#back to him doing whatever he was supposed to be doing before

[snaileer]

I’m a Size Medium, Thanks - 2

Part one: https://www.tumblr.com/snaileer/766471879423885312/im-a-size-medium-thanks

Danny stares into the eyes of what has got to be the grumpiest looking 12-14?10? How tall are children?- year old he’s ever met. And he grew up with Sam!

Danny looks back through the door, hoping to everything that an adult walks through. He is disappointed.

“Well?” The boy snaps, foot tapping.

“Uh, can I help.. you?” Danny says, voice ticking up. That’s what you’re supposed to say at a job right? Or maybe the kid wasn’t supposed to be here, “Do you need to call someone…?” He hopes not, he doesn’t know how or if the shop has a phone, and his… well his is wired through a realm of the dead so enough said there.

“My name is Damian Wayne.” He says primly. And expectantly.

Danny looks outside again, past the neon sign he specifically hadn’t turned on, then back at the Damian kid, blinking. There’s no way this was that ‘Mr.Wayne.’

The kid rolls his eyes impressively well then drops his glare back onto Danny, “Has this absurd incense burned away whatever meager sense you were born with? I am here to have a so-called ‘reading’ with a medium.”

If Danny hadn’t seen this Damian kid walk in with three whisps of shades wrapped around his arms, Danny would have questioned why, but he did, so he doesn’t.

He does, however, say: “Aren’t you a little young… to be like.. talking about death or something?” Though honestly, the incense is a real concern, Danny hadn’t even lit any today, Claire had just left it burning and the whole room was saturated.

“Will you fulfill your job description or not, you peasant?” The kid grits out.

Danny would really rather not. Like really rather not. But nOoo, here he was, waiting for a portal that could show up at any time, pretending he was a medium for a 7 year old just because he could talk to ghosts.

Danny sighs and drags himself around the counter to go into Claire’s weird little seance room. Maybe the fumes will kill him before the embarrassment does.

The kid follows.

Danny drops himself into Claire’s chair with weirdly plush armrests for still being so uncomfortable.

“Alright then, let’s get this over with. I’m Danny, the -ugh- medium. Whatdya wanna know?” Danny says as he kicks his leg out to hit a shade getting agitated and grabby by Damian’s feet. They got way too much of a spiritual boost from this room for Danny to be comfortable with it.

Damian watches him with a raised eyebrow, still not sitting down, “Aren’t you meant to lead the seance?”

Danny’s lip curls in distaste, he huffs a sigh and lets his shoulders drop, opening his mouth to tell this 9-year old something easy about one of his shades and be done-

He spots a sticky note stuck on the crystal ball.

-Danny, don’t forget, the showmanship is important! I trust you know how to meet expectations! Happy first day!

- Claire <3

Danny feels his face go deadpan. He was going to have this woman committed. That’s what he was going to do. She could be studied for the degenerative cognitive effects of being freaking bazonkers.

Danny plucks the note off the crystal ball and crumples it, letting the trash drop to the abyss that is Claire’s plush carpet.

He sighs, looking back up at Damian. The kid snaps his head towards him from where he’d been poking around the curtained walls- weirdo- but Danny beats him to the snappy comment.

“You got any spiritually charged items? Or like… something?” Danny says, taking a guess, he can make the thingy glow, say some nonsense, get paid, and close.

Damian narrows his eyes at him, but slowly moves to sit in the other chair, perched on the edge of the seat. He pulls something from his pocket and sets it on the table.

Pearls.

It’s a clump of shiny white pearls.

Absolutely dripping in ectoplasmic blood stains. So lovely.

Does Claire have biohazard gloves because oh gosh-

Danny hesitantly reaches for the pearls, lifting the strand between two fingers as he looks between it and the 12 year old. “You sure this is what you want to ask about?”

The kid’s glare turns challenging, mocking, “What? Admitting you are nothing but a charlatan?”

Danny grimaces, “Not quite. I mean…” He looks at the pearls again, then at the shade trying to hack away at the kids neck, “There’s definitely someone or something attached to this it’s just… not .. yours.”

“Tt,” the boy clicks his tongue at him, “and how exactly would you know that, charlatan?” Damian levels a mocking look up and down at him.

Danny’s eye twitches as he grimaces a smile, “Part of the job-“ brat. Danny doesn’t say that. Danny can’t say that. Danny has to deal with death obsessed TODDLERS who want to talk about some rando’s gruesome murder just so he can eat tonight. Or find somewhere to sleep. He doubts this will be enough for both.

Maybe if he’s dramatic enough.

Alright get to it then, Danny.

He sighs, dimming the light with Claire’s little remote- he is not so far gone as to turn them green like she had- and actually focusing his energy on the pearl necklace.

“What are you-“

Danny holds up a finger at Damian to silence him, which surprisingly works. He closes his eyes and starts trying to absorb the ectoplasmic remains as slowly as he can.

Feelings of course come with it and- well what’d ya know, he can definitely feel this attached to a ghost somewhere in this city.

“It’s a woman’s… younger than she should have been when she…”

He can hear Damian scoff, “Obviously, anyone could tell me that.”

Danny rolls his eyes under his eyelids, debating the merits of opening one to glare at him when his eyes are definitely glowing.

“She’s still here but-“ Danny says instead, trying to pull on the connection wandering out into the streets, “She can’t come here here.”

“What do you mean?” The boy snaps.

Danny tries to focus harder on it himself, he’s never done this before, tried to find or community with a ghost from an object… it was like Pointdexter and his mirror.

“She’s stuck somewhere… somewhere more important.. it’s dark and narrow and Danny mentally rears back as images flash into his mind. Accompanied of course by a woman’s scream.

An alley. A gun. A man stepping in front of her to protect her- no not her- a kid- Damian- not Damian- looks like-

Danny opens his eyes and drops the necklace. There’s barely any ectoplasm left on it.

Fine with him, he never wants to touch it again.

“Well?” An impatient voice asks and- oh yeah that’s right, the rude ass kid.

Danny pushes the pearls across the table with a finger and looks up at him, “Woman in an alley, that familiar to you?”

Damian’s eyes narrow, “Anyone who knows who I am could tell me the same.”

Danny snaps, “I don’t-!“ This is a child Danny, a child, “Well she was scared for the kid, and now is… proud of him? There’s a lot of concern there, but she still watches him I guess, so that’s all I got for ya.”

Damian scrutinizes him for a minute, silent. Darn, weren’t mediums supposed to be vague as heck so that anything could apply and the person would find their own meaning? But did it count if he was just translating the vibes off a shade half a city away?

“This is…. acceptable.”

Danny nearly sags in relief and moves to stand, “Cool, then-“

“Wait.” The kid holds up a hand, “You said something regarding a disparity in the proposed ownership of the apparition you believed to be related to this jewelry.”

Danny blinks at him dumbly.

Damian scoffs again, “That the apparition attached to this necklace was ‘not mine,’ as you said??” He snarks, putting air quotes up.

Danny slowly sinks back down into the chair. “… Well yeah I mean..” does he tell this 8 year old about the slightly murderous shades he’s got around him? “You have… you have a couple… apparations… yourself. Not related to the pearls that is.” Danny says hesitantly, eyes skipping over said shades.

Damian jerks his head to follow his eyes and Danny shirks back, eyes back on the kid.

“Who are they? Tell me now,” Damian demands, standing to loom over the table.

Danny puts his hands up in surrender, “Whoa, I don’t know about that, they don’t really seem too happy with you-“ Another one tries to slice his hand through Damian’s neck, “I think you did something to them or made them angry at some point. I don’t really think you should try to contact them-“ Danny winces, that could end very badly. Thank goodness for limited ectoplasm access.

Meanwhile, his answer seems to have only made Damian more upset, his eyes wide as he stares down at Danny.

Suddenly the kid turns and stamps towards the door, leaving Danny to hurriedly push the chair out and chase after him to the main room.

Except-

When he gets there Damian is already shooting hushed insults at a man standing amongst the crystals.

The man looks vaguely like Damian, black hair, blue eyes, lithe build, and oh also- surrounded by shades of course.

These ones seem less vicious at least.

Please don’t be here for him. Please don’t be here for him.

Danny really doesn’t want to try and fake his way through another hour or however long it’s been of that.

“Hey there! I’m Dick, Damian’s brother!” The man says suddenly, pushing Damian aside and coming forward with a cheery grin, “Thanks for humoring him!”

Danny tilts his head to see Damian’s scowling face behind the man. Right.

“Uh huh… I’m Danny.” He says, trying not to be distracted by what he’s pretty sure is a baby elephant’s ghost behind him.

“You’re the medium right? We were just so interested to see if that old family heirloom would have anything or not. We-“

“We?” Damian cuts him off with a scoff, “I will meet you in the vehicle Richard. I will not spend another minute in this house of charlatans.”

They both watch as the kid turns and stomps out the door, uncrossing his arms only to open the door and stomp out. The stupid bell rings merrily.

This time it’s not Danny who sighs.

“I wish he wouldn’t say things like that,” Dick says wearily, “I grew up in places like this.” There’s a note of nostalgia to his voice. Danny just eyes the bowl of ‘fertility’ crystals warily.

Dick must see him do it because he huffs a laugh, “I’m Roma, Romani that is. I grew up in a circus originally,” he explains, “So psychic places always just kinda remind me of my auntie’s tents.”

Danny glances at the elephant shaped ghost again, “Wow that makes so much sense actually.”

The guy raises a confused eyebrow at him.

Danny coughs awkwardly, waving it away, “So, money?” He claps, “I’m guessing you’re paying since Damian is…” Danny trails off, opting not to make a final guess on age and embarrass himself.

Dick laughs again and they go over to the counter, “Yep, here-“ He pulls out his wallet, rifling through cash before pulling some out, “Cash only yeah? This should be enough.”

Danny stares at the stack of slightly rumpled bills, “But- huh?…” that was… that was so much…

“Oh I added extra since I’m sure he probably said some things he shouldn’t have, don’t worry about it.”

Dick is already halfway out the door when Danny reloads and jerks upwards, “Wai-“

Could Danny really stop him? Should he? He needed this money but… he stops to count it. $20..40..60..80..100..120….140……160….180……….$200.

Danny blanches. He lurches for the door, no way he can take this much money just for basically acting as a glorified ecto-translator.

Danny stops in his tracks as he steps outside the shop and spots Dick and Damian speaking to a third, much older person, over the hood of a sleek black car.

This person, of course, also has several, several, shades around them.

What the hell was wrong with this family?

Damian turns and glares his way.

Oh ancients what if they were part of the mob or something.

Danny spins around on his heel-

And smacks straight into the glass door of the shop.

…

Ow.

Danny rubs his nose as he fumbles around for the door handle, acutely aware the death covered family was probably staring at him.

He grabs the handle and pulls-

Danny freezes, hand on his sore face stopping. He opens his eyes as he yanks again. Nothing.

Oh heck, he just locked himself out didn’t he?

No please no, they were so definitely still staring, no way they weren’t. Danny pulls again and it finally-

He looks at the door handle in his hand.

Then at the door still closed in front of him.

Then back at the door handle.

Just the door handle.

Crap.

Danny nearly weeps, clumsily fitting the door handle back on and still adamantly refusing to look and see if Damian and his absurdly rich family has left yet. Other people on the street are also starting to stare. The same reason he can’t just use his powers.

He finally gets the handle back on and gingerly lets go of it.

Ok. Deep breath.

Claire warned you about this. With a sticky note, but all the same. Extra key is taped on the bottom of the fire hydrant right outside the shop. You’ve got this.

Danny turns, kneels, and frantically begins trying to find the key on the absurdly dirty fire hydrant.

His hands come away black with grime, but thankfully he has the key.

He puts it in the lock and turns it, hearing what may very well be the newest sound of his nightmares: a snap.

Most specifically the sound of the key snapping in Danny’s very hands.

Danny stared at the half of the key still held between his fingers.

Did he do something to this city? Was this his fault? Could he not just sit in a closet and wait for the portal to open and go home?

Danny sags against the door, and resigns himself to his fate. Maybe he can go get food… with the money he left on the counter. Great.

Danny peeks his eyes sideways and catches the guy, Dick, finally getting into their car.

Okay, just a tiny bit just a bit. Danny holds the key again, focuses on the lock in the door jam and….. intangible!

He yanks the door open and jumps inside, door closing against the flutters of quickly fading shades on the street.

And more than one scream at them but hey that’s not his problem.

Mostly.

Danny revels in the cool lighting of the shop, glaring at the stupid broken key in his grimy hands. He drops the useless bit of metal on the counter, pockets the cash and wipes his hands on the backside of one of Claire’s million wall curtains.

It leaves a black stain that basically disappears when Danny folds the fabric over it.

Oh well.

Technically the shop was still open.

And technically, Danny didn’t know if the lock did or didn’t work right now.

He went to find whatever storage closet Claire used to store her absurd number of crystals.

He finds it- finally- and using the keys he left in the store to begin with, he is able to unlock the perfect place to sleep tonight amongst several packages of…. Some kind of incense powder… or something. He doesn’t really care because that plan of hiding in a closet till the portal opens? Yeah, Danny’s putting that into action right the frick now.

He bends down to start to lay out his sweatshirt over the cardboard bed-to-be.

A bell rings in the distance.

Danny is going to destroy that bell on the door, he swears it.

[fleuryuns]

presenting a fic by @FLEURYUNS

you're still a virgin?

IN WHICH heeseung realizes you're still a virgin after swearing you'd get with someone from the start of the year, so he offers to help solve this problem

PAIRING ⟡ bsf!heeseung x virgin!femreader

UNIVERSE ⨯ non-idol au

WARNINGS ⟡ mdni, smut, porn with a smidge of plot for context, not proofread cuz who needs that, fingering, orgasm denial (briefly), missionary, very vanilla sex, heeseung's kinda awkward #pathetic_men

WORD COUNT ⨯ 3.1k

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . first smut fic on this acc... minors avert your eyes

“We never finished sharing our new year’s resolutions.”

You stop mid-bite into your pancakes. You and Heeseung had spent all morning making them, finally testing out the new oven you got after the last one broke down during another pancake morning. It survived, luckily. There’s only the taste-test left, but Heeseung’s comment catches you so off guard, you put the fork back down.

“New year’s resolutions?” you repeat. “You mean the ones from basically last year?”

He nods, shoving his first bite in. He hums at the taste. Success. “Yeah, we made those lists and started sharing but then—” Heeseung tilts and quirks his brow in thought. “—I can’t even remember. We probably got distracted, but either way, we never made sure we both completed our lists.”

Chuckling awkwardly, you keep your eyes on the plate. “I don’t even know if I still have mine—”

“I do,” Heeseung interrupts. “We put them in that box, remember? I found it this morning, that’s why I thought to bring them up, ha.”

“You didn’t, er, read them, did you?”

Heeseung shakes his head, chewing through another bite. “I thought it’d be fun to go through them and see what we’ve done or not.” He lightly taps his fork around his plate. “We’ve got a few days before the new year starts, no plans, I don’t know…”

“No, no, yeah, I get it,” you assure, nodding quickly. “I just, um, they were stupid. I was stupid. This year changed me, you know?”

Your roommate looks at you with a teasing glint in his eye. “Oh yeah?” He watches you nod again. “All the more reason to get them.” And before you know it, he’s rushing to his room to, you assume, get the box he’d mentioned earlier.

It’s not long before he’s practically skipping back into the kitchen-dining area bringing the box. Tossing his plate aside, he sets the box in between you two and sits back down. You’re anxious at how he unfolds the lid and pulls out two sheets of crumpled paper.

“Yours was the one with the rip at the top,” you say, reading the questions in his mind. Your face flushes as you realize that’ll only prompt him to take it out the other first.

He smiles at you before hiding his face behind the paper. He begins to read it out loud. “Resolution one: Learn how to make (good) pancakes—” Grabbing his fork, he clinks it twice against the porcelain. “Check. Number two: Make weekly savings—Check, right?”

You hum, your leg shaking beneath the table.

“Alright, and then—” He lowers the paper. Your eyes widen. “Lose my virginity?”

“Okay!” you say overenthusiastically. “See! I was being stupid, such a dumb thing to write on a new year’s resolution list, right? Haha, so funny, let’s just throw these out—”

“Wait, but we can cross this off, though, right? You had that boyfriend?”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” you clarify. “He was… gross. I never really liked him like that, so it just never happened. It’s whatever, I’m a virgin, okay, let’s move on. Isn’t the next thing I put down like eat more salads—”

“You’re still a virgin?”

You look at him bewildered. What was up with the intonation? Was it really shocking? Why does he even care? You suppose he’s always been the nosy type, just never assumed it would translate to this, as well.

He seems to realize the second meaning to his words and fumbles to take them back. “Okay, not like—I didn't mean it in a weird way, I’m just surprised that you’re... you know?”

“It’s… whatever,” you clarify. “It’s fine. It’ll happen at the right moment, right? That’s what they all say.” You'd shovel another bite into your mouth and you can’t help but taste the bitterness from your words with the sweetness of the syrup. “I’ll get over it when it’s done and gone.”

Heeseung clears his throat, paper discarded to the side, his eyes fixed on your plate in deep thought. “Do you…”

You raise a brow.

“Do you want my help?”

In your defense, you really hate being a virgin. Not that it’s embarrassing or shameful to be one, but the fact that you swore to yourself that you wouldn't be a virgin anymore since last year makes you want to crumble up inside.

You just don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your past self. Imagine her laughing at you? That’s a new low.

Which leads to this moment right now. Laying in Heeseung’s bed, in Heeseung’s room, waiting for Heeseung to come back into said room with the “supplies” he was rushing out to get.

The door slowly swings open as Heeseung pushes it with his back, his hands full. He makes eye contact with you and a pout makes its way across his lips. “You’re still wearing your clothes?”

Your eyes snap open wider. “Yes?!”

“We’re gonna have sex, Y/N, your clothes aren’t supposed to be on.” He smiles at you as he sets down lube and condoms.

A wave of relief washes over you when you realize he’s just teasing. Heeseung’s a gentleman, but it’s not like you've gotten the chance to know the side of him you two swore to never let you meet. He could’ve been a weirdo creep for all you knew, as long as he was paying his half of the rent it never mattered until right now.

“Do you want me to turn around when you take them off?” Yep, just the same old awkwardly sweet Heeseung you’ve always known.

You smile, albeit nervously. “You’ll see me naked anyway, might as well put on a strip performance to get you in the mood.”

He laughs at your sarcasm, then points to the lights. “We could turn those off if you want.”

For a moment, you consider it. If not for the hopes of Heeseung seeing the least possible,  but for the ambiance. Do people leave the lights on or off during sex? Not like you know. Ultimately, you shake your head, getting off from the bed and sticking your hands under the hem of your shirt. “Ready?” you ask him, though the question is more internalized.

His hum is muffled by his hands reaching at the collar of his shirt.

At once, you two pull your shirts off together.

Standing bare chest to bare chest - with bra - you eye him carefully. “You take your shirt off from the top?”

“What?”

You mirrored his previous action. “You took your collar and pulled your head through the neck hole first—” your words muffle as you reenact it sloppily. “Normal people take their arms out first.”

Heeseung stifles a laugh behind his hand. “Aren’t you supposed to try to seduce me?”

“Is this not sexy?”

“Oh, please, go on, you’re making me hard.”

The two of you laugh and you realize you’re not so nervous anymore. The anxious jitters left your hands and you can feel your muscles relaxing. It’s just Heeseung. Just Heeseung.

As he recovers from a fit of laughter, you look at him in a way you haven’t taken the chance to ever since you met almost two years ago. His arms that flex when he wraps them around himself. His smile which switches to a sly smirk when he’s resisting the urge to laugh louder. His hair that falls neatly into place, over his eyes that glint to the point you can’t take your gaze away from them.

Heat rushes to your cheeks.

He’s attractive. Yeah, that’s been obvious.

Your type? Maybe…

But this is different. And, oh god, he’s going to have sex with you.

Heeseung clears his throat, snapping you out of your daze.

“Pants?” he asks cautiously. His eyes are brimmed with concern, probably sensing your confused thoughts, clearly not understanding what you’re telling yourself.

You respond by tugging at your sweatpant laces, letting them drop down dramatically. Heeseung keeps his eyes glued to your movement, eyes widening at the sight of your bare legs and white panties. He quickly reaches for his belt.

To your surprise, you can see that he’s, at the very least, getting hard. Maybe it’s nerves. You try not to think too much about the possible influence the sight of your almost-bare body has on him.

Still, to test the waters and ease or completely disrupt your mind, you ask, “Can you help me with my bra?”

He fumbles an answer, you’re pretty sure you hear a ‘yes’ through his blabs, as he kicks out of his pants fully and stumbles to your side of the bed. You turn your back to him, giving him the cue by raising your hair away from the clasp.

Shivers run down your spine at his gentle, warm touch on your skin. You never knew you were sensitive, but with every simple movement, every brush against your back has you feeling goosebumps running up your arms.

Heeseung’s breath is hollow behind you.

When the clasp is finally undone, you pull your arms out of the straps, letting the material drop to the floor with your other discarded clothes.

You turn to face Heeseung, his eyes saying more than any words could mean. Stunned, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper in return, eyes drifting down to his mouth.

He doesn't hesitate to lean in. His arms naturally slide around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as his lips hungrily crash into yours. You gasp through the initial shock of ferocity, relaxing into his hold with your hands coming up to the nape of his neck.

His fingers squeeze your skin pulling a sound from your mouth, muffled by his lips. You don’t even notice the way his knees push you back until you’re laying on the bed, lips still attached to Heeseung’s, but even those pull away eventually. You almost get up onto your elbows to chase after his touch, but stop yourself at the sight of his intense gaze.

Your gazes lock with each other for a moment, before he finally breaks contact to rush to the bedside cabinet where the lube bottle sits. He pours a generous amount on his fingers, rubbing the gel slowly. He eyes the way it reflects the light and this one reaction makes you think he’s never seen it before, but you doubt it — you’ve heard his sexual escapades thanks to your graciously thin walls.

“I’m going to finger you first,” Heeseung interrupts your thoughts.

You simply hum in return, letting your legs fall apart for him to get back into place, between them.

Heeseung has one hand on your thigh, the other levitates over your skin with nearly-dripping lube, but his eyes are on yours, waiting for another nod before he can continue.

Giving him the signal, you aren’t prepared for the chill that runs down your spine at the cold sensation of the lube on your sensitive skin. Soon enough, though, your gasps turn to gentle hums as Heeseung draws little circles on your bare pussy.

“This okay?”

You nod needily.

One finger finally intrudes, swimming through your walls and curls to find that certain spot. Your hips roll into it—you never thought it'd be this different from your own fingers.

“More,” you whimper.

“Already?” Heeseung teases, but you can hear partial genuinity in his tone.

Wordlessly, your hand reaches down to his, pulling at it to get another finger inside of you.

Heeseung chuckles in disbelief, but doesn't disobey your request.

Two fingers in and you’re letting soft gasps escape your lips, eyes already threatening to roll back at the rhythmic pattern Heeseung’s keeping up. He pushes in, pulls out, pushes back in and curls into you. You match his pace with your hips, hoping to deepen his touch. He’s so close, so close to where you need him.

Meanwhile, his thumb rolls gently over your clit to ease the tension of the stretch. It helps, making your head spin and forcing you to focus entirely on the pleasure you feel, rather than the pain.

Heeseung doesn't warn you when he slips in a third, but you’re busy throwing your head back, moaning to tell him off for it.

“Fuck,” you whisper to the ceiling. “‘Is so good.”

Your back arches as Heeseung’s fingers reach your G-spot, curling and tickling the bundle of nerves, ripping out more muffled moans, your hand thrown to your mouth not to disturb the neighbours.

“Right there!” you moan. “Right—shit, yes���Right there!” When he keeps at it, you can't hold on much longer. “Fuck, I’m so close—”

And then it’s gone.

All the pleasure is ripped away from you as Heeseung pulls out of you coldly, barely looking your way as he turns to the bedside cabinet.

“Hey,” you whine, albeit childishly.

It’s as if something clicks and he turns back to you. “Sorry,” he singsongs out. “I didn’t want you to come so soon, I still have to actually fuck you, right?”

You pout, but ultimately he’s right. That’s what you're here for. “Fine.”

He fumbles with the condom packet, eventually giving up on going at it with his lubed-fingers and rips the package with his teeth.

“I could’ve helped,” you tell him, smiling teasingly.

“I got it. I got it.” He waves his hand at you before he uses that same hand to roll down the condom and—Holy. Shit. He’s packing.

You never took the time to think about his size, though you probably would've determined it was a decent size from the outline of it when he's chilling on the couch with sweats on.

But now that it's out, hard and flush against his toned abs? You take a deep breath and try not to think too much about how it must taste, how it’d feel to have him down your throat—as if you even know how to give a proper blowjob. Maybe he could guide you, holding your head from the back and pushing it back and forth rhythmically up and down his cock and—

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’re sure about this?”

He’s pumping his cock as he asks. You resist the urge to lick your lips.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m ready.” And there’s no lie in your words.

Heeseung crawls back onto the bed once more, staying on his knees when his body is lined up with yours. He nods to himself and you before lining up his dick with your entrance, one hand falling to the side of your head, the other resting on your lower stomach as he pushes in slowly.

The intrusion is unfamiliar. The stretch hurts more than expected. Yet, your mouth is agape in frozen pleasure — Heeseung let his hand fall lower and is now drawing circles on your clit to ease the tension.

He keeps his thumb on your pussy while slowing his movement to a stop. “Tell me when I can move.”

Instead of relaxing into the stretch, preparing yourself for more friction, you focus entirely on Heeseung’s movements on your clit. Rolling the bud of pleasure between his two fingers, your eyes flutter shut in pleasure.

You test the waters by flexing your core muscles, squeezing your walls against Heeseung’s cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, snapping his hips forward at once, but he quickly stops himself. Heeseung looks up at you with cutely worried wide eyes. “Shit, sorry—Are you okay?”

You giggle. “Go!” you say between laughs, rolling your hips down to get him going.

He doesn't need to be told twice. He quickly resumes his previous thrust, your legs are naturally pushed apart to give him more access—moans spill from your lips at the newfound depth he reaches.

Heeseung’s head dips, his hair falling over his face, but does nothing to hide his expressions. You watch him for a moment, reveling in how good your pussy is making him feel. You clench around him again and his mouth falls open. He lets out the most harmonious sound you never expected from him but want to hear again and again.

So, you roll your hips into his, until your lower stomachs are threatening to brush against each other, until Heeseung lowers from his hands to elbows, and your bodies are flushed against each other. Your skin is sticky with sweat, but you can’t be bothered. Not with his rhythmic thrusts reaching so deep inside of you. Not with his fingers still playing with your clit, torturing the bud with nonstop pleasure. Not with his lips so close to your mouth, and your head pulling itself upward to capture them in another kiss.

Your hands snake to the back of his head, curling into his messy hair and pulling gently to bring him closer to you. His free hand finds its way into your hair, too, pushing the flyaways back into the rest of the mess, away from your face, before it rests gently on your neck, guiding you in the kiss.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers into your mouth as your walls clench around him again.

Your head spins at his low tone, pleasure bubbling in your stomach in a way it never has before. “I’m—Shit—I’m so close!”

Heeseung takes this as a signal to speed up his fingers on your clit, and slows down his thrusts, deepening them with each push in.

“Come on, come for me.”

And you do.

So much, like never before.

Your back arches into him, head thrown back, letting out a sinful string of moans. You’d curse from the pleasure, but your thoughts aren't coherent enough to form words.

You’re frozen in place, legs shaking as Heeseung pulls out to finish himself off. He jerks off into the condom on top of your wasted body, coming undone as soon as your dazed eyes meet his hungry gaze.

He doubles over, landing on his hand, face mere inches away from yours. “Fuck,” he says.

“Fuck,” you repeat, a giggle in your tone.

“Congratulations,” he says, rolling onto his back to be laying beside you. “You’re no longer a virgin.”

Your weak arms raise in a small celebration. “Yay.”

“How was it?”

You can’t even respond, hands coming up to cover your flushed face. You can almost feel Heeseung’s smirk behind them.

“I’ll take that as good.” Then, after a beat. “Does that mean you'd want to do it again?”

Your hands fall flat to your sides in one quick movement. “What?”

“There’s so much more I can teach you.”

“No,” you say while shaking your head. He looks defeated, you almost want to reach up and pet him like a dog. “Not until you buy me dinner.”

[wonderjanga]

You Knew the Demon Head?

For this AU, I suppose we’d have to pretend that Ra’s al Ghul isn’t hundreds of years old, but rather thousands. So pretend for that this specific post he is.

Billy got a call from Nightwing. The man said he’d meant to call for Batman but had instead fumbled and called him instead for help. Cap still came to see if they needed anything. See, it turned out that Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin were all patrolling when one of them found Lazarus Pit. So, now all four of them, now with the added Captain Marvel, were all standing around the Pit watching the green liquid.

Marvel: “Geez it’s been a long while since I’ve seen a Lazarus pit.”

Red Robin: “You know what these are?”

Marvel: “Yeah, I had a friend who used them to stay young.”

Robin!Damian: “The only people who use them for that purpose of the League of Assassins.”

Marvel: “Oh? You know about the League of Assassins, Robin five?”

Robin!Damian: “Robin five…?” *looks him up and down before shaking his head* “I was apart of them.”

Marvel: “Wait, really?”

Robin!Damian: “Yes?”

Marvel: “Wow… Y’know, I haven’t heard that name in so long, and think I get to meet a real life member again. You’re sort of young, but I do remember Ra’s mentioning taking in orphans.”

Robin!Damian: “You say that like you knew my grandfather.”

Marvel: “Ra’s is your grandpa?” *looks him up and down* “I don’t really see the resemblance.”

Robin!Damian: “I’ve been told I look more like my father.”

*silence*

Nightwing: “Uh, Cheese? How do you know about the League of Assassins? Let alone Ra’s al Ghul. I would’ve thought something like this was a little too… gritty for you.”

Marvel: “What’s that mean?”

Red Hood: “He means you’re like a ball of sunshine, and that people like you don’t really associate with stuff like assassins. You normally fight mad scientists or witches or whatever.”

Marvel: “Uh… Red Hood? Your name is Red Hood right?”

Red Hood: *nods head*

Marvel: “I fight against monsters, mind control, and Nazis on an almost daily basis. This isn’t really above me.” *looks back to Nightwing* “Anyways, you asked how I knew him, right?”

Nightwing: *nods head*

Marvel: “Well, you see, a long time ago we used to be best buds!” *all smiley*

*another silence*

Nightwing: “What…?”

Red Robin: “You were best buds with the head of a- sorry, the organization of assassins.”

Marvel: “Yeah! Me and Ra’s go away back. Like thousands upon thousands of years back. I was actually apart of the original LoA if you think about it.

Robin!Damian: “So you and grandfather were comrades?”

Marvel: “Guess so. But we stopped talking ever since I died.”

Red Hood: “Huh…?”

Marvel: “I die, I revive as a new person, and then I remember who I was before, if that makes sense. That’s happened multiple times.” *trying to be as vague about the Champion of Magic stuff as possible*

Red Robin: “So you reincarnate?”

Marvel: “Something like that. It’s not really reincarnation because it’s not my soul that gets reincarnated, it’s mostly just my memories. I become a completely different person.” *looks to Damian* “That’s probably why when your grandpa and I met again, he was a little upset that I wasn’t the me he knew before.”

Robin!Damian: “You’ve both met again?”

Marvel: “We’ve met multiple times over the years. He’s still a little salty whenever he sees me, but I think it’s gone down a little bit.”

*silence*

Nightwing: “I’m still confused though! How do you just become besties with the Demon’s Head?”

Marvel: “Well, he wasn’t always the Demon’s Head, Robin one. He used to be a healer.”

Robin!Damian: “Grandfather was a healer?”

Marvel: “Yeah, he understood germ theory before literally anyone else. You know that right? He was a brilliant man, really. Anyways, when I was just a normal kid before I got my memories, we became friends. Then, when I got my powers and memories back, me and the tribe helped him take over the city.”

Red Hood: “What city?”

Marvel: “You know, the city. The one that Ra’s and his tribe took over after a king sentenced him to killing his own wife, even though the prince of that city actually killed wife.” *said all of that in one breath*

Robin!Damian: “I have a grandmother?”

Marvel: “Yup! I have no idea who your parent is though because when she died, I don’t recall them having any children.”

Red Robin: “I love how you’re dropping all of this lore like it’s nothing.”

Marvel: “Fun fact, after taking over the city, that’s when he started calling himself the Demon’s Head I think.”

Marvel continued to drop multiple lore bombs about Ra’s after that. Meanwhile, Ra’s is minding his own business somewhere else.

Ra’s al Ghul: *pauses whatever he was doing* “Something just happened…”

[sleepyhoon]

SAY YOU LOVE ME. — TRAILER

starring lee heeseung, park sunghoon, and you.

“ i know you like her, so do something about it „

syn. your once bold and confident figure skating partner — park sunghoon — has grown shy, stiff, and timid around you now that your routines have crossed the line from friendly intimacy to borderline sensual. with an upcoming performance at the annual figure skating convention on the line, you’re worried your partner’s incompetence could cost you opportunities to further your careeres. your boyfriend, heeseung, however seems to have the perfect solution to get sunghoon back on track.

running time. est 15k+

release date. mid to late january 2025

tickets. taglist open — reply to join or join my perm taglist here

rating. NC-17 :: mentions of dieting and harsh workouts, mentions of anxiety. swearing, alcohol consumption & drinking games. sexually explicit content in the form of — voyeurism, rough sex, cunnilingus, spit, fingering, multiple creampies, cum eating, slight mxm content, soft dom!hoon, mean dom!hee.

director’s note. surprise!! in honor of hitting 2.5 billion followers here is a teaser of my gift to you all! possibly my fave thing i’ve written in all my years of writing fanfics so this is extra special to me! hope you enjoy it, and special thanks to my angel @intromortal for designing the banners, dividers, and layout <3

— TRAILER

running time. 500+ || rating. PG-13

“I have a theory,” Heeseung pauses, taking a sip from your Stanley Cup as you quirk a brow at him, “about Sunghoon.”

It’s not often that Heeseung actively engages in conversations regarding your skating partner, so your curiosity is piqued. “What about him?”

Your boyfriend shrugs, setting your tumbler on the ground before slipping his boxing gloves back on, “About his, uh…date. I don’t think he’s into Jisu like he said he was.”

You snort, leaning your head against the rugged brick wall as you watch Heeseung give the punching bag a few light taps. “Trust me, I figured that out by now. I just don’t understand why he’d lie about liking someone.”

Heeseung glances at you for a moment, shaking his head at the fact that you clearly didn’t understand Sunghoon’s dilemma. “He definitely likes someone, just not her.”

“Then who?”

“You seriously don’t know?”

You throw your arms up in mock frustration, “How am I supposed to? He doesn’t talk to me about girls or his love life.”

Heeseung chuckles, mumbling “I bet” under his breath as he lands harder hits on the punching bag. “Sunghoon likes you, YN, that’s why the date with Jisu didn’t go well. That’s why he can barely even look you in the eye and why it’s so awkward skating with him now.”

“Your routines are so fucking — ugh — romantic now, and he’s obviously into you. He probably — ugh! — feels guilty, or some shit.” Heeseung punches grow harsher and harsher as he speaks, pausing every so often to let out a loud grunt as his fists connect with the leather.

Dumbfounded, you stare down at your sneakers in awe. You’d never imagined the possibility of Sunghoon having a crush on you, but Heeseung’s theory makes more sense than you’d like to admit.

“But, why would he tell me-”

“Because you fucking cornered him and demanded he tell you who he liked.” Heeseung interrupts, already knowing what your question was, “He was probably seconds away from pissing himself and blurted out the first girl he could think of.”

“I did not corner him.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes, using his forearm to wipe the sweat off his brow, “Whatever, just pointing out that you probably scared him.”

You sigh, awkwardly toying with your shoelaces as you mumble, “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t, baby,” Heeseung ducks around the punching bag a few times, pretending he’s in a ring with an opponent as you stifle a laugh at him, “he was just nervous, is all.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do about this? His … crush on me is making it impossible for us to skate together, and I can’t do much about it.”

Heeseung allows his arms to fall to his side, chewing on his bottom lip as he gazes at the beat-up punching bag. There’s one idea that may just work, and maybe it’ll be enough to get you out of Sunghoon’s system just enough for him to go back to normal, or at least learn to not be so nervous around you.

“What if, for one night, we just … let him have you?”

Before you go to respond, Heeseung delivers another heavy punch to the bag, watching silently with a tense jaw as it breaks off the chain and falls to the ground.

[lymtw]

Birthday Shenanigans

What business do you have outside of bed—outside of Toji's arms—so early in the morning, on your day off? It never feels right to wake up without you by his side, but today, it feels worse to wake up alone. He's been sleeping on his side of the bed for hours, staying warm, yet, at the discovery of you missing beside him, he almost gets whiplash with how quickly it feels like he's been tossed onto a bed made of snow. He's freezing, and you're to blame. There's a heaviness in his chest that only worsens as he drags his hand back and forth over your side of the bed. None of your warmth remains, meaning you've been gone for a bit. You couldn't have woken him up? Today is supposed to be about him, yet, all he wants to do is spend the whole day with you.

Once Toji fully wakes up, he sits up and prepares to go to the kitchen to fix himself some breakfast. A sticky note that is stuck to your pillow grabs his attention. He peels it off your pillow and takes in the simplistic drawing consisting of two stick figures resembling you and Toji, lying in bed, kissing. This already brings a little smile to his face, but when he reads the caption written in your handwriting-- (Since we didn't get to share our morning kiss, please enjoy this renaissance painting I made of what I think that would've looked like <3) --he lets out a small chuckle and folds the sticky note, before putting it away in the first drawer of his nightstand. He puts on a shirt and some sweatpants and leaves the room, not even bothering to make the bed.

As he's walking past the front door, it aggressively swings open and scares the hell out of him. You're there with your hands and arms riddled with bags. Grocery bags filled to the brim, a few bags from some clothing stores, and one smaller bag from a fragrance store. You have a small box in your hands with the logo of the bakery that is a few streets away from the house.

"Oh, hi, baby! Happy birthday," you say, standing on your tippy toes, which Toji understands as the signal for him to lean down a little. You place a quick peck on Toji's scar, and before he can get a word in, you run off to the kitchen, not even closing the door behind you. Toji shakes his head with a grin and shuts the door, before going after you. He silently watches you scramble to put the bags down in an organized manner. You set the small box from the bakery and the groceries down on the kitchen counter, while the other bags are temporarily set down on the ground.

"Hmm... Oh!" You grab the small box and the pack of small striped candles and take it with you to the counter by the sink. You carelessly rip open the pack of candles and open the box, smiling when you see the single, chocolate flavored cupcake, decorated with a blue flower made of frosting. All is going well, until you can't find the lighter that is usually in the drawer you store the dishrags in. You lift all of the small stacks of towels and can't find it anywhere.

"Where could it be?" You mumble to yourself.

"What's up, ma?" Toji asks, curiosity getting the better of him when he sees you continue to rifle around the drawer, clearly in search of something.

You sigh, defeatedly, and shut the drawer. "Turn around, please."

Toji does as you say and turns around, not wanting to stress you out. He has a feeling this is something for him, too, so he wouldn't want to ruin whatever it is you have planned.

You put the cupcake on a plate and grab one of the blue and white striped candles, taking it with you to the counter by the stove. You turn on the stove and put the candle wick to the flame, watching it quickly light up, before turning the stove off, again. You put the candle on the cupcake and slowly make your way over to Toji, who is leaning on the opposite side of the counter, facing away from you like you asked him to.

"Baby," you call, smiling when his attention goes to you before it goes to the flame you are indirectly holding. He smiles softly at the small pastry you present to him. "The lady at the bakery tried to sell me a cupcake with a red rose and I told her, 'no, he likes blue'. Then she still tried to sell me one with a sunflower on it and I said, 'no, it has to be blue'. So, look, I got you a cupcake with a blue flower, baby. Their specialty is definitely flowers, because I promise you, that green cupcake did not look like a Stegosaurus." Toji chuckles at the rambled, silly recap of your experience at the bakery. "Now, make a wish, before the wax melts and gets all over it," you say, holding up the plate for him.

Toji's gaze remains set on you as he mentally makes his wish. He looks at you for a long time, long enough for the blue and white wax to start dripping down onto the cupcake. A few of those seconds were spent just thinking, because what is there to wish for when he has everything he needs? A home, a job that pays the bills and puts food on the table, something to get around in, and best of all, an unlimited source of love and support.

Then, he knows it.

He considers who you are to him. You lit up his life, again, and he can't wait to spend all the years to come, with you. Because of his big, beefy, tough guy appearance, he knows it would give you a good laugh if he ever told you that being around you makes fluttering little butterflies flood his stomach. He'll say it out loud to you someday, just to hear you laugh. Frankly, you deserve it, because before you, he could count on his hands the amount of times he had laughed so hard and for so long that his stomach felt sore. Being around you has turned it into almost a daily occurrence, and all he can wish for is years, decades, and the appearance of grey hairs and wrinkles with you.

You laugh. You laugh at how he ignored your warning about the candle wax, you laugh at the utterly soft look on his face. You feel giddy as you watch those green eyes of his, tracing your face and taking in every feature on it. Like anybody who can't read minds, you wonder what he wished for, even when you know it's something that is never meant to be said out loud.

Before you can even process it, the candle is blown out and the plate is being taken out of your hands and placed on the counter. Toji wraps his arms around you and pulls you in close enough to rest his forehead against yours. He knocks his nose against yours a couple times, a gesture that lures an unfaltering grin onto his face at the sound of your giggles.

"You're the best, doll. You didn't have to--"

You shut him up, instantly, with a kiss. It's soft and warm and delicate. It's everything that he loves about you, wrapped up in the sweetest touch.

"Yes, I did. Don't even, my love," you assure, smiling as you rub his chest. "I'm so lucky to get to celebrate you, baby. I love you, and i'm happy you're here. Those two reasons are enough on their own for me to willingly wake up at five in the morning and run around store to store like a headless chicken, so I could get home before you woke up. Clearly, you had different plans," you say, reciprocating his smile. Your hand raises to cup his cheek and your thumb strokes his soft skin, tenderly. "All of this is from me to you. Please, let me show you how much you mean to me."

It didn't take much convincing. Toji was on board the moment you killed his denial of these extra things being necessary to celebrate another day of living, another year of getting older. Your trying little kisses don't hurt, though. If this is your way of begging to show him extra love—by showing him extra love—then who is he to reject your affection?

"Please, pretty please, please, pleaseeeee, please-"

"Shh, baby." His index finger goes over your lips. He smiles at how obedient you are—birthday treatment. Normally, whenever he does that, you try to bite his finger in a playful manner. "I woke up alone in bed this morning. That kinda sucked."

"I'm sorry," you say, against his finger.

"I liked your renaissance painting," he says, a smirk forming on his lips when he feels a breath of a laugh from you on his skin. "Couldn't help but feel a little jealous that a few scribbles got more lip locking action, first thing in the morning, than I did." He sighs, almost like he's wounded by the remembrance of reaching for you and being met with an empty space. "How ever will you make it up to me?" His finger slides down your lips, causing the bottom one to bounce back after he pulled it down.

"I'll give you all the kisses and a bonus kiss." You nod, proudly, at your offer.

"Mhm, that's pretty good so far. What else?"

"What else do you want? I'm up for anything today."

You don't miss the movement of his hands on your waist, subtly maneuvering so that his fingers lift your shirt the slightest bit, allowing him to graze your bare skin. The glimmer of mischief that almost immediately appears in his eyes and the unfaltering smirk on his face, make it so that it's not necessary for him to word what he will eventually want to do with you. Your face goes warm at the thought, but you just laugh it off.

"Do you know what time it is, right now?" Toji asks, more to chide you for being out of bed so early, than for the purpose of knowing the time.

"Almost eight, no?" You take your phone out of your pocket and check. "Seven thirty," you confirm, showing him your screen.

"It's seven thirty in the morning, ma. What are we doing awake at seven thirty in the morning, on our day off?"

"I was on a mission, I don't know about you."

He scoffs. "Oh, kill that. You do know about me."

Simple. Toji doesn't like sleeping without you. He likes knowing you're getting your rest next to him and he loves the ongoing, intimate, physical contact. Even if he's not full on spooning you, he's always touching you. Whether it's his face buried in your chest, his legs tangled with yours, his elbow digging into your back or even his head pressed into your shoulder, he's always touching you.

"Let's go back to bed," he says, placing a peck on your forehead, before resting his chin on top of your head. "Just for a little longer."

"You don't want breakfast?"

He shakes his head, in response. "I want you to sleep with me."

"I can make something quick," you insist.

"Do I have to throw you over my shoulder and drag you away?"

"No, sir," you say, with mock seriousness. "I'm going." You wiggle out of his hold and barely manage to take two steps, before you feel his hand swat at your ass. You gasp, dramatically, and turn around to look at him, your widened eyes being the most prominent feature of your surprised expression.

Toji snickers, unable to stay serious when you look at him like he did something life altering to you. "Run. If I catch you, we're staying in bed all day."

Nothing else needed to be said for you to start sprinting towards the room. You've been awake since five in the morning to ensure that these celebratory plans are followed through with, properly. You can't stay in bed all day, so it's a good thing Toji didn't chase you to the room.

Once Toji slides into bed and finds your body under the covers, he completely encompasses you in his hold. His front is flush against your back, his arm strewn across your waist, and his face is pressed to the nape of your neck. He's made himself comfortable, having gone as far as to slightly overlap your leg with his. It doesn't take very long for Toji to fall asleep this way. You're his own personal cuddle bug and the reason he sleeps like a hibernating bear every night, down to the brief snoring he makes you endure before he wakes himself up with the loudness.

You wake up a few hours later, pulling Toji out of sleep as well, because of all your movement. You smile when he grunts and buries his face in your chest, in an attempt to go back to sleep.

"Was that not enough time?" You ask, running your fingers through his hair.

"Mm-mm," he hums, quietly. He's starting to move around more, mostly pawing at you to keep you close, so you don't leave him.

"We have to get up soon. We slept through the rest of the morning," you say, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. The tenderness of the gesture just makes him want to stay in bed with you for longer.

"Mm," he hums, once again, the sound coming off as dismissive.

"Sounds like you don't want your morning-turned-afternoon kisses, before we get up. You would rather stay asleep, huh?"

Now, that grabs his attention.

He moves away from your chest and just stares at you with his sleep ridden eyes and a pout that you know he would deny is a pout if you mentioned it.

"Oh, you're awake. I knew it," you say, with a teasing grin. You know he's ready when his eyes keep flitting between your eyes and your lips, silently signaling to you what he wants. "Alright, alright. Don't yell at me," you jest. You lean in and press a quick peck on his lips, then another, and another, until it's quick bursts of kisses that make him want to laugh. "Come on. Keep up. You know I try my hardest when you do this to me."

As if he's insulted by your taunting, he rolls on top of you and traps you beneath him, returning all your kisses while you're distracted, laughing at the sudden crushing weight of his body on yours.

"Keep up," Toji throws at you, this time, in his slightly raspy voice. "Come on, kiss me back. Keep up," he repeats, not even giving you a chance to respond before he's back to smothering you, again. He laughs when you end up surrendering, welcoming defeat by just lying there in a giggle fit. "It's like... a million to nothing, ma."

A few more giggles flow past your lips, your smile lingering once you somewhat collect yourself. "Best million to nothing ever. I'll get you, tomorrow." You don't promise or swear it, because just by looking at his face, now, you think you just might lose, again. You have a very strong feeling about it.

Toji simply gives you a low "mhm" and smirks, confidently, because he knows that you will be in this position, again, tomorrow morning.

"Well... now that you're awake, we can finally leave the bed." Toji's reaction to that is the most dramatic groan ever, but when you tell him that he can stay in bed while you "do stuff" in the kitchen, he refuses and follows you. It's great, but he almost makes you burn the food a couple times.

"Toji- Baby." You laugh, when he clings to your back and buries his face in your neck. "Go sit down and eat your cupcake."

"Mm-mm. Saving room for you," he mumbles.

"You're so..." You can't even finish the sentence, the shaking of your head and the curl of your lips doing wonders to reveal your flustered state.

"Romantic?" He asks, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, as if to give you more proof. He smirks against your skin when you freeze, like you're lost in thought. "Keep stirring, mama," he says, grinning when you snap out of your very brief daze and stir quickly to make up for your lack of focus.

"You're gonna make me burn your food," you chide. You reach behind you with your free hand and try to push him back, but he doesn't budge.

"Nah, nah. I'm looking out for you," he corrects.

You turn off the stove and turn to him. "Listen. You're a very handsome distraction, but you're going to make me burn the entire kitchen down if you keep doing what you're doing."

"Which is?" He questions, standing right in front of you. He loves how easy it is for him to have you cheesing.

"Being romantic. You know what you're doing! Stop being cute," you say, pressing your lips together to stop yourself from giggling and egging him on.

"Just say you need my help, pretty," he says, his voice and the placement of his hands on your hips, indicating that there's a double meaning to the sentence. For now, you choose to ignore the one that doesn't involve cooking.

"Okay, then. Help me wash, peel, and cut the potatoes, please."

It's hard not to laugh at his reaction—the quiet 'tsk' sound and the subtle twitch of his lips. He looks like he was expecting you to stop cooking, to take a brief intermission with him. The disillusioned look on his face is quickly traded for an expression that says 'i'll get you'. It's a smirk and something feral hidden in those dark eyes.

"Sure thing," he replies, squeezing your hips a couple times between his enormous hands.

You would think having help in the kitchen would expedite the process of getting things done, but it was the opposite when it came to Toji helping you out. If he's not distracting you, he's distracted by you.

Instead of finishing the task you gave him, he turns around and watches you cut vegetables like it's one of the most interesting things he's ever seen.

"Damn, ma. Look at you go," he says, watching the smooth, back and forth motion of the knife you are using and listening to the consistent, rhythmic sound of the blade on the cutting board. He's mesmerized—you make it look like art.

You put the knife down, unable to contain your laugh when he keeps watching you. "Almost done, Toji?" You ask, turning to look at him.

"Yeah, yeah," he responds, before turning around, again.

Somehow, after all the pauses and distractions, and the swatting at Toji's hands when he would pick at the food, claiming multiple times that he was doing a taste test, the food was finally finished.

"The house smells fucking amazing, doll. We did that," Toji says, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you as you finish washing the cutting board.

"We did," you agree, grinning at how proud he is of the results of your conjoined efforts. "How does it taste?" You ask, washing the dish soap off the cutting board.

"Perfect," he murmurs, in your ear. "Not as good as-"

"Don't say it. Don't say it." You turn off the water and turn to look at the menacing smirk on his face.

"-you," he finishes, without hesitation, and almost instantly, you smack his chest, earning a chuckle from him. "What? You don't wanna be my dessert?"

"Oh my god, Toji," you groan, walking away from him to grab some plates.

The cupcake you got him did not go to waste. You both had one of those 'I need something sweet' moments, once you finished eating. After a couple more eye rolls from you towards his suggestive remarks, Toji being the kind soul he is, shared the dessert. He took one enormous bite of it—bits of candle wax and all—and then gave you the rest. It definitely hit the spot, and watching Toji get frustrated every time he asked if his lips and teeth were still blue, has become one of the many core memories you have with him.

"Gifts?" You ask, drying your hands after washing your plate and putting it away.

Toji sighs. "What did you do, ma?"

You smile at him, mischievously, and beckon him to come with you. You pick up all the bags you left on the floor and lead him to the couch, where you set them down. The second he sees how many bags there are, he shakes his head, and you know what he's thinking—'you didn't have to'. It's written all over his face, so in an attempt to steer away those thoughts, you rub his chest, like you did before, and smile.

"Open them."

For someone who was iffy about receiving gifts, he sure went through the opening process quickly. After pulling out the paper tissue you awkwardly fluffed and placed in each bag to hide what was in it, he scanned what was at the bottom of each bag before pulling the items out as well. Shirts, pants, gym shorts and sweatpants, a new coffee mug—he inspects all of the items, closely, with a soft smile on his face.

"Everything else is in black, why the navy blue jacket?"

"You look hot in navy blue."

Case closed.

"Oh shit. What is this, doll?" Toji asks, picking up the smaller, gift bag with the crispy, bold font on it. This gift in particular caught his eye, because it's something he knows for sure both of you like. You watch with a beaming smile as he pulls out the blue box, a low chuckle leaving him when he reads the name of the elegant cologne. "Remember that time you said just sniffing this would get you pregnant?" He asks, as he rips the plastic covering off the box and opens it, bringing out the even more elegant looking bottle.

"Yeah, you have to stay away from me if you're gonna wear that. From here to the kitchen, that's the distance you have to-"

The fragrance lands like mist on your face. It immediately overpowers the smell of the food you and Toji made, and fills your nostrils with the manliest, sexiest, most perilous scent you have ever smelled. It has your heart racing. It's Toji. You smell it and all your thoughts lock in on him. Toji, Toji, Toji, like a siren blaring in your head.

"How you doing, mama?" Toji asks, grinning fiendishly at your stunned reaction. "Smells real nice, huh?"

You stop buffering and take in the teasing smirk on his face. This would be the second time, today, that you look at him like he did something life changing to you.

"We should go to the beach," you suggest. You're calm and collected on the outside, frenzied and bouncing off the walls on the inside. A trip to the beach sounds good.

"That's random. Why do you wanna go to the beach?" He asks, putting the cologne back in its box.

"Let's catch a sunset and get you out of the house for a while," you elaborate. "Do you really want to spend the whole day in here?"

"I do wanna spend the whole day here," Toji responds, stepping towards you. "Just me and you, relaxing in bed together. Doesn't that sound way better than the beach?" He asks.

You can't even pretend like he's wrong when he looks at you like that. Like going outside after getting so comfortable and reveling in the warm atmosphere created in your home, would be worse than when he woke up alone in the morning.

"Let's stay here and keep each other warm," he says, pulling you into him. His arms act like vines around your waist, tightening to keep you close.

"Sure," you respond, a soft smile on your face as you look into his eyes. "We can stay inside."

When Toji leaned in to peck your lips, he really considered turning it into another competition to see who could get more kisses in. He was going for another win, aiming to overpower you with speed and quantity, to end it the way he always does—smothering your entire face with kisses, while you laugh through your sweet defeat—but when he felt your fingers drag over his back, right before you balled up his shirt in your hands, he decided to mind your gentleness and reciprocate it. He even smiled into a few of the kisses, to settle down the urge he felt to laugh, because he could smell his cologne on your face.

Toji took your hand and dragged you with him to the bedroom, once he broke the kiss. There, you spent your time cuddling, kissing, talking, and making love, each act done separately, but just as easily melted together into one act. You even got to see your sunset through the bedroom window, with your cheek and your hands pressed to the glass that kept fogging up.

By the end of the day, you were both spent, but still remained inseparable—not even a shower called for being apart. When it was time to go to sleep, you kept your face buried in Toji's neck. You pressed so many gentle kisses to his skin, while mumbling quiet, sleepy 'I love you's, that he hummed in response to, when he was't tiredly saying it back.

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel and you have broken up towards the end of your pregnancy until Sarah convinces you to come to Tommy’s annual Christmas party.]

A Christmas baby

“I’m not arguing with you like this god dammit, I ain’t trynna upset you”

Fluff jealousy childbirth angst

“Please come tonight, I really want to see you” Sarah spoke on the other end of the phone. You sighed brushing your hand over your nine month belly, the last thing you wanted to do was attend Tommy’s annual Christmas party.

You knew how much Sarah cared for you and how much she wanted you to be there but after having broken up with Joel just two months prior, it felt strange.

“My dad misses you” she spoke softly.

“I don’t know Sarah, there’s a lot-“

“Please just think about it, it’s Christmas. Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

How were you suppose to resist? Besides Tommy inviting most of the neighbors and having nosey eyes on you, it couldn’t be that bad…right?

Since breaking up with Joel, you had seen him twice. You remembered coming out of your OB appointment and Joel sitting at the bottom step outside waiting for you. You hadn’t expected to see him there, especially being that he never made it to any appointments, constantly over booking himself at work. You remembered the arguments the two of you would have, sometimes you felt he overbooked himself on purpose to not deal with anything that had to do with the baby.

Maybe he had cold feet you thought, whatever it was it didn’t go well mixed with your hormones, your sensitivity at an all time high.

When you moved in with your sister Abby, Joel constantly called her to make sure you were ok. Every night you’d hear your sister on the phone repeating the same things over and over.

“She’s ok”

“I swear I’ll call you if anything”

“No shes not lifting anything heavy, Joel”

Sometimes you couldn’t help but crack a smile, Joel was always invested in making sure you had everything you needed but what you wanted more was his time.

Pulling up in front Joel’s house you could see the guests from the front window. A part of you second guessing what you were doing there, almost tempted to turn back. Then there it was again, a slow pain that kept coming and going from your lower back. This must be what Braxton hicks contraction’s were as the doctor had explained a week piror.

“You made it!” You suddenly heard from outside your car. One of the neighbors, Tilly spotted you just as she was about to go inside with her older brother Jim. Jim was a good friend of Tommy’s, Joel never seemed to be a fan of his, you never knew why.

“Guess I can’t escape now” you whispered to yourself before opening your car door.

“Here, let me give you a hand” Jim gave you his arm as you stepped out the car.

“You look amazing” Jim uttered low as you grabbed onto him. Not expecting his compliment you smiled.

“Thanks”

“That red dress looks great on you” Tilly exclaimed.

“Joel’s gonna be so happy to see you” she chuckled.

Anxiously walking to the front door, you stopped at the steps to adjust your dress.

“Don’t worry Jim won’t let you fall” Tilly whispered, excitement in her voice for her favorite day of the year. Just as you began to walk up the steps the front door opened, to your surprise Joel stepped out. Caught off guard he stopped in his tracks at the sight of you, not expecting you to show up, much less holding onto Jim. You watched his eyes immediately turn to him, a stern look he couldn’t hide until Tilly’s high pitched voice distracted him.

“Joel! So good to see you!” He looked to her and gave her a nod, you could still see the disapproval he felt.

“Tommy’s makin’ drinks, ya got here just in time”

“Shit, you don’t have to tell me twice” Jim made his way up the stairs with you before you thanked him and held your hands together awkwardly. Taking a quick glance at Joel you noticed him looking at you but you didn’t say a word, neither did he, until you were alone.

“I’ve been callin’ you” he stood against the door, cheers and laughter could be heard in the background.

“Abby told me” you spoke softly. His tongue sliding against his inner cheek, there was so much more he wanted to say, you could see it.

“How have you been feelin’?

His question making you finally look up directly at him. He wore a red and black flannel shirt, the one he knew you loved.

“Um-it’s getting harder to walk in certain shoes now” you chuckled showing off that you wore flip flops with your dress. Joel smiled, something he hadn’t done much of since you left.

“Oh my gosh you came!” Sarah’s voice made you both turn her way.

“Hey Sarah,” you smiled.

“Oh my- that red dress is so cute on your baby bump” she grinned with excitement.

“Thank you” you smiled brushing your hand over your bump making Joel’s eyes soften as he looked at you.

“Oh uh- I’m sorry for interrupting dad. I just-“

“Don’t worry, honey. I’m glad to see you excited” he assured her.

“Well, if you guys don’t mind I really need to use the restroom. I’m going every ten minutes now” you laughed before quickly and awkwardly excusing yourself to the back.

Coming out of the bathroom you gave Sarah your sweater and purse as you looked around the room to all the guests there, you honestly didn’t know where to put yourself.

“Look at you, I’m glad you showed up!” Tommy approached you with a Santa hat and beer in hand.

“How are you feelin’?” Tommy asked as Joel appeared beside him.

“Well my ankles are killing me, my back feels on fire, she’s constantly kicking me“ you chuckled.

“but other than that I’m fine” you sighed.

“Aw she’s just excited to meet her uncle” Tommy laughed as he leaned towards your belly.

“Ain’t that right lil’ niece?”

“Tommy” Joel uttered giving him a side eye.

“What? Just a few more weeks till we meet, I’m excited” he took a sip from his beer before being pulled away to dance. Joel and you stood beside each other, his arms crossed as he laughed at his brother before looking over at you.

“How about we get you a seat,”

“Um, it’s fine, I’d rather stay here plus all the seats are taken”

“So, I’ll get somebody up” Joel looked back at the full room quickly eyeing who he’d get the seat from.

“No, no it’s fine” as much as your ankles hurt, you’d rather have stayed away from everyone asking you dozens of questions.

“You wanna lay down in our room for a bit?” His question catching you off guard.

Our room.

“Thanks, Joel. I’ll be fine. I’ll just take some water though, I am thirsty”

He nodded, his eyes remained on you longer than he meant to, drifting down to your dress laying perfectly over your baby bump.

“You look beautiful by the way”

Your heart skipping a beat from his words, you looked over at him.

“Thank you” you whispered before he walked into the kitchen.

Soon you noticed Mary and Lisa heading your way, two of the most nosiest neighbors you had dying to ask questions the moment you walked in. Those two women never seemed to know when to stop talking. Quickly turning towards the kitchen you walked off doing your best to avoid them when you heard a woman laughing in the kitchen. Silently stopping at the doorway you saw Maria with Joel, she was known for many things with men around the area, especially married men. Her hand on Joel’s shoulder as he held your glass of water in hand, you felt a jealousy you had never felt before.

“If it wasn’t for you driving me home that night, who knows where I would’ve ended up” she laughed as your heart sunk. It couldn’t be, Joel spent a night with Maria? Although you and Joel weren’t together, it was crushing to hear.

“Maybe you can drive me home tonight again…?” She spoke with a flirtatious voice as her hand creeped to back of his neck when you accidentally knocked something down beside you. Both of them quickly looking up, Joel realized you had heard everything but before he could say a word you quickly walked out rushing to grab your belongings from down the hall. Joel quickly put the glass down and pushed past Maria following you out as your heart raced with disbelief and hurt.

“Sarah where’s my stuff?” Your voice cracked as she looked up at you confused.

“In the room, are you okay?” You couldn’t respond rushing toward the bedroom as Joel quickly followed behind calling your name.

“It ain’t what you think-“ Joel appeared at the doorway slightly out of breath as you grabbed your sweater.

“Hey, hey-listen to me, baby” he rushed towards you trying to get you to understand him, desperation in his eyes, his hand attempted to grab your face.

“Don’t!” You screamed, tears building up in your eyes.

“The neighborhood whore huh?”

“No, dammit, listen to me!”

“No, you would-“ you suddenly stopped speaking as a sharp cramping like sensation took over you. Leaning forward you winced grabbing your belly, Joels expression instantly changing.

“What? What’s wrong?” He whispered, his hand reaching for your belly just as the wave of pain passed.

“Don’t” you shoved his hand away and took a deep breath. Getting yourself together you put your sweater on and grabbed your purse. Trying to walk past him he blocked your way, a look of concern he couldn’t hide if he tried.

“I’m not lettin’ you leave like this”

“Like hell you’re not!” You screamed, the music and the guests so loud nobody could hear you arguing.

“You can go continue your fun-“

“I’m not arguing with you like this god dammit, I ain’t trynna upset you”

“Too late for that” you aggressively put on your sweater.

“I didn’t do nothin’ with her! She was with Tommy, he passed out drunk in the car I was the only sober one so I drove. She got out the car went home and that was it, nothin’ happened between me and her”

“I don’t believe you” you shook your head as a tear fell from your eyes. You attempted to push past him but he wouldn’t budge.

“I ain’t lettin’ you drive like this-“

“What the hell do you care?! Go talk with Maria since obviously you have time for her but not our baby-“

“You know damn well that’s not true” he grabbed your wrists stopping you from pushing him aside.

“Let go of me!” You pulled your arms back just as another wave of pain took over. Quickly turning away you leaned against the wall.

“Ow-“ you cried out. The pain more intense than you had been feeling earlier.

Joel quickly coming behind you making sure you were okay, his hands on your waist.

“Come sit down”

“No, no…it’ll go away like it did earlier” you whispered in between breaths.

“What do you mean earlier?”

You stood silent as you slowly turned to him.

“What do you mean earlier?” He repeated himself sternly.

“It’s Braxton hicks, I had felt them last week and the doctor told me it was normal. I’m not dilated-“

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There was nothing to tell!” You winced again from yet another wave of pain.

“I don’t think these are Braxton hicks, you’re getting them to close together, you’re having contractions“

“No I am not. Just leave me alone” you squeezed your eyes shut unable to speak.

“Stop being so damn stubborn, we’re gettin’ you to a hospital”

“No!” You whispered with a gasp just as Sarah ran in.

“Oh my god-“

“Sarah, tell uncle Tommy we’re goin’ to the hospital” he called out to her.

“Is she-“

“Yes” his voice somehow calm as he had you hold onto him.

“Oh my g- it’s getting worse” you whimpered.

“I know, honey. We’re gonna get in the truck now” he caressed your face.

“Is this actually happening right now” you whispered to yourself.

“I think so, baby”

Tommy ran to the truck with his Santa hat still on, opening the doors for you and Joel as the guests all watched on in shock.

“I don’t have my bag! My bag, Joel!”

“I’ll tell your sister to bring it” he buckled your seatbelt and closed the door rushing to the other side. Everyone watched as Joel sped off, each contraction becoming more intense you screamed in agony as Joel kept beeping the horn. If you weren’t so distracted with the pain you felt you would’ve seen how desperate Joel became with each sound you made.

“We’re here, baby. We’re here” the tires screeched as he made a hard turn into the lot.

Everything happened so fast, next thing you knew you were on the hospital bed being instructed to push. Joel holding your leg up, you cried feeling as if you couldn’t get through this.

“I can’t-“ you shook your head as Joel stood beside you, gently turning your head to face him.

“Look at me, yes you can. I’m right here and I ain’t goin’ no where, count with me” Joel began to instruct you with breathing and counting as the doctor prepped for the arrival of your baby.

After all the pain and chaos that occurred, it was all worth it. After the end of it all, you had fallen asleep and awoke to Joel humming Silent Night. Still feeling weak, you turned to see him looking out the window as it snowed. You smiled just as he turned and caught your eyes on him.

“I think she likes this song” he whispered making you laugh.

“You read the book” you spoke softly as he looked at you confused.

“The book I gave you about dads during birth”

He smiled with a nod.

“How else would I had known how to help you breathe through all that pushin’” turns out he listened much more than you thought he did.

“Mhm” your eyes began to uncontrollably close, you were exhausted.

“Get your rest, baby. I got her” without a word you quickly fell back to sleep as Joel looked down at his daughter with tearful eyes.

“The best Christmas gift I’ve ever been given” he kissed her forehead and continued humming the song..

Tags

@moonpascal @katmoonz @picketniffler @stcrrjoon @itsamandi @starry-eyes-love @theoraekenslover @psychoenergy @joeldjarin @bambisweethearts @baronessvonglitter @guelyury @mynameistokyo @harriedandharassed @locaparapedrito @untamedheart81 @rosaliedepp @illyanam1011 @hopefulatrocity @tikikiki @thewritermj @l0veang3l @manuymesut @katiemarieeee @unknownomgg @secretcheesecakenacho @missladym1981 @xmaykeca @dendulinka6 @wintersquirrel @malfoycassimalfoy @scorpio-echo @orcasoul @mysteryhexgirl @locaparapedrito @alloftheimagines @mystickittytaco

@ashleyfilm @justajoelsreader @ashleyfilm

[v6quewrlds]

💞 Joe burrow! Your choice of genre !

imagine a cold war with joe.

Joe looked over from the couch, his expression a mix of surprise and guilt. "You're home early," he said, standing up to give you a kiss. You turned your head, the kiss landing on your cheek instead of your lips. 

"I told you I'd be home around 7." Your voice filled with false calm as you held up the takeout bags. "I brought dinner from our favorite place and everything."

"Oh, shit!" Ja'Marr jumped to his feet at the sound of something other than Joe's ‘rabbit food’.

"Not for you," you shot the wide receiver a look that could cut through steel before sending another searing look at Joe. "Who's playing?" You knew better than to start an argument in front of his friends, especially when they were in such high spirits.

"Lakers and Nets," Tee announced, his eyes glued to the giant TV screen. "It's pretty good, you should join us."

You nodded, keeping your smile in place. "Maybe later." You didn't miss the look of concern on Sam's face, or the way Tee's smile faltered when he finally turned to see your expression. Only Ja'Marr remained blissfully unaware, shouting at the TV after a disheartening Lakers turnover.

"Hope you guys enjoy," you said, retreating into the kitchen. You heard Joe follow you, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor. He leaned against the counter, his eyes searching yours for some kind of explanation for the cold shoulder.

"I fucked up, didn't I?" Joe said, his voice low as he studied your tight expression.

You didn't bother to hide your frustration as you placed the food in the microwave. "You could say that," you replied, your voice tight. "You didn't mention you were having the guys over."

"You weren't even supposed to be home yet," Joe said defensively. "You always work late on Thursdays."

You closed the microwave with more force than necessary. "Did I not tell you I'd be home early tonight? That we needed to talk?" You didn't wait for his answer, your voice rising. "And you couldn't even bother to send me a text to let me know that the guys were coming over?"

"Right, because you read all your texts, huh?" Joe retorted, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Look, I didn't expect you to actually be home early. And even if I had, I wouldn't have canceled on the guys. We need this."

"Whatever, Joe," you scoffed. "Go entertain your friends. I'll eat upstairs."

"Babe, come on. You can't be serious," Joe pleaded, his voice a mix of irritation and confusion. "Just come watch the game with us. We'll talk after."

"No," you said firmly, turning to face him. "This is ridiculous." Your voice was tightly coiled, your eyes flashing with anger. You could feel the angry heat rising in your cheeks, but you didn't care. All you knew was that you couldn't spend another night pretending everything was fine.

"What do you want me to do?" Joe's voice was low and tired, his patience wearing thin. "I can't tell them to leave."

You took a deep breath, trying to rein in your temper. "You can tell them to keep it down," you said finally. "I have stuff to do."

Joe nodded. "Okay," he murmured. He turned and walked back into the living room, leaving you alone with the microwave's hum for company.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Squeaky Clean 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You start work as a maid but you're not prepared for the mess your client brings with him. (maid AU -- plus!reader)

Note: yeah...

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

This isn’t where you pictured yourself. Even as a cynic, it’s not a job you would aspire too. You’re realistic. Practical. You do what needs to be done. And you suppose, at the end of the day, that’s all this is. Cleaning is rarely enjoyable but it needs to be done. 

You have your kit. The agency gave that to you for a $30 fee. Wonderful, you get to pay for supplies. Business is business. Just another way of the world. The bucket is weighed down by the cleaners, the sponges, clothes, etc. The vacuum is a rental and weighs down your trunk with the broom and mop from your own apartment. You’re not buying a whole new set just for this. They’ll do the job. 

You can settle for that. For what will do. For the bare minimum. Life has been a lot of that. You’re not the only one living that way so why feel sorry for yourself. Get through it, get over it. 

The map on your phone leads you to the address. It’s a big place. One of those high-end townhouses. Not new but renovated. Protected by some city ordinance for ‘historical preservation’. Under that, they sell for nothing less than two million. Yep, you expect that. Logic and practicality are easy bedmates. 

You park and feed the meter. Again, paying to make money. The world runs on money. Put in a little and hope for a few cents to get you by. 

You get out and grab your bucket. You'll come back for the rest when you need them. Zuli, the woman who went over the expectations with you assured you that most clients are away during a service call. They don’t like mingling with the help. If they are around, you likely won’t see them. Or they won’t acknowledge you. 

You can suck up your pride. It’s that city mindset. When you’re on the subway, you keep your head down, you don’t make eye contact. If you hadn’t taken this damned job, you wouldn’t be slogging through New York traffic in the company pinto. A job is a job, money is money, everything is simple if you just parse down your expectations. 

You climb the front steps and as you go to ring the doorbell, a lens built in to protect the overpriced property, the door opens. You retract your hand in surprise. Bad timing? 

The man that greets you is tall and blond. He wears a button up; brown plaid, and khakis. He looks like a cut-out husband from a 1950s advertisement for laundry soap. ‘Give your a fresh scent’ or whatever. 

 Strangely, he also tweaks your memory. Do you know him from somewhere? That’s not possible. You don’t know anyone you’re not forced to know. 

“Mister...” You lift your phone and check the app. “...Rogers.” 

Oh, right. Steve Rogers. You thought it was a coincidence. It can’t be a very uncommon name. You really didn’t anticipate the Captain America opening the door, even in Brooklyn. 

“You must be...” he says your name with a smile. “You can just call me Steve.” 

He holds out his hand. You look at it and stiffly set down the kit. You shake it, out of courtesy. Just your luck. You get one that wants to chat. 

“I’ll give you the tour,” he squeezes your hand firmly before he lets go. “You can get the lay of the land.” 

Another false promise. You should be used to those by now. Those written directions Zuli mentioned are out the window. You get the full curated walk through. 

“Thanks,” you nod and bend your knees. 

He’s quicker than you. Stronger too. Obviously. But the way he easily scoops up the bucket, it’s like he’s picking up no more than a pillow. The act adds to the hint of mortification in prickling behind your ears. Here you are, in sweats and a bandana, in a nice neighbourhood, and now you’re faced with the primped and pristine golden boy. 

He backs up and gestures you inside, the bottle of bleach wiggling in the bucket. You enter and stop on the matter. You slip out of your shoes as he shuts the door. He turns, coming close, close enough that his warm radiates through the back of your hoodie. 

“You can hang up your sweater,” he reaches to tap a peg on the coat rack mounted on the wall. 

“Sure,” you unzip the hoodie and hang it. 

The house is nice. Organized. You wonder why he needs a maid but then again, you suppose even if he can do it himself, he might not want to. Or have the time. How much leisure does he have when he isn’t saving the world. 

It’s a pretty standard layout. You’ve seen homes with a similar floor plan by the fixtures are loose and corroded and the floorboards splintered. Nice places, just aged. Owned by those who can’t afford hired help. 

You notice a few original pieces, restored, but emblazoned with the patent that demarcates them as turn of the twentieth century. Almost as old as the man leading you around. You go through the first floor, the second floor, and come back down. 

“So, I’ll be around here and there. I don’t really have a solid schedule but I’ll try to have you come in around the same time, make it easy on you,” he explains. He has a hand on his hip as he gestures with the other; like he’s ordering around his soldiers, rather, his avengers. 

“Right,” you nod again.  

Taking orders isn’t that hard. They remind you of someone else but they’re not difficult. It’s harder when you don’t know what others want. When disappointing them is easy. 

“Any questions?” He asks. 

“No,” you shake your head. You stand awkwardly, waiting. You clear your throat. “I can take that.” 

You reach for the kit and he flinches as he looks down. He chuckles, “oh, oh yeah. Heavy. Let me know where to put it. I’ll save you the pulled muscle.” 

“Really, I can handle it,” you grab the handle, next to his hand. He resists for a moment then lets you take it. He could keep it from you if he wanted. That thought is something else. This man is powerful in more ways than one. “Thanks.” 

“No problem, and whatever you need, water or whatever, let me know,” he offers as he slides one heel back. “I’m up in my office today so you can do that last.” 

“Makes sense,” you accept and turn away.  

Kitchen first, that’s the most tedious. 

[arvlelt]

pretty mechanic.

pairing - vi x fem!reader

cw - reader's attractiveness makes vi nervy, reader is a smarty pants duh, for the sake of the plot vi doesn’t like cait, fluff, teasing, etc. lmk if i missed anything.

request - For Vi, something with a fem reader, who she meets through Ekko. Reader is apart of the Firelights, a mechanic or a healer, and she's getting parts and Vi just spots her rummaging through old stuff that she's intent on using to fix a hover board, and gets all tongue tied because she was expecting some scrawny pack rat kid, not a pretty woman

w.count - 1.1k+

a/n - kinda short did w what i could, also it's not letting me tag the person that requested this so if you see this, this ones for you gang<3 not proofread

"this better not be a waste of our time," grumbled a pretty grumpy violet who was following ekko with caitlyn not too far behind.

they were on their way to maybe find some clues about powder before ekko insisted that they make a pit stop to fix his board.

ekko scoffed, "if you want my help, i'm going to need my board. which needs fixing. so i need to go to our mechanic, genius."

vi smirked, "what, you can't fix it yourself, big guy? need a lil 'ol mechanic to fix it?" her tone was teasing as ekko didn't reply.

vi thought that was the end of that and that her point was proven right at his silence.

so you could imagine her shock when she see's not a scrawny little nerd, but in fact a very pretty and fit woman.

vi felt her cheeks warming up as she eyed the woman bent over, rummaging through boxes of whatever you were looking for, vi wasn’t as fixated on that — and more on the woman in her eye frame.

she couldn’t help her wandering eyes as they examined your curves, taking in all of your body that she didn’t even seem to notice ekko and caitlyn watching her watch you.

she took in your complete outfit, short shorts that showed just enough but not a lot of your ass, fishnets underneath with a few layered t-shirts you had laying around that made you look so good.

vi seemed to sense a presence behind her she turned around with a slightly flustered expression, “who, uhm— who’s that?” she whispered. ekko couldn’t stop the shit eating grin from forming on his face.

you seemed to hear the commotion as you looked over your shoulder for a quick sec, not giving much attention to the newcomers, before going back to your little invention you were working on.

“what happened now, ekko?” he could hear the desperation in your voice as ekko had quite a habit of damaging his board after coming back from raids, which would make you pause whatever you were working on.

ekko moved past vi, caitlyn straying behind him, and walked into your work space, taking a comfortable seat on your desk next to you, "this is our mechanic, y/n! she can typically fix anything aaanddd, she's a huge help around here."

you scoffed at his praise, wiping the sweat off your brow as you turned around and vi fully saw your face.

she swore she could've fallen on her knees right then and there. you were down right gorgeous. and not just that, you for sure had to have brains. it certainly doesn't take the average person to know what they're doing with being a mechanic and fixing equipment.

vi couldn't help the words spilling out her mouth, as she suddenly felt flustered, "she's your mechanic?" sounding a little more loud than she intended to.

caitlyn was quite amused, not quite used to seeing big bad vi so tongue-tied over someone. and it's not like she could blame her.

you tried not to take offense to her little comment but your face betrayed you as you responded, "and what's that supposed to mean?" you had a bit of an attitude as you reached over and grabbed a rag, cleaning your hands of the grease.

vi could understand why, it's not like everyone in the undercity was as accepting of women doing 'man jobs'.

she winced at how she might've sounded, hands coming up in defense and immediately was fumbling over her words, "that's- that's not what i was implying-! you're.. you're just so.." she trailed off, suddenly feeling awkward under your gaze. you were looking at her with a raised brow, waiting for her to finish.

well it's not like she was implying a bad thing, you were just so pretty. and she could never imagine a pretty dainty thing like you getting your hands dirty, and honestly, she found it so hot.

"i'm soo..?"

oh vi was gonna piss herself at the tone of your voice.

ekko cleared his throat in attempt to save vi, "anways! we're here because i once again busted my board. you guessed it. so if you would be so kind," you scoffed and let go of whatever vi was trying to say and looked over at ekko, who was handing you his board.

vi swallowed hard and she could feel sweat forming on her forehead as she watched you two chatting, caitlyn grabbing her attention as she came next to her, "what's got you so.. not.. you...?" she questioned her but she knew very well what the reason was.

she was trying to tease her, honestly.

vi scoffed, rolling her eyes a bit at her question, "oh, please, you know exactly why," she walked out your workspace with caitlyn trailing behind her.

as they walked out you gave a slight glance at where they walked out before looking back at ekko, "who's that pink-haired chick? she got a problem?" you tilted your head as ekko let out a slight chuckle.

"oh, her only issue would be that you weren't trying to get at her," ekko let out a little laugh as your face dropped in shock.

well that's not what you were expecting. it's not everyday that a woman finds interest in you.

and honestly, it kind of intrigued you.

vi and caitlyn came back in, and once again vi couldn't find the will to speak in your presence. you looked at violet, this time taking a good look at her which seemed to make her blush as she felt her cheeks warming up under your gaze as you eyed her up and down.

"can i help you with something else?" your tone was kinder and more inviting as you could feel the nerves basically rolling off of vi.

vi looking to the side at caitlyn before looking back at you, "uh, just wanna know if you guys are done. we need to, uh, head out soon."

you hummed, looking at ekko and signaling for him to borrow your board, "well if it's urgent, ekko can use mine while i fix his," ekko took the courtesy of walking out, caitlyn as well.

which finally left you two alone for a split sec before the nerves got to vi again and she turned on her heel, ready to run for it.

"i didn't catch your name?" vi was going to faint, good lord.

there was no way such a pretty girl was asking for her name.

she turned over her shoulder, giving a shy smile, "violet, vi for short."

you hummed slightly in response and she watched as you moved along your workspace, grabbing ekko's board and placing it on your work desk, "well, vi, you should come by some time. let me get to know you," your back was turned to her as you started working on the disaster in front of you.

vi was going to explode. she couldn't help the little hops of victory she did quietly behind you before replying calmly.

"yeah for sure, that sounds nice."

[seeingivy]

the tortured poets event is sick bc how am i supposed to choose just ONE 😭😭 gimme everything 💳💥💥💳💥💳💳💳💥💥💳💥 okay what about "no im not coming to my senses" with gojo... 🫣 that annoying ass man 😪

no i'm not coming to my senses x satoru gojo

**part of my tortured poets concert event

--

“y/n. why are you kissing santa claus?” 

the sound of the little feet pattering into the kitchen sends an instant wave of regret down your spine, as you pull back, your hands still warm on satoru’s shoulders as you turn to your left. and without fail, the nocturnal prince, megumi fushiguro, is standing at your side, looking up at you with curious eyes. 

“megumi! you…you’re still awake?” you ask. 

it’s a rather daft question to ask. only because he’s obviously awake, obviously awake because he’s standing right in front of you, where he’s just caught you kissing satoru, still clad in his silly santa claus outfit that he insisted on wearing for christmas eve. 

megumi gives you a small nod, before his eyes suspiciously dart back and forth between you and satoru. out of your peripheral vision, you can see that the latter is very pleased with himself, mostly in the fact that most of the tricks he had planned earlier in the night, the ones that he took far too much effort in organizing despite your warnings, had actually worked. 

megumi really believed that santa claus was real. 

satoru gojo had a natural aptitude to take things a little too seriously. most of the times, a little too far. naturally, the first christmas that megumi and tsumiki were going to spend with you was not an event that he was going to spare or take lightly, at least not without a decent amount of fanfare first.  

what started as an innocent trip to the mall to find matching pajamas left with satoru buying the pair a new wardrobe of designer items, despite your insistence that they wouldn’t really be too fond of them. he figured that toji fushiguro had never bothered to buy the two of them presents, so him buying the obscene amount was justified as he was simply just catching up. 

and while the gifts were mostly innocuous, the entire ordeal that he had planned for christmas eve was the cherry on top. it involved robbing you of your sleep so that the two of you could eat half of the cookies that tsumiki and megumi left out, to imprint little hooves into the yard and footsteps leading up to the tree, and stuffing the stockings that you had purposely left empty for the past two weeks to paint a perfect picture. 

except, satoru gojo refused to stuff the stockings in his own clothes, because according to him, the eyes in the back of megumi’s head would catch him in the act. and if it meant that he had to buy a whole costume to prove his point, it was the very least he would do. 

“are you cheating on gojo sensei?” 

“no! of course, i’m not cheating on satoru.” 

satoru shoots up out of his chair, his hand firm on your shoulder, as he leans down and shoots megumi a pointed smile.

“yes! of course, she is.” satoru responds. 

you shoot satoru a confused look. he doesn’t relent in the slightest, from whatever shitty game it is that he’s playing, and instead opts to give you a peachy smile, before pushing your hands off of his shoulders. 

“she’s been naughty this year.” he responds. 

“what? no, i haven’t. satoru’s just…” 

“who’s satoru? i’m santa claus.” satoru seethes. 

megumi gives you a shrug, before padding out of the room, as you shove satoru and whisper under your breath.

“what the hell?” you whisper. 

“what?” 

“you…you can’t just tell him that i’m cheating on you.” you state. 

“well, i can’t exactly tell him that i’m dressed up as santa claus either, can i?” satoru responds. 

“oh my god, satoru. get your priorities straight. come to your senses a little bit this…this is insane.” 

“no, i’m not coming to my senses. he has to believe in santa, this is important. this is the pinnacle of childhood itself.” he murmurs. 

you pinch the bridge of your nose, the two of you pushing away from one another as megumi pads back into the room, a jacket slung over his shoulders. 

“can we drink hot chocolate?” he asks. 

“sure we can. i’ll put it on right now.” you murmur, lifting him up so that he’s sitting on the counter by satoru. 

you shoot him a glare, one that’s enough of a warning that he needs to retract what it is that he’s just said, as you reach for the fridge. 

“so. about what you saw.” satoru starts. 

“you were kissing, y/n.” 

“no, i wasn’t. she had something in her eye.” 

megumi frowns. 

“well, you said yipee after, so i hardly doubt that’s true.” 

you swallow down your snort. 

“that was a joke. i was just…trying to make her laugh…but that’s besides the point.” 

“why are you trying to make her laugh if she’s being naughty? that doesn’t really make any sense, does it?” megumi deadpans. 

you place the glass of steaming hot chocolate next to megumi, taking one chance to ruffle his hair, before reaching for your own cup. satoru makes a move on your mug, leaning just close enough to beckon for a sip, as you shake your head at him. 

“what gives?” he asks. 

“i don’t share my drinks with strangers, santa.” 

“oh. right. well. i’ll just be on my way out then. have gifts i have to deliver. because you know…i’m santa and all.” 

you shoot satoru a peachy smile. 

“off you go.” you gesture. 

satoru gives you a confused look, before mouthing to you when megumi’s busy looking away. 

really? 

you give him a nod in response, watching as he very begrudgingly scoots his way out of the hallway, accompanied by a very loud slamming of the door as he leaves. you turn to megumi, who gives you a rather blank expression. 

“does he really think i’m stupid enough to believe in santa claus? or that you’d cheat on him?” 

“evidently so.” 

megumi rolls his eyes. 

“how long do you think it will take him to come back?” megumi asks. 

you shake your head. 

“he’s far too committed to the bit now. my guess is breakfast.” 

“dinner.” megumi states. 

you lean back against the counter. 

“ten bucks?” you ask. 

“deal.”

[revelboo]

I like to imagine in Everything Is Alright there was just some poor insecticin that was like "Wow!! I cant believe i finally managed to get some of these human pretties!! Look at how nice and flowy it is, it is like a spidercon's silk and woven so beautifully! This is an art piece, it's beautiful-" "Hm? Oh thank primus you found something!! I think this is exactly what lord Megatron was asking for *yoinks*" "....🥺Yes.... lord megatron, yes.... 😔"

Sure 🤣 we’re getting Kickback in the next Blokees set, anyway.

You (Don’t) Know Me

Insecticons x Reader

• Servos digging through the pile of soft things and separating out the shiny bits, Kickback’s hands still before fisting in the sheer material and bringing it to his face to scent. So much softer than anything else in the pile, translucent and a soft peach color. Finer than anything he’s ever touched, he imagines lining his berth with it. And before he can subspace it, Bombshell is snatching it out of his servos. “Good. Exactly what Megatron wanted,” he hisses, taking off with it.

• Watching Kickback’s antenna droop slightly, Shrapnel digs another soft thing from the pile and offers it to his brother. “Just as soft, soft.” Taking it, Kickback frowns and slides his servos against the material. Knows his brother likes humans, that he’s fascinated by the soft, little things. That he’s been snooping about spying on the Elite Trine, Soundwave, and the Constructicons lately. Dissatisfied with their lot.

• “Don’t you want more?” Kickback growls, venting when Shrapel offers him another soft covering as he absently subspaces the shinies. “Decepticons don’t respect us.” No, they just yell at them. Order them about. And now, cut their rations so he’s always hungry. Reduced to stealing again. “We don’t need the Decepticons.”

• “Decepticons have the energon, energon.” Shrapnel reminds him, toying with a soft woven strip of material, trying to figure out what it is. Do the organics just wrap it about their torsos? Understands Kickback’s frustration, because he’s right. They aren’t respected, most of the time the other Decepticons sneer at them. Treat them like they’re lesser, not understanding that their alt modes are clearly better. They’re the superior Cybertronians, just badly outnumbered. If there were more of them, they’d be respected.

• Antenna lifting as Bombshell returns, Kickback’s head tilts. “We can find our own energon. As much as we want. No more rations,” he hisses, getting Bombshell’s attention. “Don’t need the Decepticons. We can have our own hive. Our own soft mate.” A little human to warm their berths. “Even the Constructicons have one,” he adds knowing how much that little bit of intel will anger the other two.

• “The Constructicons?” Bombshell growls, words hissing. “They aren’t even real Cybertronians.” Made here on this mudball, they’ve never even been to the homeworld. Servos flexing, he studies Kickback’s hopeful expression. He’s right that they don’t need the Decepticons, the Decepticons need them. But a human toy? To be fair, he supposes they could always devour it if it’s not satisfactory. He’s been curious about how the little, soft things might taste anyway. Laughing, he claps a hand against his brothers’s backs. “We don’t need them.” And hunting one of the little humans? That could be fun.

• Flipping on the porch light, broom clutched in your hands, you head around the side of the house. Wondering if it’s those stupid raccoons again or the neighbor’s big dog as you hear the trash cans rattle again. “Come on, you little gremlins,” you mutter, squinting and wishing you’d grabbed a flashlight. And there, a red… glow? That’s not animal eyeshine. It’s too dark to make out what you’re seeing, but your skin crawls. Heart racing, you lift the broom fully aware of how painfully inadequate it is as whatever you’re looking at rises. And keeps rising, your head tipping back to stare at that red glow now towering over you. Hell, no. Sucking in a breath, you scream and throw the broom at it, spinning to run and falling on your ass as another one appears, shadowy shape crouched. Rolling, you bolt away from them both, hearing a chattering laughter as the things chase, herding you into the woods and away from safety.

Next

[hahaifolded]

Good... Really? - Simon "Ghost" Riley x POC!GN Reader Drabble Part 2

Part 1 - You go on a really bad date with Ghost (Angst) Author’s Note: I don’t know if y’all will find this funny but I did. Let me know if you want a part 3. This was really just for shits and giggles…

“Lieutenant, we need to talk?”

Soap knew Ghost wasn’t the best with people but he didn’t think he was this bad. Now with a clueless Simon in front of him, Johnny takes a deep breath.

“You know that date you went on?”

“With my future spouse? Yes.” Johnny nearly busts out laughing with that. There is not a single thought behind those eyes.

The Scottsman just takes a deep breath. “And it went well, right?” Ghost’s eyes crinkle as he happily nods his head.

“And do you mind telling me how?”

Simon looks up, almost reminiscing that “perfect” date.

“Well, I did exactly what you said.” And with that, Ghost goes through Soap’s advice.

“Don’t talk about work.” Yeah but that didn’t mean to ban it all together when they brought it up.

“Don’t say anything stupid.” By not talking to them…

“Make sure they feel comfortable to eat whatever they want.” Well that comment was not comforting AT ALL.

“If you can’t think of anything to talk about, talk about the weather or something.” Emphasis on SOMETHING.

“Speak honestly.” Way too honest there buddy.

Damn, and people think Soap is the dumb one.

“And Lieutenant, you don’t think there’s a chance that… I don’t know… that date didn’t go as well as you think it did?” Johnny could see the neurons trying to fire in Ghost’s head at that. But unfortunately due to the lack of activity in that head of his, they come back with nothing.

As Ghost shakes his head, Soap was at a lost. Did he not think yelling when you lightly touched him was not bad? How has Ghost made it this far?

“Lieutenant, I hate to tell you this but,” and with that, Johnny bursts the poor man’s bubble. The more he explained Ghost’s pitfalls, the more he saw the big guy deflate. This was supposed to be funny but as the light in his Lieutenant eye’s dimmed, Soap couldn’t find any humor in this (right now).

Once Soap finishes, the two sit in silence for a bit. Johnny patts Ghost’s back, trying to soothe Lt’s broken heart. This is just sad. While Soap tries to find the right words to comfort the heartbroken man, Ghost shoos his hand away and stares at the Scotsman. Before Johnny can say anything, Ghost swings.

“Woah woah woah, what the fuck,” cries Soap. He stands up, arms out, trying to maintain some distance between him and Ghost.

Ghost remains seated, eyes locked on Johnny. He points a finger at him and asks, “how are you going to fix this?”

“ME! FIX THIS? WHAT THE FUCK?” Soap yells. He couldn’t believe his ears.

“Well, this is your fault. I followed your advice.”

“NO YOU DIDNT!” Soap spins and scans the room. There had to be a camera recording this. “Ghost, I don’t know how but you literally did and DID NOT follow my advice at the same time.”

Thankfully, instead of attacking Soap again, Ghost slumps down in his seat. “How do I fix this?”

Johnny freezes. He’s never heard his Lieutenant so broken before. Damn, this man is in love. He slumps in the seat next to him.

Johnny genuinely didn’t know what to say. That date was bad. And you’re not going to take “nerves” as an answer. You respect yourself too much for such a shit answer. “Honestly I should have just let you be yourself. There’s no way you could have fucked up as bad as you did here,” the sergeant admits mindlessly.

Before Soap could think more on the matter, Ghost shoots up from his seat and practically sprints out the door. Johnny lurches forward before slumping back down.

John MacTavish was done playing cupid.

Word Count: 623

Thanks for reading! — Folded’s Page Guide + Masterlist

[mattsbows]

making bf!chris a coquette cutie

chris giggled as he looked at himself in the mirror. you had pulled his fluffy, brown curls with a hello kitty skincare headband, leaving you enough room to “coquetteify” his face. “i look stupid.” he mumbled.

“you look cute,” you corrected, opening up the box of face masks you’d recently received for christmas. “which one?” you asked, laying out a spread of face masks on the granite countertops of the bathroom.

chris bit his lip as he sifted through the options, before finally deciding on a hello kitty theme vitamin c mask. “this one.”

you nodded, opening up the package and beginning to smear it across chris’ clear, smooth skin. as you finished your boyfriend’s, you applied your own and then set the timer on your phone, clapping your hands excitedly. “after we do these, we’ll paint nails and then i’ll do your hair!”

chris hummed, content to do whatever as long as it was with you. he pulled your body closer to his own, desperate to kiss you, but knowing you’d correct him for “messing up” the face masks.

you were a bit oblivious to chris as you pulled your bin of nail polish out from under the bathroom sink. “what color would you like?”

“hmmm….” chris mumbled, hugging you from behind. “you pick.”

“pink it is!” you giggled.

you plucked a pale, baby pink polish from the bin, leading chris out of the bathroom and over to your vanity. as soon as he sat down at the small bench, you were taking his hands and clipping, filing, and buffing his hands.

“let’s go rinse our masks and then we’ll paint!”

chris smiled at your sweet, excited tone. it was making your day that he was agreeing to be pampered, and in his eyes, it was the cutest thing. your hands were soft and gentle as you rinsed the face mask off, leaving his skin glowing and free of redness.

“why do i like…actually look good?” chris questioned, looking at himself in the mirror.

“that’s what face masks are supposed to do, silly.” you giggled, your sweet laughs filling the bathroom.

next thing chris knew, you were dragging him back to your vanity. he was plopped down on the stool once more, allowing you to paint his nails and add little, white bow charms to his nails. within the hour, chris had glowing skin, a fresh manicure, and a pink bow in his hair as the cherry on top.

“perfect!” you squealed.

chris began to smother you in kisses, his large hands caressing your neck. “thank you for making me pretty like you, baby.”

a note from the author: chris is such a dress up playtime bf<3 enjoy!

❁ tags: @mattsdemi @purpledragon222 @slxtarchive @natashad0627 @quinnysnursery @tyummyz @colorthecosmos444 @lockettesroom @mattyblover07 @marrykisskilled @beautyloves @nicksbestie

© mattsbows

[daveth-isnt-dead]

Coalescence part 1/3

Summary:

She’s so nervous that her breath catches in her lungs and doesn’t come back out, from her side she can hear Viktor’s foot tapping a frantic rhythm against the tiles. Without even thinking it through, her hand finds his and grabs it tight. He doesn’t pull back, if anything he holds hers even tighter. The question rises once again, unbidden. What are we? AKA: She works with Viktor for seven years, she is in love with him for five of them.

Contains: she/her pronouns, supremely slow burn, me pretending to know what science is

Word Count: 7,722

Read on AO3

What are we? She wonders, sitting across the room from the two brilliant minds behind Hextech. Not friends, certainly; colleagues barely. Strangers, probably. She hadn't exactly been looking for assistant work, but after years of flitting between different fields of study but never finding anything that really stuck, an assistant position offered her the freedom to study whatever she pleased without the looming threat of expulsion should she continue skirting the requirement of choosing a major. Heimerdinger had a hand in this, of course. She’s noticed recently, he’s had a hand in a great many things. Didn’t want to forsake a bright mind over some simple indecision, he’d argued, and then tossed her headfirst into the very new Hextech lab without much of a warning. 

She mostly sits in the corner, brings coffee even though neither of them ever actually asks for it, and works on her own research well out of the way of whatever potential explosion brews on the other side of the room. They had a lengthy discussion the day she first joined, both of them up in arms as if Heimerdinger had just assigned her to keep an eye on them. He had, but she had very little interest in doing so and told them as much. 

“I keep to myself.” She’d said, “You’ll forget I’m even there.” Then, remembering that she was supposed to be an assistant, added, “Unless you need something, of course.”

They rarely ever need something, at least not something that they can’t already work out between the two of them. She feels a bit like a hanger-on, and an unwanted presence, but it’s better than expulsion. So she ignores the other side of the room as best she can and quietly flips through a textbook about whatever has her attention that month. Most recently it’s pottery, and she hopes that she might be able to sneak out of the room and try her hand at the wheel in the fine arts wing of the academy before it’s locked for the evening. 

She peers up from her textbook to look at the clock on the wall. It’s just an hour until then and from what she can hear behind her it seems they are still very much in the middle of something. They probably wouldn't even notice if she were to go missing. 

So she closes the cover on her book and tucks it under her arm, spinning around in her chair to announce that unless they need anything, she’s headed to another department for the end of the day, only to stop in place when she realises that Jayce is missing. “How long has he been gone?” She asks, more to herself than anyone else. 

Viktor, who’s hunched over a pile of notes on the other side of the room gives her a dismissive gesture over his shoulder and doesn't even bother turning around. “Only fifteen minutes, he’s getting dinner.”

“I could have done that.” 

He shrugs, “He thought you seemed busy.” and then, peering at her over his shoulder, “He also thought the walk might help clear his head.” She clutches tightly at the book under her arm, suddenly feeling a bit guilty about her plan to leave early, especially with the sun already setting and Viktor now alone in the room. She bristles, almost defensively, “He really should have asked me to do it, that’s the only thing I ever do around here.”

Viktor hums, “Indeed.” She wants to get angry at first, to snap at him. It wouldn't help any though, it’s not like the two of them really wanted an assistant. How infrequently they ever ask for her help is proof enough. They wanted her here as much as she wanted to be here: very little. Even still, they’re stuck together and letting Viktor have it over something that wasn’t his fault would only make things worse. So she bites her tongue. 

“What did he need to clear his head of?” She asks, trying to wrench something from him that might result in at least a shred of goodwill, “Are you having trouble?”

In the month or so that she’s been sequestered in the back corner of the lab, she hasn't overheard anything more than a minor setback, the occasional explosion. Though in her mind, an explosion is still at least a lesson in what not to do. Progress is progress. This is the first time she’s seen either of them truly stumped. 

“We’re at the edge of a breakthrough.” Viktor replies, “But we cannot seem to get over it.”

Decision made, she places her book back down on the desk and starts walking over to the other side of the room, “Hard spot to be in, are you just going through your notes?” He sighs, “For now, yes. Though it hasn’t helped any.” 

His desk is large enough that there’s space for her to lean up beside him. He looks tired when he peers up at her, though from what she’s seen of him, that’s pretty normal. Positioned where she is, she covers up most of the setting sun as it streams in through the window, all but for one perfect beam of it that slices down the right side of Viktor’s face, straight across his eye. Her head tilts, had they always been so golden?

“Do you want to talk through it? I’m a good listener, and saying it out loud is probably more helpful than just re-reading your notes for the hundredth time.” His brow creases, and he leans back a little further in the chair. The beam of light hits his hair now, making it shine almost orange, “Eh, I suppose it couldn’t hurt, at least until Jayce comes back.” he tilts his head in the direction of Jayce’s desk, “Go get his chair, he won’t mind.”

She does as he says, wheeling the chair over and parking herself beside Viktor, resting her elbows on the desk. He shoots her a look out the corner of his eye, and she quickly removes her elbows. “Sorry.”

“Be careful with the things on my desk, I’d prefer it didn't become more disorganised than it already is.”

“Duly noted.” She replies, instead resting her hands in her lap and rotating her chair to face him a little more directly, “Ready when you are.”

She doesn't understand all that much about his explanation, though there are little moments here and there that resonate with her, or that sound familiar enough that she can grasp the concept. Some parts she recognises from hearing the two of them talking about it behind her, but overall she’s just stunned at his retention and how quickly he elaborates on such complex topics. She leans forward in her chair, watching intently at his sharp gesticulation and the way his brow creases when he struggles to find the right word. She nods along even though she doesn't completely understand because the important thing is to get him thinking about it, whether she understands doesn't matter one bit. 

“-but we’ve already established that it cannot be done that way, so all of that work just needs to be thrown away and-” “Why not?” He stops mid-thought, eyes darting to hers, stunned to hear her speak after so long. He laughs, incredulous, “Why not ? We’ve already tried it and imploded.” She still doesn't quite understand the difference between imploding and exploding, but it's irrelevant, “Did you figure out why?”

“It was too hot. We couldn’t produce enough power inside of the casing without it imploding. We did try reducing the power and adjusting the-” He cuts himself off, suddenly turning back to the desk and resting his chin in his palm. His eyes dart across the various notes and blueprints sprawled there and then after a few agonising moments he lets out a breathless chuckle, “We never tried adjusting the casing for airflow.” She smiles, the feeling of it on her lips aching with an unfamiliar fondness, “There you go.” she stands from the chair and heads back over to her desk, “I suspect you’ll be busy until Jayce gets back, then. So I might head home.” a glance at the clock confirms that the fine art wing will be well closed by now, but she finds herself not minding all that much, “Enjoy your dinner.” At first, she thinks that he isn't going to answer, the room filled with the sound of a desperate pen scraping on paper, but just as she reaches the door, he whirls around in his chair and says, “Thank you, for permitting me to talk at you for almost an hour. It helped.” What are we now? She wonders. 

“I’m glad.” She says.

___

What are we? She can’t help but ask herself, giggling at Jayce’s face when his finger is met with a strong zap from a prototype that Viktor had just told him not to touch. 

She still sits on the other side of the room, still makes her way through a growing pile of assorted textbooks (philosophy, currently, operatic theory last month). But now it’s different. Now Jayce calls her name with an excited wave whenever they make a new development, and Viktor regularly uses her as a springboard when he can’t get his own thoughts straight. Her favorite thing though, is when she and Jayce sit cross-legged on the floor to eat lunch, unwilling to move any of the notes and prototypes strewn across the desks to create space for eating. Viktor is hard to pull from his desk, even at lunch, but with enough prodding from Jayce, he will at least spin his chair around to face the two of them while he eats instead of remaining hunched over his work. 

“Okay! Okay!” Jayce says, instinctively shaking his injured hand as if to dissipate the last of the electricity, “Don’t touch, I get it.”

Viktor huffs, but she can tell he doesn’t really mean it, “All this time and he still doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.” his head inclines in her direction, his expression of false irritation shattered by the crooked curl at the corner of his lips, “Can you believe this? Even after my warning.” Another laugh bubbles up and out of her, “Wouldn’t be the first time he’s touched something he shouldn't.” Jayce points an accusatory finger in her direction, “Hey! You know I didn’t realise that pastry was yours, you can’t keep holding this over my head.”

Viktor quips back with something that she doesn't quite hear, and she just laughs before spinning her chair back around and returning to her textbook. The three of them must be friends now, she thinks, peering over her shoulder to see that Jayce and Viktor have returned to working on the prototype. At the very least, they like her well enough to tell her what they are working on, even though that information is still strictly confidential outside of the lab. She has their coffee orders memorised, which must mean something. It's been over six months now and while she doesn't have much to offer scientifically, she likes knowing she's there to bounce ideas off when nothing seems to stick. She smiles to herself, flipping through her newest textbook, but retaining very little of it. The new prototype behind her is loud , it's the sort of sound she could easily tune out if it wasn't constantly stop-starting and fluctuating in pitch. 

From behind her, she hears a sudden panicked stream of consonants leave Viktor’s mouth and then the aching pitch of the prototype’s whirring begins to climb and climb until there’s a loud thunk when Jayce shuts off the power. Though her shoulders tense up beside her ears, she doesn’t feel the need to turn around, “Everyone alive back there?” 

Jayce lets out a breathless, nervous laugh, “Yep!”

She hears the rhythmic click of Viktor’s cane as he crosses the room and then after a moment he says, “Just having trouble getting the new prototype to resonate the way the older one did.” “Hah.” She replies, “Just be careful, another interval up and we will have lost our windows.” Silence for a moment, and then Viktor asks, “ Why? ” She spins around in her chair, the two of them are standing by the prototype, both blinking at her owlishly. Her brow furrows, “The sound.” she says, gesturing in the direction of the machine, “It’s hitting just an interval down from a high C. It’s the resonate frequency of glass, a loud enough noise matching the pitch will-”

“Yes!” Jayce exclaims, beaming wide, “The glass would begin to vibrate and then shatter.” Viktor hooks his cane over his arm and leans backward against the desk, “And this is good news, how?” She stands from her desk, buzzing with excitement, “Your resonance problem. Maybe it isn’t just about the power being produced by the crystal, maybe it’s also about the sound .”

His eyebrows jump, and then settle into a thoughtful crease as he cups his chin with his palm. “If organic magic is cast by humans, it wouldn’t be a far reach to assume that there is also a vocal component.” he hums, “If we could find a way to adjust pitch without reducing power then…” he smiles and his eyes meet hers, “You spend a good deal of time in the music wing, yes?”

She nods, “Tuning forks?”

Viktor’s smile grows wider, “Ah, like you’ve read my mind.”

She isn’t used to walking around the halls of the academy with another person beside her. Though she’s pretty comfortable with Viktor and Jayce inside of the lab these days, they rarely, if ever, spend any time together outside of it. She arrives later than they do in the mornings and leaves earlier than they do in the evenings. These days she also goes out for lunch on her own and brings the food back with her. So she keeps peering over at Viktor to make sure she is matching pace with him, clenching and unclenching her hands at her sides because she doesn’t know what she should be doing with them. 

“You study music, then?” Viktor asks after several minutes of walking in complete silence. 

She startles at his voice, not expecting to hear it, “On and off.” He hums, “You keep busy.” “I usually lose interest if I stay with one subject too long.” She admits, tucking her hands in the pockets of her slacks.

The silence returns, thicker than before. Viktor’s cane clicks on the tiles, the sound at least keeps her in tempo with him, so she doesn’t need to focus as hard on how quickly she’s walking. She takes a quick peek at him and sees that he’s just staring forward. The two of them are passing by a set of windows and his profile looks very sharp when backlit by the afternoon sun. It isn't often that she sees him outside the dim lighting of the lab. His eyes turn to meet hers and she quickly busies herself with picking the already cracked nail polish on one of her fingers. 

“Have we been of interest to you, then?” He says, the corner of his lips turning up in a smile, “Enough that you haven’t lost it?” She hadn’t really thought about it, for the most part, she still considered her time in the lab a requirement from higher-ups at the academy, but was that all it was anymore? She shrugs a shoulder, “For now.” she smirks, “Hard to lose my attention when you continually blow things up.” Viktor tuts, “There hasn’t been a single explosion this past month, besides, it’s all part of the scientific progress, yes?”

“If you say so, I’m not exactly an authority on the subject.” The two of them turn a corner and the angle of the sun changes, Viktor squints a little when the light hits his eyes, he sighs, “To think I was about to say that it’s nice to be out in the sun.” He lifts his free arm to cover his face from the light. 

She laughs, ducking her head to hide her smile, “It’s just upset with you for spurning its advances for so long.”

His brows settle in a scowl, but she can’t help smiling wider when she realises that it doesn’t reach his eyes which instead shine with a playful warmth, “Very funny.”

“I try to be.” She increases her pace a little, turning around to face him. Her backward steps slow at the sight of Viktor awash in the bright light of the afternoon sun, squinting his eyes to keep her in focus. Her continued smile is almost involuntary as she beckons him closer, “C’mon, just down the hall. If we’re quick we can get you some more sun exposure on the way back.”

The older version of the prototype hums on the bench before her, crystal spinning in a consistent whirl. It’s far less refined than their newer attempt, still assembled with whatever pieces they could find around the lab and the metal casing jitters and quakes a little under the strain. She still likes the older prototype better, all its rough edges and shaky frame, it’s a whole lot less commercial than that new chrome casing they’ve been working to perfect, but progress is progress, she supposes. As she lays three of the tuning forks out in front of her, Viktor and Jayce peer down at her expectantly and she isn’t used to feeling intimidated, so she doesn’t like it all that much. 

“I’m pretty good at picking notes by ear.” she begins, “But it’s more uh…mechanical sounding than I’m used to, zippy-” her brow creases, “or zappy? Maybe?” she gestures to the forks, “it’s somewhere within this range though.”

“Go on then!” Jayce says enthusiastically, “Give it a try!” She sucks a breath in through her teeth and grabs the fork that’s tuned to a G4, lightly tapping the prongs on the corner of the bench. The vibrations run up from her fingertips all the way to her elbow and the sound is inconsistent at first, until she raises the fork up vertically and holds her hand still. From behind her, she hears a sharp exhale of breath and then Viktor’s voice much closer than she was expecting. 

“Got it in one.” He says, and she peers over her shoulder to find that he’s leaned in closer to observe. He smiles, “You do have a good ear.”

He’s right, the sound emanating from the fork matches the ethereal pitch coming from the Hextech prototype so exactly that the two sounds begin to merge. She can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips, “Well, I guess the two of you need to figure out how to get your new prototype to hit a G4.” She spins her chair around and passes the tuning fork to Viktor, the sound comes to an abrupt stop when the prongs make contact with his palm, “My work here is done, I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”

She has the weekend off, and the day she comes back Jayce immediately grabs her hand and tugs her over to the other side of the lab with such enthusiasm that she almost topples over. She doesn't even have time to put down her bag. He beams from ear to ear as he positions her in front of the bench the prototype has taken up full-time residence on. Viktor is sitting at the bench, finishing up some last-minute wire connections when she arrives. He spins his chair to face her, and removes his goggles (leaving red rings around his eyes that she resists the urge to tease him about later) before rolling himself out of the way.

“Watch!” Jayce says enthusiastically, stepping towards the device and turning it on. As before, the crystal begins to spin, faster and faster, the casing whining under the pressure as the power builds but fails to resonate. Then from the other end of the desk, Viktor picks up a small remote connected by a set of wires and as he adjusts the knobs, the sound that the crystal creates adjusts in pitch, warbling and quivering until it settles confidently on a perfect clear G4. 

A laugh escapes her, unbidden and she oddly feels like she might start crying. Jayce grabs both her hands and exclaims, “We did it!” “You did it!” She returns excitedly.

“ We did it.” Viktor corrects, and she suddenly realises that we now includes her. 

Friends. She confirms to herself, standing up on her toes so she can wrap her arms around Jayce, she gazes at Viktor from over his shoulder and is pleased to find his eyes look especially warm when he smiles. Friends, she reiterates. 

___

The next six months pass quickly. With the resonance problem fixed, the rest of the research and prototype building seemed to come easily, with only a few notable explosions. Most of the work was still theoretical and Viktor spent hours glowering at the blackboard while Jayce put things together and then pulled them apart. Lots of the original prototypes were cannibalised for parts and she hates to see them go. Jayce was a good sport when the first prototype they ever made had to be put in storage to clear up space, laughing with her as they wrote a terrible farewell poem for it. Viktor did rest a comforting hand on her shoulder as she acted out an exaggerated goodbye to the project because even though the faux waterworks were in jest, it was as if he could somehow tell that her insides ached at the ever-persistent march of change. 

Much of the stress in the lab was around the looming threat of presenting their ideas to the council for more funding, diagrams needed to be drawn and chicken scratch notes needed to be copied into a much more legible format. That was her job for a while, hunching over her desk and transcribing notes, yelling at Jayce over her shoulder for his miserable handwriting and calling Viktor over for translations on what she started affectionately calling ‘Viktor-isms’ 

“You can’t keep giving new concepts names without explaining what they relate to.”

He scoffed, “I think it’s fairly obvious what an AOE Expansion Stabalisor is.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, incredulous, “Will it be obvious to Councilor Hoskel?”

Viktor cringed, “Ehh…allow me to draw up a diagram.”

Her best asset these days is her ability to boil down complicated concepts to their most simple forms. To essentially translate the inner workings of geniuses to something comprehensible by the layman. She has a large bound book that she is compiling all of the most essential notes into and a presentation that she is helping Jayce to draft. 

“Oh, I’ll help you write it, but I’m not speaking.” Jayce huffed, “But Viktor says he doesn’t want to speak either! It’ll just be me up there.” She laughed and gently punched him in the shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll knock ‘em dead, big guy.”

They aren’t just friends anymore. They’re something else. Something closer to family. She spends more time in the lab than she used to, abandoning her textbooks to instead work on the presentation, to sit and listen as Viktor goes on one of his hour-long rambles that slowly starts to become more comprehensible the more she listens to them. She likes listening to them. The smiles on their faces when she first decided to come in on a weekend even though she didn’t have to are still burned into her brain. Jayce’s smile was as bright as it always is, while Viktor’s was subtler, quieter; but to her, it was utterly incandescent and she couldn’t shake it from the corners of her mind for the next few hours. 

“Miss?” A voice says, ripping her from her musings and back into the present.

She blinks a few times, remembering where she is and then replies, “Sorry, Professor Heimerdinger, what did you ask?”

“No worries at all, dear girl.” He says, adjusting himself in his seat, “It’s been over a year now since I first asked you to work in the Hextech lab and I just wanted to make sure the three of you were getting along.”

“We are.” She replies sincerely, “Very well.” Viktor falls asleep in the lab sometimes. One winter afternoon she found him asleep at his desk and couldn’t bear to wake him up, so quickly and quietly, she left the lab and hurried across campus to her dorm room to grab one of her spare blankets. He hadn’t stirred while she was gone, so she took the time to tuck it around his shoulders before returning to her desk. Jayce cames in an hour later and she gestured furiously to Viktor’s sleeping form before he could let out one of his usual, very loud greetings. Holding a finger to his lips, Jayce nodded and they both silently returned to work. The blanket lives in the lab now. 

“That’s good, very good,” Heimerdinger says with a nod. His white eyebrows curve in a sympathetic arch and he leans forward in his chair, “I know that it was a shock to find that your patron had withdrawn their support last year, and while this likely wasn’t what you wanted I hope that it was of some value to you.” He laughs, “Though I do also think those boys need someone keeping an eye on them.”

She laughs, “Even now? They’re making steady progress, I’m not certain they need much monitoring.” “I know from experience that a scientist can so easily become trapped in a box of his own making, but with all your studying and your knowledge across such a wide breadth of subjects, I’m not sure those boys could keep you in a box if they tried.” He smiles softly, “They need that, or they won’t get anywhere.”

“Oh… thank you.” She mutters, pretending to be very interested in whatever is going on outside the window to avoid having to reconcile what sounded like a very genuine compliment. 

“You don’t have to stay in the lab with them if you no longer want to.” Heimerdinger says quietly, “I’m essentially your patron now and I can easily assign you to another department if-” “No!” She says sharply, then shakes her head, “Sorry, that was rude. Um, I mean, no thank you. I’m happy where I am.” Heimerdinger chuckles to himself, “Well then, are you majoring in the sciences after all?” She snorts, “ No , I don’t have the brains for it.”

Two weeks ago she caught a miscalculation in Jayce’s notes, prevented the destruction of yet another prototype. It was just pattern recognition though, she’d become so familiar with the strings of numbers and formulas in their notes that the anomaly practically screamed out to her in bleeding red writing. She was better at understanding what they spoke about now, and able to help with wiring when either of them needed extra hands, but that’s just retention, muscle memory.

Despite her depreciation, Heimerdinger smiles knowingly, “That, I find hard to believe.”

Just a week later she sits next to Viktor in the council room, eyes darting across the expressions of the council members trying to gauge any sort of reaction. She knew they had Councillor Medarda’s vote at the very least, but she’d never even been in the council room before now and had absolutely no way of knowing what direction each of them swayed. 

He must see the look on her face, because, in hushed tones, Viktor starts giving her the limited information he has, “Hoskel will vote the same direction as Medarda” he begins, leaning close to her ear,  “Kiramman has a soft spot for Jayce, Heimerdinger has hopefully swung in our direction but other than that, I have no idea.”

She swallows and turns to look at him, “No, thank you, that helps.” she heaves an uneasy breath in her throat, “I don’t like it in here.” Viktor chuckles, “Me either, but look at Jayce go, there’s a reason he’s the face of this operation.”

It’s true, he’s a natural. While she sits completely tense in the shadows, he gesticulates just enough and speaks at just the right volume. She spent so long helping him to perfect the script for the presentation that she can practically follow it along with him. 

Then it comes time for him to show the new prototype, the final version, the one that sings a perfect G4 and resides in a casing that doesn’t rattle or whine even when the gemstone is generating full power. She’s so nervous that her breath catches in her lungs and doesn’t come back out, from her side she can hear Viktor’s foot tapping a frantic rhythm against the tiles. Without even thinking it through, her hand finds his and grabs it tight. He doesn’t pull back, if anything he holds hers even tighter and they both hold their breath as Jayce activates the prototype. 

A clear and beautiful G4 fills the room, an angelic hum that sounds like magic in and of itself. When all the tensed muscles in her body release, it takes all her willpower not to burst into tears or laughter of utter relief and when she turns to Viktor he looks exactly the way she feels; exhilarated, soft and warm after months of anxiety just melted from him. He smiles and oh god. 

The question becomes more singular, we now refers to two people instead of three and oh god , what are we?

___

What are we? She wonders one year later, frozen in the doorway of her childhood bedroom, holding her breath as if it will prevent him from noticing she’s there. Viktor stands beside her single bed, weight resting on his cane as he leans forward to peek at the old doodles she pinned to the corkboard years ago. He’s smiling. 

Bringing both Jayce and Viktor to her father’s house had not been on the docket earlier in the day, but sometimes fate has its own ideas. The next and hopefully last presentation to the council is coming up tomorrow morning and they have spent the last few months working on a 1:250 scale recreation of the final idea. It took a long time, but it’s finally gotten to the point that they can reliably transport a medium-sized object from one side of the room to the other and if they push the power, they can even manage to move something halfway across campus. 

It was her idea to provide a more accurate visual aid, that if they were planning to push the project as a vessel for trade routes, the council would likely grasp the idea better if the object they were transporting actually looked like a dirigible, instead of the old metal crate they had been using during tests. While Jayce agreed with the idea, it had come pretty late during preparation and he was worried that there wouldn’t been time to get it finished while they also worked together on drafting the presentation. It was Viktor who insisted on building it. 

“I used to assemble these sorts of contraptions for fun .” He’d said, already arranging a collection of metal pieces on his workbench, “Besides, I’m going to be far more useful working on this than I am working on your script.” He peered at her from over his shoulder, “I don’t share your gift for linguistics.” 

So while she and Jayce poured over notes and collected the most legible blueprints they had available, Viktor tinkered at his desk, welding and folding metal. It didn’t take him long at all to finish it, two whole days in the lab with very brief breaks for meals when she or Jayce forced him to eat something and a trip or two to the textile department for the fabric components. She had a great deal of fun inflating the miniature airship and shooting it back and forth through the miniature Hexgate, but the night before the presentation they were overcome with concern at just how long it took for the dirigible to appear on the other side of the room. 

Viktor huffed and pushed his hair out of his face as he stared at it, “It should only take a second for it to make the journey, but now it’s taking four .” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “It must be something to do with the shape? Previously we were using a square object, far less complex.”

So he and Jayce set to adjusting the prototype while she made a few last-minute changes to Jayce’s speech. The problem came when they tested the Hexgate one last time, they had overcorrected and the dirigible emerged on the other side of the room at a greater forward velocity than they had been expecting and collided directly with a pile of discarded scrap metal. Her head shot up from her desk just in time to watch as it started falling to the ground, kicking her chair out from behind her and diving for the airship, letting out a grunt as the heavy object landed in her arms. 

Luckily she had been quick enough on her feet to prevent any structural damage, but the collision had torn a hole in the fabric and unless they managed to get that fixed before the sun came up, it wasn’t going to fly during the presentation. 

“It’s okay!” She said quickly, the moment she caught the look of quiet horror on the inventors’ faces, “The textile wing will be closed, but I have a sewing machine.” “In your dorm?” Jayce asked, expression quickly losing the air of misery it had just a moment ago. 

She grimaced, “No. not in my dorm and you’ll both have to come, I can’t carry this thing on my own and I probably need to disconnect the fabric so I can put it through the machine.”

Presently, her hand grips tightly to the open doorway, still holding her breath as she watches Viktor rest his cane against the bedside table and take a seat on her childhood bed, leaning down quickly to rub at the muscles in his bad leg. When his eyes dart up and he sees her, he freezes, “Oh, hello.” he clears his throat, “I got lost.” She snorts, “How could you get lost in a two-bedroom house?” she leans against the doorframe, unable to stop her smile, “You’re a terrible liar.” “I wasn’t lying.” “If you say so.” She replies, looking down at her toes just to avoid the broiling gold of his eyes, “I’ve got the machine set up on the kitchen table, so if you’re done snooping -” “I wasn’t snooping .” He interrupts. 

She crosses her arms, finding that she likes the incredulous expression he’s making, almost as much as she likes seeing the sharp lines of him juxtaposed with her soft floral bedsheets, “Then what were you doing?”

He sits up straight, loosely gesturing to her corkboard, “Admiring your work.” His expression settles into a soft smile, “Were you looking to study textiles when you joined the academy?” It’s been a long time since she’s been in this room. She visits when she gets the chance, but always heads back to her dorm instead of staying the night. The corkboard is covered with old clothing designs, swatches of fabric, and a button here and there. She shakes her head, “No, not really. It’s uh, it’s the family business. I haven’t thought about it all that much since taking up studying.”

“You said that your father wouldn't be here.” She nods, “He’s at the workshop, tomorrow is the busiest day of the week. He usually stays there the night before so he can get a head start in the morning.” a sigh escapes her, “My mother used to force him to come home every night, but, well…” Viktor doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. 

“My patron was one of my father’s customers. He offered to do his alterations free so long as he took care of my patronage at the academy.” She chews on her lower lip, not really sure why she is telling him all of this, “I think he expected to make some money from me, that I was some sort of genius, but I was indecisive and refused to major in anything, so he withdrew support.” Viktor laughs, “Bad luck for him then.” he says, wincing a little as he pulls himself back up from the bed, “You’re one-third of Hextech now.” She hums aloud as he crosses the room, shifting in the doorway to give him space to slip past. “Yeah,” she replies and the hand not on his cane rests briefly on her upper arm as he passes, lingering maybe a little longer than it needed to, “I guess I am.”

Her body goes slack against the doorframe, her chest expanding with a warm sigh as she watches him turn the corner to the kitchen, clearly not lost. Their relationship hasn’t changed all that much in the past year, they joke around a lot more and physical contact is more common, though it’s little more than a hand on a shoulder or the usual tight handholding at any and all presentations they give to the council. They’re friends, she reasons and whatever in her heart is telling her that it’s something else is just causing problems, an unnecessary ache. She sighs again, peering into her bedroom and imagining him still sitting there, smiling at her. It’s only when Jayce calls her name that she manages to recollect herself, calling out a quick, “I’m coming!” before they start wondering why she’s lagging behind.

___

Has something changed? She wonders. Even with the tall ceilings and open windows, the ballroom she’s trapped in feels suffocating. She sucks a shaky breath in through her teeth and continues clutching the stem of a champagne glass she’s been holding for over an hour now without actually drinking it. Jayce is planning to give an address shortly, about the success of the recently completed Hexgates, but he rightly refuses to start until Viktor arrives and it’s been long enough that she’s starting to worry he may have decided not to come altogether. 

The last two and a half years were the most difficult for the three of them. A project of such an enormous scale takes up a lot of time and a great deal more hands than the team alone could provide. Viktor quickly learned that he hated working with other people, and most nights at the lab were spent making changes to blueprints, running tests and complaining about the construction team. 

“I swear-” Viktor began one day, furiously scribbling notes on a blueprint, “-I wouldn’t be surprised to find that one of those people ate all of our crystals just because I didn’t specially label them inedible .” She’d laughed, sitting at the desk next to him and updating the construction resources with less technical language, “Be nice. If I hadn’t been eavesdropping on you for three years I probably wouldn’t know what any of this stuff means either.” Viktor sighed, “You’ve done much more than eavesdrop .” his pen stilled for a moment and his golden eyes met hers, “I can be nice, I promise.” Without thinking, she’d let her head drop to rest on his shoulder, “I know you can.” He made no move to shift her off of him, even though the weight of her head was surely going to affect the use of his dominant hand. After a lapse of comfortable silence, he let out a chuckle and inclined his head in her direction, “That cannot be comfortable.” “It’s not.” She admitted, “Your shoulder’s pointy.” “and yet you are not moving.” “That’s right.” 

“Suit yourself.” He replied, his voice barely a whisper. Before quietly returning to his writing.

Jayce grabs her attention from across the room, gesticulating wildly. She knows him well enough to immediately recognise that he is asking if she has any idea where Viktor is. All she can respond with is a concerned shrug before pointing to the nearest door, implying that she will go look for him. Jayce smiles in thanks and then returns to the gaggle of investors surrounding him. The champagne finally gets drunk, it probably would have been nicer an hour ago when it was still cold, but she needs two hands to maneuver her dress. The glass clinks when she leaves it on the nearest flat surface and starts heading to the doors, half considering never coming back, whether she finds Viktor or not. 

Not that she ever makes it through the door, because she almost bumps headlong into him as he makes his way inside. 

“Viktor!” She exclaims, half shocked and half relieved to see him. 

His mouth twitches up in a smile, “Sorry I’m late, outfit problems.” Her eyes dart down involuntarily. His suit is mossy green and the colour brings out the gold in his eyes. He looks good and she is about to say so when she notices the rudimentary steel and leather brace on his leg. Her chest cavity fills with the ice-cold chill of dread and Viktor must see it on her face because he quickly supplies an explanation. 

“Never many chairs at these things.” he says, gesturing to the brace, “A precautionary measure.”

She wants to believe him, wants so badly to believe him. The calculations all match up in her head though, him an hour late, the brace clearly made and not purchased. Four and a half years is a long time to watch someone, especially when watching as intently as she has been for at least the last two. He places more weight on his cane than he used to, and struggles to do anything that involves both hands while standing up. Even from across the lab, she can hear the way he hisses each time he has to rise from his chair and when the setting sun streams in through the window the same way it did that first month in the lab, the shadows settle deep in the hollow of his cheeks. 

“Good idea.” She forces herself to say, ignoring all of the evidence because any other explanation would be preferable. Instead, she returns to what she had intended to say from the beginning, a truth far less daunting, “You look very nice, by the way. Can’t even tell you had outfit problems.” He laughs, though it sounds a little too much like a wheeze, “You’re too kind. Anyway, let’s go find Jayce before he starts worrying.” They’ve already missed the boat on that one, Jayce is in the midst of a nervous sweat when they make their way over. His eyes also dart down to the brace on Viktor’s leg, but she watches in real-time as he dismisses the thought, gives the both of them a quick hug and shakes the nerves off before his address. 

“I’m surprised you survived so long without me,” Viktor says cheekily as Jayce heads over to grab Councillor Medarda’s attention. 

“So am I.” She replies, peering up at him with a smile, “You know I hate these big events.” Viktor returns her smile and his face melts into such a warmth that all the signs of deterioration seem imaginary for just a moment. Somewhere across the room, Councillor Medarda clinks her glass to grab the attention of the room, but right before Jayce begins his address, Viktor leans down to her ear and whispers, “You look very nice too, sorry I didn’t say so earlier.”

The feeling of those words resonates so warmly in her chest that she can’t resist holding onto them and just as Jayce steps forward, just as the usual nerves begin to set in, Viktor’s hand reaches out and grabs hers tight. The way it always does. She smiles softly to herself and rubs her thumb across the protrusion of his knuckles in thanks. Maybe nothing has changed, not really, she might just be imagining it. Even if the bones in his fingers feel more pronounced. 

Applause fills the room when Jayce finishes, at one point he even has the good grace to point out where she and Viktor are standing in the crowd, which she hates , but knows she should appreciate. He’s his usual ball of sunshine self when he comes over, beaming wide and wrapping his arms around the two of them. 

“That went great !” He exclaims, hands still shaking with the usual adrenaline associated with speech giving, “I can’t believe that we’re closing the chapter on Hexgates, whoo!” Viktor chuckles and pats Jayce on the arm, “It’s still early days yet, lots of time for things to go wrong and lots of modification on the horizon.” “I know, I know . It still feels good though, doesn’t it? To have finished something?”

She laughs, “This is probably the first thing I’ve ever finished in my life, so thank you.” her eyes drift to Viktor and then quickly back to Jayce, “Both of you.”

“To finishing things!” Jayce exclaims suddenly, and follows up with, “Wait, we need drinks, one second!” “A veritable font of energy as always,” Viktor says a few seconds after Jayce disappears.

“Pretty sure he’s already had a few drinks.” Viktor looks at her cheekily, “For the nerves, I’m sure.”

“Oh yeah, definitely just for the nerves.” She replies, watching as Jayce gets caught by another throng of investors on his way over to the bar. She sighs, “Poor guy, I’m glad I don't have his charisma.” Viktor hums aloud, “Do you think he’ll know to check the balcony when he comes back?”

“It’s only the place we always frequent at these events.” His eyes light up, “That’s a yes, then?”

“Always will be.” She replies, trying not to get lost in the way his eyes crinkle in the corners. She clears her throat, “Let’s hurry, it’s too hot in here.”

It’s like a shock of electricity when his free hand presses against the small of her back and when she peers up at him to find he is already looking down at her, the question rises once again, unbidden. What are we?

[profeyandere]

𝐅𝐈𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝐓. ─── ☾ 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴊᴏɴᴀᴛʜᴀɴ ʙᴀɪʟᴇʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.4ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜰɪʏᴇʀᴏ ᴛɪɢᴇʟᴀᴀʀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: "ᴡɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ" ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ, ꜰɪʏᴇʀᴏ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴄʀᴏᴡ, ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇꜱ, ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ʟᴏᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ.

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

The Scarecrow felt too lost since your arrival in the group. You were like a light of hope for Dorothy, like an older sister she would follow to the end of the world with your loving and sweet attitude that helped her understand that new world a little better; you were the heart the Tin Man needed to understand the feelings of others, perhaps in a somewhat questionable way because you gave him little taps where the feeling was supposed to reside; you were the bravery the Lion needed to face the Wicked Witch every time it was necessary, also showing with her the kindness you always offered Dorothy; and you were the brain he needed to act according to the situation. You were what each of them was missing, but above all, you were the reason he felt a great warmth in his chest when he was not really burning; he had already suffered that situation with the witch, so it wasn’t a truly new sensation, but deep down it was because he wasn’t burning at those moments. When his bluish eyes stopped on your friendly face, always smiling even in the most difficult or intense moments, he could feel that deep warmth that seemed to spread all over his body and caused a strange tingling in his stomach; as mentioned, that was strange and new to him, so he preferred not to question these sensations.

"Are you alright?"

Your sweet voice made his thoughts shift, making him turn his neck to see your figure slowly emerging from the shadows, joining him where the yellow brick road lay, which would guide you to the Emerald City, where you hoped to find answers and get the wishes that the wizard was supposed to fulfil. But as soon as he saw you, he again felt that burning in his chest.

"Of course, I’m fine," he affirmed quickly, although his head turned back to the front, to the road, leaving you again with that feeling of distress that reflected your concern and had appeared the very instant you met him for the first time with Dorothy. "Do you need some stuffing for the fire?"

His question caught you by surprise, but you simply shook your head and approached him until you were standing by his side. Somehow, his presence calmed you and made you smile in ways you didn’t expect, because of how familiar he was, how close he seemed, and how warm he appeared.

"No, you know we manage just fine with some twigs and the stones from the road," you said, wanting to calm whatever fear he might have had about seeing his straw stuffing burned in the fire to keep them warm during the nights as they headed toward their destination. "I don’t know how close you are to the others, but I’ve noticed that you avoid my company more than I would’ve thought."

Your statement hit him hard. It was true, he had kept his distance from you in an attempt to make that feeling of warmth fade at some point while you were out of reach, but whenever he saw you or you were closer to him, it came back stronger, to the point of making him think that only putting distance between you would make that feeling fade. But what he didn’t know was that you had felt something similar, not exactly the same, but similar, and you had chosen not to create that distance in an attempt to stay close to something so familiar in him.

And he knew you didn’t deserve such bad treatment from him, so unpleasant or rude, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to understand what was happening to him before acting without reasoning.

"I’m missing a brain, I don’t have one, but sometimes I think I don’t have a heart either because I don’t understand what I feel," he explained, placing his fabric hand over his chest, where his heart was beating strongly and quickly, the only truly human part in his being. "There’s something in my heart that warms with your presence, with your closeness, and I feel like I’m burning. And you know that a scarecrow when it burns… Well, it burns."

You couldn’t help but laugh at the end of his explanation, nodding your head slightly before looking at his chest, his jacket more specifically. That emerald green colour you had seen before, and those golden ornaments that decorated the chest, back, and shoulders, you had seen them too, specifically in the same pattern, on another person, in the wardrobe of a student’s room at Shiz; that garment made you sigh for the memories that came to your mind because of it, and maybe that was why you wished to be so close to the Scarecrow.

"Of course, you’d burn," you agreed with him, lifting your gaze to see his bluish eyes still fixed on his chest as one of your hands, unconsciously, was already on his hand, feeling the rough fabric that could have been a potato sack, so different from what Fiyero’s skin was like. "You remind me a lot of him."

The Scarecrow looked at you with confusion, slightly furrowing his brow, and as soon as he saw your eyes slightly teary, he knew something had been troubling you for a long time; the pain you showed was unusual, and he was deeply worried about those feelings you had. Your smile still remained, but it was trembling, while your hand seemed to want to grab his as if searching for some sort of comfort in his presence, a comfort that perhaps no one else in the group could give you except him because it seemed that in him you were looking for your love.

"Who do I remind you of?" He dared to ask, making you take all the air you could before slowly letting it out as you spoke.

— Fiyero, my Fiyero.

What he hadn’t thought about was that you were suffering from the loss of someone for whom you had felt something similar to what he felt for you, but whose feelings you already knew and could identify, not like him. You weren’t scared of that, but the truth was that you had to focus on your duty, on the only task you had set for yourself, before doing anything stupid or getting your hopes up for something that wasn’t real. That was why you had avoided being close to him in some way when you first met. Fiyero left without saying anything the next morning after Elphaba was declared a public enemy across all of Oz. You saw huge posters, banners, and statues of her figure burning in just the span of a night, and Fiyero wanted to go after her, rescue her, and maybe help her escape to a place where she wouldn’t suffer any harm, and he could return to you. But you had to be stubborn and ask him to take you with him. You asked him to call you before he left so you could accompany him and help him, to protect and care for him while you searched for Elphaba, and that didn’t fit into his plans; Fiyero didn’t want you to be in danger. You woke up completely alone, in a university where all the students were terrified, and your boyfriend had gone off to find the one person who could explain what had happened and possibly fix all the turmoil that had been caused in Oz.

"It must’ve been someone very important to you," murmured the Scarecrow, without pulling away from him, without distancing himself from you either, even if his chest was on fire.

You nodded slowly and watched as he slid his fabric hand so your hand could rest on his chest, where you could feel that very particular heartbeat that made your tears fall. Anyone could have called you exaggerated or could have said you were crazy for recognizing the heartbeat of a person when they were supposed to all beat the same, but only one beat with such strength and speed when you were near.

"Tell me it’s you, please…"

Your voice, pleading and soft, touched a sensitive chord in the Scarecrow, one of many he had. You had hope that he was Fiyero, that he was the person you had been looking for, the one you would have hugged during the nights as you headed to the Emerald City, the one you would have kissed like in fairy tales to see if the spell would break with a true love’s kiss, the one you had been loving for so long. You had assumed it. No one danced and sang like that if it wasn’t him, no one did that leg play in such a funny way if it wasn’t him, no one was as fun as he was, and definitely, no one could match his way of being or resemble him in the slightest if it wasn’t him; you had your hopes based on the Scarecrow’s actions, and you just prayed that it was him.

"What if you’re wrong?"

His question didn’t go unnoticed, and you knew perfectly well that was an option. But you knew it, you felt it in your heart, in his presence, in everything; it was him, only him, just with a different body and with his mind a little altered. Literally.

"Let’s find out, together," you proposed, standing on your tiptoes to gently kiss his lips, or at least where they should’ve been.

Of course, it wasn’t a kiss like the ones you had shared with Fiyero. The Scarecrow was rough and dry, and Fiyero was soft, warm, and tender, but that didn’t stop your hope from flaring up with more strength, and you from feeling like you were burning when he gently brushed your waist with one of his hands in an attempt to hold you, just as he felt himself burning while the reflection of different flashes seemed to pass before his eyes, where you were always there. Your smile, your voice, the way your eyes closed when you laughed, the way you held his hand, how you hugged him in the afternoons while you watched the sunset from one of your rooms; at every moment, there you were, with him. The way you stumbled sometimes when you danced together was endearing, at least the situation always helped him to have you back in his arms, just like now.

The Scarecrow didn’t know where all these images had come from, but he knew they weren’t a coincidence or hallucination because he felt that he had missed you, longed for you, and wanted to hold you in his arms over and over again.

Dorothy, who had been watching your interaction from the moment you had left the group, slowly removed her hands from her eyes so she could see how you pulled back after your kiss, which she had wanted to avoid seeing to give you both the moment of intimacy you seemed to need. For a moment, both of you remained completely still, just looking at each other while small shy smiles appeared on your respective faces, but you were surprised when you saw the Scarecrow’s arms wrap around your waist and lift you off the ground, hugging you against him with all his strength so you wouldn’t escape, to the point that the girl thought he was trying to hide you in his stuffing, but hearing your laughter alongside his filled the young girl with surprise. Toto, who was also observing the scene, wagged his tail quickly as if sharing the happiness you were both exploding with.

At that moment, while she saw you both embrace joyfully under the moonlight, spinning like two lovers that you really were, Dorothy knew it wasn’t the brain the Scarecrow lacked, but his memories. The body wouldn’t be right, but his memories seemed to have been buried among so much straw, memories of you, of his past, of your past together, and now it seemed his wish had been fulfilled without the need for the Wizard of Oz to operate on him.

— It’s me, my love.

[vunblr]

Fangs and Spells

Pairing: Worgen!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected sex. Dirty talk. Soft-dom!Bucky. Possessive!Bucky.

Summary: Bucky, a grumpy worgen warrior, and his sharp-tongued mage partner are sent on a relatively simple quest that quickly spirals into chaos.

Word Count: About 12k.

Notes: Ok, this one is... heated, I'm sorry beforehand (not).

I’ve been playing World of Warcraft for 15 years, and even though life keeps me away, I’m always eager to return. That said, you don’t need to have played WoW to enjoy this story (though if you have, feel free to comment!).

The golden expanse of Westfall stretched endlessly beneath a bruised sky, and the faint scent of rain hung in the air. Rolling grain fields, left untended for far too long, waved like restless ghosts in the wind. To the south of Moonbrook, jagged cliffs met the turbulent sea, its waves crashing against the rocks with a rhythmic, almost hypnotic fury.

It wasn’t an inviting place, not anymore. The days of bountiful harvests and tight-knit farming communities were long gone, stolen by bandits, gnolls, and worse. The remaining folk clung stubbornly to their land, driven by defiance and desperation. And if you asked them, the worgen prowling over from Duskwood to raid the struggling riverside farms were on top of the offender's list.

Near the cliff's edge, a small clearing hosted a half-pitched tent flapping uselessly in the rising wind. A warrior with a scowl etched deep into his face knelt beside it, hammering a stake into the rocky ground with more force than was strictly necessary. Standing a few feet away, a mage held the sagging canvas taut, glaring daggers at him.

"You had one job, Buck," she bit out, exasperated as the wind tugged at her robes.

“The idiot deserved it, and you know it,” he muttered, not bothering to look up.

She let out a humorless laugh, sharp enough to cut through the whistling wind. “Oh, I know. But that doesn’t mean you had to snap in the middle of the inn. For Light’s sake, Bucky, all you had to do was keep your temper in check. We were finally about to get a decent night’s sleep. But no, you had to let your claws show.”

His lip curled, and hint of a snarl escaped his throat before he caught himself. “The bastard invited you to ‘polish his greatsword’ while groping himself under the table. What was I supposed to do?”

“Nothing! Nothing would’ve been perfect. I could’ve frozen his excuse of a dick and left him weeping into his ale. Then we could’ve stayed, and maybe even conned him into buying an overpriced healing potion for his bruised ego since there isn’t a decent merchant in this God-forgotten place. But no, you just had to make it personal.”

Bucky let out a huff, standing to stretch his shoulders. The motion pulled his vest taut, and her eyes flicked down for the briefest of moments before she caught herself and snapped her gaze back to the tent. He mumbled under his breath, “He had it coming.”

She didn’t let him off the hook. “Please. You just took the opportunity to vent because Steve sent us to kill nagas on the beach. And you hate the coast because when you shift, the sand gets into your fur and other places you don’t-”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, waving her off with a sharp motion and an uncharacteristic hint of color in his cheeks. “Maybe that had something to do with it. But still, the bastard deserved it.”

She smirked, pulling the canvas tighter over the flimsy frame of the tent. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, big guy.”

He huffed again, crossing his arms, fixing his eyes on the distant horizon.

“Just... remember where we are,” she advised softly, "This isn’t Dalaran or some other cultivated place. These farmers deal with the Duskwood worgens six days a week lately. They don’t believe -or care- that there’s a way for your kind to regain their humanity."

He stiffened slightly at her words. She regretted saying them the moment they left her mouth, but he didn’t snap back. Instead, he shifted his weight, avoiding her gaze entirely.

"We got lucky you only half-shifted, and the owner just asked us to leave instead of raising some kind of alarm."

“Don’t fool yourself,” he muttered. “He didn’t call on us because he knows we’re here to deal with the nagas.”

“Maybe,” she allowed with a slight shrug. “But that’s not the point.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair as the first fat drops of rain began to patter against the canvas.

Her voice softened slightly as she bent to secure the last corner of the tent, though her gaze stayed sharp. “Look, I appreciate what you did in some way, but you usually let me handle this kind of thing. The last couple of days, though… you’ve been broodier and grumpier than usual, and that’s saying something. This isn’t just about the beach, is it?”

He grunted, keeping his eyes on the stakes. “You’re imagining things. Maybe you’ve just forgotten my charming personality since it’s been a month since our last quest together.”

She quirked an unimpressed brow, crossing her arms as the rain dripped from the edge of her hood. “Thanks to your charming personality, almost no one in the guild wants to team up with you unless we’re raiding. And its why Steve pairs me with you, because apparently, I can ‘handle’ you.”

Bucky squinted up at her, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“Yeah,” she continued, folding her arms tighter as her voice took on a teasing lilt. “So believe me when I say you’re ‘Buckier’ than usual right now.”

He straightened, looming over her slightly, and let out a quiet huff. “Think what you want,” he muttered, brushing past her to retrieve his bedroll from their supplies.

She wasn’t wrong, and he hated how much her observation rattled him. Worse, he hated how easily she could unravel the mask he wore, the one that kept everyone else at arm’s length. But he couldn’t explain why, not without revealing more than he was willing to.

He should’ve seen it coming. Every Gilnean, given their worgen blood, knew what it felt like, that slow-burning tension building incrementally until it exploded into something primal and impossible to ignore. His rut came like clockwork every year, and when it did, he disappeared from the radar, holed up in some remote spot until it passed. Sometimes alone, sometimes not.

This time, though, Steve had insisted the naga situation couldn’t wait. The bounty was too big, the stakes too high, and Bucky, hadn’t argued. He’d thought he had more time before his hormones kicked in. He’d been so wrong. And now? Sharing a flimsy tent with her and her sharp tongue? It was like throwing oil on a fire.

He glanced at her, and his gaze lingered longer than it should have. She was bent over the supplies, muttering under her breath as she organized their gear. The damp fabric of her robes clung to her frame, outlining curves he’d tried not to notice since… well, he couldn’t remember when it started.

He’d been drawn to her for longer than he cared to admit, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had started. Maybe it was her sharp wit, the way she never backed down from him, or the way she smiled at him when he wasn’t ready for it. Maybe it was just the way she treated him, like he was more than just a worgen with a bad attitude.

Whatever it was, it didn’t help now. Not when every glance, every stray brush of her hand, set his nerves alight and his thoughts spiraling into dangerous territory.

“You’re quiet,” she said, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Nothing to say,” he muttered, unrolling his bedroll and laying it out on the ground.

“Uh-huh,” she replied with skepticism clear in her tone. She didn’t press further, though, for which he was grateful. Instead, she settled onto her own bedroll.

The rain drummed steadily against the canvas above them, a soothing rhythm that contrasted with the storm brewing inside him. He clenched his fists at his sides, willing the heat in his veins to subside.

He just had to get through this. The nagas wouldn’t take more than a day or two to deal with, and then he could disappear before she noticed anything was off.

He hoped.

------

Maybe pitching the tent near the treeline by the rift hadn’t been their most brilliant idea. Sure, on paper, it seemed logical, far enough from the coast to avoid naga and murloc patrols, gnoll bands, Defias stragglers, and those damn coyotes. But the coastline's wind and chill seeped through their tent's flimsy fabric, turning the night into a teeth-chattering endurance test.

It wasn’t a problem for him. His worgen nature granted him a resilience she could only envy, but she was clearly freezing. He could hear the faint clatter of her teeth every now and then, no matter how she tried to stifle it.

Both of them were awake, though for different reasons.

“Bucky,” she whispered, cutting through the steady rhythm of the rain.

He didn’t answer, hoping she’d think he was asleep and leave him alone. She knew how hard rest was for him, how much effort it took to him to conceal just a couple of hours of sleep.

“Bucky,” she tried again, her voice sharper this time. “I know you’re awake.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes in the dark. “You can’t see a thing. How do you know?”

“Pfft. Because if you were asleep, you’d be snoring.”

“I don’t-”

“Like a cute little pig,” she added, cutting him off with an audible smirk.

He pressed his tongue against his cheek, exhaling sharply through his nose. Maybe he did. How would he know? He didn’t exactly stick around for morning conversations after his usual flings, and no one had ever mentioned it before.

“Well, what is it?” he asked gruffly.

“I’m cold,” she admitted.

Oh, he knew where this was going.

“I didn’t pack for a quest in Northrend,” she continued, her tone edged with frustration, “and I’m freezing my ass off. Do your thing.”

He stiffened, dread settling low in his stomach. “It’s not that cold,” he dismissed, turning onto his side and hoping she’d drop it.

“Don’t be an ass,” she shot back, shifting to face him. “You know it is, and we could’ve been warm and cozy in the tavern right now if not for your macho display earlier.”

His lips twitched into a snarl before he smoothed his expression. “I’m not shifting.”

“Oh, come on,” she groaned, her breath puffing out visibly in the cold air. “You’ve done it before.”

“That was different, we were really in Northrend,” he grunted.

She rolled her eyes, but her voice softened a little. “I’m freezing, Buck. I wouldn’t be asking you if I did not. Please.”

Her tone made him pause, wavering his internal resistance. He sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. This wasn’t fair. Her scent was already messing with his focus enough, and now she wanted to press against him for warmth?

“Fine,” he ground out.

She hummed in approval as he shifted with practiced ease. He took off his vest and his bones cracked and muscles rippled, becoming larger, thick dark fur covered his body and deathly claws grew on his hands. He didn’t dare to meet her gaze as she scooted closer, curling her smaller frame into his side.

“See? Not so bad,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest while she poked at his snout. “Warm and cozy. You’re practically a luxury fur rug.”

His lips twitched, a reluctant smile threatening to break through the scowl he’d carefully crafted. “Glad I could be of service,” he muttered dryly.

She snorted softly, the sound more endearing than he’d ever admit. “Don’t act like you’re suffering. You’re just grumpy because I called you out.”

“I’m grumpy because I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with you,” he retorted, but the words lacked venom.

She didn’t reply immediately, and he thought she might’ve finally fallen asleep. But then, she spoke again, quieter this time.

“For what it’s worth, thanks, Buck.”

He didn’t answer, tightening his jaw as he tried not to focus on how perfectly she fit against him. Her scent -warm and familiar- filled his senses, sending a deep, instinctual thrum through his veins.

This was going to be a long night.

------

The night dragged on, and though she moved only a couple of times, it was enough to drive him mad. Normally, her restless shifting wouldn’t have been an issue. But now, with his traitorous body on high alert and her nestled against him, it was sheer torment.

At some point, she settled in just the wrong -or perhaps right- position. Her back molded to his chest, her softer form impossibly close. His body reacted before his brain could catch up, and before he knew it, his arm was slung possessively around her waist.

And she didn’t resist. If anything, she leaned into him, her unconscious search for warmth becoming his greatest torture. When her hips shifted slightly, her rear brushing against his growing arousal, Bucky clenched his jaw so hard it hurt.

His instincts roared, the part of him tied to his worgen blood demanding he take what was so temptingly close. His hand twitched against her waist, his claws threatening to pierce the fabric of her robe as he fought the overwhelming urge to act. He bit down on the snarl building in his throat, forcing himself to remain still.

He closed his eyes, his breath was shallow and uneven as the storm outside raged on. This wasn’t him. No matter what his instincts tried to tell him, he wasn't an animal. She trusted him, and saw him as more than the beast he sometimes feared he was. He wouldn’t betray that, no matter how much his body protested.

When the first hints of dawn painted the horizon, he couldn’t stand it any longer. Carefully, he disentangled himself from her, doing his best not to disturb her sleep. He draped his mantle over her before slipping out of the tent into the cold rain.

-----

When she woke, the patter of rain against the canvas was the first thing she noticed. Then the weight of his cloak over her shoulders. She blinked, groggy, and glanced around the empty tent.

“Figures,” she muttered to herself, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Shivering slightly, she wrapped herself tighter in the mantle. It smelled like him, a mix of forest, leather, and something she could only describe as uniquely Bucky. She smiled faintly, shaking her head, and began rummaging through their supplies. He might be gruff and impossible, but he always made sure she was taken care of, and she had to admit she liked it. It didn’t take much to guess where he’d gone, either scouting or standing under a tree somewhere, brooding and keeping watch.

Meanwhile, Bucky stood at the edge of the clearing, soaked to the bone. He barely noticed the cold, his mind was too preoccupied with wrestling his instincts back under control. His claws flexed against the damp bark of a nearby tree, and he exhaled slowly. Her scent still clung to his body, haunting and maddening. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tension to leave his body.

“She’s your teammate, not your mate,” he muttered under his breath, the words as much a reminder as a warning.

But no amount of logic could shake the truth he’d been denying for far too long. She wasn’t just a teammate, not to him. And the more time he spent near her, the harder it became to ignore the pull.

------

Four times.

Four times Bucky had to jerk off and relieve himself before he felt remotely human, or as human as someone like him could feel. By the time he returned to the tent, the rain had lessened, though his damp hair clung to his forehead and his shirtless torso glistened from the early morning mist.

Inside, she was sitting cross-legged with her bag open beside her. She barely looked up when he ducked inside, muttering a gruff, “Morning.”

Her eyes flickered to him, her lips twitching into a half-smile. “Morning. Glad you shifted back; otherwise, the wet dog smell would cling to everything.” She tossed him a magic-infused bun with a wink.

He caught it with ease, biting into it harder than necessary. The faint hum of magic in the pastry soothed his body slightly, though his mind was still frazzled.

She, meanwhile, was doing her best to keep her gaze fixed on his face. The early hour and her half-awake state didn’t help, and her eyes briefly betrayed her, wandering down the lines of his scarred torso. She caught herself quickly, clearing her throat as she focused on his stubbled jaw instead.

“Didn’t sleep last night?” she asked, tilting her head as she studied him.

He almost choked on the bite of the bun. “Why?”

She arched a brow. “Well, the shadows under your eyes and your miserable face give off a certain vibe.”

He scowled, finishing the bun in two quick bites. “If only someone had stayed on her side of the tent instead of tossing around all night,” he muttered.

“Oh, please,” she shot back, rolling her eyes. “Next time, I’ll freeze myself in place so you can have a peaceful night.” She reached into her bag, pulling out a small green vial. “Here.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose, glaring at the potion like it had personally offended him. “Those taste like shit.”

“And you look like shit, so…” she replied, thrusting the vial toward him.

With a dramatic groan, he snatched it from her hand, muttering something under his breath about bossy mages.

She smirked, leaning back on her hands as she watched him grimace through the first sip. “You’re welcome,” she said sweetly.

Bucky shot her a withering look, but there was no real heat behind it. He downed the rest of the potion in one go, resisting the urge to spit it out.

“Better?” she asked, her tone laced with amusement.

“No,” he grumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. But the faint twitch of his lips gave him away.

-----

“Tell me again why I have to carry the bag with naga thumbs strapped to my waist?” she huffed, launching a frostbolt straight into the face of an approaching murloc.

“Because I don’t want them to rot and start reeking like shit,” Bucky replied, his tone edged with impatience. He swung his sword with brutal efficiency, sending a naga’s head flying in a clean arc. “Just keep them cold and keep moving.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting the grisly sack at her hip as she prepared another spell. “Yes, master. As you wish, master,” she mocked, her voice dripping with exaggerated deference.

“Shut it,” he snapped without looking back, slicing through another naga like it was nothing.

“What’s the matter, master?” she continued, undeterred. “Does your fluffy tummy hurt? Want me to rub it?”

His grip on his sword tightened. No. He wanted her to rub something else, and that was precisely the problem.

He growled low in his throat, shaking off the thought as he tore through another wave of enemies with grim focus. Every word out of her mouth made it harder to concentrate, and the sooner they finished this quest, the better.

For his sanity.

“Focus,” he barked, sending another naga crumpling to the ground.

She smirked but didn’t push further, summoning a frost nova to freeze the remaining enemies in place. “I am focused,” she replied with a smug tone. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Bucky muttered something under his breath -probably a curse- and powered forward, determined to reach the end of this hellish mission before she drove him completely mad.

-----

"I'm not carrying the head to Stormwind. I'm letting you know right now," she called over her shoulder, crouched in front of the naga commander's treasure chest.

Bucky, still looming near the mangled remains of the commander, huffed. "I figured. It's too heavy for you anyway."

With a sharp crack of bones and the sickening squelch of shifting tendons, he reverted to his human form, standing shorter and more composed but no less intimidating. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting to the familiar but always slightly uncomfortable sensation of transformation.

"Anything useful in there?" he asked, wiping blood and ichor off his blade with a rag.

“Actually, yes,” she replied, holding up two gleaming rings. “Looks like someone left us a caster and a melee ring. Lucky day.”

She tossed the melee ring to him without warning, and he caught it effortlessly with one hand, inspecting the intricate etching along the band.

“Aww, look,” she teased, holding up the caster ring. “They match.”

Bucky squinted at her, his lips twitching as if fighting back a smirk. “Great. Now we can get married and settle down in Kharanos.”

She snorted, slipping the caster ring onto her finger. “You’d last a week before murdering the drunken neighbors.”

He chuckled under his breath, sliding the melee ring onto his own finger. “More like a day. But, we’ll have enough ale even for our grandkids”

The banter lingered between them for a comfortable moment, despite the carnage surrounding them.

“Alright,” she stood and dusted off her hands. “Treasure’s looted, commander’s dead. Let’s get back to Stormwind before this starts to smell real bad, and you get extra cranky because of the sand in your ass.” He gave her a pointed look but didn’t talk back.

“Let’s see,” she muttered, already pulling a small portable mailbox from her enchanted bag to let Steve know that they had completed the quest. She tossed it to the ground, and with a flick of her fingers, it unfolded and hummed to life.

Bucky watched her intently, still coiled with tension from the fight. Every part of him was attuned to her movements, even when he didn’t want them to be.

Her brow furrowed as she scanned the glowing letter that appeared before her. “Well, that’s just perfect,” she said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“What now?” he growled.

She glanced at him, tossing the letter into the air where it dissolved into sparkling motes of light. “We’ve got another job. Steve wants us to go to Duskwood. The guild bank is low on silver ore, and considering it’s nearby...”

Bucky rolled his eyes, letting out a low growl of irritation. “Of course he does.”

“Hey, at least Duskwood has a proper inn,” she quipped, trying to lighten the mood. “And the people there know the difference between Alliance worgen and the monsters lurking in the woods.”

Bucky wasn’t amused. He should’ve been relieved that Duskwood would be less hostile than Westfall, but all he could think about was the proximity, the enclosed spaces, and how hard it was already becoming to keep his instincts in check.

“I’ll go,” he said gruffly, his tone leaving little room for argument. “You can handle turning in the quest in Stormwind. Those fingers are going to start rotting if we don’t deliver them soon.”

She straightened, quirking an unimpressed brow. “Forgive me, illustrious master, but our guildmaster specifically requested both of us.”

“I don’t need backup for something as simple as mining,” he shot back, irritated. “I can handle a few spiders and ghouls on my own. Just go.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her as she stood her ground. “What’s with you? You’ve been extra bossy today, and for the record, I don’t take orders from you.”

“It’s not an order,” he growled, though it sounded like one. “It’s common sense. I can get the ore faster on my own, and you won’t have to-”

“What? Slow you down?” she interrupted, sharper now.

“That’s not what I meant.” He objected tiredly.

“Really? Because it sure sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

He stiffened, looking away. She wasn’t entirely wrong, but he couldn’t exactly tell her the truth. How could he explain that every moment they spent together was a battle of willpower? That he could barely breathe the same air without the primal urge to claim her clawing at his insides?

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Look, I get it. You’re used to being the lone wolf -pun very much intended- but we’re a team in this one, and we’re going to Duskwood together. Got it?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, dropping his gaze to the ground. He wanted to argue, to push her away for her own good, but the look in her eyes stopped him, he know it very well. She wasn’t bending.

“Fine,” he ground out, strained. “But don’t slow me down.”

Her lips twitched into a smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they packed up their supplies and prepared for the journey, Bucky tried to focus on the task ahead, but the tension between them only grew thicker. It was going to be a long trip, and he wasn’t sure if he’d survive it with his sanity intact.

----

The woods were eerily alive tonight, the undergrowth teeming with movement that set her nerves on edge. It was impossible to traverse the area without skirmishing at nearly every turn, and the battered remnants of giant spider corpses littered the path behind them.

“Isn’t it good I came with you?” she asked, flicking a small flame spell at a particularly persistent arthropod. Its charred remains crumpled into ash as she adjusted her grip on her staff.

Bucky grunted in response, non-concomitantly, as he crouched by a silver deposit. He picked effortlessly loosening the ore, and the metal glowed faintly in the dim light filtering through the canopy.

“You’re welcome,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Did you say something?”

“Nope.” She smirked, but her amusement faded quickly as a chill ran down her spine. Her hand tightened on her staff, and she scanned the treeline, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “Uh, Buck…”

“What?” he asked, not bothering to look up. “You finally get tired of spiders?”

“Not exactly.”

Something in her voice made him pause. Straightening, he turned to follow her gaze, and his stomach dropped. Emerging from the shadows was a pack of worgens, their eyes were gleaming with a feral hunger that set his instincts ablaze.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his body shifting almost instinctively. Bones cracked, muscles bulged, and fur erupted as he transformed into his worgen form.

The pack hesitated. He was larger than any of them, and his presence was enough to make a few step back, flattening their ears in uncertainty. But they didn’t retreat. They circled, growling low in their throats, a guttural sound that echoed in the damp night air.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Both sides stood frozen, staring at each other down as if weighing the odds. Low growls and deep, guttural sounds passed between Bucky and the pack, an exchange she couldn’t interpret but that felt loaded with meaning.

She took a cautious step back, and her staff glowed faintly in her hand, though she doubted it would be much use if this went south. “Okay,” she muttered under her breath, “It’s kind of rude, you know. Everyone knows what’s happening but me.”

Bucky didn’t respond, his focus was locked on the pack. He deepened his growl, and the sound reverberated through his chest as his claws flexed at his sides. Whatever language they were speaking, it wasn’t friendly.

She tightened her grip on her staff. “If this is one of those ‘dominance’ things, can we skip to the part where they back down?”

Bucky shot her a brief glance. His glowing eyes were so intense that they sent a shiver through her body. “Stay behind me,” he growled, his voice barely human.

“Oh, believe me, I’m not going anywhere,” she replied, with both sarcasm and genuine unease.

The standoff continued, and the tension was so thick it was almost suffocating. She could feel it in the air, the raw, primal energy radiating from the pack and Bucky himself. She hated to admit it, but even now, amid danger, she couldn’t help but notice the sheer power and command he exuded.

“Any time you want to scare them off would be great,” she quipped nervously, keeping her eyes on the pack.

“I’m working on it,” he rumbled sharply.

The tension in the clearing was suffocating, the pack of worgens circled closer, their growls vibrating threatening in the air. Before she could react, Bucky’s paw encircled her wrist, and he pulled her roughly in front of him.

“W-what?” she gasped, wide-eyed as she looked up at him.

His snout was so close, and his voice was a low, urgent rumble when he asked. “You trust me?”

“Always,” she whispered.

“Alright,” he muttered. Without another word, he leaned down and licked a slow, deliberate stripe along her neck, never breaking his gaze from the pack.

“Buc-” she started, her voice faltering.

“Moan,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“What?”

“Just do it. Like you mean it,” he commanded, tightening his grip slightly on her wrist.

Heat rushed to her cheeks as she let out a soft, breathy sound, tilting her head slightly, while her voice trembled with a mix of nerves and compliance.

The pack hesitated, as they exchanged uneasy glances. Bucky growled low and deep, as his free hand moved to the nape of her neck, guiding her downward on her knees with surprising gentleness for the intensity of the moment.

She frowned. “What are you-”

“Rut season,” he growled under his breath, lips close to her ear. “They want to fuck you, and I’m showing them you’re mine.”

Her stomach dropped, and her breath caught as his words sank into her brain. “Oh my god,” she whispered, half in disbelief.

“So, unless you want some fun with those boys,” he continued, dangerously calm, “you’re going to play along.”

Before she could respond, he pushed her neck lower, bending her slightly as he positioned himself behind her. She could feel the warmth of his body, and the weight of his presence almost overwhelmed her as he pressed closer.

His hand brushed the hem of her robe, lifting it just enough to expose the curve of her thighs. Her breath hitched as she realized what he was doing. She wanted to throw him a dirty joke to decompress, protest, or say something, but the gravity of the situation kept her rooted in place.

Bucky hunched over her, his chest brushing against her back as he growled at the pack, sounding primal and territorial, and -oh light- he started to pound and grind against her. His movements were deliberate, and calculated, mimicking the act with enough realism to leave no doubt in the pack’s minds.

“They don’t see much detail from here,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he panted near her ear. “But it would be wise to show them some… engagement. If you know what I mean.”

The low growls of the pack echoed through the clearing, but they faded into the background as she cast her scruples aside, letting out soft moans and whimpers every time his hips connected with her rear. It was humiliating, sure, but the situation demanded it. Every sound she made seemed to amplify the tension in the air.

Bucky was a storm of barely restrained chaos. Each time their bodies connected, the friction sent a jolt through his body, and it was becoming impossible to ignore the painful erection straining against his pants. He bit back a growl, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the fact that she could feel every inch of his leaking cock pressing against her.

The pack’s growls began to falter, their aggression giving way to hesitation. But Bucky’s protective instincts burned hotter. The violent intent in their stares toward his mage had his blood boiling. He wanted to tear them, to rip them apart for daring to covet what wasn’t theirs.

And yet, another fire was burning in him, one far more dangerous.

The charade, though necessary, was pushing him to his limit. Her body pressed against his, her soft sounds filling the air, and the scent of her arousal cutting through the damp forest air, it was killing him.

Oh, he noticed.

He noticed how her movements became less stiff, how her breaths quickened with something more than nerves, and how the sounds escaping her lips grew more authentic and less forced.

And she noticed too.

The undeniable hardness grinding and slapping against her clothed pussy was impossible to ignore, and she hated the way her body reacted. Her cheeks burned with the realization of the slickness beginning to gather between her thighs. And worse, she knew he could smell it.

Bucky flexed his claws at her waist, tightening his grip momentarily as a low growl rumbled in his chest. “That’s it,” he murmured darkly but oddly reassuring. “Just a little longer. They’re starting to get the message.”

Bucky inhaled deeply, and his eyes fluttered shut momentarily as her scent overwhelmed him. When he opened them again, they were sharp, glowing faintly in the dim light of the forest. His voice was strained, low, and almost trembling with the effort it took to speak clearly.

“Listen,” he panted, each word carrying the weight of his struggle. “These bastards are going to retreat, and when they do… I need you to cast Frost Nova. On me. And run.”

“What?” she gasped, twisting slightly to look back at him. “Are you insane? I’m not doing that!”

His grip on her waist tightened, claws grazing her robes but not piercing. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to speak through the haze clouding his mind. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t trust myself right now. All I can think about is ripping off that damn underwear and stop this charade.”

Her breath hitched at his words, and her cheeks heated anew.

“But Bucky-” she began, unsure.

“By the Light, woman,” he growled, cutting her off, “Can’t you, just once, do what I say without questioning me?”

The desperation in his voice was unmistakable now, and she froze, torn between the rising fear of what he might do and the unwavering trust she’d always had in him. Her lips pressed into a thin line as her mind raced.

“Alright,” she said finally, not sounding very convinced.

His response was a guttural snarl, but the tension in his body eased, just slightly. “I’ll be fine,” he bit out, though the way his claws flexed told her he was barely holding himself together.

The pack lingered, their yellowed eyes glinted with hesitation as Bucky’s sharp, murderous gaze bore into them. Every roll of his hips against her, every growl rumbling in his chest, was a clear message: she was his, and they had no claim here.

He let out a guttural snarl of finality, slowing his movements until he stopped, and she played along, meowling and whimpering in reaction to his fake release. He leaned forward, almost covering her body entirely with his, growling more menacing than ever before.

Eventually, the tension broke as the pack, deterred by his dominance, slunk back into the shadows of the woods.

After a couple of minutes that seemed like an eternity, he reluctantly moved backward. “Do it,” he commanded, edged with desperation.

For a moment, she froze. She could feel his body trembling against hers, not just from exertion but from the monumental effort it took for him to hold himself back. His claws dug slightly into her sides, not enough to hurt but enough to remind her of how close he was to losing control.

“Now,” he barked, sharp and low.

Swallowing hard, she pushed herself away from him, forcing herself not to look back. With a quick flick of her wrist, she channeled her magic, releasing a Frost Nova that erupted in a ring of ice around him. The spell worked instantly, freezing his limbs in place and rooting him to the forest floor.

Her chest ached as she heard the muffled sound of his growl, laced with frustration, and something else. She forced herself to run, her boots pounding against the uneven ground as she headed toward the road.

Behind her, the crackling sound of ice straining against immense strength echoed faintly. She didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

-----

Maybe telling her to run hadn’t been the most clever idea his clouded mind could come up with. Because now, all he could think about was the chase… and the prize.

Her scent clung to his fur, sweet and maddening, filling his lungs and clouding what little rationality he had left. Each breath only made it worse, feeding the primal hunger gnawing at his control. His aching cock throbbed in time with his heartbeat, every pulse a painful reminder of how badly he needed her.

Something in him snapped.

The ice encasing his limbs cracked audibly before shattering altogether, shards scattering across the forest floor. With a guttural roar, Bucky surged forward, his massive form blurring as he gave in to the chase.

His mind, already teetering on the edge, gave itself over to instinct. Each pounding stride brought him closer to her, his muscles coiling and releasing with terrifying precision. He could smell her panic mixed with something else, something intoxicating. It made his mouth water, his claws flex, and his cock twitch with unrelenting need.

She ran as fast as she could, her robes fluttered as she darted between trees and over roots. But she wasn’t fast enough.

Bucky leaped, the world narrowing to a single focus: her. The thrill of the hunt consumed him, but it wasn’t just the chase, it was the promise of catching her, of claiming what every fiber of his body screamed belonged to him.

----

Her steps began to falter as she reached the road, her breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. She bent over, hands braced on her knees, trying to recover. She wasn’t built for this kind of thing. She was a mage, for Light’s sake, spellcasting was her forte, not sprinting through a forest or other physical strain.

That’s what she had Bucky for.

Bucky, who would roll his eyes and toss her over his shoulder like a caveman whenever she whined about being too tired to walk.

Bucky, who would scout ahead for the easiest path even though he could tear through any terrain in his worgen form without a second thought.

Bucky, who hunted and butchered their meals with efficiency, ensuring they ate more than stale bread and questionable stew on their travels.

Bucky, who wanted to fuck her.

Her cheeks burned as that particular thought. Not that she hadn’t thought about it before, because she had. Maybe too often for her own good. The idea of him and his hands on her, his low, gravelly voice saying her name in that way that sent a shiver down her spine.

But not like this.

Not the furry kind of fuck.

She straightened, forcing herself to keep moving toward the town. Each step felt like it was taking her further from the chaotic heat of the encounter in the woods, but her mind couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d looked at her: possessive, dangerous, hungry.

And if she was being honest with herself, a small part of her didn’t entirely mind that look.

She almost tripped and cursed, adjusting her robes and glaring down at their impractical hem. Maybe it was time to ditch the flowing fabric and invest in some pants like a sensible person. To hell with Khadgar and his fashionable mage aesthetic. She let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand through her hair as she walked. All she needed was to reach the inn, find a stiff drink, and put this insanity behind her.

Oh, but she wasn’t going to make it.

The big, bad, and sexually frustrated wolf had been prowling alongside her, concealed by the thicket, his predatory instincts zeroed in on every step she took. She’d barely made it four more paces down the stone road before her vision blurred with sudden movement.

The next thing she knew, she was pinned.

Her back was pressed against the rough bark of a tree, and in front of her was Bucky. Human, barely. His chest heaved, his shirt torn and clinging to his sweat-dampened skin. He was panting, feral, utterly undone.

Her breath hitched as her eyes raked over him, and before she could stop herself, her thighs pressed together to ease the tingling ache his mere presence provoked.

“H-hey, Buck,” she croaked, her voice trembling under the weight of his stare. “I guess the nova wasn’t to your liking?”

His lips curled into something between a snarl and a smirk, and his gaze dropped to her lips before sliding back to meet her eyes. “Did you really think that would stop me?” His voice was low, rough, vibrating with barely contained hunger.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. “Well according to you, it was supposed to give me a head start.”

He huffed a breathless laugh, his hands braced on either side of her head against the tree. “I guess I subconsciously knew damn well I’d catch you. Since, you know, your stamina sucks”

Her cheeks flushed hot, and her heart hammered in her chest as she struggled to keep her composure. “Yeah, well... there was the possibility that maybe the spell cooled you off.”

“Cool off?” He leaned in, brushing his nose against her temple, dropping his voice into a growl. “You’re the one who’s been driving me insane, running around smelling like... that.”

“Like what?” she whispered, even as she already knew the answer.

“Like you want me to lose control,” he murmured, his lips just barely grazing her ear.

Her traitorous body shivered at his words.

“Would that… be that bad?” she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

His entire body went rigid, curling his hands into fists against the tree bark. A growl rumbled low in his chest, vibrating between them like a warning. Or a promise.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he ground out against her skin.

She tilted her head slightly, forcing herself to meet his burning gaze. “Maybe I do.”

Bucky’s nostrils flared, and he clenched his jaw as if he were fighting an invisible battle within himself. The tension between them crackled like a live wire, and she couldn’t tell if the heat pooling in her belly was from fear, desire, or both.

“Don’t,” he rasped, strained. “Don’t tempt me like that.”

Her lips parted, letting go a soft exhale as she felt the weight of his words. Still, she couldn’t stop herself. “And if I did?”

He snarled, closing the faint distance separating them. His forehead dropped to hers, and his ragged breathing mixed with hers. “Then I’ll show you just how dangerous I can be.”

The words sent a jolt of adrenaline and something far darker coursing through her veins. She swallowed thickly, and her heart hammered against her ribs as she whispered, “Maybe I’m not afraid of danger.”

Bucky’s eyes searched hers, his pupils were blown wide, a thin ring of blue around a sea of black. His lips hovered over hers, so close she could feel the ghost of his breath.

“I don’t know if I can stop,” he admitted.

“Then don’t,” she replied steady, despite the quiver in her knees.

Bucky didn’t move for a heartbeat, his body trembled as he fought his instincts. The moment stretched, before something inside him finally snapped.

His lips crashed against hers, hard and demanding, as though trying to express everything he couldn’t say. She gasped into the kiss, her fingers instinctively tangling in the ragged fabric of his shirt and his long locks, pulling him closer despite the warning alarms blaring in her mind.

His hands moved to her waist, rough and possessive, as though afraid she might slip away. The kiss was a clash of tongues and teeth, raw and unrestrained, but it wasn’t enough, not for him.

He broke away, panting heavily, roaming his gaze over her heated face. “You don’t know what you’ve started,” he growled, low and thick with need.

Her lips tingled, swollen from the force of his kiss. Her fingers trailed up to touch them as her mind spun. “Well Buck, I’m not sure I care,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

His expression darkened, and his body pressed her back against the tree. “Say that again,” he demanded, his tone more animal than man.

She met his gaze, and her stubborn streak flared. “I said, I don’t care, Bucky.”

He let out a sound that was somewhere between a snarl and a groan, and his hands moved to cup her face with surprising gentleness despite the storm raging inside him. “You’re going to drive me insane,” he murmured, brushing her lips with unexpected tenderness.

Her body ached at the contrast, of the softness of his touch against the raw hunger in his voice. She shivered again, and he didn’t miss it.

With a low growl in his throat, Bucky pressed one of his thick thighs between her legs, dragging against the sensitive spot that was already aching for attention. She gasped sharply, and her hands flew to grip his shoulders for balance, but before she could say anything, his hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back to expose the vulnerable curve of her neck.

His lips were on her a heartbeat later, hot and unrelenting as they trailed along her skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and nips that made her shudder. The scrape of his teeth sent sparks down her spine, and when he growled again, the sound vibrated against her throat and she couldn’t stop the moan that spilled from her lips.

The sound seemed to set something off in him. His thigh pressed harder against her, sending jolts of pleasure as her body instinctively rolled against him. She felt the heat pooling low in her belly, and her mind was a blur of sensation and need.

“Bucky,” she breathed, with a trembling voice.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her gaze, “Say my name like that again,” he commanded, in a rough whisper that made her knees weak.

“Bucky,” she whispered.

His hands tightened on her hips, holding her firmly against him as he leaned in to capture her lips once more. It was messy, desperate, and so consuming that she felt like she was drowning in him, in his scent, in his heat, in his presence.

When he finally pulled back, it was only to grab the front of her robe and tear it apart with a single, feral motion.

“Hey!” she protested, instinctively trying to cover herself.

“You didn’t like it anyway,” he retorted, dark amusement lacing his tone as he tossed the tattered fabric aside.

Her protest died on her lips when his hand moved lower, hooking into her underwear. “And I don’t like these,” he added, low and rough as he shredded the delicate material without hesitation.

Her cheeks flushed with heat as she stood bare before him, and his predatory gaze raked over intently, his expression darkening further when he finally saw the evidence of what he’d only smelled before, the glistening slick between her thighs.

“So damn wet,” he growled. Without preamble, two fingers slipped between her folds, sliding through the slickness before finding her clit.

Her body jerked at the contact, a whine escaping her lips as his touch sent a jolt of pleasure straight through her body. He didn’t hold back, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with calculated precision, his rough fingertips adding just the right amount of friction to make her toes curl.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful admiration as he watched her reactions. She was utterly pliant beneath his touch, resting her head back against the tree, lips parted while gasping softly. “So perfect like this.”

She could barely form a response as he kept up his relentless ministrations. Her hands shot out, clutching at his shoulders for balance as her legs trembled under the onslaught of sensation.

“Fuck, Bucky.” she panted, her voice shaky and desperate, as his fingers continued their slow, devastating circles over her clit and her hips moved involuntarily against his hand, seeking more of the friction he was so generously giving her.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, laced with a possessive edge. He leaned in, and his lips brushed against the shell of her ear when he finally buried his fingers inside her. “You feel how good this is? How good you’re gonna feel when I’m finally inside you?”

Her knees buckled at the promise in his voice, and his grip tightened, holding her steady as he continued his ministrations.

His lips trailed along the sensitive column of her neck, and his teeth grazed her skin before he bit down gently.

Her nails clawed at his shoulders and biceps as his fingers worked her relentlessly, curling just right to hit the spot that made her vision blur. “Fuck!” she gasped.

“Feel so good, don’t you?” he murmured against her skin, as his thumb kept circling her clit with maddening precision. “So damn wet for me, and I’ve barely started.”

Her hips moved in tandem with his hand, grinding against him as if she couldn’t get close enough. Every thrust and curl of his fingers, every swirl of his thumb sent waves of pleasure through her body and she was about to snap.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned again, and her head lolled back as he continued to mark her neck. She was completely at his mercy, and her body trembled, as the heat built low in her stomach, threatening to unravel her completely.

“Chase it,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with her. “You’ll be so fucking beautiful when you let go.” His words were her undoing. Her body arched, and a sharp cry left her lips as she shattered, clenching around his fingers as the pleasure crashed over her like a wave.

Bucky didn’t ease up, and his fingers continued their relentless pace, driving her deeper into a haze of pleasure. She squirmed, pushing at his chest in a feeble attempt to stop him, but he didn’t budge. His other hand gripped her hip firmly, pinning her against the tree.

“Bucky,” she whined, her voice breathless and trembling, “I… I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, with authority. “And you will. I’m not done with you yet.”

She gasped as he slid a third finger inside her, stretching her further. The sensation was overwhelming, but it teetered dangerously close to pure bliss. His thumb continued its torment on her clit, and her thighs shook as another wave of heat coiled low in her belly.

“That’s it,” he rumbled, his lips brushing against her ear. “I want you ready to take all of me, sweetheart. You’re mine, and I will make sure you know it.”

“Oh, cocky, aren’t we?” she tried to quip, but her voice shook as she clung to the last shred of control she had left.

His deep chuckle vibrated against her skin, “Yeah,” he retorted, his lips curling into a feral grin. “Cocky, indeed.”

Her response was lost in a breathless moan as he curved his fingers again, finding that perfect spot and sending sparks shooting through her body. She couldn’t think or do anything but cling to him as he worked her over with ruthless precision.

Bucky’s blue eyes bore into hers, feral and wild, “Come on,” he murmured, low and commanding. “Give me another one. Show me how good you can be for me.”

Her body betrayed her completely, tightening around his fingers as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge once more. His relentless dominance was intoxicating, and she hated how much she wanted to fall apart for him all over again.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she whined, “or I swear I’ll put bubblegum on your tail the first chance I get.”

Her body trembled violently as her climax tore through her, making her see stars. It was the most intense release she’d ever felt, and it left her gasping for air, every muscle in her body turning into jelly.

Bucky chuckled, clearly satisfied with the way she fell apart under his touch. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, glistening with her slick, and without warning, brought them to her lips.

“Open,” he commanded, in a rough growl.

Her dazed eyes blinked up at him, but she obeyed, parting her lips. He pressed his fingers onto her tongue, making her taste herself. Before she could process it further, he leaned and crashed his mouth against hers.

He licked at her lips, her tongue, and his own fingers still in her mouth, mingling their breaths in a way that felt so filthy and erotic that it made her head spin.

His other hand cradled the back of her head, keeping her in place as he deepened the kiss, his feral nature showing in the raw hunger with which he devoured her.

When he finally pulled back, her lips were swollen and slick, and her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Bucky’s blue gaze glowed with pride and desire, and his mouth curled into a wicked smirk.

“You taste so damn good,” he murmured, thick with arousal. “Every part of you.”

Unable to hold back any longer, he fumbled with his belt and nearly tore his pants apart to free his throbbing, leaking cock. A guttural groan escaped from his throat as the cool air hit his heated length.

His glowing eyes locked on hers, filled with feral hunger. “And now, magic bun,” he rasped, “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk… and then some more.”

With one hand, he gripped the back of her knee, lifting her leg to spread her wide. The other wrapped firmly around the base of his shaft, guiding it between her slick folds. He groaned low and deep as the head of his cock pressed against her clit, grinding teasingly against her sensitive bundle of nerves.

She gasped, and her head fell back against the tree as the tantalizing friction sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body. “Bucky…” she breathed half a plea, half a warning.

“Patience.” he growled. Slowly, torturously, he began to push forward, as the thick head of his cock stretched her inch by inch.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, and her breath hitched as he split her open, his size forcing her body to adjust to the overwhelming intrusion. He paused briefly, giving her time to catch up, though his trembling muscles betrayed how much restraint it was costing him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against the tree as he sank deeper. “So tight, so perfect.” He lifted her other leg from behind her knee and pushed again.

She whimpered, rolling her hips instinctively to meet him, drawing a shuddering growl from his chest. Her body stretched and molded around him, every nerve alight with pleasure and the intoxicating mix of pain and anticipation. Her breath came in short, heated bursts as her lips sought out his stubbled jaw, lingering before she nipped at his skin. It was soft but enough to provoke, enough to draw a growl from deep within his chest.

"Keep going, big guy," she whispered, her voice husky and laced with a mix of daring and need.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he rasped, “Once I start, there’s no stopping.”

Her hands slid up his chest, grazing the muscles beneath his shirt with her nails. “Good,” she breathed, “because I wasn’t planning on stopping you.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. With a guttural sound, Bucky thrust forward, stretching her inch by maddening inch. He kept his eyes locked on hers, watching the way her lips parted in a gasp, her pupils blown wide with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice a broken growl as he sank deeper, claiming her completely. Her nails dug into his skin as her body arched against him, and a soft cry escaped her lips.

He rolled his hips again, slow but deliberate. “You feel that? That’s all me, and I’m not stopping until I’ve emptied my balls inside you, magic bun."

The vulgar promise sent a new wave of heat through her body. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as her body clenched around him in response.

“You talk a big game,” she managed to tease, the faintest smirk curling her lips despite the haze of pleasure overwhelming her.

Bucky chuckled darkly, “Oh, you’ll see just how big.” he growled, snapping his hips forward sharply, drawing a gasping cry from her.

He didn’t give her a chance to recover, since his movements became relentless in a punishing rhythm that was intoxicating. Every thrust pushed her higher, her moans grew louder, unrestrained, as his words and actions blurred her ability to think of anything but him.

"That’s it," he murmured against her ear, his voice ragged. "Take me. Take every damn inch."

His pace grew rougher, more determined as if his life depended on claiming her body completely. Each thrust drove her harder against the tree, and every delicious drag of him against her sensitive walls made her body sing.

“God, you’re tight,” he groaned, his lips brushed against her ear. “Like you were made for me. Do you feel that? Feel how perfectly I fit inside you?”

“Y-yeah, I feel it,” she stammered, her voice trembling with pleasure.

“You’re gonna take everything I give you,” he continued, his voice dripping with feral hunger. “Every. Last. Drop.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust, making her cry out in ecstasy.

Her nails scraped down his back, leaving marks that only spurred him on. “Bucky! oh, fuck… I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, gripping her hips tighter. “You’ll take it, every inch, every load, until you’re dripping with me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

She could only whimper in response, her head falling back as he angled his hips just right, hitting that perfect spot that made her see stars. Her body tensed, the overwhelming pleasure building to a breaking point. “Bucky, I’m gonna- oh!”

“That’s it, cum for me,” he commanded, “Squeeze me, magic bun. Milk my fucking cock!” he growled, his voice rough and ragged as he felt her clenching around him. He could feel his balls tightening dangerously, and with a guttural roar, he drove into her one final time.

“Fuck! Just. Fuck,” he groaned, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he spilled inside her, thick, hot ropes of cum filling her up while he panted against her neck.

Her breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, and her legs shook as he held her up against the tree, keeping her pinned as he emptied himself into her.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, resting his forehead against hers, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

She gave a breathless laugh, still shaky. “There goes your endurance”

He smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to her lips. “Don’t think we’re done, though,” he murmured, sliding down his hands to cup her ass. “Not until I’m sure you’ll feel me with every step tomorrow.”

"Bucky-" she started, but he pulled out his still-hard cock and gently set her down, immediately latching his mouth onto one of her neglected breasts. His teeth grazed her sensitive skin as he sucked and nipped, leaving her gasping.

“Oh, how many times did I imagine milking these,” he murmured against her flesh, his voice thick with want.

She quirked a brow at him, managing to ask between pants and squeals when he got rough. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” he growled, squeezing both breasts with his large hands to make his point. “Every fucking time we shared a tent and you pressed them against me in your sleep. You have no idea what you did to me.”

She let out a sharp gasp, caught somewhere between indignation and arousal. “You creep! Ah!”

He chuckled, flicking his tongue over her hardened nipple. “I’m not a saint, but believe me when I tell you, another man wouldn’t have held back. They’d have taken advantage.”

Her fingers wove into his long, dark locks, an unexpectedly tender gesture despite the heated moment. She tilted his face up slightly, meeting his gaze. “I know. But you’re not just ‘another man.’ You’re my partner, and since our first quest, I’ve always known I was safe with you. Grumpiness and brooding aside... you’re the best.”

His movements stilled for a moment, then he pressed his forehead against her chest, brushing his lips in the swell of her breast as he exhaled deeply. “You don’t know how much that means to me,” he admitted, raw and almost vulnerable.

She smiled, scratching lightly at his scalp. “You don’t make it easy, but you’re worth it, Barnes.”

His blue eyes flicked up to hers. “I don’t deserve you,” he muttered, still exploring her body with his hands, tracing every curve.

“Not the time for the monthly self-loathing spiral.” she chastised. Her hand slid down his chest, fingers dancing over the hard ridges of his abs before continuing lower. When her fingers encircled his shaft -or at least tried to-she began to pump him slowly.

His breath hitched, sharp, and audible, and his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. “Don’t,” he ground out, his voice rough and almost desperate.

She knit her brows, confused. “Why not?”

He kept his grip firm, clenching his jaw as he averted his gaze, with a flushed face. “Now’s not a good time,” he muttered. “Maybe... maybe when I’m not rutting.”

Her head tilted slightly, studying him. “What’s the difference?”

His grip on her wrist tightened just slightly, and his eyes flicked back to hers with a mix of restraint and frustration. “If I get too... invested,” he admitted, almost growling, “I’m going to shift.”

“Oh.” Her lips parted to say something, but she hesitated, caught between curiosity and concern.

“It’s not just about me losing control,” he added, almost hesitant. “If I shift mid-act, it’s... it’s a lot. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her gaze softened, and she cupped his face with her free hand. “Bucky, you’ve never hurt me,” she said gently. “And I don’t believe you ever would.”

He leaned into her touch for a moment, exhaling heavily.

“I won’t let you get away with what you want as always. Not with this.”

“But-”

“Shut it,” he growled, cutting her off as he turned her around and manhandled her to the ground on her hands and knees, his discarded cloak softening her landing. His voice dropped into a commanding snarl, rough and dangerous. “Now I’m going to keep getting what I want, and you will take it.” He spread her thighs open with his knee. “You’re only going to open that pretty mouth of yours to moan or cry out my name.”

“Bossy now, aren’t w-” she began, sassy, but she didn’t get the chance to finish. His hand came down on her ass with a loud, stinging smack, making her gasp.

“You just had to insist on being a brat and coming with me,” he hissed, his lips close to her ear, his voice dripping with frustration and unbridled heat. “And then I had to fake fucking you in front of a bunch of horny bastards.”

His hand kneaded the spot he had smacked, “Now, magic bun, you’re going to pay for every second of that torture.” His hands gripped her hips possessively, dragging her back against him, pressing his leaking cock into her ass.

“You think I didn’t notice?” he muttered darkly, sliding a hand down between her legs “You’ve been soaking since that little show.” He pressed his fingers against her pussy. “This? This is all mine.” He growled and pressed the thick head of his cock against her entrance, already slick from his cum and her fresh wave of arousal. Without hesitation, he thrust inside her, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful motion. She cried out, arching her back as she adjusted to the sudden, overwhelming fullness.

He groaned, “So perfect, magic bun. Taking me so well.”

Her fingers dug into the cloak beneath her, and her breathing ragged as her body tried to accommodate his size. “Fuck...” she gasped, a mix of protest and pleasure.

He leaned over her, pressing his chest against her back as his lips found her shoulder. He nipped at her skin, sharp enough to leave marks, each bite sending a jolt of electricity through her already overstimulated body.

“Bucky,” she moaned, her arms trembling as she tried to hold herself up under the force of his thrusts.

“Don’t stop saying my name,” he demanded roughly against her ear. His hips snapped forward harder, and his cock hit that perfect spot inside her with every hard thrust.

She whimpered, dropping her head forward as her body surrendered completely to him. He growled approvingly, sinking his teeth gently into her shoulder before licking the sting away.

“You’re mine,” he rumbled as he drove into her relentlessly. “Say it.”

“I- I’m yours,” she gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper, but he heard her loud and clear.

“Yes, so damn mine,” His hand slid up her spine, possessively fisting her hair and pulling her head back. The exposed line of her throat and shoulders was too tempting to resist, and he sank his teeth into her skin again, marking her.

The wet slap of his balls against her clit grew louder, mingling with her breathless cries and his guttural groans, creating a symphony of pure, unrestrained need that echoed through the forest.

“Buck, y-you’re so deep,” she choked out, clawing her fingers at his discarded cloak for stability.

He chuckled darkly against her skin. “Deeper still, magic bun,” he rasped, his voice filled with raw determination. “I want to feel your womb kissing the head of my cock.”

He withdrew almost entirely, leaving her desperate and trembling, only to thrust back in with a force that had her crying out. His pace quickened, each stroke harder and more deliberate than the last, pushing her toward the edge of sanity.

Her walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper, and he cursed under his breath, the sensation driving him wild. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled, his free hand gripping her hip so tightly she was sure it would leave bruises. “Made for me, made for this”

She moaned, arching her body, her knees threatening to give out under the relentless pleasure, as her body rocked with every thrust. He let go of her hair and reached down to play with her swollen clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. “Take it,” he growled, dark and commanding. “You’re gonna carry me,” he murmured, thrusting harder. “Gonna fuck you so full you won’t have room for anything else. My scent, my seed, on you, in you, everywhere.”

“Oh, fuck, Bucky,” she whimpered, her thighs quivering as she clenched around him, her body responding instinctively to his filthy promises.

She meowled, and her body responded with another involuntary squeeze around his cock. He groaned, the pressure almost undoing him. “That’s it,” he hissed while his pace grew erratic. “Gonna breed you, leave you dripping for everyone to see. “You want it, don’t you?” he rasped, circling her clit faster. “Say it. Tell me you want me to fill you up.”

“I-I want it,” she gasped, the words barely leaving her lips before another sharp thrust sent her spiraling.

He groaned as her walls pulsed around him, and he buried himself to the hilt. “Fuck!,” he growled, as his cock twitched inside her. “You’re gonna take it all. Every last drop. No one else gets to have you, just me.”

The orgasm hit him like a storm, spilling thick ropes of cum into her, the heat of his load making her whimper. He thrust a few more times, grinding deep as if determined to leave no part of her untouched.

His movements slowed, then stilled, and he remained buried inside her for a moment, his chest rising and falling against her back until he finally withdrew, groaning softly at the loss of her warmth. He pulled her down gently onto his discarded cloak, spooning behind her. The feral aggression that had consumed him moments before seemed to melt away, leaving behind a calmer, more satisfied version of himself.

“You alright?” he murmured, softer now as he brushed a strand of her hair away from her face. His hands smoothed over her sides, no longer gripping bruisingly but exploring her curves with a reverence that made her sigh.

“I’m fine,” she replied, still breathless. “But you are totally carrying me tomorrow in a piggyback. I don’t feel my legs.”

His lips twitched into a small, self-satisfied smile. “That was the idea, your limbs around me, where they belong.”

She rolled her eyes and snuggled her back closer to the warmth of his broad chest. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And you didn’t escape,” he retorted, nipping playfully at her ear.

“Maybe I’m a sucker for punishment,” she quipped, tracing the lines of his forearm where it rested around her waist. “Or maybe I just enjoy being with the guy who acts like a beast but is actually pretty damn sweet when he’s not trying to prove a point.”

He huffed a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “Sweet, huh? Pretty sure I wasn’t ‘sweet’ a few minutes ago.”

“No, you were something else entirely,” she teased, turning to meet his gaze with a sly smile. “But don’t let it go to your head, big guy.”

Bucky inhaled deeply and buried his nose in the crook of her neck. His hands slid up her side to cup her breast, his rough palm was gentler now as he thumbed over her sensitive nipple. He sighed, utterly sated yet still unwilling to let her go.

“We’ll need the tent,” he murmured and the deep rumble of his voice vibrated against her skin. “We’re not making it to the inn.”

She groaned, grimacing at the thought of wrestling with the cursed contraption in her current state. “Ugh, the tent. Can’t we just sleep out here and hope nothing eats us?”

Bucky chuckled with a low and indulgent sound. As if he’d read her mind, he nipped her shoulder, eliciting a squeak from her mouth. “You’re going to lay there looking pretty, and I’m going to set it up,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

She turned her head to shoot him a skeptical look. “Oh, so you’re all chivalrous now?”

He smirked, brushing his lips against her ear as he spoke. “Don’t push your luck, I’m trying to be nice here.” he muttered, adjusting the cloak around her shoulders as if she couldn’t do it herself. “Since I plan on fucking you again -and maybe a few more times after that- I’d rather you didn’t catch a cold. Also…” His gaze lingered pointedly on her chest. “I don’t want some random traveler getting an eyeful of your bouncing tits.”

She quirked a brow. “Funny, you didn’t seem to care about modesty a few minutes ago.”

He crouched down beside her, tugging the edges of the cloak higher over her chest as he gave her an unimpressed look. “Yeah, well, that was different. I was the one enjoying the view. No one else gets to.”

Her smile widened as she brushed her hand over his stubbled jaw. “Possessive much?”

He just stared at her, leaning down to kiss her, slow and deliberate, as if to remind her exactly who she belonged to. When he pulled back, his lips brushed against her cheek, and he nuzzled her affectionately. “Be good for once and stay put. I’ll set up the tent.”

“Oh, I’ll stay put,” she said with a mischievous lilt, shamelessly traveling her gaze down his naked body. “Enjoying the view.”

He rolled his eyes, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. He liked her looking at him like that, and she knew it. He made no effort to hide the way his muscles flexed as he moved, taking every chance to show off while setting up the tent.

“Really taking your time there, huh, big guy?” she teased.

“Maybe I am,” he shot back, giving her a knowing glance over his shoulder. “If you’re going to stare, I might as well make it worth your while.”

She laughed as she propped up on her elbows to get a better view. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just admiring your… big dedication to the task.”

He shook his head as he secured the last of the tent’s poles. “Come on,” he invited, holding a hand out to her. “Tent’s ready. Let’s see if its sturdy enough for my big dedication.” His smirk widened into a full-blown grin, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

“Always so humble, Buck.” she observed, slipping her hand into his and letting him pull her up.

“Just calling it like it is,” he shot back, pulling her closer until their bodies nearly touched. “And judging by your staring, I’d say you agree.”

She opened her mouth to quip but then paused, frowning. “Um, Buck… by any chance did you bring the sack with the silver or…?”

His confident smirk faltered as his brows knit together. “Of course I-” He stopped mid-sentence, glancing toward the forest, and his expression shifted from cocky to sheepish. “I was a little preoccupied,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Steve will love this.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, stepping closer until he loomed over her. “You think I care about what Steve thinks right now?”

She arched a brow, dropping her gaze lower. “Well, considering you’re standing here without a stitch of clothing and no silver in sight… maybe not.”

His lips curled into a slow, predatory smirk as he took her hand, placing it boldly against his hard cock. “You tell me, magic bun. Does this look like it cares about Steve, silver, or his damn surprise quests?”

Her cheeks heated as her fingers instinctively curled around him. She swallowed hard. “No, it doesn’t” she managed,

He growled, leaning down to nip at her bottom lip. “Now, get in that tent before I lose what little patience I have left.”

Her lips quirked, but she wisely said nothing, turning toward the tent with a sway in her hips that she knew he wouldn’t miss. Behind her, he groaned, with both exasperation and lust.

“Keep that up, magic bun, and we won’t make it inside at all.”

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics