#OBSESSED WITH AVA'S ENERGY

[vethbrenatto]

ERIKA ISHII THIS IS SOME OF YOUR FINEST CHARACTER WORK TO DATE

[hellfirebarnes]

A Touch Of You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!thunderbolts!reader

Contains: Angst, touch-starved Bucky, fluff, slow-burn, platonic Bob-reader, your hair is described to be long enough to braid and it's also descibed as silk once

Sum: Physical affection and touch comes easy for you, and it's making Bucky wish for the ability to be more like you

10k+ words (I went overboard with this shit)

I have a serious obsession with slow-burns and platonic Bobxreader being clingy besties, sue me.

(I cannot find who created the divider, if you know please tag them so they get credit)

NOT PROOFREAD

Enjoy :)

The Thunderbolts Tower was rarely quiet.

Not because of the chaos; although Alexei belting out 80s Russian rock in the kitchen or Yelena wrestling John over breakfast cereal certainly didn't help - but because it was full of life. People laughing, living, healing. A kind of noise Bucky didn't mind.

He sat in his usual chair on the far end of the room, worn leather, tucked into the shadows like a spectator watching a play where everyone else knew their lines.

And there you were again. Center stage. Sunshine incarnate.

You were cross-legged on the couch, giggling so hard your nose scrunched and your eyes nearly disappeared in the crinkles of happiness. Bob was beside you and you were leaning up against him without a second thought; arms wrapped loosely around one of his, your cheek resting on his bicep.

Bucky watched. He always watched.

It wasn't creepy, he told himself. Not in a leering way. It was just... fascination. You moved through the world like the rules didn't apply to you. You touched people like they were meant to be touched - casually, kindly freely. No tension or hesitation. No fear.

You tousled John's hair like he was your annoying little brother, clung to Ava's arm when you were bored, made faces at Alexei during movie nights, and once kissed Yelena on the cheek for winning at Uno. You were always smiling, always glowing, always warm.

But never him. Not out of avoidance. No, you were never unkind to Bucky. You greeted him with the same energy as everyone else, your laugh just as sincere, your banter just as quick. But it always stopped just short of a touch. A hand wave instead of a hug, a wink instead of a squeeze to the shoulder.

And now, as he sat in his quiet corner, watching Bob shift a little so you could get even more comfortable against his side, something hollow twisted behind Bucky's ribs.

It wasn't jealousy. Not really. Bob was a friend, a soft-spoken powerhouse who loved puzzles and kittens. And it wasn't like Bucky wanted you to lean on him like that. Except...maybe he did.

What he wanted- no, what he missed, was that kind of affection without expectation. Touch that wasn't calculated or careful. No mission, no seduction, no pity. Just... closeness.

He blinked. You were laughing again, eyes shining, and Bob had just placed a hand on your head in that absent-minded, affectionate way people pet their dog without even realizing it. And you leaned into it. Let it happen like touch was a language you spoke fluently and everyone else just stuttered through.

Bucky hadn't been touched like that in... He didn't know. He really didn't.

The realization hit like a whisper, cruel in its softness. It wasn't that you hadn't touched him like that. It was that no one had, not in a long, long time. He could still remember how it felt, though. A hand through his hair, a lazy cuddle on a rainy afternoon. Arms slung around his shoulders, not for protection, but for comfort.  But now people touched him like he was either a weapon or a wound.

He shifted in his seat, the leather creaking softly. Ava glanced over at the sound but didn't say anything. She was on the floor, legs stretched out, balancing a tablet on her knees. Your laughter trailed off slowly, and you looked up just in time to catch his eyes across the room.

You smiled. He didn't. Not because he didn't want to, but because he wasn't sure how. You had a thousand-watt smile, the kind that could make flowers grow in winter. His was more... dusty. Like an old light switch that hadn't been flipped in years.

But you didn't flinch, didn't falter. You just gave him that same warm look you gave everyone else. Like he belonged in this room, in this team, in this strange, patchwork little family. And then you turned back to Bob, reaching for a blanket and tossing it over both your legs. Cozy and casual, like touch was no more complicated than breathing.

God, he wanted that. Not even you, not like that. He just wanted someone to lean against him like that. Wanted to be touched without flinching. Wanted to relax against another body without wondering if it would be the last time he ever did.

Later, when most of the team had filtered out, Bucky was still sitting there. Alone in his corner. You passed by with a yawn, blanket still draped over your shoulders.

''You should sleep,' you murmured as you walked past. ''Or at least stop brooding. You'll get forehead wrinkles.''

He didn't answer. Just raised an eyebrow in response.

You paused at that, eyes flickering to his. Something unreadable danced across your face for a second. Concern, maybe? Or understanding? But then, with the gentlest flick of your fingers, you reached out with just a brush of knuckles on his vibranium arm, Barely there. Like asking a question without saying a word.

''Goodnight, Bucky.''

And just like that, you were gone. He stared at the spot where your hand had been, no more than a ghost of contact, and felt something tight and quiet unfurl inside him.

Bucky was a student of war. Tactics. Movement. Survival. But lately, he'd started studying something entirely different: affection.

More specifically - how people touched you.

It started small. A passing observation. The way Ava brushed your arm when she walked by, Yelena leaned into you on the couch like it was second nature, how Alexei let you play with the ends of his beard while he grumbled but never pulled away.

But mostly it was Bob. Always Bob. It was effortless how you two fit together. How you moved around him like you were in your own orbit. How his hand would rest lightly on your shoulder during conversations, how you'd slide under his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. He gave you piggyback rides in the hall, and you played with his fingers absentmindedly while reading on the couch. You were close in a way that made Bucky ache.

Because he wanted that. And he didn't know how to ask. So, he watched. He watched the patterns, the rhythm, the openings.

He noticed that Bob always smiled first, open and unguarded, and you responded like it was an invitation. He noticed the pauses too, the way you always gave people the space to say no, the flick of your eyes that asked ''is this okay?'' before leaning in.

Bucky started mentally rehearsing those small things. Little touches. A guiding hand to the lower back, a light graze on the wrist when handing you a mug. Not big things, not all at once. Just something.

But he couldn't do it. He'd get close. He'd raise his hand, and then his brain would flood with every warning it had ever learned. Not you. Not yet. Not like this. You'll mess it up. You don't know how. So he'd shove his hands back in his pockets and let the moment pass. Because you deserved better than someone who needed to rehearse basic closeness like a goddamn speech.

So he watched some more.

You first noticed being watched when Bob teased you at dinner. Something about the way Bucky looked up from his plate. Not irritated, not amused, just watchful. Your elbow had been pressed into Bob's side as you leaned over his tablet, your laughter easy and loud. And when you leaned back again, a flash of something flickered in Bucky's eyes. A breath too long, a blink too slow.

He looked like someone trying to memorize the moment. Just... what it looked like. What it felt like, to see it.

You weren't oblivious. You just didn't push. Didn't ask. Bucky wasn't the kind of man you cornered with feelings he hadn't invited yet. He operated like a tide - pulling away before he let anything close.

So you waited. And you watched, just like he did.

The mission was rough. Nothing catastrophic, just... messy.

Bucky took the brunt of it, as he usually did. No complaints, no calls for backup, just relentless movement until the job was done. You admired him for it. Always had. But you also hated it - how he treated his body like it was still someone else's to throw into war zones.

He slipped away afterward, as expected. No one really noticed. John was patching up his arm with Ava's help, Alexei was bragging about his kill count, and Yelena was already raiding the fridge. But you noticed. So, you gave it a few minutes, just enough time for him to think he'd gotten away with, before you padded into the lounge, barefoot and quiet.

And there he was. Facing away from you, shirt off, arms raised as he tried to stretch the tension from his back and shoulders. You could see it - all of it. The stiffness, the tightness, the way his body moved like an old machine that hadn't been oiled in years. He didn't hear you right away.

You stood in the doorway for a second longer than you meant to. Not staring, not quite. Just... seeing. The way he rolled his shoulder with a grimace, the muscles twitching under scarred skin, the metal arm glinting in the low light like something out of mythology. He was strong, yes, but he looked so tired.

''Bucky.''

He turned a little too fast, like he thought you'd caught him doing something shameful. You saw the flicker in his expression - the mask dropping into place. That same unreadable look he wore like armor. You didn't comment on it.

''You okay?'' you asked softly, stepping further in.

He gave a grunt that wasn't quite a yes.

You tilted your head, arms crossed loosely over your chest. ''You look like you lost a wrestling match with a garbage truck.''

''I won,'' he said, deadpan.

Your lips twitched. ''Barely.''

He huffed. Maybe a laugh, maybe just air. You moved a little closer, enough to notice the fine sheen of sweat still clinging to his skin. The tension in his shoulders was visible, like tight ropes drawn too hard.

''Sit,'' you said.

He blinked at you. ''What?''

''Sit,'' you repeated, nudging the back of the couch with your foot. ''I'm giving you a shoulder massage.''

He hesitated. A long beat of silence passed. You could practically hear the war happening in his mind. The part that didn't trust comfort, the part that didn't know how to accept it.

''I'm not gonna charge you for it,'' you teased gently. ''And it's not a trap. I'm just not a monster and I hate seeing you look like you've been folded in half and left in the sun to dry.''

That got the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth. And he sat. Stiffly, cautiously. Like the couch might bite him.

You stepped behind him, already rubbing your hands together for warmth. But you didn't start right away, gave him that last window to change his mind. He didn't move. Just exhaled slowly, like he'd decided to let the tide roll in. Your hands touched his shoulders and God. You felt the jolt before he even reacted. Like the contact itself was something he hadn't expected to feel. Not like that. Not innocent. Not kind.

You didn't speak. Just worked quietly. Gently. Your fingers kneading into muscle and scar tissue, slow and careful, no agenda, no teasing. Just... touch.

Bucky's jaw clenched. His eyes were closed now, head tilted ever so slightly forward. You could still feel the effort it took him to stay still, to not flinch. Like every cell in his body was trying to not run away.

But you kept going. You worked over one knot at a time. One shoulder. Then the other. Your thumbs dug into the curve of his traps and you felt the smallest, tiniest exhale escaped his lips. Relief, or surrender, or maybe both.

''You don't have to be made of steel all the time,'' you whispered. Still not pushing. Just offering.

His voice, when it came, was rough. ''It's not about being steel. It's just...hard.''

''I know.''

He shifted slightly, just enough to lean a little more into your hands, and it felt like trust. It felt like an entire chapter unwritten. And you didn't need him to explain it. You already understood. And even though he hadn't said a word, it was all there.

You pressed your palm flat against his shoulder blades, heat seeping into him. ''You're allowed to want this, you know,'' you murmured. ''To be held. Even without reason.''

He didn't answer. But his hands unclenched in his lap. And that was enough.

Ten minutes passed. Maybe more. When you finally stepped away, you did it slowly. Gave him space to rise again, if he needed to. But he didn't move. Just sat there, like the couch had claimed him.

You didn't ask if he was okay. Didn't need to.

''Get some sleep,'' you said gently.

He nodded. Still quiet.

You turned to leave, but just before you crossed the threshold, his voice caught you.

''Thank you.''

And when you looked back, his eyes met yours; unguarded. Just for a second. The door cracking open and the warmth finally starting to seep in.

Movie night was always a disaster. Loud, chaotic, half the team arguing about genre and popcorn flavors, and Bucky stuck in the corner, pretending to mind the noise when secretly he didn't. Not at all.

Tonight was no different. You were already curled up on the couch, head in Bob's lap, your legs stretched across Yelena's. Ava was on the floor beside you, leaning back against the couch. Alexei was dramatically recounting the story of the time you once braided his beard into a Viking pattern, and Bucky had to bite back a smile when you proudly confirmed it, already digging through a box of hair ties and clips.

And that was how it started. First, Alexei. You pulled him in front of you, knees to your chest, and with your tongue poking out in concentration, you began weaving his beard with surprising speed. He looked like a grumpy Norse god by the time you were done.

Then Bob. ''Ohhh it's your turn, you big beautiful labradoodle,'' you sang, tugging him down by the hand.

He didn't protest. Just sat cross-legged in front of you with the dopey smile of someone being completely adored. You started working small braids into his hair, murmuring nonsense as your fingers moved expertly, occasionally swatting his shoulder when he moved too much.

Bucky watched from his usual spot. Quiet, still, fascinated. You weren't just touching, you were focusing. You were being deliberate. This wasn't just casual affection - this was attention. Care. The kind that said: I want to do something just for you.  He wanted that. Badly. Desperately. Not even for what it would lead to, but just for that. To be someone you focused on. Someone you chose, even just for five minutes, to pour softness into.

You finished with a flourish, tied off the last braid in Bob's hair, sat back with a pleased grin, and then - without fanfare - you pointed across the room. Right at him.

''Your turn, Barnes.''

The room went dead silent. All eyes turned to him.

You didn't flinch. Your smile didn't even waver. You just tilted your head and gave him that same sunlit warmth you always carried, like it had never once occurred to you that he'd say no.

Bucky blinked. What. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He gestured vaguely to himself like he didn't understand the language you were speaking.

''You've got hair,'' you said, as if it was obvious. ''You've got a good head for braids. Longish, soft, a little tragic. I can work with that.''

''Tragic?'' he muttered before he could stop himself.

''Emotionally,'' you replied, already patting the floor in front of you. ''Now come on, don't make me beg. I'm on a roll.''

Bucky hesitated again. Not because he didn't want it But because the moment was so fragile. So bizarrely, heartbreakingly normal. Like if he moved wrong, it would shatter and you'd realize what you were asking. For him, not just some teammate, not just a body in the room, and you'd take it back.

But you didn't. You just kept smiling. So slowly, he stood up. Crossed the room, sat down, back straight and stiff as a board.

''Relax,'' you whispered behind him. ''I won't break you.''

You ran your fingers through his hair once, and he nearly forgot how to breathe. It wasn't just the sensation. It was the care, the softness, the quiet focus. You smoothed his hair gently, like it was worth something. Like he was worth something. And then your fingers started moving. Slow, practiced, weaving warmth into every inch of him.

The room around him faded. It was just your touch. Your hum under your breath, the warmth of your knees and either side of his back, the way you occasionally brushed a thumb over his scalp to settle a strand.

You didn't tease, you didn't rush, you just touched.

And Bucky sat perfectly still, his eyes closed, letting the door inside him creak open just a little more.

He wasn't in love with you. But in that moment, with your hands in his hair and his heart so soft it almost hurt, he thought: maybe I could be.

Bucky wasn't a man who touched first. He could take a punch without blinking, disarm a bomb with minutes to spare, and walk into a firefight like it was a coffee run. But reaching out to you? Terrifying.

Especially now that you'd touched him. Really touched him. Not on a battlefield, not in passing. But on purpose. With care.

You'd braided his hair like he was something worth decorating, worth sitting with, worth smiling at. And for the first time in years, he hadn't wanted to move. Hadn't wanted to retreat. He'd just wanted... more.

He thought about that moment for days. The warmth of your fingers, the way your voice softened near his ear, the lack of expectation. You hadn't asked for anything. You hadn't tried to pull him out of himself. You'd just sat with him, and for Bucky, that was almost more intimate than anything else.

So now he watched you even closer. Not just to learn - though, yes, he was still studying you like he might someday earn a master's in ''How To Be Near You Without Dying'', but because now... he was looking for openings. Tiny ones. Like the way you greeted Bob with a forehead bump and a grin, or how you'd slip your fingers into Yelena's sleeve when she was anxious. You didn't cling to people. You anchored them, And God, did Bucky want to be anchored.

So he tried. Tiny experiments. He started holding the door for you. At first, it was mechanical, just something to do, but you'd always smile and touch his shoulder on the way past. Every time. Like a thank you, like a secret handshake.

Next, he started handing you things. If you were sitting and someone tossed you a water bottle or remote or snack, Bucky would intercept it. And instead of just tossing it to you, he'd hand it. Palms brushing a second too long. Once, your fingers lingered. Just a beat. It nearly leveled him.

He started sitting on the couch instead of in his corner. Not next to you, not yet, but closer. Close enough to hear your breathing change when you laughed. Close enough to hand you the blanket when you curled up.

But what really broke him, what cracked something clean open, was when you fell asleep on Bob's chest again.

Movie night, a lazy rom-com. You'd started upright and within fifteen minutes had curled up under Bob's arm, your cheek pressed against his chest like you belonged there.

And Bucky? He didn't even feel jealous. He just felt cold. Not bitter or angry. Just... cold. Because now he knew what that felt like; your hands in his hair, your voice at his back, and he was starving for more.

He decided to try after the next mission.

Something low-risk. A simple retrieval, in and and out. You were paired with him this, which was rare, and he tried not to let it mean anything, but it felt like the universe had handed him a cheat code.

The mission went fine. A couple of close calls. You handled yourself like usual - confident, lethal, laughing through it all. And he admired the hell out of you for it. On the way back to the jet, you reached out instinctively and grabbed his wrist to yank him behind cover.

That one moment. That touch. He felt it in his teeth.

Once back in the tower, you peeled off first, stretching and yawning, calling goodnight over your shoulder with a lazy smile.

Bucky stood there in the hallway, still half-armored, heart thundering. Try now.

He walked to the kitchen and found the snack you always reached for after missions - those weird, spicy chips you claimed tasted like ''victory and regret''. You never bought them for yourself, said they were a ''reward food'', but you always lit up when someone remembered. So he took a bag. Bribery. Weak, but a start. Then he walked to your room.

He stood outside the door for at least a full minute. What am I doing? What if she's asleep? What if I look insane? But he made himself knock. Softly.

''...Come in!''

He stepped in like he was walking into a temple.

You were on the floor, stretching, dressed in soft shorts and an oversized hoodie he tried not to notice was Bob's. You grinned when you saw him.

''Well, hey Barnes. What's up?''

He held up the chip bag like it was evidence. You blinked, then beamed.

''Holy crap, you got the good ones!''

He nodded. ''Figured you earned it.''

You sat back, crossing your legs, tearing the bag open with a happy hum. ''You wanna stay?''

His brain short-circuited. ''If- yeah. If that's okay.''

''Duh,'' you said, patting the carpet next to you. ''I don't offer this floor to just anyone.''

So he sat, and you shared and talked. Then finally, he decided: now.

You were laughing at something he said. Your hand was on the floor beside you, his was a few inches away. Just do it. He slowly, carefully, let the side of his hand brush yours. And then... rested it there. Just barely touching.

You didn't look down, didn't call it out. But you did move your pinky until it hooked his. And Bucky forgot how to exist. You didn't say anything about it. Just kept talking, like nothing had changed. But your fingers stayed. Light, soft, reassuring.

And Bucky sat there beside you, pinky to pinky, the contact small enough to be missed by anyone else, but monumental to him. Because he'd finally done it. He'd reached out, and you'd reached back.

Bucky had a plan. Sort of. He'd been replaying that pinky-touch moment for days now. The smallness of it. The deliberate sweetness. How you didn't tease him or pull away. You just let it happen, and he didn't have to explain why it meant so much.

Now, he wanted to try something more. Not huge. Just... bolder. A tiny step forward. He wanted to initiate something. Not because it meant love or romance, but because his body was beginning to crave it. Crave that soft connection. Crave you, in the most innocent, desperately human way. He wanted to know what it felt like to hold you, even for a second.

So he planned for it. Not out loud, not with words, but with a thousand little hypotheticals in his head.

After a mission, maybe. Or in the hallway when you weren't looking. You'd be laughing, or tired, or just there, and he'd go for it - a simple hug. Arms around you. Quick, no pressure. But every time the moment came? He choked.

He was so close tonight.

Mission done. Exhausting but not dangerous. Everyone was filtering into the tower one by one, and you were the last to come in; suit half-zipped, hair stuck to your cheek, laughing at something John said before he peeled off down the hall.

And there you were. Worn out, but happy. Still glowing like you always did. You turned to him, smile softening, and said, ''You did good today, Barnes.''

That's all it took. The moment presented itself like a gift. Do it. Just reach out. He took a breath, stepped forward, his hands hovered awkwardly at his sides. Just a hug. Just a hug. But his body locked. What if she pulls away? What if it's weird? What if it ruins everything? His hands jerked back down.

Too late. You saw. Your eyes flickered to his. Quick and quiet. Understanding dawned across your face like a sunrise. You didn't make it a thing. Didn't joke or ask or tilt your head like are you okay? You just took a small step forward and opened your arms.

''C'mere, tough guy,'' you said.

You stepped in and wrapped your arms around him. A real hug. Chest to chest, face to shoulder. Warm, present, soft.

Bucky stopped breathing. He didn't move. Didn't know how to move. His hands hovered behind your back, unsure, trembling slightly like they'd forgotten what to do. And then you gave the smallest squeeze. Gentle. Safe. That did it, his arms came around you. Slow, careful. And then... all at once. They locked behind you, strong and tight and desperate, like he'd finally given up the fight and was clinging on for dear life.

He didn't mean to hold you so hard. He didn't mean to breathe you in like that. But he couldn't stop. Because your body was real. Warm, solid. And you weren't backing away, you weren't treating him like glass. You were just... holding him.

You shifted slightly to lean into the hug more, and he swore he could feel your smile against his neck. ''See?'' you murmured. ''Easy.''

He could've laughed at that. It wasn't easy, not for him. It was terrifying, dizzying, earth-shaking. But it was also the first time in years that someone had wrapped him up like this without blood or death or adrenaline. No life-or-death panic. Just arms, just warmth. And for the first time, he let himself sink into it. His heart was pounding - slamming, really, and he was sure you could feel it. He didn't care.

You didn't let go until he did. And when he finally eased back - slowly, reluctantly, like his arms had been superglued in place - your eyes met his, steady and bright. No teasing, no awkward silence.

Just, ''Anytime, Bucky.'' And a little smile. The kind that wrapped around his ribs and pulled tight.

He nodded. Couldn't speak even if he tried to. Could barely breathe. And as you turned and padded away down the hall, humming softly under your breath, Bucky stood alone in the hallway like he'd just come back from war. Except this time, someone had brought him home.

Bucky didn't sleep after that hug. He laid in bed, eyes wide in the dark, heart still thundering against his ribs like it hadn't gotten the memo that the moment was over.

You had held him. No flinching or pulling back, you let him cling like he needed it. Because he did, and you made it feel like it was okay. Like it was normal. You never said another word about it. And Bucky walked around the tower for the next few days like someone had filled his veins with warm honey and static electricity.

But with every inch you have him - every smile, every brush of a hand, every shoulder lean or passing touch - Bucky found himself wanting to give something back. He wanted you to know what that hug meant to him. Not in words. He wasn't there yet. And not in touch, his body still rebelled at the idea of starting something again. So instead, he watched again. Carefully, obsessively. And started to notice things about you. Little things.

You hummed when you were nervous, you always pulled your sleeves over your hands when you were cold even though you owned about sixteen hoodies, you liked your tea with honey instead of sugar, and you made up nicknames for everyone. He still wasn't sure if ''Ice Cream Soldier'' was supposed to be a compliment.

But most of all? You loved weird little things. Knickknacks, trinkets, gimmicks - stuff that made everyone else roll their eyes. You kept a plastic dinosaur on your nightstand, and you used pens with flitter ink. And you once got into a thirty-minute debate with Alexei about whether a wind-up chicken toy should be considered ''practical combat gear''. Somehow, you won that debate.

So Bucky made a decision. He couldn't hug you back. Not yet. But he could give you something.

A little mission in Eastern Europe. A side errand in Dubai. A stakeout with nothing to do but sit and watch. And right there, buried in a dusty antique shop next to a faded deck of Soviet playing cards and a pair of rusted brass knuckles, he found it.

A tiny, worn metal figurine. A cat. Its tail curled into a spiral, its ear too big, one eye slightly chipped. It looked hand-forged. Utterly ridiculous and useless. Perfect.

He bought it without hesitation. No one saw, no one knew. He brought it home and sat with it for an hour in his room. Just turning it over in his hands, wondering if this was stupid. If it made him look childish. If you'd even like it.

But then he remembered the way you looked when someone gave you something with no strings attached. He remembered your smile. And that settled it.

He didn't give it to you directly. He couldn't. So, he waited until the next movie night. Same couch, same usual crew. Everyone loud and sprawled and tangled up in a pile of popcorn and dumb banter.

You were curled up in your usual spot with Bob, your legs across his lap, a bowl balanced on your knees, laughing so hard you snorted. And Bucky sat one cushion away. Close enough to hear your laughter, far enough to not panic.

You got up halfway through to refill drinks, and Bucky slipped the little metal cat into the space you'd just left. Just where you'd see it. Not wrapped, not labeled... just there. And when you came back, you saw it immediately. You blinked. Picked it up. Held it up in the light with the kind of gentle curiosity that made Bucky want to crawl under the couch.

''Hey,'' you said aloud, holding it up, ''who left this little guy?''

Bob shrugged, Ava didn't even look, and John made some joke about it being cursed. Yelena grabbed it from your hand and examined it.

''It's ugly. I like it.''

You laughed and took it back, fingers closing around it protectively. ''Well, whoever left it - it's mine now.'' And then you smiled. That kind of soft, knowing smile, and your eyes flicked to Bucky. Just a second. Just long enough.

He didn't say a word. Didn't have to. You tucked the cat into your hoodie pocked and curled up again. And Bucky let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

The next morning, you passe him in the hallway. No one else was around. You didn't stop him. Just walked by, slow and casual, and bumped your shoulder into his with a quiet, ''Thanks, Barnes.'' And kept walking like it was no big deal.

But he stood there in the hallway for a full minute, stunned stupid by how good that felt Not the thanks. The shoulder bump. Small, warm, and his.

From then on, it became a thing. You never asked for more, but Bucky... he started giving it anyway.

A protein bar slid across the table on mornings you looked too tired to grab one yourself, a spare set of hand warmers in your tac vest before cold missions, and a weird sticker he peeled off a vending machine that said ''KICK BUTT, GLITTER GIRL'' that he knew you'd absolutely slap on your laptop.

All of it anonymous, none of it subtle. And every time, your eyes would flick toward him with that soft little grin. You'd touch his arm when you passed, or lean your head briefly against his shoulder, or bump hips when no one was looking.

And Bucky... he thrived on it. Still unsure, still hesitant. But opening, inch by precious inch.

The team didn't mention it aloud. Not once. Not to him, not to you. But they noticed. They noticed that Bucky stopped bracing when someone walked behind him on the couch. That he started answering more questions with actual words instead of shrugs. That he let you rest your head on his shoulder once and didn't move a muscle the whole time.

They noticed how he watched you when you weren't looking. With that quiet awe of someone who's been in the dark so long that the sunlight still hurts, even as it heals.

And on a quiet afternoon when rain still misted against the windows everyone was off doing their own thing - Bob reading a fantasy novel upside down on the couch, Alexei asleep with a magazine over his face, and the rest scattered through the tower. You sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, twirling the end of your braid between your fingers, frowning.

''It's coming undone,'' you muttered.

Bucky was seated on the end of the couch with a cup of tea he didn't remember making, and glanced over. ''Want help?''

You blinked. Then your eyes lit up, slow and warm. ''Yeah. Will you braid it for me?''

Silence. Utter, world-shattering silence. Bob looked up from his book like he'd just heard a hun go off and Bucky froze mid-sip.

Your tone had been casual, like asking someone to hand you the remote. But Bucky felt his spine lock up like a snapped wire, his pulse suddenly very loud in his ears. His brain full-on short-circuited.

You tilted your head back to look at him, smiling. ''You don't have to if you don't want to-''

''No- I mean-yeah-no, I'll-sure,'' he stammered. ''I can try.''

You turned back around, still grinning like you knew exactly what you were doing to him. Bucky set his tea down, his hand was already sweating. What the hell did he just agree to.

The moment your back was to him, Bucky realized how close you were. Your bare shoulders peeked out from the loose neckline of your oversized shirt, and the soft scent of your shampoo drifted up to him like a punch to the senses. He reached toward your hair, paused, and immediately pulled his hands back.

''I-uh-I don't know how to braid,'' he said, voice strangled.

''That's okay,'' you said easily, not turning around. ''Just do your best.''

That was not helpful.

Bob, mercifully, looked up from his book again and took pity. ''Hang on, Sergeant,'' he said, reaching for his phone. ''We're gonna get you through this.''

Bucky shot him a look.

Bob raised both eyebrows. ''You wanna bail now or impress the girl with your incredibly subpar braiding skills?''

''I'm not trying to impress-'' Bucky began, but Bob had already opened Youtube.

''There are hundreds of tutorials on this. Oh! Here's one: ''How to braid your girlfriend's hair without making her leave you for someone who owns a comb''. Seems fitting.''

''I hate you.''

''You love me.''

The video started playing - hosted by a chipper woman with perfectly braided hair and way too much optimism, and Bob propped the phone against his knee, narrating helpfully.

''Okay, part it into three sections. Three, Barnes. Not two. You're not tying shoelaces here.''

Bucky narrowed his eyes. ''I know what three is, Bob.''

''Do you, though? Because you're holding two and looking confused.''

''Shut up.''

You were definitely holding back laughter now, your shoulders trembled with it. He finally managed to divide your hair into three semi-even pieces.

''Now cross the right over the middle,'' Bob instructed. ''Wait. Your right. No, her right. Shit- that's the same right. Okay... look, follow the lady in the video.''

Bucky glared at the screen. The woman made it look so easy, the braid just formed like magic. Meanwhile, his hands felt like they were wearing boxing gloves. He tried once. Fumbled. You laughed under your breath.

''Sorry,'' he muttered, fingers clumsy against the silk of your hair.

''No, don't apologize,'' you said, voice light and warm. ''This is the most fun I've had all week.''

He tried again. And this time, the strands twisted more like a loose knot than a braid.

Bob squinted. ''That's... something.''

You snorted. ''It's fine. Just keep going.''

And somehow, despite the odds, the braid started to form. Wobbly and uneven. Your hair curled under his fingers like it belonged there. And Buckt didn't realize he'd started smiling. When he tied the braid off with a small elastic you handed him, you reached back and touched it, beaming.

''It's perfect,'' you said, even though it absolutely wasn't.

Bucky looked away, ears pink. ''Glad I could help,'' he said, voice a little hoarse.

You leaned back slightly, head resting against his shin now, looking up at him with bright, grateful eyes. And Bucky carefully, shyly, reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Not because it needed fixing. Just because he wanted to touch you again. And this time? He didn't panic.

Bob watched the whole thing from behind his book and just smiled. Didn't say a word. Didn't need to.

Gala nights were always chaos wrapped in satin. Everyone was too dressed up, the champagne was too expensive, and the music was more noise than melody. Somewhere between government posturing and forced socializing, it was easy to forget the mission was just to show up and look like you weren't going to level the place.

You, of course, were having the time of your life. Your gown, shimmering and slinky, dangerously backless, drew eyes across the room. But you didn't give them a second glance. You were too busy spinning in circles on the dance floor with Alexei, barefoot now, laughing so hard you nearly tripped over the hem of your dress.

''Is that-? Oh god, is that the cha-cha?'' Valentina muttered from the sidelines, looking scandalized. ''Tell me that's not the cha-cha. In front of the senators.''

''Mm,'' Ava hummed beside her. ''Technically, I think it's the drunk uncle version of the cha-cha. But yes.''

Valentina groaned, lifting her wine glass as if to drink away the embarrassment. ''She's going to give me a migraine.''

''She's not the one doing the shoulder shimmy,'' John said dryly, nodding toward Alexei.

And sure enough - there he was, twice your size and grinning like a man who had never known shame, twirling you dramatically and nearly taking out a waiter's tray in the process.

You didn't care. You threw your arms up, laughed like it was the only thing that mattered, and kept dancing.

Ava turned slightly, her gaze catching on the tall figure lingering near the edge of the ballroom. ''Barnes,'' she said, low enough that only he could hear. ''You gonna sit there forever?''

Bucky didn't look at her. He was too busy watching you. His tie felt too tight, his palm was clammy, and his heart was beating like he was in combat. He hadn't been able to look away from you all night. Your laugh, your touch, the way your eyes sparkled under the chandeliers like you belonged there more than anyone else in the room.

You'd already danced with Bob, who kept spinning you like he'd just watched Dirty Dancing. Then John, then Alexei. You flowed from one person to the next like it was nothing, like joy was just something that spilled out of you onto anyone willing to catch it.

And Bucky wanted to catch it. He almost stood. Almost let himself go to you like Ava was silently urging. But then the music changed. Soft strings. A slow waltz. Couples began to pair off, the lights dimmed slightly, warm gold flickering over crystal and silk. And Bucky panicked. Too intimate, too close. He sat back down, jaw tight.

Missed my chance, he thought bitterly. Typical. But then you were there.

Your voice gentle, like the music itself. ''Dance with me?''

His head jerked up. You were smiling. Hand out, hair a little wild from all your earlier chaos, eyes impossibly soft.

He blinked. ''Me?''

You tilted your head. ''Unless you know another hundred-year-old war criminal with a metal arm in this room?'' That started a laugh out of him, sharp and short. You stepped closer. ''Come on. One dance. I won't even try to spin you. Promise.''

His brain screamed run. But his heart? His heart stood.

Eyes drifted toward you and Bucky as you walked to the dance floor. He didn't look at them. He was too busy not tripping over his own thoughts.

You took his hands in yours and guided them to your waist with a warmth that had no edges. No agenda. Just you, radiant and calm, like you had all the time in the world to teach him what safety felt like.

''Just sway,'' you murmured. ''That''s all you have to do.''

So he did. You led, really. Kept the rhythm soft, let him find his footing. And Bucky was panicking. Because you were right there. So close. Too close.

Your cheek was nearly against his collarbone, your perfume was like summer and sugar and sunlight. Your hands were draped around his neck. And he was certain you could feel his heart pounding.

''Bucky?'' you whispered, barely audible. He grunted in acknowledgment, throat too tight for words. You looked up at him, the corner of your mouth tugging up. ''You're doing great.''

His breath stuttered. I'm not. Because it was too much. The warmth, the softness, the utter lack of fear in you. You danced with him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he hadn't spent years pushing people away. Like he hadn't built an entire life around silence and distance.

You didn't ask to be let in. You just walked through the door. And Bucky had no idea what to do with that. He kept waiting for the tension to snap. For someone to step in. For you to pull away. But you didn't.

The song ended slowly, fading into something else. And Bucky felt the loss of it like a pulled stitch.

You stepped back just slightly and smiled up at him. ''Thank you,'' you said, voice as soft as velvet. Then you leaned in and kissed his cheek. A brief press of the lips, barely a breath long.

But it dropped like a bomb in his chest. Your smile didn't fade. You just slipped away, walking off with Yelena toward some obviously doomed scheme involving the catering table and the rooftop.

And Bucky stood there. Absolutely still. A hand on his cheek like the world had just tilted sideways. He barely noticed Ava join him a minute later, champagne glass in hand.

She didn't speak at first, just stopped and looked where you'd gone. Then it came, ''So.'' She glanced at him. ''You okay?''

''No.''

Her mouth twitched. ''Realized it, didn't you.''

Bucky didn't answer. Didn't need to. Because holy fucking shit, he did. He didn't just want affection. He didn't just want safety. He wanted you.

He didn't sleep the night after the gala. He lay in bed staring at the ceiling, fully clothes, jaw locked and heart loud, your kiss still pressed to his cheek like a brand. Because it had just been a thank you, right? Just a soft, casual thing. You did that with everyone.

You kissed Ava on the head when she gave you the last slice of pizza, you curled into Bob's side during movie nights like it was your assigned seat, you ruffled John's hair when he was being a sarcastic little shit, and you let Alexei carry you around like a sack of potatoes whenever he pleased. You gave affection like it cost nothing. And maybe it didn't. But to Bucky it cost everything. And now he wanted more. God help him, he wanted you.

It got worse the next day. You were still you - sunlight in human form, skipping around the tower in mismatched socks, humming a tune no one recognized.

You found Bucky in the kitchen, your hair a little damp from a shower, eyes sleepy. ''Hi, soldier,'' you said, bumping your shoulder gently into his arm. ''How are your feet after that dance? Did I bruise you?''

He blinked at you. Then blinked again. Because you were wearing his shirt. Not like, his shirt - but the same Henley brand he wore all the time, one of those oversized soft cotton ones in a color that made his brain hiccup. And he couldn't breathe.

''I-fine,'' he croaked. ''You didn't. I mean. It was fine.''

You beamed. ''Good. Then you can dance some more with me next time.''

He nodded dumbly.

You reached for the cereal box above him, your arm brushing across his chest. He flinched, but not away, from surprise. From the way even the most accidental contact with you lit him up from the inside. You poured a bowl, hummed again, and wandered off like you hadn't just leveled his entire nervous system with a smile.

Later he sat on the couch while you tangled yourself into a pile with Bob and Yelena. Legs over laps, arms slung around shoulders. Bob played with your fingers absentmindedly while Yelena used your stomach as a pillow. You were laughing at something stupid Bob said, glowing with ease, and Bucky watched.

Not like a creep. Just like a man trying not to fall apart. Because every time you touched someone else, something in his twisted. Not jealousy, not quite, just a raw aching hunger.

You're not mine to touch, he reminded himself. You weren't. But God, he wanted to be yours.

And the team noticed. Not loudly. Not with teasing. But they saw.

Yelena caught him watching you over the edge of his book. She didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow when he looked away too fast and pretended to care about page 62. Bob lingered in the kitchen one morning and passed Bucky a mug of coffee with a quiet, ''You know, she really likes it when people play with her hair without asking first.'' Bucky nearly broke the mug. Alexei gave him a firm, understanding nod once when he caught him staring at you. Didn't say a word just nodded like a man who'd once been there and survived it. And Ava? She said it best.

''Don't rush him,'' she told John one afternoon when the he scoffed at Bucky choosing to sit beside you instead of his usual armchair.

''I'm not rushing him,'' John snapped, adjusting his sunglasses. ''I'm just saying - either kiss her or don't, Barnes. This isn't high school.''

Ava, who had been watching you patiently teach Alexei how to play Go Fish, shook her head. ''She doesn't know,'' she said softly.

John scoffed again. ''She's not blind. She kisses that man on the cheek like it's a Hallmark movie.''

''She kisses everyone. But she's patient with him. Slower. Gentler. More careful. And I don't think she even realizes it.''

John looked unconvinced. ''She's affectionate with everyone.''

''Yes,'' Ava said. ''But she waits for Bucky. She reads him. She's been loving him in a language he can understand.

That shut John up for a full three seconds. ''...Disgusting,'' he muttered. ''You should write poetry or something.''

Ava only smiled.

It was a rooftop night. Cool breeze, blankets, and pizza boxes spread out across mismatched furniture like a half-hearted picnic.

You were leaning over Bob's arm, laughing too hard at something Ava said, and Bucky was trying very hard not to be annihilated by it. You wore shorts and an old hoodie that definitely wasn't yours, hair pulled up with strands curling at your temples. Your bare legs were tangled over Bob's your hand casually resting on his chest while you picked a fight with Alexei about movie trivia.

No one else thought twice about it. They were used to you - your sunshine, your warmth, the way you radiated affection like a second skin. It was just you, untamed and fearless. But Bucky? You were shattering him. Every time you laughed at Bob's stupid joke, every time you reached over to adjust John's hoodie string, or brushed Yelena's hair behind her ear. Every time your eyes sparkled and your hand stayed just a second longer than strictly necessary... it burned.

And it wasn't jealousy. It was a need. Please look at me like that. Please lean your weight against me. Please laugh into my chest. Please, please, choose me, without even realizing it.

The ache was getting harder to hide. He'd tried. God, he'd tried. He still sat closer to you now. Still let you rest your head on his shoulder sometimes. Still awkwardly and terribly braided your hair when you asked. But there were limits he didn't know how to cross. Like now.

When you leaned over Bob and mock-whispered something into his ear, giggling when he gasped and dramatically clutched his heart, pretending to faint. It was nothing. A joke. But Bucky felt it like a sucker punch to the ribs. And you didn't even notice.

''You okay?'' Ava murmyred from beside him.

He didn't look at her. ''Fine.''

She didn't push. She never did. Just handed him a beer and let the silence fill in what he couldn't say.

I'm not okay. I want to be the one she teases like that. I want her hand on my chest. Her eyes on me like I'm the reason she's smiling. I want-

He swallowed he cracked the beer open.

When the wind picked up and everyone started packing up, you wandered over to him. Hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, cheeks rosy from the cold. ''Hey, soldier,'' you said softly.

He looked at you, and God help him - he melted. You gave him that smile. The one that made his lungs forget what to do. The one that used to feel like sunshine but now felt like the slow pull of a tide trying to drown him.

''You looked a little quiet tonight,'' you said, gentle, concerned. ''Everything okay?''

He nodded too quickly. ''Yeah. Just tired.''

Your hand reached up, brushing a leaf from his shoulder. He froze. ''Okay. Well, if you need to not be okay sometime, you know I'm here, right?''

Do you know what you're doing to me? He wanted to ask. Wanted to grab your hand and keep it. Just hold on to something warm for once. But instead, he just nodded. And watched you walk away.

The rooftop cleared, but he stayed behind. Alone, now. Just him and the wind and the echo of your laugh in his ears. And for the first time, the truth didn't whisper. It roared.

I don't just want touch. I don't just want softness. I want her.

In and out. Secure the intel. Light resistance. It was supposed to be simple. It wasn't. And when the explosion went off - too close, too sudden - it was your name that ripped out of Bucky's throat. He didn't see the flash. Just felt the shockwave. And then you were gone from his side.

You weren't dead. You weren't even seriously hurt. Just thrown, bruised, scraped up where you'd hit the wall, comm crackling as you cursed and coughed and told them you were fine.

But Bucky wasn't. He couldn't breathe. His fingers wouldn't stop trembling on the trigger of his rifle. He kept his body moving, eyes scanning, instincts in full soldier mode. But his heart was gone, back there, with you.

He didn't remember finishing the mission. Didn't remember getting on the jet. Didn't remember sitting beside you in the medbay while a nurse patched you up, your voice stubborn and playful as always. What he remembered was the sound of the blast. And the way his entire world collapsed for a second.

He didn't talk on the ride back. You kept glancing at him, frown between your brows, but he didn't look at you. Couldn't He just sat with his hands clenched between his knees, eyes blank, jaw locked like he was holding back a scream. The others noticed, but they knew better than to push.

You knocked on his door that night. Three soft raps. No answer, but you opened it anyway.

Bucky was sitting on the floor beside his bed, back against the wall, breathing hard. Still in his gear. Dog tags clenched in one hand, shaking. He looked up... and shattered.

''You shouldn't be in here,'' he rasped.

You stepped in anyway, gently closing the door behind you.

He shook his head, almost violently. His breath hitched and he pressed his palm to his chest, like he could physically hold something in. ''I thought you were gone.''

You paused. And then moved closer, sinking to your knees in front of him. ''I wasn't.''

''I thought you were.'' His voice cracked. ''I saw that explosion and I thought-I thought-'' He couldn't finish. Just closed his eyes, chest heaving. And then he reached. Arms out. Not confident or practiced, but desperate. Like he couldn't stand another second not touching you.

You moved into the hug without hesitation, and he broke. He held you like a drowning man. Like you were oxygen and he hadn't breathed in weeks. His arms crushed you to him, face buried in your shoulder, fingers twisting into your hoodie like they were terrified you'd slip away again. It wasn't soft, or gentle. It was fierce. A hug with everything he couldn't say.

''I'm here,'' you whispered, hand smoothing up his spine. ''I'm okay.''

His voice was low and hoarse, almost childlike. ''I can't lose you.''

You froze, just for a second. Then melted against him, curling into his lap like you belonged there. You didn't speak. Didn't need to. Because you felt it, now. The weight in his arms, the panic, the relief, the need. You'd hugged Bucky before, but he had never held you like this. And something changed inside you. Because suddenly all the times he'd flinched away, all the walls he kept up - it all made sense. He was afraid of it. Afraid of needing it. Afraid of losing it.

You pulled back just enough to look at him. ''I'm not going anywhere,'' you said softly.

And his eyes- God, his eyes. Like he wanted so badly to believe you, but didn't know how. You cupped his cheek and pressed your forehead to his.

You didn't say anything else. Didn't have to. Because the next day, Bucky sat a little closer on the couch. He lingered when you leaned into him. And when you rested your head on his shoulder? He leaned back.

And you started giving him more. More of your touch, more of your time, more of you. And the others noticed.

It was a quiet change. Not a thunderclap, not a confession, just... little shifts. Like how you still curled against Bob during movie nights, but now your feet somehow always ended up in Bucky's lap. Or how you'd still lean into Yelena's side, tug on John's sleeve, braid Ava's hair while teasing Alexei - but Bucky was the one whose hand you reached for when you needed comfort.

And Bucky... God, Bucky was changing. Subtle things. To anyone else, probably invisible. But not to the team. He never flinched now. Not when you brushed your knee against his, not when you tossed a blanket over both of your legs. Not when your head dropped to his shoulder and stayed there through an entire episode of Jeopardy.

He even initiated things, once or twice. A hand on your back, a squeeze to your arm. The kind of touch that was casual from anyone else, but from Bucky Barnes? It was a goddamn declaration.

Ava watched the way Bucky's eyes always found you first. Not just when you entered a room, but when you laughed, when you moved, when you fell quiet. She saw it like a pulse - how in tune he was with you now. Like he was always listening for your heartbeat.

Alexei didn't understand it in so many words, but he stopped teasing Bucky about being grumpy. Just gave him a single, hearty slap on the back one afternoon and said, ''You are less haunted now. Good. Keep petting her hair, it seems to be working.''

Bob never said a damn thing. He just started sitting a little farther away during movie night, with a small, knowing smile.

John was the only one brave enough to ask: ''So... is this a thing now?'' and got and simultaneous death glare from Yelena and you that promptly shut him up for a week.

And Bucky felt it all. Not just your hands, not just the way your affection lingered now - longer hugs, softer looks, quiet touches that felt like they meant something. No. He felt the way you chose him. You still loved everyone. That hadn't changed. You were still sunshine, still chaos, still a tangle of hugs and shoulder squeezes and kisses on the cheeks and tangled limbs. But when it came to him? You were gentler. Like you were holding something sacred. And it made his heart ache in the most beautiful, terrifying way.

You never talked about it. But one night, when everyone else had wandered off, you padded up to Bucky's room and knocked twice. When he opened the door, you were already stepping in, hoodie sleeves over your hands, bare feet quiet on the floor. You didn't say anything. You just curled up next to him on the bed, on top of the blanket, side pressed to his - cheek on his shoulder. And Bucky wrapped his arm around without hesitation. Like he'd been waiting. And maybe he had. Because something had shifted. You weren't just affection now, or just comfort. You were something that scared the hell out of him. Something he wanted.

You and Bucky were in the common room long after everyone had gone to sleep, arguing about which of you could win in a game of ''sneak tag'' - a stupid version of hide-and-seek Alexei had invented with suspiciously complex rules and the very real possibility of someone getting a concussion.

You were giddy with exhaustion, barefoot and wrapped in a blanket like a cape. Bucky was stretched out on the rug, shirt untucked, hair messy, smiling that quiet way he didn't even realize he was doing now.

''You forget I used to rob people,'' you'd said, gesturing dramatically with a Snickers bar. ''I'm a ghost in socks. A phantom.''

''You tripped over a chair yesterday.''

''That chair moved, Barnes.''

He chuckled, and you decided then and there that the sound was your new favorite thing.

Somehow, between laughter and whispered trash talk, the game actually began. You set the timer. Ten minutes to sneak from one end of the tower to the other, tagging your opponent before they reached the kitchen. Simple.

Except Bucky was fast. And quiet. And probably cheating.

You darted through darkened corridors, ducked behind furniture, and nearly screamed when he appeared out of nowhere beside the elevator. He didn't tag you, just grinned - wild and sharp and boyish - and ran. You chased him like a storm. By the time you skidded into the kitchen and cornered him, breathless and flushed, your laughter was nearly silent. So was his. You had him trapped against the counter, both of you panting, noses inches apart in the dark. He was smiling. But his eyes were wide. Almost awed.

''You lost,'' you whispered.

''I let you win.''

''Liar.''

He didn't argue.

You were both still catching your breath when you looked at him. Really looked at him. The way the moonlight hit his face, the way his hair stuck to his forehead, the way his chest rose and fell like he'd just run through something much more dangerous than a hallway. And it hit you. How much you wanted him. Not affection, not comfort. Him.

And before your brain could catch up to your body - you kissed him. Soft. Barely more than a breath. Your lips pressed to his like a secret. Like a question you didn't mean to ask. And for one perfect second - he kissed you back. Then he blinked, and he was gone.  

No words. No anger. Just... retreat. Like he couldn't breathe. Like he had to escape before he shattered completely. And you were left in the quiet dark, your fingertips and lips still tingling from where you'd touched him.

You didn't sleep that night.

You knocked on his door at 7:04 a.m. No blanket, no jokes, just you.

The door opened slowly, and there he was. Hair wet from a shower, hoodie pulled on inside out, eyes tired - but calmer.

''I'm sorry,'' you said, voice small. He stared at you. ''I didn't mean to do that. I mean- I did, but I didn't think, and you panicked, and I get, I just-''

''Don't apologize.''

Your mouth snapped shut. Bucky stepped back, letting you in.

''I wasn't mad,'' he said softly. ''Just... scared.''

You nodded, stepping inside. ''I know.''

''I didn't want to run.''

''I know.''

''I've just never wanted something this much and not known how to have it.''

You looked up at him, something tender folding open in your chest. And Bucky didn't think this time. He just moved. Closed the distance, tilted his head, and kissed you. Not soft. Not unsure. But with all the weight of what he'd been trying to hold in. Days, weeks, months of trying to bury a feeling that refused to die.

You melted into it, hands finding the collar of his hoodie, lips curving into the kiss even as his hand cupped the back of your neck like he was still afraid you'd slip away. But you didn't. You stayed.

And when you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, foreheads pressed together in the quiet...

He whispered, ''You didn't steal that kiss.''

You smiled. ''Did I not?''

''No,'' he murmured. ''I gave it to you.''

And just like that... Bucky Barnes stopped running.

[peasack]

I was listening to let down and that one part "one day I am gonna grow wings" come on and I thought, how'd it be to have wings?

So I ofc had to write about it.

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

✦ Thunderbolts with a winged reader Headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ Bucky Barnes

Conflicted admiration. At first, he’d just stare, arms crossed, trying to act unaffected, but deep down he’s like “Damn, those are actually kinda beautiful.”

Super protective. The second anyone stares at your wings for too long, especially with bad intentions, Bucky’s stepping in. “You got somethin’ to say?”

Secretly fascinated. He’d never ask, but you’d catch him subtly glancing when you stretch or preen them.

Very gentle. When you’re injured or someone tugs on your wings, Bucky’s the first to crouch next to you, carefully checking them like “Hey, let me see. Careful, kid. You can trust me.”

Grumpy feather picker. Occasionally finds one of your shed feathers and keeps them. Won't explain why. He just shrugs. “Figured you’d want it back.”

✦ Alexei Shostakov

Full-blown dad mode. He’s IMMEDIATELY obsessed. “My child is an ANGEL. Literally! You see? Perfect! Glorious!”

Annoying wing toucher. Always wants to ruffle your feathers or test if you can actually fly. “Come on, just jump from the couch. I’ll catch you!”

Brags about you nonstop. To strangers. To teammates. To villains. “You think you're tough? My kid has WINGS!”

Soft moments. He would help you care for them—cleaning, oiling them if needed, brushing them gently while humming off-key.

Compares you to pigeons and then quickly says he’s joking (he’s not). “But you are a very beautiful pigeon, my little one.”

✦ Ava Starr

Deadpan, but lowkey impressed. “So you’re a flying liability now? Great.” But secretly? She’s in awe.

Protects you quietly. Makes sure no one dares touch or pull your wings. If they try? She phases through them and scares the hell out of them.

Helps you adapt. She’d be the first to help you learn how to move in small spaces or sneak around without your wings getting caught.

Soft glances. Catches you struggling to fold your wings properly and silently helps without making a big deal about it.

Gives you feather care tips like it’s mission briefings. She 100% researched it for you.

✦ Yelena Belova

Absolutely chaotic about it. “Okay but can you FLY? If you cannot fly, then I will be very disappointed in you, little angel.”

Constantly teases. Calls you “pigeon,” “winged menace,” “flight risk,” but she says it with so much affection it’s painful.

Helps you style around your wings. “You cannot just wear hoodies all the time. You need slits, you need jackets that fit your… situation.”

Will physically fight people who try to touch them without permission.

Finds stray feathers in weird places. She collects them and teases you like “You’re shedding. I think you are becoming bald.”

✦ John Walker

Dad energy cranked to 100. “Whoa, kid. That’s… actually kinda cool.”

Super worried about you getting injured. Checks your wings every time you get home. “Does it hurt when you move them like that? Lemme see.”

Proud but awkward. Sometimes says dumb things like “My kid could outfly your kid.”

Doesn’t understand wing care. Will clumsily help you clean or check them but acts like it’s a military operation.

Buys you huge jackets to “protect” your wings even though they look absolutely ridiculous.

✦ Bob Reynolds

So chill but also obsessed. Like he acts normal but inside he’s like “That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Big on consent. Won’t touch your wings without asking, ever. Always makes sure you’re comfortable first.

Wants to help you fly better. Will train with you, pace you while you run and flap to get liftoff. “You’re getting close! Let’s try again tomorrow.”

Carries a feather you shed in his wallet. When you ask why, he just shrugs. “For good luck.”

Doesn’t care about the mess. You can shed feathers all over his car, his room, the training mat. He’ll never complain.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Hope yall enjoyed!! Requests are open<33

[chrissturnsfav]

Hiiiiii, your work is like insanely good. I am obsessed with singer!reader and rapper!chris!!Can I request one where they’re just like oh and someone asked for a picture with reader and Chris takes it?? It’s just really cute and fluffy!!!

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris loves to watch singer!reader interact with her fans

the night air hums with energy as you step out of the sleek black escalade, chris closely at your side.

the flash of cameras hits immediately, paparazzi shouting questions you’ve learned to ignore. your bodyguards keep the growing crowd at bay, creating a bubble of calm amid the chaos.

chris keeps a hand at the small of your back as you walk toward the restaurant. his presence is grounding, his confident grin a constant reminder not to take any of this too seriously.

that’s when you hear it—a small, timid voice breaking through the noise.

“excuse me… um, can i get a picture?”

you turn to see a young girl, maybe ten or eleven, clutching a phone in her hands along with a vinyl of your newest album. her eyes are wide with hope, her cheeks flushed with nervous excitement. it’s clear she’s talking to you.

your heart melts instantly. you crouch a little to her level, offering her your warmest smile. “of course, pretty girl. what’s your name?”

the crowd of fans and paparazzi begin gushing at the adorable moment, some fans trying to push through the crowd in hopes to get a picture with you as well.

“ava,” she says shyly, glancing between you and chris as if she can’t believe this is happening.

chris steps in before you can even think about how to set this up. “here, i got it,” he says, holding his hand out for ava’s phone.

ava hesitates, starstruck. “oh my gosh, you’re chris!” she exclaims through an excited grin, her eyes twinkling with awe.

he chuckles, taking the phone with ease. “yeah, that's me kid.”

you laugh softly at him, stepping closer to ava as chris angles the phone. “aight, big smiles,” he says, crouching slightly for the perfect shot.

you wrap an arm around ava, who looks like she might float away from happiness. chris adjusts the phone, tapping to focus, his tongue poking out in focus to get the perfect picture as he watches you interact with the little fan.

“got it,” he announces after a few clicks. he kneels to show ava the pictures, and her face lights up.

“thank you so much!” she says, looking from him to you with pure gratitude.

“of course, ava,” you reply, ruffling her hair gently. “have the best day ever, okay?”

as the girl rushes back to her parents, you turn to find chris staring at you. not at the cameras, not at the crowd—but at you. he looks lost in thought, a smirk on his face, but it's not cocky as usual. he looks in awe of you.

“what?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, a snicker slipping past your lips.

he shakes his head, that lopsided grin of his spreading wider. “nah, nothin',” he says softly with a shake of his head. “you’re just so sweet.”

you roll your eyes, though you’re smiling. “chris, stop.”

“m'serious ma,” he says, slipping his arm back around your waist as you both continue toward the restaurant. “i love watchin' ya interact wit' your fans, 'specially the little ones, she was all smiles.”

the flashes of the paparazzi pop again, but they’re nothing compared to the warmth in his voice. you lean into him slightly, an appreciative smile on your lips as he grins down at you, his arm snaking around your waist as you enter the restaurant away from the chaos.

it always baffles chris how you're so patient and sweet with your fans, not that he's not appreciative and kind with his fans, but you...

the way your face lights up when you meet them, the kindness in your soft voice, the gestures you make to them.

it just makes him love you even more.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: the end is a lil cringe in my opinion, but i didn't know how else to end this so i hope it was okay lmao

thank you for reading! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[sugasiren]

🧜🏾‍♀️ SIRENE (1009): Top 3 Sex Symbols! 💋

SIREN: A seductively beautiful or charming woman, especially one who beguiles men; A woman who is a very attractive but dangerous temptress. 🔥🔥

The Sirene (1009) asteroid is one of my absolute favorites to explore. 🧜🏾‍♀️ And I have many! Its placement in a woman's chart tells us about her brand of Dark Femininity. How she seduces and influences. How she harnesses her power and the TYPES of men who are helplessly drawn to her. 💋 Every Sign has incredible qualities! I'm simply sharing my Top 3 Sirens based on the research I've done. So enjoy and share your Siren below!

**FYI - Men with these placements are also very sexy and captivating in their own way. 💯 So I will include some famous examples for them as well.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Siren in Scorpio 🔥

Famous Women:

Sophia Loren (pictured above)

Sade (pictured above)

Lisa Bonet (pictured above)

Lana Del Rey (pictured above)

Dita Von Teese (pictured above)

Beyonce

SZA

Traci Lords

Monica Bellucci

Mae West

Grace Kelly

Bridget Bardot

Christina Aguilera

Angelica Houston

Zeudi Araya

Liv Tyler

Siren in Scorpio MEN:

The Rock

Brad Pitt

Paul Newman

Ryan Gosling

Carlos Santana

Idris Elba

Bruno Mars

Fabio

JFK

SCORPIO SIRENS lure you in with their hypnotic eyes that are as deep as the Blue Sea. 🧜🏾‍♀️ Their powerful aura will quickly swallow you whole and you will enjoy every moment of it. 💋 They effortlessly captivate and are explosive Lovers! They love to keep you guessing. As they know, you'll be addicted to the mystery of it all and keep coming back for more. And they're right! Just like Monica Bellucci and Lana Del Rey - these women can casually sit somewhere, smoking a cigarette, and *everyone* around them is watching in total ENVY of that damn cigarette. 🔥 Others like Lisa Bonet and Sade are gentle and ethereal but they will *still* snatch your SOUL. The Male Sirens are charismatic heartthrobs who make panties drop everywhere they roam. Women submit to them with glee. They want their 'Notebook' moment with Ryan Gosling, okay! And for The Rock to lay the smackdown (and pipe) on their kitty. 😺 And nothing less.

Siren in Capricorn 👑

Famous Women:

Brooke Shields (pictured above)

Megan Thee Stallion (pictured above)

January Jones (pictured above)

Stevie Nicks (pictured above)

Amal Clooney (pictured above)

Megan Fox (pictured above)

Teyana Taylor

Doja Cat

Mamie Van Doren

Ava Gardener

Mariah Carey

Shania Twain

Tyra Banks

Karrine Steffans

Amber Heard

Ellie Goulding

Eartha Kitt

Siren in Capricorn MEN:

James Dean

Robert Plant

Robert Pattinson

Matthew McConaughey

William Holden

Prince William

Kobe Bryant

Suge Knight

Andrew Tate

AJ McLean

Gerard Butler

CAPRICORN SIRENS lure you in with their deeply earthy, erotic energy. They are smoldering volcanoes underneath their cool IDGAF exterior and this enticing contrast drives people wild! 🔥 They have monstrous sex drives yet are very grounded in their personal power and selective about who they entertain, so others seek their approval. The Female Sirens often attract highly influential and/or dominant men who crave her submission and loyalty. Their desire to control her can truly consume them! 💯 They see her as the Ultimate Challenge and want her AT ALL COSTS. Their results vary depending upon what *she* actually wants. For instance, Amal Clooney. She was able to capture the heart of life-long bachelor George Clooney with impeccable ease. 🩷 He looks at her with stars in his eyes! They have the ideal marriage. Mariah Carey ultimately made Tommy Matola (the Record Executive who signed her to his label) wait until they were married before being intimate with him. She had such an effect on her ex-husband after **opening her luscious Pearly Gates** 🙌 that he put cameras up around the house to watch her every move. He was utterly obsessed with her! Amber Heard is an example of Capricorn Siren in full Destruction Mode. And Karrine "Superhead" Steffans in literal Maneater Mode slurping her way to THE TOP. The Male Sirens simply have Big Dick Energy - period. They are Doms, Bosses and Kings. 👑 Women yearn for them to (symbolically) suck their blood and their p***y like Robert Pattinson in 'Twilight' with carnivorous passion. 🔥 They want to surrender doggystyle to a man like Gerard Butler in the '300' movie. And even when they are stone cold killers like Suge Knight or manipulative pimps like Andrew Tate... they still command respect! They possess massive amounts of Masculine charm.

Siren in Sagitarius 👠

Famous Women:

Marilyn Monroe (pictured above)

Dorothy Dandridge (pictured above)

Rita Hayworth (pictured above)

Shakira (pictured above)

Indira Varma (pictured above)

Kim Cattrall

Margot Robbie

Robin Givens

Tina Turner

Dana Delaney

Emilia Clarke

Gwen Stefani

Aishwarya Rai

Rose McGowan

Sagittarius Siren MEN:

Paul Walker

Patrick Swayze

Elvis Presley

Clark Gable

Mario Lopez

Marilyn Manson

Shia LaBeouf

Michele Marrone

Marvin Gaye

SAGITTARIUS SIRENS lure you in like smoke rising from a bonfire in an enchanted forest during a Drum Circle. They illuminate dangerous levels of heat. ☀️ That will melt you like hot lava with their dynamic sex appeal. Baddies to the bone! Their esthetic widely appeals to the masses and individuals from *all* walks of life. People from *all* ethnic backgrounds admire and lust after them. 💋 They are exciting and make people feel ALIVE. And they're often the epitome of someone's Dream Girl or Guy. Marilyn Monroe is a FOREVER Icon who lives on generation after generation. 🌟 And her Feminine prowess remains unmatched no matter how much time goes by. Rita Hayworth is another immortal Sex Symbol and proud Latina. As is Dorothy Dandridge - who broke many barriers for Black Women in film and greatly appealed to a variety of powerful men such as Marlon Brando and Otto Priminger. Margot Robbie in the 'Wolf of Wallstreet' and 'Barbie' movies? 🩷 Nuff said! The Male Sirens are usually a strong yet suave bunch - like Clark Gable and Patrick Swayze. And that's a killer combination, my friends! They are often Rebels. 💪 Whether clean-cut ones like Paul Walker, goth ones like Marilyn Manson or rebels GONE WRONG like Shia LaBeouf. Either way, they are magnetic.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

And that's a wrap for now! 💛 I'll be back soon with more on SIREN and other awesome asteroids. Thanks for reading.

[themightywhoosh]

Ava Starr is so important to me and I can already tell she's getting sidelined in heacanons

So allow me *ahem*:

- Ava is obsessed with smelling good. Growing up in total isolation and now, rarely being able to actually bathe, her room in the Watchtower is littered with perfumes and candles and sprays and scentsy melts. She goes through phases and Yelena is the first one to notice that her scent rotation changes based on the season :)

- Bucky and Ava share a particularly unique commonality in that they were both used by corrupt organizations to further a cause as shadow operatives. Neither of them actually realize it or care until Alexei mentions it in passing ("SHIELD and Hydra were basically the same thing at one point, no?") And suddenly Bucky is just a little softer with her. Ava doesn't notice. She still makes fun of his metal arm.

-Ava isn't used to constantly being surrounded by PEOPLE. Her social battery is about as easily depleted as Bob's, only the team doesn't notice at first... And she doesn't make a big deal about it. She LIKES being alone... But for some reason, dime store Captain America keeps insisting on "game nights"... and Ava simply canNOT turn down a chance to kick ass. Walker teaches her how to play monopoly and we all know how long those games can go on. Whenever Ava casually suggests picking up where they left off, Walker is the first one to agree.

- She misses Bill, though she knows he never really gave a shit - he was just using her. And sometimes, when Alexei scoops her up and gives her a bear hug (she threatens to phase through him and rip his guts out every time), she can almost imagine what it might be like to have a dad who actually loved her.

- The Watchtower is basically the first place Ava resides in that she considers home. And when Sentry figures out a way to fill her room with quantum energy to essentially keep her constantly in stasis without the need for a suit (He's OP i can make him do whatever I want, it's MY headcanon) the first thing she does is take a bath. But she never gives up her perfumes and candles. And the rest of them kinda like it when Christmas rolls around, and the whole residential floor smells like fir trees and peppermint.

[shesgaymichaelscott]

this is a chapter from my longer fic but i'm obsessed with my girl lilia + her girl melissa so i'm sharing it on here as well 🥹 (also halloween mel/law deserves all the appreciation bc duh)

SchemmentiWeen

Word Count: 2.8k

Melissa Schemmenti x OC (Lilia Greenley, iykyk)

(Smut, fluff, useless lesbians!)

~

Lilia woke up grinning before her eyes even opened. There was something about Halloween that always made her heart feel like it was glowing, but this year? This year was different.

This year, she had Melissa.

Her phone buzzed from the nightstand, and she stretched her arm out blindly, still half wrapped in her blanket cocoon. She blinked at the screen through sleepy eyes and immediately smiled.

Mel <3: Rise and shine, pumpkin. Hope you're ready to be ogled by the entire staff today, because I already know you're gonna look insane.

Mel <3: P.S. Try not to miss me too much before the party. I have a look planned for you.

Mel <3: P.P.S. I'm not responsible for anything I do if you bend over in your costume.

Lilia snorted out a laugh, heart fluttering. She rolled onto her back, kicking her feet under the covers like a teenager in love.

She typed back with a smirk.

Lilia: So you're saying I should absolutely bend over at every opportunity? Got it.

Lilia: Also... I don't know how I'm supposed to survive today without seeing this surprise costume. Just know I'm already picturing you in red.

Lilia: And let's just say, Frank is officially on vacation. You've got my full attention now.

She got up, lit her favorite cinnamon-vanilla candle, and made coffee with a little too much enthusiasm. Florence hummed in the background as she laid out her Black Widow costume piece by piece: skin-tight black latex, sleek utility belt, fingerless gloves, and red accents. It fit so well—and the way the back hugged her figure? It was a crime.

She gave herself a wink in the mirror.

"Oh yeah," she murmured. "You're definitely going to distract Melissa today."

She didn't wear the wig yet—that was for later—but she did pack it up with care and loaded everything into her car, practically buzzing with anticipation.

⸻

The Halloween Bash was set to begin after the final bell, and the energy in the building was electric. Students paraded in their costumes all day, and the teachers had all outdone themselves. Janine was dressed as a bee, buzzing with joy. Jacob came as a haunted librarian, and Ava wore a Beyoncé-inspired costume with glitter wings and a crown.

But nothing—nothing—prepared Lilia for what happened when she stepped into the decorated gym, now glowing with string lights, spooky cobwebs, and a fog machine working overtime.

Because there, standing by the refreshment table like she had summoned every fantasy Lilia had ever had, was Melissa.

Wearing a form-fitting Scarlet Witch costume. Fire engine red. Corset top, gloves, cape. Heels that clicked with power. Crown perched perfectly on her head, and that trademark smirk?

Lilia's breath caught in her throat. Her knees nearly buckled.

Melissa turned just slightly, as if she felt Lilia watching—and when their eyes met across the room, Melissa gave a slow, deliberate once-over. The kind that made Lilia feel like prey. Then she winked.

Lilia walked up, Black Widow suit clinging in all the right places, and raised a brow.

"Is this what you meant by a look?"

Melissa's smile turned feral. "This is what I meant by you're not going to make it through the night without dragging me into a broom closet."

Lilia bit her lip and stepped closer. "You're evil."

Melissa leaned in. "I'm magic."

They stood there, surrounded by chaos and music and children in pirate costumes, like they were the only two people in the world.

Lilia whispered, "You're mine."

Melissa's gaze softened but didn't lose heat. "Always."

⸻

The Abbott Halloween Bash was in full swing—music thumping, candy bowls being raided, kids high on sugar darting between cardboard tombstones and DIY spider webs. Ava had commandeered the mic for MC duties, narrating the costume contest like it was a WWE event.

But Lilia? She only had eyes for one person.

Melissa Schemmenti was currently chatting with Barbara near the punch table, still in her full Scarlet Witch glory—cape draped like velvet sin down her back, gloves off now, one hand on her hip. Lilia couldn't stop staring.

Janine appeared beside her, sipping on cider. "So... when exactly do you plan to make a move on Wanda Maximoff over there?"

Lilia smirked. "I already did, about thirty-eight times in the past hour."

Janine fake-fainted into her own shoulder. "Okay, ma'am."

A group of teachers gathered near the bleachers, Gregory included, and someone suggested they take a break from chaperoning to do a quick staff-only game—just a little adult fun before the cleanup.

"Truth or Dare," Ava announced like she was about to crown a prom queen. "Let's make it spicy, people."

Jacob leaned into the circle, dramatically clutching his pearls. "I knew this was gonna turn scandalous."

Lilia ended up seated next to Melissa, their knees brushing—casually, at first, but then Melissa let her gloved fingers graze Lilia's thigh and linger. Lilia's heart thudded.

When it got to Lilia's turn, she chose "dare."

Ava grinned like the devil herself. "I dare you... to sit on your girlfriend's lap for the rest of the game."

Lilia blinked. "My—my what now?"

Melissa didn't even flinch. "You heard her."

With the smooth confidence of a woman in command, Melissa patted her lap. Lilia flushed hot, but didn't hesitate. She settled onto her lap, and Melissa's arm curled protectively around her waist.

Jacob whispered, "This is the best Halloween I've ever had."

Melissa leaned into Lilia's ear and murmured, "You look real good like this, baby."

Lilia very nearly melted into a puddle on the gym floor.

⸻

Cleanup had barely started when Melissa tugged Lilia's hand and whispered, "Follow me."

They slipped into the empty hallway, dodging a few straggling students and disappearing around a corner. Melissa pushed open a broom closet door and yanked her inside, shutting it with a soft click.

Before Lilia could even exhale, Melissa pressed her back to the shelves and kissed her—slow, indulgent, utterly possessive.

"So," Melissa murmured between kisses, "how long have you been thinking about dragging me somewhere dark tonight?"

"Since I saw the cape," Lilia breathed. "Maybe before."

Melissa chuckled darkly. "Figured."

They kissed like they were starving, like every inch of fabric between them was a personal offense. Melissa's hands roamed carefully, respectfully—then teasingly. Lilia's own hands fisted the collar of that costume, clinging to her like she was gravity.

They eventually broke apart, breathless and flushed.

"We should get out of here before Ava starts charging closet rent," Melissa whispered, brushing her thumb across Lilia's cheek.

⸻

Jacob had driven home already, and Melissa insisted on driving the two of them back. Lilia was tipsy from spiked cider and high on adrenaline, curled up in the passenger seat like a giddy little menace.

"She did call me your girlfriend," Melissa teased as they pulled into the driveway.

"She did," Lilia giggled. "And I didn't correct her."

"You didn't have to."

Inside, Lilia practically danced into the house, still in her latex suit but now barefoot, her heels dangling from her fingers.

Jacob's voice called out from upstairs: "Please refrain from desecrating the living room. Some of us live here platonically!"

Melissa shouted back, "Then put on headphones and pray!"

Lilia cackled, clutching her sides. "You're going to kill me."

"No," Melissa said softly, tugging her into a kiss. "I'm gonna love you."

Lilia's heart skipped.

She didn't say it—not yet—but she heard it. She felt it. And she knew what her answer would be when the moment came.

The moment Melissa clicked the bedroom door shut behind them, the air changed.

Lilia stood in the center of the room still fully dressed in her Black Widow costume, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows along the curve of her hip, her curls a little messy from the party. She reached up to unzip the front—slowly, teasingly—never breaking eye contact.

"You're not playing fair," Melissa murmured, voice low and dark.

"Did I ever say I would?"

Lilia peeled the tight latex down her torso inch by inch, letting it catch and drag over her skin, revealing soft curves and flushed skin. Melissa watched like she was watching art come to life—reverent, hungry, completely still.

"Jesus, Lils..." she said, stepping closer but not touching. "Keep going."

Lilia shimmied out of the suit entirely, letting it pool on the floor at her feet. She stepped out barefoot, standing in nothing but her panties, a daring smirk on her lips and her arms raised above her head. "What do you think, Miss Schemmenti?"

"I think..." Melissa walked to the closet without finishing the thought. Lilia turned, puzzled, until Melissa came back holding something black, sleek, and very intentional.

"...I think you're gonna let me spoil you tonight," she finished softly. "Let me give you something I've been thinking about for a while."

Lilia's breath caught as she recognized the harness in Melissa's hands—black leather, silver details, the kind of surprise that said I know what you want, and I want to give it to you.

Her heart raced. "Melissa..."

"Is this okay?" Melissa asked, her tone shifting instantly to grounded and gentle. "You can tell me no. We don't have to—"

"I want to," Lilia said, stepping close, her hands on Melissa's waist. "I want you."

Melissa kissed her slow and deep before murmuring, "Then lie back, baby. Let me take care of you."

Lilia only grinned, stepping even closer until their bodies brushed. "Not until you're just as naked."

Melissa's smirk curled slow and wicked. "Is that right?"

"Fair's fair," Lilia said, and without waiting, reached for the edge of Melissa's scarlet cape.

She slipped it from her shoulders, dragging it down Melissa's arms with delicate fingers. The silky red fabric puddled onto the floor, and Melissa let her chin tip slightly, watching Lilia with fire in her eyes.

The gloves came next—slow, almost ceremonial—as Lilia rolled them down one by one, kissing the inside of each of Melissa's wrists as she did.

Then her fingers moved to the bodice of the Scarlet Witch costume, tugging the ties loose at Melissa's chest, her knuckles brushing skin. "You really wore this just to drive me crazy?"

Melissa hummed low in her throat. "Worked, didn't it?"

The bodice peeled away, revealing smooth, freckled skin and a lacy red bra barely containing the curve of her breasts. Lilia let out a soft whimper, her hands coming up to cradle Melissa's waist as she leaned in and kissed the hollow of her throat, just above the swell of her cleavage.

"God, you're so gorgeous," Lilia whispered, dragging her mouth lower.

Melissa inhaled sharply when Lilia unclasped the bra and let it fall, then licked a slow stripe across the top of one breast before sucking the soft skin between her teeth, biting just enough to make Melissa's breath hitch. Her tongue soothed the mark, then made its way to the other.

"You always look so in control," Lilia murmured. "But right now? You're mine."

Melissa growled low in her throat and grabbed the back of Lilia's hair. "Careful, babe. You're tempting me to make you regret that mouth."

Lilia's grin turned daring as she kissed her way down Melissa's stomach. "That's the idea."

When she finally peeled off the boots and tights and underwear, Melissa stood in nothing but the soft sheen of sweat and the low light of the bedroom. Lilia stepped back, eyes roaming shamelessly, her breathing shallow.

"Now," Lilia whispered, climbing onto the bed slowly, "we're even."

Melissa's control finally snapped. She followed, crawling up Lilia's body like a storm rolling in—hot mouth against skin, licking, nipping, biting her way up from thigh to hip to ribs to collarbone.

Lilia moaned under her, fingers sliding into red hair as Melissa worshipped every inch, tongue curling against her pulse point, lips pressing against the soft underside of her breasts, then teasing higher until she reached Lilia's mouth again.

"You're everything," Melissa murmured. "Everything I want."

And then she kissed her like she meant it.

Melissa's tongue dragged along Lilia's neck, nipping under her jaw as her hands pinned Lilia's wrists to the bed.

"You're trembling," Melissa murmured, her voice husky, gravel dragging over honey. "That for me, baby?"

Lilia whimpered in response, her legs already parted, her body aching. "All for you."

"Damn right it is," Melissa growled, releasing Lilia's wrists only to glide her hands down her lover's body, gripping her thighs and pushing them open wider. "I want to see everything. Don't hide from me."

Lilia gasped as Melissa's mouth descended, licking and sucking, her breath hot and unrelenting. She didn't ease into anything—she devoured, claimed, made Lilia cry out loud enough that the neighbors might consider calling someone.

Melissa groaned against her. "God, you taste so good. Been dreaming about this since the second you walked into that damn school."

"Melissa—" Lilia arched, her entire body seizing with the pressure. Her hands flew to Melissa's hair, gripping, pulling, as her thighs trembled around her.

Melissa didn't stop until Lilia was writhing under her, already soaked and undone. And still, she kept going.

She pulled back only to lean over the side of the bed and grab something from her drawer. The harness. The strap. Melissa raised a brow as she slipped it on slowly, deliberately.

"Fuck," Lilia breathed, watching her like she was witnessing art being made.

"On your stomach."

Lilia obeyed instantly, moaning at the press of Melissa's body over hers, the weight of her, the feel of that hardness brushing over her already soaked entrance.

"Beg for it," Melissa murmured in her ear, hips barely grinding against her. "Tell me you need it."

"I need you," Lilia gasped, pressing back, desperate. "I need you so fucking bad—please, baby, please—"

And then Melissa pushed in.

Hard.

Lilia cried out, her hands clawing at the sheets as Melissa pounded into her, finding a punishing rhythm that sent shockwaves through her whole body.

"You take me so good," Melissa growled, slapping Lilia's ass, gripping her hips tight enough to leave bruises. "This what you wanted?"

Lilia could barely respond, her entire world crashing around her with each thrust. She screamed Melissa's name, face buried in the pillow as her body tightened and pulsed and shattered again.

But Melissa didn't stop.

She flipped Lilia over, grabbed her thighs, and pulled her down until their hips met again. Lilia's eyes rolled back at the pressure, at the angle, at the way Melissa owned her.

"You're mine," Melissa said, softer this time, her face close to Lilia's as she kissed her—deep and slow, so at odds with the hard fucking of her hips.

"All yours," Lilia gasped. "Only yours."

Melissa didn't stop kissing her—slow, deep, thorough—while her hips kept rocking, relentless, grinding in the exact way that sent Lilia's thighs shaking again.

And then, she shifted. Adjusted her hips, adjusted the strap until it pressed just right against her own swollen, aching clit.

She groaned low in Lilia's mouth.

"Oh my god," Lilia breathed as she felt Melissa's rhythm falter slightly—like she was feeling everything too. "Are you—"

"Uh-huh," Melissa murmured, grinding harder, her brows drawn tight. "You feel so fucking good under me—I can't—"

Lilia's body clenched again at the thought, at the sound of Melissa's low, desperate moan.

She reached up, yanking Melissa down by her neck, their mouths crashing as Melissa's thrusts grew more erratic, more needy.

"I wanna feel you," Lilia gasped, her legs locking around Melissa's waist. "Come for me, baby—please—I want to see you lose it."

That's all it took.

Melissa cursed as her hips stuttered and pressed deep, her jaw falling open in a low, ragged cry that vibrated against Lilia's mouth. Her whole body tensed, back arching as her orgasm took her, her muscles rippling through it.

She collapsed onto Lilia's chest, shaking.

Both of them slick with sweat, panting, trembling.

Lilia was soaked. Ruined. There was a wet, glistening mess between her thighs and Melissa's hips.

She giggled—giddy, breathless. "We just ruined your bed."

Melissa lifted her head just enough to smirk, her eyes still dark. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

And then she pulled out slowly, watching Lilia whimper and gush around nothing, her legs falling open completely spent.

"You're unreal," Melissa said, kissing her stomach, her ribs, her breasts, until she finally collapsed beside her.

Their hands found each other under the sheets.

Lilia curled into her, pressing kisses into her shoulder. "Can't believe I get to keep you."

"You're not getting rid of me now," Melissa whispered, eyes finally softening again. "Not a chance, baby."

[chiquitafresa]

~Vox headcanon~

Artist here! These are my personal headcanons and headcanons that I stole from others! So enjoy :)

-Vox often like to go on days working in his office and can forget to take breaks -When this happens Val or a Velvette will come in and drag him out, They only do this when Vox try to talk his way out -Wait wait! I need to finish this! -Vox you have been in there for a week. You’re coming with me and it final. -Vox absolutely have a aquarium filled with all type of sharks, and he knows the name of each one by memory -Vox why you have 100 different sharks? They all look the same- -THEY DO NOT, see! Ava and Levi look totally different! -Vox there’s no difference at all, how the fuck you know which one is which? -Vox will fight you if you touch his food, doesn’t matter who you are he will fight -Valentino is a example of this(hint:look at his antennas) -Vox doesn’t need to eat like other demons but it helps keep his battery at 100% -Sleep also helps with this, and so is eating battery’s Don’t ask how he find out -Vox mistaken a battery pack as chocolate bar -Vox have a cable tail (am not explaining) -said tail can be use to plug into a outlet and let him charge -main reason why he can stay up for countless nights -But the tail can be hidden, so Vox only let it out when he’s low on energy or is comfortable. Bonus: it’s every sensitive when touched -Someone please do a fanfic on this- -Vox eyes are connected to every camera of his, so he constantly watch and see everything in hell But do to this he can get easily overloaded or overwhelmed, so he doesn’t do it often -Vox likes to play with Val fluff -Val really likes it when he does -Vox helped Velvette and Valentino to become overlords when he first find them -So both of them view him with respect and high admiration -but their assholes when showing it -they never go too far tho -Vox have a whole mansion for a closet like Barbie in the dream house -but it all the same suit with different colors -Vox have many jobs before, shown in “stay gone” -Vox lies when it comes to these jobs but they believe him because how good of a business man he is -he most definitely started a cult -The cult only got bigger in hell without him knowing -Vox actually have a huge fan base, they constantly fighting against Alastor fans and their winning since Alastor hasn’t been there in over 7 years -most of them actually come from Vox old cult and continue it In his name but in hell -I mean who else is going to buy a 9000$ cereal -Valentino got really close to making a p0rn movie of Vox, for himself of course (Vox didn’t know this) -but Vox back out in the last minute because of work, so there’s Val Dream -Val was mostly mad about this, often trying to get Vox to reconsider -Bro cry over that for a whole week in his room,and is still sad about it till this day -Alastor and Vox have a equal obsession with each other -I don’t care if you think it one sided, Al is obsessed in seeing this man break and how much attention his getting

-Alastor will watch Vox in the shadows if he been inactivate for a while -Vox some how got his brand in heaven, but he can’t go there though the technology. But he still gets the money from there so it doesn’t matter for him -The other Vee’s doesn’t know this, it was part of the deal he made with Lucifer -Vox does feel sorry for accidentally for damaging Val antennas, Val on the other hand doesn’t really care about it that much -Am…sorry Val -For the least time Vox, it fine! It might take a while to heal but it’s fine -Vox watch Val all the time though the cameras in hell, do to his bad vision and damage antenna -Val doesn’t mind being watched and even likes it at times -Vox and Velvette will have days where they replace their parts together, Vox helps removing her limbs while Velvette helps repair/replacing wires -When Vox first replaced his head with a whole new TV he needed to heal for a whole month before he can walk around -Velvette and Val make sure Vox was never alone and help him with everything -Vox is such a sugerdaddy for Val And Velvette, he buy them anything they want -Vox, Velvette, and Valtino have matching rings, they sometime wear it and sometimes not -Vox likes all type of radio, but he can’t show his love for them because of Alastor -Vox 100% record all of Alastors radio shows as soon as he got here, over 200 recordings -Vox was a fan of Alastor when he was alive, and he still like listening to him (before he left for 7 years) -During those 7 years, Vox slowly got more paranoid by the next day, making his reaction with Alastor coming back… weird -Vox take anxiety pills to help with this, he also have ADHD medication that he takes everyday ———————————- Sorry if this was short! I just wanted to put down all my ideas somewhere for others (and me) to see! (can someone explain what happened to the bold words? It appears like that and I can’t undo it)

[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "The Light Within"

take a breath and choose the photo/number that calls you the most to read words of wisdom and guidance from your fire/light within. we all have a passionate, burning side, we all have a light inside of us, so with this reading I'd like to focus on the message it has for you. Thank you @faerytreealtars for somehow inspiring this reading.

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

1 2 3 - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1 (you may be called by pile 3 as well)

"is the flame off or on?". Pile 1, you may feel drained atm. It feels like there's only a little hope/passion left inside of you, but at times you can't even see it that well. It may take you a certain effort to reach it and go on. You don't have to overdo stuff. Even things you're passionate about (despite atm I feel you're feeling really low and kinda losing hopes on everything). Take a break, give yourself a break. You probably feel drained because you've been healing something, maybe your emotions, or overthinking... it could even be stuff from your childhood (you're closing a cycle very likely, an ego-death). Your inner light wants you to stop for a minute and come back to yourself. To gain strenght to go forward, to focus on what is important for real and what you can control. It's time to make a change, to guide yourself towards a new beginning. It's time to give your heart what it wants, or at least try with all you have: you cannot fail if you give your all like a burning fire. No matter how it'll go. But first, collect your firey energy. Take a breath before start running. Use some kindness to yourself.

extra message: listen to your intuition, let it guide you (trust yourself) -if your body/mind tell you to stop, follow them.

song: obsessed | mariah carey

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 2

"it's all in your hands". You probably have a lot of fire in your chart or you come off as a fiery person. Birds/eagles may be a sign or symbol for you. You're probably also "preying" over something (or someone uh), I feel the same energy of predators ready to go hunting. It's either this, as in you're trying to get somewhere/reach any goal of yours and putting in work, or you're sometimes still blocked by emotions (especially anger, I feel). Maybe even little blockages or annoyances on your path can cause a huge reaction in you? Well, an overreaction, more likely. And you can't very much control it, which honestly isn't that bad: to keep all this energy locked in would end up being pretty much self distructive for you (so if it happens to you, find outlets for it: go running, exercise, dance... move your body in any way you like. Burn the energy, do not let it burn you). The light within wants you to balance a little more its energy. Try to realize where your triggers hide, why any little discordance with your plan causes you all this troubles (it's probably related to a lack of self confidence or perfectionism issues), how did it originate and how does it feel in your body (so you can focus more on that part when letting go of the energy). Things are fine, try to put them in the right perspective and give them the right importance in your life.

extra message: stay balanced, right now things may seem a bit too much so find your self-center again

song: take you to hell | ava max

- ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 3 (you may be called by pile 1 as well)

It's time to stop for a moment. Things are falling into place, but you need to give them time to. "You're impatient, darling". Take time to enjoy, to ponder, to clear your mind, and even to take a nap here and there... Gain strenght in this moment. You can't see it but things are changing (and generally they change the most when we can't see them doing it), so let this change flow within you, don't block it by overstressing or overthinking. You are allowed to change as well, to take time to adapt to the new you (you seem very changed!). Don't rush things, don't rush for an answer or a sign.. sometimes it's a matter of simply staying there and wait or meditate over it. Follow your guts, whatever they're telling you. Follow your guts and keep doing you. Keep healing (maybe trust issues or anxiety in general). Results will come. At this moment, the fire within you wants you to take a time out from it. To let it burn still inside, but with a gentle flame, not an excessive one. A flame that burns forever without consuming much energy or anything. A flame that is patient and doesn't need to burn things down to reach to a goal. A gentle flame that burns little by little and grows little by little too, waiting for the right time to explode (if necessary). A smart and observing flame. Keep it quiet. Do not lose sight of it in the dark and don't be scared of losing it (if you dim it) or whatever you want.

extra messages (you got 2): stop and breathe, you don't have to do all at once, take some time off, enjoy + you can change who you were, don't let the past stop you, learn from it

song: black swan | bts

[redspades]

Now that the Legacy of Gods books are done I’ve come to bestow everyone with my rankings of all six books.

6. God of Pain

Starting with GOP, it did not touch me like the other books did, I don’t hate but don’t love it, but compared to the others it’s definitely my least favorite. Plus his nickname for her? Little purple? Rina, please. If anything little annoyance. No but seriously, this may have been a unique nickname, I give props but the nickname does not hit for me.

5. God of War

Do not come at me with the pitch forks and knives. I do not hate Eli or Ava, in fact, I love them both very dearly. It’s just that their book confused me the most and that a lot of the buildup I had for them was just… meh.

The amnesia trope with Ava was confusing as fuck. The psychosis and praise kink however? Good shit. But compared to how the others books made me feel? Meh.

But him calling her beautiful? Has me feeling some sort of way.

4. God of Wrath

People will def hate me for this one. I know Jeremy and GOW is a BIG fan favorite, if not, second/first to GOF. But first reading GOW it did not touch me the same way a few of the other books did y’know? Like after rereading it like 5 more times I got a little more attached but Jeremy somewhat just didn’t do it for me.

This book however has the best parent-male love interest interactions

Lisichka as a nickname lowkey be cute but don’t got me feeling anything much

3. God of Malice

When I tell yall Killian and Glyndon are > I mean it. Killian is so—hot. Like actually has me on my knees. He’s most hated by Levi? Has lowkey all of the King men at his head? Hello? What’s not to like? Also obsessed with her? Plus the little scenarios they have together, the picnic scene where he kisses her forehead? Tells her to be good? The way she kissed his chest after telling him she just wanted to sleep? That sort of intimacy with a psychopath? Damn.

The use of “Baby” and “Sweetheart” has me fucking fluttering. Little Rabbit however? Made me feel nothing, pussy dry. Feel like it could’ve been substituted with Bunny, feels cuter, little bunny, adorable bunny, cheeky lil bunny. Bunny rolls off the tongue better but may be more on the nose, still better than Little Purple.

2. God of Ruin

I have a bias for Mia and Landon, they’re so perfect. I’m an artist, too, so like,.. the flattery of being someone’s muse is so touching, specially when Landon just,.. can’t stop observing every slope of her just to sculpt her, the fact he’s a genius sculptor yet believes nothing he’s made is worthy of the attention he gets. He’s not humble by no means but his menace energy is just funny.

Like this dude is asking for whatever he’s getting.

And the risk of choosing her over his own art? Thags dedication that’s everything. Him choosing his love over his passion? Which is badically the equivalent to his love? I can’t even. Landon the most annoying and unfeeling mother fucker? Chooses Mia over his passion? The best.

Don’t get me started on the running, primal kink anyone?

1. GOD OF FURRRYYYYY

Y’all saw this one coming, yall had to. My absolute favorite (though some scenes make no damn sense). It’s very dramatic, I eat up dramatic. I have a physical copy of it, gifted by a friend and I will be rereading that shit word for word.

Nikolai is my type. He’s green forest galore. He’s hedonistic and doesn’t care abt what anyone says, but still extremely caring and obsessive of those around him and he’s EXTREMELY PROTECTIVE of those he loves, (THAT GARETH SCENE GMFU). Thats just everything I want, plus he’s got big muscles and his fan cast is universally accepted as Mike Debeer. I love my well built, tattooed, muscled men.

Please, I want myself a Nikolai. He’s so loving, caring, obsessive, and funny. To others he’s got the cold sheer personality of a Doberman/Cane corso, but to his one and only, he’s a golden retriever.

PLUS PLUS HE KNOWS HOW TO FIGHT, DO YALL UNDERSTAND HOW HOT IT IS TO PLAY FIGHT? Manhandle me.

Lotus Flower best nickname, fucking FIGHT ME.

Also? Landon and Nikolai? HELLO? BEST PAIR? Canon Landon is best brother. Landon and Brandon best brothers.

[smoothpowerforthestreets]

❤️‍🔥🗡️🍸🌹I TRIED POPULAR FEMME FATALE TIPS FOR A YEAR🌹🍸🗡️❤️‍🔥

Hello everyone! I always have been fascinated by the femme fatale energy and I was so obsessed as a kid with femme fatales like Ava Gardner, Marilyn Monroe, Gilda by Rita Hayworth and some characters by Angelina Jolie or Penelope Cruz.

I never tried to tap into the femme fatale energy because I always thought that I didn't fit the "aesthetic", then I read Ava Gardner's biography how she made womanizer Sinatra go suicidal for her and I noticed that femme fatale energy isn't about looks or aesthetic (partially) but your attitude, energy and self love. So I started to get all the information I could about femme fatales and these are the most popular tips I've tried:

💋 Let them pursue. Let them show you how much are they interested in you and how far would they go for your attention.

I think this one it's not exclusive about FemF it's something that every girl should do. It's really simple: if they really want you they'll move mountains for you, and girl, don't even think it's because you set your standards too high because it's the bare minimum. Stop being in situationships where it's very clear that he doesn't want you, I'm sorry but it's really pathetic.

My experience: I've been applying this boundary for a long time now and it's the most effective way to see who actually wants you. Why? Because it's too simple, if they want to they will. This saved me a lot of situationships and giving access and power to someone who doesn't want me. The results are a little annoying because let's be real, boys🤡, they always come back so when I say it's annoying it's because it's ridiculous to see them get confused and then pursue you when it's too late. AND LET ME TELL YOU, when I put a cross on your name there's no way to erase it (metaphorically). Ugh, really why do they do that? They make clear that they don't want you and when you cut them off they decide to come back in the way you seem to want. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, don't go back to them, if they really wanted you that badly they would never have put you in that position.

💋 Don't be impressed by the things they think can get you. I'm talking about superficial things like physical appearance, fame, money, properties, cars, luxury lifestyle, etc. Please I know everyone loves money but believe me when I say it doesn't get you anywhere mentally if you don't have your shit together, don't let desire for rich appearances guide you to shitty men just because they can provide money. You should be able to afford your things so you don't have to be waiting for a man like a poor dog.

My experience: Girl I'm going to spill some tea about this one. I had two famous men asking me on a date, one of them I no longer speak to him and the other one is currently pursuing me like crazy just because he saw I was not amused about the luxury things he was bragging. We're friends for now because I don't trust him lol but he tries every now and then to ask me on a date. Girl trust me it's not that rare to get that type of men, almost every friend of mine has been pursued by a man in power.

💋 Trust in the feminine power. Trust in the power that a smile or a gaze has, learn from the best: Angelina Jolie, Marilyn Monroe, Ava Gardner... A subtle way to let a man know that you like him and you can have him going all over you. How many times a man has approached you just because you looked at him? That's the power you have, women have that power.

My experience: Not so long ago I had a thing with a man and somehow we lost contact but we have a friend in common so we see each other often. The other day I tried this technique to see if a gaze was enough to let him know that I'm interested and it's true, I looked at him directly into his eyes and that was enough to have him the rest of the night right by my side.

💋Red nails theory. The color red is said to represent passion, love and sensuality. The red nail theory got viral on TikTok because a girl said that the reason she attracted more men with red nails was because they saw a lot of red nails while growing up.

My experience: I got my nails done red and I don't think much changed. I think red is a color that generally attracts men but I don't think it's something exclusive for nails. A red lipstick or dress will always be on point.

💋 Be cold af. Not every time but when he does something to annoy you don't react. Could be he's trying to make you jealous, to see how you react or how much you care about him. DON'T REACT, even if it's killing you inside. Act like you couldn't care less and move on. He still flirts to other girls? Then that means you're not in a committed relationship and you can flirt with whoever you want to too.

My experience: This one is sooooo fun to apply and I like to add a little spice and mirror their behaviour. Because when they do something I don't like I usually cut them off and that's it, but when I know they did it to hurt me I like to have my revenge. You've met your match bitch.

I was getting to know this guy who made very clear that he enjoyed single life so I did too and when he saw me on another date he went nuts and stopped seeing other girls. But one day he got angry because I said that I found attractive one of his friends and that night he started a little flirt in front of me with a girl so I just said I'm going to say hello to someone and I went to do the same with his friend. He immediately came so angry, asked for a word alone and told me to stop messing around. He asked me to be in a committed relationship the next day and that was the last time I saw him. I know it seems so toxic but I didn't want a relationship with him and he tried to hurt me so idc.🤷‍♀️

Sorry if you see some spelling mistakes, english is not my first language!

[witchhkitty222]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:　　 New Hockey Series 　　 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

after way too many nights of obsessing over fictional men, screaming into docs, and mentally designing hockey jerseys with blood-red accents…

i’m officially writing my college hockey romance series:

🏒💕𝒪𝒻𝒻𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈💕🏒

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

Set at: Blackridge University — an elite, hockey-obsessed college where the players hit hard, fall harder, and don’t go down easy… unless it’s for her.

Team: The Blackridge Devils — black + crimson jerseys, loyalty like a blood pact, and enough chaotic energy to make you fall in love and lose your mind.

this is going to be a 4-book interconnected series set at the fictional Blackridge University, following the lives (and chaotic love stories) of four best friends who play for the school’s hockey team and are housemates — the Blackridge Devils. think: found family, tension, spice, real feelings, jersey numbers, and boys who fall way harder than they admit.

every book will focus on a different couple, with unique tropes and dynamics, but you’ll see the full friend group grow together throughout the entire series. there’s drama, banter, hockey boys being dumb, girls who don’t take shit, and slow-burn emotional chaos. basically, it’s everything i love rolled into one universe.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝒪𝒻𝒻𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒜𝓉𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

Love at first sight. Friends with benefits. Slow-burn disaster.

Jack McCarty (Business major, hockey captain, #22)

Olivia Blake (Psychology major, fiery new girl)

→ Friends with benefits, love at first sight (from Jack’s POV), slow-burn, secretly obsessed, found family energy. Jack plays it cool… but he’s been hers since day one.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝒪𝒻𝒻𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒯𝑒𝓂𝓅𝓉𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

Enemies to lovers. Cocky fuckboy vs girl who gives zero shits.

Matt Harper (Sports Science major, cocky loudmouth, Jack’s best friend #66)

Ava Bennett (Law major, sharp as hell and not here for his games)

→ Enemies to lovers, tension for days, chaotic flirt vs. “you’re not even cute” energy. Matt’s never had to chase anyone before — but Ava? She’s worth it.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: 𝒪𝒻𝒻𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝐼𝒸𝑒𝒷𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓇

Grumpy x sunshine. Slow-burn. One partner project that changes everything.

Logan Carter (Computer Science major, grumpy quiet type, all brooding loyalty #5)

Cierra Dawson (Education major, sunshine girl, doesn’t know how to shut up — in the best way)

→ Grumpy x sunshine, project partners, slowest of burns. He doesn’t talk to anyone… until her. She cracks him open in ways he didn’t think possible.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑: 𝒪𝒻𝒻𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉

Best friends to lovers. Mutual denial. So many cuddles it hurts.

Parker Callahan (Sports Management major, loud, unfiltered, resident fuckboy #7)

Grace Sinclair (Sports Journalism major, confident baddie, his best friend since forever)

→ Best friends to lovers, mutual denial, late-night cuddles, tension so thick it could kill you. He’s never touched her — because she’s the only one who matters.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

𝘝𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘴:

→ Found family

→ Touchy boys, sharp girls

→ Real emotional stakes

→ Banter, angst, soft mornings, hallway stares

→ Hockey, heartache, heat

→ And yes. There will be spice.

—

I’ll be posting every chapter for each book/story here and on Wattpad my username there is witchhkitty222

book one — coming soon

feel free to scream in my inbox any time

[solroswaslost]

Alright, since I'll probably be posting about these nerds more, here's their info!

I'll ramble vvvv

Erick was born after Ava, and he was a mama's boy, he looks alot like his mother(my ex...) just as a male, he's mostly kind hearted, but he will match your energy, if you're an asshole, he'll be an asshole to you, the red hoodie he wears belongs to his mother and his most prized possession, he has a horrible relationship with Miles, his father, his father hates him, because he looks so much like his mother and acts like them so much aswell, they have fights about everything, and Miles is very strict with Erick, as he tries to just be a teenager... then he found Billy and became obsessed with him, stalking him and digs deep into his life, trying to find out what he loves and hates,,, basically does anything, and yet doesn't make himself that known, after watching Billy selling the things he would get just to get money, Erick started to leave a shit ton of money at his door

As for Ava, she's the first born, the first two oldest, Jasper and George, were adopted. She's a bit of a mixture of Miles and her mother, she's definitely the most chill out of her siblings, and is very kind hearted and gentle. Miles isn't as strict and let's her do anything,,, she also works in a Starbucks and is currently trying to save up to move out and go to college, and then she met Mazie! They just started off as friends as Mazie kept going to the Starbucks she worked at, and they're currently in this.. situationship, as Ava really only wants to focus on studies and doesn't want to be distracted

The two don't have any contact with their mother as they just.. suddenly disappeared out of nowhere when they were 10 and 9

Did I mention Miles is a sociopath? He's a bad toxic man, but everyone outside of his big family think he's a wonderful caring single father, and he has connections everywhere if something doesn't go his way, he will find a way to get it done his way. He is an entity who just decided to look like an older version of me, just with green eyes (it's why I call Erick and Ava my kids- as they look like "me")

[bookhighlightss]

Twisted series book review

☆ Twisted Love

1. This book was amazing. The plot twists will blow your brains out.

2. Alex Volkov. That's it. Just him. Like he is just amazing.

3. Pretty words and pretty faces don't equal pretty souls. This line. This. Freaking. Line. It had me crying.

4. Also the way he just walked her home for a year without them talking.....AAAAHHHH just everything in this book was amazing.

5. In book 2, 3 and 4 there relationship just was so pretty even if they were there for like 1 page.

☆ Twisted Games

1. I love the whole bodyguard princess thing like I'm here for it.

2. I read this book 1 year ago I don't remember the details well but I loved Rhys and Bridget.

3. The whole you and me against the world, princess was just so sweet and cute and asfkjhjilw

4. I love how Bridget just overall slays with her feminine energy as Queen and shit like slayyyyy

☆ Twisted Hate

1. Okay this book was hilarious. There were so many funny scenes and their back and forth bickering was just everything.

2. I also loved how josh and Alex became friends again in this book like we all knew they were gonna but the whole conversation was epic and alex asking for permission to marry ava was just beautiful.

3. The possibility of you is better than the reality of anyone else. This quote people it was just amazing. I was like dayum I need to take two minutes and scream.

4. Overall the plot was actually pretty lit in this book but the one thing I didn't like about this book was how they fucked every two pages literally but they were kinda friends with benefits but I'm a hopeless romantic so when I was expecting a cute angry confession I got an angry sex....

5. I also love how they actually struggle with money lowkey because all the other book the characters were loaded with cash so that was a bit realistic yk

☆ Twisted Lies

1. Omg when I tell you this book was perfection I mean this book was perfection. It was like Ana huang took all the critics and molded this book into perfection. It was everything.

2. The way Christian was obsessed with her from the moment he saw her but never labelled it as love but just everything he did was wow. I will worship this man he's amazing.

3. Touch another man, he dies. Let another man touch you, he dies. Tell me I can't touch you...and I die. This had me in a chokehold I was like.....AAAAHHHHHHHHH

4. Also the way all the other 3 men just made fun of Christian and the scenes where all the characters were together was just really funny.

5. I love how Christian was always there for Stella and supported her ❤ like asjdhrkjdhsk

Overall all the books are amazing. These people live rent free in my head. But the fact that all of them got a happy ending and are successful and shit is like probably the fakest shit ever but then again it's books so eh. But on a real note photographer, queen, lawyer and fashion designer like are ya kidding me??? And the diversity their friend group has like Asian, European, American like wow. I have to say I'm not a huge fan of the smut in the book but then again that's just my personal opinion a lot of other people loved the smut tho so idk. And can we talk about how all of them have the prettiest names ever??! My most to least favorite book would be

Twisted lies

Twisted love

Twisted hate

Twisted games

My most favourite to least favourite twisted men would be

Christian harper

Rhys Larsen

Alex volkov

Josh chen ( his I lied thing just set me off)

My most favourite to least favourite twisted women would be

Ava chen

Jules ambrose

Stella Alonso

Bridget von ascheberg ( I don't like her being last but I love those three way more )

Overall id give the series a 9/10

[i-have-one-braincell]

What do you think of dark!Danny Rand? Like, ones where he is obsessed with Peter and would do anything to have him to the point of killing others and manipulating him to be together?

OOOOO I would pay for a story like that!!!😭😭

I totes see Danny having some manipulative traits in him and keeping his intentions hidden to keep his good boy image in front of others.

I personally see Danny as the type of person who would kill when necessary since it’s what he’s been trained to do, unlike Peter with his no-kill rule. So I feel like he wouldn’t mind the idea of killing. Although I don’t see him personally killing anyone with his powers, he would guide them towards their death with only his words.

Danny has the energy and vibe that would make anyone trust him so he technically doesn’t need force to do what he wants to do.

Danny totally would take advantage of Peter’s guilt and use it as a device to get closer to him. I feel like Luke and Ava would have suspicions of Danny since Luke and him knew each other longer and I imagine Ava having a good eye of people she meets. I believe with those two, he would use force since both are good fighters and would question his actions the most.

I did have an idea of a Dark!Danny AU of him being a corrupted emperor of K’un L’un and having Peter being a lost scientist or explorer being caught in his area. I’m thinking of picking that idea up again after this ask.😭

I’m down for reading a Dark!Iron Fist who manipulates everyone and kill for Peter but I do recommend researching manipulation tactics to make it more believable and write Danny as in character as possible with a small dash of OOC.

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

can i ask the alphabet ask meme for avalil in the gamer au and the letters B, F, U, & Z? 👀

Rubbing my hands together like a mad scientist 😈. Of course you can, anon 💖

B - Favorite Body Part (theirs and their partner's): Ava’s favorite part of her own body is probably her hands, even when they cause her pain. Touch is so important to her that I bet she would say the same in canon too. She also loves Lilith’s hands: her long fingers, warm and strong, dexterous enough to do calligraphy and powerful enough to break a man's wrist if necessary. Sometimes watching Lil flip a page in a book is enough to get her going and honestly? Same.

Lilith probably never thought much about her body before Ava, beyond keeping fit, but after meeting Ava she would probably say her legs, if pressed. Lift heavy boxes? Check. Kick a dude's teeth in? Check. Blow her tiny gf's back out? Double check. Her favorite part of Ava would be her tits, surprise surprise. So soft and supple, fitting perfectly in her hands, in her mouth. She loves to mark them up with her teeth, and is kind of obsessed with the way Ava squirms and shivers when she does.

F - Favorite position: Oh they have many. On any given night, it's probably cowgirl, usually with Ava on top but Lilith On Top if you catch my drift. If they're going for something a little rougher, then doggystyle. Ava also loves being on her knees (even if her knees really don't love it) and Lilith loves pulling Ava up onto her face.

U - Unfair (how much they like to tease): That’s Lilith’s favorite game to play. "How much edging can my girlfriend take before she's incoherently begging to come?" She might even have the tiniest bit of a crying kink, because seeing Ava tear up out of need and frustration really does it for her sometimes.

Ava is not a novice in the art of teasing though. She’s really a master at riling Lilith up and making her wait, usually when they have to do something else like grocery shopping or chores. She doesn't do it when it would interfere with Lil's work though. That’s a boundary they discussed pretty much right out of the gate when they started sleeping together.

Z - zzz (how quickly they fall asleep after): It depends on how long they go for. If it's just one round, they both usually have enough energy to clean up, cuddle, and maybe watch a show before drifting off. But if they go for a long session, then they'll do enough to minimize the worst of the mess before collapsing. They will hold out for aftercare if necessary, usually with Lil taking care of Ava before they both go to bed.