#and stop paying your billionaires

[basimdasasonst]

ofmd s2 rant

so, this is my first post, and I have @ketamoru to thank for corralling (gently suggesting) me into making this. we watched season 2 of our flag means death a while back when it first came out, and i wrote this huge long rant (that I just finished editing) about it, intending to post it to twitter or imdb or something. but. due to the sheer nature of the word length, i couldn't. so, here it is.

On OFMD S2: as a viewer, I’m appalled at the season. As a writer, I could feel my soul escaping my mouth with each cringed breath I took, escaping my pores every time I had to hit the spacebar to pause and bury my head in my hands. I’ve read and written bad stories in my past, I've been on both ends of a shitty narrative, but my god. 

There's three core tenets to a story: plot, world, and characters. You can lean on one if another is lacking, absolutely, BUT YOU CANNOT SACRIFICE TWO OF THEM AND EXPECT THE OTHER TO BE ALRIGHT. THEY ARE CONNECTED. THEY INFLUENCE EACH OTHER. GOOD CHARACTERS HELP A GOOD PLOT, A GOOD WORLD HELPS A GOOD PLOT. BUT A HALF DECENT WORLD CANNOT HELP SHITTY CHARACTERS AND PLOT!!!!!!!!!!

Let me start with the simplest to talk about: the plot.

In an introductory college level physics course without calculus (bare with me), you occasionally do problems with a pulley. If you account for the mass of the pulley and the string in calculations, the problem simply becomes too complex to deal with for an introductory course. So, you call the string massless, and move on with your life. Every single episode's plot was tied together by this massless string. As in, THERE WAS NO INTERCONNECTIVITY BETWEEN EPISODES.

The three sections of plot development are (as highlighted by Brandon Sanderson, who is not writing-Jesus, but is pretty accomplished in the fantasy genre, which should speak for itself) promise, progress, and payoff. Promises are made at the beginning of a story's plot arc. They hint towards the greater plot and arcs, and promise readers a story filled with [x]. For example, if you're going to write a comedy, your opening scene (the promises) should be comedic. You don't start a comedic novel out with a tear-jerker. This is arguably the only part, in my opinion, that OFMD gets right. The opening episode is, to give credit where credits due, pretty comedic for a comedic season. The tone is set properly. 

Here come the problems: Progress. THERE IS NO PROGRESS. Stede and Ed make up WITHIN THE SAME EPISODE THEY MEET AGAIN. And then they break up in episode 7. AND THEN THEY MAKE UP AGAIN IN EPISODE 8. There is no conflict between the pairing. There is no conceivable sense of tension or drama or ANYTHING that builds up to a climax. THERE IS NO CLIMAX. It’s just a bunch of minisodes strung together by a massless string. Villains come and go within the same episode (I'm looking specifically at Ned Low). The only one that comes back is Prince whatever-his-name-is (I'll get to him in a second), and we don't see much of him. He's introduced to us as a bumbling fool in the beginning, we lose him for a long while while Ed frolics around (again, I'll talk about Ed's character too in a second), and then he's suddenly a prince (episode 6, I believe) needing to take revenge. He makes a cursory deal with Zheng, we see him for 5 more minutes, and then he blows everything up in a totally-not-seen-coming betrayal. Boring. No progress, no payoff. 

Which leads me into the final part I have to say about the plot: payoff. WITHOUT PROGRESS THERE IS NO PAYOFF. Because of the nature of the season, with things just thrown at you with no cohesive narrative the season felt like a continuous dopamine rush with no need to work for anything in return. (What was the ultimate goal of the season, do you think? Ed's reconciliation? The prince's revenge? Stede's path to being a pirate? Do you think any of them were explored? Think about it, for a second.) The climax of Izzy's death (boy do I have some key words to say about that, but that's not the point of this review, far from it) didn't feel...worth it. In fact, I'm not even sure if that was the climax, or maybe it was Ed leaving (and coming back 30 minutes later … ) or maybe it was the bombing. Who knows? I don't. You can have subplots. You can't just treat them all equally. There has to be a point to a story, and you have to favour that point over mindless adrenaline rushes. There was a point to season 1: Stede's growth as a character as he realises piracy isn't all he thinks it is, and eventually falling in love with Ed. There is no point to this season. Or if there is, it's muddled by the 20 other things happening all at once, always. There is no progress, so there is no payoff. 

2. Next, the world.

In this case, the physical scenery, the props, the costumes, the music, etc. I'm not a costumer, nor a musician, nor a lighting director, I’m just a viewer with a basic high school understanding of world history – but nothing ... changed about the world in this season. When you establish a world in the first act of a book, do you just stop establishing it in the second act? No! Of course not! You keep building it, because the world changes too. 

Every single new town the ship visited, every time they docked or got off a ship, the scenery looked and felt the same. How many times are they stranded in the exact same kind of underbrush? The exact same biome, with the exact same kinds of plants? Do they ever go further inland? Is there more to the world than just two ships, one established town and then the shoreline? Of course there isn't! Because that means worldbuilding more than what season 1 did, and that's too terrifying to think about! 

And the music. Christ, I'm no musician but did the music feel, to anyone else, passive? In season 1, at least the last time I watched it, the music fit the scene. It wasn't just there because there needed to be music. It spoke to the world, it said something about the scenery. This music, by comparison, is so tame. It's not noticeable. The only part I did like was when Izzy died in silence, because that silence let the death settle with the viewers as Ed weeps openly and – oh, here's the mindless royalty-free music again. 

3. And finally, the characters. 

Jesus Christ where do I even start with this? Let me start from the foundation of storytelling as any amateur writer understands. YOUR CHARACTERS ARE YOUR MOST IMPORTANT ASSET IN A STORY. I am physically unable to stress this enough. I DON'T CARE IF YOUR WORLD SUCKS MAJOR SHIT. YOUR CHARACTERS CANNOT SUCK. WE STICK WITH THEM THE ENTIRE WAY THROUGH. IF WE CANT STICK WITH THE CHARACTERS, WE CAN'T STICK WITH THE STORY. 

(Note: You can write characters with obviously terrible personalities, and that are meant to be disliked, without them sucking. It's about intentionality. If you write a character, and they’re meant to be likeable, and nobody likes them, that character sucks, and you’ve failed. You’ve also (usually, but not always) failed if your viewers hate your character for a different reason than intended. If you write a character you’re supposed to hate for [x] reason, and people hate them for [x] reason, you’ve succeeded. There is a difference between a bad character, and a character with an intentionally flawed personality that you're not supposed to sympathise with.)

Next question: why is everyone in a romantic relationship? The day people realise that platonic relationships are just as important as romantic ones is the day I'm allowed to rest. (I say this beyond just the fact that I'm aroace. I say this as an exhausted reader.) There were not one, not two, not three, not four, but FIVE relationships that were given significant (well, as significant as it gets with 8 30-minute-episodes) screen time. Except, none of them were developed. Not even Ed and Stede's. What was the point in breaking up Jim and Olu, pray tell? Their conflicting personalities were what made them so interesting – to see two opposing forces find ridges where one slots into the other, where two people so different find solace in the other? Now Jim's just got over Olu in a third of an episode and they're kissing that other person. No, I don't even remember their name, because their personality was just Jim's in a different font. You paired two similar people up with each other. Why? Not sure. (I hesitate to chalk it up to some weird exoticism going on behind the scenes, but.) Now I'm bored. There's no tension in that, no story to tell, no good reason for it happening. And Olu with Zheng. NO BUILDUP. Zheng stares at Olu working on scrolls for a little while. That's it. THAT'S NOT BUILDUP, THAT'S JUST WASTING TIME. Her relationship with Olu is so unbelievably forced. (I could feel the crickets of the writers room permeating through my screen – that one stray writer going “well, if nobody else has any ideas, then idk maybe we could … “) They share nothing in common, her "you're the break in my day," is completely unfounded (I’ll get to this when i talk about her character outside of Olu in a sec), it irritates me to no end. 

I don't have anything to say about Swede and Jackie, or Black Pete and Lucius, because nothing fucking happens. Black Pete and Lucius make up, after a little bit of progress I will say, and then it's ... a few episodes of them loving each other unconditionally as if nothing happened. It's boring. I'm bored. 

Stede and Ed. Oh boy. Ed is clearly not ready for a romantic relationship in this season, despite whatever work he did last season. (Thrown out the window by this season! Who’s ever heard of setting up future seasons in your earlier seasons? Not the OFMD writers room!) He grapples (barely) with the idea of not being a necessarily good person, and tries (in heavy quotation marks, more on that below) to redeem himself, but ultimately just ends up right where he started: Blackbeard. He ends up reversing all of his progress in terms of his character arc. Right back where he started. Christ. And he's clearly too busy grappling with this to be conceivably ready for a romantic relationship with Stede. But Stede and Ed happen anyway. If handled by someone who wanted to comment on the nature of toxic relationships and wrote this intentionally, this would have been a GOOD PLOT. But it was clearly not intentional, as nothing seemed to flow together, characters spoke like robots, and I could feel the fact that the script was obviously just a shitty first draft. Not to mention the fact that Ed doesn't ACTUALLY do any thinking on what he's supposed to be. That purgatory thing was the best we get – and it was damn good in comparison to the rest of the season where he doesn't really reflect on his actions. He has one conversation, decides he's a changed man, then goes straight back to his previous actions. 

And STEDE – man. They DECIMATED his character this season. In the beginning, in the first season, he was the gentleman pirate – two juxtaposing adjectives. WHICH IS CENTRAL TO CREATING A CHARACTER. No real person is one track (even the most stubborn of us), no real person can be effectively summed up in a few words like a bad character creation sheet. The conflicts that we deal with as humans are what make us human. Flaws, in no small part, are part of the human experience. (I could get into this, but if you’ve ever looked at AI art and felt its soullessness staring back at you, then you know. It’s too perfect. Too lifeless. Too flawless.) Every single person deals with layers and layers of complexity. Two completely opposing things can be true at the same time and that is a VERY REAL THING that we must grapple with as humans. There is no such thing as black and white on issues. Stede as a gentleman pirate was this COMPLEX LAYER that made him such an interesting character to begin with because “gentleman” and “pirate” are two very different things with two very different histories and connotations. To see the intersectionality of where these worlds collide and where they conflict was what made him so interesting in the first place. 

In this season, he’s just a bumbling fool that calls himself a pirate. His backstory isn’t mentioned. He’s stupid in a cringe-ing way (not even comedic), and is just no longer a gentleman. He’s just a bad pirate. It’s so boring in comparison to the complex characterization we got last season, that every time he spoke I had to physically restrain myself from petulantly clogging my ears and going “lalalalala!” to pretend that he wasn’t really saying half the things he was saying. He’s just a puppet, waving around in the wind, contributing nothing to conversations and existing without complexity. It makes me want to bash my head into a table. 

Zheng. Why? What was her purpose? I’m white, I should note, so I’m not entirely qualified to talk on this subject from an experiential perspective, but a great big part of her character felt like something I wrote my end of high-school thesis on: orientalism in science fiction, and specifically the pervasive notion of the “submissive eastern woman”. This isn’t science fiction, but it does employ (subtly, might I add, but still noticeable) tropes that Edward Said wrote about in his work “Orientalism” (1990) -- stuff, specifically in OFMD S2, like being the "other" (in particular, viewing the east as a "backwards west" that requires a "western touch" to correct) in the way that Zheng's ship was clearly portrayed as "abnormal" to us in every way -- the all female crew, the rigidity, the organization, etc. We were told repeatedly, time and time again, that she is powerful. But think about it for a moment, did you ever really feel like she was powerful? When she revealed she was an infamous pirate lord that made people cower, did you feel it? We saw some displays of power – but only deep into getting to know her. We never really felt this power that we were told repeatedly that she had, this fear of being some pirate queen. No, she was just a pirate with money.

(As an aside: the theme of power is notoriously difficult to get right in fiction, because it's so multifaceted. If you want my professional opinion (as some random internet nerd who spends time in a weird mix of fandoms) on who gets it right in modern fiction: I think JJK does it really well. I could go on about JJK for hours, both its rights and wrongs, but it gets the notion of power right if nothing else. For those unfamiliar, the “mentor character”s name is Gojo, who is a sorcerer born with a rare combination of techniques that makes him incredibly powerful – almost completely untouchable. To the viewer, he is silly, aloof, and overall goofy as a character (it’s actually a front, but this is an OFMD essay, not a JJK essay) which allows us to get to know him beyond his power level – but when he’s not acting aloof, when his smile deepends (or worse, when it drops) we can feel the power emanating from him. From impact frames, to the fact he’s constantly unserious, to enemies cowering at the mere mention of his name – his entire thing is that he’s the strongest sorcerer alive. Curses (evil spirits) quite literally can’t do anything while he’s around – so much so, that when he gets sealed in a prison dimension in s2 of the anime, the effects are felt quite literally all over Japan. With one simple action (the sound of the cube sealing him hitting the floor of the train station) an entire nation’s power has turned on its head – every curse, every sorcerer feels it. When his power is gone, there is such a large disparity between the protagonists and the antagonists, you can feel it through your screen.)

Zheng does not have this. She does not have the luxury of being in a story where the writers care about making her a threat. I could extend this to Blackbeard too to a lesser extent, but I won't. OFMD is a comedy. But being a comedy doesn’t mean you can’t tackle heavy topics – you can, and should tackle the heavy stuff in your comedic show. Repeatedly we were told that Zheng is powerful – but nobody treated her like that. Hell, the show didn’t give her the power that it claimed she had. We only ever saw the safe side of her, the kind side of her that (for no reason) liked and cared about Olu. Complex female character? Nah. Random romantic love interest for Olu? Hell yeah.

Fucking Christ. And don’t get me started on the costuming choices. Pigtails? Really? You had no other options? You couldn’t have dipped your fingers into any historical media for reference, like you’ve been keen to do with European references in the show? Alright man. 

Finally, Izzy. WHY did they kill him? Probably my least favourite trope in modern media is when a character finally gets some closure towards the end of their arc, starts becoming a truly better character/dragging themselves up out of a deep pit – only for them to die mid arc. COME ON. If you wanted shock value it would've made more sense for ED to die because he’s, at least, stuck in his old ways. That could’ve been interesting, seeing him stick to his old ways to his detriment. Not to toot my own horn, but in the story I’m writing (shoot me if I mention it again) one of the primary main character’s whole theme is centred around desperation, and his eventual death as a direct result of it. His death is not just for "shock value" it serves a purpose. It's to further the commentary I'm trying to speak on about how far we’ll go to live in an idea rather than the present. I really, truly, honestly think that if they did that with Ed the story could’ve been so much better; and I say this having experienced the difficulties with writing out a central character. But again, this season lacks intentionality. Ed doesn’t die, and instead Izzy does after being the only character with any sort of redeeming qualities this season. I get, to some degree, it’s supposed to be a metaphor for Ed leaving behind his past but, does he really even do that? He’s Blackbeard when we end season 2. Izzy’s death didn’t mean anything to me beyond just wishing the season ended quicker, because (as we witness with Ed’s rebounding) concrete decisions made by characters can be reversed in the flip of a second thanks to Plot™! There is no permanence to the story’s cohesion, and Izzy’s death just doesn't stick. “Okay,” you say, exhausted. Nothing feels real. Nothing is internally or externally consistent. It's just a mess of ideas poorly strung together, and that's being nice about it.

I wont say much about craft because this is getting long winded but. Fuck me, dude. Why does every dialogue happen in a vacuum? NOBODY IS EVER DOING ANYTHING INTERESTING. a lot of scenes felt like filler -- there only to extend the series' runtime. I’m tired, man. It’s sloppy writing. I'd almost give it a better rating if Season 1 wasn't so much better by comparison. Instead of just being a bad season, it now also ruins what the show built up in the first season. I'm beyond disappointed. 

TL;DR: please for the love of god start loving the stories you're writing. the future generations deserve more than money-laundering garbage edit: whoops got her name wrong halfway through its zheng not zhen my b lol

[theantitheticalchiasm]

lmao my dad just went on a tirade about how american economics wouldn’t work if super rich people didn’t exist and how that somehow rightly absolves them of the need to pay taxes and that unions will bring us to economic ruin wtf

[deadsetobsessions]

Woo! I’ve finally got time to write! Had to go to a wedding, suffered through eight whole hours of pure disorganized mess, and got mad about it. Emphasis on the disorganized part. So, I bring you: party planner!Danny Phantom.

——

If anyone was to see him now, they’d definitely think that it was odd that Danny was the one in the party planning field. They wouldn’t be surprised if it was Jazz, but Danny ‘wing it’ Fenton planning things? Never.

But here he was, clipboard in hand and checking off hors d’œuvres from the list.

“Anton, could you do a check of the sound system? Make sure everything’s working?”

“Got it.”

Danny lifted the buffet table, laden with heavy food, and used a bit of his ghostly strength to move it over.

“Perfect.”

He double checked the seating chart, and readjusted the miniature ice sculpture centerpieces he made for the party.

Wayne Manor was all lit up and perfectly dusted. Danny ran through his mental checklist. Tabled? Check. Dance floor clean and scuff free? Check. DJ booth and open bar running without issues? Check. Live band setting up with back up instruments and strings? Check. Decorations on point? Oh, he’ll have to get the team to readjust those.

Time to check-

“Danny! How’s it going?” Bruce Wayne beamed and slung an arm around his shoulder.

Danny smiled politely. “Mr. Wayne. Everything is going smoothly. Would you like to check the food the chefs have made?”

“Sure, sure! I definitely need to eat before I drink, haha!”

“That’s a good idea! Good thing you’re about to try a bunch of food.” Danny matched the billionaire’s energy. He’s going to get paid so good.

“So, Danny, are you going to college?”

Danny passed him a small sampler. “Ah, I can’t. Some stuff happened in high school and I don’t really have the grades or the money to.”

Plus, his credentials were in another plane of existence and he hadn’t figured out how to transfer those records yet.

“You could still attend college, I’m sure! Your parents might be able to help pay?” Bruce nommed on the food. He gave a thumbs up.

Danny sighed. “It’s not always an option. Plus, my parents are dead.”

In this universe. His own? Alive and kicking GIW ass.

“Oh, I see-”

“Father.”

“Woah!” Danny blinked, looking down at the baby Wayne the popped up next to his father’s elbow.

“Damian! What’s wrong, kiddo?”

Damian shot his father a flat glare and dragged the laughing billionaire away.

Danny snorted and returned to his tasks. He has to check the speeches and the lighting. Hm… he doesn’t have time to adjust everything how he wants it.

Good thing he knew a guy that could stop time.

“Hey, Clockwork?”

——

“Father, I understand your inclination towards adopting poor black haired and blue eyed orphans, but I would like to remind you that I have far too many siblings to be adding yet another bumbling buffoon.”

“I was not considering that, Damian.”

Damian let go of his wrist with a grimace. “Denial is not becoming of a Wayne, Father.”

“Yeah, B. I could see you grab the adoption papers from all the way over here.” Tim adjusted his tie. “Anyways, Dick is on his way. He’s running a little late because of some stuff in Blüdhaven.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

——

“Batman.”

“Oracle.”

“Look at the footage of Wayne manor.” Oracle pulled up the video surveillance scattered through out the manor. Specifically, the ones of the west ballroom. Daniel Fenton stood in his spot, looking down at his clipboard but a second later, he's moved three inches to the left and the decorations had subtly been moved more aesthetic spots. "I think Danny might be a meta. We'll have to look into him."

Batman stood up, allowing the fondness he had for Danny as Bruce Wayne drain away. This is a potential threat, and Batman will treat him like one. (Danny will remember this.)

"Contact Flash. I need him to scan for any temporal disturbance."

"Understood."

——

"Brucie!" A socialite squealed as she came to bestow hugs upon a long suffering Bruce. "My god, this place is gorgeous! You must give me your planner's number. I could absolutely use some fresh eyes for the Annual Spring Party."

"Awe, Janine! I gotta keep some of the good things to myself!" Bruce whined, inwardly smirking as he saw his kids mock-gagging behind the lady's back. "What if your party's cooler than mine? What should I do then? You're already so gorgeous! Why, is that a Birkin?"

Janine lit up and all but forgot about getting Danny's contact information. Bruce patted his own back for a job well done, even if he had to listen to Janine's itemized list of random luxury goods she had to buy before being offered a bag.

He's a Wayne. The Gotham Hermes wished they could partner with the Waynes. Plus, he's pretty sure he's got at least three of those bags somewhere in the manor to bait out Selina.

Catching Danny sliding in between the servers and going towards the kitchen, Bruce quickly excused himself with a disarming himbo grin.

Time to subtly grill the kid.

——

"Hey, Timmy?"

"Hello, Dick," Tim smiled elegantly at the couple who's companies he was about to bring six feet underground and excused himself. "What's up?"

"Have you noticed that the ice sculptures haven't melted at all?"

Tim blinked, eyes sliding over to a harried Danny being followed by Bruce on a mission. Oof.

"Freeze?" He asked mildly, face innocent of any nefarious thoughts.

"That's what I'm thinking." Dick smiled sunnily, throwing an arm around Tim's shoulders.

"Heard the guy's living out near Crime Alley. We should get Jay to check it out." Tim pretended to laugh, grinning as his brains made plans for a stakeout.

"Heard, my ass. You totally stalked him, didn't you?"

"Got proof?"

Dick snorted, removing his arm. "Nope. I'll let Jay know. You should probably help Danny out, though, he looks like he's about to lose his temper."

"Bruce is at it again." Tim sighed. "Yeah, okay."

[princessbellecerise]

Your Daddy Did It Better

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | James Barnes Jr, or JJ as the world calls him, doesn’t quite know how to treat a woman. Luckily for you though, his daddy sure does

warnings | smut, age gap (reader is in her 20's), riding, couch sex, light drinking, billionaire!bucky, oral (f. receiving), bucky gives the reader a facial if you know what i mean, 18+ ONLY

this fic is eighteen plus. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

James Steven Barnes was a fucking asshole.

You suspect that he may have gotten that trait from his father, Bucky; but even in the few times you had met the billionaire, he had never acted quite as douchy as his son did.

The Bucky Barnes that you knew and grew up seeing in tabloids was at least respectful after he got done with women, and at least had the decency to tell them that it was over to their face before he moved on.

Unfortunately though, it seemed somewhere along the lines he forgot to pass that trait onto his son, which was precisely the reason you were fuming and stopping your way through Barnes Tower, fists nearly ripping the paper of the magazine due to your death grip.

Anger coursed through your veins as you thought about the front page, which showed your supposed ‘boyfriend’ front and center at a Knick’s game with some model that was way too old for him. But, there was no doubt that she was beautiful.

You couldn’t lie; that was part of the reason you were salty. But the other part was because you had just seen JJ two days ago, and he made no mention to tell you that whatever you guys had was over. Nor that he was already back on the market.

He didn’t even have the decency to send you a text, so, after staring at the picture for a while and slightly crying your eyes out, anger began to replace your sadness and you came up with a plan.

Sure it wasn’t the best of plans, and sure you may be a little out of your mind, barging into the most elite building in New York. But you need to confront him, face-to-face. And since you still had your keycard JJ had given you since he was too lazy to come to your apartment, you marched right on in the tower like it was your own home.

The elevator dinged and your high heels clicked against the polished tiles, your eyes blazing as you made your way across the floor.

The fancy decor that you usually marveled at was the last thing on your mind. You were on a mission, and nothing was going to stop you. Nothing was going to get in the way of you laying into JJ, or possibly throwing the magazine at his head. You were going to make him pay and not even security was going to get in your way, if he called them.

You would only leave this building kicking and screaming, you decided. And if JJ tried to kick you out, well then—

“Oof!”

Your whirlwind of thoughts were suddenly cut off when a figure smacked into you, knocking the breath out of your lungs and almost knocking you over until hands reached out to grab you. They wrapped around your figure and pulled you close so that you wouldn’t hit the floor. Shocked, a gasp left your lips, and you quickly held onto whoever it was, your fingers digging into the expensive material of their suit.

For a moment, you thought that it was JJ that caught you and anger bubbled in your stomach. After all, the tufts of dark-haired you saw were exactly the same shade, and his build felt roughly the same.

But when the person set you back on your feet, it only took you a second to realize that it was not JJ that caught you.

It was his dad.

“Bucky!”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, as did his while you both stared at each other. Not really sure what to do, Bucky let go of you, and he awkwardly cleared his throat while you shuffled back.

“Y/N,” He said, equally shocked. “I wasn’t…expecting you today. Is everything alright?”

His light blue eyes glanced you over and while you didn’t seemed to be dressed in any kind of date attire, he was under the assumption that you were there for JJ. He knew that your relationship with his son was mostly physical, but Bucky still hoped he raised him well enough to at least treat you to a date every once in a while.

“No, no everything is not okay,” Is what you wanted to tell him. “Your son is an absolute asshole.”

The words were so close from falling from your lips, but you held back, pressing them together so you wouldn’t say something you’d regret. It was already bad enough that JJ probably didn’t want you there, you didn’t need his dad trying to kick you out too. So you held it together and tried to make it look like you weren’t crying just a few minutes before, tilting your head away from Bucky and focusing your eyes on the floor as you spoke.

“Everything’s fine,” You said, your voice a little weak but normal nevertheless. “I was just…I was just looking for JJ. Have you seen him?”

Bucky reeled back in surprise once again. “JJ?” He repeated your question and answered before you could even confirm what you said. “No honey, I’m afraid JJ isn’t here. I think he went to see a basketball game or something. I would’ve thought…I did think you were going with him.”

So he didn’t know.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying not to start crying again as you slowly shook your head.

“We broke up,” You said, unfortunately having to break the news to him. Bucky’s eyes widened. “He…He went to that basketball game with some other chick, and I came here to hopefully confront him. I…”

Wordlessly, you held out the magazine for Bucky to grab, and he did. His blue eyes scanned the paper, eyebrows furrowing together until eventually, anger settled on his face.

He looked at the cover of the magazine and noted that the girl was not, in fact, you. Bucky had never seen her in his life. As a matter of fact, he was pretty sure JJ had never met her either, which made the situation even worse.

He sighed, lowering the magazine to look at you. When he did, that’s when Bucky finally realized that you had started crying, even though you tried your best to hide it from him.

“Oh doll.”

“I’m sorry,” You instinctively tried to move away from him as he reached out, attempting to comfort you. But you just thought he was trying to pity you, shame festering inside of you as you sobbed quietly.

You didn’t want to cry, but seeing how his own father reacted made you think that JJ really was an asshole.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cry it’s just—”

“Hey,” Bucky reached out to gently tug you towards him, and somehow you found yourself crying in his arms as he shook his head and wrapped you in his embrace. Your tears stained his Tom Ford suit, your mascara no doubt ruining the expensive fabric. But Bucky didn’t seem to mind as he awkwardly held you close, letting you cry into his chest like many other young ladies had before you. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I know.”

“It’s just that,” You sniffle, pulling away with tears still your cheeks, “It’s just that we were together only just two days ago and I can’t believe he—I can’t believe he just ditched me like that. Like what the fuck man? Who raised you?”

Bucky slightly chuckled as you shook your head, disbelief settling on your face. You wiped your tears, your hands coming back stained but at the moment you didn’t care.

You were heartbroken, and you hated to admit it but you really did like JJ. Despite knowing the type of guy he was rumored to be, you thought you’d just give him a chance. You thought you’d give him an opportunity to prove that everyone was wrong about him. JJ wasn’t an asshole. He was just a typical rich kid that had everything at his disposal. Sure he went through girls quick, but you never once thought he’d dispose of you.

Not like this. Not to the point where you were crying in front of his father as Bucky looked at you sympathetically.

“Welp, not my proudest parenting moment,” He admitted, “But the kid does have his way of charming people. I honestly thought he would use it for good as he got older. You know for like business and stuff? But it seems the more he grows up, the more broken hearts he leaves in his trail.”

“Huh. Well I guess that makes him just like his father then,” You chuckled bitterly through your sniffles, causing Bucky to laugh little bit. The sound took you by surprise, not expecting him to laugh over your dig. But you liked the way it sounded: soft, but mature. Everything that a man should’ve been. Everything that his son should’ve been.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Bucky shrugged. “But believe me—I never once raised him to act like this. I wanted him to be better, you know? But I guess eventually, everyone goes down their own path.”

“You should cut him off then,” You quickly suggested, before you could even stop the words coming from your mouth. “If you cut him off, he can’t charm girls anymore and he most certainly won’t be sitting courtside with anymore models.”

You were dead serious, but this—this was what caused Bucky to double over in laughter, clutching his stomach and letting out a hearty, genuine laugh. He shook his head at you, pointing his index finger, and you couldn’t lie, you laughed too. After all, who just goes around telling rich dads to cut off their entitled sons? Not enough people apparently, because there were still a plethora of entitled sons out there.

Bucky may have thought JJ was one, but after losing his mother, he was all he had. You suppose you understood why Bucky kept enabling him in that way, but it still made you no less salty that he got to live the good life while everybody else around him got left in the dust.

“You,” Amusement danced in Bucky’s eyes as he chuckled some more before finally sobering up, pressing his lips. “You’re funny.” He said like it was a compliment. “You…you’ve got a sense a humor, I’ll tell you that sweetheart. Not a lot of girls my son brings home actually have a decent personality.”

“What can I say? It’s probably the reason he ditched me,” You said.

“Probably,” Bucky agreed. “Unfortunately, he doesn’t do well with actual conversation. As a father, it’s a little embarrassing when your son goes for beauty instead of brains and beauty.”

“Oh, is that what you think I have?” You teased him slightly, your mood beginning to pick up a little. Bucky nodded. “Well, you’d think if I was smart, I wouldn’t go after somebody with an obvious track record.”

“Well we can all be dazzled by the charm,” Bucky said, staring intensely. “But you gotta know that eventually, all of that stuff goes away and in a few years time he’ll realize how stupid he was to let you go. Trust me, beauty fades fast and when that’s all you have in common with someone, most relationships tend to not to last long.”

“So what you’re saying is JJ’s gonna break up with the model?” You questioned.

“…Eventually,” Bucky hesitated to say, “But for now, she’s young. So he’s gonna be all over her like white on rice.”

“Bucky! What the fuck— you are not helping!”

Instinctively, you reached out to shove his shoulder which caused Bucky to be even more surprised. But he could see the smile tugging at your lips, hear the playfulness in your voice as you said this, so he laughed even harder.

He appreciated someone joking around with him without being all cautious about his titles. Bucky didn’t know what it was, but something about the way you seemed to just relax around him made him happy. It made him inch forward, taking a cautious step while you watched him.

“Oh yeah?” He challenged quietly, and you never took your eyes off of him as he stepped as close as he could. “Well then do tell me Miss L/N,” Bucky copied your playfulness, “What would help you get over my son?”

The tone of his voice made you shiver slightly, as did the closeness of his body. You just now realized it, but Bucky’s eyes were awfully brown, so dark that you found yourself almost getting lost in them. You felt like your world was swirling as you looked inside of those mischievous brown eyes, but yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to look away.

Daring to be bold, you stepped closer, and Bucky was nearly on the floor when suddenly you crained your head up, put your lips straight to his ear and whispered,

“How about a drink, Mr. Barnes?”

“And then I said: I thought you were smaller!”

You laugh loudly as Bucky very proudly told you the story of how he reunited with his best friend Steve, the man JJ had also been named after. It was sort of a sad story, but you didn’t know that because Bucky left out all the bad parts. He just wanted to make you laugh and was just glad to see that you were entertained nonetheless.

It was a stark contrast to the way you had shown up on his doorstep only an hour ago. Now, your tears were replaced by laughter, your frown with a large grin, and there were no longer any traces of anger on your face. You were only content as you sipped on your drink, playing into all the jokes and shenanigans Bucky had presented you with.

Honestly, hanging out with him had been pretty fun and you had no fucking clue how it all started but you weren’t complaining as you downed your drink. This was your first one, so you weren’t even tipsy, just relaxed enough to have a good time. It also helped push away the feeling that maybe hanging out with your ex’s father wasn’t such a good idea.

Nonsense though, your brain had told you multiple times, because Bucky was funny, charming and most importantly: he was nothing like his son.

As he entertained you, you began to see less and less how JJ could even be related to a man like this. A man so confident and hilarious, and just so sure of himself. It was like every move Bucky made, he made with a purpose. He did it because he knew exactly the reaction he would get from someone. He was so perceptive, and he picked up that you needed cheering up, so he kept making a fool out of himself just to make you laugh.

And honestly, you were beginning to question why you ever wasted your time on JJ in the first place. When clearly, you had chosen the wrong Barnes.

The thought had struck you several times in the last hour, but you never once entertained it, refusing to give your brain that satisfaction. You told yourself that Bucky was just being nice inviting you for a drink. That he just felt bad and didn’t want you stumbling home angry and sad.

You told yourself that it was better for him that you didn’t come looking for his son again. But…a part of you wanted to believe there were other reasons.

It only made heart your pound faster as he began to speak again.

“Man. I swear I can never get enough of telling that story,” He said cheekily, leaning back on his fancy sofa. The suit that he was wearing crinkled, and the scotch in his hand swirled before he took a sip of it.

You admired him.

You admired anybody that could drink straight liquor, because Lord knows you couldn’t. Lord knows not even his own son could, which made you snort at the thought.

“Well, it is a wonderful story Mr. Barnes,” You told him, swirling your own drink. “I’m sure it was even better to witness all those years ago.”

“Oh, come on now darling. Don’t make it seem like I’m a fossil,” Bucky waved you off, and you couldn’t deny the way your stomach fluttered at the nickname. It made you feel something that you hadn’t felt before; an emotion that you desperately wanted to push down but was rising the more time you spent with Bucky.

Desire was beginning to creep into your veins, and it didn’t help that you had certainly took notice of just how handsome Mr. Barnes was, and just how good that three-piece suit clung to his body. You began to wonder things that you should most definitely not be wondering. But still, it was like your brain produced the thoughts on its own and you couldn’t help but think that Bucky looked sexy all relaxed like that.

You curled your lips, and you knew you were beginning to get yourself into trouble. You sipped your drink once again.

“Oh, trust me. The last thing I’m calling you is old Mr. Barnes,” You retorted kindly. Bucky looked up as a smirk began to form on your cheeks. “In fact, you’re probably one of the youngest people I know in spirit, most definitely. It seems that even though the years have passed, they haven’t yet caught up with you. And well, you’re pretty spry for an older fella.”

You batted your lashes at him, causing Bucky to sputter a little bit. A mischievous look grew in your eyes, and when you winked at him something began to stir inside of him.

Perhaps it was your humor, or the way you knew just when to be sarcastic and when to be genuine, just like him. Maybe it was that that drew him towards you, making Bucky sit up a little bit as he studied you.

With blue eyes observing everything, Bucky noted that you were young, yes, but you certainly weren’t new to the world, nor ignorant of it. From what you had told him, you were in grad school and had experienced heartbreak and failure. And though you weren’t nearly as old or mature as he was, Bucky could sense that you definitely were years above your own peers.

Years above his own son, which Bucky began to question if he really was his son, if he had passed up a woman like this.

A woman so easy to get along with that he didn’t even notice it was beginning to approach two hours since you had been there.

“Spry?” Bucky rose an eyebrow and chose to ignore the thought that you might need to go home soon. Nodding your head, Bucky laughed at your words.

“Oh very spry indeed Mr. Barnes. In fact, I bet you could run me and outlive me,” You giggled.

“Well…” Bucky pretended to be in thought before carefully shoving off his blazer, flexing his biceps which made the most unholy of thoughts come into your mind. “I suppose I do lift a little on the side. Mostly when I’m not busy with meetings, but I mean the biceps speak for themselves, don’t they?”

“I suppose they do.” You sipped on your wine so that Bucky couldn’t see how bothered you had gotten. Your legs crossed, your body language beginning to change. Something stirred in the pit of your stomach, causing you to shift slightly.

You could still see his biceps peeking out from under his shirt even with him not flexing. It made your mouth just the tiniest bit dry as Bucky looked at you.

He didn’t want you to go home, but he knew that it was entering the odd hours of the morning and the last thing he needed was paparazzi photographing a young woman leaving his tower this late. Not to mention a young woman that had been seen with this son. Oh, Bucky realized the scandal it would cause and decided he was way past those days.

So, a plan began to form in his mind.

Maybe you didn’t have to leave, he told himself. Maybe…maybe you could stay after all. He thought about this, and then before he could stop himself, Bucky began to speak.

“You know…it’s getting kind of late.” He tried to sound as casual as possible without his words sounding rehearsed. Immediately, you perked up, worrying that he may kick you out. But luckily, it was just the opposite. “I know JJ once told me you lived a little ways out of town. A far walk I imagine; and getting an Uber probably won’t be easy. I’m sure you know this by now, but this tower has a lot of rooms. Why don’t you take one for the night and rest up here? You can leave first thing in the morning but I’d just hate to see a young lady be out on the streets of New York by herself.”

At this, you couldn’t stop the smile that made its way over your face, nor the laugh of delight as you found yourself eagerly accepting Bucky’s proposal.

“Yes. I think that sounds fair. Thank you, Mr. Barnes. For being so kind.”

“Yeah.”

Was that what it was? Bucky truly being kind, or was he only letting you stay for his own selfish intentions?

Probably both honestly. But truly, Bucky knew he wasn’t a bad enough person to expect you to do anything for him in return. His thoughts may have been running wild, but he wasn’t so bad as to bribe a young girl like that. Not that he had to, because you were already halfway on that road before you even stood up.

When you did though, you were suddenly reminded of how long it had been since you had drank and you couldn’t stop the woozy feeling in your head as you set the glass down. Bucky caught you once again before you hit the floor, your nausea causing you to trip over the expensive carpet. You landed in his arms almost like a fairytale. Your eyes met his, and you could see the worry that spread in them.

“Are you all right?” He asked.

It was a simple question. So, so simple that you should’ve just been able to answer with ‘yes’ and been done with it. You should’ve been, but somehow you just couldn’t. Somehow all the decency and all the warning bells that told you this was not a good idea suddenly left your mind. All of a sudden, you were lucid but you didn’t even feel like it as you leaned up and did something you never in a million years thought you would’ve done.

You kissed Bucky.

You don’t know what the hell got into you. Truly, you didn’t. You didn’t know whether it was the alcohol, sheer stupidity, or just a fuck-this-I’m-going-for-it mentality. But whatever it was, it had you kissing Bucky Barnes like it was your last day on this earth, your head spinning from how hard you pressed your lips to his.

Your lips were on his, and honestly it took Bucky more time than he’d like to admit to do something about it. At first, he just stood there a little bit confused. He didn’t register that you were kissing him until you tried to move your mouth and he just…stood still. He didn’t register that you…that you wanted him until you suddenly pulled away with slight panic on your face.

“Oh my God,” You said in realization, “Bucky I’m so—”

Bucky didn’t even let you finish the sentence, because the fuck-it mentality embraced him too and suddenly you were both carefree as you swapped spit.

Bucky had his mouth on yours, and you were kissing him with so much passion and oh my God you were so young and this was so wrong but the man couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

Despite everything in his brain telling him that this was a bad idea, his body simply would not allow him to listen, too engrossed by the feeling of your soft lips.

Cherry Chapstick—that’s what you had been wearing. But Bucky was sure that by the time he was done with you, that taste would be nothing but a fleeting memory. He pressed his tongue out to try to get some more of it, and that’s when his tongue started to slip into your mouth. Gasping, you let him in and that’s when your bodies began to fall back onto the couch.

Bucky landed first with a small grunt, and with this new sitting position you were able to straddle his lap and hook your legs on either side of him.

Bucky’s arms then came to wrap around your waist, wasting no time to explore your body—regrettably through your clothes. You had been wearing a simple skirt and top, but even that felt like too much as Bucky suddenly became desperate to get underneath them.

A hot desire developed over you both, and you couldn’t stop yourself from suddenly breaking the kiss, putting your hands on his nice blazer, and tearing it off with ease. You threw it somewhere in the corner that you didn’t quite care about, looking at Bucky for only a second before devouring his lips once again.

He tasted like scotch and cigars, the pinnacle of maturity in your opinion. He was so experienced and the thought of all the things he could show you, all the ways he could make you feel suddenly made you groan and start to grind on his lap.

Bucky panted into your mouth as he felt your warm heat moving against him, the perfectly tailored pants suddenly feeling too tight as his erection grew bigger.

You were greedy as you drank him in, like Bucky was the sweetest nectar you had ever tasted. And now that you had gotten a sample, you couldn’t get enough.

You were insatiable as you eventually managed to get his button down shirt off, feeling him slip his own hands under your clothes.

He felt your soft, hot skin and squeezed, liking the way you jumped in his arms. He never once broke the kiss, liking the taste of your mouth far too much. But that didn’t mean Bucky couldn’t explore other areas with his hands, and before you knew it, he had his hands touching all over your body and leaving fire in its wake.

You wiggled a little bit as Bucky traveled lower and lower, eventually jumping again when he made contact with your cotton panties.

Bucky smiled into your mouth, satisfaction flooding his veins when he noticed your arousal had already dampened them.

Slowly, you began to grind a little bit on his hand and Bucky groaned as the sensation of it all made him feel like he was burning up. He felt like if he didn’t do something now, he would literally burst into flames. So, as much as he loved the taste of your mouth, he decided he needed something more than that.

Pulling away from you, a trail of spit dribbled down your chin and coated the frown that you were now sporting. You didn’t wanna pull away from him, but Bucky reassured you with his eyes that what he had planned was much better.

He tapped on your thighs and pushed on your chest a little bit, letting you know that he wanted you to lay down.

Excitement flooded your veins as your back suddenly hit the couch, your shirt pulled almost all the way up and your skirt flipped.

Bucky could see nothing but your stomach and your cotton covered pussy, choosing these two things to focus on as he got on his knees on the couch.

He hovered over you, and at first, you thought he was going to kiss you again until suddenly, his head dipped down. You moaned as his hands begin to massage your breasts, the feeling of his touch driving you crazy. Even though it was only through your clothes, you began to squirm; pushing down on his hips with your foot so that Bucky quickly got the message.

“Wow. Eager are we?” He smirked, and the whine that you let out went away as quickly as it came, when Bucky suddenly yanked your bra down.

You were sure that the front straps had broken, but that was the last thing you cared about. You were only focused on his plump lips that were headed towards your breast. And sure enough, Bucky finally made the first contact with your body when he wrapped his lips around your sensitive bud. Th action caused you to moan out, quickly running your fingers through his hair as he licked, sucked, circled the bud with his tongue.

Skilled he was, because you swore you had never gotten this much pleasure from a man sucking on your tits. Sure many had tried, but it never felt like this. It never felt like actual pleasure until now, Bucky’s tongue working miracles.

Honestly, it made you wonder just what else he could do. And as if he could read your mind, Bucky suddenly abandoned your nipples and trailed his mouth further down your body. At first, you wanted to protest at the lack of stimulation. But the feeling was quickly replaced when Bucky got rid of your panties in one swift pull. He looked you in the eye, and you could see his smirk as he took in your pouty lips, the way your chest heaved and the way your eyes got wide. He took in how fucking gorgeous you looked but man — he bet you sounded even better.

It was this thought that lead Bucky to finally dip his head where you needed him to be; you letting out the sweetest of moans as his lips attached to your clit.

Bucky pleasured you in a way that most boys your age refused to even consider. They never seemed to consider what women actually wanted, but Bucky knew. And damn, did he know it well.

He took your clit in between his teeth and gently grazed over it, teasing you and enjoying the way your hips bucked against him. He had to hold you down before he really got started on you, and when he did, and there was nobody on this earth that could convince Bucky that what the two of you were doing was wrong.

So what if you had dated his son. His son was stupid; even Bucky could see that now.

JJ was beyond stupid to pass up this gorgeous woman, who tasted just as sweet as she looked. Who tasted so fucking good that Bucky lapped and sucked up every little dribble of arousal that you had. He sucked on your clit and even began to use his fingers, absolutely determined to taste you and your entirety. Nothing in life had ever enticed Bucky more, except for maybe the sounds that you were making.

Man, did you sound absolutely gorgeous as you wiggled and thrashed, but never quite fully pulled away from his pleasure. Man, did you look so sexy with your head thrown back, eyes closed, and lips parted. Bucky swore he never saw a better site in his life, which egged him to pump his fingers even faster. He was determined, determined to make you cum on his tongue and determined to show you that this was how a real man pleasured a woman. A real man always put her satisfaction before his, which was why Bucky wasn’t even gonna fuck you until you had came at least once.

And fuck—did you.

You swear you had never screamed louder in your life, your body shaking as you came all over Bucky’s expensive suit and couch. You were crying out from the almost abusive pleasure, but not once did Bucky remove his mouth from your pussy. Not until he was sure he had gotten every last drop.

He wanted to taste everything that he could. Every little part of you; and when he succeeded at that he then wanted you to taste yourself.

He wanted for you to know how sweet and absolutely incredible you were.

He brought his mouth back up to latch his lips on yours, and it wasn’t long before your tongue was tangled with his. Bucky got what he wanted when you suddenly squeaked, surprised at how you tasted. It was indeed sweet—thanks to you prioritizing fruit in your diet. Bucky almost chuckled at the way your eyes flew open, but he was too busy breaking the quick kiss to pull down the last bit of clothing that separated the two of you.

It seemed like he couldn’t get those damn panties off fast enough—you giggling and offering to help when he cursed more than enough times.

Bucky leaned over you and, while you worked on your underwear, he began to focus on his own. He unbuckled his belt, yanked down his pants, and freed himself from the torture that was that damn suit.

Now that you were both naked, you eyed his erection deliciously as you both suddenly set up.

It wasn’t like you were a virgin, so you both silently agreed there was no need to take it easy in missionary. So, you got on top of Bucky and hooked your legs over his once again.

A silent glance was shared between the two of you just moments before you sank down on Bucky’s cock, pressing your hips until there was nothing left out except his balls. They pressed against your ass and reminded you of how deep he truly was, how absolutely delicious it felt to have him sheathed inside of you.

Bucky let out a sigh of content, and it wasn’t long before you had him moaning, standing on your toes and lightly bouncing yourself on his cock.

Fuck—you sure did know how to make a man come quick, seeing as you were currently squeezing the dear life out of Bucky. He could barely keep it together as your walls sucked him in, it having been a while since he fucked somebody this tight.

But tight you were, and young—though he’d never guess it by the way you rode him like a pro. You swirled your hips, placing your hand on his chest to steady yourself and then kept bouncing. Up and down your tits went, mesmerizing Bucky almost as much as your pussy did.

You yourself were just enticing, if there ever was a word for it.

Bucky wasn’t quite sure how he’d let you go after this, or if he even wanted to. The feeling of you wrapped around him was definitely something he could get used to, so he tried not to think about that and focused on the present.

He focused on the way you moaned and clenched around him. On the way your pussy squelched every time you bounced yourself up on your feet. He focused on your eyes, staring at him intensely, and then your lips as he leaned in to capture them.

Due to his swift kiss, you had lost your pace, but that was all right because Bucky decided to take over then. He held you close, and then he bucked his hips upwards, fucking into you at a rapid pace. You moaned into his mouth, and Bucky could feel your ass jiggling, your tits bouncing as he pounded into you. He could feel the way your stomach was beginning to clench again, a telling sign of yet another orgasm.

He smirked, satisfied when you started to grip him for dear life. Not even a few seconds later, you did, in fact, cream all over him with a small cry.

The mess on his couch and on his thighs was inevitable, but as Bucky reached his own high, he thought it best not to dirty up his furniture anymore.

Instead, as the pit in his stomach finally grew to its peak, he suddenly pulled out of you and got you on your knees, cumming on your face right as you opened your mouth.

Eagerly, you let the hot ropes paint your face and even swallowed some with a grin on your lips. You couldn’t open your eyes to see the pleasure that you had caused Bucky, but you could hear him groaning, the sound of him jacking off invading your ears until there was nothing else left to decorate your face.

He smiled in satisfaction, loving the way that you had been the one to bring him to his wits end and it wasn’t long before you could see Bucky again.

He retrieved his extremely expensive shirt and used it to wipe off your face, you giving him a giggle as your vision became clearer. You stuck out your tongue, showing him evidence that you had swallowed the bit of cum that had gotten on your lips.

Bucky chuckled, and it was at that moment he realized that yes, his son was an idiot for letting you go.

He’d be damned if he made the same mistake.

BONUS

You made your way into your chemistry class, not even bothered by JJ’s presence as you passed him. In fact, the last thing you were thinking of was that Barnes, seeing as the remnants of his father still lingered just underneath your shirt.

Had it been any more see-through, you would’ve had a reason to be extremely smug as JJ made his way over to you with his friends snickering in the background.

You knew they were talking about you, but you barely paid attention to any of them until suddenly, the youngest Barnes was standing beside you with his arms crossed.

“Yes?”

You looked up at him, and if you didn’t know any better, you would say he was annoyed by your lack of reaction. Your indifference towards him and the model situation clearly bothered him, which made you wanna smirk but you didn’t.

“Well you certainly don’t look bothered,” He commented, casually leaning against your desk. You rolled your eyes, but you weren’t too irritated until he began tapping his pencil on your table.

“Well that’s because I had a pretty good weekend — besides the fact that you ditched me,” You snapped, trying to push him away.

But JJ didn’t budge.

It was then that you remembered he was every bit as stubborn as his father was, despite being less than half the man Bucky was.

“Oops,” A sarcastic smile ghosted on JJ’s face. The bastard didn’t even have the decency to be ashamed of what he did. “I just got caught up you know; business and such.”

“Business.” You pondered on this word before you slowly turned to look at him, confidently being able to stare into his brown eyes. After all, you had found yourself growing fonder and fonder of that shade, just not on him. “That’s interesting. I didn’t know business meant going on a date with a model.”

“Super model,” He made sure to correct you, “And well, you know how it is these days. I’m a Rolling Stone; just like my daddy I hear.”

God bless him, he sounded so proud and it took everything in you not to tell him right then and there. It took every particle of self-restraint you had not to scream out to the entire university that you had fucked his dad, cause you were no longer in the mood for JJ’s childish games.

But instead — thinking of Bucky — you restrained yourself and simply offered JJ a smile.

“Well, the way I hear it, your daddy did it better,” You winked at him, and suddenly nothing in the world could seemed to bother you anymore. Knowing that you had completed the ultimate form of revenge and gained yourself a new suitor in the process put you at peace.

But unfortunately for JJ, you were just getting started.

Just you wait, asswipe. I’ll be your step mama soon enough, you thought devilishly, your phone buzzing just as the boy made his way back to his seat.

Bucky Barnes

Hey honey, you free tonight?

[wandasaura]

— THE QUIET GAME

summary — nobody can beat wanda at her own game, but that doesn’t stop you from trying, and roping natasha into your little game much to her amusement

warnings — dom!wanda maximoff, flirting, dom/sub undertones, semi-public sex (nobody’s around), nipple play, finger sucking, face slapping (once), thigh grinding, fingering (r receiving), degrading, praise, slight begging, edging, aftercare, implied past relationship with natasha, smut minors/men dni

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

Wanda was livid, you could tell from across the room, the dim overhead lighting just bright enough to create a million little rainbows reflecting off the sequins of her skimpy black dress and the kink in her jaw as she grinded her teeth together. It was rare to see your girlfriend so dressed up and out of her element — usually sporting a more masculine appearance in various shades of red — but tonight was a special night, and she always strived to outdo the company.

She became the most beautiful woman in the room the second you opened the double doors upon your arrival, hand and hand, standing shoulder to shoulder, both dressed to stun in dresses that left little to the imagination. She’d had no reservations about your scanty red dress, but her sage eyes had been hungry and dark with lust since the initial glance she stole of your put together look before you left the apartment. You’re her most prized possession and all of your friends know it, some more inclined to tease the hardened witch about her soft spot for you then others, but that didn’t quell her insistence to make your relationship known to every stranger who attended; proud to show off what was only hers. Throughout the night, she’d kept a hand on your your hip, whispering into the shell of your ear knowing how it looked and how it made your legs quiver. Throughout the night, she’d been working you up to the point of no return.

When you separated after too many cocktails and not nearly enough fancy horderves to keep up with your alcohol intake that left your cheeks flush and palms sweaty (not by any choice of your own or hers, merely Tony’s elaborate plan to trap his billionaire friends into donating to the Potts Project) your attention had been solely on her and memorizing the way that the light shaped to her sinful body, cleavage glistening and full for anyone to gawk at. And they did. You’d caught a handful of guests ogling the deep neckline of her dress too many times to remain unbothered and composed, and while you knew the only one she was even looking at beneath the yellow toned lighting was you, the offered drinks and fleeting touches to her waist from arrogant men that thought they could get a piece of what was yours, sparked a fire of jealousy you didn’t want to ignore.

It was no secret that these events led to some of the best sex you had in your relationship, a result of spending the long hours of the night too enraptured with each other's bodies to pay soft touches and patience any mind when you finally had the chance to come undone beneath one another, but tonight was different. Tonight you couldn’t play by her rules and watch from a distance as she floated around and socialized, no, tonight you’d play the long game of getting so beneath her skin she wouldn’t be able to wait until you returned home for a piece of you.

That jealousy was what ended you up in such a flirtatious exchange with Natasha, the redheaded widow painfully aware of yours and Wanda’s relationship (she’d walked in on you too many times to deem them all accidents), but she was more than happy to play along with your game, finding sadistic entertainment in the not-so-subtle expressions your otherwise unshakable girlfriend sent her way. With a possessive grip on your hip, chest flush against yours, nose only one accidental stumble away from yours, Natasha was playing with fire, and you were malleable to her every move. Your history with her was only an advantage in this situation as you stole glances at Wanda from across the room, not surprised to find that she was watching you intensely, clutching the stem of her wine glass so tight her knuckles had turned white, lips pursed into a thin line and when you caught her eye, you dared to smile innocently. When Natasha’s calloused thumb brushed against your bottom lip to draw your attention back to her, Wanda’s final straw snapped, and the redhead teasing your body with sensual touches merely chuckled darkly at the approaching footsteps of your possessive girlfriend.

You didn’t break eye contact with Natasha even when you felt the warmth of her body press against yours, her wine glass having been shoved into some poor unsuspecting waiter's chest during her pursuit. “Let’s go.” Her words were cynical, heavy even, but you’d only just started having fun, and Natasha wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

The redhead pulled you closer, so close that you could smell the mojito on her breath, creating space between you and Wanda who hadn’t been quick enough to grab the other side of your waist when she had the chance. “Look who finally has the time for me.” You joked with Natasha, running a wandering hand down the front of her chest where the buttons of her suit jacket revealed milky skin. She was always so pale, even in the summertime, but the deep color of her suit complimented her complexion nicely, and sharpened the deep green of her eyes and redness of her freshly dyed curls. She’d been blonde only three days prior, but her changing appearance wasn’t anything new at this point. Twirling a strand between your fingers, you bit into your bottom lip. “You have time for me, don’t you, Natty?”

“Always, detka.” The redhead smirked, leaning her forehead against yours, bold enough to slide her hands down your waist and grab at your barely covered ass. Wanda seethed behind you, green eyes flashing red as she glared at your best friend and grabbed your wrist before you could go exploring Natasha’s body again. You had the audacity to giggle when she started pulling you away and toward the exit, wiggling your fingers at the widow who sent you a knowing wink, stumbling over to Maria who had watched the entire scene play out behind a bottle of beer, lips upturned in a smirk. You’d get an earful tomorrow afternoon when you returned to the office, but for now, the only thing you cared about was getting your girlfriend undressed and beneath your touch.

“Hi.” You grinned sweetly, voice dripping with lust as you peered up at her clenched jawline and flared nostrils. She was pissed, and a pissed off Wanda was exactly the woman you needed tonight. Her hand was still tight around your wrist, grabbing at you not hard enough to hurt, but giving you no other choice but to follow after her as she dodged guests and furniture.

You’d never been to this specific venue, Tony preferring to host these events in the compound where the only liability was a broken vase that he didn’t really care about anyway, but still, she maneuvered you both through the building like she’d mapped it all out, footsteps only slowing when she had you confined to a single use bathroom down the hall from the main ballroom. In seconds your back was flush against the door, breath knocked from your lungs as you peered up at her with blown out pupils and a hungry smirk.

She didn’t give you the time to make a sarcastic comment, you’d made enough of them already if she had any say in it, but you would never complain about the feverish way she leant in to kiss you, and how her tongue tasted like your favorite cocktail as it brushed against yours. You fought for dominance as your teeth clashed together and your tongues danced to explore the others mouth, fighting to be the lead, but it was no surprise that she won. A heavy moan filled the echoey bathroom when her body warm pressed into yours, leaving you helpless to her assault that you truthfully didn’t really mind. You kissed her back just as aggressively, hands finding their way into her loose locks that fell down her shoulders in simple and natural waves, and you tugged on it in a desperate plea for something more. Anything more.

She chuckled darkly when she pulled away, bringing her decorated fingers toward your face. Her rings sparkled beneath the automatic lights, silver jewelry complimenting her midnight black dress. In any other setting, you would’ve told her she looked beautiful, but you were desperate to reach a high only she could give you, and she seemed to be taking her sweet time in working you up. Just like Natasha had, her calloused thumb brushed across your swollen and wet bottom lip, collecting the wetness that had gathered from your kiss before she forced it into your mouth. The digit felt heavy on your tongue, but not unfamiliar, and without hesitation you began to suck, eyelids fluttering closed at the warm feeling the sheer dominance of the action sent through your body and straight to your already sopping core. You could feel your arousal soaking through your panties, thighs wet and pressed together as you sought out any kind of relief. Wanda gazed at you with stars in her eyes, but her delicacy didn’t last long before she was forcing your legs apart with her thigh, pressing right up into your needy core. The pressure on your clit felt heavenly, your hips grinding to find the right friction without her permission.

She didn’t stop you, letting you hump her leg like a needy slut, instead focusing her attention on the way you hollowed out your lips around her thumb and kitten licked around her ring, eyes pinched shut as your breathing became heavier. “You think you’re so funny.” She sneered, using her pointer finger to tilt your head upward, revealing your unmarked neck. She’d change that. Her red lips didn’t waste a second, and her teeth weren’t gentle as she nipped and licked at your sensitive skin, working her way up toward the shell of your ear where you were the most reactive. You shuddered violently when she licked a bold strip up the side of your neck, blowing out cold air that made goosebumps prick the skin of your arms. Your grinding only became sloppier as your clit pulsates with need, pathetic whines vibrating her thumb and fueling her actions. “You think you can let Natasha touch what’s mine. Think I don’t know what you’re doing. I know everything, malyshka. I know what makes you moan,” She bit down on your earlobe, tugging at it gently with her teeth, and unable to help yourself, you arched into her chest, moaning desperately.

“I know what makes you whine,” The hand that wasn’t occupied snaked between your bodies, and sought out your barely hidden nipples, pebbled from the cold and your turned on state. Your whines were music to her ears as she tugged and twisted at your sensitive buds overtop of the thin dress, not bothering to shove it out of the way like you wanted. Your nipples were always so sensitive, it was one of Wanda’s favorite ways to work you up to a quick orgasm when you didn’t have the time to be fooling around, but that wasn’t her intention tonight. Just like you’d decided to do, she was playing the long game.

“I know what makes you gasp,” Her thumb made an obnoxiously loud sound as she pulled it from the warm confines of your mouth, but before you had time to process the loss, her palm was colliding with your cheek and the sting on your flushed skin replaced the weight of her heavy digit. You gasped, just like she expected you to, peering at her with wide eyes and an entirely fucked out expression despite not actually being touched yet. Her thigh was saturated in your arousal, the scent thick in the air but it couldn’t be blamed on only you. Her own panties, black like the color of her dress because she was ever the meticulous woman, we’re so drenched they stuck to her folds, but her attention was on you right now, because clearly that’s all you wanted, and who was she to deny you anymore?

“What? Did you just need me to pay you attention? Is that it?” She cooed mockingly, pulling her thigh away from your core just as you found the perfect rhythm, disrupting your climbing high before you could fall over the edge into bliss. You whined pathetically, hips frantically searching for her again. “Are you such a desperate little slut you couldn’t get through one evening without needing this little pussy fucked?” You gasped when her hand cupped your mound, skilled fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties and toying at your sensitive clit. “You spent the last hour mouthing off to Natasha, when you could’ve just told me what you needed.”

“P-Please.” You stumbled over your words, breathy moans like music to her ears as she sank two fingers into your willing hole, feeling just how worked up you’d gotten yourself since arriving. You squeezed at her fingers, walls fluttering with desperation as her thumb set a brutal pace on your clit, entirely to soft and slow to bring you to where you wanted to be.

Attempting to take matters into your own hands, you pushed on her fingers that worked at scissoring you open, caressing your velvety walls like she was trying to study you. “Oh no, you don’t get to rush me now. You lost that privilege the second you let her touch what belongs to me.” Wanda’s other hand held your hips flush against the door you were pinned against, keeping her pace slow and torturous and entirely unsatisfying. “We’re gonna play a little game.”

“N-No.” You shook your head frantically, your hands scratching at her exposed shoulders, trying to wrestle them down her arms to free her breasts that had been taunting you all night. Even in her aggression, she still looked beautiful, and you cursed the tight fabric of her dress for holding her in so perfectly. “Wanda please, p-please.” You moaned loudly when her fingers found that perfect spot inside of you, pressing into it teasingly, before they were pulled away. She let them slip past your lips, filling your mouth with the taste of your own juices that glistened on her palm and smeared against your chin.

“Unless you want someone to hear how desperate you sound, you’re going to stay quiet. The second you make a noise I stop, do you understand me?” She pulled her fingers out of your mouth, satisfied with how you’d cleaned them off only for her to get them dirty again. You nodded frantically, desperate to have her back where you needed her most. Your walls fluttered around nothing, that deep ache in your belly nearly unbearable as you’d been left right on the edge twice already. “Good girl. What do you say if you need a break?”

Your heart melted at the tender care she showed, a crack in her facade as she let the both of you exist in a single gentle moment of care and respect. She may be rough when she’s pissed, she may slap you around and drag out your pleasure for her own amusement, but she made sure that you knew you were really the one in charge during these exchanges. The second you asked her to stop, she would. But you trusted her enough to never go there. “Yellow. Red if I want you to stop, I know Wands. I trust you, just please touch me.”

She smirked sadistically, letting her hands roam your body filthily. You bit down on your bottom lip to suppress the moan that threatened to escape when she pulled at the neckline of your dress and revealed your sensitive nipples to the cold air abruptly. Her hot fingers were skilled in many ways, and still slightly damp from your mouth, they moved over your skin easily, tugging and pinching at your nipples with a practiced perfection. She knew exactly what you liked and what made you go crazy, and she was using every skill in the book to get you to break. When her mouth found your left breast, kissing all over the warm and silky skin that she’d spent twenty minutes fondling before you’d even left for the event, you almost broke. Your knees weakened, your belly quivered with need as she kissed and sucked at every inch of skin beside where you really wanted her. When her lips finally encased your erect bud, a wave of relief crashed over you, but was replaced in seconds by an unmet desire. Her teeth bit ar your nipple, tugging until you didn’t think you could take it anymore, but she knew what you could take, and before you could tap at her shoulder, she was letting go and soothing the ache with her skilled tongue. A shaky breath escaped your lips before you could help it, and immediately she was letting go of you completely, leaving you to stand by yourself against the door.

“What did I say?” Her green eyes that were black with lust glared at you, her words sounding so far away as you arched away from the door and tried to persuade her to come back.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please. Please Wands, just touch me.” Your eyes were unfocused and hazy, head spinning as you pined for touch. The long game had definitely come back to bite you in the ass, nobody fucked with Wanda Maximoff and won, but you were too drunk on her touch to care about how you’d walked yourself into this.

“You make another sound and we’re going back out there until the end of the night.” She laid out her ultimatum, words slurring together with the faintest hint of her accent coming out to play as she admired your frantic stare and flushed cheeks, looking absolutely ravenous as you anticipated her touch. You nodded frantically, desperate to win her over, although you both knew she was going to resume either way. Natasha could only work you up so much, but she was the one who made you come undone with the lightest touch, and that was enough to motivate her into continuing.

This time when her fingers returned to your core, she wasn’t as gentle, thumb heavy on your clit as her fingers teased around your entrance, not daring to fill you up how you wanted without making you earn it. She pulled at the waistband of your thong until it snapped, flimsy purple fabric falling down your sweaty thigh to be forgotten about on the tile floor, and finally without the tight barrier that only gave her so much room to work in the way, she set an unforgiving pace that had your head spinning and thighs shaking as she reached the deepest part of your pussy with ease and talent that Natasha never had during all of your hookups. The wet noises that came from your center should’ve been embarrassing, but you couldn’t think about how anybody that happened passed by the door could definitely hear them, focused solely on the way her palm slapped against your clit at just the right pressure and pace, her breath tickling your lips as she leaned in close and rested her forehead against yours. Your hands reached out for her, desperate to have something to ground yourself to as you felt the spring in your core begin to tighten immensely. Her red hair was tousled and frizzy from your desperate pulling, and it only got messier as one of your hands tangled into it again.

Wanda didn’t deny you, grabbing the hand that wasn’t in her hair, and holding it against her chest as she worked you through your orgasm, smiling sweetly as your chest rose and fell in quick succession, bottom lip bitten and flush from both the alcohol and your high. “You can make noise, it’s okay. Let me hear you, it’s just us. It’s just us, malyshka.” Her gentle eyes flashed red, strong tendrils of magic encasing the room im her own makeshift sound barrier. The noise from the party quieted down, leaving only the sounds of your intimacy to be heard. With her permission to moan, you did just that, whining and gasping as you rode out your orgasm on her fingers, hips stuttering to both find a steady pace and pull away from the overstimulating sensations shooting down your spine.

When she pulled her hand away, fingers dripping in your juices, your cheeks flushed, only growing darker when she let them sink past her cherry red lips and weigh heavy on her tongue. She moaned at your taste, eyes twinkling as she made sure you were looking straight at her. When she was satisfied, she leaned in for a kiss, gentle and endearing as she let you work out whatever you needed, pulling back the reins of her dominance for the time being at least. Wrapping your arms around her neck, you looked up at her glassy green eyes.

“I love you, Wanda Maximoff.” You giggled, pecking her lips that your arousal clung to. The taste of yourself wasn’t something unfamiliar at this point in your relationship, but it never failed to make your belly tighten with gratitude that after everything in life, you found your way to her.

“I love you more.” She leaned up to peck your nose, smiling goofily. “We should invite Natasha over again.”

You laughed loudly at the suggestion, remembering the last time the redhead ended up in your bed when you were still living at the compound. She’d limped around for hours afterward, glaring daggers at Wanda from across the room every time she went to sit down.

“You know, she’s equally as guilty as I am.” Your eyes sparkled with mischief, a teasing smirk on your lips as you thought about the unstoppable Black Widow being forced to her knees by your giggly girlfriend.

“Watch it, or I’ll let her spank you with the paddle next time.” Wanda quipped, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to her lips, where her gaze lingered for a few seconds before looking back at you. “Maria’s going to be all over you tomorrow.”

“I guess I’ll just have to have something to brag about then.” You smirked, leading her out of the bathroom and out into the cold of winter. Your breath floated through the air as Wanda wrapped her arms around you, long coats forgotten about as you began to trek toward the car, eager to get home and help her reach her own high.

[dcxdpdabbles]

The Royal Consort. Part 3

"Mr. Fenton! Will you be attending the Wayne Charity Gala with your husband?" A reporter demands, thrusting her mic into Danny's face.

"I-" He tries to say, but another reporter jumps in.

"Is it true Bruce Wayne is attempting to have his kids seduce your husband?"

"What?"

"Mr. Fenton, is it true that you could stop a war simply by batting your eyelashes?!"

"Hey, now that's uncalled for."

"What is the political climate in the wake of the disbanded Anti-Ecto Acts?"

Danny couldn't even tell where the questions were coming from. He tried to push through the crowd of new crews, but every step of the way, more and more people crowded him.

He should've stayed in the hotel room Mr. Wayne had rented for his family, but Danny had thought he could sneak out and explore Gotham.

After Dani had burst into the meeting room, in all her ghostly glory, the Justice League had allowed them a short recess so his parents could meet their "granddaughter."

He is still determining exactly what she told them, as he is too busy to dodge more of Batman's questions. He just hoped she could keep the ruse up in the face of his parents' smothering apologies.

His dad wrapped her up I'm his arms, sobbing the whole time while his mother was snapping pictures of Dani, crying about how much she had grown.

Thank the stars Jazz had pulled her "niece" to the side for a short conversation. When they came back, Dani had taken the princess role so well that she answered most of the Ghost Zone questions like the ambassador she was pretending to be.

Her age? Yeah, that was off cause the time zone difference in the Ghost Zone. She was only four years in human years but looked sixteen due to her half-blood and where she grew up.

The chances of war? No, her dad had appeased the war council after the United Nations called the USA on their bullshit.

Demands Phantom had? Respect the dead. Honor the rights of his people. Leave the natural portals alone, and if his subjects were causing issues call one of his to take care of it.

Did she not need an anchor? She's half-human, so she could pop between worlds at will, but only because the Ghost King allowed it.

Where had she been before Phantom took the throne? Danny was not in a stage of life to raise a child- he had only been fifteen!- so Phantom raised her in his lair. Yes, she came to visit Danny.

Did she practically say she was a child of separated parents? Yes. Did she regret it? Only when rumors about Phantom wanting to replace Danny sprung, and she had people trying to get her to introduce them to his "father."

How strong was she? Step into the ring, Wonder Woman; let's test it. (They did spar, and surprisingly, she gave Wonder Woman a run for her money, but in the end, the more experienced fighter won. The Amazonian offered to train her)

By the end of it, Danny and Dani left with stacks of possible legislation about peace among their people. They both promised to get it to Phantom.

Just as they left, Batman informed them that Bruce Wayne had invited them to the Gala. He also offered them asylum in Gotham by housing them in his family manor until the media died.

Danny had almost accepted, but Jazz had stepped in with sharp eyes and a cold smile. "Please tell Mr. Wayne we are honored by the offer, but we would prefer our own space."

Batman grunted. "Would a penthouse be predered?"

"Yes, thank you."

He loved Jazz.

His mom had whispered in Danny's ear as they were teleporting- the Justice League had teleporting technology!?- back to Earth. "Do you think the rumors about Bruce Wayne being Batman's lover are true?"

Danny had yet to pay much mind to Wes Weston's theories, but honestly, the way Batman was able just to promise things on Mr. Wayne's behalf.....well, if the Box Ghost and Lunch Lady could happen, why not a billionaire and a crime-fighting

Danny, Jazz, and Dani had been hiding in the pen house for about three days. His parents had returned home to secure their lab after the fifth time curious meddlesome reporters had tripped their house security.

Danny will admit he went stir-crazy, so using his powers, he turned invisible and went out when his sisters had been watching a show. He had made it for about five hours when someone saw him buying a coffee and tweeted his location.

His sightseeing had been cut short by the crowds of people that swarmed him.

"Mr. Fenton, what do you say about parents criticizing how early you married?"

Danny was pushed up against the wall by the crowd, wishing he could just turn ghost and drop this whole thing. He felt a burning sensation in the back of his eyes, and for one horrifying moment, he thought they were going to record him bursting into tears when a man broke through the crowd.

"That is far enough!" The man placed himself in front of Danny, shielding the eighteen-year-old. His British accent made the sharpness of his words even more scorching. "You all know that a press conference will be in a few days and that surrounding a royal could be an act of war! Get back!"

Danny had a moment of relief until someone snatched his arm. He flinches away, going for a punch, but it gets caught by the person tugging him through the crowd.

Danny could only blink at the smiling face of Dick Grayson until the man helped him into a car. The British man quickly came back, jumping into the driver's seat and speeding off as the crowd of reporters tried to get one last photo.

Danny's breaths were coming in short, fast puffs. He wasn't very sure what was going on. He couldn't think. There were so many flashes. So many voices. So many people-!.

A hand pushed his head between his knees, rubbing his back. "It's okay. You're okay. "

Danny gasped, tears finally falling as he tried to explain why he had done something stupid. "I-i just wanted to see- the landmarks- I didn't mean- I- I."

"Shhh. I know. It's okay. You're okay."

After a while, Danny was able to sit up. His saviors had asked him to name five things he saw, four things he could hear, three things he could listen to, and one thing he could taste to calm down, but it worked. Only then did he realize there were more people in the fancy car with them.

A boy his age sat on his right, having been the one to push his head down. It took only a second to recognize him: Tim Drake, teenage CEO and one of the most attractive men he had ever seen.

A blond teenage girl who also seemed their age sat in the passenger seat, though she twisted around to give him a warm smile. She was also very gorgeous.

Not to mention Dick Grayson, who had a warm hand on his back. Adonis must have returned as the first adopted son of Bruce Wayne because, goddam, that man was fine.

Even the British man was handsome for someone his grandfather's age.

Had he died (again) and gone to heaven?

"Here," Drake placed a cold water bottle in his palm, offering the gobsmacked Danny a small smile. "Drink. It'll help."

"Ugh...I.. thank you for rescuing me," He managed to gasp out.

"Don't mention it. We all know the hell of the paparazzi. Glad you alright. " the girl said. "I'm Stephanie Brown, but you can call me Steph. The guy to your right is Tim Drake, the one on your left is Dick Grayson, and this fine man driving us is Alfred Pennyworth."

"I'm Danny Fenton." He says, taking a swing. The cold water went down his throat and grounded him.

"We know. You've made quite the wave with your marriage." Grayson said though not unkindly. "We'll have to take you to our manor to switch cars; otherwise, they'll just wait for us at the hotel."

Danny thought it over before whispering, "Can I message my sister? She must be worried-"

A portal rips open in front of him. The other humans all let out cries of alarm but not as loudly as Danny when Phantom's head pokes out of it.

He has a moment to wonder how in the world that was possible until the ghost waves at him using one of Clockwork's necklaces. Oh, it's him from the future. Okay. That's happening.

"Darling! I felt you in distress! What happened?! Shall I punish everyone in Gotham? " Phantom questions in a tone Danny had never been aware he could make. It's smooth. It's all-knowing. It's seductive.

What the fuck is going on?

"There is no need for any form of punishment. Not to worry, your highness." Drake quickly jumps in. "We would never allow anything to happen to your husband. I will personally keep Mr. Fenton away from any danger. "

Danny watched in slight horror as his future ghost self gave the other man a long look before smirking. "I appreciate the offer, and you are certainly my type with that black hair and blue eyes, but I am fine with only one husband. Danny will decide to add you to the marriage if he would like to have more partners."

Drake blinks wide started eyes. "I- I beg your pardon?"

"I have a protection and ice core. Proclaiming to keep my romantic partner safe is the same as asking for my hand in marriage due to the customs of protective spirits. Were you not aware?"

"I wasn't!" Danny interrupts loudly. " I was very unaware that meant marriage proposals!"

Phantom gives him a cheeky smile, and suddenly Danny understands why all his Rouges had wanted to beat his face so often. He can be rather annoying.

"No one will be above you, darling. You are the embodiment of beauty, and I would never desire another. However, the royal family is allowed concubines. You may take human ones if you wish to. I wouldn't want to ruin any of your fun."

"Who told you to say this!?" Danny demands, forgetting himself for a moment. Or the watchful eyes of the Waynes swinging between them with prompt attention.

"Why just the royal advisor!" Phantom laughs, his white hair bouncing as he tilts his head.

Jazz. She was responsible for this. How could he have thought she was sane?

"I don't want a concubine!" Danny yells, face burning. He's never been more mortified in his life, including walking down. For breakfast in Superman boxers, only to find Superman at the bottom of the stairs.

What a terrible day that was to run out of clean pants.

Phantom smiles. "I love you too, darling. I shall see you soon. I do not wish to strain your body anymore."

He thrusts his head back into the glowing green portal, and with a soft pop, he's gone. The car is utterly silent until Grayson whispers.

"Does this mean Tim just got married through fae laws?"

Danny whips his head at him. "No! It does not!"

Drake lets out a small breath of relief. "Oh, thank God. Not that you aren't hot, Mr. Fenton, but I'm not ready for marriage."

Danny wonders if he can reach the door handle to throw himself out of a speeding car. He knows somewhere in the future. He is laughing his ass off at current him.

"Dude, none taken. Could you clarify how I ended up here? I just wanted to jump across Gotham roofs, and suddenly, I can marriage trap people."

Danny wishes he could kick his own ass- not counting Dan- as Steph breaks into uncontrolled laughter.

"Oh, Danny, you're going to fit in well!" She says between wheezing.

Grayson raises his hand, face glued to his phone. "Bruce just sent in the family group chat that none of us are allowed near Phantom."

"Why?" Danny asks.

Grayson shrugs. "We're all his type, and Bruce's heart can't handle that."

"Fair enough"

(Part 1) (Part 2)

[thedensworld]

Sweet Macaroons | C.Sc

Pairing: Gangster!Seungcheol x Baker!Reader

Genre: fluff, established relationship

Words Count: ±600

Summary: Seungcheol was far from pleased when a food critic posted a negative review that started to impact your sales. He couldn't stand to see you upset.

In the midst of a picturesque five months, Seungcheol, with an air of exclusivity, tenderly asked you to be his girlfriend. Everything seemed to move in slow motion around you, as if the universe itself was savoring the moment. His crew, astounded, couldn't fathom that a humble bakery owner just down the block from their bar had captured their boss's heart. He had transformed into something they never imagined: a unabashedly cheesy boy. Even Jeonghan, Seungcheol's right-hand man, remained baffled by the depth of his friend's infatuation with you. He couldn't quite grasp what had caused Seungcheol to fall so hard until he witnessed how Seungcheol would gladly stop the world at your command.

As an example of Seungcheol's devotion, he had gone as far as hiring a bodyguard to watch over you and ensure your safety. Seungcheol, ever mysterious about his business, would simply say, "I do business in Seoul and Busan," which, in its own way, was true. He owned nearly a hundred bars and nightclubs, not to mention his own association—a realm of details you didn't need to delve into.

Your bodyguard, Jun, who currently disguised as a barista in your bakery, would dutifully relay every detail to Seungcheol. This included mundane activities like your trips to the grocery store, visits from friends at the bakery, or even encounters with rude customers. Despite being in the know about your daily affairs through Jun, Seungcheol cherished hearing you recount your day, especially when it involved a customer that cussed on you. He'd teasingly inquire, "Should I track him down and make him pay?" A promise he would have swiftly fulfilled if you had not said, "No, you don't have to. I'll give him a piece mind when I'm a billionaire."

At times, Seungcheol really wants to say, "Marry me, and you can cuss him back in an instant." He was acutely aware of the influence he held.

However, he received an extremely irritating message from Jun, stating that a popular food critic had left a scathing review on their social media, claiming to have found a fly and cockroach legs in your sweets. This review had a detrimental impact on your sales and the overall image of the bakery, as people began leaving unpleasant comments on your social media platforms.

"Jeonghan, do you know this person?" Seungcheol inquired, displaying a video of the food critic.

Jeonghan confirmed, "Yeah, they're a very influential food critic."

Seungcheol nodded thoughtfully and hummed, "Do you know how to contact them?" he pressed further.

"I think we just need to get in touch with their management. They'll provide you with the pricing for their content," Jeonghan explained, prompting another question from Seungcheol.

"Then we can have them review our food however we want?" Jeonghan nodded, "Why? Are you thinking about having them promote our new foodbar?" he inquired.

Seungcheol shook his head, simultaneously signaling to Jeonghan that he wanted to be dropped off at your bakery.

Jun had informed Seungcheol that you had closed the bakery early today due to the lack of customers following the internet sensation. When Seungcheol arrived, only Jun was present in the bakery. He mentioned that you had gone to the convenience store for a few minutes. As Seungcheol patiently waited at one of the tables, you returned with a plastic bag in hand. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't immediately notice him. Instead, you went straight to Jun, telling him he could go home. Jun subtly gestured towards Seungcheol, indicating that he was waiting for you.

"Hi..." Your voice, though soft as always, carries a subtle shade of sadness. Seungcheol swears he can hear it, a touch of blue in your tone.

He smiles, approaching you and subtly signaling for Jun to leave the shop.

"Are you okay? I saw it online," Seungcheol asks gently once Jun has vanished from view.

You smile back at him, but tears well up in your eyes, trickling down your cheeks. You turn away, hiding your face from him as you wipe away the tears. Seungcheol's heart aches at the sight, a feeling he's never experienced before, like someone's squeezing his heart, causing a deep ache.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmurs softly, turning you to face him and pulling you into an embrace. He can feel the tightness in his chest intensify when he hears you sob.

This is the first time he's seen you cry in the five months you've been dating. He swears he'd never want to be the cause of your tears, let alone someone else.

"It's okay, baby. Bad things happen sometimes. It's not your fault," he reassures you as you try to explain how diligently you maintain your bakery's hygiene and ensure the freshness of ingredients. There's no way the accusations the food critic made could be true.

Seungcheol noticed the contents of the plastic bag you had been holding earlier: cleaning soap and equipment. His heart breaks once again, this time tinged with anger.

"Let's go home and rest, okay? I'll hire someone to clean the shop. I don't want to see you laboring with a heavy heart like this," he insists.

Seungcheol calls Jeonghan and swiftly arranges for his people to clean your shop. He drives you home, ensuring you have a proper dinner before settling down for some much-needed rest. Once you're peacefully asleep, he quietly slips away, reaching out to Jun and Jeonghan.

"Get them for me before midnight. Alive," he instructs.

Seungcheol doesn't concern himself with the specifics of how they carried out his request. But when his people successfully bring them to his office, he finally confronts the face that caused his girl to cry.

"What's your name?" Seungcheol asks, rising from his seat and approaching them.

"Who put you up to this?" Seungcheol presents their damning post about your bakery to their face. Poor soul, Seungcheol thinks. This food critic probably never imagined they'd be dragged in by a gangster and subjected to an interrogation like this.

Once Seungcheol acquires the name, he signals his people to reveal the extent of their capabilities. Images of their family and significant other are displayed, and they immediately plead for an apology, expressing regret for their actions.

"You should've thought about that before you posted that garbage," Seungcheol states, fixing them with a steely gaze.

"Upload a clarification video about your previous review. Go to that bakery tomorrow and apologize to the owner. Post both of those things before lunch if you want to spare them," Seungcheol directs, referring to the individuals in the photos as he delivers his unwavering ultimatum.

*

"It was a very wrong act of me to accept the offer to give a bad review to another bakery. I deeply apologize to the owner and my followers for doing such a wrong thing."

Seungcheol smiled at you as you showed him the video from the same account that had claimed they found a cockroach leg on your macaroon.

"See! I knew that my bakery and kitchen have passed the hygiene standards," you said, placing your phone down. There was a visible pout on your face, prompting Seungcheol to let out a chuckle.

"You're too cute," Seungcheol teased, pinching your cheek. He was relieved to see no trace of tears like the previous night.

You gently pulled his hand from your cheek as you stood up to restock the macaroon stall, which was nearly empty. Seungcheol couldn't help but smile as he watched you, his girl, his love, engrossed in the work you adored.

"Before you go, want a macaroon and your favorite latte?" you offered. He swore he would nod to anything you said.

"Here! I've packed some for your staff as well," you added, handing him boxes filled with sweets and a bundle of coffees for Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

He wouldn't let anyone steal your smile, even if he had to stop the world.

[wilwheaton]

Schrödinger's Republican: Hates big government and the government overstepping, but constantly makes laws that overstep Claims to hate cancel culture, but wants to cancel everything at the drop of a hat Won't ban AR15s and similar weapons because bans don't work, but want to pass laws to ban the most trivial things that offend them Pretends to be pro life (for embryos), but wanted to cull actual humans during the pandemic, mostly elderly people like your parents and grandparents because "muh freedom" Constantly tells people to "stop living in fear!" Has to carry a weapon or they won't feel safe when picking up coffee or getting fast food Claims to hate pedos. Proudly supports the orange man who hung out with Epstein and Maxwell for over a decade. The same orange man also hired Alexander Acosta as Secretary of Labor into his administration, who happens to be the same guy who gave Epstein a slap on the wrist in 2008, railroading the FBI's investigation into Epstein. Brags about Republicans freeing slaves, proudly flies the flag of the Confederates, the ones who fought to keep slavery. Imagine calling yourselves the party of Lincoln while also flying the Confederate flag and getting triggered when they take down confederate monuments. Hates people who ask for handouts and people who don't pay taxes. Literally donates money to a supposed "billionaire" who is always asking for money. The same guy who also bragged about not paying taxes.

Schrödinger's Republican

Republicans are garbage.

[queen-mihai]

We only need a few rich people

And we need zero billionaires

The "need" in society to have rich people running around is mostly for entertainment value.

Let's say someone who earns $20 million a year due to some really popular product she invented and maybe some smart investments.

This person will never be a billionaire

BUT she will be a fun person to have around on some dumb TV show

"Oh yeah I bought myself a second yacht this year 😅. They're kind of a guilty pleasure of mine so I thought I'd splurge"

She's not rich enough to get around paying her taxes, which means she's probably giving 10-15 million a year or more straight to the government as taxes.

Now, she's paying the people who build the yacht, keeping them in business. They hire tradespeople and artists to make her ship nice, and those people go on to further stimulate the economy by spending the paychecks they earned building her yacht

She buys houses, clothes, cars, puts her kids through expensive classes, and sets aside a little nest egg so she can retire in comfort and her kids can go to school

That's not so bad. She's probably on TV shows talking about how fun it is being rich and everything. Maybe she gives some money to charity and people kinda wanna be like her.

You know what we don't need?

Someone rich enough to, instead of buying a car, buys the entire car manufacturer

We don't need someone who has enough money to stop paying their taxes and then pretend they still do.

We don't need someone who can spend a million dollars in a day and have it replaced that same day.

Spending money SHOULD hurt. Or make you feel SOMETHING.

If you're collecting money so goddamn fast that you literally can't spend it fast enough to ever see your bank account go down, we don't fucking need you.

If you're collecting that much money, your bank account should just be a wide open door where people can rob you all they want because you won't even notice anyway.

Are you a billionaire reading this? Give me ten million dollars and I'll think about shutting up. I won't, but I'll think about it.

You're gonna have to give ten million to every other person reading this though cuz they're probably not gonna shut up either.

You know what? Actually it'd probably just be easier to PAY YOUR DAMN TAXES. That would get a lot of us to shut up.

Try it. You might like it

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted, Chapter 1: Unarmed, Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: (For this part only) Following the events of CA:CW, Tony Stark has offered Steve Rogers an olive branch of sorts to bring The Avengers back together. You, CTO of Stark Industries and head of Innovation & Technology for the Avengers' Initiative, have your doubts, as you're not quite ready to forgive Captain America for ripping your family apart just yet. Steve had one condition, however, when agreeing to return to the team, one that's going to turn your life upside down and inside out: If he's coming back to join The Avengers, he's bringing his best friend, Bucky Barnes, with him.

Warnings: (For this part only) Language (obviously), minor mention of alcohol, I'm obviously on Team Tony during the CW; don't come for me, awful jokes, minor use of (Y/N). As always, if I missed any, please let me know.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Here's a little preview of Unwanted. In it's current form, it's standing at about 50k words, with about 25k still in editing, and I'm maybe about half done with writing the entire thing? I'm not going to lie, it starts out cute and fluffy, but it's gonna get real angsty and painful. Dear Reader has unresolved emotional trauma and Bucky doesn't understand the importance of boundaries in 21st century relationships. This piece has been my baby for several months now; I really hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you'd like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

"You're sure you're cool with this, Boss?" you asked Tony Stark, for what was probably the ten thousandth time in the last hour. The two of you were sitting by yourselves off in a corner of the common area of the Avengers Tower while the rest of your team congregated around the bar, eagerly anticipating the official return of Captain America to the Avengers. That, by itself, would be enough to warrant a gathering of Earth's mightiest heroes, but what had everyone in attendance talking was the fact that Steve Rogers wouldn't be returning alone.

Your billionaire employer sighed and swirled his glass of Laphroaig, the amber liquid sloshing along the sides of the tumbler. "I don't love it, Pocket, but it was Cap's only condition for coming back into the fold, and since Barton, Wilson, and Maximoff all went off the reservation with him, it seemed a small price to pay to get everyone back under one roof." He took a swig of his whiskey and smacked his lips.

You couldn't help but smile at his use of your nickname. Thor had inadvertently given it to you when you first met the God of Thunder years ago, remarking for everyone to hear that you were so small and tiny, he could tuck you into his pocket and abscond away with you to Asgard. Somehow, it stuck. You'd hated it at first; it had felt dismissive and condescending, which of course meant that it soon became the only thing the members of your team called you, but the more they used in their daily lives, the more you actually came to love it. It was a brand new, unique identity that came to embody the person you’d become, and the past you’d worked so hard to put behind you. You were more likely to answer to 'Pocket,' now, than you were your legal name, and you were grateful for it.

"Besides," Tony continued with a shrug, "if letting the Barnes thing go means we get the band back together, I'm willing to be the bigger person about it."

You stared at him, impressed. "Well look at you. When did you get so emotionally evolved?"

"Since Pepper told me I needed to start seeing a therapist or she’d leave me once and for all," he admitted to you with a cheeky wink; you both knew that, though Tony drove his partner, Pepper Potts, absolutely insane sometimes, she loved him far too much to ever walk away from him for good. That didn’t stop the threats, though. Lord knows he tried her patience. In your opinion, the woman was a saint.

Your eyes widened at the revelation and you let out a low whistle of appreciation. "You're going to therapy? Wow. Tony, That's amazing. I'm proud of you."

"Oh please," Tony scoffed, "I have much more important things to do than sit on a couch and spill my feelings. Besides, my secrets are too valuable to divulge to an actual human being. I just trained FRIDAY on therapeutic conversational datasets so she can handle all that psychological mumbo jumbo and then I paired that with BARF's augmented reality-- it's seriously the platinum standard in mental healthcare. No awkward silences or judgmental stares, just pure efficiency. You should try it; it’d do you wonders. And the best part? No copays."

You chuckled as you took a sip of your pineapple and Malibu. "Yeah, okay. That completely tracks for you," you told him with a smile. "So, what did Dr. FRIDAY tell you that got you to change your mind about the Barnes situation?"

Furrows appeared between Tony's eyebrows as he took another sip of whiskey to buy time for collecting his thoughts. There was still so much pain in him where Bucky Barnes was concerned. You'd worked for him in some capacity for nearly fifteen years and you'd never seen him as defeated as he'd been when he got off that Quinjet from Siberia. He'd been bloodied, battered and utterly broken, body and soul. Seeing him like that had shattered you, and you never wanted to live through something like that again.

Tony ran you through his experience with his therapeutic innovation, and you had to admit, it was impressive. The system had helped him realize that Bucky Barnes wasn't responsible for the heinous crimes Hydra had brainwashed him into completing, and so his anger over the death of his parents, while justified, had been misdirected.

"Once I processed that, it was a quick jump to realizing we can't be the best version of the Avengers if we only have half the team at home, and it's innocent people who would pay the price for it. So, when I reached out to Cap and he agreed to come back if I agreed to let him bring Barnes with him, well..." Tony trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hand toward the where the rest of the team was waiting.

"So, you and Rogers are just, what? Good then? All water under the bridge?" you asked him, mild irritation clouding your voice.

"Oh, absolutely not." Tony took another sip of whiskey. "I can work with him again, and I'm glad to, but we're not going to be braiding each other's hair anytime soon."

"Good," you said, raising your glass in a mock toast to Tony. "I'm not quite ready to forgive him on your behalf just yet." Tony had essentially saved your life when you first met him, and he’d continued to support and guide your career to heights you could have never imagined. You'd started as a systems analyst and mechanical engineer at Stark Industries fresh out of college, and under Tony’s mentorship, it wasn’t long before you found yourself rising to the position of the company’s Chief Technical Officer, second in command only to Pepper, now that Tony had passed on the reins to her. All this happened long before he'd ever brought you in to work with him on the Avengers Initiative, and now you spent the majority of your time heading up their Technology and Innovation Department, as well.

Any kind of healthy respect you might have had for your boss had died out a long, long time ago, because Tony Stark  was Tony Stark, but now he was just Tony-- more like an annoying older brother you loved dearly,  whose name just happened to be on your paychecks. You owed him everything and that had earned him your unwavering loyalty. You'd follow him to hell and back again if he asked it of you, though he knew he’d never have to; you’d be paving the path there right alongside him.

The sound of laughter made its way across to you from the other side of the room and you felt warmth at the sound-- everyone, together again and happy. Just a few short months ago, you never would have been able to imagine the scene before you, not after the fight in Berlin and its brutal aftermath. You had thought for sure that this little family you'd found yourself in the middle of had been destroyed beyond repair.

So, you might have had your own reasons to be pissed at Steve Rogers.

"What's Barnes like?" you asked Tony. Having only ever glimpsed him from a distance, or from behind a computer monitor, you'd utilized all the resources at your disposal to dig up as much information on the Winter Soldier as possible, but even your skills hadn't been able to get you what simply didn't exist. "You know I don't like unknown quantities."

Tony seemed to think for a moment. "You mean, aside from being a brainwashed, murderous assassin?"

"Tony," you chastised. You knew that Barnes had spent a good deal of time in Wakanda before coming home to New York, working on having the words that triggered his homicidal alter-ego neutralized. Rogers may not always acted rationally when it came to making decisions about his oldest friend, but you were sure he wouldn’t be bringing Barnes back to the Tower if he posed a serious danger to the rest of you. Right?

"Fine," Tony said, with a typical exaggerated sigh. "Aside from being a former brainwashed, murderous assassin; better?" You rolled your eyes but nodded. "Don't really know, didn't care enough to ask. I'll be happy as long as he doesn't start murdering us all in our sleep. Cap vouches for him, so that counts for something. Maybe not as much as it did once upon a time, but something. But T’Challa seems to think he’s harmless enough now, so that’s good enough for me."

You nodded, taking another sip of your pineapple and Malibu, then leaned back, pensive. "Oh, God," you said after a moment of thought, sitting up in alarm. "You don't think it’s going to be like having an entire extra Rogers around, do you? All '40s morality and emotional repression? Because I am so over having him police my language." It wasn't that you had anything against Captain America as an Avenger, but there was only so much of the Boy Scout act you could take before you started getting nauseous. And okay, fine, you weren't too proud to admit it-- there was a not-so-small part of you that still hadn't forgiven him for what you saw as his blatant betrayal of Tony when he refused to sign the Accords. You'd promised to play nice, though, for the sake of your family, but your personal relationship with The Star-Spangled Man had taken heavy damage since Berlin.

Tony chuckled. "As if you'd ever let Cap's presence keep you from a good profanity. I should put out a swear jar. We could fund that crisis algorithm project of yours off your mouth alone."

"Fuck you, Tony," you uttered with a chuckle, fully aware that he had your number. You never met a four-letter word you didn’t fall immediately in love with.

"And look at that," Tony said with a smirk, "I just made another dollar. Hey FRIDAY, open up a new savings account and deposit a dollar into every time Pocket has a potty mouth."

"On it, Boss," the AI replied cheerfully.

You swore at Tony a few more times for good measure. "I fully intend to financially bleed you dry now, asshole."

"Oh no, I'm shaking in my custom Tom Ford's," Tony mockingly bemoaned, putting his feet, enclosed in the aforementioned ridiculously expensive loafers, up on the coffee table.

Raised voices from the other side of the room caught your attention. You stood up and craned your neck, trying to see what had caused the commotion. "I think they're here, Boss," you said.

"Alright," Tony said, standing up and putting an arm around your shoulder, "big smiles, kiddo. Remember, we're supposed to be happy about this." You suppressed a chuckle as you watched Rogers present Bucky Barnes to the rest of the team. Everyone was welcoming; you wouldn’t have expected any less, but as you watched their body language, the only word that came to mind was guarded. And you completely understood; The Winter Soldier’s reputation had preceded him, after all. There were hugs for Rogers, of course, but no one made any attempt to reach out to his friend.

Despite your overall annoyance with Rogers, you couldn't help but feel some degree of happiness for the giant oaf. When you'd been assigned on a mission with him (which happened fairly frequently, as he was so pathetically abysmal with anything having to do with technology) and ended up having to hole up in a safehouse for an extra couple of days while waiting for extraction, he'd started opening up to you about James Buchanan Barnes, and the reminiscing had made him so happy, you encouraged Steve to tell you everything about this Bucky. After that, the trouble was getting Rogers to stop telling his Bucky stories. If he wasn't sharing tales about growing up with his best friend during the Great Depression and all the absolute mischief they got into, he was sharing war stories of their time together with the Howling Commandos. He'd even shared his grief with you– how painful it had been to watch Barnes fall from that train and the guilt he carried for not being able to save him. He’d confessed to you once that, when he went into the ice, fully prepared to die, there was a part of him that was relieved to be reunited with Barnes in the next life, and waking up some 70 years later to a world where he was still alive but Bucky was still gone had broken his heart all over again. And yet, here they were– together in the next life, after all. If you were a different kind of person, you’d say it was a goddamn miracle. 

Because of the way Rogers described his best friend in those old stories, you were expecting Bucky Barnes to come swaggering along next to him, with a cocksure tilt to his head and a panty-dropping smirk playing along his lips, but the man who accompanied Steve was the furthest thing from that.

He shuffled behind Rogers slowly, looking at the floor and avoiding making eye contact with anyone else from the team. His hair hung long and limp, curtaining off his face as though it were a protective barrier. Though, if it was keeping him away from everyone else, or everyone else away from him, you couldn't be sure. He was much thinner than you'd anticipated, especially for a super soldier– though still extremely muscular, giving you the impression that it had been a long time since he'd let himself indulge in anything more than the bare minimum amount of calories he needed for survival. Tilting your head, you tried to steal a glance at his infamous metal arm, the thing of legends that had turned him from a run-of-the-mill assassin into the stuff of waking nightmares.

But the sleeve of his jacket hung limp, only empty space where the appendage should have been.

Curious. He'd come to Tony Stark's home unarmed. Your hand flew to your mouth to try and stop the uncontrollable snicker that broke loose at your own stupid joke. Tony elbowed you gently in the ribs to shut you up, and you hoped you were too far away and the others too distracted by Steve's introductions to notice you, but that thought flew right out the window when Bucky Barnes' head snapped up at the sound, his eyes locking onto yours from across the room.

"Holy shit," you breathed, knowing another dollar would go into Tony's digital swear jar, but damn if the man didn't have the most striking blue eyes you had ever seen. There were dark circles under them, and he looked incredibly tired, yeah, but they were beautiful. You didn't mean to stare, but you found you couldn't look away, either, and so the two of you were locked into some sort of impromptu staring contest. The longer you looked at him, the more you could sense an overwhelming sadness coming from him, as well as a level of wariness at being in a room full of strangers. It was almost overwhelming.

But then, just as suddenly as it began, the spell was broken. Blinking once, Bucky looked away and you felt the tension vanish from between you.

"What was that about?" Tony asked you in a low singsong voice.

"I have no idea," you answered, honestly. There had been so much pain and loneliness in his eyes. You'd seen eyes like that before, when you were younger and looked at your own reflection in the mirror following a scalding shower with your skin scrubbed raw and bloody. You suppressed a shiver.

Finally, Steve managed to disengage himself and Bucky from the other Avengers and began making his way toward you and Tony. Up close, you were struck by how tall Bucky was. He had to be at least a foot taller than you, if not more. And God, he was handsome. Granted, in a kind of heroin-chic sort of way, but still. A couple of good nights' sleep, a few good meals, some light personal grooming, and... well, there was a very good chance you were going to be in trouble once he got his shit together, that was for sure.

"And Buck," Steve was saying, drawing you out of your ogling, "This is our resident computer genius, Pocket (Y/L/N). You ever need help with anything technology-related, she's your girl."

"A bit of an over-simplified version, Rogers," you said, sticking your hand out to shake Bucky’s, "but yeah, that about covers it."

Bucky looked at you, then down at your hand, making no move to take it.

"What the hell kind of name is Pocket?" he asked, voice rough as though he hadn’t been using it a lot. Pulling your hand back, you shot him an annoyed glare.

"I don't know," you oozed back sarcastically. "What the hell kind of name is Bucky?"

"It's his nickname, Pocket," Steve supplied helpfully, though not without a trace of confusion. You gave him an annoyed, pointed look.

"No shit, Rogers." You turned back to Bucky and spoke slowly, as if to a child. "So, what do you think Pocket is, then?"

"Oh," said Bucky, catching on. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Gotcha; m'sorry about that. My manners are rusty from a severe lack of use."

You didn't mean it, but your mouth curved up into a hint of a smile, too. And then, almost as if you couldn't stop yourself from doing it, you found yourself saying "I see you've arrived unarmed."

There was a long, heavy beat of silence as Steve and Tony stared at you, mouths slightly agape, and you wondered if you'd made a critical error. You were just about to punch yourself in the face and claim you had a concussion and therefore couldn't be held responsible for what you said when Bucky burst into laughter.

It was the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard, and it was contagious. Through your own laughter, you risked a glance up at Steve. He was looking back and forth between you and Bucky, an indiscernible look in his eyes, and you couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since he'd heard his best friend laugh. Hell, you wondered how long it had been since Bucky Barnes had laughed at all.

"Pocket," Tony groaned, palming his face, "that was truly terrible, even for you."

"I'm sorry," you said, trying to catch your breath through your burst of giggles. "It just slipped out-- I couldn’t help it. You know once these things come into my head, they just bounce around in there until they fall out. I didn't mean it."

Steve smiled at you. "So that's what you were snickering at," he said, amused. Damn that enhanced super soldier hearing. Rogers didn't need to be so nosy with it.

You shrugged. "What can I say? Bad jokes are my superpower. Don't be jealous that all you got was super strength and a six pack, Rogers."

Bucky laughed again, then nudged Steve playfully with his elbow. "I like this one, Stevie," he said. "She's funny."

You weren't sure why, exactly, but something in Bucky's words turned your insides into a warm puddle of goo.

Oh, you were going to be in trouble, indeed.

Next Part ->

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Shine Bright Like A Winner

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: implied smut

Summary: You have your eyes set on a very expensive necklace at an auction. So does someone else. When you lose, he pays you a special visit and confesses something you've been wishing for a while now.

Square Filled: stranger for @acrosstheuniversebingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Your favorite part about being rich is going to auctions and bidding for expensive things. Yes, that sounds arrogant and snobby but you have an entire wing at your house dedicated to rare and valuable items you’ve won across the world. It’s a sort of collection that you’ve been obsessed with growing. It’s the same as someone having a snow globe collection or a keychain collection. Instead of small trinkets, you’re dedicated to collecting one-of-a-kind items.

A few of your favorite pieces are a balloon animal made of steel and mirrors designed by Jeff Koons, a 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO Berlinetta, and a portrait of Marilyn Monroe done by Andy Warhol. You love traveling and seeing different cultures and owning parts of that culture for yourself. 

They are nice conversation pieces.

This auction, however, has only one thing you’re interested in. Queen Marie Antoinette’s Pearl. It would make a nice addition to your valuable jewlery collection with the occasional night out with your friends. You're currently in Italy for their annual auction that’s exclusive for only the extreme wealthy. You’re sitting in your seat fanning yourself with a personal fan as you wait. People are still coming in when you notice a tall man wearing a sleek black suit.

Your eyes narrow slightly once you recognize him. Dr. Spencer Reid. He’s rich, a doctor, and so delicious looking. He’s not a doctor of medicine but that’s neither here nor there. You have fantasies of calling him doctor in the bedroom. His brown eyes lock with yours and a smirk brands his beautiful face. He sits down on the other end of the audience but in perfect view. It doesn't matter if there are other people sitting in between you. He’s tall enough for you to see him above everyone else’s heads.

The auctioneer stands on stage and begins the service. There are some good items up for grabs but nothing that catches your eyes. The auctioneer moves from the paintings, statues, and other trinkets to the jewelry section. Spencer notices you sit up a bit straighter telling him you’re interested in what’s to come. The auctioneer passes by beautiful jewels until he gets to the one you have your eye on.

“Next on our list is a very valuable, very rare necklace. Once worn and owned by none other than Queen Maria Antionette. The bidding starts at ten million dollars. Do we have any takers?”

“Ten million,” you say and raise your bidding stick.

“Ten million! Do I hear eleven?”

“Thirty million,” Spencer says and raises his stick.

You narrow your eyes at Spencer who hasn’t stopped looking at you since he saw you were interested in this.

“Fifty,” you argue.

“Sixty.”

“Eighty.”

“One hundred million.”

Are you willing to spend one hundred million on something like this? You certainly have the money but is it worth it?

“One hundred and ten million,” you say before you can stop yourself.

“One hundred and fifty million,” Spencer says immediately after.

You can’t do that. Sure, you could keep going higher since you’re a billionaire but you didn’t become a billionaire by spending your money all willy nilly. You lean back in your chair and cross one leg over the other without saying anything.

“One hundred and fifty million going once,” the announcer says. “Going twice… Sold! To the gentleman in the sleek black suit!”

You’d be more upset over the loss but you’ll negotiate a price later with him. That necklace is going home with you, you know that much.

The rest of the auction goes by without a problem but your eyes didn’t leave Spencer. He kept his back turned to you the entire time but he knew your eyes were on him. Afterward, you headed back to your hotel since you’re flying back to the States the next day. Before you could get undressed for bed, someone knocks on your door. You’re still wearing your elegant dress but without shoes so the bottom of the dress drags on the ground whenever you walk.

You look through the peephole and see none other than Spencer standing on the other side. You open the door and look up at him since he’s much taller than you especially without the shoes.

“Hey, stranger. Are you here to rub it in my face that you won?”

“Turn around.”

Spencer steps inside your room forcing you to step back from him. He closes the door and you turn to face the hall mirror. He takes something out of his suit jacket pocket. You don’t see what it is until he wraps it around your neck. The necklace. Queen Marie Antionette’s Pearl. It shines brightly against your skin like it was always meant to be there.

“The necklace,” you whisper and look at him through the mirror.

“Only someone like you can pull off wearing something like this.”

“I’m not going to argue with you about that,” you smirk.

Spencer moves your hair to the side and presses soft kisses up and down your neck. He kisses up to your ear and sucks your earlobe into his mouth. You resist letting out a moan.

“You want to know what I’d really like to do now?” he whispers.

“What?”

He looks up and locks eyes with you through the mirror.

“Fuck you while you wear only this necklace.”

“What’s stopping you?” you grin.

Spencer turns you and picks you up bridal style. Suddenly, you’re not so mad at him for winning. Right now, you feel like the winner.

x

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[writing-mlm]

Hey pookie, can I please request a Damian x male reader where they're enemies/rivals to lovers? Like both of them are the top students in their college and they tried to top the other by getting a better grade and showing it off to the other?

(can I please have soft damian too? Please 🙏)

Summa Cum shut the fuck up [D.W]

Summary: Stanford was your dream and some rich kid wasn't going to stop that, but damn those party lights make him look really nice. Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male reader WC: 5.2k a/n: ngl in the first draft the roommate died and it was so left-field field I had to rewrite the whole thing

Summa Cum Lade and Valedictorian, that was the only option. 

Having been your high school valedictorian, gotten into the national honor society, and taking every single AP class you could all four years just for a chance at being at the top. Over seventy applications across the U.S. and every single one had a large accepted letter attached to it. It was your moment— Stanford was yours. 

You’d taken out loans for whatever your scholarships didn’t cover, like your meal plan and housing. But it didn't matter, you were prepared for anything and everything. Nothing was about to come between you and that number-one spot. 

Until you saw Damian Wayne. 

He lived across from you with your roommate's best friend, Jaime Reyes. But the two were painfully different and Jaime would more often than not hang out in the common area just to get away from their suffocating dorm. As such, their dorm door was painfully barren in the hallway filled with decorated doors. Not that Jaime didn’t try, it’s just Wayne would take it down as soon as he noticed. Not to mention Wayne had a thing for glaring at anyone who dared to knock on his door. Never mind that Jaime had been making friends left and right. 

You didn’t care at first, why should you? Some rich kid who doesn’t want anyone to steal his valuables. It’s whatever, not like it’s going to affect you. 

Until it did. 

The two of you happened to have most of the same classes, being the same major and all. And at first, you didn’t pay any mind to him, he was just another one of the kids in the sea of students until the first marking period came around. 

And his name was above yours. 

You remembered staring at your screen, looking at the 99.7% right below the 99.8%. It was the first time since elementary school that you had come in second. It made this feeling bubble up and you nearly had a breakdown. That feeling was pure hatred. This— this stupid rich boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth was not about to take away your goal. 

“Looks like you got competition,” Jaime had laughed from his dorm. You’d only heard it because you needed some fresh air before you tried to scoop your brain out. 

“The gap won’t be as small next time,” Wayne replied as Jaime opened the door. The two of you made eye contact while Jaime awkwardly tried to excuse himself to the bathroom. 

You’d be damned if you let some rich kid who probably bought their way in be better than you. 

You spent all of your free time at the school library or in the common area at night, studying and memorizing. Homework and projects were done in record time and you absolutely used the most out-of-office hours with your professors. All of whom were confused as to why their top student was coming in without needing any actual help. 

Test after test, you saw that the top two students were you and him. Your first finals were tough though. You probably averaged an hour's worth of sleep that entire week and drowned yourself in whatever textbooks or worksheets you could to prepare yourself. 

“(L/n),” Wayne greeted you as the two of you were in line at the TSA. Break officially started the next day but due to your finals being done, you got to leave earlier. 

“Wayne.” It’s a little surprising seeing the son of a billionaire fly commercial, let alone with Spirit Airlines but to each their own. You didn’t care enough to give it another thought. His eyes wander over you and he quietly hums. It doesn’t look like you’ve packed anything other than clothes and toiletries. And your electronics. 

He isn’t stupid. He knows you’re overworking yourself to be the best in school. He knows you obsessively check over the dean's list, that you probably have an alarm to make it a point to never drop below the number one spot for the freshmen. Overall, you rank three, which you’ll take. There are smarter people than you, just not anyone in your year. 

A part of him wanted to relax a bit, and make himself get a few questions wrong to ensure you remain in that number one spot. Maybe then you’ll ease up on yourself and not look like a zombie every single day. But he can’t bring himself to. It feels like pity and Damian Wayne doesn’t do pity. 

Besides, he’s never had someone to go head to head with him who wasn’t almost a decade older than him. To him, this rivalry was fun. To you, it was a means to an end. You felt that deep within you, you needed to beat him. If you weren’t willing to sacrifice your time and energy for that then what was the point in high school of isolating yourself? 

As the line moves up, you cover a yawn by rolling your neck. This stupid red-eye flight is worse than any final you’ve taken. 

You’re beyond tired and you’re sure your expression displayed nothing but that but you were counting on that nap in the flight to fix that. 

Thankfully, there’s not much of a wait as you’re at your gate less than half an hour later, checking in. 

“Oh,” The man at the desk pauses as he scans your ticket. You panic a little, did you get the dates wrong? The time? The location. Shit, maybe those hours of lost sleep had gotten to you. “You’ve been upgraded from economy to first class. Enjoy your flight.” He smiles and hands you back the ticket. You thank him and take your seat, silently happy you were going to sleep in first class. 

—

Returning to Stanford from winter break, you were happy to be back. You felt wasted— almost hollow not studying at home, as if nothing else mattered except studying. But your family didn’t let you get much studying in, after four months apart they missed you. A lot. And you went back to where your family was from to visit them instead of going home so you were never given a moment of

solace unless you were asleep. Your siblings and your extended family were always around you, asking you about college, how they’d seen your grades, and how exciting it was that you were in such a huge school. 

It also felt a little weird without having Wayne there. In a weird sort of way, you missed glancing at his results to see if he got higher than you. To share those smug glances as you passed each other to the showers. Like it or not, he’d become a staple in your day-to-day life on campus. 

You found yourself daydreaming about him being there as your family had parties and celebrations for various reasons. The holidays, your return home, and two birthdays happened in those two months you were away from campus. And they were sad to see you go for another four months. 

Of course, you returned with a bunch of gifts and mementos from your family. 

Wayne noticed it first, he saw you return to your dorm actually looking human. He’d gotten so used to the eyebags and the pain medications you’d take because the headaches were getting too bad, and the early signs of hand tremors you tried to shake off. A part of him was glad you were taken care of during the break, he’d seen a lot of people break down in Gotham for less and just hoped he didn’t have to deal with that at Stanford. 

Maybe he just didn’t want that to happen to you. 

But he doesn’t say anything. 

Instead, he watches as you fall into the same pattern. And no one around you seems to give a shit that you’re basically slowly killing yourself. He resents Frankie in a way, as a roommate and a friend of yours, he has the most power in that situation to force some sense into you. Instead, he jokes and laughs at your state, unaware of how damaging it truly is. 

“All that studying won’t help you much, (L/n).” Wayne says as he walks past you the second week back from break, two textbooks tucked under his arm and a cup of water in his hand. You glare at him but only for a moment before going back to reading. For some reason, you can’t really focus knowing he’s around you. Somewhere, probably watching you. Hearing him sit a table away, you check the time for the first time that night. 

4:34 am

What was he doing up so late? Normally, you had the common area to yourself at this time. No one in their right mind would be awake at 4:30. Maybe he was feeling the stress of the new classes, too. Or maybe Jaime was snoring too loudly and he figured since he was awake he should study, too. 

Either way, he wasn’t going to take away from your study time. He already occupied a space in your mind against your will. And that was more than enough. 

Feeling a yawn crawling its way up your throat you swallow it back down and reach for your cup of energy drink mixed with coffee when you feel something hit your neck. You can’t tell what though, as the second you feel it, you’re out like a light. You do feel a hand save your head from hitting the hard table, though. But it was the last thing you remembered from that night. 

—

“You’re finally awake!” Frankie, your roommate, greets you as he walks into your dorm with a slushie and cupcake in hand. You’re sitting, blinking at the floor trying to remember how you ended up in your room. 

“Did I start sleepwalking?” You croak out, your mouth dry and throat tight. Frankie only grins and sits on his bed, watching as your face scrunches at the pain. “God, did you leave the window open again?” Blinking over to the window, you see it wide open and groan, throwing yourself back down to the bed. 

“Wanna head down and grab lunch? It ends in like twenty,” He asks, grabbing his phone from his pocket and checking the time. “Nineteen minutes until lunch is over.” So it’s almost three. You’d slept most of the day but it was a Friday so you didn’t have any classes. You didn’t miss any classes, thank god. 

Then again, you could’ve been studying. 

“I’m good,” Standing up, you crack your back and sigh. Not that you’d admit it, but you needed that nap. “Gotta shower and study.” Frankie frowns, watching as you collect your stuff before leaving the dorm. As you leave, he sees Wayne exiting his room and the two of them make eye contact. He shakes his head and Wayne turns to watch as you leave before nodding to him and leaving. 

Frankie frowns as he watches you leave. You’re stumbling and still trying to shake the sleep off, unaware that your left pants leg was halfway up your thigh and the right one was somehow twisted around. He grumbles and rushes to catch up to Wayne. 

Half an hour later and you’re inside the library. There’s one seat you’ve always sat at and you’re glad to see it’s empty; seeing as you’d be spending most of the day there. 

Setting your stuff on the table that’s pressed against the wall and diving back into where you left off the night before. It’s perfect in the library, there’s hardly anyone inside and the temperature finally isn’t bone freezing or blistering hot. Your headphones are on and there’s no one around, so you’re free of any possible distractions. Not to mention not tired after your ten-hour nap. 

About twenty minutes into studying, you can feel someone behind you; staring. But it’s probably the librarian so you don’t pay it any mind and continue on with your work. The feeling stays for another minute or so, and it’s making you a little uneasy, the Liberian would’ve moved on by that point. Hell, you’ve moved on to your ten-page essay, having enough of reading from the illegal copy of the textbook you downloaded. 

Maybe you should just turn around. It’s probably someone asking for the wifi password. 

Another minute passed and suddenly a slight shadow was cast over your laptop. You can see the outline of the person and go to groan when Wayne sets a cup of your favorite drink and lunch down to your left. It effectively shuts you up, halting the annoyed groan you were fixing to let out. 

A nice gesture from him? That’s… strangely nice. 

“Thank you…?” Sliding the headphones off, you turn to see him but he’s already walking away. Weird. Looking at the food, you almost— almost smile seeing that the food had those protective films covering it. The film was covered in a thin layer of condensation, having been hot but lunch had since ended. Had he been looking for you all that time? 

There’s also a note on it. Grabbing it, you flip it over to read it. 

You need to eat and maintain a good sleep schedule to remain at the top. 

That’s all it says, but that’s all you need. The paper can wait and you basically know all the material by heart already. A break couldn’t hurt. 

—

“A hundred and two. Suck my dick, Wayne!” You grin, slapping your test down in front of him before he can pack his things up. He looks at the paper and then at you. His eyes flicker to the extra credit questions he didn’t have time to finish and it only makes you smile harder. 

“(L/n),” He greets with faux enthusiasm. His eyes flicker across your body in one motion that makes it look as if he is looking down at the paper again. “Don’t let it go to your head.” He’s reluctant to show you his score but you had seen the giant red 98 from three seats behind him. 

“Just let me know if you need a tutor,” Taking the paper back you wiggle it in his face one last time before leaving him alone and you hear him scoff as you walk off to your next class. 

It’s mid-February now and while California doesn’t get as cold as the more Northern states, it is a little chilly especially now that it’s started to rain. 

There’s not much wind, surprisingly enough, so you’re able to keep your umbrella stable as you wait for the campus bus to arrive. While you’re waiting, listening to some music and enjoying the clouds as they roll by, Wayne walks over. He doesn’t say anything, but he stands next to you. 

His hood is wet and he doesn’t have an umbrella, but he’s far from affected by it. You guess Gotham is normally colder than SanFran, plus you heard it rains a lot there. Actual acid rain. But you doubt that. 

“If this is you asking for me to tutor you…” He glares at you and then rolls his eyes. 

“I’m the last person on this campus in need of a tutor.” He snips, his posture getting a little straighter as he speaks. 

“And the only person who needs an umbrella.” You chide. He doesn’t argue that fact and you look down the road. The bus isn’t even in sight, and he’ll probably catch a cold if he doesn’t get dry soon. But if he’s sick he can’t do well— no, you need him at his best. Winning because your opponent cannot put their best foot forward isn’t winning.

That’s probably why he’d given you the food. 

Internally, you sigh and step closer to him. Just enough that the both of you are covered by the umbrella. 

“Thanks,” He mutters, pulling his wet hood down. The red Stanford hoodie is absolutely drenched but it’ll dry soon. Hopefully faster than the cold bus. His hair is a little wet, too. You never noticed the curl to his hair before. It looks nice. You hum and scroll on your phone with your free hand. 

“By the way,” He starts after five minutes of silence between the two of you. “I got a hundred on Professor Guetta’s exam.” The two of you have that professor, but not at the same time. Gritting your teeth, you have half a mind to move your umbrella but decide against it. 

“Don’t let it go to your ego, Wayne.” You’d gotten a 98, never mind the fact that you overslept and missed a good ten minutes and never got to finish the exam. 

“Never, (L/n).” He hums as the bus finally pulls up. 

Shutting the umbrella, you all but push past him to get inside and away from him. Never mind the fact that you can hear him snickering quietly. 

—

“99.” Wayne shows you his paper before you can even stand up. You stare at the paper and sigh. The two of you had been having this feud for two years now. One might think that as juniors in college, you’d give it a rest, maybe finally relax and actually put this… academic one-upping a rest. And you almost did. 

But going into junior year you learned who your roommate was. Somehow, by some stupid chance, Wayne had managed to be your roommate until senior year. And sure, you could ask to be transferred to a different room but it’s about the principal. If you ask to be moved then he won. And he wasn’t about to win against you— at anything. Which is why you always wake up at five in the morning. Thirty minutes before he does. It used to be later in the day, but he started waking up earlier just to spite you. 

And you��re too prideful to let that happen. 

“Same,” Showing him your paper, he grabs it and flips through both of them. You watch, trying to find the question the two of you had gotten wrong. Apparently, it was the same question. It makes you feel a little better, knowing it was probably an advanced question meant to trick students. 

He hands you the test back and you stand up. 

“Won’t happen again, though.” You say as you slip the paper into your bag. He watches and cringes— don’t you have a folder for fucks sake?

“Because I’ll get better marks than you, yes.” He adds and you suck your teeth, looking up at him. 

“Just worry about making sure your pretty face doesn’t get wrinkles, Wayne.” You tease and catch up to Frankie and Jaime at the door. They actually still lived on the same floor as the two of you, so you hung out whenever you weren’t studying. Which, admittedly, was less these days. Sometime during finals freshman year, you’d overworked yourself to the point of almost developing hypertension. 

Frankie greets you first, offering you one of the donuts he’d stolen from his job. Jaime waves, his mouth too filled with his own donut to say anything. 

“Some of us are heading to that secret tunnel under the south side of campus,” Frankie explains as the three of you walk to the courtyard for your hour-long gap. Wayne has a class, though. So he doesn’t join— not that he ever would, but sometimes Jaime offers. “Caddie, that Kappa Alpha Theta girl who’s majoring in political science—“

“Your ex-girlfriend,” You add and he huffs. 

“That too. She managed to get access to that tunnel and is planning a party. Booze provided. Friday night.”

“I dunno,” You frown, using your jacket as a blanket to lay your head on. “I got a pretty shit grade for the last test in Jenkins class and I gotta study.” The two sigh loudly and you roll your eyes. 

“You gotta study every single day!” Frankie reminds you, holding his phone above your face so you can see Caddie’s Instagram story. “One little party won’t hurt.” Looking at Jaime, you see

him pleading and let out a grumbled “Fine.” that the boys cheered at. 

“What did you get anyway?” Jaime asks once they stop cheering. 

“Lemme guess,” Frankie grins. “You finally got a 60?” You’d actually kill yourself. 

“No,” Rolling your eyes, you stare at a cloud that’s shaped oddly like a dog shitting. “I got a 90.”

“I fucking hate you.”

—

Friday rolls around and Frankie all but breaks your door down as you’re getting some last-minute work done. Nothing major, just some homework you’d been putting off and finally got to it with your downtime. 

“Does your incessant knocking ever work?” Wayne asks when he opens the door after two minutes of the knocking. He doesn’t say anything but it reminds him of his brothers. He’d been doing the same, but you recognized his work as some work you’d completed the week prior. What a slacker. 

“Not really,” He laughs, shuts your notebook, and tosses it to your bed. “Let’s go! Jaime has the car.” 

“You’re going to that party in the run-down tunnel?” Wayne raises an eyebrow as you rise from your chair, twisting your back to get out any cracks. He’d noticed your outfit from your normal loungewear but didn’t think anything of it. “Yeah, wanna come?” Frankie grins and checks the time. “We got time to wait for you, if you want.” While you hope he doesn’t, you sort of want him to. Maybe it’s so you both will lose time that could’ve been spent doing work, maybe it’s so you can have someone you know won’t do anything stupid at the party there. Maybe you just enjoy being around him. But Wayne looks between the two of you before he rolls his eyes and gets off the bed. 

“I’ll be ready in five.” 

And he was. 

The theme was Rave in a Cave, or whatever that meant. So you were inclined to wear neon clothes or something flashy. But you didn’t have anything of the sort. As such, a pair of shorts and a sweater will do. Wayne opts for a white T-shirt and black pants. 

“I won’t drink,” You offer as the four of you get into Frankie’s car. “You three can.” 

“I don’t partake in drinking,” Wayne adds as he puts on his seatbelt making you feel compelled to put yours on as well. “Especially in these settings.” He almost physically turns his nose up at the idea of drinking booze provided by people he doesn’t know, let alone trust. 

“Respect that, totally,” Frankie pulls out of his parking spot while Jaime plays some music on the speakers. He glances at the two of you but you’re busy on your phone and Wayne is making note of where the car goes to notice. Jaime smacks his arm and makes a motion that makes Frankie laugh. 

It’s not a long drive to the tunnel— but it does take a minute to find parking. 

“Why don’t you drink, if I might ask?” Wayne asks as the two of you trail behind Frankie and Jaime. They’re recording some videos and taking pictures that they’ll occasionally make the two of you join in. 

“I hate the taste,” You shrug. “And addiction isn’t something I’d want to fall into. You?” He moves to the side as a couple runs down the pavement wearing bright clothes and clearly already tipsy. 

“I’d prefer to be sober when I’m away from home.” He returns to his spot and his eyes flicker to the entrance of the tunnel. “So my actions aren’t due to an inebriated state of mind.” Humming, the four of you are allowed inside and there are a lot of people. 

Half of the student body must be inside the tunnel. It stretches for a couple of miles but gets blocked off by a wire gate. The walls are chipped and almost rotten looking with graffiti and posters messily placed along. There are color lights strung up along the walls and if they went out the place would be pitch black. 

The DJ is one of the music majors, you recognize him from one of the random people who followed you when your high school posted the school you were going to. He’s playing some loud ass music with extra bass that makes you cringe. 

“Here,” Wayne hands you one of the glow sticks turned into a necklace and you thank him, slipping it over your neck. He has one but it’s around his wrist instead. Frankie and Jaime went separate ways almost immediately— they asked first and you just nodded and went to a corner. 

How the fuck do you even act at parties. 

“Hi-hi!” A woman stands in front of you, dressed for a rave with a lot of Kandi bracelets running up her arms and those weed glasses. She’s in one of your classes. 

“Hey,” You offer a smile. 

“Saw you’re nervous! Rave virginity!!!” She laughs and looks along her arms. “Here, this is called a Kandi trade— but you don’t give anything.” She starts to pull off a large red and black cuff and motions for you to grab her hand. Against your better judgment, you do and she does some hand movements before she transfers the cuff to your arm. 

“That’s cool! Thank you!” She laughs again and nods, leaving you in the corner to do more trades. 

An hour or so passes and Wayne spots you in the sea of people. He sees you have a lot more jewelry on than when you first came and you’re enjoying yourself. Dancing and singing along to the music, jumping with others, and such. But he’s been keeping a close eye and knows you haven’t drunk anything. Not even the water bottle that was offered to you some time ago. 

He feels at ease with that and his eyes linger on Jaime. He’s impressed that… bug is keeping cool at the party and he sees Frankie laughing with some of the chem majors by the DJ, requesting songs. 

He’s been stuck to a wall for the entirety of the party, he didn’t even want to go in the first place. But he figured it would be best if he did, something in him told him that. And he understood why when he saw your face go from joyful to sour. 

His eyes scan the people around you and he sees something yelling at you. Their face was red from the alcohol and the anger they were feeling. He pushes himself from the wall and makes his way over to you. 

“Is there an issue?” He asks you, completely ignoring the loud guy. You give him a thank you look and shake your head. 

“Just some drunk idiot thinking I’m trying to hit on their date,” You snicker and he raises an eyebrow, seeing the drunk person now tongue-deep with their date. He looks away, almost embarrassed for them. 

“How fun,” He smiles and you laugh. He thinks that’s the first time he’s actually made you laugh from something that wasn’t you beating him. 

“Wayne, you dance?” You ask as the song changes to something made to move to. He shakes his head, unable to look away from you. “Me neither! But we should!” 

He agrees, forgetting his home training and dancing along with you. He’s sure at some point someone will hurt their ankle from the jumping and the very uncoordinated movements but he doesn’t care. Anything to relish in this moment. 

At some point the song changes and you're out of breath, dragging him to a wall to sit against. He wants to protest but he sees you’re sitting on fabric and not the ground directly and joins you. The little area is tucked into a divet in the wall, your backs to a cold, metal service door. So no one could step on either one of you. 

“Hey, Wayne.” You call and he looks over. His eyes trace over your face as you’re not smiling as hard but the excitement in your eyes hasn’t died out. Your forehead is covered in sweat and he has to stop himself from wiping it off. “I didn’t know you’d be such a nice party partner. We outta do this more often.” You look at him and admire his eyes. In truth, you’ve never given him a real look before. 

Sure, you know his eyes are green. But you never noticed how green, or how in this light you can see the rings of blue in them. Or how there’s tiny little white scars on the exposed skin of his neck. Or the scar above his right eyebrow. 

“We should,” He agrees and wow, you’re really close. You can feel his breath ghost over your lips. Tentatively, you look down at his lips as he licks them then back to his eyes. 

“Should we?” You grin, swiping your tongue over your lips. 

“Yes.” He nods and closes the gap. His hand holds your neck and you hold his collar. At that moment, as the butterflies are alive and well in your stomach, as his lips press to yours, as his grip pulls you tighter, you’re so glad he agreed to go to the party. Even happier than this action— that kissing him was a completely sober choice made by the both of you. 

This will either be the best or the worst decision of your life. 

—

A year after the party, Damian enters the dorm after finishing up his last class for the day. You’d been on your phone, checking up on your internship application before setting it down when he walked in. 

“I got a hundred on the fake final.” You grin, reaching over to pull him down onto your bed. He lets you, stopping his fall by planting his hands on either side of your head. He shifts his legs so one is between yours and the other is locking your left leg between his. You’ll never understand his upper body strength, but you’d definitely never complain about it. 

“Me too.” He smirks and kisses the corner of your mouth. You frown and grab his face, pulling him in for a proper kiss. He adjusts himself on the bed by moving one arm to slide underneath you and you love that feeling. Your hands slide from the sides of his face to his shoulders, pinching the fabric to try and get it off. 

“Lock the door next time,” Jaime groans as he walks into the room. Damian pulls away and glares at him. You roll your head to see him and not very discreetly try and wave him away. “Aye, I’m just here for your charger. Mine broke and you’re rich.” He holds his hands up, showing Damian’s charger and the two of you watch him leave. 

“I’m getting the higher score on the final,” You tell him once the door shuts. He looks at you, an eyebrow raised before he gets up to lock the door. 

“Doubtful,” He grins, returning to his previous spot on top of you. His eyes scanned all over your face and his hand traced along your hairline. “I’m still on top.” His eyes flicker to yours and you scoff. 

“Pretty sure you bottom,” 

“Just this once.”

[sycamorelibrary754]

The Doting Tree

Summary: During your visit to your grandmother at her assisted living community, you learn that Bucky has been regularly volunteering there as a part of his therapy sessions with Dr. Raynor.

Pairings: Bucky x Platonic reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: None

A/N: Who doesn't want to see Bucky healing?

"Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Stark requests your presence in his lab," Friday announced, pulling you out of your intense focus.

"Can it wait, FRIDAY? I'm swamped with overdue mission reports here," you replied, shuffling through the stack of papers on your desk.

“Mr. Stark says you have a phone call,” FRIDAY responded.

“A phone call?” you asked, puzzled, picking up your phone. “No, I don't.”

“In his lab, Ms. Y/L/N,” FRIDAY said.

"Okay,” you said as you rubbed your tired eyes. “Tell him I'm on my way.”

Walking into Tony's lab, you found the genius hunched over his desk, tinkering with one of his holographic interfaces. His phone was propped between his ear and shoulder.

“Really? I had no idea,” Tony said with a surprised look. “Y/N is so at ease on the motorcycle you would never know she didn't learn to ride a two-wheeler until she was nine.”

Your eyes widened. "Oh my God. Who are you talking to?" 

"One moment, ma'am," Tony said before placing the phone against his chest.

"It’s your grandmother," Tony said. "She called the front desk trying to reach you, and they patched her through to me." 

"What? Why didn't they call me?" you said, reaching for the phone as Tony pulled it away. 

"Because this is way more fun," Tony smirked. 

"Gimme the phone!" You snapped.

Tony placed a hand on your forehead to hold you at arm's length like an annoying older brother while putting the phone back to his ear.

"Y/G/N, your granddaughter just walked in. So, I’m going to pass you over to her," Tony said. "No, don't be silly. It's no problem. I enjoyed talking with you, too. Feel free to call back anytime. My pleasure, ma'am. Bye-bye."

You sighed as the billionaire finally handed over his phone, walking back toward the pane-glass windows for some privacy.

"Hi, Grandma," you chirped.

"Hello, dear, so good to hear your voice," your grandmother said.

"How did you end up on the phone with Mr. Stark?" you asked.

"I accidentally deleted your cell phone number, but your mom has your workplace down on this list she made, so I called information and then was connected to your lovely boss," your grandma explained.

"Ah, I see. Well, he’s not technically my boss, more like an annoying man-child who pays for everything," Smirking back at Tony and sticking your tongue out.

Your grandma asked, 'What is this I hear about you riding a motorcycle?”

"Oh, no need to worry. I’m a professional, and it's part of my job," you reassured her.

"Still," your grandma began. "I hope you're wearing a helmet."

"Always, Grandma, don't worry,” you fibbed. “So, how are you?” Do your best to shift the conversation away from your dangerous life as an Avenger.

"I’m good, sweetheart. I'm just wondering when you're going to visit me. It's been a while since I’ve seen you,” your grandma asked. 

Your heart broke at her words. Your grandma lives in an assisted living community near the compound called The Doting Tree. You did your best to see her often, but the unpredictable nature of your work made regular visits difficult.

“I know; I’m sorry. Things have been hectic lately, and I just got home from a work trip a few days ago. How about I stop by tomorrow around noon?" you asked.

“That would be great," she exclaimed. "See you then!"

"Okay, bye," you said, hanging up Tony’s phone.

You gave Tony his phone back, and he handed you a hundred-dollar bill in exchange.

“What's this for?” you asked.

“I may be an annoying man-child, but even I know you treat Grandma like a queen,” Tony quipped with a wink.

*^~^*

The following day, you joined the rest of the team for breakfast. Wanda had made her special chocolate chip pancakes and fresh orange juice for everyone. You sat beside Bucky and began squeezing Maple syrup over your pancakes. 

Pepper set a plate in front of Morgan and sat beside Tony. "So, what's everyone got lined up for today?"

"Nat and I are getting the recruits up to speed," Steve replied, digging into his pancakes.

“That sounds interesting,” Pepper said.

"It would be interesting if they paid attention this time," Nat remarked, downing the last of her orange juice.

"I always paid attention," you declared confidently.

"Sure, Y/N, you ran those extra laps after training at Nat’s request just for fun," Maria teased.

"Yelena and I are off to an advanced obedience class with Lucky and Fanny," Kate said. "This week, it's all about the army crawling!"

"By the end of the training, they'll be more mission-ready than your little recruits, Natasha," Yelena teased as she cut into her pancakes.

Nat leaned over and flicked her sister's arm.

"Ow, son of a—"

"Language!" Steve interjected.

Yelena was about to retort, but then she caught Morgan's smile and shut her mouth.

"I’m supposed to meet with Secretary Ross, but I'd much rather catch the new Godzilla vs. Kong movie. Anyone up for it?" Rhodes suggested.

"I'm in!" Sam exclaimed. "How about you, Buck?"

"Can't make it; I'm tied up," Bucky replied, sipping his orange juice.

“Come on, man, how often do we blend in with the crowd?" Sam quipped.

"I can't, Sam," Bucky replied with a shrug.

"Your loss," Sam retorted. "What about you, Y/N?"

"I'd love to, but I promised my grandma a visit," you replied.

"That's thoughtful of you, Y/N," Wanda chimed in.

"Oh, that reminds me, guess who didn't learn to ride a bike until they were nine?" Tony butted in enthusiastically.

You rolled your eyes. “And that's my cue to leave," you said, getting up. "Catch you all later.”

*^~^*

You made great use of Tony's money by treating your grandma to a lovely bouquet of roses and a box of her favorite chocolates. When you arrived at The Doting Tree, the scent of Fabuloso greeted you, mixing with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee from the communal area. Passing through the lobby, you exchanged a warm smile and a wave with Joan, the friendly receptionist stationed behind the oak desk.

You knocked eagerly on the door of room 508, and the sound of your grandmother's footsteps grew louder before she swung open the door.

"Y/N!" she exclaimed.

"Hey, grandma," you greeted her with a smile. "These are for you," you said, handing her the roses and chocolates.

"Oh, you didn't have to, sweetheart," she replied, taking her gifts.

You hugged her and were instantly transported back to his childhood. Her warm embrace was a comfort you didn't know you were missing.

"Please, come on in, Y/N," she said as she broke the hug.

As your grandma whipped up a delightful batch of creamy, rich hot chocolate, the cozy aroma filled the room, enveloping you in warmth and comfort. You lost track of time, immersed in lively conversations and shared memories as you leisurely walked down memory lane. She asked about your work, and you carefully selected the most positive stories to share: the most recent Stark Gala and the Avengers community outreach efforts. You wouldn't dream of telling her about the near miss on your last mission when Nat's impressive scissor-leg neck grab saved you from a potentially fatal situation.

I can't believe how quickly time has flown by," your grandma exclaimed, glancing at the clock. "Movie night starts downstairs in fifteen minutes."

"Oh, in that case, I'll leave you to get ready," you replied, getting up.

"Nonsense," she insisted. "I'd love for you to join me. Tonight is Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, a classic from the Golden Age of Hollywood."

You quickly checked your phone and were relieved to see no missed calls or texts from Fury, Maria, or Steve.

"Great, I've never seen it, and I’m free for the rest of the day," you said.

"Wonderful, let’s go," your grandma replied.

*^~^*

When you and your grandmother arrived in the small community theater, the Doting Tree staff handed out popcorn and queued up the movie. You followed your grandma to two empty seats near the end of the row. 

Hi, Y/G/N, I was hoping to see you here tonight," the brunette woman with half glasses beside her confessed.

"I wouldn't have missed this for anything. You know Jimmy Stewart is my favorite!" your grandma proclaimed. "Oh, Betty, this is my granddaughter Y/N, she's one of those Avengers!" she proudly introduced.

You felt slightly embarrassed by the attention but extended your hand to Betty. "Hi, Betty. It's great to meet you."

"It's lovely to meet you, dear. Y/G/N has told me so much about you!" Betty said.

"All good, I hope?" you joked.

"Of course. I don't know how you all do it, but thank you for everything you've done."

"It's my honor, ma'am,” you said.

"Excuse me?" a man in a sweater vest behind you said, catching your attention. "I couldn't help but overhear. You mentioned you're one of the Avengers?" 

"That's right," you replied.

"Do you happen to know James? He's one of our volunteers. My buddy Walter swears he's an Avenger."

"James?" you asked, puzzled. "We don't have anyone named—"

"Alright, folks," a familiar voice interrupted.

"Bucky," you whispered to yourself in surprise.

Your friend stood at the front of the room, looking effortlessly stylish in a casual navy crew neck shirt, perfectly fitted jeans, and trendy sneakers. His beaming smile transformed his entire appearance, making him almost unrecognizable.

"Tonight's movie is one of my favorites, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington," Bucky announced, clapping his hands together. "Jimmy Stewart was one of my favorite actors when I was a kid."

"Not to mention Jean Arthur!" someone shouted from the back row, and the room erupted in laughter.

“Alright, Stacy, can you turn off the lights, please?” Bucky asked one of the staff members.

As the idealistic young Jefferson Smith was appointed to the United States Senate, your attention continually drifted to Bucky. You observed as he quietly passed a box of Nestle crunch bites down the row to one of the residents and whispered something to the woman beside him, who laughed in response.

*^~^*

When the credits rolled, and the lights came on in the theater, you lingered at the back of the room while your grandmother caught up with her friends. Perhaps it was the spy-like instincts that Natasha had instilled in you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. You were captivated by the transformation in his demeanor. The man who once seemed only to wear a scowl now appeared happier than you had ever seen him.

You walked over slowly as he was engrossed in conversation with a man you recognized as Richard Swanson. According to Joan, he was one of The Doting Tree’s oldest residents in time and age. Tall and slender, with a confident posture that hinted at a lifetime of discipline and care, he still boasted a thick mane of hair that belied his age. The strands, once a rich chestnut, now shimmered with a distinguished silver hue, the only overt sign of the passing years.

"What unit were you in, Barnes?" Mr. Swanson asked.

"107th Infantry Regiment, sir," Bucky replied.

"No kidding?” said Mr. Swanson. “I was in the 103rd."

"I remember that regiment," Bucky said, snapping his fingers. "You were guarding the Trisssana Bridge, right?"

"That's right," Mr. Swanson replied. “My cousin was in the 107th Regiment. Maybe you knew him? Tim Dugan.”

"Wow," Bucky sighed, his voice trailing off as he paused to reflect. "Tim Dugan. I haven't heard that name in almost 80 years," Bucky said, his eyes distant with memories. "I did know him. He was a good man," Bucky reminisced, a hint of wistfulness in his voice.

He was indeed," Mr. Swanson sighed, his tired eyes reflecting the long day he had endured. The elderly gentleman checked his antique pocket watch. "I've got to get going. It's almost past my bedtime," he chuckled softly as he patted Bucky on the shoulder with a sense of fondness. "See you next time, Barnes."

"See you, Mr. Swanson," Buck called out, his voice carrying a tinge of warmth and respect.

"Bucky?" you said softly, careful not to startle him as you approached.

He turned at the sound of your voice, his eyes meeting yours with surprise. "Y/N? What are you doing here? I thought you were visiting your grandmother today?"

"I am; she lives here," you explained, a gentle smile gracing your lips.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your curiosity piqued.

Bucky took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, the weight of his thoughts evident in the furrow of his brow. "Alright, look,” running his hand through his hair nervously. “Dr. Raynor thought it would be good for me to volunteer here. Spend some time with people from my generation," he said. "I resisted at first, but now..." he paused, looking around at the bustling activity of the assisted living community. "It's nice.”

"That's awesome, Buck. It's clear that the residents appreciate having you around, but why didn't you mention it to us?" You inquired.

"I just didn't want to deal with the inevitable jokes and questions from everyone," he explained.

"Oh, come on, Bucky. It wouldn't have been that bad. They would have been supportive," you reassured.

"After you left, Tony told the bike story and bought you a kid’s bicycle as a joke," Bucky deadpanned.

"Jackass," you remarked dryly.

"See," Bucky declared.

"But a supportive jackass, Buck. We all give each other shit, but at the end of the day, we're a family," you insisted. "Everyone would get it."

"Maybe," he mused. "When I'm here, I'm not an Avenger, The Winter Soldier, The White Wolf. Hell, I’m not even Bucky."

"I've noticed that, James," you said with a smirk.

Before he could respond, your grandma and her friend Betty strolled over to where you were standing.

“James, I just had to tell you how much I enjoyed tonight's movie. You have impeccable taste,” Betty said, touching his metal arm.

“Thanks a lot,” Bucky replied.

“Will you join us for our knitting class next week?” she asked eagerly.

“Work can be unpredictable, but I'm planning on it,” he responded.

“Wonderful!” Betty exclaimed. “I've been knitting a scarf for you, honey.”

Bucky blushed. “Oh, thank you. I can't wait to see it.”

"I see you’ve met James, Y/N,” your grandma said. “We’ve so enjoyed having him here the last few months.”

“Oh,” you said, looking between Bucky and your grandmother. “Yeah, I just had to come up and tell him how much I loved the movie, too.”

“Right,” Bucky said. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Well, I’m feeling a bit tuckered out, Y/N,” your grandmother said. I think I'll call it a night.”

“Okay,” you said. “I'll walk you back to your room.”

“Okay, goodnight, James,” your grandmother said.

“Goodnight, Y/G/N,” Bucky replied.

You turned back toward him before following your grandma out of the room and whispered, “Don’t leave. I'll be down in a few minutes.”

Bucky nodded in agreement.

*^~^*

As you stepped off the elevator and entered the lobby, the warm glow of the chandeliers illuminated the spacious communal room. Your eyes scanned the area, searching for Bucky. After a moment, you spotted him sitting on the plush sofa, engrossed in a copy of Lord of the Rings, which he had plucked from the nearby shelf.

Sitting beside him, you couldn't help but ask, "So, what do people think James does for a living?"

With a half-smile, he replied, "Well, those who don't know who I am think I’m a mechanic at that garage on Wilshire."

The image of Bucky as a mechanic made you chuckle, and you leaned in to hear more.

"The ones who do, like Mr. Swanson, don't give a damn about who I am or who I‘ve been," he continued, returning the book to the shelf. "All they care about is living each day to the fullest."

As you silently nodded, you reflected on his words, feeling the weight of the conversation settle in. "I understand, Buck," you said, patting his thigh. "I'm glad you're finding fulfillment here, and you can trust me to keep this between us."

"Thank you," he sighed, a sense of relief in his voice.

"Let’s go home," Bucky said, a hint of determination in his tone.

As you both said goodbye to Joan in the lobby, you stepped out into the refreshing early evening breeze.

"Alright, see you at home," you said, heading towards the bus stop.

"You took the bus here?" Bucky inquired.

"Yeah, just didn't feel like driving today," you replied.

“Want a ride? I've got Nat's motorcycle," he offered, nodding towards the bike.

You arched an eyebrow, "Does she know you have it?" You knew Natasha didn't just lend her bike to anyone. You had learned that the hard way during one of your early missions together.

"Yep, she allows me to borrow the motorcycle in exchange for helping with recruit training," Bucky explained as he slipped on his leather jacket.

"Alright, I'll take your word for it," you agreed.

As you were getting ready to hop on the back of the motorcycle, you spotted the extra helmet hanging on the back. 

“Really?” Bucky quipped. “You never wear a helmet out in the field.”

“I know,” glancing back at The Doting Tree, “I just want to keep a promise to my grandmother,” you said with a smirk.

“Good call,” he replied with a grin.

You fastened the helmet and hopped on the back of the bike, wrapping your arms around Bucky’s waist. With a twist of the throttle, the bike roared to life as Bucky revved up the engine. Together, you both zoomed out of the parking lot, heading back toward the compound with a newfound sense of camaraderie and understanding.

[redrose10]

Alright here is Chapter 5! Originally it was supposed to be a much shorter chapter but I didn’t like the way it flowed so I changed it up. There are still a few more chapters to go!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word count: 3,016

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

Yoongi had started making an effort. It was small but you did notice little things like the tea kettle already filled when you got up in the morning and he’d text you to ask how your day was going. He didn’t seem to be bringing home women any more either but you knew he had other ways of accomplishing that so you were still skeptical.

Yoongi walked through the door after a particularly hard day. His company was denied the patent that they desperately needed to move forward on a new project costing them millions of dollars and precious time. He of course got chewed out over it by the entire board and it soured his mood for the rest of the day. He just wanted to get home, take a shower, have a glass of whiskey, and get in bed.

When he entered his home he heard loud music blaring through the speakers. He recognized the song as some girl group but he’d never cared enough to actually pay attention. It was catchy though. But what really caught his eye was you dancing around the kitchen in a white T-shirt that was just long enough to barely cover your backside. Your hair up in a messy bun. Your hips swayed to the music as you stirred something in a pot before returning to the cutting board. He watched you for a few seconds admiring your beauty. How you sang along to the song somewhat off key but still managed to sound beautiful. He did deserve the scolding he got earlier because he truly was an idiot. An idiot that had someone like you right there practically handed to him and he tried his best to ruin it all.

Slowly he walked over and cleared his throat, “It smells really good in here. What did you make?”

You were startled nearly jumping a foot in the air as you didn’t expect him to be home so early, “Oh Namjoon’s mom gave me a recipe for Jajangmyeon so I wanted to try it out.” Yoongi knew you hadn’t spoken to his mother since the wedding but here you were exchanging recipes with another man’s mom. That stung. “Would you like some?”, you asked almost certain he’d turn you down like every other time but to your shock he nodded, “Yeah sure. Sounds good.”

Placing the bowl in front of him he immediately took a huge bite.

“This is amazing Y/N. Best I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you.”, you replied before digging into your own bowl. The two of you made light conversation over dinner. It felt domestic and while this was what you’d always wanted it created a fear in you that eventually this would all come crashing down and be worse than before.

He ate the bowl in no time and even asked for seconds. Once you were both finished he offered to clean up and wash the dishes. You stared at him in disbelief causing him to stop what he was doing and look up at you. “What?”, he asked like what he was doing was completely normal.

“Are you feeling okay?”

He nodded, “Yeah I’m fine. Why?”

“Well I’m just waiting for you to tell me you got someone pregnant or like you’re dying or something.”

Yoongi chuckled and for the first time you saw his gummy smile. “I just thought I’d help you out since you made that delicious meal.” You gave a small smile, “Oh okay. Well thank you.” Quickly you made your way back to your room to hideout until he went to bed. You fully expected to wake up and realize this was all a dream.

After that night things between you and Yoongi stayed pretty weird. Technically they were pretty normal for a married couple but for the two of you it was strange.

He started eating dinner with you at least once a week sometimes more. Some mornings you’d wake up to him making breakfast. The two of you never spoke much but ate in comfortable silence. One day he even insisted that he accompany you and Namjoon to the opening of a new art museum claiming that he didn’t want rumours to circulate about the two of you but the way he placed his arm around you any time Namjoon got a little too close for his liking told you differently.

Things peaked at weirdness on a chill October night. It was the annual Min Gala and the first big event that you and Yoongi would be attending together. There had been other smaller gatherings here and there but nothing of this level. The Min Gala was known globally for its luxury and grandeur while pulling in celebrities and royalty from around the world, and you were now going. Which is why you were currently staring at yourself in the full length mirror you had purchased for your room. The outfit, something Jimin had picked, a velvet navy blue floor length dress with a deep v cut in the front and a slit on the right side that almost went up to your hip. Even you had to admit that you looked incredible. While admiring yourself you heard Yoongi lightly knocked at the door, “Y/N we seriously have to get going. We’re gonna be late.” Not wanting to make him angry you grabbed your clutch and swung open the door not expecting him to still be standing there.

He looked you up and down with wide eyes. “Y-You look very nice.”, he stuttered. You gave a shy smile back, “You look very nice yourself.” He then lead the way for you two out to the waiting car.

When the driver pulled up to the event you went into panic mode. There must’ve been 100 photographers along with hundreds of other various personnel. You were very out of your element. Yoongi could sense your uneasiness. “I know it’s a lot Y/N but keep your head up and just look ahead. I’ll be there with you through the whole thing.” You nodded as the car door opened. Yoongi stepped out first then turned and gave you his hand to help you out also. He placed a hand on your lower back and started quickly but gently ushering you through the crowd. You did your best to politely ignore the various questions being thrown at you while also trying your best not to trip due to the blinding lights. Once inside you felt a rush of relief. One of the staff members came over and grabbed your coats while a waiter brought you a glass of champagne which you happily downed.

You fully expected Yoongi to run off to the first woman that looked his way and leave you to fend for yourself but surprisingly be stayed by your side until an older gentleman came over asking to speak with him for a bit. Yoongi excused himself and told you he’d be back shortly as business needed to be handled.

You weren’t alone long though before Jimin slid over wrapping you in a big hug and catching you up on all the gossip you missed. He was in the middle of telling you a story about his trip when another presence walked up next to you. The man looked vaguely familiar but you couldn’t quite place it. Luckily Jimin stepped right in to introduce you, “Oh Y/N please meet one of my really good friends. This is Taehyung.” The man gave you a big boxy smile before reaching out to shake your hand, “Hi Y/N, It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.”, you smiled. Taehyung was one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen. He had soft black hair that had some natural curls which fell perfectly. Smooth skin and beautiful eyes. He was dressed impeccably. His outift a dark purple three piece suit. It reminded you a lot of the dark green suit Yoongi had on the day you met him and that’s when it hit you. You were talking to the famous fashion designer and owner of KTVY, a very prominent fashion line that had quickly entered the same ranks as well known brands like Dior or Versace.

You spoke with Jimin and Taehyung for a while listening to their various escapades. Taehyung playfully pouted when he realized you weren’t wearing one of his designs and Jimin being the one that picked it out made him pout even deeper. Taehyung started grabbing at your dress talking about the low quality and how he would’ve made a nicer dress for you. It was clear he was a very hands on person but you felt comfortable with him. “Looks like someone’s jealous.”, Jimin leaned over whispering into your ear. Glancing over your shoulder you spotted Yoongi staring back at you while ignoring the man next to him expressively talking with his hands. Instead of his trademark unreadable expression he actually looked angry and it made you feel a certain kind of way.

When he was finally able to break free from the conversation with his business partner Yoongi walked over and pulled you into him before placing a kiss on your cheek, “Come on Y/N. Let go find my parents.” As you were being drug away you quickly waved goodbye to Jimin and Taehyung missing the way they both rolled their eyes and giggled to each other like teenage girls. After your meeting with Jimin and Taehyung, Yoongi’s mood for the rest of the evening seemed to change. He refused to leave your side. Every ten minutes he’d tell you how beautiful you looked, the most beautiful woman in the world. He also decided to start trying to mask his anger by downing Jack and Cokes like they were water.

Eventually you were able to cut him off and convince him that it was time to go home so there you were waiting for the driver to pull up while you did your best to hold up the swaying Yoongi. Luckily you were able to sneak out the back so no one other than a few kitchen staff saw you. Once in the car you started digging around looking for a bucket or bag or anything incase Yoongi’s body decided to rid itself of the alcohol on the way home. Just as you reached to look in one of the cabinets you felt hands grabbing your waist pulling on you and you fell back onto the seat next to Yoongi.

He started nuzzling his face into your neck mumbling something you couldn’t quite understand. “Here you need to sit up.”, you said while doing your best to push him over. He looked at you with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks.

“You are not going to feel good tomorrow morning. This is gonna be the hangover of all hangovers.”

He scoffed, “Yeah well I can’t feel any worse than I did earlier.”

“What do you mean?”, you asked while searching the car for a bottle of water you knew he needed.

“The way Taehyung looked you up and down and the way he had his hands all over you. I’m gonna kill Jimin. I told him not to introduce the two of you.”

You snorted at his remark. Yoongi looked over at you, “I’m serious. And after I kill him he’s fired too.” You just laughed it off. You were like 99% sure Yoongi wouldn’t do either but you made a mental note to text Jimin later and give him a warning.

Once you were standing outside your penthouse door you were fumbling with the code while trying to keep Yoongi standing upright and you were really regretting not taking the help from the driver when he offered. Even though Yoongi had a small frame he was surprisingly heavy and the fact that he had zero control right now was not helping. After finally getting Yoongi in the door you started walking him towards the kitchen to get some water and some food in his system when suddenly he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him. Within seconds he had you pushed up against the wall with his arms on either side caging you in while using the wall to brace himself. Slowly he placed kisses starting behind your ear and trailing down towards your cleavage.

“Fuck that Kim Taehyung. I’m never buying shit from him again.”

You chuckled at his whiny statement before Yoongi grabbed your hips pulling you flush against him as he continued to pepper kisses all over any visible skin he could reach.

He moved his left hand to your lower back while his right hand slowly started moving down your hip to the slit in your dress that he gently started to toy with. “Y/N, I don’t know how you did this to me. I wanted to hate you so bad. I wanted to hate our situation. I tried so hard to prevent you from breaking down my walls but I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to love you and I’m scared because I think I’m starting to.”, he mumbled between kisses. He began to tease the lace of the black underwear that you had on and that’s when you broke out of your haze and stopped him.

He was drunk and you were sober and even though he initiated all of this it felt like taking advantage of him and there was also a part of you that was worried once he sobered up he’d regret everything and his words would mean northing.

“Come on Drunky. Let’s get you to bed.”, you said pulling him down the hall. He looked around the room confused, “Who the hell is Drunky?”, which earned a big eye roll on your part. You help him get undressed and put him in the bed. You tried to leave to go get some water and some pain killers but he grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the bed next to him, “Please stay with me. Every time you walk away from me I worry it’ll be the last time I ever see you.” Again you remembered that this was just the liquor talking and in the morning he’d probably be upset that you were even in his room. You nodded and laid in the bed so he rested his head on your chest as you began to run your fingers through his hair hoping it would soothe him to sleep faster.

Thankfully it worked like a charm because he was asleep within minutes and you quickly got the supplies you were looking for before setting them down next to his bed for easy access when he woke up the next morning.

You pulled the blanket up over his shoulders and did a double check once again to make sure that he had everything he would need before heading over to the door.

You stopped when you noticed a bottle sitting on his dresser. It was beautiful and very ornate. A matte red glass bottle with a gold topper. In big intricate letters it read ‘Solace, A Comforting Fragrance by KTVY’. You chuckled at the irony that this was his choice of cologne. Gently you popped open the top and the familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla hit you and a wave of memories of the last year came flooding back. Taking a look over at the man who was now softly snoring you felt anxious and uncertain about the future. You knew how to handle cold cheating asshole Yoongi. That was easy. But this new Yoongi, the one who’s been trying to improve and who claims he’s falling in love, you don’t know how to move forward without getting hurt more than you already have been.

Placing the bottle back in its spot you walked out gently closing the door behind you.

The next morning Yoongi woke up with a massive headache. After downing the glass of water and pain killers he took a quick shower and walked out into the kitchen. You greeted him with a smile and placed a large plate of food down in front of him, “Here this is called Y/N’s happy hangover special. You need the grease and carbs. There’s also hot coffee ready for you but you need to finish a glass of water first.”

He smiled and began to dig into the food letting you know how good it was. He watched you walk over and water the blue hydrangea plant that he had delivered a few weeks ago. He thought back to that morning. He wasn’t sure what was more beautiful, the flowers themselves or the way your face lit up when you saw them.

Then like a bad flashback the events of the night before came back to him. How he was filled with jealousy watching Taehyung touch you. How he used alcohol to try and extinguish the flames that burned inside of him. The way he kissed you and grabbed at you like a horny teenager. How he told you he was falling in love with you. It was all true.

You hadn’t mentioned any of it yet though which concerned him. He thought maybe he’d upset you or took it too far too fast. He was worried that you didn’t take his words seriously and assumed they were only spoken thanks to his drunk state of mind.

He wanted to tell you all of that same stuff now, while sober, and maybe have a deeper more thorough discussion. He cleared his throat, “Umm Y/N, about last ni-.”

*Ding*

Checking your phone you saw a text from Jimin letting you know he was outside.

“Hey Yoongi I have to get going. I’m hanging out with Jimin today. Don’t wait up.”

“Oh okay.”

Grabbing your purse you ran out the door without looking back.

He bit his lip staring at the space you were no longer occupying. “I deserve that.”, he whispered before pouring himself a cup of coffee.

[tortillamastersblog]

♕ No Matter What | Lena Luthor ♕

Pairing: Lena Luthor x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: After an honorable discharge, you feel lost, not knowing what to do with the rest of your life. That is until your best friend Sam Arias takes matters into her own hands.

Next Part | Masterlist

________________________________________________

“Sam, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” I hiss as the elevator doors slide shut behind us.

The security guard we just passed in the lobby was eyeing me the entire time while Sam explained our business to the woman behind the reception.

She seemed to recognize the brunette, which was somewhat of a relief because the next time her eyes met mine she smiled politely.

The security guard’s stare however did not waver and it made my skin crawl.

Yes, he’s supposed to be intimidating and scrutinizing, it’s what he’s payed for after all, working for National City’s most infamous tech-billionaire, but it didn’t soothe the nervousness bubbling in my stomach.

“It’s a little late for that now,” Sam deadpans, raising an eyebrow. “You know, with you having already signed the contract and all…”

I roll my eyes at her theatrics and shove her gently. “God, you’re the worst.“

Yes, I did sign a contract, but it doesn’t change the fact that the person I’m supposed to be a bodyguard for has expressed her doubt concerning the necessity of my presence time and time again until Sam finally got through to her.

She also very much has the power to destroy my life and possible future careers if she doesn’t like me or my performance, which isn’t something I’m particularly excited about.

I clench and unclench my fists, the feeling of cold sweat running down my back doing nothing to soothe me.

Pull yourself together!

I haven’t been this nervous in a long time. The last time was over a year ago before everything went wrong.

“Hey.” Sam’s soft voice brings me back to reality and when I meet her eyes I find her watching me with genuine concern. “You’re perfect for the job, stop worrying about it and Lena is—“ she laughs softly—“Well, she’s Lena.”

I scoff. “Wow, okay. That is not helpful. . . at all.”

Sam giggles and before long the elevator stops its ascent and opens its doors, revealing a polished white hallway.

We get out and I follow Sam to a sleek wooden door.

This is it.

“Lena?” Sam knocks, but it’s more of a courtesy than anything else because she pulls out a key card the next second and swipes it through the reader next to the door. It beeps quietly, a green light flashing for a moment before the door clicks open.

“Lena?” Sam tries again, stepping into the apartment. I follow her cautiously and look around, taking in the open floor plan.

The white leather couches are elegant and tasteful, the glass coffee table between them reflecting the morning sun shining through the floor to ceiling windows.

There’s a fireplace which doesn’t look used and a couple of expensive looking paintings on the walls.

“Sam! You’re early,” a voice greets us and when I follow Sam around the corner my eyes land on her.

Lena Luthor.

She’s in her kitchen, which is also part of the open floor plan, standing behind the island and making tea.

Tea? I pegged her as a coffee person, what with all her early morning meetings and late night conferences.

Now slightly curious, I take a step closer and look her over.

She’s nothing like I expected. She’s wearing makeup, yes, and her hair is in a sleek ponytail which screams business, but her simple purple sweater and bluejeans make her look. . . soft.

“You must be Y/N.”

I snap to attention, hoping to God I wasn’t caught staring.

“Yes! Yes, that’s me,” I blurt out. “Nice to meet you Ms. Luthor.”

The young Luthor eyes me skeptically and simply raises an eyebrow when I step forward and raise my hand from her to shake.

I gulp and send Sam a helpless look.

“Lena, we talked about this,” she warns her friend with a pointed glare. “Play nice.”

The billionaire relents and takes my hand, shaking it once before letting go. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Sam clears her throat which prompts the other woman to add, “And you can call me Lena.”

I laugh uncomfortably and waver her off. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary, Ms. Luthor.“

Sam and Lena both seem surprised by the refusal but neither of them linger on it.

“Alright then,” Lena says, taking a sip of her tea before turning to Sam. “I’ll see you at the office?”

“Yeah,” the brunette affirms. “Lunch?”

Lena smiles. “Sounds good.”

They share a quick hug and I catch a glimpse of Sam whispering something in Lena’s ear which makes the latter roll her eyes playfully.

“I mean it,” Sam warns as they break apart, though there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes.

Lena huffs and takes another sip of her tea, watching over the rim of the cup as Sam squeezes my forearm.

“Good luck,” she mumbles. “Try and have some fun.“

Ha! Fun. . . I bet that word isn’t even in Lena’s vocabulary.

I don’t voice my thoughts, simply bidding Sam goodbye when she squeezes my arm again and before long she’s gone, leaving me alone under the predatory gaze of my new boss.

Shifting uncomfortably in my spot, I look around the apartment once again while Lena finishes her tea.

Yeah, this was not a good idea.

I should have stuck to living off my separation pay and the little money I make teaching self defense classes.

It’s too late to back out now, I remind myself. The only thing making all of this bearable at the moment is the knowledge that my contract runs out in a year.

“Just take a seat, will you,” Lena says, the exasperation in her voice making my insides clench uncomfortably.

I get it, she doesn’t want me here and quite frankly I don’t want to be here either, but Sam was right when she came to me last week.

“You can’t keep waisting away in your apartment,” she’d said. “You need a distraction, and I’ve got the perfect job for you.”

Let’s just see where this goes, I think before moving to take a seat on the stool by the kitchen island.

Lena seems satisfied that I listened and places her empty mug in the kitchen sink.

“We’re leaving for the office in half an hour. You can stay here while I get ready,“ she informs me, checking her phone.

Then, without another word she turns and disappears into what I’m assuming is her bedroom.

It’s going to be a long year…

________________________________________________

I know this one’s rather short, but it’s just to get the story going.

[assembletheimagines]

Hi love your writing could you do a Steve Rogers x avenger! reader

Where the reader is an avenger and lives in the compound. Everyone knows that Steve has a crush on the reader and are always teasing him about it. But what they don’t know they are in a secret relationship until one day they see them kiss in the hallway

Thanks

A/N: I really appreciate it, thank you for enjoying my stuff, I hope you continue to do so! <3

Warnings: fluff

Steve feels Sam sit on his left the same time Bucky sits on his right. He already knows what's running through his friends heads before he can feel Sam knock his shoulder into his own. "You know staring can be considered rude?" Sam's voice teasing him as he keeps rocking into Steve's side, annoyingly.

Bucky's no better with the way he shoves Steve right back into Sam. His face calm even though his eyes gleam, "but I guess if you think the view is pretty-"

"And it is pretty," Sam adds and Steve lets out a long sigh making his friends laugh. It catches your attention, your head turning from the new recruits to the three ex-soldiers across the gym.

They're huddled close, sitting on a bench, taking a break in their work out routines. And now that they have gained your attention, Sam waves excitedly at you, Steve covers his eyes like he's regretting his life choices and Bucky giving you a small grin, nodding his head at you in greeting.

It's all very suspicious, making you squint your eyes at the three of them for a moment before you decide not to question anything and turn back to your recruits.

You need to pick your battles, and you believe this is one you don't need to involve in.

--

"Oh Steve's here," Tony's voice makes Steve look up from his book. His eyebrows furrowing at the multi-billionaire, questioning him silently in response. And that's when he sees Sam walk in right after Stark.

Sam's eyes scan the room, looking around, and confuses Steve more when asks. "Where are they?"

Steve tilts his head, "where's who?"

But he is quickly ignored as Natasha, who was sitting on the same couch as Steve, waves her hand in dismissal. "They're currently on a mission with Bucky and Clint."

Natasha's response makes Steve's eyes roll as he realizes then that they're talking about you. And they roll again as Tony hums, shaking his head in fake sadness. "No wonder, popsicle looked sad. He must feel lonely not being able to see his crush."

Steve quietly questions his choices in friends when that makes all three of them laugh in his expanse.

--

"So, you're saying you made a new training course?" Bucky asks Tony, the both of them walking with Sam as they head to the main training area.

Natasha and Wanda are following the boys, chatting about something else not paying attention to Stark's response. And because of that, they don't notice when the three men stop suddenly as they turn down another hallway.

The girls don't have time to realize what's going before it's too late, causing them to walk right into the boys.

"Why did you-" Wanda's voice stops as she peek over Sam's shoulder, her eyes widening as she sees why they stopped abruptly.

And it's because Steve's kissing you? Confusing the hell out of everyone because when did this happen?

Your back is pressed against the wall with Steve's arms resting above on either side of your head. His tall figure to your short one has the handsome soldier leaning down as he kisses you lovingly.

And the groups (Sam and Wanda) mouths drop in surprise.

You two don't notice you have gained an audience, too busy melting further in the kiss as time goes on. Your arms wrap around his neck, bringing him closer as you two kiss deeper.

And now everyone knows this isn't the first kiss you two have kissed.

With the shocked silence, and the two of you in your own little world, Bucky silently reaches into the inside of his jacket. His eyes stuck on the both of you as he quietly and smoothly hands some money behind him to Natasha's waiting hand.

"You're dating?" Tony finally exclaims breaking the moment the same time Sam turns to the two ex-assassins next to him in the same amount of shock.

"You two placed bets without me?"

Tony gives Sam an exasperated eye roll just as Steve pulls away from your lips, making you blush deeply at the little whine that leaves your lips when he did.

It makes everyone return their attention back to the two of you. Steve is calm as ever, arms still on either side of your head as he gives them a small shrug in return. "For months now."

It has Sam reeling, because Sam and Bucky were literally at the gym with him only a week ago.

"What?" Sam shouts, missing the way Natasha accepts Tony's money, adding it to her first collection she had received from Bucky.