#and obviously that was a red herring but! I thought!

[bellabean24]

✩ Boxer!Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reporter!Reader

✩ Word count: 1.1k

✩ Tags: SFW, talks of a fight, very little cursing, comment to be added to Taglist😝

✩ Synopsis: Having to interview Sukuna and again is probably the one exciting thing that happens in your life but what you didn’t expect was for him to ask you something quite crazy, well crazy to you and reasonable to Sukuna

✩ Boxer!Ryomen Sukuna M.List | Jujutsu Kaisen M.List

It's been exactly a week since your ‘training’ session with  boxer!Sukuna and four days since he texted you. Sukuna has not stopped texting you since, constantly asking you if you’re coming for another training session or if you’re going to be at his next match which happens to be in just a few hours. 

Sitting at your office desk going over the new article you are writing, your phones chimes as a text pops up on your screen, 

Sukuna: Don’t tell me you're ghosting me before my fight. I need to know what time my favorite Journalist is gonna show up so I can win and put on a good fight for her. 

Rolling your eyes at his text you stop typing and pick your phone to shoot back a reply a, smile creeping up on your face you type back. 

You: Relax. I’ll be there before the bell rings, I need to take pictures of everyone and I do need a pre-fight interview and post-fight obviously so you better be conscious

Sukuna: I’ll win so fast you’ll think it's rigged, But if you wear those leggings you wore during our little training session again I might get distracted and lose on purpose

You stare at the message your lips parting your breath coming out a bit rugged

Sukuna: Can’t wait to see you pretty girl ;)

Sukuna: Front row right??

You: Always, I need to get the best shots after all

— — — — —  

Running towards the gym that smells like sweat and leather, you may have missed the pre-fight interview but you didn’t miss the fight itself. You flash your newly found press badge at the bodyguard in the front and head your way to the front row. Notebook in your hand, your camera laced around your neck and your voice recorder clipped to your shirt. 

Getting comfortable in your seat the crowd around you buzzes with excitement. Your thoughts run wild as you mumble how the fight could go into your recorder. The announcer cuts through the excitement and your words with his loud booming voice; “GOOD EVENING LADIES AND GENTLEMEN ARE YOU READY FOR A FIGHT.” He shouts as the crowd screams and shouts with him. 

“From the red corner weighing 243 pounds with a professional record of 19 wins, 13 Knockouts and 2 loses, from Sendai City, Japan, please welcome THE KING OF CURSES RYOMENN SUKUUNAAAA,” The announcer announces. 

The crowd gets louder as Sukuna comes up to the ring doing the normal things that boxers do, hyping the crowd up more by doing a loud war scream, grabbing your camera and taking a picture when Sukuna makes it to the side of the ring you are sitting at. His eyes land on you giving you a wink, a boyish grin well the best grin someone can do with a mouth guard in. 

You don’t realize it but your cheeks hurt from smiling too much. 

Then the announcer speaks once more introducing Sukuna’s opponent, “And his opponent in the blue corner who weighs 225 pounds... he hails from Tokyo, Japan, with a record of 10 wins, 5 knockouts and 6 loses please welcome MAHITOOOO.” The crowd becomes loud but not as loud as they were for Sukuna, Taking more pictures of Sukuna and Mahito as he walks up to the ring. 

You can feels Sukuna’s eyes on you, as you take pictures of his opponent. Dropping your camera you look up at the ring, your eyes finding Sukuna’s. You stare at each other before he is called up to the middle of the ring to start his fight. 

— — — — — 

Before you know it the fight ends with a knockout that looks deadly as Sukuna stands above Mahito, the ref counting down from ten to see if Mahito will get up. The ref shouts out the last number before declaring victory for Sukuna once again. As the ref lifts Sukuna’s arm in victory, the crowd shouts in cheers. Sukuna turns in a slow circle basking in the cheers and adoration, his chest rising and falling with deep heavy breath. His eyes scan the crowd finding your camera lens and making complete eye contact with your camera.

Sukuna winks at you with a smug grin playing on his lush lips, you lower the camera, already knowing what picture you’re going to use for your article. The announcer’s voice cuts through the air signaling the post-fight interviews. Jumping from your seat and pushing through the crowd to be the first to get the interview with the winner. 

Flashing your press badge once more as you weaved through the rope and the crowd that was already surrounding the area, trying to get a look at or a picture with Sukuna. Sukuna leans against the corner ropes, sweat glistening on his tattooed body, his breathing even now, but his eyes are locked on you. 

“You made it, pretty girl,” he hums as you step up, mic raised. “Told you I’d win for you.” He smirks. Smiling at him still holding your voice recorder up between the two of you, “Let’s keep this professional, Sukuna. Congratulations on your win. How do you feel after tonight's fight?”  

He leans in close, you can smell the mix of leather, sweat and something distinctly him. “I feel like the only thing that's better than knocking out some dude….would be taking you out.” 

Shocked, you blink at him trying to find the words you want to say, “Taking me out? Like for an interview?” Sukuna lets out a deep chuckle, “Nah, baby. I’m talkin’ dinner. Or maybe something more fun. Are you free after this?”

Raising a brow at him, dropping the voice recorder to your side, “Is this how you talk to all your post-fight interviewers?” 

“Only the one who wear thats killer fuckin’ jeans and drive me crazy ringside,” he says, eyes trailing down your body unapologetically. “C’mon, you owe me. I didn’t let Mahito land a single punch because I was too busy thinking of you watchin’ me.” Rolling your eyes but a smile makes its way to your lips giving the fake annoyance away. “I don’t owe you anything, Sukuna.” 

He steps even closer to you, you can feel his breath on your face and the heat radiating from his body. Sukuna’s voice drops down to a low husky whisper, “Sure you don’t owe me anything, but I’ve been dreamin’ of you saying yes to a date with me since I met you.” 

Your heart skips a beat, and you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a grin from coming to your face. 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“But I ridiculously want to go on a date with you.”

You laugh, finally nodding at him. “Fine. One date.” 

“Best win of the night.” You laugh at his words. Writing in your notebook to hide the heat creeping on your cheeks. “Now shush and give me the interview I need, and answer my real questions before I change my mind.” 

Sukuna smiles, “Only if I get to see you smile like that again.”

Taglist

@emoedgylord @sukubusss @satowuuu @nina-from-317

©Bella2025

[iluvbuckets]

part 2 of wild thoughts pleaseeeee

literally one my hands and knees begging

i wanna know peace again

wild thoughts part 2

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: it's been almost a year since you last saw paige. you had been trying to deny the tension between you two, but when you find yourself at her wnba draft party, there's no denying that she is much, much more than your little brother's annoying friend.

warnings: a little angsty, mutual pining, teasing of course (wouldn't be my writing without it), begging, fingering, oral, some semi-public, a little edging, bottom!paige, paige is more whiny this time but also kind of a brat

word count: 6.3k

notes: lowkey nervous to post this but here's the highly requested part 2 <3 slightly unedited bc i didn't want to keep y'all waiting any longer

✷✷✷

it had been almost a year since you had seen paige.

after you both changed clothes to make sure you didn’t smell like sex, you both walked down the stairs to join your family in the kitchen. you tried to act like nothing happened–that you had just woken up–but you were having a hard time tearing your eyes away from her red, swollen lips. you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach did flips as you watched her hands move through the air as she spoke, the very same hands with the fingers that were just inside you. you wanted to take her back to your room.

you didn’t, though. not that day, and not for the rest of the week. 

she had been a little less subtle about her staring, but nothing really changed. she was still a little awkward when you spoke, would still bring you food and drinks, and would still steal subtle little touches whenever possible, but you didn’t really talk to each other. it was like it never even happened. but that wasn’t the reason you didn’t.

honestly, you didn’t know if you even had a good reason for why you didn’t. maybe it was because if you acknowledged it, it would change everything and you weren’t very good with change. maybe it was because this was a dangerous territory of complicated feelings and emotions you were not ready to confront. you didn’t know, but she didn’t try either. it definitely stung, even though it shouldn’t have, but you tried to push the hypocritical feeling to the back of your mind so you could enjoy the rest of the week. 

when you were all getting ready to leave, you gave her a hug about as quick as the one when you greeted her. the look of disappointment on her face was evident, but she managed to disguise it before anyone noticed. you pretended not to. and that was it.

you watched all of her games that season on a livestream. you considered sending a congratulatory text for her big east championship, then again for her national championship, but you didn’t. you figured it would be weird. she obviously didn’t want to hear from you considering she hadn’t made an effort to text you. though, you could imagine she probably felt the same way about you.

still, your mind would wander to thoughts of her at every chance. the way her lips felt on yours, the way she sounded so desperate for you, the way she had came in her pants just because she was pleasing you. you tried to ignore them, you really did, but it felt impossible. 

that’s why you were surprised when your dad called to tell you that you were invited to her draft night and the afterparty that would follow it. you knew the invitation was given to you by default, that she was just inviting your family, but it made your heart flip in your chest nonetheless. the way his tone sounded on the phone made it seem like he knew something was up between you two, but you’re sure you were just overthinking the interaction. 

you almost told him you were busy, but you knew it would be shitty of you to skip this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for the girl who was as important to your family as you are just because you couldn’t keep it in your pants. 

immediately after hanging up, you had pulled out your laptop to look for a new dress. you told yourself you weren’t trying to impress her, that it didn’t matter what she thought, but who were you fooling? you wanted her to remember, to think about the morning and wonder if it was a mistake that she didn’t reach out, even if you didn’t realize it. 

before you knew it, you were boarding the plane to new york. to make it easier, you were flying separately from your family out of omaha while they were flying out of minnesota. you figured you would be wide awake, stressing about seeing her again and going over every possible scenario that could possibly happen, but you slept the entire flight–probably sleep debt from your many, many sleepless nights over the last year. 

you didn’t get to see paige beforehand. she was busy with press, getting ready, and saying her goodbyes to her teammates that she was leaving behind. even though your family was a little disappointed, you don’t think you have ever been more relieved in your life. you were putting off seeing her after all this time because you didn’t know what would happen. you didn’t get much rest from her charm though, because you spent most of the day hanging out with her family.

would she pretend nothing happened and interact with you like it didn’t? that was probably best case scenario, honestly. 

or would she freeze up and get all awkward, making it obvious that something had happened? that was your worst nightmare.

you hardly slept the night before. you couldn’t even bring yourself to open your phone in fear of accidentally stumbling across one of her many, many edits that are posted to social media, so you ended up just staring up at the ceiling in the dark. the possible scenarios ran through your head at an insane pace, but your eyes just wouldn’t close so you could escape them. 

at 8am, you decided you would be nice and bring your brother some of the complimentary hotel breakfast. you didn’t know if you had an appetite to eat it in the first place, but you needed a way to get out all of the buzzing energy from the anticipation of the coming night. you made each of you a waffle, then grabbed two cartons of chocolate milk. you knew he would be able to eat more, but you only had two hands. 

“can i ask you something?” he broke the comfortable silence after taking a few bites of his waffle. he was sitting in his bed while you were sitting in the office chair at the desk, picking at your own plate. 

“what’s up?” you asked. your heart immediately picked up its pace at the possibility of what he could ask. 

“is there something going on between you and paige?” 

you almost choked on your food. “no. why do you ask?”

you hoped it wasn’t too obvious how you answered that a little too quickly. the room suddenly felt too small and warm for the two of you to be in there together comfortably, but you knew it would be a little too suspicious if you left or hinted at wanting to exit the conversation. 

“she asked me if you were coming,” he said with a knowing look. “i was a little confused why she asked because i don’t know why you wouldn’t. i figured it was probably best to tell her that i didn’t know.”

you nodded, not really knowing what to say without saying something that would be incriminating. he seemed to notice too, but was trying to make you say it without straight up asking. you didn’t really know how to feel about him telling paige that he didn’t know if you were coming. on one hand, you were kind of excited that it would be a surprise. on the other, what if it being a surprise was bad? what if she asked because she was hoping you wouldn’t?

the possibilities had you overthinking the entire summer all over again. you were torn between completely regretting it and wishing it had never happened, and not regretting it at all. you only really regretted the after part, because damn did she give you some good head. when you tried to hook up with someone when you got back home, it didn’t even come close to comparing to her. whether or not it was the head game, the girl giving the head, or a combination of both that made it so unforgettable, in the moment, you weren’t sure.

you even tried filling the void with something a little bit more, to try to push down these sudden feelings for someone you shouldn’t have them for. it was a stupid fling–literally meant nothing to you, a classic situationship. she was blonde, like paige, but a little shorter. she would tell you everything you wanted to hear, she just wasn’t the one you wanted to hear it from. you would imagine every touch and every kiss was paige, that she was the one lying next to you.

maybe you shouldn’t even go today. what if your presence just pissed her off and you ruin the night?

“look, i know something happened last summer,” elijah said, his voice dropping. “something had to because she’s been asking about you. i know i used to joke about paige’s crush on you a lot, but now i’m pretty sure it’s more than a joke. i don’t want to lose my best friend because of it.”

a wave of guilt washed over you at his words. you hadn’t really considered how selfish your actions were before. you could easily ruin a 20 year friendship just because you were a little horny one time, and that wasn’t fair to your brother and your family. if it really was something more than one time, what if you broke up? what if it was messy? what if it affected your relationship with your brother?

suddenly feeling overwhelmed, you swallow nervously. “you have nothing to worry about. nothing happened and it never will.” 

“okay,” he said, obviously unconvinced with furrowed brows, but didn’t push it. and you were grateful for that.

much to your dismay, the rest of the day flies by. you were hoping it would drag on so you could avoid seeing paige–avoid the feelings and regret. and hopefully avoid ending up in her bed at the end of the night (if she even lets you).

as you sat in the balcony of the event center, all dressed up watching paige’s big night, you couldn’t help but clench your jaw. specifically, when she hugged azzi first when her name was called or really, when she interacted with azzi at all. there was no justifiable reason. you knew azzi, had even met her on more than one occasion, but seeing paige with someone else caused your stomach to burn with a heated jealousy that you had never felt toward her before. they looked good together which made it that much worse.

you were relieved when you noticed that paige kept getting pulled to do media while the other names were being called. it’s the only thing that allowed you to sit through the rest of the actual draft with a fake smile that seemed to convince your parents (but maybe not your brother). 

the hardest part would be getting through the afterparty.

this time, there would be opportunities to interact with paige–to accidentally bump into her, or not so accidentally. not only that, but there would be alcohol involved. you were known for having a big mouth while wasted, and for being particularly flirty. and so was she. you knew this, you had seen her say some things she probably shouldn’t and hang off people like they were a teddy bear to her. you had never thought much of it before, but suddenly, the idea of her doing that with someone else made you feel physically ill. 

you knew you shouldn’t be feeling that way. it was your fault that you were in this position. you knew how she felt, you knew that she wouldn’t have rejected you if you made another move. you knew that she was probably waiting for you to, but you never did. you basically tossed her aside like she had never meant anything to you at all. and you had the audacity to show up tonight after that. 

the thought of excusing yourself back to the hotel room with a pitiful excuse about not feeling very well and just skipping the party crossed your mind, but you knew that she would always remember if you didn’t go. when you had an event or party for someone that you didn’t want to attend, your mom always said it might slip their mind that you were there, but they would never forget if you weren’t. and you’ve carried that through life. you almost wish you could forget that so you could, in good conscience, wallow in self-pity in your king-sized hotel bed.

you don’t. of course you don’t. you’re at the wnba draft, invited by the number one pick. how could you miss it? 

not only that, but the number one pick in question is paige. not paige bueckers, pb5, the best player on uconn–just paige. not the girl the whole internet was thirsting over, who led the nation in assists to turnovers, the 2025 national champion. it was the girl who, at just nine years old, would trash-talk your dad and grandpa during board games or corn-hole like she could do anything to back it up. the one who would play stupid pranks on you with your brother in the middle of the night to cheer you up after having a bad day. the one who used to come to your volleyball tournaments, despite how long they would get, and cheer the loudest for you no matter how many sets she had watched–attempting to argue with the officials like her word would do any good (like she knew anything about the sport beyond the basics, let’s be real) and almost running on the court every time you did something well. 

you owed her the decency to show your support for her, you knew that, no matter the current circumstances of your relationship. 

though, you still had to wonder if just a congratulatory text would have sufficed to prevent any possible awkwardness of your presence. you just wish your brother would have said if she asked if you were coming in a hopeful or dreadful tone. it definitely would shape your mood if you knew, and maybe that’s why he didn’t tell you. this night is supposed to celebrate her and her accomplishments–all the adversity she went worked so hard through to get to the place she is now.

the room where the party was felt like a club. there was an open bar in the back and a dj booth in the front playing a mix of requests and paige’s favorite songs. the music was pumping so loud you could feel the floor vibrating beneath you and you wondered if your heart was even beating on its own. which, maybe it wasn’t. 

you had been stealthily managing to slip away from paige anytime you two got even close to interacting. you felt guilty about it because you know you should say something to her, to show your support with more than just your silent presence. but you stayed lost in the crowd nursing your cup of whatever your brother had snagged you from the bar. you couldn’t bring yourself to drink the way you thought you would from the sickening nervousness. 

still, you had been watching her as she celebrated, her huge grin lit up the room and brought a smile onto everyone’s face. she moved with the confidence you’d expect from the girl who had one of her biggest dreams come true. rightfully so, she was completely wasted. you were surprised she could even hold her eyes open, let alone stand up straight. she deserved it, though. she deserved everything she wanted in life and more. 

at some point, you excused yourself to use the bathroom. 

when you pushed open the door, you almost jumped out of your skin at the sight in front of you. you realized you hadn’t seen paige in a few minutes, but you didn’t really think much of it. so when your eyes landed on her, standing at the sink washing her hands, you thought your heart stopped. you let the door close behind you, but continued standing there like an idiot, completely forgetting what you even came into the bathroom for.

she looked into the mirror at the sound of the door opening, but she didn’t look as startled as you were. in fact, she smirked and rolled her eyes. you couldn’t tell if it was out of annoyance or surprise, though, and you didn’t know which one you wanted it to be. of course, you didn’t want her to be annoyed with you, but hopefully then she would ignore you and you could avoid a hard conversation. 

your prayers weren’t answered when she turned around to lean against the sink, looking you up and down like she couldn’t make up her mind on how to feel. 

you broke the silence, deciding to just rip the bandaid off. “congratulations, paige. i’m so, um, proud of you. number one pick is huge,” you say awkwardly. 

“you came,” she stated, ignoring you. 

you glanced at your feet sheepishly, then walked toward her slowly until you were about an arm’s length away to give her some space. 

“well, yeah. why wouldn’t i?” you ask trying to make it sound like she said something stupid, but your voice betrayed you. your tone didn’t hold the confidence it would previously be dripping with before, when you knew you were in control of the situation. this time, you weren’t. she was, and she knew it. 

she laughs bitterly, shaking her head and looking down. you get a sudden surge of confidence so you take a step toward her. she looks up, biting her lip when she notices that the way she was leaning meant you were a little taller than her. 

“seriously, i’m proud of you,” you mumbled. you traced your pointer finger over the bill of her hat, then boldly grab it, take it off her head, and place it back on backwards. she held her breath, knowing the implications of you flipping her hat. she knew that she wanted to lean forward and kiss you just like she did a year ago, but she also wanted to scream at you–to tell you how much it had hurt when you left like she was nothing but your little brother’s friend. like it didn’t happen.

“you have a funny way of showing it.”

it definitely took you off guard. your breath caught in your throat at her words, trying to collect any ounce of confidence that had been drained out of you in that very moment. you had spent so much time worrying about this happening, yet it was like all the scenarios you had considered were gone and your mind was blank. 

you knew what she meant, and she knew you knew, but nonetheless, you made a weak attempt to play dumb. “um, w-what do you mean?” 

“you’re avoiding me,” she deadpanned. her expression was completely unamused, like she was tired of this–of you. and you wouldn’t blame her if she was, because you had been running her in circles for years, just assuming she had the stamina to keep up. that she would never want to rest. you couldn’t decide if you were glad that she was at that point or not. you didn’t want to be done with her, but at least it meant you wouldn’t risk tarnishing a relationship that holds itself up just the way it is. 

“no, i’m not,” you lie. you try to sound convincing, but it doesn’t quite land. you and her both know that you are, that you would rather be anywhere than standing there having this conversation. you shook your head, “this is your big night. don’t let something so small ruin it.” 

she raised her eyebrows, looking at her shoes in disbelief, and she couldn’t hide the hurt in her voice, “ouch.”

you tilt your head sadly, biting the inside of your cheek like it’s a punishment for saying the wrong thing. you didn’t mean it that way–like she meant nothing to you and it was something stupid that just happened. you had meant that in comparison to everything in her life, you were something small. 

“i’m sorry. i just meant–” you rush to say, but she interrupts you. 

“nah, i get it.” she nodded. you assumed she would walk away and leave you here to regret your choice of words, but she didn’t. she stayed right where she was sitting, just didn’t make eye contact with you. “no hard feelings.” 

you shift awkwardly, not really knowing what to say and feeling terrible about yourself. you had a few options that would definitely dig you into a bigger hole, and that was absolutely the last thing you wanted to do right now. “i didn’t mean it like that.” 

she finally looked up at you. your heart sank in your chest when you could see that her eyes were glassy from tears threatening to fall. hopefully they didn’t so her gorgeous makeup wouldn’t get ruined. 

“paige,” you said gently, hesitantly reaching to place your hand on her arm. you had half a mind to place it on her face or maybe even her neck, but you decided that would probably be too much given the awkward situation you had put yourself in.

she didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean into your touch either like she had before. “it’s fine, seriously. at least i know where we stand now.”

her words stung, but you deserved it, even if it wasn’t true. even if she was just assuming things that were far from the truth. 

“you don’t know,” your voice was no louder than a whisper. if she wasn’t staring at you, she probably wouldn’t have heard you. 

“oh yeah?” she asked. something about the tone of her voice was suggestive and flirtatious, or maybe you were imagining things. maybe you were hoping it was so bad that you made it up in your head, which you very well could’ve. it could’ve been the alcohol messing with you–though you don’t think you’ve had enough to warrant that. 

her tongue darted out to lick her lips in anticipation, but she didn’t look convinced. 

“yes,” you say, your voice breathy. you think about continuing but you didn’t know what to say. you didn’t know where to start. 

“really?” she asked, like you were joking. you bit your bottom lip hard, suddenly feeling a little dejected standing next to her. maybe it was the alcohol giving her confidence, but you were shocked when she leaned in so your noses were brushing together. your lips parted, breathing labored as you waited for her to make a move, but things were never easy between the two of you. “what don't i know? i know that we haven’t spoken since we literally fucked at your grandparents’ house while your entire family was home, so i’m not sure what exactly i don’t know.”

you flinch a little at her words. “i know, i’m sorry,” you say quietly. “i thought it would be easier.”

she scoffed, but didn’t pull away. you expected her to have a snarky remark, but she didn’t say anything. 

“you’re not just some hookup to me, paige. i just didn’t know what to do. you’re elijah’s paige, not mine,” you add honestly. 

“do you want me to be your paige?” 

you pause for a moment. you knew the answer, but saying it would change everything. instead, you close the gap between you two and gently press your lips together in a kiss as an answer instead. you figured she wouldn’t kiss you back or would maybe push you away, but she does like she had been waiting for it. it’s soft, slow, and full of the desire that had been building up for the last year. 

without disconnecting your lips, you adjusted your position so you were standing in front of her instead of off to the side and placed your hands on either side of her face. she grabs your hips to pull you closer, her thigh unintentionally slotting between your legs. you can feel the heat rush between your legs at the action, but you use all your restraint to not buck your hips. 

you couldn’t believe that this is how the night was playing out. you figured that she would either scream at you or blatantly ignore you, not make out with you against a bathroom sink like you hadn’t been ghosting each other for almost a year. you’re glad she is though, of course. 

it felt right–like this is exactly where you are supposed to be, where she is supposed to be. the burning feelings between you two were poured into the kiss, making it even more passionate than it was before like a silent declaration. though, the slowness of it quickly turned into something fast, fiery, and impatient. the sounds coming from you two were sloppy and obscene, yet they were successful in turning you on.

“paige,” you practically moan into her mouth. it was definitely an accident, you were intending for it to be more stern and serious. like you meant it. which you did–kind of. “we should stop.”

“no,” she whined, “please.”

“people will wonder where you are,” you laugh. 

“fuck, i don’t care,” she murmured. “let them wonder.”

despite her words, you pulled away reluctantly. she took a few moments before she opened her eyes, though they were hooded and still locked on your lips. you moved a hand to her neck, using your thumb to tilt her chin up to look at you. 

and fuck, the sight was enough for you to regret pulling away. the way she looked at you almost innocently, like she was yours and yours only. it made you want to push her back into one of the stalls and rip all of her clothes off like this wasn’t a public bathroom.

“someone will see us,” you say. she knew that you were right, that she couldn’t just ditch her own party like that.

“i’ve waited so long for you to fuck me again,” she said boldly, but her tone was still a little whiny. “please, don’t make me wait anymore.”

you stare at her for a moment to genuinely weigh your options. it was kind of late and most of the people here were probably drunk off their ass, so would they really notice either of your absences? maybe they would for paige, but definitely not for you.

“fuck it,” you shrug, grabbing her shirt and pulling her back into a random stall with you. when the door closed behind her, you fumbled clumsily with the lock for a second. something so easy suddenly feeling impossible because of your impatience. one of her hands flew to grip the top of the stall and the other tangled in your hair.

after finally managing to lock it, you wasted absolutely no time before you were unbuttoning her pants and shoving your hand in her underwear. your middle and ring finger circled her entrance, not even wanting to tease her right now.

“you’re so wet already,” you smile, pushing your fingers inside of her. she gasped at the sudden intrusion, but didn’t fight it. “just for me, right?"

she squirmed from the pleasure, lightly clenching around your fingers. “yes, shit, for you. i’m yours.”

she tilted her head back slightly with a loud moan when your fingers curled just the right way inside of her, hitting her spot effortlessly. she swears her knees almost buckled beneath her, but somehow manages to stay upright. your hand instinctively flies to cover her mouth, not wanting someone to hear something and interrupt. 

“quiet, paige,” you coo, leaning forward to get closer to her ear. it was difficult because of the slight height difference, but you did your best. “wouldn’t want someone to hear, would you? then we’ll have to stop.” 

she shakes her head in agreement, whimpering against your hand. her head falls forward so your foreheads were pressed together. you speed up your pace, using your thumb to circle her clit. 

“oh my god,” she whispers, following it with a moan. her hips buck against your hand in untimed moments like she had no control over them. “fuck, no one could fuck me as good as you.” 

her praise was going straight between your legs, probably soaking your underwear completely through with desire. when she clenched around your fingers, you quickly pulled them out. an immediate whine at the sudden emptiness left her lips, her hips snapping forward hard from the loss of contact. a mischievous, amused smile rose to your lips at the action, but she didn’t seem to find it as entertaining. 

“wait,” she whined. “no, don’t stop. i want to come so bad, please.”

“i don’t know,” your voice trailed off. she opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, the sound of the bathroom door opening made it snap shut. her hand dropped from the top of the stall to be less suspicious. 

“paige, are you in here?” the sound of azzi’s voice made paige widen her eyes, knowing that you were right–someone would notice she was gone.

she closed her eyes tight for a second, debating on what to do. “yeah.”

“okay, i just wanted to make sure you were okay,” azzi replied. “no one has seen you in a while.”

“i’ll be out in a second.”

with that, the sound of the door closing had paige sighing in relief. you bit your lip to try to contain your laugh, but she just glared at you and used one hand to lightly shove your shoulder.

“it’s not funny,” she tried to deadpan, but a smile rose to her lips too. there was a slight glint in her eyes when she felt your fingers brush against her stomach. you knew she assumed you were going to touch her again, but instead, you buttoned her pants back up. her lips parted in shock, clearly expecting to get what she wants. 

“we better get back out there.”

after reluctantly doing what you say and returning back to the party, you tried to go back to what you were doing before, standing in the corner away from her, but she doesn’t let it happen. she immediately grabs your arm when you go to walk away to yank you toward her again. 

the night drags on, paige’s impatience growing by the second. she was determined to make sure that the only way the night was going to end was with you in her bed or her in yours. not that you would argue, anyway, because you had the same plan. 

it was obvious how desperate you both were–even more so, her– when the lights came on and the music shut off, and you found yourself being dragged into paige’s fancy hotel room.

she practically slammed your back against the door when it closed, just hard enough that a small oof left your lips, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

“you’re such a fucking tease,” she said breathlessly, crashing your lips together in a heated kiss. “leaving me hanging like that.”

you smiled smugly against her lips at her attempt to gain control, trying to contain your laugh so she could live in her delusion. she fumbles with your dress, unzipping it and pulling it down your body so you’re only in your bra and underwear. then, she unbuttons her own shirt and throws it haphazardly behind her. her mouth connects to your neck, leaving sloppy open-mouthed kisses. 

“paige,” you breathe out. 

you can practically feel her smile against your skin, pleased with the sound. though as quickly as her reign of dominance began, you quickly put a stop to it. your hands gripped her waist for leverage to shove her away from you. her eyes widened with shock, but you quickly stepped forward to push her back against the bed like she had done to you almost a year ago. 

“come on,” she whined, “you couldn’t let me have that one?”

you laughed, your fingers unbuttoning her pants and hooking around the waistband to pull them and her underwear down in one smooth motion. it was enough of an answer to tell her that you absolutely would not. maybe one day, but not today. 

“it’s my night, shouldn’t i get what i want?” she tries to plead her case again, moving back to sit against the headboard with her legs bent and curled up in front of her. 

“do you want to come?” you ask. 

“well,” she starts like she’s going to argue, then realizes she can’t, “yeah…”

you crawl up the bed and grab her legs to part them. “so you are getting what you want.”

she grumbles something that you choose to ignore it to lie down on your stomach, your face settling between her legs. she breathes out shakily when your warm breath fans over her. instead of leaning forward to use your mouth, you reach your hand up and press a thumb firmly against her clit.

“just fuck me, damn,” she says with a bout of confidence stemming from her impatience. you tilt your head with raised eyebrows at her boldness. her eyes widened slightly when she realized that she had said something bratty that could change whether she actually gets what she wants. 

“what was that?” you challenged, not moving your thumb but applying more pressure. she tried to move her hips against it, but you placed your other palm over her stomach and held her in place. 

“nothing,” she mumbled. “i’m begging you to fuck me right now.” 

“i don’t hear any begging,” you replied with furrowed eyebrows, faking confusion. you move your thumb in circles achingly slow, so slow it was practically still. she groans, but resists the urge to roll her eyes as her cheeks flush. “maybe if you ask nicely…”

“please?” she asks, her voice suddenly sounding vulnerable, but you didn’t give in. 

“please what?”

“please touch me,” she says with an exasperated tone, clearly frustrated with how much you are making her wait and how long it is taking to just get to it. after the bathroom and the fact that you haven’t seen each other in so long she was sure her virginty grew back, she figured she would’ve at least had one orgasm by now. 

“i am touching you,” you replied stubbornly, purposefully playing dumb to get her to spell it out. this time, she did throw her head back in annoyance, making you laugh. you considered pulling away as a punishment for doing so, but you decided to let it slide this time. 

she groaned your name. “bruh, you’re so mean to me.” she sounded genuinely annoyed and she probably was by your antics. you knew she wasn’t upset, though, you could tell by how wet she was. against your better judgment for continuing this little game, you leaned forward to lap it up with your tongue. a gasp left her lips at the sudden contact.

“is this what you want?” you asked innocently against her. 

“yes.” she grabbed your hair and shamelessly tried to push your face closer to her. you give in, relentlessly swirling your tongue through her folds and over her clit at a pace she definitely didn’t expect, but honestly, you were tired of waiting too.

you had waited almost a whole year to know what she tasted like, to hear her squirming beneath you and moaning like it was the only thing she knew how to do. 

“fuck, yes, fuck, feels so good,” she moaned shamelessly loud. you were almost worried about others in the building hearing–almost. “please, don’t stop. i’ve waited for this for so long.”

the feeling was so intense from how sensitive her lack of orgasm earlier had left her, and she could feel herself starting to unravel already. she didn’t want it to stop yet, though, so she did her best to hold it. you try to push your middle finger inside her, but she pushes lightly against your forehead.

“no, no, don’t. i’m gonna come if you do that. i want you to fuck me a little longer,” she said quickly, trying to tell you as fast as possible before she started to come. 

if you were expecting her to say anything, it definitely wasn’t that. her words went straight between your legs, so you used the finger you were going to use on her to circle your own clit for a little bit of friction. you moaned at the feeling, your lips vibrating on your clit. 

despite her wanting to last a little longer, she lasts only about half a minute before she’s unraveling beneath you. her stomach flexes, causing her to jerk forward at the feeling with pinched eyes and parted lips. you slowed your pace only a little to work her through it. 

when she finally starts to come down, her body twitches a few times before she leans back against the headboard again. her chest is heaving and you pull away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.  you crawl up the bed and lean forward to press a peck against her lips which she barely returns. she smiles a little, letting you know she’s still conscious. 

you both know you’ll have to talk about this, but that can wait until later.

[sumplys]

black beauty (part one) — j. barnes

You said if you could have it your way, you’d make it nighttime all day.

warnings: shorthair!bucky x redroom!reader, awkward timeline (takes place after captain america: civil war), female reader, soft sub bucky, slowburn(ish). [1k words]

notes: first fic back—also my first series in years! there is a lot of plot here—it’s going to be delving deeper into the trauma of the characters in this chapter (but don’t worry, you’ll get your juicy stuff later). please send love if you enjoy! i’m looking forward to constructive criticism on the pacing & plot! love u xx.

main masterlist | series masterlist

Sequential gunshots rang out, three bullet holes indenting themselves into the soft cardboard targets.

“Again,” Madame B said. “Five now—as we practiced.”

You brought your thick centerfire pistol up towards your target, shooting once and hitting the bullseye. You took a second to breathe, lowering your gun–just a millimeter. Without a skilled eye, it wouldn’t look like much–maybe a flinch, or a shifting of weight–but Madame B nodded in approval, her hands clasped behind her back.

The shell casings clattered to the linoleum floor, with the next four bullets flying through the gaping space your first bullet had left.

Your hands lowered, the muzzle of your gun reflecting on the polished floor.

“Again.”

Your pistol rose, a methodical, perfectly rehearsed habit–then your eyes opened as the gunshots sounded–abruptly ending your nightmare.

“Are you cold, Agent?” Nick Fury asked, his voice echoing from a dark shadow. “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.”

You brushed off the memory, bringing a cool glass of water to meet your lips, but you knew Fury hadn’t attributed your shivering to the temperature.

“Are you up for an assignment?”

Following a task that resulted in the accidental deaths of over four-thousand Polish war prisoners, you defected from General Dreykov and the Red Room organisation. With hardly a week of freedom, S.H.I.E.L.D. detained you.

The organization–in order to pardon you for your crimes–had to promise the government around-the-clock surveillance and court mandated therapy. You complied, obviously, but your new life wasn’t without its flaws.

You were kept in a glass cage, bulletproof—for your safety, but with no internal guns—not your preference.

Being perpetually observed wasn’t for the weak, and it was especially not for the paranoid, but that’s just what happens when you’re branded as a “national security threat.”

Nonetheless, you were desperate to be rid of the torturous rhythm you had found amongst S.H.I.E.L.D.’s bustling staff.

“Yes, sir,” you replied, weary of the responsibility, but you knew it could prompt S.H.I.E.L.D. to trust you.

“Good. What do we need to get ready for you?”

“A Tokarev, sir, and a Korth revolver.”

“Old-fashioned,” Fury mused.

“And expensive,” you finished.

He stood from his chair, and the motion-sensored lights flickered on, “No bother, agent. Be ready to leave in twenty minutes. I’ll brief you on the flight.”

—

Jazz music ran over your body in waves as it hummed out of the overhead speakers.

Rond de jambe, pas de bourrée, pirouette, and fouette: movements as familiar to you as the click of a trigger. The urge to line up in your formation and succumb to the melody was nearly enough to make you pass out again. Old habits die hard, I guess.

The pill Fury slipped into your drink began to wear off, and you awoke to the smell of chemical cleaner and what seemed like pine scented car air-freshener. It was the same smell you had gotten used to on the long flight to the United States: Fury’s private jet.

You felt yourself getting irritated at the thought of Nick Fury once more–as if it wasn’t enough to imprison you, he had to drug you too. At the very least, the heavy medication kept the nightmares away.

As you blinked profusely, your eyes caught the passenger sitting across from you. Eyes a brooding blue gazed up to look back at you, and you immediately recognized the face.

He was a ghost story amongst Russians–a tale the government promoted but would never prove.

His accomplishments were deadly. Over 60 credited assassinations and nearly 230 casualties. No witnesses was his one rule, and here you were.

His dress shirt was tight against his chest, and his metal arm made a gentle whirring noise as his fingers twitched involuntarily. His hair was cut, and he looked different from the photos you recognized him from. His eyes were narrow, guarded, as he assessed your potential threat.

“You need trouble breathing, agent?” Natasha teased from beside you. “You can reach out and touch him if you want–to check if he’s real.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, still groggy.

The man’s face didn’t change. Still stoic–still staring.

The Winter Soldier.

His name was attributed to his preservation in the Arctic, you had always presumed, but now you couldn’t help but think that maybe it came from his gaze–cold and icy.

You knew that you would most likely be physically competent if you were to oppose him, but there was a look in his eyes—something that told you that he could end you without a single coherent thought entering his mind.

“Nice to meet you.”

His tone was flat, but he forced a corner of his lips to turn up into a smile.

“Nice to meet you too, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Your eyes lingered on him momentarily before you were forced to look away.

His eyes were so intense, as cliche as it sounded, as if you could feel yourself losing your own way in them. His glances were not lingering, nor relenting, as he continued to bore down on your soul. A staring problem, it seemed.

“Do you really have to put her down every time we fly?” Natasha asked. “I mean, I just don’t understand.”

“She’s quite the escape artist,” Fury mused. “She doesn’t seem to love the safe house.”

Barnes’ eyes narrowed at this–he scanned you over again, face softening with infinitesimal amusement.

“The cage,” you corrected.

“The safehouse, and it’s just temporary—until people know you won’t be trying anything on your own.”

“She’ll be good,” Natasha said, doing a better job at reassuring herself rather than reassuring Fury. “She was always the best of us all.”

Your expression didn’t change. That was a lie, and you all knew it. You were sure Fury had the classified rankings of each Red Room pupil, your own name falling–assumedly–much lower than Natasha Romanoff’s.

“Show her what we’re dealing with, Nat.”

As Natasha pressed the case file into your lap, you felt the unexpected indent of a gun on your thigh.

You slid your hand up your own leg to brush your fingers along a thigh holster, and you detached a TT-30 gun from your lap.

You turned it over in your hand, running your knuckles along the indents on the grip. It was the perfect weight in your hands, and your brain hummed, reaching an ecstatic high.

Palming a gun was probably the safest feeling you could remember–similar to how you imagined regular people felt about coming home for the holidays. A sweet mother’s perfume, the low murmur of a dad’s voice, the scuffling of a family dog–that feeling of familiarity was only achievable for you with a Soviet-made semi-automatic in your hands.

“H.Y.D.R.A. wants their files back; Mission reports from Barnes’ time as the Winter Soldier,” Natasha said. “Intelligence tells us that they’re already looking to fill the void he left behind.”

“Like a new super soldier?”

“They have other soldiers,” Fury said. “Just none as efficient as him.”

Russia wanted to assess what they had done correctly with Barnes. What worked, what didn’t–whether it was her personality before the serum, or his physical strength. They needed S.H.I.E.L.D.’s knowledge to get that information.

“I’ll go into SVR headquarters in Moscow tomorrow night to assess what they have so far. You and Barnes will go to the Victory Day gala–see if you recognize anyone.”

“Why would I recognize anyone?” you asked.

Going back to Russia wasn’t the most ideal scenario, let alone infiltrating a high-profile government-hosted fete. You expected to see some familiar faces, but whether it was H.Y.D.R.A. or Red Room employees would determine your level of complicity in the matter.

“Not you–Barnes.”

“Why am I involved then? It’s not like he needs my help to recognize his handlers.”

He tensed at the words, his fingers stiffening with a muted clank.

Sensitive. Apparently being the Winter Soldier didn’t teach him to keep his emotions to himself.

“Natasha seems to think you have a certain knack for consoling the… how do I put this… perturbed.”

You squinted at her, blinking recurrently.

Fury continued, “Dear Bucky here has been struggling with the assimilation to civilian life. Nat believes you can help him with that.”

You snorted, “I’m hardly a civilian myself.”

“You always had this fervent empathy–even in the Rooms. You could talk any of the girls down.”

“Convincing a thirteen year-old girl that the world isn’t ending tomorrow is so much different than consoling a grown man–let alone a grown man confronted by his captors.”

“It’s necessary,” Fury asserted. “This is low profile. No bodies, no hysterics.”

“Okay, but we don’t have to talk about him like he’s not here,” you hissed.

“Yeah, right–sorry James,” Natasha said. “But you’ll do it?”

“It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

“Great, fantastic.”

“It will be pleasurable working with you, ma’am,” Barnes remarked, reaching out his metal hand for you to shake.

You dropped your gun, slipping your left hand between your thighs to meet your holster, as you reached to meet his brisk palm.

His eyes dropped, gaze following your gun going up your dress.

A really bad staring problem.

[fallen-w1ngs]

'' flower shop of new feelings ,,

[ 08 : explain, punk ]

|| pairing : james "bucky" barnes x florist!reader

|| warning : reader's super oblivious </3 , natasha and steve inserting themselves sdbsbabjd

|| wc : 1.7k

“Welcome to the Flower Parlor! How can I help you today?” You waved from the counter. It was a slow day today, just a few days after Bucky stayed the night after, ah.. What happened with Silas. But no matter! Everyday is a new day, and today, you were approaching it with a positive attitude.

The people who’d walked in were.. Strange looking to say the very least. One, a lady with red hair and a very serious look on her face as she looked at the peonies. And the other, a tall blonde man who was studying the roses, as if on a mission. It made you chuckle, the two were acting just like James when he first came in. With quick movement, you walked over to the two, a bright smile dawned your face as they both acknowledged your presence.

“Hey there!” You introduced yourself as you shook both their hands. “Is there anything I can help you with in particular?”

The two shared a look to each other and a sly smile tugged at the woman’s lips. “Just looking for a gift, for a friend.”

“Oh, not to toot my own horn, but I’m great at gifts!” You jabbed your thumb towards your chest, a prideful pose. It wasn’t wrong, you’re great at gift giving. Everytime it was someone’s birthday, anniversary, or any big celebration, your gifts were always perfectly tailored for the persons personality. 

The tall man chuckled at that, amused at your statement. “We have a friend who’s birthday is coming up, his name’s Sam and we heard that you were the person to come to for gift advice"

A small chuckle left your lips as you gracefully strode around the shop, checking over every flower just in case. You weren't sure why, but you had a feeling these strangers won't exactly stay strangers for long.

"Tell me about your friend? Sam?" You walked back over to the back of your counter, pen in hand and notebook ready to write down everything they were going to throw at you.

The woman was the one to start. "He's a dumbass"

"Language-"

You snorted at that as you nodded, dumbass.. It could work sure.

As the two talked of their friend, you found out the people in front of you were named Steve and Natasha. You made an off-handed joke about them being Black Widow and Captain America, which thankfully landed. Though, obviously it weren't them. You'd have to tell James about this.

"Alright, so, to make sure I've got everything," you read over your list quickly. "Your friend Sam, he's a dumbass, loves rom-com's, a family man, has a good sense of judgement, and is selfless. Is that correct?"

"That's our Sam for ya!" Steve had a bright smile on his face, God, he looked like a golden retriever. But taller.. And more muscley. With a quick nod to the both of them, you excused yourself to the back. There were some new flowers that were shipped in that you thought would be perfect for this.

--

Whilst you worked in the back, grabbing the flowers, fluffing them up, wrapping them up nicely and finding a bonus book as well as some art supplies (Natasha said Sam wanted to try out sketching), your phone in the back of your pocket vibrated. As much as you wanted to ignore it.. You were in the back, those two said they had a free day.. It wouldn't hurt to see who was calling.

"Incoming Call" was at the top of the screen and the icon of Bucky eating an ice cream cone popped up. You remembered that day, that was the day he said he had a break from work and agreed to go get some ice cream at Central Park. That time always made your heartbeat quicken.

You picked up the call and your ears were blessed with his smooth voice calling your name.

"Hello there, James," You kept your phone pinched between your ear and shoulder as you worked on the bouquet.

"Hey, doll," GOD, he made you smitten. "I was wonderin' if you wanted to come over and help me get somethin' for a friend of mine?"

"Oh, yeah sure! Y'don't want one of my super famous bouquet's?" You teased. "I'm hurt, truly."

"Maybe I just wanna keep 'em for myself," before you could even overthink what he said, he continued. "But, ah, he's a.. God, if he ever finds out I said this I'm gonna lose it. He's a close friend of mine. And I wanna get him somethin'.. I'm not too sure. Just, not just flowers."

".. Should I feel insulted?"

"Not at all, doll, sorry for the ramble."

You snorted and finished up fluffing the bouquet up, checking it over and putting the book and art supplies in a seperate bag. "Don't be sorry, I like hearing your voice, James. Ah, but I'll need y'to shut up for a second, I'm with customers."

"With customers? Doll, y'shouldn't have-"

"Steve! Natasha, are these good?" You handed the bouquet over, placing your phone on the counter. You didn't know why, but you wanted Bucky to hear the conversation. Possibly hear what you do everyday. You already know what he goes through, might as well let him know what you do.

"Oh, these are perfect!" Steve beamed at you, a bright smile on his face as he looked over the flowers. They were beautiful shades, perfectly placed, and the art supplies as well as book seemed like good fits.

"I'm glad you think so! If you don't want the book or sketchbook, there's no need to buy them as well'

"Nah, even if Sam doesn't read this I'm definitely taking it," Natasha laughed, reading over the back of the book. "Thank you, though. How much do we owe you?"

You punched in the items into your registry and showed it to them. Didn't even make them flinch. Usually people argue about how expensive flowers are, how the prices should be lowered. They don't realize how much thought you put into them, how much care. How passionate you were about them.

"Thank you, again," Steve nodded, tipping his baseball hat to you as Natasha gave a small wave and smile to you.

"Come again!" You waved to them, waiting before they were fully out of the shop before you checked your phone.. Oh, Bucky hung up. A small pang of disappointment shot through your chest as you pocketed your phone. Not the worst thing in the world, but you looked forward to talking to him more. No matter, you'll text him once your shift finished.

--

Unaware to you, Bucky was pacing around his room. He heard Steve and Natasha's voice, right? RIGHT?? Or maybe he was going crazy- again. Why he was so hung up on this? He didn't know, but what he did know was that he heard Steve and Natasha's voice on the other side of your call.

He stopped pacing the moment FRIDAY alerted him that the two had come back to the Tower. He, much like a man on a mission, walked to the common room. Arms crossed over his chest as he glared at the elevator, waiting for Natasha and Steve's faces to show up like an angry father waiting for his teenage kids to try and sneak back in.

Once they do arrive to the floor, Steve held the bouquet as Natasha held the bag. Their expressions of calm, happy turned confused at the super soldier in front of them. Trying to act all big and tough.

"Natalia. Steven."

"Oh god, he used our full names." Natasha whispered over to Steve. Who in turn stiffled a snort.

"Hey, Bucky, what's up?"

".. Where'd y'go?" He glanced down to gift bag and bouquet. He didn't now why he was so pressed about this. It wasn't like they were killing you, no, more like the opposite of it. They're helping your business. Buying your flowers.. God, but that means they know you now. You're not just his.

"Flower shop a few blocks away," Natasha walked out of the elevator, and Steve followed. The two went over to the living room and sat on the couch, opposite ends as Natasha played around with her holographic watch.

Pressing a few buttons, she read something, something Bucky didn't know. He was standing in front of the couch, brows pressed together in confusion as she pressed a button and an audio recording started playing.

"Hello there, James," it was your voice.

"What-"

"Hey, doll, I was wonderin' if you wanted to come over and help me get somethin' for a friend of mine?"

Natasha had a smug smile as Steve just stared in confusion as the audio recording kept playing. Bucky on the other hand, stood there. Wide eyes, cheeks starting to flush a light pink.

"Oh, yeah sure! Y'don't want one of my super famous bouquet's? I'm hurt, truly."

"Maybe I just wanna keep 'em for myself,"

That's when Natasha finally stopped the audio recording as she leaned forward. Her arms resting on her knees as she raised her brow. Though, Steve was the first to intergect.

"You recorded his call? First of all, why?? Second of all," He turned to Bucky. "Why didn't ya' tell me you were goin' steady with someone?"

"We are NOT going steady-"

"Then why'd you call 'em doll?"

"Why were you recording my call? And at the shop?" Bucky took a step forward to Natasha. His arm whirring as he glared at her.

"Sam, Steve 'n I noticed you were acting strange, and Tony's been tracking you so we see you visit that shop a bunch." Natasha raised a brow. "Wanted to see why you went there. Turns out it was the cute florist."

Bucky's eyebrow twitched as his cheeks grew hotter. Oh my god, you were never a secret. Steve looked between Natasha and Bucky, his brows furrowed in confusion.. Like, pure utter confusion at what had just happened.

".. I think you have some explaining, punk"

|| they are slowly finding out abt you and this will make things move a bit faster !!

taglist : @iyskgd , @highhopes1008 , @purplefluffycows , @averagetmblrusser , @herejustforbuckybarnes

[hollow-writing-place]

The Ghost King and The Firecracker

Chapter 4: Out of the pan, into the... fire?

Word Count: 2830

Masterlist for this work/info about the fic

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Chapter Summary:

A fight, discovery, and tense situations.

Warning: I don't think it's too bad, but the fight scene gets a bit intense. Dick is pretty aggressive (he thinks Danny killed his brother), and Danny has that trauma around electricity. If anyone thinks there's something i need to add a warning for, please tell me!!!

------Last Episode------

'And finally, someone above them in the rafters of the warehouse screams, and three shadowy figures drop to the ground behind Danny, one of them charging Danny immediately, weapon crackling with electricity.'

-------

Danny snaps from his trance, looking away from the electrically changed batons. He throws his hands up, trying to ease the tension in the air. Despite his ghostly form nullifying most of the heat, it feels stifling now.

Nightwing has not stopped stalking forward, but Batman is still as a statue in front of him, Red Robin at his side, silent.

“Hold on! This isn't what it looks like!” He calls desperately to them. “I can expl- ack!” He cuts himself off to dodge a swing by Nightwing, jerking his full body to the side to avoid the arcs of electricity.

“What is there to explain? It looks cut and dry to me.” Red Robin speaks up, his voice cold and startlingly empty of emotion.

Oh ancients, this all did have to look pretty bad. I mean, from the perspective of someone who didn’t know what was going on, Danny just coerced Jason to throw himself on a bed of coals. And the fact it was clear Danny wasn't human... Well, he'd jump to mind-control or something just as sinister if he were the bats. 

Danny has to turn his attention to Nightwing to dodge another strike, turning intangible so the escrima sticks pass through him. There’s a disconcerting tingling left in place after it passes through, and Danny shudders.

Nightwing makes another wordless snarl at him, lunging again.

He needs to explain. He needs to defend himself!

“It’s not like that! If you’d just liste-”

Nope. He has to instinctively bring an arm up, catching Red Robin's bo staff against his forearm with a grunt. It hurts, sure, but not as much as another ghosts attack would.

Not as much as the electricity from Nightwing would.

This is Jason’s family, he can’t fight back. He’s too used to fighting ghosts, and has trouble keeping that strength back. Switching back to human for more managable strength is obviously not an option, for identity reasons if not just for his safety. Overall, there's too much of a risk of hurting them. 

In that same vein, he can’t fly up or stop defending the bonfire and prevent himself from being hurt. If they interrupt Jason while he’s transforming and getting used to his ghost half fully for the first time, the consequences could be disastrous. Like, actually dead-dead Jason.

Danny had seen de-stabilization before, and the idea of it happening to Jason made his stomach roll.

Up against two of Gotham’s best fighters and her best strategist, all of whom he couldn’t fight back against? Well, Danny knew immediately he was dealt the worst hand. Still, he had to try. Jason needed him. The thought alone strengthened his resolve.

The dance was simple. He would switch between intangible and physical to block each attack depending on who it was. If he thought about it almost like a video game, it helped distract from the sheer terror he was feeling at the situation. He stays physical to bodily stop Red Robin from getting too close to the fire and goes intangible so that Nightwing’s electric escrima couldn’t touch him.

He hated how badly he was trembling at the just the memory of lightning racing over his body, arcing through his bones, cold and lonely and dying. He couldn’t let Nightwing land a hit.

Thankfully, Nightwing was so wholeheartedly focused on attacking him that he didn’t think to split from Red Robin and draw his attention too much more than it already was. If they broke apart and went to opposite sides of the bonfire, Danny, and Jason, were screwed. He couldn’t be in two places at once. This fight had to stay close. But, between the two of them, he completely lost sight of Batman.

He realizes his mistake when he hears something skid across the concrete the his far side. He turns to look so fast his head spins a little.

Batman has hooked a chunk of old rebar around some of the wood in the pile, using it to drag and fling the lit chunks away from the main stack, sending sparks and burning wood across the warehouse.

Danny’s eyes go wide with panic.

If he breaks up the bonfire, the flames won’t be so concentrated. If the fire isn’t as big and hot, it could ruin everything. Danny doesn't know much about fire cores, but he knows a lot about cores needing the right conditions to form. Frostbite gave him an earful when he explained Jason. He has to stop Batman.

Unfortunately, the panic stills him for too long, so as he’s moving to run towards Batman, Nightwing’s escrima comes down on his upper arm. The pain is much more intense than it should be. Stronger. Lightning fills his veins, spreading down his arm and locking his joints.

His jaw falls open of its own accord, and he screams. He manages to hold back a ghostly wail, but it’s a very near thing, and he can feel the strain of holding it back.

He knew staying in his ghost form would have its consequences, he just doesn’t know how he forgot how bad it could be. 

His body jolts and he throws himself as far from the lightning as he can. In doing so, he finds himself cornered against the flames. Backed up to the roar of the fire.

If he flees, he risks Jason’s life, but if he stays, he risks himself.

One is worth much more than the other, so he plants his feet and tries to straighten up. He needs to look strong. He’s supposed to be better. He's the Ghost King for Ancient's sakes. And yet, despite his title, he knows he’s not at his best now.

He hasn’t sparred with anyone in the zone recently, hasn’t kept up with the mock battles. He hasn’t fully come into the power of the Ghost King either. Sure, he's gained some benefits, but it's mostly knowledge and a minor jump in power. As a Halfa, he was already stronger than most ghosts.

Still, he’s considered too young to be truly crowned in ghost years, so the title is his, but most of the big powers are withheld until his body is strong enough to handle all that being king means. Or, rather, until he has no mortal body to worry about.

Nightwing stalks closer on his right, escrima crackling, teeth bared. Batman closes in on his left, fists clenched at his side. And Red Robin stands dead center, bo staff at the ready, whispering commands into his comm unit.

Gritting his teeth, he clutches his useless, numb arm close. He's had worse.

Final stand it is.

---

The fire isn’t burning, or scalding, or anything really.

In fact, it doesn’t feel like fire at all.

Jason had his eyes squeezed shut the second he ran and threw his body onto the platform, but he cracks them open now. Then both fly open, his jaw dropping. He’s just… in the middle of the palettes, all alight, and he’s fine.

More than that, he isn’t achingly cold anymore. He doesn't know what he expected, but for some reason it wasn't this.

Something hungry and wanting in him was filled and contented. He wants to flop down on his back, roll in the fire, revel in the heat that wraps around him like an embrace. He wants to laugh, to smile.

It all just feels... good.

Smoke curls up over his head, stretching into the warehouse rafters, obscuring his view of anything but the flames.

It feels right, like this is all he ever needed. Finally. His skin fits over his bones and the hole in his chest, in his head, is fixed and new.

He thinks he hears something distantly, but the fire eats up anything coherent before it reaches him. And wow, how had he never noticed just how beautiful fire could be? It's so intricate. He could sit and watch it dance forever.

Something creeps over him and he has an overwhelming need to move. It's like an itch at the base of his spine, which makes him frown.

Everything's perfect here. Why is there a creeping feeling coming over him?

He stands taller, clenching and unclenching his fists, and a feeling washes over him, head to toe. It’s almost like rippling water, but of course, it’s not. Instead, he wants to compare it to licking flames, rolling up over his body like those curling fingers of smoke, up up up.

He blinks, and when he opens his eyes next, he is changed. Different.

Everything is lighter. He looks himself over, inspecting the change.

The red hood armor is fitted over him snuggly, but the shape is a bit different. It’s almost melting in places and layered like plate armor. The edges look molten, practically glowing orange-yellow, and the gaps in armor are filled with light.

If he looks closer, the light shifts and flares with the flames around him. It's mesmerizing. It almost gives the illusion he is a being made of flames, piloting a suit of armor.

His leather jacket is absent, and instead, a heavy cape is fastened around his neck, flowing out behind him and feathered with tongues of flame like wings. His boots are sturdy as ever, and shine like metal. Wrought iron trims some plates, winding up through his armor.

He feels… strong.

I mean, he knows he’s strong physically, but something about this change makes him feel sturdy. Like he’s tethered to the ground and steady. Unmoving, if he wanted to be.

There’s a weight on his back, under that cape, that is subconsciously forcing him to shift his weight. He reaches behind him curiously, eye widening further as he pulls a properly massive sword from a sheath beneath his cape.

Despite the fact he’ll clearly need both hands to properly wield this claymore, it’s lightweight in his hands. The iron shines with the light of the fire, and he tests his grip.

A rush of power washes him over, nearly bowling him over, and he has the sudden realization that this… this change and all it comes with… Whatever he’s been bestowed, it is important.

He’s preparing to sheath it again when he hears something.

No, someone.

They cry out in pain, and there’s an edge like ice breaking, like snow roaring down the mountainside in an avalanche. The sound is horrifyingly familiar in nature, and every muscle in his body tenses.

He blinks, and the fire that was once opaque and blocking his view seems to have cleared. He still feels it lapping at his skin, so he knows it's not miraculously gone, but he can see. And what he sees enrages him.

Danny, backed up to the fire Jason is in, face scrunched in pain and fear. He’s clutching his arm close, flicking in and out of sight, like he’s warring with himself.

Three people he can’t quite make out are closing in on his friend. That alone has Jason ready to burst from the fire and defend him, but before he can move, he sees another thing. It flickers in his view, but he catches sight of it clearly for just a moment. That moment is more than enough.

A crown of flames frozen into place hovers over Danny’s head.

Jason’s king was hurt. Someone has injured The King, a title that Jason didn’t know could have so much weight until the thought came to him unbidden. He wasn't even sure how he knew this fact so intrinsically, but he knew.

One of the figure makes a move to close in, and

Jason

sees

red.

---

There’s a near animalistic noise from the fire, and a shadow lurches from the pile.

A sword, nearly four feet of solid, gleaming metal slams into the ground, cutting Danny off from the Bats. It embeds itself into the concrete, sending sparks flying. Where it sits, blade sunk into the ground, the concrete of the warehouse has turned molten and pooled into liquid magma rock.

Beside Danny stands… the Red Hood.

Well, maybe not quite the Red Hood as Danny remembers him looking, but so so similar. This person had the same face, red domino mask over the eyes and all. His hair was different, though. Instead of a white strip breaking up deep black curling hair, the strip was black and his hair was platinum white.

“You will not harm him.” comes the voice, grating.

There’s an otherworldly echo and the sound of the crackling fire intensifies, but otherwise, the voice was Jason.

Relief floods Danny, but realization comes quickly after.

He looks over at Jason, eyes getting wider and wider as he drags his gaze across Jason’s new form. The cape, the iron edges to the armor, the sword… Oh shit.

Danny knew he was pretty attached to Jason, had been from the moment he laid eyes on him, but he always thought it was just them being similar kinds of ghosts. Compatible. He never thought… Ancients, no wonder he was so drawn to Jason!

Finding his Fright Knight out in the wild, and long before either of them truly died… The odds were astronomical. How could he begin to try and explain? Did Jason know? Did he feel it too, the connection tying them both together?

He could think about and ponder all of that later when their lives weren’t being threatened. He needed to diffuse this situation, fast.

Smoke pours from behind Jason’s clenched teeth, curling into the air near gracefully. The silence was only broken by the churning blaze behind them, somehow not dying down despite surely having run its fuel supply down by now.

“Hood?” Comes Nightwings hesitant voice.

Jason blinks, refocusing on the three bats. He blinks again, and recognition dawns over his face slowly. He doesn't quite relax, and he certainly does not remove the sword from where it rests, protecting Danny from the bats, but he does straighten up and stop gritting his teeth so harshly. “Dick.” he barks, and Danny winces.

“Now isn’t really the best time for name calling, Hood.” Danny hisses lowly, fighting the urge to inch closer to his Knight.

His words are ignored.

Batman takes a menacing step forward, focusing solely on Danny now.

“What did you do to him?!” He snarls, and Danny flinches back a bit at the fury there.

Jason’s leather gloves creak as his grip tightens on the handle of his sword. “He didn’t do anything to me. It is in your best interest to back the hell up.” Each word is carefully measured and spat out.

“Don’t lie to me.” Batman’s voice is cold. He doesn't step forward but he also doesn't move away.

“Hood? What’s happening?” Nightwing tries again, his voice cracking on the question.

“Stay out of this, Wing. It’s none of your business.”

Red Robin’s face scrunches a bit. “I’d argue against that. If- if you’re in danger-”

Jason groans exasperatedly, and more smoke streams out of his mouth. “Shut up.” He hisses, and Danny can feel his aura spike around him defensively.

Batman’s intense stare hasn’t left Danny’s frozen form. Not how he imagined meeting Jason's family, for sure.

Danny sees him reach for a batarang at the same time Jason does, and they react together. Danny goes intangible long enough to scramble onto Jason’s shoulders, wrapping his ghostly form around Jason like a cat, and Jason moves with him, bringing his sword up to block the both of them.

“What are you doing?” Nightwing yells, but not at them, no. He’s facing Batman now, body shifted just barely like he’s trying to hide Jason and Danny behind him.

The Bat huffs and clenches one of his batarangs tightly in a fist. “Clearly that… being, is threatening Hood. Did you completely miss the color of its eyes? Lazarus Green, Nightwing.”

“But that’s Ja- Hood, Batman. Maybe we should take a moment? Rationalize?” Red Robin speaks up, trying to be the voice of reason he always is.

Neither Nightwing’s or Red Robin’s protests do any good, because Batman’s flinging a batarang at Danny over Jason’s shoulder, and Jason does not seem pleased.

In fact, Danny’s willing to bet if he doesn’t do something, then Jason might actually bring harm to his family. Jason’s Fright Knight instinct is going to override any of his usual inhibitions, which is the last thing he needs. Especially when Jason doesn’t even know what he’s become, when he has no idea how tied to Danny he is.

Danny doesn’t want to be the reason Jason doesn’t have control over himself. He’d already been through enough of that with the Lazarus sickness.

Danny makes a split second decision.

Jason lunges forward with Soul Shredder just as Danny rips a rift into the ground at their feet. The blade never makes contact with Batman, because both Danny and Jason are tumbling haphazardly down into the Ghost Zone too quickly for them to do anything but hold on.

--==--

Notes:

I imagine, further into the future, Jason just has a "self-care day" each month or so where he just curls up in a massive bonfire and relaxes. No one can really bother him because no one can get too close, and he loves his day off.

Also!! I don't think Bruce is a bad guy, and i don't want to portray him as some kind of villain. He still wants to be Jason's dad, but as we all know, he deals with emotions horribly. He believes he just saw his son die and be brought back, again, and something was wrong/he's still in active danger. Jason's off-the-bat combativeness doesn't help the perception. Brucie's gonna make mistakes.

[laserbobcat]

How does Morgan feel about Leshy's other siblings? He called Narinder a "tsundere" and was not happy with the thought of having a double date with him and Lamb (I think that was the post) And in another post I saw Morgan call Heket a "degenerate". Does he ever try and give them a chance? Or is it an immediate nope from him since he knows their gods and that's just a huge red flag for him?

Morgan chilled significantly after trying to cut Leshy in two the first time. The Lamb admitted to him that they always knew he wasn't really praying and that it's ok, sorry for not telling him earlier. That's a lot of pressure off, plus he realizes that this oooold anger actually lost a lot of steam with the years. And if the Lamb themselves can navigate all of this without losing their chill, despite what the bishop did to them, it's not his place to lose his temper. So to try and take off some worry off the lamb's shoulders, he starts to stick to Leshy, who apparently is pretty happy about someone who has the balls to fight him. They end up being friends. There's a few harsh conversations, but all in all a lot of it mellows out. I like to follow the "everyone is cool now" mood from the game as much as i can lol Now, Narinder has been here for a year and he's just been ignoring him. This one god didn't cut his lamb's head off, that a good point for him. He doesn't seem to cause real problems for the Lamb and adapted surprisingly well. He's just haughty and annoying. He does feel for him despite his dislike for the black cat, since the peace he found is badly shaken by his family being brought back.

Heket popping up is a problem. Just like Leshy, her first move is to try and attack. But unlike her brother, she seems to have brain cells. And does not seem to be willing to accept and chill, going into a silent waiting. Thena takes a liking to her because she adds to her library with old stories and knowledge, so he trusts her to keep an eye on the former goddess. Morgan just hopes she doesn't reignite Leshy's spite for the lamb or prepare some other form of fuckery.

Kallamar is incredibly underwhelming. It's immediately obvious that there's no threat left in him. Not being pureed is enough for him. Funny enough, he ends up orbiting around Morgan, Kallamar is very invested in looking sharp, so the head tailor is obviously a must befriend. It's annoying to Morgan because he keeps talking about how everything was so much better and prettier before. But when he starts sharing old lost crafting techniques with him, Morgan completely jumps ship and ends up bombarding him with questions. Leshy is a bit jealous of the attention the cat gives him.

Shamura is no threat either. They seem lost most of the time, and pretty easy to please. A lot of cult members befriend them and help as much as they can. They ignore how they somehow out of the blue give incredibly clever war advice. Especially to children.

All in all, nothing gets as tense as his fight with Leshy, and everything ends up smoothing out in the end. It's not an ideal step family for sure.

Another lore dump, woohoo

[pretty-blkgirl]

W. E. A. Y [Ch. 17]

~ Masterlist ~

When you and Addison were nine, she once grabbed hold of your hair and pulled hard. You, obviously taken aback, asked her why she would do that. 

In all reality, she just wanted to make you cry. You had just won a math derby, while she got a measly second place. Your smile was big, and your confidence high, so she wanted to harm you. 

The thing is, she knew better than to hurt you. You two were nine, not three, she could get in trouble for such a random act of bullying. So, she looked you in the eye, straight-faced, and said-

“You took something from me, so I got payback. It’s only fair.”

Confused, you asked her what she meant. She pointed to your bright, red ribbon.

“You won the derby, but I was supposed to win. I studied all day and night, but you took that opportunity away from me. You stole something you didn’t deserve, and this is your consequence.”

You were a bright child, but big words like “consequence” and “opportunity” quickly made you second-guess your win.

Without another word, you gave her the red ribbon, and she gave you her blue one. That was the first instance of Addison making you feel like all your accomplishments were stolen.

It couldn’t have been anything else but robbery, because you weren’t better than her. You kept that mentality throughout your childhood, into your teenage years, and it still lingered in your early twenties.

You thought it was gone when you kicked her out of your life, but that familiar feeling of impostor syndrome crept back in as you, Minho, and I.N. were locked inside the studio.

The rest of the team had left, some finished recording, and others wanted to do some vocal training. The managers and other staff went to grab a few snacks, leaving you with Minho and I.N. to review your recent recordings while the producer was away. 

You were only supposed to be alone for 5, 10 minutes tops. Those few minutes would soon turn into much longer as you heard the door lock from the outside.

Panicked, you grabbed your phone and immediately texted your manager, finding out that the building was on lockdown.

You told the boys immediately, garnering a shocked look from I.N. and an eerily calm one from Minho.

“Alright, well, let’s just sit and wait then,” He sighed, “Probably some akgae. Don’t panic until you need to.”

Minho grabbed his bag and pulled out small bottles of water for you and I.N., sensing the growing unease in both of your moods.

“What if the person has a weapon?” 

I.N. takes a big gulp of water, eyeing his phone as he likely texts the rest of the members. 

As you sit on a metal chair near the wall, you start to think about what happened right before you came to the studio. You were followed, maybe it was the same person.

That sent you into a spiral of pure guilt, causing you to rethink every choice you made in the last couple of years. That feeling that you weren’t supposed to be where you were at that moment, not as successful as you were, had to be the reason this was happening.

It was all your fault, it was your consequence, and it was only fair. 

You didn’t realize you were hyperventilating until Minho and I.N. started to coach your breathing.

“In ...... and out” I.N. Instructed, “in through your nose and out through your mouth. You’re safe, I swear we’d never let anything happen to you.” 

The sudden reassurance happened to calm you, then you noticed both your hands were occupied by each member.

You wouldn’t dare let go, fearing another panic attack if the calm that had eased over you went away.

“It’ll all be over soon,” Minho says, eyes finding yours. His eyes were big and gorgeous, mesmerizing you as he stared, unblinking.

“I’m sorry, guys,” You mutter when you can finally speak again. 

They both look taken aback, but quickly recover as they seem to simultaneously squeeze your hands.

Another round of calmness rushes over you, and you lay your head on I.N.’s shoulder.

In all, you guys were trapped for maybe 35 minutes. Your manager walked into the room to find you three still curled up in the corner.

She gave you a look, but said nothing as she ordered you all to get up and grab your things.

Even as you left the building, the wild butterflies in your stomach stayed all the way back to the dorm.

~~~|~~~

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[bnnysweets]

I CAN TASTE IT, MY HEART BREAKING

ex!abby x ex!reader

author’s note: english is not my first language. this is inspired by a asmr (yes lame ik) bc i was ADDICTED to it. this is gonna have a part 2. sorry for being inactive :((, a lot is happening in my personal life.

warnings: abby is a doctor so obviously modern au. a little angst. jealousy. insecurity. talk ‘bout cheating (r just thinks about it but didn’t happened!). reader is called sweetheart and baby, but gender is unspecified.

the beginning of the end started on a thursday morning, you and abby already were a little distant, she was going through a rough time in her job, she had too much to do in her shift and after too, and you didn’t want to interrupt so you just gave space. but in the morning that everything went wrong, abby forgot her lunch —that you always packed—, and you went to give it to her at her job, a pretty building with mirrored windows and all that fancy furniture.

you gave your name at the building entrance and went to her floor, you noticed that she had a new secretary in her clinic now — she didn’t told you that — the secretary, lucy, the name that was on her badge, was very talkative until you told her that you were abby’s girlfriend, she immediately changed demeanor, making a ugly face, she told you to wait that very soon abby would be free. while you were sitting at the waiting room, lucy was talking at her phone very quietly but you still could listen “yeah, her girlfriend is here, ugh! abby knows i’m prettier than her, why they still together after everything we did last weekend?” she said so irritated that you started to feel unwanted. abby emerged from her office, “oh hi sweetheart.” she leaned in and kissed your cheek, “is everything ok? you didn’t said that you would come.”, your mind was a little fogged up thinking about what lucy said, what her meant by “everything”?, “…yeah, everything is fine, you just forgot your lunch.” you showed her the lunch box that you spent hours making, “oh my god! thank you baby! thank you! i’m so hungry.”, “abby can we talk?” you asked ignoring her eagerness, “hum, sure.”

you two entered her office and you started crying, abby rushed to hug you but you didn’t let her, “are you hiding something from me abigail?” you asked with those big and wet eyes and abby felt her kingdom fall apart at your sign, “baby no! you know everything ‘bout me.” she said soo confused, “why didn’t you told me ‘bout your new secretary?” your tone full of accusation but it was just insecurity, lucy was a beautiful woman, she looked good in the damn uniform and maybe abby was just tired of you. “i didn’t told you because i didn’t thought it was important an-“ “why didn’t told me about everything you did together?! why? why are you lying to me?!” you were a mess at this point, your once white dress now stained with mascara and wet with your tears, abby started to get angry, “what the hell are you talking about?” and that was your limit, “lucy! why was she talking that she was prettier than me?! why she said that after everything you did together it was a surprise we still together? why abby? why?” abby was walking in circles in her office while you were standing in front of her desk, “are you saying i cheated?!” she asked so offended, “i didn’t said that…” you dropped your eyes to the ground, “and didn’t need to! you made yourself very clear, you called me a liar.” she was red, now very stressed by something totally unexpected “i think we should take a break…” you suggested, “yeah i think we really should, i can’t be with someone that don’t trust me.”

dividers by @fairytopea

[blah-blah-bee]

Third time’s a charm?

…a Bradley Bradshaw engagement saga.

An expansion on this post for daggerfest! (As prompted by @tgmsunmontue ☺️)

1.9k words

(Not proofread!)

ᯓ ✈︎

Everyone had expected the first one to go sideways. They hadn’t said it, obviously. Who would? But they were eighteen, stupid and straight out of high school. Golden boy Bradley and his high school sweetheart, Kiera or Krista or something. She was cute, popular too. Their relationship had only seemed like a natural progression.

The proposal was… fine. It wasn’t that Bradley didn’t like her, he did! He loved her. He was pretty sure he did, at least. They were at a nice little Italian place with her parents (oh, how Carole had desperately wanted to make it, how she wanted to see her baby propose to his alleged dream girl. She would’ve given anything not to be all sick.)

“Krissy…” he started, a sweet smile on his face, “I’ve been thinking about this a lot— about us a lot. And I think, um, I think…” he trailed off, his mouth getting dry and his hands getting sweaty, the ring box burning a hole in his pocket. “I think we should get married.” He said, clumsily fishing it out, scrambling to drop to one knee in front of her. He thumbed it open, placing a hand on her knee, “I— I want to marry you,” he didn’t know what he expected from her, or from her parents. He didn’t know why he was shocked when she grabbed him, pulling him into a tight hug,

“Oh, Bradley!” She yelled, happy tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, “Yes! Yes! I want to be your wife!” That word hit him straight in the chest. It was all getting so real. So final, like one thing was ending and something far scarier was beginning. But she was already sticking out her hand, and he was sliding the cheaper-than-he’d-like-to-admit ring on her finger, grinning and pecking her on the lips, hugging her mom and shaking her father’s hand.

“Welcome to the family, son,” he said gruffly, and Bradley grinned, attempting in vain to ignore the pit forming in his stomach.

Carole had immediately known something was wrong when he got home, shutting the door with a heavy sigh and hanging up his jacket. She sat him down next to her, turned him to face her and asked him what was wrong, pushed when he insisted it was nothing.

"You'll figure it out, birdie," she mumbled once she finally got him to crack, gently rubbing his back like she did when he was a kid. "You'll figure it out."

Krista called off the engagement two months after he proposed, just after the fifth time he'd evaded any and all questioning about planning.

“It’s like you don’t even want to marry me!” She yelled, and then, after a beat of silence, of Bradley opening and closing his mouth, grasping for the right words to say, “fuck you. Keep your cheap ring,” she said, her voice rife with anger, with hurt. He didn’t find the words until she was nearly gone,

“Krissy—!” He called out, but the apartment— what was supposed to be their apartment— was empty. She was gone. He should’ve been sadder, he thought, but a shameful sense of relief overcame him.

He didn’t date again for two years, and he was stupid when he did.

Sierra was a dream, a blur of red hair and unshakeable confidence. This was his dream girl, and hell if he wouldn’t do anything for her. So he responded accordingly when she proposed to him.

They were dancing, freshly twenty one and all up on each other. It wasn’t especially romantic, but Rooster didn’t mind. He was entranced— enamored by this new sensation in his life, Sierra Stepanov. To him, despite her numerous glaring flaws (ex: chainsmoker, peer-pressurer, didn’t wear deodorant) she was the absolute perfect girl. The picture of his ideal woman.

“Fuck,” she’d panted as she leaned up against him, sticky and sweaty, “let’s get married.”

The comment had left him speechless and breathless and in awe of her confidence, the way she practically glowed in the bar's dingy, yellow lighting.

"What?" he breathed out once he found the words, she grinned even wider,

"Married. Hitched. Let's tie the knot, c'mon. It's not a big deal," She persuaded, turning to face him, running a hand over his jawline, down his throat, to his chest.

"Yeah," he responded, his voice airy with surprise, "Yeah, no yeah, lets... lets do that. Lets get married," she laughed and leaned in to kiss him, it all felt so surreal.

It did not feel so surreal, though, when he woke up the next day, bleary eyed in a cold bed, in a cold house, with a cold spot next to him where Sierra should have been. He called, and texted, and called, and texted, and called again, and this time, a woman picked up.

"Lord almighty, who is this?" A woman with a thick southern accent grumbled, "Why're you callin' so much?" Bradley's eyebrows furrowed, he sat up in bed,

"I'm, um, I'm trying to reach Sierra Stepanov," he said, "I'm her Fiancé?" The woman on the other line scoffed and Bradley could hear rustling, and then Sierra spoke, she sounded frazzled.

"Bradley? Wha— um, why are you calling, sweetie?" She asks, and he can hear her stumbling around, zipping up her jeans.

“I was just worried— who was that? Who picked up the phone?” He shot back, more confused than anything.

“That was no one, sugar, that was… Lisa. You know her, from the bar.” She assured him. It did nothing to soothe his nerves.

“Who?” He repeated, his voice more pressing now, “Who the fuck is Linda, Si?”

“Calm down, Bradley, don’t get so crazy,” she huffed out, he heard her pulling the phone away from her ear to wrestle her shirt over her head.

“I’m not—“ He started, and she swiftly cut him off.

“God, you’re so needy,” she complained, her voice accusatory with a lingering sense of… relief? “Look, if you’re gonna be so controlling, maybe this isn’t a good idea.” Bradley was at a loss for words.

“Wha— huh?” He stammered out,

“I said maybe we shouldn’t do us.”

“Sierra you’re not—“

“We’re not getting fucking married, Bradley! It was a stupid idea!” She yelled, and stayed for a few brief, tense, silent seconds before she hung up.

“…Sierra?” He asked quietly, “Sierra, I’m sorry, I didn’t—“ he pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the phone, a photo of her and Bradley on a date, Sierra hoisted up on Bradley’s shoulder. It felt like a gut punch.

The next few months weren’t the brightest time for him. For the most part, he threw himself into his work, hardest worker in his class at the naval academy. His father, as his Uncle Tom told him, would be proud. He was in and out of hookups’ apartments, he sleazed around bars and a shell formed around his heart. Two engagements had proved to be enough for him, time being.

So, Jake started as a one night stand. Then a two, three night stand. They had this familiar, enemies-with-benefits sort of thing. Never not at each other’s throats. Bradley liked him— liked is a strong word, he enjoyed sleeping with him— because he reminded him of Sierra. At least that’s what he thought. That’s how it started.

Bradley had never caught feelings for a guy— Bradley hadn’t caught feelings in nearly a year. Jake was just a warm hole, for lack of a better term. Until Bradley started laughing at his jokes, and smiling at his texts, watching a little closer when he bent over the pool table, clad in his barely too-tight khaki uniform.

So, Bradley fell hard.

And they started out slow. Their first date could hardly be considered a date, besides the fact that he picked Jake up and dropped him home, ironed his shirt before he left, nearly burning a hole in it getting distracted by the game on tv. He was never very good at the domestic things.

They went to the Hard Deck, had a few drinks and played a few rounds of darts. Bradley payed.

The thing about Bradley Bradshaw was that he loved with his whole heart. Casual was not a word in his dictionary, no matter how hard he insisted, no matter how hard he tried, and distanced himself from people. He was like his father in that way.

Him and Jake gained momentum quick.

But in two years, they never moved in together, and Jake remained touchy about saying ‘I love you’, no matter how loose Bradley was with his words. Bradley’s rose colored glasses remained firmly planted on his face.

It happened on a warm, lazy Sunday, when him and Jake were both off, sprawled across Jake’s California king.

“Jake?” He mumbled, one arm strewn over his boyfriend’s back, Jake’s face pressed against his bare chest. Jake hummed in response, not bothering to open his eyes, “I’ve , um, I’ve been thinking—“

“Shocking.”

“I’ve been thinking about something kind of important, Jake.”

“My god, Roo, it’s nine in the morning. First you tell me you’re thinking now it’s about stuff of importance?”

“I’m serious.”

“And I’m listening,” Jake insisted, turning to face Bradley and resting his head on his fist.

“I really like— I love you, and we’ve been dating for two years now—“

“Bradley—“

“I think we should get married, I— I want to marry you, Jake.” He smiled, his eyes full of love and adoration and hope, for his future and his marriage, his family.

“You don’t want to marry me, Roo.” Bradley’s smile fell. That wasn’t what he was supposed to say. “I’m not meant to get married, Bradley. I’m—“ he hesitated. He didn’t want to say this. There was no trace of his usual cocky facade. “This relationship started as purely sexual. Maybe it should’ve stayed that way.” Bradley couldn’t afford to hesitate this time. There was something here he couldn’t afford to lose, something he didn’t have with Krista or Sierra. Jake was the best thing he had.

“Jake don’t do this. We have a good thing going here. We work.” Bradley insisted, “we— we’re meant to be, you’re my one! I want to marry you,” he was nearly pleading. Just begging for him to stay. But Jake was already up, pulling on his jeans and hurrying out, leaving his key on the counter.

Bradley was far from the unshakable person he wanted to be. He was a real romantic, as terribly cheesy as it sounded, as much as he hated when people said that. Jake had just made him better, they made each other better.

Maybe that’s where the animosity started between them. All of it, the slights in passing, the distinct, crackling sexual tension, the near fist fight during debrief. They balanced eachother out. They knew each other so intimately that they could cut deeper than anyone else. For two years they were each other’s rock, and then… nothing. Gone.

But when he saw Jake again in the air— his savior, this time, it was like the first time seeing him. All the animosity and anger and indigence was gone because, god, Jake cared, and he was saving him.

Back on the tarmac Bradley clung to him like a lifeline, a breathy laugh escaped his lips.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“ he said, fingers digging into Jake’s shoulders, “I’m sorry I rushed you, I shouldn’t— can we— could we start over? Clean slate?”

“Fuck that!” Jake yelled, “We’re gettin’ married!”

So Bradley found himself doing something he never thought he really would. He settled down.

a/n: ok, now I can confidently say we’re back!!! This took way longer than I wanted but it’s okay.

@howlettsangel @sandy-balls123

[gurl-i-just-want-none-to-find-me]

Captive Prince trilogy (long) analysis and obviously Spoilers

.

.

I vaguely remembered some imagery described in tapestries in the book. This re-read I tried to pay attention to it.

I found two:

1st in the 1st book at the end when Laurent is defending Damen after he ran. Damen is pushed into the audience chamber.

2nd in the 2nd book when Damen walks into the bedchamber in Chastillon where, back in the day, Regent and Laurent used to come after Marlas.

These are the only times any tapestry imagery of this kind has been mentioned. (Unless i missed something).

So, let's get to the basics

Boar is Laurent

Heavy pomegranate tree is the Regent/Regency

Both tapestries are meant to visualize, as Jord put it, "This is a killing game".

Now we will into go more symbolism because I really want to.

Why Pomegranates? Pomegranates apparently symbolize many different thing, even contrasting at times. They represent fertility, power, sexuality and death. I will divide it into three parts.

1. Fertility, Power, Eternal life and Beauty;

All the things Regency is/hopes to be/believes it to be. This is our enemy, what we and our protagonist are fighting against. But Its more than that.

I think this symbolism is specifically *Laurent's* perspective of Regency. Because by the end of third book we know that even though he fought tooth and nail, victory wasn't something Laurent thought possible.

And realistically, it wasn't, Laurent was too well groomed. That is, untill Damen came along.

2. Permanent marriage/sexual bond;

In Greek Mythology. Persophone eats 6 pomegranate seeds offered from Hades binding her for six months of a year into the underworld.

Laurent is forced to consume the Regent binding him permanently to his uncle. Laurent considers himself just as much "tainted"(his words not mine) as the Regent.

3. Lastly, Death;

Pomegranates with it's blood red color also represents, at times, death.

It forshadows Regency standing upon the murder of Aleron.

Pomegranate represent fertility and death. Regency cannot be all powerful on it own, it came to be that way because of the blood on the hand of the Regent.

Blood of Aleron, Langren and later Nacaise. And many more that we won't know about.

Now the Boar. Why is Laurent the Boar.

A Boar symbolizes courage, strength and ferocity. It is considered a worthy opponent for a hunter. But I couldn't find more than that.

I didn't need to, because the reason is written in the book itself.

In book 1, Veretian court goes Boar hunting with the Patran delegation. Look at this:

A boar is not a deer or even a hare.

What does it mean to be deer or a hare? I'm glad you asked.

A deer represents aristocracy,nobility, gentleness and determination. Ring any bells? Yeah, that's Aimeric defined to the tea.

(you know what's coming next then)

A hare represents fertility, lust, sexual desire, cunning and trickery.

They also appear in art consistently in hunting imageries.

That's Nicaise. He represents fertility and lust through his public association with the Regent/Regency at the court unlike Aimeric.

Laurent is neither Aimeric nor Nicaise. They have many parallels (which is a conversation for a different post) but those parallels always only exist in relation to the Regency. The way they responded to their abuse is a clear distinction between the three of them.

Laurent is neither Aimeric not Nicaise. He is a Boar.

A Boar is intelligent than both deer and hare.

A Boar is fearsome, furious and aggressive.

A Boar can decide to turn around and fight.

...

What is interesting also, is the difference in the two descriptions.

In the first one, we know the Boar is pierced but we don't know where, only that it's been hit. Laurent has agreed to the border duty. He knows he's fallen into the trap, he knows it's a death sentence. But he doesn't know how, yet.

What we do know is, the Boar is pierced under the Pomegranate tree. We know who is responsible and who wants to set this trap.

The Regency. With the pomegranate we are hinted the what history-of blood and murder- the Regency might have. The history that we don't find out till the end of the third book.

Damen is also represented with red just like the Regency. And there's a blend there.

For Laurent, the Regency and Damianos stand there in that fine line of *their* prosperity and *his* death. They both celebrate their successes with their hands painted with the blood of Laurent's family, delivering him the spear that pinned him down.

Furthermore, it's public. In Arles, in the audience chamber. Unlike, the second image in the second book.

In Chastillon, In the bedchamber.

the Boar is speared through right in the neck. The heart of what lies in this convoluted mess that Laurent has become the spectacle off, somehow the heart of which is still private.

The bed is in the center engulfed by the room covered in "Blood Red".

"No sign of blue or starburst"

"since the age of 13 there had been no rescuer, for his brother was dead"

What is interesting is that there is no imagery like this after.

And then I realized it's because from that moment forward Damen is there with Laurent. Laurent is no longer stuck inside the court pinned under his uncles ministrations.

And he is with a friend and healing. Laurent behaves better and better the farther he gets from his Uncle.

It is no longer a hunt but a fight.

[artficlly]

This might be weird, so don't answer if you don't want to, or this makes you uncomfortable.

While reading LiL (which is amazing, btw), I was wondering:

Yelena (and also Natasha) pretty clearly state in the movies that they had a forced hystero-oophorectomy and indicate it as being common practice in the Red Room. So I was wondering if it was also done to Reader, despite her seemingly having different kinds of "missions/jobs" than the others.

I was just curious as this could also influence her sex drive and desire with Bucky and would obviously add another layer as it was another part of her bodily autonomy that was taken from her (also another point making her relate to Bucky/him relate to her).

I was just curious whether this was a given to have happened to all the widows or whether Reader's situation differed from the other widows.

hi lovely,

great question! i have put A LOT of thought into this and this was gonna be revealed later in the story but i don't think it's that much of a spoiler, more of a punch to the gut (i'll just slap a nice trigger warning for sa here).

so in the movies, it's said that the widows were forcefully/involuntarily sterilised because they wanted to avoid the widows having children due to the whole emotional connection of mother and child.

idk if this is fucked up or what, i just have very dark ideas about the red room. i've kinda build up my own ideas/canon for the red room in the aus my fics are set in so, in LiL this is the same, but also there is more to it.

in the LiL universe, a lot of the widows were used as swallows where they would sleep with targets to get information, reader was likely one of many. i imagine the ones who made it through to the end of their training were likely to have specialities depending on their strengths. (e.g. nat does a lot of spy work, where as yelena seemed to be more of an assassin and the reader is almost exclusively a swallow but does know how to do other skills, but isn't as "good" at them, like how she always struggles in training with natasha) but all these women would've been sterilised to prevent them from getting pregnant from missions. i imagine a swallow getting pregnant from a target would be really inconvenient for the red room.

it's always kind of sat weirdly with me that the red room only had girls/women. theres something so haunting about, and i'm sure every woman knows what i mean, the implications of all these young women under control by powerful men. i just don't think it's that far off in the marvel universe (and the "canon" of the LiL universe) that the reader wouldn't have experienced SA in the red room itself.

but yeah, reader can't get pregnant. i really disliked how marvel handled the discussion of it in avengers, basically demonising natasha. i think that it was just another way of controlling, dehumanising and taking away the bodily autonomy of these women.

the red room did not view them as people. they viewed them as weapons.

[fanfictiongirlie]

Chapter Twenty Seven - Why Are You Both Naked?

Click here for masterlist

Parings: Paul Lahote x OC (First person, no use of Y/N)

Description: Bella Swan's twin moved to Forks with her sister. Whilst Bella falls for a vampire, her twin falls for a wolf. The story runs parallel to Bella's story in Twilight. But following her twin and her life with the wolves.

AN: Can you believe we're on chapter twenty seven and we're still in New Moon?!?! Damn, I planned this fic to be long af. <3

Chapter Twenty Seven - Why Are You Both Naked?

Paul groaned in frustration, he moved, a soft strangled noise left his lips, we both wanted to lie and enjoy the post come haze, he grabbed the duvet and pulled it over our naked bodies just in time as Bella, along with Jacob stepped into the room, I grabbed my part of the duvet and made sure I was completely covered not wanting to expose myself to Bella or Jacob. 

Bella's eyes widened, Jacob's too, though he was smirking slightly, I wanted to smack the smirk off his face. 

"What...what are you two doing in here! Why are you both naked?" Bella said, her voice almost a shriek. I wanted to roll my eyes and laugh at her, my sister, ever the prude apparently. 

"Well Bells...Here I thought you took Biology at school" I say with a laugh. I watched as my twins cheeks flushed red. 

"I...yes, I do...but...seriously, you two...here?" 

"No one was home! Plus we didn't have sex!" I say, grinning, Paull scoffed slightly, obviously still annoyed at himself for forgetting to keep condoms at hand, his fingers were on my back, tracing circles on my skin. 

"Oh come on, don't lie to me!"

"Well, we were going to have sex, but we didn't have a condom, so we did other things" I say knowing my poor twin would probably die from flushing red. I was right, her cheeks were practically glowing. I laughed a little harder at her reaction. "Now if you don't mind, we're naked and would like to get dressed"

"R-right, sorry...We'll just...leave you two alone then" Bella says, she grabs Jacob's arm and pulls him out of the room, shutting the door behind them. When the door was finally shut, I turned back to Paul, as soon as our eyes met we both started laughing, like proper giggling. 

"You enjoyed that a little too much" He says through laughter. 

"I love making my sister blush yes, but I didn't like having Jacob nearly see me naked!"

Paul laughed, nuzzling his face into my hair. "I don't like the idea of any guy seeing you naked" 

"Well just don't think about it when you're in wolf mode" I laugh, though the idea did make me a little uncomfortable. 

"Yeah, yeah. Don't remind me" He mumbles, I knew he hated it too. "You're mine and mine only"

"Mm, exactly baby" I mumble moving my lips to his chin, kissing him a few times before finally sitting up. "We should probably get dressed"

Paul groaned, obviously not liking the idea of getting out of bed, I didn't like the idea either. "Do we have to? I like you just like this" 

"Mmm we could stay in bed, but I can imagine Jared and Embry arriving soon, and barging in if we don't go downstairs"

"You're probably right, those idiots would kick down the damn door"

I begrudgingly climbed out of bed, stretching my naked body slightly as I stood, I knew he was checking me out as I did so. 

"Damn, you're making this difficult"

"Sorry" I giggle, though I wasn't. I was still frustrated that we didn't have a condom, who knows when we would next have an empty house. 

"I'm cursed with a ridiculously hot girlfriend, and no damn condoms in the house" He mutters. 

I start getting dressed, smirking at him as I do so. "Aw baby, you'll live"

Paul grumbles under his breath, as he reluctantly gets dressed. "Yeah, yeah. I'll live. Doesn't mean I'm not gonna be aching for you all damn day though"

"Just how I like ya" I say, leaning over to kiss his cheek. 

"You're a damn tease, you know that?" He asks. Once we were dressed we made our way downstairs, Sam and Emily were still out, but that didn't stop the wolf pack from being here, it was like their only place they could be themselves. 

Bella and Jacob were in the kitchen, chatting and now blushing as Paul and I walked in. I walked over to Bella and leant against the counter next to her, slightly leaning against her. 

"How are you today?" I asked, I didn't want to argue anymore, we had been doing too much of that recently, and now she knew about the wolf secret, maybe we could go back to being best friends. 

"Uh, I'm good. Just you know, trying to wrap my head around the fact that you and Paul are doing that stuff, and I just walked in on in" She says a little sarcastically. 

"Yeah, sorry about that...suppose you and Cullen never did stuff like that?" I ask, hoping me mentioning Cullen wouldn't upset her. Her expression shifted, there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. 

"No, Edward and I...we never did anything like that...we barely even kissed" She explained, her tone more sullen than before. 

"Oh...well...let's not talk about that, what have you got planned for today?" I ask, smiling, bumping my arm into hers for a moment. 

"Jacob and I are going to his.."

"Oh" I say, hoping to spend the day with her. I wouldn't push, Jacob made her feel better and I was grateful for that. "Paul, we could go for a hike?"

Paul agreed and the two of us drove to my house so I could grab some hike friendly clothes, I smiled brightly when I saw my dad. 

"Hey there kiddo!" He says when he sees me. 

"Paul and I are going for a hike today" I say, not thinking for a moment. My dad's expression turned dark for a moment. I had completely forgot to normal people who didn't know about wolves, there was something killing people in the woods. Of course, I'd be safe I had Paul. But that wouldn't be enough for my dad. 

"I don't want you kids going into the woods" My dad says. 

"Well, that kind of kills our plans" I say frowning towards Paul. I turn to my dad. "Can we at least go watch a movie in my room?"

My dad seemed to consider my request for a moment. "Alright, fine. But leave the door open and no funny business, got it?" He asks, looking at Paul. I nod and take Paul's hand, pulling him up to my room. I pull Paul down onto my bed and snuggle close. 

"Hopefully he gets called to the station" I say with a smirk. 

He wasn't, so Paul and I spent the next few hours watching a few movies, until Paul had to leave for patrol. I was a little upset, but Spring Break was starting soon, so we'd have plenty of time to spend together. 

Taglist:

@jaybbygrl, @strayteez3staner, @8crazy-freak8, @idontliketoread2137, @bonni-98 @wh0reforbucknasty @prvncessvibes @lostgirl219 @quinquinquincy

[paxaz535]

Green and Gold

love interest: pazzi

CHAPTER TWO.

The moment Azzi sat down, the Gryffindor table welcomed her like she’d already scored a winning goal. Everyone was cheering, clapping her on the back, making room like she belonged. It was loud and chaotic and kind of perfect.

Carol was next to her, the biggest smiles on both their faces.

Then the golden plates in front of them filled on their own. Like, instantly. One second they were empty, the next there was roast chicken, mashed potatoes, thick stews, glowing pitchers of pumpkin juice, and about ten kinds of bread. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

She’d never seen a feast like this before — not even close.

She reached for a roll and whispered, “Yo… this is crazy.”

A second-year beside her grinned. “Wait till Christmas.”

Azzi tried not to scarf it all down too fast, but it was hard. Everything was warm and perfectly seasoned and nothing — not even the strange jelly blobs at the edge of the table — tasted bad.

She was halfway through her second helping when she glanced across the hall.

Paige was sitting at the Slytherin table, of course — straight-backed, arms folded, that same unreadable expression on her face. Azzi couldn’t even tell if she was enjoying the food. Honestly, she looked like she was judging it.

Azzi narrowed her eyes.

It wasn’t like she cared what Paige thought. But still. Why did she always look like she had something to prove?

“You okay?” Carol whispered, leaning toward her.

Azzi blinked. “What? Yeah.”

Carol smiled, then nodded at the staff table. “Do you think they eat the same food as us?”

Azzi looked up. Professors lined the long table at the front, chatting with each other, laughing softly over goblets and plates. They looked normal enough — except for one man whose turban looked like it was eating his head.

Azzi made a face. “That one’s definitely hiding something.”

Carol giggled. “You think so?”

“I mean, look at him. That’s not a normal amount of turban.”

They both cracked up quietly until a prefect shushed them.

———

Later, after the food vanished and the plates wiped themselves clean, the Headmaster — Professor Dumbledore — stood. He had long silver hair and half-moon glasses and looked like someone straight out of a fairy tale.

He welcomed them with a twinkle in his eye, rattled off a list of rules (no magic in the corridors, no going into the Forbidden Forest, no fighting — oops), and then dismissed them to their dorms.

Azzi followed the flow of red-robed students through winding staircases and moving portraits. Everything in the castle seemed like it could talk, move, or jump out at her — and some of it did. She nearly tripped over a talking suit of armor.

By the time they reached the Gryffindor common room — hidden behind a fat lady in a pink dress who demanded a password — Azzi’s brain was buzzing with way too much magic to process.

The common room was cozy and golden, lit by a crackling fire and dotted with squashy chairs. Their dorm room was upstairs, tucked into a round tower with velvet blankets and beds that felt like clouds.

Azzi dropped her bag by the bed and flopped onto it, sighing loud enough for Carol to laugh.

“Tired?” Carol asked, already unbraiding her hair.

Azzi rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “Exhausted.”

“Do you think Paige is this tired?”

Azzi blinked. “Why are we talking about her?”

Carol shrugged. “You keep looking at her.”

“I do not,” Azzi shot back, but her ears burned anyway.

Carol smiled to herself and fluffed her pillow.

Azzi turned her face into her blanket, already plotting how she’d prove she was better than Paige Bueckers — in spells, in flying, in everything.

It wasn’t about her, obviously.

It was about being the best.

And if that meant beating Paige at everything?

Well, so be it.

Azzi didn’t think she’d ever fall asleep.

The castle had gone quiet, but everything felt too new to rest — the soft rustle of tapestries, the occasional pop of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, and the faint laughter echoing from somewhere deep in the halls. Every little sound reminded her that she wasn’t home anymore. She was at Hogwarts.

Eventually, exhaustion pulled her under.

———

The next morning, sunlight spilled in through the tall tower windows, lighting the red-and-gold canopy above her bed. For a second, Azzi forgot where she was.

Then she sat up.

Magic.

School.

Gryffindor.

She grinned to herself and rolled out of bed. She looked forward to today.

———

Breakfast was waiting when they entered the Great Hall — literally. The second she sat down, golden platters filled with warm food appeared in front of her like they’d been waiting for her to be hungry. There was so much of it, she didn’t know where to start: fried eggs, sausages, pancakes, fruits cut into perfect little stars, and orange juice so fresh it made her blink.

She reached for a croissant and took a huge bite.

Across from her, Carol was reading a folded piece of parchment. “Look, we got our schedules!”

Azzi wiped her mouth and took hers.

First Period: Charms.

Professor: F. Flitwick.

Location: South Tower, Classroom 2B.

She swallowed. “Charms first. Okay. Sounds cool.”

Carol smiled. “You think we’ll learn to turn things into animals?”

“I hope we learn how to fly.”

“I hope we learn how to make stuff explode,” Carol said brightly, reaching for a scone.

Azzi laughed, and for a minute, everything felt good. The nerves from the night before — the Sorting, the weird stares from Paige — it all melted under the glow of the floating candles and the smell of syrup.

But when her eyes drifted across the hall, they landed — like they always seemed to — on the Slytherin table.

And there she was.

Paige.

Her white-blonde hair was neatly brushed, her tie perfectly straight. She wasn’t eating — she just sat there, flipping through a tiny leather notebook, lips pressed into a line.

Azzi didn’t understand her. Everyone else was gawking at the ceiling that looked like the real sky, but Paige looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

Azzi scoffed under her breath and turned back to her food.

———

Charms class was in a tower that wound up so many flights of stairs Azzi nearly tripped twice. Her legs ached by the time they found the right room — a circular chamber with windows overlooking the Black Lake and dozens of floating bookshelves that drifted quietly overhead.

Professor Flitwick stood on a pile of books behind his desk, barely taller than Azzi’s waist. He had wispy gray hair and eyes that sparkled like he’d just gotten a new wand.

“Welcome, my bright young witches and wizards!” he chirped. “Today, we begin with the most elegant of spells — the Levitation Charm.”

He flicked his wand. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

A feather rose from his desk, floating effortlessly through the air.

Azzi leaned forward. That was what she wanted — light, easy control. Power at her fingertips.

“Pair up!” Flitwick said. “Time to try it yourselves!”

Carol turned to her with a hopeful look—until a curly-haired girl swept in and snatched her away.

“Sorry!” Carol mouthed over her shoulder, grimacing.

Azzi looked around — and froze.

Everyone else was already paired up.

Everyone… except her.

And Paige.

They locked eyes.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Azzi muttered.

Paige gave her a bored look. “I don’t like it either.”

“Then don’t talk to me.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

They sat down at a shared table, a single white feather laid out in front of them like a test neither of them wanted to take.

Azzi cleared her throat and pointed her wand.

“Wingardium Leviosa.”

The feather didn’t move.

Paige leaned back. “You’ve got to really mean it.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Professor Bueckers.”

Paige didn’t laugh. She just lifted her wand, cool and collected. “Wingardium Leviosa.”

The feather floated.

Perfectly.

Azzi stared at it, heart pinching in her chest.

Of course she got it right the first time.

Paige gave a tiny shrug. “Maybe you’re better at… I don’t know. Throwing things.”

Azzi’s jaw locked. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Neither do you.”

Azzi turned away and focused on her feather, determined not to let Paige get in her head. But for the rest of class, the feather stayed stubbornly still.

———

They had Herbology next — messy, loud, and full of strange plants that snapped or squealed when touched wrong. Azzi tried to focus, but her brain kept replaying that moment in Charms, over and over again.

She hated the feeling of falling behind. Hated it even more when Paige was ahead.

By the time they reached the broomstick field, she was tense and full of restless energy.

The brooms lay neatly in rows on the grass. The sky above was pale blue and cloudless. This — this felt more like home.

“Stand beside your broom!” Madam Hooch barked. “Right hand out — say, ‘Up!’”

Azzi stepped into place. “Up!”

Her broom snapped into her hand. Smooth. Confident.

She smiled.

Paige, two spots away, did the same — her broom just as obedient.

Of course.

Madam Hooch taught them how to mount properly, then gave them each a chance to hover and land.

Azzi’s stomach jumped as she rose — just a few feet, but it felt like flying.

The wind tugged at her robes. Her heart soared.

When she touched down, she turned automatically to see how Paige was doing.

She was hovering.

Perfect posture. Steady broom.

Their eyes met.

Paige arched an eyebrow, just slightly.

Azzi scowled. “Show-off.”

“You’re the one staring.”

———

That night, as she lay in bed staring at the canopy above, Azzi tried to focus on the good parts of the day: her broom obeying her, Carol’s laughter, the magic of floating feathers.

But her brain wouldn’t shut up.

Not about Paige.

Not about that smug little smile.

Azzi huffed and rolled over, pulling the covers tight.

Tomorrow, she was not going to let Paige beat her at anything.

Even if she had to study till her wand fell out of her hand.

That’s how determined she was.

———

Azzi wasn’t used to feeling behind.

At home, she was good at things — sports, games, even learning. She picked things up fast. But at Hogwarts, everything was new and unpredictable, and so far, it felt like she was always one step behind Paige Bueckers.

It didn’t help that Paige never seemed to try. She was calm, collected, and annoyingly smooth with her wand — like magic was just another language she already spoke.

Azzi hated that.

She hated it even more when, during Tuesday’s Charms class, Paige actually offered to help her.

Azzi had snapped before Paige could even finish the sentence. “I don’t need help.”

Paige held her hands up. “Suit yourself.”

Carol gently whispered to her later, “You don’t have to compete with her, you know.”

But she did.

She had to prove she belonged here.

———

Wednesday came with a chill in the air and a buzz of excitement in the corridors. Whispers floated around about a surprise in Defense Against the Dark Arts — a demonstration, apparently, from Professor Holloway, who students said used to be an actual curse-breaker for Gringotts.

Azzi arrived early, stomach twisting with anticipation.

The classroom was dim, lit with floating lanterns that cast shadows across the stone walls. There was something exciting — almost dangerous — about the way Professor Holloway talked. Her voice was low and precise, and she moved like she was always five seconds away from dueling someone.

“Magic,” she began, “is as wild as it is wonderful. Today, we’re going to try something more advanced than usual. A controlled defense spell. Only if you’re feeling confident.”

Azzi’s eyes lit up.

Finally.

Something real.

“Now,” the professor continued, walking between the desks, “this is an elementary shield spell. Protego. It creates a temporary barrier that can block minor jinxes. We’ll start with wand movement — slow, deliberate, and focused.”

Carol looked uncertain beside her. “Isn’t this kind of advanced?”

Azzi straightened. “We’ve been floating feathers for days. I’m ready.”

Professor Holloway demonstrated once — a glowing blue shimmer flashed in front of her before disappearing like smoke. “The trick is concentration. Wands up.”

Azzi stood, heart pounding.

Her wand felt heavier than usual, like it knew something was coming.

“Go ahead,” Holloway said. “Try.”

Azzi whispered, “Protego.”

A faint spark shot from her wand — too quick, too messy.

Holloway passed behind her. “Try again. Stronger focus.”

Azzi gritted her teeth. She wanted this.

“Protego!”

Something exploded.

Not huge — but bright. Too bright.

A blast of blue light shot from her wand and cracked like lightning. The force knocked her back a step, her shoes skidding across the stone floor. A desk to her left shook violently, toppling an ink bottle that splattered everywhere.

Someone screamed — not from fear, more from shock.

When the light faded, Azzi’s wand felt hot in her hand.

The room was silent.

Even Holloway looked mildly stunned.

And standing just a few feet away, completely spattered with ink and dust from the blast… was Paige.

Her robes were singed at the sleeve. Her hair was a mess. Her eyes were wide.

Azzi’s mouth dropped open. “I— I didn’t—”

“I’m fine,” Paige cut in, brushing herself off. “You need to control what you’re doing, Fudd.”

Azzi’s face burned.

What got her is that, Paige didn’t sound… upset.

Holloway waved her wand and the mess vanished in a flash, but the air still smelled like burnt parchment.

“Controlled focus, Miss Fudd,” she said calmly, but her tone was sharp. “You’ve got strong magic. But strength without control is a liability.”

Azzi nodded stiffly.

She didn’t trust herself to speak.

She couldn’t tell if Paige was angry, amused… or both.

———

Later, in the common room, Azzi curled into a corner chair and stared at the flickering fireplace. Her wand rested on her knees, cold now.

Carol sat beside her, quiet for a while before saying softly, “It was kind of cool, though. The way it worked. Just… too well.”

Azzi sighed. “It wasn’t supposed to hit anyone. I could’ve hurt her.”

“She’s fine.”

“I still looked stupid.”

Carol shrugged. “Only a little.”

Azzi cracked a smile.

Just barely.

———

That night, as she climbed into bed, Azzi promised herself she’d master that spell. She wasn’t going to be the girl with the wild wand. She was going to be the one who got it right. The one Paige had to catch up to.

She closed her eyes.

But all she could see was that flash of blue.

And Paige — shocked, blinking, standing in the middle of it all.

The week leading up to Halloween was nothing short of magical.

The entire castle had changed — pumpkins the size of cauldrons floated near the ceilings, candles flickered in midair even outside the Great Hall, and ghosts glided around singing off-key holiday songs that made most students laugh and some teachers wince. Even the suits of armor seemed to jingle with excitement when they moved.

Azzi loved every second of it.

Classes were still tough — she was working hard on her spell control after the Defense mishap — but the feeling in the air made everything feel lighter. She and Carol had become nearly inseparable, always sharing snacks or sneaking notes in class. And while she hadn’t spoken more than a few words to Paige since the Protego disaster… she couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Not in a nice way, obviously.

Just… in a how does someone look that smug even while eating toast way.

Paige had barely reacted to the accident. Not angry. Not afraid. Just… Paige. And Azzi couldn’t tell if that made her feel better or worse.

———

On Halloween night, the Great Hall looked like a dream.

Hundreds of carved jack-o’-lanterns floated above the long tables, their faces glowing with dancing candlelight. Bats swooped across the ceiling, blending in with the enchanted night sky overhead. Platters of food stretched from end to end — roast chicken, mashed potatoes, treacle tarts, and pumpkin pasties stacked high.

Azzi sat between Carol and a boy named Miles from Gryffindor. She was halfway through her second helping of roast when she noticed Paige at the Slytherin table — not sitting with the crowd, but leaning back slightly, arms crossed as if she weren’t impressed by any of this.

Azzi rolled her eyes and stuffed a pasty in her mouth.

“You think she even likes magic?” she muttered to Carol.

Carol giggled. “Maybe she’s just allergic to fun.”

Azzi snorted, but before she could come up with something sharper, the doors of the Great Hall slammed open.

Professor Quirrell came sprinting in, his turban askew, face pale.

“T-Troll!” he gasped. “In the dungeon! Thought you ought to know—!”

And then he collapsed.

For a moment, the whole hall went silent.

Then chaos.

Students screamed. Teachers jumped from their seats. Some kids ran for the doors, others ducked under tables. Azzi’s heart pounded.

Professor McGonagall’s voice cut through the noise. “Everyone back to your dormitories! Now!”

Azzi grabbed Carol’s sleeve and they were swept into the sea of Gryffindors heading out of the Hall. But somewhere between the corridor and the staircase, they got turned around — pushed by older students and confused first-years shouting over each other.

“We’re going the wrong way!” someone yelled.

Azzi turned — and froze.

She saw her.

Paige.

She was standing at the end of the hall, frowning down a dark corridor. Her wand was out.

“She’s going toward the dungeon?” Azzi muttered. “What is she, cursed?”

Without thinking, Azzi turned.

“Where are you going?” Carol hissed.

Azzi didn’t answer. She just ran after Paige.

———

The corridor was quiet — too quiet.

Stone walls stretched wide around them, lit only by flickering sconces. The air smelled damp, and Azzi could hear her own heartbeat thudding in her ears.

“Paige!” she called, breathless.

Paige turned, startled. “Are you following me?”

“You’re walking toward a troll! Of course I’m following you!”

“I wasn’t—” Paige stopped. “I thought I saw someone run this way.”

Azzi stepped beside her. “Great. Now we’re both going to get eaten.”

A low, horrible sound echoed from around the corner.

A deep, growling grunt.

Paige grabbed Azzi’s arm.

It happened so fast — the crashing of stone, the stench of sweat and filth, the massive shadow stumbling toward them. The troll was even bigger than Azzi imagined — nearly the size of the corridor itself, with gray, leathery skin and arms like tree trunks.

It spotted them.

And roared.

“Run,” Azzi breathed.

They ran.

Around the bend, through the narrow stone hall, past a line of statues that rattled in their stands. But the troll was faster than it looked. Azzi turned back just in time to see it swing its club into a wall, shattering stone.

“We need to do something!” Paige shouted.

“You first!”

The troll raised its club again.

“Stupefy!” Paige yelled.

A red bolt shot from her wand — it barely fazed the troll, but it did stumble.

“Together!” Azzi shouted. “On three—”

“One—two—Stupefy!”

Their wands lit up, twin beams of red smashing into the troll’s chest. It groaned, wobbled… and collapsed with a thunderous crash that shook the floor.

Azzi stared at the huge, unconscious form in front of them.

Paige was panting beside her. “Well. That was awful.”

“You’re welcome,” Azzi muttered.

“We stunned it.”

Azzi shot her a look. “Fine. Teamwork, I guess.”

Paige opened her mouth — but then teachers rounded the corner, wands raised, faces stern.

The lecture that followed was long, loud, and full of phrases like “reckless behavior” and “could’ve been seriously injured.” But neither Azzi nor Paige got detention.

Rumor had it Professor McGonagall told Dumbledore herself that the two first-years had shown “remarkable nerve and spellwork under pressure.”

Azzi couldn’t believe it.

For the first time since she got to Hogwarts… she felt like she’d done something right.

Even if it meant teaming up with the last person she wanted to like.

Azzi had never flown before Hogwarts, but once she was in the air, she knew the sky was hers.

Flying came naturally. While other first-years fumbled to stay upright, Azzi zipped through the practice rings with perfect balance and sharp turns. Madam Hooch praised her immediately, jotting something down with a tight smile. Carol clapped so hard her knitted lion hat flew off.

Azzi didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to.

Until Paige got in the air.

Slytherin’s practice hadn’t even started when Paige shot off the ground, broom tilting at an arrogant slant. She cut through the air like she was born on a broomstick — effortless, smooth, annoyingly fast.

Azzi’s jaw tightened.

Of course she was good.

———

The Quidditch team sign-ups came out mid-October, and Azzi made Chaser with hardly any resistance. “One of the best first-year flyers I’ve seen,” said Angelina Johnson.

Unfortunately, Slytherin had the same idea.

Paige Bueckers. Chaser.

Azzi stared at the updated team list on the common room wall for a full minute.

“I hope we crush them,” she muttered.

Carol leaned in. “Who? Slytherin or just Paige?”

“Both.”

———

Game day arrived colder than expected. The sky was silver with clouds, and the wind whipped through the stadium like a warning. Students packed the stands, decked out in house colors, faces painted, scarves flying.

Azzi mounted her broom and joined the team lineup. Her heart pounded, but her grip on the broom was steady.

Across the pitch, Paige stood beside her teammates, helmet under one arm, broom resting casually on her shoulder. When their eyes met, Paige gave a mocking nod — a challenge, not a greeting.

Azzi’s face stayed blank. She wasn’t rising to that.

The whistle blew.

The game began in a flurry of movement and shouting.

———

Paige was fast. Too fast.

The first time she got the Quaffle, she soared past Fred and curved under a Bludger like it was nothing. She scored within seconds. The Slytherin section exploded.

Azzi wasn’t impressed. She was fired up.

She snatched the Quaffle on the next possession and tore across the pitch, her robes snapping in the wind. She feinted left, looped around a Beater, and hurled the ball clean through the center hoop.

Tie.

Now it was war.

For the next thirty minutes, Azzi and Paige were locked in the kind of back-and-forth that made the announcer’s voice go hoarse.

Paige blocked her passes.

Azzi intercepted hers.

They bumped shoulders midair more than once, daring each other to get mad enough to lose control.

“Didn’t think Gryffindors were scared of heights,” Paige muttered as she shoved past.

Azzi’s lip curled. “Didn’t think Slytherins had brains, but here we are.”

They hated each other. Equally.

———

The game ended only when a boy named Jalen caught the Snitch, earning Gryffindor the win. The crowd roared, but Azzi didn’t celebrate right away.

She was watching Paige — still floating high above the pitch, jaw clenched, refusing to look anywhere near Azzi.

Good.

Stay mad.

Azzi finally allowed herself a small smirk as her teammates swarmed around her. Her back ached, her knuckles were scraped from a Bludger, but she didn’t care.

They’d won.

And she’d proved her point.

———

That night in the common room, Carol bounced up and down beside her.

“You owned the pitch! Paige couldn’t do anything without you showing her up!”

Azzi shrugged, but the firelight flickered against her face, warming her cheeks.

“Next time,” she said, “I’ll make sure she doesn’t score at all.”

[lumityfication]

about to rant to a brick wall real quick because i just saw this post and was about to yammer on in the tags in an incoherent sort of way. but i figured i’d be kind and dump out my thoughts in a post like a normal person

anyways that post made me think about eddie diaz my best friend eddie. especially because a couple of people in the tags were bringing him up as an example of a guy who can just be bi since he has expressed interest in women, but people act like he must have a complete and utter disinterest in women when he hasn’t acted like that in canon. i remember watching 911 through the first time and being like Eddie is totally gay and not attracted to women, and a lot of times when i read fic i've been like bi eddie 😒😒 but lately upon rewatching the whole series to show to my best friend i think it is so interesting to talk about his sexuality in a way that is more complex than all of his attraction towards women being fake.

i think eddie's post-shannon relationships with women are the main reason why people assume he can only be gay. like the way that he and ana broke up is textbook internalized heteronormativity (or comphet? i think that's a lesbian only term though idk), and the way he and marisol fizzled out was partly because of his complicated relationship to religion/catholicism which obviously raises a lot of repression red flags. and i think it's still fair to say that eddie was forcing himself into those relationships for the most part because at those points in his life having a stable relationship felt like something he should be working towards, and of course he believes that relationship is going to be/has to be with a woman.

in season 4 with ana, it's been about a year and a half since shannon passed, and bobby alongside general encouragement from the rest of the 118 prompts him to start dating again (4x06 jinx). he is no longer in the dark place mentally that he was in at the start of season 3, and in season 4 he is generally moving forward with his life, and part of this is entering the dating pool again. a similar pattern happens in s5-6: after his mental health takes a nosedive in season 5, he starts dating marisol by the end of season 6 because of prompting from pepa for him to move forward and find a partner (6x14 performance anxiety). like, he was obviously entering both of these relationships because he believed it was the logical next step for his life to take, and people around him supported this idea, but ultimately he realized there wasn't a spark there to begin with in the way he wanted.

when it comes to shannon, though, i think it's a lot more of a stretch to act like he didn't really love her. sure, that relationship became rushed as well because of an unplanned pregnancy, but as far as canon has explained eddie and shannon got together to begin with willingly and enthusiastically. i think season 7 textually really does show that (i say textually because who knows what the hell tim minear's reasoning was for anything he's done since s7, but in the text the season does circle back to eddie's complex feelings about his relationship with shannon), with eddie often reminiscing on her fondly. granted, im only up to season 6 in my rewatch, so i don't have a ton of well-formed thoughts on eddie's s7 storyline, but it does eddie and shannon a disservice to act as if he didn't (couldn't) really love her throughout the entirety of their relationship. isn't it more interesting to see how their relationship didn't work out, to point out conflicts they had and decisions they made, than to simply say all of their conflicts were because eddie couldn't love her because he's gay?

i do think that as canon stands now, eddie and shannon's relationship could be expanded upon retroactively if one was to dedicate themselves to that interpretation of his sexuality, but it would be a delicate thing. ultimately, eddie is a bit more compelling to me if he does have some attraction to women. i think it's undeniable that he's repressed his feelings for men to hell and back, but i don't like a lot of fanon interpretations of gay eddie that describe him/buddie like the original post; inherently 'truer/purer/better' than the other relationships he had because he's gay and his relationship with buck is just better for him because buck is a man, rather than because their relationship is something they work to make better than their past relationships. it's not a magical, harmonious relationship purely because eddie is with a man now. it's infinitely more compelling (to me anyways) to go into what about these two characters specifically would make their relationship feel so magical.

All that being said. i don't really see eddie as a bi character to me anyway... like while he fits it in definition i kind of see him not really having a label of any kind. idk i could be projecting because lately i've just come to the conclusion that i identify as *waves hand* queer i guess, but i think the freedom that comes with not categorizing exactly how you experience your feelings is something i think would resonate with eddie. not that labels are inherently limiting! i just see eddie as a character who may not want or care to analyze them that deeply, especially considering his first queer relationship may also be his last (lol) so he wouldn't feel the need to think about it that much anyway.

this was long asf. i don't mind gay eddie hcs anyway frankly i often ascribe to them more than explicitly bi eddie interpretations, but my #1 is some kind of queer or generally unlabeled sexuality label for eddie. the nitty gritty of terminology is just an extra thing vaguely related to this post but yeah. Was this anything at all. i don't know if i said anything of substance/that hasn't been said before or better by someone else. if anyone actually got here thank you for reading these ramblings of a madwoman

[consistentlyguessing]

Girl Crush

Summary

Crushing on Yelena Belova is proven to be difficult. Even more so when you catch her making goo goo eyes at John Walker.

Warnings

THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS, ending kinda rushed? comma abuse, angst with happy ending, reader lowkey stupid, reader lowkey makes hasty decisions, JOHN WALKER!!, fem!reader, she/her pronouns, y/n used, not proof read, 2nd person pov. Das all bye

A/N

I KNOW this is not what the song is abt technically. But I heard it & thought of her. Obviously I do not ship John & Yelena. Also I listened to phoebe bridgers while I wrote this so it’s extra sad. I swear I’ll start writing abt other characters soon 😞. Bye Bye

After a group of misfits joined together to take down a common enemy, they accidentally were roped into a knock off avengers(Z) group.

The group consisted of; John Walker, a Captain America wannabe who was demoted after killing an innocent civilian, Ava Starr, who can turn intangible, Bucky Barnes, a former congressman, Bob Reynolds, some rando with insane powers, you (of course) and Yelena, an ex assassin.

Yelena was like the only person to ever walk the earth, in your eyes anyway. Her thick Russian accent was like honey. She had gorgeous blonde hair that she kept slicked back. Her green eyes that could make you float by stealing just a glance.

Everyone in the tower had picked up just how head over heels you were for her, except for Yelena. Whenever one of the Thunderbolts* saw you and her in the same room, they wouldn’t hesitate to tease you.

Ava would whistle and raise her eyebrows at the two of you, Bob would sing a poor rendition of “Careless Whisper” which was almost too much for your ears to handle. John made sure you were throughly embarrassed if he ever caught you eyeing Yelena. He would tap your jaw and whisper something to you about “drooling all over the freshly mopped floors.” Despite him never being one to handle the chores. Alexi was the worst one, though. He made an entire scene about it. Shout something about “lovebirds” and first love.

Never in a million years would you think to confess to her. But here you were, standing at the door of her favorite coffee shop, trying to hype yourself up. Flowers were never Yelena’s thing, you knew that. So, you had a blanket, crocheted to look like roses when folded. It was something you made yourself, originally just as a friendly gift. However, Ava engraved it in your mind that if you didn’t do something soon, you’d miss the window.

You opened the door gently, walking up to the front. By now, you already had her order memorized. Every day, Yelena would invite you on a morning run, where you’d get coffee shortly thereafter. It was the little moments of bonding time that ultimately made you sick to your stomach with butterflies every time she was around.

The barista recognized you instantly, he waved at you, a small and tired smile on his face. “The usual, Miss Y/n?” He questioned, examining the blanket poking out of your large tote bag.

You nodded, “Yeah. Let me get Yelena’s order too. I’m gonna bring it back to her.” You voiced, your throat feeling a little dry with nerves. The barista looked up at you, brow furrowed. You returned the look, not sure of what was going through his mind.

He looked across the room, “She’s already ordered.” He claimed, gesturing to a table behind you. You whipped your head around, confused. Scanning the room, a gasp elicited from your lips as your eyes landed on familiar blonde locks. A small frown appeared on your face, she was up earlier than usual today. As you continued to look at the table, a wave of shock hit your body. The person sitting with her was none other than John Walker. She giggled like a little girl, and shook her head at his teasing. Sarcastically rolling her eyes. John’s cheeks were rosy red, as if he had just said something bold and flirtatious.

Turning back to the barista, you shook your head and scrunched your face. “I don’t need it.” You said, cancelling your order. He shook his head in understanding, a look of pity flashing across his face. You spun on your heel and walked out of the shop as quickly as you came in.

As you walked through the streets, pushing and shoving past people, your mind raced. Of course you had seen them together before, but it was just for missions. Checking the perimeter, easy, team stuff. This was different. She was voluntarily hanging with him, laughing like something was funny.

How had you never picked up on this? How couldn’t you see the glint in her eyes when she looked at John? How could John do this to you? After all, he was relentless when it came to teasing you about your crush on Yelena. He would bring it up constantly. Hell, he even hyped you up to go talk to her. You two were pretty close, too.

Saddened by the events, you hurried into your room of the watch tower. You brushed past a smiling Ava who was excitedly asking you how it went. Alexi, who had just came out of the bathroom saw you speeding through the halls and called out to you.

You sat in your room, on your bed, all of the lights on, and questioned everything. The way Ava talked you up made you feel like Yelena absolutely liked you back. You stayed in there for a few hours, only coming out for a brief restroom break every now and then.

But of course, you can’t hide in your room for the rest of your life. Eventually, you’d have to come out and face the music.

Alexi had insisted when you guys first moved in that family dinners would be mandatory. Every night, someone would make dinner. It was a rotation. Alexi, Ava, Bob, You, John, and Yelena. Thankfully, it was Ava’s night to cook.

As you sat at the dinner table, in your unassigned-assigned seat, you watched how John and Yelena moved around the kitchen. It was as if they were doing this to you on purpose. He would whisper something into her ear and she would giggle. It was as if you were the only person seeing this too! Everyone else was acting as if it was completely normal.

As everyone began digging in, Alexi began talking. “How was everyone’s day? Good weather hm?” He said, shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth. Everyone nodded quietly, busy eating. “Y/n, you had a busy day today didn’t you? Exciting! Tell us how it went!” He prodded.

Tongue in your cheek, you looked up at him. Your insides were churning and you thought that you’d might actually have a stroke from how dizzy you were getting. You swallowed, “Yeah. Busy day. Uhm, went to get coffee. Then shopped for a little. Then I came home.” You lied, trying to get out of this conversation as quick as possible.

Of course though, the universe was never on your side. Yelena spoke up, “Coffee? When? We never went.” She questioned, chewing on a piece of steak. You looked over at her, and despite being upset at her, you could’ve melted into putty just by the way she looked at you.

You shrugged, “I went alone. Earlier this morning. I would’ve grabbed you some, but you know.. no need.” You muttered, feeling a little bitter.

John quickly looked up, panic setting in his eyes, Yelena stared at you confusedly. John was fast to defend himself, “No! Y/n, it wasn’t anything like that! I can assure you. I know—“

You shook your head and crinkled your nose as it began to burn. You blinked any tears away that were trying to prick up, “No, it’s fine. You don’t need to come up with excuses, Walker. I understand.” You smiled softly. Yelena and the others looked around puzzled.

You finished the dinner in silence while the others around you laughed and talked about their days. Once you finished your meal, you walked back to your room.

Later that night, hushed whispering could be heard from just behind the door. You were scrolling on your phone, mindlessly watching TikTok to drown your sorrows. Yelena and John were talking, trying to figure out what was wrong with you.

“No, John. I don’t know what her deal is. You clearly do though, so what’s wrong with her?” She whispered, her voice strained.

“Yelena, are you seriously this dense?” He asked, desperately. Yelena scoffed, “This is why no one can stand your ass! All you do is be insufferable and secretive!”

John and Yelena continued to argue for a little while longer, until you finally got tired of hearing and stood up out of your bed to open the door.

As you swung it open, both Yelena and John jumped, small gasps escaping from their lips. “If you two are going to have a couple squabble in front of my door, could you at least be mindful of those trying to sleep? AKA, me? Or do you guys just not care about others anymore?” You fumed, looking between the both of them.

Yelena scrunched up her face, “Couple squabble? Y/n, what the hell are you on about? Is everyone crazy today?” She questioned, feeling like she was in the dark.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “Don’t play stupid, Yelena. I saw you and John today at our coffee shop flirting and practically dry humping.” You spat, a mix of disgust and sadness eliciting from your lips.

Yelena just furrowed her brows. You shook your head, closing your door before Yelena stuck her foot in it. “I’m not playing stupid, Y/n. John and I weren’t flirting. We were just hanging out after a run.” She assured, walking into your room and closing the door behind her.

“Yeah because that makes it so much better.” You huffed, crossing your arms and turning your back to her. Inside, you knew you were being dramatic, and you knew she owed you nothing, and of course you knew that you and Yelena weren’t dating. That didn’t make you feel any less pain, though.

She grabbed your arm, spinning you around, “Y/n, you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you. I don’t want anything to do with Walker.” She reassured. You yanked your arm away from her, looking at the ground, “Sure didn’t seem like that. You all looked awfully cozy.” You muttered.

Yelena sighed, pursing her lips together. “We were talking about you, did you know that?” She asked, gripping the side of your arms and stepping closer to you. You looked up at her, disbelief across your face.

“What do you mean?” You asked, she smiled at you, rolling her eyes. “And I’m the dense one.” She chuckled and shook her head.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I really like you, like, a lot.” Yelena said, her usual confidence faltering despite her tries to keep it all together. Her lips twitched as she looked at you, “We were talking about a good way for me to ask you out.” She promised.

A hopeful shine flashed across your face, “What?” You asked, feeling lighter already. She only nodded earnestly, not breaking eye contact. You opened your mouth and closed it several times before sighing. You licked your lips as you spoke, running a distressed hand through your hair. “Oh,” you laughed embarrassedly. “I’m sorry. It just looked like something completely different. It got in my head. I should’ve asked or something. Or stayed out of it completely. I shouldn’t have gotten upset.” You word vomited.

Yelena shook her head, trying to get you to stop. Once you did, she smiled softly at you, not saying a word. After a few moments of silence, her words actually processed in your head. You gasped softly, “I really like you too, Yelena. I forgot to say that.” You stammered, nerves setting in.

Yelena laughed at you as she pulled you into a tight hug, you reciprocated. For the first time that day, as if you had never truly been relaxed before, you breathed. You took it all in. Relishing in her touch, her smell, her clothes, as if she would disappear once you let go.

But when you did, she stayed put. She smiled at you, her tough exterior melted away like she had just been unfrozen for the first time in seventy years. The way she looked at you was something you could get used to, and you had a feeling you would.

[j0kers-light]

Hello light!! Please feel to ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable!! ⚠️ Could you do something on reader getting roofied while at a bar? perhaps joker is near,(doing criminal stuff or simply just stalking reader) and sees someone try to take reader(obviously not sober) to their car? He stops them ofc ofc

Also I apologize if my English is bad :,)💚💜

His Lighthouse: Faded (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Faded - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

Hello and hi my beautiful anon!! 🖤✨

Your English is perfect! Anytime someone calls me light I squeal! 🥹 it makes me all soff and teehee. ANYHOO!! Uncomfortable? Girl I'd love to write this for you!! A thousand apologizes its so late. Let’s not waste more time and jump right in. WAIT! I probably should add a warning?

Disclaimer: Watch your drinks. Use common sense. I wrote this while on my period, so what mistakes? 👀This was a nice little treat as I finalize the His Lighthouse chapter! YES! The next chapter is dropping sometime this week!!! While you wait, here's a snack! I hope you enjoy anon!! 😘

Also if you wish to be added to my His Lighthouse or His Angel taglist, let me know via ask, comment, or a dm! 🖤✨

You did not want to go in the first place.

Loud music, flashing lights, stuffy air, and pushy people? Ugh you already developed a headache! You enjoyed calm nights in curled up on the couch, reading a book, or better yet—creating one. This was common knowledge or at least you thought it was, but your friends thought otherwise.

You could use a night out. This was the prime of your life and you were wasting away at home.

Too much time cooped up indoors was bad for someone your age. Or in Morgana’s own words, “Forget touching grass. You need to touch a martini.. and some men.”

You ignored the last part of her statement, given that Joker would murder you himself if you went out and entertained another. Come to think of it, this was a terrible idea. Joker was out tonight, and you refused to go anywhere without notifying him or your security detail.

The plan was to stay in. Not out clubbing with the gurls. But they wouldn’t take no for an answer. You just hoped Joker forgave you this once for leaving without telling him.

So that’s how your friends invaded your closet and found the ‘perfect dress’ for the night.

You don’t remember buying it. It must’ve been one of Joker’s secret purchases because the scraps of fabric rested too high on your thighs for you to willingly buy it. You tried to pull the nonexistent hem down, only for Morgana to slap your hand away. She rubbed a shimmery body oil over your legs, pregaming hard, if her third shot in a row was an indicator.

Music was playing from your speakers, and everyone was barefoot in various stages of dress while they waited for the Uber to arrive. It was now or never to ask.

“Why can’t we just stay here and have fun? Gana is already lit.” you mentioned to the room.

“Because the club we’re going to is soooooo much better than your place. No offense.” Sarai giggled as she swirled a glass of something in the air.

You grimaced as some of the liquid splashed on your hardwood floors.

You were outnumbered four to one. So, you resigned yourself to clean up after everyone as the Uber notification signaled it was time to go. Finally. The sooner you left, the quicker you could return and recharge your social battery.

The dress code was moving art, so all the girls wore alluring prints with metals and walked with elegance downstairs to the lobby. You thought the squad’s attire was too classy for the red strobe lights and absurd ground shaking bass that the club had to offer but whatever. 

You promised to have fun. You’d nurse one drink and call an Uber while the girls were distracted. An hour tops before Joker checked the cameras and noticed you were gone. That was the plan.

Until you got situated and actually had fun. The DJ understood the assignment and did his best to accommodate the swaying bodies before him. He kept mixing hit after hit with sick transitions that had you cutting loose and forgetting all about your escape plan.

You were dancing with a random girl you when Morgana shimmied over with a glass for you to take. “Touch grass bestie!!” It was your favorite color with two black straw awaiting you.

She locked eyes with the girl and poof. How quickly you were ditched. Not that you were complaining. Your feet were beginning to ache inside the stilettos Cindy picked out. You waved Morgana off with the blonde as you sipped the drink. And proceed to cough up a lung.

“Gad what even is this?!” You found an empty booth and got comfortable, but that didn’t last long. A guy slid into the opposite side with a dashing smile. You arched an eyebrow over your glass rim.

“Is this seat taken?”

“You already sat down in it.” you scoffed. “True.” He eyed you lazily as the beat dropped in the background. “Did you come here alone?”

“Wow, what an opener. No and I’m seeing someone.” Your mood soured just like that. All night you were having fun with the girls.

Leave it to the opposite sex to come and ruin things. Your lips parted to slowly drink your radioactive fluid, when he spoke again.

“He doesn’t have to know, baby. I can keep a secret.” He had the audacity to smile like it was perfectly acceptable to cheat. Was this the norm in the dating world? Blatant cheating and dirt bags who couldn’t take no as no?

Lawd, the girls were doomed if so. You made the mistake of setting your glass down and looking away.

All it took was a few seconds for him to wave his hand above it to slip the roofie inside. To anyone looking, it seemed like he was just flexing his watch. Your eyes were drawn to it, another part of his routine. The chemical needed a second or two to dissolve into the drink.

Too bad you were opinionated and went against his normal script.

You rolled your eyes at the flashy display. “Really? You think showing off your ice will make me drop my panties for you? I said I’m seeing someone. Now, goodbye.”

It was his turn to scoff. He did as you asked, but not without catching someone’s eye and nodding. Round two was set and ready to go.

You picked up your glass and drank for liquid courage. You hoped it would restore your mood to return to the dance floor. Maybe Morgana was done snogging that blonde and wanted to dance with you for a while? Perhaps Sarai was still around?

Last time you saw her she was collecting glow stick necklaces like Infinity Stones from a drinking contest at the bar. She let her braids fall loose and became the life of the party.

On cue, the crowd parted and you saw her sandwiched between two men sucking faces with both.

Okay.. maybe you should steer clear of Sarai and stick to dancing. Yeah. Dancing you could do. You downed your glass and got back out there.

About halfway into a new song you started to feel… off.

Yeah, the music was rattling your rib cage, in that good funny way, but this was different. You rubbed your eyes thinking something was in them. Why did everything suddenly become blurry? You looked around but everyone else was dancing without a care in the world. It was just you.

You concluded the drinks you had were piling up. You weren’t going to let a good buzz ruin tonight’s fun, so you carried on.

A banger from your high school days played and you jumped with the crowd and sang along. A random, ‘you okay girl?’ sounded leagues away and the second you missed a step, you stumbled into awaiting arms.

“Woah, easy baby.. oh yeah she’s fine. She had a little too much. Time to call it a night babe.”

Wait? Who was talking?

You wanted to turn around but the wave of pain that hit you while attempting the motion, put a stop to that. Everything felt like you were wading through water. Sluggish and trippy. It didn’t feel right.

“I’ll make sure she gets home. Thanks for the concern. C’mon baby. Let’s go home.”

No, I don’t know who you are. Where were the girls? Who was this guy helping you off the dance floor and towards the back? No this wasn’t right. It didn’t feel right!

You tried to speak up, “You’re not J..”  but the music drowned it out.

A hazy trifecta of moving bodies passed by and you reached out to grab something, anything to raise awareness, but your hand was grasping at thin air. So you kept repeating yourself. “You’re not J..”

Your ‘savior’ just laughed off your odd behavior to any passerby and helped you towards the back. The sooner he got you off the main floor, he could leave undetected in his car.

He made the mistake of dragging you pass an open door where a group of men were currently doing even shadier business.

None of them batted an eye at the sight of a girl being dragged off to who knows where—that was normal behavior around here. But tonight, it was different. It was a brief image, in this club, paired with that voice, that made it different.

“You’re not J..”

Your voice made Joker’s head snap up in alarm.

Frost noticed but quickly returned his focus on the two men trying to negotiate an arms deal. Things looked promising enough for Joker to agree.. but as everyone turned to hear the clown’s final say, he said something entirely different.

“Uhh where’s B tonight?”

Someone coughed in the background because what? What did that have to do with a weapon’s deal?

The handler weakly laughed, “You didn’t mention you wanted b__hes tonight. I can gather a few if you’re so inclined.”

Now that got Joker’s attention. Did he imply you were…? J shot him and his partner in cold blood before dashing out the door.

He wasn’t one hundred percent sure what he saw but he rather be safe than sorry. Joker knew that dress. He knew that voice. You had no business at a place like this, but he couldn’t shake the feeling. He had to be sure.

Frost sighed at the mess Joker left behind and followed his boss. The man was staring at the back hallway door, lost in thought. “You good Boss?”

“Stay here.” He ordered. There wasn’t much time to go down the traditional check list. Checking your apartment feed, calling the detail team for an update, calling your cell.. it would take too long.

If his instincts were right, Joker had to act now.

He followed the darkened hall that led to the shady alleyway outside. Trash and loose bottles littered the ground, but a worn light cast enough for Joker to see a figure hunched over another. “Quit moving baby!” They hissed.

It was enough for Joker to act.

He shoved the attacker aside and his heart dropped at the sight. It was you. His Bunny obviously not sober, wearing the dress he planned on surprising you with for an upcoming date night.

What in the world was going on?

“Hey man! What’s your f__king problem?!” The poor guy didn’t have time to react.

Joker didn’t hesitate snapping their neck. Because what other fate was there after touching his Goddess?? Poison was too kind. Torture too much effort. Was it low to mutilate a corpse.? Wouldn’t be his first time.

No!! Joker had to focus. You were trying to stand on your feet. Key word; try. Joker could instantly tell drugs were at play.

He felt awful for not protecting you. He thought you were chilling at home tonight. How did you get here? Did you come here alone??

Never mind the how’s and why’s. Your health and safety always came first. Joker hushed your slurred words as he picked you up. “Shhh, its me my Light. I got ya.”

All you could do was weakly nod. You didn’t care how Joker got here; you were safe in his arms. With that, you closed your eyes and fell asleep.