#but all i know is that i’m here for the ride

[reignpage]

The Best Kind of Remedy

Synopsis: in which your herbalist boyfriend, Geto, has just the thing to cure your ailments Warnings: smut, established relationship sex, penetrative sex, sex whilst under the influence (smoking weed), dubcon?, thigh riding, dirty talk, degradation, lots of praise, unprotected sex, creampie, handjob, brief fingering, spitting, dacryphilia, cum eating, personification of the pussay, not proofread Word Count: 3.1k

Herbalist!Geto is your boyfriend — you can always count on him to cure your ailments with a conversation, sometimes even with just a glance. He has green tea bags ready for your morning bloating, elderberry syrup for your colds, and aloe vera compress for burns, among other things.

Visits to his clinic on Friday nights are routine; you show up just as he’s closing, and he gives you a small smile when he lets you in. “Hey, was just about to text you.”

“Long day?”

Popular and well-respected, he gets customers from all over the country. They swarm to his clinic in hopes of securing a face-to-face consultation with the man himself, eating up every advice, and treasuring each prescription. He’s trustworthy, smart, observant, innovative, and so damn hot. Long hair tied at the back, broad shoulders stretching out the lab coat he wears, and smelling of something floral and earthy, you don't blame any of the girls who come in just to ogle at him.

“A little tiring but I feel energised now that you’re here.” He brushes a lock of your hair back, thumb tilting your chin up so he can get a good look at you. “You haven’t been sleeping well again?”

Herbalist!Geto shrugs off his coat, revealing a loose black shirt underneath, which rises up when he stretches out the lethargy in his bones, revealing a seductive sliver of his boxers and the sharp cut of his abs. 

“I’m exhausted but I can’t rest; I feel on edge all the time.”

He's quiet for just a second, analysing the depth of your dark circles and jittery limbs. There’s an odd glint in his eyes when he places a heavy hand on your head and says, “I might have just the thing.”

That’s how you find yourself in the backroom, sitting on his sofa next to him. He’s rolling up a joint with expert hands, sprinkling a green line across the paper, shaping it into a neat little cone. Fingers pinching the air, he rolls it back and forth, and when ready, puts it up to your lips.

“Go on, pretty girl.” A little nervous, you eye him first and he waits patiently. You lick the edge of the paper, keeping eye contact, even when brings it up to his mouth and licks exactly where you did. It’s sealed and he taps it against your lips like some kind of good luck ritual. “This is your first time, right? Well, then, you’re going to have to listen very carefully to me. Can you do that?”

You nod. 

He tuts. “Use your words, pretty.”

“I’ll listen.”

“Good girl.”

Window open, he seems at ease when he lights the spliff and takes a deep inhale, immediately slumping back into the sofa, arm thrown over the back right behind you, and legs spread so far you’re trying hard not to stare at what’s between them. “Start off with a light inhale. Just suck gently, like you’re sipping from a straw, and don’t hold it for too long. Only a second or two and then breathe out. Got it?”

Smiling, you follow his instructions. It smells earthy, like him, with a hint of something sweet. Embarrassingly, you’re coughing not even a second after you’ve inhaled — it’s dry in a way you weren’t expecting. Head falling onto his chest, his amused huff shakes you a little.

“Sorry, baby. Here, drink some water.”

Just as you’ve gulped down a whole cup of water he had prepared like he knew this would happen, you grill him about this part of him he’s been hiding. “I didn’t know you smoked weed. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Blowing a puff into the air, away from your face, he shrugs. “Always forgot. I don’t smoke too often; don’t ever want to get reliant. But I’ve been growing my own, experimenting, trying to find the best kind. I didn’t want to make you smoke anything less than perfect, after all.”

You’re leaning against his chest, too scared to reach for another puff so you settle for listening to him instead. “There are different types of weed?”

“Yeah. Different strains of weed, just like growing any kind of plant. Some people mix different things into their harvest based on preference. I’ve mixed all sorts of juices with mine. This one has a hint of strawberry — thought you might like to taste something a little more familiar.”

The air’s growing thicker and hazy. Even from one inhale, you’re already feeling more relaxed, like time’s moving slower. “Hmm, this is kinda nice. I want more but I don’t want to choke; it’s humiliating.”

Head tilting back, he pecks you on your lips, tenderly. 

“Don't be embarrassed. It's just me. Come on, I’ll blow it for you. Open for me. That’s it.” Hot air, tasting ever so slightly like strawberry and him, fills your mouth and you swallow, letting it float into your lungs. "Better?"

Nodding, you climb onto his lap, suckling on his lips, seeking more, unable to help yourself. Something is making you feel restless even though you’re slowly melting into your most relaxed self. “Sugu…I feel weird.”

Herbalist!Geto’s free hand smoothes your hair, calming you. “You’re alright, baby. I’ve got you. I had a feeling you’d get worked up.”

“The weed’s making me horny?”

A slow grin appears on his face. He tilts his head, slightly mocking, and says, “You haven’t had nearly enough to go all empty in that pretty head of yours. Look at you. You’re grinding on my thigh and you don’t even realise? That’s adorable.”

You gasp and glance down. He’s right; you’re rocking back and forth on his muscular thigh, leaving a wet trail over his cotton pants whilst your skirt pools around your hips. Senses heightened, you can’t stop, not when the friction feels so good and he’s flexing his thigh to urge you to an orgasm. 

“Hmm, I treat you to my weed and you thank me by feeling good by yourself? Maybe I should start calling you my ‘selfish girl.’ You’re making me feel all lonely here.”

An apology is muttered against his lips. Clinging onto his shirt, you use him as leverage to get into a rhythm. The haze is emboldening you and the only hint of surprise that pops up on his face is a quirk of a brow when you fish out his hard cock. It’s thick and pretty — he keeps it tidy down there and the dark pink tip makes your mouth water. Leaking pearlescent drops, you use it to lubricate his length. Then, you rub up and down in time with your grinding, keen to see his lips part and his eyes go glossy. 

“Poor baby doesn’t like cumming by herself, does she? No, of course not. But you’re already making a -hah- mess on my thigh so you might want to -ngh- pick up the pace otherwise we’ll both be very disappointed, won’t we?”

Shuddering, the corner of his mouth twitches when he feels your thumb rub his slit, running it down a bit of his foreskin. Exposing more of his sensitive skin to the air, he has to take a puff to stop himself from cumming too soon. 

Herbalist!Geto’s head is thrown back, long, slender neck looking so delectable you mouth kisses all over his skin, smiling when he groans. “I thought weed was s-supposed to make you less tense, not more mean.”

He laughs and blows the smoke right into your open mouth. “That’s a lot of —tighter, baby, rub my tip too, you know just how I like it, yeah, good girl— a lot of -hah- talk from someone who always cums hard after being treated a little mean.”

True to his words, you cum all over his leg, tightening your hold on his cock subconsciously and he grunts with the sudden pressure. 

“Ah, Suguru! Fuck, so good.”

Palming your thigh, he smiles to himself when you slump on his chest. “Got a filthy mouth on you. Should wash it out, shouldn’t I?”

You’re just about to get up and lap up his length when he stops you. 

“N-no, don’t think I can wait.” Panties pushed to the side, you embrace the fingers he slides inside your sloppy pussy, stretching your gummy walls in preparation for this cock. You’re moaning, emboldened by the curling of his fingers against a spot inside that renders you breathless. “Hmm, you’re so tight. That the weed or have I not been taking care of you recently?”

A squeal leaves your lips when he withdraws those fingers without waiting for your answer and pulls you down on his leaking length all in one go. It’s almost painful, but the smoke you’ve inhaled is dulling and heightening your senses all at once — you can’t feel the pinch of the stretch but you can feel every vein, every throb, every inch of his cock filling you up completely. 

“Sugu,” you whine, “not so suddenly.”

Herbalist!Geto chuckles. “Sorry, baby. Just couldn’t -hah fuck you’re too tight- h-help myself. You know I love feeling you stretch around me.”

Tears spring to your eyes from the stretch. He throbs inside you. Once. Twice. 

“Pretty baby crying for me? Oh, you spoil me.” Fallen tears are licked up, thoroughly hydrating and fuelling his teasings. "Once you've adjusted, get to work, alright? Want you to show me how grateful you are."

Leaning back on his wide-spread thighs, you offer him a great view of your pussy lips wrapping around his girth. There’s already a light sheen of wetness coating his length and the sight is making him lightheaded. Slowly, you begin gyrating, grinding in circles so you can get used to the ache before your thighs are pushing up and down. He shoots you a wink when he senses your growing embarrassment at just how sloppy you've gotten and so quickly. 

"Hear that? Pretty pussy's saying, 'Thank you.' Polite little thing, isn't she? She needs to be rewarded, no? So go on, ride me."

Barely been touched, and loud squelches are already coming out of your pussy, reminding you of just how well-trained your body is for him. Never wanting to disappoint him, you push your limbs to set a pace you know gets you both going. His breathy moans guide you, setting tingles all over your skin. 

Your shirt is pulled up and pressed to your mouth. You bite the hem, baring your tits to his eyes. “Missed my girls — was thinking about them -ngh- all day. S-still taste as good as they look?

He’s sucking a nipple, rolling the bud around with the tip of his tongue, flicking and suckling in rapid succession. Undeterred by your bouncing, he keeps his mouth full, groaning when you grind down on his balls. "Oh, yeah, my sweet girls."

Every bounce makes you lightheaded, dazed with pleasure. 

"Should come visit me more often. Was starting to think you hate me." He teases. 

Frantically shaking your head, you say, "N-no. I was just busy."

"Too busy for me?"

"Never."

He blows yet another puff of smoke into your mouth, enjoying the breathy mutter of gratitude that you give him. "Good. I'd be devastated if I —oh, fuck, baby, ride me faster, yeah, good girl— if I couldn't see you as often as I'd -hah- like. You know you're the only thing that keeps me going, don't you?"

"Yes, Sugu —ah, yes, yes, you're so big!"

Sucking a mark in between the valley of your breasts, he gazes at his work, licking his lips and loving the salty taste of your skin. "If I didn't love your pussy as much as I love you, I might start to get jealous over h-how much you love my -ngh!- cock."

Kisses to that gooey spot inside you by his angry cockhead has your pussy growing sloppier and sloppier until a thick creamy ring forms around his base and he can’t help but thumb it and bring it up to your lips. It’s dirty, it’s filthy, obscene, and you suck it up with no hesitation, tasting both of your juices on your tongue. 

Herbalist!Geto dives forward, smothering your moans. The earthy taste of strawberries mixes in, tongues wrapping around each other as he seeks out your taste, swallowing every drop of you. He grunts. 

Swivelling your hips, you have to pull back, gasping for air and finding nothing to bring you sanity. Your pussy’s gripping onto him like it could absorb his soul into your very being and the plap plap plap of your skin smacking against his is all you can hear. 

This is unlike your usual sex — he's usually much more controlled, much cleaner in his movements, more thoughtful in his approach. Now, you're seeking out your pleasure with no care in the world, just bouncing rhythmlessly and clumsily, slipping and sliding, moaning and whining, and he's letting you. 

It seems you're not the only one affected by the weed.

A cloud of smoke rises up from his mouth, jaw hanging from just how hot and heavenly you feel around him. You suck it in, swallowing the dry air. But then he’s pulling you back into yet another kiss, that puff being exchanged back and forth like a dirty game of tennis until it’s completely gone and you’re fuelled only by the sickly sweet taste of him. 

“Your stamina’s improved, hah. Remember your first -ngh!- first time riding me? Hmm, pretty? You could hardly last more -ah fuck! don’t squeeze down on me like that- t-than a couple bounces before you were drooling on my chest and begging me to f-fuck up into you.”

Wetly smacking back down onto his lap, your clit grinds down on his pelvis, teased and tortured. 

"Always so keen to make me feel good, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes, yess! Oh, fuck, so full. I feel so full."

Herbalist!Geto hums sardonically. "Silly girl isn't even listening to me. You say you want to be praised m-more but we both know you get wetter when you're called a dirty, little slut. My dirty, little slut."

His free hand travels down your ass, giving it a tight squeeze before he lays a not-so gentle slap against it just to feel you tighten around him. 

"Say it."

SMACK!

“Ah, Suguru! I'm your dirty, l-little slut."

You gasp. You could have sworn another vein grew on his long length, teasing your walls and catching onto your greedy pleats, desperate to keep him inside. 

Thick cock worms its way inside, forcing your walls to memorise every curve and vein on its way up and back down. He’s making shallow thrusts up, striking against your g-spot with expert skill. “Missed you so much, baby. All those customers drive me crazy — none of them follow instructions as well as you do.”

Herbalist!Geto's growing closer to a damn good orgasm; he always gets more sentimental at the brink of cumming and it's why your hips don't dare stutter as you work him again and again, taking him deeper and faster.

“I’m a -hah- good girl, that’s why, Sugu.” You grin. 

He plants a sloppy kiss on your lips, enamoured by that sparkly smile. “Hmm, you are. Always such a good girl. My best girl.”

Blunt completely forgotten about and discarded somewhere, both of his hands are clutching your body close to him. One is digging into the plush of your ass, loving the ripples of the flesh with every collision of your hips to his, and the other is groping your tit.

Hips so nasty and gluttonous, it steals grunts from him, ugly, unrefined sounds that he doesn’t care if you hear. “You’re close…I can feel it. Go on, pretty. Cum all over my c-cock. Show me -hah- how much you l-love me.”

Both of your eyes are glazed over, whether from the weed or from the waves of pleasure cresting, neither of you can tell. You just fight through the ache in your joints as you bounce faster and faster on his cock, fingers rubbing against your swollen clit, sticky and slippery. Inside, you can feel his cock stiffening, growing bigger and bigger ever so slightly and you know he’s about to burst. 

Foggy, the only thing in the room you can see is his face: bead of sweat dripping down his temple, strands of hair come loose from his bun littering his forehead, and his lips are bitten pink, matching the flush on his cheeks. He's beautiful.

“Fuck, the weed’s drying my mouth out. M-make yourself useful and -hgnh!- help me out, won’t you, baby?” Like it's been wired into your brain, a fat glob drips down from your mouth and onto his awaiting tongue before you can even process the command. Just as soon as it pools into his mouth, he’s swallowing it, eyes rolling back from the taste of you.“Such a good fucking girl. You're making me lose my goddamn mind.”

You cum first. 

Clinging onto him, you whimper, clit oversensitive from the weed coursing through your veins. There’s no rhythm to his thrusts, he’s simply chasing the pulsing of your sloppy cunt, cockhead kissing that spot inside you he loves so much before his orgasm quickly follows. 

Herbalist!Geto buries his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and painting your walls white with a flurry of hot cum. It fills your entire body, almost as if you can feel it in your lungs and when you swallow, you delude yourself into believing it's reached your throat too.

The haze still hasn’t passed — it’s making your heartbeat so damn loud and you’re just about to ask if he can hear it but he beats you to the answer by pressing a tender kiss against your pulse, murmuring, “Me too. Mine’s beating fast too.”

Neither of you takes out his cock, much too content to let it soften inside you and much too tired to care that it’s unplugging all your cum out and making an even bigger mess on his lap. 

You’re dozing off, coming down with him when he slumps back into the sofa, letting your head rest against his chest. Deeply satisfied, you mutter, “We gotta do this again.”

“The weed or the sex?” 

Herbalist!Geto’s rubbing soothing circles on your back, pulling down your shirt and keeping you close. He chuckles when he hears you say, ‘both.’

“Whatever helps you sleep, pretty. I’m always happy to be of service, even off-hours, for my favourite client but let’s keep this bonus package between us, yeah? Don't need more of those people coming in here.”

Half-asleep now, you mutter, “Just for me?”

He lays a kiss on top of your head. 

“Only you.”

[rrysbabydoll]

Busy

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

CW: Explicit sexual content, dominant/submissive dynamics, spanking, power imbalance, emotional vulnerability, mild humiliation, tears, aftercare, consensual BDSM with soft limits.

Synopsis: Y/N gets bratty after Harry ignores her for a week.

You had a bad idea.

Not just any kind of bad idea, but the kind of bad idea that your sweet, sensitive self wouldn’t normally even think about acting on. Except… well, it had been a week.

A full, torturous week of Harry holed up in the studio, headphones half-off and hair a mess, obsessing over the final mixes of his album. He came home late. Ate silently. Fell into bed next to you smelling like vanilla and frustration. Every night, you’d curl into his side like a good girl, hoping he’d roll over, mouth at your shoulder and pull your panties down.

But every night?

Nothing.

So now, here you were, standing at the doorway of his at-home studio in your little sleep shirt, barely-there fabric, hem riding up every time you shifted your weight, sleeves falling past your knuckles, pouting so deeply your lip trembled. But not in the soft, sniffly way he was used to. No. You were being a brat.

"You're obsessed with that stupid album," you muttered, arms crossed.

Harry didn’t even flinch. He turned a knob and scribbled something on a notepad, his back to you.

You scoffed. “You're honestly being such an asshole.”

That did it.

His head turned, slowly. He looked over his shoulder, hair a little messy from running his hands through them over and over again.

“Come again?” His voice was low. Calm. But not amused.

You shifted on your feet, unsure now. This wasn’t your usual tone with him. You were the sweet one. The cry-easily one. The soft girl.

You swallowed. “Nothing.”

He leaned back in his chair and spread his thighs a little wider. His eyes dragged over you. “You’ve got about five seconds to come in here and say what you meant.”

You squirmed. Your plan hadn’t gone much further than this.

Still, your feet moved. You padded in, heart pounding. “I just meant… you haven’t touched me in days, Harry.”

He nodded, once. “I know, sweetheart. I’ve been busy.”

“That’s not fair,” you huffed, suddenly brave. “You always say that when you're working. What about me?”

He raised his eyebrows and didn’t blink. “What about you?”

You stared at him, the flush creeping up your neck. “I’m—I need you. But you don’t care.”

His jaw ticked. Slowly, he stood.

You watched him walk around the desk. He didn’t stop until he was in front of you, and still, his voice never rose.

“Let me get this straight,” he murmured. “You storm into my studio. In your little shirt. Acting like a brat. Talking back. All because I haven’t fucked you in a week?”

You bit your lip, nodding.

He tilted his head. “You think I don’t care about you because I’ve been finishing an album I’ve poured years into?”

That part stung. You didn’t mean it like that. You looked down.

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, baby. You did,” he said, quietly. “You meant it. You wanted to hurt me a little. Thought if you poked me hard enough, I’d snap.”

“I—”

“Be quiet.”

You closed your mouth.

He stepped closer, chest brushing yours. His hand found your jaw, not rough, but firm. His thumb pressed against your lower lip.

“You’re usually such a sweet thing,” he murmured. “What’s gotten into you, hmm?”

Your eyes welled up. Instinctively, you tilted toward him.

“I missed you,” you whispered.

“I know you did,” he said. “But that’s not how you tell me.”

“I’m sorry…”

He hummed. “You will be.”

Your stomach flipped.

He took your hand and walked you to the edge of the couch in the studio, small, low, the one he sat on between takes. He sat first, then pulled you over his lap, face-down, ass up. His hand ran gently down your back, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“I try so hard to be patient with you,” he murmured. “You’re usually so good for me. Sweet little thing. So why do you act like a brat when you know I’m barely holding it together?”

His hand smoothed over your ass once, then landed a sharp, open-palm slap that made your breath catch.

“Count for me.”

“O-One.”

Another. Firmer.

“Two.”

“You looked so pretty standing in that doorway,” he murmured. “So pretty, even when you’re being a little mean.”

Three. Four.

You gasped, hips twitching in his lap.

“Harry—”

“No talking,” he said gently. “Keep going.”

Five. Six. Seven.

Your voice trembled.

“Eight…”

By ten, your legs were shaking. You buried your face in your arm.

When he finally stopped, his hands smoothed over your warm skin. “That’s enough.”

You breathed in sharply, then again, like you were about to cry. But he gently moved you to stand between his legs.

“Take your shirt off.”

You blinked at him.

“I said take it off.”

You pulled the sleep shirt over your head, bare underneath, your nipples pebbled from a mix of cold air and nerves. He looked you over, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek.

“Get on the couch.”

You obeyed, knees sinking into the cushion.

“On your tummy.”

You froze.

You hesitated.

“I don’t want to,” you said softly. “I wanna look at you…”

His expression didn’t change. But his jaw clenched slightly. He moved closer.

“No.”

Your lip trembled. “But I just—”

“No,” he repeated. “You don’t get that tonight.”

You blinked fast. “Harry…”

“Get on your tummy.”

When you didn’t move right away, his voice came again, soft but unmistakably stern.

“Now.”

You turned, heart in your throat, and laid on your front. Your cheek pressed into the pillow, and tears began to slip down without permission.

He knelt behind you, strong hands parting your thighs. You whimpered, wanting, needing, his touch.

When he eased into you, slow and deep, you gasped sharply.

“You’ll take it,” he murmured. “You’ll take it and remember not to act out next time.”

You cried softly, face buried, hands curled in the pillow. Your hips twitched toward him, needy, even as your body quivered.

Halfway through, when you felt overwhelmed and aching and emotional, you reached behind blindly, searching for his hand.

He caught your wrist. Held it firmly.

“No touching.”

You sniffled. “I—I’m sorry…”

“I know,” he whispered. “But you still need to learn.”

You nodded into the pillow, crying quietly as he drove deeper, relentless but not cruel. You wanted to see his eyes, to see softness return, but he wouldn’t let you. He stayed behind you, keeping the space between you firm, no matter how much you squirmed.

When you came, it was with a sob in the pillow.

He pulled out slowly, breathing heavy, and tucked himself back into his sweats. The room fell quiet, save for your soft sniffles.

Then…

His hands—warm, wide, familiar—slid under your body. He lifted you gently and turned you over onto your back, then pulled you into his chest like you were made of glass.

His voice, finally, was soft again.

“Oh, baby…”

You curled into him immediately.

“I didn’t mean it,” you whispered, fists in his hoodie. “I missed you. I just—I don’t know what came over me—”

“I know, lovie. I know,” he whispered, kissing your temple over and over. “I shouldn’t have let it get this long. That’s on me.”

You clung to him, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin.

“I just wanted you to look at me,” you mumbled.

He pulled back, tilting your chin.

“I always look at you,” he murmured. “Always. Even when I’m tired. Even when I’m busy. You’re all I see, baby.”

You hiccuped.

“I didn’t like not touching you...”

“I didn’t like saying no,” he whispered. “But I had to. You needed to know you crossed a line.”

You nodded, eyes glassy.

“I was bad.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You’re never bad. Just a little bratty sometimes.”

You smiled through your tears.

He kissed your nose.

“You’re still my sweet girl.”

“Even when I make you mad?”

“I wasn’t mad,” he said. “Just… frustrated. And maybe a little hurt.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.”

He rocked you gently, murmuring against your hair.

“Let me take care of you now,” he whispered. “You were good in the end. So good for me.”

You nodded, already dozing off in his arms.

He reached for a blanket and tucked it over you, laying back into the couch and holding you like you were the only thing he needed in the world.

And really, you were.

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Thank god someone else sees the potential of remmick’s sub side bc 👀 that man has been looking for connection for centuries - if you were kind to him I think he’d be putty in your hands and it would be glorious. I’d love for you to explore this in your writing - I know you’d kill it and leave me screaming into a pillow haha

Let me be soft with you||Remmick x reader

Summary — remmick has never known an act of kindness in his life until he met you.

Warning smut dom!reader sub!remmick p in v reader rides remmick

Word count—1017

A/n— I LOVE SUB REMMICK AND I NEED MORE

Tagging @abriefnirvana @fuckoffbard

The wind outside howls, brushing dead leaves across the rotting windowsill. The cabin creaks around you—old wood, brittle bones, shadows so thick they feel alive. This place is half-forgotten, sunken into the ribs of the forest like a wound no one wants to reopen. No one comes here. Not anymore.

Not since he made it his own.

You shouldn’t be here.

And yet, Remmick can’t look away from you.

You’re warm. Real. Grounded in a way that mocks the rotting walls and the ghost-thick air. You stand there like you belong, unshaken by the stink of old blood or the teeth of the cold. All soft curves, steady breath, and those kind, quiet eyes that haven’t flinched once—not even when you stepped over the threshold and saw him bare-chested, blood-drenched, wild-eyed.

“You should’ve run,” he rasps, back pressed to the wall like he thinks you might burn him. “Should’ve screamed.”

You tilt your head, like you’re studying a puzzle rather than a predator. “Why would I scream? You haven’t hurt me.”

His jaw flexes. His fingers twitch. There’s blood dried like rust across his collarbone, a streak of it trailing down toward the edge of his sternum. The chain around his neck catches the firelight—dull gold, heavy. Worn not for style, but like penance. Like ownership.

“You don’t know what I am,” he growls. There’s something raw under it. Not menace—shame.

“I do.” You step closer, slow and sure. “And I think you’re tired.”

He flinches like you slapped him.

It’s the kind of answer he doesn’t know how to fight. Not judgment. Not fear. Just truth, laid bare between you. And you, offering it so gently he could scream.

“I’ve done terrible things,” he mutters, voice fraying.

“I know.”

You’re right in front of him now. He could reach you. He could snap your neck. Drain you. Feed on you until the blood runs down his chin. But he doesn’t move. His hands stay clenched at his sides, trembling with effort, nails biting into his palms.

You press your palm to his chest.

His dead heart stutters. Not a beat, not life—but something. Recognition. Longing. Ache.

“You don’t scare me, Remmick.”

And something inside him—something old and ruined—breaks.

He doesn’t remember his knees hitting the floor. Doesn’t feel the pain of it. Just the cotton-soft thump of surrender as he folds, head bowed, hands gripping the hem of your shirt like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His forehead presses into the warmth of your stomach, desperate, reverent.

“Please,” he breathes, voice so quiet it trembles. “Don’t be cruel.”

“I’m not,” you whisper. Your fingers find his hair, slow and soothing, and his whole body shudders like the simple touch is too much. “Let me be soft with you.”

He makes a sound—low, ragged, almost animal. A wounded thing trying not to bleed out in front of you. It tears out of him like a confession. Like a prayer.

You don’t stop. You hold him through it. You let him kneel. You let him need.

“I’m not good,” he says, mouth still pressed to your belly like he’s trying to hide in you. “Not clean. Not… worthy of this.”

“You don’t have to be good,” you say, gentler still. You tug on his hair, tilting his head up until his eyes meet yours—stormy, wide, afraid. “You just have to be mine.”

His breath catches.

God. He wants that.

He wants to belong. To be claimed, even if he doesn’t deserve it. Wants to forget every name he’s ever taken, every throat he’s ever torn open, every night he’s spent drowning in the dark and trying not to feel.

He surges forward, hands sliding up your waist like he’s starving for you—and you let him. You don’t flinch, don’t falter. You hold his face in your hands, and he leans into the touch like it’s holy.

Like you’re holy.

Like if he lets go, he might never find this again.

You guide him to the bed.

He goes willingly, crawling back on the creaking mattress while watching you with wide, desperate eyes. You undress without shame, your full body bathed in the flicker of firelight—and he stares like he’s witnessing a miracle. Not hunger. Worship.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes.

You smile. “You always look at me like that.”

“Because it never stops killing me.”

You climb over him slowly, pressing him down. His breath catches when your thigh settles between his legs, when your weight blankets him. He doesn’t feel crushed. He feels safe.

“Is this okay?” you ask, fingertips brushing his cheek.

He nods, too fast. “Please. I—I don’t want to think. Just tell me what to do.”

You kiss him. He sighs against your lips like he’s never been kissed soft before. Like the world always demanded he take, and you’re the first to give.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you murmur, grinding your hips just slightly. His head thumps back. “Just feel.”

He’s already hard beneath you, hips jerking helplessly, chain cold against your chest as you lean in. You drag your lips down his throat, over the metal links, to the spot above his unbeating heart.

When you rock your hips again, he moans.

“You’re so good for me, Remmick,” you whisper. “So sweet like this.”

His eyes flutter shut. “No one’s ever called me sweet.”

“Then they weren’t paying attention.”

You ride him slow, holding his wrists above his head, letting him tremble under you while his thighs shake and his whimpers fall like prayers. The praise is steady, like rain—washing him clean, softening him where he thought he was stone.

“You take me so well.”

“You’re doing so good.”

“You’re mine, baby.”

“Yours,” he gasps, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes as his orgasm builds. “Yours, yours, please don’t stop—”

You don’t. You stay with him through the high, through the cries and shudders and pleading. When he comes, he falls apart completely—back arching, mouth falling open in silent reverence, body shaking as you ride him through it, gently coaxing him to give more.

And afterward, when you lower yourself to lay on top of him, he wraps his arms around you like a lifeline.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, voice hoarse.

“You deserve everything,” you whisper back. “Especially this.”

You stroke his hair until he falls asleep.

For once in his long, dark life, Remmick dreams of peace.

[kakashisacademia]

ೃ⁀➷ how they’d act as your alphas - jjk edition

Satoru Gojo – the cocky, obsessed alpha

Satoru pretends he’s chill, but when your heat hits? He goes fucking feral. Smug as hell, but shaking with restraint and want and need. He’ll kiss your neck like it’s sacred territory and growl and snarl;

“You smell like mine. You know what that does to me, baby?”

He makes you ride it out in his arms. But he’s also spoiling you, teasing you, whispering between kisses that no one else gets to touch you ever.

“Slowly, sweetheart. Let your Alpha take care of you.”

Suguru Geto – the worship-you-in-private alpha

He’s so calm and so composed, but when he’s alone with you during your heat? He kneels for you like it’s instinct. Smooth hands gripping your thighs, reverent kisses on your stomach as he murmurs;

“You’re mine, little Omega. Every inch. Every sound.”

He takes his time with his fingers, tongue and his cock. And he holds you in the bath afterward, stroking your hips as he says;

“I’ll always be here. I know what you need.”

Choso Kamo – the soft spoken, devoted alpha

Choso is gentle and almost shy about it. He smells your heat coming before you do and starts prepping your nest, laying out clothes, blankets and snacks. When it hits full force, he holds you like you might break.

“Tell me where it hurts. Let me fix it.”

He doesn’t push. Just strokes your hair and rocks you through the tension until you beg him to touch you. That’s when he allows himself to let his Alpha to take over and claim you.

“I’ll never let you go, you know that?”

Toji Fushiguro – the dangerous, territorial alpha

This man? He’s unhinged in rut. You walk into a room with another scent on you and suddenly you’re pinned against the wall.

“Don’t let anyone get that close again.”

This man? He’s even more unhinged when you’re in heat. He’s rough and growling, biting, panting against your neck. But he knows your limits. He pushes right to the edge of them, smirking down at you. He’s a fucking dick, but you’re his and his alone.

“That little Omega body was made to be filled by me. Say it.”

Kento Nanami – the controlled, devoted

Nanami is the definition of discipline until it comes to you. He monitors your cycle with quiet focus, tracking every shift in your scent like clockwork. When your heat comes he cancels all plans, loosens his tie and locks the world out. He takes you apart slowly, coaxing pleasure with practiced hands, murmuring against your skin;

“You don’t have to rush. I’m right here. I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

He’s the type to feed you between rounds, wipe sweat from your forehead and whisper,

“Such a good Omega. I’m proud of you.”

There’s so much reverence in the way he knots with you like it’s sacred.

Sukuna – the possessive, sadistic Alpha

Sukuna is chaos. You are his and he makes sure everyone knows it. He purrs when he catches your scent going sweet in heat, backing you into a wall with a fangy grin.

“On your knees, little Omega. You smell too good to walk around like this.”

He teases you until you’re begging, licking your neck where his bite will go, taunting;

“Say it. Say you want your Alpha’s cock, or I’ll make you suffer through this alone.”

But once you do submit? Oh, baby. He wrecks you. Knotting you again and again, laughing when you go limp and boneless in his arms.

“Look at that. My pretty little Omega, stuffed full and drooling for more.”

Want a full story for one of the Alphas? Feel free to request it 😊

[freelancelobotomy]

౨ৎ˚₊𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐘 [𝐒.𝐑]

𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

𐙚⋆.˚Summary: Spencer is smitten for the T.A. at Penelope’s art class. And he just might have a chance with her.  ⋆˙⟡♡WC: 2.3k

⊹܀˙CW: Suggestive language, Derek is half neked (for plot reasons of course), Spencer wants y/n so baddddd, Reader is described to have hips (the pic is to show the maxi skirt that I imagined), Reader has long hair.

♪‧₊˚A/N: hiiiiii I love this song + it came on my shuffle yesterday and it gave me an idea so yk I had to get to WORK. I hope u like. If this gets over 100 notes ill write Gravity pt 3. Okay bye bye

Spencer had agreed to take both Derek and Penelope to Penelope’s art class that night since her car wouldn’t start and Derek’s had gotten towed for being parked on the street too long while they were in Florida for a case. Derek wasn’t taking the class with Penelope—he was the model for it.

“It’s a life drawing class,” she had explained, giddily. “They saw Derek pick me up last week and the professor asked him to model for us today. And to bring baby oil.”

The art room was bright and beautifully decorated, with an abundance of ferns and vines and all sorts of greenery adorned onto the walls.

The professor had smiled as the three of them approached the stool that Derek was supposed to perch on during class.

“Penelope! Derek! Happy that you could make it. You can change in the supply closet on the left,” Professor Andi had gasped. “Did you bring some oil? I have linseed oil from my oil painting class earlier today that you can use if you didn’t.”

“I got some, don’t worry, Doc,” Derek had said with a wink before making his way to the supply closet and shutting the door behind him.

“Who is this? Are you here for the class?” Professor Andi had beamed.

“Oh… no. I’m Spencer. I was just dropping off—”

You had walked into the room, your hips swishing in your maxi skirt as you balanced a tower of sketchbooks in your arms.

“Y/N! Hi!” Penelope had smiled. “Do you need help?”

Spencer’s legs had started moving on their own toward you, taking four of the sketchbooks from your stack.

You had smiled politely at the tall man. “Thank you.” The both of you placed the sketchbooks on the table..

“You’re welcome,” he said, his gaze lingering on your face. Beautiful, he had thought, a warmth spreading through him. The first thing he had truly noticed were your lips—the way they curved into a smile as you spoke, their delicate movements as you formed each word. You wrapped Penelope in a hug.

“Oh,” you sighed, a faint blush gracing your cheeks. “How rude of me. I’m Y/N. Professor Andi’s TA. You must be Derek,” you had said, offering your hand.

Spencer, despite a fleeting thought about germs, had found himself wanting to hold it. Your touch was light, and your nails were a pretty pale pink. What would it feel like to have those hands explore…?

Spencer had cleared his throat, a nervous laugh escaping him. “I’m not Derek. I’m, uh… Doctor Spencer Reid—well, just Spencer. Please.” He had fumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets to resist the urge to reach for you again. “I’m Penelope and Derek’s ride.”

“My mistake, Spencer,” you had said, your eyes meeting his with a playful tilt of your head. “Will you be joining us today?”

Did you know the effect you had? It had felt almost cruel. He glanced at Penelope, who was practically begging with her eyes.

A subtle smile had played on his lips. “Looks like I will be,” he nodded, his attention already drawn back to you.

“Great! Come with me. Let’s get you a sketchbook,” you grinned, gesturing for him to follow, and he had found himself eagerly complying.

Your backside was just as pretty as your face. He watched you switch on the light in the supply room, the movement causing a soft sway of your hips that he couldn’t tear his gaze from.

You crouched down to the floor, rummaging through bins of pencils. The way your brow had furrowed in concentration was endearing.

“Have you ever taken art class before? Or just been creating independently?” you asked him, your voice a melodic murmur that had sent a shiver down his spine. Gravity had pulled your hair toward your face, showcasing the delicate slope of your neck—a sight that made his breath catch. He wanted to reach out, to feel the softness of those strands against his fingers.

“Neither. This is all sort of new to me,” he admitted, his chuckle betraying a hint of nervousness—a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. Especially not to someone who already held his attention so tightly.

“I see,” you said, picking up a large sketchbook and a brand new case of pencils and blending stubs. “Well, what do you like to do in your free time?” Your eyes met his for a fleeting moment, his stomach fluttering.

He had taken the supplies from you, his fingers brushing against yours—a brief touch that sent a jolt of electricity through him. He wished the exchange could have lasted longer, wanted to linger in that delicate contact. He spent too long just looking at you, memorizing the curve of your smile, the way your eyes sparkled. Words, he had reminded himself. He needed to say something meaningful, something that would capture your attention as completely as you had captured his.

“I like reading,” he managed, his voice slightly rougher than intended.

You waltzed past him to re-enter the art room, your perfume drifting toward his senses. Hmm… Fresh. Pear maybe? The scent was intoxicating—a promise of sweetness that he desperately wanted to explore. He would’ve followed that fragrance anywhere, even into the deepest ocean.

“Me too. Um… what’s your favorite book?” you asked.

He paused. You wanted to talk to him. The realization sent a thrill through him. What timeline was he in right now? This had felt like a dream.

“I enjoy everything that I read,” he replied. He had known it was a terrible answer, a deflection, but his mind was still reeling from your nearness.

“Okay, but there’s got to be a standout,” you chuckled, raising a brow. Cute. The simple gesture had made him swallow hard.

“Well, recently I’ve been re-reading Orwellian literature, so something of that nature. As of the moment I’ve been particularly enjoying 1984.” He wanted to impress you with his intellect, hoping to find some common ground, some way to bridge the distance between you.

“Ooh,” you sighed, “That’s a good one. Mine right now is probably…” You trailed off, thinking as you opened a fresh kneaded eraser for him. “Lord of the Flies,” you had decided. “Works that ask the question if evil is ingrained into our morality are some of my favorites. I find them the most stimulating,” you said, your eyes holding a captivating intensity.

It hadn’t been suggestive in the slightest the way you had said it, yet it had stirred something within him—a deep need to know you. To know where you came from and the places you'd been. He had managed a curt nod, his usual eloquence deserting him as he had found a seat next to Penelope, his gaze still drawn to your every movement.

After Professor Andi gave a quick review (or introduction, for Spencer) of value and shape, Derek had stepped out of the supply closet, glistening like a glazed donut. The women in the class had turned to each other, giddy and excited. He had taken his place on the stool in the middle of the circle of chairs. Derek smiled at Spencer and Penelope before striking a pose.

Spencer didn’t give a shit, though. He had been staring at you as you peeled a clementine at your desk, the delicate way your fingers manipulated the fruit utterly mesmerizing. You popped a slice into your mouth before wiping the residue from your hands and taking your sketchbook in hand. He imagined the sweetness lingering on your lips—a dangerous thought that made his chest ache. He’s never wanted someone so badly before.

Professor Andi had put on her Bossa Nova playlist. How fitting. Your hoop earrings, the faint flush on your cheeks—you had looked like how Bossa Nova sounded: pleasant and dreamy, an ethereal vision that he had felt he could only admire from afar.

You had begun sketching furiously, a small pout forming on your lips in concentration, your brow furrowed. The intensity of your focus had been incredibly alluring. He had found himself wanting to be the subject of that fierce gaze, to have you study him with such intent. He envied the loose leaf paper of your sketchbook and your 6B pencil that had the privilege of feeling your touch uninterrupted.

“Why haven’t you started yet?” Penelope whispered—not so subtly. It snapped Spencer from his haze, the spell you had cast momentarily broken.

“Huh—what?”

“Your page. It’s empty. Why?”

“Just thinking of how to approach this, is all,” he lied, his mind still replaying the way your hair had fallen across your neck. Penelope had narrowed her eyes but had chosen to let it go.

He had desperately wanted to impress you, to create something worthy of your attention. The thought of your opinion consumed him.

Spencer had somehow managed to find the control to start drawing a half-naked, oiled-up Derek, but his values had gotten a little muddy. He had needed to block out the highlights like Professor Andi had said in her brief lecture. But his kneaded eraser was stiff and wouldn’t warm up in his hands, no matter how long he had pressed it between his palms.

“Do you need help?” 

“Uh, yeah, my eraser won’t soften.”

“Y/N,” Penelope said, calling you over with a smile. You peered up from your sketchbook and smiled as you got up to approach her.

“How can I help?” you asked, bending over slightly with your palms on your thighs to be within earshot of Penelope.

“Spence needs help getting his kneaded eraser to knead,” she whispered, biting back a smile.

“No problem,” you smiled, dragging a stool next to him and sitting down. You had leaned in close to get a glance at the eraser. Pears, he had thought.

“Is it hard?” you asked. Ironic, he had thought.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how to.”

“You’re totally fine. It happens to me all the time. Here. I’ll help,” you had said, taking his hands into yours. “See this part of your thumb?”

Your long, delicate fingers had softly rubbed the joint below the pad of his thumb. Spencer had nodded, his mouth suddenly dry.

“You’re going to press it against this joint,” you had said, your fingertips now tracing the second joint of his index finger. “And rub the eraser between your fingers to warm it up.” You had placed the square, unkneaded eraser in the described position and guided Spencer’s hands to repeat that motion over and over until his fingerprint had appeared in the softened eraser. Spencer had hoped you wouldn’t notice how badly his hands were shaking as you held them.

“Okay, good job,” you had said, a soft warmth in your voice. Jesus. “Now stretch it with two hands like putty, then roll it into a ball.”

Your molasses gaze had flickered over his fingers, briefly meeting his. He had your complete attention in that moment and he literally had no idea what to do with himself. He had rolled the now-soft eraser into a ball.

“Perfect. Now you can use it.” You smiled at him—a genuine, captivating smile that had sent a jolt through him—before moving your stool away.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice a little rough. You nodded politely before returning to your sketchbook.

Spencer had made the decision that he was going to try his absolute hardest to impress you. He had known it was probably stupid, but it hadn’t seemed impossible, and he had thought he had a good shot at making it work.

By the end of the class, everyone had given their sketches to Derek for him to keep. Spencer had handed his to Derek. Derek’s brows had risen.

“You did this?”

“Yeah,” Spencer croaked dryly, his mind elsewhere. He had been watching you through the mirror near the door. You had ripped out two pages and then gotten up from your seat.

“It looks good, actually. Nice work, pretty boy,” Derek had said, clapping him hard on the shoulder.

“Hi Derek, nice to meet you,” you said nicely, smiling. You had handed him your portrait, which—of course—had put everyone else’s to shame, Spencer’s included. You made polite small talk with Penelope until they had eventually needed to leave.

Spencer lingered in the doorway. Ask for her number. Stop being awkward and aloof for five seconds of your life and ask her. But what if you never called him? Should he ask you to coffee instead? Or lunch? You seemed like a brunch type of girl—

“Doctor,” you whispered.

Spencer had turned around, his heart leaping. “I have something for you,” you had said, walking toward him.

“For me?” he asked, a hopeful tremor in his voice.

You handed him something—it was a portrait. Of him.

“I did it after I finished Derek’s.”

It was beautiful. He looked beautiful. The delicate lines of the shadows sketched by your hands, the slope of his nose, the shape of his lips… it had been him, and it had been wonderful. And it had been by you. You had observed his face and felt the need to put pencil to paper.

“Would you like, um—Y/N… Do you want to get coffee with me sometime next week?” he stammered, the question tumbling out in a rush. A slow, knowing smile had crept onto your lips, and you had nodded. Unbelievable.

“Yeah, I’d love to, Spencer,” you chuckled breathily, the sound like a melody to his ears.

“Really? Could I… get your number?” he had asked, his gaze fixed on yours.

“Flip it over,” you said, brushing past him, your scent lingering in the air again.

He had followed your directions. Your number had been scribbled on the back of the portrait. “Bye, Spencer.”

He watched you get into your car as Penelope and Derek laughed about something.

Your car had pulled out of the driveway, and you had honked the horn.

Penelope had smirked at Spencer. “Someone made a friend.”

“I saw her helping you ‘knead your eraser.’ I can tell she likes you.”

“You think?” Spencer had asked, biting back a grin.

He sure had hoped so—because he was already obsessed with you.

borders from: @muffiinss

I love jeff buckley

[delilahsturniolo]

— ★ party 4 u . . . m.s

(making out, cheating, reader is in a toxic relationship, being intoxicated, drinking & mentions of alcohol, suggestive but no smut.)

requested by anon!

you’re five drinks in and already regretting every second of this party. the room spins around you in lazy circles. the music is so loud it rattles in your chest, making your head throb with every beat. sweaty bodies bump into you. someone spills a drink near your feet. you don’t care. you can barely stand straight, but that’s not what’s bothering you.

it’s him.

your boyfriend is draped over you like a bad habit. his arm is slung around your shoulders, his breath hot against your neck, and he reeks of whiskey and weed. you shift uncomfortably, trying to slide out from under him, but he only grips tighter.“where the hell do you think you’re going?” he slurs into your ear, loud and mean and unmistakably drunk.

“i just need a little air,” you mutter, not even sure he hears you. he scoffs, pulling back enough to look at you with narrowed eyes. “what, you’re gonna start crying again? god, you’re so fucking dramatic.” you flinch. maybe he doesn’t notice. or maybe he does and just doesn’t care. “you dragged me here,” you remind him, voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t even wanna come.”

he laughs, mean and sharp. “then why’d you put on that dress? huh? trying to get attention? ‘cause congrats, baby. mission accomplished.” you feel your throat tighten, heat rising behind your eyes. you’re not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the words or just… the weight of it all. you pull out your phone with shaky fingers. “who the fuck are you texting?” he snaps. “no one,” you say, not looking at him.

you storm off outside, you just hit the call button. it rings once. twice. “hello?” matt’s voice is low and groggy, he was probably asleep. your heart squeezes at the sound of it. “can you come get me?” your voice is thick and cracked. “please, i… i need to leave.” there’s a pause. “where are you?” you send him the address, barely able to type through the blur of your vision. “i’m on my way. stay outside, alright?”

you hang up, slipping your phone back in your pocket and standing. your boyfriend grabs your wrist. “you’re seriously leaving?” he sneers. “you’re such a fucking joke.” you yank your hand away. “don’t talk to me like that.” he snorts. “whatever. go run to matt. i don’t give a fuck.”

you don’t say anything. you stumble into the cool night air, head spinning in a way that’s no longer just about the alcohol. your body feels heavy. your heart, heavier. ten minutes later, matt’s car pulls up. you practically fall into the passenger seat.

“jesus,” he says softly, reaching across you to buckle your seatbelt. “you okay? you’re wasted, kid.”

“i’m fine,” you slur. slumping against the window. “thanks for coming.” he doesn’t press the conversation, he just starts driving. the car ride is quiet. too quiet. you can feel him glancing at you from time to time, but he doesn’t say anything. not until you’re pulling into his driveway. “you shouldn’t keep going back to him,” matt says, cutting the engine. his voice is low, rough. “he treats you like shit.”

“i know.”

you both sit there for a second, the silence buzzing. “you deserve better,” he adds, softer this time.

you turn your head to look at him. his jaw is tense. his hands are still on the wheel like he’s grounding himself. “then why haven’t you done anything?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “if you care so much… why haven’t you ever tried?” his eyes snap to yours. you don’t know who leans in first. maybe it’s you. maybe it’s him. but then his mouth is on yours, and suddenly the world falls out from under your feet. it’s not gentle. it’s not sweet.

it’s desperate.

his hands are in your hair, tilting your head, and your fingers clutch at his hoodie like he’s the only thing holding you together. your lips part on instinct, and he takes it as an invitation, deepening the kiss, tongue brushing yours, tasting like heat and something so long buried it hurts.

you moan against his mouth, and it’s like a switch flips in him. his hands slide to your waist, gripping tight, pulling you closer across the center console. you don’t even care that you’re still in the car, still wearing that stupid dress you put on for a boy who didn’t deserve you. because this…this is what you needed.

this is what you’ve been craving.

his mouth trails to your jaw, down your neck, lips hot against your skin. your breath catches, and you tilt your head to give him more. your thigh brushes his, and he groans low in his throat, like he’s barely holding himself back. you whisper his name, and it breaks something. he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark, lips pink and swollen, breathing hard. his eyes widened, realizing what just happened. you were drunk, you both just kissed, you had a boyfriend.

“we should…go inside,” he says, voice wrecked. you nod. your hand finds his. and for the first time all night, you feel something like relief. but fuck, this was wrong, this was so fucking wrong.

but yet, it felt so right.

© delilahsturniolo

[giuliannna]

YOUR FIRST MEETUP WITH DEALER ! HAMZAH ࿐

buying drugs for parties isn’t usually your job.

you’re not even sure why you said yes.

you’re more of the type to take whatever you can get out of the stuff that everyone else brings - and more often than not, you sneak some into your purse to bring home.

but when your friends gave you those pleading looks, practically shoving the cash into your hand, asking you to pick up the weed, you caved.

now, here you are, makeup done, lip gloss intact, dress riding high on your thighs, walking through the more deserted, sketchier side of town.

everyone says that he’s the best. hamzah - the drug dealer that people swear by. pretty much anyone who smokes is a client of his, because he’s the only guy who won’t try to bleed you dry. it sounds like he actually cares about the people he sells to.

“he’s super chill, just.. a little awkward,” your friend had warned, laughing as she typed his number into your phone. “you’ll see.”

you feel your unsettled nerves beneath your skin. you pull up the address he sent you - unfortunately, you’re definitely at the right place. your eyes skim the area, noticing only one other car - a porsche, sitting idly in the distance at the far side of the parking lot.

you scroll to his last text: ‘i’ll be around the back.’

glancing up from your phone, you step closer to the building that looks half-abandoned, paint peeling from the edges.

you hover near, shifting your weight, checking your reflection in the screen of your phone. you still look good, even if you feel a little ridiculous standing here, looking this dolled up just for some weed pickup.

you sigh softly and round the corner toward the backside of the building.

the first thing you see is his hair. it’s messy. dark brown curls falling into his eyes. his hoodie hangs loose on his frame. he hears your footsteps and looks up from his phone.

he blinks at you, a little too slow, and you catch the faint red tint to his eyes. he’s high.

“uh, hey,” he says as you approach, voice low and a little hoarse like he hasn’t spoken much today. he rubs the back of his neck, looking nervous, his mouth pulling into a small half-grin. “i’m hamzah.”

you cut him off with a smile of your own. “i know. everyone told me about you.”

he quickly averts his gaze to the ground, his cheeks suddenly blooming pink, a flush that creeps all the way to his ears. he shifts his weight from foot to foot like he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“uh,” you laugh gently after a beat of silence. “i think i’m here to get something from you, y’know.”

“right.” he coughs. “right. cool. yeah,” he stumbles, fishing into his pocket for a little baggie. his fingers fumble with it, almost dropping it twice before he finally manages to hand it over. “here.”

you take it, fingers brushing his, and he damn near flinches like you gave him an electric shock.

god, he’s a mess.

but he’s pretty.

so pretty it’s kind of unfair - soft features, perfectly carved lips, and deep brown eyes under lashes so long it looks like he’s wearing more mascara than you are. it’s all sort of hard to ignore.

especially when he’s looking at you like he can’t believe you’re real right now, like he’s just hallucinating the new customer of his dreams.

“thanks,” you say, voice a little sweeter than necessary.

he’s still staring wordlessly when you dig into the neckline of your dress, sliding two fingers in. you pull out a folded wad of cash - a little wrinkled, a little stuck-together from sitting against your skin - and hold it out to him.

“that should be enough. keep the extra, if there is any.” you offer with another smile.

his eyes dart to your chest, then to the money, then back to your face like he’s terrified of getting caught looking. he takes it with a shaky hand, fingers bumping against yours again, even more careful this time like he’s afraid to touch you wrong.

“uh - thanks,” he mumbles, clutching the bills tight against his palm, crumpling them.

you glance at him once more, a flicker of amusement in your eyes. he’s just standing there, like he doesn’t know if the transaction is over or if he should say something else - like maybe, he doesn’t want you to leave yet.

“well, i’ll see you around,” you murmur, giving him a quick once-over. “it was.. nice meeting you.”

his mouth opens, like he’s going to say something, then it closes again. he gives a quick, jerky nod instead. his eyes are wide and he looks a little dazed, like his brain’s trying to catch up with the way your presence is affecting him.

“yeah,” he manages. “i mean, you too. it was - yeah. see you.”

you turn, kitten heels clicking softly on the pavement. the weight of his gaze heavy on your back. you can feel it - the way his eyes stick to you as you walk away.

he watches you disappear around the corner, fingers still curled tight around the crumpled bills, not wanting to acknowledge how his heart is skipping beats in his chest.

xoxo giulia

TAGLIST: @gulicore @slushedup @arroganceisherfavoritecolor @layzerzlovesu46 @babysitter19 @marixoa @starjely @viennawaiits @h-yalexaaaa @freakzah444 @anginluv @gabwilliams @sturniyolo @screamertannie @brlwla @yourstrulykiya @thefantastickid @hamzaholic @isathefantastic @divinesturn @forestlv4r @mayapuma20 @ottakugirl @hamzahsbestone @pulcen @rustnroll @venus-planetof-love @hamzahsn1gf @rock678 @wandas-lovey @guiltyfemcel @axetheboyboss @harrys0nlyange1 @ttlynotme @yassqueen1303 @animalcrossingshameless @bigmamaelli @hamzahsbaby

[heavenlybodies333]

Do I make you horny baby? - S.R

Spencer Reid x needygf!reader

You’ve made it a habit. Showing up at Quantico when you know the team’s still working late, sliding in past security with two coffees and a bag of takeout like you belong there. You basically do at this point—Hotch has stopped scowling when he sees you, Rossi greets you with a knowing smirk, and Penelope practically squeals whenever you bring snacks.

But tonight, the bullpen is dark. Mostly empty. And Spencer is the only one left. You find him alone in the conference room, glasses low on his nose, sleeves pushed to his elbows, hair a little messy like he’s been running his hands through it too much. There’s a stack of case files in front of him, but he barely glances up before smiling softly.

“You didn’t have to come.”

“Yeah, I did,” you say simply, setting the coffee down. “You forget to eat when you’re here this late.”

“I wasn’t even hungry.”

“Sure,” you smirk, popping open the container. “Well, now you are.”You pull out the chair beside him but pause, glancing at him through your lashes. Then, instead of sitting next to him, you swing your leg over and straddle his lap, settling down as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Spencer stiffens instantly. “W-what—?”

“Relax,” you purr, handing him a fork and reaching for the food. “Your thighs are comfy. You focus on your work.” He’s blushing, hard. But his hands—traitorous things—settle on your hips. Tentative. Like he can’t help himself.

You feed him a bite. He chews in silence, trying to focus on the report behind you. You reach up to brush his hair back from his forehead, fingers lingering. Then you take off his glasses and set them down gently on the table. His eyes are wide behind them, pupils blown. You don’t give him time to protest before you lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth.

His hands clench at your waist. And that’s when you roll your hips, grinding deliberately down over the hard length of him.

He chokes on air. “W-What are you doing?” he sputters, cheeks flushed red, hands instinctively gripping your thighs like he’s about to lift you off him.

“You okay?” you whisper, feigning innocence as you lean in and nuzzle your nose against his jaw.

“Y-Yeah,” he lies, face scarlet. “I’m fine, just—trying to focus.”

“Mmm,” you hum. “Focus on what, exactly?”

“I need to finish—fuck, don’t do that—”

“What?” you ask sweetly, grinding down a little harder, feeling the full weight of him press up against your panties. “This?” shifting your hips again, deliberately grinding over the growing bulge beneath you. He chokes on air.

“Y-You can’t just…” He trails off, trying to form words, hands tightening on your waist like he doesn’t know whether to push you off or pull you closer. “I’m at work—”

“Uh huh,” you murmur, grinding down again, slow and sinful, feeling the ridge of him through his slacks. “And you’ve got a stack of files and a raging hard-on. Real productive.” you began fumbling with his belt before Spencer lifts you just enough to slide your panties to the side—soaked, because of course you are—and pulls his cock free from his slacks. He’s flushed, panting, completely unraveling as he strokes himself once before guiding you down.

You sink onto him slowly. “Holy shit,” you whine, bracing your hands on his shoulders.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, burying his face in your neck. You’re moaning against his ear, and he’s gripping your ass like he’s about to lose control, thrusting up into you with reckless need.

His desk chair squeaks beneath you as you ride him slow, dragging your hips in tight circles while Spencer pants into your throat, whispering helpless curses against your skin.

“God, I missed you,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging gently, making him groan. “Didn’t realize how badly until now.”

“I’ve been—ngh—thinking about you all night,” he confesses, breath ragged. “You sitting in my lap like this? Fuck, baby, you’re not making it easy to concentrate.”

The thrill of it pulses through you—how filthy this is, how wrong it should be. Fucking him on Bureau property, lights low, anyone could walk in. But you don’t care. Not when his cock is buried this deep inside you, fucking you like he is.

You shift your weight, lifting just enough to start bouncing properly in his lap, skin slapping against skin as you fuck him deeper, faster. You’re shaking now, clinging to his shoulders, crying out his name in soft, choked gasps as he fills you over and over, his cock hitting the deepest parts of you.

Your walls flutter around his cock, drawing him over the edge with you. He groans—low and rough—and spills inside you, hips jerking erratically, mouth falling open as he pulses deep in your cunt.

You collapse against his chest, panting, sweaty, “That was definitely a breach of FBI protocol,” Spencer mutters, voice still breathless. You hum against his neck, utterly fucked-out and satisfied.

“Um,” he says softly, brushing your hair behind your ear, “do you think this room has cameras?”

You go completely still. “…Are you serious?”

He winces. “I think they’re turned off after hours, but I didn’t, um… verify.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. Then you burst out laughing, head falling forward against his chest. “Spencer. You couldn’t have mentioned that before my ass was riding you?”

“I was a little distracted,” he mumbles, cheeks flaming. You giggle, shifting in his lap, and he groans quietly. “Please don’t move unless you want round two right here.”

You smirk. “Would that be so bad?”

“Yes,” he says seriously, brushing your hair back. “Because this chair is very much government property. As is my dick, technically.” Then Spencer shifts beneath you and winces slightly.

You blink at him. “What?”

“I think we broke my chair.”

You glance over your shoulder. One of the legs is definitely a little...off-kilter. The chair wobbles under you both with a telltale squeak.

You gasp. “Spencer!”

He looks horrified. “That was government property!”

You burst into laughter, burying your face in his neck. “You fucked me into a federal chair violation.”

He groans. “Hotch is going to kill me.”

You’re still giggling when you climb off his lap, legs shaky as he helps you stand. He tucks himself back into his slacks with flushed cheeks, straightening his shirt like it’ll somehow cover the fact that he just had sex in a government conference room.

Hopefully Hotch wouldn’t notice the broken chair.

a/n: the chokehold this man has on me is baddd

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

[yeonmuse]

meandom!heeseung that degrades reader and makes her ride his thighs (smut prompt no. 1)

This one is long overdue im so sorry but I’ve finally got around to clearing my inbox

✧ tw. smut (18+ mdni!),mean heeseung, slight dom, dirty talk, thigh riding

Heeseung was used to girls yearning for him and falling at his feet, but she had been on an entirely new level. She was like a desperate attention seeking virgin that he couldn’t wait to bend to his will. It all started with innocent glances and the fluttering of her eyelashes when she looked at him. Eventually that led to her leaving drinks and sweet notes at his desk out of hopes that he’d give her the attention she had seeked from him for the longest time now. Eventually he gave in flashing her that charming smile as he approached her at her locker just to thank her for the drinks. That one interaction has lit a fire in her and what was once a subtle crush turned into silent yearning and desperation.

Heeseung had been leaving the gym after practice when he heard a sound so sweet and alluring he wouldn’t dare pass up the opportunity to listen. As he drew closer to the girls locker rooms and heard the sound of your sweet voice his mouth nearly fell open. So that’s where you had disappeared to? Heeseung knew you would often come in to watch his practice, of course you’d always hide behind the facade of coming to watch your best friend yeonjun but he knew very well your eyes would always find him.

The more he listened in on your ragged breath and painfully desperate whines the more he felt his cock twitch against the inside of his basketball shorts. His problem only seemed to worsen as he heard the sound of his name come spilling from his lips and he froze in place. His name had just fallen from your lips so sweet and distressed he couldn’t even stop his feet from moving.

After glancing around the gym to make sure no one else had been there he steps inside dropping his bag at the locker room entrance. He strides through what seemed like an endless stretch of lockers until finally he found you, sat on one of the dressing benches, legs spread and fingers shoved into your jeans as if you’d been too scared to fully push them down.

Heeseung let out a playful whistle, putting a quick end to the girl's showcase and making her scramble to her feet, her cheeks burning with nothing but shame and embarrassment as she struggled to find any logical explanation.

“H- heeseung.’’

“You put on quite a show, i mean i knew you were a little desperate but this?’’

“I’m sorry..’’ heeseungs smirk only widened at the way you looked away from him, a shameful expression shading over your face.

“Sorry? Oh princess, you aren’t sorry. I bet this isn’t even the first time is it? First time you’ve buried your fingers into yourself like a desperate slut while moaning my name.” he watched as your lips pressed into a thin line and you remained silent and the smirk was immediately wiped from his face.

“Answer me yn.’’ annoyance was evident in his voice, yet still you remained silent and frozen in place as if the embarrassment of being caught had shut you down entirely. In a flash Heeseung had stood before you, hand holding a fist full of your hair forcing you to stare up and return his gaze.

“I said answer me princess.’’

“No..’’ the shake in your voice told Heeseung exuding you needed to know

“No what. Speak up.’’

“It’s not my first time.’’ you finally choke out embarrassingly, your cheeks heating up the longer he stood there looking at you, his gaze like some sort of burning light.

“I knew it, you’re so pathetic, all worked up over someone that rarely ever even speaks to you.’’ he chuckles before finally letting go of your hair with a rough jerk stepping back from you and taking a seat on the bench.

You weren't sure how to take his words, but he was right. Here he was degrading you, making you feel less than you were and you were everything but upset about it, in fact it turned you in even more.

“Go on then pretty, you want relief so bad. Sit.” He spits out, making your eyes widen and sending you into an eternal panic.

“W-what?”

“Sit. I won’t ask again.” He repeats, his gaze ushering her to have a seat on his thigh.

“B-but someone could”

“Walk in? You weren't thinking of that when you had your fingers shoved into your pretty pussy screaming my name now did you?” He watched as you silently shook your head, unable to spit out any sort of defenses or retorts because he had been entirely right.

“We don’t have all day. This is what you were so desperate for right? For me to hear you? For me to come in here and make you feel good? I bet you wanted me to hear you hm?” Your cheeks flushed and your legs feel like jelly beneath you, his taunts lulling you into a new state of desperation you never knew had been possible until now. “Come on pretty girl.”

That was all it took to get you sitting on his lap, legs straddling his thigh as he held your head in place forcing you to stare into his eyes as he flexed his thigh.

“Fuck soaking my thigh already, who knew you were this desperate?” He chuckles at your audible reaction. The drag of your clit against his muscular thigh makes you whimper. He can’t help but find amusement at the way you’re pressing yourself harder against his thigh.

“Such a pretty thing, drooling over my thighs already. You wanted to ride them that badly?” His hands ghost over your hips as your hips move at a desperately speedful pace. He watched as your vulnerability unfolds in his lap.

“That’s it princess, doesn’t it feel good?” He questions, his hands rubbing at your thighs and your waist as he egged you on. You can’t seem to find the words to respond, overwhelmed by pleasure. You nod dumbly, moaning out his name as he tenses his thigh.

“Want you to cum, can you do that? Cum on my thigh, want you to walk around like this all day knowing what you did to get that way. You wanted it so bad. Stay like this until the day ends.” He groans, your arousal audible now with each drag. Your legs begin to shake with exertion, heeseung taking the opportunity to continuously grind you into his thigh, muscles tensing sporadically.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise despite the build up, head thrown back with a moan and eyes rolled back. “Oh god, Heeseung, please.” You moan out, not sure if you’re begging him to stop or keep going.

“There we go, good girl.” He groans, his thigh absolutely covered in you. He holds you still, allowing you to catch your breath.

“Now clean up before someone sees sweetheart, wouldn’t want them knowing that their little sweetheart is just a desperate little slut”

I rarely write smut and haven’t done it in so long guys go easy on me please 😭 im better at aus

[memingursa]

Here’s what’s going to happen

Now, I know you kids are dealing with some anxiety inducing occurrences. Hell, I’d probably be there with you. At least with duck and cover drills we didn’t have little squares in our pockets telling us we night die.

Now, first and foremost. In order to get over anxiety, you have to get this through your skull.

This feeling can’t hurt you. The stomach ache? Can’t hurt you.

Is it pleasant? No. Will it pass? Yes. This bundle or energy is going throughout your nervous system. Upsetting you, upsetting your stomach. However, with energy. It’ll eventually dissipate.

However. This is where it gets you. If you keep feeding the energy, it’ll keep generating, Your monkey brain in your body is sending you into danger mode. That you might be a bad person. You might die. Now? What do i mean by feeding the energy. Well, anxiety is a clever beast.

If you get anxious, you might say…. stay home. Refuse to go out. Your body gets that reinforcement, “I am anxious to go out. So i go home. This is what we do.” Your brain trains itself into this response pattern. Your monkey brain gets hard wired into this sort of response.

So you need to accept this energy, and challenge it into doing something else.

Now there are a number of ways to deal with anxiety. CBT, cog-ni-tive behavioral therapy is one.

When the anxiety comes, let it come. Then? Break it down. Why are you having these thoughts? There are a number of ways to do it, but luckily? There are phone applications to do it. A number of CBT therapy applications will help guide you through the process of breaking down these thoughts, the thought process of your fears and how to challenge it. I use

personally.

CBT with breaking down these anxiety inducing thoughts to try and reframe them as to understand a realistic version of them “My friends just are out of town and can’t text me back, they don’t hate me. I will focus on this realistic thought process as before I was catastrophising and assuming other people’s thoughts” etc etc is a really good practice.

“So wait I just ignore and reframe these thoughts, and then do what?”

Anything. A hobby. A bike ride.

“But what if I’m uncomfortable.”

It’s energy, redirect it. Accept these uncomfortable feelings after using some cog-na-give behavioral therapy to understand why you are doing them, focus on the new thoughts. They can’t hurt you.

Personally, meditation can help you relax. Mindfullness meditation really helps you regulate how you’re doing. Grounding you in a present moment. These thoughts will pass.

And also, if the anxiety is really bad and you feel like you can’t accept them, a surrender session can help you start into growing past them. It helps you recognize these emotions and letting that energy tire itself out essentially.

Now! There is also Exposure therapy with your fears but in my personal opinion you likely need to work with a mental health professional or research it yourself. Here is somebody getting into it.

But yeah kid. People can help you with these emotions.

It’ll be okay.

capital-a Anxiety is so stupid. "You're a bad person." Okay what's your proof. "Your stomach hurts" oh my god ur right........what if i really am ontologically evil..........

[thirteenheavens]

Zombie Apocalypse || Kim Mingyu

Concepts and warnings: zombie universe similar to train to busan so has blood warnings etc

Notes: guys I’m so happy with this fic it took so long to finish I love concepts like this thank you so so much

You, Mingyu, and your son board the train, excited for your weekend getaway. Your son is bouncing with excitement in his seat, chattering away about all the fun things he's going to do.

"I can't wait to see the mountains, Daddy!" he says, looking out the window as the train starts to move. "And the waterfall too!" Mingyu smiles at him, ruffling his hair affectionately. "We'll see all of that and more, buddy. Mommy and I have planned the whole trip." You lean against Mingyu's shoulder, feeling content as the scenery rushes by outside. The train ride is peaceful, with the sound of your son's chatter filling the air.

As the hours pass, you start to feel a strange tension in the air. Other passengers seem unusually restless, checking their phones more often than usual. But you chalk it up to typical train anxiety and continue enjoying your family time. Suddenly, the train comes to a screeching halt, and you hear shouting and commotion outside. Your heart starts racing as people rush past your carriages, panic evident on their faces.

Mingyu stands up, his protective instincts kicking in. "Stay here with Jin-Woo," he says firmly. "I'm going to see what's going on." You grab Mingyu's arm, your eyes wide with concern. "Be careful, please. What's happening out there?"

Mingyu looks down at you, his expression serious. "I don't know yet. But I have a bad feeling about this. Just stay in our compartment and keep Jin-Woo safe." He leans down to kiss your forehead before hurrying out of the carriage, disappearing into the chaos outside. Your heart pounds in your chest as you pull Jin-Woo closer to you, wrapping your arms around him protectively.

You hear more shouts and screams from outside, and the tension in the air grows thicker. Something is definitely wrong, and you can't shake the feeling that this trip has just taken a dangerous turn. You focus all your attention on Jin-Woo, trying to keep him calm and distracted from the chaos outside.

"Hey sweetie, do you want to play a game?" you ask, forcing a smile onto your face. "We can play I Spy, or we can make up stories about the people we see." Jin-Woo looks up at you, his eyes filled with confusion and fear. "Mommy, where's Daddy?" he asks, his lower lip trembling. You pull him into your lap, holding him close as you try to think of something to say. "Daddy just had to go check on something. He'll be back soon, I promise."

As you try to comfort your son, you hear the sound of gunshots and screaming getting louder and closer. Your heart races faster as you wonder where Mingyu is and what's happening outside. You hold Jin-Woo tightly on your lap, feeling his small body trembling against you. The gunshots and screams continue, and you can hear what sounds like a stampede of people rushing past your compartment.

"Mommy, I'm scared," Jin-Woo whimpers, burying his face in your chest. You stroke his hair soothingly, trying to stay calm for his sake. "I know, baby. But I'm here with you. Nothing is going to happen to you."

Suddenly, the compartment door bursts open and a group of disheveled passengers rush in. They look frantic and wild-eyed, clearly terrified of something. One of them spots you and Jin-Woo and points a shaky finger at you. "There's still people in here!" he yells. "We have to get out!"

Your voice trembles as you speak, your fear evident in every word. "Please, we're not going anywhere. We're just trying to stay safe." The group of passengers doesn't seem to hear you or care. They start pulling at your arm, trying to drag you and Jin-Woo out of the compartment.

"You have to come with us!" one of them insists, his grip tightening painfully around your wrist. "It's not safe here!" Jin-Woo starts crying in earnest now, his small body shaking with sobs. You try to shield him with your body, feeling desperate and trapped.

You hold Jin-Woo close, rocking him back and forth as you whisper soothing words in his ear. "Shh, it's okay, baby. Mommy's got you. Just keep breathing." But the terrified passengers are getting more agitated, their panic making them irrational. One of them grabs Jin-Woo by the arm, trying to pull him away from you.

"Stop!" you scream, trying to protect your son. "Leave him alone!" Just as you're about to lose hope, Mingyu appears in the doorway, his face streaked with sweat and dirt. "Get your hands off my family!" he roars, pushing the passengers away from you and Jin-Woo.

He immediately scoops you both up in his arms, shielding you from the panicked group. "What's going on here?" he demands, his voice cold and furious. The passengers start stuttering and backing away, finally realizing that they've crossed a line. One of them points shakily at the windows.

"There are... things outside," he manages to say, his voice trembling. "Zombies." Mingyu's eyes widen in disbelief, but he quickly regains his composure. "Zombies?" he repeats, his grip on you and Jin-Woo tightening protectively. He looks around at the compartment, taking in the chaos and destruction. "We need to get out of here, now," he says firmly, starting to move towards the exit. "Stay close to me."

"Mingyu, wait," you say urgently, grabbing his arm. "What's happening out there? Are they really zombies?" Mingyu turns to you, his expression grim. "I don't know how it's possible, but it looks like the passengers are telling the truth. There are people attacking others, biting them and spreading some kind of infection."

He looks around at the panicked passengers, his jaw clenched. "We need to find a safe place to hide until we can figure out what's going on and how to stop it." Mingyu nods decisively. "Let's follow them to the last carriage," he says, leading you and Jin-Woo through the chaotic train.

The passengers are already rushing towards the last carriage, pushing and shoving to get inside. Mingyu keeps a firm grip on you and Jin-Woo, making sure you don't get separated in the crowd. As you approach the last carriage, you see a group of zombies stumbling towards you from the other end of the train. Their eyes are blank and lifeless, their mouths stained with blood.

The passengers scream in terror and pile into the last carriage, frantically trying to get the door closed. Mingyu helps them barricade the door, pushing a heavy metal cabinet against it just in time to keep the zombies out. Mingyu quickly ties his tie around the door handles, creating a makeshift lock. The sound of the zombies pounding against the door echoes through the carriage, but the barricade holds for now.

"That should keep them out for a while," he says, his voice tense. "But we need to come up with a better plan." The other passengers are huddled in a corner, their faces pale and frightened. Some are crying, others are whispering prayers under their breath.

You hold Jin-Woo close, grateful that you're all safe for now, but knowing that this is far from over. The train continues to rattle and shake as it moves towards an uncertain destination, the sound of zombies outside growing fainter but never disappearing completely. You cradle Jin-Woo in your arms, rocking him gently as he clings to you. He's exhausted and scared, but you can feel his small body starting to relax slightly now that he's safe with you and Mingyu.

Mingyu sits down beside you, wrapping his arm around both of you protectively. "We'll get through this," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I promise." Despite the chaos and danger outside, you feel a sense of comfort and security in his embrace. The other passengers whisper amongst themselves, occasionally casting worried glances in your direction.

You sit in silence, holding Jin-Woo and Mingyu, lost in your thoughts. Just a few hours ago, you were excited for this trip, full of hope and anticipation for the adventures ahead. Now, everything has changed so drastically. You can't help but wonder how this nightmare started - how normal people could suddenly turn into monsters. And what could possibly be waiting for you at the end of this train ride?

Mingyu seems to sense your unease and pulls you closer, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "Stay with me," he murmurs, his voice low and comforting. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together." The door starts rattling and shaking as the zombies outside grow more agitated. Their groans and snarls fill the air, making your skin crawl with fear.

Mingyu tenses beside you, his grip on you and Jin-Woo tightening protectively. "They're getting stronger," he says through gritted teeth. "We need to find another way out." The other passengers start panicking again, shouting and arguing over what to do next. But you know that this moment requires calmness and quick thinking, not panic.

"Mingyu," you say quietly, looking up at him. "Do you see anything we can use to reinforce the door?" Mingyu shakes his head grimly, scanning the carriage for anything useful. "There's nothing in here except broken furniture and luggage," he says, frustration evident in his voice. The banging on the door gets louder, and you can hear the metal creaking under the pressure. Jin-Woo starts whimpering again, sensing the danger.

"We're running out of time," Mingyu mutters, his eyes darting towards the emergency hatch on the ceiling. "If we don't get out of here soon..." Mingyu scoops up Jin-Woo and grabs your hand, leading you towards the emergency hatch. The other passengers are shouting and pleading with you not to leave, but you know you have no other choice.

He quickly opens the hatch, revealing a ladder leading up to the roof of the carriage. "You first," he says urgently, pushing you towards it. "I'll follow with Jin-Woo." The zombies continue their assault on the door, their growls growing louder and more desperate. Mingyu climbs up after you, holding Jin-Woo tightly against his chest.

As you reach the roof, the cold night air hits your face, and you realize that you're now trapped between two terrifying choices - stay and face certain death, or risk the unknown by running along the top of the train. You help Mingyu climb onto the roof, holding onto Jin-Woo's hand tightly. The wind whips around you as you stand on the metal surface, the ground rushing by beneath your feet.

Mingyu glances down at the zombies, who are now spilling out of the carriage below. "We need to move," he says firmly, starting to walk carefully along the top of the train. You follow him closely, trying to stay balanced while also shielding Jin-Woo from the cold and danger. The wind is deafening up here, and every jolt of the train makes your heart leap into your throat.

"Where are we going?" you shout over the noise, your voice trembling with fear. "There's nowhere to go!" Mingyu looks ahead, where you can see the train approaching a station in the distance. "We'll jump onto the platform as soon as we're close enough," he explains, his eyes scanning the tracks ahead. The wind picks up even more, making it difficult to see or hear anything. Jin-Woo clings to you tightly, his face buried in your chest as he trembles with fear.

"Can you make the jump?" Mingyu asks, his gaze fixed on you with concern. "It's going to be dangerous, but it's our only chance." Mingyu moves ahead, his movements careful and precise as he makes his way towards the edge of the train. "I'll clear the way," he calls back to you. "Stay close behind me." He takes a deep breath and leaps off the train, landing safely on the platform below. The station is eerily quiet and empty, with no sign of other passengers or staff.

"Your turn!" he shouts, holding his arms out to catch you and Jin-Woo. You lift Jin-Woo into Mingyu's arms, your heart pounding as you watch him pass him down. The train rattles and shakes beneath your feet, making it harder to maintain your balance.

"Hold on tight to Daddy," you tell Jin-Woo, your voice cracking with emotion. "I'll be right behind you." "You can do it, buddy. Just jump and I'll catch you." Mingyu calls from the platform. As Jin-Woo jumps into Mingyu's arms, you feel a surge of pride and love for both of them. Mingyu lands safely on the platform with Jin-Woo, holding him tight against his chest.

"Now it's your turn," he calls up to you, his voice steady and reassuring. You take a deep breath and back up to the other end of the train, preparing to make the leap. The gap between the train and the platform seems wider than before, and you can hear the zombies still banging on the door behind you. You jump off the train, your heart racing with adrenaline. But as you reach for the platform, your hand lands on a jagged piece of broken glass.

A sharp pain shoots through your palm as the glass slices into your skin. You cry out in pain, but manage to keep your grip on the edge of the platform. Mingyu's eyes widen in alarm as he sees the blood running down your arm. "Y-N! Are you okay?" he calls up, his voice filled with worry.

The zombies in the train car below hear your scream and start to grow more agitated, banging even harder on the door. You look down at Mingyu, trying to mask your pain and keep him from worrying even more. Blood continues to trickle down your arm, but you force yourself to stay calm.

"I'm fine," you whisper, gritting your teeth against the throbbing pain in your hand. "Just help me up." Mingyu carefully adjusts Jin-Woo in his arms and reaches up towards you, his face a mix of concern and determination. "Hold on, I've got you," he says firmly.

Mingyu helps you down from the platform, being careful not to jostle your injured hand too much. Then he grabs your other hand and starts running through the deserted train station. Jin-Woo is crying again, scared by the sight of your blood and the unfamiliar surroundings. You try to keep up with Mingyu's pace, but your hand is throbbing and you can feel the blood seeping through your clothes.

"We need to find a safe place to hide and clean up that cut," Mingyu says as you reach the exit of the station. "The city is just ahead." Mingyu freezes in his tracks, his grip on your hand tightening. "There's too many of them," he whispers, horror etched on his face as he looks out at the horde of zombies blocking the exit. They're everywhere - shuffling towards you in a grotesque mass, their eyes fixed on your small group. The car that Mingyu spotted earlier is just out of reach, a symbol of safety that seems further away with every passing second.

"What do we do?" you ask, panic rising in your chest. "We can't go back into the station, and we can't fight our way through that." Mingyu quickly muffles Jin-Woo's cries with his hand, his eyes darting back and forth between you and the zombies. "Shh, baby," he whispers urgently, his voice barely audible. "Don't make a sound." The zombies continue to approach, their groans growing louder and more insistent. You can feel the tension radiating off Mingyu as he tries to keep Jin-Woo quiet while protecting you both.

"We need to find another way out," he murmurs, his eyes scanning the area desperately. "There has to be something we're missing." The toy clatters against the concrete, echoing loudly in the tense silence. The zombies turn their heads towards the noise, their attention drawn to your group. Mingyu curses under his breath, his heart racing as he sees the zombies starting to shuffle towards you more quickly. "Damn it," he mutters, pulling you and Jin-Woo closer to him. "We have to move - now!"

Jin-Woo starts to cry again, this time louder and more desperately. You can see the fear and helplessness in Mingyu's eyes as he tries to keep you both safe while keeping the zombies from getting too close. You and Mingyu sprint away from the zombies, holding Jin-Woo tightly between you. The undead creatures are gaining on you, their movements quickening as they pick up speed.

"There's a warehouse up ahead!" Mingyu shouts, pointing to a large building in the distance. "We can hide in there!"

The warehouse doors are heavy, but Mingyu starts banging on them frantically, yelling for someone to open up. "Please! Let us in!" he screams, his voice raw with desperation. Mingyu groans trying to open it a little bit only managing to open it a small amount. You rush inside the warehouse, pulling Jin-Woo in with you. The door creaks as Mingyu tries to squeeze through, but he's too broad to fit.

"I can't get through!" he yells, panic in his voice as the zombies get closer. "You have to lock it behind you!" You look back at him through the crack in the door, tears streaming down your face. "No! I won't leave you!" you cry, your heart breaking at the thought of being separated.

Mingyu's eyes are filled with tears as he struggles against the door. "I can't... I can't make it fit," he chokes out, his body pressed against the door frame. The zombies are just outside, their hands clawing at the door as they try to force their way in. You can see the fear and pain in Mingyu's eyes as he realizes this might be the last time he sees you and Jin-Woo.

"Please, just go," he begs, his voice breaking. "Take care of our son and stay alive." You scream and sob, unable to control your emotions as you cling to Jin-Woo. The zombies' growls grow louder as they press harder against the door, their decaying hands almost touching Mingyu's face. Mingyu tries to force himself through the gap one last time, his muscles straining against the metal frame. "I love you," he whispers, his voice filled with heartbreak and determination. "Never forget that."

You can see tears streaming down his face as he accepts his fate, knowing that he won't be able to protect you and Jin-Woo any longer. You watch helplessly as the zombies drag Mingyu away from the door, his body struggling against their grip. He looks back at you one last time, his eyes full of love and pain.

Then he screams - a raw, anguished sound that echoes through the warehouse. You cover Jin-Woo's ears as the zombies tear into him, his cries growing weaker with each passing moment. The warehouse falls silent, except for the sound of Jin-Woo's sobs and your own heart breaking into a million pieces. You collapse to the ground, holding your son tightly as you mourn the loss of his father and your own broken heart.

You sit on the cold warehouse floor, your body numb and your mind reeling from what you just witnessed. Jin-Woo cries against your chest, his tiny body trembling with fear and grief. Time seems to stand still as you hold him, your own tears flowing silently down your cheeks. The reality of Mingyu's death settles over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating you with its weight.

You rock back and forth slowly, trying to comfort both yourself and Jin-Woo as you struggle to process the horrific events that have just unfolded. As you sit there, memories of happier times flood your mind. Memories of your wedding day - Mingyu smiling at you as he slid the ring onto your finger, the joy on his face as you became husband and wife.

Then there are memories of giving birth to Jin-Woo, the way Mingyu held your hand through the pain, the look of awe and wonder on his face as he first held his son. These memories mix with the present, creating a bittersweet agony that tears at your heart. You hold Jin-Woo closer, feeling both the love you have for him and the gaping hole left by Mingyu's absence.

Jin-Woo's small voice breaks through your thoughts, and he looks up at you with hopeful eyes. "Maybe Daddy will come back?" he whispers, his voice shaking. Your heart aches at his innocent words, and you want to tell him that it's impossible, that you both saw what happened. But you can't bring yourself to shatter his hopes completely.

"Maybe," you whisper back, trying to keep your voice steady. "Maybe he'll find a way."

[erenists]

Nerd!Gojo X Bimbo Reader

Part 4

Thankfully, Gojo doesn’t have to wait a whole week to see you again. As soon as he steps out of his English class, you’re there. But instead of your lips curving into a smile, they’re in a little pout, your eyebrows furrowed as you stare intently at your phone.

Gojo thinks you look absolutely adorable like this — he almost coos out loud. But then he notices the sort of stressed look on your face and immediately feels concerned. What’s wrong? You’re usually so bubbly.

He doesn’t even realize his feet have started moving toward you, like you’re a magnet. Before he knows it, he’s tapping your shoulder, a look of worry clear on his face as you glance up. The sight of your expression nearly makes you coo — the way Gojo’s eyes are soft behind his glasses, lips pulled into a slight frown, has your heart melting.

“Hi, Gojo~ What’s up?” You give him a soft smile, all your attention now on him.

“Are you, uh… are you okay? You look… stressed?” He speaks — or more like squeaks — his words coming out uncertain as he scratches his neck and looks at the floor.

“Aww, you worried about me?” You stick your tongue out playfully and nudge his side. He flinches, face turning red.

“N–No— I mean, uh, well, I was, but— I mean, yes? I just… y’know, saw you staring really hard at your phone, so…” He panics, looking everywhere but at you.

Your smirk fades into a small “Oh,” as you remember what you were focused on.

“Oh, right… I was on this site looking for a tutor. But ughh, I don’t know who to pick…” You roll your eyes, whining a little. To you, it’s just a minor inconvenience you’ll probably solve in a minute. To Gojo, it’s the opening to a million possibilities — all of them starring you.

“I could tutor you!”

For the first time, Gojo speaks to you with confidence. Because he knows he could tutor you. He’s smart — painfully aware of it. If his parents hadn’t offered to pay, he would’ve had a full-ride scholarship waiting for him.

You look up at him, eyes wide with curiosity. “Really?”

“Yes! And… I’ll do it for free. You won’t have to pay me!” He grins, a new side of him shining through. Hearing him offer is one thing — but offering for free? That makes you ecstatic.

You practically pounce on him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Oh thankyouthankyouthankyouuu! You’re such a sweetie~” You squeeze him tight, and Gojo swears he’s in heaven. “Y–Yeah, no problem…”

He’s completely whipped, your scent clouding his brain. He’s never been this close to you before. You notice his stutter and giggle, pulling back with a step.

“So… when can you start tutoring me?” you ask, batting your lashes while he tries to gather his composure. Jesus, how pathetic — one hug and he’s already this flustered?

“Oh, I’m free whenever…” he says with a smile.

You brighten like a lightbulb just flicked on.

“So… you can do tonight, right?”

His eyes nearly pop out of his head. You smile at him innocently.

He tries to think — really, he does — but three seconds later he’s blurting out, “Y–Yeah! Of course! I can do that!”

You grin as he stiffens. Only now does he realize… he hasn’t actually prepared to tutor you.

“Great! So here’s my number.” You dig in your bag, pulling out a scrap of paper to scribble it down. “Text me the time and your address. I’d do it at my place, but I want a change of scenery, ya know?”

He nods like he understands, though all his attention is on your fingers brushing his as you hand him the note — your eyes locked on his.

“See you then, Gojo~” You wave and turn around, walking away.

He smiles, watching you go — but as you take a few steps, it suddenly hits him.

“Wait— how did you know my name?”

A/N: do you guys like this mini series so farrr, I fear you guys are not ready for the next part muehehe.

[iwudbutnah]

It’s like you read my mind somehow I’ve been I. The mood for angst and this hit the spot sometimes I like to read fics that just gut you and leaves you a mess on the floor balling your eyes out.

This right here just wow. Let me start by saying in no world is it ever ok to ignore your partner and be that oblivious. Those two are so stupid a new pair of tits and ass walk in and they lose all their fckin marbles. Like that chick is a major downgrade and once she’s gotten her feel will leave them high and dry. I can’t stand chicks like her who know they are involved and just insert themselves into their lives trying to be a knockoff version of what they already have. I can’t stand Bucky or Steve they can’t be that dumb to see what she was doing and think your girl is ok with being an afterthought if a thought at all.

Thank GOD for friends like Natasha who knows reader almost better than she knows herself. She could see the inner turmoil she was in and let it go on before she just couldn’t anymore. I’m glad she called in reinforcements. I love Logan. He’s the ride or die big bro everyone needs. She needs to leave and if they can’t see why she left their dumb asses than that’s to damn bad. The audacity, like they couldn’t tell Cassidy NO we have plans with our actual GIRL not a wanna he jumpoff. To act like she’s their girl and reader was a friend baffles me. I don’t feel sorry for them.

I hope if you do a part 2 that Reader gets a happy ending even if it’s not with them. I hope they realize their mistake and that it’s to late and they are left heartbroken like they left her. It’s funny when the shoe is on the other foot it doesn’t feel so good but it’s not an issue when they are the ones causing someone grief.

Sorry for the long rant I was in my feels but loved this as well.

Are you mine?

Warnings- Angst, Steve and Bucky are idiots.

Being in love with Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes felt like living in a dream.

A dream so perfect, so utterly untouchable, that even the ghosts of the past couldn’t tarnish it. The three of you had fought wars together, bled together, and survived against impossible odds. You trusted them with your life and, more importantly, with your heart.

Steve, ever the protector, held your hand through the nightmares, his voice a quiet promise in the dark. Bucky, all sharp wit and unspoken devotion, pressed kisses into your hair when he thought you weren’t paying attention. They made you feel safe, like nothing in the world could shake the foundation of what you had.

You belonged to them, and they belonged to you.

The compound had always been your sanctuary, a place where the weight of being an assassin and an Avenger didn’t feel so heavy.

Missions were brutal, but coming home to them made it worth it. Your mornings were tangled limbs and soft murmurs, their warmth pulling you from restless sleep. Your nights were laughter and whispered confessions, hands intertwined beneath the sheets.

Everything was fine, until she arrived.

A trainee named Cassidy.

Sent to the compound for a few days of “intense training” with the Avengers. Young, eager at least, that’s what Fury had said. But from the moment she walked through the doors, it was clear training was the last thing on her mind.

You caught the way her eyes lingered on Steve's broad shoulders, the way she smiled just a little too sweetly when Bucky grunted in response to something she said. You noticed the way she conveniently positioned herself between them whenever she could, the way her touch lingered just a second too long.

It was nothing. Just admiration, maybe even hero worship. You told yourself that, again and again. Steve and Bucky were yours. They loved you.

And yet… doubt had a way of creeping in, even where trust once lived.

For the first time in a long time, you felt something unfamiliar in your own home.

Unease.

You weren’t the jealous type, you had no reason to be, not when Steve and Bucky had given you every reassurance, every reason to trust them. And you did trust them. You trusted them blindly.

But can you trust the world?

Trust didn’t stop the ache in your chest when you saw Cassidy wedged between them on the couch, laughing at something Bucky said. It didn’t stop the sting when Steve placed a comforting hand on her back, so absentmindedly, so effortlessly, like it was second nature.

Like it was something he used to do for you.

You stood frozen in the doorway, fingers tightening around the edge of your jacket. That was your spot. That had always been your spot. Between them. Their arms around you. Their warmth surrounding you.

Now?

Now Cassidy sat there, twirling a lock of her hair, giggling, her body angled towards them like she belonged. And Steve and Bucky?

They didn’t even notice you standing there.

“You’re imagining things, Y/n.” Natasha leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping her coffee as she watched you pick at your food. She didn’t say it dismissively, but there was caution in her voice. Careful, Y/n. Don’t spiral.

“I’m not...” Your voice was hollow. You pushed your plate away and exhaled shakily. “She’s always there, Nat. Always with them. Always touching them...” You swallowed hard, shame burning in your throat. “I feel like… like I don’t exist anymore.”

Natasha sighed, setting her cup down. “Come on. You know Steve and Bucky. They’d never…”

“I know they wouldn’t.” Your fingers curled into fists. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Natasha studied you, eyes softer now. “Talk to them, then.”

You nodded. You would. Of course, you would.

But deep down, you were terrified they wouldn’t see it, because they never seemed to see you anymore, ever since Cassidy came.

At first, it was small things.

A conversation cut short because Cassidy had a question. A training session where she suddenly needed Bucky to correct her stance, his hands on her wrists, her waist. A mission debrief where she sat beside Steve, too close, her voice too soft.

Then the canceled plans started.

“I’m sorry, Doll, but we promised we’d show Cassidy the training simulations today.”

“I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart. I swear.”

“We’ll take you out tomorrow, okay?”

Tomorrow never came.

And suddenly, your nights felt emptier. You’d wake up reaching for them, only to find cold sheets where they should have been. You weren’t sure what hurt more.

The loneliness or the fact that they didn’t even realize you were lonely.

They were still yours, weren’t they?

Then why did it feel like you were losing them?

It had been days, days since you had a proper conversation with either of them. Days since they held you like they used to. The only time you got them was at night, in bed.

And yet, there she was again, always there, standing too close to Steve as he poured coffee in the kitchen. Bucky leaned against the counter, smirking at something she said, arms crossed over his chest.

“God, Steve, I still don’t know how you carry that shield around all day.” Cassidy reached out, brushing her fingers over his bicep. “Guess it helps that you’re, like, all muscle.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“What about you, Bucky?” She turned to him, eyes bright. “I mean, that metal arm has to be heavy, right? Can I?”

“Nah, sweetheart, it’s lighter than it looks.” Bucky smirked, flexing his vibranium fingers.

Sweetheart.

Your stomach dropped, that was your name. He called you that. Not her.

Your blood ran cold as Cassidy laughed, playfully nudging Bucky’s arm. Steve smiled, amused. Not once did they notice you standing there. Not once did they feel the air shift, the way your entire world was starting to crumble.

That night, you laid in bed alone. Again.

Because, Steve and Bucky had been in the common room with Cassidy, and you couldn’t take it anymore. So you had left.

You curled into yourself, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the sob from escaping.

They were just being nice. Right?

They didn’t see what you saw. Didn’t feel what you felt. Didn’t see how much it was killing you. Right?

And you were too afraid to ask the question burning inside you, “What if they don’t miss me like I miss them?”

You didn’t know how long you had been sitting all alone in the common room.

The compound was quiet, save for the faint hum of the ventilation system. You sat curled up on the couch in the dark, staring at nothing, arms wrapped around yourself as if that could hold you together. The weight in your chest felt heavier than usual, pressing down, suffocating.

You had spent the entire day alone. Again.

They hadn’t noticed. Again.

The cushion beside you dipped, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was. Natasha.

“You’re doing that thing again…” she murmured.

You blinked. “What thing?”

“Shutting down.”

You inhaled sharply, dropping your gaze to your lap.

Natasha sighed, shifting to face you. “Sweets, talk to me.”

Natasha always called you that name, and her reason was you were the only sweet person in her life.

You shook your head. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Bullshit.” She reached out, squeezing your knee. “I see you, you know. The way you’re fading. The way you barely eat. The way you don’t sleep until you’re too exhausted to fight it anymore.”

You swallowed hard, fingers gripping the fabric of your pants.

“They love you, Sweets.” Natasha’s voice was gentle but firm. “This… whatever this is, it’s temporary. They’ll see what’s happening.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “No, they won’t…” Your throat burned as you whispered, “They don’t see me anymore, Nat.”

Silence.

Natasha shifted closer, resting her forearm on the back of the couch. “We survived worse, you and me. Remember?”

You knew where she was leading the conversation, but you didn’t care.

“I wish I could remember.” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Natasha frowned. “Remember what?”

You exhaled shakily, gaze unfocused. “How they trained us. How they made us feel nothing.”

Natasha tensed. “Don’t do that,” she warned. “Don’t go there.”

You lifted your head to meet her eyes. “Why not? It would be easier.” Your voice cracked. “I wouldn’t have to feel like this. Wouldn’t have to wake up reaching for them only to remember I don’t exist to them anymore.”

Natasha’s grip tightened on your knee. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Your smile was hollow. “They canceled our date today, Nat. Again. I was supposed to spend the evening with them. Instead, I spent it watching Cassidy laugh at Bucky’s jokes and touch Steve’s arm and…” You sucked in a shaky breath, voice barely above a whisper. “And they let her.”

Natasha’s expression darkened, but she said nothing.

You turned your gaze back to the floor. “I just… I don’t want to feel this anymore.”

She was quiet for a long time before she whispered, “You’re not in the Red Room anymore, Sweets. You have them. You have me.”

You nodded. But the ache in your chest remained, because deep down, you weren’t sure if you still had them at all.

The bed felt massive. You lay curled up on one side, facing away from the door, the covers pulled tightly around you. The scent of Steve and Bucky still lingered on the sheets, but it brought no comfort.

Then the mattress dipped.

First on one side, then the other. Warm bodies slid in beside you, their familiar presence surrounding you.

“Doll?” Steve’s voice was soft, hesitant.

Bucky shifted behind you, his arm resting loosely around your waist. “We’re sorry about earlier, sweetheart.”

Your throat burned.

“We’ll make it up to you,” Steve added quickly. “We’ve got a whole day planned for you tomorrow. Just the three of us. No interruptions, promise.”

Tomorrow.

You closed your eyes.

They had said that last time.

And the time before that.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, willing yourself to stay silent.

Bucky pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Come on, talk to us, Doll. We know you’re mad.”

Mad.

Was that what they thought this was? Your lips parted, but no words came out. Because what was the point? Tomorrow would come, and it would be the same.

Cassidy would be there.

Steve and Bucky wouldn’t notice.

And you? You would be alone again. A tear slipped down your cheek, but you kept your eyes closed. If you stayed quiet, maybe they wouldn’t hear how badly you were breaking.

Morning passed in a blur.

You moved through training sessions on autopilot, barely speaking, barely feeling. Natasha watched you carefully, her sharp gaze catching every falter, every moment you hesitated before leaving the gym. You knew she wanted to say something, but you weren’t sure if you had it in you to listen.

So you just kept going.

Kept pretending.

Kept waiting for Steve and Bucky to remember.

And then they did. Or so you thought.

“Doll, come on! Movie night’s all set up!”

Bucky’s voice rang through the hall as you made your way toward the common room, a flicker of hope stirring in your chest.

They remembered. They finally remembered.

For the first time in days, your heart didn’t feel so heavy. You ran your fingers through your hair, exhaling softly as you reached the doorway, ready to sink into the warmth of your boys.

And then you saw her.

Cassidy.

Sitting between them.

Again.

Your body locked up, breath catching in your throat. She was curled up comfortably, her legs tucked beneath her as she laughed at something Bucky whispered in her ear. Steve sat relaxed beside her, arm draped over the back of the couch, so damn close, so damn easy, like she belonged there.

Like she belonged with them.

You forced yourself to speak, though your voice barely carried. “What is she doing here?”

Steve turned, smiling at you. That easy, oblivious smile that used to make your heart race.

Now?

It made you feel sick.

“She didn’t know it was just meant to be us,” he said lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “And we didn’t wanna be rude, so…”

You didn’t hear the rest, your ears were ringing.

They didn’t want to be rude to her. You stared at them. At her. And then you swallowed down every emotion clawing its way up your throat. “Enjoy the movie.”

That was all you said before turning on your heel and walking away.

They didn’t call after you.

Didn’t chase you.

Didn’t even notice the way your hands were trembling as you pushed open the door.

The tears came before you even reached the elevator, but you didn’t stop walking, didn’t wipe them away, didn’t care if anyone saw.

Not that they would. No one ever did.

You should have gone to your room. You should have buried yourself under the covers and let the ache consume you in silence.

But the walls were closing in too fast.

So instead, you climbed, up the emergency stairwell, up to the roof, where the air was sharp and cold, where the wind bit at your damp cheeks, where no one could see you break.

Your hands gripped the ledge as you sucked in deep, desperate breaths.

They had remembered and it still hadn’t mattered.

A hollow laugh escaped your lips, bitter and broken. You should have known, you should have known it would end up like this.

You closed your eyes, head tilting back as the city lights blurred beneath the weight of your tears.

You had never felt more alone.

By the time you came down from the roof, your tears had dried, but the weight in your chest remained, suffocating and unrelenting.

You stepped into the hallway, head down, steps quick, just wanting to reach your room, just wanting to breathe without feeling like you were drowning.

But the moment you turned the corner, you froze.

Steve.

Bucky.

And her.

They were standing there, talking, laughing.

Cassidy’s hand was on Bucky’s arm, her body tilted toward him in that way she always did, like she was drawn to him. Steve stood beside them, relaxed, like the world wasn’t crumbling around you.

Like they hadn’t just broken your heart a little more.

Their laughter died down when they saw you.

You knew they noticed your red, swollen eyes. Knew they saw the way your shoulders tensed, the way your fists clenched at your sides.

But they didn’t say anything.

Didn’t ask if you were okay.

Didn’t ask where the hell you had gone.

No, Steve just frowned slightly, like he was trying to piece something together. Like you were some puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

You didn’t give him the chance, you walked past them without a word, without a glance.

Without acknowledging them at all.

And still, still they didn’t stop you.

The compound doors slammed shut behind you as you ran, your feet pounded against the pavement, muscles burning, lungs heaving, but you didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow down, didn’t care where you were going, as long as it was away.

Away from the suffocating silence, away from them, away from her.

You pushed yourself harder, faster, as if you could outrun the pain clawing at your chest, the unbearable ache of being unseen by the two people who were supposed to know you best.

They had always seen you, hadn’t they? Then why did it feel like you were fading? Why did it feel like you were already gone?

You were so lost in your own head, so consumed by the roaring in your ears, that you didn’t hear the footsteps behind you until a firm hand grabbed your arm, yanking you to a stop.

“Enough.”

Natasha.

You blinked at her, breathing hard, vision blurring. But she didn’t let go. Didn’t loosen her grip. She just stared at you, her green eyes filled with something sharp, something dangerous.

Something like determination.

“I let this go on for too long,” she muttered. “That’s on me.”

You swallowed hard, chest still rising and falling in ragged breaths. “Nat…”

“No.” Her voice was steel. “You’re not doing this. You’re not running until your body gives out just because they’re too damn blind to see what’s happening.”

Your throat tightened. “I don’t know what to do...”

She sighed, her hand loosening slightly but not letting go. “Then let me do something.”

Your breath hitched, but you believed in her.

Natasha had always been your anchor, your constant. You had survived hell together. She knew you better than anyone, sometimes even better than Steve and Bucky.

So when she said those words, when she looked at you like that, like she was done watching you suffer, something inside you cracked.

You swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper, “Okay.”

You hadn’t spoken much since that night, since the roof. Since Natasha found you and promised to do something.

You weren’t sure what you had expected, but you hadn’t expected him.

You sat on the rooftop again, legs pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around your knees. The city stretched out before you, endless and glowing, but all you saw was the emptiness.

The way you had been fading, the way they had let you, the way it still hurt.

You exhaled shakily, trying to push it all down, trying to keep yourself from breaking again.

“Bub.”

Your breath caught, your heart stopped, that voice.

Rough. Low. Familiar.

A voice that belonged to only one person.

You turned slowly, the cold air biting at your tear-streaked face and there he was.

Logan.

Your brother.

Standing there, broad and tense, his sharp eyes scanning you with a fury you hadn’t seen in a long time, his jaw clenched.

SNIKT.

The sound of his claws unsheathing was sharp, deadly, cutting through the silence like a blade to the heart.

His eyes darkened, fists trembling, rage radiating from his very being.

“Who?”

It was just one word, just one syllable, but it carried the weight of a storm. You swallowed hard, dropping your gaze.

Logan stepped closer, his boots heavy against the rooftop, his presence overwhelming.

“Who did this to you, Bub?” His voice was lower now, dangerous. “Tell me. I’ll gut ‘em.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Logan...”

“Look at me.”

You did and the moment his eyes met yours, whatever restraint he had left snapped.

“Those sons of bitches!” he snarled, pacing now, breathing ragged. His claws flexed, his shoulders heaved, pure, unfiltered rage pouring from him. “You’re telling me those two idiots, our idiots did this? Made you feel like this?”

You couldn’t answer.

Didn’t have to, because your silence was enough.

Logan let out a rough, guttural growl, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles went white despite the metal already tearing through his skin.

“I’ll kill ‘em.”

“No, you won’t.” Natasha’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and unwavering.

You turned just in time to see her step onto the rooftop, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“Why the hell not?” Logan snapped. “They hurt her.”

“I know,” Natasha said evenly. “That’s why she’s leaving.”

Your breath hitched, “What?”

Natasha walked toward you, gaze softening as she reached out and brushed her knuckles against your cheek. “Pack a bag, Sweets. You’re going with Logan.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Logan’s brows furrowed. “Wait, you’re actually letting me take her?”

“She needs to get away from here,” Natasha murmured, eyes never leaving yours. “From them.”

You stared at her, then at Logan, your throat tightening so painfully you thought it might close entirely.

“Tasha…”

“No arguments,” she said softly but firmly. “You’re not okay. And I won’t stand here and watch you disappear.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek.

You felt Logan’s heavy hand settle on your shoulder, grounding you, steadying you.

“C’mon, Bub,” he murmured, voice softer now, almost pleading. “Let’s go.”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to leave.

But because leaving meant giving up. Leaving meant accepting that they had chosen her, that they had chosen everyone but you.

But maybe... maybe they had already made that choice a long time ago.

You inhaled sharply and nodded.

And this time, you didn’t look back.

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[unearthlyeclipse]

ROBERT "BRUCE" BANNER :: HULK P!LINKS // NSFW/SMUT

A/N: I’m currently working on two requests, one of them being Loki again!! I had Bruce here on standby like a war move, so y’all eat up!!

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, femdom/submale, submissive Bruce Banner, blowjob, deep throating, teasing, light bondage, edging, cunnilingus, Hulk Banner/Bruce, size kink, riding, very soft Bruce, fingering.

Bruce was afraid of being too rough, yet you insisted for him to cum down your throat.

(GIF) Bruce thought he was only getting a quickie. He didn’t know you wanted to truly go to town on him.

(GIF) You and Bruce cuddling after a movie night.

Bruce loves moaning into your palm while you jerk him off.

You edging Bruce relentlessly.

Bruce’s first time eating pussy, give him some credit…

Ever since his first time, Bruce couldn’t get enough of your precious cunt.

Desk sex with Bruce!!

You both lost track of the movie ever since Bruce buried his head between your legs.

You were dressed up all pretty for Bruce once he returned home, what a surprise!

Hulk!Bruce going deep.

Hulk!Bruce pounding you hard, slowly beginning to lose himself.

You and Bruce being sensitive yet so horny!

Taking it slow with Bruce, allowing him to worship you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Steadfast 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, obsession, 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: King!Bucky Barnes (Medieval AU)

A Knights, Kings, and Knaves Story

Summary: you serve Duke Rogers, but when his friend, the king, takes an interest, you find your work in turmoil.

Note: I’ve wanted to do medieval drabbles for years. I bit the bullet and now we’re all doomed. I was torn on whether to make this one Stucky however… I think Steve deserves a wifey in his own installment.

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 ❤️

The days turn gray as you ride for the river. The nights are short but dark. You sleep by a fire under the king's cloak as he keeps watch. He dozes astride, often lurching and snoring behind you. His heat, his proximity, grows familiar if not smothering.

For all your life, the divide between servant and master has been kept wide. That rift between you always steep and retractable. Now, it is nothing but a whisper.

The king's hand remain on the reins despite his fatigue. Yours are lower down on the leather. You wear the mittens of lamb's wool he found for you along with a plain but lined cloak. He is a masterful barterer.

The horse snorts as it descends the bump incline. The smell of water dampens in your nose and nips at your cheeks. You see a dock ahead along the coastline. There are boats and barges, voices hollering up into the sky, the grind of wood and billow of sail. You lean forward and squint to see it clearer.

"Gander's Crossing." The king startles you with the declaration as he straightens in the saddle. "It will lead us to sea. It is those deeper tides I worry for."

"Worry?" The word wisps from you before you can stop it.

"Yes, even I worry," he assures you. "Why shouldn't I when I have more than myself to trouble my soul?"

"A whole kingdom," you murmur, "your highness."

He hushes you. "Certainly, yes, a people alone."

You rock with the horse as he guides it down the stony pass. He waves as he comes closer to the dockers and calls 'ho'. He dismounts as you feel gazes in your direction. You stay with the horse as he speaks with a captain.

"Double gold, for your trouble..." the offer rises loud enough to hear. You can see the reticence in the grey-haired man.

"...not the horse that's the problem..."

Their voices lower again. When at last, they part, it is with the clink of coin between them. The king stalks back to the horse and works at unleashing the saddle bangs from its rump. He sighs.

"Stay close as ever," he warns.

You obey and trail him down with the horse. He passes over the steed to a boatman and he beckons you with him. There are more gazes and you wonder if they know who he is. Yet, there eyes barely seem to snag him.

"Men of the sea are wary of women," he affirms as he herds you up the ramp.

You shrink down. Oh. You come upon the barge as the king lingers like a shadow.

You're shown to a cabin. The tilt of the boat makes you dizzy. You teeter and back into the king. He catches you with his hands on your hips.

"You'll get your sea legs yet," he bids. "Best to sit."

The room is small. There is something hanging from the ceiling. You feel along the wall and slide down to sit on your feet. You feel better, less treacherous. He goes to the fabric strung from above.

He spreads the cloth and turns. He maneuvers himself into it, landing in the odd sheath that cradles him. It rocks with the boats idling sway. You shift and sit on your bottom, hugging your knees.

"A hammock. A sailor's bed," he explains.

You dip your chin down. You've only ever slept on straw and floor. You'll do just fine down here.

"I will find us some food when we set off. Let the boatsmen lift anchor first," he says. "I wouldn't mind a moment to close my eyes."

"Yes, your highness."

He hums. "There is enough room for you as well..."

"Your highness..."

"Pip," he opens an eye and looks at you.

"Poppet," you correct yourself. He grins.

"Very well. Keep mind to the bucket in the corner, lest your stomach join the river in churning," he wiggles and closes his eyes again. He yawns and drapes his arm over his face. Your eyes dart to the pail. It might not be unwise advice.

👑

You shiver as you hug the bucket. Your back racks and you ready for another violent heave. Your stomach twists but does not upend. Cold sweat drips down your forehead. You temples throb as the waves lash at the side of the boat in a startling cacophony.

"Dear pip," the king kneels beside you and mops your brow with a wet cloth. "It will pass."

Your teeth chatter and you gag. There's nothing left in you to expel. You groan and shield your face with your hand. You are humiliated.

"Is this... death?" You babble.

He laughs softly, "no, sweet pip. You are unused to the sea, that is all."

You moan again. He pulls your hand away from your face and presses his knuckles to your cheek. You lean into their comforting warmth.

"Rest will do you well," he draws you over to him as he stretches his arm over your shoulder. You shiver and slacken against him weakly. He rubs your arm as he holds you. You're too sick to care for propriety.

"My apologies, my king. I've never... never been about."

"Oh, do not apologise, sweet pip," he cooes and pets your hair. "When I was a boy. Oh, you could ask the duke yourself. We went upon a large galley. I was rather eager to be upon it but once we could not see the shore, I was but a puddle of sick."

You groan and cling to his cloak as your insides constrict. The bile sears your throat but gets no further. He hums and reaches below your cloak to rub your stomach.

"Be calm," he caresses you through your dress. "You will survive this, pip. You are ever strong."

His hand continues to move as you shake. The water hits the boat and the voices of men carry on the wind whistling above. He leans back with you against him and extends his legs out. He keeps you again him and his hand crawls along your hip. You quiver and it falls onto your thigh. He leans his head against yours as you start to hiccup.

"This night will pass," he assures, fingers tracing the wrinkles in your dress. "And we will be here still."

[etheriaaly]

Haunted | Avengers x Reader

ANGST, FLUFF

Avengers x Reader (Platonic), Peter Parker x Reader (soon)

WARNINGS: Character death, cursing, stages of grief

Reader pronouns: They/them [GN! Reader]

Summary: Reader is a young 15 year old Avenger who has the powers and ability to reverse/rewind time. They saved countless lives using their time-rewinding powers but sadly, they were not able to turn back time before they died. Months later, a new Avenger recruit named Peter Parker came into view. Since he’s the youngest of them all, he was super protected and cared for by the Avengers, not wanting another death to come. Through an accident, Peter was able to see the ghost of [Y/N].

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

—

“Come on, Mr. Stark, pleaseeeeee.”  [Y/N] pleaded as they kept trailing behind Tony like a lost puppy.

“Get lost, kid,” Tony waved his hand in the air, walking towards the main lounge of the tower. “Also, didn’t I tell you to not call me Mr. Stark anymore?”

“[Y/N] bothering you again?” Steve asked, not looking up from the newspaper he’s reading. He’s sitting on the couch while Sam and Bucky are sitting near him and having their own little fight. 

“Mx. [L/N] over here won’t stop pestering me about us going on a vacation to Disneyland.” 

[Y/N] said, “We’ve been doing countless missions every day, saving the world, kicking Hydra’s ass. The Avengers definitely deserves a vacation break.” 

“Did someone say vacation?” Pietro suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the main lounge using his speed powers. “I’m up for that.”

[Y/N] grinned and placed their arms around Pietro’s shoulders, “See? Even speedster over here wants a vacation. Come on, Tony, I know everyone secretly wants a vacation.” 

A few minutes later, Vision, Wanda, Rhodey, Bruce and Natasha arrived at the main lounge. “What are you guys talking about?” Wanda asked. 

Thor answered Wanda’s question, “The young one wants a vacation.” 

Tony groaned and crashed into a nearby couch.

“[Y/N] is right, Stark. Most of us could really use a vacation here.” Bucky called out. Soon, everyone is now staring at Tony, pleading for a vacation that he will pay for. 

“Fine-” Before the billionaire finish his sentence, everyone cheered. Their little celebration about the upcoming vacation was halted when their red mission alarm in the Tower was activated. 

“Another mission? Seriously?” [Y/N] grunted as they all hurriedly prepared for their sudden mission.

"That's the life of being an Avenger, kid."

"Hey, I'm not complaining.”  [Y/N] shrugged. 

Once they finished mini preparing for their sudden mission, they all ran towards the Quinjet and went inside. It was a bit quiet until Steve spoke up. His hands on the tablet. 

He read aloud what was written on the mission file, “Fury said they found out another building of Hydra’s. We must sweep everything and find out if they have been keeping any information in there. 

[Y/N] checked the time in their left wrist watch, 2:45 PM. ‘It’s already been 5 minutes since we’re in this Quinjet?’ They mentally asked themselves, a bit forgetting that Wanda can hear other people’s thoughts or read minds. 

‘Don’t worry. Hopefully, this mission will be quick and we’re all just gonna chill in the living room.’ Wanda replied to her thoughts. The two of them gave each other a smile. 

“About the vacation-” Pietro suddenly mentioned. Tony groaned while others broke out into laughter. “I’m serious!” He put his hands up the air in defense then laughs as well. “When will we schedule it? I do hope it’s-”

Tony cut him off, “Let’s all talk about it later. Right after this mission. Only IF everyone get’s out alive.” 

“Ha-ha, Mr. Billionaire,” [Y/N] said, then giving him a smug look. “Did you forget you literally have a human time machine right here? If anyone dies later, I could just rewind and POOF! We’re all safe and sound.”

“We’re all gonna go back to the tower alive and in one piece.” Natasha stated. 

Bucky joined in, “Don’t be such a jinxter, Tony.”

The rest of the ride was either just goofing around, giving each other snarky comments, or Steve trying to stop them because they have a mission to focus on. 

∿

Everyone had arrived at the location where Hydra was doing experiments and planning evil plans. Everyone knows the drill and the mission already, sweep off Hydra guards in every floor, get information and stop the evil works. 

They’re all divided into 2 pairs per floor level. The Hydra building consists of 5 floors. Steve and Natasha on the first; Tony and Rhodey on the second; Thor and Bucky on the third; Pietro and Clint on the fourth; and Wanda and [Y/N] on the fifth floor. Sam volunteered to check the entire building perimeters outside because he wants to have a “bird’s eye view”. 

Meanwhile, Vision is just helping everyone by phasing through the floors back and forth. Then, Bruce is just at the Quinjet, waiting for everyone just in case they need the Hulk for later. Well, he mostly prefers to be there, he has some science stuff to finish anyways. 

After 10 minutes of taking down Hydra guards and agents, they’re all almost done checking every room for any useful information or stuff. Wanda and [Y/N] decided to split in order to finish looking into every room as soon as possible. 

[Y/N] had organized a movie night later and they want this mission to end so that they can start relaxing and hanging out.  [Y/N] doesn’t have that much powers except for some enhanced agility, fast reflexes and reversing time. Although, some may confuse her reversing time powers for time travelling, both are very much different from each other. 

They are about to check the last room, already assuming it’s the main room of the building due to how wide the doors are. 

“Going in the last room now.” [Y/N] said as everyone had been communicating through the earpiece. “Might need backup, just in case.”

Pietro said, “We’re coming to your floor now.” 

“Steve and I will catch up, there’s too many stairs.” 

[Y/N] tried to break-open the big doors but was immediately cut off when Wanda effortlessly opened it with a swish of her hands. “Thanks.” 

They both walked inside the room. An uneasy feeling appeared as their stomach gets twisted. Something doesn’t feel right. 

Wanda was examining the other side of the room while  [Y/N] ran towards the center as there is a note that was placed on the table. 

They picked it up and read it out loud, “Dear Avengers, if you are reading this. You have perfectly walked into Hydra’s best trap. Tick, tick, tick. Time is running. Goodbye forever.” This immediately caught everyone’s attention. 

[Y/N] was about to make a joke about the note on how amateur the note is. Like, Hydra doesn’t write those kind of notes but [Y/N] is guessing they hired a newbie to write that note. Luckily, they think it is not the best time to joke around when the building could blow up any minute now. 

[Y/N]’s eyes quickly glanced the item that was beside the note and then their eyes widened. “WE HAVE TO GO NOW!” 

It was a bomb. With only 10 seconds left until it explodes and destroys the entire building. They are pretty sure Hydra planted more around the area but wasn’t sure if there are more. 

Wanda and [Y/N] swiftly tried to escape as Pietro appeared in front of them, ready to get everyone out safely before the bomb goes out. 

They were all panicking and hurrying to get outside the building as soon as possible. 

5...

“SHIT. SHIT. EVERYONE OUT.” 

4...

3...

Pietro was about to grab Wanda and  [Y/N] first until a random Hydra agent appeared out of nowhere, pointing a gun towards them and shot Pietro at the shoulder. 

2...

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME-”

1...

The bomb went out and exploded, causing other hidden bombs around the building to slowly explode. It sounded like a loud shotgun that almost shattered  [Y/N] ‘s eardrum as they are the closest person to where the bomb is. 

They gave a quick glance of their left wrist watch to mentally note what time the bomb went out. This has been a thing for [Y/N] to take note of the time before and after using their rewinding time powers. 3:

“NOOO!” They shouted. They can feel themselves getting lifted up in the air as their hair levitates, getting ready for the entire body to be flown across the building floor. [Y/N] hurriedly pulled out their arms to rewind 15 minutes before it exploded. They chose 15 minutes because the Avengers have not yet arrived the Hydra area.

[Y/N] watched everything rewind but they stayed being lifted up in the air as they can still experience the exploded bomb effects. They watched their old self and Wanda examine the rooms and then slowly goes back to the staircase. 

With only rewinding back to 5 minutes, they can feel themselves gradually feel tired and drained as they can only usually go back in time seconds by seconds. 

But, they are determined to save their friends and family from Hydra’s unpredictable trap. Forcing themselves to go back 15 minutes. They can already feel blood coming out of their nose, this was the first time [Y/N] used their powers with great force. 

Finally, they were able to rewind 15 minutes before; thus, everything goes back to normal and they immediately gets thrown off across the floor. [Y/N] groaned. 

Not wanting to move for a while due to the pain of getting thrown to the ground and also because of the immense headache they are currently experiencing, they stayed lying on the floor for a short while. [Y/N] doesn't like how they have side effects of using the powers too much.

Now, they’re regretting they shouldn’t have used their powers hours ago. They used it to rewind several seconds out of pure boredom, and now they are facing the consequences of it. 

Feeling heavily drained, they casually lifted up their left arm to check what time it is in their wrist watch. 3:03 PM. They all left the Tower around 2:40 PM, it was around 20 minutes of traveling from the Avengers Tower to the Hydra base that was located. 

‘They should be arriving anytime soon.’  [Y/N] told themselves mentally. After resting their body on the floor for a few minutes, they managed to gain some remaining energy to stand up and walk towards the big room to diffuse the bomb.

Once they reached the main room, they grabbed unto the table for some support in case they accidentally stumble or fall.

[Y/N] stared at the ticking bomb. They have 12 minutes left until it explodes.

"What the fuck?" They muttered under their breathe. This is not a normal bomb. It's in Russian and the usual colors of green and red were replaced by pink and purple. What are they supposed to do now?

If only Natasha or Tony or Vision is here, then at least one of them can help diffuse the bomb.

[Y/N] limped around the room, looking for any sharp objects that could cut the wires. They can just rewind again if they accidentally cuts the wrong one. Well, if they can still rewind back in time.

“Fuck.” They cursed under their breath. Hydra is actually smart enough to make sure there’s no sharp objects around the room for the wires to get cut.  [Y/N] then searched around her suit pockets in case they actually hid a cutter or a small knife somewhere. 

Nothing. They groaned and carefully walked out of the room to find anything small or sharp in the hallways. Their eyes immediately saw the window and they smiled. They can just shoot or destroy the window and a shard of glass would be fine.

Forgetting that there are Hydra agents in the hallway, they all noticed them and went to shoot them.  Before [Y/N] swiftly moved their hand, they counted how many Hydra agents were in the floor. 

There are 5 agents. After [Y/N] rewinded time, they found themselves back in the room. Pulling out their gun again, they went to count how many bullets they have. 6 bullets. 

‘I better not miss then.’  

[Y/N] counted until 5 before they opened the door and shot all the Hydra agents carefully yet precisely. All the Hydra agents dropped dead on the floor, so much to [Y/N]'s dismay. [Y/N] never wanted to kill anyone, even if they're Hydra agents but they have no other choice as of the moment. 

They aimed at the window and shot it, causing it to break. They limped towards it to grab a shard of glass. Not wanting to waste any more time, they tired to ignore the pain in their body as they sped up.

∿

Meanwhile, the Avengers are gearing up in the quinjet as they are almost near the Hydra base. Some were still joking around and throwing comments about their vacation until Wanda swiftly scanned the room.

“Where’s [Y/N]?” Wanda asked. Everyone stopped talking. They stared at the seat of the quinjet that [Y/N] was seating on just a while ago. 

Natasha came into a realization ang gasped. “Something went wrong with this mission, [Y/N] rewinded.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” Tony muttered as he went to the pilot’s seat and sped up the quinjet. 

This wasn't the first time that [Y/N] rewinded back in time during a mission, Natasha knew it her all too well.

They have arrived earlier than expected in the Hydra base. The Quinjet was about to land on the ground until a window from the very top of the building smashed which caught the Avenger’s attention. The moment they landed, Sam and Vision were the first to go out of the Quinjet, immediately going inside the building through the smashed broken window. Pietro swiftly went inside the building too. 

The three of them went inside the room to see [Y/N] destroy a wire until it suddenly set off.  [Y/N] turned back to look at them and their eyes widened, quickly pulled out their hand to rewind again. 

∿

Okay, maybe the purple wire isn’t the correct one to diffuse. 'I'll try the other one.' They immediately cut off the pink one and it still exploded. Mentally groaning, they rewinded back in time for the last time.

They give up. The bomb sets off either way. And even if they want to go out of the building, they have no energy. Too tired from using her powers, too tired from the aftermath of using her powers, too tired from fighting. Too tired from everything.

[Y/N] walks towards the nearest wall and slid down, resting. They'll just hope the Avengers gets in here in time so that they can save her.

"Yeah. They'll come. Don't worry, [Y/N]." They tried to comfort themselves. There's only 3 minutes left until it sets off. Mentally pleading the Universe that the Avengers will appear to save them.

They started to sing Can't Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon. It may sound cliché or weird but for them, singing this specific song soothes them whenever they feel alone or scared. [Y/N] feels like it helps lighten the mood.

Other than that, it's also one of the Avengers favorite songs. So, whenever the song play, [Y/N] was immediately reminded of the Avengers and they just imagine their usual reactions: random dancing around the room or unsynchronized and out of tune singing.

[Y/N] cracked a smile and closed her eyes, still singing Can't Fight This Feeling but their voice was low and raspy. "'Cause I feel so secure when we're together."

"You give my life direction. You make everything so clear."

Suddenly they heard their earpiece let out a static noises until it became clear and silent. They continued to sing lazily, "And even as I wander. I'm keeping you in sight."

"You're the candle in the window." They suddenly heard Pietro sing. Their eyes opened up as their eyes perked as if they had regained energies but they're still low battery.

"Pietro-"

Bucky joined in the singing, "On a cold, dark winter's night."

Wanda and Natasha chimed in, "And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might."

And soon, the others joined in, creating a not-so-perfect harmony but it still gives [Y/N] happiness, "And I can't fight this feeling anymore!" 

Abruptly, Sam turned on the music and played the song but they all stopped singing as to let the song play. 

“You guys came.” 

“Of course we came Max Caulfield.” Tony remarked.

Wanda said, “We quickly noticed you used your time powers again the moment we saw that you were not in the Quinjet.”  

“We’re about to reach the perimeter, now-”

“DON’T!” [Y/N] suddenly screamed, then regretting it since it just took away another energy. “It’s a trap. Hydra, I...I tried so many times already but it’s still the same outcome. Just, please...hurry. I’m scared.”

10 seconds left. "You know, Hawaii sounds like a good place for a vacation."

"We're about to land, now just hold on, [Y/N]. We're coming for you, pumpkin." Clint said as [Y/N] started to tear up. It was a random habit of Clint to call them pumpkin, [Y/N] likes to think of him as one of their fatherly figures.

5 seconds left.

“I have scanned the premises. [Y/N] is in the top floor building.” Vision stated and immediately phased out of the Quinjet and flew towards the building. 

They have landed and quickly opened the door and scattered. Wanda used her powers for her to easily reach the top floor just like Vision did. 

“I love you guys.” 

Everyone halted as the building exploded. Their ears rang, some took cover as there would be flying debris or ashes coming towards them. Those who were near the building got thrown away as well. 

Wanda landed on her back and coughed. She horridly stared at the building that her best friend was in, tears forming in her eyes. 

Natasha ran up to Wanda’s side to help her up. 

Wanda croaked, “We’re too late.” 

∿

The Avengers just felt numbness and sadness for 6 months straight. Although some of them may not admit it, it was very well shown through their actions and how they cope.

The death really did a big impact in their lives. Especially when they're close with [Y/N]. [Y/N] was the only teen in the team that gives so much energy, life and mischief to their everyday lives.

But, now that they're gone. It seems like the light has been turned off and the energy in the compound is not the same anymore.

It's dull and quiet and no life.

Denial.

It was the first stage of grief. The death was unexpected and so sudden, it was a shock to everyone. They deny the death of the youngest Avenger. There are times one would roam the Tower and they can still feel the presence of [Y/N]. 

She had brought a lot of life, chaos, and happiness to the Tower that the Avengers enjoys very much. 

The Avengers grieved together and then on their own. 3 weeks after the death, they held a funeral for [Y/N]. After the funeral, they all went back to the Avengers Tower in silence. They all sat down in the main lounge, comforting each other with one’s presence. 

At first, it was silence. Slowly, they just randomly reminisce the memories they have with [Y/N] as if they didn’t die. It was denial once again. The Avengers cannot acknowledge the fact that [Y/N] had died, even though they just held a funeral for them hours ago.

Most of them acts like nothing happened. There would be a time where their day will continue as it normally would and they all act like as if [Y/N] is still alive.

Wanda would then be the number one person to pretend everything is fine and nothing ever happened. One specific time, Natasha passed by [Y/N]'s room and would hear Wanda talking as if she was actually talking to [Y/N].

Anger.

Oh boy, this one was the most chaotic stage that the Avengers had gone through. The Avengers did not handle this one very well. One line mistake and the entire room would be filled with angry shouts, comeback, sarcastic comments, and etc.

Small arguments and fights exists even before  [Y/N] ‘s death. Though, it was a friendly argument and everyone would resolve it easily. But this one is different. Their arguments would last for days causing one or the other to not talk for a long time. Usually when things like this happen,  [Y/N] would be the person to make peace. 

There was a time where Steve suggested that resuming training sessions as a team would help lessen the grieving process, but boy he was wrong. The Avengers would just randomly let our their anger out of nowhere during training session, thus will cause an argument. 

Anger is Hulk’s best friend. If Hulk’s anger is the worst, then you should be prepared when it comes to Hulk being angry about the death of his friend. Despite Hulk not liking most people,  [Y/N] was one of the few people that Hulk actually likes besides Natasha. He thinks of her as a friend and a cool tiny human. 

Everyone in the team seem to almost forgot about Bruce’s Hulk. So whenever they create a fight and Bruce gets to be a part of it, they are all doomed. Hulk was brought out and destroyed the entire floor. Thanks to Wanda, he was calmed down and prevented him from going out and wreck the city. 

Bargaining.

Wanda locked herself in her room for 2 weeks straight, blaming herself and pondering about all the things she could've done using her powers to save her best friend.

Some of the Avengers grief process of bargaining was mixed up together with anger. It was not a very good match. Especially when it comes to Tony and Steve.

A simple conversation can start with coffee and end up with blaming each other and going after each other's throats.

Depression.

Vision felt like it was a need for everyone to be left one or at least talk to someone, which is a therapist. Though, one time Bucky kept ignoring his therapist's calls and messages. It may feel like such a bore or a stupid idea for others, but they all kept going to therapy sessions. It helps ease the pain.

Months after [Y/N]'s death is still painful, especially when others decided to leave the Tower and go back to their usual lives, either drowning in work or spending time with their family to somehow forget the pain they are feeling.

Thor and Loki went off-world and back to Asgard. They just simply couldn't bear the haunted memories around the Avengers Tower and New York.

Clint returned to his family in the barn, but would occasionally be visited by Natasha.

At last, acceptance. The last and foremost stage of grief that was never overcome by the Avengers. They were all stuck at a loop beginning from denial to depression and again and again and again.

Wanda indulged herself in cooking as frequently as possible but would also lock herself in her room again.

Pietro still haven't pulled pranks in a long time and he's always out and would just return at night. stopped pulling pranks around the tower.

Tony and Bruce continues overworked themselves in the lab; Steve would often get caught looking at the photos and going to museums. Natasha indulged would with more missions and returned back to Ohio to spend time with her family.

Sam offered Bucky to come with him back to his hometown and Bucky went along with him. Rhodey went back to serving the military; while Vision felt sadness too, he made sure to comfort the others as he knows how this affected everyone very much. 

Some months after ignoring each other, they all decided to get back together and being away from one another actually gives more sorrow. The Avengers decided to heal together even though the wound may still be fresh. Healing takes time and a part of them knows that [Y/N] wouldn’t want them to mope around like this. 

As much as they want to reach the stage of acceptance, they can't. The wound is still fresh. It will take a long time to stitch it up.

6 months had passed. Still no progress. It is still very difficult to move on. But when Tony saw a video of Spiderman in YouTube, he decided that recruiting a new Avenger the same age as [Y/N] would help heal the pain and distract them from it. Plus, he thinks the kid has potential. 

Before tracking down where Spider-Man lives, Tony told everyone about it. However, some disagrees with this idea. 

“And how old again is this Peter Parker person?” Sam asked. 

“15.”

“You can’t be that serious, Tony. This Spider-guy is just a kid.” Steve argued.

“Oh yeah? And so was [Y/N].” Tony snapped back. "Come on, we need to give this kid a chance. Plus, they'd love to have them around."

Sam smiled. "They'd probably do. They're the same age, if they were here...they'd be best friends and partners in crime. I know it."

"This just sounds like we're replacing [Y/N]." Wanda said out loud, tears forming in her eyes. "It's just been months, it's way too early to replace her just like that, Stark."

Stark. Tony's face fell. It hasn't been a long time since Wanda called him by his last name. Well, at first they were on a last name basis until they all became close friends and decided to get rid of the last name basis and change to first name basis.

Tony replied, "No one is replacing [Y/N]. She's practically irreplaceable."

“Well, it feels like you are.” Wanda said with hurt in her voice as she stands up and leaves the room. 

Pietro stands up as well and turns to Tony, “You are right --  [Y/N] is irreplaceable. But, I agree with my sister.” With that, he speeds out of the room, possibly to go after his twin.

Tony sighs. He looks around at everyone again, waiting for their replies. “Come on guys, give this kid a chance. All those in favor?” He raises his own arm.

Natasha slowly raises her hands, then Sam, then Rhodey. 4 out of 12 agrees. 

“If I may,” Vision speaks up. Everyone’s attention shifted to him. “I understand that we are still in the process of grieving, and this act of letting in another teenager in the team unsettles most of us. But, I believe that we shouldn’t be consumed by our grief and continue on closing the door on anyone that may seem like a replacement for her.” 

He continues, “This Peter Parker is not a replacement, no one could ever replace our beloved [Y/N]. But I think we should give this boy a chance. We all have abilities, skills, and powers that serves for the purpose of goodness and helping mankind. This kid seems to be on the same path as us. And so does,  [Y/N]. I think we should give him a chance because we all know that they would too.”

Everyone was silent for now, contemplating on what Vision had just said. 

They all looked at each other, eyes communicating as they finally decided. 

“Okay,” Steve breaks the silence, speaking for everyone. “Let’s give this kid a chance.”

Tony grinned slightly, clasping his hands together. “I promise, you won’t regret this.”

∿

Author’s Note:

This has been on my drafts since 2021 and I finally decided to finish writing this. The remaining last part of this fic was finished by me now, but the rest were written by 15-year-old me, 4 years ago. So I’d like to apologize how badly written the death and the stages of grief was. Anyway, consider this as my somewhat comeback in writing fanfics since I haven’t been writing in so long.