#and when I went in my friend went off to do something and I was sitting in the waiting room getting ready

[navybrat817]

Since we see this mentioned in Game Nights, what does it take for Bucky to stab John and how does the team react?

That is an excellent question, Cole! I'm so glad you asked.

Don't Look or Touch

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky isn't having a good day and John suffers the consequences.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Stabbing (yes, Bucky stabs John), arguing, humor, kissing, implied smut, Thunderbolts spoilers, we love Bob, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: We have Not Exactly a Secret, Game Nights, and now this for our Tower Shenanigans. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 (and thanks for the inspo!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wasn't in a good mood today.  He claimed he didn’t need as much sleep as the average person, but he still needed to get some shut eye and he hadn’t slept well the night before. Too many things were running through his head. You wished he woke you up to talk or help take his mind off things, but you knew he hadn’t wanted to disturb your rest. Had the roles been reversed he would’ve wanted you to wake him up first thing. 

“I’m your girlfriend, Bucky. If something is bothering you, it bothers me,” you reminded him. “So, please, wake me up next time, okay?”

It didn’t matter how big or small of an issue it was, you’d help him through anything and everything.

“You need more sleep than I do,” he tried to argue, a ghost of a smile on his face when you narrowed your eyes. 

“I can always catch a nap later,” you said.

“If you say so,” he said, sounding in better spirits than he had moments ago.

But that didn’t last when he started fighting with Sam via text. He didn’t like fighting with his friends and it wore on him as the day went on. You saw it in how he carried himself. If that weren’t enough, Alexei accidentally shot a paint gun in the common room and hit Bucky’s thigh. The flare in his nostrils told you he was two seconds away from losing his shit when John laughed.

You half expected Bucky to punch John, but he silently got to his feet and went to change. “So sorry!” Alexei called after him, also leaving the room.

“Did you have to laugh?” you asked John. Sure, you all gave him a hard time, but he dished it out as well and it was clear that Bucky wasn’t in the best mood.

John shrugged, not at all phased. “He’ll live.”

“You won’t if you keep pissing him off,” you teased, going to get Bucky’s jacket while you waited for him to come back. 

Bucky returned a minute later, somehow looking more pissed off. Maybe it was because John scooted closer to you once you sat back down. As much as you adored Bucky’s signature grumpy stare, this was different. That look was on his face because of his bad mood. Your heart went out to him, and what kind of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t try to cheer him up? 

“Hey,” you smiled, holding out a hand so Bucky could help you to your feet. You gave him a quick kiss once you were close enough and handed him his jacket. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“A ride?” he asked, closing his eyes when you brushed his hair back.

“Yeah, a ride,” you smiled. As much as you both loved being in the tower, he needed to get out and you were more than happy to join him. “And maybe we can stop off at that bakery you love?”

Bucky’s eyes lit up. Between a ride with you and stopping off to get a treat, he’d be in a much better mood. “Let’s go.”

“Hang tight for just a minute. Just need to grab something,” you said, sneaking in another kiss before you headed toward your room. You wondered how much Bucky would argue if you tried to pay for the treats. He was always such a gentleman when it came to-

“FUCK!”

You stopped at the sound of John’s loud and piercing scream. It wouldn’t have been the first time he yelled, but that was typically done out of anger or frustration. This scream, however, sounded like pain.

“Oh, shit,” you mumbled, rushing back to the common room.

Your eyes went right to your boyfriend since he was always at the forefront of your mind. You took a step forward when he locked eyes with you, the coldness in the blues almost making you shiver. He happened to be right beside John who was a bit more pale than usual and gripping his arm like a lifeline. Your mouth fell open when you realized the former Captain America had a knife in his hand. And he wasn’t holding it, oh, no. Bucky’s knife was through his hand. You knew it was Bucky’s knife because you bought it for him. 

What the fuck happened, and why did that excite you?

Ava phased beside you, likely drawn by John’s scream. Yelena and Bob came in seconds later though Yelena didn’t seem too concerned. “What are you…” she trailed off with a snort. “That’s not good.”

Ava sighed. “And we just got the blood out of the sofa from the last incident.”

“No fucking shit this isn’t good! And who gives a shit about the blood on the sofa!” John snapped, screaming again when Bucky yanked the knife out. 

“You’ll live,” he muttered. 

Your eyes went wide. Super soldier hearing and all, had Bucky heard John mutter his earlier comment? “What happened?” you asked. You had only been out of the room for a few seconds. What possibly happened during that time to cause this?

John scrambled to find something to wrap his hand with. “Your fucking boyfriend stabbed me!” 

“Yeah, America’s Asshole, I stabbed you.” Sitting back on the sofa, Bucky got a cloth out of his pocket to wipe his knife. He stabbed John. He really did it. But why? “And you have the serum. You’ll be fine.”

You made the mistake of looking at Ava who had a smirk on her face. It didn’t do you any good to look at Yelena either since she also looked pleased. Only Bob looked concerned. And where the hell was Alexei?

“Okay, Bucky,” you began, trying to keep the laughter out of your voice because you had to be the mature one. “I know you threatened to stab him during Uno.”

“He put down Draw Four…” He sneered at John. “FOUR times.”

“I know, I know. Dick move. And I know I threatened to stab him because he raised his voice at Bob because, well, we don't yell at Bob.” You gave Bob a smile when he dipped his head. “But-”

“He’s lucky I didn’t cut this tongue out,” your boyfriend growled.

You tried hard not to whimper, which was tough since the sound was sexy as hell. “But why-”

“You can still cut out his tongue,” Yelena encouraged, taking out one of her own knives. “Allow me.”

You put your hand out while John took a few steps back. “No, Yelena. Not today,” you said, which earned you a pout in response before you turned your attention back to Bucky. “Just tell us why you stabbed him, please.”

“He talked about putting his hands on your ass!” Bucky snapped, wincing when he realized how loudly he said it.

You could hear a pin drop from the silence that followed. Your eyes darted between Bucky and John, seeing the mixture of anger and discomfort. There was no way John was dumb enough to say something like that in front of your boyfriend. Right?

“He what?” Yelena asked for you.

“Ew,” Ava whispered. 

“But she… she’s not your girlfriend,” Bob added.

“I didn’t say I’d put my hands on your ass!” John defended himself, taking a breath when everyone stared at him. “Look, all I said was ‘I’d never leave my bed if I could get my hands on an ass like that’ and that’s it! That’s all!”

You were thankful you didn’t take a drink of something because you would’ve spit it out. As admittedly smart as John could be when it came to missions, he could also be an idiot. “Bucky, put the knife down,” you ordered when his grip tightened on the handle. You couldn’t have him stabbing him again. 

Though it was kind of hot that Bucky stabbed someone in your honor. 

“I might stab his other hand,” he said. 

“Do it,” Yelena encouraged. 

John sputtered when Ava nodded in agreement. “What the fuck?”

“Okay, one, Bucky, we both know I’d never let John touch my ass. Sorry, but. No,” you said, shrugging at the bleeding agent. Your ass was off limits to him. “Two, it doesn't sound like he said he was going to put his hands on my ass.”

“I don't care.” Bucky carefully inspected his knife. “As far as he’s concerned, you don’t have an ass.”

The girls scoffed with you and you weren't sure if you should've felt flattered or offended. “Okay, old man, so I have no ass now? Do I not have tits either?”

You held your breath when Bucky slowly got to his feet, his jaw clenched. It wasn't fair how hot and bothered that stance made you. “Did he look at your tits?” he asked in a low voice.

John quickly shook his head out of the corner of your eye. You felt for the guy, but you weren’t going to lie. “He may have glanced at them when I leaned over the other day.”

“Oh, when you were wearing that black top?” Ava asked, humming when you nodded. “Oh, yeah. He looked.”

“What the fuck, Ava?!” John shouted. “You looked, too!”

“I didn’t look,” Bob said immediately, his hands up in surrender. He was too pure for this world.

Bucky swung his head toward John. “Forget your other hand. Let’s see if that serum helps you grow your eyes back.”

Oh, shit. Maybe you shouldn't have said anything. “No! No more stabbing today!” You moved to block Bucky’s path. The mood he was in, you had no doubt he’d stab him again if he got the chance. “I appreciate you defending my honor and I always will, but we are going for a ride. Now.”

The former assassin pouting shouldn’t have been as adorable as it was. “But he-”

“You didn’t sleep well, you’re in a bad mood, and you need a breather,” you gently said, framing his face so he’d only see you. Your touch took most of the anger away. “Please, let’s go. We can go right to bed when we get back.”

Sex, cuddling, sleep, all of it, you’d give him whatever he needed later.

Bucky huffed, but put his knife away. He recognized that your tone wasn’t one to argue with. “He better not look again or try to touch you.”

“He won’t,” you said for John, looking over your shoulder to glare at him.

“Jesus, it was meant to be a compliment,” he told you, daring to glance at Bucky. “You have a good looking girlfriend, okay?!” 

“Stop talking,” you begged when Bucky tensed up. You had just calmed him down.

“If you want to compliment him or her, tell them how murderous they look,” Yelena suggested, looking to the others for support. “That’s cool, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ava said.

“Um, Bucky?” Bob asked. 

“Yeah?” he answered, slipping an arm around you. 

Bob swallowed a little. “If she looks nice, am I allowed to say so? Or should I just avoid looking at her?”

You giggled. Bob deserved the whole world. “You can say whatever you want,” you replied. Bucky would agree. 

“Okay,” he smiled a little. “I just. I-I don't want to get stabbed.”

“No one will stab you, Bob,” Yelena promised, ever the protector. 

John looked around the room and asked, “So, Bob can say whatever he wants, but I can’t?” 

“Yes,” everyone answered in unison. Bob wasn’t an asshole like John.

“Now apologize to each other so we can leave,” you said. The longer you stayed, the bigger the chance that Bucky would snap again.

The men stubbornly refused to look at each other, like children being scolded after a fight. John broke first when you cleared your throat. “Sorry for complimenting your girlfriend, I guess.”

“Sorry for not stabbing both of your hands,” Bucky mumbled.

“And we’re leaving now. Try to behave while we’re gone,” you announced, pulling your boyfriend away. Chances were that they’d start arguing over dinner or dish duty. “I can’t believe it.”

“What, that I stabbed him?” Bucky asked, grinding his teeth. “He gets under my skin.”

They were teammates now, but it didn’t get rid of the bad blood or the past. You sympathized with that. “I know he does, and I can’t believe that it took this long for you to stab him, but maybe try not to do that again?”

His warm laughter brought a smile to your face. “I’m surprised it took this long, too, and I’ll try not to again, but I’m not sorry that you were the tipping point.”

Your cheeks warmed. “Bucky Barnes stabbed a man because of me.” You weren’t exactly sorry that you were the tipping point either. “In his defense, my ass does look good in these pants,” you smirked.

Bucky waited a beat before he smacked your ass, making you shriek. “He still isn’t allowed to look or touch.”

Hadn’t you made it clear earlier that you’d never allow John to touch you? Even if you weren’t Bucky’s girlfriend, that would never happen. “So possessive, but I love that about you,” you teased.

His eyes softened, the look making your heart race. “I’m not too much?” 

Your gaze softened, too. “You’ll never be too much,” you assured him, almost to the elevator when Alexei waltzed by in his robe.

“What did I miss?” he asked.

“I stabbed John,” Bucky answered.

The Red Guardian looked stricken. “And I missed it?”

The last thing you heard before you and Bucky stepped into the elevator was John yelling, “What the fuck?!”

“Right to bed when we get back?” Bucky smiled, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it.

“Right to bed,” you smiled back.

He pulled you against him to give you a deep and thorough kiss, one that left you breathless and yearning for more. “And thank you.”

“For what?” you asked breathlessly.

“For trying to cheer me up,” he whispered, touching your cheek. “And for being mine.”

You leaned into his touch, thrilled to be his. “Thank you for being mine, too,,” you said, hoping the ride and treat would make him feel much better before you went to bed. Maybe tomorrow he could hash things out with Sam. And maybe you’d look through the footage later so you could see for yourself that Bucky stabbed John. 

And maybe, just maybe, you’d make a copy of the footage for Bucky if he ever needed a laugh after a bad day.

So, did John deserve that? What other shenanigans do we think this group gets up to? ! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[lolab4t]

off duty

pairing: avenger!bucky barnes x fem!avenger!younger!reader summary: after a rare night off, you stumble back into avengers tower at 2 am.. tipsy, feet hurting, and definitely not expecting to run into bucky barnes on the couch. word count: 5.8k warning(s): light cursing, alcohol consumption/intoxication, fluff, use of nicknames, humor, age gap, mild suggestive language, reader is a young adult avenger, reader is described as wanting to party a/n: here's my first fic! it's a throwback to the avengers before the infinity war. i really hope you enjoy :) and if you do, please like, comment, or reblog! <3

being a young adult and an avenger at the same time wasn't easy. you wanted to be like others your age... party, stay out late, maybe dance with a random guy you found mildly attractive under the dim nightclub lighting, then bolt when you actually saw his face in the light. hell, you would settle for just shopping or grabbing lunch with your friends, however mundane that sounded.

but, as a full-time avenger, you weren't privy to this lifestyle. the main issue was your schedule. being an avenger isn't exactly a 9–5 job... it's more 24/7. you're meant to always be ready to jump into a mission when needed. with your time mainly consisting of training, meetings, and missions, you didn't exactly have free time.

this didn't stop your friends from pushing, though, and they eventually got through. so, after a few long conversations of begging stark, here you are, stumbling into the elevator of the avengers tower at like 2 in the morning, ever so slightly intoxicated. who can blame you? it was your first night off in a while; of course you took advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and got shitfaced. you might regret it during training later that day, but for now, all that mattered was that you had fun with your friends.

you did regret wearing heels, though. you wanted to trade in your boots for something more fun tonight, but god, did your feet hurt. you were also dying to get out of your minidress. considering your wardrobe now reflects your job and only consists of suits and very little casual clothes, you had to borrow this dress from your friend. you were beginning to remember why you never liked to wear dresses even before joining the avengers.

the elevator dinged, and the door opened to the top floor, the avengers' quarters. you dragged yourself out, hair messy, dress slightly hiked up, and feet already blistering. your makeup made it clear you had been sweating on a dancefloor not long ago. you headed to your room when a voice stopped you in your tracks.

"where ya been?"

you turned to the source, shocked to see bucky barnes sitting on the sofa. he was laid back, one arm draped lazily on the backrest, and the other on his knee. he was almost smirking, likely having a good idea of your whereabouts based on your appearance.

you and the winter soldier weren't exactly close. he was a very quiet and reserved guy, usually a man of few words. your interactions mainly consisted of short conversation and sometimes catching him staring at you on the quinjet or in meetings. you never really thought much of it.

but his tone... his expression right now was different. it was weird, but a good weird.

"why're you awake?" you huffed, walking toward the couch.

"couldn't sleep," he stated simply, scanning your form with that smug look on his face. "you have a fun night?" he chuckled to himself a bit.

"yeah, i went out with some friends," you replied, sitting on the couch. you began fiddling with your heels, wanting to go ahead and relieve yourself of the pain. however, the alcohol was messing with your coordination, and you were struggling rather pathetically.

noticing the pout forming on your lips and the clear trouble you were having, bucky snickered, speaking in his gruff voice, "need some help?"

you looked up at him and nodded, still pouting. without a word, he moved a bit closer to you and curled his fingers around your ankles, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he rested them across his lap. you were reclining into the corner of the sofa now, watching him in shock. he hummed as his fingers slipped through the straps of the heels, sliding them off your feet gently. he set them down carefully, his free hand absentmindedly rubbing your calves.

"i've never seen you in anything but your boots," he grinned, turning his head toward you. "so, how much did you drink?" his grin turned into a knowing smirk.

you scoffed, pulling your legs away, drawing your knees to your chest. the short dress wasn’t doing you any favors, and you were probably flashing him, but bucky never looked. he was a gentleman... at least in the ways that mattered. you groaned, rubbing your face sleepily. no point in pretending.

"too much," you muttered.

"yeah, i can tell. you practically stumbled out of the elevator," he chuckled, eyes following your every move.

you let out a half-laugh, sheepish. your head dropped to rest on your knee as you sighed.

"kill me."

"not tonight, doll. i’m off duty."

your head lifted slightly, an eyebrow raising. "did you just call me ‘doll’?" you snickered at the old-fashioned nickname, trying to hide how much it made your heart beat faster.

he smirked, leaning back again with that maddening ease. "i dunno. you kinda look like one."

was he flirting? surely not. he probably saw you as some annoying kid.

"alright, old man. what do you call natasha then? sugar? darling?" you smiled lazily, thinking of more old-timey terms of endearment.

"hell no. she’d break my jaw," he grinned.

"and you think i won’t break your jaw?" you smirked, raising a brow.

bucky scoffed out a laugh. "oh, i'm sure you can, but i don't think you would."

"if i wasn't tipsy, i might've. you're getting off easy this time, grandpa," you giggled, starting to slur your words. your eyelids were beginning to feel heavy, and you found your head resting on your knee again.

bucky laughed at your slurred speech, not sure if it was the alcohol or just exhaustion. "you okay, doll?"

"mhm," you hummed, obviously dozing off.

"alright, i guess i'll babysit the lightweight," he joked, his grin never faltering.

you eventually drifted off, and so did bucky not long after. you both slept better than you had in a while. that was, until you awoke to the stunned faces of the other avengers. they definitely weren't expecting to find you in bucky's arms on the sofa. hell, you weren't expecting it either.

thanks so much for reading <3

[bugvessel]

So I didn’t get shot with, like, BULLET bullets, but I did get shot with a pellet rifle when I was a kid. They won’t do the same damage that a regular handgun would, but they’re still dangerous. They’re designed for small game hunting, like squirrels, so they definitely pack a punch.

A childhood friend got it for her birthday or something and, while this was a normal gift for a 12 year old where I grew up, she was maybe the least responsible candidate for childhood firearm ownership. Unfortunately for me, her parents were also wildly careless.

To skip the theatrics of the story, I ended up being shot in the hand. The initial shock was really weird. My whole hand went ice cold for several seconds, and then the throbbing started. The throbbing was probably the most interesting part, being so keenly aware of your heart and what it does for your body. I could hear my pulse and pretty much nothing else. I couldn’t see the injury yet because it was very very dark, but it was like my brain was connecting the dots one by one until the lights came on and I finally saw all the blood. That’s when I finally registered the pain.

I was pissed after the initial pain wore off and we cleaned it to the best of our ability, but I didn’t have many examples of healthy friendships so I let it slide. I think it healed up pretty okay, and I have a fun red herring for “Two Truths and a Lie” now

i feel like getting shot would feel so interesting for two seconds and then it would probably feel bad

[mandoalorian]

his body, her fury [bucky barnes x f!reader]

pairing: new avenger!bucky x f!reader

synopsis: tensions crackle as the mission to track down reed richards spirals into chaos beneath manhattan’s streets. with tempers flaring and powers unleashed, lines blur between enemy and ally—especially when instincts overpower intention.

word count: 6700

rating/warnings: 18+ explicit content, male masturbation, bucky has a steamy shower moment, canon typical violence/action, angst, bucky/sam still aren’t friends, enemies to lovers, details of injury, avengers tower fic, thunderbolts spoilers

masterlist

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The street was dead. Not the kind of dead that came with sleep or silence — the kind that buzzed with something wrong. Static in the air. Lights in the buildings overhead flickered like they were trying to whisper warnings.

“You sure this is the place?” John’s voice cut through the fog as he slung his taco-shaped shield over his back, boots clunking loudly against cracked concrete. “Because it looks like a dump.”

“It’s supposed to,” Bucky muttered from the front, barely glancing back. “That’s the point.”

You adjusted the strap of your tactical vest, the weight of your comms gear pressing against your shoulder. The tip you’d received from Valentina said there was energy movement underground — something not registered by satellites but pulsing with dimensional interference. And supposedly, Reed Richards had something to do with it.

“I’ve seen dumps with more personality,” Alexei grumbled beside you. “In Russia, we have garbage fires that are warmer than this city.”

You smirked in spite of yourself. “You talk a lot for someone who nearly tripped the last three sensors.”

“I am stealthy,” he replied, squinting ahead like a bloodhound in war paint. “You are simply not perceptive enough to notice.”

“She’s plenty perceptive,” Bucky snapped, stopping at a rusted manhole cover etched with what looked like claw marks.

John rolled his eyes. “Oh good, here comes your moody boyfriend routine.”

You stiffened.

“I’m not her—” “He’s not my—”

You and Bucky spoke at the same time, then glared at each other.

Bucky was already kneeling beside the manhole, wrenching the cover off with one gloved hand. You watched as he pulled at it with ease, managing to tear away something which would usually take a whole team of men and machinery. The scent that came out was metallic and wrong, like burnt ozone and bleach. He didn’t look at you when he said, “Stay in front of me when we go in. Don’t touch anything.”

“Why? Scared I’ll break something?” you shot back.

“No,” he said without blinking. “Scared you’ll get hurt.”

That stunned you more than it should have. You recovered fast.

“I can handle myself.”

“We’ll see.”

“Can we save the foreplay for later?” John drawled as he dropped into the opening. “Some of us are trying to save the world.”

You felt your eye twitch.

Alexei went next, grumbling something about “American sarcasm” and “no damn manners.” You followed, fingers tight on the ladder rungs, the cold metal slick beneath your gloves. When you landed at the bottom, ankle-deep in shadow and ancient water, you were surrounded by whispering pipes and humming machinery.

It felt like the underground had a heartbeat.

“Oh, gross,” you muttered, waving a hand in front of your face as the sewer air clung to your skin like rot. “Smells like Bucky’s personality down here.”

Behind you, a heavy thud echoed as Bucky dropped in, the metal grate clanging back into place above. His arm brushed yours, and you shifted away reflexively.  “Cute,” he said dryly, brushing dust off his tactical vest. “I didn’t realise we were rating sewer systems now. Are you always going to be this pleasant on missions? Or am I just that lucky tonight?”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. “Only when I have to share air with someone whose idea of charm is brooding and breathing too loudly.”

Bucky scoffed, stepping just close enough to brush your shoulder as he passed. His touch made a shiver crawl over you. “Lucky for you, I don’t need charm to get the job done.”

Your jaw tightened, pulse flickering. “No, just a personality like sandpaper and the warmth of a corpse.”

He paused, just a beat, then smirked — barely. “Still can’t stop staring, though.”

You scoffed, biting down the flush rising to your cheeks. “Only to remind myself what not to work with.”

Alexei, trudging just behind you, looked between the two of you with big, gleaming eyes. “Is this flirting?” he whispered—not quietly. “Because it kind of feels like flirting.”

John Walker snorted. “Lover’s quarrel,” he muttered under his breath, wiping sewer grime off his gloves. “They just need to kiss already and save us the tension migraines.”

“Say that again and I’ll show you a migraine,” you snapped, not even bothering to look at him. “I don’t have time to play babysitter to two men with over-inflated egos.”

“Two?” Bucky echoed, cocking a brow. “So I’m sharing that title now?”

“You’ve always been number one in my heart, Barnes,” you drawled sarcastically. “Right next to paper cuts and food poisoning.”

Alexei coughed to hide his laugh. “I like this team dynamic. It keeps me sharp.”

John grunted. “It’s gonna get us caught if you two don’t zip it. We’re not exactly stealthy when we’re bickering like high schoolers.”

“I’m not bickering,” you and Bucky said in unison, then scowled at each other like the very sound of being in sync was offensive.

Silence stretched briefly before Alexei whispered to himself, “Definitely flirting.”

You’d been walking for what felt like hours. The tunnels split and curved endlessly, coated in rust and algae, with flickering industrial lights above giving everything a sickly yellow tint. The deeper you went, the warmer it got. Not in any natural way — in a “maybe the Earth’s core is bleeding” way.

“This is a dead end,” John grumbled, shining his flashlight down a hallway that looped back into itself. “We’re wasting time. Probably a just bum’s hideout, and Val’s intel was bunk.”

“Valentina’s intel is never bunk,” Bucky said sharply, voice low and certain.

Alexei nodded vigorously. “She once told me to dig under a hot dog cart in Queens. Said I’d find contraband tech. I found a squirrel with a USB drive in its mouth. She was correct.”

John blinked, then scoffed. “Not what I meant. Why is that even a sentence?”

Alexei grinned. “She’s never wrong. Just like Bucky—sharp instincts. That’s why I listen.”

John snorted. “Yeah, well, maybe if Bucky grunted less and actually led like a human being, we wouldn’t be crawling through Manhattan’s sewer system like Ninja Turtles on a midlife crisis.”

Bucky didn’t dignify that with a response, but Alexei turned with a grunt. “You don’t respect him,” he said to John, stabbing a finger in Bucky’s direction. “This man saved the world.”

John raised a brow. “Yeah, and he also killed a couple dozen people before that. You forget about that part?”

You held your breath, waiting.

Alexei crossed his arms. “We all have skeletons. This one just happens to be a very efficient skeleton.”

You let out an involuntary snort. Even Bucky’s lip twitched.

“I’m checking this hatch,” you said quickly, pointing to a rusted grate high above. You stepped onto the ledge of a cracked pipe but the vent was just out of reach. You adjusted your footing, arms stretching — still not high enough.

“Here,” Bucky said.

You looked down just as he approached, silent again. His hands found your waist before you could object and suddenly — you were airborne. Lifted like you weighed nothing.

You gasped. “Warn me next time.”

“You would’ve said no,” he said simply, keeping you steady with terrifying ease.

His fingers were warm through the fabric of your tac gear. Steady. Strong. Too strong.

You wrenched the vent cover loose and peered through, catching only the stretch of more tunnel — until something flickered across your vision. A thread. A shimmer. An aura.

You froze.

It pulsed in slow motion, soft as a heartbeat. Blue. Cool. Controlled. Intelligent.

He was here.

You dropped down, landing hard on your feet, and Bucky steadied you again before you could stumble. You looked straight at him.

“He’s here,” you whispered. “Reed Richards. I can feel him. He’s close.”

The others tensed instantly.

“Where?” Bucky asked.

You pointed. “Past the wall. There’s another level above. I don’t know how to get there yet, but—he’s not alone. There’s… something with him.”

Bucky’s expression darkened.

“I knew it,” Alexei muttered, fingers twitching by his belt. “I felt something earlier. My toes were tingling.”

“You sure that wasn’t just mold?” John muttered.

“Silence, peasant,” Alexei snapped.

Bucky turned to the group. “Weapons ready. Eyes up.”

You exhaled slowly. Whatever was coming, you’d found him. The aura was unmistakable.

Reed Richards.

But if he was here, hiding beneath Manhattan… why hadn’t he made contact?

And what — or who — was he hiding from?

Bucky’s hands had left you minutes ago, but you could still feel the imprint of them on your waist — like a brand. The way he’d lifted you — no hesitation, no strain. In his arms, you’d felt like nothing at all.

You hated that your heart had skipped when his fingers brushed your sides. Hated the way you felt warm where he touched you. Hated that he hadn't even looked winded, his jaw set, eyes scanning the dark with focus so precise it made you ache.

You shook it off.

Now wasn’t the time.

Reed’s aura pulsed just ahead, still faint but constant, like a low hum in your bones. You pressed your hand to the concrete wall beside the grate and narrowed your eyes, channelling out every voice, every footstep, and every mocking comment from John.

The path revealed itself slowly. A faint shimmer along the right wall. Not a doorway, but a structural weakness. Like someone had reshaped the building. Not broken it — just… bent it.

“I know where to go,” you said firmly, already stepping forward.

The team fell into step behind you. You didn’t need to look to know Bucky was closest. His steps were quieter. Measured. The aura around him buzzed, still dim and grey and sad and full of edges.

John, on the other hand, radiated loud red, all ego and bravado.

Alexei was harder to read — his aura shifted between an affectionate gold and bright, crackling blue, like he felt too much at once and had no idea how to rein it in.

“So,” Alexei started, peering around your shoulder. “This aura power… does it let you see through walls? Do you feel heartbeats? Emotions? Can you sense guilt?”

You gave him a side-glance. “Kind of. And yes. Sometimes.”

John rolled his eyes. “She’s not a damn lie detector.”

Alexei gasped. “Can you tell if someone finds me attractive?”

That actually made you smirk. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Alexei grinned and bumped your shoulder like an overgrown golden retriever.

“Let her focus,” Bucky said from behind, his voice sharper than before. Not cruel. Protective. “She’s tracking something.”

You exhaled again, steadying your steps. You passed the cracked grate and turned into a narrow corridor. The ceiling sloped low and the air smelled charged, like static and smoke. Reed’s aura was stronger here, along with another.

Hot, bright. Reckless.

Whoever was with him — they were nothing like Reed.

You stopped at the end of the corridor and placed a hand on the wall again.

“There’s a door here,” you murmured. “But it’s cloaked. They don’t want to be found.”

Bucky moved to your side. “But we found them anyway.”

You didn’t look at him.

“They’ll know we’re here now,” you said softly. “We’re close enough that the heat of their auras is radiating through the wall.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Heat?”

Alexei adjusted his grip on his shield. “That means fire. I am certain.”

You didn’t answer. You just stepped back, heart pounding, and nodded once toward the sealed doorway.

“You ready?” Bucky asked.

You hesitated. Then nodded again.

This wasn’t just about finding someone anymore. It was about what you might unleash when you did.

The door didn’t open so much as melt.

One second it was solid wall. The next, it shimmered out of existence, sucked inward and twisted like taffy before folding into nothing.

You all stepped back instinctively.

Then came the voice — low, calculated, smooth as wet marble.

“I was wondering when one of you would find us.”

Reed Richards stepped into the corridor like he’d been waiting.

He was around 6 feet. Unassuming at first glance — built strong, hair dark but silvering at the sides, and a moustache adorning his top lip. His suit was grey-blue, faintly glowing at the seams, moulded to his frame in a way that hinted at lab-engineered fibres. But his aura… it shimmered like quicksilver. Smooth and opaque. Too controlled. You couldn’t read it. Not really.

And that disturbed you more than anything.

Beside him stood a younger man. Blonde. Lean. Arms crossed over his chest, leaning with one shoulder against the melted frame of the wall, looking bored. His aura, unlike Reed’s, blazed golden-orange. Fire. Excitement. Recklessness. You didn’t need to know who he was to know what he could do.

Johnny Storm.

“Aw, man,” Johnny said, grinning at Alexei. “They sent the big guy from the Cold War. That’s adorable.”

Alexei puffed his chest out, entirely unbothered. “And you are fire boy. Like spicy little meatball.”

Johnny raised a brow. “Okay, what cartoon did you crawl out of?”

Alexei shrugged with a grin. “One where fire boy always loses to big, handsome Russian.”

“Enough,” Reed cut in, voice calm but firm. “You found us. Now what?”

You glanced at Bucky — he said nothing, expression unreadable. This was his op. But you knew better than to wait for him.

“We’re not here to bring you in,” you said, stepping forward. “We just want to know why you’re here. Why now. After all this time.”

Reed tilted his head, studying you like you were a thesis. “You’re new.”

“She’s not your concern,” Bucky snapped, finally stepping up beside you.

Johnny looked between the two of you and let out a low whistle. “Whoa. Is there—”

“No,” you and Bucky said in unison.

Alexei beamed. “There is tension. I love this.”

John stepped forward, impatient now. “Look, Richards, we don’t care what you’re doing. But if you’re planning something that puts New York at risk—”

“We’re not,” Reed said.

Johnny cracked his knuckles, literal sparks flying. “Depends on your definition of risk.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Then why hide?”

Reed hesitated — and that was the first real tell. A flicker. Not of fear. But caution.

“We’ve been watching what’s happening,” he said finally. “Valentina’s grip is tightening. Heroes are being drafted, monitored, muzzled. That’s not freedom. That’s control.”

“And what you’re doing—sneaking through Lower Manhattan—isn’t control?” John said.

Reed looked past him, eyes meeting yours.

“Control,” he said slowly, “is about fear. And power. You’d be surprised how easy it is to lose yourself in both.”

You felt Bucky shift beside you — a movement so slight you might’ve missed it. But you felt the tension spike in his aura. Like Reed’s words hit too close.

You didn’t like this. You didn’t like Reed’s blank aura. Or Johnny’s flippant confidence. Or the way Bucky kept himself between you and the others without even thinking.

“Valentina will want to speak to you,” Bucky said eventually. “You’ll come with us. Cooperate. Maybe you’ll get some say in your future.”

Reed’s smile was thin. “We’ll consider it. But first—”

From the depths of the warehouse, something groaned. A machine, maybe. A generator kicking to life. The sound trembled through the floor and sent a gust of warm air spiralling up the corridor.

Johnny rolled his neck. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh?” Alexei echoed.

Johnny’s smile widened. “Yeah. That usually means you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

You barely had time to register the shift.

Reed’s eyes narrowed. A ripple — subtle, controlled — surged through the air. Energy, molecular, electromagnetic, something you couldn’t name. But you felt it in your bones. A warning.

And then everything exploded.

Johnny went first, launching into the air with a blast of flame that singed the warehouse ceiling black. Heat bloomed around him as he hovered, arms glowing like sunfire.

“You might wanna duck,” he shouted, and sent a fireball straight toward John.

Walker threw up his shield in time, catching the blast — but the impact sent him sliding several feet back, boots screeching across the floor. “Goddammit,” he muttered, shaking the singe off his arm. “I hate hotheads.”

Alexei roared, barreling forward like a battering ram toward Reed — only to be yanked back mid-stride by some force. His body twisted unnaturally for a moment, mid-air, until Reed flicked a hand and sent him crashing into a stack of metal crates.

You moved before you could think. Instinct. Training. Rage.

You sent out a wave — not full power, not like earlier with Bucky, but enough to shove Reed back into a wall. His body stretched and twisted as it hit, limbs warping and bending, like water trying to reform. He absorbed the blow with ease.

“Impressive,” he said, straightening. “But don’t overexert. I’m not the one you should be afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid of anyone,” you snapped.

Behind you, Bucky was a blur. He ducked a fire blast from Johnny, vaulted over debris, and slammed into the Human Torch with a tackle so powerful it knocked the air from Johnny’s lungs. They crashed into the scaffolding overhead, flames licking at Bucky’s sleeves, but he didn’t let go.

“Stand down!” Bucky shouted over the roar of heat. “This doesn’t have to end in a fight.”

“Too late!” Johnny coughed, blasting flame directly between them and launching Bucky back.

You turned in time to see John and Alexei regroup — Alexei’s suit was partially scorched, but he grinned like a lunatic, cracking his neck.

“I love this job,” he said, and charged again.

You focused on Reed, trying to get close — but he dodged like liquid, impossible to pin down. Every move you made, he anticipated, twisting out of reach.

The fight was chaos, fire and fists clashing in bursts of movement across the crumbling basement floor. Reed had stretched himself like a whipcord around Alexei’s limbs, trying to pull him down. John was ducking plasma blasts, while Bucky fought like a man possessed — until he wasn’t.

Johnny Storm roared overhead, his body engulfed in searing flame, eyes glowing like molten coals. He dove like a meteor, striking Bucky hard across the chest and sending him skidding across the floor, metal arm scraping against concrete, flesh side vulnerable. He didn’t get up.

Your breath hitched.

“Bucky!” you shouted, the sound tearing from your throat before you could stop it.

Johnny surged forward again, fire arcing from his palms.

“Get off him!” The scream escaped you like it had claws, primal and sharp.

Johnny didn’t even look at you — just raised a blazing hand, ready to strike Bucky again.

Something inside you snapped.

“He’s not yours to kill!” you yelled, voice shaking with fury. “He’s not yours!”

The air warped. A pulse of aura erupted from you like a wave — raw, hot, blistering with energy and emotion. Anger. Panic. Hate. Power.

It knocked Johnny sideways midair like a ragdoll, extinguishing his flames in a violent sputter. He crashed against a pillar with a groan. Your body seized up with power. Aura flared out in a violent, blinding wave. It knocked Reed backwards. Everyone felt it.

Your knees buckled.

You didn’t even hit the ground.

Strong arms caught you — cradled you against a broad, sweat-dampened chest. The scent of steel, warmth, and aftershave grounded you for a breath before the world tilted again.

“Hey—hey—stay with me,” Bucky’s voice was tight with panic. You were dimly aware of the fight pausing, of Johnny landing hard nearby, eyes wide with guilt.

“She’s out!” John barked.

Bucky lowered you gently, brushing a hand against your cheek, trying to keep you conscious.

“You did good,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “You did good, okay? Stay with me, please.”

Everything spun. Your skin burned. Your powers roared in your veins, then flickered out like a dying match.

The last thing you saw before darkness took you was Bucky's face — tight-jawed, terrified — calling your name.

And then, nothing.

“Back off,” Bucky snapped, his voice like a razor.

He didn’t mean to sound so sharp — but Reed had taken a step forward, and that was too damn close. Too soon after you collapsed in his arms. Too close to the scorch marks still staining the floor.

Johnny’s flames had died down, but the air still shimmered with heat and tension. He held his hands up, guilty but defiant. “We didn’t know she’d react like that.”

“No one did,” Alexei muttered, hoisting his shield onto his back, eyeing your limp form with an expression unusually sombre for him.

John Walker hovered at the edge, his jaw tense. “Let’s get out of here.”

Bucky didn’t look up. He was kneeling beside you, one arm cradling your shoulders, the other checking your pulse for the third time.

Still there. Still steady. But faint.

“Are you okay?” he whispered under his breath, knowing you couldn’t answer. The question was mostly for himself. Because the longer he looked at your face — sweat-slicked, brow furrowed in unconscious pain — the more the ache in his chest grew.

You weren’t supposed to do this. You weren’t supposed to get hurt.

You were supposed to hate him. And yet, you saved him.

“Take a message back to Valentina,” Bucky finally said to John who was fingers were already tapping away on his comms device. Bucky rose to his feet with you in his arms. “Tell her this mission isn’t over. Reed Richards knows something. And we’re not done.”

Reed didn’t argue. His eyes were guarded now — calculating.

Johnny looked down, face lined with something close to regret. “I’m sorry,” he offered, voice quieter than usual. “Tell her I said that.”

Bucky didn’t respond.

He just walked past him, your body limp against his chest. John opened the door to the quinjet, letting him pass first. Alexei followed, his face unusually grim.

As they lifted off and the city shrank beneath them, no one spoke.

Not even John, who usually couldn’t shut up.

Alexei finally muttered, “She’s tough. She’ll bounce back.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the weight of you was still in his arms, the scent of smoke and lavender still in his lungs, and the echo of your power still ringing in his bones.

But worse than all of that — far worse — was the fear he couldn’t shake.

That maybe this wasn’t just a mission anymore.

That maybe he cared too much.

The quinjet touched down on the Avengers Tower rooftop, all smooth metal and humming engines, but Bucky didn’t wait for the platform to fully lower.

He was out of the hatch before anyone else moved, your body still limp in his arms.

Bob was already waiting by the med bay doors, having been alerted mid-flight. His holographic display flickered anxiously in one hand, the other pushing open the door with too-human urgency.

“In here, in here,” Bob chirped, worry lining every word. “Vitals first. Lay her flat.”

Bucky did. Gently. With more care than anyone had ever seen from him.

Your hair spilt over the crisp white pillow. You didn’t stir. Not even a wince.

“Her aura’s stabilising,” Bob muttered, scanning your forehead with a soft blue light. “But she pushed too far. Power surge like that? Burned straight through her neural pathways. She needs rest. Fluids. Maybe—”

The doors slammed open.

“What the hell happened?”

Sam.

Storming into the room, panic written all over his face, breath short like he’d flown in from five boroughs over. His eyes locked on you, then flicked to Bucky, and rage bloomed.

Bucky stood slowly from your bedside. He didn’t flinch.

“She lost control,” Bucky said, voice low.

“You were leading the mission.” Sam’s voice cracked, tight with fury. “You were with her. You said you had her. What did you do?!”

“I didn’t—” Bucky looked away. His jaw tensed. “She overreached. Tried to protect us. The power backfired. I didn’t see it coming.”

Sam stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides. “You should’ve. You’ve known her powers are unstable, you’ve seen it up close, and you still let her throw herself into the fight?”

“She made the call.”

“She's not a soldier, Bucky. She's still learning.”

“She’s not helpless either.”

“She’s hurt.” Sam snapped.

The room fell quiet.

The hum of the machines. The steady beep of your heart monitor. Bob’s hands moved gently, measuring your oxygen levels and watching your brainwave fluctuations, but his eyes darted nervously between the men.

“She’s gonna be okay,” Bucky said finally, almost like a question. “Right?”

Bob nodded. “She’s strong. Just... drained.”

Bucky’s gaze dropped back to you.

Your breathing was soft. Uneven. And your hand twitched against the sheet — the only sign of life he could focus on.

Sam stepped forward again, his voice quieter now, but just as sharp. “This doesn’t happen again. You don’t get to act like her pain doesn’t cost you.”

Bucky’s shoulders stiffened. His voice was hoarse. “It does.”

And then he turned, heading for the door — because if he stayed a moment longer, he might say something he couldn’t take back.

Something like: I should’ve protected her first.

────✪────

The water roared as it slammed against Bucky’s back, hot enough to sting. But it wasn’t enough to wash away the gnawing feeling in his chest, the weight that settled into his bones every time his mind wandered back to the mission, to you.

His hands gripped the shower wall, fingers digging into the tiles as the steam surrounded him. He needed to feel something, anything, to get out of his head. The warmth of the water was almost painful, but it wasn’t the temperature that made his skin burn. No, it was the memory of your face, unconscious on that cold metal floor, your body limp in his arms.

It hit him in waves—how fragile you were, yet how strong, how... alive—but still so much like him. Like him in the ways you shouldn’t be, in the way you fought for others without thinking of yourself. And now, he’d let you fall. He’d let you suffer the weight of your own powers without catching you.

His breath caught. He dropped his head, feeling the cascade of water streak over his face. The guilt felt like a noose around his neck, tugging tighter with every breath. He had to save you, had to make sure nothing else happened to you—but it was too late.

The droplets ran down his body, the slickness of the water making his muscles ache as the steam filled his lungs. His mind drifted, despite his best efforts, to your face, your eyes. Those damned eyes that had read through him so easily. That moment when you said you were just looking at him...

It had driven him crazy. More than it should. More than it had to. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about you like this.

And then, your last words: “He’s not yours!”

He was supposed to be focused. Protecting. But all he could think of was the way you held yourself, the way your body had felt when he lifted you into his arms, so delicate but strong. The tension between you when he touched you, when he lifted you up to the vent, when he fought alongside you.

He hated it.

But then, he hated how much he wanted it, too.

His hands ran down his face, brushing away droplets, but the heat of the shower only made him feel hotter. His chest tightened as his mind replayed those moments: the brush of your lips in the chaos, the wildness of your energy, the way your scent lingered in the air.

He couldn’t stop himself. His body reacted without his permission—his breath deepened, chest rising and falling in rhythm to his pulse. He gritted his teeth as his muscles flexed, suddenly aware of the way the steam clung to his skin, the slickness of his hands trailing over his hard abs in frustration.

He wished they were your hands.

He closed his eyes and tried to block it out, but the thought of you—of the way you looked at him, of how he wanted to touch you again—made his pulse spike, his body betraying him as he pushed away the thoughts.

“Fuck.”

The word escaped his lips before he could stop it, his hands slamming against the wall in frustration. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He wasn’t supposed to want you.

And yet, here he was, drenched in guilt, drenched in steam, drenched in something else entirely.

The water kept pouring over him. Cold in the places it hit the skin that hadn’t been touched by the steam. Hot where his body burned with thoughts of you.

His body, however, didn’t care about his guilt. It only cared about the heat, the desperate desire that pooled low in his stomach as his thoughts of you grew more intense. He tried to shut it down, tried to focus on the sound of the water, but it was no use. His body betrayed him. The ache between his legs was unmistakable.

He reached down, his hand trembling slightly as he touched himself, the rough motion a quick, desperate attempt to rid himself of the thoughts that swirled around in his mind. His heart raced as his hand moved, fingers curled around his length that was already achingly hard, thoughts of you filling every inch of his being. He imagined the way you’d feel beneath him, your breath quickening as his lips brushed against yours, your body pressed against his.

Bucky pumped at his cock with one hand, and used the other hand to steady himself against the slippy tile wall. This was wrong, this was so wrong. Bucky cursed your name under his breath, over and over again. He’d never felt this way before, not about anyone. And if you found out about this… God, the mere thought terrified Bucky.

But the more he imagined, the faster his hand moved, the pressure building until it became unbearable. He couldn’t think of anything else—just you. Your lips, your skin, your defiance and strength. The way you made him feel so alive.

With a low groan, Bucky came, the release overwhelming him. Bursts of his cum painted the tiles on the wall white and the tension in his body shattered like glass. He grabbed a washcloth to clean the mess he made and turned the shower off. 

But as the high faded, so did the sense of relief. Guilt and shame flooded back, cold and heavy.

“Get it out of your system, Barnes,” he muttered to himself, voice rough, almost bitter. “You’re not some damn kid.”

But even as he said the words, he knew the truth. He wasn’t over you. He couldn’t be. He’d never be able to stop wanting you.

The hallway lights buzzed faintly as Bucky stepped out of the elevator and into the sterile calm of the med bay floor. His damp hair was slicked back, a dark shirt clinging to him like it didn’t want to let go of the heat still rolling off his skin.

He moved toward your room on instinct.

Bob was sitting beside your bed, hunched over a monitor, glasses sliding down his nose. He didn’t look up until Bucky’s boots scuffed the tile.

“She’s stable,” Bob murmured, adjusting a dial. “Vitals are strong. She just needs rest. Should wake up in a couple days.”

Bucky nodded once, silently. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Not yet. Not while guilt still twisted in his chest like a blade.

Bob glanced up at him. “You did everything right, you know.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He turned, jaw tight, and left the room.

Back upstairs, the tower buzzed with low voices and hurried footsteps. The tension was thick. People moving with purpose. Focus. Victory humming just beneath the surface.

The others had succeeded.

Yelena was the first to spot him as he stalked into the main briefing hallway.

“Bucky,” she called, jogging to catch up. Her short braid swayed as she fell into step beside him. “Valentina wants to debrief you. Alexei and John too. She’s… not thrilled.”

“Big surprise,” he muttered.

“She thinks you screwed the pooch.”

“She’s not wrong.”

Yelena paused, then nodded toward the security wing. “Sue Storm and the orange guy—Thing? They’re in Interrogation Two. Sam and Joaquin are with them. They’re cooperative. Friendly, even.”

Bucky arched a brow. “They just walked in?”

“They said they were waiting to be found.” She gave him a teasing glance. “Unlike your guy.”

He grunted.

Yelena’s voice softened. “Seriously, you okay?”

He didn’t answer. He just kept walking.

Inside the observation room, through the two-way glass, Bucky spotted Sam leaning on the edge of the table, mid-conversation with Sue and Ben Grimm. Joaquin was typing something into a tablet, and Ben was eating what looked like his third protein bar.

Sue noticed Bucky’s shadow at the door and offered a nod. Cool. Controlled.

He didn’t go in.

“Come on, Soldier,” Yelena nudged, jerking her thumb down the corridor. “Valentina’s waiting in Briefing Room C. She’s already got Alexei and Walker in there getting grilled.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose. As if the steam of the shower had done nothing to purge the fire still simmering in his veins.

Valentina always had a way of making everything worse.

And if she asked what went wrong…

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to say it aloud.

That you’d been the strongest one there. And that he let you fall anyway.

The briefing room was dimly lit, the air stale with the cold scent of old coffee and control. Bucky walked in to find Valentina seated at the head of the table like a queen bored with her kingdom. Legs crossed, tablet in hand, red lips pursed in mock interest.

John sat off to the side with his arms crossed, wearing that smug “I’m not responsible for anything” expression. Alexei, by contrast, was visibly restless, bouncing his knee and cracking his knuckles like a teenager waiting to be scolded by a parent he could probably snap in half.

Valentina looked up as Bucky entered, and smiled—not warmly.

“Well, look who survived the sewer.”

Bucky didn’t rise to it. “Get to it.”

“Straight to business,” she sighed, tossing the tablet down with a dramatic clack. “No apology. No explanation. Just straight-up Alpha Male Cold Shoulder. Your charm is truly wasted on national security.”

Alexei shifted, muttering under his breath. “Is she always like this?”

“Worse,” John replied.

Valentina ignored them. She leaned forward, her tone suddenly razor-sharp. “You had one objective: locate and safely extract Reed Richards. Instead, you lost control of the situation, engaged in a firefight with allies, and brought back nothing but an unconscious asset and a headache.”

Bucky’s jaw flexed. “They attacked first. Reed was lying low for a reason.”

“Don’t feed me lines like I wasn’t watching the feed.” She tapped the table, where blurred thermal footage flickered to life. “You lost control of the situation. The girl blacked out. Walker was flailing. Alexei was—well, Alexei-ing. And you?” Her gaze pinned Bucky like a needle. “You froze. You rushed to her instead of finishing the fight.”

“Because she was—” He stopped himself. Took a breath. “She was down. She needed help.”

“She is not your priority, James,” Valentina said flatly.

Alexei bristled. “Hey. She saved our asses. You weren’t there.”

Valentina’s eyes flicked to him. “And I’m not sure you belong there either, Red Guardian. This isn’t the Soviet circus.”

Alexei leaned forward, grinning with too many teeth. “You’re just mad because my team actually likes me.”

John smirked, but Bucky spoke over them. “The mission’s not over. We made contact. We know where Reed and Johnny are. We can work with that.”

“You lost the element of surprise,” Valentina countered. “And what you can work with is my patience—which is thinning by the second. Richards is slipping through your fingers, and I’m not sending the entire tower to clean up your mistakes.”

Bucky held her gaze. “Then don’t. Just send me.”

Valentina’s smile curled like smoke. “Oh, honey. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

A tense silence followed, broken only by the low buzz of the projector screen behind her.

Then, cool as ever, she stood and smoothed her blazer. “Debriefing’s over. Get her stable, regroup, and next time—try not to let your personal feelings compromise the mission.”

She walked out without waiting for a reply, heels clicking like gunfire against the floor.

Alexei muttered something in Russian.

John finally uncrossed his arms. “I hate that woman.”

Bucky didn’t answer. He was already heading for the door.

────✪────

The med bay was still, cloaked in sterile shadows and the low, persistent rhythm of machines beeping beside your bed. It was late—most of the tower had gone quiet hours ago—but Bucky stayed.

He sat in the chair beside you, elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he was praying. He’d changed into a dark hoodie and sweatpants, damp hair curling slightly at the ends from the shower. The exhaustion in his eyes ran deeper than the mission. His body was still, but tension hummed beneath his skin.

He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest, studied the furrow in your brow like you were fighting even now, even in sleep.

"I don’t know if you can hear me," he said finally, voice low and scratchy. "I’m guessing not. But I... needed to talk. And you’re the only one I think I can say this to."

He leaned back slowly in the chair, letting his head hit the wall behind him. His jaw worked as he tried to shape the next words, fingers flexing in his lap like he wasn’t used to speaking them aloud.

"You ever get tired of carrying ghosts?" he asked, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “'Cause I do. Every mission, every second of peace I get—it’s borrowed time. I used to think if I just kept going, if I kept fighting, the guilt would shut up. But it doesn’t. It just gets quieter. Trickier."

His gaze dropped back to you.

"I hated how loud you were, at first. You just... came in swinging. No fear. No filter." His mouth curved, faintly. "You called me an asshole before you even knew me."

He paused. Swallowed.

"And I miss it. I miss the way you rolled your eyes at me. The way you pushed every button like you were born to do it. You made me feel like I was still real. Like I wasn’t just the guy in the file. The weapon. The relic."

He reached forward without thinking, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek with calloused fingers. He stopped himself before his hand lingered too long.

"I don’t know what happened to you out there. I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve protected you. But all I could think about was—was how scared you looked, right before you fell. I can’t get it outta my head."

His voice cracked slightly, but he cleared it before continuing.

"And now I’m sitting here talkin’ to you like you’re gonna wake up and start yelling at me again. But part of me hopes you do. That you wake up, call me a dick, and ask for food." A breath of a laugh. "I’d take that over this silence any day."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees again, hands raking through his hair.

"You’re stronger than you think. Whatever’s inside you, whatever’s chasing you—I’ve seen people break from half of what you’ve survived. But not you."

Silence stretched for a few beats. Then, quietly:

"Come back, alright? I need someone to argue with."

And he stayed there, beside you, long after the machines hummed on and the world outside forgot how soft he could be.

────✪────

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[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

how do you think Riddle, Lilia and Azul would deal with having a wife who is dedicated, sweet, loving and a bit scatterbrained sometimes… but they’re also scary protective, mama bear instincts. Someone hurt her man and she’s gonna end your whole career. . (If they ever have kid together, some fae or human or mer person tries kidnapping their kid, they sneer at the wife and the boys, and wife comes flying in with murderous energy, and scares the shit out of the kidnappers (scared the husbands too). and wife goes over to their kid and hugs them while the kidnappers flee, kid hugs mom, while crying “mama” happily)?

A/n: SRRY FOR THE LATE REPLY I WAS TLAKING WITH SOME OF MY FRIENDS AND COMMENTING ON SOME POST !!! BUT ANYWAYS IVE BEEN DAYDREAMING OF THIS FOR DAYS ON END AND IM SO HAPPY SOMEONE MENTIONED IT !!! THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING AGAIN @nesting-dreams !!!

💋🪽Wifey material, but can still kick ass💋🪽

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Lilia Vanrouge [💋🎀], Azul Ashengrotto

Warning ⚠️: slight cussy, Reader could be fem but I'm using "you", reader kicks ass, I'm bad at describing fights helpp, reader taking a slipper and chucks it at a mer (Azul's part), reader does a suplex on somebody (Riddle's part), Reader went full-out on brawling (Lilia's part), OOC bc future, you have a child (scary), and ofc, my Grammer is so indescribably amazing.

Summary: You are a dedicated, sweet, a little bit of a scatterbrained wife. You've sworn to be with him, always and forever, taking responsibility for bearing a child as well, you were such a sweetheart, despite being a little forgetful, he still loves you very much. Oh, and your child as well, "Hehe, silly momma!" [Insert name].

But... what happens if your man/kid gets hurt/kidnapped? Oh, suddenly, those perpetrators are in a boxing ring with you.

Riddle Rosehearts

You and Riddle were a happy married couple, sure you get into quarrels but you've managed to work it out somehow, despite for your scatterbrained-self, you were dedicated and sweet. Slightly protective of him, he didn't really know about that part, really. Especially when you stare into a woman's soul for flirting with him, he didn't take notice at all. So, when he turns around, your there, all sweet and flowery with that cute tendency to forget something or another. He's blushy around you, just like the day he caught feelings for you. And, your child [insert name] really loves you! You're the best momma! So what happens if...

Your man gets hit:

•Riddle was surprised by the sudden punch this guy made. He stood up, wobbling from the sheer impact, pointed his wand (or whatever he could use as a Harry Potter stick)and was ready to say the magic words (Miska, muska! Mickey Mouse!), "Off with your!-" another sudden move. It was you.

•Man's just watched his wife, throwing herself to that man, round-house kicking him, with a straight face. Then suplexing that guy with raw strength.

•He's not sure if he's the wife or nah.

•So, in the end. He has to be the one that stops you from beating the guy to the dirt and turning the guy into a DIY plant (Aye, at least it counts as a breathing organism that you surely took out to harvest).

•He gifted you, [your favorite chocolate in a box and your favorite flowers in a bouquet], [the clothes you've been eyeing out for months in your favorite color], [the food you wanted to try out again bc it was so good], [your favorite limited edition shirt], and lastly the dinner he paid for you.

•...Not before calling the cops on this guy's ass.

When your kid almost got kidnapped:

Listen, you're kid is intelligent, but got SOME of your genetics (Rosehearts blood is strong, damn), the kid was left-handed (<-at least how I picture it, you can imagine smth else, though), smart, and almost mature (<- that is, until you arrive at home and the kid did a 180° switching back to a playful kid), and was almost sweet to every stranger (but gives nasty side-eyes at suitors that tries to flirt w/ you whenever you both go shopping), so imagine to your surprise you see your child being DRAGGED by the arm bc of SOMEBODY (And Riddle is a witness before he could do sht cuz your faster):

Lilia Vanrouge [Hanafubukki PLEASE NOTICE ME 🙏🙏🙏]

•What the fuck. Why does he ALWAYS deliver LATE? And why do you turn into Sonic the Hedgehog whenever something happens?? This, has gotta be from the time you were at NRC weren't you? (Or nah, and it was smth else completely)

•Nvm that. Now he's wondering where you've even learned these things.

• "Mommy!!" Cried [insert name], running straight at you, and you, of course, hugged your child back.

•Man, Riddle loves a good wife that knows how to kick ass. And maybe, he could break the cycle with you.

You and Lilia had a very interesting history together (just imagine with me, okay?) And he could never ask for anything else, when he gets nightmares of the war, you somehow know this, always wake up and stay beside him as long as needed until both of you fall asleep. Always there when he needed help but never spoke aloud about it, and always tending to his needs while he tends to others and yours. You, were his great balance in life, though he never showed the signs he was hurting, maybe it dulled overtime, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. So, you were there, you've helped and that was enough for him. And the two of you had a child, [insert name]. The child took their mischief, playfulness, and maturity from their father. While they've taken your dedication and sweetness from you, of course. But the thing is, you and [insert name] were both forgetful of things. But, don't worry, the three of you can be one, happy, but clumsy of a family. So, when the time some random fuck-ass fae comes to hit/kidnap your man/kid? Nah, I'll win.

When your man gets hit:

•The fae had the audacity to flirt with you, now had enough audacity to hit THE general of Briar Valley? HECKS NAWH. The fact is, either the fae didn't realize it was Lilia or was a drunk. [<-but even so, no one can deal with Vanrouge even if they aren't sober]

•As soon as he was about to retort, you came into his vision...

•And round-house kicking the fae with raw strength, even going as far as to tackle him down, stomp on his crotch, and molly-wap the guy towards the air.

•So, let's do a 2nd marriage but this time he's the bride and you're the groom.

•Hmmmm... That strong ass gorilla-like grip you had there... he's thinking he'll be put into his place if he ever dare to cross you.

•Which, will never happen, of course. (Fortunately.)

•Welp! He's doing the chores this time! Please don't look so stern my dear! You'd get wrinkles if you do! Here, a kiss might help you! *Ignoring the guy who is in a current state of physical and psychological pain.*

What if your kid almost gets kidnapped by a fae?:

Now, I'm not saying your kid might be dumb, but although getting genes from Lilia and all. The kid still has some of your genetic, otherwise, that ain't your kid. So, imagine looking away for 1 millisecond, only to see your kid following a man with candies in his pocket, Lilia had already halted the fae, but that didn't stop you from bolting over.

•When Lilia saw you running over like a mad bull, he knew he had to step aside.

•That fae almost met their creator.

•The fact that your child was encouraging and cheering you on was funny to Lilia. Look at his child, aren't they so cute? Aww! And look!- *You bitch-slapping the fae on the ground.* A strong wife he has! Hah! All of you must be jealous he pulled a baddie. (And totally not trembling in fear)

•So after that, you all went back to being that wholesome family that went out for a very wholesome outing together.

Azul Ashengrotto

To start off, Azul had become a successful shady- business man, you became his wife, then the two of you had a child. Which, uncle Floyd and Jade loved to play with and prank Azul. Oh, but this time? Your genes got HALF of the child and HALF of Azul's. And I'm talking abt appearance. So they kinda looked like you, but in mer version. Not sure if they had your eyes or Azul's eyes bit no matter what, your child has the charm of that of a merfolk from the deep-sea. So what will you do, if your man/kid gets hit/kidnapped?

Your man gets hit:

•In no fucking way did that mer just TAINTED your beautiful husband with that hand.

•So when Azul regains composure and sees you holding a slipper, "Honey... What in the fucking sevens are yoU DOING!?-" *Cue to the slipper at max velocity like it's in a speeding dial to contacting the great sevens up above, then gets CHUCKED at the mer in the face, the air vibrating within vicinity.*

•.... babe, what are you exactly? What if our child has that same strength as you- *Gets interrupted by you hugging him.* "Aww, Zuzu, are you okay? You're not hurt anywhere are you?" ... Yes he's fine, just a little bit shaken... [<-Literally]

•So fast forward to him spoiling you in a way someone gets threatened at gunpoint. It's like your the mafia boss instead of him.

•Yeah, his clients are NOT going to mess with Azul's husband. (Did I say husband? Yes. So is he the wife now? Also yes.)

What if your kid gets kidnapped?:

Your child isn't dumb, nor smart. But your child still has underdeveloped strength, so in comes Azul with his two big-ass blueberry popsicle giants. But before they could do anything, a terrifying aura comes rushing in and Azul froze recognizing it was you, as the Tweels witness a practical murder in glee from the usually sweet and dedicated 'wife' of Azul, wondering if they'll ever find the same type of wife like you.

•Holy sevens, here we go again. Didn't this happened last time?

•You were there, forcing the mer to get tf out of that forsaken water, but even if the mer tried to escape under water, you followed with abnormal strength and speed.

The mer kidnapper: "WHAT THE FUCK IS THATTT????" *He said while swimming away from the oncoming silhouette of an angry mother.*

•Yes, your child is safe. Just witnessing you shoving a rock in the mer's throat, flipping him twice, spinning him across the air, and throwing him upwards into the sky, then blasting his dehydrated ass towards the sun.

•Yea, you were officially the man of the house. Not him, damn.

THE END!

A/n: sorry if it took awhile!!! @nesting-dreams !!

[siri-ike]

@lbjeff it's been forever since you showed up on my dash!

It all fit. The way he makes sure people are looking whenever he smiles. The way his dialect and mannerisms seem to change based on who he's talking to. Even the channels he watches. Everyone knows Damian loves animals, but Danny hasn't expressed any particular affection for them. Only facts. Emotionless facts.

Nightwing couldn't just let information like that go. The fact that Talia was most likely the one who spoke to him, left a bad taste in Dicks mouth. The taste of moistureizer and lies. That's his little brother. So, as one does, he snooped. He snooped hard.

The fentons are a pair of scientists, Jack and Maddy, and their daughter Jasmine. As expected, the public records also mentioned a deceiced son. One that apparently "died" during a camping trip 4 days before the two of them showed up.

Dick dropped a lot of prying questions, such as, "Do you know what you would act like if you didn't mask?", "Did you make friends there?", "Did you enjoy living with the Fentons?". The last one seemed to push him over. His tone flattened completely, and he stopped using any body language.

"When mother dropped me off with them, she said she might not bother to pick me up again." There was a stiff pause. "I wanted it to be true."

Dick has seen 10 year olds cry before (he couldn't handle it), but seeing a 10 year old remain perfectly stoic when he knows he needs to cry, hurt in a new way.

Dick crouched down to meet Danny at eye level. "Do you know what burnout is?"

"The reduction of a fuel or substance to nothing through use or combustion." Danny said off handedly as he rushed out the nearest door, obviously wanting to avoid the conversation.

Afterward, Danny disappeared into his room and refused to even acknowledge anyone's existence. Yet another clue that he wasn't over it.

He'd have to wait until Damian got home to learn more.

The Zoo was great! Even if he was forced to leave his Katana in the car and only got to keep his small knife on him. The argument of "I expect my sons to be capable of defending themselves even when they are unarmed" was certainly a trick to convince him to leave it behind. But Damian enjoyed it regardless.

He got to see sea-lions, the indoor rainforest where a bird threw a stick at him. He probably spent 3 full minutes giggling about that. Unfortunately, he missed all the feeding times. He spent far too much time admiring the elephants... and then the rhinos... and then the hippos... and then their 4 hour bonding trip turned into 6. They did have to leave at closing.

He almost forgot to ridicule Father throughout. He got in maybe two or three good insults. Mostly, he just spouted endless animal facts. He couldn't sit still the whole ride home. He wanted to tell Danny everything. Then maybe he would tell Richard. Perhaps Timothy could hear some of it. Pennyworth will ofcorse hear all of it many times over. Damian predicts this will be his main topic of conversation for the foreseeable future.

Damian dashed out of the car, in the front door, and made a beeline for the TV room. His exited smile faded when he saw Danny wasn't there. Did something happen? The other two were there, and Danny never wanted to be alone if he could help it. Or maybe he just acted like he enjoyed people's company. It's hard to tell with him. "Where is Danny?"

"He went to his room." Dick sounded concerned yet eager. How dare he take any joy in the anguish/moment of piece/literally anything that Damians brother might be feeling. It's so hard to tell. "Dami, do you know anything about the Fentons? They were the last family Dan-"

"I know who the Fentons are." Damian cut him off. They're the people who took Danny away from him for six months. "He will not be returning, Danny belongs with me. You can't get rid of him."

Show no weakness.

Demon Twins AU where Danny came to Wayne Manor with Damian

Dick threw himself on the couch next to Danyal. Damian was out of the house with Bruce for the next 2-4 hours after Danyal implied Damian would love to go with the zoo with his "dad".

The family of Bats couldn't help but notice their newest pair of members acted different when apart from each other.

He nudged Danyal, ignoring the feeling of a concealed weapon in his baggy pants.

Danyal looked over, raising his eyebrows, "Huh?"

"I've been curious, Danny why are you so..."

"Normal--- While Damian is a brat?" Danyal flipped through a couple channels as he spoke, still unable to make a choice on a show.

"I wouldn't put it like that, but yeah."

"er... so as the second heir, Mother decided to focus my education on, like, blending in to any environment for infiltration purposes. She even sent me to live with a few foster families so I would get an idea of how American families think an act." He stopped channel surfing so he could list them off on his fingers, "It was two weeks with the Burns, like, a day with the Mortons, and six months with the Fentons."

"Six months?" Dick questioned, alarmed. That was a long time for an infiltration mission for someone his age. How was he not attached?

Tim, who had taken up residency out of stabbing range for this conversation, set up with his lap top and a case file spoke up, "So, you're just masking all the time?"

"Affirmative." Danyal answered in the exact same way Damian did.

"Then why is Damian so..." Tim followed up, referencing his and Damian's contemptuous relationship.

"He's throwing fits to prove to me Father won't throw us out." Danyal shrugged. He ended up settling on an Animal documentary Damian would like.

[billzbling]

@billzbling’s …

❝ 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 …❞ ™

♫ 𝄞 ❝ 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐨, 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 …❞

|| ⚠︎ || - 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

I usually wasn’t one for parties, but it is Halloween and I’d just broken things off with my loser boyfriend, so why not? I figured I could use a night out to take my mind off of things. So, here I was, dressed in a cop costume I had from the 8th grade, feeling more insecure than I did hot.

I walked into the dimly lit room, the bass thumping against the walls, and the smell of booze and sweat overpowering my senses. The room was packed, a sea of costumes and masks making it nearly impossible to identify anyone.

I made my way over to the bar, trying to ignore how far the short one piece was riding up, and ordering a drink. The bartender slid the drink over and I took a sip, wincing at the taste of cheap vodka. I scanned the room, looking for anyone that caught my eye. That’s when I saw her.

Her costume was simple, yet intriguing. She wore a prisoner costume, but she’d accessorized it a bit, with a bandana and some jewelry. It was nice. But what really caught my eye was the way she moved through the crowd, like she owned the room. It was magnetic.

I watched her for a few moments before turning to get another drink.

Soon, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and was met with the most piercing blue eyes I’ve ever seen, framed by thick black lashes. She was dressed as a criminal, a smirk playing on her lips that made my knees weak.

"You look lost," she said, her voice smooth as velvet.

I nodded, trying to play it cool. "A little bit, yeah."

"Well, I can show you around if you want."

We danced around for a bit, exchanging names and stories. She told me she was Billie, here with a few friends. She had a confidence that I envied and a sense of humor that had me laughing until my stomach hurt.

As the night went on, the party grew wilder. People were making out in corners, drinks were spilling, and the music was so loud it felt like my heart was racing in time with the beat. But through it all, Billie’s eyes remained on me, never straying.

It wasn’t long before we found ourselves in a quieter, more private area of the club. We sat down on a plush couch, the music now a distant sound. She leaned in close, whispering in my ear, her breath sending shivers down my spine.

"You know, you look pretty good in that outfit," she said, her voice sounding so nice it did something strange to me.

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Thanks," I murmured.

“Why’ve I never seen you around here before?” she asked, her hand moving to my knee.

“It’s not really my scene,” I replied, sipping my drink.

“Hm,” she took a swing of her drink again, “so why tonight? Did you feel the Halloween spirit?” She says chuckling.

“I guess you could say that,” I said with a smirk, feeling a bit bold. “I just wanted to do something different, you know?”

“Well, I’m all for new experiences,” she said, her hand moving a bit further up my leg.

I felt my breath catch in my throat as she leaned in closer, her hand now dangerously close to where I really needed it to be.

Her lips brushed against my lip in a soft, teasing kiss. But I didn’t pull away. In fact, I leaned in more, my hand coming up to tangle in her hair.

We kissed like we’d known each other for years, it was so magical and intense that it made my head spin. She was rough but gentle, demanding but tender, and it was intoxicating.

She practically dragged me into a bedroom, locking the door and pushing me onto the bed.

Her hand slid up the one piece to unzip it. She pauses, her hand on the zipper, “may i?”

I nodded, unable to speak. She pulled the zipper down, the costume open and her eyes darkened with lust. She pulled me closer, her other hand cupping my face as she kissed me deeper.

Her hand trailed down my body, her thumb brushing over my nipple. A soft gasp escaped my lips and she took that as the invitation to keep going. Her hand slid into my underwear and she began to toy with my clit, her movements slow and deliberate.

I moaned into her mouth, my body arching towards her touch. She smirked against my lips, enjoying the effect she had on me.

"You like that, don't you?" she murmured, her voice low and husky.

"Yes," I breathed.

She began to kiss down my neck, her teeth nipping at my skin. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter. Her fingers worked faster and I knew I wouldn’t last much longer

"Do you want more?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Please," I begged, my hands in her hair, pulling her closer to me.

“Take the costume all the way off.” she said with a commanding tone, her voice was so firm it was almost a demand.

I obeyed, standing up and letting the costume fall to the floor. She took in my nakedness, her eyes raking over me with a hunger that made me feel more exposed than I ever had before.

“Good girl,” she said, standing up and reaching down to her belt loop and taking the handcuffs hanging off of it. How’d I noticed it before?

My eyes widened as she stepped closer, a wicked glint in her eye.

"Don’t worry," she whispered, "you’ll like it."

I nodded, trusting her. She cuffed my hands to the headboard, the cold metal biting into my skin. Then, she pushed my legs apart and knelt down, her tongue flicking out to taste me.

“Oh god,” I moaned, my eyes rolling back in pleasure. She was good, really good. Her tongue moved in slow circles before sliding up to tease my clit. I bucked my hips, trying to get more of her mouth on me.

"Be still," she ordered, her voice firm. "Or I'll have to punish you."

I whined but obeyed, my body trembling with anticipation. She chuckled before going back to work, her tongue now moving faster and more insistent.

"You taste so sweet," she murmured, her breath hot against my skin.

The pleasure was building, my legs shaking. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge.

"Billie," I gasped, "I’m gonna cum."

"Not yet," she said, pulling back and standing up. She removed her own costume, her strap-on pushing against my ass.

"I want to fuck you," she said bluntly.

"Yes please," I whimpered, my body begging for more. She bent me over the mattress, my face pushed up against it as she positioned herself behind me.

The feeling of her pressing into me was overwhelming, I was so wet and ready for her. She pushed in inch by inch, her hand on my hip to guide her.

"Fuck," I moaned, the fullness feeling so good. She began to thrust, her movements powerful and commanding.

"Is this what you wanted?" she whispered, her breath hot on my neck.

"Yes," I gasped, my voice muffled by the pillow. She was relentless, her hips moving so quick, filling me completely.

Her hand reached around to play with my clit, and that was all it took. I came hard, my body shaking and my voice hoarse from the scream.

Billie didn’t stop, she just kept going, pushing me higher and higher until I thought I’d die from pleasure.

"You're mine tonight," she growled, her voice thick with lust.

"Yes," I moaned, the word coming out as more of a plea than an agreement. She slammed into me one last time, her own orgasm ripping through her.

She pulled the strap out of me gently,

“You’re so fucking tight,” she said, admiring her handy work.

Her fingers found their way over to me again, spreading me as she got down onto her knees again, licking up the mess she’d made of me, before shoving her fingers back into me, pumping them in and out,

"Mmm," she murmured, "so sweet."

I could feel another orgasm building, and she knew it. She pushed her fingers in deeper, her thumb brushing my g-spot.

"Cum for me," she demanded.

And I did. I came so hard, my body shaking and my eyes squeezed shut. When I opened them again, she was staring at me, a look of pure satisfaction on her face.

"Good girl," she said, kissing my neck. She uncuffed me

We laid there, our bodies tangled and sweaty, catching our breath.

After some time, I gave her my number and got dressed again, heading out. by the time I was in the uber nearing my house, I realized where I’d heard her name before

Billie Eilish, daughter of the notorious criminal leader in the city.

My heart raced as the reality sank in. I’d just had the most amazing night of my life with someone who could be incredibly dangerous.

-

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[h3catee]

A Moment of Peace

A Moment of Peace 

Paring: Robert Reynolds x Fem!Witch Reader! Past Avenger!  

Summary: After a few months of living with the New Avengers you have found solace in the quiet moments and Bob couldn’t agree more. 

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS* (Post Thunderbolts*), Fluff, talks of mental health and trauma, depression, anxiety, some language. Short talk of self harming/destructive tendencies (just fighting lol nothing crazy chat) 

Word count: 2.5k

AN: BOB! BOB! BOB! This is part 2 of my series and will definitely introduce the dynamic with Bob! Maybe some fluff. Maybe some confessions. Maybe some cuddling! :3 luv u (I didn’t have a beta for this part so pls pardon minor mistakes)

part one!

xoxo

Song for the chapter: https://open.spotify.com/track/77KnJc8o5G1eKVwX5ywMeZ?si=5616af3c21274b54 

⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆

*months after moving into New Avengers Tower* 

“Can you just pass me the remote y/n,” Walker argued. His brows furrowed in annoyance. 

“Suck my balls walker, I’m tired of watching your military propaganda movies,” You argued back, “Someone back me up here!” 

“I second that,” Ava said, tossing herself on the couch next to Yelena who just nodded to agree with you. 

“It’s not military propaganda. It’s just war movies from the American perspective.” 

“Gah! Let us watch this documentary about the Soviet-” 

“No,” Yelena cut her father off in a heartbeat. You couldn’t help but laugh, “Who picked last time?”

The group looked around. Bob was sat reading a book in his usual corner uninterested in the movie night taking place. “Bob hasn’t picked,” Walker said, noticing your gaze on him. You turned to walker and shook your head in a ‘why the fuck would you do that’ way. He just shrugged with a shitty smirk on his face. 

“N-no it’s okay guys,” Bob called, now looking over at where you all were sitting, “I don’t know any good movies, just let…” He seemed to think for a second, his eyes locking on yours before he quickly looked down at his hands, “Bucky pick.” 

“Oh god that's worse than Walker,” You groaned. Bucky threw a pillow at you while you weren’t looking, but quickly threw your hand up to use your magic to stop it, you threw it back at him, “I was joking..” You say throwing your hands up, “Walkers still worse.” Bob laughs from his corner. 

Walker scoffs and stands, “You think that’s so funny huh Bob?” 

“Oh god,” Yelena says. 

You turn and look at Bob with an amused smirk. He looks at you for a brief moment, a rare tight lipped smile brushes his face but it’s gone before you can even appreciate it. He immediately looks back down to his book with blush spreading down his face. You sigh, turning back towards the TV when you catch Bucky looking at you with a weird look, the smile falling from your face. ‘What?’ You ask him telepathically. He just shakes his head, grabbing the remote to put something on. 

That's how you all find yourselves an hour and a half into Silence of the Lambs. Alexie is snoring loudly. Walker left about 20 minutes into the movie and Yelena and Ava went to spare. Leaving you, Bucky and Bob in his corner. You sigh to yourself before standing. 

“Where are you going?” Your friend asks, his eyes still trained on the screen. 

“You aren’t my mother,” You say before grabbing your blanket and walk over to where Bob sits, still engrossed in his book from earlier. “Can I join you?” You see his shoulders tense, “Or not it’s okay I don't want to intrude,” You ramble. 

He looks up at you with sad eyes, “N-no you’re not intruding. I just..didn’t hear you come over,” He explains. 

You exhaled a quiet laugh through your nose, “That’s hard to believe coming from someone with superhuman everything,” 

He laughs and shakes his head,”Yea, sure if that’s what you want to call it,” he mutters, “W-what did you want anyways- I don’t mean that in a bad way that's- I didn’t mean for it-” 

“Whoa whoa whoa,” You wrap your blanket around yourself before sitting in front of the brunette, “Bob, don’t work yourself up okay,” You place a hand over his. His skin is boiling under your palm, you don’t mean to tense but the temperature difference is scalding, “I just wanted to see how you are?” 

“I’m okay other than the constant internal reminders of what I did a few months ago, I’m fine.” 

You look at him with raised brows, “Come on,” You stand back up removing your hand from on top of his. He just looks up at you timidly. 

“Where are we going?” He doesn’t make a move to get up, actually it looks like he’s melting into his chair even more than before you came over here, “Bucky doesn’t want me to go out.” 

You extend your hand for him to take, “Everyones gone to bed, let’s watch a movie.” 

“But I don’t really know of any good movies,” he reminds. 

“Please,” You drop your sarcastic and fun facade for a second, “I-I haven’t been sleeping well and this is the only time I can find peace out here.” Now you feel stupid. Why are you confiding in him anyways? No one cares about your lack of sleep, it’s not like it affects the way you fight.

“Don’t think like that,” He cuts in, sitting up. You return your hand back at your side before walking away completely with a sigh. He can hear your thoughts. “Wait y/n I’m sorry I didn’t mean to,” Bob mumbles something to himself before sinking back into his seat. 

“Drop it,” You say, snapping. How could you let your walls drop like that? Over something so stupid. You head to your room, using your magic to close the door behind you before tossing yourself face first into your bed with a groan. “God damnit,” You whisper to yourself. 

You aren’t sure when it happened but shortly after moving into the tower you found yourself trying to get Bob to open up to the group. Maybe it was the fact he reminds you of yourself when you first joined the team. You wouldn’t let anyone close to you besides Wanda and on rare occasions Bucky and look where that got you. Alone. Scars littering your body from throwing yourself into fights you should've won just to feel something. You didn’t want to see him fall down the same path so you tried and tried to invite him to cook meals, watch movies, workout in the training facility, all of which he turned down. Tonight felt like the nail in the coffin after months of trying you couldn’t get to him and you just let him in your head instead. The only person he seems to enjoy talking to is Yelena and she couldn’t explain a reason for why he was avoiding you. 

Three soft knocks on your door took you out of your own head. You sat up and stared at the door. But you crawled back on your bed and curled into a ball under your covers, having no intention of answering. You simply flicked your wrist and all of the lights dimmed. You closed your eyes trying to find sleep when it wasn’t going to come. 

“Y/n, please I’m so sorry,” It was Bob, “I’m so sorry,” His voice broke like he’d committed some heinous crime against you. He knocked twice more very softly. You sighed before you opened the door with your magic and let him in. You untangled yourself from your sheets and sat up against your head rest looking at him in the dimmed light. You could see lines of tears down his face. You closed the door behind him once he had fully entered your room. “I didn’t mean to read your thoughts, I want you to trust me.” Your heart cracks painfully in your chest hearing his voice. “I just, I don’t-” and he stops talking. You pat your bed in front of where your sitting ushering him to come over, “I can’t” 

“Why?” You whisper. 

“I don’t want to hurt you again,” He said. You just blinked at him, you couldn’t think of a single time Bob had ever hurt you, “When...he took over, your room, the way you were screaming,” He started to cry and your heart sank even more because you knew he couldn’t control it. Hell, he didn’t even remember what happened until you showed him, “I just can’t put you through that again.” 

“I-” you started, but words failed to amount up to what you needed to say to him so instead you would show him. Gently you placed your palms to cup his face. The pad of your thumb wiping away his tears, “It’s okay,” you whispered. His skin felt like fire under your hands and his cheeks were growing with blush as you continued to hold him. 

“It’s not though,” He said before pulling out of your grasp and turning away from you, “I really hurt you, the way you were screaming, I can’t do that to you, of all people, you,” He confessed. Your face grew hot. You crawled out from under the sheets and placed your palm on his cheek forcing him to look at you. Tears were pooled in his eyes, threatening to fall if you said the wrong thing and he refused to meet your gaze, “I want you to trust me.” 

“I do trust you, Bob. Probably more than anyone here,” You said admittedly, “If it were to be anyone that could get in my head I’m just glad it’s only you.” 

His eyes came up from the floor and locked with yours, “How can you trust me so fast? I ruin everything I come in contact with. I’m a walking disaster ready to happen.” 

“I don’t care, take me down with you,” You whispered. 

“Why? I’ll ruin you.” 

“I’m already ruined,” You confessed, “I have spent the last few years pushing everyone I know away until they’ve died and I can’t bring them back. Then I sit and think about every single word I’ve ever said to them and it haunts me. Every night.” 

“I’ll just make it worse by being around you. What happens if the void takes over and I can’t stop it. I can’t see you hurt like that again,” The confession of his feelings towards you were on the tip of his tongue. 

“I can handle myself,” You tease, “I can help you. Can I show you?” 

“W-what are you talking about?” 

You remove your palm softly from his cheek and he almost looks desperate for your touch again, you smile weakly at him, “Do you trust me?” 

“Yes,” He answers immediately. You nod at his answer. Slowly you place your hands in his hair, running your fingers gently through it until he shivers under your touch. Slowly you feel the energy coursing through your arms till it reaches where the tips of your fingers gently caress the back of his scalp. He hums and closes his eyes as the feeling of peace takes over him. When you first started working with the Avengers, some of their thoughts would keep you up from how loud they were. That's when you created a spell that works almost like a calming drought on whoever you would use it on. Did you have to have your hands on them, no. You just know how tormented the man in front of you is and you’d do anything to soothe that. “What did you do?” 

“It’s a spell I created that calms down your mind,” You carefully massaged his scalp while the spell set in, “It can last up to 8 hours, but that’s the most I could get.” 

He slowly opened his eyes, “How come you haven’t tried it on yourself? You mentioned that you haven’t been sleeping…I’m sorry for bringing it up.” 

You shook your head with a smile, “When I wrote the spell it was specifically one to use on other people, I’ve never been good with magic that would actually help myself. Not really my thing,” You laughed, trying to cope with your inadequacies. 

“Let me help you,” He said softly, “Please y/n you don’t know how much it would mean to me. You-” He cut himself off, closing his eyes once more. Almost so he didn’t have to see the look on your face, “I want to protect you, I’ve never wanted to do something so badly. But I am so terrified of messing up and hurting you.” You knew exactly what he was trying to say, “Let me keep you safe, please. I know I’m no use now but please.” 

Your fingers came to a halt as you felt the spell finally sink in, his body physically relaxed. Slowly you moved your grasp back to holding his face between your palms. “Okay,” You whispered, his eyes widened, “Only if you let me take care of you in return.” 

He nodded earnestly but he faltered, “If I ever hurt you though y/n you have to leave me.” 

“No,” You countered, “I’m with you no matter what, okay? I’m a big strong girl, I'll be fine.” He didn’t look too convinced, “Bob, I promise you will never hurt me, and if there ever comes a day where that could happen we’ll cross that road when we get there, okay?” 

“Okay,” You smiled and he smiled back, blush creeping its way back onto his face, “Do you want to try to sleep, it’s late,” He said looking at your clock on the dresser. 3:47am. 

You bit your bottom lip between your teeth and removed your palms from his face. His body leaned into where your touch had just been, “Can you stay?” You asked timidly. He looked taken back by your question. 

“Only if you want me to,” He said. You nodded in response, “You have to say it, please, for me.” 

You felt heat spread across your face, “Stay with me.” 

“Okay.” 

You two spent the next 10 minutes getting ready for bed together in a peaceful silence, exchanging small smiles that would ignite that butterfly feeling. Bob went and retrieved his toothbrush and a fresh set of pajamas before coming back to your room. The two of you carefully climbed into your bed together, you could feel him shaking softly next to you, “Are you nervous?” You teased. 

“Yes,” He laughed, “How can you tell?” He joked before crawling under your sheets with you. Carefully you scooted closer to him and placed your hand gently on his chest and he lifted up his arm for you to rest on. His heart was fluttering beneath your fingertips and his body radiated a comforting heat you had never felt before. 

“Thank you,” He said softly. 

You smiled against his chest, “Of course.” You felt your eyes grow tired and you quickly raised your hand to turn the lights off fully. You let your eye close and felt Bob wrap his arm tighter around your body. 

“Is this okay?” 

“Mhm,” You hummed. And for once the both of you drifted off into a dreamless sleep. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆

“Look at how cute, they look like baby seals cuddling together,” Alexie said rather loudly. 

“Shut up,” Yelena whispered. 

Bucky hummed. The rest of the team stood crowding your doorway which they took upon themselves to open just a sliver. 

“Get out of my room,” You said in a sing song voice, before you closed to door. With your eyes still closed you pushed yourself deeper into Bobs grasp.

“Do you think they’ll be upset?” Bob asked, you could tell he was getting nervous. But with you carefully tucked in his embrace, he relaxed once again. 

“We aren’t!” Alexie shouted through your closed door. 

“Lovely.” 

[steveseddie]

your hands up in my hair

written for the @steddiebingo hop into spring mini event & the round one main card | prompts: intimate & bandana | rating: g | wc: 802 | tags: set during season 4, missing scene, pre-relationship, flirting

read on ao3

When Eddie’s hair falls over his face for the hundredth time, he lets out a string of curses and brushes it back with so much force it tugs painfully on his scalp.

Only for his hair to immediately fall over his face again.

It’s not the hair that’s really bothering Eddie, even if it certainly doesn’t help that it keeps getting in the way while he tries to finish his shield. It’s just that as soon as Henderson went inside the RV with the other kids, everything that has happened in the last few days finally started catching up with him and it’s all just so much that Eddie’s hair might be the thing that’s gonna drive him straight into insanity.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He groans loudly when a curl tickles his cheek. He aggressively bats it away.

“You should tie it back.”

Eddie’s head snaps up to find Steve standing over him in his new War Zone clothes. He didn’t even notice when he approached– probably because his fucking hair was in the way.

“What?”

“Your hair. You should tie it back,” Steve says, gesturing at Eddie’s head. “Since it keeps falling over your face.”

Eddie quirks his eyebrow. “Have you been staring at me, Harrington?” He asks bemusedly.

Steve shrugs like it’s not a big deal but his cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink. “I’ve been keeping an eye on everyone. Last thing I want is another of my friends getting attacked by Vecna.”

“Friend, huh?” Eddie can’t help but tease, even if his heart jumps a little from Steve calling him that.

“Unfortunately, Munson.” He rolls his eyes but his cheeks turn even pinker. “So are you gonna listen to me?”

Eddie’s nose scrunches up. “I don’t know, man, hair ties always end up tangled in my hair and it hurts like a bitch to get them off.”

He thinks that Steve is going to drop it and go back to building his Molotov bombs but instead he narrows his eyes at Eddie, studying him in silence until–

“Can I try something?”

Warily, Eddie says, “You’re not gonna chop it off, are you?”

Steve lets out a snort. “No, man, I like it like this,” he says casually, and before Eddie can do more than squeak, he tells him to– “Stand up.” When Eddie sets the shield aside and pushes himself to his feet, Steve holds out his hand. “Give me your bandana.”

“Uh, why?” Eddie asks with narrowed eyes instead of reaching into his back pocket for it.

Steve huffs in annoyance– and reaches for it himself.

“Woah, Harrington!” Eddie screeches, trying to push Steve away. “If you want to feel me up, at least ask me to dinner first!” He protests but Steve is faster and when he draws his hand back, he’s holding Eddie’s bandana and there’s a smug smile on his face.

Meanwhile, Eddie’s cheeks are firetruck red because that was his ass that Steve’s hand just brushed against.

“Come here,” he tells Eddie.

“Why? So you can cop another feel?” He huffs. It’s not that he would mind, he’d just prefer a heads up, that’s all.

“Eddie,” Steve says dryly, and with a sigh, Eddie steps closer so they’re standing toe to toe. “Stay still,” he instructs before he brings his hands up and puts them in Eddie’s hair.

Eddie holds his breath the entire time. Steve’s face is so close to him, his tongue peeking out between his lips in concentration, his fingers careful and gentle as he grabs Eddie’s curls so he can style them like he wants. The whole thing is just so intimate and Eddie’s stomach can’t seem to stop flip flopping around.

Finally, Steve steps back, his hands falling to his sides. “There you go.”

Eddie pats his head, shakes it a bit but no hair falls over his face this time, held back by the bandana that Steve tied behind his head. “Oh. Yeah, that’s better,” he says with a low chuckle. “How do I look?”

Steve eyes him up and down. “Like you're ready to kick Vecna’s ass.”

Eddie laughs. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Sure, man,” he says, and it seems like he’ll leave it at that, but then something flashes across his face and– “You should wear it like that more often.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up in his face. “Y–yeah?”

“Yeah, I like it,” Steve says, bringing his hand up and twirling a lock of hair around his finger. “You look hot.”

With a wink and nothing else, Steve whirls around and jogs towards the RV while Eddie stands there and gapes like a fish.

He was wrong. It won’t be his hair what drives him to insanity, it won’t even be the monsters or the Upside Down.

It’ll be Steve fucking Harrington flirting with him.

[shiftereris]

It's been a while since that day. The day my party died and I had to keep going because the gods thought they're hilarious.

They passed 28 years ago, the human in the group would've been 49 this year.... Ethan died far too young.

I remember telling their families and friends about their deaths, most of them all too sad to fully express. Aspen's parents were different, they expected their little rogue to die young; they even bet on it back when we initially set off.

I shake my head as I continue cleaning out a glass behind the bar. I opened the tavern and inn after I recovered from my injuries way back when. I did manage to somewhat move on, adopted a pickpocket 12 years ago and now I got a 16 year old incubus working as a waiter with his thieving habits nearly broken. Onyx is a good kid.. he's sweet when he wants to be, he actually reminds me a lot of Aspen...

The bell above the door chimes as a new party of four walk in, I glanced up at them as they came up and asked for some rooms. Their things seemed familiar. Because they were.

Reyna's sword, Aspen's cloak, Ethan's spell book on the half-elf's side, and Trystan's pocket watch.

My throat felt like it closed up at seeing their things again and my eyes started to water. "Two silver a night," I forced the words out and held out a hand for the money. These kids were using my team's things. "Would you like to pay for food and drink services now or in the moment?"

"Now please."

"5 silver," they handed me the their money and I put it in the register and gave them the keys for the rooms they needed and watched as they went to a table and placed an order in with Onyx.

I was tempted to try buying my team's things from the teens, I wanted my friends back and having their things would at least be something close to it. But I couldn't bring myself to do that... My friends' bodies were left with everything on them from what my healers told me that day. Their things were fair game and it likely helped these kids survive when they found them.

Who am I to take something that might've kept them alive? My friends wouldn't want that.

The most I can do to keep their memory alive is tend to their graves and their spots on the shelves.

You are a retired adventurer running a quiet tavern far from the capital. One night, a party of fresh-faced adventurers stumbles in, wearing gear that once belonged to your long-dead party.

[no-144444]

꩜summary: he needs to start reading minds...

꩜pairing: george russell x fem! reader

The party was dying down but you’d lost George about an hour and a half ago and Lando was the only other person you even slightly knew there. He was funny, kind of immature and annoying, but he would suffice for the end of the night. You’d wanted to speak to George all night but alas, the second he saw some of his friends he abandoned you by the drinks table, where you stayed until some of the WAGs adopted you into their group for the night. Then you found Lando. 

“So you and George, yeah?” he asked, licking his lips and shamelessly looking down your top. You held yourself back from rolling your eyes. Lando was objectively attractive, sure, but he was frat boy hot, and you went more for… well, whatever George was. You chuckled and adjusted your dress. 

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Kind of.”

His eyes lit up at the subtle answer. “Wiggle room?” he questioned and you almost laughed in his face at the metaphor he chose. 

“Maybe,” you smirked. “For the right person, of course.” 

George watched from a table nearby, the whiskey glass in his left hand feeling the pressure of his grip. He put it down to stop himself from breaking the damn thing. You were here with him, not Lando. You were his date. You were his. The party was dying down, but he was deadlocked in an argument with Alex about something trivial, but his pride (and the alcohol flowing through his veins) made it hard to concede. He had a very good reason to now, especially when he saw Lando’s hand on your shoulder, looking enchanted by your beauty. You were beautiful. Anyone with functioning eyes could see that. You were funny. Anyone who spoke to you knew that. You were ridiculously clever. Anyone who listened to you knew that. 

But you were also his date. And he didn’t want Lando all over you. 

He stalked over in a few large strides, leaving Alex calling his name. “Keeping your hands to yourself, Lando?” he questioned, his tone dry and strict. Lando looked up with a chuckle, removing his hand from your shoulder. George turned his attention to you, a self righteous smirk on your lips. He held himself back from rolling his eyes. “Ready to go, babe?” 

“We’ve only been here two hours?” you feigned surprise. “What’s wrong?”

He gritted his teeth, his jaw tense. “I’m feeling quite tired, thought you might want to come to bed?” 

You pretended to think about it for a few seconds, Lando enjoying whatever he was watching in front of him, a cheeky smile on his lips. You chuckled and sent Lando a look, and stood all the same (like you knew you would), and took his arm. You waved Lando goodbye as George practically dragged you through the foyer. You turned to him. “The petname really drove it home, good work,” you laughed, mocking him. “I think Lando is terrified-”

“What are you playing at?” he questioned as you got into the elevator, dropping your arm. “What the fuck do you want from me?” 

You knew George wasn’t stupid and he’d never actively try to hurt you. He was sweet. Aristocratic. Mannerly. Kind. Very English. You liked him. He just wasn’t exactly tuned into your emotions. Which was fine. You didn’t care. You weren’t even really dating, just messing around. And you’d just made that fact abundantly clear by flirting with Lando right in front of him. 

“Fuck off George,” you huffed, exasperated. You felt bad. You knew you weren’t being fair, but it didn’t exactly feel great to be left alone all night in a room full of people you didn’t know. “I need space, alright?” 

George stared back at you, an angry look on his face, his jaw clenched. “Space from what?” he spat. “Because according to you, we’re not even together right now.”  

“You’re dramatic, Lando’s my friend,” you rolled your eyes, unlocking your door. “You’re making a huge deal out of nothing.” 

“We’re nothing?” he questioned, crossing his arms, following you into your shared hotel room. It was a nice place, big bed, big bathroom sink, nice decor. You liked it. You sat at the vanity and started wiping off your makeup. “So this whole relationship has been a waste for you?”

“What relationship?” you scoffed. “We fuck, we fight, we leave, we call each other again, and it all starts again!”

“I love you!” he shouted, his arms wide. 

“Where?!” you shouted back. He was silent and still, arms crossed once again. His eyes trained on your figure as you stood from your chair, eyes wide and angry. “How? Where? Where is this ‘love’ George? You don’t even know me, you just hear what I say and do it!”

“And what else would you have me do?” he scoffed. “Read your mind?” 

“Maybe you could be a bit more intuitive with my feelings? Maybe notice the fact that when I want ‘space’, I really want you?!” you huffed, turning back to your vanity, processing what you’d just said. “Maybe, don’t leave me alone in a room full of people I don’t know who only ask me if we’re actually dating, and I can’t give them an answer,” you spoke again, but lighter this time. 

He slowly sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I thought it was clear. I thought you knew-”

“Knew what?” you scoffed, standing up and slowly approaching him. “That you loved me? You don’t exactly make it known, George.” 

“I’m sorry,” he huffed, looking up at you. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I just… I need you to see the signs I’m trying to give you. Read between the lines, y’know?” you sighed. He nodded and rested his hands on your waist.

“I’ll try harder,” he promised. “And I want to be your boyfriend, for real. No bullshit.” 

You smiled a real smile for the first time that night. “Yeah?” you questioned. He nodded. “I’d like that.” 

He smiled, standing to his full height, and ducked his head down to kiss you.

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[elysianightsss]

It’s not that deep, you’re not that dumb, you’re just drunk and wanting a good time with your girls. Your friends have been begging for you to come out and let go and this week has been so fucking hard you finally agree. Little black dress, and bright red heels with Prada perfume spritz on every part of you your friend said it ‘needed to go’.

This is what you needed. The music so loud you couldn’t think, just the right amount of alcohol to bring you that buzz without being totally black out drunk. Sweat clung to your skin as you danced your heart out in the shitty club, the air stank of Brittany spears perfume, spilt alcohol and coconut.

You looked sexy, felt sexy while you grinded on your friend to the beat and giggled about it afterwards while another friend came back from the bar with shots. You drank yours quickly, face scrunching up with the burn in the back of your throat.

“I’m going for a vape, you comin?” Your bestie whose name you’ve embarrassingly forgotten right this second offered and you just nodded. Saying yes was so easy after hearing no from work all week.

The fresh air was nice after the heat inside, but climbing the stairs to the third floor while drunk had you reconsidering. “Here.” A red apple ice something Mary was shoved into your hand for you to take a drag from. Though when she gets out another one from her bag you suppose the vape is yours now.

You feel yourself sway to the music that is still hearable from upstairs, the wind feels nice on your hot skin. “I need to pee, I’ll be back.” Your friend says loud enough that it’s not classed as a whisper and you just nod as she slides away, taking another drag while you stare at the city all lit up.

Maybe this right here is why they are always asking you to join them, the small moment of peace you’re feeling now. And after a lousy week it’s fucking serene to be stood on the top floor of a shitty club, a buzz pulsing through your veins and a nicotine rush making you a little light headed.

It’s perfect.

Until it’s ruined.

“Hello beautiful.” You manage to hear the words through the slight ringing in your ears. Turning you find a man staring at you as though he wants to eat you. He’s not bad looking, but the sleazy hunger in his eyes immediately puts you off.

“You new around here? I’m guessing you’re not mated, you’ve no alpha scent on you.” He says and you think the alcohol has made you hallucinate. Before your brain is even conjuring up an answer you’re interrupted.

“Get the fuck away from my best friend.” You turn to find your bestie’s face twisted angrily.

“Farah! I missed you. Where have you been?” Walking forward you hug her, suddenly like two wires have sparked you remember her name once more.

“I went to pee like I said.” She laughed at your clear memory loss thanks to the constant stream of sex on the beach and whatever shots your other friends had kept buying.

“Oh yeah.”

“Let’s go back.” Farah says holding your hand as she eyes the man who doesn’t take his eyes off you for a second. She pulls you away with every intention of leaving. Texting the other girls that you were going home before she’s pressing the phone to her ear. You follow her mindlessly, her hand locked tight around yours while she waits for whoever it is to pick up.

She sighs with relief when they do, “Track my phone, there’s a rogue here and I’m with her.” You don’t understand what she’s talking about though you think the alcohol is fiddling with your brain and you’re sure she’d be making sense if you were sober.

There’s loud shouting on the other end of the phone, Farah hissing before she’s apologising for encouraging you out. “I figured it would be safe considering we’re on pack grounds.” More shouting follows before you’re bored.

“Farah come on I wanna go back in and dance!” You whine tugging on her hand. She smiles at you sympathetically before she’s dragging you down the last set of stairs and outside the building. A black suv pulls up right outside, it has a queasy feeling building in your stomach. Especially when two men get out and advance towards you.

“Don’t you look bonnie.” The one with a mohawk grins down at you. You don’t want to, in fact your brain is screaming at you not to but you preen under the words. A small mewl slipping from your throat when his finger tips glide under your chin tilting your head back just enough for him to look into your eyes.

You feel something snap into place as he inspects you, a string that was loose and dangling suddenly pulled tight. You’re so busy staring at this gorgeous man and his deep blue eyes you forget anyone else is there until Farah speaks.

“I’m so sorry I thought this would be safe. He shouldn’t even be on our territory. How did he get in?”

“We can worry about that in the morning. We need to get her back to the house before she goes into heat.” You look past mohawk’s shoulder to where the Mancunian accent is coming from to see a skull mask. Beautiful brown eyes surrounded by black. He’s built like a tank and sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Cmon lass, let’s get you home.”

“Johnny.” Skull man clicks his tongue at mohawk.

“Wha? It will be soon.” Johnny scoffs before smiling down at you. It’s then you notice you’re seeing double, your stomach gurgles and your mouth salivates.

“I think I’m gonna vomit.” You warn just before you bend over and throw up all over his shoes. The last thing you remember is some Scottish man swearing before the world fades to black.

[goldentoshi]

𝙀𝙣𝙫𝙮

𝘊����𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬！𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴：𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨， 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵， 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 @merakidoll ♥︎

𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥！ 𝘪’𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘬 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨！

𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘴（𝘵𝘸𝘵）：𝘰𝘯𝘦 | 𝘵𝘸𝘰 | 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 | 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 | 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦

connie really prided himself on the values and morals he was taught. he knew that it wasn't that common for someone in his age group to have the same level of emotional maturity that he did. with that being said, he really tried to keep his cool and talk most things out.

this was not something he could just talk it out.

his best friend and roommate, jean, recently got himself a girlfriend. not just any girlfriend, he got the baddest bitch connie had ever laid his eyes on. connie wanted her so bad, for so long - something that jean knew when he pursued you - and he was in awe everytime he saw you. he would give you his firsts, lasts and everything in between.

connie knew something you didn't know though. you were jean's rebound, if you could even call it that.

jean was still actively in love with mikasa ackerman. he would sell his soul to dave her over you anyday. however, jean being jean, he kept his feelings inside and tried to suppress them. if jean was with you and mikasa needed him, he would drop everything to go to her. & connie could start to see you getting more and more fed up.

connie (and his other two roommates, eren and armin) noticed how often mikasa was over their house late at night, sneaking out in the early mornings. it pissed connie off, he was so envious of jean and jeans's dumbass didn't even know what he has.

connie woke up to the smell of food being cooked and he immediatly knew who it was. he walked into his bathroom, brushed his teeth and made sure he looked presentable. he didn’t bother changing out his sleep pants, and he definitely didn’t out a shirt in. he wanted you to see him just like this. he passed the staircase where he could see your shoes, and he made his way to the kitchen. you were wearing a moomoo with your bonnet, and with every movement you made, connie could see verying move. everything. "g'morning pretty girl."

you turned around and smiled at him before looking him up and down. "good morning connie! i'm almost finished. i'm making pancakes, and i make yours crispy around the edges, just how you like them."

"you ain't have to do all that mama." he said. he walked over to you, towering over you a bit. you looked up at him, his hazel eyes pulling you into a trance. his stubble and piercings really pulling his already perfect face together. you guys looked at each other in silence for a bit before a voice broke the trance. you thought to yoursled, why did you give up on connie and settle with his homeboy?

“w’sup y/n. where's jean?" eren asked as he and armin walked from upstairs.

"mmcht." you kissed your teeth, looking down at the pancakes you were flipping. "that nigga went to go help mikasa go shopping. who goes shopping at 10am as soon as the mall open? mind you, he neva ever asked me if i wanted to go with them or nothing. he left while i was still sleep and texted me to see when i woke up."

"he what?" eren said, making his distaste known, "i can't even cap that's crazy."

"yea. why do you even put up with that?" armin asked. "i wish my girl would sneak off with her guy friends while i'm sleep."

"i really don't know y'all." you said, plating three plates for them. "i'm really fed up with this at this point. he lucky i ain't tell my brother cause ony would've beat his ass by now."

"tch. he ain't the only one." connie mumbled, grabbing some juice from the fridge for everyone. you went to take it from him to pur drink, before he moved out the way. "you need help? let me do it."

"thanks connie." you smiled at him. you guys ate the food you prepared and laughed as you talked. it felt god being around them. "i'm gonna go home. i think i'm just tired of being his second choice. i'm done."

“what? why?” armin asked.

“i know y’all know he’s fucking around with her. i mean, i get i wasn’t his top choice but damn. he wasn’t mines either but here i am being loyal.”

“who was?” eren chuckled. he and jean had a back and forth friendship so this was amusing to him.

“not saying.” you winked before rolling your eyes at the thought of jean. “this was the last straw, this was so disrespectful.”

"m’sorry mama. want me to drive you? i didn't see your car." connie asked.

"jean drove me here. i can uber or something-"

"let me drive you." connie said. you nodded, not trying to fight it anymore. "go get dressed, i'll be waiting."

"thank you, con. seriously. gimmie like 45 minutes." you hugged him before walking downstairs, where the basement was. jean's room was there with the game room that all the boys shared.

as connie watched you walk downstairs, armin and eren sickered. "you're so whipped."

"man, he doesn't evne know what to do with allat. got me fucked up, she should be my lady, for real." connie finally vented. "i'm so pissed he treats her like that, that's a good damn woman."

"look. he fuck up, you can slide in and he can't be mad cause clearly she isn't his prioirty."

connie went and threw on a fit before going back to the living room. all the boys chilled in the living room, hitting a few blunts connie rolled the night before. by the time he checked his watch, it was already 12:45pm. “damn, he been gone a while.” armin pointed out.

as that was said, the front door opened and jean and mikasa walked in. he was holding her shopping bags as she held onto a milkshake. "hey guys." she said. he and jean had matching hoodies on, and she took off her shiny new shoes to get comfortable.

eren and armin acknowledged her, and connie said nothing. he just wanted to get you out of that house.

"y/n still here?" jean asked softly, not trying to be too loud.

"yeah. your girlfriend is still here." connie spoke, his voice laced with anger.

"okay well, mika and i were gonna go downstairs and shoot some pool." jean responded. he grabbed her wrist to walk her downstairs, before connie stopped them

"mhm." connie rolled his eyes. "y/n, you ready?" he called down. you responded by walking up the stairs, bags in hand. you looked like an angel to connie. your outfit fit you perfectly, and you looked so good. your makeup looked flawless as well.

"where you going?" jean asked, walking up to you. he tried wrapping his arms around you, but you nudged him off. "damn, that's how you doing me, y'n?"

"leave me alone, you clearly her nigga not mines." you responded. connie grabbed the duffle out your hands as y'all started toawrds the door before something caght your eye. "oh i know you're fucking lying. i just know."

"what?" connie asked before his eyes looked at what you were pointing at. two bags sat in the back of the pile: victoria secret and savagexfenty.

"jean. i'ma try to remain calm when i ask this question." you said, in an scarily calm voice, "you too this bitch lingerie shopping?"

"what did you call me?" mikasa asked.

"jean. hello??” you snapped in his face, “i'm talking to you. you better calm this ho down, cause she don't want no hands with me on my soul."

"you don't have to call her names, y/n." he said. before you could respond you saw red. you walked over to him and slapped him.

"you gone take this heffa shopping to get some lingerie and then wanna tell me not to call her names. knowing she knows we go together? yeah, i'm done. fuck you." you chucked, trying to calm down. you turned to her. "he single now bookie, he's all yours." you walked toawrds the door and opened it. "delete my number jean, dead ass. and don’t make me tell ony, he finna be on you like white on rice." you could hear him calling your name as you walked to connie's car. he walked in front of you, opening the passenger door for you. you gave him a smile of appreciation before sitting down. jean walked out the house in irritation.

“baby, come back let’s talk.”

“no., i didn't deserve that shit. go be with your girl, jean.” you said, slamming the car door closed. he walked over, knocking on the window. connie shoved jean away

"connie, you gonna do this to me bro."

"nah, you did this to yourself bro. you knew how i felt before you got with her anyway, and then you cheat and mistreat her. you’re a fucking loser and i should beat your ass." connie said before getting in the driver’s seat and driving off.

you were noticeably silent, except for a few sniffles here and there. connie just kept driving, not wanting to upset you further. “where you wanna go?”

“can you just take me home?” you asked. connie nodded, turning up the soft music that played. your legs were shaking as you tried holding yourself together. i mean, your boyfriend was cheating on you the whole time, even if y'all were together for a few months. "y'know what hurts the most? it's the betrayal. i don't know, it's just so shady."

"i mean, the person you loved did you dirt. sleeping with the same person that someone else has is not fun. i get it." connie said, his voice dripping with envy.

"i didn't love him, though," you admitted. "i loved the idea of having a real man, but he never stepped up to that plate. and i damn sure didn't fuck him." he tried to hide the growing smile on his fave by coughing. "maybe that's why? because i didn't give myself to him."

"don't blame yourself. hee was going to do what he wanted regardlss." he said as he turned into your apartment's parking garage. he looked over at you. your eyes met and your heart almost fluttered. was it connie all along? "you need help getting inside?" he asked. i nodded and we both got out the car. connie grabbed your bag from his trunk and you both walked up to your crib. in the elevator, you had to go to the 17th floor. you grabbed onto his arm and laid your head on your shoulder. the scent of his cologne filled your nose as you went up. he laid his head on yours in a comforting way. it was a feeling your now ex never gave you.

once you guys got off the elevator and into your apartment, connie helped drop your things in their designated areas. there was a difference in energy between you guys. "hey con?" you started.

"what's up ma?" he responded, coming to stand next to you.

"do you want to know who i wanted before him?" his chest tightened as he waited for your answer. "i still do, i think i was scared of rejection."

"who?"

"you." you whispered to him. his heart started racing. scared of rejection? he would have to be dumb as fuck.

“what made you think that?”

“well i was going to hit you up until jean told me you weren’t interested and then i was like damn but then he was all on my body but-“

“he said what?” connie asked, his voice slightly raised.

“it’s okay if you don’t feel the same connie. even though i still do.” you admitted. you’ve been around when he’s flirted with random girls at the parties thrown at their house. you’ve always paid attention, enviously wanting that attention from him.

“no, you don’t understand. he knew i wanted you-want you.” he corrected, “you’re all i’ve ever wanted since freshman year.” you looked up at him into his eyes.

“promise?” you said.

“mama i wouldn’t lie to you.” he responded, using his hand to lift your chin. you stood up on your toes and kissed him. finally. it felt like you guys were pieces of a puzzle, coming together.

the kiss between you two got hungrier and more passionate as he lifted you up onto your kitchen island. you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, if that was even possible.

your hands roamed all around his body. they slid down his chest and abs before stoping at his pants. his right hand crept up and onto your neck, holding it with dominance. he pulled away slightly before smiling down at you. “do you want this, do you want me?”

all i took was a small yes for connie to lift you up and walk towards your bedroom. you squealed as he walked across your crib and into your room before gently tossing you onto the bed and pulling his shirt off. he leaned back over you and kissed you once again. his hands ran down your body as you guys melted into each other. he grabbed your legs and moved them apart so he could rub your panties from under your skirt. as soon as he touched you, it felt like that’s all he was made to do. connie was in shock, how could be let this much time pass without doing this? “you gonna let me fuck you princess?”

“please connie.” you whimpered to him. he tubbed your clit through your panties, causing you to moan out. “mm. fuck papa.”

“i know, i got you baby. keep calling me that okay, i’ll give you everything you need don’t worry.” he whispered, kissing your forehead as he applied more pressure. “ima give you all this dick baby.”

“please con-“

“that’s not my name, princess.” he cut you off, removing his hand. “maybe you don’t want it—“

“no! papa, please. please, im sorry.” you spilled out. “please i need you.” you’ve never felt to feral in your life.

“yeah? you sorry?” he mocked you as he bent down and pulled your panties off. they stuck to you ever so slightly because you were so wet for him. “fuck baby, tell me what you want.”

"i just want yo-fuck!" you exclaimed as he shoved his face into your pussy. his stubble rubbed against your thighs as he ate you out like there was no tomorrow. for connie, this was all he wanted, he could die happy. his tongue immediately went to your clit, swirling it and flicking at it.

“fuck, you taste so good mama.” he whispered before locking in and sucking at it. your eyes rolled back and your jaw dropped. “look so fucking pretty.”

“oh my god , papa.” you moaned out. your thighs starting closing at the sheer amount of pleasure you were feeling. his hands pried them open and grabbed the underside of them, forcing your knees to touch your chest. “fuck fuck you gonna make me cum already.”

“yeah baby? the fucking loser never made you feel this good?” he asked. you shook your head no and he rolled his eyes. “of course he didn’t.” he pulled his mouth away, replacing his tongue with his fingers. “cum all over my hand baby.” he bent down and kissed you as he fingered you. he could feel you getting close, so he used his thumb to rub your clit as he curled his fingers slightly.

“oh my—papa im cumming.” you practically yelled out, squirting on his hand. you were so shocked but you didn’t have time to complain about it as connie flipped you over onto your knees and gave you a love tap. you arched your back teasingly as he took his clothing off. “you gonna come fuck me baby?”

“oh you already know. you gonna take it like a big girl.” your eyes wandered down and widened slightly as you saw how thick and long connie was. i mean you peaked at it when he walked around in those gray sweats you loved.

“i’ll try.” you said, “if you make me.” connie chuckled as he got onto the bed behind you.

“i’ve been waiting for this forever mama.” he kissed your back. “if you need me to slowdown or stop, just say the word and i got you. i know it’s been a while.”

“m’kay baby.” you replied. you looked back at him and bit your lip at the sight. “i know you’re gonna take care of me.”

“damn straight.” he said before rubbing his tip on your clit. you gasped as he slowly pushed in, stretching you out.

“oh my fucking god, you’re so wet baby.” he moaned out, before pushing deeper.

“ your s’big papa.” you said. you clawed at the sheets as he pushed more of his dick into you. you felt him in what felt like your stomach as he bottomed out. “oh, fuck!”

“yeah. you feel allat baby?” he smiled down at your shaking figure. he slowly pulled out before pushing back in. you moaned out again, feeling every inch of dick he was giving you. “you okay baby?”

“yeah, i want it.” you begged. “please.”

“you sure mama, i can go slow?” he asked, kissing your back again. he pulled back some and gave you a test thrust. you moaned out, pushing back on him with need. he took that as a yes before he pulled put completely and slid in, sinking all the way in.

“oh baby.” you moaned out as he started fucking you deeply. your hand reach back and grabbed onto his as you took everything. “you’re so fucking big pa, fuck!”

“you got it baby. take your dick.” he said before he moaned in bliss. with each thrust, a huff fell from his lips. he spanked out as he changed his angle slightly, causing him to hit your spot head on. you got tighter around him (somehow) as you dripped all over your sheets.

“connie, that’s my spot papa.” you moaned out. you fell onto the bed into a arch as he pressed into your back and got to work. each slap of skin drove you closer and closer before your phone rang. he kept moving as he looked over and saw the man of the hour: jean was calling you.

“you want him to see who’s pussy this is baby?” he asked for your consent before answering the face time.

“show him baby. show him i’m yours.” you moaned out, fucked out. connie slapped your ass once before hitting answer. he turned the camera off before jean could notice.

“baby. i sent mika home, just let me make this right.” jean said as soon as the call connected. “you know i wouldn’t do you like—the fuck is that noise y/n?” he asked, as he heard you moan out.

connie grabbed the phone and turned the camera on. jean could now see you sprawled out in a crazy arch, taking whatever connie was giving you. drool covered your pillow as you fuck back on to connie. “she busy man.” connie said, slowing down. the string of cum the connected you two was visible and it sent jean into a rage.

“fuck you connie. you’re such a fucking bitch y/n.” he spat at you. you flipped him off before throwing back onto connie with more force. before jean could respond connie hung up, matching your movements.

“mm, papa i’m close.” you said. instead of moving faster (like you expected) he pulled out and flipped out over. he looked you in the eye as he folded your knees towards your chest, allowing for them to touch. he bent down and planted a kiss on your lips before pushing back into you as deep as he could. he watched your face as you melted with pleasure, a proud smile on his. "f-fuck."

"feel good mama?" he asked, giving slow, deep, and rough thrusts.

"i-mm-i love you." you moaned out.

connie looked at you, his heart filling up at your confession. "say it again baby." his thrust now had a bit more force behind it as he looked into your eyes.

"i love y-you connie." you said once again. this time, connie knew he wasn't dreaming.

"i love you so much baby." he said, speeding up his thrusts. he was once again hitting the spot you needed the most. "cum for me baby. i want my princess to feel good."

"mm, fuck im boutta cum." you whined out. his hand moved at lightning speed, his thumb rubbing your clit spot on. he felt you clamp down as you squirted on your sheets once again.

"good fucking girl baby." he grinned down at the mess you made. a few more thrusts and connie pulled out, cumming on your thighs. he moaned out as he came, the sight of you making his nut even harder.

you laid there, trying to regulate your breathing while connie quickly got into action, grabbing a warm towel from your bathroom and wiping you clean before going over with a baby wipe. he then went to your kitchen and grabbed you some water. "i meant what i said, y/n." he said, opening the water bottle and rubbing your legsas you drank it. "this wasn't just sex for me. i have loved you since freshman year. you bring my life so much joy."

i meant it too, con." you reassured him. "you're not just a rebound to me. i've always known that i felt deeply for you. if i had known earlier, you would have been the one i spent my time with." he jumped on the bed with you and you guys laughed as he pulled you into a tight squeeze. "i wanna be yours, con."

"oh trust me mama, you are. i'm going to take you out to ask officially. you know, when we not butt ass naked and sitting in cum." he laughed. you hid your face in his chest and slapped his arm.

"gross baby." you giggled. "nah but these needs be changed asap." you said. you guys got up and as you went to pee, he threw the sheets into the washer.

"come take a picture with me!" you called out to him. he walked into the bathroom and stood behind you. he slappedyour ass on him before posing and taking the pic. "can i post this?"

"oh i'm ig official alreaady? hell yeah, you can post it. tag me too." he said, kissing your forehead. you captioned it and posted. as you were scrolling, you saw armin had sent you over a post jean made. you clicked on the link to see him posting about you and connie.

"jean is talking about us on his twitter." you called out to connie. "he made i posted you. nigga must have my post notifications on or something."

"i'll check him, don't worry your pretty little head about that. he's envious that he can't have access to you no more." he called back. "get dressed, I'm finna take you to get some eats and then we can hit up a few malls, spoil yo ass."

this is what you were waiting for. to be treated right by a man you loved. and you hit the jackpot.

꧁꧂

𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴． 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥， 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘉𝘌𝘌𝘕 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘴 😭

𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘴！ 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥．

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

[zepskies]

Just the thought of it alone sold me too!! loll Thank you so much for diving into this one, Wayne!! Hope you had an awesome Mother's Day 😘💗💗

Yes!!! Midsummer Night’s Dream is my favorite! Good choice 😁 Also, those descriptions of New York in the beginning drew me right in. The weed and piss got me, especially as someone living in a big city. It’s everywhere 🤣

Aw thanks! When I saw it in the moodboard I couldn't not feature Midsummer, especially when I just taught it/reread it this semester. 😂💖

Oh I'm so glad to hear that because I really wanted to set the scene with that opener. What hit me first on my own visits to NYC was always the smell. 🤣🤣

Gah, I love that she fell right into his arms! It’s always my favorite meeting for two characters 😝💕

We're going all in with the rom-com moments on this one! (Even with the reader's quip on rom-coms later lol) 😁

*snorts* God, what I wouldn’t give to hear Dean’s lecture on fairies 😂 (It’s my favorite comedic episode of SPN lol)

lmfao yaaaaaas, and the best part of that first gif--

"...Nipples?!" 🤣🤣 Gets me every time.

Oh? Interesting. Wonder what happened there… 😏 And of course all the girls in class are talking about him. If he’d been my professor, I either would’ve been a straight A student and listened to every word that left his lips or I would’ve failed because I would’ve stared at him and daydreamed too hard to pay attention

Yess, you caught that angsty tidbit of backstory for Dean. This is definitely gonna be explored in the series. But of course you know these nosy-ass girls are taking his class just to watch him and listen to him talk, like he's modern-day Indiana Jones or something. 😂

And I love how you characterized this AU Dean here because the professor profession is not easy to pull off for him if you’re leaning toward fancy university (I’ve always wanted to write a community college prof AU for him lol), but you still kept his essence alive in this one with the way he dresses more casually at school and speaks, and you can still see the “professor” part as well. Bravo, friend!! 👏

Oooh thank you so much!! That's something I was really working on with his characterization. Like, of course he's going to feel a little more sophisticated because he got to finish high school and actually went to college, got his master's, etc. The challenge was trying to make him still feel like Dean at his core, so that's exactly the balance I was going for!

In the rest of the series, he's for sure going to continue that trend of being the "laid back" professor, probably not taking the university office politics as seriously as he should. 😂

However, I also love that idea of a community college au for him!! Loll You would do such an amazing job of that. I’m already seeing Community vibes 😂

Is it just me or did he think of himself there because he’s already crushing on reader? 👀 (I mean obviously he is – he went to a Shakespeare play because she told him about it. That’s love lol)

Ah I'm so glad you caught that reaction! This is him starting to feel that on an unconscious level, but maybe not totally realizing just how into her he is until this night. 😝

How about I put a dent in your face and call the cops for harassment and stealing my fucking phone???? God, I hate people 🤬 But of course Brady’s an ass 😅

ughhhh ikr? I hate public transportation for this reason. And you especially never know what's gonna happen on the subway. 🙄

Omfg, I snorted so loudly. I told you that story, right? 🤣🤣

omg YESS I remember you saying some rando was like, "So is it serious?" about your relationship. 🙄🙄 Like how gross can you be, sir?!

But I love that Dean tried to let her handle it on her own before stepping in when the guy couldn’t take a fucking hint. Also bonus points for bringing her home too because I worried Brady would follow her and try something 😒

Some people wanted him to jump in earlier, but I wanted him to give her that chance to handle it. You can already see his protective side coming through.~ 😏 (Oh yeah, Dean was 100% clocking Brady's vibes and had to make sure she got off the subway safely.)

Uh-huh… Only now you’re realizing this, Professor? 😝

hehe he can be such a dummy sometimes, but by the time they parted ways, he definitely realized he was in trouble. 😂

Typical 😂😂😂

Oh yeah, I think I'm gonna have more fun with Benny and Dean in this one than in If I Stay. 😂😅

This English major is geeking out throughout this entire exchange and nodding along 🤓 (Although I was surprised you’re calling rom-coms boring, my hopelessly romantic Alex 😜)

ehehe I knew you'd pick up everything I'm laying down here! 😘 Oh trust, she loves rom-coms. (And I personally love every single one of those movies, especially CSL!) 😂 She's just trying to make the point that "the course of true love never did run smooth" is almost a cliché at this point, while the Helena line is a more powerful statement about love~

Any relation to Buffy? What high school did she go to? Would explain all her interest in mythology 😂

I'm about to out myself, but I've actually never seen Buffy! 🫢 But that's actually hilarious loll. Let's say "Ruby" is Buffy's cousin 😝

Died at this description 🤣 Oh, he’s smitten, alright

He needs her to keep him on his toes! lollll

Uh-oh. Professor Dean is wading into dangerous waters now… 😏

It was at that moment he knew...

...he fucked up and fell in lust 🤣

N’aww, but ten years isn’t so bad. Women are more mature anyways. I bet she’s even more mature than him lol

Yeah exactly loll - on all three counts too. 😅 His mind pretty quickly skips over the little age gap and focuses on the potential "career ending" part of it. 😆

Omfg, I’m rolling my on the floor 🤣🤣🤣 And I always love Dean’s lack of self-awareness when he goes all “she doesn’t see me that way.” Like dude, have you never looked in a mirror or heard an audio recording of your voice?! 😆💚

ehehe glad you liked Dean's nerdy moment there! But we all know teachers can't every say no to an apple 😜🍎

That's such a funny Dean thing, right? Like "oh she can't possibly want me."

SIR?! Be so for real 😭😭 (Bet he's gonna get a kick out of her calling him "sir" too. 😆)

Man, I can’t fucking wait for this little miniseries!!! 🤩 (I’d take a full one too, y’know? ^^) And please, gimme all the lit nerd references 🙏🤓🎓📚

You know how much I appreciate you for that? 🥹💜 Honestly once I start outlining, it may very well become a full series. I already have so many ideas and plot twists I want to explore. This basically marks halfway through spring semester in February, so I could cover the rest of spring, summer, and her last fall semester of school.

Of course typically students graduate in spring, but when you're doing your master's it just depends on when you started, if you took breaks in between for summer or not, etc. (I graduated after a fall semester, for example.)

Anyway, lol, I'm so glad you enjoyed my first try at this kind of au!! I've gotten some great responses on this from you and others who want to see more, so I guess I'm writing another Dean series soon! 😂💕💕

10 'Til Midnight

Pairing: Professor!Dean Winchester x Student!Reader

Summary: A chance encounter outside of the classroom shifts the way you see your professor. Forever.

AN: Here’s a one-shot for @chevroletdean's 500 follower celebration! This also fulfills a request for one of my lovely Patreon members, @redhoodieone, who wanted to see AU Professor!Dean with a plus-sized student!reader. The reader is a graduate student (mid-20s) and Dean is in his 30s in this, so not really a wide age gap, but we’re still flirting with a gray area here lol.

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: graduate student!reader, plus-sized!reader, Shakespeare geekery, mythology and other nerdy classic lit. references, AU Brady sighting, sexual tension, mutual pining(?)

The ash cloud of exhaust rose up from the sidewalk steam grates. It infiltrated your nose as you hurried down a few well-worn concrete steps and into the bowels of the subway, a transition into deeper darkness.

To you, that acrid, mini plume of pollution was the smell of New York City; old cigarette buds and weed hash, fresh tequeños and hot dogs wafting from the open door of the bodega on the corner, mixed with a whiff of piss.

This was the city of broke creatives clinging to their fragile dreams with both hands, usually while the natives rolled their eyes. You were one of those shiny happy people with a dream and the battle-tested will to make it happen, especially tonight. You finally got to see a play on Broadway, an excellent production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

You replayed your favorite scenes in your mind like 1940s movie reel, except it was live in technicolor. An unconscious smile spread across your lips, but you had to hurry. Your train was about to leave in…

You checked the time on your phone—ten minutes to midnight—and compared it to the digital sign up ahead. Your eyes widened.

Shit! One minute?!

You had no choice but to try and run in your heels. That had you skidding to the open doors as they began to close, but you just managed to slip inside, albeit literally slipping with a yelp.

A man saved you by grabbing hold of your arm and waist before you fell, bunching the fabric of your coat beneath his hand. You gasped when you stared up at a familiar face. A sharp jawline covered with stubble, just neat enough to be respectable; dark brows shaded over green eyes, trained on you; bowed lips pursed with confusion.

“Professor?” you said, breathless and shocked.

He was just as baffled, but he finished helping you up as your name fell from his lips.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded and thanked him for the save, still catching your breath.

“Here, sit down,” he said, gesturing to a couple of empty seats on the subway. You joined him in sitting, though you ignored the stare of the guy standing closest to you who was holding onto a rail. He wore jeans and dirty hipster Vans, a brown bomber jacket and a gray beanie. The stench of weed and cheap cologne clung to him.

And his gaze followed you until you sat down. Slightly unsettled, you were subtle in the way you angled yourself toward the man beside you.

Professor Dean Winchester.

He really was the last person you expected to see on your way home tonight. You still couldn’t believe you ran right into him!

But then, you noticed the playbill sticking out of his coat pocket (his coat looked more expensive, a dark charcoal gray with a high collar, and it suited him).

“Oh, you…you saw the play too?” you said in excitement, showing him your own playbill that you fished out of your purse. You’d told him about it a month ago, after his lecture on fairy lore. You thought he might enjoy a play that was all about the convergence between the fairy realm and the human realm.

He’d admitted that he’d never seen a Shakespeare play live, but he said he’d look into it. You didn’t think he was actually taking you seriously though.

“Uh, yeah, I did. I’ve never been a big Shakespeare guy, truth be told, but you hooked me,” he said. When he smiled, it made the corner of his eyes crinkle a little.

You couldn’t help but smile too every time you noticed that…even though it made your cheeks warm in a blush. He really had no business being this handsome. And the suit? All crisp and black, paired with a classic, off-white dress shirt and a black pinstripe tie.

Clearly he’d dressed for the occasion of going to the theater, because usually he was one of the chillest professors you knew. He showed up to class in jeans, boots, plain henleys and jackets, though never without his watch, a classic leather time piece with a silver watch face and bold black numbers. It was so vintage, you’d asked about it once when you met with him to talk about one of your essays on Native American burial practices. He’d told you that the watch belonged to his father, who passed away a few years ago now.

“So what’d you think?” you asked. “Weren’t the sets beautiful? It was so ominous and creepy in the ‘forest,’ and ethereal too, like the fairy realm part of it.”

He nodded, smiling slightly wider at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, was a good production. The actors were top-notch.”

“Oh, incredible. That was the best Bottom I’ve ever seen.” You paused, realizing what you said, and a nervous giggle tumbled out of your mouth. “Well, the character. Not the ass—donkey—whatever. You know what I mean.”

The man laughed, rich and deep and washing over you pleasantly, even though you half covered your face in embarrassment.

“Can’t argue with you there. The ass was hilarious,” he smirked.

Another giggle, and you flipped through the playbill again to distract yourself from looking at his ruggedly chiseled face. Why, oh why did he have to be so fucking attractive? And somehow he was still single. You’d heard some of the girls in your class whispering about it after class one day—a full-on engagement that fell apart two years ago.

“But really, the actors who played the couples in the love quadrangle were awesome,” you said. “Helena was my favorite.”

He raised his dark brows. “Really? The girl who gets shit on the most in the play?”

That was another thing. He didn’t really talk like any professor you’d met in your life. You let out a snort.

“I don’t want to be her, I just think she did so well at showing that vulnerability,” you explained. “There’s nothing worse than being in love with someone who doesn’t even see you, you know?”

He tilted his head, his amusement fading as he listened. You felt emboldened to continue your thought.

“In her mind, she’s probably thinking, ‘Well, even if he’s yelling at me, at least he’s acknowledging I exist,’” you said, “which is incredibly sad and isn’t giving Shakespeare many brownie points for feminism, but it’s a reality that some women go through.”

After a moment, he seemed to see your point with a nod of his head.

“That’s fair,” he said, arching a brow. “Though I gotta hope you don’t let any guy talk to you like that.”

You shook your head with a smile, but before you could answer him, your phone slipped off your lap and tumbled to the dirty subway floor. You twisted away so you could reach down and grab it, but you caught that whiff of cheap cologne again. Gray beanie guy let go of the rail and bent down to scoop up your phone before you could. You offered a polite thank you and went to take it back, but he held it out of reach at the last second, giving you a teasing smile.

“How about I put my number in first, so you can call me when you get home,” he said. “I’m Brady, by the way.”

That oh-so-gracious offer was followed by a glance down your dress. You sat up straighter, adjusting the collar of your coat back over your neckline with a weary huff.

“Ah, you know what, I’m good with just my phone…please.”

This was why you kind of hated the subway. You didn’t know when you were going to have to interact with a creep trying to steal your phone, shoot his shot, or look down your dress as a consolation prize.

You held out your hand expectantly, but still, “Brady” didn’t take the hint.

“Aw, what, you have a boyfriend or something?” he asked.

“Oh my God. Are you fucking serious?” You sighed and decided a white lie was best here. “Yes, I have a boyfriend. Now give me my phone, please.”

“Hmm. Is it like beginning stages, or...?”

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, maybe we can grab a bite to eat, theeen you know. If things are going well, we could take things back to your place,” he said, his brows popping with sleazy suggestion. He still held the phone away from your grasping hand in frustration.

“Hey,” a deep voice cut in. 

You hesitated, glancing back at Professor Winchester. He glared up at Brady with a stony look that you’d never seen on him before.

“Give her the damn phone,” said the professor. His tone boded no argument.

Still, Brady pushed his luck.

“What, you her boyfriend or something?”

The professor didn’t bother to answer the question, but he stood from his seat, his long coat draped down all six feet and change of him, broad shoulders and calm confidence. He stared down at the lankier, scruffier pothead. Then he held out his hand.

Brady shifted back on his heels, seeming to realize that he didn’t want this version of Midnight on the Orient Express—the kind that ended up on the 6 o’clock news the next morning. With a roll of his eyes, Brady dropped the phone into your professor’s hand, complete with a dickish quirk of his lips. Professor Winchester gestured at him to fuck off.

“Walk away,” he said.

To your astonishment, the Brady just tossed him a “fuck you, bro,” and went to the other end of the car. You stood up too, just as the subway pulled to a stop. Professor Winchester handed you the phone.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

“Is this your stop?” he asked, still glancing back with a suspicious eye at the asshole still glaring at your backs.

You nodded, biting your lip.

“Okay, come on,” the professor said. He laid a guiding hand on the small of your back and joined you in stepping out of the subway car. To your relief, Brady stayed on the train.

“Thank you,” you said again. “Really, you didn’t have to miss your exit for me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said, with a shake of his head. His frown was still in place just thinking of that fucking loser. “I’ll have better peace of mind knowing you got home safe.”  

Once you told him that your apartment was another few blocks away, he knew he was going to be walking you home. You told him you weren’t that new to the city, but in his mind, it still wasn’t a safe neighborhood for a young woman to be walking around by herself at this time of night.

He had no other motive than that, however…

He’d been pleasantly surprised to see you tonight. You were a flash of scarlet that tumbled into his arms, the scent of your floral perfume teasing his nose before he caught sight of that little dress clinging to your curvy form, ending just a couple inches above the knee. But you drew your wool coat closer to your body, hiding the tantalizing flash of red from view.

It was for the best, he thought, as he cleared his throat and tried to find something else to focus his eyes on while you two walked together. He couldn’t help but land on your face again, on your pretty painted lips.

A deep, full-bodied red.

It was a familiar shade. You’d worn it before, while chewing the end of a pen absently in concentration during one of his lectures on the difference between skinwalkers and shapeshifters—those long, pointed nails tapping a quiet rhythm against the plastic. It was one of your many quirks, but only now did he realize how much he’d actually noticed about you. If nothing else, he always knew he had your attention.

He also knew you were getting a master’s degree in English, and you were taking his class as an elective. You’d actually sought him out before the semester started to make sure you got a spot in his class.

“Sorry, sir, I know it’s early. I’ve just been trying since last year to get into this class, and I really wanted the chance to take it before I graduate this year.”

He’d shifted in his swivel chair with his jean-clad legs casually crossed. He bounced a tennis ball against the wall, as was his habit. (Mostly because it bothered Benny, who had the office next to his.)

The repetitive bounce really helped him to think sometimes; it was basically his version of a fidget spinner.

“You like mythology that much, huh?” Dean asked.

“Oh, yeah!” you said, as your eyes lit up. “I find it so fascinating how every culture in the world has their own stories that have still survived for thousands of years. Some of them even overlap. Like, maybe it’s technically a different creature, but they have the same name, just in another language. Or it’s the same creature, different backstory. It’s like any novel I’ve ever read—similar tropes, but the style, the packaging. That’s what becomes new and creative.”

Amusement tugged at Dean’s lips.

“Same candy, different wrapper, right?” he offered. His reward was your bright smile.

“Yeah, exactly.”

He’d approved your request without a second thought. Unlike 95% of the students who came and went through his classes, you weren’t just smart. You cared. You had a passion for this stuff…and it mirrored his own.

“So, uh, you liked that play, huh?” he asked. Wanted to rub his hand over his face right after. Smooth, Winchester.

But it succeeded in brightening your eyes again.

“Oh yeah. People tend to think of it as one of Shakespeare’s sillier plays, but it drops some interesting ideas about love, for example.” All while you spoke, you spun vivid gestures with your hands.

Dean’s remained in his coat pockets, but watching you made his smile deepen. He liked when you got like this, so animated and alive with your thoughts. It threatened to draw him out of his somewhat jaded shell.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” he asked. Not because he really wanted to talk about what some sixteenth-century ye olde-y English douche thought about love, but because he wanted to hear you explain it.

You didn’t disappoint.

“Well, there’s the famous Lysander line, ‘The course of true love never did run smooth,’” you said, “but that’s not even my favorite. That’s boring. That’s every rom-com ever, from Harry Met Sally to While You Were Sleeping, all the way to He’s Just Not that Into You, and Crazy, Stupid Love.”

Dean had to interject. “You watch a lot of chick-flicks, don’t you?”

Your lips puckered, but the amusement in your eyes answered his question.

“Like I said, I think Helena is the most underrated tragic figure in the whole story. Yeah, she’s pretty much a doormat, following Demetrius around even though he claims he’s in love with her best friend. Even though he curses at her, threatens to kill her if she keeps annoying him, following him around like an abused puppy. We can agree, he’s like, the biggest asshole in existence, right?” you said.

“Oh, very much agree. You want some coffee?” Dean asked, pointing to a guy selling warm pretzels and drinks from his vendor cart on the side of the road. It had stopped snowing a few days ago, but the February air was still sharp and bitterly cold at this time of night. If only it were midsummer.

“Uh, you know what, I could go for some tea. Thank you,” you said. But you didn’t let that derail you from your thoughts on Shakespearean love. You were still waxing literary analysis while you dug into your purse to find your wallet, but by the time you got it out, Dean had already paid for both drinks and a large soft-baked pretzel.

Your brows furrowed. “Oh! I meant to pay for my part—”

“Don’t worry about it. Here, take half,” Dean said, and he shot you a smile while handing over your hot tea and half of his pretzel. He got your eyes to light up for a different reason as you took the treat. You thanked him with a sweeter smile.

Then you took a bite, and you kept talking.

“But then she says, ‘Love can transpose to form and dignity.’ It can make us act like idiots, right? I mean, back in high school I wrote my boyfriend’s essays for a whole year because I didn’t want him to fail English, and let’s face it, he could barely spell his own last name.”

“Yikes,” Dean chuckled. Sounded like a GED and a gas station job in that guy’s future.

“Right? And what did he do? He dumped me the week before prom because he knew Ruby Summers would put out.” You rolled your eyes, accepting Dean’s sympathies with a gracious nod and a dismissive hand wave. Still, he hoped all you’d given to that guy was your time.

"Well, the guy you're seeing now better be treating you right," he said.

You blinked, your brows furrowing a bit in confusion, until realization dawned on you.

"Oh, I don't have a boyfriend," you said with a small chuckle. "That's just what I tell pushy weirdos on subways."

Dean was tripped up for a second, but he eventually quirked a smile.

“So anyway, my favorite bar of the whole play is what Helena says in Act 1,” you said. “‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.’”

In that moment, Dean’s eyes were a little too captivated.

But you broke the spell.

You glanced ahead to continue along the crosswalk with him, taking another warm, soft bite of pretzel.

“And that’s why Cupid’s always painted like a blind baby…or something like that,” you said. You laughed a little, and you seemed to realize just how long you’d been yapping his ear off. You came to a stop at what he assumed was your apartment building, but you suddenly got quiet. Embarrassed.

“Sorry, once I open my mouth on this stuff, I can’t really stop unless someone stops me and tells me I’m literally killing them with words that don’t make sense.”

“You’re making a whole lotta sense to me,” Dean replied. And he realized that he meant it. He rubbed his chin in thought. “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. I like that.”

Your mind seemed to be a hamster wheel on steroids, but he kind of liked that too.

“Well, did you like the play?” you asked, smiling in embarrassment. “Sorry, can’t remember if I even asked you that yet.”

He laughed softly. Even if you had, he didn’t mind answering again.

“I like it more now, hearing you talk about it,” he said. But maybe that was too honest. He padded it with something more appropriate, as your instructor. “It makes sense, since you’re an English major, but your passion always comes through in your essays. I’m really glad you decided to take my class this semester.”

You demured further at the praise. “Oh, thank you. It really is my favorite class so far this year, but…that’s because you’re the one teaching it. You're really good at telling stories. You make them simple and easy to understand, even when we're talking about hell hounds and old ghost stories, or the uh, Oedipus complex, or something.”

Dean smiled in amusement, but it was his turn to be touched, even if it surprised him too. You were just so honest and free enough to speak your mind. It was refreshing.

“Well, thank you. Glad to hear at least one person’s getting something out of it,” he said, his smile warming for once.

You smiled too, looking at him through your lashes. “All right well, thanks again for walking me home. I’ll, um…see you on Monday-ayy!”

You stepped up onto the first stair leading up to your apartment and caught an icy patch with your red-bottomed heels. A gasp fell from your lips as your arms spun out to catch yourself on anything that could keep you from falling, and that happened to be Dean—specifically his coat, and then his biceps when he moved in fast to keep you upright.

He ended up gathering you into his arms while you clung to his coat. Your red nails bit into the dark fabric. In his mind’s eye, he could imagine them popping the buttons of his dress shirt, carving shaky lines of heat and pleasure across his skin.

Fuck. He bit the inside of his cheek hard to rid himself of that image, his jaw ticking in response. But another one just replaced it when his gaze met yours, half-lidded and shocked, but…contemplating.

Hot breaths mingled in between, puffing visibly on the cold air.

“God, I’m sorry!” you breathed.

“Don’t worry about it.” He cleared his throat past the slight roughness in his voice. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, um…Take Two,” you said, laughing weakly.

You aimed to let him go and continue on up the stairs by yourself, but Dean couldn’t stop himself from trying to help you. He held your elbow at least, with a hovering hand by your waist in case you slipped again. When you finally made it to the door, you paused and turned to look at him over your shoulder. Again, that look in your eyes said you were debating something in your mind.

“You okay?” he asked again.

You nodded. “Yeah, I just, um…you know what? Never mind. Uh, good night!”

Dean nodded, giving you a casual salute. He didn’t leave until you got in the building safely, but for his entire long walk home, your face wouldn’t leave his mind. That look of internal conflict, like you’d been weighing some kind of pros and cons. He had to wonder…

Had you been about to invite him up to your apartment?

But no. Fucking no. He dismissed that thought as soon as it came. He was almost ten years older than you.

Didn’t stop Catherine Zeta-Jones from hooking up with Michael Douglas. She’s barely pushing fifty while he’s halfway into Senior Depends.

Second problem. Career ending and reputation ruining and his own clock punch at the local 7/11—kind of a problem.

You were a student.

Grad student, came a whisper from the back of his mind.

In Greek mythology, the golden apples of Hesperides in Hera’s garden were guarded by a dragon. The Norse gods also believed in their own version of immortal golden apples, harvested by the goddess Idunn. Sounded a bit like Eden, right? As in, the Judeo-Christian Garden.

As in, forbidden fruit.

What did they all have in common? There was always a consequence for the taking and sampling part. The question was, is the price worth how good it tastes?

Remembering the feeling of your soft curves under his hands, Dean had a feeling it would be more than fucking worth it.

But he shook the thought from his head, his fingertips digging into the soft insides of his coat pockets.

He was your professor. That was where those thoughts should end.

You didn’t even see him that way…did you?

You shucked your heels off as soon as you got inside your apartment. You heaved a deep sigh and shed your purse, your coat, your earrings and necklace, which you set down on the nightstand in your bedroom. You sat on the edge of the bed and fell back onto the creaky mattress.

Your hands came to rest lightly over your stomach, a safe place, while you thought back to how Professor Winchester held you so tight. Secure. Gentlemanly.

How he looked at you, his green-eyed gaze falling to your lips, like he was contemplating the best way to close that distance, bowing his head those last few inches and…

You forcibly shook your head. He was your goddamn teacher.

It didn’t matter that he was probably the youngest faculty member on campus, and you were a twenty-five-year-old graduate student. Whether or not the man was “age appropriate,” he was still your professor. You couldn’t think about him like that.

And he absolutely didn’t look at you like that…

Did he?

AN: Sorry again for all the nerdy lit. tidbits, but I had fun. 😂 I'm thinking about expanding this into an actual little series, so let me know what you think! ❤️

⋆˙⟡ Follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new chapter. ❤️

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[vaginalvr]

IM SORRY BRO IM SENDING THIS SUPER LAST MINUTE (like 45 minutes until midnight exactly) but it’s my birthday tomorrow, and I’ve been thinking about birthday sex with Spencer. It would literally actually make my day if you could maybe write something like that, with a more submissive Spencer who wants to make readers day special. Maybe a little bit of angst at the start bc of a bad day but he makes up for it? Anyway, have a good day or night and good luckkk!!<33

i pushed ur request up to the front of the queue. happy birthday!

cw: birthday sex, sub!Spencer, comfort smut, soft dom!reader, service kink, oral sex (m. receiving + implied f. receiving), fingering, angst-to-smut, emotional sex, body worship, aftercare, gentle cockwarming, praise kink

REQUESTS OPEN:

It wasn’t supposed to be a bad day.

But it was.

First your alarm didn’t go off, then you spilled coffee on the only clean outfit you liked, then your boss barked at you in front of everyone for something you didn’t even do. And the kicker? Not a single person remembered it was your birthday. Not one friend. Not one coworker. Just a sad little text from your mom at 9am and radio silence ever since.

You knew it wasn’t rational to expect the world to stop for you, but it still hurt. Still made you feel invisible.

So by the time you got home, you didn’t want balloons. Or dinner. Or even your boyfriend’s sweet surprise plans.

You just wanted to crawl into bed and pretend the day hadn’t happened at all.

Which is exactly what you tried to do—until you opened the door and saw Spencer standing there in the apartment, smiling softly, holding a tiny cake with one single candle lit on top.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart."

You blinked at him. Your throat went tight.

Tears came too fast to stop.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered later, curled into his chest on the couch while he gently wiped the mascara from your cheeks.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he murmured, kissing your temple. "It’s your day. You're allowed to feel however you feel."

You hiccuped. “I thought maybe you forgot.”

“I could never,” he said fiercely. “I’ve had this day marked in all three calendars I own.”

You cracked a smile at that. Just barely.

“I had a whole thing planned. Dinner. Candles. Presents.” He gave a shy little shrug. “But… if all you want is to be held, that’s okay too.”

You looked up at him, heart aching in your chest — because he looked so worried. Like he might ruin everything if he made the wrong move.

You leaned in and kissed him softly.

“I want you.”

His breath caught.

“I want you tonight,” you whispered. “Slow. Sweet. Gentle. You making it all about me.”

His cheeks flushed pink.

“I—I can do that.”

You smirked just a little. “You’ll be good for me, baby?”

He nodded immediately. “Always.”

You led him to the bedroom, hands on his hips, letting him undress you like he was unwrapping something sacred. Then you undressed him — even slower — enjoying the way he shivered, the way his lashes fluttered and his hips subtly rocked forward when your hands brushed over the front of his boxers.

"Already hard for me?"

His voice was a whisper. "Always."

You guided him to the bed, pushed him gently to sit on the edge, then climbed into his lap and kissed him until he was gasping, needy little whines slipping from his throat.

“You don’t have to take care of me tonight,” he murmured against your lips.

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes.

“But I want to.”

You pushed him gently down until he was flat on his back, hair spread on the pillow, cock twitching against his stomach. You kissed every inch of him — his chest, his throat, the scar on his shoulder, the crease where his hip met his thigh — until he was squirming and red-faced.

And when you finally wrapped your lips around his cock, he nearly sobbed.

"You're so good to me," he whispered, hands fisting the sheets. "So warm—fuck—I don’t deserve you—"

You pulled off with a pop. “None of that tonight. No doubting. No giving me credit I didn’t ask for. Just… let me love you.”

He nodded, eyes glassy.

You climbed back up and kissed him again, then reached between your bodies, guiding him into you with a soft gasp.

The stretch, the fullness — it made your body sing.

His breath hitched. “Oh god—feels so good—”

You rolled your hips slowly, grinding down until you were fully seated on him, your walls squeezing tight, your hands pressed to his chest.

“Not gonna move for a minute,” you whispered. “Just need to feel you.”

He looked up at you like you’d hung the stars.

“I missed you all day,” he whispered. “Wanted so bad to make you smile.”

“You just did,” you said softly.

You rode him slow.

Long, grinding strokes that had him panting, trembling, whispering your name over and over like a mantra.

When you leaned down and kissed his throat, he let out the softest whine. When you bit his earlobe, he gasped. When you cupped his face and told him he was perfect, he moaned like he was going to cry.

“Touch me,” you finally whispered. “Make me come with you.”

His hand slid between your legs instantly, rubbing soft circles over your clit until you were both coming together — slow, warm, drawn-out — his body arching into yours as he spilled inside you, your own orgasm washing over you like a wave.

You collapsed onto his chest, both of you gasping, skin slick and warm.

“I love you,” he whispered hoarsely.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

He brushed your hair behind your ear.

“I still want to give you your gifts later.”

You smiled. “You just did.”

[darnell-la]

MADE THE FIRST MOVE

pairing: Robert “Bob” Reynolds x reader

summary: y/n knew her job as a hero would be difficult, and most people don’t look after Bob like she does. somehow, she enjoyed it, and couldn’t help but fall for the guy. sadly, his depression kept her back from showing any feeling. that was until he surprised her with the first move.

warnings: smut, depression mentioned, mutants, etc

———

Bob has always been an insurance guy. Ever since y/n got to know him, she’s tried to build his confidence. Even after he almost wiped out everyone in New York a few mo the ago.

The Avengerz live in the old Tony Stark tower, helping each other out in life, even after saying multiple times how they couldn’t stand each other.

Y/n and Bob were the only ones who loved being around each other. After a while, they’ve became close, so close Bob could barely function around y/n. It’s almost like his heart would stop any time she’d come around.

“I’m sorry about like this — Usually I’m fine, but he’s just being difficult right now,” Bob said, speaking above the Void who had started getting to close to taking Bob over again.

For the past month, Bob grew a huge heart for y/n, and Void began taking the chance to make Bog over think every possible detail about y/n and him being anything but friends.

“It’s fine, Bob — Really,” y/n said as she slipped off her house shoes and got under the covers. Y/n had been staying with Bob for the night to make sure he felt needed and wanted. Not in any sexual way, but as a friend.

She would be lying if she said she had no feelings for Bob. She just couldn’t bring herself explain it to him or anyone. She felt like it was wrong, especially with that Bob had going on with himself.

“Why do you do this? I know you see something in me, but y/n- I’m a grown man. And, adult, and I can’t even control my emotions. I suck so bad at it that if I feel too down, I could get rid off the whole city in seconds,”

Bob wouldn’t stop speaking down about himself, as y/n switched the TV off to have something going on in the background as they rested for the night.

“Bob, look — We’ve all got our problems, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve help. Why would I watch you and ignore you when u can help? You’re not bothering in any kind of way. Trust me,” y/n said as she turned to look at Bob.

Y/n’s stomached filled with butterflies at the way Bob was looking at her. “I appreciate you, y/n, you know that, right?” Bob asked as he scanned her face, falling in love with her for probably the thousandth time today.

“And, why is that?” Y/n asked, knowing why, but wanting him to speak about her in a way that may make her fall for him harder. “I mean- Just look at you. A gorgeous girl wanting to take care of me — That sounds like a dream,”

“I think you’re over exaggerating just a little bit,” y/n said as she went to tuck under her covers but Bob stopped her by moving closer to put his hand in her cheek. “Not even a little,” Bob said, feeling some courage to show her how much he appreciates her.

“I don’t know what to say,” y/n spoke low, now feeling shy. “You never have to say anything to make me happy,” Bob said as his eyes sprightly glowed yellow. “You’re perfect no matter what you do or say,” y/n was at a loss for words at the moment.

Bob has never been then type of man to have confidence and show it. This was very new for him and her, and she didn’t know how to react. She was happy, yet too shocked to say anything.

“I think I’m actually happy,” was the last thing Bob said before he leaned into y/n, connecting his lips onto hers. Before either of them could settle in, Bob deepened the kiss as he moved on top of her.

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, and I’ll stop — I promise,” Bob pulled back to make sure he wasn’t ruining anything by his quick decisions. “I would never tell you to stop. Ever,”

That’s all it took for y/n and Bob to be sweating, moaning, and shaking underneath the covers. They both weren’t to experienced, or had a great person to do this with. Now, they finally do.

“I swear, I love you, y/n — I really do. You’ve changed my perspective on life — On living,” Bob said as he softly, but same time roughly thrusted down into y/n. “I-I’m glad I could h-help,” y/n stuttered as her back arched.

“I want you to — I need you,