#but i recently started looking more into them

[wwinterwitch]

friendly introductions – bucky barnes

summary: bucky unexpectedly shows up at your apartment, and he's brought a few people with him pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (ft. the thunderbolts*) word count: 3.4k tags: thunderbolts* shenanigans, spoilers here and there obvs, slight miscommunication, big happy dysfunctional family in the making, google translator was used for the russian words (sorry), kissing, little bit of angst and little bit of fluff notes: i just saw the movie yesterday and as soon as i got back home i decided to write this, which is loosely connected to this fic i posted recently. i just loved the thunderbolts* so much they mean the entire world to me right now. perhaps more fics are coming in the future because i have lots of ideas!!! as always, i hope you enjoy

please reblog and/or comment if you enjoy!

all masterlists | marvel masterlist | part 1 (not strictly necessary to read this one tho)

“Sorry for such short notice,” Bucky mutters as soon as you open the door for him and the rest of the entire group. You could tell he’s been having a pretty rough time just by looking at him. Hair messy, frowning more than usual, dirty clothing and a cut on his left cheek. The rest of the people he’s with don’t look any better. It wouldn’t take an expert to figure out they’ve been in some kind of combat and, most likely, they didn’t come on top. 

“It’s okay,” you quickly reassure him, leaving the door open until every single one of them were inside your apartment, closing it behind them. “Can I ask what happened?”

“We…uh, got our ass kicked, basically,” he replies, sounding quite exhausted. 

You take a second to look at the group. Unfamiliar faces of people you could only assume are in the superhero/villain/whatever business. There’s a blonde woman who immediately leans against one of the walls of your living room, trying to get some sort of rest after the fight. The other woman stays by the entrance and you can’t help but admire how cool her suit is. There’s algo a guy in a red suit and he looks absolutely huge and terrifying, but the smile he sends your way with the silly little wave he makes as you make eye contact gives you the impression that he might not be as intimidating as you initially thought.

And then, your eyes focus on the other person in the room.

“You,” is all you say, your voice sounding anything but welcoming.

Everyone turns to look at Walker, who offers you an awkward smile. “Yeah, hi.”

“You two know each other?” the blonde one asks.

“Unfortunately,” you reply, keeping your eyes on the guy at all times. You know enough about John Walker to be stupid enough to let him out of your sight. “Listen, I don’t know what just happened to you guys, but in case Bucky hasn’t warned you already, you can’t trust this piece of shit.”

Noticing you’re starting to get a little heated by his presence, Bucky wraps an arm around your waist from behind, just in case you decide to go over him and confront him for everything that has happened in the past. “It’s okay. He’s here to help.”

You turn to look at him like he just said the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard in your life, but he simply stares back at you with a serious expression, nodding as if to emphasize on his previous statement, trying to let you know you can actually trust the guy. When you turn back to look at Walker, he raises both hands in the air as a sign to further prove that he’s harmless.

“I’ll be keeping an eye out,” you warn him, pointing your finger at him. 

“That’s fair,” he nods.

“Whoa, she’s feisty!” you hear the excited voice of the guy in the red suit as he lets out a short chuckle. “I like her already!”

You feel Bucky’s grip around your waist tightening. “We’re just here to get some cover and figure out our next move.”

Suddenly remembering the fact that all these strangers are standing in various spots in your living room, you get away from Bucky to walk over to your couch. “Oh, so sorry! What a terrible host,” you attempt to joke a little in hopes of lightening the mood, quickly removing your laptop and various papers scattered across your couch. “Please, take a seat!”

None of them move at first, but they eventually accept the invitation and walk towards your couch to sit down. All except Walker, who decides to stay in the same spot he’s been since he entered your apartment. Not like you care, so you just let him stand there on his own.

A few awkward introductions later and you already know everyone. Alexei, Ava and Yelena. One a total stranger and the others slightly familiar to you due to them being related to Natasha. You couldn’t bring yourself to say her name out loud, though. If you struggle to think about her without bursting out crying, you can’t even imagine what it would be like for her dad and sister. Last thing you want is to cause them any discomfort.

“And how exactly do you know each other?” Yelena asks you and Bucky after you introduce yourself to them too.

“Former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent,” Bucky replies before you can say anything, and you can’t help but turn to look at him with a slightly confused expression. “We’ve been friends for a very long time.”

Friends. Sure. Whatever. If that’s what he wants to call it…

After what happened last time you were in D.C., Bucky was constantly making trips to New York to visit you. You’re not officially dating, but it’s established that you’re exclusive. Long distance isn’t ideal, but you’ve made it work so far. Probably the happiest months of your life. But now…you hear him introducing you as his friend. It’s not really a big deal. Technically you are friends? It shouldn’t affect you as much as it does, but…you’re internally fuming right now.

Still, you decide not to say anything regarding that. He’s always been quite a reserved person, so perhaps he didn’t feel comfortable enough to share that information with them just yet. “Can I get you anything to drink?” you decide to ask, looking at everyone else.

“We’re not-”

“I’m sure a glass of water won’t kill anybody,” you say, immediately cutting Bucky off.

There’s a brief silence before Ava speaks. “I’ll have a glass of water. Thank you.”

You look at Yelena as she shortly nods before you focus on Alexei. “Do you perhaps have something else other than water?”

“Dad,” Yelena warns him.

You ignore that short interaction. “Something like what?”

“Like vodka,” he replies simply, like it’s a normal request. Perhaps the russian accent and the fact that he does look like a walking Soviet propaganda adds context to it.

“Dad!” Yelena repeats herself, this time in a louder voice, before hiding her face in her hands. The scene of her getting embarrassed by her dad’s behavior is actually hilarious.

“Two glasses of water and one glass of vodka, got it.” Then it was time to acknowledge Walker again. Even when you deeply hate the guy, you still want to be polite. “Do you want anything?”

“Uh…just water,” he mutters, still unsure on how to really talk to you. It’s ironic how quiet he is right now, considering he had a hard time shutting his mouth when you first met him. “Thank you.”

You offer the group a smile before excusing yourself to go to your kitchen, leaving them momentarily alone. Bucky was about to speak, wanting to initiate a debate on what their plan is going to be to fight against someone as powerful and seemingly invincible as Sentry, but Yelena speaks before he does.

“Now, would you mind telling us how you really know each other?”

Bucky looks immediately confused. “What do you mean?”

“You know I was trained to be a spy since I was very little.”

“Surely you don’t say it enough,” Walker mutters, earning an unamused look from her.

“That must really bother you, Mr. I-was-in-the-military,” Ava chimes in, rolling her eyes.

Ignoring both of them, Yelena decides to continue. “I’m very good at reading people, Bucky. She almost wanted to punch you in the face when you said you two were friends, which let’s me know the comment upset her,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “Why is that?”

“Ah! That’s your lover!” Alexei comments with pleasant surprise.

“And you didn’t introduce her as your girlfriend?” Ava says shortly after, giving him a disapproving look. “No wonder she would want to punch you in the face.”

“Yeah, that’s not cool, man,” Walker agrees from his spot in the living room.

Alexei’s cheerfulness dries down, nodding. “I agree. It’s not very nice.”

Bucky scoffs, crossing his arms across his chest in a defensive manner. He couldn’t believe these people were judging him over something he thought was meaningless. It was just a way to keep his private life private. Why should they know he’s dating anybody? They’re not his friends to be sharing information like that with them. And it’s not like they’re ever going to see you again anyway. Why is this such a big deal?

“Whoever I date or don’t date it’s not your business,” he simply replies.

Ava scoffs this time. “Don’t bring us to your girlfriend’s flat then.”

“When did you guys became a thing?” Walker asks this time, looking like he's thinking back on it in hopes of remembering any indication that might've gave it away.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, getting more and more exasperated. “We barely got out of that fight against Valentina’s experiment and it’s a matter of time before we have to face him again. Why are we even talking about this?”

“Oh, Bucky,” Yelena shakes her head in a condescending manner. “You’re right, we do not care about your lovelife. Thinking about it makes me sick, actually. But she looked really hurt by what you said, so perhaps you should go talk to her and make things right.”

The other three agreed with Yelena almost immediately, and Bucky just stood there looking at them in disbelief because why are they giving him their input on his relationship? Why is Yelena giving him advice? Why are they getting involved in Bucky’s personal life?

But instead of arguing, he decides to listen to them and heads towards the kitchen. He walks in just in time to see you pouring Alexei an entire glass of vodka as he requested, the other three glasses of water already filled.

“Oh, good. You’re here,” you say nonchalantly, like what Yelena said about you wanting to punch him in the face was just something she misread in your body language. You surely don’t look like you're thinking about violence right now. “Could you help me with the drinks, please?”

Perhaps Yelena was wrong, but just in case she wasn’t, he decided to ask about it. “Are you okay?”

You let out a quick and confused chuckle as you store away the almost finished bottle of vodka. “Why would I not be okay? If you’re asking because you brought them here, I think they’re actually very nice…aside from Walker, of course.”

“No, I mean…the way I introduced you to them,” he says in a soft voice, walking closer to you. “I probably shouldn’t have said you were my friend.”

There’s a brief pause between you, until you’re eventually shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?” he insists, standing right before you as he grabs your hands in his. “Talk to me.”

You hesitate a little before eventually giving in. “I mean, you can’t expect me to be thrilled to hear you introduce me to a bunch of people as just your friend.”

Bucky sighs. Yelena was right. “I’m so sorry,” he says almost immediately, giving your hands a light squeeze. “I just met these people and I highly doubt we’ll keep in touch after this. I didn’t want to share that information with them. We’re not exactly…close like that,” he explains himself, looking genuinely sorry for what he said. “I should’ve considered how that would make you feel, or at least tried to explain why I did it as soon as I could. I didn’t mean to hurt you or downplay what we have.”

You can tell he’s genuinely sorry, understanding his reasoning behind it. Perhaps you forgot to put into perspective the fact that they’re just super people Bucky has been forced to work with. Not necessarily friends. “It’s okay, I understand.”

Bucky nods, but he still looks absolutely defeated. “I feel terrible,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

You let go of his hands, wrapping your arms around his neck instead. “It’s okay, babe,” you repeat, offering him a soft smile to let him know you forgive him. “I understand you didn’t feel comfortable sharing that with them.”

“I promise I won’t do it again.”

“You’re not obligated to disclose anything with anyone if you don’t feel like it,” you say, just to remind him to do whatever it feels right to him. “But I’m glad we had this conversation to hear each other’s perspective.”

He nods again, still uncertain. You lean in to give him a reassuring kiss before deciding to move away from him to get back to the living room with the rest. He hands the glasses of water to Walker and Yelena, while you hand the other glasses to Ava and Alexei.

The last one takes a big gulp of his glass, letting out a growl of approval. “Smirnoff! Not that Absolut der’mo!”

“I adore him,” you say to Bucky, letting out a quick chuckle as you watch the guy drink the entire glass of vodka in less than two seconds.

“It’ll pass, trust me,” he mutters back to you.

You gently hit his arm as a way of telling him to not be rude, immediately focusing on the cut on his cheek, dried blood around the wound. “I should clean that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“I do worry, Bucky,” you insist, patting his shoulder before pointing to one of the two chairs at your small dinner table. “Take a seat. I’ll be right back.”

You excuse yourself to go find the first-aid kit to clean the wound on his face. By the time you get back, the group has already started discussing some sort of strategy regarding some ‘Sentry’ person you don’t know absolutely anything about. Perhaps you’ll ask Bucky to give you a proper update on what the hell this whole thing is all about next time you’re alone.

As obedient as ever, Bucky was already sitting on one of the chairs you previously pointed at before leaving, so you walked over to him to attend to his injury. Even if it was a small, almost insignificant little cut, you wanted to take care of him in any capacity you could.

You were gladly surprised when you feel one of his arms wrapping around you, keeping you close as you stand next to him cleaning the dry blood with a small cotton ball before disinfecting the area, finishing it off with a small bandage above the cut. 

The whole entire time you took care of Bucky’s wound, the group was talking about their strategy. Just listening to them was enough to figure out why Bucky didn’t think they’d stay in touch once it’s time to part ways. More than half of their interactions are more bickering than actual communication. They clash almost constantly and they don’t seem to agree on much. They’re quite honestly a complete mess. But still...even when it’s difficult to see how a group like this could work, they oddly do. There’s just something about them. Perhaps they’re the prime example of how opposites tend to work together perfectly. 

“Done,” you whisper to him, not warning to interrupt their conversation.

“Thanks, doll,” he whispers back, giving you a smile.

After a few more minutes of planning, it was finally time for them to get back out there in hopes to put an end to the threat that seems to loom over New York (and perhaps the entire world). You accompany them to the door, all of them saying their goodbyes to you.

“Thanks for letting us hide here,” Yelena says with a polite smile, offering her hand for a handshake as a way to further prove her gratitude. 

“Oh, it’s really nothing. I’m glad I was able to help out,” you reply, accepting her handshake. “And…you know, good luck. You probably don’t need it, obviously, but just in case…”

“You’re adorable,” Ava comments with a smirk, patting your shoulder as her way of saying goodbye.

Alexei doesn’t even say anything. He just straight up walks towards you and wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the ground as he gives you a tight hug. It certainly takes you by surprise, but you pat his back as a way of returning the hug, hearing how Yelena and Bucky are frantically telling him to put you down immediately.

The three of them are already outside your apartment and it’s time to face Walker. He just says a quick “thank you” before walking towards the others that wait for Bucky in the hallway, knowing you probably don’t even want to address him. For now, you decide not to say anything to him. If you do see each other again, perhaps then you’ll try to figure out if you can look past the awful things he has done.

Now Bucky is the one who stands before you and all you can do is hug him as tight as you possibly can, almost not wanting to let him go. You know he’ll be fine. You know he’ll come back to you. But still, you can’t ignore the knot forming at the pit of your stomach, anxiety and fear consuming you at the thought of something happening to him.

He senses how you feel, hugging you back just as tight. “Please be safe,” he whispers.

You break the hug, looking up at him. “I should be telling you that.”

The comment makes him smile softly because it sounds like you're reprimanding him for what he just said. Immediately after, he's placing a hand at the side of your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, still as anxious as you were before. The fact that you still don’t fully know what they’re up against makes your situation worse. If it’s anything remotely similar to an Avenger-like threat, you have plenty of reasons to be afraid. “Just…just take care, please.”

“I will,” he replies, giving you a kiss so sweet and gentle that it practically takes your breath away. He knows you’re worried like never before and he wants to make sure he’s able to give you as much reassurance as he possibly can.

After a few more seconds of him just looking back at you with a soft smile on his face, he moves back from you, knowing he has to leave already.

“Promise you’ll be back soon,” you blurt out as he’s leaving your apartment, still fighting the urge to just yank him back into the apartment to keep him from going back out there.

“I promise you I’ll be back, darling,” he says without any hesitation, knowing he’ll do anything he possibly can to keep his word.

Finally, he closes the door of your apartment, leaving you all alone in there as you try to calm yourself down until everything is back to normal again and he’s here with you. Until he’s back in the safety of the arms of the person he cares most about in this entire world.

You focus on the four empty glasses, the lingering presence of everyone, the trail of dirt their boots left on the floor, the chair Bucky was sitting on just seconds ago...you can only hope they stay safe. Meanwhile, you decide to clean up the living room as a way of distracting yourself.

On the other side of the door, Bucky is turning to look at the group, rolling his eyes when he sees all of them grinning and nodding their hands in approval after witnessing him being so lovey-dovey with you, discovering a sight of him they probably didn’t even know existed.

“Not a single word,” Bucky warns them, immediately walking in between them to get to the elevator.

“What? We can’t say you two looked disgustingly cute back there?” Yelena jokes as she follows after him.

"Who knew that was hiding beneath all that...grumpiness," Ava comments right after.

“I said not a single word,” he repeats, trying to act like he wasn’t feeling terribly embarrassed right now. Or like he didn't find the teasing slightly entertaining. Just slightly.

“I mean, you did look cute,” Walker agrees.

“So cute!” Yelena emphasizes.

Alexei wraps an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, much to his discomfort. “That was adorable. You, my friend, had the eyes of love looking at your zhenshchina!”

“And you had to make it weird,” Ava mutters after Alexei’s comment, just as the elevator doors are closing. translations: der'mo (shit), zhenshchina (woman). again, i apologize if the translation is wrong, i don't speak russian

[ang3ltine]

"𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐭𝐬?"- Bucky barnes x freader

An unexpected surprise awaits you when Bucky shows up at your house with a group of strangers

a.n - no spoilers for now

warnings - John walker, dark humour and major fluff!!

Short teaser for upcoming fic!

"You gotta be kidding me, were not seriously bringing Bob with us are we?"

"Look Captain America, if it weren't for Bob we wouldn't have made it out of that death trap of a lab alive!" Yelena replies sternly. "Besides, he seems to have more discipline than you'd ever have."

This seemed to tick John off as the two of them started shouting back and forth, while Bob sat between the two of them awkwardly.

"Ok uhm...can we maybe...not fight?" He mutters under his breath but was completely ignored.

Ava rolls her eyes at the childish scene before her and flickers her gaze down towards the nervous man. Silently telling him that it wasn't worth wasting his breath.

Surprisingly enough, he understood rather quickly and kept his mouth shut.

Bucky groans in annoyance at the bickering in the backseats, and it didn't help either when a large man was snoring away next to him.

But swiftly brushes it off after pulling into a familiar driveway. He hadn't been back at this house for about a week now, so he was dreading what awaited him when he opened the doors.

Especially since he has four other guests with him, who he quite recently found acquaintanceship with just a few days ago.

"Listen up, we're staying at this place for a while until things die down. So please, don't make this harder for me than it already is." Bucky states as the the group follows him down the pathway towards a red brick secluded house that was tucked in a small corner of New York City.

They all exchanged confused looks before reluctantly nodding at the grumpy man, with a few grunts and hushed responses. Honestly they were just really tired and their bodies were sore so there was no use in complaining.

"God - I hope she's in a good mood..." Bucky mumbles before reaching into his pocket to fish out his keys and was about to put it into the keyhole. Only to be interrupted midway as he hears the sound of another car pulling up behind him.

"Bucky honey? Is that you?!"

Everyone turned around at the sudden mention of 'Bucky' and 'honey' in the same sentence. All but Bucky himself as he walks back down the pathway towards you.

"Did I hear that right? There's no way Mr. Congressman would have a girlfriend." Ava whispers to the others as they all watched him walk past the minivan, disappearing from their sight. There were mixed reactions as they all talked amongst themselves, trying to figure out who you might be.

You were pretty confused as well since there was a dirty minivan parked in your driveway. As soon as you step out of your car to examine the vehicle, you catch a glimpse of a figure in the corner of your eye.

Adrenaline kicked in almost immediately, thinking maybe this was going to be a robbery. I mean you do live in a pretty sketchy neighbourhood so it was possible. The sun was setting so it was pretty difficult to see who it could be, you had your fighting stance ready as the person steps out of the shadows.

"God Bucky! You could've said something instead of sneaking up on me like that!" You yelled and tried calming yourself since your heart was practically hammering against your chest.

"Yeah sorry 'bout that doll, didn't mean to scare you," Bucky drawls as he pulls you into his arm for a warm embrace. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the strong scent of gasoline mixed with his cologne.

There was sand mixed with dirt on his tough leather jacket, but you didn't question it since he had finished a mission. Honestly speaking, you were just glad he was home again.

You peeked over Bucky's shoulder and finally noticed the rugged group of individuals standing in your porch. They wanted to see what all the fuss was about so they snuck up on the couple and spied on them from behind the van.

You were about to open your mouth to say something before spotting a familiar face amongst them. She had short and slightly messy bob cut and an oddly cute frown on her face.

Yelena steps forward hesitantly while examining your face at the same time, seemingly trying to figure out where she had seen you before.

Then it clicks, you were her older sisters best friend. She remembers how kind and comforting you acted towards her whenever she'd come to visit her sister.

You opened your arms for her and without hesitation, Yelena falls into your embrace.

"Its good to see you 'lena," you murmured into her hair while she smiles at the mention of her nickname.

" 's good to see you too..."

Bucky joins the rest of the group, a small smile tugged at his lips as they all watched the heartwarming scene unfold before them.

He's not sure what waited them past this, but for now, he just wants this disfunctional group of anti-heroes to find some sort of peace while they stayed here.

Taglist: @marianastudiesart

@ordelixx

@starktonyx

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@avatarobsessedgirly

[solidcarbondioxide]

I'd like to point out that even for "tech savvy" people, technology is becoming more and more inaccessible. Trying to navigate all the pre-installed bloatware to find what's necessary and what isn't is becoming nigh impossible for the average person, and googling it doesn't always help.

My laptop from 2016 died and I needed a new one. Tell me why of the 1TB of storage it has, about 150GB were taken up upon first start-up? And when you open control panel [which, not everyone even knows what that is anymore] to delete the bloatware, it doesn't show anything that takes up that much space.

Knowing how to make a clean install of windows isn't something most people know how to do, and even people who are at least slightly technologically aware, might be wary of messing with Windows for warranty/Windows key reasons or what not. The more predatory technology becomes, the more difficult it becomes even for people who try to stay on top of it. "Yeah, I can look up how to do it, and understand what it says, but there are so many ways it could go wrong, and I can't afford another device" is an absolutely valid fear, and if even someone who does know what the tech lingo means is unwilling to mess with it, how can the average user?

[No, I don't want to hear how it's easy because you can do it through an ISO, or because it's only the first install that can't be clean and afterwards the key is bound to your Microsoft account. The average, kinda-sorta-maybe tech literate person won't touch that because tech is expensive and not everyone can try it out on an old laptop that doesn't work anymore to make sure they know wtf they're doing. So they'll remove what they can, sigh, and live with the rest.]

My dad's laptop recently threw a BIOS error and loaded up with the requirement for a BitLocker key. His laptop, in fact, most peoples laptops, have no need for that kind of security, and most people won't know that their computer has it activated until it throws an error. If the error hadn't occurred while I was there, there is no way in hell he could have figured out how to find the key, because he wasn't even aware this key exists. I wasn't even aware my laptop had BitLocker activated until his showed that error, because its either not mentioned anywhere, or hidden in the multi-page agreements that you need to accept before being allowed access to "your" device.

And guess what? If this reaches anyone, somewhere out there is someone who considers themselves "tech savvy", who has just found out their new device has BitLocker activated, and they're trying to figure out how to find the BitLocker key because no one told them this exists or that they may want to know how to find it. (Go to aka.ms/myrecoverykey, sign in to the Microsoft account linked to the device, look for the key that corresponds to the first 8 letters/numbers of the Recovery key ID on the device)

And if you followed one of those helpful guides on how to force a local account onto your lovely new win11 device? I hope you also went and found a lovely guide on how to find your BitLocker key/how to de-encrypt your device, cuz guess what? You see that blue screen and your files are gone. (Well, there are ways around it but again, they're not exactly the easiest of methods, definitely not something the average user could manage)

Sure, it's a safety feature, but it's unnecessary for most and should be an opt-in, not a "find out when shit hits the fan"

The more predatory technology becomes, the harder it becomes to be technologically literate.

I was lucky, my first proper device was a Windows 7 that required some tech literacy but was for the most part user friendly, I didn't love the switch to Windows 10 because it became harder to to find the more complex settings, but I learned most of my tech skills on it, moving to Windows 11 and seeing the "simplified, user friendly, easy setup" interface that makes accessing things harder and actively hides settings from the user? It still grates my nerves. I still have issues with the audio settings of all things because for some stupid reason apps set to 0 still produce noise and the slider moves up by 1-5 points automatically. I've pinned the windows 10 volume mixer to my windows 11 devices task bar because I cannot tolerate the windows 11 one and its bs.

Technology becoming "user friendly and easy to navigate" has, in a lot of cases, actually made it harder to understand. I did not get taught what I know about technology at school. I learnt it on my own, because I grew up with tech that still allowed it.

Yes, schools should still be teaching the basics of technology, but at some point we need to realise that technology has become much more inaccessible too.

And that's only the software side of things. Why does all of my laptops RAM come soldered now? Why does opening my device up to clean it void the warranty? Why does the number of ports keep decreasing?

Anyway, this has gotten longer than I wanted, so I'm going to say this one more time and end it there.

Technology has become easier to use on the surface and harder to understand beyond that. Users are being kept away from "settings they may not understand", and it makes it significantly harder to learn as a result.

Me: oh yeah, if you think school photography is hard now, try imagining doing this with film.

The new girl: what's film?

Me: ... film. Like... film that goes in a film camera.

New girl: what's that mean?

Me: ... before cameras were digital.

New girl: how did you do it before digital?

Me:... with film? I haven't had enough coffee for this conversation

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Ignorantia Neminem Excusat

(Ignorance excuses no one, lat.)

"Commissioner."

Jim Gordon doesn't jump. They are years and years into this rodeo, he's stopped actually jumping at Batman's silent approach a long time ago. Yet, Bruce still notices the way his shoulders twitch just the tiniest bit, and his hand makes an aborted motion to his gun holster. Still got it.

The man turns around. Bruce can see the 'must you always do that?' in his slightly narrowed eyes. He presses his lips tightly together in order to not smirk: Batman doesn't do that, even if it's admittedly funny to see the seasoned Commissioner get spooked every time.

"There's a kid that wants to speak with you."

Bruce frowns. A kid that warranted a BatSignal? Not that he minds, but this is highly unusual for several reasons; however, Jim is not the kind of man that would fall for puppy eyes of any level, so it must be something more important than an autograph session or a victim of any of the recent cases.

Besides, the way Commissioner worded it implies that the kid, whoever they are, requested Batman specifically.

"He is a hacker," Jim puts both his hands in the pockets of his coat — he is either cold or uncomfortable, and Bruce highly suspects it's both. What's more, he starts to understand why. "I'm sure you're aware we were trying to track the person responsible for the few recent cyber attacks on GCPD servers," Jim glances at him, and Bruce nods. He is aware, yes, but the case was low-priority — it wasn't even an attack, really, someone just accessed the system foregoing the passwords and clearance levels, went through a few files, seemingly at random, and did a fairly decent job of hiding their traces. Bruce would have even thought it was Tim, if this happened a few years ago, when the boy was just learning the ropes.

Commissioner sighs and looks away, "But when we brought him in, the boy said he will only speak to you, and none of us have been able to make him say a word since." He pauses, a grim kind of expression on his face, "This was six hours ago."

Bruce is grateful for the way his cowl hides how his eyebrows raise. There are hundreds of scripts officers, detectives, and social workers can use to establish contact. Quite a lot of them could be attempted in the span of six hours.

Whatever the kid wants to tell him, Bruce decides it's worth a try. If not anything else, he can at least admire the sheer stubbornness.

—×—×—×—

The kid sitting in the interrogation room looks... younger than Bruce expected. Fifteen, maybe sixteen. He is dressed like any other homeless kid in Gotham — a hoodie and a jacket over it, jeans that look a size too big on him, sneakers with mismatched shoelaces — but he clearly hasn't been out in the streets for that long. His hair is braided into cornrows, and it looks professional, even if the roots have grown out so now it's just messy. What's more, he is missing that telltale wariness in his posture that Bruce has seen in every other street kid that has been brought into a police station. They always slouch and curl into themselves.

This boy is sitting with his back straight. Yet, there's a tension in his body that Bruce can only associate with a battle stance — give him the slightest reason, and the kid will lunge.

He steps into the room.

The boy — he hadn't given a name, and there wasn't a single ID on him — zeroes on him instantly. His eyes are a very pale, almost translucent green: a rather strange feature for a black-skinned person, genetically speaking, but Bruce doesn't dwell on it. Yet.

But then, the face recognition program comes up empty.

As in, 'there's not a trace of this person's prior existence' empty. Not a single camera footage, no records or reports of missing, no pictures, no social media, nothing. Bruce frowns.

"Hi," the kid says, his voice raspy, "My name is Tucker Foley. According to the government, I don't exist, so if your recognition program doesn't find anything on me, that's why."

Bruce doesn't say anything. Tucker wanted to speak with him, and previously, he was only merely intrigued by that request. However, as of right now, he wants to hear everything the kid has to say before asking any follow-up questions.

Because that always present, cautious and bordering on paranoid voice in the back of his mind tells him he is about to get into something way more serious than he expected.

Tucker moves — he kept both his hands on the table, palms open and visible, but now he closes one into a fist. Although, before Bruce can react to it, he opens it again. A small, the size of a flash-drive, dimly glowing green object rests inside.

"Do you know what this is?" The boy asks. He hasn't looked away from Batman's face once; Bruce is not even sure he blinked at all since he entered the room. Come to think of it, even with his tense, rigid posture, Tucker is too still, almost unnervingly so.

Bruce glances down to the boy's hand.

"Yes," he answers curtly, and there it is, the smallest shift in Tucker's face: he clenches his jaw like he's trying to hold the words inside his mouth. Bruce doesn't like it.

"What is it?" Comes the next question, but it's not curiosity that prompts it. It's a test of some sort. Bruce likes that even less.

"A power source," he decides on a neutral answer, not entirely certain what the boy is expecting to hear.

It seems to be a wrong answer because for the first time, Tucker's emotions slip from under his mask, and he takes a sharp breath in, looking like Bruce had just slapped him across the face. It lasts only a moment — Tucker closes his eyes for a moment, slowly exhales, and speaks again, calm and focused once more.

"And what exactly powers it?"

It's an important question, judging by the desperate, searching look in Tucker's eyes. His hands are not shaking, and there are no visible signs of distress, but for some reason, Bruce just knows that the boy's whole life seems to depend on the answer.

But.

"It's classified." Bruce doesn't take his eyes off the boy, but he still fails to see when he gets to his feet; the movement is quicker than the blink of an eye. All he knows is the aftermath of it, the screech of the chair legs on the floor and the loud slam of Tucker's palms on the table.

"Fuck the classified!" The boy yells, his face twisting in an awful mix of anger, hurt and a broken, terrified sort of hopelessness that almost breaks Bruce from the inside. "I need to know what they've told you, I have to- Tell me you think it's just a battery! Tell me you've never broke one to see what's inside, tell me you believe in science! They've showed you the research, didn't they?" Tucker's voice, so agonizingly different from the composed way he was talking before, breaks into a sobbing, almost hysterical laugh. His pale eyes are wide open and almost panicked, searching Batman's face for something he is not sure he can find.

"Tell me you've never seen one being made," this time, the boy doesn't yell, he whispers, his breath hitching and his knuckles white. "Please," he adds a moment later, and Bruce knows this kind of plea.

It's the plea of someone who is begging for the world to have mercy on them. A plea of a boy standing on their parents' grave, a plea of a man kneeled in front of his son's corpse.

Bruce swallows the bitter taste on the back of his tongue and takes a step closer. He sees the boy in front of him lean back and bend his knees, like bracing for impact, but he answers before any more misunderstandings can occur.

"I have seen the research. It provided enough information that I've never investigated further," he offers, and Tucker's shoulders slump like months and months of living in a constant state of fight-or-flight leaving his body all at once. Then, the boy's hands start trembling just slightly.

"Really?" He quietly asks, his eyes still glued to Batman, and there it is, the hesitant, uncertain hint of hope in his voice.

Bruce suddenly feels like not only this talk will be much, much worse than he ever feared, but also like in the end this will be another one of the things he will be blaming himself for. Things he could have prevented if he just tried a little harder.

"Really," he nods, taking a seat opposite from Tucker. "So explain what I've missed."

The boy keeps looking at him for a few more seconds, like trying to x-ray his thoughts for any sign of a lie. But then he blinks — for the first time, maybe — and rubs his face with his palm before all but dropping back in his own seat.

"Okay," he breathes out, evidently trying to collect himself and go back to the strong, focused self, "Okay."

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthdaymonth Shana! Hope you have awesome birthday 🎂🥳 Would love some Psych, either Lassie (Shassie) centred or a contiuation of the abduction one!

a continuation of 1 2 3

He lost his son five years ago.

Henry tries support groups at Karen's urging, the warning about what's likely to happen to him if he doesn't get the drinking under control unspoken but clear. He wonders if Fenich said something to her and tries not to feel too resentful about it. The groups don't do shit, just push him into a rage that reminds him too much of his grandfather. He cuts back on the drinking enough that no one can smell it on him anymore and that appears to be enough, thank god.

His job is all that he has left. And he still would have lost that if it weren't for Gus.

It was only a few months after Shawn went missing. Maddy was off on some work trip, saying the break would be good for them. Henry had mostly resigned himself to the divorce. He'd drank too much that night like he always did and when the doorbell had pierced through his pounding head he'd groaned and rolled off the couch. He stumbled to his feet and lurched over to the door, yanking it open in a desperation to make the doorbell stop. He looks down with bleary eyes and sees Gus standing in front of him, wide eyed. "You here for Shawn?" he yawns, already nudging the door open out of habit before he remembers.

Shawn's gone.

Gus swallows then nods. He'd stopped talking. The Gusters have already gone through two therapists. His sister insists he still talks to her, but it's possible she's just covering for him.

"What do you mean?" he asks, expecting Gus to take out the pen and notebook he's always carrying around with him. He needs to call his parents since they definitely don't know he's here. Ever since Shawn went missing, the Gusters haven't let Gus out of their sight. Henry can't blame them.

Except Gus swallows and says, "I overheard my parents talking. They say you're not doing good. I mean, well. Not doing well."

Henry looks down at him in shock. The last time he heard Gus's voice was when he'd told him they were calling off the search for Shawn, that they couldn't find him and he wasn't coming back. Gus had sobbed in his arms then, hit his chest, begged and yelled and been more out of sorts than any of them had ever seen him.

"Shawn loved you," he says and Henry doesn't even flinch at the past tense. "He was really proud of you and he'd want you to be okay."

If he had anything like pride left, he'd probably feel something about the hot tears on his cheeks. "He loved you too, Gus. He'd want you to be okay too."

Gus swallows and holds out his hand. "I'll try if you will."

"Alright," he says, because what the hell else is he supposed to say to that, to his son's best friend who has snuck away from his parents and broken his silence and is looking up at him with such earnest pleading. He shakes his hand. "Deal."

The Gusters are in hysterics when he gets them on the phone. But Gus starts talking again after that and Henry drinks a little less and it doesn't hurt as much as he'd thought it would.

Gus is a senior this year. Shawn would be too if he was alive.

The both of them have good days and bad ones.

"Henry!" He looks up. "Martha wants you in the interrogation room. She's got her anonymous tipper on the line."

He bites back a sigh. Martha's a good officer. She's also a recent transfer and is convinced that some guy who calls in with the occasional tip is the same one who used to call into her precinct in Boston and she's woven a whole conspiracy theory around it. She's been trying to get him interested for weeks, but frankly the whole thing sounds insane.

Karen nudges him in the side. "Come on, it'll at least get her off your back."

Or encourage her. "Fine."

They head down, peeking around the door. Martha's face lights up and she waves him and Karen in eagerly. He's just shut the door behind him when she puts down the receiver and switches it to speaker. "Can you repeat what you told me?"

"Again?" huffs an aggrieved, young male voice. "Aren't you supposed to be taking notes or something?"

Henry can't feel his knees.

"I'm very sorry, sir, but you if you wouldn't mind," Martha insists.

"Fine. You're wasting your time going after the family in the Robertson case, their performative grief is weird, I'll give you that, but they're just attention seekers. You need to talk to the maid, the jumpy one that's in the background of the newsclips. Look under her nails."

It's different, older, more mature, slower.

He stumbles over to the table, knocking over a pencil cup as he grabs a pen with a shaking hand. He writes over Martha's notes, who's looking at him like he's lost his mind, but he's never cared about anything less.

"How many hats?" she reads aloud dubiously.

"What's that going to help?" he asks, like always, intonation and whining just the same.

"Uh," Martha looks at him but has to hold onto the edge of the table to keep from passing out. "You never know what will help. How many hats are in the clip that you first noticed her nails?"

There's a moment of silence, then faint humming, and Henry can see Shawn closing his eyes and lifting his hand to his head like he always did when he was trying to remember something. "Red baseball cap, weird little outdated doilie looking thing on the maid, and the Mom had a black veil. Which isn't technically a hat," he adds, almost as soon as Henry thinks it. "But it she only wore it in two clips, it should narrow it down. Or you could stop wasting time and just call her in for questioning. You should take better notes."

The dial tone is a shock, snapping him out of it. "No! Shawn? Shawn!"

Martha is new, she doesn't know, he's sure someone told her about his dead son but probably not his name. Karen puts a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Henry, don't do this-"

"It was him," he insists. "I have to - I've got," he stops, runs a hand over his face, and says to Martha, "Get me everything you have on this. Everything."

"Okay?" she says, bewildered, and Karen is shaking her head and Henry doesn't waste time convincing her.

He makes it out to the car before he breaks, trying to control his breathing as he takes out his phone with shaking hands and dials a number that he only calls on Christmas and Shawn's birthday.

"Henry?" Maddy greets, voice understandably concerned. He hasn't talked to her sober in years. "What's wrong?"

He opens his mouth to answer, but all that comes out is a sob. It's as much of a surprise to him as it is to her. He raises a hand to his face and finds that he's crying.

"Oh god," she whispers and he hears her voice break. "Is this about - it's about Shawn, isn't it? Did you find - was he," she takes a deep, steadying breath. "Tell me it was quick, Henry, please."

He forces out, "You were right."

There's silence on the other end.

"I'm sorry," he says, because he should have listened to her, he should have looked harder, he doesn't know how this happened or what exactly is going on. "I'm so sorry, Mads, you were right."

She swallows. "Henry. Are you saying-"

"He's alive," he says, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "Our son's alive."

[fairytaleendingss]

That's So True

Summary: You love James but he loves Lily and all you can do is watch as he drifts away.

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Reader

CW: Lily Evans slander (I'm sorry! I love her so much but it just made sense for the context of the story!!), unrequited love, no happy ending.

In honour of the Gracie Abrams concert I'm going to tomorrow!

This turned out much sadder than I was intending. Let me know if I should write a part 2!

--

He was laughing. Really laughing, with his head thrown back and that signature goofy grin plastered on his face. Your brows furrowed as you watched them across the common room over your textbook. He was leaning in towards her, his eyes alight in a way that no one else but Lily could insight.

Lily Evans was the bane of your existence. She was perfect. Beautiful, smart, apparently funny too. She'd been the apple of James's eye ever since he started going to Hogwarts and the cause of your anguish for just as long.

James Potter was your best friend. He had been for some time now. Ever since you were paired together in Care of Magical Creatures in third year, the two of you just seemed to click.

It wasn't until two years later when you noticed the butterflies that began to flutter in your stomach when he was around, or the pulse of electricity that jolted through you when you touched. It was no secret that James was attractive, one of the most attractive boys in the school, in fact. And you found yourself more often then not getting caught up in admiring him whenever you spent time together as of late.

The only problem was, Lily. Beautiful, perfect, wonderful Lily. He loved her and you couldn't blame him. She was everything he could ask for and more. And the worst part was, you couldn't even hate her for it - as much as you wanted to. She'd been nothing but lovely to you.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You looked up to see that Remus had come to stand beside you. His gaze was following yours to where it fell on the happy couple. He sighed, his eyes filling with a pity that you didn't need or want from him.

"I'm fine," you told him stoically, shifting your gaze away and forcing a smile.

Remus could see right through it. He had a way of doing that. Of looking at someone and just somehow knowing what was going on inside their head.

"He's just another boy, you know," Remus muttered. "There'll be others."

"I know," your eyes shifted to the ground. "Doesn't make it hurt any less."

--

"Y/n wait!"

You were walking from your last class of the day, intent on taking a stroll through the grounds to clear your mind. School work had been hitting you hard recently, with NEWTs just around the corner. And the distraction of everything going on with James and Lily hadn't helped.

You sighed as you turned to see Lily rushing to catch up with you, James in tow. Your blood boiled as she sent you that sickeningly sweet smile of hers.

"James and I are going to study in the Library and we wanted to know if you'd join us."

You forced a grin and did your best to contain your contempt for the situation.

"Thanks for the offer but I already had study plans for this afternoon."

"Oh come on Y/n. I know you don't," James remarked. "Besides, we haven't had the chance to spend much time together recently. I miss you."

You sighed once more. He wasn't wrong. Once upon a time, it was you and James that studied together. You'd spend most of the time joking and laughing and complaining about how boring all the classwork was. But ever since he and Lily had gotten together, there hadn't been much time for any of that anymore.

He was spending all his time with her now, and you had fallen by the wayside in the process. It hurt almost as much as the heartbreak and if you were being honest, you missed him as well.

"Please!" Lily pleaded with you, noticing the look of hesitancy on your face. "We'd really love you to come with us."

"Okay, sure," you gave in. You didn't stand a chance when James gave you that hopeful look of his. The one that reminded you of a puppy ready to play.

"Yes! I knew you'd come around!" James cheered and absentmindedly threw his arm around your shoulders as the three of you turned and made your way to the library. Little did he know how much that one small action could make your heart race.

--

The Library was empty save for the three of you and the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. James was sat beside you, a book on Charms shared between the two of you. Lily sat across the table, writing her potions essay.

They kept glancing up when they thought you weren't looking, making eyes at each other every time you turned away. They thought you didn't notice but you did.

You noticed everything James did. Every soft, stolen glance, every pout that lined his lips, every time he ran his hand through his mattered curls when he was feeling overwhelmed. And you knew the look he gave her. It was the same look you wore when you looked at him.

Lily giggled and whispered "James, stop!" as he played footsies with her under the table. You swallowed the urge to roll your eyes. It was so disgustingly romantic. Everything was with James.

With a shallow breath you slid your chair backwards. You couldn't take anymore of this.

"What's going on?" James asked, wide eyed as you gathered your things.

"I'm just not feeling so well all of a sudden. I think I'm going to go."

You couldn't bring yourself to meet James' eyes. You knew they'd be full of worry and you couldn't afford to collapse to his will anymore.

"Are you okay?" that was Lily. Ever sweet and kind and gentle. You couldn't hate her. You shouldn't but you did.

"Yes, I'm fine." you mustered a smile even as tears began to burn in your eyes. You looked down at them, their expressions filled with concern and confusion as you made for a swift exit. They looked perfect together. Not even you could deny that.

"I'll see you guys later."

And with that you were gone, hurrying towards the library doors, hoping desperately to make it back to your dormitory before the tears began to fall.

Part of you had hoped that James would run after you. Grab you by the wrist and pull you into his arms, whispering that everything would be okay. But he didn't.

You looked back towards them once more. Lily had moved to take you chair beside James. She was brushing a strand of curls from his eyes the way you always used to.

The door fell shut behind you.

--

In the days following, you did your best to avoid James at all costs. He and Lily were practically attached at the hip and you couldn't bare to be around them anymore. He now stood as a reminder of everything you couldn't have and you knew your heart could no longer take it.

You didn't think he'd take much notice anyway. He had someone else to think about now.

You spent a lot of time crying. More time than you were happy to admit. Remus and Sirius had been good supports. Peter too, but he didn't really understand what was going on. Why your friendship group had suddenly been torn apart.

Instead of walking to classes with James, you'd get there early, taking a seat right up the front where you didn't have to look at him as he sat beside her, her hand gripped tightly in his larger one.

During lunch, you'd sit with Dorcas and Marlene. You'd laugh at their jokes and talk about mindless, unimportant topics and do your best to take your mind off him.

You no longer went with Remus to watch him and Sirius at Quidditch practice. He had someone else to cheer him on now, you were sure.

He wouldn't even miss you, you told yourself.

Little did you know, he did. He missed you so much it hurt. And no matter how many times he went over it in his mind, he still had no idea what he'd done wrong.

He'd tried to chase you down after class but you always left before he had the chance. He'd pleaded with Remus and Sirius to tell him what was going on, hoping his best friends had an insight into your mind but they told him they didn't know - even though he knew they did.

He saw you hanging out with other friends, looking lonely and lost and tired, but no matter what he did, he couldn't seem to fix it. You were avoiding him at every turn.

Everyone could see what it was doing to him - what it was doing to both of you. They could all tell that without each other, the two of you were just husks of your usual, vibrant selves.

Lily in particular could feel it. She saw her boyfriend wilting in your absence. And she felt powerless knowing she couldn't do anything to help.

--

You were sitting by the lake. There was a chill in the air. The icy wind whipped against your face but you didn't feel the cold.

In the distance you could see a storm brewing. Dark, rain clouds circled in the sky, reflecting off the crisp water of the Black Lake.

You came out here sometimes to think. Just to sit in the nature, away from the hustle and bustle of the castle. You didn't know how long you'd been there but it had been a while. You sat, by yourself, knees pressed against your chest, just observing.

"James told me I might find you here."

You looked up to see her.

She was standing in the grass beside you, her auburn hair flowing in the wind like she was a character in a movie. She was striking against the gloomy grey backdrop of the Scottish winter.

"He knows me well," you stated unemotionally, turning your gaze back to the water.

"Can I sit?"

"You can do whatever you like."

She hesitated for a moment, before taking a seat beside you. The air around you was frigid and cold and unwelcoming.

"What are you thinking about?"

She wasn't looking at you. She stared out at the lake and the sky and the mountains in the distance. As if the weight of her gaze was too invasive and privacy lingered in the lack of seeing.

"Nothing important," you told her. And it was true. He wasn't important anymore. Not now that he had her.

Silence hung heavy for a moment. A million unspoken words floated in the space between you.

"He misses you, you know?" her voice was soft and gentle, like she was scared to say the wrong thing and push you away.

"I don't see why he would."

"That's ridiculous. You're his best friend."

You sighed, turning to look at her finally. Her gaze was sad and pleading.

"Not anymore," the words fell from your lips like grains of sand in an hour glass. They trickled out quickly and easily and were swept away in the wind. "He hasn't had any time for me since he's been with you."

Lily didn't know what to say to that. Guilt was beginning to pool inside of her at the thought that she might have been the cause of all this chaos and discomfort.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to leave you behind."

"Yeah, but he did," your words were solemn and you couldn't stop the few tears that escaped as you said them. Like saying it aloud meant it became real. This really was the end for the two of you.

"He can fix it," Lily choked out, looking on the verge of tears herself. "He loves you."

You sighed, feeling drops of rain begin to fall on the top of your head.

"Not in the way I need him to."

With that, you stood and began to make your way back to the castle, away from Lily and away from these feelings that had been hanging over you for so long, like rainclouds threatening to burst and shower you in a downpour of emotion.

Your wiped your eyes as you walked. You were tired of feeling this. You were tired of being sad, of being jealous, of being in love.

Remus words rang like a bell inside your mind.

"He's just another boy."

That's so true, you thought to yourself.

[cameronsbabydoll]

SCC reader and Rafe at one of his fancy business dinners. For additional context, this is probably also probably when readers on her 2nd pregnancy, so she’s just irritable and uncomfortable but still showed up with Rafe to keep up appearances.

Rafe and his buddies are drunk chatting somewhere, talking about work and normal guy stuff. Then the conversation shifts to their home/personal lives ie marriages. One man is talking about his wife’s new promotion, the other one she’s started a book club, etc…they’re all drunk talking abt how they love their headstrong and independent wives. Rafe is just sitting there, nursing his drink, listening to how they talk about them, like they’re people.

He never talks about reader like that, not about her really, just what she does for him “she’s a great mom, an amazing wife, or she’s beautiful”

Then he glances his eyes over to the wives talking by the bar, except you. you’re just sitting at the table, by yourself, hand rested on your belly, checking your phone (probably texting the nanny), trying to look occupied while you’re just waiting for the dinner to be over.

He makes eye contact with her and she sends him a small, tired smile that doesn’t meet her eyes and promptly decides to take her home. (she’s been faking a lot of smiles recently, he’s noticed.)

On the way home it’s quiet. She’s always quiet now. He brings up the new book club that one of his buddies mentioned, suggesting that reader likes a lot of those types of “girly books” and could join and have some sort of friends (ones that he could monitor and approve of).

The mention of it immediately makes Reader just breaks down sobbing about how she doesn’t fit in with any of the wives, how they’re older and college educated “established ladies with actual lives”. How they think she’s just a “dumb kid who got knocked up by the first rich guy to throw her a smile.” and maybe she agrees with them, reflecting on how she didn’t get to go to college or develop as a person before she had kids. She’s just in this cycle of isolation and self loathing that got worst after she got pregnant.

Rafe tries in his own weird way to comfort her(he’s not very good at it) claiming that she doesn’t need those “old broads poisoning your mind anyways”

She just sighs into her seat looking at the window and tearfully just says “I just miss her. I don’t have anyone… not anymore”(referencing her old best friend)

The rest of the ride is silent. When they get home, maybe Rafe tries to be extra sweet to reader during bed time(giving her a bit more physical affection bc god knows that girl needs a hug) maybe he tries to reassure her that shes not just some girl who got knocked up, she’s his wife. Like it’s some badge of honor or something. She just responds with “because you wouldn’t let me be anything else”

nothing else but yours

warnings: emotional neglect, isolation, emotional/verbal manipulation, references to pregnancy, identity loss, subtle controlling behavior, depressive themes, disillusionment with marriage, hinted age gap, power imbalance, soft angst

a/n: part of my sugar-coated chains series

the dinner is loud. fake laughter and expensive wine. your feet hurt in the heels he picked out, your belly’s heavy with the second baby, and your smile is wearing thinner by the hour.

you sit alone at the table, trying not to look like you're just waiting. hand resting on your stomach, phone in your lap. you scroll through texts from the nanny. check the time. sip water. anything to stay invisible.

rafe’s across the room with his partners, scotch in hand, tie loose around his neck. they’re all red-faced and slurring, bragging about their wives.

“she just got promoted to senior partner.”

“mine’s running a book club now, gets the whole neighborhood involved.”

“god, i love how bossy she is—she tells me what to do and i listen.”

and rafe just laughs, tight-lipped, swirls the ice in his glass. doesn’t say anything about you. not really.

when they ask, he just says,

“she’s a great mom. gorgeous. keeps the house in order.”

like you’re a job well done. a good return on investment.

he glances toward the bar where the wives are, gold and glitter and loud perfume. but you’re not there. you’re still at the table, slumped in your chair, eyes on your phone, trying not to cry from how swollen your ankles feel.

you catch his stare.

you give him a tired smile.

it doesn’t reach your eyes.

he’s taking you home ten minutes later.

the car is quiet. it always is now.

you look out the window, arms wrapped around your belly like you’re holding yourself together.

he tries. in his own weird, rough-edged way.

“that book club thing john’s wife started—you like those girly books, right? maybe you could join. make some friends.”

you laugh once. bitter. sharp.

“i don’t fit in with them.”

rafe blinks.

you never say things like this.

“they’re older. they went to college. they did something with their lives,” you mutter. “they look at me like i’m just some dumb kid who got knocked up by the first rich guy who paid attention.”

you wipe a tear away before it falls.

“and maybe they’re right.”

rafe shifts in his seat, jaw clenched.

“don’t say that.”

“i didn’t even get the chance to figure out who i am,” you whisper. “i just became yours. that’s all i ever got to be.”

he doesn’t know what to say to that.

because it’s true.

you stare out the window and say, quieter,

“i just miss her. i don’t have anyone… not anymore.”

and he knows you mean your old best friend. the girl you used to laugh with. sneak wine coolers with. dream with.

the rest of the drive is silent.

when you get home, he helps you out of the car without being asked. brushes your hair back. undresses you slowly. kisses your shoulder when he pulls the nightgown over your head.

he holds you longer than usual.

hand on your belly. lips against your spine.

“you’re not just some girl i knocked up,” he murmurs. “you’re my wife.”

you close your eyes.

“because you wouldn’t let me be anything else.”

[gemrambles]

I Did My Time - A.H

summary: you and hotch have always had a close relationship. when hotch officially signs the divorce papers, you're the first person he wants to be with.

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!BAU!reader

warnings: NSFW, 18+ MDNI!, unprotected p in v sex, infidelity vibes??

wc: 2,497

A/N: i've been obsessed with "fresh out the slammer" by taylor swift recently so....

The buzz of laughter filled the bullpen as the team packed up for the night, energized by a rare early wrap on a case. Plans were made, large bar tabs anticipated, and the mood was light - until Hotch emerged from his office with a folder tucked under one arm and something unreadable in his expression. 

The team didn’t press him. They knew that look. When he murmured that he’d catch up later, they gave him space. 

You, of course, missed all of it. 

You’d stepped out briefly - gone to the washroom to freshen up after the jet ride before heading out. When you had returned, the bullpen was nearly empty. You frowned, checking the time on your phone, then turned toward the conference room only to find it empty as well. 

Your gaze shifted up to the second floor. 

Even before you had officially joined the team, there had always been something unspoken between you and Hotch. It wasn’t obvious, not to others. But it was in the way his gaze lingered just a second longer on you in briefings. The way he always made sure you got the quiet seat beside him on the jet. The way your name sounded just a little different when he said it. 

No lines had ever been crossed. Yet there was something. 

Confused, you made your way up the stairs to Hotch’s office. You could see that the lights were still on inside, casting a glow against the walls. You knocked lightly on the doorframe. 

“Hey. Did I miss the memo? Where’d everyone go?”

Hotch looked up from his desk. The folder was still in front of him, now closed, his fingers resting on top of it. 

“They went ahead. Said you’d meet them there.” You quirked a brow and stepped inside, walking up to his desk with a familiar playful grin. One that had gotten you out of more than a few reprimands. “And you? You hiding up here instead of celebrating?” He huffed a faint breath of amusement, eyes lifting to meet yours. There was something softer in them tonight. Tired, but lighter.

“Just finishing something important.” You tilted your head. “Something bad?”

“Final,” he said simply, tapping the folder. “I signed the divorce papers.”

Your expression shifted instantly, smile fading to something gentler. “Aaron….I’m -”

He shook his head. “No condolences. It was overdue. And it feels…finished.”

You hesitated, then slowly and playfully extended your hand toward him, palm open and inviting. “Well. In that case…come have a drink with me.”

He looked at your hand for a long second before his own lifted almost subconsciously, fingers curling around yours. His thumb lightly brushed across your knuckles.

You blinked in surprise at the contact, your heart skipping, but recovered quickly. You gave his hand a little tug. “Come on. Fresh start, right?”

He stood, still holding your hand. His lips curved into a quiet smile. “Yeah. Something like that.”

The bar’s lights glowed golden and low, casting a soft haze over the remaining patrons as the evening wore on. The team did a double take when you and Hotch walked in hand-in-hand, but no one said a word. Not yet. 

He didn’t let go of you all night, always close, always touching in some small, grounding way. 

Hotch glanced down at you, a rare hint of mischief in his eyes. “You ready to go?”

You looked up at him, your gaze filled with warm and admiration. “Only if you’re coming with me.”

He gave a soft chuckle, sliding a hand around your waist. “I’m not letting you out of my sight tonight.”

Outside, the night was cool, the air crisp against your flushed skin. You hailed a cab, his hand finding yours again as you slipped into the backseat together. There was a tension - sweet and charged - settling between you, thicker than anything you’d shared before. 

Hotch’s knee bumped yours gently, his thumb stroking the inside of your palm absently. You turned toward him slightly, eyes searching his face in the quiet dark.

“You doing okay?” you asked, your voice softer now. 

His gaze flicked to you, “I am now.” You leaned in slowly, testing, breath brushing his cheek. “You sure?” you teased, though there was real concern threaded beneath your voice.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, his hand came up to cup your cheek, and he kissed you. Deep and slow. Reverent. As though he’d been waiting years to do it - like the only way to survive now was to start something new, something just for the two of you.

The cab rolled to a stop. He pulled away, breathing a little heavier, eyes locked on yours. 

“Come upstairs with me,” you whispered.

He didn’t hesitate. “Lead the way.”

You unlocked the door with slightly shaky fingers, the weight of Aaron’s presence making every movement feel more deliberate, more aware. His hand rested on your lower back, following you inside. Your apartment was dim and quiet, the door clicking shut behind him. 

Slowly, you turned to face him, toeing off your shoes. “Still feeling like you want to be around me?”

He stepped closing, his hands instinctively finding your hips, his voice was low and certain. You watched as his gaze briefly flicked down to your lips, then back to your eyes. “More than ever.”

You grinned. “I’ve been thinking of this all night,” you whispered, your fingers curling into the lapels of his blazer, pulling him down towards your lips. The kiss wasn’t rushed. It was deliberate. Slow. As though he wanted to memorize every part of you. 

You slightly pulled back, your forehead resting against his. “Is this okay?” you asked, voice breathy. 

“More than okay,” he murmured, his hand sliding up your side to cradle your jaw. “I’ve thought about this,” he began, eyes glazing over your body. “More than I should have.” 

His confession made your heartbeat speed up, your stomach flipping. A shy smile broke out across your face. “Yeah?” you asked, eyes soft. “Have you been dreaming of me?” you teased. 

His eyes darkened slightly. “If only you knew the thoughts I’ve had about you.” 

Your grip on his shoulders tightened as you felt your knees weaken. His voice was deeper than normal. Full of lust. You had never needed anything more than you needed him in this moment. 

He kissed you again, this time with purpose, with something deeper behind it. And when he pulled you toward your bedroom, his fingers intertwined with yours, it was a certainty that neither of you would be letting go anytime soon. 

The bedroom door shut softly behind you, and Hotch turned to you with a look that sent heat curling in your belly. You stepped closer, fingers toying with the first button of his shirt. 

“You gonna let me undress you, Hotchner?” you murmured, teasing, emboldened by the way his eyes darkened.

He raised a brow, tilting his head. “Thought you said you were thinking about this all night. You want me to stop you now?”

Hurriedly, you pushed his jacket off of his shoulders, abandoning it on the floor. “No, sir.”

His breath caught at the title, and a low sound escaped him - half groan, half growl - as his hands rested on your hips and backed you toward your bed.

When your legs hit the mattress, he paused, cupping your face with startling gentleness. “You’re sure about this?”

You nodded, pulling at his tie to bring him closer. 

“Need to hear you say it,” he murmured in your ear. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, Aaron,” you whimpered. “Been sure since the moment I saw you tonight.”

He kissed you then - hungrier than the times before. Clothes were lost in the heat of mouths and hands, slow at first, then hurried, desperate. He laid you down, every touch reverent, worshipful, like he needed to relearn what it felt like to be wanted.

“This what you were thinking about?” he questioned against your skin as he kissed his way down your chest. Down the valley of your breasts. His teeth teasingly grazing your nipple. 

You tangled your fingers in his hair desperately, gasping. “This - and more.”

He looked up at you, lips parted, eyes storm-dark. “Good. Because I’m not stopping until you forget anyone else ever existed.”

A gasp left your lips as his hand pushed your legs open, his body fitting perfectly between. Your hips bucked up towards his in anticipation, your fingers threading themselves into his hair. You could feel all of him. He was hard, ready, and completely focused on you. 

“Aaron,” you whispered, already breathless. 

He groaned against your neck. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

“I think I’m starting to,” you teased, your voice shaking. 

That earned a low, rough, chuckle. His mouth found the edge of your jaw, his stubble scraping just enough to make you shiver. 

“I’ve wanted this, wanted you, for so long,” he said. “Every time you smiled at me in the briefing room, every time you said my name,” 

His voice trailed off, replaced with a groan before his lips reconnected with yours. His hands were all over your body. 

You pulled back just enough to look at him. Seeing his chest rising hard, his hair astray from your fingers, his lips were flushed and parted. You’d never seen him like this. Unrestrained. And it was for, and because of, you. 

You wished you could take a picture to cherish forever.

“Tell me to stop,” he said suddenly, sitting up and away from your body to better look at your face. “If you’re not sure,”

You quickly silenced him with a kiss. “I’m sure. God, I’m so sure, Aaron.”

That was all he needed. 

He slotted his body over yours once again, pinning your wrists to either side of your head. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve thought of you since you first walked into my office to interview,” he muttered against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone. “I used to hate myself for it. You were my escape.”

“And now?” you whispered, arching into him.

“Now you’re mine,” he groaned. 

Hotch’s hands roamed your body like he was rediscovering something precious. Every curve, every sound you made under his touch, he committed to memory. In case this was the last time. His only opportunity. 

You knew it wouldn’t be the last.

His breath was hot against your skin, his voice low and reverent. “It was so hard to stay away from you.”

Your fingers trailed down his bare back, your nails lightly digging into his skin. “Then don’t hold back. Please. I don’t want you to,” you begged. 

That did something to him. His hands tightened at your waist, his grip firm. Possessive. It was as though he had to remind himself that you were real, here, his. 

You felt his fingers at your core. Running through your wetness. Eliciting loud moans from you. His name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“Aaron,” you whimpered.

Hotch stilled for half a second at the sound of his name on your tongue. So soft. So full of trust. So needy. 

“What do you want?” he asked, his eyes locked with yours as you watched him move downwards on your body.

“Need you. Please, Aaron,” you begged. Impatiently, you began pushing his head towards your core, a loud gasp filling the room when you felt his fingers push into you.

It felt like you were dreaming. Years of tension finally breaking open. 

His mouth eagerly met your cunt, his tongue parting your folds. He began slowly. Testing the waters, seeing how your body responded.

His fingers were still pumping you, increasing in speed at the sound of your moans and the involuntary bucks of your hips. 

His other hand reached upwards, resting gently on your lower stomach, stilling your movements.

Soon, his mouth has fallen into a rhythm. Devouring you. As though he was starving, and nothing had ever tasted so sweet. Your hands were tangled in his hair, his name the only coherent thing you can say. 

Your thighs began to shake violently as you felll apart. 

He didn’t stop until you began squirming, slightly pushing him away. 

Hotch sat himself up. His hands rested on your knees, his face covered in your arousal. The back of his hand lifted to wipe his mouth. 

You blushed, unable to meet his gaze. 

His hand gently lifts your chin upwards. Forcing your eyes to lock with his.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, leaning down and kissing you. 

“Need you in me,” you beg. “Please.”

“So polite. Such a good girl.”

A whimper fell from your lips at the name. 

You watch as he began pumping his length. Preparing himself for you. Without a second thought, your hand reaches forward, replacing his with your own. Like a moth drawn to a flame. Low groans fell from his lips when you took over - pumping him slowly from the base of his cock to the tip. 

“You’re so big. Can’t wait for you to fill me up.”

His movements were quick. Gently pushing your hand away, he began guiding himself into your cunt. You felt the tip of his cock entering, his eyes darting to your face to see how you were doing. 

With a nod from you, he began pushing his cock in more, continuing to slowly ease his way in. 

Loud moans echoed throughout the room when he’d completely filled you up. His movements stilled, waiting for your permission before he did anything further. 

“Aaron, please,” you whined. Your hands gripped his biceps, squeezing them gently. 

A smile broke out onto his face. He loved seeing you like this. Completely submissive to him. So needy. Entirely his. 

And then he was moving. A deep roll of his hips drew a gasp from the both of you. Your body arched into him, your mouth parting with a soft moan that only spurred him on. 

His pace quickened. Every thrust was a declaration. I’m here. I choose you. I want you. 

“You feel like home,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours, voice cracking slightly. “God, you feel like home.”

Your heart swelled, eyes fluttering open to meet his. 

The world narrowed to this. To his body moving with yours. To your moans tangled together in the quiet. To his hand slipping into your hair, tangling his fingers in it. Anchoring you to him. 

You came first - your second orgasm of the night stronger than the first. You clutched onto him tightly, burying your face in his neck as a cry of pleasure left you. He followed soon after, breaking apart with a groan so deep and guttural that it made your entire body shiver. 

Hotch collapsed against you, breathing hard, lips brushing your cheek as he whispered, “I’m not letting you go.”

You smiled against his skin, heart full and aching. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

[pb5luvr]

azzi’s savior

a/n: this might be controversial but yall need to chill on shyanne getting waived. people are acting like she’s never gonna be able to play basketball again damn.

3rd POV

it all started with a movie night, a normal occurrence for the uconn women’s basketball team. it was the end of the week and to wind down, the team piled into someone’s dorm, eyes glued to a the tv, passing around popcorn. this week, deciding to spice things up, kk had suggested they’d watch a scary movie.

“yeah! we haven’t watched any scary ones recently!” ice said excitedly.

“i’m down for whatever,” aubrey responded.

azzi, tucked into paige’s side already, frantically looked around the room to see if anyone had another idea. to her dismay, everyone was on board with this whole scary movie idea. paige, sensing her girlfriends discomfort, gently nudged azzi’s shoulder.

“hey,” she said softly making azzi look up at her, “we don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to.”

“i’ll be fine,” azzi shook her head, “it’s just a movie, i know none of it’s real.”

“alright, but if you ever wanna leave, let me know,” paige said, turning her head back to the tv as kk started the movie.

as the movie played, azzi had tried to convince herself that she was fine. even though after every jump scare she tucked her head further into paige’s neck, she was determined not to be a wuss and finish watching the movie. paige, more focused on azzi than the movie, would squeeze azzi just a little tighter everytime she jumped.

eventually, the movie finished and azzi was determined to get out of there as fast as possible. she practically dragged paige out of kk’s dorm as she beelined for her own room. she was already dressed in her pajamas for the night so all she needed to do was brush her teeth and take 17 melatonin gummies to hopefully get her to sleep.

when her and paige finally got comfortable in bed, azzi’s eyes stayed open, scared that if she closed her eyes for even a second, she would open them to some creepy girl standing over her. paige knew her girlfriend was scared. she also knew that azzi was petrified of the dark, so, she offered to sleep with a night light in an attempt to soothe azzi’s fears.

“i’m not five paige,” azzi protested when paige asked if she wanted to sleep with a light on.

“i know, but i want you to actually get some sleep tonight,” paige responded.

“it’s just an embarrassing fear,” azzi said, “i’ll be fine.”

or so she thought.

even with paige’s hand rubbing soothingly up and down her back, arms protectively around her, azzi couldn’t fall asleep for the life of her. suddenly, azzi sat up and reached for the bottle of melatonin gummies that sat on her night stand. clearly the two she had already taken weren’t doing the job.

“woah, slow down partner,” paige said, pushing azzi’s hand away from the container.

“i can’t fall asleep though,” azzi said, getting frustrated with her fear.

paige frowned as azzi went to lay her head back on paige’s chest.

“what can i do to help baby?” paige asked softly.

“i don’t know, tell me about your day or something, hearing your voice makes me feel better,” azzi said.

paige smiled softly before starting to rant about her day. to her—and azzi’s—relief, azzi had drifted off the sleep and knowing that her girlfriend was okay, paige finally fell asleep as well.

it was two am when azzi had woken up from her short slumber. thankfully, she hadn’t had any nightmares, but she really, really had to pee. and she was not about to go alone.

“paige,” she whispered, gently shaking her awake.

paige stirred a little before opening her eyes, just a bit, “what? what’s wrong?” she asked.

“i have to pee and i don’t wanna go alone,” azzi said softly, vulnerable.

paige stretched her arms out and rubbed her eyes before swinging her legs over to edge of the bed to stand. azzi smiled to herself, wondering how she got so lucky that her girlfriend would do anything for her. azzi happily stood up as well before paige reached her hand out and laced their fingers together. just as paige was about to open the door, azzi swore she heard something in the hall.

“wait,” she stopped paige, “did you hear that?”

paige listened for a second, “no? i think you’re just hearing things baby.”

azzi stayed still for a moment before deciding that maybe she was just hearing things and let paige open the door. azzi clutched to paige’s side as paige led them down the hall to the bathroom.

“i swear to god if you’re gone when i come out of this bathroom we’re breaking up,” azzi said firmly.

paige let out a soft laugh, “i would never leave you az.”

when azzi finished, paige laced their fingers together once more before leading azzi back down the hall to her room. out of the corner of her eye, azzi saw something standing and shot her head in that direction before letting out a scream and throwing herself into paige.

turns out, it was just ice.

still, azzi swore she felt her soul leave her body.

“what? what’s wrong?” paige asked confused and oblivious, still instinctively wrapping her arms around azzi.

“oh my god ice you scared the shit out of me!” azzi mumbled loudly, her head still tucked into paige’s neck.

“i scared you?” ice said, her hand on her chest, “you just screamed bloody murder!”

all azzi could do was let out a deep sigh before she lifted her head from paige’s chest.

“can’t a girl just get some water in her own dorm anymore?” ice mumbled as she brushed past paige and azzi.

“you good now?” paige asked, holding back a smile.

azzi shot her a death glare, “yes i’m fine,” she said as she dragged paige back to her room, “let’s go.”

when the two got back to azzi’s room, paige laid on the bed while azzi sat up with her arms crossed. even though paige knew how bad azzi’s fear of the dark was, she still found azzi’s reaction just a little funny.

“it’s not funny,” azzi said as she turned to face away from paige.

“c’mon you have to admit it was a little-” paige started before azzi cut her off.

“no it wasn’t paige,” azzi shot back, “now don’t tell me it was funny again or else i’ll start crying, seriously.”

“okay, okay,” paige said as she grabbed azzi’s wrist, “not funny, i’m sorry angel.”

“you better be,” azzi mumbled as she reluctantly laid her head back on paige’s chest. even though she was pissed off at her, there’s was no way in hell she would be able to fall asleep without paige by her side.

before azzi got comfy again, she reached out for the container of the melatonin. again.

“azzi,” paige started.

“please?” azzi pouted at her, “just one more. i’m definitely not going to be able to fall asleep naturally after that.”

paige was silent before she finally gave in, “fine, one more.”

azzi happily grabbed one out of the container and popped it in her mouth before laying her head back down on paige’s chest. even though she had paige, her real savior of tonight was that damn container of melatonin.

[betsj]

gear5!luffy x crewmember!femreader

warnings: mdni 18+, cream pie, new crew member, doggy style, luffy is rough, raw

notes: this was a request—the reader will be short with curly hair! this is also after the fight with kaido. please don’t judge for the bad luffy writing

it was such a joy, watching your now captain float above everybody. where he was supposed to be. though it’s hard to believe that this white, fluffy haired God is your captain!

recently being recruited from Whole Cake, you’ve come to learn that the straw hats are probably the most free and strongest people in the new world. every day since then, you’ve prayed with gratefulness.

luffy from above looked down, scanning the ground… his animated eyes looking at you. that curly hair he found so intriguing was tussled, kimono was ripped up from fighting and pink cheeks from admiring him so much. then without a thought, he swooped down and took you in a flash, leaving everybody confused.

even you were shocked, your captain—God man?—took you somewhere in this rundown, broken place. a room with a closed door and a mat that was only in the middle. now, all you knew is that he shined bright and when i say bright, i mean it. covering your eyes with the back of your hand, mumbling “too bright.” the God laughed loudly and wrapped his arms under your legs.

pulling you close to him, you gasp and without protest he started sliding your kimono down your legs. “luffy!” trying to stop him from embarrassment was futile, it was already bunched up at the hip and exposing your panties. luffy ooed, drool coming out of his mouth, almost bouncing around.

he was so… animated? just talking nonsense!

“can’t wait to have ya wrapped around me.” he said it with a proudness that made the pool in your panties more heavy. shaking your head and before you could say anything he rubbed his tip against your clit. up and down in a slow motion.

shaking your head, “luffy no!” blushing and turning around, trying to crawl away on the mat but with brute force he gripped those hips and pulled them until they were flush against his hard dick. he laughed loudly, “your practically leaking all over!” blushing and looking back at him, gasping as soon as he guided his dick to enter you.

no prep, just straight raw-dogging.

yelling out, arching your back as luffy laughed and started a fast pace. “so much energy, could fuck you forever!”

if someone told you two minutes ago that you would be getting wrecked by a God you would’ve laughed in their face.

but yet, here you are. face down, ass up while luffy used that God-like power to abuse your cervix. gasping and looking back, “are you growing?!” he laughed as his dick grew inside of you, opening you wide. slapping your butt playfully and saying, “can’t help it! you’re so tight!” his body was still the same. leaning over you and thrusting hard, hard to the point tears started to fall down your cheeks. he laughed and his eyes widened as he felt you tighten around him.

as he came inside you, it began to drip down your thighs. luffy’s jaw dropped all the way down to your ass.

you wished he would stop yelling but you stopped thinking when he grabbed your curly hair, yanking you up and picking you up by the back of your knees like you weighed nothing. mumbling, “im going to fill you up.” that was the most quietest thing he’s said all night! tears fell down your face as he continued his speed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

this happened until everybody was done partying, sleeping after drinking so much.

it was later when you were laying down on the mat. cum leaking out of you… laying on your side, it dripped out of your gaping hole. luffy was now back as his normal self. though he was exhausted he stood tall.

slowly, he laid down next to you, huffing “oh man!” his raspy voice made you come back to your senses. turning your head slowly, luffy looked at you and smiled, pulling your smaller body against him…

“you’re leaking, jesus, did i hurt you?!” shaking your head with pink cheeks. “just stop yelling in my ear, please…” he rolled his lips, cheeks turning red from how cute you looked. the post-sex look was definitely your look.

y’all snuggled up until the crew came to look for both of y’all.

uhhhh this is so rushed😕

[81pastrys]

Favorites

Summary— Juliette starts disliking her favorite things and Charles figures out why

Warnings— bullying? ; upset toddler

A/N— I’m back for now 👀

Dad Charles List

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

Request— Can u do a Charles dad to a toddler mabye she has a favourite food and one day she just says she doesn’t like its anymore mabye somebody at a her playgroup said something

It was hard to find things Juliette liked, the picky girl refusing nearly everything and anything offered to her. So when Charles found anything she liked he would buy a whole lot of it. Snacks, juices, ingredients to food he could make that she liked.

It was a relief when he found something she liked, considering it a parenting win. Now, she was in a daycare and Charles knew other little kids were not the same. Juliette was 3 and that age can be explorative in emotions or eliciting emotions from others.

Charles would pack the same lunch and snack for her everyday. Comfort foods and familiarity. Usually the lunch box would come back empty and the snack would be gone, sometimes unfinished but depleted.

Around the middle of the year, Charles begins noticing that the lunchbox and snack come home seemingly untouched. He looks to his little girl playing in the living room with her toys and sighs.

The next day he decides to fill it with different comfort foods of hers. Thinking that maybe she didn’t want the same thing everyday. Sure enough the lunchbox and snack were gone. He started mixing up what she would get for lunch or snack and she would return happily now.

Her food wasn’t the only thing he noticed a change in. She also was picky with certain clothes and wore certain outfits, repeating them often. She started fighting him in the morning when getting dressed if she had already wore the outfit that week- not caring that it had been washed and clean.

“Non papa!” She screamed. She was angry, her arms crossed while she stood in her pajamas. “I wore that Monday!” She told him. He was utterly confused.

“Oui, but it’s your favorite dress?” He said. She huffed and stomped a foot in protest. He sighed and picked a different dress she liked- and hadn’t worn that week. He didn’t have time to argue with her at the moment. Her hair was also an issue according to her mum, but Charles didn’t reflect that towards the same issue.

After her recent school day Juliette seemed upset. Charles was driving home and she sat in her car seat, looking out the window with a slight pout. He sighed and made it home. He unbuckled her and she stomped her way inside.

He followed with her bag and lunchbox. She preoccupied herself with toys while he went through his own emotions- she hadn’t eaten her lunch. He sat on the couch by her and she gave him a look.

“Juliette.” He said giving her a stern look, he only did that when she was in trouble or not expressing feelings like she should. Her lip quivered and tears formed in her eyes. He pulled her to his lap and she clung to him. “Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?” (What’s wrong?) she sobbed harder in his hold.

He rocked her for little, she obviously didn’t know how to communicate why she was upset. He sat with her until she calmed down and looked up at him. His heart broke then and there. Her face was bright red and tear stained.

“Can you tell papa what’s bothering you?” He asked. She sniffled and crawled off his lap. He was confused, where is she going? She walked to the counter and grabbed her lunchbox. She gave it to him. “Are you hungry?” He asked.

While she was in fact hungry that was not what she meant. She shook her head and he gave her a confused look. He opened the lunchbox and she stared at the food. “Weird food.” She said. Charles looked even more confused.

“Weird food? Who said that?” He asked. She slumped and sat on the floor in front of him. He closed the lunchbox and picked her up into his lap again. “Mon cœur, I pack what you eat.”

“Mes amis disent que c'est bizarre.” (My friends say it’s weird) She said quietly. “My clothes too.” She added. “And my hair.”

“Mon bébé, don’t listen to them. You like these things, there’s nothing wrong with that.” He assured her. “The food you eat is not weird, it’s what you like.” She nodded her head, taking in what he was saying.

Charles made it a point to remind her everyday before school that she was unique in her own way and that she was perfect. He would compliment her hair, her outfit, and he would ask her what she wanted for lunch. It worked, she was happy again in no time. Back to her usual bubbly self.

Dad Charles for you all 🫶🏻

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @itznotsophia @pandabiiissh @kallanfiona @chertik-007vvv

[hhoneylemon]

not a complete asshole

mohawk mark x amab!reader

content: porn without plot, anal (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), bratty mark, switch vibes with the both of them, reader calls mark ‘whore’, mark calls reader ‘fag’ and ‘babe’, mark has a fixation on reader’s ass, mark is a biter

this is loosely based off of bark like you want it by sir mix-a-lot

“that the best you can do? i—ahh… thought you were supposed to be good at this.”

your eyebrows furrow and you pull away from his dick, a popping noise resonating as you disconnect. a small trail of spit trails from your swollen lips to his pink tip. he grunts at the loss of touch.

“hey, hey, what was that for?”

he almost pouts, which is ironic given who he is. you simply sneer, standing and sitting beside him. confusion and panic flashes across his face, though he tries to mask it.

“if you want better, go find better, whore.”

a little growl escapes him, fingers tightly clenching the bedsheets. his brows furrow and a low sigh escapes him.

“babe, c’mon. i didn’t mean it.”

you roll your eyes. his hand reaches for your thigh, gently squeezing.

“babe, please—“

“you better get to your knees and bark like you want it.”

mark’s eyebrows raise and his lips purse for a moment. he debates in his head for a moment before rolling his eyes and sliding to his knees on the floor. his fingers gently massage into your thighs, contradicting his behavior.

“i’m not barking for shit. just—c’mon, baby. if i suck you off, can i fuck you good?”

you hum in thought, fingers reaching for his mohawk. you slowly card your hand through his hair, causing him to shudder and place his head on your knee. his hands trail further up, stopping at the flesh of your thighs surrounding where your dick lies. a gentle sigh.

“sounds good to me. have fun.”

his hands quickly move, cradling your dick. his thumbs rub at the sides while his head moves forward, tongue experimentally licking your tip. your breath hitches as your thighs clench. mark gets to work.

he honestly gives bad blowjobs. he slobbers over it like a dog, funnily enough. he doesn’t hit any of the right spots. you only let him go on because his tongue massages your tip and his fingers jerk your base—and don’t get started on he himself. he’s humping your leg, little groans of his own vibrating against your dick. you grunt, pushing his head down on his dick to reach the back of his throat.

the moment he gags, you pull out completely. he pants, hips stilling as he looks up at you. his lips are red and swollen, eyes bugging from the recent intrusion of his throat. he gives you that one smirk of his, like he knows something you don’t.

“doggy?”

you sigh before clambering onto the bed, falling to your hands and knees. the bed creaks behind you as he climbs on, hands automatically finding your ass. he gives a squeeze, them another to the other cheek. he lands a small smack.

“get on with it, whore.”

he narrows his eyes at your back before spitting into his hands. he moves to jerk himself, lubing up. his other hand works at your hole, thrusting his fingers in and out. he scissors to stretch, the burn almost addictive.

“hold on for me, babe.”

his tip pokes at your ass and your breath hitches. at least he was sweet right now; he wasn’t a complete asshole. you let our a breathy sound as he slowly sinks into you. when he bottoms out, his chest finds your back, his hands resting on your hips for a moment. 

“feeling alright?”

“yah.”

mark gives a slowly pulls out before giving a shallow thrust to test the waters. you wiggle back against him and he decides that’s enough of that.

he’s not… brutal. more like passionate. each thrust brings a harsh sound of skin against skin sounding through the bedroom. your shoulders are littered with bite marks and hickeys that he left in his wake, lips currently trailing across your upper back.

you’ve already came once, your fave buried in the sheets as mark pounds into you from behind. he grunts against your shoulder, hands tightly squeezing your hips. a slow and deep groan escapes him.

“fffuck, babe. you feel so good.”

you pant against the sheets, sweat coating your body and making you glisten and wet. mark’s not in a much different state, sweat collecting at his temples.

a deep thrust draws you back, your back arching. your thoughts have been wandering, mind getting fuzzy. he keeps hitting that delicious spot deep inside of you. your cock is all tender, trapped between your stomach and the bed.

your stomach’s getting all tight again, causing your hole to clench around mark. he groans, lips sucking against the back of your neck. his fingernails dig into your hips, though he loosens his hold at the small pained noise you make.

“already cumming again, fag? am i making you feel that good?”

“yes—”

you barely get the word out, back arching as he hits your prostate. you think that your eyes cross as he hits it again, your cock throbbing dangerously. mark quickens his pace, pounding back into you until you think you hear him murmur something about being close in between moans.

you don’t really care, not when you thing you’re about to combust. you try holding on, but tour cock is impatient. you bite down on the bedsheets, eyes squeezing shut as your cock begins shooting ropes of your seed onto the sheets. mark almost whimpers at how your hole clenches around him before he cums inside of you.

he slowly pulls out after he fucks himself out of his high, laying beside you. he would love to go for more, but he can tell you’re tuckered out.

his hand finds your hip, pulling you closer to him. soon, your cuddling on his side, to avoid the cum that coats yours. his hand finds your ass and gives it a squeeze, earning him an annoyed grunt.

“sorry, it was calling my name.”

“shut the hell up.”

he grins to himself as your face tucks into his shoulder. he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. maybe he wasn’t a complete asshole.

masterlist

[softsuo]

unexpected fists ⊱ sakura haruka

⊱ sakura may condone violence, unless it's you.

⊱ w.c: 1.0k

⊱ genre: fluff, mild angst

⊱ warnings: depictions/mentions of violence

⊱ a/n: wanted to delete this at first, but then i watched this week's episode, broke down, and decided to post it anyway

the roles are so reversed, it’s almost terrifying.

it’s sloppy work — sakura isn’t used to being the one who patches others up, after all — but he tries his best and you let him do so. you don’t have the right to protest anyway, or at least that’s what his scowl tells you as he puts one last band-aid on your face.

“so?” you almost grimace at the tone of his voice. you can make out sakura crossing his arms over his chest from the corner of your eyes, though you know better than to lock them with his surely bitter ones.

more often than not, or actually always, you’re the one scolding sakura whenever he gets hurt. yet, here you are, in the safety of café pothos, slumped in one of the seats as he towers over you with evident fury. to be fair, it’s not directed at you, but you’re guilty in the sense of being its cause.

“i… didn’t mean to get in a fight, i swear,” you mumble, awkwardly curling and uncurling the hands in your lap—bruised from the recent events, sweaty from the current event. will he still be mad after hearing that?

“so why did you get in a fight anyway?” he retorts flatly. yeah, he’s still mad. 

“sakura, i’m sure y/n is telling the truth, please don’t be so harsh o—” you hear nirei stumble a bit further away, but he’s interrupted by kotoha placing a hand on his shoulder. in fact, she’s quick to usher both him and suo, as well as herself, out of the café.

left alone, sakura lets out a deep breath, one almost bordering on a groan. “you’re lucky we just happened to be walking around the area.” while collecting the first aid kit kotoha had offered, he goes on: “you’re not even into violence, how did you single-handedly get involved with a whole group?”

“...”

“hey.”

in complete surrender, you groan. “i tried to ignore them but they approached me first! then they kept insulting me which— okay, maybe pissed me off a little… i swear i didn’t start it though! but then they charged at me and for the love of god i obviously had to at least defend myself but then they kept calling me names like ‘freak’ and ‘loser' and what not and—...”

your rant suddenly trails off into silence, and while still displeased, sakura raises an eyebrow, clearly waiting for you to continue. “and? i know stuff like that means jackshit to you.”

he’s got a point, honestly. you know just fine he does, so despite your face growing a bit warmer, you surrender yet again.

“but then again, it kinda fits, doesn’t it?” the mocking words ring in your ears as a hand pulls you up by your hair. it makes you wince, and even more so when — courtesy of pure disgust — the leader closes in to your ear. “only a freak would date another freak after all.”

you’re sure you’ll come to regret it at a later point but at that very moment, your patience runs thin a bit too easily. a crack finds the composed nature you like to otherwise pride yourself in and, without really thinking twice, you’re tossing your head backwards, knocking it into his face.

the shock and impact frees you from his grip, your arm swings into the air and next thing you know…

“i kinda punched him,” you confess, rather embarrassed upon admitting what had caused the switch-up. “and some of the others.”

it becomes quiet, so quiet, and for so long, you can’t help but curiously glance up; much to your surprise, you find sakura to be the one looking away this time, a tint of pink dusting his cheeks.

“y-you don’t have to care about what others think of me,” he sheepishly mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “although it does kinda make me…”

“make you? make you, what?”

a rather stressed expression is quick to find his face, the hand on his neck flying up to ruffle his hair in frustration. “nothing, it doesn’t matter! just… i really don’t care so just ignore it.”

“but—”

“no buts. one of us getting their hands dirty like that is already enough. you don’t have to get into all that fighting too. call next time instead."

sakura sends you a glare as soon as you open your mouth to try and argue back. not the threatening kind he shows others, but the kind that still lets you know he’s being serious. so, chewing on the inside of your cheek, you opt to simply look down at your lap. moments of silence pass, until it’s suddenly broken by a deep, deep sigh.

before you can process it, sakura is already leaning down, resting his forehead on your shoulders. as he speaks, his voice comes out in nothing but a weak, quiet mumble: “i can’t just sit back and watch you get hurt.”

the vulnerability he radiates fills the shop more than any amount of customers ever could; something he’d never as much as think of showing others, not even to the friends patiently waiting outside. his words sound almost like they’d torn themselves from his throat, faintly laced by a sense of concern—one so deep, it makes you fear that maybe, just maybe, he probably wouldn’t be able to live with himself if any of this were to happen once more.

“okay. alright, i won’t do it again,” you eventually declare, as softly as the way you run your fingers through the strands of his hair. “i promise i’ll call you next time it happens.”

you feel him nod, barely, a silent ‘okay’ escaping him. the vulnerability in the room is soon replaced by a comforting silence, and you’re equally hit by the relief that everything is finally okay—save from the bruises that are yet to heal.

“i have to say though, i’m impressed you got that many punches in.”

“make up your mind already, do you want me to fight or not?”

[applejusue]

Can I request a reader elille fic where reader is struggling mentally like she has bills to pay and is broke and just feels like she is failing at everything she trys but Ellie is there to reassure her and be her rock because that's how I'm feeling right now and I need heart warming fluff and comfort I feel broken

I'm sorry to hear that honey. I definitely understand I'm going through a similar patch right now. In fact, I actually based the later half of this scenario on what happened to me last week so please don't feel alone. -`♡´-

Toothache ──  Ellie Williams ౨ৎ˚₊

tldr; money has been tight lately c/w: angst, comfort, fluffy w/c: 1.3k

Getting paid didn't even feel like a relief anymore, not when it barely managed to settle into your account before your bills ate away like termites. You felt drained, from the long hours and the fact that you could barely hold down this apartment, let alone afford groceries. You didn't want much, just some sort of security and cereal that wasn't from the clearance section.

You'd only started seeing Ellie recently, it didn't feel right to talk to her about it. She still bunked with Joel, trying to save up her cash. She worked on and off on farms, construction sites, and anywhere that would hand her some notes for a few hours of labour. Ellie just seemed so.. casual about it. You supposed if you had somewhere to stay, to be without constantly watching your balance then maybe you'd be casual too. But you knew you weren't being fair, her life wasn't all sunshine either.

Even if you didn't think Ellie noticed the way you hesitated when you two were at the mall or when she suggested going for ice cream, she did. It's why she always made some bullshit excuse to get up and use the bathroom while you were at a diner so she could pay the waitress under the counter before you even had a chance to try and argue with her about splitting the cheque. It's why Ellie insisted on going with you to the grocery store even though in your mind that was the most boring quest in the world, somehow convincing you that it made sense for her to chip in because:

"Well, I crash at your place every other night so these are basically my groceries too.."

Ellie never wanted to make you feel like you weren't independent, she knew damn well that you could handle yourself. The thing was though, she also wanted to handle you. She wanted to take care of you, but she was also afraid of overstepping that line and making you feel ashamed. Ellie could see how irritable you were lately, not at her but in general. You were lost in thought, staring at labels too long to ultimately just put them back on the shelf. It broke her damn heart.

You were currently trudging up the stairs to your place, your heart felt like it was beating inside of your head. You'd just been to the dentist, a 'check-up' on your perfectly fine teeth, that should've merely cost you 25$ to cover the consultation. When the receptionist gave you the bill you could barely even process it, let alone find it in you to pay it. 140 dollars. For what? A bunch of extra shit the kind lady had done to your mouth without feeling the need to mention that oh yes, this will cost you more.

You were annoyed at her, annoyed at yourself for being so stupid, annoyed at the fact that you even paid the f-

"Hey, baby.. how'd it go?"

Ellie greeted you when you pushed open the door with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. Her eyes were warm, they always were when she looked at you. Her freckled face had a smile, though it faded when she noticed how red your face was, and how tightly you were holding your phone. Her words were so simple, and you could think of a million answers. I got scammed. That fucking bitch overcharged me. I don't know if I can afford rent this month.

But none of that left your lips. Instead that simple, 'how'd it go?', was what made it all gush out like sand. Ellie stood abruptly as she watched the tears start to spill down your cheeks, inwardly awkward that she'd read this situation wrong. She wasn't the best at talking to people, let alone comforting someone but when it came to you she tried her damn hardest.

"Shit.. baby, don't tell me she pulled out one of your pretty teeth.."

Ellie took your face into her hands, her thumbs pressing open your lips in an attempt to lighten your mood just a little. She also used it as an excuse to rub those tears from your cheeks, her dark eyes furrowed in concern. You learned early on that Ellie didn't make jokes or try and be funny when you were upset to downplay what you were feeling, but because she couldn't bear to see you cry.

She pulled you in close to her chest, your face immediately pressing into the soft fabric of her hoodie. Ellie always smelled like cheap cologne and a hint of sweat that was so distinctly her you could often smell it in your dreams. Her hand moved into your hair, trailing down your scalp as her fingers twitched anxiously.

"They all seem to be intact.. so what's the matter babygirl?"

Her voice was a hushed, more serious whisper now against your head as she pressed a gentle kiss against your crown. Your sobs were still coming heavy, you were just so angry, so stressed all the damn time. It took a few moments of just being swayed by the taller girl until you could finally choke out a response.

"I just can't-.. can't afford it, any of it.."

Your tears stained the grey material against her chest, your arms tightening around her long waist as your brows furrowed in a mixture of sadness and frustration.

"Can't even go to the damn dentist without losing half of my paycheck.."

You huffed, your irritation softening just slightly. You'd kept this packed up so tight for so long. It felt good to tell her. It just made Ellie want to hold you closer. She guided you to the sofa and onto her lap, cradling you against her chest. It made her feel calmer too, to be holding on when you were upset. She couldn't stand that someone would take advantage of you like that.

"I know it's tough.. you're too damn pretty to be working so much.."

Her voice was soft, almost a little frustrated herself. She hated seeing you like this, stuck in a shitty job that barely paid you. Things weren't cheap these days either, if you don't got a trust fund in this economy you're shot in the foot before you can even learn to walk. You had calmed down a little, her attempts at lightening your mood taking the edge off your pain though only slightly.

"Baby, you know I'll always take care of you.. You've always got a place with me if things get tough.."

She muttered against your hair, her cold hands rubbing up and down your arm to soothe you as best she could manage. It didn't matter what Ellie had, she'd share it with you always. Whether that be her twin-sized mattress in Joel's place, her clothes, hell she'd even give you her piggy bank if it made a damn difference.

"We're gonna get through it.. together, it isn't gonna stay like this.."

Her soft voice was doing wonders, even if you knew there were still bills to pay and deadlines you'd need to meet. Ellie made you feel like the world wasn't going to end tomorrow, or the day after. For the first time in a while you felt like you could breathe, atleast for now. You nuzzled into her chest with a soft sigh, slowly looking up at her with a timid smile.

"Do my teeth atleast look good?"

Your murmured half-heartedly, a soft huff leaving your lips.

"They're beautiful.."

Ellie chuckled softly, taking your jaw with her hand and looking over your smile. She then leaned down, kissing your lips gently as her hand trailed to your hair, letting you rest closer to her. Between breaths, she murmured:

"I'll get you that refund tomorrow even if it takes getting kicked out of a damn dental clinic.."

a/n: Thanks for reading honey, If you've gotten this far feel free to give a request or check out my other works! Reblogs are greatly appreciated too  🍎 

[jinuaei]

What if instead of famous!reader we got famous!Tarn who is in a band (after the war the djd had to pay the bills somehow) and meets reader again by chance (sound technician? Roadie? Friend of a fan that brought them to a concert?) and he starts writing this heart wrenching love songs full of yearning.

"Here's a power ballad about guts and blood spilled for the glory of a higher cause. And here's five minutes of me basically going PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-"

Yes!!! Singer Tarn! His voice is so deep it rattles the insides of everybot/human that hears it. His passion for music is evident in every concert and every song he sings, and that rough demeanor (though traumatizing to some) is a big hit for every audience but you will find that he's more popular with the ladies.

And you, his newest manager is his most recent muse. After his old manager pissed him off, he had Kaon find a new one, and by Primus, Kaon chose well. Gone are the days where he sings in support for Decepticons, now all he can write and sing about are love songs.

It's an instant hit! Fans swoon when they hear his voice yearning for his beloved, some supportive of his love, while some are jealous. But the very being that became the center of every music he creates is oblivious to his affection.

Who can blame you? You are too busy to properly relax and listen to Tarn's music. Yes, you are a fan but his popularity and current tour means you have to prepare a lot of things, you don’t really have enough time to listen properly unless you are there during the recordings.

Speaking of recordings, even that is not safe from his longing gazes, he’s often found staring at you as he sings songs of love. It becomes slightly awkward when the sound engineer asks him to start over again because he accidentally used his outlier ability and fucked up the whole set up while he’s too busy lovingly looking at you. The sound engineer squeaks in fear when Tarn only responds with a glare.

(Sound Technician also sounds good ngl because imagine the reader getting pissy at Tarn because he destroyed your equipment for the 4th time that month while he’s blowing kisses and sending EM fields of obsessive love. It’s him who has to pay for it but it’s delaying the concert so much and ughhhhh your shit broke again)

And there’s a scenario for a concert that I conjured up and rewrote because the original one was too wordy? Fancy? You know that type of writing I do when I write it too seriously and the fic becomes good but also theatrical? Wanted this one to be more light hearted but I will post the original one after I make it coherent enough.

It’s the day of the concert and you are stressed out of your mind, but somehow you guys pulled through and the DJD are now on stage performing their hit songs. However, one of the sound crew fucked up something because one moment Tarn hears the familiar sound of the metronome on his earpiece and the next, he hears your voice, screaming words of encouragement and singing along with him.

He freezes, not prepared to hear you praise him, but it only lasts a moment before he continues, now energized and spark warm. He is used to hearing you always stressed out and hearing you enjoying yourself is such a treat to him, he hopes that the sound crew doesn’t notice their mistake and keep you on the line.

Luckily for Tarn, they did not catch it and he got to listen to you sing your heart out alongside him, which by the way — is so beautiful to him. Like a siren luring men to their death, it makes him want to run to you and beg you to sing for him. (mhhh phantom of the opera Tarn)

He can still hear you in his earpiece even when they are near the end of the concert where they are thanking people. It was going so well, so swimmingly well until he heard a phrase roll through his audials. That damned phrase that triggered his outlier ability.

‘That’s my Tarn!’

…

My Tarn…

Your Tarn?

YOUR TARN???

Suddenly all lights and sound cease, and the fans gasp in shock and panic as they are bathed in darkness. One of the DJD, probably Kaon, reassures the crowd, asking them to calm down, but Tarn is oblivious to it. The phrase keeps echoing through his processor, and his fans whirs on dumbly looking at the panicking crowd. He manages to snap out of it when he realized he couldn’t hear you anymore, and he himself panics. 

He abandons his post and rushes backstage, trying to find you in the swarm of stressed out crewmates. He grabbed you as soon as he saw you, swiftly guiding you to his makeup room. The large mech asks you to sit down and once you do he begs you to call him your Tarn again. 

“PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE—!”

“PAUSE!!!!! We need to get you back on stage!” You scold him, trying to stand back up but you are once again forced back down when he laid his helm on your lap.

He continues muttering his request, wrapping his arms around your legs. Unbeknownst to him, the power managed to turn on again and the fans can actually hear him beg for you to call him yours again because this love sick singer forgot to remove his mic when he left the stage. However, you were not as engrossed in your delusion so you can hear his voice echo through the whole stadium, you can already feel the headache that this will cause you and his PR team.

You shut yourself up, trying not to expose your voice to the public before removing the mic attached to his helm and throwing it away where it hopefully does not catch your voice. Since he is still insistent and you cannot simply push this whole aft mountain from your lap, you chose to indulge in his request.

Tarn is so lucky to have that outlier ability because if his ability didn’t trigger and shut down the stadium again the moment you said it, he would have to explain so much about that choked moan that came out from his intake. 

You, however, are not as lucky as you almost slipped and fell from his fluids on the floor, he managed to catch you but he had the audacity to look ashamed when some of that spilt transfluid actually clung to your legs.

This went completely the other way and I am sorry

[myfictionaldreams]

⁀➷ All Roads Lead to You // Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: Before the apocalypse and angel wars, there were just two Winchesters, a car, and a girl they couldn’t quite shake. Dean’s always been good at pushing people away—especially her. But when a fight goes too far and she ends up bleeding in a vampire nest, everything he’s buried finally comes to light.

Requested by: lovely anon (months ago!), im so sorry it's taken me a ridiculous amount of time to write but I hope you love it. I've never written SPN before so I hope it's ok.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, mutual pining, second chance, brief mention of injuries, shower sex, oral, protective!Dean, hurt/comfort, violence

Words: 2.6k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

It was supposed to be a simple hunt.

Just another dusty town blurring by. Another half-abandoned, uncomfortable motel room that reeked of sweat, mildew and smoke. Another endless lead on a small vampire nest that Sam had picked up on whilst searching through missing persons reports. Simple. Clean. In and out and on the road again.

Except this time it would not be that easy.

You could feel the tension in the Impala long before the fight actually began. Dean’s grip on the steering wheel was tight enough that his knuckles were white, jaw locked, and eyes fixed ahead. In the passenger seat, Sam glanced at you in the rearview with a smirk.

“You two gonna keep glaring at each other all day, or should I roll down the windows and let the sexual tension air out?” Sam quips, always ready to make the situation as awkward as possible.

Scoffing from the backseat, you turned and faced out of the window, watching the terrain pass as Dean’s foot pressed heavily onto the gas, whilst muttering something under his breath.

Whatever it was was loud enough that Sam heard as his shoulders shook with a chuckle, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Ignoring them both was easy, but your thumping heart gave your true feelings away because Sam Winchester wasn’t wrong. The tension between you and Dean had been suffocating lately, charred and crackling. Every glance turned into a lingering stare. Every touch turned into something held just for a second too long. Every single argument ended with the kind of silence that buzzed louder than yelling ever could.

This all stemmed from your history with the older brother. It was never such a relationship; Dean Winchester would never be tied down to just one woman. But on the road, it was easy to seek comfort in the one person whom you trusted more than anyone in the world. Even before Sam joined the two of you on the road, it was always just you and Dean.

Long nights, shared beds, intimacy and touches that burned to your mind forever. Then the moment anything seemed too real, he pushed you out and away. And still, here you were. Hunting together, fighting together, burning slowly into an endless pit of despair.

You were fine being kept at arm's length and watching him from a distance with different motel rooms and early nights. However, recently, he has been hovering.

It started with how he barked orders in the middle of hunts, like it was your first day. Then he’d grab your arm too tightly when the danger was near. Then the look s- those damn looks that you often dreamed about.

After your most recent hunt, you couldn’t sit back and take it anymore and confronted him, with blood still on your hands and torn clothes still hanging onto your back.

“You don’t have to babysit me”, you snapped.

“I’m not babysitting you, I’m trying to keep you alive”, he answers back with as much determination, throwing his gun onto the motel bed.

“I’ve been alive just fine without your micromanaging”.

Sam broke the awkward silence with an exaggerated sigh. “Jesus. I should’ve brought popcorn”.

Dean responded with a swift middle finger in the direction of his brother while still trying to ignore your eye contact and organise the weapons.

" If you don’t trust me to hold my own, maybe I shouldn’t be here,” you say, stepping closer to him, trying to gain his full attention.

Your words finally snap him away from the bag on the bed as his furious gaze meets yours.

Dean moved closer, voice low but sharp. “Don’t twist this. It’s not about trust.”

Feeling defeated after yet another argument, your voice is more tentative, rushed out under your breath. “Then what is it?”

Dean’s green eyes scanned your face, like he didn’t know how to say what he was thinking. Like the world rested on his story, he walked around your body in a single step instead of answering and moved into the bathroom.

~~~~~

Two nights later, you took down two vamps. Two heads rolling on the floor, quick kills. But you got caught by a splinter. Just a scratch across your ribs, hardly noticeable. But Dean saw because he always noticed everything when it came to you. With one look at the blood, he lost it.

“You should’ve waited, " he said, pacing like a caged animal in the motel parking lot, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.

“I had it all handled, just like you would have if you got there first, but no, you went left whilst I went right. Lucky hunch, I guess,” you respond while stripping your jacket and throwing it into the back seat of the Impala.

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point, Dean?”

“You're going in alone. Where’s the backup literally two corridors away? That’s the point! That’s dangerous and reckless!”

“No,” you rush out whilst stepping up to him, your chest brushing against his. The contact has both of you freezing. That electricity sparked again, even with just clothes touching. “The point is that you can’t handle not being in control. You can’t stand the idea of me doing fine without you.”

Sam, as much as he loves to tease, found this the perfect time to shuffle to the motel room for a shower awkwardly.

The sharpness of Dean’s jaw tightened as he continued to look at you. “This isn’t about control, and you know it.”

“Then stop acting like I'm some rookie. I’ve been with you for years, Dean. You and John, even before Sammy joined up. You know what this feels like? It feels like you don’t trust me to survive, like I’m not good at my job.”

“That’s not it”, he growls, voice low and pain etched in his eyes.

“Then WHAT IS IT?” you shout, not caring for the audience of people subtly moving aside their curtains from their motel rooms.

“It’s because I wouldn’t survive without you, is that easy enough for you to understand?!” You stop, stepping back at his declaration. Running a hand down his face, he continues in a much milder and defeated tone. “Every time you walk into danger, I feel like I’m gonna lose my goddamn mind.”

“What do you want me to do, then, Dean? You can’t expect me to quit my job and sit on the sidelines. Do you think it would be any easier for me to sit back and let you and Sam run into danger and wait to know if you will even come back? I can’t do that”.

Dean doesn’t answer because he never answers when you know. You know, if the conversation continued, it would be teetering on the edge of admitting something he has been trying to keep hidden for so long.

Instead of answers, forgiveness or any sort of settling on feelings. Dean does what he always does and turns his back on you, pretending to continue sorting through the Impala trunk.

So, you left without much thought about your lack of a jacket or weapon on your person. Turning on the spot and away from the motel without a glance over your shoulder.

No car. No plan. A phone with hardly any battery in your back pocket and a firestorm of rage in your chest. Wandering around the town in the middle of the night was probably not your best decision, but here you were, and there was still too much upset, ready to burst from your internal dam, for you to return to the motel just yet.

As you stepped into the dive bar, a flickering neon sign called to your miserable soul. You drank, allowing yourself time to breathe and let the burning of the alcohol soothe your pain.

For a moment, you could pretend that Dean Winchester wasn’t the reason your pulse had been out of rhythm since day one, for the reason that your hunter mindset had momentarily slipped.

Because the vampire came fast as you stepped into the bathroom, there wasn’t even a second to attempt to fight before darkness welcomed you.

Waking up in a dark basement had to be one of the most embarrassing ways for a hunter to wake up. It even warmed the apple of your cheeks with having let your guard down for one damn minute, is a girl not allowed to have a drink anymore without there being some sort of danger? Of course not.

Ribs aching more than ever, specifically along the line of that scratch from earlier in the day. Your wrists were chained to the floor, leaving you slumped in a heap on the cold, wet floor.

Instead of trying to move, you listened to your surroundings. Water dripping, music thumping in the background, and two vampires arguing about what to do with you.

As they argued, you could do what you’d trained most of your life to do. With slow movements, you could slip the hair clip from your pocket and one of the cuffs from your wrist, giving you more movement for when one of the vampires finally approached you.

The moment one got close enough, you went feral. It worked, for a moment, but without weapons, you could only get so far before the other vampire slams you into the wall.

The sound of your head cracking was your first thought before the burning throb of pain came from the back of your head. Barely able to move, there was only a split second that you had before death would come.

But it didn’t. Not for you.

“Let her go, you son of a bitch!”

Screams and thuds of heads rolling on the floor filled the air for moments later.

Then your name, repeatedly begged from Dean as his arms wrapped around your body until you’re against his chest.

“Hey, Sweetheart. Stay with me. Please.”

Blinking up at him, you try to ignore the darkening edges to your vision. “You came.”

His voice cracked. “Of course I did.”

Back at the motel, your wounds were checked and cleaned, but the silence was unbearable. The feast was now simmering in anger, and Dean’s shoulders trembled with restraint that lasted a matter of seconds.

“You almost got killed”, he finally snapped.

“Because you made me feel like I didn’t belong here anymore, Dean!”

“You do belong here! Obviously, you do.”

“Then stop treating me like a goddamn liability all the time!”

The current position you’re both in means his chest is brushing yours as he stands between your legs from where you’re perched on the bathroom counter to clean your wounds.

“You think I bark at you because I don’t care? You think I keep my distance because I don’t feel anything?”

You try to ignore how your chest suddenly feels tight, given how he sounds defeated. “You’ve never said anything otherwise, Dean, and you know it.”

His hands rested on either side of your thighs on the counter, his head dropping as he contemplated his following words, avoiding eye contact. “I push you away because it terrifies me how much I care. You scare the hella outta me, feeling like this all the time, wondering where you are, if you’re hurt, the overwhelming need to protect you at all times.”

Your fingers slip to the back of his head, cupping his face with a tremble. You couldn’t stop even if you tried lifting his handsome face until he was forced to look into your eyes.

For the amount of uncertainty and nerves that seemed to be emanating from Dean, his following words were sure and spoken with such conviction that your breath caught in your throat.

“I’ve been in love with you since the first time you patched me up in some playground all those years ago. I’ve just been too much of a coward to admit it. So all those times I try to push you away, undermine you, or make you feel like you aren’t good at your job. I’m just scared of losing you before we can-. Before I-”, his eyes close as he struggles to form his following words, but you don’t need him to keep talking.

Still holding his face between your palms, you close the gap, mouth crashing to his with as much emotion and need as possible. His hands circle your back, sliding your body closer until he’s perfectly slotted between your thighs, ankles locking behind him.

You’re able to feel how hard his heart is pounding as your fingers grip the front of his shirt, trying to pull it over his head, needing to feel more of him as Dean’s tongue slips into your mouth with dominant strokes.

“Wait,” he gasps, sucking in air and trying to leave a small gap between your bodies. “You’re hurt; you need to rest or at least move to the bedroom”.

“Dean shut up and fuck me”, you demand, tugging on his shirt until hes flush against you once more.

Finally, the tension eases from his shoulders as he releases a deep chuckle. His hands now cuddle your jaw, tipping your face back to kiss you with gentle and loving touches that instantly melt you into his hold.

His fingers were swift and careful as your clothes were removed. Shivering with anticipation, you return the favour and run the tip of your fingers over his heated skin.

Mouth against your throat, he grunts, “Mine”, as he trusts his hard cock against your thigh.

“Always”.

His touch is rough but reverent. Even when he helps you down from the counter, turning on the shower and cleaning off the remnants of the night, he is careful of your healing scratches and scraps.

“Please, Dean”, you whimper down at him from where he kneels between your legs, his hands tickling over the back of your thighs as he finishes washing away the soap suds.

Dean chuckles before gripping your left leg, throwing it over his shoulder and pressing his mouth to where you need him most. Your back arches against the shower wall, fingers gripping his short hair and holding him there.

His tongue was hungry, relentless, worshipping you completely. His name was like an answered pray as he moved between sucking on your clit with two fingers curling deep inside to his tongue replacing his fingers.

“Dean!” you buck your hips against his face as your cunt pulses with the intense orgasm devouring your world.

He stood, eyes wild, lips slick and parted as he panted down at you. “Need to be inside you.”

Lifting a leg around his waist whilst eagerly nodding, you answered, “Then do it, please.”

He laughs lowly, crowding you against the shower wall with a forearm resting next to your head and the other guiding his length into you. “Always so fucking polite - Fuck!”

Sliding into you with a groan, your eyes closed with the intense feelings coursing through your body.

“Always feel so good, sweetheart”, he grunts into your neck, biting the sensitive area.

The rhythm was complex and desperate, and every thrust was a promise as your nails dug into the muscle of his back.

Dean manages to draw two further orgasms out of you that leave your legs trembling and voice hoarse as he holds you close whilst finding his pleasure with a desperate grunt.

After, he wraps you in a towel and helps you to the bed, holding your naked body to his chest, his fingers idly stroking down your spine as you both take a second to breathe each other in.

“You really love me?” you whispered whilst kissing over his heart.

Dean's lips rest against your temple, “Yeah. God help me, but yeah.”

“Then stop letting me go.”

Holding you tighter, he nods, “Never again.”