#I’m so emotional over this tree you guys don’t even know

[spoofyleaf]

Sometimes I remember that my whole house was so obsessed with the show Merlin, that we named the first tree we planted in the yard Merlin.

When it was given to us 11 years ago it was hardly a scraggly stick, and now it looks like a giant bush

Artist rendition

[vunblr]

To Mend a Soldier

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ (Masturbation). Slight angst. Comfort. Fluff.

Summary: Pressed by a worried Sam, Bucky reluctantly agrees to try an alternative -and, if you ask him, weird- therapy program: rent-a-mom. What starts as an obligation soon turns into something far more meaningful than he ever expected.

Word Count: About 20k.

note: Yeah… it’s a long one. This has been sitting in my folder for a while, and I couldn’t figure out where to split it, so here we are. Please don’t hate me! 😅 If you enjoy it, I’d really appreciate it if you could share or leave a comment, it means so much.

After everything he’d been through -Hydra, Zemo, Thanos, Steve’s departure, and now therapy with Dr. Raynor- Bucky still couldn’t seem to find peace. The nightmares remained, the guilt festered, and every glance he got on the street reminded him of who he used to be, not who he was trying to become. Trusting people felt impossible, and his defenses were built like steel walls.

Sam, however, refused to let him slip further into isolation. Over the past few months, he’d watched him struggle silently, shrugging off every attempt to help him open up. But The Falcon wasn’t one to give up easily.

One evening, while they were returning from a brief mission on a plane, he finally brought it up again.

“You ever thought about alternative therapy?” he asked casually, pressing a cooling bag over his shoulder.

Bucky didn’t even look up from where he was unlacing his boots. “What, like yoga?” His voice was flat and unimpressed. “I don’t bend that way.”

“No, not yoga.” Sam’s tone was patient like he was explaining something to a stubborn child. “It’s something some veterans are trying. Heard about it from a guy at the VA.”

“Right.” Bucky snorted. “Modern mumbo jumbo. What is it? Journaling? Crystals? Hugging trees?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s called rent-a-mom.”

That got Bucky’s attention. His head snapped up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Rent-a-what?”

“Rent-a-mom,” Sam repeated, biting back a grin at Bucky’s incredulous expression. “It’s this service where someone -usually a nice, older lady- comes to your place for a couple of hours a week. She cooks, chats, and keeps you company. Some guys use it to feel normal again, you know? A little comfort or emotional support, whatever you need, with no judgment.”

Bucky stared at him for a beat before deadpanning, “So you’re telling me to hire a prostitute.”

Sam threw his hands up in exasperation. “What is wrong with you man? No! That’s not what this is.”

“You sure? Because whatever I need, with no judgment sounds like you’re telling me to hire someone to-”

“Stop!” Sam cut him off, pointing a finger at him. “It’s not like that, okay? She works with vets all the time. You know, people like you who don’t trust anyone and think the world’s out to get them.

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat. “Sounds like a scam.”

“It’s not a scam. I know a guy who uses her services. He says it’s the only thing that keeps him grounded some weeks. And it’s not just him. A lot of vets partaking on the program swear by it.”

Bucky grumbled under his breath, something about “modern nonsense” and “people these days.”

Sam sighed, leaning forward. “Look, man, I’m not saying it’s gonna fix all your problems. But what’s the harm in trying? One session. Worst-case scenario, you don’t like it, and you never call her again.”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t need some stranger poking around in my life.”

“She’s not gonna poke,” Sam insisted. “She’s just there to help. And let’s be real, you could use it. You’ve been holed up in that apartment for weeks. When’s the last time you had a real conversation with someone who wasn’t me or that Raynor bitch?”

Bucky didn’t answer, just tightened his jaw.

“Exactly,” Sam said, leaning back with a smirk. “Plus, you owe me for Redwing. That little stunt you pulled last week? Yeah, I’m still mad about that.”

“Cheap shot,” Bucky muttered, glaring at the floor.

“Call it whatever you want. You’re doing this.”

After a long, heavy pause, Bucky sighed. “Fine. One session. But if this is a waste of my time, I’m blaming you.”

Sam grinned, already pulling out his phone. “You’re gonna thank me when it works. Just wait.”

----

Bucky sat on the edge of his couch, glaring at his phone like it had personally wronged him. Sam had texted him the woman’s contact information a few hours ago, with an obnoxious winky face at the end. He couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be reassuring or not but either way, it made his skin crawl.

“Just one session,” he muttered, running his hand down his face. Sam’s words echoed in his head: “It’s not what you think, man. She’s just… good at what she does. People trust her.” Trust. Bucky scoffed. That wasn’t something he handed out easily anymore, but after the Redwing incident, Sam wasn’t going to let him live it down unless he followed through. Grimacing, he tapped out a message.

Hi. This is James Barnes. Sam Wilson gave me your contact information. He said you… help people. I’m interested in setting up a session. Let me know if you’re available.

He stared at the screen for a good minute before hitting send. The second the message left his phone, he regretted it.

What the hell am I doing?

His internal spiral was interrupted by a response. That was fast.

Hi, James! Thanks for reaching out. I’d be happy to help. How does Tuesday at 5 PM sound?

He frowned. No small talk? No questions? Just… straight to the point. It wasn’t what he’d expected, but he appreciated it.

Fine, he replied, then immediately felt like a jerk. Then he added a Thanks.

----

Thursday came too quickly. Bucky paced his apartment, tidying up out of sheer nervous energy. He wasn’t sure what to expect. What was this woman going to do? Make him tea? Lecture him on proper nutrition? Sam had called her a “mom-for-hire,” but the idea still sounded absurd.

At exactly 5 PM, there was a knock at the door. Bucky froze. For a split second, he considered pretending he wasn’t home. But he sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and opened the door, noticing two things:

First, this Mom was not an older lady. Either Sam left out that critical detail, or she was some kind of evil witch who sucked the life force out of her victims to stay young.

Second, she was… nice to look at. He quickly chastised himself for the thought.

“Hi,” she said, in a warm but professional tone, like she’d done this a hundred times before. There was no hesitation in her posture, no uncertainty in her eyes. She shifted the bag on her shoulder and offered a small smile. “You must be James.”

“Bucky.” he corrected gruffly, crossing his arms and leaning slightly against the doorframe. “You’re not what I expected.”

Her smile doesn’t falter. “Let me guess. You were expecting someone older? Maybe with glasses and a knitting basket?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, not confirming but not denying either.

She lets out a soft laugh. “I get that a lot.”

The silence stretched between them, and then he realized he was just standing there, blocking the doorway like an idiot. He stepped aside, muttering a “Come in.”

She entered the apartment, glancing around the living room as she set her bag down, taking in the stark, utilitarian setup. A couch, a small TV on a stand, and little else. The dining table was non-existent, replaced by a counter with two bar stools. “This is… cozy,” she said diplomatically, gesturing at the space.

Bucky’s lips twitched in a faint smirk. “It works.”

She hummed in response, her gaze falling to the small stack of books on the coffee table. A couple of dog-eared crime novels sat next to a remote. There wasn’t much else to indicate anyone truly lived here. No photos, no clutter, just the bare essentials.

He folded his arms again, hovering near the door as if he wasn’t sure whether to close it or bolt. “Look, I don’t need the whole... whatever it is you do. Sam talked me into this, so don’t feel like you have to stick around for too long.”

She didn’t seem fazed by his awkward brusqueness. Instead, she just nodded and set the bag down on his counter. She began unpacking a few items, ingredients, it looked like.

“So,” she said, turning to him with an easy smile. “What’s on the agenda for today? You tell me what you need, and we’ll go from there.”

What he needed? Hell if he knew.

“Uh…” He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t… really know how this works.”

“That’s okay,” she reassured, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “We can start small. How about I make us something warm to eat while we talk?”

Talk. Right. He could handle that. Probably. And the food didn’t sound half bad either.

“Sure,” he said, with a softer tone now. He hesitated before adding, “Thanks.”

She smiled at him again and reached into her bag, pulling out a neatly folded apron. Without hesitation, she slipped it over her summer dress, tying the strings behind her back. The casual way she moved threw him off; she already seemed at ease in his space, which was more than he could say for himself.

“Is there anything you don’t like to eat?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder as she headed toward the kitchen.

Bucky blinked at her like she’d just asked him if he believed in unicorns. “Anything I don’t like?” His eyebrows lifted, clearly baffled by the concept.

“Yes,” she replied with a small laugh, looking back at him as if to say she was serious.

He gave a short huff, leaning against the counter, his lips twitching with faint amusement. “Doll, I grew up in the Depression. You ate what you got and licked the plate clean.”

She froze mid-step, her hands moving to her hips as she turned to face him fully. “Okay, first of all, you don’t ‘doll’ your mother,” she said, her tone firm but with a playful edge. “So let’s make it clear: that won’t be a thing between us.”

His head tilted, his eyes narrowing slightly in mild surprise at her sudden, slightly commanding tone.

“And second,” she continued, crossing her arms as if daring him to argue, “we’re not in the Depression anymore. So, humor me and tell me if there’s anything you don’t like.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, the smallest hint of a smirk appearing as he quirked an eyebrow at her. She wasn’t what he’d expected. Not even close.

“Guess I’ll have to think about it,” he muttered with the faintest trace of amusement.

She rolled her eyes, tying the apron snugly around her waist. “Well, then tell me what you do like, so I can see if I can pull it off with what we’ve got.”

He hesitated, darting away his gaze as if the question required more thought than it should. Finally, he mumbled, “Potatoes?”

Her lips twitched with amusement. “Lucky for you, I brought some with me.” She nodded toward another bag she’d left near the door.

Bucky watched as she moved around his kitchen, opening cabinets and peeking into drawers. It was strange seeing someone else handle his things like they belonged there.

She moved to his fridge next, tugging it open, and froze. For a long moment, she just stared, her head tilting slightly. “Huh.”

Bucky frowned, leaning to the side to see what had caught her attention. “What?”

She stepped back, gesturing inside with a wooden spoon she’d plucked from the counter. “The two plums are fine, but that sad, dried-out lemon is holding on by a thread, and…” Her nose wrinkled as she peered at a container shoved in the back. “I don’t even want to guess what’s in that tupperware.”

He shifted as his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s probably still good.”

“Bucky.” She turned to him, one brow arched and her tone matter-of-fact. “We’re going to have to make a shopping list if these visits are going to continue. Unless you’re planning to survive off potatoes and mystery leftovers?”

His lips twitched again, but he didn’t say anything, just shrugged.

“I’ll take that as agreement,” she said, grabbing the potatoes she’d brought with her and setting them on the counter. “For now, I’ll work some magic with these and whatever’s actually edible in here.”

He smirked faintly, leaning against the counter as he watched her sort through his kitchen again with an air of efficiency like she’d done this a thousand times before.

At some point, she straightened up and caught his gaze. “You didn’t say anything yet,” she said, leaning a little on the counter. “but I assume you have questions about what I do?”

He shifted uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck as if buying time. “Sam told me something… about cooking and talking,” he muttered hesitantly. Then he glanced away, subtly implying that he didn’t expect much beyond that.

She didn’t rush him, waiting patiently for him to finish. When he fell silent, she let out a soft chuckle and grabbed a cutting board from the counter. “I have a proper job, you know,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “At a bookstore. This…” she continued, gesturing vaguely toward the room, “is just something I’ve been doing for a couple of years now. It started when a lady from the program came into the shop looking for books to read to her son before nap time.” She paused, her lips curving in a small, amused smile. “The thing is, this lady was, well… let’s just say she was quite old to have a little kid. She must have seen the look on my face because she told me about this initiative she was part of.”

Bucky tilted his head, curiosity tugging at his otherwise guarded expression. “And you signed up?”

“Eventually,” she admitted, peeling one of the potatoes with practiced ease. “I kept running into her, and she’d stop by the store to chat about how the reading sessions were going, how much her ‘kid’ enjoyed them.” She made air quotes with her fingers, smirking. “Turned out, her kid was a Vietnam vet. He was struggling with some things, and she was helping him feel more grounded.”

Bucky arched his brows.

“Exactly,” she said, laughing softly. “I thought it was strange at first, too, but the more I learned, the more I realized how much of a difference it can make for some people.” She paused, setting the peeler down and turning to fully face him, with a softer expression now. “There’s something about the kind of comfort a mother gives, something other roles just… don’t quite reach.”

Bucky tilted his head slightly, furrowing his brow.

“You’ve probably seen it,” she continued, “Soldiers in their last moments, calling for their moms. Or when they’re delirious with fever or pain, their minds go back to a time when they felt safe, protected, and cared for. It’s not about the specific person, it’s the feeling. That deep-rooted need to know someone’s there for you, no matter what.”

His jaw tightened, and his gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before flicking back to her. She didn’t miss the shift in his expression, a flicker of recognition, a shadow of memory.

“I’m not saying I’m trying to be anyone’s mother,” she added quickly, offering him a gentle smile to lighten the mood. “But sometimes people just need a little bit of that energy in their life, you know? A chance to feel… safe.”

Bucky’s mouth pressed into a thin line, stiffening briefly before he exhaled, his relaxing his shoulders just a fraction. He didn’t say anything, but the weight of her words lingered in the air between them.

He had to admit it sounded... nice. Having someone to turn to when things got… when you couldn’t breathe. When the world felt too heavy and every corner of your mind was filled with noise you couldn’t escape. But just as that thought settled in, his defenses kicked in, sharp and automatic.

He scoffed, the sound coming out a little too rough, a little too biting. “And then what? You cuddle on the couch, singing a lullaby?”

Her hands stilled, and she turned to look at him, meeting his gaze. There was no annoyance in her expression, no judgment. Just a calmness that made him feel even more off-balance.

“If that’s what you need,” she said simply, “then yes.”

For a moment, he was stunned into silence, caught off guard. There was no sarcasm, no condescension, just a sincerity that felt almost disarming.

His eyes darted away as he shifted his weight, the corners of his mouth twitched in an effort to form a response. But for once, words failed him, leaving only the quiet hum of the kitchen and the soft clatter of her returning to the potatoes.

“There are some info sheets and forms in the bag,” she said, nodding toward her tote. “If you want to read and complete them while I do this.” She gestured as she resumed working on the potatoes.

Bucky hesitated, flicking his gaze between her and the bag. “What’s the payment?” he asked gruffly, trying to keep his voice casual. “In case… in case I might be interested.”

She paused for a beat, then glanced over her shoulder with a small smile. “I don’t charge veterans,” she said simply.

He blinked, clearly taken aback. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Finally, he managed, “Sam didn’t… didn’t tell me that.”

“Well,” she said, setting the knife down for a moment and turning fully to face him, “to be fair, Sam told me a little about you.”

At the slight stiffness that crept into his expression, she quickly added, “Just… basic things.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m already working with someone who’s… retired now, and I wasn’t sure about having two ‘sons’ in the same department, so to speak.”

She hesitated, studying his face for a moment before continuing. “But when he told me who you were… I didn’t doubt it for a second. You’re a hero, you know?”

He seemed surprised by the statement, his brows knitting together as if trying to make sense of her words. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. Finally, he grumbled, “Don’t know about that, but thanks.”

She smiled softly, “Don’t thank me, sweetheart. I’m just stating the obvious.” With that, she turned back to the cooking, leaving Bucky standing there, uncomfortably aware of the unexpected swell of gratitude threatening to creep past his defenses.

He then opened the tote bag and pulled out a neatly organized folder. Inside, there were several documents, each clipped together in its own section. He skimmed over the first page, a set of “basic rules” clearly outlined at the top.

His brow furrowed slightly as he read. Boundaries: He would only call her “Mama” or some other variant, never her name, an instruction that immediately made his stomach twist with both unease and an odd sense of reassurance. The point was clear: this wasn’t a friendship or anything else ambiguous. It was meant to define their dynamic firmly.

Further down, he saw a list of do’s and don’ts regarding acceptable forms of touching. The wording was straightforward but gentle, ensuring the rules were understood without feeling restrictive. A clause about privacy caught his attention: Everything discussed during their sessions would remain strictly confidential. Nothing said between them would be disclosed, ever.

He sighed and leaned against the counter, flipping to the next section. The forms included a series of questions: What would you expect from these sessions? What would you prefer not to happen? What are your favorite comforts? Least favorite?

The questions made him uncomfortable. What did he expect? Hell if he knew. What would he even put down for “favorite comforts”? He tapped the pen against the counter, unsure where to start.

When he finally glanced back at her, she was chopping the potatoes with practiced ease. “And what happens after I fill this out?” he asked, trying to sound neutral.

“Once the forms are completed and signed,” she said without turning around, “I’ll be in charge of the dynamic.” She paused, glancing at him over her shoulder with a small smile. “After all, Mama knows best.”

Her tone was light, teasing, but the words landed heavier than she might have realized. Bucky stared at the form again, feeling the faintest flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe trust. Maybe just exhaustion. Either way, the weight of his pen didn’t feel as heavy anymore.

“You don’t have to sign it right now,” she said, washing her hands and wiping them on a towel. Turning back to him, she added, "Maybe wait and see how this goes first?" then, she walked toward the living room and perched on the edge of the couch patting the spot next to her. “Sit. You can tell me about your week while the potatoes cook… if you want.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the couch like it might be a trap. Finally, he crossed the room, lowering himself onto the seat beside her. The couch dipped under his weight, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed a hand over his face. The silence hung between them, save for the faint sound of traffic through the window. After a moment, he started to bounce his knee.

She noticed the motion and glanced at him, her gaze drifting lower. That’s when it hit her, the long-sleeved henley and the glove on his hand. The room wasn’t exactly cold. In fact, with the oven going and the potatoes roasting, it was comfortably warm.

Her brows knitted together. “Bucky,” she started carefully, with a light tone, “you know by now that I knew who you were before I knocked on your door, right?”

He turned his head slightly, not quite meeting her eyes but acknowledging her words with a small grunt.

“So… don’t you want to change into something less... suffocating?” She gestured loosely at his shirt. “I mean, it’s hot in here.”

His knee stopped bouncing. He straightened slightly but didn’t respond right away. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw worked like he was weighing his next move.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, his voice gruff. He didn’t sound angry, just… uncertain.

“It’s not fine,” she countered gently. “You’ll overheat sitting here like that. Besides, I thought we were working on this whole... trust thing since you know… the mom thing?”

Her words hung in the air, and for a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, with a deep breath, Bucky pushed himself to his feet, heading toward the hallway. He muttered something under his breath that she didn’t catch, but the slight hunch of his shoulders told her he was uncomfortable. Still, he disappeared into the bedroom, and she heard the sound of a drawer opening.

When he returned a few minutes later, he was wearing a soft, dark gray T-shirt. He paused in the doorway, his eyes flicking to her briefly before he sat back down, this time leaning into the couch instead of perching on the edge.

“Better?” he asked, his tone dry but not harsh.

“Much better,” she replied, a smile tugging at her lips.

Bucky didn’t say anything, but his shoulders seemed to relax just a fraction. The oven timer went off in the kitchen, breaking the moment, and she stood, giving him a reassuring pat on the knee as she passed by.

As she checked the food with her back turned to him, she spoke casually, “Sam said you’ve been having a rough time lately.”

Bucky frowned, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Sam talks too much.”

Her lips quirked in a small smile, though she didn’t turn around. “He’s worried about you.”

“He doesn’t need to be,” Bucky muttered.

“Maybe not. But he is. And from what I can tell, he’s the kind of person who acts on that worry.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m not here to pry.”

Bucky’s shoulders tensed slightly, and his jaw tightened. “Then why are you here?” The question came out sharper than he intended, his voice low and clipped, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she turned off the stove, wiped her hands on a towel, and finally faced him.

“Why am I here?” she echoed with a calm tone. “One, because you texted. And two…” She crossed the room slowly, stopping a few feet from the couch. Her gaze softened, her head tilting slightly. “Sometimes, it helps to have someone around. Someone who’s not a therapist or a friend who knows too much. Just… someone.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His expression was unreadable, but she could see the gears turning in his head. She approached the couch and sat down beside him, leaving just enough space to avoid crowding him but close enough to offer her quiet support.

Bucky shifted slightly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together tightly. The silence between them stretched, but it didn’t feel heavy. It felt like an invitation for him to speak if he wanted to, no pressure, no expectations.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he said finally, almost in a grumble.

“I know.” Her reply was soft, almost instinctive. “It’s okay.”

His shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and for the first time that evening, he glanced at her directly. There was a hint of something vulnerable in his expression. Hesitation, perhaps.

“It’s just…” he started, his voice trailing off as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s been a lot lately. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Just where you feel like it, I’ll be here to listen. And if you don’t want to talk, that is fine too, one doesn’t tell everything to their mom, hm?” she assured gently.

The timer beeped from the kitchen again, cutting through the moment. She reached over, giving his forearm a brief, reassuring squeeze before standing. “Let me get that before the potatoes burn.” As she moved toward the kitchen, she glanced back at him with a small smile. “Think about it, Bucky. No rush.”

He watched her retreat, his chest feeling a little lighter, though he couldn’t quite explain why.

When she called from the kitchen, cheerfully announcing that dinner was almost ready, he found himself answering without thinking. “Smells good.”

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

He pushed himself off the couch with a grunt and crossed the short distance to the kitchen in a few long strides. Without a word, he started opening cabinets and drawers, pulling out a couple of plates and utensils to set up at the counter.

“Oh, such a good boy!” she teased warmly.

He paused, shooting her a look over his shoulder, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and embarrassment. “It’s just the right thing to do,” he muttered gruffly, his ears tinged faintly pink.

She bit back a smile as she pulled the tray of potatoes from the oven, the aroma filling the small kitchen. As she set the tray down, she reached for the fridge and produced a small bowl of creamy dip, placing it on the counter beside the potatoes.

Bucky quirked a brow with evident curiosity.

“What?” she asked playfully. “These aren’t your Depression potatoes. They’ve got a little twist.”

He snorted softly, shaking his head. “A twist, huh?”

“Just a little sour cream, and the spices are courtesy of your kitchen,” she said, ladling the potatoes onto a serving dish with practiced ease. “Trust me, they’ll still taste like home. Just… a little fancier.”

Bucky glanced at the bowl again, his lips twitching in faint amusement. “Fancy potatoes,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Hey,” she countered, setting the dish in the middle of the counter with a flourish. “Even tough guys like you deserve something nice now and then.”

He didn’t respond right away, but as he pulled out a stool at the counter and sat, there was a flicker of something lighter in his eyes. “Guess we’ll see if they live up to the hype.”

She handed him a fork, with a widening smile. “Challenge accepted.”

For the first time that evening, the atmosphere in the room felt less heavy. The clinking of utensils and the scent of roasted potatoes mingled with the faintest hum of unspoken understanding.

“Not bad,” Bucky admitted after his first bite, begrudging but carrying a hint of approval.

“Not bad?” she echoed, raising a brow. “I’ll take that as high praise.”

The corners of his mouth twitched upward, and for a fleeting moment, it almost looked like he might smile.

They made small talk while they ate, keeping the conversation light. She asked about the crime novels on his side table, and he asked -grudgingly- what kind of twist she had planned for the next meal, implying she might want to poison him. Despite himself, Bucky found the interaction strangely… normal. He wasn’t used to normal, but he didn’t hate it.

When they finished, he stood and began gathering the dishes. She protested at first, but he waved her off. “It’s what my Ma would have expected anyway,” he said matter-of-factly.

He’d just started scrubbing the first plate when her phone buzzed on the counter. She glanced at the screen, then at the clock, letting out a soft sigh. “Well, Buck, it seems our two hours are up.”

Bucky froze and his hand gripped the plate under the warm water. Then he nodded once. “I see…”

She leaned against the counter next to him, watching him carefully. “So, um… what do you want to do? Will you read the forms and consider starting this little journey together, or would you rather not see my face again?” She smiled softly. “Which I’d totally understand if that’s the case.”

He didn’t respond immediately, focusing instead on rinsing the plate and setting it on the drying rack. For a moment, the only sound was the rush of water and the faint hum of the fridge. It was as if he was battling with himself, his tension was visible in the way his shoulders hunched and his jaw clenched. Finally, he let out a long breath and turned to face her. His hand raked through his hair.

“I... I want this, I think,” he stated. Then, almost immediately, he added, “I can step out whenever I want, right?”

Her smile softened as she reached for his vibranium hand, her fingers resting lightly against the cool metal. “Yes, Bucky. You can step out whenever you want. No pressure, no expectations. This is for you, on your terms.”

He nodded slightly, his eyes flicking down to where her hand rested on his before shifting back to meet her gaze.

“Just take your time filling out the questionnaire, think the answers carefully” she continued, warmly but matter-of-fact. “and, whenever you’re ready, snap a picture and send it to me. No rush.”

“Okay,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Also…” She tilted her head. “How many days a week do you want me here?”

Bucky blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. He shifted slightly, glancing away as if considering his answer. “Uh… two, I guess?”

“Two it is,” she said with a small nod, releasing his hand and grabbing her bag from the counter. “You’re calling the shots, Buck. You just let me know if that changes.”

He didn’t respond right away, but as she slung her bag over her shoulder and made her way toward the door, he called out in a low tone. “Thanks.”

She paused, glancing back at him with a smile. “Anytime.”

As the door closed behind her, Bucky stood there for a moment, staring at the now-empty space she’d left behind.

Almost three minutes after she left, his phone buzzed on the counter, the screen lighting up with a notification. He didn’t have to check to know who it was. Sure enough, the preview of the text confirmed it: Sam. The string of emojis accompanying the message made Bucky’s scowl deepen as he stared at the screen.

🤔💪👍👵🍲

“What the hell does that even mean?” he muttered to himself, swiping the phone off the counter and locking it without reading the full message. The last thing he needed was Sam’s smug commentaries right now.

He set the phone down a little harder than necessary and decided to distract himself the only way he knew how: by scrubbing himself clean. Grabbing a towel, he headed to the bathroom, peeling off his T-shirt on the way. The promise of a hot shower sounded like the closest thing to clarity he might find tonight.

But as the water beat down on his skin, his thoughts drifted back to the folder she’d left behind. The questionnaire seemed simple on the surface, but for a man like him, answering those kinds of questions wasn’t easy.

What comforts you?

The question alone made him bristle. Comfort wasn’t something he’d thought about in decades. Comfort was… a luxury, a distraction, a weakness. At least, that’s what they always told him and he still couldn’t shake that feeling.

The thought of filling out that damn paper felt heavier than any mission he’d been assigned. He’d rather face a bullet in his leg than sit down and figure out what he wanted.

He leaned his head against the shower tiles, the warmth of the water doing little to ease the tension coiling in his chest. Maybe he’d give himself a day. Or two. Hell, maybe a week. She’d said no rush, after all.

And if he didn’t send it? Well, it wasn’t like she’d show up uninvited. He could still back out.

He turned off the water with a sharp twist, the sudden silence leaving him alone with his thoughts. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped out, glancing toward the closed door of his bedroom where the folder waited.

----

It had taken Bucky two weeks to fill out the forms. Two long, painstaking weeks of sitting at his couch, pen in hand, staring at questions that felt more like traps than prompts. He’d forced himself to be thorough, thinking carefully about each subject.

What makes you feel safe? What comforts you? What do you need from me?

How do you want to be called as an endearment?

He’d tried to approach it with an open mind, though the process made him cringe more than once. Admitting what he needed -or even what he was willing to permit- felt like baring himself in a way that left him raw.

But he finished. He signed the papers, scanned them with his phone, and sent the file off with an unceremonious text:

Here. Let me know if it’s fine.

Her reply had been immediate and cheerful: Got it! Looks perfect. See you Tuesday.

----

When Tuesday came, she arrived at his building, juggling a tote bag filled with what she liked to call her “comfort supplies.” A neighbor leaving the building had held the door open for her, a kind but overly trusting gesture.

Not a very safe thing to do, she thought as she stepped inside. But I’m not going to complain.

She reached his door, knuckles rapping lightly against it. “Bucky? It’s me.”

No answer.

She frowned and knocked again, a little louder this time. “Bucky, you there?”

Still nothing.

She pulled out her phone and sent him a quick message: Hey, I’m here! A moment later, her phone buzzed with the dreaded notification: Message failed to deliver.

Her frown deepened. She tried calling, but the call went straight to voicemail. A sinking feeling settled in her chest as she pressed her ear to the door, listening intently.

Nothing. No footsteps. No muffled noises. Just silence.

She sighed, leaning back against the wall. Maybe something had come up. Maybe he’d changed his mind and didn’t know how to tell her.

She checked her watch. Twenty minutes had passed, and she still hadn’t heard a peep from him. With a reluctant shake of her head, she turned and walked toward the elevator, her footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet hallway.

-----

A couple of hours later, Bucky dragged his feet through the corridor. His nose throbbed painfully, a reminder of the last few days he’d spent dealing -again- with enhanced assholes who seemed to have gotten their hands on some variant of the serum.

The faint metallic scent of dried blood clung to him, mingling with the sweat and grime of too many hours spent in the open. His brows furrowed, eyes heavy-lidded as he scanned the hallway out of habit. That’s when he spotted it, a small bag made of cloth sitting neatly at his doorstep.

He paused, taking a moment to connect the dots through the haze of exhaustion.

Fuck.

He let out a slow, frustrated exhale, running a hand over his face and wincing as the dried cut on his cheek tugged painfully. Of course, this would happen. Of course, he’d mess this up right out of the gate.

Bending down, he picked up the bag, holding it gingerly in his hands like it might scold him. The fabric was soft and patterned with small flowers, something that felt almost absurdly out of place against his bloodstained hands and the concrete walls of the hallway.

He peeked inside, and his chest tightened. A handful of sugar babies’ packages into view, the bright yellow being a jarring contrast to the dull exhaustion weighing him down.

What were your favorite sweets as a child?

The questionnaire echoed in his head, and his stomach twisted. He hadn’t even realized he’d written those down until now.

Straightening up, he glanced down the hallway toward the elevator, tightening his grip on the bag. What kind of impression was this supposed to leave? Forgetting the session entirely, not answering the door, not even leaving a message…

He groaned, leaning back against his door and glaring down at the bag like it held all the answers to his failures.

After a long moment, he nested the bag into the crook of his arm, fumbled with his keys, and let himself into the apartment.

The silence inside was deafening. He placed the bag of candies on the counter and reached for his phone, dead as expected. He plugged it into the charger with a sigh, running a hand through his hair before peeling off his ruined clothes. The bloodstained shirt landed in a heap on the floor as he pulled his knives and gun from their holsters and set them down on the counter next to the flower-patterned bag.

The juxtaposition was almost laughable. The hard edges of his weapons, worn and familiar, sat starkly against the soft, cheerful fabric of the bag.

It didn’t feel right, to see them in the same space.

But he was too tired to care for the moment.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky leaned against the counter, lingering his gaze on the bag of candies. He reached inside and pulled out one of the packages, turning it over in his fingers like it was something fragile. For a moment, he just stood there, as the weight of the past days pressed down on him.

Finally, he tore the wrapper open, popped one caramel into his mouth, and let the sugary sweetness dissolve on his tongue. It wasn’t much. But somehow, it tasted like a small piece of something he’d forgotten he needed.

-----

It was late afternoon when her phone buzzed with a message. She picked it up from the table, brushing across the screen to read it.

Just one word: Sorry.

She stared at the message for a moment, tightening her grip on the device. Well, at least it didn’t seem like he’d changed his mind entirely. That was something.

Are you okay?

The reply didn’t come right away. The minutes stretched, and she found herself glancing at the screen every few moments. Finally, the phone buzzed again, and she read his response:

I don’t know.

Her chest ached at the honesty of those three words. Biting her lip, she typed her reply carefully.

Do you want me to come over?

The dots indicating he was typing blinked, disappeared, and then reappeared. His answer came back after what felt like an eternity.

You don’t have to.

She frowned, her thumbs flew across the keyboard.

That is not what I asked, Bucky.

Another pause. This one was longer. The late afternoon sun painted her walls in streaks of orange and gold, but she barely noticed, since her attention was fixed on the phone in her hands.

Finally, he replied.

Yes.

Her shoulders relaxed as she exhaled. Without hesitation, she grabbed her bag, slid her phone into her pocket, and headed for the door.

-----

Her gaze widened when she saw Bucky’s face as he opened the door. A nasty cut marred the already purpled skin of his cheek, his nose looked bruised, his lower lip was split, and scrapes littered his flesh arm. His expression and the slump of his shoulders only added to the picture of someone who’d been through a lot.

He must have noticed her stare because the first thing out of his mouth was, “You should see the other guys.”

She clicked her tongue in exasperation, her hand motioning firmly toward him. “Move. Let me in.”

Bucky stepped aside, his expression hovered somewhere between guilt and defiance. She entered without waiting for another invitation, her sharp eyes already scanning the room. “Did you clean the wounds?”

He shrugged nonchalantly as if it weren’t worth mentioning. “I took a shower…”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a long, deliberate sigh. “That’s not… no. That doesn’t count. Where is your first aid kit?”

He looked at her like she’d grown another head. “Doll, all this is going away in three days, tops. Courtesy of the serum.”

Her gaze snapped to his, sharp enough to freeze hell over. “Where. Is. It. And how did you just call me?”

Bucky’s mouth opened, then shut, and he swallowed audibly. “M-ma,” he mumbled, his eyes darting to the floor like a chastised child.

“That’s what I thought.” She folded her arms, with a tone that brooked no argument. “I assume you have that thing in the bathroom.”

“I told you, it’s not neces-”

That look again. He stopped mid-sentence, his shoulders slumping as he relented. “Yes.”

“Good,” she said briskly, already heading toward the bathroom without waiting for further direction. “Stay put. I’ll handle this.”

Bucky stared after her, his mouth twitching as if he wanted to argue but thought better of it. With a quiet groan, he leaned against the counter, muttering under his breath, “You should really see the other guys…”

But even as he said it, he found himself oddly relieved that she was there.

“Sit on the chair so I can see you better”, her voice came calm but firm from his side as she gestured to the single chair against the wall.

Bucky hesitated for half a second before complying, dragging the chair forward slightly and lowering himself onto it.

She knelt slightly in front of him, brushing her fingers lightly over the bruised and battered skin of his face. “This surely must hurt,” she said softly. “You don’t have to act all rough with me.”

He didn’t answer, clenching his jaw ever so slightly. Not to brush off the pain, not to admit that it hurt. He just stayed silent, with his gaze fixed somewhere beyond her shoulder.

With gentle care, she dabbed at his cheek with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic. The sharp, chemical smell hit the air immediately, and Bucky flinched, pressing his lips into a thin line.

She paused, knitting her brows in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, but the tightness in his voice betrayed him.

Her gaze stayed patient but unyielding. “Bucky.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes flicking away from hers before returning. “I don’t like the smell,” he admitted, almost in a whisper.

She stilled, hovering her hand in midair. “Why?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His gaze grew distant, and his expression went clouded as if he were somewhere else entirely. When he finally spoke, his voice was even quieter, tinged with something raw and broken.

“Spent a lot of years smelling that shit,” he said, with words that carried too much weight. “Couldn’t drink a glass of water without a command. Couldn’t… do anything. And that smell… it was always there. Always.”

Her heart ached at the admission, but she didn’t let it show on her face. Instead, she lowered the cotton ball, letting him see her hands move it out of the way. “Okay,” she said softly. “We’ll rinse the cuts with water instead. No more of this stuff.”

He blinked, his brows furrowing slightly as he looked at her. “You don’t have to-”

“I know I don’t,” she interrupted gently. “But I’m here to help you, honey, not to make things harder.”

He swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded. He didn’t say anything else, but the tension in his shoulders eased just a little.

By the time she finished tending to his wounds, Bucky was leaning heavily against the chair, with drooping eyelids. The tension in his frame had loosened ever so slightly, his exhaustion was clear in the way he blinked sluggishly at the floor.

She stood and began gathering the supplies, placing them neatly back into his first aid kit. “I’m going to make you something to eat,” she said firmly, already planning a quick meal to get something nutritious in him.

“Not now,” he murmured, barely lifting his head.

She turned toward him with a frown. “Bucky, you’ve probably gone days without eating anything that isn’t complete garbage. You need-”

“I just…” His words came out with difficulty, like they were being dragged out of him. He rubbed his flesh hand over his face “I just want you close.” his voice was quieter now, almost pleading.

Her expression softened instantly. Nodding, she stepped closer, reaching for his vibranium hand. She wrapped her fingers around the cool metal and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Come on. Let’s sit on the couch.”

She guided him the short distance toward the living room and he followed with slow, dragging steps. Once they reached the couch, she looked at him with patience. “What do you need?”

Bucky hesitated and his throat worked as if he were trying to swallow his pride. His eyes flicked to her, then away again, his mouth opening and closing like he was fighting himself. Finally, he let out a soft, almost defeated sigh.

“I… I want to lean my head on your lap, Mama,” he admitted almost shakily.

She smiled softly, not saying anything that might make him feel more self-conscious. She just nodded and sat at one end of the couch, patting her thighs gently to indicate he should lie down.

Bucky followed, his movements stiff and hesitant as he eased himself onto the couch. He stretched out his long torso, his head tentatively resting on her lap. He stayed tense for a moment, as if bracing for something, though even he wasn’t sure what.

She started running her fingers through his short hair, brushing the strands back in slow, rhythmic motions. “It’s okay,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re okay.”

The tension in his shoulders began to melt, and his breathing slowed as her fingers worked through his hair with careful, deliberate strokes. He closed his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh as his body finally surrendered to a comfort he hadn’t let himself feel in years.

-----

After two months of visits, she was surprised one day to find an old oak dining table in Bucky’s apartment. It was small but sturdy, with matching chairs tucked neatly under it. The single chair he’d once had was nowhere in sight.

She stepped closer, running her hand along the smooth wood. “This is lovely,” she said, her tone genuinely appreciative.

Bucky stood nearby, with his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight slightly. He glanced at her, then at the table, mumbling, “It was time for me to have one.”

She turned to him with a smile. “Well, it makes the place look more like a home now. You know,” she added thoughtfully, “I have a tablecloth about this size at home that I don’t use. I could bring it next time, if you’d like.”

Bucky hesitated, furrowing his brows slightly as if considering her offer. “About that…” he started, a little unsure.

She waited patiently, giving him time to express what he wanted to say.

“I want to start…” He paused, searching for the right words. “making this place more... like someone is living here.”

“Like a home?” she prompted gently.

“Y-yeah.” He looked down, scratching at the back of his neck. “Besides that hut in Wakanda… it’s been a lifetime since I had a place to… a… a home.”

Her heart ached at his admission, but she didn’t push. Instead, she stepped closer and gently rested her hand on his arm. “That sounds very hard, sweetheart.”

Bucky didn’t deny or confirm her statement, just gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“I was wondering…” he began, his voice steadier now. “If next time, we could schedule an earlier time to see each other. And maybe…” He hesitated, glancing at her as if bracing for her reaction. “Maybe you could come with me to help me buy some things?”

Her smile widened, her hand giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “That sounds great, honey.” Then, she added warmly but firmly, “Just remember, this is your home. You have to choose what you think suits you.”

Her words were a reminder of the boundaries they’d set, of the balance they were working toward. Still, they carried enough warmth to let him know she’d be there for him.

After discussing the table and his plans to make the apartment feel more like a home, she glanced around the space and tilted her head thoughtfully. “You know,” she said lightly, “a good table deserves a little cleanup around it. How about we tidy up a bit?”

Bucky frowned, sweeping his gaze over the room. “It’s not that bad.”

She gave him a pointed look, walking toward a pile of mail and random odds and ends stacked on the counter. “It’s not terrible, but a little organizing wouldn’t hurt. Come on, help me out.”

He followed her reluctantly, muttering something under his breath about bossy moms.

She smirked but didn’t rise to the bait, handing him a small stack of papers. “Sort these, bills, junk, whatever doesn’t need to be here,” she instructed, already reaching for a rag to wipe down the counter.

As they worked, the task settled into an easy rhythm. She asked him about the books he’d been reading, and he surprised her by asking if she had any recommendations. It was small talk, but it felt comfortable and natural like it had been almost since the beginning.

After the living room and kitchen looked noticeably tidier, she wiped her hands on her jeans and glanced toward the hallway leading to his bedroom. Motioning toward the door, she said, “Alright, let’s check out the bedroom next.”

Bucky froze, tightening his shoulders visibly. “Bedroom’s fine,” he said quickly, the edge of reluctance in his voice was unmistakable.

She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “I’m already on a roll, Buck. Might as well see the whole place.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he reluctantly trailed behind her. “It’s not much to look at,” he muttered, more resigned than defiant.

“Then it won’t take long,” she quipped, throwing him a reassuring smile before disappearing through the doorway. Her brows furrowed at the sight before her. The bed was buried under a haphazard pile of boxes, and scattered clothes dotted the floor. The mattress didn’t even have sheets on it, and the faint layer of dust on the headboard told her it hadn’t been used in a while.

She turned to him, crossing her arms. “What’s going on here? Where do these boxes go?”

Bucky shifted awkwardly in the doorway, avoiding her gaze. “They’re fine where they are.”

“Bucky…” Her voice softened, concern creeping into her tone. “Where are you sleeping?”

He clenched his jaw, and after a long pause, he mumbled, “On the floor. In the living room.”

Her eyes widened. “The floor?

He nodded, his gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder.

She stepped closer, keeping her voice calm but firm. “Why?”

His lips pressed into a thin line before he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The bed’s too… soft.” He paused, struggling with the words. “It doesn’t feel safe,” he continued, with a low voice. “When I’m on the floor, I can feel the room. Hear things better. I… know what’s going on and can act in case something happens.” His gaze dropped to the pile of boxes on the bed. “And the bed… it’s just not right. Too soft, too confining. It feels like a trap.”

She nodded slowly, her expression a mix of understanding and quiet sadness. “That makes sense,” she said gently. “But, honey, that’s no way to live. I get why you feel that way, but you deserve to rest somewhere that doesn’t hurt your back.”

He gave her a faint shrug, the corner of his mouth pulling downward. “I’ve been doing this for a while. I’m used to it.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s good for you,” she replied, stepping closer and resting a hand lightly on his arm. “How about we start small? Let’s clear off the bed today. No pressure to use it yet, but maybe we can make it feel a little less… wrong. Less like a trap.”

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes flicking back toward the cluttered bed. She could see the hesitation in his face, the way his fingers flexed at his sides like he was fighting an internal battle.

Finally, he nodded once, almost imperceptibly. “Alright.”

Her lips curved into a gentle smile. “Good. So, where do these boxes go?”

“Closet,” he muttered, stepping forward to help her.

Together, they cleared the bed, tucking the boxes away and folding the stray clothes. She didn’t push or prod, keeping the conversation light as they worked. She mentioned ideas for making the bed more comfortable, maybe firmer pillows or a thinner mattress topper to make it feel less suffocating.

By the time they were done, the room already looked less like a storage space and more like a place where someone could rest.

“There,” she said, dusting her hands off and turning to him. “A step in the right direction.”

Bucky stood at the edge of the bed, staring at it like it was something foreign. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess so.”

“You don’t have to use it right away,” she gently. “But when you’re ready, it’ll be here for you.”

He nodded again, loosening his shoulders slightly.

As they returned to the main area, she expected Bucky to suggest starting dinner, but instead, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Can we… sit for a bit? On the couch?”

“Of course,” she said with an easy smile, leading the way. She settled into her usual spot at one end, patting her thighs lightly.

Bucky sat and shifted, lying down until his head rested on her lap. When her fingers began threading gently through his hair, he let out a quiet exhale. They stayed like that for a while, the stillness of the apartment punctuated only by the soft rhythm of her fingers against his scalp and the occasional hum of traffic outside.

“Anything you want to talk about?” she asked softly, not wanting to break the moment but leaving the door open for him.

Bucky closed his eyes, his voice low and drowsy. “Not yet. Just this. This is… enough.”

After a while of lying on the couch, Bucky's body had grown heavier against her lap. His breathing became slower, and his voice was groggy when he finally spoke. “Hey… can we go shopping on Saturday instead of Friday?”

Her fingers stilled briefly in his hair before resuming their soothing rhythm. “Saturday?”

“Yeah…” He trailed off, blinking sluggishly up at the ceiling. “I’ve got some stuff to deal with on Friday. Nothing big. Just easier if it’s Saturday.”

She hummed thoughtfully, glancing down at him. “I can’t,” she said gently.

“Why not?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to meet her gaze.

“I have a date.”

The weight in the room shifted immediately and his body stiffened under her touch. “Like… with your other ‘son’?” he asked, the words tumbling out awkwardly before he could stop himself.

She blinked, then laughed softly. “No, Bucky. Like with a man. A real date.”

Her fingers resumed their lazy rhythm through his hair, but she could feel the way his shoulders tensed further, and his jaw clenched. He didn’t respond right away, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Sensing his unease, she chuckled. “Don’t worry. You won’t meet him, and you definitely won’t have to call him Dad.”

Bucky let out a faint huff, something caught between a snort and a sigh, but he didn’t relax. “Didn’t say I was worried,” he muttered, though his tone lacked conviction.

She smiled, brushing her fingers through his hair again with deliberate care. He closed his eyes again, letting her touch ground him as the weight of the day slowly ebbed away.

After a moment of silence, Bucky shifted slightly against her lap. His lips pressed together like he was trying to hold something back, but finally, the question slipped out. “Where… where did you meet this guy?”

Her fingers paused briefly in his hair before resuming their soothing rhythm. “At the bookstore,” she said lightly. “He comes in pretty often. We’ve had a few nice conversations over the past couple of months.”

Bucky frowned, his brows knitting together as he stared at the ceiling. “You’ve gone out with him before?”

She shook her head, smiling softly. “No, this will be the first time.”

He mulled that over, his gaze flickering with something unreadable before he glanced up at her. “So… what do you like about him?”

The question came out gruff, almost begrudging, but there was a flicker of genuine curiosity -or maybe hesitation- in his voice.

Her lips twitched with amusement as she considered the question. “Well,” she began, “he’s polite, for once. Always says hello and takes the time to ask how my day is going.”

Bucky huffed lightly, a soft sound of dismissal.

“And he’s thoughtful,” she continued. “One time, he brought me coffee because he noticed I was swamped with a shipment of books. Didn’t even stay to chat, just handed it to me and said he thought I might need it.”

“Sounds like a Boy Scout,” Bucky muttered, his tone laced with faint skepticism.

She chuckled softly, brushing her fingers lightly over his temple. “Maybe. But I like that he pays attention. He’s kind without expecting anything in return.”

Bucky stayed silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on some invisible point far away. Finally, he murmured, “So, you’re serious about him?”

She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “It’s just one date, Buck,” she said gently. “I’m not planning a wedding.” Her voice carried a reassuring warmth, softening the weight of his question. “I don’t even know if there’s anything there yet.”

“Yeah,” he said after a beat, his tone softer now, though the small frown on his face lingered. “Guess you’ll find out.”

“I guess I will,” she replied. After a pause, she added with a playful glint in her eyes, “But no matter what happens, it won’t change anything between us. You’re stuck with me, remember?”

Bucky’s lips twitched faintly, the ghost of a smile breaking through his lingering tension. “Yeah… I remember.”

Her fingers slid through his hair again with deliberate care, and the corners of his mouth relaxed, even if his eyes remained shadowed. Whatever the storm in his mind, her presence was enough to keep it at bay for now.

“Speaking of dates,” she said, lightly but curious, “you didn’t tell me how your date went with the woman from the grocery store. The one you told me about the last time we saw each other.”

Bucky shifted against her lap, suddenly looking a lot less relaxed. “I… kind of left in the middle of it,” he admitted, uncomfortable.

“Oh, you didn’t,” her eyebrows lifted in mock reproach as she tugged softly at his hair, as a playful reprimand.

He huffed, pressing his lips into a thin line. “She was… noisy,” he started, his voice tinged with frustration as he struggled to explain. “Talked too much, and it wasn’t even about anything interesting. Kept asking questions, but…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “She didn’t actually care about the answers. Just wanted to fill the silence.”

Her fingers paused briefly, then resumed their soothing rhythm through his hair. “That sounds exhausting,” she said softly, her tone full of understanding. “But that’s not the whole reason, is it?”

Bucky swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked away. “She was touchy,” he said finally. “Kept leaning in, grabbing my arm, laughing like… like it was supposed to make me feel good or something.”

“Did it?” she asked gently.

“No.” His response was firm, and his hands flexed at his sides as though the memory left him uneasy. “I wasn’t comfortable with her being so close. I don’t even think she noticed. Or cared.”

She sighed softly, her touch steady as she brushed her fingers through his hair again. “You’ll find someone who gets you. Someone who’ll respect your pace and what you need.”

His lips twitched faintly, like he wanted to smile but wasn’t quite sure how. “What if there’s not?” he muttered, his voice so quiet she almost didn’t catch it.

“There will be,” she reassured him. “You just have to be patient. And picky. Nothing wrong with that.”

For a moment, he was silent, the tension in his body softening just a little under her touch. Then, almost shyly, he murmured, “Thanks… Mama.”

She smiled warmly, leaning back into the couch as her hand continued to comb gently through his hair. “Anytime, honey.”

-----

Time had a way of slipping by, and before he knew it, Bucky found himself sitting across from another date. This one wasn’t noisy or overly touchy, and the small brewery they’d chosen wasn’t bad, either. He nursed a beer in one hand, his vibranium arm hidden beneath the sleeve of his Henley, as the woman across from him laughed at something he’d said, a low, cautious laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

Her eyes drifted to his wrist, where the dark leather bracelet he always wore peeked out from his sleeve. “I like that,” she said, nodding toward it. “The bracelet. It’s nice.”

He glanced at it, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks. My mom gave it to me.”

Her expression faltered slightly, the smile on her lips growing a bit stiff. “Oh, that’s… sweet,” she said, tilting her head. “Do you, uh, live with your mom?”

Bucky furrowed his brows, looking at her like she’d just asked if the sky was purple. “No. Why?”

She shifted in her seat, her fingers toying with the edge of her glass. “Well, then you must be very… close to her. Are you the youngest son?”

“No.” His tone was sharper now, though he didn’t mean it to be. “Why?”

The woman hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around her drink. Finally, she gestured vaguely toward him, her voice dropping as though she were trying to be delicate. “Well… you’ve brought her up a lot. And, no offense, but it’s kind of… weird for a man your age. On a date, I mean.”

Bucky froze, his beer halfway to his lips. For a moment, he said nothing, his blue gaze narrowing slightly as he processed what she’d just said. Then, slowly, he set the bottle down, and his fingers tightened slightly around the glass. A familiar sense of unease churned in his chest, accompanied by the ache of frustration.

“Right,” he said finally with an even voice, though there was a subtle edge to it. “I guess that is weird.”

The woman shifted uncomfortably, her awkward smile faltering completely. “I didn’t mean-”

“No, it’s fine,” he interrupted, leaning back in his chair. His expression was blank, his tone cool, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “Thanks for pointing that out.”

For the rest of the date, the conversation limped along, each attempt at salvaging it falling flat. Bucky found himself withdrawing, offering short, polite responses but little else. The spark of curiosity or connection -if there had ever been one- had fizzled out entirely.

When the check came, he paid for their drinks, refusing her offer to split it with a quiet but firm “Don’t worry about it.”

As they stepped outside, he offered a polite goodbye, but his tone was distant, and he didn’t wait for her to respond before walking off into the night.

He didn’t bring her up that much, did he? The thought came gruffly as he trudged up the stairs to his apartment, but deep down, he already knew the answer. Should’ve just stayed home.

His gaze fell to the leather bracelet again, and he sighed, slowing his footsteps.

‘Mom’ wouldn’t have made me feel like that.

He shook his head as he entered, the faint metallic clink of keys landing in the small ceramic bowl echoed through the quiet space. His lips pressed into a thin line as his gaze lingered on it. The damn bowl she picked because I couldn’t decide. He let out a low, frustrated growl, kicking off his boots near the door and running a hand through his hair.

His nose wrinkled as a faint scent clung to him, cigarettes, from his date. She must have smoked earlier, and now it lingered in his jacket, his shirt, even his hair. His brows furrowed. He didn’t like it. The realization was sharp, irritating, and only added to his foul mood as he stripped off his clothes while walking toward the bathroom.

The shower hissed to life, steam filling the room as he stepped under the hot spray, letting the water cascade over his shoulders. He rested his palms against the tile wall, hanging his head forward, dampening his hair.

The date replayed in his head in vivid detail: her awkward comments, the tight smile when she’d tried to backpedal, the judgment laced in her words. Weird for a man your age. He gritted his teeth, his knuckles whitening against the slick tiles.

She wasn’t wrong, he did bring up Mama more than he realized. But was that a crime? She was one of the few constants in his life that didn’t feel… hollow.

The thought only made the pit in his stomach grow heavier. The way she’d looked at him like he was some awkward, broken man who couldn’t function properly… it stung.

Before he knew it, his thoughts wandered to her instead. Not the woman from the date, but the one helping him put his life back together piece by piece. The one who’d picked out that damn bowl. The one who had sat on his couch, combing her fingers through his hair when he’d been too exhausted to speak.

His breathing hitched slightly as he remembered her touch, soft and unhurried, calming him in a way no one else ever had. He could almost feel the ghost of her fingers brushing through his hair, skimming over his temple with a care he didn’t deserve.

His hand slid down his chest, trailing over the wet planes of his torso, and he exhaled shakily, furrowing his brow. He shouldn’t be thinking about her like this. It was wrong -so wrong- but his body didn’t seem to care.

His grip tightened on himself, and his head thunked lightly against the tile as a groan slipped past his lips. The hot water beat against his back, but it couldn’t drown out the traitorous images flooding his mind. Her smile, the warmth of her voice, the way she’d called him “honey” like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his strokes becoming sharper, more desperate as if he could exorcise the feelings clawing their way to the surface. He shouldn’t be doing this, he admonished himself again. Not with Mama. Not the one person who made him feel safe.

And yet, the warmth of her imagined touch, the thought of her fingers tracing the scars on his skin or resting lightly against his jaw, was enough to push him over the edge. His release came with a choked groan, and his forehead pressed harder against the tile as his body shuddered.

For a moment, the only sound was the steady rhythm of the water and his ragged breathing.

And then the guilt hit him.

His hands clenched into fists, as his chest tightened. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” he whispered harshly, his voice cracking under the weight of his self-reproach.

He braced himself against the wall, shaking his head slightly. He felt disgusting, his stomach twisted as shame crept in his mind. She trusted him -cared for him- and this was how he repaid that?

With a low, bitter laugh, he reached for the soap, scrubbing furiously at his skin as if he could wash away the evidence of what he’d just done. But no amount of scrubbing could cleanse the storm of emotions raging inside him.

It was wrong. He was wrong. And yet, deep down, a part of him couldn’t stop wanting.

Goddammit.

-----

When Sam hinted that week about needing him for a little thing in Kuala Lumpur, Bucky didn’t hesitate. It didn’t seem like something Wilson could handle solo, and besides, a mission was the perfect way to blow off some steam. Anything to quiet the thoughts that had been clawing at the back of his mind since the date -and especially- since that shower.

He sent a quick text to Mama, keeping it short and simple, their usual code for missions.

Taking a vacation this week. Won’t make Friday.

Her reply came quickly: Take care of yourself. Don’t engage in crazy fun.

Bucky huffed softly, shaking his head as he stared at the screen. Ok, Mom, he typed back, his lips twitching faintly despite himself.

Her response came almost immediately: I mean it, Jamie.

Fuck. His jaw tightened, and he locked the phone without answering. She always had a way of cutting through him, even with a couple of words. He shoved the phone into his pocket and headed to pack, grumbling under his breath.

When Sam picked him up a day later, Bucky was already in mission mode: focused, stoic, and bracing himself for whatever chaos Wilson was about to drag him into. But despite his best efforts to push her words aside, they echoed faintly in his mind.

Take care of yourself.

He’d try. For her.

-----

Things went slightly fine the first day, if you ignored the shooting, falling from a 15-story building into a trash container, and the broken shower in the safehouse. Bucky stood shirtless in front of the cracked bathroom mirror, grimacing as he splashed cold water over his chest and shoulders. The sink barely worked, sputtering like it might give up entirely, and the dingy tiles on the walls didn’t do much to make him feel clean.

“Man, this place is a dump,” Sam said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“Better than the street,” Bucky grunted, grabbing a threadbare towel to dry off.

Sam hummed noncommittally, watching as Bucky fumbled with the faucet. “So, how’s it going with her?”

Bucky froze briefly before answering. “Things are good.”

“Glad you finally listened to me.” Sam’s voice carried just a hint of smugness. “I mean, you’re still a pain in the ass, but at least your mood’s improved a lot these past months.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, tossing the towel over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. You want me to thank you or something?”

“Nah,” Sam replied, grinning. “But I’ll take it as a win anyway.”

Bucky muttered something unintelligible under his breath and pushed past him, heading to the small, creaky bed in the corner of the cramped space.

That night, like most nights, sleep evaded him. He lay on his back, staring at the water-stained ceiling of the safehouse, while his mind spun with too many thoughts. Missions were supposed to clear his head, burn off the restlessness that kept him awake. But tonight, even exhaustion didn’t help.

With a frustrated sigh, he sat up and grabbed the disposable phone Sam had handed him earlier. He knew it was a bad idea, knew he should just put it away and try to rest, but his fingers moved on their own, pulling up her profile.

Her social media was usually quiet: cozy book displays from her job, pictures of the plants she was trying to keep alive, and the occasional funny meme. It was soothing, like a peek into a normal life that he could never fully touch.

But tonight, it wasn’t soothing.

His stomach dropped as he stared at the most recent photo, uploaded just a few hours ago. It was a close-up of two hands holding Sharpies, coloring a detailed mandala. One of the hands was hers, he recognized the delicate curve of her fingers, and the faint scar near her thumb. The other one was clearly male, broader and rougher.

The tags hit him like a punch to the gut:

#SoProudOfYou #AlmostAllByYourself

Bucky stared at the screen, and his chest tightened as the meaning sank in his brain.

Her other son.

It had to be him, the other veteran she worked with, the one she’d mentioned months ago. The one responsible for her being “unsure” about taking him in when Sam first approached her.

For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the floor. He could still picture the hands, the caption, the pride in her words. And it twisted in his chest, an uncomfortable, raw feeling he couldn’t shake.

He rubbed his hand over his face, groaning softly. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

It shouldn’t matter. She wasn’t his. She’d never been his, not in that way. He told himself that over and over, but the ache in his chest didn’t care. The idea of her giving someone else that same care, that same warmth, felt like a betrayal, even though he had no right to feel that way.

With a frustrated growl, Bucky tossed the phone onto the nightstand and dropped his head into his hands. For all the chaos of the mission, for all the bullets and explosions and pain, nothing had hit him harder than that damn photo.

And he hated himself for how much it hurt.

-----

The mission wrapped up in a flurry of controlled chaos. The intel had been secured, the enhanced assholes neutralized, and while Sam emerged with only a few scratches, Bucky sported a fresh bruise on his jaw and a deep gash on his forearm, not that he cared.

The flight back was quiet, the hum of the jet’s engines filling the cabin as Bucky sat slumped in one of the seats, staring a blank point in front of him. His vibranium fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest, the only outward sign of the storm brewing in his head.

Across the aisle, Sam noticed. He always noticed.

At first, he let it be, figuring Bucky’s mood would even out once they hit the ground. But as the hours dragged on, and the Winter Sulker stayed silent, Sam couldn’t help himself.

“You’re quiet,” Sam said, leaning back in his seat.

Bucky didn’t respond, his gaze kept fixed on the clouds outside.

Sam tried again, his tone a little sharper this time. “You gonna sit there brooding the whole way, or are you gonna tell me what’s eating you?”

Still, nothing.

Sam let out a sigh, shaking his head. “Alright, fine. But let me guess: You’re pissed off because someone scratched your arm? Or wait, maybe you’re mad because someone didn’t say ‘thank you sir’ after you saved their life?”

Bucky’s fingers stilled on the armrest, tightening his jaw.

That was all the opening Sam needed. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, man, I’m not blind. You’ve been sulking since day one of this mission. You want to talk about it, or do I have to guess some more?”

Bucky’s head snapped toward him, his eyes narrowing. “Just drop it, Wilson.”

“See, now you’ve got me curious,” Sam said, grinning in a way that only made Bucky’s irritation spike. “What’s got the great James Buchanan Barnes in such a mood? Did Mama scold you over text?”

That did it. Bucky shot out of his seat, towering over Sam with a scowl. “I said drop it!” he barked, his voice echoed in the small cabin.

Sam didn’t flinch, didn’t move. He just stared up at Bucky. “So it is about her.”

Bucky froze, clenching his fists at his sides.

“Man, you’ve been walking around like someone kicked your dog,” Sam continued, with a softer tone. “And I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, you’ve got to get it out before it eats you alive.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before sitting back down with a heavy thud. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and muttered, “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Sam pointed out.

“It’s fine,” Bucky snapped tiredly.

Sam watched him for a moment before sighing and leaning back. “Alright. Keep it to yourself if you want. But I’m telling you now, whatever’s got you in this mood, you better work it out before it gets worse.

Bucky didn’t answer, turning his gaze back to the blank point. The rest of the flight passed in tense silence, as the weight of Sam’s words pressed down on him more than he wanted to admit.

----

He entered his apartment, dragging his feet like every step took more effort than it should. The mission had taken more out of him than he cared to admit, though it wasn’t the physical strain, it was the weight in his chest that seemed to grow heavier every time he returned to this quiet, empty space.

He grabbed his dead phone from the counter and plugged into the charger, barely glancing at the notifications, and made his way to the bed. The mattress was thin, and the pillows hard, as she’d suggested. “A good way to transition from the floor,” she’d said, and damned if she hadn’t been right. He’d hated it at first, but now… now it felt like his.

He dropped onto it without bothering to change, his eyes closing almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He was so tired. So fucking tired.

That night, the nightmares came back.

And the next night.

And the next.

-----

Several days later, she was pacing her living room, phone in hand, staring at the screen with her thumb hovering over the keyboard. Whatever Bucky was into, it must have been over by now. She was sure of it, or at least, she hoped so. The radio silence was starting to worry her.

He wasn’t one to check in often -God knew that- but after all these months, she’d learned his rhythms. This wasn’t like him, not entirely. Not answering her, staying quiet this long? That wasn’t just distance. That was something else.

Finally, she typed a quick, casual message:

Still at the resort, hun?

His reply came faster than she’d expected, but it was curt.

No.

Her brows furrowed. Oh, okay, she thought, frowning at the screen. Something felt off. She typed again.

Everything alright? Did you have more fun than intended?

The dots in the chat appeared, blinked, and then disappeared.

Okay, she thought, waiting. Then they blinked again. And disappeared.

Bucky, are you hurt? she finally wrote with concern.

This time, the message was read almost instantly, but no reply came.

She sighed, deepening her frown. She knew this pattern all too well. When Bucky didn’t answer, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to, it was because he didn’t know how.

“Alright, Buck,” she muttered to herself, grabbing her bag. “Time for a visit.”

This wasn’t the first time she’d done this, dropping everything to pull him out of whatever dark place he’d retreated to. He’d let her in, little by little, trusting her with parts of himself no one else saw. She’d told herself it was about helping him, being there for him in the way he needed.

But it was more than that.

The truth, the one she kept swallowing down, was that her care for him didn’t fit neatly into the boundaries of their arrangement. It wasn’t maternal, not entirely. It was something more, something deeper. She shoved the thought aside, tightening her grip on her bag. Principles, she reminded herself firmly. Getting involved with him like that would be wrong. He deserved better.

But she couldn’t stop herself from caring.

She grabbed the key off the hook by her door and headed out. Not answering the door wasn’t going to be an option this time.

Not for her.

As expected, her knocks were met with silence. She sighed with resignation and slipped the key into the lock.

The door creaked open, and she wrinkled her nose as the stale, charged air of the apartment hit her. It wasn’t the worst she’d seen it, but it was far from the neat, semi-organized space they’d worked on together. Her gaze swept the room, taking in the scattered clothes on the floor and a small pile of takeout containers on the counter.

At least he’s been eating, she thought, a small relief in the face of the mess.

The faint sound of water running led her to the source: the bathroom. The shower.

She turned her focus back to the living room, her lips pressing into a line as she slid the window open to let in some fresh air. The cool breeze offered a small reprieve from the heaviness of the space.

Spotting a roll of garbage bags near the counter, she grabbed one and started tidying up. The crumpled clothes went into a hamper, the empty takeout boxes into the bag. She wiped at the counter absently, and her mind drifted to the last time he’d gone radio silent like this.

Whatever this is, we’ll get through it, she told herself.

She was so focused on her task, that she didn’t notice when the sound of the shower stopped, or when Bucky emerged from the hallway.

He stood there, quiet and guarded, with a towel slung low around his hips. Droplets of water clung to his skin, rolling down the faint scars on his flesh arm and chest. His stare was intense and unreadable as he watched her move around his apartment as if she belonged there.

“What are you doing here?”

His voice startled her, low and edged with exhaustion. She turned sharply, the garbage bag crinkling in her hands as her eyes met his.

“Oh,” she said, recovering quickly. Her gaze flicked briefly over him before landing firmly on his face. “I knocked. You didn’t answer.” She gestured toward the bag in her hands. “Figured I’d help you out a little.”

Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“No,” she replied evenly, setting the bag down and crossing her arms. “But I wasn’t about to leave you stewing in here like this.”

His jaw worked as he shifted his weight. “I’m fine.”

She raised an skeptical eyebrow. “Yeah? Because this,” she gestured to the room, “doesn’t exactly scream ‘fine,’ Buck.”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. “I didn’t ask for a lecture.”

“Good,” she shot back, her tone soft but firm. “Because I’m not giving you one. I’m here because I care about you, and you clearly need someone right now. Whether you want to admit it or not.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, and his guarded expression wavered slightly. Then, with a tired sigh, he stepped further into the room, slumping his shoulders. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“Maybe not,” she admitted with a soft gaze. “But I’m here now. So let me help.”

He didn’t respond, but the fight seemed to drain out of him. His shoulders loosened, and he dropped into a chair near the counter, fixing his gaze somewhere on the floor.

She picked up the garbage bag again, resuming her quiet cleanup. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to coax him out of his own head, and she suspected it wouldn’t be the last. But as she moved around the room, she noticed the faintest crack in his armor, proof that he was letting her in, even if he didn’t have the words to say it yet.

“So… what’s going on?” she asked, as she picked up a wrinkled pair of boxers from one of the chairs.

Bucky’s gaze flicked to the offending garment, then back to her face. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his damp hair. He was tired, tired of pretending, tired of holding back.

“I’m… jealous.” he admitted reluctantly.

She paused, her fingers tightened around the fabric before dropping it into the laundry pile. “Jealous?” she echoed, her brows furrowing. “Of who?”

His jaw tensed, and his gaze darted away before he muttered, “I saw it. The Sharpies picture.”

Her lips parted slightly in understanding. “Oh,” she said softly. “And?”

“And…” He sighed again, the frustration etched into every line of his face. “You never did that with me.”

“Coloring?” she asked, tilting her head. “I didn’t think you’d be into it, babe.”

“Not coloring,” he said sharply, running a hand through his damp hair again. Then his voice softened, but his words carried a heavy weight. “The… the picture.”

Oh.

“Well,” she started gently, “you’re not exactly a fan of social media. And you always grump when I try to take one of us.”

“It’s not that,” he said, shaking his head. His blue eyes finally met hers, raw and vulnerable in a way that made her chest tighten. “It’s… I forget sometimes that I’m not your only son.”

Oh.

He leaned back in the chair, running his hand over his face as if to hide the emotions flickering across it. “I don’t like the idea of sharing you,” he admitted, in a low, almost bitter tone.

She swallowed hard. “Well, it happens all the time,” she said cautiously, trying to keep her tone light. “Brothers usually don’t like-”

“He’s not my brother,” Bucky interrupted firmly, snapping his gaze to hers.

The air in the room shifted. His next words came softer, but they hit like a thunderclap.

“And you… you’re not my ma.”

The room seemed to still, the only sound the faint hum of the fridge in the background.

She stared at him, her pulse thrumming in her ears. “Bucky…”

“I hate it,” he said, dropping his hands to his lap as he looked at her with a mix of anger and desperation. “I hate that I look forward to seeing you more than I’ve looked forward to anything in years. I hate that I can’t stand the thought of anyone else getting what I get. And I hate that I don’t know what the hell to do about it.”

Her heart felt like it was being squeezed as she searched for the right words. “Bucky,” she said softly, leaning toward him, “this… this doesn’t have to be something you hate.”

“I know,” he said, his voice was raw and strained. “But I can’t manage my feelings toward you.”

Her breath caught, and her heart twisted painfully as she absorbed the weight of his confession. She leaned back slightly, clenching her hands together in her lap and sighed.

“Bucky,” she started softly, “this bond we’ve built… it’s compromised. It’s not what it’s supposed to be anymore. It wouldn’t be ethical for me to continue mothering you.”

His head snapped up, his blue eyes went wide and glassy with panic. The look on his face made her chest ache. He looked utterly wrecked, his lips parted as if to argue, but no words came at first.

“No,” he finally stammered, his voice shaky and uneven. “No, please. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- I’ll stop. I’ll never bring it up again, I swear.” His breath hitched, and he shook his head as if trying to find the right words. “Just… don’t leave me, Mama.”

He reached for her hand, firmly but also trembling. His vibranium fingers brushed against her wrist, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the warmth of his touch. “I need you,” he said, his voice breaking.

Her heart shattered at the sheer desperation in his voice, in the way his thumb nervously rubbed over the back of her hand like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go.

With her free hand, she reached up and cupped his stubbled cheek, softly brushing her thumb over a scar near his jawline. His breath hitched again, and his eyes fluttered shut momentarily, as though her touch was calming him.

“This ordeal isn’t right, sweetheart,” she murmured. “It’s not fair to you. Or to me.”

“But-” His hand tightened around hers, his body leaned closer to her as though proximity alone could keep her from slipping away. “I’ll do better. I’ll keep it together. Just… please, don’t go. Don’t give up on me.”

“Bucky,” she whispered, tracing soothing circles on his cheek. “It’s not about giving up on you. It’s about what’s right. What’s healthy.”

“I don’t care about right,” he choked out, his voice trembling. “I just… I can’t lose you too.”

Her hand trembled slightly where it rested against his cheek, but she steadied herself with a deep breath.

“Bucky,” she began softly, tentative but growing steadier as she continued, “I also have feelings for you. I’ve been having them for a while now.”

His breath hitched, his wide eyes searching hers desperately, but before he could speak, she pushed forward.

“I was never going to act on it,” she said firmly. “Because it would mean taking advantage of you.”

His brows furrowed deeply, and he shook his head, rising his voice with frustration and disbelief. “I’m a grown man. You can’t take advantage of me.”

“You know that’s not true,” she countered gently but unyieldingly.“You trust me, Bucky. You let me in, more than anyone else. And that’s why we can’t do this dynamic anymore.”

Her words hit him like a physical blow. His grip on her hand tightened, and his shoulders hunched as his head dipped forward slightly. For a moment, he was silent, breathing heavily as he tried to process her words.

“No,” he murmured, shaking his head, his voice broke as he looked back up at her with unshed tears brightening his eyes. “No… Ma… you can’t just-”

“Bucky,” she said softly, cutting him off with a tenderness that nearly undid him. Her fingers brushed his cheek again, tracing soothing circles as her heart ached at the devastation written across his face. “The contract we made, the boundaries we agreed on, it doesn’t fit us anymore. I can’t keep pretending to be something I’m not.”

His breath hitched, the knot in his throat tightened as he struggled to find words. “But you’re not-” he started, voice trembling.

She shook her head gently, stopping him again. “I’m not your mom, Bucky. You said it yourself.” Her voice wavered just enough to betray the conflict she felt.

His lips parted, but no sound came as he searched her face, desperate for something -anything-that might keep her close.

“That being said…” she murmured after a beat, her thumb still brushing gently against his cheek. Her eyes softened as they searched for his. “We can try… dating. To see how and where this might go, because that’s something completely different.”

His mind blanked for a moment, as her words hit him. Dating?

The word echoed in his head, feeling too big and too small all at once. He blinked, his mouth opening slightly as he struggled to process what she’d just said. His mouth parted slightly, but no words came out, his breath caught somewhere between confusion and longing.

Dating… her?

His heart twisted, caught in the crossfire of disbelief and a yearning he’d buried for so long it felt foreign. She wasn’t pulling back. She wasn’t brushing this off or deflecting like he’d feared. Instead, she was offering something he hadn’t dared to hope for.

Does she mean it?

For so long, he’d kept his feelings locked away, hidden in the shadows of his mind where they couldn’t hurt him -or anyone else-. But now, here she was, standing in front of him, dragging those feelings into the light with words that felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

“…What?” he finally managed, the word slipping out before he could stop it. His voice was rough, strained, tangled somewhere between confusion and desperation.

Her expression didn’t falter, but there was a faint glimmer of vulnerability in her eyes, just enough to make his chest ache. “Dating, Bucky,” she repeated. “Not as your mom. Not as anyone else. Just… as us.”

Us.

His throat tightened, and his hands flexed against hers. The knot in his chest twisted painfully, caught between fear and something that felt dangerously close to relief.

Could there even be an us?

“Bucky, you’re doing the staring thing,” she said softly, her voice tinged with amusement, though her eyes remained serious as if willing him to believe her.

The corner of his mouth twitched, a faint huff of air escaped his nose as he ducked his head slightly. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I thought it was just me. You’re… sure about me?

Her thumb brushed gently along his jaw, and a small, reassuring smile tugged at her lips. “I wouldn’t be here saying this if I wasn’t sure, Buck.”

He glanced at her lips, the desire to close the space between them was almost overwhelming, but he hesitated. “You’re not… scared?”

“Of you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “Never.” Her smile grew just a bit, as she added, “You’re not as intimidating as you think, you know.”

That earned a faint chuckle, though it was weighed down by the uncertainty still lingering in his chest. “I just… I’m not exactly easy, you know,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m complicated. Messed up.”

She shook her head, squeezing his hand gently. “Bucky, all these months I’ve been coming here to be with you, you’ve opened up to me in ways I don’t think you’ve done with anyone else. You’ve trusted me with parts of yourself that I know aren’t easy to share.”

Her voice softened, her thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. “I know what I’m dealing with. And I can promise you, you’re not a mess. Not to me.”

His chest tightened at her words. He exhaled slowly, his blue eyes flicking between hers as if searching for any trace of doubt but all he saw was warmth. “Then,” he began, his tone was low but went higher as he steadied himself. “Let’s-let’s go. On a date.”

Her lips twitched, and she glanced down briefly, with a playful glint dancing in her eyes. “Well, to go right now, you should probably put some clothes on first, don’t you think?”

For a moment, he blinked, caught off guard by the shift, until her words sank in. His gaze darted down to the towel wrapped loosely around his hips, and the faintest flush crept up his neck.

“I didn’t mean right now, Ma-” He caught himself, his jaw tightened as he quickly corrected, “Doll.” The word came out gruff, almost embarrassed, as he scratched the back of his neck, his eyes flicking away for a second.

Her brow arched at the slip, but she didn’t comment, though the faint smile tugging at her lips didn’t go unnoticed.

Bucky shifted slightly, rolling his shoulders, and for once, the knowledge that she wanted this too -wanted him- settled something inside him. The usual discomfort of being caught off guard wasn’t there. Instead, he felt a spark of confidence, small but growing.

She leaned back in her chair, deciding to give him the space to take the lead. Considering his old-fashioned upbringing, it felt right to let him set the tone, not just to give him control, but to help him feel steady.

“So,” she said lightly, playful but encouraging, “pick a place and a time, and we’ll see.”

He nodded slowly, flexing his fingers against his knee before leaning back slightly in his seat. The movement shifted the towel around his hips just enough to make her painfully aware of the fact that he was still half-naked.

Her eyes traced the line of his shoulders, and the slight curve of his jaw as he glanced down in thought. Then her wandering gaze dipped against her better judgment, tracing the line of his chest, the faint curve of muscle at his stomach, and the scars she’d never quite let herself linger on before.

When her eyes flicked back up to his face, his sharp blue gaze was already on her, a flicker of amusement sparking in his expression. His lips twitched into a faint smirk, “Okay,” he said, more confident now. “I’ll… figure it out.”

Her cheeks warmed faintly, and she quickly forced a smile, hoping it would cover her flustering. “Take your time, Bucky. Just not too long.”

He tipped his head slightly, and his smirk deepened with an easy confidence in his posture that was now unmistakable. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

----

True to his word, her phone buzzed with a message a couple of days later.

Dinner? Friday at 7. That place you mentioned once, Marcellino’s.

She blinked at the screen, parting her lips in surprise. Marcellino’s? The Italian place she’d mentioned months ago, almost offhandedly, as a “bucket list” spot she’d love to visit someday? How had he even remembered?

Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard before she typed back.

Seriously? I’ve been dying to go there. How’d you manage reservations so fast?

On the other side of town, Bucky stared at her message, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he reclined on his couch. It had been a pain finding a reservation on such short notice; apparently, Marcellino’s had been booked solid for weeks. But hacking into their system had been child’s play, a few keystrokes, some backdoor access, and voilà: table for two, Friday at 7.

She would never know, of course.

He typed back simply.

I’ve got my ways.

Her reply came quickly, punctuated with a laughing emoji.

Mysterious, huh? Alright, Bucky. I’ll see you on Friday.

Bucky exhaled slowly, setting his phone down and leaning back against the couch. A small, quiet sense of satisfaction settled in his chest. It wasn’t just the date, it was the effort, the planning, and the decision to put himself out there in a way he hadn’t in decades.

Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

----

When the cab pulled up to the curb, she spotted him immediately. He was standing just outside the restaurant, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark suit pants. His posture was relaxed, but his gaze was distracted, fixed on something across the street.

She rarely saw him out of his usual Henleys and jeans, but God help her, he cleaned up well. The suit was perfectly tailored, the dark fabric accentuating his broad shoulders and tapering at his waist. His hair, usually left to its own devices, was slicked back neatly, the sharp lines of his jawline even more striking under the glow of the streetlights.

For a second, she forgot how to breathe.

Bucky, oblivious to her arrival, shifted his weight slightly, his vibranium fingers flexing in his pocket as his flesh hand adjusted his tie. She smiled to herself, taking the opportunity to appreciate him while his guard was down. He was so effortlessly striking, yet she knew he’d put thought into it. He really wanted this to go right.

Finally, she stepped out of the cab, and her heels clicked softly against the pavement. “Hey, handsome,” she called out.

Bucky’s head snapped toward her, his distracted expression melting into something softer. His lips parted slightly, raking his gaze over her from head to toe. “Wow,” he murmured, low and rough. “You look…” He trailed off, his mouth twitching like he couldn’t find the right word.

“Good?” she offered with a smirk, stepping closer.

“Better than good,” he corrected, “Way better.”

Her cheeks warmed under his gaze, but she managed to keep her tone casual. “You’re not looking so bad yourself, Buck. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you do this sort of thing all the time.”

He huffed a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck, though the faint pink dusting his ears didn’t go unnoticed. “Guess I clean up okay.”

“Okay?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Try amazing.”

He ducked his head slightly, a rare but genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks,” he muttered, holding out his arm. “You ready?”

She looped her hand through his, letting him lead her toward the entrance. As they stepped inside, she couldn’t help but think this was already shaping up to be the best first date she’d ever had.

The table was in a prime spot near a window overlooking the city lights. Bucky pulled out her chair smoothly, motioning for her to sit confidently, making her heart flutter.

He settled across her with fluid movements. Despite the nerves buzzing in his chest, they were the good kind of nerves, normal ones. The kind that came with wanting to impress someone without feeling like he had to prove his worth.

He already knew her.

That made everything easier. There was no need to rack his brain for icebreakers, no awkward pauses to fill, no second-guessing every little thing he said. Instead, he could focus entirely on her: the soft curve of her smile, the way her eyes sparkled in the candlelight, the way she twisted her hands together on the table when she thought he wasn’t looking.

And, maybe, on seducing her. Not aggressively, but in the easy, intentional way he remembered from a lifetime ago. A brush of his fingers here, a lingering glance there, the kind of thing that built tension without needing words.

If he was rusty, it didn’t show.

She, on the other hand, was a wreck.

Her posture was perfect, her smile warm, but underneath the table, her knees bounced faintly, betraying the swirl of emotions coursing through her. This was -and wasn’t- her Bucky.

The man sitting across from her wasn’t the grumpy, guarded man she’d coaxed out of his shell with patience and care. This Bucky was confident, deliberate. The way his piercing gaze lingered just a second too long, the faint smirk tugging at his lips when he caught her fidgeting, he wasn’t shy about letting her know she had his full attention.

And it was overwhelming. Not in a bad way -it was thrilling- but it left her feeling completely off balance.

She wasn’t in charge anymore.

The realization sent a wave of warmth through her body, leaving her acutely aware of every little detail: the way he leaned forward slightly when she spoke, the way his hand rested on the table, close enough to brush hers if she dared to reach out.

God help her, she thought faintly, swallowing hard. If this was Bucky now, she couldn’t imagine what Sergeant Barnes of the 1940s must have been like. A menace, no doubt. A walking, talking heartbreaker wrapped in charm and good manners.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his again, and he gave her a slow, knowing smile, one that sent her pulse skittering.

She tightened her grip on the edge of her napkin, trying to will herself to relax. This was Bucky. And yet, sitting across from him like this, with the weight of his attention focused entirely on her, it felt like seeing him for the first time all over again.

When the food arrived, Bucky’s face was a masterclass of self-control. His expression remained completely neutral as the waiter arranged the plates with what could only be described as an air of reverence. He nodded politely when the man finished, even offering a quiet “thank you,” though inside he was already questioning his life choices.

Once the waiter walked away, he let his eyes shift to her, raising a brow to see if she was thinking the same thing he was.

Her lips twitched, struggling to suppress a laugh as she glanced down at her plate. The elegant presentation might have fooled someone else, but all she could see was what appeared to be a tiny portion of gnocchi, barely enough to feed a toddler.

Bucky’s plate wasn’t much better: three perfectly arranged sorrentinos, sitting proudly in the center of an artfully swirled sauce. It was the most stylish and inviting minimalist plate he’d ever seen.

He glanced back up at her, his lips twitching as her shoulders shook with silent laughter.

“This…” she started, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle a giggle, “…this is it?”

Bucky huffed, leaning back in his chair as he gave his plate a long, scrutinizing look. “Guess we’re supposed to savor it,” he said dryly.

She bit her lip, trying and failing to stifle another laugh. “It seems they’re encouraging portion control.”

He scowled. “Didn’t know I’d be eating an appetizer disguised as dinner, goddammit.”

“I’m… I’m sorry! I didn’t know… they have such great feedback!” she groaned still chuckling.

“It’s my fault,” he muttered, spearing one of the sorrentinos with his fork and eyeing it as if it had personally insulted him. “For not checking the place out better.”

He couldn’t believe he’d hacked their system for this. He’d spent nearly an hour working around firewalls and reservations, all to secure a table at this supposedly renowned spot. It hadn’t even occurred to him to scout the menu or check the portion sizes.

This wouldn’t have happened to the old me, he thought bitterly, chewing slowly on his second overpriced sorrentino. His jaw tightened as the familiar ache of inadequacy crept into his chest.

She must have noticed the subtle shift in his expression because, without a word, she reached across the table and rested her hand over his.

“Bucky,” she said softly, her voice laced with gentle authority. “Don’t you dare take a ride on the self-deprecation train.”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers with surprise, before relaxing his features.

“This,” she continued, squeezing his hand lightly, “is just an anecdote. Something to laugh about later, hm? It doesn’t mean anything except that we picked a fancy place with tiny portions. That’s it.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, flexing his fingers slightly under hers. Then, reluctantly, his lips twitched into a faint smirk. “An anecdote, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling now, her thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. “Something to tell people one day, how you bravely faced off against a plate of minimalist pasta. Now finish your last bite so we can leave and find something less fancy but more substantial,” she stated with amusement.

Bucky poked at the last piece of pasta with his fork, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Even the breadbasket was sad,” he grumbled, as he signaled for the waiter to bring the bill.

The waiter approached, and with a politely confused expression, he noted their early departure. “Would you like to see the dessert menu, perhaps?” he offered, his tone gracious but hoping to redeem the situation.

“No, thank you,” Bucky replied smoothly, his voice polite but final. He slid his card across the table before she could even think about reaching for her wallet.

“Bucky-” she started, but he cut her off with a quick shake of his head.

“Don’t even try,” he said firmly but light enough to soften the refusal.

She huffed but didn’t argue further, leaning back in her chair as he settled the bill. Once it was taken care of, Bucky stood and offered her his hand, helping her up with ease.

As they made their way toward the exit, he placed a gentle hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the door he opened for her.

“Such a gentleman,” she teased, as she stepped outside into the cool night air.

“Only for you, doll” he murmured, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk as he shifted slightly to shield her from a passing breeze.

She stepped beside him, automatically taking the inner spot on the sidewalk as he steered her toward it and slipped her hand easily onto his offered arm

“So,” he said after a moment, “Any ideas where we’re finding this substantial food? Or am I winging it?”

She laughed softly, squeezing his arm. “Let’s see what’s nearby. Maybe we’ll find a place with a breadbasket that doesn’t make you sad.”

“That’s a low bar,” he muttered, earning another laugh that made his chest feel lighter than it had all night.

They ended up at a small, no-frills pizza place, tucked into the corner of a quiet street. The neon sign in the window flickered faintly, and the smell of melted cheese and fresh dough hit them the moment they stepped inside.

Sliding onto the high bar stools at a tiny plastic table, they both seemed keenly aware of how out of place they looked. Her dress shimmered faintly under the fluorescent lights, and his perfectly tailored suit drew more than a few curious glances from the other patrons, who were clad in hoodies and jeans.

Bucky sat a little stiffly at first, as he glanced around. The contrast between this place and the upscale restaurant they’d just left wasn’t lost on him, but the casual atmosphere somehow felt more... right. Still, the attention made him uneasy, and he shifted slightly, brushing his vibranium hand on the edge of the table.

But then he looked at her.

She had a slice in her hand, the cheese stretching almost comically as she took a bite. Her shoulders relaxed as she chewed, and then she closed her eyes, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips.

Bucky’s brows lifted slightly, locking his gaze on her as a faint flush crept up his neck. He watched her savor the bite, her fingers tapping lightly on the table to emphasize her approval.

In that moment, every awkward glance from the other patrons, every thought about his appearance or how ridiculous they looked, melted away.

All he could think about was her.

“Good?” he asked, unable to stop staring.

She opened her eyes, blinking like she’d momentarily forgotten where she was. “So good,” she said, curling her lips into a satisfied smile. “I needed this.”

“Glad I could deliver,” he teased, taking a bite of his slice after winking at her.

She shook her head with a small laugh, wiping her fingers on a napkin. “You know… I don’t get it. How did all your last dates go so bad, Bucky?”

He paused mid-bite, chewing slower as the thought crossed his mind. Maybe because I couldn’t stop bringing up my ‘mom’ in conversations like some kind of creep.

“Because they weren’t you.”

The answer came easily, effortlessly, but the way her eyes widened told him she hadn’t expected it.

Her lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the raw sincerity in his voice. For once, she was the one scrambling for words, the usual balance between them tipping in a way that made her pulse quicken. “Bucky…”

He held her gaze. “I mean it.”

She blinked, the teasing light in her eyes dimming as something warmer and softer, replaced it. Slowly, her lips curved into a small, almost shy smile, fiddling her fingers with the edge of her napkin as she tried to gather herself.

“Well,” she murmured playfully, “I guess they didn’t stand a chance, huh?”

“Not even close,” he agreed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back slightly on the barstool. The suit jacket he wore pulled just enough to highlight the sharp lines of his shoulders, and for a brief moment, she found herself really looking at him. The paper napkin in his hand felt absurdly out of place against the polished, confident image he presented, but somehow, it only made him more endearing.

She reached for another slice of pizza as if that would help her steady herself. She didn’t say anything, couldn’t, because what could she possibly say to that? Instead, she glanced down quickly, busying herself with her plate and hoping he didn’t notice the sudden warmth in her cheeks.

When her eyes flicked back up, he was still watching her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. It wasn’t teasing or overconfident, just… him.

As they finished their meal, the buzz of the restaurant began to fade into the background, leaving just the two of them in their little corner of the world. Bucky leaned back, draining the last of his drink before standing and adjusting his jacket. He offered her his hand, his vibranium fingers catching the soft light. “Come on,” he said in an inviting voice.

“Where?” she asked, slipping her hand into his.

“Just… a walk,” he replied, almost tentative “Unless you’re in a hurry to call it a night.”

“Not at all.” She promptly answered as she rose to meet him.

They wandered down the sidewalk unhurriedly as the night wrapped around them. The streetlights cast long shadows, and their conversation flowed easily, punctuated by the occasional laugh or lingering glance. For a while, neither seemed to notice the passing of time. But then a cool breeze rolled in, and he felt her shiver slightly beside him.

He stopped, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Alright,” he murmured reluctantly, “I’m calling you a cab.”

She blinked, furrowing her brow . “What? Why?”

“You’re cold,” he said simply, his tone firm despite the regret in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” she argued, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her words.

“Doll,” he said, shaking his head with a faint smile, “you’re shivering. I’m not letting you walk around all night freezing.”

Her lips curved into a teasing smirk. “You could just lend me your jacket, you know. Like they do in the movies. Then I’d nuzzle into it because it smells like you, the usual cliché.”

He quirked an eyebrow, and his smirk widened into something distinctly playful. “You know, if you want to smell me, you can do it whenever you want.”

Her mouth fell open slightly, her cheeks burning as her witty comeback disappeared from her brain.

He chuckled, clearly pleased with her reaction, but his expression softened as he continued. “You’re shivering,” he repeated. “I’m not about to let you freeze out here.”

She folded her arms, attempting to regain her composure. “I’m really fine.”

“Trust me,” he said, pulling out his phone, “if I gave you my jacket, I’d have to carry you home. You’d drown in it.”

She let out a small huff, quirking her lips into a reluctant smile. “Fine,” she relented. “But only because I don’t want you giving me that sad, guilty look all night.”

“Guilty?” he repeated, quirking an eyebrow as he tapped at his screen.

“Yeah,” she teased, nudging him lightly. “Like you’re already blaming yourself for the weather.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he finished ordering the cab. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

-----

As they waited, he guided her toward the side of the building, resting his hand instinctively on her lower back as he steered her out of the breeze.

“Thanks for tonight, Bucky,” she said softly, leaning slightly into him, guided by the warmth of his hand.

Bucky froze for half a second, as the closeness of her body sent his heart into overdrive. She tilted her head to look up at him, and she smiled, not quite shy but not entirely bold either.

For a moment, he struggled. His old-fashioned nature tugged at him, warning him to hold back, to wait. He wasn’t sure how these things worked anymore, not when it came to her. Did he ask? Did he wait for her to make the first move?

But then her gaze dipped just for a second, to his lips.

Slowly, carefully, he leaned down, giving her time to pull away.

She didn’t, parting her lips ever so slightly, and it was all the reassurance he needed.

Their lips met, and the world seemed to still. The kiss was soft, tentative, but filled with all the emotions he hadn’t known how to put into words. His vibranium hand slid gently up her upper back, steadying her, while his flesh fingers brushed the curve of her jaw.

She leaned into him, resting her hands lightly on the lapels of his suit jacket and the kiss deepened, just enough to send a pleasant warmth humming through them both before they slowly pulled back.

Her eyes fluttered open, and a small smile played at her lips as she whispered, “Took you long enough.”

He huffed out a low laugh as his hand lingered at her back. “Guess I’m a little rusty.”

“Not bad for rusty,” she teased, curling her fingers slightly against his jacket.

He sighed as he raked a hand through his hair. “You’re good for me, you know that?”

Her smile widened, and she nudged him gently. “I try.”

He bit his lip, glancing down briefly before meeting her gaze again. “Even without trying, these past months, they’ve been…” He paused, the words catching in his throat as he searched for the right way to say it.

“Good… in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. Because of you.” He managed to finish the best he could.

Her heart swelled at the raw honesty of his voice. She leaned closer, brushing her hand lightly against his chest. “You’ve done a lot of that yourself, you know,” she said softly. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

“Maybe,” he said, his lips twitching into a faint, almost shy smile. “But you were there. That made all the difference.”

She smiled, her thumb brushing over the lapel of his jacket. “Well, lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” he murmured, “Because I’m not letting you.”

They just stood there, the hum of the city fading into the background. The night was cool, but the warmth between them was enough to keep the chill at bay. Finally, he tilted his head. “Ready to go?”

“No,” she pouted softly, looping her arm through his with a playful glint in her eyes.

Bucky hesitated for a fraction of a second, dipping his gaze to her lips again before he acted on impulse. His hand slid around her waist, gently pulling her closer as he leaned in.

This kiss was different, more sure, deliberate. His lips pressed against hers with a tenderness that made her knees feel weak, and she melted into him without hesitation.

When he finally pulled back, he let his lips brush against her cheek, trailing softly upward until they rested near her temple.

“Don’t make it difficult, Ma,” he teased lowly against her skin.

She let out a soft, breathy laugh, as she leaned into him. “Not my fault you’re irresistible, sweetheart.”

His lips curved into a small, lopsided smile against her temple before he sighed softly, resting his hand lightly on her lower back. With an easy motion, he guided her toward the waiting cab at the curb.

When they reached it, he opened the door for her without a word. She stepped in, pausing briefly to glance back at him. Her lips were still curved, and her warm smile made his chest ache in the best way.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” she said softly.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, a little rough around the edges. His gaze lingered on her, flexing his fingers slightly as if reluctant to let go of the door. Finally, he shut it gently, stepping back as the cab pulled away.

For a long moment, he stood there with his hands tucked into his pockets, watching as the car merged into the traffic and disappeared into the city lights. Finally, he turned slowly heading home, the faintest trace of a smile still tugging at his lips. For once, the night didn’t weigh so heavily on him, as he carried the lingering warmth of her smile and the memory of her kiss.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[lizziesangel]

RAFE CAMERON ⟢ distractions

x FEM!SWEETHEART!reader ⟢ MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: based on this request

WORD COUNT: +4.4k

GENRE: fluff

CONTENT WARNING: /

the fire crackled softly as the pogues gathered around the pit, their faces illuminated by the faint orange glow. tension hung heavy in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. jj was pacing, his hands flying in exaggerated gestures as he spoke.

“i’m just saying, maybe if we’d all been there, groff wouldn’t have gotten away with it,” pope said, his tone sharper than usual.

jj stopped mid-step and whirled around to face him, his expression fierce. “oh, so now it’s my fault? we didn’t exactly plan on groff showing up out of nowhere with a knife, by the way!”

pope rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “it just feels like we’re always one step behind because we’re not thinking ahead.”

jj’s jaw clenched, and kie jumped to his defense. “you don’t know what it was like, bro. groff was—is crazy! he cornered us—we didn’t have a choice.”

“enough, guys,” sarah tried to interject, but the bickering continued to escalate.

“yeah? maybe if you’d handled it differently, we’d still have the crown!” pope shot back, ignoring her.

jj took a step closer, his voice rising. “oh, so you think you could’ve done better? fine, next time you can take a knife to the gut for the team!”

Kiara nodded emphatically. “exactly, i didn’t see you volunteering to take a knife to the gut.”

“that’s not what i—”

kie nodded, her arms crossed defensively. “next time we’ll fight him off with my flip-flop.”

pope rolled his eyes annoyed, “you’re not even wearing flip-flops, bro!”

the argument was heating up, voices overlapping as frustration spilled out into the night.

you sat on a rock near the fire, watching the scene unfold with a growing sense of unease. everyone’s emotions were valid, but the bickering wasn’t helping anyone—not with groff still out there with the crown.

“guys,” you said softly, but no one heard you over the escalating voices.

jj threw his hands in the air. “so, what? now we’re just gonna sit here and play the blame game? is that the big plan, man? you wanna lead with that?”

“calm down, man!” cleo’s voice intervened through the argument.

sarah’s voice rose above the others’. “okay, enough—”

“GUYS!” you said, louder this time, standing up. the force of your voice cut through the noise, and everyone turned to look at you, startled.

“this isn’t helping,” you said, looking around the circle. “we’re all upset about losing the crown, but blaming each other isn’t going to bring it back.”

“groff’s got the crown, and we need to focus on getting it back—not tearing each other apart.”

jj’s shoulders relaxed slightly, his defensive stance softening as he gave you a grateful nod. kiara looked away, fiddling with the bracelet on her wrist, clearly relieved someone had stepped in.

pope sighed, running a hand over his face. “you’re right,” he admitted grudgingly. “sorry, guys.”

“yeah, me too,” jj muttered, though his tone was still a little prickly.

“okay, good,” you said gently, your voice losing its firmness and returning to its usual warmth. “we’ve gotten out of worse situations than this, and we’ll figure it out.”

for a moment, the group was quiet, the only sound the soft crackling of the fire. then cleo nodded, her voice calm but determined.

“she’s right. let’s focus on how we’re going to get the crown back.”

rafe, leaning against a nearby tree, crossed his arms but didn’t say anything, his gaze lingering on you with a flicker of something unreadable. while the others dove back into planning, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easily you diffused the situation. you had a way of bringing people together, and for a group like this, it was exactly what they needed.

the pogues gathered around a weathered map of lisbon spread across the dining table in their cramped apartment. john b marked potential locations where groff might stash the crown, the group buzzing with nervous energy as they pieced together their plan.

“we’re gonna have to split up,” pope said, tapping a pen against the map. “groff’s got too much ground covered. we’ll need pairs to check out these locations.”

“alright,” sarah said quickly, glancing at her brother. “i’ll go with rafe.”

“absolutely not,” john b interrupted before she could say another word, his voice sharp. he leaned forward, his jaw tight as he stared at her. “you’re staying with me.”

sarah rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “oh, come on, john b. it’s not like he’s going to—”

“that’s not the point,” he shot back, his tone sharp. “if something happens to you while you’re with him—” he trailed off, shaking his head. “no. you’re staying with me.”

“he’s right,” you cut in gently, giving her a small smile. “you should stick with john b, especially with your situation. he’s just looking out for you.”

sarah looked at you, frowning, but she could see the logic in your words. “then who’s going with rafe?”

the room went quiet for a beat, everyone glancing at you. “i’ll go with him,” you added, your tone calm and confident.

jj’s eyes darted to you, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “you sure about that?”

before you could answer, rafe scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “bro, i’m standing like right here,” he said, gesturing toward himself with both hands. “it’s not like i’m gonna hurt her. relax.”

“better not,” cleo muttered darkly, flipping her pocket knife open with a loud snick. she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, and gave rafe a look so sharp it could’ve sliced through steel. “i swear to God, cameron, if you so much as—”

“okay, okay,” rafe interrupted, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “message received. loud and clear.”

kiara, sitting cross-legged on the couch, nodded in agreement with cleo. “yeah, seriously. don’t even think about pulling any of your usual crap, rafe.”

“usual crap?” rafe echoed, clearly offended. He gestured toward you again. “she’s literally the nicest one here. you think i’m gonna risk her hating me? hell nah.”

you couldn’t help but smile softly, cutting through some of the tension. “thanks for the vote of confidence, rafe,” you said, earning a smirk from him.

jj still looked unconvinced, “alright, but if he so much as looks at you funny, i’m punching him.”

“alright, that’s settled,” pope said, quickly trying to steer the group back on track. “john b and sarah will cover the docks, jj and kie will hit the market district, and cleo and me can handle the high-end galleries and auction houses, y/n and rafe, you’ll be checking out groffs’ villa in lisbon.”

JJ and Kie take the east wing, John B and Sarah cover the main entrance, Cleo and I will handle the courtyard, and Rafe and Y/N will take the west wing.”

“fine,” jj said reluctantly, pointing at rafe. “but just know if anything goes wrong—”

“yeah, yeah,” Rafe muttered, brushing him off. “cleo and kie will hunt me down and end me. Got it.”

“good boy,” cleo said, flipping her knife closed with a snap.

as the group dispersed, jj pulled you aside, his face etched with concern. “hey, just... be careful, okay? i know you think rafe’s all mellow now, but he’s still, you know, rafe.”

you smiled at him, your voice light. “i’ll be fine, jj. he’s not as bad as you think.”

jj gave you a skeptical look but let it go, clapping you on the shoulder before heading off with kie.

across the room, rafe leaned against the doorframe, watching the exchange with a faint smirk. “i’m starting to think jj’s got a crush on you.”

you rolled your eyes as you walked over. “ew, or he just doesn’t trust you.”

“fair,” rafe nodded, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “but for what it’s worth, you’re probably the only one here who doesn’t look at me like i’m a ticking time bomb, besides sarah. so thanks for that.”

you gave him a small smile. “let’s just get that crown back tomorrow. then we can all go back to bickering about smaller stuff.”

rafe chuckled. “deal.”

you arrived in lisbon just as the sun began to set, the golden light glinting off the red rooftops and the sprawling tagus river. the city was alive with activity—tourists crowding cobblestone streets, locals enjoying evening drinks at cafés, and street performers entertaining passersby. it was a stark contrast to the tension simmering among the group as they piled out of the old van they had borrowed back in morocco.

rafe stretched as he stepped onto the street, glancing up at the colorful buildings around them. “well, at least we’re moving up in the world. this is way better than that thing.”

cleo rolled her eyes, muttering, “don’t get comfortable, cameron. we’re here to work, not sightsee.”

john b stood at the front of the group, holding a crumpled map of the city and motioning for everyone to gather around. “alright, listen up. we’ve got a lot of ground to cover, and not much time to do it. groff’s probably already making moves to offload the crown, so we’ve got to move fast.”

pope unfolded his notebook, scanning his notes as he spoke. “here’s the breakdown: john b and sarah, you’re covering the docks. there’s a chance groff’s smuggling the crown out of lisbon by boat, and we need to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“got it,” sarah said, looping her arm through john b’s.

pope continued. “jj and kie, you’re hitting the market district. if groff’s trying to keep a low profile, he might use the black market to sell it off quickly.”

jj grinned, nudging kiara. “our specialty. ready to haggle, kie?”

kiara smirked. “always, jayj.”

pope glanced at cleo, who was leaning against the van with her arms crossed. “you and i will handle the high-end galleries and auction houses. groff’s ego is big enough that he might try to make a spectacle of selling the crown.”

cleo gave a nod, flipping her pocket knife open and closed with a practiced motion. “high-end, low-end, doesn’t matter. we’ll find him.”

finally, pope turned to you and rafe. “y/n and rafe, you’re checking out groff’s villa in lisbon. it’s risky, but if the crown is still there, it’s our best shot at getting it back.”

“of course,” rafe muttered, shaking his head. “send me to the guy’s front door.”

jj let out a laugh. “oh, stop whining, man. you’re perfect for this. you’ve got the whole rich guy vibe—you’ll fit right in.”

“yeah, because blending in with criminals is exactly what i want to do right now,” rafe shot back.

before the banter could escalate, you stepped in. “we’ll manage. let’s just focus on the goal, okay?”

jj glanced at you, then back at rafe. “just making sure you’re good with this, y/n. if he screws this up—”

“i’m right here,” rafe interjected, throwing his arms up. “it’s not like i’m gonna sabotage us, i need groff for the money—”

“you better not, cameron. because if you do…” cleo gave him a sharp look, flipping her knife one last time before tucking it into her pocket.

rafe raised his hands in mock surrender. “message received.”

sarag, standing beside john b, gave rafe a soft smile. “just, be careful here. and no funny business, rafe.”

you sighed, “guys, relax. we’ve got this.”

john b clapped his hands, eager to move things along. “alright, that’s settled. we meet back here tomorrow morning to regroup. let’s go.”

the group quickly dispersed, each pair heading in different directions. john b and sarah headed toward the docks, hand-in-hand, already deep in discussion about their strategy. pope and cleo took the map, navigating toward the wealthier part of the city with a determined air. jj and kie walked off toward the market district, jj’s voice animated as he joked about their chances of running into trouble.

you and rafe lingered for a moment, watching as the others disappeared into the bustling streets.

“well,” rafe said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “looks like it’s just you and me.”

you shot him a small smile. “guess so. ready to check out groff’s villa?”

rafe hesitated for a beat, then nodded. “yeah. let’s get this over with.”

the two of you turned toward the direction of the villa, the noise of the city fading behind you as you made your way toward what could be the most dangerous part of the mission.

as you and rafe walked through the bustling streets of Lisbon, the golden glow of the city slowly giving way to the neon lights of the evening, he suddenly stopped in front of a boutique hotel. its grand facade was adorned with ivy, and the warm light spilling out of the windows gave it a welcoming, upscale charm.

“alright,” rafe said, turning to you. “before we go to that villa, we need to clean up.”

you raised an eyebrow, glancing at the hotel. “erm, this place looks... expensive.”

he shrugged, already pushing open the door. “and? i’m literally rich. stop stressing.”

you hesitated, glancing up at the elegant sign above the door. “still, isn’t it overkill? we could just—”

“look,” rafe interrupted, motioning for you to follow him. “we can’t show up looking like we just rolled out of a dirt van. a villa isn’t exactly a campsite. you want to blend in, right?”

you sighed, knowing he had a point. with a reluctant nod, you followed him into the hotel, the cool air and faint scent of lavender immediately hitting you. the lobby was all polished marble and tasteful decor, and you couldn’t help but feel a little out of place in your slightly dusty clothes and sneakers.

rafe walked up to the desk and, with an easy smile, slid his black card across the counter. “one room, please.”

the receptionist’s polite demeanor faltered for just a second when she saw the card, but she quickly recovered, handing over the key. “of course, sir. enjoy your stay.”

you followed rafe to the elevator, still feeling a bit uneasy. “i feel like i should apologize to your bank account.”

he smirked, pressing the button for the top floor. “don’t. this is nothing.”

the room was as lavish as you’d expected—plush bedding, a balcony overlooking the city, and a bathroom that looked like it belonged in a spa. as soon as you stepped inside, rafe tossed his bag onto the couch and stretched.

“alright,” he said, pointing toward the bathroom. “shower’s all yours. ladies first.”

you hesitated, glancing around. “you sure?”

he gave you a look. “y/n, just go. i’m not a caveman.”

you smiled faintly and gathered your things, disappearing into the bathroom. the water was a welcome relief after days of travel, and by the time you emerged, wrapped in a soft robe provided by the hotel, you felt more human than you had in ages.

rafe disappeared into the bathroom next, and soon the sound of running water filled the room. while he showered, you stepped out onto the balcony, taking in the breathtaking view of lisbon at evening. the city sparkled below, a mix of history and modernity that felt almost magical.

when rafe reappeared, his damp hair tousled and a fresh shirt thrown on, he looked more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. “alright,” he said, grabbing his wallet. “next step—shopping.”

you blinked, surprised. “shopping?”

“yeah.” he motioned to your clothes, then to his own. “we need something a little... classier. groff’s villa is basically a playground for rich criminals. we can’t show up looking like backpackers.”

he led you through the streets to a high-end shopping district, the kind of place where the window displays featured items that probably cost more than your monthly rent back home. you hesitated as he guided you into a sleek boutique.

“rafe, i don’t think i can afford anything in here,” you said quietly, eyeing the price tags.

“good thing you’re not paying,” he said easily, already browsing the racks. “pick something you like.”

“i can’t let you—”

“you can, and you will,” he interrupted, handing you a dress that looked stunning but way out of your comfort zone. “just try it on. trust me.”

you sighed, reluctantly taking the dress. the fitting room was just as luxurious as the store, and when you stepped out wearing the outfit, rafe froze. his usual confident smirk softened into something almost unreadable as he looked you over.

“damn,” he muttered under his breath, before quickly recovering. “see? told you it’d look good.”

you rolled your eyes, trying not to blush under his gaze. “alright, fine. you were right.”

“obviously,” he said with a grin, tossing a sleek blazer onto the counter for himself. “now let’s get some shoes, and we’re set.”

by the time you both finished, you felt like you’d stepped out of a fashion magazine. rafe gave you an approving once-over as you walked back toward the hotel to drop your old clothes off.

“now we’ll fit right in,” he said, his voice almost teasing. “that old man won’t know what hit him.”

you smiled, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up. “let’s hope so.”

you couldn't help but tug at the hem of the dress, trying to stretch it a bit. the fabric was sleek and tight—way shorter and more fitted than anything you’d ever worn before. you weren’t used to the way it clung to your body, feeling self-conscious as the evening breeze brushed against your bare legs.

“rafe, this is—” you gave the dress another pull, trying to make it feel less tight. “i don’t know, i feel like i’m about to—”

before you could finish, rafe’s hand came out, slapping yours away gently but firmly. “stop.” his voice was more teasing than serious, but there was an edge of reassurance. “you look good. seriously. it’s just a dress. you should wear it with confidence.”

you blinked up at him, feeling your face flush as you glanced down at the dress again. “i probably look so weird,” you muttered, uncomfortable in the way it felt too... much.

he raised an eyebrow, stepping closer so he was standing just beside you. rafe didn’t seem at all bothered by the change in your outfit; in fact, he seemed completely unfazed. “no,”he said, his voice quiet but firm. “you look beautiful. and you need to stop second-guessing yourself.”

you swallowed, your heart fluttering a little at his words. there was something in the way he said it—so sure, so direct—that made you feel… seen. beautiful, even.

but you still weren’t sure about the whole thing. you tugged at the hem of the dress once more, trying to give yourself a little more space, feeling out of your comfort zone.

rafe sighed, his expression softening as he watched you. “y/n...” he took your hand, gently slapping it away from the fabric one last time, this time more insistently. “you look perfect. don't mess with it. just... own it.”

your heart raced, his words hitting you in a way that made you feel more exposed than the dress ever could. but there was no time to dwell on it. rafe seemed to have made up his mind.

he took your hand in his, his fingers curling around yours with a surprising amount of gentleness, and for a moment, the city around you felt like it slowed down. the noise of the busy streets faded, and all you could focus on was the warmth of his hand around yours, how natural it felt, how right.

before you could say or do anything, rafe slid his arm around yours, pulling you gently into his side. his arm settled around your shoulders, a protective and easy gesture that made your heart skip. “better,” he said with a small grin, his voice softer now. “let’s get going, yeah?”

you didn’t have it in you to argue. all the nervous tension had melted away, leaving something warm in its place. you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so... at ease with someone.

“okay,” you whispered, glancing up at him, trying to steady your breath. “thanks, rafe.”

he smiled down at you, his grip tightening slightly around your hand as you both walked through the streets of lisbon, side by side.

the glowing lights of groff’s sprawling villa came into view as you and rafe followed the directions on his phone. the estate was perched on a hill overlooking the city, its elegant architecture and manicured gardens screaming wealth. by the time you arrived, the clock read 10 p.m., and the sound of music and chatter drifted through the warm night air.

“there’s a party,” you observed, stopping to take in the sight. groups of elegantly dressed people mingled on the grand patio, glasses of champagne in hand, while staff moved efficiently among them.

“yeah,” rafe muttered, glancing around. “makes sense. groff probably thinks he’s untouchable. let’s see about that.”

instead of heading toward the front entrance, rafe motioned for you to follow him along the side of the villa, where the shadows were deeper. the two of you crouched low as you crept through the back garden, carefully avoiding the pool of light cast by the garden lanterns.

when you reached a quiet corner, he pointed to a narrow pathway leading toward an open window on the second floor. “that’s where we need to go. his office is up there.”

“okay,” you whispered. “but how do we get in?”

rafe leaned against the wall, assessing the situation. “we’ve got a problem. there’s a guard standing right in front of the door to groff’s office.”

you peeked around the corner, spotting the tall, burly man in a black suit. he stood with his arms crossed, scanning the area, clearly on high alert.

“great,” you muttered. “what now?”

rafe smirked, his gaze flickering to you. “you’re going to distract him.”

your eyes widened. “me?”

“you,” he said with a shrug, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “i’ll climb up to the window outside while you keep him busy.”

“and how exactly am i supposed to do that?”

he grinned, leaning in a little closer. “seduction.”

you blinked at him, incredulous. “are you serious?”

“dead serious,” he said, clearly enjoying your reaction. “look, all you have to do is keep his attention on you. talk to him, flirt a little—whatever it takes. the more distracted he is, the easier it’ll be for me to slip in and grab my contract so i get my money back.”

you crossed your arms, giving him a pointed look. “and how do you suggest i do that, exactly?”

“you know…” rafe trailed off, looking vaguely uncomfortable as he gestured vaguely. “just... talk to him. flirt a little. keep him busy.”

“flirt?” you hissed, feeling your face heat. “rafe, i don’t know how to—”

rafe tilted his head, clearly relishing the opportunity to give advice. “okay, first—stand up straight. confidence is key.”

you rolled your eyes but straightened your posture nonetheless.

“good. now, make eye contact. guys like him eat that up.”

you gave him a skeptical look. “anything else, coach?”

“yeah,” he said, stepping closer and gesturing toward your outfit. “you’re already dressed the part, so just lean into it. smile, maybe touch his arm while you’re talking to him. compliment him on something—his suit, his job, whatever.”

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “that’s your big advice? laugh and look amazing?”

“this is so not my thing.”

“you’ll be fine,” rafe assured you with a grin. then his voice softened, his teasing edge fading slightly. “you’re way more charming than you think.”

his words caught you off guard, and you felt a warm flush creep up your neck. “fine. but if this goes south—”

“it won’t,” he said quickly, placing a hand on your shoulder. “you’ve got this. and if he tries anything, i’ll be there in two seconds, alright?”

you nodded reluctantly, squaring your shoulders as you approached the guard. rafe gave you a reassuring nod before disappearing into the shadows, heading for the side of the villa.

as rafe slipped away toward the window, you approached the guard, your heart pounding. he noticed you immediately, his gaze narrowing slightly as you stepped into the light.

“hi,” you said, mustering your best smile. “i think i might be lost.”

the guard frowned. “this area’s restricted. guests are supposed to stay near the party.”

“oh, i know,” you said quickly, stepping a little closer. “i just… i saw you standing here, and i thought maybe you could help me.” you let your fingers brush lightly against his arm, just as rafe had suggested.

the guard’s expression softened slightly, his posture relaxing. “help you with what?”

you tilted your head, feigning innocence. “well, you look like you know your way around here. and you’ve got that whole… strong and serious vibe going on.”

the guard chuckled, his chest puffing out slightly. “it’s part of the job.”

as the guard became more engrossed in the conversation, you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye. rafe was climbing through the window, his movements quick and silent.

you kept talking, your nerves barely under control. “so, do you work these parties often? it must be exhausting, keeping everything under control.”

the guard leaned in a little, clearly buying into your act. “it’s not so bad. but i can’t say i’ve had anyone as pretty as you come over to talk to me before.”

you forced a laugh, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as he stepped even closer.

just then, rafe appeared, stepping out from the shadows behind the guard with pieces of paper in hand. his blue eyes narrowed as he took in the scene, his jaw tightening when he saw how close the guard had gotten.

“alright, back off,” rafe said sharply, his voice cutting through the moment like a blade.

the guard turned, startled, but rafe was already stepping between you and him, his expression dark. “she’s with me.”

the guard raised his hands defensively, stepping back. “hey, no problem, man. i didn’t know.”

“yeah, well, now you do,” rafe said, his tone cold. he turned to you, his hand finding yours instinctively. “let’s go.”

you followed him quickly, your heart still racing. as the two of you disappeared into the shadows, you glanced at rafe, feeling a strange mix of emotions—gratitude, relief, and something deeper you couldn’t quite name.

“thanks,” you whispered as you walked away.

rafe glanced at you, his grip on your hand firm. “don’t mention it. no one messes with my gi—you.”

your breath hitched at his words, but before you could respond, he gave you a small smile and pulled you along, the tension of the moment fading into the cool lisbon night.

[cruel-seduction]

If I get more pretty? 

Content Warnings: Mild cursing, angst, emotional vulnerability, themes of insecurity, and crying.

Summary: You and Mattheo have been keeping your relationship under wraps. But when doubts and insecurities begin to creep in, you find yourself questioning your worth. Mattheo, however, won’t let you suffer in silence. He’ll fight through any storm—no matter how many times he has to face it—because the one thing he won’t ever allow is for you to feel unloved. And when it comes to loving you, he’s unstoppable.

Glimpse - You smirked, your lips quivering as you raised an eyebrow. “Don’t speak too much, Riddle. Or I might just impregnate you.”

He withdrew his hands from you in mock horror, covering his body as if you’d just said the most scandalous thing in the world. “I knew it,” he said, feigning shock, “You only want me for my body.”

a/n - I am writing this while I am in metro and I forgot to bring my headphones and there is a really cute guy sitting next to me who also have dimples and he looks like a nerd cause he is doing some maths equation and he even smiled at me so I am fucking happy.

The sun hung low on the horizon, its amber rays stretching lazily across the Black Lake, casting a soft, golden glow over the rippling water. You were sprawled out beneath a towering oak tree, its ancient branches providing just enough shade to temper the warmth of the evening. Your back rested comfortably against the rough bark, while Pansy’s head lolled casually on your shoulder. To your left, Mattheo sat close, his presence grounding you in a way you didn’t quite understand but had come to crave.

You weren’t exactly close friends with the group gathered here. Pansy was an acquaintance at best—though her sharp wit and biting humor had grown on you—but Mattheo? He was your secret. Your boyfriend. A relationship that defied logic and societal expectations. On the surface, you and Mattheo were opposites: you, measured and reserved; him, chaos wrapped in dark allure. You had loathed his reputation once, the stories of his recklessness and destruction, but now you knew the truth—the tender boy beneath the mask, the one who would move mountains just to see you smile.

Still, it was your idea to keep things private. “Private until permanent,” you had insisted, brushing away his protests with a laugh. “People are too eager to cast their evil eye.” It wasn’t that you didn’t want the world to know. You did. But you couldn’t shake the instinct to protect what was precious to you, even if the irony of shielding someone as notorious as Mattheo Riddle from harm didn’t escape you.

Your voice broke through the tranquil atmosphere as you finished recounting a story, one that had the group doubled over in laughter. “It’s not that funny, you assholes,” you muttered, though a smile tugged at your lips. “I’m actually concerned about it, okay? Like, it’s true, but still…” You rolled your eyes, your chuckle mingling with the fading laughter. Eventually, you let your head rest atop Pansy’s, her dark curls tickling your cheek. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Mattheo watching, his dark gaze fixed on where Pansy leaned against you. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, and you couldn’t help but suppress a grin. Jealousy suited him.

As the laughter ebbed, Blaise leaned back on his elbows, a smirk playing on his lips as he turned to Mattheo. “So, Riddle,” he drawled, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “What’s the deal with that redhead who’s been mooning over you?”

Mattheo’s brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “What redhead?”

“Oh, don’t play coy,” Blaise replied with a laugh. “You know exactly who I’m talking about. The redhead—absolute knockout—who’s been fawning over you.”

“She doesn’t,” Mattheo said firmly, his tone laced with mild irritation. “She just assumes we’re friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Blaise quirked an eyebrow. “Let me enlighten you, Riddle. Do women usually parade around in barely-there clothing for their so-called friends?” His teasing earned him a sharp slap to the back of the head from Pansy.

“Any girl can wear whatever she damn well pleases,” she snapped. “And it doesn’t have to be for anyone, let alone a man. And If I hear you say such nonsense I will chop your dick and feed it to that three headed dog, you understand?”

Blaise rubbed the back of his head, chuckling. “Alright, alright. I am sorry, ma’am. But come on, Mattheo. She waits for you at Quidditch practice every morning. Five a.m., mate. No one studies that hard in the field when we’ve got a perfectly good library. She’s practically throwing herself at you.”

Theodore, lounging nearby, chimed in with a smirk. “I have to agree. She’s got a killer figure. Honestly, Riddle, she seems tailor-made for one of your infamous one-night flings. Speaking of which, you’ve been suspiciously… alone lately. Someone caught your eye?”

Before Mattheo could respond, Pansy interjected, her tone light but edged with sarcasm. “Please. Mattheo fawning over just one woman? Not possible. It’s probably against his DNA or something. The man’s practically programmed to bounce from one hot girl to another.” She leaned back, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “And some of those girls, I’ll admit, are downright smashable. Even I’m tempted sometimes.”

The group laughed, the conversation shifting seamlessly to lighter topics, but their words lingered, carving fissures in your confidence. Their teasing shouldn’t have bothered you—you knew Mattheo’s heart belonged to you—but doubts began to creep in, unbidden and persistent. Were you enough for him? Did he deserve someone better, someone more dazzling, more suited to his world?

The thoughts gnawed at you until you felt a warm hand slip over yours. Startled, you turned your head to find Mattheo watching you, his gaze impossibly tender. His lips curved into a small, genuine smile, one that spoke of unspoken promises and quiet devotion. You mustered a smile in return, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

And Mattheo noticed.

He always noticed.

Later that evening, you made your way back from the library, your bag slung lazily over your shoulder and your thoughts preoccupied. Mattheo had skipped your study date, and though disappointment gnawed at the edges of your mind, you reasoned it away. He was probably busy with Quidditch practice—the final match was looming, and the pressure was mounting. He’d make it up to you after the match, you told yourself, because that’s who he was. He always found a way to make things right.

Still, the morning’s conversation lingered, casting a faint shadow over your thoughts. You didn’t want to overthink it—it wasn’t worth ruining your mood—but the words from earlier replayed in your head like an unwelcome echo. To distract yourself, you silently recited the lyrics to a song, focusing on the rhythm of your footsteps as you made your way toward your dorm.

And then, just as you turned a corner, you saw them.

The sight froze you in place, a wave of nausea churning in your stomach as your heart plummeted. There he was—Mattheo—standing with a girl so breathtakingly beautiful it felt like the universe was mocking you. Her golden hair fell in perfect waves, her face framed with elegance, her height poised like a model stepping off a magazine cover. She was flawless. Perfect hair. Perfect face. Perfect everything. She was everything you weren’t.

Your chest tightened as you watched her lean toward him, her laughter like a siren’s call, and bile rose in your throat. You wanted to scream, to curse her, to tear her apart with the fire burning in your chest. But then the sharp edge of reality cut through. Was she really at fault? She didn’t know. To her, Mattheo was just another unattached, impossibly attractive boy. It wasn’t her fault she was flirting with someone who everyone believed was fair game.

Still, your gaze locked on her hand as it brushed his shoulder, and the lump in your throat grew harder to swallow. He moved his arm away, subtle but deliberate. Yet your mind refused to accept it. Why wasn’t he doing more? Why wasn’t he stopping her outright, shutting her down completely? Did he… like the attention? Or worse, did he realize he was better off with someone like her? Someone perfect?

The thought shattered something inside you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you stood there, frozen, watching the scene unfold. The voice in your head whispered cruel truths: He deserves someone better. Someone who fits his world. Someone who isn’t you.

You loved him so much it ached, but wasn’t love about sacrifice? About letting go? You told yourself it was. And so, that’s what you did.

For the next week, you committed to what you bitterly called your “stupid mission” of letting him go. You ignored Mattheo at every turn, cutting off the moments that had once been routine—canceling dates with feeble excuses, skipping his Quidditch practices where you used to show up just to watch him, even avoiding the places where you knew you might run into him. If he was better off without you, you wouldn’t stand in his way.

But boy, you were so wrong.

Which is how you ended up here, in the dim light of an abandoned classroom, your back pressed against the cold stone wall. His dark eyes burned with intensity, locking onto yours as he caged you in with both hands planted firmly on either side of your head. His body radiated heat, and the tension in the air was palpable.

“Mattheo,” you hissed, shoving at his chest, though it was futile against his unyielding strength. “Let me go.”

“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on,” he snapped, his voice low and rough. “You’ve been avoiding me all week. Canceling on me. Ignoring me. And don’t even try to lie, because I know you’ve been doing it on purpose.”

You glared at him, your hands curling into fists as you shoved at him again. “It doesn’t matter, Mattheo. Just—just let me go, fucker.”

“It matters to me,” he growled, his face inches from yours now. “You don’t get to just disappear from my life and act like it’s nothing. Tell me what’s going on.”

Tears pricked at the edges of your vision, but you blinked them away, refusing to let him see you break. “Why are you here?,” you choked out, the words slicing through you like broken glass. “You certainly were enjoying that blondie’s attention..”

Mattheo’s brows furrowed, confusion giving way to something deeper—something that almost looked like heartbreak. “Blondie who?”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you. “The girl from the last week. The one for whom you cancelled our study date for—”

But before you could finish, Mattheo leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “Stop.” His hand found yours, his grip firm but gentle. “You seriously thought I would cheat on you?”

Your breath hitched, the fight draining from you as his words sank in “But—”

“You don’t even have this much trust in me?” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper, the hurt and disbelief evident in every word.

You shook your head, tears streaming freely now. “No, Mattheo, it’s not about trust. It’s about reality. You deserve better. Someone like her—perfect body, perfect everything. And I don’t think we’re meant for each other. I’m not perfect, not even close. So, it’s not that I think you would cheat,” you choked on the words, your heart breaking with every breath, “but I think you’re better off with her.”

By now, your sobs had overtaken you, the rawness of your feelings too much to contain. You were crying—really crying, like you hadn’t in years. Mattheo’s expression shifted from confusion to something deeper, darker, as he moved towards you.

Before you could even react, his hand found the back of your neck, his touch cold against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. His other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, as he pressed your head to his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you. His lips brushed over your hair, his voice low and insistent.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” His words were like a punch to the gut. “Don’t pull this movie bullshit on me, babe. That I deserve someone better? Cause we both know that I don’t. Come on, I don’t. I have more than enough. I have you. The fucking real goddess.”

You felt his arms tighten around you, his words sinking into your soul. “I don’t believe in reincarnation or any of that shit,” he continued, his voice softer now, “but I do think I’ve done something right in this life, something good, because I get to be with you. And trust me, baby—you and I are the only endgame. At first, I thought this was just some fling, but now? A day without talking to you feels like a waste. And I want to say some romantic shit like I’ll be with you even if the whole world is against you, but fuck that. I’m not weak, baby. I’ll kill anyone who dares go against you. Do you understand?”

A strange, tearful smile tugged at your lips as you looked up at him. His hand ran up and down your back, comforting, reassuring.

“I know now’s not the right time to say this, but you’re getting your snot all over the only clean dress I have, baby.”

You lightly slapped his shoulder in mock annoyance, but the tension in your chest began to ease. He made you laugh, even in the midst of everything. You pulled your face back to look at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. The kiss was slow and soft, unlike any other kiss you’d shared. It was filled with something tender, something fragile, as if he was holding you close, afraid that if he let go, you might vanish.

When you finally broke the kiss, his gaze was fixed on you—his eyes filled with an intensity that spoke volumes. You could see it, clear as day: he was yours, and you were his. You were the endgame.

“You think I’d waste my time with anyone else when I have you?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Baby, you’re the only person who can handle all of me—the good, the bad, and the downright shitty. You believe in me. You worry about me when I get sick. You scold me when I’m being an idiot. And most importantly, when I look in your eyes, all I see is love. Not fear. Not ‘Riddle’s son.’ Just me.”

You smirked, your lips quivering as you raised an eyebrow. “Don’t speak too much, Riddle. Or I might just impregnate you.”

He withdrew his hands from you in mock horror, covering his body as if you’d just said the most scandalous thing in the world. “I knew it,” he said, feigning shock, “You only want me for my body.”

And you laughed, the sound of it echoing in the empty room, light and carefree, a stark contrast to the heaviness that had settled earlier. But it didn’t matter.

Mattheo Riddle, for all his faults, his arrogance, his unpredictable nature—he was yours. And you loved him. Maybe love wasn’t about letting go, after all. Maybe it was about holding on, cherishing what you had while it was still yours. Because if you had to let go of your love, then maybe it wasn’t meant to be in the first place.

Main Masterlist || Divider - @bernardsbendystraws

[aboutcustardcreams]

Until next time

Agathario x reader

The scene in the forest where Agatha delivered the baby is living in my head rent free and I just couldn't resist the urge to write an os about it. Rewrite, actually. It's my first Agatha's fic, so I'm pretty excited. Hope you guys like it <3

warning: angst, a touch of fluff

next chapter (time skip)

The baby’s soft cries echoed in the forest, as a reminder that a life has just begun, tender and innocent. Agatha was perched by a tree, only wrapped in a light and crumbled vest. Her cloak dropped somewhere a few feet away. The sweat and the pressure at her lower abdomen finally subsided, making her feel like she could breathe properly again. There was blood between her legs, staining her inner thighs, flooding and then drying out to her knees. Everything kind of hurt, her eyes were heavy, but her senses stayed alert. 

“Move,” the Green Witch muttered in a placid order. 

You looked into her eyes, slowly shaking your head, as you stood in front of Agatha, shielding her and the baby, “No.”

The witch felt a wave of relief wash over her when she heard your simple, yet categorical answer. She was in no condition to fight against Rio on this, despite the fire in her eyes and the weak magic already tingling her digits. 

Rio sighed, “we aren’t doing this. You promised–”

“I know what I did,” you interjected, closing your hands into fists, “But I changed my mind. I am allowed to change my mind,” you pointed out, voice thick with emotion. You couldn’t bring yourself to say goodbye to a child you didn’t even hold in your arms yet. “I-I can’t let you take him,” turning around, your eyes focused on the baby’s tiny head peeking out of the little blanket Agatha wrapped him in. “I mean, he’s innocent. It can’t be his time…”

“My loves–” 

“Just let him live,” Agatha interjected, her voice both exhausted and desperate. She never felt so scared before, “Please, don’t take him from me.” 

When he clasped his tiny hands in her long wavy hair, her lips brushed against his head, “I love you,” she smiled, rocking him ever so gently, “I love you so much.”

Your heart melted at the sight before your eyes. Rio felt a slight indecision tugging at her chest. She never thought the first time she would hold her son would be to carry him in the afterlife. It felt cruel. It was cruel. But he was sick, he could feel his disease, hovering like a shadow around him. 

“I’m not giving up. Not yet,” you insisted. 

“You talk as if I didn’t wish for him to live,” Rio retorted in disbelief. 

“Oh, spare us, Rio!” Agatha snapped. “You’re the Green Witch, it’s not like you’ve got no power at your disposal. And yet you’re choosing the easy way.”

Rio couldn’t believe her ears. “The easy way you say? Are you nuts? He is my son too, Agatha!”

You frowned at their bickering. Last thing you wanted was to indulge in this fight. This moment was supposed to bring joy to your lives. A child was born, your child for fuck’s sake. Why couldn’t you three be happy about it? Why couldn’t you cherish the moment? He was sick, but you could still try to save him. Work together to make it possible. You, Agatha and Rio weren’t common witches after all, and if there was someone able to find a loophole, it would be you. 

“Then start acting more like a mother,” Agatha retorted, voice dropping in a whisper. 

“It’s not my fault I’ve got responsibilities, Agatha. I never asked to be like this,” Rio’s voice wavered a bit, her heart thumping in her chest with painful insistence. 

“My loves, please we shouldn’t–”

The sound of Agatha’s mocking laughter prevented you from finishing off that sentence. “What about the responsibilities towards our son? He should come first.” 

“Our son is sick, and in order for him to live, many will have to die. It will cause absolute chaos.”

“So be it. All I care about is my son.” Her icy blue eyes sparkling dangerously as she said those words with force and a bit of selfishness. 

You considered Rio’s words; a bunch of conflicted emotions passed through you. Rio wouldn’t say those things if she knew there was another way out of this. But maybe if she couldn’t find it, you could, if only you were granted more time to figure it out. 

“If you take him, I’ll hate you forever,” she insisted rather calmly now. 

“Agatha…”

Color drained from your face at those words. You knew she didn’t mean that. She couldn’t. When a muffled sound slipped from Rio’s lips, a mixture between a choked sob and a scoff, you drew closer to her, your hands immediately finding her cheeks. You weren’t supposed to pick sides. You were a family, and it should stay like that. 

“She doesn’t mean it,” you said both softly and firmly, thumbs brushing against her cheekbones. She rolled her eyes and you took a firmer grip on her face, so that she would focus on your eyes, “Rio, listen to me, she doesn’t–”

“I do.” Agatha deadpanned, cutting you off.  

You hissed, “Quiet, Agatha.” 

Rio let out a quiet humorless chuckle, when the other witch grumbled something under her breath. 

“We are just scared, my love. We want this child to live, we need him to, do you understand that?” 

When your voice croaked slightly, her hands tangled in your hair and pulled you closer to her, “I know, baby. I know,” she cooed, getting lost in those wet lashes of yours.

You swallowed thickly, “I don’t want to say goodbye.” 

She leaned in and brushed her lips right under your eye, her magic immediately mingling with yours. Your eyelids fluttered close and you let out a faint mewl. 

“I can only offer time,” she said, once she pulled away, so that she could meet both yours and Agatha’s eyes.

You arched an eyebrow confusedly, “what does it mean?”

“How much time?” Asked Agatha. 

She shrugged, as if she didn’t know or she couldn’t really say. Her behavior only served the purpose of making you more nervous. Crossing your arms over your chest, you knew that you’d have to use this time to master your own powers. To make sure that whenever Rio intended on collecting your son’s soul, you’d be ready to fight. Not her of course, but the process of Death itself. You were a necromancer witch, whose powers were completely opposite to Rio’s. While her job was to keep order between life and death, your powers could easily break that balance if you wanted to. Meaning that you could resurrect life forms.

“You know I’ll still try when the time comes, don’t you?”

Rio looked at you and despite your words, she smiled, “I know, love. Thought I’d hate you if you decided to interfere, but honestly, I hope you win.” 

It was your turn to crack a smile in her direction. “It’s not a competition, Rio. All I want is to keep our child alive.” 

She hummed, without voicing her concerns out loud, not wanting to add more to yours and Agatha’s shoulders, “You two will make a good job.”

You and Agatha exchanged a confused look, “you sound like you’re leaving us behind,” she trailed off. 

When Rio averted her eyes, lips pressed in a thin line, you were sure you felt your heart shatter. 

“No, she’s not-” you looked at Agatha, hoping to have got it all wrong. But when you spotted tears welling up in her eyes, you realized the truth. 

“Rio, please, don’t do this–”

“I must. I can’t be seen around him,” her tone was sad, yet you could still feel the love filling each word. You kept shaking your head in denial. “Might be difficult to believe but there are women above me I respond to.” 

“The Fates have no power if you don’t do your part,” Agatha pointed out, hoping to be right.

Rio smacked her lips in return. “It’s not that simple. Atropos, the eldest of the three, could give me a really hard time if I disobey.” 

You clenched your jaw at her words. The thought of handing your son’s life in the hands of those crones made absolutely no sense to you. They shouldn’t be entitled to take the life of an innocent just like that. You were a necromancer witch, meaning that you could change things. For a long time you buried that part of yourself within you, because of the things you’ve been told all your life. Interfering with the natural order of the things was wrong; your power was an abomination, but at that moment, all those warnings sounded like bullshit. 

Rio sensed your distress, her fingers brushed yours, “I’ll keep him hidden for as long as I can.” 

Then she turned to Agatha and pointed at the baby in the silent, almost timid request to approach him. She still had to see him properly after all. Agatha nodded and moved the child so that he would face her, tucking a bit of the blanket underneath his chin to better expose his tiny face. 

Rio brushed a strand of Agatha’s hair first, “you did amazing, my love,” she praised her, causing a light brush on the witch’s cheeks. She couldn’t quite believe she, you three created such a beautiful baby boy from scratch. 

“Hi” she cooed, now focusing on the newborn. You leaned against the tree, the same tree Agatha was perched by, and looked from above the sweet interaction going on. Rio’s fingertips grazed over his tiny, perfect nose. “I can’t promise you a life devoid of challenges and pain, but I confide in your mothers to always make sure you’re happy and loved,” she lifted her eyes to meet yours and Agatha’s. A watery smile tugged at her lips, “And trust me, you’re so so loved already, little one.” 

You wiped the corners of your eyes and so did Agatha. 

“We should name him Nicholas,” she said after a moment of contemplation.  

Knowing the meaning of the name, you felt like you couldn’t agree more on it, “Nicholas Scratch,” you added, “cause we made him from scratch.” 

Rio turned towards you, while her fingers played with the baby’s tender little hands. “That’s perfect, my love. Isn’t it, Agatha?”

Agatha swallowed thickly, already mourning the loss of Rio, despite her being still there. She nodded, and then she tangled a hand in Rio’s hair, pulling her closer to her face. For a moment she only leaned against her forehead, inhaling her sweet scent of flowers. Then the Green Witch took the initiative and placed her lips on top of hers, savoring with extreme gentleness, the plumpiness of Agatha’s. You ran a hand in Agatha’s hair, fingers stroking her scalp to let her feel your presence too, while your eyes darted on Rio. When Agatha let out a choked sob in Rio’s mouth, overwhelmed by everything that had just happened in such a short time, the other hushed her softly, “it’s going to be okay.”

Neither you nor Agatha were sure about it, but you had no other choice than to believe her. 

“Take care of your moms, Nicky,” she later added, placing one last kiss on his forehead and then on Agatha’s. 

Once she stood up again, she focused her attention on you. In an ideal world, you’d be her enemy, because of the powers you possessed. And yet, against all the odds, you became her lover, one of the most important persons in her life. 

“Don’t be sad…”

You nibbled on your inner cheek so hard you drew blood. With your arms crossed over your chest, you struggled to spill a single word because you didn’t trust your voice at the moment. Your entire body was shaking on the inside. Agatha never saw you look so fragile before. It felt like a stab in her chest to witness her family fall apart like that. 

“You’re asking too much of me,” you kept your eyes down, focusing on the tip of your boots. 

“Nena, look at me,” Rio tried to meet your eyes, but you purposefully kept it down, shaking it stubbornly and hopelessly. She smiled, feigning hurt in her tone as she continued, “You wouldn’t let me go without a proper kiss now, would you?” 

Despite your best efforts, you let out a small watery chuckle at her playful teasing, “I hate that you’re doing this.”

“It’s for Nicky…” She said simply. 

Agatha buried her face in the baby’s naked shoulder, finding comfort in his pure and unique scent. 

“And I am sorry,” when you finally met her eyes, Rio cupped your cheeks, “so sorry you don’t get to be his mother. It’s your right to be.”

But Rio’s lips curled into a reassuring smile, despite her sadness. “Don’t be. I’ll get my turn eventually…  and for now, I’ll be his–”

“Please, don’t say shadow,” you muttered, and that elicited a small chuckle out of the Green Witch. If you turned around you’d see Agatha’s lips stretch into a smile too. 

“Guardian, then.”

You hummed and licked your lips, tasting the saltiness of your own tears in your mouth. 

“Now come here, I waited enough–” 

The witch pulled you closer with ease. Your body crashed into hers but it was okay because she was ready to hold you. 

Agatha could see Rio’s face as she hugged you. She spotted a single tear slip down her eye and her stomach lurched. When you two pulled away, Rio took a few steps back, pulling the green cloak over her head. She lingered a few seconds to memorize the scene before her. You dropped on your knees and landed next to Agatha. Her head immediately lolled on your shoulder, and you turned yours to place your lips in her hair. 

Rio waved softly, then blew a kiss to each of you, “Nos vemos, mis amores.” 

You and Agatha nodded quietly, watching the Green Witch disappear before your eyes. Agatha let out a silent sob when she did; your arms immediately wrapped around her and the baby in a protective embrace. 

“We will be fine, Aggs.” 

When Agatha met your gaze, eyes full of hope and vulnerability, you took a mental vow to protect her and Nicky whatever the cost. 

“Yeah,” she echoed with a smile you immediately reciprocated. She closed her eyes when you leaned in to brush your lips against her still clammy forehead. 

When the baby started crying again, you two pulled away and focused your attention on Nicky. He looked rather pale for your liking, a little warm too. You knew what he needed and so did Agatha. You placed a tender kiss on his cheek, Agatha’s lips curling into a soft smile, while you did. Then you stood, hands on your hips, eyes roaming around your surroundings like a predator looking for its prey. You didn’t want to do this, but you were just a mother trying to keep your son alive. 

When Agatha attempted to get up, you interjected, “stay here for now. Let me do the rest.”

Her expression shifted from confusion to worry, “You shouldn’t be doing this alone.”

“Agatha,” you merely rolled your eyes at that, “You just had our baby, I think it’s not the end of the world if you sit this one out,” your voice laced with a hint of playfulness despite the things you had to do. It’s not that you never killed before, cause you did. Not in cold blood though. You forced yourself into believing that it wouldn’t be much different. Once a wise person told you, a witch must do anything in her power to survive and there’s no shame in that. You were looking at her now, as her attention remained fixed on you. 

“Be careful,” it was supposed to sound like an order, but the softness in her eyes betrayed her. 

You chuckled lightly, “I always am,” you concluded, pulling the cloak up over your head. 

[viasdiary]

☆ poolside convo (luigi mangione x reader)

☆ word count: 1.7k

☆ warnings: smut, unprotected sex, not proofread

☆ loosely inspired by "self control" by frank ocean, main character is on vacation in hawaii and leaves her summer lover behind

☆ this is my first fic ever!! some inspo from @jjkbambi @raekensluver @burnforyou enjoy!!

the golden glow of the setting sun shining through the palm trees bathes you in an amber light, painting the most beautiful picture you’ve ever seen. luigi being close to you surely made it even better.

the soft light of the pool hit him from underneath just right, highlighting his toned body and his handsome face, peppered with freckles here and there.

sitting next to him by the edge of the pool, your legs dangling in the water, you both laugh about all the dumb stuff you guys did together this past summer.

wearing a stupid grin on his face, he adds

“and remember that time you got so drunk you threw up in the hot tub?” you playfully push his shoulder. “yeah, i’d rather not.” he looks at you, his perfect smile still plastered on his face. “you know, this summer really was great. i’m not just saying that either.” he says.

his smile drops a little when he realizes he’s speaking in the past tense. in that moment, it hits both of you that summer is finally over. it’s early august, and you’ll be back home by the end of the week. you’ll be back in school before you know it, and it’ll be a while before you see each other again, if you even see each other again at all.

the both of you would rather not dampen the mood with that idea, so you talk around it, even though the sadness is heavy in the air. your eyes shift between his face, his mouth, and his little freckles here and there. he looks so beautiful.

“hey, you alright?” he asks tenderly. you place your hand on the middle of his chest and press your lips to his. he parts his lips into the kiss before you pull away. you swore you weren’t going to make tonight sad, but before you know it, the words fall from your lips.

“i’m going to miss you so much,” you say, barely a whisper.

he furrows his thick eyebrows together and looks you in your eyes. you pull your legs out of the water and fully face him.

“i wish things could stay this way forever. it’s only been a couple of months, but you’ve slowly become, like ,one of my favorite people, and it hurts me so bad to know that in another couple of months it’ll be like there was nothing between us at all,”

you were so scared to lose him, and even though he insisted you guys could make long distance work, you knew better. he places his hand on the back of your neck and pulls you into another kiss. he kissed you hard this time, hungrier. as he broke the kiss, he whispered into your lips.

“i care about you so much, and i’d do anything to make this work.” he continued to hold you close, his forehead pressed against yours. the warmth of his breath mingled with the warm night air, and you felt your heart racing.

you wanted to believe him, to trust that somehow you could make this work even with the distance and whatever else came with it. "i know you mean that," you whispered back, your voice catching slightly. "but how? we'll be in different states, different schools. our lives are going in totally separate directions."

he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "we'll figure it out. i’ll call you every night. i'll visit you on breaks. we can make plans for next summer."

you smiled sadly, wanting so badly to share his optimism. "it won't be the same."

"no," he agreed, "it won't. but that doesn't mean it can't be perfect for now." you ran your hands up his thigh. you’d really rather not get too emotional tonight.

“you’re right, lu. i trust you, so please don’t make me regret it." you looked at his pretty face, his concerned expression. the corners of your lips slightly turned upwards, threatening to curl into a full smile. he sensed your shift in mood and gave you another dumb grin.

“god, look at us getting all sad on vacation,” he said, chuckling lightly.

“we gotta stop.” he adds, smiling.

you look at him, smiling sweetly. he looked so handsome with the sunset casting a warm glow on his features. you traced your fingers along his jawline, savoring the feeling of his skin beneath your touch.

"i love you," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

luigi's eyes widened for a moment, then softened. he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours. "i love you too," he murmured against your mouth before capturing it in a deep, passionate kiss.

the world seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in the kiss, in the feeling of his body pressed against yours. your fingers tangled in his curls as his hands roamed your back, pulling you impossibly closer. when you finally broke apart, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

"see?" he said with a soft smile. "we've got something special here.

you begin to giggle a little bit.

“no, seriously, we need to make tonight count. this is the last night of a fucking lit summer, and i wanna keep that energy going." he’s also giggling by the time he gets the words out. you study him, his strong jawline, the small freckle on his right cheek, the pronounced bridge of his nose, his perfect teeth framed by his perfect lips.

he looks so hot sitting there, his head slightly tilted back as he laughs. you want to fuck him so badly.

you bite your lip, remembering all the nights you’d shared with him this summer.

without hesitation, you slide onto his lap, straddling him at the edge of the pool.

his laughter fades as he looks up at you, his eyes darkening with want.

"oh yeah?" you say, your voice low and teasing. "and how exactly do you propose we keep that energy going?"

luigi's hands slide up your thighs, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

"i've got a few ideas," he murmurs, pulling you closer.

you grind your hips against his, eliciting a soft groan from him.

"care to demonstrate?" you whisper in his ear, trailing soft kisses down the side of his neck.

“god, you feel so good moving on top of me like that,” he moans as you buck your hips, feeling him harden beneath you. he grips your thighs as you move. he kisses the crook of your neck, the heat from his breath making your whole body shiver.

you run your fingers through his curls and grind down harder. he pulls you in for another deep kiss, and the two of you moan into each other. he feels so fucking good, his dick hardening beneath the thin fabric of his shorts. you want him inside you.

"are we really gonna do this by the pool?" he asks, smiling against your lips.

"god, some things really never change," he adds, beginning to untie your bikini top.

he eagerly removes your skimpy top and begins kissing his way down your neck, stopping to suck and nibble at your collarbone. you throw your head back, giving him better access. his hand reaches up to cup your breast, and you moan as his thumb circles your nipple.

he takes the other in his mouth, and his tongue swirls around it before he sucks hard, drawing a loud gasp from you.

"luigi!" you cry, arching your back. he continues sucking and teasing with his tongue, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. you grind down on him, needing more friction. you can feel yourself getting wetter by the second, and you're aching for release.

"please, baby, i need you," you whisper, gasping at the feeling of him kissing your chest.

you feel his cock pressing against you, and you can't wait any longer. you pull his shorts and underwear down just enough, exposing his throbbing cock. you quickly slip off your bottoms and straddle him once again, his tip rubbing against your throbbing clit.

"fuck, lu, you're so big," you moan, taking his length in your hand and stroking him.

"you're so fucking eager," he chuckles smugly, watching as you press his length to your slick entrance and slide his cock deep inside you, inch by inch.

"jesus fuck, baby, you feel so good," you cry, starting to bounce up and down. he grips your hips tightly, guiding your movements.

"so do you," he breathes, thrusting into you. "you're so fucking tight."

you pick up the pace, slamming down onto his cock over and over again. his hands resting on your hips, helping guide you up and down. you can feel him stretching you out with each thrust.

"i'm gonna cum," you whimper, feeling yourself getting closer.

"you're doing so fucking good for me, amore," he groans, thrusting deeper.

you grind down on him, desperate for release.

"fuck, luigi, i'm so close," you gasp, the pleasure building inside you. he feels your slick cunt gripping him so tightly, and he knows he can't last much longer either.

"cum for me," he groans, thrusting harder and faster.

"it's too much, lu!" you whine.

"you've taken worse, baby," he replies, driving himself into you more intensely.

"fuck, luigi," you whimper, overstimulated.

"god yes, amore, cum for me," he moans, his voice deep and husky.

you can't hold back any longer. you cum hard, your body shaking with pleasure. he feels your walls clenching around him, and he can't hold back anymore. with a loud moan, he spills himself inside you, filling you with his warm cum.

"fuck," you both groan, collapsing into each other.

the two of you lay there for a while, trying to catch your breath. you can't help but smile as the euphoric waves crash over you. he kisses your cheek softly.

"so, was that enough to keep the energy going?" he asks, a smile spreading across his face.

you can't help but laugh. "god, i love you," you say, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"i love you too."

"i'm going to miss you so much, amore," he says, holding you close.

"i'm gonna miss you too, luigi," you say, wrapping your arms around him.

[queen-of-fanfics]

I Told You To Stay pt.2 (NSFW)

Pairing: Peter Pan x Reader

Prompt: After chasing you down, Peter catches you in the forest and things get ... spicy

A/N: Hi!! So, I know it's been a year since the first part, but I felt inspired, and I love that you guys enjoyed it! THERE IS A SPICY SCENE AT THE END OF THIS PART! I indicated it in case anyone doesn't want to read some nasty; you can skip it. :) I don't ever do NSFW scenes, but I felt like this needed it.

I Told You To Stay Pt. 1

What a compromising situation you found yourself in. Arms pinned above your head, held against a tree staring up into some very angry, yet worrying, eyes, you can’t help but want to laugh at your position. Figures, this is what you get for slipping out the window and running into the woods like hell hounds were nipping at your heels. But in all fairness, your actions were warranted. 

How else were you supposed to react when Peter brought you back to his secret cabin after spending a romantic night together and then suddenly, Wendy is at said so-called “secret cabin” calling him ‘baby’ and trying to rub up on him? Regardless of Peter’s denials, it’s hard to believe that truth when she was standing right in front of you.

“I thought I told you to stay,” Peter says in a threateningly calm voice. 

“Let me go, Peter.” You tried to keep your voice calm, trying to seem nonchalant. You kept your face passive, but there was a war of emotions inside of you. 

You felt hurt. Angry. Embarrassed. Betrayed. And as much as you were trying to suppress it, you felt …. yearning. Even through all this, your heart was still looking for him in the darkness. It skipped and leaped in happiness that he was here. That he came racing after you. That he came looking for you when Wendy was probably waiting for him back at the cabin. The thought of her cause a bite of anger to shoot through you.

“Go back to Wendy, Peter.” You clipped.

“I told you to stay.” His voice was deadly. Deadly to your nerves and deadly to your heart.

Squeezing your eyes shut and blowing out a breath of frustration, trying desperately to get a hold of your temper that you could feel rising. “Go back to your cabin, Peter. Let me go.”

“I told you to stay. All you had to do was stay.” He snarled right back as if you hadn’t said a word and he had the audacity to sound upset with you!

Your eyes shot open and in a burst of adrenaline, you yanked your hands free and shoved against his chest, blurting “Let me go! You lied! I trusted you! I trusted you when everyone else laughed at me and you lied to me!” Shock flashed in his face quickly before he was able to hide it. You have never lost your temper or shown an ounce of venom since you’ve arrived to Neverland. 

You pushed at his chest and tried to shove up off the tree to make your escape, but he wasn’t budging. Instead of stepping back to give you the space you desperately wanted, he stepped into you. Your hands pressed against his chest and your back pressed into the tree. Your bodies were flesh against each other now.

“I have never lied to you, Y/N.” 

Scoffing in disbelief, your rising temper spoke for you, “You said that you and Wendy weren’t together.”

“Again. I have never lied to you.” He growled. 

“Oh really?” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. “It didn’t look that way to me. My mistake. It definitely didn’t look like she was cozy in your place and on your body. Peter, I don’t know what game you’re playing but I don’t want any part of it. It looks like Wendy is already in the picture so I don’t want any part of this!” 

“Y/N, would you please just listen to me. I’ll explain everything.”

“I’ve been asking you to explain! I’ve been asking for months and you’ve avoided giving me even an ounce of clarity and now is when you want to explain?! Now that I’ve seen things clearly with my own eyes? I’m supposed to have faith in my feelings towards you but I have to ignore the proof right in front of me? The pair of you are playing mother and father all over this island and I’m supposed to ignore that?!”

“It is not like that.” He snapped, his own frustration growing. 

He went to grab your hands again but you batted them away. Pushing and shoving at his chest, you were desperate to get away. Feeling frantic, the anger you’ve been trying to smother was starting to bubble and rise to the surface. But now your feelings were out of control. Laying too close to the surface was your frustration, hurt, confusions and yearning. Somehow in all of this, your heart was still looking for him in the darkness. Feeling pinned and trapped, the frustration was bringing tears to your eyes.  

“Just listen, Y/N-”

“Get off me!”  

Fed up with your pats and pushes, Peter finally shoved your hands aside and firmly cupped your face. Bringing his forehead down to rest against yours, his fingers cradling the back of your head creating a warm cocoon of just you and him. 

 “My dear sweet, Y/N. Listen to me. I know asking you to put your trust in me is not a fair ask but I’m going to do it anyway. I have my reasons for keeping Wendy on this island, but I promise you, it’s not romantic. I have … suspicions about her that I need to resolve before I can decide what to do with her. But please just trust in me.” The sweetness of his soft voice and his request soaked into your heart the way watercolor soaks into fine paper. His softness and intimacy drained the fight from you, leaving you with only hurt. 

Not wanting to fall for his tricks and continue this loop, you whisper, “Please don’t do this, Peter. These mind games, I-I-I can’t! I’m too tired and too weak to survive you. Please-”

But before you could tell him off, he interrupts, “I know it’ll sound like an easy excuse or some made up lie but I’m telling the truth. I’m going to need your trust because it’ll sound like I’m paranoid, but I promise, this isn’t some easy way out excuse…. just something isn’t right with her. And things haven’t been right since she’s gotten here. I can feel a change in Neverland, but I can’t figure out what she’s done. I’ve caught her rifling through my things and trying to follow me. I’ve been letting her and acting as though I haven’t noticed, but only so that I can figure out what she is trying to do. But that’s how she found my cabin before. I didn’t take her there and I didn’t tell her about it, but she knows about it because she followed me one night. I’m telling you the truth. Just let me figure out what is going on and I’ll get rid of her.” His voice was earnest, like he was being honest but there was a whisper of doubt in the back of your mind. 

Maybe he was being truthful? But I haven’t noticed any changes in the island. But I guess I arrived around the same time Wendy did and didn’t know what it was like before. But he could also be lying just to keep me placated. 

Sensing your doubts, Peter tilts your head up and plants his lips on yours. One of his hands slide to the back of your nape to hold you steady for his onslaught of your mouth. His mouth was soft and warm. Sweet and demanding. Fervent but nervous. A man yet still a boy.

Tears finally slip down your face as you went the unwanted relief that washed over you. How could you want this man so much, a man you weren’t even sure if you could trust, but needed desperately. A man that made you weak with want but afraid of the fall. Against your lips, he whispers, “Please, Y/N, please,” but his kisses never stop and your heart tugs with every quiver you could feel from his lips. What was he asking for? What else could he want from you? But whatever it was … you knew you would give it to him. 

“Trust in me. I’m begging you, just trust in me. Let me show you. Come back to the cabin, I sent her away, you’ll see, she’s not there anymore.”

“It’s not just the cabin, Peter. It’s everything. She’s everywhere. I see you guys-”

“But have you ever seen me affectionate with her? Never. It’s never been like that. She might be donned the title of Lost Mother or whatever, but that doesn’t have any association to me. It’s all for the boys.”

“Peter-” He cut in before you could argue.

“Please. Just trust in me. Just enough so that I can prove it to you. Then decide for yourself, but for right now, just trust in me enough. Come back with me tonight. Don’t leave me.” And that was it. That was when your resolve broke and there was nothing you could do but pay heed to his request. With your heart in your throat, throwing caution to the wind, you return his kiss tenfold; letting your actions answer for you. 

~~~ it’s nasty time, ladies and gentlemen ~~~~

Your hands cup his jaw and you push up on your toes, slanting your head to deepen the kiss. You open your mouth in invitation and he accepts instantly. His tongues rushes in to meet and dance with yours; a happy reunion. His groan of relief vibrates through your body and your core tightens in excitement. Squeezing your thighs together to find any sort of relief and you run your hands down his chest to grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. 

Suddenly, Peter reaches down and hooks his arms behind your thighs before hoisting you up, your back against the tree and your legs wrapped around his hip, only his body keeping you suspended. The dress that you were wearing rides up high on your thigh and the cold air swirls against your burning skin cause goose bumps were pebble in their wake. Peter uses his hips to keep you pin against the tree but that meant that your could feel his hard member resting against your sex. 

Peter shoves his face into the crook of your neck and suckles and nibbles all along any exposed skin. His hands were gripping and kneading your ass as he was supporting your weight. Almost like he couldn’t help himself, Peter rocks his hips into yours pulling a gasp from you and a groan from him at the sudden delicious friction. “What have you done to me, Y/N? I can feel your grip on your mind and I can do nothing to stop you. You’ve bewitched me. All I could ever need is you, like this.” His whispered breath skates across your skin, burning your ears and curling your toes. 

Giving him easier access to your skin, your eyes close and your head rolls to the side. Unbeknwnsts to you, this movement causes the strap of your dress to slip off your shoulders, the top of your dress falling slightly, giving Peter a perfect view of the tops of your breast. You felt one of his hands tease up your legs and in between your flushed bodies. He pulls your panties to the side and your feel his fingers delve into your folds. You let out a small whimper as he hits his mark, using your wetness, he swirls his expert fingers around your clit with ease. “Peter, please.” His name fell from your lips like a prayer, causing his to chuckle and you yelp in surprise as he plants a firm bite on your neck, causing threads of pleasure down your spine. Your breast felt heavy and achy with need, every pant from you causing your nipples to rub against his chest. Your hips are now rolling on their own accord, moving in time with his torturing fingers.

“You keep begging sweetly like that and I won’t be able to stop myself from taking you right here. I’m barely holding onto my reserve right now, Y/N. I want nothing more than to throw you down and have my fill of you. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll tell me to stop right now.” 

Sighing dreamily, you tease, “Weren’t you the one who started this, hmm?” His movements slowed to a stop, and he simply held you for a long moment. Your heart felt like it was floating and soaring through the cloud, butterflies in your stomach as his breath fanned against your breast. “Yeah well … I’ve never been the reasonable one, have I?” You felt his smirk against your neck before it disappeared in his seriousness, “If you want me to stop, Y/N, you have to let me know now.” 

“You’ll stop if I ask?” Your whisper was barely heard as it floated through the silent night.

He was silent for a moment before he responded, “I would. It would kill me but I would. I would do anything you asked of me, Y/N. I would steal the moon for you if you asked it of me. Please … just stay with me.”

Wrapping your arms around his head and shoulders, you envelop the precious bundle that was clingy to you like you were his life source. How could you deny him? Tilting your head towards him so that you lips ghosted over his ear, you whisper, “I need you, Peter. Are you going to make me beg?”

You let out a started gasp as he shot to life. Your hands falling away from him and bracing behind you against the tree as one of his hands shot down to undo his pants while the other ripped the top of your dress down the middle, leaving the two sides falling open and revealing your body to him. Your dress hung loosely, like a belt wrapped around your waist now, your breasts exposed to the cool air causing your nipples to pebble. Suddenly his naked cock was dragging between your wet lips as he rocked against you, coating it with your arousal. Peter pushed to have his body flush against yours again and his face back in your neck, one hand went back to your ass while the other grabbed and squeezed at your breast. 

“Y/N. I need you. Hard and fast. I can’t think straight and having you like this is pushing me towards the brink of insanity. I can’t control myself right now.” 

“Don’t hold back, Peter. I need you, just as you are.” 

A pleasured cry and a “oh my god” was ripped from you when Peter lifted you and slid you the whole way down, taking his whole cock inside you until you were sitting flush against his thigh. “Oh, fuck, Y/N. My dreams are nothing compared to this.” 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he used you to milk his cock; using you to ride him. His arm flexing to lift you and his hips slamming up to meet you. His pace was brutal. His strength had you slamming down with a force that made your muscles squeeze and pulse with every thrust. Your cries were loud and obscene but his growls and grunt were feral; only causing you to react more frantically. Your hips your rolling to meet his thrusts and the strong kneading on your achy breasts and bites along your neck was almost too much to bare. In and out. In and out. Every slide and every slam sending pleasure to the tops of your head to the tips of your toes.

Then suddenly, his hand was there again, right on your clit with enough pressure that cause nearly painful pleasure. He continued to buck into you like a wild animal, your muscles clenched like a vice in satisfaction. He swirled and flicked with such precision as though he knew exactly what you felt and knew what you needed. Your head was swimming with arosual, your toes curling and your back arching against the rough texture on your back, cause little delicious scratches to scrape there. “Peter, I’m right there. Cum with me. I need you.” 

He slammed his lips into yours, drinking in all your cries, and his efforts doubled, then all at once, he stilled and groaned into your mouth, and he shook and emptied into you. Sweaty and panting, you both held each other, desperate to catch your breaths. After a few calm and blissful minutes, Peter softly kisses your jaw and whispers, “Come back with me, Y/N. Stay with me.”

With your eyes closed, your head rolled back, and your smile pointing up towards the dark sky, you whisper, “Ok, Peter. Take me home.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I Told You To Stay Pt. 1

tags: @fandom-fae @mmikeypopcornperil @layla2-49 @sjisfindingneverland @rainbow-alilou @hirohard0 @kaypan9909 @riordanness @vampbloodbunny2 @mk-the-great @fightformidnightx @lanelovesdilfs @queeniemariel @ariaroseloklover @quackitysdrugdealer @wildcatglove13 @james-800 @impossiblesaladwerewolf @bellarose-24

[notquitecanon]

Insufferably Admirable // Astarion x Reader

Summary: After a restful day turns into a bloody night, your unspoken yet painfully obvious dedication to Astarion has put you in what should be a harder choice. Once Astarion realizes just how far you'd go for him, he has to begin to confront the feelings and realizations he's been ignoring for a while. OR that time You figured out the most effective way to heal a vampire and Astarion got emotional about it

Set at the end of Act 1, but not quite act two. Pre-confession but it's obvious they have some sort of feelings for each other

TW: canon typical violence, blood & blood drinking(obvi this is an Astarion fic), no use of Tav or (Y/N), one use of technical self harm (c*tting) but not in a self mutilation way??, mentions of manipulation obvi, reader might be a little too willing to help (totally not be projecting what???)

this is my first time writing anything for Astarion after hyper fixating on him for a month so please be gentle. I know it's a bit all over the place. (yes I could have completely left out the first half, but there isn't much actual dialogue in the second half and I like to put this guy in situations)

"Remind me again why you insisted on coming with me? I figured you’d be ripe for a day to lay around camp and let us do all the heavy lifting." You grumbled, scanning the crowded streets for a merchant. The goal was simple: get to the nearest village, sell off the extra weight, use the gold to stock the necessary supplies, and whatever the gold couldn’t buy… well, acquire it by any means necessary. No matter your path, through the shadows or the Underdark, you'd need to be prepared.

Gale had gone to pilfer for useful scrolls and maybe an enchanted item to snack on. Lae’zel and Shadowheart to a blacksmith for specialty arrows, useful armor, and any other weapons that caught their eyes. Karlach had carried the two trunks and barrel of items you had collected from your adventure thus far, finding you a wheelbarrow before heading back to camp to help Wyll with his preparations. Halsin… had taken his wild form and disappeared into the forest. Originally, you had intended to do your tasks alone, until- 

"My dear, I’m always ripe for a lay." Astarion twisted your words with a smirk, easily dodging the hand that reached to swat his chest. With a short laugh, he answered your question, his theatrics only increasing to more you argued, "To begin with, Someone- my fabulous self- had to make sure you didn’t get the whole group wrapped up in another laundry list of side quests- who knows what trouble you could have found if you were left all by your lonesome? A gnoll den? A kraken in the pond?  an old woman’s wagon with a broken wheel? a kitten up a tree? An orphanage with a leaky roof? Another cult for us to dismantle? Another temple to drop on me? Where would it end? You’re incapable of turning people away, it’s one of your insufferably admirable qualities."

"It’s called being kind, you dramatic elf." You grumbled, not prepared for the in depth analysis of your character. Trying not to focus so much on the fact he’d called something about you admirable.

"Second, knowing you, you’d sell all this off and still manage to come back to camp with them full. Honestly, pet, how have you managed to collect this much junk? You don’t even have a bag of holding." Astarion scoffed, using a single pale finger to peek under the lid of the barrel. It was just barely containing the countless daggers, goblin bows, pairs of leather armors, and dusty sandals. Your cheeks burned hot- maybe you had a habit of being overzealous in how eagerly you pilfered through all the crates you came across, checking bodies for anything valuable, and demanding the vampire to pick every locked chest the party uncovered. Hells only knew the thrill you got when you would find a buried chest.

"You never know when you might need something!" You reasoned, but swatted him away to hastily shut the barrel before the contents could spill out. It had taken you the better part of the night to pack it full of all the things your companions had convinced you to get rid of. The pale elf rolled his eyes, brushing past you so gracefully you didn’t feel his fingers in your pocket. 

"Really, my sweet? When, pray tell, might we need the collection of rusty necklaces you’ve amassed." Astarion held the bronze and silver necklaces up to the light, the red and blue stones sparkling despite the rust. His voice always like velvet, ruby eyes alight with teasing, "Far be it from me to criminalize accessorizing, but that darling neck of yours is tempting enough already." 

"Astarion!" You cringed, hearing your voice almost whine. Damn him for having that effect, so you cleared your throat as you snatched the jewelry back, "They are useful when we can sell them for gold." 

Astarion, having gotten the reaction he wanted, let you shove the necklaces back in a pocket before glaring at him, though it didn’t hold much actual malice, "Well, come on then, let’s sell the sandals for all the riches the village has to offer us." 

—

An afternoon later, you were smiling smugly as you watched Astarion grumble. Between all the goods and six different merchants, you were leaving with an additional 9,000 in gold, not to mention the additional 3,000 Astarion had managed to pickpocket while you bartered, and the items the two of you had managed to swipe. You felt particularly vindicated as he complained about the weight of the coins in his pack. 

"I’ll buy you something pretty in Baldur’s Gate." You cooed teasingly, to ‘appease’ him. Astarion spared you a deadpan glance before standing to leave, only making you giggle all the more, "Let’s get back to camp."

Astarion caught your eyes once more, scowl softening out at the sight of your bright smile. He was just about to say something sickeningly sweet and perhaps more than a touch vulgar when his eyes flitted up to something, pointed ears twitching at something you couldn’t quite hear. Until you could. 

The door of the jeweler you had swindled burst open, a strangled voice shrieking, "THIEVES! SOMEONE CATCH THEM!" 

Astarion must have been rubbing off on you, because for a moment you tried to feign confusion, looking around for the ‘culprits’ as if the dwarf wasn’t pointing directly at you.  Not that it did much good as several passerbys began to circle around the two of you. 

"Everyone’s so touchy about their personal belongings these days." The rogue scoffed.  Astarion grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him, so that your back was pressed to his and no one could sneak up on you. In his other hand, a dagger had already appeared. 

You sighed in defeat, taking your bow off your back, "No killing." 

"No promises." 

Compared to the goblin camp or fighting through the githyanki creche, disarming and incapacitating untrained townspeople and barely trained guards  was barely a warm up. Still, Astarion never left your side, an increasingly common occurrence when you found yourself in tight situations. Together, it didn’t take long to put distance between yourselves and your attackers, managing to get far enough to escape to the fight. Deflecting one last blow as the two of you passed by an open tavern, you incapacitated a rather pitiful guard with a blunt thunk from the pommel of your dagger. Taking one relieved breath, you tried not to focus too much of the trail of bleeding, unconscious bodies you and the rogue had left behind in your escape attempt. 

"Best we stick to the shadows before we attract more attention." Astarion mused with a cruel smirk, grabbing your sleeve and using it to wipe the blood off the corner of his mouth, his fangs glinting in the afternoon sun. The rogue only chuckled at your curses, giving some inane quip about the crime of dirtying his ensemble and how blood someone always looked better on you, "Now, believe what I said about you finding trouble? Back to camp before you find more." 

Before you could wrench your arm back or remind him that he was the only who got caught stealing, he pulled you off the main road into the alley adjacent- unaware of the attention that had already been attracted from inside the tavern. 

____

Ambushed in the night.  

A whole hunting party of Gur hunters. Willing to purge your party as they slept. 

And they were calling Astarion the monster. Fortunately, Scratch was an excellent guard dog. Waking the entire camp when the hunters tried to creep where you slept. Just as fortunately, there wasn’t a soul in camp that didn’t sleep without at least a dagger under their pillow. 

Your camp had become a bloodbath in the dim glow of the campfire. You had used the book you had fallen asleep reading as an improvised weapon, throwing it so hard it broke the first hunter’s nose. Lae’zel was single handedly mowing through three hunter with her long sword. Spells and incantations sent flashes of light from Gale and Shadowheart’s part of camp, and fire and brimstone lit up Karlach’s. There was yelling and cursing echoing in the cool night air, orders to take the vampire spawn alive and to kill the rest. 

And Astarion? Their target? 

He was where he always was during a fight these days. Right beside you, like a pale, snarky shadow. He had been the one to press your sword into your hand so you’d have more than just your dagger.  With him, you slashed and sliced anything that came near. Until the bastard appeared out of no where, squeezing in between you and the rogue. You would have applauded (more likely cursed) the near perfect use of an invisibility charm- had it not been for the poison-dipped stake raised against Astarion. 

This hunter was different, you could see it in his eyes. They were somehow devoid of life and yet also simmering with rage as they trained on your snow haired companion. This hunter didn’t plan to take Astarion back to Baldur’s Gate, not alive at least. He didn’t care about whatever orders they had, or what consequences would come for disobeying them. He only cared about driving the stake into Astarion’s heart. 

Astarion’s eyes went wide as well at the sight of the stake, realizing as you did that this was no longer just a kidnapping, it would be an assassination. Your thundering heart stuttered, blood going supernova in your veins before freezing to ice as your mind whirled through a hundred different possibilities and also went blank. Your own opponent, along with years of learned strategy, were instantly forgotten as blind instinct took over.  Every ounce of strength and speed you had was directed into a desperate lunge. In your desperation, you really weren’t sure if your goal was to tackle the hunter, grab his arm, tackle Astarion, or maybe even take the stake to your chest instead- you decided to choose along the way, as long as it ended with Astarion alive(ish) and well.

You managed to close the distance, one hand planted firmly to Astarion’s chest shoving him further and the other clamping onto the leather of the hunter’s gauntlet, the same arm poising the stake. With a feral sounding shriek, you pushed his arm so his aim was off. At the same time, your original opponent, frustrated at being forgotten, cast a wave of thunder that sent all three of you flying. 

Astarion, the Gur, and you flew backwards a good fifteen feet, the thunder shaking you to your very bones and splitting your ears. The breath was knocked out of you so hard you thought your poor lungs might collapse and you weren’t able to tell if it was the spell or the impact that did it. You didn’t have time to contemplate, the moment you were able, you scrambled onto your knees. With the same feral tenacity from earlier, you grabbed the hunter by the front of his leather armor, nails leaving scarily deep tracks as you hauled him off your vampiric companion.  With your new opponent, you rolled both your bodies until you were on top of him, knee to his chest. Seeing the look in your eyes, the rage left his own, pure survival instinct taking over. You didn’t even feel the sting of the slicing blow across your shoulder, too consumed with a singular mission. It was Astarion’s dagger you had snatched from the ground on the way that delivered the quick death blow. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You expected to hear something from Astarion- a snarky comment about your lack of technique, a snide remark about his assailant, or even just a stream of petty curses- but he was silent. You turned back to him, only to have dread flood every cell in your body. 

Nothing else mattered anymore, not the fight, not your injuries, and especially not your forgotten original hunter. Halsin, in bear form, had appeared out of the tree line and took care of your other thunderous hunter, taking a defensive position around you and Astarion with a goading roar. You barely noticed.

The moment you’d disposed of Astarion’s assailant, you were scrambling back towards the rogue, who was laying all too still. At first, you hesitated to even touch him as if that might make it worse. You called his name once, and then again when you were able to gingerly lay hands on him- one hand to his chest and the other pushing some curls out of his eyes. The stake, what should have been an almost useless weapon against anyone else, was still buried in his chest, piercing his favorite frilled collar shirt. 

"No… Astarion-" Your voice was breaking, thick and raw. Your eyes couldn’t rip away from the stake, protruding from his chest, the poison staining the white linen of his shirt a sickly green. The hand on his chest balled into a fist, bunching the unsoiled fabric in your grip, but something caught your attention. The tiniest candle light of hope in the rapidly encroaching darkness of grief. 

Your hand was directly over his undead heart. Anytime you touched him, your hand always fell directly over his heart. When you teasingly swatted at his chest, when you needed to steady yourself against him, when you needed to catch you balance… you always sought out his heart- subconsciously, instinctually, always his heart. Your hand was over his heart, and that gods-damned stake was four inches to the right. A tiny light, but a light none the less. It was then you realized you were calling the wrong name. 

"SHADOWHEART!" 

None of your companions had ever heard your voice that desperate, that scared.  All their heads snapped to where they had last seen you, finding Astarion pulled to your chest as you wrenched the stake out of the spawn. Astarion stirred only long enough the let our a gurgling shout that fizzled into a groan at the pain, and you could only hope he heard your soft apologies before you started barraging the vampire with healing cantrips. You didn’t stop until the words held no more magic, your supply of magic tapped for the night. 

The night air had changed, no longer fueled by adrenaline and challenge, now it was thick with urgency and fear. Each of your companions starting fighting towards the two of you, and when you locked watery eyes with Shadowheart you found her clearing her path with her spear. She had stopped using magic to fight, saving it all for Astarion.

"I’m coming! Hold on!" She promised as Karlach fell in beside her, battle axe taking over and sending two hunters to the grave together. Scratch and the owlbear cub had taking a lesson from Halsin and formed up beside you, growling into the night with hackles raised and feathers ruffled. 

"Just hold on, Astarion." You relayed to the vampire, who was completely limp against you his back to your chest, head tilted back against your shoulder which bared his neck to you, showing the fang marks on his pale skin. If you were capable of humor, you would have laughed about the reversal of roles, it was usually you baring your veins to him. But at the moment, his lack of movement wasn’t particularly amusing, so instead you laced his fingers through yours, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort.  You pressed your cheek against his white curls, using your other hand to brandish his dagger just incase anyone got too close, and whispered all the reasons he was going to be okay. And that’s how you stayed until camp quietened and Shadowheart slid to a stop in front of you. 

___

Hours later, Shadowheart had used every healing and restoration spell she knew, not stopping even when she began to sway and sweat. Halsin had offered his magic and healing herbs, Karlach made sure there was always a bucket of hot water and a stack of clean rags available, and you hadn’t missed Gale trying to hide the scroll of reviving from you as he slipped it to Shadowheart.  Everyone in camp had been quick to gather all the healing potions, depositing them at the entrance of Astarion’s tent. Wyll and Lae’zell had slipped into the tree line to make sure the ambush was well and truly taken care of.  

And you? Their appointed ‘fearless’ leader? You had gone uncharacteristically silent. Your heart hadn’t left your throat, clenching painfully every time they jostled the rogue. Your hands were shaking too much, both from fear and white hot rage, to really help the two more experienced healers of the group. And the thought of being too far from Astarion made your stomach turn, so you kept rooted like a tree. But, you were grateful, truly, for all of them. Even if in the moment, all you could do was sit beside Astarion and pray to any God or Devil that would listen. You felt like a wild animal in a cage and a helpless child at the same time, your insides very well might vibrate out of the body if you didn’t melt into the soil first. 

The vampire needed all the help he could get. Aside from the occasional heartbreaking groan of pain or agony driven writhing, Astarion was eerily still. Barely breathing, less so than usual. His already pale, chilled skin had taken on a stony complexion, almost gray. And despite the inability to run a fever, there was a sheen of sweat over his face, clammy and uncomfortable. You hadn’t allowed them to undress him all the way, but part his shirt had been cut away to reveal the stab wound. It was deep, weeping Astarion’s already dark blood, and stretching out from the injury were black, twisting varicose veins that afforded you the cruel visual of the poison spreading. You wanted to take Gale’s revival scroll, use it on the hunter, and revoke the kindness of your mercifully quick death.  

"It’s like the effect of our magic is being dampened." Shadowheart huffed, hands glowing as she cast another restoration spell. The sweat on Astarion’s brow subsided briefly before returning. Halsin nodded beside her, taking a deep sniff of the stake. 

"His lack of blood isn’t moving the potions or antidote through his body fast enough, and this poison isn’t doing any favors." The druid thought aloud, taking some of his herbs to make a paste, "It doesn’t matter how many we pour down his throat if his body can’t absorb them." 

Shadowheart’s worried gaze flickered to you for a moment, before settling back on Halsin, "We’ll figure something out." 

You knew she was saying that more for your benefit, but you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the pity. Instead, your grip tightened on Astarion’s hand as you swiped a clean rag to dab at his face. There was one more round of healing incantations and one more bottle of healing potion nursed into Astarion’s mouth. Your jaw twitched, watching most of it fall from the corner of his mouth. The same trail your own blood usually made after he fed. 

"I’m tapped." Shadowheart sighed almost ruefully, the glow around her flickering and then fading, falling back on her heels. Halsin stood, stooped slightly in the low ceiling of the tent, turning to you. 

"We’ve done everything we can do. We’ll try again with fresh minds in the morning. For now the best he, and we, can do is rest." His voice was calming, as if he thought you might start screaming again, but you just nodded, muttering something along the lines of thanks for trying, and not meeting either of their eyes as they ducked out of the tent.  

Since you had belligerently refused any of their magical attempts to heal your shoulder, Gale had done a rather pitiful job of wrapping it, taking some pointers from Karlach along the way. The wizard offered you a tight smile and a gentle hand on your uninjured shoulder before pressing a bottle of healing potion into your hand, "This one is for you. You’re no good to him if you bleed out all over the floor of his tent. We all know how Astarion feels about waste." 

"Yeah- fancy boy will be starving when he wakes up." Karlach’s chipper voice was still laced with a sting of concern. The tiefling didn’t touch you for fear of burning you, but did leave you with some roasted meat and a carafe of water from earlier in the night, "And it wouldn’t hurt for you to eat something either, soldier." 

Then you were left alone with your thoughts, hunched next to Astarion’s side, tired eyes examining the bottle after confirming the rise and fall of his chest. In your hand, the potion glowed slightly with the subtlest warmth, the scarlet liquid seeming to have a mind of its own as it swirled in glittering patterns behind the glass. Your injuries were meager, this little bottle of healing would have you as good as new. Bitterly, you flicked your eyes to the numerous empty potion bottles in the corner that had barely slowed Astarion’s bleeding. Your hand closed around it as you cast another look to the Vampire spawn beside you. His breaths were shaky and shallow even after Shadowheart and Halsin had exhausted every last bit of magic they'd had. Now in the quietest parts of the night, or maybe the darkest hours of the morning, your thoughts swirled, desperate for any sort of plan to latch onto. You had to do something. 

For you, Gale had said, No good to him if you bled out… He’d be starving, Karlach had been joking, His lack of blood wasn’t moving the potions enough to be effective, that had been Halsin’s hypothesis.

Blood. He needed blood.

The revelation was like being dropped into a freezing lake, determination razing the fearful lethargy out of your soul. With your teeth, you pried the cork out and downed the first circular bottle, the overly sweet taste a stark contrast to the somber mood of the night. For good measure, you did the same with a potion of superior healing and two bottles of general poison antidote, slamming them down so fast you had to ignore the churning in your stomach. You’d loot twenty more goblin caves to make up for the dent in supplies if you had to, in that moment you just didn’t care. You waited a moment, begging the powers that be for your ragtag plan to work, not so patiently watching the bruises on your wrist until they started to fade.

You felt it, the moment that you had been completely healed and there was no where else for that magic to go. And then, you wrapped your arms under Astarion’s, heaving him against your chest. You bared your neck, letting gravity gently swing Astarion's nose to meet your pulse point, his silvery lashes tickling your jaw. He stirred slightly, groaning at the movement, pressing himself into your warmth before stilling again. Was he too far gone to realize what was being offered? 

Realizing you’d need to play into his vampiric insticts, you huffed, shattering one of the empty vials against a stone, struggling to do so and keep his deadweight in place. Taking a shard, it wasn’t hesitation but a moment of stilling your shaking hand before you pressed a shallow cut to your neck, right above where his lips rested.

You hissed at the haphazard sting, not as gentle as the pinprick of his fangs were in the night, feeling the blood instantly pool at the seam, a single red ribbon dripping before the potion healed the scratch, "C’mon, Astarion-" 

The moment his name left your lips, or maybe it was the moment a drop of your blood hit his, regardless you could feel his instinct, that sanguine hunger, take over. The soft lips at your neck were replaced with dagger sharp fangs digging into where the small cut had been. The sound you let out was somewhere between a gasp of pain and sob of relief as you barred him against yourself, fists clutching into the back of his shirt like it would keep both of you rooted to each other. Somewhere, in the back on your mind, you thought about the irony of the position, being so afraid to let him slip away, like a rabbit latching onto a snake for fear of the serpent starving. Even if it meant being consumed. 

In that moment, you were so relieved he’d started feeding that you didn’t care that his fangs dug in deeper than they ever had before, much more animalistic than his usual polite nibble. You didn’t dare flinch or wince, in case that might break the spell. Instead, you focussed keeping the both of you upright, one of your arms wrapped under his own, your fingers splayed across his ribs, and your other hand cupping the nape of his neck. The angle had his silvery curls dusting your fingertips and your thumb caressing the sharpest part of his jaw. Never had you been so happy to feel that throbbing numbness in your neck. Astarion’s chin prodded further into your neck, deepening the hold he had, and with his own shaky breath, he swallowed the first mouthful of your blood. 

The hand at his ribs clenched, pulling him impossibly closer and twisting his shirt into your grip again as your pulse began to speed up. The increase of your heart rate only seemed to encourage the vampire, teeth sinking ever deeper to draw more blood flow. Clenching your jaw, you forced your muscles not to tense, it would only make it hurt more. This mouthful was quicker, Astarion seemed to be actively drawing it out of you instead of just waiting for it. He swallowed again, gaining the strength to snake his arms around you. It wasn’t a strong hold at first, but one arm snaked around your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, those long fingers finding their usual place in the locks of your hair. You couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped, relishing the cool touch. Your voice stoked another fire in him, provoking another instinct, your blood provided the strength for his grip to harden, becoming more cage like. As if he needed to worry about you trying to escape. 

He swallowed again, and the numbness spread, not just in your neck but into your cheeks and across your chest. Blood was racing, coursing through you and into him, and with it all the magic of the healing potions. You could feel him getting his legs underneath him, untangling himself from you. At the same time, it was getting harder to hold your arm up, the numbness had reached your fingertips leaving them fumbling at his curls before falling to his shoulder. Another long drink and you found your eyes starting to flutter, everything was starting to feel cold as a shiver shook your body. Astarion, against two centuries of vampiric instinct, started to pull back, and you didn’t stop him, but didn’t let him go far either. He was mostly supporting himself now, which was a relief because a fair bit of focus was freshly delegated to preventing yourself from swaying. 

"Take all you need, ’Stari-" You meant for your voice to be assuring and strong, but it came out breathy and slightly slurred. Astarion pulled away, the movement bringing you mostly out of your stupor. His ruby eyes were as sharp as ever once again, even if the shadows under his eyes were still too dark for your liking, and they stared into your own half lidded eyes. Other than the deep purple shadows, the ashen complex had started to even out, the sweat on his brow had faded away, and when you dropped your gaze, you noticed the twisting black veins were starting to recede and fade. Hells, you could get up and dance (very briefly before you passed out).

Even, with a foot in the grave, more dead than usual, and covered in both of your bloods he was unfairly beautiful. His eyes narrowed on your dopey smile, as if he your relief was a symptom of too much blood loss. If that was the effect of four swallows, just a little more would flush out the poison completely, "I can take it, love, just please let me help you." 

Astarion never considered himself to be someone that had to be coaxed into receiving a gift, and you were offering him one so sweetly, practically begging him. After 200 years of rats and spiders, you had put literal magic in your veins for him. Magic that was bringing him back from death to his usual state of undead. He could feel it bringing his strength back, allowing all the magic the cleric and druid had poured into him to finally take some affect. Your blood, his first thinking blood, was always delicious- sweet and metallic, a delicate blend of all the good tastes, something so intrinsically you. With the potions infused, though, if Astarion was to hazard guess what sunlight tasted like- this would be it. How could he refuse? 

Before he went back in, he placed a reverent kiss to the marks he had left in your neck, gingerly lapping at the wounds before sinking his fangs back into your tender flesh. This time, it wasn’t a gasp or sob, but a mewl, your frigid fingers once again digging into the flounced collar his shirt. If you both lived until morning, you were sure he’d gripe for hours about all the wrinkles you’d put in his favorite (only) shirt. Probably throw a proper fit about the stake hole.

Now, as the potions effects dwindled in your own body, you could properly feel the drain. The coldness crept up from your extremities but didn’t counteract the burn in your muscles, making it harder and harder to suppress the shivers. Your breathing was quick almost a pant, but you still felt like you weren't getting any oxygen. If you were thinking rationally, if you hadn’t gone through the brief grief of thinking you’d lost him, you would have realized you need to push him away, that you were approaching your limit. But you weren’t thinking rationally, no. You still were too busy grinning- as your hand had fallen from his collar, it grazed across the wound, now fully closed. Just a little more, you promised yourself. You felt him swallow more, he held himself up completely on his own allowing you to lean into him. 

Astarion was okay, more than just on the mend, he was alive and strong, the potions and magic were working, were the thoughts that were reverberating through your head as things started to feel farther away. Your desperation had melted away, leaving a grateful smile in its wake. It wasn’t completely on purpose, but you let Astarion take on more and more of your weight, barely aware of his fangs in your neck anymore, not quite hearing Scratch and the cub whining outside, the shivering even began to subside as it seemed to take too much energy. 

Earlier, you had drug him to you and held him against your chest almost crying. But, as more of your blood flowed through him, it had become juxtaposed. Astarion held you in place, leaning over you for the best angle at your neck. It was his arms that kept you from falling over, his firm hand that kept your head from lolling too far back. His bite became less fervent, his grip less cage like and more affectionate. His survival instincts started to give way to civility and charm. You barely noticed as he twisted himself so he could slowly, gently lay you down onto the bedroll that had moments ago been his sickbed. He laid you on your back, onto the generous stack of pillows he kept in his tent. He tangled his fingers into yours, just as you had done for him, his knees holding him in a predatory crawl over you, all without breaking from your neck. 

Barely registering the softness, it was the thud of your other hand against the floor that roused you, just a bit. It was also what drew Astarion’s attention, it took everything in him to withdraw his fangs. He gave each puncture would a diligent cleaning with his tongue before pulling away completely, lest he lose control and dive right back in. (Really, how could one person be that tempting?)

But, you had arguably saved his life, it’d be terribly impolite of him to kill you. When Astarion’s eyes met yours, your gaze was more than half lidded as you watched him- what little of your eyes he could see were glossy and fighting to stay focused, he could hear your heartbeat markedly fainter than he was comfortable with. 

You were watching him as intently as you could. In the dim lantern light of his tent, surrounded by potion bottles and bloody rags, Astarion was up and moving and breathing again. Revived and strong, his eyes practically glowing scarlet, and, if you really focussed, you could make out the tips of his ears becoming pink. Something that only happened when he was freshly well fed, nothing was left of his stab wound but the hole in his shirt, the frayed edges dyed from the poison and his blood. He could have looked like a angel, complete with the fire’s reflection creating a halo effect on his snowy curls, had it not been for the sheen of sticky blood drenching his chin and neck. Your blood- the blood that gave him enough strength to heal. How could you not smile? 

Astarion tried to come up with a snarky comment, but for once, nothing came to mind. Instead, he kept glancing between your intertwined fingers, glassy eyes, and that idiotic little smile. Your giddiness was beginning to unnerve him, had you been charmed or perhaps taken a hit to the head? With the parasite, he reached out briefly into your mind. His brow twitched when he was only met with waves of relief and gratitude, you were too tired for structured thought, but too relieved to give into the exhaustion. How could someone on the verge on exsanguination look so happy? And why in the nine hells did it seem to be directed towards his well being? 

The vampire was stricken, taking count of everything you’d truly done that night alone: fought beside him, tried to take the death blow in his place, comforted him, held his hand, cleaned him up, hadn’t let the others undress him anymore than necessary, stayed with him, circumvented his vampirism to find a way to heal him, and had genuinely tried to bleed yourself dry for him. Hell, you’d cut your own neck for him- not even metaphorically, but literally cut your throat for him. He could feel your warmth, your kindness and everything good about you settling into his very marrow. Something uncomfortably… gooey… stirred in his chest, something more and more worrying common as of late, when it came to you. Had his manipulation really worked so well? A feeling too close to sharp guilt gnawed at that warm gooey feeling. Was it really manipulation anymore? Gods, your morality was infecting him.  

“This is that Insufferabe admirability I was talking about ." He muttered into the tent, shaking his head as he watched your chest rise and fall, using his free hand tame some of the hair at your crown. It was then Astarion realized your eyes had slipped shut, your fingers, now just as cold as his, going limp against his. Weeks ago, he would have polished off the last of your blood and left you behind. But at present, he felt the sickening need to return even half the care you’d shown him. He’d have to dissect his emotions later. The rogue was glad the other companions had left supplies within arms reach, as it meant he could gather them without dropping your hand. 

"Ah, ah, ah," He called quietly, gently pulling you back to the real world, pleased to watch your scrunch your nose in the exertion of waking back up. Finally, that contented little smile on your face slipped into a frown, a protest against his interruption of your sleep. Astarion’s smile was almost apologetic as he helped you into a slightly more upright position, "Not quite yet, little love. It’s your turn. No sharing this time."

Another healing potion was pressed into your hand and opened for you, and you allowed Astarion to guide it to your lips, his pale hand guiding your own. This time, the warmth of the elixir was welcome, a comfort instead of a taunt, assurance instead of a plea. Astarion carefully watched you as you swallowed the potion down, noting how you shivered less and a bit of color returned to your face. When the potion bottle was empty, he traded it for a small cup of water, keeping a guiding hand on the silver chalice he’d nicked from a tradesmen weeks ago until you had enough strength to hold it. 

Though still exhausted and dizzy, you had the energy to throw him an obstinate look. Astarion feigned a dramatic sigh but kept a firm enough grip on you that you couldn’t lay back down, "All this for me, yet you won’t even let me give you water?"

Ignoring how it made the dizziness worse, you rolled your eyes, taking a few sips of the water at a time even if it was mostly just so he’d let you lay back down. Astarion was in one piece and you were exhausted, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything else. But, Astarion seemed very pleased with himself, squeezing your hand once again, "Good girl." 

If you weren’t on the verge of blood loss, you could have choked on the water. Still, there was a part of you that whispered in relief he must be better if he’s back to teasing you. Astarion watched you take a few more sips before you sagged back against the pillows. Your eyes closed again, but your breathing was deeper now and the hand he held didn’t feel as cold. Outside, Scratch and the cub seemed appeased at your improvement as they stopped their pacing and whining to settle at the tent flap.

This time, he didn’t pull you back up, instead muttering to himself as he gently tilted your head to the side, exposing his bite marks. No wonder you seemed so tired, they were much messier than usual. Vicious, was the better word. Not only had his two fangs pierced your delicate skin, but his bottom canine teeth had punctured through as well, and he could see the outline of his other teeth in the deep bruising grooves they had left behind. In unfortunate addition, it seemed in the height of his blood lust he’d made more than one bite, leaving your neck littered in marks. Astarion grimaced, it really was more of a mauling, “Apologies, darling, I’m not typically so brutish. Forgive me?" 

Astarion pointedly ignored how his heart lifted at the slightest nod you gave him, instead focussing on cleaning you up as gently as possible. The potion had stopped the bleeding, and he watched as the wounds themselves were slowly closing. Each swipe of the rag was feather light, almost not even there. The elf noticed you give back into sleep, this time not bothering to wake you again. Instead he kept working and fussing until the only sign of his feeding was the stained neckline of your shirt. Then, he gently ran a clean, wet rag over your face and hands, taking away the evidence of your tears and worry. Finally, he threw a cloak over you like a blanket, to hopefully ward off the last of the shivers from the warmth he’d stolen from you. 

Not stolen, he reminded himself, though the truth somehow felt more dangerous, it was freely given to him. The vampire settled in, laying across from you, the only part of you he could touch was the hand still holding his. Though, already in your sleep you had shifted towards him. Astarion frowned, eyebrows furrowed, the more he came to know you, the more he knew that you would give and give and give. Truly, he knew that he didn’t need to manipulate you anymore, maybe he never needed to, and for the first time in centuries, he didn’t want to just keep taking. He didn’t want to bleed you dry and loot you for all you were worth. Astarion was surprised to find he wanted give something back to you. He just needed to figure out what.

The nights events caught up to him once again as his eyes closed, listening to the evermore familiar sound of your heartbeat as it became steadier and the even sounds of your breathing as you slept, letting it guide him towards meditation. 

Gods damn you and your insufferable admirability.

___

Part Two Here!

Again this was my first time writing for Astarion. I also tried to balance things into being equal parts in each persons perspective. I just love when two lovestruck idiots have to confront their own feelings about being in love.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Broke His Heart Cause He Was Nice

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: the games are over now and Peeta finds out your relationship was all an act

Masterlist

It was the day you were finally set to arrive back home in District 12 after completing your victory tour for winning the games. You’d been anxiously waiting for this day and wanting nothing more than to trade the makeup and tight dresses for your boots and own bed. The train was running late, ironic considering how fast it was, and you were too anxious to sit still. You noticed a pathway near the train platform and longed to be alone with your thoughts in nature.

“I’m gonna take a walk while we wait for the train.” You announced. Effie sighed and shut her compact mirror before looking at you.

“I suppose that’s all right. But don’t go too far. We board in 15 minutes.” She reminded you. You nodded and started to walk away when Peeta stood up.

“Can I come with you?” He asked. You gulped and forced a smile before nodding your head.

“Always.” You told him. He smiled back and walked beside you as you headed down the walkway together. Your hand bumped against Peeta’s as you looked up at the trees around you. As soon as he slipped his hand into yours, you felt tremendous guilt fill your stomach. You were yet to address the nature of your relationship now that the games were over. You had blurred the lines so much between faking a relationship for the camera and navigating your true feelings for Peeta that you had no idea where you stood now. Peeta saw the uneasy look on your face and let go of your hand to walk ahead. He picked some flowers for you and handed you the bouquet he had arranged.

“For you.” He blushed as he presented them to you.

“Oh.” You smiled in surprise. “Thank you.”

Peeta returned the smile before continuing to walk down the pathway. You watched him as he walked, feeling like the distance between you was matching the distance you felt inside.

“I can’t believe we’re actually going to be back in District 12 tomorrow. I really didn’t think we’d ever see it again.” Peeta said as he continued to stroll along the flowerbeds.

“Neither did I.” You admitted, making Peeta stop. He turned around and looked at you for a long time, making you uncomfortable in the silence.

“What do we do once we get back?” He asked as he earnestly stared into your eyes. He looked just as lost as you were and you wished you could give him some answers.

“I guess we try to forget.” You answered, making Peeta’s eyes soften.

“I don’t want to forget.” He said quietly. You stared into his eyes as you guilt built up and up until it threatened to spill out your throat. Before you could say anything more, you heard a voice behind you.

“Hey. There you two are.” Haymitch said as he approached. “You guys should be proud of yourselves. I’ve seen a lot of victory tours but I haven’t heard crowds cheer like that in years. You really sold the whole star-crossed lovers who survived with the power of love thing. Especially you, sweetheart. Keep it up exactly the way you were playing it.”

“Thanks.” You said immediately as your entire face burned in embarrassment. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Peeta’s look of confusion. Haymitch had no idea what he had just done and was too drunk to realize it. He patted your shoulder with a drunken smile and stumbled back to the train.

“What’s he talking about?” Peeta asked as soon as you were alone. You opened your mouth to answer him but found yourself speechless. You knew this moment would come eventually, you just didn’t think it’d happen before you even got a chance to go home.

“What was he talking about? What are you keeping up?” Peeta asked again when you took too long to answer. You looked into Peeta’s eyes and stumbled over a few broken sentences as tears filled your eyes. You didn’t even know why you were crying, you just felt full of emotion over the fact that you knew Peeta’s world was about to shatter. You had grown an immense fondness, even love, for him since the start of all of this and you knew he was about to hate you. Before you could confess the truth, Peeta put it all together. He took a step back from you as his hand went over his mouth.

“Oh my God. It was all an act, wasn’t it?”

Peeta whispered. “The way you behaved in the games wasn’t real. Waking me up with kisses, feeding me, hugging me so tight I could barely breathe. You were just pretending, weren’t you? You did it all for the cameras.”

“Not all of it. Some things were real.” You promised him. “But Haymitch and I knew that if I played up the romance, we’d get more sponsees. And it worked. We did.”

“You and Haymitch had a plan? And you didn’t tell me?” Peeta shouted. He was usually so soft spoken that hearing him yell made you stumbled back in surprise.

“We never officially made a plan.” You tried to explain. “But after I kissed you and we were sent food, I realized that Haymitch was telling me that that’s what we had to do to get sponsors. So I kept doing it. And we kept getting sponsors.”

“I should’ve known.” Peeta shook his head. “I should’ve known you didn’t just happen to fall in love with me.”

“Peeta.” You said tearily as you watched his heart break. You knew he’d be upset, but this was harder than you thought.

“I knew it was too good to be true. You never actually felt the things I felt. You were just playing a part.” Peter said quietly as he wiped his eyes.

“You’re the one who started the romance plot anyway, remember? Why are you mad that I kept it up?” You folded your arms, angry now that he wasn’t seeing your side of things.

“Because I didn’t know there was something to keep up. I didn’t know you and Haymitch had a secret plan behind my back. I was just dumb enough to believe I could actually trust you. How stupid am I?”

“You’re not stupid, Peeta. And you can trust me. You have to understand that I wanted to tell you about it but I couldn’t. There were cameras everywhere. If I told you, everyone watching would’ve known it wasn’t real. I had to keep the illusion. And that meant keeping it a secret from you too.”

“Wasn’t real.” Peeta laughed sadly. “Illusion?”

Your anger subsided for a moment when you heard the pain in his voice. Your choice of words had just thrown salt in his wounds. You stopped trying to win the argument for a moment and realized that you had a right to be angry, but so did he. You walked over to him and cupped his face to make him look at you.

“Peeta, there were so many times I wanted to draw the curtains closed and block the rest of the world out and just be with you. I swear, I did. But we didn’t have that choice. If things were different and we had gotten together in a normal situation, maybe I’d know where my feelings lie. But I don’t, Peeta. I’m sorry.”

“I thought things were going to be different now. I thought something good had come out of the games.” Peeta said as he stared at the ground.

“Things are different.” You insisted.

“Yeah. They definitely are.” Peeta wiped his face and turned away from you so you couldn’t see him cry.

“How can you be mad at me for this? We were strangers before the game. I wasn’t thinking about romance. I was thinking about saving our lives.”

“I know that. In my heart, I know that. I just can’t get it through my head yet. God, I can’t believe you were acting.” Peeta said and stressfully tugged at his hair.

“I know this is upsetting to hear but I wasn’t trying to deceive you. I thought you were acting too.” You protested. “I assumed you knew we had to play up the romance for sponsors and that’s why you kept kissing me and saying the things you did.”

“No. I didn’t know. I was never pretending.” Peeta snapped, making you raise your eyebrows in surprise. He was never one to be quick to anger, so it surprised you that you were having such a hard time getting him to calm down.

“Putting on the act got us both out, okay? There is no other circumstance where we would’ve both come out alive. This was the only way.”

“I know that. I’m sorry. I just wish I knew sooner.” Peeta sighed and sat down on the ground. You looked at him for a minute before looking around and behind you. You wished there was someone, anyone, to tell you what to do in this situation. You wish you had a script or some cards form Effie telling you what to say. Peeta was just sitting on the ground, staring into space, and you had no idea how to bring him back. No one had ever been mad at you in this way before and you didn’t know what to do. Realizing no one was coming to help, you walked over and sat beside Peeta. You could tell he was trying his hardest not to cry but it wasn’t exactly working in his favor. He turned his face away from you and he quietly sniffled.

“If there was a way I could’ve told you, I would’ve.” You said as you placed a hand on his back. Peeta nodded his head and wiped his face before giving you a sad smile.

“I believe you.” He said. You returned the sad smile and rubbed small circles on his back. Peeta stared off into space again while you stared at him. You let silence sit between you for a long time until you broke it.

“Were you really never pretending?” You asked quietly. You saw his mouth tug into a slight smile as he shook his head.

“Never. I meant every word I said.” Peeta said, sounding almost proud. You smiled a little when you thought of all the kind things he had said about you in the cave and how you now knew they were true.

“How much was fake for you?” Peeta asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. He was looking at you now with those puppy dog eyes of his and it made you feel ten times worse.

“I don’t know, Peeta.” You sighed. “I don’t remember every little detail.”

“I do. What about our first kiss? Real or not real?” He asked with a certain desperation in his voice. You cracked a smile in surprise and looked at him.

“Real. I couldn’t bear listening to you talk about dying, so I kissed you to shut you up.” You told him, making him smile as his face turned red.

“I have a feeling you’re forgiving me.” You chuckled and pointed at him, making his smile drop.

“I’m not.” He cleared his throat. “The kisses when you got the broth the first time. Real or not real.”

“Not real. I’m not really the type to wake someone up with kisses.” You said sheepishly.

“I guess I always kind of knew that about you.” Peeta admitted. “What else was fake?”

“When I asked you about your crush on me when we were in the cave. I was trying to get us to have some kind of grand emotional moment because the kisses weren’t cutting it anymore. I needed to go bigger.” You admitted.

“Oh.” Peeta’s face fell. “You didn’t really want to know?”

“I really wanted food.” You confessed. “And I honestly thought you made that story up because you were hungry too. Did your dad really want to marry my mom?”

“Yeah. And he’s not thrilled I told that story, by the way. Apparently it was really quiet in the bakery that night.” Peeta said, making you genuinely laugh for the first time in a while. Peeta couldn’t help but smile when he heard you laughing but wasn’t done with the questions.

“When you said I didn’t have any competition, real or not real?” Peeta asked a a he looked into your eyes.

“That was real.” You replied, and you meant it.

“What about Gale?” Peeta asked, sounding like he didn’t believe you. You looked Peeta up and down

“He’s not your competition.” You laughed like it was silly, making Peeta smile.

“He’s not?” He asked hopefully.

“He’s basically family. I think if something were to ever happen between us, it would’ve happened already.”

“Hm. Good to know.” Peeta blushed and looked away again.

“Any other questions?” You asked him. “I really do want to make it up to you. I’ll answer anything you want.”

“When you said I walk too loud…” Peeta asked and trailed off.

“Real. Very real. You were so loud I wanted to kill you.”

“We could’ve avoided all this if you had.” Peeta muttered, making you laugh again. Peeta laughed as well and looked at you for a moment.

“Did you try as hard as you did to save my life for the romance plot?” He asked quietly as if fearful of the answer.

“No.” You said immediately. “I did what I did because I couldn’t handle the thought of you dying. I still can’t. I almost broke a steel door down when they separated us after we won. You were the only thing on my mind. That was the moment for me when I realized I wasn’t acting all that much. I love you deeply, Peeta. I know that for certain. I’m just not really sure what kind of love that is yet.”

Peeta looked into your eyes for a while and eventually, he seemed to be satisfied with your response. You knew he understood where you were coming from even if it hurt him to know the truth.

“I’m sure what my love is.” He said after a beat of silence. It wasn’t reproachful, more like a passing thought. He knew what he wanted and he wanted you to know it too.

“Could you wait for me? Until I figure it out?”

“I will.” Peeta nodded, making you smile on relief. He smiled too and the faintest blush crept over his cheeks. He looked out into the distance for a minute and a comfortable silence settled between you. He then turned to you and leaned in for a long, slow kiss. Just in case it was his last time for a while getting to do such a thing. It was your first kiss without a single camera present and you felt that familiar hunger sensation in your chest that left you wanting more. When he pulled away, you wanted him to do it again.

“Are you any closer to figuring it out?” He asked completely serious, making you laugh. You stared into his eyes and truly could not imagine your life without him.

“You know what?” You cracked a smile. “Yeah. I am.”

Tag list 🏷️

@sarcasm-and-stiles

[soulaires]

aaron warner family headcanons

The Warner Family.

pairings: dad!aaron warner x mom!reader

summary: get to know more about the warner family!

warnings: fluff, domestic, ooc, domestic shenanigans, protective aaron warner …

🪩:: voicemail ; read my other aaron warner fics here.

Aaron found out about it when he heard some crying in the bathroom at the middle of the night, noticing your lack of presence beside him, he got worried and walk towards the bathroom.

There, he saw you, in front of a mirror having a breakdown.

He approached you and asked whats wrong.

“love?” he said softly, as he hugged you from behind and caressed your hair, “My love, whats wrong?” he asked you worriedly.

“aaron..” you trailed off as you continue to sob. He hugged you tightly and kissed your forehead , pulling away as he make you look at him, “what is it, angel? You can tell me.” he urged you.

“I’m pregnant.” you blurt out.

With the lack of reply, you panicked.

“I missed my period recently and I feel kinda shit lately so me juliette and nazeera bought an pregnancy test earlier and I tested all 7 of them and they are all positive, I don’t—”

As you were rambling, he quickly hugged you tightly and lifting you up to the ground as he span you around. You laugh softly at this gesture as he peppered kisses to your face and hair while he whispered sweet nothings.

“Its okay. We will be okay. Don’t worry. We got this, yeah? I love you. Thank you. Thank you, I love you so much, My love.”

at the first stage he got nervous about being a dad and have some self doubt but later got over it as he saw you patying your belly despite it still not visible.

he got more protective over you and never ever let you do things.

you guys told your friends by a guess the word game. They all cried.

He bought a book about being a dad and take notes on pregnancy books to help you out.

Baby proofs the every part of the house immediately.

He went to every appointment with you

He never ever made you feel guilty for your cravings.

Oh you want a food from a store hours away? Just wait.

A hellspawn food combination that you want? He will eat it with you.

Massage? Done.

A food from a different country? He ordered his men to get it ASAP.

Want some sweets especially made by your husband even though you have never tasted his baking? He learned how to bake immediately!

You guys did an gender reveal in the most fun way.

You did it as both kenji and juliette worn a baby costume with 'boy' written in the blue bib for juliette while 'girl' in a pink bib for kenji

They both FIGHT to determine who wins to know the gender

They even go overboard as they jumped into the swimming pool racing each other to the finish line

Kenji won.

So, its a girl!

You guys decorated her room immediately

You did ALOOOTTTT of shopping!!!!!

Your husband just spoils you rotten as you keep buying cute toys, plushies, and pretty cute clothes!!!

“my love, don't you think its a bit too much?” “I am sure the little princess do not need that much clothes, honey.”

he gave up as soon as he saw some cute baby clothes + a matching one.

When you guys did a baby shower its so emotional like omg you guys are gonna be parents!

You and Aaron planted a tree so it grows with baby dior!

teenager!dior safe place is the tree, she goes there to lay down, read and to relax when stresses!

Your friends wrote letters for dior to read when she reached the age 7, 11, 13, 15, 16, 18, 20, 21 and 22!

You and aaron made her a gmail account as you guys constantly wrote her some letters and random things there for her to read in the future

When you went into the labor he desperately wished to take away your pain and was crying with you. He comforted you as he cares your hair and gives you kisses.

“shh, its okay, baby. Im here. Im not going anywhere. ”

“you got this, my love. You are doing so well.”

“Aaron! I can't do this—”

“yes, yes you can, darling.”

He really can't bare to see you in so much pain even though he had seen so much worse

He was very gentle and was crying when he held your baby girl in his hands. His princess, his girls, his universe.

After the labour, you were barely allowed to do things in the house, he only let you rest while he take cares with everything.

You guys had an 3 months lockdown, not allowing anyone to visit the baby

Always keeping an eye for baby monitors

You and him do an rock, paper scissors when it comes to changing baby Dior diapers (he lets you win, sometimes.)

Dior have your eyes so he is a victim to those puppy dog eyes. He can't say no to you, what more to his princess especially with your eyes?

Learns to do her hair!!

Dior first words is not 'momma' or 'dada' it was Kenny. Kenny. You and aaron felt betrayed.

Despite with the nickname, kenji teared up and always paraded the moment (to your husband dismay) he grows to adore the nickname when she keep calling him that

He sometimes forget that he played dress up with baby di so sometimes he go to work with tiara, ribbons, those princess accessories on him.

“Refrain from laughing, there is nothing funny about this matter.” “uh...theres something on you, sir.” “oh.”

Sometimes they were to scared to point it out

Kenji, nazeera and juliette made fun of him not until they were a victim of the dress up

At one point, kenji kidnapped baby dior and was later banned from seeing her for 2 months (barely a month in dior throwed a tantrum wanting to see her uncle kenny)

Baby dior played with your make up when she misses you! She wanna look like you because she misses you so much

Dior is an nature girlie! Aaron believes his angel is a reincarnated of persephone/artemis

Baby dior wears her pants backwards. She believes that “tails” should be at the back. You and Aaron gave up on the fight.

You guys had an motto that if its not hurting anyone or themselves, don't fight it. Let them.

One time you guys thought she was playing phone call but turns out she was in an hour real call with james.

Seashells hunting !!!!!

Everytime you guys went to a beach aaron always buy a big beautiful seashell then hides it in the sand for her to find!!! And her reactions always makes you and him melt!!

he also buries some treasure chests

He made an contract of no boyfriend until shes 30 and made baby dior sign with her prints with paints. He framed it.

You scold him for that and he just shrugs lol

teenage!dior have you in her closefriend and private insta!!

she collects shells and glue them to a cardboard and gifts it to you!

She wants a sibling so one day she just go “I want a baby sister or brother 🥺”

Keeps wishing on a well for it

Aaron is 100% in he just goes “Princess, ask mommy :)” “me too, baby. Let’s just ask momma for it, hm?”

Well, let’s just say she always get what she wants…

authors note: I had fun doing this Omg I wanna make it a series, do you guys want it? Please let me know!!! Feedbacks and reactions are very much appreciated!!!

(Aaron Warner) tag list 🏷 : @ravisinghs-wife @ab-baybay @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @cosmicswan

If you want to be added to my A.W tag list plz let me know in my inbox ! 💌

[mochie85]

I'll Follow You

One Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You came back to the compound, a year later after you left to make your own career, and you are worried about meeting Loki with how things ended when you left. Pairing: Romantic!Loki x OC Female Reader (Foxglove is her Superhero alias.) Word Count: Over 5.3k Warnings: Explicit. Fluff. Angst. Smut. Oral (female receiving). Shadowplay. Hallucinations.

Loki flipped through the magazine at a hurried pace, not looking at the photos or any of the articles. His hands needed something tactile to do. Or else, he feared, he might choke someone with them.

He paused when he saw an advertisement for a watch you were modeling for. There you were—a close-up of your beautiful face. Your eyes were bright and round. Your lips were dewy and sensual. Norns, he missed those lips. Especially when they were wrapped around his…

Ugh. Why can’t I stop thinking of her?! Loki snarled under his breath as he threw the magazine halfway across the room. It landed on the floor right by Sam’s feet. “You dropped this!” Sam said picking it up from the floor. He held it up in the air, not even looking, his attention fully absorbed on the TV screen.

Everyone had gathered to watch the talk show you were appearing on tonight. They couldn’t wait to see you come out and gossip about your life or inconsequential things. The entire team supported you in your decision to leave and start your acting career—everyone, except him.

Loki wanted to leave the room. He should’ve left and not agreed to come and watch the show with the others. He was about to stand up when-

“Shh. Shh. Guys quiet down. Here she is!” Wanda said shushing the entire room.  Loki watched the enormous television, enraptured. The camera panned over to the audience, their loud applause and cheers were deafening. Signs and pictures were held up from a time when you were an Avenger. He couldn’t help but sink further into his chair and get caught up with your grace once again.

“So, Foxglove- can I still call you Foxglove?” The host asked as you sat down.

“Of course, you can,” you beamed at the man behind the desk.

“I- I don’t know the protocol for these things. Do you get to keep the name even though you’re not an Avenger anymore?”

Your practiced laugh showed through your gritted teeth. “It doesn’t work exactly like that. Foxglove is the name I gave myself. I had it with me when I started with the Avengers and took it with me when I left. It wasn’t a title or anything.”

“And did they just let you leave? I would think it was like being in the mafia. ‘You know too many of our secrets. We can’t let you out alive!’ sorta thing,” the host said, thinking he was being clever.

“My friends and colleagues have all been supportive. And I remain in close contact with most of them.”

‘Most of them.’ That statement swirled the emotions Loki was feeling inside. He was not one of those who supported you and was very vocal about it. The fact that you still keep in contact with almost everyone here left him envious.

“And that’s actually part of the reason why I’m here tonight,” you continued. “My dear friend Tony, whom many of you know as Ironman- again, not a title…” you chuckled. “…Is throwing his annual charity gala this spring. This year he decided to make it a month-long occasion with different charities and events happening once a week culminating in the yearly gala at the end of the month.”

“That’s wonderful! That’s all he does when he’s not out saving the world, is party, huh?” the host said looking straight into the camera.

“Asshole!” Tony sassed under his breath, earning a few chuckles from the team.

“And what exactly is your part in this month-long event?” The host asked you.

“Well, I plan to raise money for The Nature Conservancy here in New York. I ask everyone to come and help us plant new trees or donate. Every dollar will be matched, and we can help restore some of the forests, in other parts of the country.”

“The Nature Conservancy is a special organization for you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s where I first worked. It’s where I first started noticing my powers.”

“Your powers are amazing! You can talk to plants!”

“Well, it’s a lot more complicated than that,” you said with restraint. “Chlorokinesis allows me to excel a plant’s growth to a thousand times what they normally can. I can also enhance their natural defenses and abilities. And like my namesake, Foxglove, I can give you hallucinations when touched.”

“Can we get a demonstration?” the host asked to the cheers of his audience. You reached out to touch him “No, no, no!” he said nervously. “I don’t need any more hallucinations right now!” you both chuckled. “Thank you. But maybe you can make a flower grow?” he suggested, and the audience cheered you on.

“Sure, of course,” you smiled, happily. You rotated your wrists and flicked them around, gesturing for a plant to grow from the host’s wooden desk. The branches wrapped around itself forming a steady trunk. Soon the branches grew out further and further. Blooming wisterias in varying colors began to sprout, amazing the audience.

You used to be unstoppable. You used to tear down enemies left and right, numbing them with your visions before you cut them down and made them regret opposing you. Now you do party tricks for the camera so you can get a laugh from people who don’t care about you. Who didn’t even love you! Loki was furious.

Once again, Loki made to get up. He was almost through the exit of the room when he heard the next question that made him stop.

“So, Foxglove, will you be attending these events alone?” The audience ‘ooh’d’ at the question when the host decided to get a little more personal. “I heard you were cozying up to a certain superhero. Do you like those types? Do you have a type? What does Foxglove look for in a partner?”

You laughed embarrassedly. “These rumors! I swear they pair me up with someone new each week.”

“Oh, but you were seen leaving a nightclub with your costar, Superman himself, Henry Cavil.” The photo was put up on the screen. A picture of the two of you laughing in front of a busy club as Henry gingerly put his arm around your shoulders. The entire room of Avengers whooped and hollered cheering you on.

“We were celebrating. We had just wrapped our movie and it was my first time in London. So, Henry just wanted to show me around. Very friendly. All platonic.” You smiled, blushing. Loki noted that blush. I’ll break him like a twig!

“Ok. Ok. What about your former colleague, Loki of Asgard?” The host asked as a picture of the two of you replaced the one on the screen.

It was a photo taken when the two of you had gotten back from a mission. You had failed and cried about it on the flight back. Loki was wiping the tears from your face, trying to cheer you up. You didn’t know the PR department was there taking shots as all of you disembarked off the jet.

The camera cut back to you and you blushed harder. Once again, Loki noted that blush. He let out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding and swallowed. Does she miss me too?

“Loki and I have remained good friends. I look forward to seeing him again,” you told the host.

Lies. Not a single word was exchanged between the two of you since you left. The last words you said to him were “I hate you! I never want to see you again!” Loki couldn’t detect any falsehood when you screamed those words at him. That hurt the most.

Everyone turned to where Loki was standing. Some, like Thor, were smiling. Mostly everyone else was shocked.

“What?!” Loki snapped back at them, making everyone turn back to the television.

“Oh! Did you hear that? She wants to see him again.” The host embarrassed you. Your powers grew erratic as a new sprout of branches grew from the tree.

The whole audience was eating it up, clapping. You tried to hide behind your hand, but the different cameras provided different angles of your mortification.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Foxglove, everybody!” The host said pointing towards you clapping. You laughed and waved at the audience as Wisteria petals fell from the ceiling.

Weeks later, you sat in the back of a Maybach that Tony hired to chauffer you to the gala. This year it would be held at the compound which garnered more donations because everyone wanted to see inside the heavily guarded facility. Your intricate beaded dress fit you snuggly and covered you from shoulders to toe. It ensured that no one would accidentally come in contact with your skin. Especially with how crowded Tony’s parties got. The only wrinkle was from all the times you’ve grabbed it in anxiousness and wrung the fabric.

Why did I let Tony talk me into this?! I should’ve faked sick or something! What if Loki’s there? Of course, he’s there. Where else would he be? What if he doesn’t want to see me again? What if he has a date?! Maybe I should’ve invited Henry? No, no. He’d get the wrong idea. Just drop in, say your hellos, then leave. I don’t have to stay. I’m a grown adult. I can do what I want! FUCK! What if Loki comes and talks to me?

Once past the gates, the car crawled through a winding road with lanterns adorning the pathway. The car stopped at the front steps of the Avenger’s compound and you could hear the heavy bass of the music pounding through the car windows as bright lights and lasers littered the night sky.

You made your way through security to the massive, yet highly decorated, quinjet hangar and a sweeping staircase that descended to an impressive room below. You smiled, reminiscing about all the parties and events you attended as an Avenger- sweet memories that erased the worry you had when you were in the car. Picking up your gown, you gracefully descended the staircase. Keeping your eyes trained on the steps below, you tried not to look around, to look for him.

“Fox! I can’t believe you’re here!” Wanda shrieked as she ran up to you. She squeezed your sleeved arm and pressed her cheek on your shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, Wanda!” you said kissing the top of her hair.

“Come on. Everyone’s here- well, almost everyone,” she corrected herself. “We haven’t seen you in so long. Everyone wants to catch up.” She led you along to the bar where you were greeted by your former teammates. You were grateful that Loki wasn’t among them. He always loved these parties. You actively refused invites the past year just to avoid him. Awkward hugs and pleasantries were shared. Drinks were offered along with your first few dances promised to Sam and Wanda.

After hours of conversations with the team, and some drinks with Tony, you fell back into a sense of belonging and family. You didn’t realize how much you missed your friends here. How much you missed being an Avenger. It got so lonely most nights not having anyone to talk to. At least here, you would have had Nat or Bucky to train with in the middle of the night.

Or Loki to keep you company.

You groaned internally. You couldn’t help but be on edge all night, thinking about him and wondering if Loki was ever going to show up.

Before leaving for the night, you excused yourself to get some fresh air. There was a greenhouse in the back glades of the compound that you frequented most nights just to be alone. You used to make the hedges grow all around, giving you a private garden away from the rest of the world.

Inside, it was as if you had never left. The plants stood tall as if to greet you. Bright flowers bloomed in different colors as if in competition to win your adoration. And in the back corner, hidden behind large monstera plants, was a cove of plush blankets and chairs that you hid from anyone ever finding. Everyone except, “Loki?”

Loki sat in the rattan chair; his legs crossed reading a magazine with your picture on the cover. He looked as breathtaking as the first time you saw him, like trouble and a promise all wrapped up in his pressed monochromatic black suit. His mischievous smile appeared, tempting you closer.

“Hello, Foxglove,” he greeted you. His voice sending shivers down your spine. Fight or flight? Fight or flight? You kept repeating in your head.

“I…didn’t know this spot was taken. I won’t bother you. Goodnight,” you hastily said as you turned to leave.

“Wait!” he cried standing up. You could feel him grab hold of your wrist. You looked down to see his shadow holding on to you like a dear friend, shadow to skin. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched. It’s been so hard to be intimate with anyone because of your body’s defense mechanism. And here was Loki, the only man who figured out a loophole to your little enigma.

“I just wanted to say…” Loki paused, staring only into your eyes. “Y-you look beautiful tonight.” You pulled your hand away from his shadow and stayed quiet. “I saw you. We… the team… saw you on the talk show. You’ve done amazing things this past year. One movie, a television show, countless endorsements.”

“Still don’t think I can make it?” you challenged.

“Fox, it was never about that!” he argued. His sudden outburst propelled him like a predator. He stalked his way closer to you, making you back into the glass wall of the greenhouse. You caught whiffs of his cologne mixed with the tropical scent of the flowers all around you. He stopped when he realized he had alarmed you. “I should not have advanced on you so quickly. I apologize.”

“It’s all right. Just habit, I guess.” You were always conscious of people touching you and getting too close. You never wanted to be the cause of their hallucinations. Loki felt relieved that he hadn’t scared you off. His shadow stood ahead of him, rubbing your arm with the back of his fingertips, trying to mollify your anxiousness.

Loki watched and waited as you settled. Jealousy festered in his body at the sight of his shadow being able to comfort you and he couldn’t. “You look… breathtaking, by the way.” He tried to soothe.

“You already said that,” you said curtly, blushing. Loki loved your blush. He loved getting under your skin and teasing you.

“Is your new lover here with you tonight? Got sick of the real superheroes, had to get yourself a pretend one?” he tried deflecting. Loki smirked looking through the glass and out to the party to see if he could spot Cavill.

“As I recall, you wanted nothing to do with me once I stepped foot out of your room,” you said quoting him from the last time you spoke. “So, it’s none of your business whether or not Henry and I are together.”

“But you are…together?” he asked. His stare was unwavering, demanding an answer to his desperate question.

“I don’t need this right now!” You were angry and speechless. He doesn’t have the right to question your life’s choices especially when he wanted no part of them in the first place.

You moved to get away from his shadow’s hold and out of the greenhouse. Loki followed you close. “Fox, please. Stop.”

“Why are you even here, Loki?” you called back, briskly walking towards the exit. “You knew this was- This was my spot. MY SPOT!” you yelled, turning abruptly towards him.

“Because I wanted a chance to talk to you in private! Without the cameras or the paparazzi. Without some life-or-death mission hanging over our heads. I needed to see your face again, without all these people trying to steal your attention away from me.” He stopped and watched you reach for the door to go outside. “I’m sorry, Vixen.”

Vixen.

Feelings you thought you had buried deep down inside of you started to resurface. All because of that name he used. The one he would whisper as he called for you in his arms late at night. The name he used when he made you laugh so hard the only way to stop you was to kiss you.

The one name he knew would stop you in your tracks… because it was the one name he used when he was about to touch you himself.

“I am sorry if I ever made you feel…”

“Unworthy? Incapable? Useless?!” you turned as you accused him.

“Unwanted,” he finished.

Real tears fell down your face now. Loki cupped your cheek and wiped it away with his thumb. You could feel the heat in his touch. The energy. You’ve felt it with his shadow, but there was always something electrifying and passionate when Loki touched you himself.

It was a luxury to feel this connection with someone. To feel the warmth from his fingers. The callouses in his palms. You imagined feeling his soft lips on you once again until you stopped yourself. It was a dangerous path to have such expectations right now. You opened your teary eyes to find Loki watching you.

His eyes darted around to your surroundings before he closed them and tried to focus back on you. “You are very much wanted, Vixen. I just couldn’t admit to myself how much I wanted you back then.”

He opened his eyes to yours. The swirl of emotion in them was breathtaking. It was then that you saw his true face for the first time. His emotions. His thoughts. He was stripped of his armor and his pretenses. You felt as if you two were the only thing that existed in that time and space. As if he were holding his life, right there cupped in between his hands.

Your heart pounded in your ears as he continued his confession. “I am a jealous god. You know this. I didn’t want to share you with anybody. I wanted to keep you to myself. To keep you from the world. I was afraid that you would tire of me like you did with being an Avenger. Cast me out after seeing what the world out there could offer you.”

Loki placed his forehead to yours, feeling your breath on his lips. He bared it all for you tonight. He admitted something you knew was difficult for him to confess.

But could it erase what he made you feel for wanting to follow your dreams? Horrible and selfish. Untalented. Unwanted.

“I love you.” Your eyes grew wide at his expression. “I loved you then. I’ve loved you since. I am still deeply in love with you. Even now, when you’re about to run away from me, my heart won’t let me forget you. I was afraid that I would have no place in the world that you were creating for yourself. So, for that, I am sorry.” You closed your eyes and lingered in his touch a while longer.

“I wanted to apologize. I never got a chance to see you again after our fight, and I regret that I never made amends to you. You had every right to follow your path. I shouldn’t have stopped you. I should’ve supported you.” His thumb caressed your cheeks back and forth. You always did have the softest skin, unblemished by anyone else’s touch, he thought.  “You don’t have to say it back. You don’t have to say anything at all. And if you want to leave now, I won’t stop you. Never again. But I just needed you to know how I felt.”

Do you love him? You asked yourself as you looked into his variegated eyes. Did you spend every night thinking about him? Did you ignore the compound, and your friends, this past year just to avoid seeing him again? Afraid that he would have someone new in his life? Did you miss his voice when he says your name? His kisses? His touch?

“Yes,” you answered yourself. Loki’s brows knitted in confusion. “Loki, I understand now. Thank you… what I said to you back then, I was angry, but...” you tried to start.

Loki smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead. “We were both angry and said things we didn’t mean. Me more than you. Please don’t apologize. Least of all to me.” He exhaled as his eyes darted around again. You nodded your head, accepting his grace- forgiving you without having to apologize.

You looked up at his eyes, filled with wonder, “What do you see? When you touch me?” you asked gently. All this time you never thought to ask him.

“I see what I always see. Since the very first time I touched you. Do you remember?” You shook your head no. “They showed a picture of it on the talk show.” Realization sunk in. “I was wiping your tears just like now.”

Loki looked around again and smiled, putting his hands in his pockets. “I see home. I see the woods that used to grow behind the castle walls. Thor and I used to sneak out when we were children and climb the trees. The same woods we used as hunting grounds when we got older. Would you like to see it?”

No one had ever asked you that before.  No one had ever had the power to do that before! You nodded and faint green smoke rose from his fingers. Your vision got blurry as the greenhouse was replaced by a dense forest. The trees were tall and luscious. Strands of warm light filtered through the canopy above shining down on the emerald grass below.

“Come with me.” Loki held your hand as he walked further into the woods. Dead leaves and twigs crunched at your feet as a soft breeze blew through the lace of your dress giving you goosebumps. “There’s a glade up ahead where we can just lay on the grass. I used to spend my free time there, letting the hours idle away.” The thought made you smile.

Sure enough, a clearing began to form up ahead. Long, soft grass weaved itself as it grew amongst large wildflowers. The filtered light from the canopy above made the blooms shine like jewels on a bed of velvet.

“I have yet to see anywhere comparable to this place on Midgard,” Loki said circling the glade, a look of homesickness in his eyes. “That metropolis has nothing compared to the splendor of these woods.”

“It’s beautiful.” You said walking towards him. A path of small wildflowers blooming with every step you made.

“Thank you. It is beautiful. But still an illusion. We are still very much in the greenhouse by the compound. You’re just seeing what I’m seeing at the moment.” You reached out towards a tree and felt cold glass instead of bark.

“You see this every time you’ve touched me? Every time we’ve…”

“Hmm,” Loki nodded solemnly. “Sometimes it's these woods. Other times it's my bedchambers in the palace. Yet, every time I’m with you, I see this- my childhood home. I haven’t been back since you left.” Loki bent down and picked up a wildflower that had grown in your stride. “I try to conjure it myself, but it never feels the same. The colors aren’t as vibrant. Not as much warmth.” He placed the flower on your ear, pushing your stray hair back. His hands ventured further down, tracing the beads of your sleeves.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted.

“You’ve missed me? Or you’ve missed my powers and that they can bring you home?” you asked slightly jilted.

Loki looked deeply into your eyes as he turned you into his embrace. Your hands fell onto his arms and the look he gave you stole your breath away. “You are my home,” he confessed with a passion and honesty you’ve never heard from him before.  

He wasted no time. He gave you no warning as he conceded to his urges and kissed you fervidly. The soft lips you were fantasizing about earlier painted a poor picture of his actual kiss. Soft yet demanding. Giving, yet always ravenous. It was as if no time had passed between you two. You were back in his arms kissing him and it felt like he described it. Home.

“All I ever wanted was to have you here in my arms,” he breathed in between kisses. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him back to you for another kiss. His arms wrapped selfishly around you, holding you tighter to him.

The heat was too much. It’s been so long since you’ve been held so intimately. But with Loki’s lips devoted to your neck, you would burn gladly. You would die happily on this pyre- as the last thing you would hear would be Loki moaning in your ears.

You were lost in his haze, caught up in the moment with the feel of his body against yours. He pushed you against the tree and you felt the cold glass of the greenhouse against your back.

Loki towered over you, “Tell me you want this,” he whispered onto your noxious skin. “Tell me you’ve missed this and want this with me.” He looked into your eyes, imploring something deep and vulnerable inside you.

“I do, Loki. I want this with you” You moaned holding tight against his grip. You felt his hands gather your dress skirt. Slowly his hands wandered, savoring the feel of your soft skin. His hallucinations were getting more and more vivid. Believable. Or perhaps it was just his kiss, sending you into slight delirium yourself.

Loki hurriedly took off his suit jacket and flung it across the room. He knelt in front of you, in between your parted legs as he raised your left knee above his shoulders- kissing his way up to your inner thighs. “Loki is this real?” you asked looking around you.

“Gods, I hope so,” he prayed, leaving a mark on your thigh. He kissed his way up to your core and licked you through the fabric of your panties. You heard the sheer cotton tear as his fingers brushed up against your eager clit.

Your fingers ran through his hair, pulling when he licked a wide stripe in between your folds. Your knees buckled at the sensation and soon you were reaching around yourself for something to hold. Something to keep you up as Loki lost himself in your wet arousal.

The cold glass of the greenhouse was replaced by the feeling of something warm and sturdy behind you. You looked up to see that Loki’s shadow had positioned himself to where his chest was flushed against your back- his dark hands roaming your body. His arms reached forward to hold your dress up above your waist, aiding Loki in his endeavors.

You felt a kiss on your neck, a quick peck as if he was asking for permission or giving you a warning. You yelped as his shadow quickly lifted you by your hips and Loki pushed both your knees up for his shadow to hold.

“Loki!”

“Yes, my love?” he asked as he continued to latch his mouth and draw on your aching cunt. Loki’s shadow spread your legs. You were splayed open and exposed. Leaving Loki to devote his tongue to you. You reached up and ran your hands through his shadow's hair, pulling as he sweetly kissed your neck.  

You couldn’t help the moans and loud whimpers escaping your lips. You bucked your hips onto Loki’s face as your head reared back onto his shadow’s shoulders.

“Come for me, Fox. Let me hear you,” he commanded as he continued his consumption of you. “Let me taste you again. Give me what I’ve been missing. What I’ve been craving.” He said the last words to your tormented clit. You shuddered violently as moans and whimpers of his name fell from your lips. “That’s it. There you go, Vixen,” he cooed as he drank your arousal and lapped around your thighs.

His shadow laid you down gently and you felt the plush pillows and cold blankets from the greenhouse corner underneath you. A warring sensation against the heat of Loki’s body pressed on top of you. A bit of reality mixed in with the illusion Loki was scarcely hanging on to.

His hands fondled your every curve and every soft line. You cupped his face and led him to your kiss. His soft lips quivered when you reached in between your bodies and stroked his clothed erection. So hard and so tight. He breathed a sigh of relief when you unzipped his pants and stroked him.

“Fuck,” he moaned. Your name followed next as he bucked his hips into your hand. “Vixen…tell me you’re mine,” he panted. He kissed you hard, not letting you reply, afraid of your answer. You lined him up next to your expecting cunt and pulled him inside you.

You bit your lip and moaned as the look of pure pleasure radiated through your face. “Tell me…” he tried again as he pushed his hips into you repeatedly.

“I love you, Loki,” you moaned. His eyebrows slanted skeptically, stilling his movements and letting your words sink into his thoughts. “I’ve always been yours.” You admitted.

His kiss was magic. It was passion and life. Remorse and reconciliation all at once. He began his movements again at a steady pace, savoring your tight walls around him. You could feel the ridges on his shaft with every euphoric pull and thrust. His head bowed at the sheer power of your declaration. “Say it again…” he whispered.

“I’m yours,” you moaned.

“…say it…” he bit his lips. “…ag-again…please…” His eyes were closed as he focused on the agonizingly drawn-out movements of his hips to yours.

“I love you, Loki,” you cried as he slammed against you. You squeezed around him finally pushing him off that edge. Loosening the tight hold he had on his pleasure and pouring it all into you. The wave of bliss hit you hard and you came onto his throbbing cock at the same time.  

Spent and panting next to you, Loki held you close. His kisses were endless. Your cheeks and jaw would be bruised tomorrow from the affection he was showering you with. His hands were always touching you. Your neck, your face. Your thigh that was wrapped around his legs. You lost all track of time being with the god of mischief and soon the bright sunlight that trickled down to the forest floor was replaced by the harsh glare of the greenhouse overhead lamp.

Loki had little strength left to keep the illusion up any longer. He seemed weary but content. You kissed him fleetingly as you sat up back to reality. “Stay,” he said softly. “The one thing I didn’t say last time…I’m saying it now. Don’t go. Stay.” His hands held yours tightly.

So many feelings were attached to that one word. The weight of it crushing your heart. “I’m not asking you to give up your life. I’m not asking you to stay just for the night either. I’m asking for you to just be,” he smiled at you. “Be who you want to be and I will support you like I should have.”

You crawled back to him, settling your head on your propped-up elbows, while your other hands played with the buttons on his shirt. “And if I decide to go?”

“Then I’ll do the one thing I should’ve done last time but didn’t.” he smiled as you looked at him expectantly. “I’ll follow you.”

A/N: This was a request sent in and I'm sorry to say it took this long for me to finish it. I hope you like it my lovely @gruftiela. I tried to stick to the vibe of the song. But I also added lyrics from one of my other favorite Depeche Mode songs. See if you can spot it 😝.

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish

[nctstar]

Can you write a smut w plot on Taeyong x sub!reader x Mark ? I am craving for this pair please bestie...you can take your time, no rush. make them a bit possessive and dom and you can add anything to your liking.

hiii friend! i know this is CRAZY late but i hope you still like it <3 turned out a bit more sad than expected HAHA

dumb conversations, we lose track of time

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He bent over to kiss you, bringing both of his icy hands to your face, but you didn’t care. The kiss was everything, and you brought your bodies over to the wall as you continued, one of his legs now in between yours. “Fuck, I think…I’m gonna miss you so bad.”

pairing: markyong x fem!reader (no markyong ship)

other members: other 127 members mentioned

word count: 3k

genre: romance & smut, angst, fluff, sort of hurt/comfort

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! mild profanity, mentions of being sick from food, kissing, dom!markyong, praise kink, degradation (use of slut/whore), daddy kink, slapping, penetrative sex, riding, oral (male receiving), manhandling/being held down/held in place, missionary sex, praising (sweet girl, good girl), crying (like lots of crying!!), subspace, double penetration (2 in 1), clitoral stimulation, taeyong is leaving for military service and this is upsetting to reader (strong self insert moment LMAO)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: NOW i know i was technically supposed to make this a (freaky) smut only...but i had to add the extra things because i have been sooo emotional lately and i have not really been in a smut mood unless it's emotional and loving :D with the release of the tortured poets department, taeyong's enlistment, renjun's hiatus...ya'll it's just been a lot. so a lot of this is very much just me projecting HAHA but hope it's comforting to some of you. also, i just wanna say that you guys shouldn't feel pressured to engage in sexual activity when you're sad and crying...everything here is consensual of COURSE as always, and this is all fantasy but i just thought I'd add that in. please take care of yourselves when you're vulnerable. love ya'll mwah <3

You stifled your giggles in the droop of your cardigan, but Taeyong still flushed red. Your cheeks puffed out as you fought the urge to snort in his face. “I’m so sorry.”

He rolled his eyes, instinctively going to run his hands through his now non-existent hair, making you double over in laughter. “Alright, miss, that’s enough. Hilarious, I know.”

“Noooo Taeyong, don’t be embarrassed.” You ran over, pinching his cheeks in your hands, feeling his skin hot and elastic under your thumbs. “You’re so cute. Like…Anpanman!”

“I know you love jjingppang, jagi, but that was so uncalled for.” You strung his arm into your body, letting the both of you walk away from the dim lights of the restaurant. “Why? Are you hungry? But didn’t you just eat?”

“There is always space for dessert, hon. Come on, we’ve been together 2 and a half years now, and you still don’t know my philosophies?” You were teasing, having fun, but as you watched another couple walk in front of you, hands gripped tightly together, the shadows in the trees dancing across their bodies, you felt something sharp poke inside you. You gulped the feeling down, forcing a smile, even though you knew he wasn’t watching.

“You’ll get sick if you eat too much bread again.” You shook your head, scoffing. “That was one time, Taeyong. And it was in Japan. I would definitely have eaten that much again.”

“Really? I recall you crying in the bathroom, whining to me about why I didn’t stop you.” You knocked him playfully, feeling his scent permeate your senses and bring you back to those times in Japan. He was here now, a solid body standing right next to you, brushing up against you, but…You felt a sudden rush of emotion, but you could see Mark’s car now, and you decided not to bring up what you had been thinking the entire time.

“So-“

“I’m sorry I’m leaving you.” The words surprised you, even though it was something both of you had been holding back the entire time. “I’m sorry I have to do this.”

“Don’t be silly.” You were standing in front of him now, the white streetlights illuminating every line on his face, too scared to look into his eyes. “You have to do it, right? And, you should be proud of yourself. It’s hard work you are willing to dedicate yourself to for a while. And, I can always take care of myself.”

“You have Mark.”

“No, I can take care of myself.” You nodded as if you were trying to convince yourself instead of just him. Your eyes watered, working against every restraint you had. “Please, just…it will be fine. I will still see you. Just, not as often. But you’ll still be here.” He held both your hands, bringing them to his chest, and you were looking at your shoes, watching them get blurrier, feeling him pull your body towards his.

You couldn’t do it. Not for the last time.

“Bye.” You let go of his hands, turning swiftly around and walking towards the parked car at a pace that seemed closer to running.

The warmth enveloped you, and you hastily rubbed off the tears, almost embarrassed at the thought of crying in front of him. Both of them. “H-hey, Mark.”

“You okay?” You nodded, and he brought your hand to his lips, lightly pecking it before he shifted gears.

∞

The apartment was quiet at first, as if it already sensed the loss of one tenant. “Just squeezing past, babe.” Mark’s shoulder brushed yours as the keys jangled in his fingers, his steps retreating towards the bathroom. You walked over to the couch, looking at the empty cake box, the one Doyoung had bought to celebrate. The cake crumbs that littered the floor, the frosting on the couch – you didn’t even have the heart to be mad.

“Is that frosting…on the couch?”

You chuckled weakly, sniffling. “Yeah. I thought I told Jungwoo not to make a mess.”

“You didn’t. You’re so quiet around the boys. So shy.” Mark’s breath tickled your neck, his lips grazing the skin hidden underneath your cardigan. He kissed you gently, bringing one hand to your shoulder, the one he had brushed. “It’s what I love about you.”

You smiled, watching Mark’s shadow cover you as he moved to sit next to you on the couch. “What a mess. This isn’t driving you crazy?” You shook your head, but you smiled, a little bit more genuine this time. Curling up next to Mark, you basked in the heat of his body. He pressed his nose to the top of your head, inhaling your scent. “You smell good.”

“You trying to get laid, Lee?” You felt his chest shake as he laughed, both a little awkwardly and without holding back, like he always did. You thought of all the times you fell asleep in his lap, feeling him stroke your body soothingly as you both waited for Taeyong to get home.

You sat up, turning, looking deep into Mark’s eyes. “I love you.” You kissed him, pulling his bottom lip with your mouth as you pulled away. He ran his hands up your back, connecting lips as you climbed onto his lap, so quick to bring your body against his. He held your hips in place when you stared to move, groaning softly as he pulled away from your mouth. “Are you sure?”

“What, am I sure I love you?”

“No, I mean,” he gasped shortly when you kissed his collarbone, a spot only you knew how to tease. “Easy, baby. I mean, are you okay with doing it tonight?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, and you hated yourself in that moment for ruining it all. Desperate to stop him from continuing, you shut him up with a kiss, moving his hands from your hips so you could grind against his growing bulge. Your fingers in his hair, you dug your knees on the couch so you could push your chest onto his face. He moaned this time, tugging at the ends of your hoodie to signal you to take it off. You hissed when the cold hit your bare torso, Mark unhooking your bra clasp as you shivered. “You cold, sweetheart?” You nodded, but you were sitting back onto his lap, both of you shrugging off your bottoms as you talked. The cold drew goosebumps on your skin, but you felt wet and hot in the pits of your stomach.

“Fuck, so tight.” Mark threw his head back as you cried out, feeling the stretch harder than you remembered. He held you in place with a hand on the small of your back, another on your thigh. “Shhh. Come closer to me. Good girl.” He continued praising you as you sunk deeper onto his length, inches buried inside you. “W-wait.” You pressed a hand to his stomach, warning him not to move as you scrunched your eyes shut. “So fucking big.” Mark laughed, moving your hand away and bringing your chest closer to his mouth. As he licked and nipped at your body, you began to relax, your breath quickening with every passing second. His dick jumped inside you, making you whimper. “You ready, sweet girl?”

You tasted the tears before you felt them, streaked down your face. “Please.” you begged, and he began to thrust up into you. “Fuck, Mark, M-Mark!” Your voice carried through the apartment as he rolled his hips into you. “Come on, baby, that’s it. You’re our good girl, right?” You sobbed, bringing one hand to your mouth to quieten yourself, but he pulled the hand away. “If you’re gonna cum, you better do it screaming my name. You understand?” He held your chin into place. “Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, p-please. Fuck,” You gasped, feeling the ripples of pleasure run through your body. “I’m close! Please, Mark, can I-“

“Yeah, good girl, baby. I’m close too.” His voice was raspy, his thrusts sloppy as he reached his own high. You shut your eyes, feeling your thighs constrict as you came. You breathed heavily, the tears still running down your face. When the ringing sound stopped post-orgasm, you heard yourself crying.

“Hey, hey. You did well, sweetheart. It’s okay, I’m right here.” You nodded, feeling your body slump against him. “Can I pull out? Does it hurt? I didn’t hurt you, right?”

You looked into his eyes, feeling the way he held you so securely in his arms. “I miss him. I miss the three of us. I know it’s silly, because it technically hasn’t happened yet, but,” you sighed. “I didn’t know how hard it would be until it really happened.”

Mark hummed in agreement, wiping away your tears. “Of course. That’s not silly. And, I love you too, okay? I’m here for you.” You wrapped your arms around his body, breathing in his scent, feeling Mark pull your hoodie around the both of you. “You never hurt me, Mark.”

∞

You both woke up with a jolt when the knocking started. You climbed off Mark as your eyes shot open, and the both of you started frantically dressing, as if the person had entered straight away. “Who’s coming over so late?” Mark grumbled.

“Hopefully Jungwoo to clean the couch.” You muttered, but Mark was rushing to open the door after peeking through the peephole, and you frowned.

“Hyung.”

You knew it was him. But you couldn’t even move. In that moment, you were frozen in time.

“Hi, jagi.” His body stood looming over yours, his face red from the cold outside. You didn’t know what to say, rubbing the itch on one of your ankles to kill time.

“You’re…you’re here.”

“Yeah. It’s my apartment too, right?” He smirked. “Why, is the Anpanman look enough to make you forget me?” You laughed, sniffling, hitting him lightly on the chest. You noticed Mark raise an eyebrow, left out of the inside joke. Your stomach churned, your heart pining for a loss that suddenly was not lost, and it all felt so out of place.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He bent over to kiss you, bringing both of his icy hands to your face, but you didn’t care. The kiss was everything, and you brought your bodies over to the wall as you continued, one of his legs now in between yours. “Fuck, I think…I’m gonna miss you so bad.”

“You’ll live.” You scoffed, pushing him away. He laughed, the smile lines on his face making your heart soar. “I don’t think I’m gonna miss these stupid jokes.”

He kissed your forehead. “I think you will.” You rolled your eyes, but he was right. As always. You ran a hand up his chest, then, underneath the hoodie he was wearing. You gasped in an exaggerated, ditsy way, making your voice airy on purpose. “Officer, I think you’re pretty hard right now.”

Taeyong smirked, his eyes darkening as he gripped the wrist of your wandering hand. “Oh yeah? You think you know me so well? Wanna play that game?” In the corner of your eye, you watched Mark’s figure step closer. “She already did, Hyung.” He pushed his tongue on the side of his cheek, and you fluttered your eyelashes at Taeyong, feigning innocence. “I didn’t do anything. He’s lying.”

“Oh?” Mark looked pissed, and you only giggled in response. Taeyong brought his face closer to yours. “If I find out you’ve been lying, you’re done for. Now, on your knees.” You complied, seconds later being met with Taeyong’s length springing out of his boxers. You covered his tip with your mouth, but you felt your hair being yanked backwards and a slap on your face. “Did I say anything yet? Dirty slut.” Mark’s grip on your hair didn’t falter, and you whined. “If you want to suck me so bad, you better be ready to beg for it.”

“Mmm, please. Please let me taste you, Daddy. Please, I’ll be good.” Mark’s other hand travelled under your chin, tilting your head up almost uncomfortably, making you yelp. “Tap him if it’s too much, okay?” You nodded in response, and as soon as you did, Mark’s thumb pressed hard on your bottom lip, prying your jaw open. Taeyong thrusted inside your open mouth, guttural groans leaving him as he did. Tears sprung to your eyes at the sudden intrusion, the apartment now filled with the sounds of you violently gagging on dick. Your fists clenched by your sides. “Pretty cockwhore, aren’t you?” Mark whistled lowly, making you squeeze your legs in embarrassment. “Ah, so you like being our nasty little thing. As expected.” You shook your head, but he only tightened his grip, laughing almost cruelly in response. Taeyong pulled out when he heard you choking, inhaling air as soon as his tip left your mouth. “Not so talkative now, are you, pretty?” Your voice raspy as you spoke, you opened your mouth wider, sticking your tongue out. “Daddy’s little whore, yeah?” You could only hum in response as Mark held you still, Taeyong jerking himself off on your tongue. You swallowed the cum in your mouth, letting some of it drool out of your mouth. Taeyong bent over, spreading it over your chin, mixed with your drool. “Go and bend over the couch.” You went to nod once more, but he slapped your face. “Words.”

“Y-yes, T-Taeyongie.” You only used that when you were floating away, letting yourself go, and to be honest, you were surprised it had happened so soon. As you bent over the couch, you had an inkling that they were surprised too. You felt Taeyong’s hands on your sides, and you jumped. “Sorry, jagi. Is this still okay?”

“Uh-huh.” You felt wetness pool in between your legs. “Please, f-fuck me. Before, what happened…well, Markie…I’m sorry I lied, Daddy.” You heard Taeyong shushing you. “I want you to enjoy yourself, beautiful. Okay? Tell me if this is too much.” You sighed, relaxing when you felt Taeyong rub up your back, pressing hard in the way that you liked. Under his hands, you felt safe. Calm. Honest.

“C-Can we go to the bedroom? I don’t like this position.”

Your body burned, even though your shared bedroom was freezing tonight. “Fuck, it’s cold in here.” Taeyong held you close to your body, as if he never wanted to let go.

As the three of you sat on the edge of the bed, you began to ugly cry. Taeyong rubbed your back as you shook, Mark taking a tissue to wipe your chin. “Was it too much? Baby?” You didn’t know who was speaking, but you held both their hands, unable to stop the tears from falling. “No, its just that,” you rubbed your face harshly, feeling the days makeup rub off on your hand. “This is all so fucking dumb. I’m sorry, but, I don’t want you to leave. I don’t care if that makes me a bad person.” Taeyong laughed as he held your head in both his hands, pulling you into his body. Mark ran his hands soothingly up your thighs. “I think I love this side of you, actually.”

You smiled, remembering your conversation only a while ago. “Sorry I’m ruining everything.”

“Sorry but, you must be fucking crazy if you think that’s true for even a second.” Unlocking yourself from Taeyong’s embrace, you exaggerate lifting your hands up in surrender. “Okay, relax, Mark. Don’t call a woman crazy.”

“Especially not a horny one.” You snorted at this, making both of them laugh. Sighing, you tried to appear mad or even annoyed. But you hadn’t felt more free in days.

He was right. You were going to miss these stupid jokes.

The three of you rolled onto the bed, you straddling Taeyong while Mark left noisy kisses down the sides of your neck from behind. “I want you both inside me. Please.” You moaned as Mark squeezed your boob from under your shirt, your head on his shoulder as Taeyong pulled your panties down, the three of you momentarily and, almost comically, struggling with taking them all the way off.

Your hands splayed across Taeyong’s bare chest, you bent over to kiss him. “I’ll miss you.” You whispered against his skin, and he squeezed the outside of your thigh in response. As Mark sheathed himself inside you for the second time that night, he began to thrust straight away. “Still fits like a fucking sleeve, so fucking good.” Your breath quickened as your clit rolled against Taeyong’s bare cock, your moans thickening as you watched Taeyong lie beneath you. “You ready, my love?” You nodded furiously, Mark holding onto you with an arm across your shoulders, pressing your body flush against his. Both men guided you onto Taeyong’s length, the stretch now burning, firecrackers exploding in your stomach. “Fuck! Oh fuck!” You couldn’t breathe, pulling at Mark’s arm, slowly registering him shushing you in your ear. “Relax, baby girl. You’re doing so well. Almost there.” Taeyong groaned in pleasure, shifting the tiniest bit, which made you yelp. The feeling was so unfamiliar, and your heart pounded at the new sensations. “Please, don’t move yet.” Taeyong rubbed circles on your clit, watching your face carefully.

“Nghh, ahh…” The feeling of both of them inside you was starting to choke you from the inside, deliciously bringing you close to a release. “Wait, Daddy, don’t-“ You squealed as you squirted, your clit throbbing from the aftermath. “Shit, I don’t know if I can-“

“You can cum again, pretty. I know you can.” You moaned, feeling both of them bump against each other and into your walls inside you, wet and messy. “Oh my god, oh my…” you babbled, holding onto anything as they thrusted relentlessly, both their timing desperate and rocky. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for us, jagi, that’s it.” Taeyong’s voice rose in pitch, and you heard Mark groaning in your ear, pressing your upper body closer to his. You came for the second time, gasping for air, hips rolling without permission over both their cocks. You slumped over Taeyong after, Mark pulling out and resting next to you both on the bed.

[lizziesblueberries]

Relax

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5,598

Warnings: Mommy Kink, Mommy!Wanda, Bottom!Reader, but wait Top!Reader, praise kink, smut, yandere Wanda, possessive Wanda, possessive reader, maybe the dynamic switches, maybe it doesn’t, g!p reader, drinking breast milk, blowjob???, hehehe, maybe some rough sex, fluff, service Wanda, dom reader? Idk depends how you see it, |minors DNI, 18+

Summary: Fifth and final part to the series. The boys are finally here! And you and Wanda deserve some much needed time to yourselves.

Notes: Hello! I know its been so long since I last wrote, a whole year! And quite the year it has been. I just want to say thank you all for liking and commenting my stories. It means a lot and I’ve been so excited to write more for all of you! (and more importanlty, myself 😏) I do have more stories in plan and this will be the last fic for this series, so I hope it satisfies you all. Honestly, I cant wait to post the next story for you guys, this next one is definitely a bit more intense and dare I say, violent, duh duh dun! Anywho, enjoy my thirsty fan club!

Part 4

——

It’s been about 10 months since you first discovered you were pregnant, ten months since you and Wanda visited that quaint little Sokovian town and saw Strange. Ten months since you woke up with Wanda’s cum filling you completely and then having it ooze out of you when Wanda slowly pulled out. And its been one month since you gave birth to two beautiful little boys named Tommy and Billy.

A whole month has gone by, and it has been the most emotional and exhausting and best month of your life. You and Wanda gave birth in the cabin, Wanda having done a ton of research to prepare yourselves for when the boys came. And Wanda was the prefect partner. You on the other hand, well, Wanda wouldn’t say it out loud otherwise, for her sake. You had been going through emotional mood swings and cravings and body changes, and poor Wanda had to take the brunt of it all. Honestly, the amount of times you cried, threw up, or just threw a pillow at Wanda’s head, was countless. Wanda being Wanda, excepted it all and waited patiently for you to either calm down or rapidly change from angry to needy or some other mood that didn’t involve you wanting to aim something at her head.

Don’t get her wrong, there were some moments where she needed to take some deep breaths, but she knew you were going through something you couldn’t exactly control. And you were the one who was bearing her kids, so, it was the least she could do not to get frustrated or mad at you. You of course always appreciated her patience after, you were weirded out at first from the feeling of little bodies growing inside you, but you soon learned to love their little kicks and Wanda loved sensing their life as well. She spent the majority of your pregnancy being over joyed and over protective. If you so much as even suggested leaving the house for a walk, Wanda would immediately say no and try to distract you with other things. One of those things being sex. You honestly never thought you would ever turn Wanda down from any of her advances, but pregnancy seemed to prove you wrong. When you were in the mood for something it would stay that way until you got it. You would ask to go for a short walk outside, and her eyes would flash with panic, quickly coming up with another suggestion and press kisses against your throat.

“Why don’t we stay inside my love? Where it’s safe and warm, and perhaps reenact another magical moment together?” Wanda would say, doing her best to turn your mind somewhere else, but you were also stubborn. And while you may think you were the simp here, it was in fact Wanda who was the simp.

“No, I’m not in the mood Wanda I want some air and to look at some fucking trees for once, I need to stretch my legs.” You would say, and Wanda, the ever respectful lover, would back off and agree to you. Of course part of the agreement to go outside would involve you staying within a ten foot perimeter around the house and Wanda by your side at all times searching for any danger. It was cute though, to see Wanda so protective and vigilant for you and the boys, so you couldn’t really complain, you got to go outside anyways.

It seemed Wanda got even softer as you grew bigger, her jade eyes always on you, concerned, loving, or just gleeful to see you. Her protectiveness and possessiveness was still there, but there was something else. Your relationship turned into something more equal, she valued what you had to say and what to do, and you seemed to have understood her better than anyone. Loving each other in a more natural and at home kind of way and not just passion.

When the day finally did come, boy was Wanda the least calm you had ever seen her. She could feel your pain and wanted everything to go ok, laying you down and preparing for when the boys would come. Her magic surrounding everything she needed and almost pulsing in worry with her. You weren’t as worried at that point like she was, probably because you felt like your insides were tearing apart at that moment, honestly, who thought it was a good idea for women to give birth this way? That thought left your mind though as soon as you finally got a look at Tommy. Calm for a baby who just entered the world, but then again this was Wanda’s son. You nearly cried at the sight of him, then Billy was on the way and you definitely cried from having to go through the pain again.

It became a blur after that, but one thing you definitely remember seeing, was your two beautiful boys, and your beautiful wife, holding them. Wanda looked radiant, her eyes glistened and her smile was something only held for her boys and you. She gave you Billy soon after she checked for your health, using her magic and spells to make sure you were ok and not in pain anymore. And when you held Billy in your arms, you knew he was going to be a mamas boy, empathetic and sweet for his moms and brother. Wanda sat next to you on the freshly cleaned bed and you looked at Tommy adoringly. He was definitely going to be the one to drag Billy into all sorts of trouble, and from what you heard from Wanda’s stories of them, you would be very right.That night you and Wanda fell asleep with the boys held cradled into your chests (a spell was cast to not hurt them in your sleep of course) and you laid in bed as a new family.

A month has passed since then, and while you would never regret having the twins, they were honestly too adorable, your lack of sleep was weighing on you. The boys were little balls of energy and consumed everything they ate, crying for attention and waking you and Wanda up almost every two-three hours. Being pregnant and already developing milk, you and Wanda decided to breast feed them. This was not as fun as you would think, the whole, ‘babies drinking from their mother will increase the bond’ was not exactly true, those boys would suck everything dry, regardless of where it came from, and you were starting to think breastfeeding was not the grandest idea. Your breasts were sore and you couldn’t really produce enough milk for two growing baby boys, one of them being a speedster mind you.

And this ends our little summary of the past few months up until now. You, having just put the boys to sleep, and for once, the boys are not hungry. So now, you’re tired, AND sore with milk and you just wanted to have a nice relaxing night for once. You quietly walk out of the room downstairs to the kitchen, where Wanda is leaning against the counter sipping tea. Her eyes are slightly glazed from sleep, and she’s wearing a red robe like you are. You walk up to her and just fall into her front, head going into her neck and leaning all your weight into her. Wanda grunts from the surprise weight and sets her mug to the side to wrap her arms around you and hold you to her. You sigh into her and she just rests her head against yours.

“What is it detka? Tired?” Wanda quietly says, moving to softly rub her hands along your back soothingly. You just nod your head and let out a little hum. She chuckles at this and squeezes you to her, only instead of a happy sigh like she thought she would get from you, she gets a hiss of pain and immediately pulls back to look at you in worry. “What was that? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing Wanda I’m just sore because the boys didn’t feed, I think I’m going to get the pump out.” You say tiredly, not really bothered anymore, just wanting to get rid of the ache and milk and just head to bed. You turn and start to walk away, heading towards the cabinet to get the pump, but Wanda tugs on your hand, so you turn back to her in confusion. She looks you up and down, thoughtful and concerned, and maybe it’s the sleep talking but you think you also see a dark glint in her eye.

“What if I helped you out with that darling?” Wanda asks, and you just turn back around not really getting what she’s trying to say.

“That’s ok Wanda, I mean, unless you want to turn it on and watch, there’s not much to really help with the pump.” You walk away, across the kitchen and are about to grab the pump, but scarlet magic suddenly stops you, keeping you in place. “Wanda what-“

“I’m sorry baby, I don’t think you quite understood my question. I’m not asking to use the pump, I’m asking, if you would like my help with getting rid of some of what I’m sure is very warm and delectable milk.” Wanda slowly turns you around with her magic as she asks this. Her walk slow and seductive towards you, and its then you realize what she’s really asking.

“Oh,”

“Oh, indeed.” Wanda says amused. She’s in front of you now and she’s looking at you like she’s going to eat you whole. Her magic holding you still, she slowly waves her fingers and moves your hands behind your back. “So? Is that a yes? Would you like my help with that ache of yours babygirl?” Your eyes widen a bit at Wanda’s sudden pet name and bold choice of words, heat flushes to your face from the question.

“I’ve never- we’ve never done that before, I didn’t think you would ever want to. Are you sure?” You ask unsure. The thought has come to you on occasion, but very fleeting. Sleep and the boys have taken up most of your time, and its been a while since you’ve been in the mood for anything sexual. Your pregnancy didn’t exactly make you want to have sex all the time. You felt a little bad, since you knew Wanda was always wanting your body, but she was so caring and never forced herself or tried to make you do anything you didn’t want. In fact she let you initiate most of it. So to say you both had been blue balled was an understatement. An image of Wanda’s mouth on you flashed through your mind and you suddenly realized how badly you missed her and needed her. You looked into Wanda’s eyes and saw her looking right back at you, and you realized she needed it too. She nodded and all you could do was say, “please.”

After that, Wanda couldn’t hold back anymore. It had been weeks since she last got to have you, and now she could finally taste a new part of you. With a flick of her wrist, her magic pressed you against the wall, your arms held behind your back, pressing your chest up more to her. All she could do was look at your breasts, bigger than usual from being full, and she licked her lips slightly at the sight. You still couldn’t move, not that you were complaining, although it would be nice to touch her after so long, you just watched her instead and waited for her to get closer to you.

She finally pressed her body against yours and you both sighed at the feeling, Wanda moved her mouth to your neck and placed small feather light kisses along your throat. You shivered and wanted so much more, but it was nice, the softness and intimacy you could feel coming from her. She wanted to treasure you. Wanda moved her hands to your waist, her hands slid along your sides slowly, up closer to your chest on your ribs, your breathing was increasing and Wanda basked in feeling your breathing quicken and your ribs expand. She could hear your pants against her ear as she kissed down your throat and she enjoyed having you at her mercy, unable to move or leave her hold.

“Wanda please.” You begged. Already impatient and not interested in any teasing. Wanda pulled back to look at you, dark eyes glimmered as they took in your appearance and smirked. She moved into you again until her mouth was pressed against your collarbone and slowly mouthed down to your chest, pausing to place a reverent kiss against the red tattoo there, and then continued to the opening of your robe. Her hands finally put themselves where they belonged and cupped your breasts as she kissed between them. You arched into her, letting out a moan as you felt her start to lightly massage them. Your breasts were tender, and as Wanda kept gently massaging them, milk started to ease out of your nipples. Wet spots started to form where your robe covered them, and Wanda watched with fascination as the spots grew darker and bigger the more she touched you.

“My poor baby. So tender and aching. You’ve been doing so much lately. Pregnancy, giving birth, taking care of the twins, not getting enough sleep, and having to feed them. I should be taking better care of you, cook you nice nutritious meals, take on more work with the boys so you can sleep, help alleviate your sore breasts.” As Wanda said this, she emphasized her words with the action of gripping your breasts more firmly, squeezing them a bit harder, and you nearly went on your toes to try and ease her grip. But you couldn’t, so you just stood there and whimpered in half pain and pleasure.

“Mommy please!” You finally said, and that seemed to move Wanda into motion. Her teasing smirk and gleaming eyes turned feral and dark, and her expression dropped into one with a women on a mission. With a wave of her hand, your robe practically tore in half as she parted it with her magic, she waved her hand again and soon after your hands were raised above your head and held to the wall. Your chest pushed out more and her gaze fixated on your freed breasts, they were so soft looking, so suckable to her, your milk was dripping down your stomach at this point and she couldn’t wait to lick it all up.

She took a step into you and cupped your breasts again, listening to you whimper, she moved her mouth closer and you held your breath. But instead of what you wanted, she lowered her head and went to your stomach, licking a trail up to your breast cleaning up every trace of milk that fell. Your stomach clenched and you jolted from the surprise, and Wanda adored the part of you that was a bit ticklish and made you more sensitive. As she cleaned every trace of milk, she looked you in the eye as she went to its source and finally placed her lips around your nipple.

“Oh god.” You groaned. You could feel as Wanda smirked against your nipple, her warm mouth wrapped around it as she pushed herself more into you. Her body completely molded itself against yours and her magic held you even tighter. Her lips became more firm, and a hot tongue soon came out to press against your nipple. She pressed the tip under it and gave a nice suck, and soon after milk was flowing into her mouth.

Groaning at tasting this new part of you, Wanda squeezed you tighter to her and continued to suck on your nipple. Her knee moved to between your legs and you arched into her, feeling warm liquid leave you and pleasure envelope your sensitive body. It felt so nice having Wanda drink from you, tasting you. And a more possessive side was rearing its head at finally having Wanda take this part of you and make it a part of her. You wanted her to drink this new essence of you and have it in her, to taste you and become addicted to it. It felt like this was the equivalent of having her drink your own cum, as perverted as it sounded, it made you all the more hot as she drank your milk, it made it all the more pleasurable.

Wanda was drinking from you like a woman starved, one hand was holding your breasts to her mouth and the other was trailing down your body to your hip. Her pinkie caressed the panties under it and soon that pinkie was sliding under the cloth and inching closer to your center. You were watching Wanda as she was attached to your chest and you were watching her when her eyes opened suddenly and they glowed from sea foam green to a burning red. Then your hands were released from her hold, but not your body, that didn’t stop you though from dropping your arms down to wrap them around her neck and tangle your fingers through her auburn hair. Pulling her even closer as if she wasn’t already as close as she could be, you pressed her more firmly against your breast and moaned when she rewarded you with a finger pressing against your clit.

“Babygirl you taste so good.” Wanda moaned against you. Wanda could almost feel how pleasurable it was for you, how your thoughts and feelings all gathered into one lovely erotic moment for you both. She could sense your desperation for her and more importantly, she was desperate for you, and for what has felt like the longest time, she could finally act on her need for you. Each time Wanda took a drink from you, she circled your clit. The pulses connecting between your nipple and the deep tug from your breasts as well as the the matching rhythm against your clit, was driving you wild, and soon you could feel yourself coming. Your body lost control of itself and started moving on its own. Wanda watched as you pressed your chest more into her and your hips stuttered against her hand. Your body was shaking and you closed your eyes with a silent scream and came so hard, even Wanda was bit taken aback, but didn’t hesitate to hold you and slowly ease you from your orgasm.

As you came down from wherever Wanda took you, you started to calm your breathing and realized your nails were gripping tightly into Wanda’s neck and back. With a sheepish smile you eased your hold and gently rubbed her new marks from you. Wanda merely smiled and kissed you sweetly.

“Did that hurt Wanda?” You asked.

“Not nearly enough darling.” Wanda said with a chuckle and smirked at your sweet, concerned face.

“Well if that’s the case.” Your face turned darker as you said this and Wanda was once again taken aback by your expression and was even more bamboozled when she was suddenly turned around and you were pinning her to the wall. Honestly, if you weren’t so turned on by her you would have laughed at her stunned face, but you had no time for that and went straight to just kissing her deeply, making an ‘mphm’ come out of Wanda’s captured mouth.

Your breasts were less sore now and you had no problem pressing your body against hers to keep her pinned against the wall. Wanda didn’t know what had come over you, she was so used to her always taking the lead or dominating, now it seems the roles were reversed. Wanda took this time to peek into your mind and was very intrigued by were you wanted to go with this, but more importantly, you seemed to need it, and that made Wanda need it too.

You’d gripped Wanda’s waist to control her body movement, and broke the kiss with a gasp, “Take off your clothes Wanda” you said. Wanda looked at you with a curious face, studying everything you were showing her. You face way determined and almost stern, no, more like you knew you were going to get what you wanted. Your voice was deep and breathless and honestly Wanda was really turned on by how aggressive you were being right now. Still looking at you, Wanda waved her hand and both your clothes were fully removed with a red flash. You breathed in deeply and took a good look at your wife. You may not of had an official wedding, but she was yours, and five months into your pregnancy, Wanda had made a ring for you both and you’d never taken it off. You looked at your wife and fully appreciated what was right in front of you. Wanda’s hips that you were gripping were full and soft, her red hair was in pretty waves going down her shoulders and her breasts, god her breasts were the most beautiful things you’d ever wanted to put in your mouth. They were what you fell asleep on every night and Wanda’s jade eyes were what you woke up to every morning. Wanda’s eyes were staring into yours when you were done appraising her, she was staying nice and still for you and you loved it. You didn’t know what was going on with you, but you felt a deep need to just take her. Everything in you was screaming to just take Wanda. Look at her, her lips were swollen from drinking your breast milk, from your kiss. Her pupils were blown wide and her eyes were saying ‘do what you want with me’ and so you did.

“I think you know what I want Wanda.” You said with a rasp in your voice. Wanda’s eyes flashed red from pure arousal alone. They way you were looking and speaking to her was making her lose it, and she didn’t need to read your mind to know what you were asking for. With a shaky nod from her and a wave of her hand, red magic covered between your legs and soon you felt a new appendage there. Wanda sunk to her knees and you stood there while she looked up at you and waited for you to tell her what to do. You felt a rush run through you and you wanted to feel more of it. Wanda was being such a good little thing submitting for you without you having to even tell her.

Wanda watched the way your eyes grew darker and your expression became pleased, she watched as you sorted through your emotions and waited for you to decide what you wanted next. She wouldn’t lie if you asked her if she liked this. She loved it. She loved being your mommy, but she finally understood why you loved submitting to her as well. The feeling she got when she sank to her knees for you, was something she felt deep in her chest. She could feel your satisfaction from her actions and it made her almost want to cum. This new feeling was beyond her, but she wanted to feel more.

As you looked at your darling wife, you could feel your cock pulse for her. “Be my good wife and milk me some more darling.” You growled, you waited for Wanda to listen and nearly buckled at the knee when Wanda took her hand, gently took hold of your strap, and placed her lips on the tip. Wanda kept eye contact as she tasted you like this for the first time. Her fucking beautiful mouth slowly wrapped around your cock and as she held it with her hand, put her other hand against your thigh to lift more up on her knees so she could lean more into you and support herself.

You let out a guttural moan as you looked down at her, her warm mouth and hot, wet tongue slid itself along your strap and for gods sake it was the hottest sight and hottest feeling. It was just as pleasurable as it was for your pussy, just different, and that different feeling elevated everything that was happening. To feel Wanda surround herself like this around you was making you feral and goddammit you couldn’t handle it anymore, you needed more, you needed to do something.

That something was to tangle your fingers in those red luscious locks and trust your hips against her while you held her still. Wanda took it with grace, opening her mouth wider and sliding her mouth along your cock until it touched the back of her throat. She gagged a little but was fine after that when you just kept thrusting. Wanda breathed through her nose and watched your face as you lost yourself in her. This was almost just as pleasurable for her as it was for you. She soon grew to love this side of you, love this feeling of taking another part of you in her mouth, and now she wanted to taste another form of cum from you.

You were getting close, you looked down at Wanda and groaned at the site of her on her knees, her cheeks hollowed for your cock, and drool dripping down from her chin with how much she was getting into sucking you. She was doing all the right things and even though you knew she was struggling to catch her breath, that made it all the better and the more perverted side of you loved it. You gripped her head tighter and thrusted faster as Wanda knelt there and let you use her. You needed something, one last thing, you just didn’t know what that was, until Wanda, sensing you were close, meaning she could taste your cum sooner, moaned against your cock and the rest was left for hell to deal with.

The sound you made as you came was blush worthy and the slapping came to a halt, and you made one last thrust as shoved your cock as far as you could down her throat and came. Wanda gripped your hips and pressed closer against you, doing her best to make sure every last drop of cum would go down her throat. You felt her throat and tongue move against your cock and actually heard her gulp a little as she drank everything from you. You didn’t realize it, but do to the heightened feelings and how long its been since Wanda got to last taste you, when the first drop of cum hit her throat and she heard you cum, she came with you. Her pussy clenched around nothing but she didn’t need anything, your pleasure and taste was all she needed and she came with clenched eyes and a long moan around you.

“There’s a good girl, god Wanda you feel so good.” You whispered as you slowly caressed her hair and you both calmed down. You were both finished so you gently pulled back and Wanda could finally relax her jaw and take some deep breaths. She hunched over a bit and this made you worried as you knew you were rough with her and may have hurt her. You knelt down with her and held her face to have her look at you. “Darling? Are you alright?” You sounded so concerned.

“Im alright baby.” Wanda said as she looked up and smiled at you. You felt yourself relax a bit and rubbed your thumbs along her beautiful cheeks, remembering how hollow they looked with her mouth around you… you shook your head a bit and checked her over.

“You’re not hurt anywhere? Did I go to hard, could you not breathe?” You asked. Wanda simply smiled again and kissed you to settle your concerns. When she pulled back she looked you in the eyes so you knew she was being honest and reassured you again that she was perfectly fine.

“I quite enjoyed that darling, you were a good mix of rough but not too much.” She said.

“Okay good, I’m glad, that would have been not fun if that were the case, I don’t ever want to actually hurt you.” You said. Wanda looked happy and so were you. That made you even more happy considering this new dynamic between you had been both pleasurable and you hadn’t hurt her. Knowing she enjoyed this too made you excited for future scenarios, and that excitement made you remember you could physically show that excitement and looked down. “Um, so I know that I’m kinda hard right now, but I’m also really exhausted, but I also really want to make sure you’re satisfied too, so tell me what you need Wanda and i’ll do my best to help.” You nervously said.

Wanda chuckled and kissed you sweetly on the nose, she pulled back and pleasantly surprised you with her next words. “Actually, dear I already came with you, just when you did as a matter of fact.” Wanda smirked at you.

“Really?! That’s so exciting and I didn’t even know that could happen Wanda! God I was so overwhelmed I didn’t even realize. Was it alright? Do you want my help with another one?” You stuttered out. You were amazed at this and Wanda could tell you were also nervous a bit with the new things you had tried with her.

“Calm down my darling, I’m quite satisfied at the moment. Hearing you cum, feeling it, tasting it, that was all I needed and I’m pretty sure I came just as hard as you. Now, why don’t we get up and take ourselves to bed. I think were both exhausted after the boys and this lovely night was just what we needed.” Wanda waved her hand and suddenly you were both clean and clothed and you specifically were appendage free. Thank you magic.

“I think that sounds lovely Wanda, thank you for doing this with me and trusting me to have the control like this.” You both got up as you said this and you felt so good and relaxed. You looked at Wanda and pulled her gently to you. Your arms circled her waist and she wrapped her arms around your neck, you both stood there and leaned into each other, just breathing each other in. “I love you Wanda” you whispered against her lips.

“I love you darling” Wanda whispered back and softly kissed you. Amongst all that had happened, it seemed it was you two whispering that finally woke the two twin boys that you both had been blissfully having a break from. Crying was heard from up the stairs and you both laughed a little at the timing. Wanda grabbed your hand and started walking, pulling you along with her as you both walked up the stairs. You watched behind her as you both went up and into the boys room. The twins room was decorated with a mix of blue and greens and in the middle were two cradles holding both your precious treasures. You both went to a separate bed and picked up your sons. You had Billy and Wanda held Tommy.

“Shhh, mommy’s here Billy, and so is momma.” Wanda delicately whispered as she rubbed Billy’s back, you did the same for Tommy. You both gravitated towards each other, and it seemed that calmed down the boys, as their crying calmed and Tommy looked at you. He was the cutest thing, his brown eyes looking at you with curiosity and familiarity. It soothed your soul knowing these precious boys were yours and Wanda’s. You could see so much of her in him. You held him close to you as his eyes started to droop, then you looked at Billy. Him doing the same only fighting a little harder to stay awake and watch Wanda. You couldn’t blame him as you looked at her next. She was the most beautiful person you would ever see and you guess Billy thought the same. He was definitely going to be a momma’s boy. You smirked, you were already mommy’s girl. She looked at Billy with so much wonder and you knew you were right were you needed to be. With your family, that you’d made with the woman you loved, and your boys were happy and safe and together again.

Wanda looked at you and stepped closer, her smile so gentle and at peace, you would never get enough of seeing it. God you loved her. She swayed into you and you both adjusted to hold each other and the boys as they fell asleep safe in both of your arms. You didn’t know it yet, but this would be just one of many moments between you and your family. Wanda had done something she never imagined. She’d found you and made her family whole again. All that suffering. All the pain and fighting to get her loved ones back. And yet, all she needed was you and it all fell perfectly into place. You were at first just hers. What had started as her in your mind, became her having your heart, and then she became yours. You belonged to each other and were equal, partners through everything and you both could finally just, relax.

—

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[aprocessionofthoughts]

Doubt

whumptober24 day 2- trust issues tw- none summary- family vacations are the worst

ao3 masterlist part 11 of DLM

Danny wasn’t sure what to think. Jason had said he could trust the other bats, he had even grudgingly admitted that they were family. But Danny knew that family didn’t always mean acceptance.

The rest of the bats didn’t even know Jason was liminal! They knew he’d been resurrected, but what if knowing he was still connected to death made them change their mind? What if they rejected Jason? It would be all Danny’s fault. And even if they accepted Jason, they might not accept Danny who was more than just a little liminal.

But the Anti-Ecto Acts needed to be repealed. Maybe they’d be willing to help with that at least, since even those with only a little contamination were affected and Gotham stank of ecto-contamination. 

What was he supposed to do? 

“Hey, I can hear you overthinking from over here.” Jason said from the driver's seat of the car they were taking back to Gotham. Dick was a little ways behind following on a motorcycle.

“Listen,” Jason said, glancing at him through the rearview mirror, “I know you’re probably stressed, but it’s going to be okay. If I thought for even a little bit that they’d react negatively, then I wouldn’t tell them shiiiss– stuff, I wouldn't tell them stuff.” Jason corrected with a cough, his ears turning red.

Danny snorted. He tried to relax. Even if they reacted negatively, Danny thought to himself, he could get both Jason and himself out if needed.

And he had to try. For the good of all the citizens of the Infinite Realms that didn’t deserve to be hunted down and experimented on.

And it helped that Danny could sense Jason’s intentions. He didn’t project emotions the same way a ghost did, but it was enough to feel that Jason really trusted the rest of the bats.

It was probably another thirty minutes because of traffic till they were leaving the more populated area of the city and started to pass progressively larger and more ostentatious houses. 

“Umm… didn’t you say we were going to see the rest of the bats? Do you guys have some hideout out here?”

Jason glanced back at him. “Oh, uhhh… So, I guess I forgot to mention who Batman was didn’t I?” Jason chuckled awkwardly. “My, umm, my dad’s Bruce Wane.” Jason said, then fell silent.

Danny blinked at him.

“Is he super rich or something?” Danny said looking out at the fancy houses.

Jason spluttered. “Don’t you know who Bruce Wayne is?!”

“Am I supposed to? Is he famous or something?”

Jason sighed, cursing under his breath. “Sorry, I forgot you’re not from Gotham. But still, most people still know the name Wayne.” he glanced at Danny through the rearview mirror again. “Bruce is a billionaire who helps fund most of the support programs in Gotham, as well as the Justice League, though that part is kept secret. He’s also Batman, in case that wasn’t clear.” Jason said the smirk evident in his voice.

Danny huffed, but couldn’t help but smile.

Finally, they pulled up to a large gate and Danny could only barely see the roof of the house beyond the rows of trees that stood between the road and the house.

With a beep, the gate swung open and they started up the exaggeratedly long driveway. Danny stared through the window trying to see the house, and couldn’t help gaping when the house, no, the mansion came into view. “This is where you grew up?! It’s big enough to be a museum or hotel or something!”

Jason chuckled. “Technically, I only lived here a few years, but yeah. It’s massive and takes some getting used to.”

Jason parked in front of the house, and they climbed up the steps where the door was opened by a butler. A butler. What even was this? Vlad would be seething with envy.

“Good afternoon, Master Jason.” the butler said before turning to Danny with a smile. “Hello, young sir. I am Alfred Pennyworth.”

“Umm… Hi, Mr. Pennyworth. I’m Danny.”

He smiled. “A pleasure to meet you, Mister Danny. You may call me Alfred.”

“Umm.. ok. Danny’s just fine. You don’t need to add a mister or anything.” Danny shifted uncomfortably.

Alfred just smiled at him, before leading them inside.

Jason chuckled, “He’s still going to call you mister. Alfred is very proper, no matter how many times we try to get him to call us by just our first names he insists on being extra proper.”

“Almost everyone is gathered in the game room. Master Bruce is with his colleagues, but he’ll be here for supper.”

“Thanks, Alfred. Dick was just behind us, so he’ll also be up soon.” Jason said.

Alfred nodded. “Go ahead and introduce our guest to the others. I shall prepare some refreshments and bring them shortly.”

“Thanks, Alfred.” Jason said, smiling fondly. Alfred smiled back before waking off.

“Well,” Jason clapped his hands together, “ready to meet the rest of the family?”

Danny hesitated. He was doing this for Jason, for the rest of the ghosts and liminals. For himself.

He nodded. “Lead the way.”

[starhvney]

mys!vylad x fem!reader, spending the night together and talking about everything in life ? pretty plz 🙏

𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄

��𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mys vylad x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you and your best friend are always able to talk about everything, and you're always able to enjoy each other's silence. isn't it obvious he'd want to spend the rest of his life with you, just like this?

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, best friends to more? very obvious mutual pining, vylad is a sweetheart, he loves you hehehehe

𝐂𝐖: none?

𝐀/𝐍: I LOVE VYLAD I LOVE HIM! also i did nawt proof read this so i'm sorry for any typos guys :c

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

oh, vylad. the youngest sibling of the ro’meave family, overlooked by his father and quietly forgotten by everyone else. he’s said over and over that he doesn’t mind, that the handful of people he holds close to his heart—including you—are enough for him to feel like he’s enough.

and you know he means it. he has always been mature and open about his feelings, even when he was a kid, and you know he had grown even more since then. but despite all the meditation and journaling and talking, those moments when you’re pushed aside like nothing as a kid can stick with you. he handled that internal angst much better than zane, that was for sure.

at least garte had cared enough about him to help finance such a nice place to live. a small and cozy house at the edge of town, private with a backyard leading into the woods. it was so vylad. from the warm interior to the well decorated back porch, which was where you found yourself now, a couple of hours deep in conversation.

“i mean, it’s not like i was necessarily neglected or anything. but sometimes i just felt so… different. and far away.”

his voice is hushed and quiet, keeping the scene serene and light despite the heavy turn of your conversation. one of his arms props up your head, snugly creating a comfortable pillow for your neck as his hand lightly traced shapes into your arm. 

it had been a while since you’d last seen your best friend, and best friend is a label between the two of you that hadn’t questioned or changed for years despite the quite obvious feelings you both shared. that line that led you both to being something more hadn’t yet been crossed, but the lack of space between you as you laid together in his hammock dangerously teetered that line.

it wasn’t because you were scared, you don’t think. no, not with vylad. in fact you’re sure it’s because you were the least bit scared with him. even if you weren’t official, you knew he’d always be there, and you’d be waiting for him. there was something comforting about the slow burn you had with him, because you weren’t all that afraid that you’d lose him.

“i’m at peace with it though. i mean, i was as fine as i could be about it even as a kid and when i made it to high school, but in a way it still kinda hurt. you know?”

you turn your head to him, observing at how soft his side profile looked in the dim lighting of twilight. the sun has just disappeared beyond the tree line and horizon, waking the crickets up for their nightly concert and casting a dim blue light over the sky. the stars hadn’t quite begun to show themselves, but you’re sure the both of you would talk here well until every constellation could be seen hanging above your heads.

“it was emotional neglect, vylad. you had every right to feel upset and left out. even though garroth and zianna treated you with so much love, zane and garte acted like you didn’t even exist. that’s hurtful.”

he’s quiet for a moment. not from anger, or sadness. he’s just thinking, and you give him that time to, comforted by the slow sway of the hammock and his fingers on your skin. when he gathers his thoughts he turns to look at you, your noses nearly brushing against the other.

“yeah, i guess so. but zane is better, and… i think dad has started to care more in his old age. it’s kinda late to really bond with him like he did with garroth and even zane, but… i still want to try.”

you don’t need to say anything, and he doesn’t expect you to either. it’s the smile and the slow nod of encouragement you give him that satisfies him, sending a peaceful quiet over the two of you as he looks back up to the sky.

the quiet between you stretches on until the constant soothing rocking and the warmth of vylad’s body by your side lulls you until your eyelids feel heavy against your face. you don’t realize you’ve nearly completely passed out until vylad nudges you with his hand, his voice muffled in your ears.

“hm?”

“let’s go inside.”

“why?” you draw out the question, stretching your limbs.

“cause you’re falling asleep, silly.” he quietly laughs.

you nearly roll over in the hammock as he gets up, the jostle bringing you to your senses a bit as you catch yourself. warm large hands encase yours, tugging them up and pulling the rest of your body up after. you try to not be completely dead weight with your legs, but end up creating too much momentum, your body crashing into his as you practically fly into him.

“woah!” he laughs, steadying you by your shoulders.

you nod, most definitely awake now as he rests his hand on your back, guiding you back up the stairs through his screened off porch and into his back door.

“wanna watch a movie?” he suggests, pointing you to the couch as he pulls a blanket from the closet.

“sure.” you concede, the soft cushions and throw pillows looking unbelievably inviting.

you plop yourself right down into the seat, and you were not wrong about the comfort of the couch. you practically sink down into the worn in cushions, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips as your eyes drift closed again. the blanket is draped over you and you feel the couch dip down next you, the light from the tv flashing behind your eyelids.

“already asleep again?” vylad questions, making you force your eyelids open again, looking over to him.

“sorry, i’m not trying to be lame on you.”

“you could never be lame to me.” he quickly returns, voice hushed and soft.

his eyes are wide, pupils blown as he looks around the features on your face.

“it’s okay,” he continues. “you’re gonna stay over anyways, right? we can talk more in the morning. if you’re tired, then just sleep.”

you can’t help the small smile that forms on your face, the warmth settling into your chest. it’s as if his words were laced with a sleeping agent, your head falling to his shoulder while the faint sound of the show he played turn into white noise in your ears.

your eyes barely crack open again, but this time you don’t find yourself curled up on the couch or squished into the hammock. instead you’re so… comfortable. your limbs stretch into the warm quilt that drapes across you, head sinking down into your pillow.

…your pillow?

eyelids that were heavy just a second before snap open, your eyes drifting around vylad’s bedroom with realization of where you were. your feet meet the cool wooden floor, your arms wrapping around yourself from the cold as you step out into the hall, catching faint noises from the kitchen.

vylad is there, sun shining into his hair from the window and casting a reddish tint in his hair. he’s over the stove, scrambling some eggs and glancing over to the toaster where two slices of bread poke out. there’s a plate with sausage, too, next to butter and what looked like a few different options for jams.

he jumps a little when you sneak up on his side, shooting you a small smile as you pick them up to debate your options.

“of course you have blackberry jam from o’khasis and… tu’la mountain wildberry jam? when’d you get these?”

“you meet some cool people when you go on hike excursions. you should try a little of each of those, they’re really good.”

you hum, setting the glass jars down.

“you moved me to your bed last night?”

“yep,” he nods, leaning his arm into your shoulder. “i slept on the couch, by the way.”

“you didn’t have to do that, i wouldn’t have minded sharing with you.”

“well, it’s fine. my couch is comfortable and i wasn’t gonna wake you up to bother you about it.”

you huff. “i can’t believe i was so tired i didn’t even wake up to you moving me.”

“well i’m glad you got some good sleep.”

you shake your head, leaning into vylad’s side and holding onto his waist for a tight hug. he turns the heat off, sliding the pan of freshly made eggs off the stove burner as he wholeheartedly returns the gesture. his cheek rests against the top of your head, a relaxed sigh leaving his lips.

“thank you for breakfast.”

“of course.” he whispers, voice rustling your bed hair. “i’d make you breakfast every morning, if i could.”

your brain is still too foggy with the early morning, vylad’s warm chest against your ear and the sun shining in against your closed eyelids distracting you from the stutter of both of your heartbeats at his words. maybe when you’ve woken up, and the two of you chat over breakfast, you can gain the courage to ask what he means.

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[galacticspaceguy]

can i have a miguel o’hara platonic reader?? maybe younger sibling and he’s overly protective of them. they want to fight alongside miguel and help him restore the multiverse but miguel wont allow them. they get into a mini argument which ends with them hugging n stuff and finally miguel allows his younger sibling to fight w him IDK IF THIS IS A LOT BUT I NEED MORE PLATONIC X READERS 😭😭

Miguel O’Hara x gn! Reader (platonic)

You were Spider-Man.

Ok, You were all Spider-Man.

But you were different. At least, Miguel would say so. Not in a bad way. Miguel just liked you more than everyone else.

You were younger, and he felt responsible for you.

You both come from different worlds, except his was gone. You were the only good thing he had left, you were like the little sibling he never asked for but always wanted.

How did you two meet? Well, it’s a long story.

It actually isn’t that long.

Almost a year ago, you were fighting Green Goblin, and then Miguel showed up, and kicked his ass.

-and then you got recruited.

You don’t really know why though, you never did anything.

You mostly stayed in the lobby. Correction, you only ever stayed in the lobby. Yeah, you had your own earth and everything, but Miguel had a bunch of stuff figured out so all the dangerous criminals in your world would be taken care of.

Now all that was left was small crimes, like break-ins or petty theft. You spent most of your days getting cats out of trees.

It was nice not getting the shit- crap beaten out of you every few weeks, but this was just boring.

But you guess with Miguel to keep you company, it wasn’t too bad.

It was obvious to the rest of the spider lobby that Miguel was protective of you- perhaps too much. They even started calling you “Y/N O’Hara” or “mini O’hara”, much to your own amusement.

“Hey, Miguel!” You called out, strolling into Miguel’s totally not evil void office. “You done brooding, I got us empanadas from Earth- something-something,I forgot.”

You held two white styrofoam containers in your hands. You clicked the web shooter in your palm. A web stuck into a base and you swung yourself up to Miguel’s upper platform.

“At first I was gonna get Chinese takeout, but it turns out some guy exploded the place, so this shall suffice!” You lightly tossed him one of the containers.

You took a seat on top of a table, crossed your legs and started digging in.

“So-“ you said through bites. “What did you do today despite standing here all menacingly?”

Miguel had taken a seat, picking at little bits of his food.

Miguel looked at you with a look you could only describe as a silent “really?”.

“I’m kidding!” You threw your hands up innocently. “But no, seriously what have you been doing in here?”

He placed his food down, and pulled up a screen, showing off a picture of the Spiderverse- or the ultimately confusing Humanoid-Arachnia, poly multiverse- or whatever Miguel calls it.

“More worlds are becoming infected. It’s like the whole multiverse is about to collapse in on itself.” His tone of voice was already serious, but you knew behind that stoicism, he was scared.

You ate your food down, and walked towards him. You leaned over his shoulder, looking at all the red little dots on the screen, the names of different spider universes popping up like crazy.

“What am I even looking at right now?” You said this as more of a joke. Miguel rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Please, take this seriously.”

“I will once you give me my first job.” You crossed your arms. You’ve been begging to be out in the field for months, to no avail.

Miguel got up and turned to face you. “Y/N, we’ve talked about this-“

There was a loud beeping sound coming from the screen.

“Lyla, what’s going on!?”

“Another dimension, another anomaly, you know the drill.” The mini holographic woman said.

Miguel sighed, his face a blank slate of unknown emotions. He started walking away. You trailed behind him.

“Great, let’s get going!”

He froze in his tracks. “Who said you were going.”

“Uh, me.” You stopped and turned to look at him, placing a confident hand on your hip.

“No.” He brushed past you.

“Wait, what!?” You quickly caught up with him, but he continued walking. “But I’ve been waiting for this for months!”

“You’re not going.” He didn’t even look at you. He started tampering with his watch.

“But that’s not fair!?” You yelled. You stopped, and stood there. He heard your steps come to a stop, and he slowly came to a halt.

“It’s too dangerous.” He still wasn’t looking at you, and it was starting to drive you insane.

“You can’t be serious.” You almost laughed. “You call up Jess for backup, and she’s with child!” You scoffed.

“You’re not ready.” He said, a bit louder this time, clearer.

“Yes, I am. I’m spiderman! I’ve been ready, why won’t you let me do this!?” You walked up to him. He finally turned to face you.

“You’re not going. That’s final.” He shook his head. The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

He didn’t think you were strong enough.

You weren’t enough.

“You don’t think I can do it!?” You yelled.

“Y/N, that’s not what I meant-“

“Oh, sure!” You’d scoffed, throwing your hands up in defeat. “That’s why you won’t let me tag along- or won’t even let me fight my own battles, why not, huh? Am I not strong enough for you?”

You were jolted forward when he grabbed your shoulders. He shook you. You froze in his grasp.

“I can’t lose anyone else!”

He screamed. The emotional walls he held up fell. He panted, seemingly out of breath from a single sentence. He let go of you, letting his hands fall to his sides.

Everything is so eerily quiet, nothing but the sounds of shaky breaths and the sounds of machinery in the background.

“I can’t…” Miguel said in nothing higher than a whisper. If he spoke another word, he would break.

You wrapped your arms around him. It catches him off guard at first, but quickly he holds you, like if he lets go, you would disappear.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper, and you can feel his arms tighten around you.

After what felt like an eternity of it just being you two, you let go. Miguel looks away to hide his tear stained face.

“You get one mission. If it goes well, you can come on more.” His voice was hoarse, but it was beginning to return to its normal tone.

“Yes!” You shouted, and hugged him again, this time it was short and outlived. He smiles down at you.

“What are we waiting for?” You asked, pulling him along. “Let’s go save the multiverse!”