward him. Last time, she went above and beyond to pleasure him, so he was out to do the same with her. Lapping at her entrance, he growled against her flesh and it had her crying out with the vibrations. Her grasp at his hair was strong when his lips circled her clitoris, surrounding the small bundle of nerves where he suckled at the small nub.

Inserting one of his long, slender fingers into her tight opening had her crying out when he started to caress at the top of her vaginal wall in search of her g-spot. When he found it, he put enough pressure on it and started rubbing up against it while his mouth continued to work at her clit. In no time he had her body shaking with her moans filling the empty kitchen. It sent a fire throughout his veins when he inserted another finger and started to plunge them quicker inside of her. With wet sounds, he pampered her body with his mouth and fingers, setting a steady tempo. Her back arched up from the table, her hips bouncing up toward him as he hummed out. Reaching up with his left hand, he pressed firmly at her abdomen getting her to lower down so he could have more control over what he was doing.

“Butch,” she cried out his name, her body tremoring against him when the warmth of her contracting around his fingers sent chills throughout his body. Most of his life, these were not the kind of screams that appealed to him. Cries of pleasure? That was a new thing he was realizing he liked, but only in this situation. Because usually, it was the sound of fear that excited him. Keeping up with what he was doing had her a shaking mess that easily led her to an orgasm. Growling out, he pulled his mouth away from her body and dragged his tongue out across his bottom lip.

“Good girl,” he praised her, getting up from where he was knelt down. Leaning over her, he grasped firmly at her chin getting her to let out a long exhale as he stared down at her. “Don’t let that gift fool you honey, I’m going to destroy your pussy and I’m going to fuck you hard. You understand?”

“I look forward to it,” she informed him, provoking him to release an amused rumble of a sound. With a nod, he hooked his arms under her legs and pulled her right to the edge of the table. Dropping his hands down, he started to work open his pants with her lifting her head from the table to watch him. Pushing the material down had his hard cock springing free from behind the prison and it made her throat go dry at the sight. She almost forgot how big he actually was. With a smirk, Butch stepped forward and hooked his arms under her knees, getting her ankles up over his shoulders. Reaching between them, he traced the swollen tip of his cock over her clitoris having her arch her hips up toward him. “I think I deserve to have you fuck me after all you’ve put me through.”

“You haven’t made things easy for me either sweetheart,” he hissed dragging the tip of his body through her folds. Lining himself up with her entrance, his eyes locked with hers. What blew his mind was how this woman still affected him so deeply after this long. No one would have ever been able to lead him to putting his guard down like this. Hell, she could have killed him during this whole thing and he wouldn’t have cared. There was an addiction he had to her, an obsession that he couldn’t let go of. Pushing his hips forward had the vein at the side of his neck becoming more prominent along with her gasping out and dropping her head against the table as he entered her. Smacking up against her, his lips parted with his jaw lowering. Looking down between them he smirked when he saw his cock buried deeply within her warmth. The way her tight walls clung to his fat cock had him groaning out and sucking in a sharp breath of air. Having him like that had her squirming, her body tremoring with him inside of her. “I’ve never wanted to fuck someone so bad in my life.”

Lifting her head, she cried out when he pulled his hips back dragging a significant amount of his lengthy cock from her before firmly thrusting forward again. In unison they moaned as each thrust grew harder and faster. Reaching down, her fingers curled around his wrists where his hands were grasping firmly to her hips to keep her in place. The way her pussy clung to his cock felt amazing and he was surprised at himself over the sounds he was making.

Most of his pleasure came from hurting people. Sex was never an addiction. It was something he didn’t yearn for. Not until now at least.

Each plunge his cock made inside of her had her cries growing louder. He wasn’t kidding, he wasn’t taking things slow or easy. He was fucking her and he was fucking her hard. His fingers were digging into her flesh, undoubtedly going to leave a mark and the full feeling of him inside of her ached in the best of ways.

“You turned out so much better than I thought you would,” he growled out, allowing her legs to drop when he closed the distance between the two of them. Hovering his lips in over hers, he teased her with the idea of kissing her. A moment later, the sound of a firm smack filled the air after she firmly hit him across the side of the face. Instead of responding poorly, it just had him smiling when he returned his stare to her. “I didn’t think anyone could match my freak…”

“Fuck,” she winced out when his fingers wrapped firmly around her neck again causing her head to slam back against the table. Pressing his body closer to hers had him trapping her beneath his weight. Hissing out, she felt the pressure of his grasp tighter than before when he started to smack up against her firmly. The sounds the table was making beneath them didn’t sound great, but she didn’t care. Hell, if it broke, she could care less. The friction from his groin rubbing up against her clit through every roll of his hips in this position felt amazing. “You feel so good inside of me.”

Releasing her throat, Butch returned her previous gesture smacking her firmly across the side of her face. The movement of his hips stopped as he waited for a response from her. Her jaw flexed with an angered expression flooding into her features. Grunting out, he felt her shoving into him and it made him laugh. The second shove was strong enough to have him stumbling backwards. One thing that had always surprised him was how strong she was. Even when he first met her, he couldn’t believe how easily she was able to take on a group of frat boys when they didn’t catch her off guard. And now? She had no problem throwing others around.  

Falling back into the chair behind him had her swiftly moving in over him. Her right arm wrapped around his shoulders and her left hand braced over his thigh to balance herself, “You aren’t one to back down, are you?”

“I’m not something you can easily break,” she breathed against his lips getting a moan from him in return when the warmth of her hovered over him. Settling his right hand at the small of her back, his left reached between them helping to lead his hard cock back to her ready entrance. When he entered her again, it had the both of them moaning out together in unison.

Dropping his head down, he took her nipple into his mouth suckling at her flesh when she started to powerfully rock her hips over his length, “That’s it sweetheart. Ride that cock…”

“You’re better at this than I thought you would be,” she nipped at his bottom lip, her moans vibrating against his flesh. It had his eyes fluttering to a close enjoying the way that she was using his body for her pleasure. “For someone who doesn’t like sex…”

“And you are better at killing than I thought you’d be,” he corrected her, his eyebrows bouncing up when it made her smile as his eyes lazily opened. “So I guess we’re both surprising one another, huh?”

Groaning out, his head dropped down to watch her taking his cock into her again and again. Every movement was rough, hectic and desperate. The steady pace she set felt amazing and she was so wet that it enhanced everything between them. Originally, he thought she may have wanted to kill him, but by the way her body was reacting toward him, he knew that she was just as hooked on him as he was her.

Stroking her fingers in over the scarring that was at his temple had him growling out, his head turning toward her touch. Instead of being scared of him, she only seemed to be in awe of him. Most people saw him and at first they’d be enamored by his handsomely charming, good looks. But then when they saw the scar? Well that would often change things.

Moaning out, his eyes squeezed shut at just how good things really felt between them. How rough she was being with him surprised him. When they first met, he saw her as the type of girl that would want to be made love to. Now? She was a woman that was taking what she wanted and didn’t have a problem with that at all.

“Fuck me,” he growled out when she smacked firmly at the side of his face again. There was a red color over his cheek, but it made him smile at the way it stung. A moment later, her fingers were digging into his messy hair and forcing it back against the chair. Huffing out, he started to kiss her back when her lips covered his. Sucking faintly at her tongue when it brushed between his lips had her purring out and it sent a chill throughout him. Caressing up over her body with his left hand, he pinched at her nipple having her licking her lips. Teasing the tight bud in his fingers had her crying out and it made him smile. “You’re the perfect little freak, aren’t you?”

Another firm smack landed against the side of his face followed by her pressing kisses along his jawline where she nipped at his chin. It had his moans growing louder. With his free hand, he reached up to grab a strong hold of her throat getting an exhale to escape her, but she didn’t seem scared. Instead she just tipped her head back and moaned out at the sensation of the pressure he was putting there.

“You are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he alerted her, groaning out when she had him bottom out inside of her and stopped moving. Wincing out, he dropped his head in against her shoulder clinging tightly to her. That move surprised him and it felt so good being buried this deeply inside of her. And she clung to him just as tightly. “Fuck…”

“You came here with the intentions of destroying me, but I think I’m just having you fall for me further Mr. Slater,” she slurred with an arrogant bob of her head. His dark eyes narrowed, a muscle flexing at the corner of his jaw. Even though it ached having him stagnant inside of her, it still felt amazing being filled to the brim. “You like being balls deep inside of me, don’t you?”

Smirking, he curled his fingers tighter around her neck again and started to forcefully bounce his hips up toward her. Every thrust had her gasping with her falling forward to rest her head against his shoulder. Releasing her throat, he curled his fingers around the back of her neck and held her closely to him.

“Don’t stop,” she begged of him having him pressing kisses against the side of her neck. His other hand grabbed a firm hold of her hips to keep her in place. His testicles were smacking up against her with how hard he was fucking her and her cries intensified. Right now? He was using all the power he could muster up to fuck her as hard as he could in this position. A moment later her hips pulled up and away from him when her orgasm hit her hard. Growling out, Butch nipped at her chin while she shook over him with her body still on a high from the orgasm he brought her to. “Christ, Butch.”

Growling out, he felt her fingers grasping tightly to his throat this time. Finally having the strength to lift her head, she pressed firmly at the soft fleshy part of his throat getting his head to press back against the chair. By the look in her eyes, she looked drunk off of him and he liked it. Shakily reaching back with her free hand, she grabbed the knife that he had deposited before and it made him smile.

“I am so proud of you,” he alerted her, watching her taking the tip of the knife to drag it down over the side of his neck and down over his chest. Groaning out, he felt her digging the tip a bit harder into his chest at the opposite side of where one of his tattoos were. Tipping his head down just enough to see that she was marking her initials into his chest made him smile. Unhurriedly, her eyes lifted to his and she could see that his pupils were dilated with lust. “I guess we match now.”

“It only seemed fair,” she looked down toward her thigh still seeing the lines of blood that were left there from what he had done previously to her. “You know, we’ve only scratched the surface when it comes to what I’m capable of. I’ve learned a lot from you.”

Dropping the knife on the ground, she tipped down to press wet kisses over the area she had just marked with the blade. Doing that rewarded her with one of the raspiest moans she had heard from him yet.

“Of course you have,” he grunted, wrapping his arm firmly around her waist to pick her up and lead her back toward the table. Forcing her to stand, he turned her around and firmly slammed her down against the top of the table. How hard he did it had a loud exhale escaping her. Staring down at her body, he pressed his hands between her shoulder blades and hissed out. “You’re part of me now, y’know that?”

“Oh?” she looked over her shoulder to see that he was caressing over his rigid length while he gazed over her body. Releasing himself, he firmly reached down to smack over her bottom and it had her crying out. “So that means you’re ready for a partner? I thought the fans weren’t prepared.”

“They’ll learn to love you just as I have,” he promised her, urging her arms firmly behind her back causing her to wince out. Adjusting his hips, he lined himself back up with her entrance and sank himself into her warmth again with ease. Smack after violent smack of his hips against her had her crying out his name. “You are so fucking tight.”

Whimpers escaped her with every movement he made. Tipping his head back, he could tell by the sensation of her tight walls clinging to his body that she was approaching another orgasm in this position. Hooking his left arm around both of her arms allowed him to have a hand free. Smacking his hand against her bottom several more times had her cries growing louder. Outstretching his hand, he placed it at the back of her head and kept her there. Her thighs started to tremor while he pounded into her. She was up on the tips of her toes desperate for the friction that he was giving her. A moment later he was forced from her body when a wet sound followed once he brought her to another mind-blowing orgasm.

“Fuck…” she panted, her arms aching with how Butch was holding onto them from behind. Squeezing her eyes shut, there was a horrible ache at her temples with her body still shaking from the orgasm Butch got her to.

“Stand up,” he instructed, releasing her arms and staring down at her. She was laid out across the top of the kitchen table and his cock twitched yearning for the same kind of release. “I said stand up.”

When she didn’t listen to him, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to her feet. Wrenching her arms behind her back again, he stepped closer to her. His chest pressed against her back having her sucking in a sharp breath of air. Using his foot, he managed to sweep hers just enough to get her to spread her legs further apart. Adjusting himself, he worked his hips the way he needed them so he could forcefully enter her again with a loud smack from behind. Fucking her senseless while standing was easy for him, but by the way that her legs were shaking he could tell that her body was spent from the overstimulation.  

“Where do you want me to come?” he muttered, his lower abdomen flexing with his orgasm nearing. Pausing his movements had her crying out when he released one of her arms. Dropping his right hand down, his thumb circled her tight pucker having her let out a gasp when he pushed past the tight ring of muscle. A deep, raspy moan escaped him at the sensation of it with her gasping out and dropping her head back against his shoulder. Grunting out, he led her over toward the counter and released her arm. Starting to fuck her again, he kept his thumb stagnant inside of her allowing her to get used to it. “Your tight little holes are so perfect, y’know that?”

Pulling his thumb from her ass, he leaned over her and wrapped his arm firmly around her throat. Bouncing his hips up toward hers, he bit at her jawline and winced when he felt his testicles tightening up, “Part of me wants to come inside of your ass, but with how tight you are, I’m not sure you’ve ever had someone fuck your ass, have you?”

“No,” she purred out, with his other hand wrapping firmly around her throat.

“Do you want me to paint the walls of your pussy with my come?” he wondered, nipping firmly at her jawline getting her to whine out when he bucked firmly up against her from behind. “That’d be so much better, right? Instead of wasting my come in your ass, it’d be better to fill you with my seed.”

“Yes, please…” she begged hearing his moans growing louder when she started to feel the throbbing of his cock inside of her. Burying his head against the side of her neck, Butch’s moans drove her wild with desire hearing just how much this all pleasured him. Following through with his thrusts, she felt the warmth of his release inside of her followed by his come spilling out down her inner thighs.

“Fucking hell,” he growled out with an amused rumble, attempting to catch his breath. Allowing his interest to sway him, he grunted out and lifted up just enough to look between them. Gasping out, she heard the sound of him spitting and felt the warmth of it sliding down over her tight pucker. Pulling his cock from her body, he curled his fingers firmly around the base of his cock and led the tip to her ass. “Don’t tense up.”

Trying to listen to his warning, her wince filled the air when he pushed forward through the tight ring of muscle. Hushing her, he felt like he could come undone all over again with her tight canal clinging firmly to his cock. Lowering in over her, he bit at her shoulder hearing her hiss out. Stepping forward, he allowed his cock to sink fully into her having her pulling forward, but he brought her hips right back to him. By the way her body was shaking, he could tell that it didn’t know how to respond with him fully inside of her like this. But she didn’t put up a fight. Not after she was already so exhausted with her orgasms. Taking his time, he bounced his hips up toward her, not wanting her to completely hate him after this. But God, did it turn him on watching as he fucked her ass. Her body was tremoring, one of her free hands reaching out to grasp at the back of his thigh. “Butch…”

“It’ll stop hurting,” he hushed her knowing that he didn’t have very long anyways before he would start going soft inside of her. “You’re okay.”

When she seemed to calm herself, he let out a grunt and started to thrust again. This time, he was forcefully smacking his hips up against her ass, using the strength that he had left to make sure she knew that every part of her was his. Continuous thrusts had her cries filling the air with his fingers finding their way around her hips to caress at her sensitive clit. Realizing that she likely had enough, he rest in over her allowing her hips to bounce back against his while he still lazily rubbed at her overstimulated body.

“Just let it go soft inside of you,” he kissed at her earlobe, reaching for her hand to hook his fingers with hers. Laying in over her, he cuddled his face in against hers and kissed at the side of her face. “Nothing feels better than knowing all of you belongs to me. You understand that, right?”

“Yes,” she whimpered squeezing her fingers tightly around his when he finally allowed his body to pull from hers. Looking between them, he smiled at the sight of his come covering her thighs and still spilling from her. Dragging his fingertips up over the length of her sex, he collected some of their fluids over his fingers and brought them before her. “Butch?”

“Clean them,” he demanded, his free hand grasping firmly to her hair. Bringing his fingers to her lips had her taking them into her mouth sucking the remainder of their sex from them. Growling out, he pressed a kiss against her cheek and rest back against the edge of the table. It took a minute for her to gather herself. To him? The way her body was shaking before him was the sign of a job well done. By the time she managed to push herself up into a standing position, Butch’s heart was still hammering inside of his chest with him trying to catch his breath. “You’re mine from here on out, you understand that, right?”

“I do,” she moved forward, falling in against his chest having him wrap her up in his arms. Pressing kisses against the side of her face had her turning her in toward him allowing their lips to come together in what almost felt like a delicate kiss. “You know you’re mine now too, right?”

“Mhmm…” he growled, continuing to pepper kisses against her bottom lip. A loud wince filled the air when his body jolted and he looked down to see that she had stabbed him with a fork in the same area he had done to her during their first encounter. Giving her a surprised expression, he reached down to pull it from his body and grunted when he dropped it to the ground. “Goddamn.”

“You’re lucky that’s all that was,” she alerted him getting a deep rumble of a laugh to fall from his throat. Grabbing a firm hold of his jaw in her hand, she got his hazel eyes to focus on hers when she leaned in to nip faintly at his bottom lip. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” he said exactly what she wanted to hear, his wicked smirk tugging at his lips. “No matter how many times you may feel the need or want to stab me.”

“Good boy,” she dragged her thumb out across his bottom lip having him kissing at the pad of it. “If you ever try to kill me again though, I promise you I will kill you first.”

“I expect nothing less from you,” he assured her with another muted laugh, his nose nuzzling in against hers. “You’re gonna be a great addition to my movies. I’m certain of that.”

----

Tags:

@meiplays @sanctuaryforthelost @detachedminxsfics @scorpioempress @kari-yasai

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@frankiemorgan34 @elegantfanficluv

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

She's My Kid | Wooyoung

- Pairing: step-dad!Wooyoung x Mum!Reader

- Requested by: requested by @starsfly01091711

- Synopsis: Part two of Chosen Appa. Hannie's biological father tries to come back into the picture.

- Warnings: Mentions of asshole ex-husband and Hannie's biological dad, lawyers, custody. Sorry if this is a little angsty. I needed to write some angst.

- Word Count: 1,421

- Requests: open

Wooyoung Masterlist | ATEEZ Masterlist | Tag List Form

Y/N arrives home to find a large white envelope taped to her front door. A sinking feeling enters her stomach as she recognizes the stamp in the corner that belongs to her ex-husband's lawyer.  

She takes a deep breath, her fingers trembling slightly as she reaches for the envelope. a reminder of a past she had put behind her. Unlocking the door, she carries the envelope, a bag of groceries and the baby carrier inside. She leaves the bag of food and envelope on the kitchen counter, unable to bring herself to open it just yet and tends to Hye-young, her and Wooyoung's three-month-old daughter. Once she's settled in her crib in the corner of the living room, she makes her way back into the kitchen to put away the food she brought. 

Stealing glances at the envelope, her stomach and heart feel heavy. She can only think of one reason why her ex-husband is reaching out to her after all this time. It’s been 5 years since she’s heard anything from him. Five years since he left her for his mistress and five years since he abandoned Hannie, completely cutting his own daughter out of his life for a woman and child that probably wasn’t even his. Y/N is no longer angry at him or hurt that he divorced her. She was able to find love again after all. It was Hannie that her heart breaks for. She understands the pain it brings not having your own biological father love you enough to stick around. Y/N knows that pain all too well.   

But just like when she was a child, there's a man who stood into the father role as if they were born for it. Someone who loves her more than himself and she calls him dad. Wooyoung didn’t have to, he keeps reminding her that he knows he didn’t have to. He wanted to.  

Instead of opening it, she pours herself a glass of water and sits at the kitchen table, glancing at the clock. Wooyoung is due home with Hannie any moment now. It's his day to pick the now six year old up from school. Not even a second later, the familiar sound of the keypad lock unlocking is heard.  

“Eomma! I’m home!” Hannie calls out, bursting through the front door with Wooyoung right behind her. 

Y/N’s heart swells as she watches Wooyoung crouch down to help Hannie remove her shoes. Once her shoes are off, she makes a beeline for her mum, climbing into her lap and giving her tight hug, not knowing that it's what Y/N needs the most right now.  

“Did you have a good day?” she asks, moving a strand of hair out of her daughter's face when she pulls back from the hug. 

Hannie nods. "Miss Lee made sticker packs for everyone and said we can use them on our new project," she excitedly tells her mum. 

Y/N smiles at Hannie's enthusiasm, feeling the warmth of her daughter's joy wash over her like a comforting blanket. “That sounds amazing! What’s the project about?” she asks, hoping to keep the conversation light and cheerful.  

“It’s about animals!” Hannie exclaims. “I wanted to do mine on penguins, but Yuri got the penguin sticker pack, so I chose squ-squ-," she continues trying to pronounce squirrel but ultimately gives up and says, "Uncle Joong because he's one of those.” 

"I'm sure Uncle Joong will feel honoured you chose the squirrel," Y/N chuckles lightly. "Go put your bag away and I'll make you something to eat," she kindly orders her daughter, helping her off her lap. She watches as Hannie picks up her bag and takes it into her bedroom. 

"Are you okay?" Wooyoung asks his wife as soon as Hannie is out of the room. He knew something was wrong the moment he walked inside. The look in her eyes when she put on a smile for Hannie only confirmed that something wasn't right.  

She stands up and makes her way to the kitchen counter, picking up the envelope and handing it to him. "I haven't brought myself to open it yet." 

Wooyoung takes it from her, looking at the fancy law firm stamp in the corner. Wooyoung’s brow furrows as he examines the envelope, his fingers brushing over the smooth surface. “This is from your ex-husband’s lawyer?” he asks, his voice low and careful, as if afraid that Hannie will overhear them. Y/N nods, a lump forming in her throat. "Do you want me to open it?" 

She nods again. 

Wooyoung tears open the envelope and pulls out the letter inside. His eyes quickly scan the words on the page, his own heart sinking. "He's applying for custody," he tells her.  

Y/N feels the world around her tilt on its axis as Wooyoung's words sink in. "Custody?" she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper. Even though this is what she was expecting, it being the only reason why her ex-husband and Hannie's biological father would reach out now, it's still surprising. 

Wooyoung looks up from the letter, his expression one of fierce protectiveness. “He hasn’t been in her life since she was a baby, Y/N. What does he think he can just waltz back in and—” 

“Wooyoung,” she interrupts gently, placing a hand on his arm to calm him. “I know. I feel the same way.” Her mind races with memories of how hard she fought to create a loving home for Hannie after everything fell apart. “But, biologically-.” 

“I don’t care about biology,” Wooyoung says, frustration creeping into his voice. “She's my kid... our kid.” 

“I know,” Y/N replies softly, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "He's a complete stranger to her but the courts won't see it that way." 

Wooyoung runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his face. “We need to fight this,” he says, determination igniting in his eyes. “I’m not going to let him take her away from us.” 

“I know,” Wooyoung replies gently as he tries to calm himself down, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around Y/N's waist. He pulls her against him, grounding them both amidst the storm brewing inside their hearts. “But we can’t let him just walk back in and claim what he hasn’t wanted for years.” 

Y/N leans into Wooyoung’s warmth, drawing strength from his unwavering support. “You’re right,” she murmurs softly, looking up at him with gratitude shining in her eyes. “But… it’s just hard to think about what this could mean for Hannie if things go south. She's going to be so lost and confused.” 

"Maybe it's time we tell her everything, that way if it does go to court, she might be a little less confused," he suggests. 

“You’re right,” she concedes, pulling back enough to look at him. “But how do we even begin to explain all of this to her?” 

Wooyoung holds her gaze, his eyes filled with warmth and determination. “We’ll figure it out together," he assures her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

"Eomma, Appa, look what I made today," Hannie's sweet voice calls to them as she walks back into the kitchen. "Look it's you Appa and Eomma and me and Hye-youngie and our cat," she exclaims, holding up a drawing of her little family with a little cat next to them. 

Wooyoung tries to blink back the tears hearing her call him Appa. “Wow!” he exclaims, leaning forward to get a better look. “Is that us?”  

“Yes!” she beams, her face lighting up with pride. “And that’s our kitten,” she adds, pointing to the little cat again.  It’s her latest attempt at trying to convince her parents to add a kitten to their family.  

Y/N smiles warmly as she moves to make Hannie her after-school snack. "But we don't have a kitten. 

“Can we get one? Please?” Hannie pleads, her big brown eyes sparkling with hope.  

Wooyoung chuckles softly, “I don’t see why we can’t.”  

Hannie’s eyes widen in delight, and she practically bounces in her seat. “Really?”  

“But you’ll have to help with taking care of him or her. That means helping with feeding the kitten, cleaning out the dirt box, making sure there’s plenty of water and all that comes with having a cat,” Y/N tells her, letting her know that since she wants a kitten, she will also be responsible for the tiny creature.  

“I promise!” Hannie exclaims, her excitement bubbling over.   

Wooyoung smiles, “That’s sorted then. We’ll start looking for a kitten this weekend.” 

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[astars-things]

what the hell y/n

Jack hughes x daughter!reader

where jack finds vapes in y/ns room

reader is 16

warning very angst

Jack had always prided himself on being a good dad. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but he had always tried to do right by Y/N. He worked his ass off to give her a good life, to teach her right from wrong, to make sure she knew that no matter what, she could come to him.

But now, standing in his daughter’s room, holding the evidence of her bad choices in his hands, Jack felt like a failure.

The vapes sat in his palm, neon-colored with stupid fruity flavors written across them. He gritted his teeth, his chest tight with frustration and disappointment. His little girl—the one he’d raised, protected, loved—was doing this?

His hands shook as he shoved the vapes onto the kitchen counter and waited. Y/N was out with friends, probably laughing and having the time of her life while he sat here, stewing in anger. He didn’t even know what he was going to say. How could she be so reckless? How could she be so stupid?

The front door finally opened, and Y/N walked in, humming to herself as she kicked off her shoes. Jack wasted no time.

“Y/N,” his voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife.

She blinked, clearly startled by his tone. “Uh, yeah?”

He pointed to the counter, jaw tight. “You want to explain what the fuck those are?”

Her eyes flicked to the vapes, and in an instant, he saw it—guilt. Panic. She tried to mask it, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t know. They’re not mine.”

Jack scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t lie to me.” His voice cracked, raw and furious. “Don’t stand there and act like this is nothing. You know better. And if you don’t, then I failed as a dad.”

Y/N’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re overreacting.”

That made Jack snap. “Overreacting?” His voice was sharp, almost a yell. “Do you even know what this shit does to you? You’re sixteen! Your brain isn’t even fully developed, and you’re putting this crap in your body?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Everyone does it, Dad.”

Jack slammed his hand down on the counter, making her jump. “I don’t give a shit what everyone else does! You’re not everyone else—you’re my daughter!”

She swallowed, but the defiance was still there. “It’s not a big deal—”

“It is a big deal!” Jack cut her off. “Who gave them to you? Did you buy them? Did someone give them to you?”

Y/N looked away.

“Answer me!”

She huffed. “I—I got them, okay? It doesn’t matter how.”

Jack let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, it fucking matters. You think I’m just gonna let this slide? No car, no going out, and you’re giving me your phone until I decide you’ve earned it back.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “What? Dad, no—”

“You don’t get to argue with me on this,” he snapped. “You clearly can’t be trusted to make smart decisions, so I’ll make them for you.”

She let out an angry noise, turning away. “This is bullshit.”

Jack ran a hand over his face, trying to calm himself down before he said something he’d regret. His heart ached. He wasn’t just angry—he was disappointed. He’d thought she knew better. He thought she’d respect herself more than this.

The front door swung open, and Luke walked in, grinning. “Hey, Jack, you see my—” His words died when his eyes landed on the counter. His face paled. “Shit.”

Jack’s blood ran cold. Slowly, he turned to face his brother. “Your what?”

Luke swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh—”

Realization crashed over Jack like a tidal wave. His stomach churned as he looked between Luke and Y/N. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered.

Luke’s gaze flickered to Y/N, who refused to look at him. His shoulders sagged. “Y/N…”

Jack’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “You stole them from Luke?”

Silence.

Y/N stared at the floor, but she didn’t deny it.

Jack exhaled sharply, his hands shaking. “You stole from your uncle. And you thought what? That I wouldn’t find out? That I wouldn’t care?”

Y/N finally looked up, and for the first time, he saw it—the regret, the shame.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered.

Jack let out a dry laugh, completely void of humor. “Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it, Y/N.”

Luke cleared his throat. “Jack, maybe—”

“No, Luke,” Jack snapped, cutting him off. “She lied to me. She stole from you. And she doesn’t even think it’s a big deal.”

Y/N’s face crumbled. “I do! I—I just…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Jack sighed, his anger still burning, but exhaustion was creeping in. “Go to your room,” he muttered.

Y/N opened her mouth to argue but stopped when she saw the look in his eyes. Defeat settled over her as she nodded, disappearing upstairs.

Jack braced himself against the counter, gripping the edge like it was the only thing holding him up.

Luke sighed. “She’s a teenager, man. She’s gonna make mistakes.”

Jack let out a bitter chuckle. “Yeah. And it’s my job to make sure those mistakes don’t ruin her life.”

Luke was silent for a moment before nodding. “You’re a good dad, Jack.”

Jack didn’t feel like it. Not tonight.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Ooo hii can I please request an avengers au!platonic fic with Dad!Bucky x adopted daughter!reader where she had been kidnapped by Hydra when she was really young and was pretty much raised as an experiment and now she’s 15 and been experimented on and taken on missions like Bucky was for years now, but they didn’t use the brainwashing on her, b/c she’s just a kid and really scared, they just motivate her through threats. She has fire powers and has been trained to use them. The Avengers raid the last known Hydra base, and find the terrified teenager locked in a cell. I’m sure she’d try to attack the Avengers out of fear when they try to approach her, but Bucky is able to de escalate her as he knows exactly what she’s been through and how scared she is right now, and she’s just a kid. He takes the lead in caring for her and pretty much takes her in as his own. He understands her triggers, her trauma, and guilt about all she’s gone through. He’d definitely have a tough time with her using her powers when she is not supposed to and when she’s angry (he can always tell she’s getting angry when her eyes turn red from her powers), and she definitely tries to sneak out of the Avengers Compound but Bucky is always one step ahead lol. Steve and Sam would definitely step in as Uncles and they’d help Bucky when she’s rebelling against the Avengers. Bucky would be the only person she listens to and they’d talk a lot about what she’s going through and how she can better handle it and she lets it slip that she wishes he was her Dad🥺

Y/n would probably required to see Dr. Raynor alongside Bucky (Y/n wouldn’t agree to therapy unless he was with her, she still doesn’t trust many people) and she would so see how good of a Dad Bucky is to Y/n. Y/n calls Bucky Dad at her birthday party and he gives her the present of adopting her (the avengers so would get her a lot of sweet presents🥺🥺)

Like His Own » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: (Platonic) Dad!Bucky Barnes x (Platonic) Adopted Teen Daughter!Reader with the Avengers

Summary: After finding you in a cell in a HYDRA base, Bucky cares for you as his own.

Warnings: Fluff, little bit of Angst, language, Avenger!Bucky, enhanced!reader, HYDRA, crying, nicknames

Age of reader: 15 years old

A/N: Thank you for the amazingly detailed request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

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

The Avengers were doing one last sweep of the HYDRA base they just took down before leaving. Bucky was walking next to Steve, but then stopped in his tracks when he heard whimpering coming from one of the cells. It didn’t take Steve long to notice that Bucky wasn’t walking next to him. He turned around to see Bucky standing a couple feet away from him with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Buck, what’s wrong with?” Steve asks.

“I hear something. It sounds like whimpering.” Bucky says.

Steve listened for the whimpers and heard it too.

“I hear it too. Where’s it coming from?” He asks.

Bucky was standing in between two doors. He opened the one to the left first. There was nothing in that cell. He then opened the one to the right, only to find out that it’s locked. The cell you’re in. Bucky broke the doorknob off with his vibranium hand and pushed the door open. He seen you holding your legs up to your chest and shaking on the cold floor. Bucky cautiously stepped in the cell. You lifted your head to see him. You pressed yourself more against the wall.

“Hey, it’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you.” Bucky says softly.

Bucky handed his gun and knife to Steve to make himself look less intimidating. He walked further into the cell, expecting you to move away, but you didn’t. He crouched down so he was at eye level with you.

“Are you ok, kiddo?” He asks softly.

You shook your head no.

“Did HYDRA hurt you?” He asks.

You nodded and extended your arms out toward him, showing the needle marks from when HYDRA poked and prodded you since you were a kid.

“They’ve been experimenting on me since I was a kid.” You say quietly.

“That’s horrible.” He said softly. “They hurt me too.” He says.

“They did?” You asked.

Bucky nodded with a sympathetic look on his face.

“I’ll help you if you come with me.” He says softly.

You stared at him for a few seconds. Something is telling you that Bucky is a trusting person. You stood up and followed Bucky out of the cell, but you stopped in the doorway of the cell.

“It’s ok. You’re safe now.” He whispers, holding his hand out to you.

You put your hand in his, making you feel even more safe. He lead you out to the quinjet with Steve next to you two. The Avengers furrowed their eyebrows in confusion when they seen you.

“Who’s the kid?” Tony asks.

“HYDRA had her locked in a cell. She’s coming with us.” Bucky says.

You sat down in one of the seats in the quinjet. Bucky found a blanket somewhere on the quinjet and wrapped it around you so you could get warmed up.

“Can you tell me your name and how old you are?” Bucky asks, sitting down next to you.

“My name is Y/N and I’m 15.” You tell him.

“You said, HYDRA experimented on you since you were a kid?” He asks, recalling your words from earlier.

You nodded.

“Do you have powers?” He asks.

You nodded again.

“What kind?” He asks.

“Fire powers.” You tell him.

Bucky’s heart broke for you. No kid should endure what you went through. He put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“They won’t hurt you anymore. I promise.” He says.

You felt relief wash over you. You felt free of HYDRA, something you haven’t felt in years.

“What did HYDRA do to you?” You asked after a few minutes.

“They gave me a metal arm and Super Soldier serum.” He tells you.

“Did it hurt?” You asked.

Bucky nodded. You leaned over and hugged him, not wanting to let go of him. He wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back to keep you calm, which made you fall asleep.

When you guys got to the compound, Bucky put you in one of the spare bedrooms and tucked you in. He left the room and stayed close by just in case you needed him.

“What are we going to do about Y/N?” Sam asks.

“I’m going to take care of her.” Bucky says.

“Taking care of a kid is a lot of work, Buck. Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Steve asks.

“Yes, I’m ready for it.” He says confidently.

You woke up in an unfamiliar room. You stay up and looked around the room to gather your surroundings. You got out of bed and left the bedroom to try to figure out where you are.

“Buck.” Steve says, pointing at you.

Bucky looked over to see you wandering around. He stood up from his seat and went to check on you.

“You ok, kiddo?” Bucky asks softly.

“Where am I?” You asked.

“You’re in the Avengers compound. It’s 100% safe here.” He tells you.

Bucky led you to the lounge room. You smiled when you saw Steve and Sam.

“Do all of you guys live here?” You asked them.

“Yes.” Steve answers.

“You can live here too.” Bucky says.

You looked over at Bucky when he said that. Steve and Sam excused themselves so you and Bucky can talk.

“I can?” You asked.

Bucky nods and sits down next to you.

“I’m going to take care of you if you’re ok with that.” He says softly.

“I would like that.” You say with a smile, making Bucky smile.

———

Bucky has been taking care of you for a few months. He’ll admit he has a lot to learn about taking care of a teenager. It’s taking a lot for you to adjust too. You’re not used to people caring for you and being nice to you. In those few months, Bucky has been thinking about enrolling you in high school. He’s nervous about how you’ll react when he tells you.

“Hey, doll? You busy?” Bucky asks.

“No.” You paused what you were watching on TV. “What’s up?” You asked.

Bucky sat down next to you on the couch.

“I know this may sound a bit scary, but I promise it’s not.” He says.

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“I know you didn’t get an education while you were in HYDRA. I was thinking about enrolling in high school.” He says.

“No.” You said. “I don’t want to go to school.” You say.

“Doll, you have to.” He says.

“No!” You say loudly, your eyes glowing red.

Bucky learned that your eyes glow red when you’re mad.

“Doll, calm down please.” He says softly.

Your eyes stopped glowing red after a few seconds.

“Please don’t make me go to school. I don’t want to go.” You pleaded.

“You need an education, doll.” Bucky says.

You whined loudly and left the lounge room, walking past Steve and Sam. You went to your bedroom and slammed the door shut. Bucky sighs and rubs his hands over his face.

“What’s wrong with Y/N?” Steve asks.

“I just told her that she needs to go to school.” Bucky says.

“Just give her time to calm down. She might come around to the idea of it.” Sam says.

Bucky nods. It does take you a while to come around to the idea of something. He gave you a little bit to calm down before going to your bedroom to check on you. Bucky knocked on the door a couple times before opening the door.

“Y/N?” Bucky says softly.

“What?” You asked, your voice muffled by the pillowed.

Bucky sat down on the bed next to you.

“I know you don’t want to go to school. I’m doing this, because I care about you.” He says.

You turned over and sat up.

“It’ll be ok. I promise.” He whispers.

You nodded and hugged him.

“I’m sorry for getting mad at you.” You apologized.

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

———

“Do you want to explain why to me your science teacher called me today?” Bucky asks with his hands on his hips.

“We were doing something with fire in science and my partner couldn’t get the lighter to work so I used my powers.” You explained.

“I specifically told you not to use your powers at school.” He says.

“I don’t see the problem. I didn’t burn anything down.” You say with a bit of an attitude.

“First of all, drop the attitude. Secondly, you need to listen when I tell you not to do something.” He says.

Your eyes glowed red and you stormed off to your bedroom. Bucky sighs and lets you calm down.

Later that day, you attempted to try to sneak out of the compound, but you completely forgot about the security cameras and JARVIS.

“Sergeant Barnes, Y/N is trying to leave the compound without permission.” JARVIS informs Bucky.

“Where is she?” Bucky asks.

“She’s in the back of the compound. Would you like me to call her back inside?” He asks.

“No. I got it. Thanks for informing me. Tell Steve and Sam to meet me at the main entrance please.” He says.

��Yes, Sergeant Barnes.” He says.

Bucky went to the main entrance. Steve and Sam met him there.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks. “JARVIS told us to meet you here.” He says.

“Y/N is trying to sneak out.” Bucky says. “Will you guys help me just in case she gets away?” He asks.

Steve and Sam nodded. They went outside and went to different sides of the compound. Meanwhile, you were sneaking alongside one of the walls of the compound. Apparently, you weren’t being sneaky enough. You bumped into someone. You looked up to see Steve. Your eyes went wide.

“Going somewhere?” Steve asks.

“No…” You lied.

“Nice try, kiddo. Go inside.” He says, pointing at the main entrance.

You groaned loudly and went inside. Steve informed Bucky and Sam that he found you. You were slouched back on the couch when they walked in the lounge room.

“Where was she?” Bucky asks Steve.

“Walking along the right side of the compound.” Steve tells him.

Steve and Sam left the room so Bucky can talk to you. Bucky gave your the dad stare. You avoided eye contact with him, knowing that he’s mad cause you tried to sneak out.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Bucky asks you.

You shrugged.

“I need a better answer than that.” He says.

“I just wanted to go have fun.” You say quietly.

“You could’ve just asked me. You know better than to sneak out.” He says.

“I’m sorry, Bucky.” You apologized, your eyes tearing up.

Bucky sighs softly and sat down next to you. He wrapped his arms around, holding you close to him. You broke down in tears.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” He asks softly.

“Some kids at school think I’m a freak cause I have powers.” You tell him through tears. “I didn’t even do anything to them.” You say.

“Oh, doll. You’re not a freak.” He whispers. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

“You know you can tell me anything.” He says.

You sniffled and nodded. You told him more about what’s been going on with you. Bucky listened closely to every word you said. He knew you needed more help than he can give you. For now, all he can do is hold you and listen to me.

“I wish you were my dad.” You say.

A smile grew on Bucky’s face and he felt a warmth in his heart. That made him happy to hear that.

The next day, Bucky called Dr. Raynor and told her about you and what you’ve been through. She told him to bring you in with him to his therapy session. Your nerves were through the roof when you guys got to her office. Bucky kept a close eye on you. You were biting your nails out of habit and nervousness.

“It’s ok, doll. Try to breathe.” Bucky says softly, gently taking your hand away from your mouth.

You nodded and focused on your breathing. You jumped and clung to Bucky when Dr. Raynor called you and Bucky into her office. You two went in her office.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. James has told me a lot about you.” Dr. Raynor says, holding her hand out for you to shake.

You stared at her hand and then looked up at Bucky. Bucky nodded, letting you know she’s a nice person. You shook her hand and then sat down on the couch. Bucky sat down next to you.

“James told me that you’ve been through a lot. Do you want to tell me about it?” She asks, opening her notebook.

“Do I- Do I have to?” You asked nervously.

“It would help to get it off your chest.” She says.

You nodded and tried to figure out what you should tell her first.

“HYDRA kidnapped me when I was a kid and they experimented on me for years.” You tell her.

“What kind of experiments did they do on you?” She asks.

Your breathing became uneven. Flashes of HYDRA putting you through years of pain flashed in your mind. Bucky wraps his arms around you to bring you back to reality.

“Doll, you’re ok.” Bucky whispers. “You can do it.” He encourages softly.

You nodded. Dr. Raynor took note of how great Bucky is with you.

“They poked and prodded me with needles and I have powers from the experiments they did on me.” You tell her.

“What kind of powers do you have?” Dr. Raynor asks.

“Fire powers.” You tell her.

Dr. Raynor took note of everything you said. Bucky stayed by your side the whole time. Even though, you don’t like talking about what you went through with HYDRA, it feels good to get it off your chest. You also mentioned that Bucky is an amazing father figure to you, which made him smile.

“You did so well in there, doll.” Bucky says softly, pulling you into his side.

You smiled when he said that.

“Can we get ice cream like you promised earlier?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Of course we can, kiddo!” He smiles.

———

A few weeks later, Bucky planned a birthday party for you with help from the Avengers. Wanda helped him make your birthday cake. Bucky and the Avengers got you great birthday presents. Anticipation and excitement was coursing through his veins. He has an amazing present to give you for your birthday that’ll mean a lot to the both of you.

“Thank you, guys. Today has been the best day I’ve had in a long time.” You say with a smile on your face.

“You have one more present, doll.” Bucky says, handing you an envelope with your name on it.

“You gave me a card, Bucky.” You say with a small giggle.

“It’s not a card.” He says.

You opened the envelope and took the paper out of it that was in it. You unfolded it and read it. Your eyes went wide when you read the word “adopt”.

“You- You want to adopt me?” You asked, looking up at Bucky.

“Only if you want me to.” Bucky says.

A smile grew on your face and your eyes teared up. You stood up and gave Bucky a big hug. He immediately hugged you back.

“Of course I want you to adopt me, dad.” You say.

Bucky felt a new warmth in his heart when you called him dad. The Avengers smiled at the happy moment happening in front of them.

“I love you, dad.” You say softly.

“I love you too, kiddo.” Bucky whispers, kissing the top of your head.

Bucky has a new responsibility in his life… being the best father he can to you.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[gakukitty]

— LONELY GIRL x shin asakura 2

summary . the sakamoto family are surprisingly welcoming . . . but you cannot afford to lose sight of your mission , or your passion — being an assassin isn’t a life you can just leave . even if there’s a really hot guy practically begging you to stop.

wc . 0.8k

cw . nothing much to really be warned about :3

masterlist ౨ৎ next

as soon as you woke up, it felt like someone was drilling nails into your head. you must’ve fell wrong, you think. you push yourself to sit up, only to be completely jumpscared by a man— wait, where in the world are you?!

“oh,” your panic dampens immediately once you realise who that random man is. it’s that hot blonde guy from earlier. why does he look hotter now? wow, he must’ve gotten you good. is he an assassin too, or something? “i didn’t take you for the type of guy to kidnap women.” you say, lips curving up into a grin. for a girl who’s suddenly in some random man’s.. bedroom, it looks like, you’re pretty calm.

shin is horrified. do you have no survival instincts?! aren’t you supposed to be an assassin?! he just blinks for a few moments, before your words register.

“no, no— i’m not trying to—!!” he’s cut off by the sound of the door opening, and mrs. Sakamoto peeks her head in, curious about the commotion.

you stare back at her in awe, eyes sparkling. she’s the most adorable woman you have ever seen. and she doesn’t even seem mad or confused at you being here? is she an angel?

“are you hungry? lunch is almost ready.” she offers, and you immediately nod. how can you pass up on offer from a woman as sweet as her? you’re guessing she’s mr. Sakamoto’s wife, based on the look he’s giving her. like a man in love.

it’s kind of cute, if you’re being honest. if you weren’t feeling so fuzzy from that hit you took earlier, you’d be pouting about it.

“alright, i’ll come back when it’s ready.” she hums, gently clicking the door shut. she is an angel! you’re sure of it!

“so..” shin clears his throat. this is kind of awkward— he didn’t mean for this to happen. everyone there thinks that you’re his girlfriend! his cheeks feel a little warmer at the memory. he does not want to be teased about that any longer.

“you’re an assassin, right?” he questions, cooling himself down. it’s best not to get worked up or flustered. especially in the presence of a skilled killer. he can tell that you’re good; you had your guard down because of his little question. he supposes it was worth the teasing.

“i am.” you mutter. you’re not too sure if you should have confirmed it— but the gun you pulled out should have answered his question, anyways. speaking of your gun… “where’s my—“

“you don’t need it anymore.”

“yes i do? i’m an assassi—“

“not anymore.”

“excuse me?” you scoff, eye twitching. this guy’s a total looker, but you’re starting to wonder if he has a brain in that head of his.

shin parts his lips to speak, but he’s cut off by mrs. Sakamoto’s voice. lunch is ready. you send shin a slight glare, before getting off of his bed. you kind of miss the warmth, but it’s alright, you guess. you’ll be able to lay there again once you’re dating him!

shin almost stumbles. reading minds can sometimes be a pain. especially when he encounters nutcases like you.

once everyone’s sat down, you find yourself feeling awkward. just a little. i mean, the red-haired girl beside you’s very nice, and mrs. Sakamoto is such a sweetheart, but this is all.. a lot to take in.

the meal’s good— and hana is probably the cutest little girl you’ve ever seen.

maybe in another life you would have been able to enjoy this to the extent you should be. but in this one, you’re an assassin. you can’t enjoy family meals like these.

by the time you’re preparing to leave, you already feel your heart lurching. this feels so wrong. so, so wrong. you push down the feeling, already on your phone. you need a new gun. asap.

you wave the family goodbye, expression brightening a little at Hana’s cute little wave. However, as soon as you step out of the shop, you can tell someone’s behind you. with a sigh, you turn to face them— only to be jumpscared yet again by shin. what’s his deal?

“are you really planning to just go back to that type of life?” the man asks, taking a step closer to you. that look in his eyes is super hot, you think. and that flush on his cheeks— oo, is he going to ask you out!?

shin debates on answering your thoughts— but he has a feeling he’ll find out more if you don’t know about his abilities. he just takes another step closer, his expression pleading.

“come on, i can tell you were having fun back there..” he coaxes, eyebrows furrowing. He’s not sure why he feels so compelled to stop you. maybe it’s because you kept getting all sad and teary in your thoughts. yeah, that’s it. he just pities you! That’s all it is!

but when you don’t answer him, his shoulders slump. man, you’re real stubborn, he huffs to himself.

“shin, was it? i appreciate your kindness, but i really have to go. have a nice day.” you mutter, turning away from him. he’s persistent, you’ll give him that.

oh, right. you were so caught up that you forgot about your lunch date with some guy. whatever, he was ugly and weak anyways.

© gakukitty please don’t copy my work , repost it and claim as your own , translate , or do anything stupid with it ! try and improve on ur own skills first ♡

[melwsnt]

LET IT HAPPEN; SAM WINCHESTER

lyric prompt. whatever happens, I’m letting it.

summary. Patching Sam up after a hunt might lead to more than you just complaining that he doesn’t have a shirt on.

a/n. let me know if you’d like a part two🤭 please interact with this :)

Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. Months.. no amount of time would make up for the fact that being alone is one of the worst feeling a person who loves love can feel.

It was easy at first. You figured being alone wasn’t so bad after a lifetime of being surrounded by people who sucked.

The loneliness started creeping after a couple days, though. It almost felt like you were losing your mind, you were going crazy. It wasn’t like you heard voices- but maybe that wouldn’t have been so bad.

No- it was the silence that freaked you out. When you were about to fall asleep, when you were waking up, the silence in the car, researching, chasing whatever demon or monster you were after.

It almost got scary after a while. You didn’t feel so safe anymore.

You began hunting with people, and now it was just you. At first, you thought, maybe this wouldn’t suck so much. You wouldn’t have someone scream in your ear that you did something wrong constantly, you wouldn’t have anybody teasing you or annoying you. But sometimes you almost missed that.

Then Sam Winchester came along.

His hair, the way he smiled, smelled, made you laugh and made your stomach churn.

The loneliness was gone. You didn’t know how long it would be gone for, but you would take all this time in, make the most of it.

Sam was interesting. He was smart, way smarter than any hunter you’d met. And on the side was Dean, a lady lover, who only cared about getting the job done.

He was nice company, sure. But Sam was Sam.

Sam was like a breath of fresh air. He was like wind on a summer day, and snow on a winter day.

He was like the path leading to your doorway, his eyes were easy to get lost in and his smile, god his smile was to die for.

He didn’t understand how someone like you, could’ve been left alone after all of this.

Your life story was enough to make him want to kill people with his bare hands.

He had this sense of protection over you, he didn’t know where it came from, but anyone who dared hurting you was dead meat to him.

Dean had never seen him like that, and you didn’t know what to think about it.

He was sweet. Too sweet, perhaps. But he had this darkness inside of him you could tell would come out eventually, it was only a matter of time.

But you didn’t want to focus on that.

Those couple hunts you spent together were some of the best you’d had, ever.

That feeling of safety was back again.

The people you were with before didn’t matter anymore, only the brothers did, especially Sam.

Sam was it. You didn’t care much what it was, perhaps maybe just a friend, but you were okay with it as long as he was there- just a part of your life. The feelings probably wouldn’t be reciprocated anyway- that’s what you thought at least.

Then it came to patching them up every now and then after a hunt.

At this point you felt you were part of the family. You’d lost count of how many hunts you’d spent with them. They didn’t seem to mind- and you sure as hell didn’t.

Patching Sam up was always fun. It was also awkward for the most part. Only ever wanting to look up at him, stare at his lips and maybe jump in. But you’d never dare to- it was Sam. You couldn’t just mess things up.

This one was no different, though. The tension in the air was thick, more than it ever had been before.

But it was also comforting, knowing that it was only you and him.

Sam winced as you dabbed a cotton with alcohol on his arm.

He wasn’t shirtless this time, which you kind of hated.

You could tell he was looking down on you, but you refused to look up.

‘Do you miss them?’ He spoke up.

‘Miss who?’ Your eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and concentration over his wound.

‘The people you used to hunt with. You never told me why you stopped.’ That was true. You’d shared a little bit, but not much more was worth sharing.

‘God, no. I’m glad I got rid of them. They were breathing down my neck like I was a newbie, I got tired of being disrespected so I left. Plus, it led me to you guys.’ You smiled though Sam couldn’t see, but he could hear it in your voice.

He only smiled too. ‘Right.’

Sam was glad you were here. Dean had been driving him crazy for a while, no surprise there, so having you around, that kept him sane.

‘I’m glad you’re here, you know?’ You could almost hear his breath quicken.

‘Yeah? So am I.’ You finally looked up. His Adam Apple seemed to be telling you he was nervous, you could tell.

You were no good around nervous people. It made you feel that way too, for some reason.

Sam chuckled, making it feel like the tension had been sucked away.

‘You know, if I have to patch you up after every hunt, you might just call me your personal nurse.’ You laughed and got up, about to walk over to the medicine cabinet to put the kit away, Sam held you back by your wrist.

‘Maybe I’m doing it on purpose.’ Sam teased, though no smile, or hint of funniness could be seen or heard in his voice.

‘Oh yeah? Why is that?’ You teased back.

Sam could feel your pulse throbbing over your wrist.

He took a deep breath before speaking again.

‘C’mon. You can’t seriously be that oblivious.’ A smirk was visible on his face.

It was your turn to take a deep breath. Your voice was suddenly gone. You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

He took your voice away.

That was ironic.

You could only muster a small ‘Sam’ under your breath.

He had a hint of darkness in his eyes. Not the darkness you’d seen before. This wasn’t anger, or sadness. You just couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was.

Before you could understand what was happening, Sam, still holding onto your wrist, got up and hovered over you.

‘What are you doing?’ Seemingly, your voice was back, though shaky.

‘Something I should’ve done weeks ago.’

Sam’s lips were hot on yours. It took a couple seconds for your lips to move in synchronicity with his. For it to really, get to your brain- to register that Sam Winchester was kissing you.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it. About what his lips would feel like on yours. His hands all over your body. You’d fantasized about it, so many times.

His hands moved from all over. One second they were on your hips, your waist, the bottom of your spine, up to your cheeks, and getting all tangled up in your hair.

‘What a shame you have a shirt on this time.’ You laughed breaking the kiss.

Sam reciprocated the action, laughing, then smiling putting his forehead to yours.

Both of your breaths felt heavy, and the tension in the air had changed. It was thicker, but better.

Your eyes were closed, his skin on yours, until you let fear consume you.

‘What if this doesn’t work out.’ It wasn’t a question, more of a concern, an assumption.

Though your eyes were still closed, you could hear Sam take a breath, and squeeze your hands.

‘We’ll figure it out. Alright?’ He had the same question lingering.

‘Yeah. Whatever happens, we’re letting it, for now.’ You opened your eyes to his him looking back at you and nodding. The darkness was still here but it was mixed with sweetness and adoration.

‘Now. About that shirt of yours..’

[magnetokisser]

ALL I CAN SAY IS I'M SORRY. (1/2)

request: hii! could you do a fic of mark grayson x reader? If you’ve watched s3 ep2, could you do where instead of mark having the earpiece hurting him, it was the reader? i wanna know how he’d react to that, maybe cecil done it since he’d know it would hurt mark emotionally more rather than doing it to mark himself.

a/n: im sorry i took so long to answer this! I was waiting until the final episode came out to binge everything, but then i kept getting tiktoks of the episodes and decided to ensue pain and agony a week earlier. I hope this fits what you had in mind! anyway this might be a two part idk! edit: I literally stayed up till 2:00 am to watch episode 8 and oh my god every season past this one is about to be actually like a punch in the gut. anyway this isn't exactly story line accurate but hey </3

summary: donald was cecil’s number one. you were his number two. you had known cecil stedman since you were a kid, well before he took title of president of the GDA. you had known no life outside of the GDA until you met mark grayson, aka invincible; but you hadn’t known him for long enough to question cecil’s word.

warnings: mark goes through more pain and agony, reader takes a resemblance to dc’s black canary, NOT PROOFREAD, cecil is ever so sneaky. cecil being a manipulative dih 🥀, reader is sheltered and oblivious. mark is kinda mean but reader is also selfish. probably will have a part two, mentions and descriptions of violence.

word count:1k~

the stone cold walls of the pentagon never comforted you, no matter how long you lived there. from the secret experiments to the constant world-threatening events, the building was never quiet. and whenever it was quiet.. you didn’t like it. it was unsettling, like something was always on the verge of blowing up, or something. but all of that changed when omni-man’s son got powers, and when omni-man caused the death of thousands during his attempt to get invincible to join his side. to make matters worse, cecil know that omni-man was lying from the moment he landed on this planet. he never did anything about him, and the citizens of chicago paid the price.

after that fateful day, your world tipped on it’s side. so, you started spending more time with invincible. not as a superhero, since cecil used what left of his power to forbid it, but as people. you enjoyed the time you spent with him, but you were sure you enjoyed him more. he was kind, more caring than anyone you had ever met (possibly aside from atom eve), and he liked you for you– not because you could scream louder than the highest frequency. 

so when angstrom levy attacked mark and his family, snapping debbie’s arm in two and hurting his baby brother, you could see a darkness in mark start to spread. it was amplified by the fact his father had a new family on an unknown planet as well. cecil was hiding things from mark, and while you knew, you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to talk to him about it. both in fear of losing his friendship, and losing everything you knew in the pentagon. so when cecil had called you into the white room telling you that the pentagon was under attack, you obeyed him like a dog.

“what’s going on?” you asked, standing behind him with furrowed brows. something about the older man was off; like he was scared. “invincible has gone rogue. he’s killed by guards, and i’m not sure if he’s going to kill me next.” he replied, his face hardening. this made you frown. 

“kill you?” you repeated, glancing between the ‘door’ to the white room and cecil. invincible? kill someone? it sounded wrong– it didn’t sound like mark at all. but you hadn’t talked to him in months, and the last you heard, he had killed angstrom levy.. but he hurt his family. you didn’t think killing him was entirely necessary, but if you had family, you’d be just as angry as mark was, too. 

“yes.” the older man turned to look at you, his face just as cold as ever. “wait for my signal. invincible isn’t in his right mind, and he’s here to attack me. attack us. when you see him, scream. scream as loud as you can.” he said, taking a few steps back and disappearing. you frowned in confusion. he never told you anything, just expected you to sit when told. 

for a few moments, there was silence. you looked around and sighed, unease settling in your nerves. suddenly, you could hear a loud racket in the hallway. grunting, crashes, and the noise was slowly getting closer. surely cecil was just lying, right? this was either a test or he was completely misreading mark. he wouldn't kill cecil, no matter how much he disliked the older man.

just as you were going to ask cecil to call whatever was going on off, mark– no, invincible burst into the room. though he was wearing his goggles, you could tell his eyes were on you. his shoulders were slightly hunched, and his breathing was ragged. he was angry, hurt– betrayed. “mark..?” you called out, taking a step towards him. “where is he?” he looked around, his breath coming out in short and loud gasps. “cecil? i can’t let you see him.” you shook your head, your lips curling into a small frown. 

“you’re protecting him?!” he exclaimed, his hands balling into fists. “if you would tell me what was going on, i’d tell you why! he hasn’t told me anything either!” you threw your hands out, feeling attacked. there was very clearly something wrong with mark, be it emotionally, physically, or mentally. “bullshit! you knew d.a. sinclair wasn’t in jail! you knew he was here, with cecil and you protecting him!” he pointed at you, causing you to look away for a moment. this, unfortunately, was true. you didn’t agree with it at all, but your own selfishness stopped you from letting anybody know. you fell silent following his accusation.

he scoffed, shaking his head as he took another step towards you. “you’re protecting a murderer, and someone who only wants to protect himself,” he growled. “show me where cecil is, and i’ll think about forgiving you.” 

luckily, or maybe unluckily, cecil stepped in for you. his hands were behind his back, and his gaze bore into mark. “there’s no need for that, mark.” he sighed. on command, about 5 reanimen appeared, surrounding mark. without giving him a chance to talk, mark ripped the reanimen to shreds. it was a scary resemblance to his father. “why would you even need these things?! d.a. sinclair and darkwing need to go to jail. they’re murderers!” he exclaimed, turning towards cecil covered in blood. 

“i need them for protection, mark.” cecil spoke, keeping up a calm front as more reanimen appeared. mark continued to fight them, and while they were doing damage, he was still taking them out. “protection from what?!” he asked, punching one of the reanimen out of the way. cecil frowned, his eyes narrowing as mark took another step towards him. 

“you, mark. i need them as protection from you.” 

mark paused and went still for a moment before his face contorted in anger once more. before you could register it, mark flew towards cecil, his hand wrapping around the older man’s throat. you knew he wasn’t trying to prove his point, but he was trying to deny it in the worst way possible. cecil looked towards you as he gasped for air, shaking his head. 

“mark..” you murmured, slowly making your way towards the two. mark looked at you, his grip on cecil loosening for a moment. “i’m sorry.” you whispered, sighing softly. you took a step back and screamed, letting out a supersonic call. mark dropped to the ground and writhed in pain, curling up into a ball. “that, mark, was y/n’s specialty. paired with your earpiece that’s too far into your brain to reach and a copy of the call that monster you fought, her scream can amplify that by tenfold.” he said, watching as mark got up. you didn’t think it would hurt him. you just assumed that he was literally invincible. but there was nothing you could say now. 

“you.. what?” mark stammered. cecil pressed a button, or something, and the void that was the white room disappeared, showing an army of reanimen. you looked around, feeling a mix of fear and shock. the two men kept talking as you looked around, not knowing what to think. this was getting to be too much for you. just as you tuned back into the conversation, mark tried to fly off, and cecil pressed a button to turn on the frequency. “cecil..” you frowned, talking a step towards him. 

“no, y/n. he needs to learn that his ego won’t get him anywhere. he could turn into his father any moment, and we– the entire planet would be defenseless.” he said, turning it off as he turned to you. “that doesn’t mean you have to hurt him! he hasn’t hurt anybody!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms out. 

while the two of you were arguing, mark made his escape. he left the white room and flew through the ceiling of the pentagon, cecil telling donald to tail mark and take him down before he was out of range. if there was one, at least. you were left standing in the white room with reanimen surrounding you, not knowing what to do. if cecil didn't trust mark, did he trust you? he already had his engineering team create earplugs that would block out your scream if needed, so were you really in the same boat as them, or were you in the same boat as mark.

stumbling out of the room, you made your way through the halls of the pentagon. there were two things you needed to do. get out of here, and find mark so you could apologize. maybe it was time you let go of cecil, anyway.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Hello!! Can I request dating hcs of Rex x hypersexual!reader? With him helping them heal from their trauma and fear (and longing) of intimacy and being touched? Thank you, i love the way you write fics 🫶🫶

Thanks baby😘

This is based on my own experience with hypersexuality and the topics you described

Rex Sloan X Hypersexual!Gn!Reader

I think Rex is also hypersexual, or at least has some tendencies, so he'd understand a lot. I also think he would learn more about himself while trying to help you

He knows how sometimes your mind is buzzing with bad thoughts and stress, and the only thing that seems to calm it is by thinking about sex, especially when you're trying to sleep and just can't 

He knows sometimes sex feels like the solution to all problems

And that hipersexuality is a problem because it’s prejudicial to your life, in the sense that maybe you're trying to focus on something else, like studying, working, or a hobby, but your mind just. Won't. Stop. 

Sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex

But he's still learning to think before talking, and he just came to terms with the fact that he's actually very empathic 

So he might ask how you feel and what you're thinking from time to time, and what do you think that made you be hypersexual 

He doesn't want you to commit the same mistakes he did, so he makes sure your sexual dynamic with each other is very healthy, obnoxiously healthy, to the point that it's even funny how he’ll just stop in the middle of it to ask “do you want it or do you enthusiastically want it?” with the most serious expression, one it's even weird to see on him, because he's just so goofy

Because if the bar is high enough, you never will accept anything less, just like people with healthy families usually don't accept other people treating them like shit 

He's scared shitless that he’ll accidentally or indirectly hurt you, either because he didn't make sure how you felt, or because you were too good at pretending

He's ruined so many good things before, he doesn't want to do it anymore 

You might have intrusive thoughts, like really, intrusive thoughts. Not the ones most people are used to like “what if I threw my phone out of the window?”, but the real ones. If you have it you know what I’m talking about. 

I’m not sure he has them, because if you have them, you probably hide them, but he surprises you when he takes it seriously, not just thinking you're a freak, or a creep, or a weirdo. He understands right away they're not something you want, you don't condone those actions, you think they're the worst thing the could happen, and yet, your mind is so broken that it throws those thoughts at you, trying to make you hate yourself, and it might even work, and Rex makes sure you know it's not your fault, it's just a mental illness, there's nothing wrong with you, it's common, just talk to him baby, talking will make you feel better

He also becomes clingy, even performing PDA if you're into that. Just because your mind is thinking about all the different sexual scenarios you could do, doesn't mean you want sex, half the time you just want to be held, kissed and feel important. Just receive some attention and love. And he’ll enjoy doing that

Especially in the beginning of your relationship, he understands you might be confused on how to proceed, overthinking, and you might even try to distance yourself from him

Jokes on you, he's not gonna let that happen

I mean, see how his relationship with Rae started on the 3rd season, bro really worked for her

If he didn't like you as much, he would give up, honestly. Rex from the 1st and 2nd season would just offer himself to be your booty call

If you're touch starved, he understands that maybe you feel insecure about that, that the simple act of holding hands and rubbing your thumb on someone’s skin just isn’t second nature to you, isn't your first instinct, when you do it, you're actively thinking about it, afraid to move and disturb the peace, or make him stop touching you

Like one of those videos of abused animals who freak out at the simple mention of someone getting close to them, and when someone does, they need several minutes to get used to it 

He won't judge you for maybe being somewhat socially awkward on that aspect, he actually likes that you aren't used to just throwing yourself at anyone who gives you crumbs of attention, and ruining yourself in the process, almost like he did. It's not worth it, it's humiliating, it changes you so much that you can't recognize yourself in the end

It takes some time, but you get used to having him clinging to you at all and random moments of the day

He wants your first time together to be especial, and when you truly want it, so he doesn't even takes the first step, you have to do it 

I see you just sleeping in the same bed, fully clothed, every night, for several weeks (even months, if that's your thing), before actually having sex

Doesn't mean he won't make out with you, when you're comfortable with that. And he tries not to be the old him that would just grab your ass right away, instead, Rex learns that he likes to just… Explore 

He squeezes your waist, he touches your hair, your scalp, he breathes your scent. He rounds his arms around you and just has nice, quiet conversations. He lays his head on your chest, stomach and lap, closes his eyes, and his mind is suddenly empty, while you take initiative and run your fingers through his ginger locks. He holds your hand when he takes you out

He spoils you, he was never the type of guy to do that, he liked being spoiled instead

Now, he just thinks he needed to meet the right person

He cooks, it's not good, but he's trying to impress and make you happy

He learns your hobbies, and spends quality time with you. You have to know he's not with you just for sex, just for your body, your mind is just as sexy to him babygurl~ (in a gn way)

He shows you his home magazines and you talk about your future home together, despite how surreal it feels, how impossible it seems, how scary, not only to you, but also him. But he wants this. He finally has something good. A purpose in life

And even if you express some negative thought, he’s surprisingly good at comforting and reassuring, on his own unserious and abrasive way

Suddenly, your mind is a lot more peaceful

General masterlist

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[katsfixationcorner]

Sleepless Nights

tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader

Chapter Two

Previous Chapter

Summary: After a run-in with a new neighbor, Bucky becomes hellbent on figuring out who she is. When he's recovering from a much worse night than usual, another encounter with the woman across the hall ends up leaving him with new feelings he isn't sure how to process.

Warnings: Slice of Life, Canon-divergent, Slow-burn, Friends to Lovers, Neighbors Trope, Depictions of trauma, Mild Stalking, No use of Y/N; Chapter Warnings: Suicidal Thoughts, Self Harm

Word Count: 4.7k

Disclaimer: This chapter contains depictions of self destructive behaviors, suicidal thoughts, and self harm. If these are sensitive topics for you, I recommend you skip this one. Please take care of yourselves.

A/N: I’m not a mental health professional. All trauma/mental illness depictions are based on my personal knowledge/experience. If any depictions are incorrect or misrepresented, kindly educate me.

I do NOT consent to have my work copied, translated, or run through AI.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks. 

That’s how long it takes Bucky to gather what he can about the woman across the hall. It wasn’t difficult, just tedious. 

First, he checked the mailboxes. Now, he wasn’t about to steal mail from her - not unless he had to. But he could look for a name. Since the mailboxes are plainly labeled by unit and last name, this would be easy. The next time Bucky got his mail, he took the chance to glance at her unit’s box. 

Name acquired. 

Next, he stopped by the library. He doesn’t have his own computer (he really should purchase one) but the public ones are usually enough for what he needs. Just a few quick searches of the last name and address should give him what he- shit. 

And this is when an easy step in the “getting information” process quickly turned into a much harder one. 

He got the wrong name. The one on her mailbox wasn’t hers. Bucky was fairly certain of this -unless she was married and receiving retirement benefits from the government. That was probably unlikely. Bucky concludes that the landlord hadn’t had the chance to switch out the name plates. 

Dammit. This was supposed to be simple. 

Bucky had to figure something else out. He could just wait for the nameplate to be fixed, but whenever he tried to sit still and wait, his brain went into overdrive. This led him to spend an entire Saturday pacing laps around his apartment, doing very little other than checking the locks on the door and windows twice every hour. 

Waiting wasn’t going to work. 

Thankfully, there are plenty of ways to gain information about someone. Most of them, however, are risky and highly illegal. Checking a name with (mostly) public records is questionable but the safest starting point. 

Bucky was willing to do a lot in order to eliminate his anxieties, but he still had a code. He wasn’t going to dig too deep or do anything like violate her safety just to get surface level intel. Breaking into her apartment would be the most effective route to gain information, but Bucky had no reason to nor did he wish to. Not yet at least. 

He could always just talk to her; get her to give him her name and details willingly. There was once a time he considered himself charming and irresistible. But people lie, and that time has passed. Besides, he already knows what she’ll think of him: he’s dangerous and shouldn’t be trusted. No one could ever look at him and think, “now that’s a guy I want to sit down with and spill all my secrets to”. 

So that idea was thrown out almost immediately.

Unfortunately, Bucky was running low on simple ways to get what he wanted. Which -also unfortunately- led him to turn his attention to a much more predictable target: the apartment building’s property manager. Bucky already had a habit of doing strange odd jobs when he could find them. Since he’s been known to help the manager on occasion, it wasn’t odd of him to show up at the office and offer his services. 

Luckily for him, being handy and readily available worked out in his favor. The property manager gratefully accepted his help, granting Bucky access to the office in order to fix several things over the course of a few days.While he was there, Bucky was able to gain access to the manager’s computer while they were out on an appointment. 

People really need to be more careful about typing in passwords with him around. 

The property manager’s files gave him everything he needed. Name, age, occupation, access to a background check. It was plenty to give Bucky some peace of mind. The discount in his rent that month for his work was nice too, he supposed. 

His neighbor, it seems, is a completely ordinary person. She works a regular job with normal hours, lives alone, has a perfectly clean record, and -as far as Bucky can tell- could never be a threat to anyone, especially him. 

That was supposed to be enough to let him relax. 

Bucky has been having nightmares frequently during the entire two week process. He thought maybe, just maybe, once he knew he had nothing to worry about, he could rest. But by the time he wakes up tonight, he realizes all his research did nothing to rid him of his nightly terrors. 

He jolts up in a cold sweat and struggles to breathe, just as he has nearly every other night. His usual attempts to calm himself don’t work. Gasping for breath, Bucky grips the sofa and pulls himself to his feet, bracing himself on the wall as he stumbles to the bathroom. 

Everything he’s looked into since moving in should be enough to convince him that he’s somewhere safe. His apartment isn’t in the best part of the city, but there’s a neighborhood watch nearby and security guards patrol the parking garage around the corner. He has both his freedom and his mind back. He isn’t on the run anymore. No one’s out to hurt or control him. After such a long time fighting to survive, he finally has the chance to live. 

But how? How can he live after everything he’s done? Does he even deserve to?

Bucky’s grip tightens on the edges of the sink until his vibranium hand ends up cracking the granite. He takes an unsteady gulp of air then pushes himself away long enough to turn the shower on. This time the running water from the shower can’t chase his thoughts away. As they continue to cloud his mind, Bucky bends over the sink, turning on the faucet and repeatedly splashing his face with freezing water in an effort to focus on something else - as if the water could freeze his brain. 

How many more nights of this could he take? Nothing ever works. Why does he keep trying? 

Bucky splashes the water in his face with more force, this time slapping himself instead of cupping his hands back under the faucet. He presses his hands against his eyes, trying in vain to block the tidal wave of thoughts overtaking his senses.

Bucky’s mind is fractured into jagged pieces that never fit together perfectly, like a jigsaw puzzle with a few pieces missing. Some of the sharper sections -the ones that remind him of the horrors he’s committed and the pain he’s endured- continuously slice deep wounds in his brain that will never heal. On nights like tonight the pain is ever-present, something that overrides any remotely pleasant thought he has about himself and corrupts them. Those thoughts are left to fester, becoming poisoned by a despair that sinks its claws into him and drags him into a void of hopelessness. 

He can’t think straight. Everytime he tries to redirect his thoughts to something helpful, the tidal wave knocks him over and drags him deeper into the pit, raking him across the sharp edges of his past. He can’t stop it. He can barely breathe under the weight of his own mind. 

After all the lives he took, the families he ripped apart, why is he the one that gets a chance to live? 

Maybe he deserves this torment. The pain is his penance for all the people he’s hurt. He’ll take as much of it as he can -for them- until it destroys him and rids the world of an irredeemable monster. Then, and only then, will the victims of the Winter Soldier have peace. 

It’s no use. Everything he’s tried keeping at bay -everything he’s been trying to ignore- drags him deeper into the void, drowning him in a riptide of despair. There’s nothing he can do to bring himself back to the surface. 

This isn’t good enough. The mental anguish isn’t enough. Bucky needs to hurt; he needs to bleed. He deserves to suffer, to be punished for every death he caused.    

Somehow Bucky manages to get himself in the shower. His body moves without any input, depositing him under a cascade of frigid water. Still clad in the boxers he slept in, Bucky curls up in the tub, pulling his knees to his chest then pressing his forehead between them. 

A strangling sob pushes itself past Bucky’s lips. As soon as it breaks free from him, he bites his lip to keep any more from escaping. It isn’t long before he tastes iron. He deserves this, Bucky convinces himself. He deserves pain. 

Bucky doesn’t know how long he’s been in the shower. At some point his brain shut down, blocking him from the present in an effort to protect him from himself. All he feels is the freezing water that pierces his skin until his entire body aches from the cold. The torturous stinging it causes provides enough external stimulation to rouse him from the depths of his mind. He slowly regains control of his body, though he remains dazed and numb, devoid of any emotion and unable to recall anything but the first of many thoughts that pulled him under. 

When he feels able to, Bucky reaches for the shower knob and turns the water off, finally ending the torturous assault on his body. He stays where he is until he becomes aware of the shivers rippling across his body. Though he almost doesn’t want to, he forces himself to stand, throwing a towel around his shoulders once he can reach for one. 

It’s been a while since he had this bad of a night. Bucky isn’t sure how to recover. With his mind as blank as it is, his body goes into autopilot mode, guiding him through the motions it’s most familiar with. It takes him into the bedroom where he replaces his drenched boxers with a dry pair, jeans, and a worn t-shirt. Like many nights before this, Bucky retrieves his hamper then circles the room, grabbing whatever he touches and dropping it in the basket. He does the same routine in the living room, taking everything he usually does, then makes his way down into the building’s laundry room. 

The warm laundry room air is more suffocating than it usually is, but Bucky hardly notices. He heads straight for the last washer, continuing to go through the motions he’s used to. Once his hamper has been emptied into the machine and the machine has been started, Bucky leans back against a dryer then slides to the floor. Like he did in the shower, he pulls his knees to his chest then wraps his arms around them. He normally wouldn’t display himself like this in public, but he’s emotionally exhausted and doesn’t really care if anyone sees how despondent he is.

His therapist would want him to try and ground himself. With a shaky breath, Bucky closes his eyes, attempting to divert his attention from the whirlpool of bad thoughts swirling in his mind. When he reopens them, he makes an effort to take in his surroundings. The wall in front of him is lined with washing machines. The one containing his clothes is vibrating violently as it progresses through the washing cycle. Instructional signs for the machines litter the surface of the wall. Most of them are ripped and worn. The newer ones are laminated to protect from age. They even describe how to connect your phone to the machines if you’d prefer to. 

What does he hear? Well, it’s loud. His machine keeps knocking against the machine next to it causing a consistent banging noise. The door leading into the room squeaks when it opens and closes; its hinges desperately need to be lubricated. Bucky must have thrown a pair of jeans in the washer -he honestly doesn’t recall- because something metal intermittently hits the machine’s front facing lid. The door hinges squeak again when the door opens then it thuds against the doorframe as it shuts. 

Wait…

Bucky tilts his head towards the doorway. Soft footsteps approach from his right, stopping about a foot away from where he sits. When Bucky glances in the direction of the disturbance, he’s met with an outstretched hand. Two small bundles of wax paper are cradled in the palm. Bucky’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. His gaze flickers from the odd gesture towards the face of the person standing before him. He stares for a moment before a sense of familiarity hits him. 

It’s her.

His neighbor, the woman across the hall, is bent forward slightly, holding her hand out in front of him. Her eyes search his face for something Bucky isn’t quite sure of. When Bucky’s gaze meets hers, her eyes flicker towards her palm then she tilts her hand forward, gesturing for Bucky to take what she’s holding. 

They stare at each other for a few long seconds. When Bucky doesn’t move, his neighbor gestures to him again. “It’s taffy,” she explains carefully. Her tone is gentle and light like she’s trying to soothe an upset child. “I bought a bag on my way home.” 

Her expectant gaze remains locked on Bucky’s face. He doesn’t understand; her explanation has nothing to do with him. No one ever gives him the time of day, let alone feels the need to give him something unprompted. Unless they wanted to poison him… She doesn’t seem the type but he’s been surprised before. He could refuse, but by the way her eyes bear into him, it’s unlikely she’ll leave him alone until he appeases her. Reluctantly, Bucky reaches forward to swipe one of the candies from her outstretched palm. The wax paper wrapping is smooth against his flesh hand as he rolls the candy between his fingers. He won’t eat it, just in case. The candy is going in the trash the first chance he gets. 

A soft smile pulls at his neighbor’s lips when Bucky accepts her offering. Seeming satisfied, she straightens back up, untwisting the ends on the extra candy then popping it into her mouth in one fluid motion. Bucky watches her carefully, now spotting the vibrating washer behind her. She must have been loading it when he walked in; he just wasn’t present enough to notice. 

Bucky knows he’s staring. He can’t help it. His eyes track each of her movements. She shifts the weight distribution on her feet, now standing in a way that has her leaning away from him. Her gaze isn’t on him anymore but instead on the washer Bucky presumes contains her load of laundry. The wax wrapping crinkles as she bunches it in her palm, using her other hand to comb through her hair. A grimace crosses her face when her fingers get caught on a knot.

Since she’s no longer interested in him, Bucky takes the time to really look at her. For some reason, she isn’t leaving immediately like she did the last time they were in the same room together. He isn’t sure why. Has he made her feel unsafe enough to refuse to leave her things? He doesn’t really blame her, though. She did happen across a complete stranger dealing with the aftermath of a mental breakdown. 

After a bout of silence, the woman shifts again, this time towards Bucky instead of further away from him. She sighs to herself then bites her bottom lip like she’s wrestling with her thoughts. Once she makes up her mind, she turns back towards him, glancing down at him when she addresses him. 

“You’re Barnes, right?” She asks hesitantly, now twisting the wax wrapper in her hands. 

Bucky’s breath gets caught in his chest. How does she know who he is? Has she been looking into him like he has her? What else does she know? 

She answers one of his questions before he gets a chance to interrogate her. “Your mailbox is next to mine.” She explains in a rushed manner. “I should have- well… We’ve met before, technically. I didn’t say anything though. I don’t know why I didn’t say anything.” 

The woman stumbles over her words. A groan escapes her lips, her irritation with her failure to finish her thoughts apparent. She eventually introduces herself using the same name Bucky found on her resident file. 

At least she isn’t lying. Not yet, anyway.

She takes a step closer to Bucky, leans against the dryer behind her, then pulls herself up to sit on top of it. Her legs don’t quite touch the ground so she swings them out in front of her like she’s sitting on a swing set. The silence that fills the air between them doesn’t seem to bother her. She doesn’t try to fill it with empty words or annoying small talk; she just waits patiently for him to make the next move. 

The lack of words allows Bucky to think. There isn’t any harm in responding to her, is there? Even if she uses what he says to look into his life, anything she could find is practically public knowledge. 

His neighbor isn’t looking at him. Her eyes are fixated on a spot on the floor. Bucky finds himself staring at her again. This time his mind wanders. She isn’t unattractive. Quite the opposite, actually, though Bucky catches himself before he’s forced to explore thoughts he hasn’t had in a long time. He forces his gaze down to the wrapped candy in his hand. Having something else to focus on helps his mind reset. Instead of being in the forefront of his mind, the terrible thoughts he’s been struggling with have shifted to the side. Now all he can think about is her: why she’s still here and how she could stand being so close to him. 

One of those thoughts nag him until he can’t stop himself. He has to ask because he doesn’t understand. He can’t make sense of it by himself. Why is she still here?

“Why?” Bucky’s voice cracks roughly when he finally speaks. It’s rough and gravelly from not having used it all day. His question isn’t clear either, but he struggles to say much else. 

Her head lifts when she hears his voice, though her gaze doesn’t move from the floor. She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she focuses on her swaying feet before finally shrugging her shoulders. “You looked like you needed something sweet.” 

Her response only confuses Bucky further. He lifts his head so he can watch her. When he does, his eyes stop on the candy he’s still holding. Oh. She must have assumed he was asking about that. In an effort to clear up this miniscule misunderstanding, Bucky clears his throat then tries again. “Why are you sitting with me?” 

This time she tilts her head to the side then reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.  Even though she doesn’t answer immediately, Bucky doesn’t feel the need to rush her. She was patient with him, the least he can do is offer her the same. Once she’s decided what to say, she turns her head towards him, now holding his gaze with an expression that Bucky doesn’t have the words to describe. His first thought is pity, but the words that come out of her mouth contradict that: “No one deserves to be alone when they’re having a bad day.” 

Bucky isn’t quite sure what to do about that statement. Sure, he looks like shit, but he never expected anyone to comment on it, let alone try to help him. 

His lack of response doesn’t phase her. Instead, she brushes it aside, choosing instead to redirect their conversation. “Did you get into a fight?” She inquires, lifting a hand to point at her own mouth.  Confusion tugs Bucky’s lips into a frown. He shifts his gaze from her face down to the dryer she’s sitting on while he licks his bottom lip. When the tip of his tongue finds where his lip had split, understanding dawns on him. Instead of explaining he had caused it by purposefully biting himself, he settles on a simple “no”.  

“Hm,” is her hummed response. An easy silence grows between them before she breaks it with another question Bucky can focus on. “Do you work nights?”

“No.”

“Me either.” 

Bucky already knows that but he doesn’t tell her. She doesn’t need to know that he’s more of a stranger to her than she is to him. What he’s more curious about is why she’s up at such odd hours. He hasn’t figured that out yet, but he isn’t going to ask. 

The two of them settle into an amicable silence once more. Eventually, her washer finishes its cycle prompting her to slide off the dryer to switch machines. Once her clothes have been moved into the same dryer she was sitting on (one near Bucky, mind you), she decides to sit on the floor across from him, now leaning back against one of the washing machines. 

She seems comfortable with not speaking. Bucky appreciates that. His curt responses have no effect on her either. Usually he receives a look of indifference or offense when he refuses to play along with the back and forth of expected social interactions. So far, she hasn’t given him either of those. It’s…refreshing. Most of the time, interacting with people leaves Bucky anxious and uncomfortable. People always feel the need to fill silence with meaningless words, asking questions they don’t actually want the answer to and pretending to care. 

When people ask questions, there’s always an expected response, a right and a wrong answer. You aren’t expected to answer truthfully, only politely and vaguely. This usually works out in Bucky’s favor -he’s never expected to explain his feelings when he barely understands them- but he despises it. He’d much rather say nothing at all than have to go along with an empty, meaningless conversation. 

Bucky especially hates when people use questions to probe into his life. He can stomach the small talk and vague questions, but when they grow increasingly personal is when he draws the line. Knowing how his day is or what he thinks of the weather? Fine. But when they turn into what do you do for work or are you close to your family? Or worse: they notice his dog tags or arm and decide to ask about them.

Those are the types of things Bucky won’t talk about.

Bucky’s mind wanders towards the woman sitting across from him. She asked him three questions, and he hadn’t minded them (though one was left unanswered). They weren’t the usual type of question he’s used to getting. Sure, she asked about his job, but it was vague and she didn’t ask for any additional details. She just accepted his no’s like any response was good enough. Then she let it go, and nothing feels forced. The air between them isn’t thick with tension or unease. Bucky can just be and nothing is expected of him. 

The more Bucky dwells on the situation, the more he finds he doesn’t understand. There’s an uncertainty that’s building within him, something strange and confusing. He didn’t mind her questions, but his anticipation for more is winding him taut. This is one interaction, one isolated incident. She lives right across the hall. They’re bound to run into each other again if their laundry run-ins are anything to go off of. What happens then? How long will it be until she pries too deeply or asks something of him he can’t give?   

Bucky really needs to get his shit together. He’s known this woman for two weeks and has barely spoken to her. Tonight is just a…special circumstance. A one off event. It won’t happen again. There’s no reason for Bucky to think that a complete stranger would want anything to do with him. Besides, the more he gets to know her, the sooner she’ll turn into everyone else. So far she’s been polite and kind, but her patience for him will run thin. It always does. And yet one interaction is enough to catch his attention. She intrigues him. Him. 

God, he needs to get out more. 

The timer on Bucky’s washer pulls him out of his thoughts. With a groan, he pulls himself off the floor so he can move his laundry over. Though the taffy he’s still holding makes it difficult. He ends up slipping the candy into his pocket, promptly forgetting about it for the time being. 

Bucky can feel her eyes trailing him as he loads the dryer but she never says anything. Once the machine is on, he returns to his spot across from her, this time stretching his legs in front of him. Due to his height, his feet end up resting against the washer next to her. She doesn’t seem to mind. Her eyes meet his briefly before she turns her attention from his face, choosing instead to lean her head back and close her eyes. 

They sit together in silence until her laundry is finished. When her timer goes off, she opens her eyes then stands back up. Bucky watches as she takes the time to fold her clothes before placing the piles neatly in her basket. After double checking her dryer for anything left behind, she takes her hamper then holds it sideways against her hip. Before she leaves, she hesitates -contemplating something- then tilts her head in Bucky’s direction and graces him with a small smile. 

“Good-night.” 

As soon as those two words leave her lips, she turns her back to him then walks out of the room. With his company gone, an uneasy feeling washes over Bucky. Now that he’s alone, there’s nothing to distract him from the flood of negative feedback his brain fires upon him. Though still present from earlier, this time, for some reason, it doesn’t overtake him. Bucky still feels heavy but no longer like he’s dragging himself through a tar pit. 

He remains in the laundry room until his dryer timer goes off. Unlike his neighbor, he pulls the clothes out of the machine and drops them unceremoniously into his hamper. Once he returns to his apartment, he drops the hamper on the floor by his bed then spends the next ten minutes folding everything. When the task is complete, Bucky pulls off the jeans he was wearing and starts to add them to a pile. As he folds the fabric, his fingers brush over the candy still in one of the pockets. Bucky retrieves it, lays his pants down, then retreats to the living room with the sweet in hand.

Though fully intent on throwing it into the garbage, something unusual comes over him. Something new. Bucky pauses on his way to the kitchen. For some reason, he can’t bring himself to toss the candy. Instead, he places it carefully on a kitchen counter, leaving it there until he decides what to do with it. 

Since he doesn’t have anything better to do or any chore to keep him distracted, Bucky reclines on the sofa with the intention of channel surfing until something catches his eye. He eventually stops on a news channel, letting it play in the background while he tries to relax. 

His mind is still foggy and every time he tries to remember what happened earlier his memory goes blank. It’s normally nearly impossible for him to regain himself so quickly after a terrible episode, but this time was different. 

She was there. 

She may not know what he was going through, but she insisted on keeping him company anyway. And it helped, even if just a little bit. Bucky is exhausted, his body feels like he got hit by a truck, but the bad thoughts have been pushed to the back of his mind. 

Even though he couldn’t control it this time, he was still able to recover. That means something. Bucky just isn’t certain on what it is. But as he lays back into the sofa cushions and closes his eyes, the time spent with her keeps being replayed in his mind. Exhaustion eventually overcomes him, and as the memory of her voice lulls him to sleep, Bucky becomes certain of one thing: it was nice not being alone.

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