#he deserves happiness and love let him have it

[angelfic]

jason todd x reader

warnings — mentions of blood, death, violence, weapons, jealousy. unedited!!

a/n; i have to fight myself not to make reader have certain traits of mine like my anger issues but sometimes she deserves to be a little crazy. as a treat.

JASON TODD with someone that matches his freak.

You have so much patience and grace for him and he loves you for the way you make him feel less broken every day you’re together. But he won’t lie that he enjoys it when you’re the one who goes a little crazy.

He teaches you self defence pretty regularly, because he knows he can’t always be there, protecting you on the streets of Gotham and he’d rather you be prepared for any given scenario.

You’re a good student, listening to his every word and successfully mastering most of the manoeuvres he teaches you. He enjoys teaching you for many reasons, one of them being that he has an excuse for keeping his hands on you. But his favourite thing is the way your eyes light up when you manage to knock him off his feet or land a hit.

You ask him if he’s alright because there’s a pink flush kissing his cheeks and he mumbles that he’s fine, but really he’s blushing because he’s embarrassed about the sick thoughts he’s having about you being able to physically hurt him. That is until you grab one of his knives off the table.

You twirl it between your fingers, seemingly fascinated with the way the warm lighting of your apartment reflects off the blade, showing off its fatally sharp edges.

“Would you teach me how to stab a guy?”

He feels like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. Your voice is so sweet, asking him such a question so politely and who is he to deny you?

Never in a million years will Jason think he deserves you, and there’s always going to be a little voice in his head that says you could leave him at any given time for any one of your choosing. Which is why he gets jealous really easily, but he tries his best to hide it as not to scare you away.

Not that it would, since you never bother hiding the scowl on your face when you catch another girl throwing glances at him now and then. Jason doesn’t even notice the other girl until he looks over at you and sees the dark look in your eyes and suddenly his blood runs hot.

God forbid a girl tries to talk to Jason in a flirty way, because you’re immediately there, wrapping your arms around his waist, fingers sneaking under his leather jacket.

“Hey, babe,” you say, voice deliberately sweet as you look up at him. “I was looking for you.”

“That so, sweetheart?” he murmurs, amusement flickering across his blue eyes as his arms naturally find your waist. He completely forgets there was even another girl talking to him until you turn around to stare her down.

“And you are?”

“Oh, uh, no one,” she says, faltering slightly, her eyes still glued to Jason. “I was—”

“Right,” you cut her off, a smile gracing your face, but your voice is flat and devoid of any emotion. “We were just leaving.”

You don’t bother waiting for a response before you’re dragging him out of there and he’s gladly letting you.

Your smile drops as soon as you’re both alone and you’re letting go of him, walking faster ahead of him. He catches up to you easily, trying not to laugh when you bat his hands away. “I hope the two of you are very happy together,” you snap, refusing to look at him.

Jason grins, stepping in front of you to stop you. You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him. “You could have shut that down, you know.”

He exhales a laugh, tilting his head and smiling even wider at how pissed off at him you look. “There was nothing to shut down,” he says truthfully, stepping closer to invade your personal space and uncrossing your arms to pull you closer. “Plus, I like seeing you a little jealous.”

A little is a bit generous since you look downright murderous, but he’s not complaining in the slightest.

You still refuse to look at him. “I am not jealous. I could have easily beaten her ass,” you mutter.

Jason huffs out a laugh, and when you scoff and turn away, he catches your wrist and tugs you forward so you stumble against him, using his chest to steady yourself. His lips ghost against your ear, making you shiver slightly as he whispers, “My money’s on you, babe. And for the record, you’re the only one I’m ever looking at.”

Your irritation melts into something else entirely and you playfully roll your eyes at him. He knows he’s got you now, just like he’s aware of how much you pretend to hate that he knows how to handle you.

When he comes home, covered in blood finally allowing his shoulders to sag with exhaustion, you don’t even flinch at the sight of him. You smile when he enters your apartment, dropping a kiss to his cheek in greeting and guiding him to sit.

“Any of this blood yours?” you ask, calmly. He doesn’t miss the concern in your voice and the way you’re subtly checking each area covered in blood for any hint of a wound.

He shakes his head and your body relaxes. “Good,” you mutter, focused now on scrubbing away a spot of dried blood from out of his suit. You don’t bother attempting to clean his hair since you’ll get it out in the bath a bit later.

He watches you, waiting for you to ask a question that never comes. The question that he feels like the members of his family are always asking in an attempt to morality check him.

You’re not like them, though. Your expression remained unfazed when the washcloth in your hands is more red than whatever colour it was before.

His jaw tightens. “You’re not gonna ask?”

“Ask what, Jay?” You tilt your head, pausing in your movements. He hesitates for a second.

“How many?”

Understanding dawns on your face and you slowly nod. “Ah. Well. Do you want me to ask?”

He studies you for a long moment as you resume your work with the washcloth, moving to the areas that the blood seeped through a gap in his suit to coat his wrists. The quiet hum of your shared apartment settles around you both. Then, he shakes his head. “No.”

“Alright then,” you say softly, setting the washcloth down. His bloodied shirt is next, torn in some places, damp with sweat from overexerting himself. You grab the hem, pulling it over his head and he lets you. Tossing it to the ground, you hesitate for the first time tonight when you catch sight of his torso. You frown, fingers skimming over his bruised ribs. Your touch is light, careful. You finally meet his eyes, unflinchingly. “Every single one of them deserved it.”

A sharp exhale leaves his lip, something between relief and something else — something darker. He shudders out a breath and finally allows himself to touch you, knowing you won’t break.

Pulling you closer, he rests his head against your chest, melting into you when your fingers start to lightly scratch against his scalp.

You aren’t scared of him. You never would be, he was pretty certain of that. He even sees some of that same darkness in you that he used to wish he could rid himself of. And he loves you for it.

Jason has never been more fucking gone for anyone in his life.

a/n cont.; only difference between reader and a psych ward patient is that she’s outside

[navybrat817]

Cooking Together

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky asks you to cook a meal with him.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff, longing, pining, canon divergent neighbor AU, flirting of sorts, mention of HYDRA, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Short and sweet for @stellar-solar-flare’s Starry Winter Sky Event! I went with cooking together and Neighbor AU as a small expansion of this nonsense. February has had some lingering January energy, and I hope you enjoy what I was able to write! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

If you asked Bucky if he thought he was a good cook, he’d say he was decent. He retained some of what his mom taught him many years ago and he carefully followed recipes once he was completely free of HYDRA. It was admittedly a bit of a rough go at first. Being able to choose what he could eat was a foreign concept after he didn't have the choice for so long. It got better each day. Every single meal he got to reclaim a piece of himself by making the choice of what he did and didn’t want.

Until today, he always cooked alone.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” you smiled, graciously accepting the apron he handed you.

Bucky had moved into the building a few months ago and you lived across the hall. As far as neighbors went, you were the best. Since day one, you always greeted him with a smile and a kind word. You never played your music too loud or disturbed anyone. Alpine adored you, which told him everything he needed to know since she was the best judge of character. And you never once objected to looking out for her when he had to leave for a mission.

Out of paranoia, he left harmless little “traps” to see if you'd snoop through anything the very first time you went over. Nothing that would hurt you or draw your attention, of course, but something that would let him know if anyone tampered with anything. You didn't. You were a genuinely good and respectful person, and that made him trust you more.

“Thanks for accepting the invitation. And allow me,” he offered, stepping behind you to help you tie it. His fingers lingered on the fabric and he took the moment to inhale your sweet scent before he stepped away. He didn't want to be a creep. “And it’s the least I could do since you offered to watch Alpine. Again.”

“I love watching her. She’s wonderful.”

The photos you sent were something he always looked forward to when he was away. Some of the captions you added made him laugh and smile. His favorite was a selfie you took with Alpine’s cheek against yours. He saved it as “my girls”, which you weren’t aware of.

Because you technically weren’t his girl.

“Well, she adores you,” Bucky smiled. He adored you, too. It stunned him when he found out you were single, and he was selfishly thankful for that. 

“I’ll have to get her another toy,” you said, your lips curling in a small smile. ���If that’s okay with you.”

He laughed, a warm and easy sound. “Between the two of us, she’s spoiled rotten and she wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He never expected to be a cat dad, but life surprised him. In fact, it also surprised him that Alpine wasn’t camping out nearby or brushing against one of your legs. She was a smart cat and likely somehow sensed that he wanted alone time with you.

“Well, she deserves it,” you winked before things went quiet.

One of the nice things about hanging out with you was that he didn't mind any bouts of silence. They didn’t feel awkward or tense. In those quiet moments and stolen glances he felt like he had the best conversations with you. He was happy and felt safe being in the same space as you.

“You know,” Bucky began as he set the ingredients on the counter. He lucked out by having a decent sized kitchen since he took up a lot of space. “If I was a better neighbor, I would've just cooked a meal for you while you relaxed.”

It felt romantic for the two of you to cook together, but you weren't together and now he felt like an idiot. A gentleman would've made you a meal and pampered you. Or take you out for a nice meal. He hadn’t dressed up, opting for his jeans and a trademark Henley while you wore a sundress that had his mind racing with both sweet and filthy images. He didn't have flowers for you either.

His “game”, as Sam would say, was rusty.

“You're a great neighbor, Bucky. The best neighbor I’ve had,” you defended. He tried to be a good neighbor and person. A minor way to make up for some of his forced wrongdoings. “And cooking something together is fun! We could even try something at my place next week if you'd like.”

Bucky almost knocked the salt over, his eyes wide. “Really?” You were inviting him over to do this again?

“Yeah, really,” you replied, taking a moment to scan the simple recipe in the cookbook. You always had the cutest expression when you concentrated on something, and he didn’t want to choose something too difficult for the first meal. “We can take turns picking things out to try and trade off cooking at your place and mine. You can even bring Alpine over if you want.”

He suddenly had the image of you in his arms, dancing around the kitchen as you both waited for a meal in the oven to cook. Soft music, low lighting, his hands on your hips, and a tender smile on your face. Stealing a gentle kiss and keeping his eyes open only for a moment so he could see for himself that it wasn't a dream.

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling his hair back in a ponytail and washing his hands to distract himself from his thoughts. “I’d really like that.”

“Great,” you exhaled. His heart beat faster when he caught you staring. He liked to pretend the look in your eyes was longing. “Sorry. You just…” you cleared your throat and gestured to his head. “You have really nice hair.”

The compliment had his heart racing even faster. “I have nice hair?” he asked. Your fingers would feel amazing in his hair.

You ducked your head for a moment before you met his gaze with a soft smile. “Yeah, you do.”

“Thanks,” he smiled back, his shoulder brushing yours when he stood beside you. Electricity lightly cracked between you. Did you feel it, too? “Um, I peeled the carrots before you got here. Would you like to cut them?”

“Oh, I think you’re better with a knife than I am,” you giggled.

He puffed his chest out and twirled the knife he selected in his hand without thinking about it. Part of him was showing off because, well, he wanted you to stare again. “How about I help you?”

“Help me? How?” you asked.

“Here.” He placed the knife in your hand and stood behind you once he had the carrots on the cutting board. “I’m going to preface this by saying I’m far from an expert, but I usually cut them into decent sized pieces before I dice them.”

“I trust your judgement,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. Your faces were close enough that he could kiss you if he leaned in a fraction. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t take what you didn’t offer.

Carefully placing his hands over yours once you faced forward, he felt that electricity crackle again as he helped guide you. He angled his hips so he didn’t press against you, but still stayed close. “See? You’re a natural,” he whispered against your ear when you made the first cut through the vegetable.

He heard the hitch in your breath and how your blood rushed faster in your veins. He felt your skin warm under his touch as you cut the next piece. He also caught the slight tremble that went through your frame when his grip tightened, but he didn’t sense any fear. He hadn't detected any sort of fear or disgust since he came into your life.

But what he sensed in this very moment was excitement.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you whispered back. The way you spoke his name was breathy, beautiful, and he longed to hear that again. “You’re a great teacher.”

“I’m not,” he said, thankful your back was to him so you wouldn’t see the pink that tinted his cheeks. “But I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, you are,” you stated, tempting him to turn your head toward him to kiss you. If he did that and you stabbed him, he wouldn’t blame you or hold it against you. “And Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am glad you invited me over,” you said.

He stopped himself from putting his face in the crook of your neck. “I am, too,” he said, smiling to himself as he helped you finish up. “And now that you’ve mastered the carrots, we can chop the onions.”

“Onions? Oh, no,” you groaned playfully.

As the sound of both of you laughing a second later filled the room, Bucky was glad he went with his gut and asked for you two to cook together.

And maybe before the night was over, he’d ask you out on a date and prove to himself that his game wasn't completely hopeless.

I wonder just how he'll ask you out! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[suiana]

thinking of a guilt ridden reader and a silly manipulative yandere who looks exactly like someone from reader's past.

maybe you did something bad to a friend, perhaps ended a relationship on bad terms with someone who never deserved to be treated badly. whatever it is, just the mere thought of that person causes you to physically curl up and pray for forgiveness.

so you spend the rest of your days like a dead man walking, the guilt of your actions clawing at the depths of your heart. it makes it hard to do anything, let alone think. because when you are left alone with your thoughts, all you can imagine is their expression when everything went wrong. oh how you'd give up anything just to change the past and your actions.

as if your guilt wasn't enough, he just had to skip into your life looking exactly like that person. like them.

at first, you thought of this as a curse. this... this stupid guy? looking exactly like them? then as you sort of warmed up to him, you still think it's a curse. because what gave him the audacity to come into your life, looking like them, and telling you how much he wants you? especially claiming that it was love at first sight and that you two were fated to be?

"i love you."

"can i be yours?"

"we'd be so good together."

you keep pushing him away. you know how this will end up, with you messing up just like last time. wouldn't it be better to just keep him at a distance? unfortunately for you he doesn't seem to think so. and it's like a curse. a demon from your past coming back to haunt you in the form of your greatest mistake.

if anything, your costant rejections only seem to keep him wanting... more?

"please, just one chance. that is all I'm asking for."

"no? you don't want to entertain me even the slightest bit?"

"how cruel, i never realised you were this heartless."

you eventually end up giving in. he just has that sort of effect you suppose. or maybe it's the guilt that's constantly eating you alive that's causing you to make this decision. after all, he looks so much like them and... you don't know what you'd do if he looked at you like that. not ever, not again. maybe this would be your way of making up for your wrong doings.

he couldn't be happier obviously. finally! the person he's been pining over finally accepted his confession! even if it took a long time, it all worked out. you're happy, his happy, everyone's happy!

until he found out you're not actually happy and you're just doing this because you feel guilty.

"what do you mean? am i just a replacement to you? a way to correct your mistakes?"

"hah! you're so- ugh, I don't even want to think about you anymore."

"save it, those are just excuses."

he's always been a manipulative person. he knows. and he knows that you know it too. yet he continues to manipulate you through it all. i mean, it's your fault for even treating him like a second option in the first place! what? he's the one that's been pestering you? no no, you could've just rejected him. it's not his fault, it's yours. you're not stopping him anyway so like, you're basically admitting you're in the wrong.

"yeah you should be sorry. how mean do you have to be to think of me just as someone you've hurt? I'm my own person too."

he says that but continues to use the fact that his familiarity elicits something in you. and he'll continue abusing it, continue taking advantage of your weakened state. why? because he can and because he wants to.

plus, it's amusing in it's own right to see you bending head over heels just to appease him. huh, guess the guilt runs deep, doesn't it?

oh it's whatever. he'll slowly condition you to start showing him the affection he so desperately craves anyway. he just needs to hold on a little longer. break you down a tiny bit more and then you'll be all his. he can feel it.

you two will be truly happy together. no other people, no guilt in your heart. just you and him, alone and content with one another.

that would simply be salvation, wouldn't it?

[nativegirltapes]

RAFE AND HIS BISEXUAL BEST FRIEND

notes/warnings: been thinking about them forever and i'm happy to finally be posting this and sharing my thoughts <3 i hope this isn’t too self indulgent and that this will find an audience that resonates with it lol

rafe and BISEXUAL!READER who complain about their girl problems to each other but ultimately both know that none of it matters because they have each other. there's this unspoken love, platonic or romantic? neither of you are really sure, that you both have that make you both okay with not having anyone else.

BISEXUAL!READER who actually hated rafe before their friendship blossomed. you didn't see much appeal in the kook king himself, but that was until you attended one of his annual ragers ... where you drunkenly overshared about your life and your recent break up with your girlfriend. to which a drunk rafe cameron told you "you'll be okay. bitches ain't shit." and you've been friends with him ever since.

BISEXUAL!READER who really was a life changing friend for rafe. they're constantly throwing jokes at each other but they can both be serious when needed. you really helped rafe with his addiction and just overall become a better person. he doesn't say it much but he is beyond grateful for you.

rafe and BISEXUAL!READER who don't really know what they are. you're the deepest friendship rafe has ever had, but there's this intense attraction you both have for each other that makes it hard to keep things purely platonic. when you're drunk you'll both get really touchy and sometimes even have sex if it goes that far, which it usually does.

BISEXUAL!READER who has beeeennnnn aroundddd. you'd never ever tell rafe but you've even had your fair share of his sister sarah cameron. when sarah sees you coming around more frequently it's kind of awkward, you'll both just weirdly wave to each other.

rafe who is kind of in love with BISEXUAL!READER but tries his best not to act on it because he thinks you deserve someone so much better than him. but heavy emphasis on tries, he's not very good at these said attempts of not giving into you. rafe's love for you is so intense and real that he's willing to let you go when the right person rolls around for you. and when these feelings are finally confronted, you have to remind rafe that he can't make up your mind for you. you love him too and you want him to feel it.

rafe who never lets BISEXUAL!READER talk down on herself. the minute you start he's shutting it down, "that's the dumbest shit you've ever said. you done?" he'll say as he takes a swig of the beer you're sharing. you find comfort in his tough love, he's rarely really sweet to you, but you like it that way.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Hawks x Y/N | A Friday Night Between Your Thighs 💋

I recently ran a poll asking "How're We Fuckin' Hawks Tonight?" And most of y'all voted for "He's eating you out," so here's a fic about it. Enjoyyyy <3 A18+ MDNI

Here's something important that absolutely needs to be known by all - getting eaten out by Hawks is always a fuckin' pleasure.

He gets home late Friday night after a long day, long week, long month. He's absolutely exhausted as he slumps through your apartment door and drops his jacket to the ground. He barely makes it over to the couch, falling face first into the plush navy cushions.

You coo and fuss over him, quickly pushing your laptop onto the coffee table and pulling his head into your lap. You card your fingers through his hair and within seconds his eyes droop closed. He's so, so tired, and laying on your lap feels like absolute heaven. He wishes he had more energy to spend hanging out with you or taking you out on his nights off - but right now all he can focus on is the gentle way your fingertips scratch against his scalp and down his sore neck.

You let him doze for a half hour - just enough to recharge but not too much to get him hooked into REM sleep. As he rests, you slowly extract yourself out from under him, laying his head on a soft pillow and covering him with a thick knit blanket. You take care to tuck him in, smoothing the crimson feathers of his wings down lightly as you go. He lets out the tiniest of groans in reply. His wings are sensitive, after all.

You move quietly to the kitchen to get some dinner going - a thick chicken noodle soup to drive the chill from his aching bones. When Keigo's head pokes up from the couch a half an hour later, you're already ladling a generous portion into his favorite bowl. His tired eyes crinkle at the corners as you stride towards him, two heavy soup bowls in hand.

"What did I do to deserve all this?" He asks with wonder as you lay down the bowls on the coffee table and pull out your TV dinner trays so the two of you won't spill on the upholstery. You hand him his bowl of soup and he smiles up at you adoringly. He's still wrapped up in the blanket - covered with it like a cloak over his head and shoulders. He looks like a character from the hobbit, sans bushy beard or fuzzy feet.

"I guess you just got lucky." You plant a kiss on his scratchy cheek before pulling your own bowl towards you. You grab the remote and flick on a comfort movie. There's no room for stressful plots tonight.

You both dig into your soup happily. Keigo asks for seconds, and then thirds. You even manage to scrounge up a sleeve of Ritz crackers that he absolutely demolishes. You love seeing him relaxed and happy - it's a rare sight. But here he is - beautiful and curled up on your couch with a full belly. It makes your heart sing.

He's already falling back asleep. That's no surprise - after a meal Keigo is always out like a light. You know it stems from his childhood trauma - he spent the beginning of his life hungry and afraid. Having a full stomach is such a comfort to him now, and makes him feel so safe and at ease. He always knocks out for a little right after dinner. You watch his eyelids get heavy and you note that he's still wearing his street clothes.

"Kei...let me go get something comfier for you to wear, hm?" You say sweetly, placing the dirty soup pot in the sink.

"Huh?" He blinks awake. "Oh, yeah, babe. That would be great." He smiles at you again and you feel so bubbly and warm. You drag your fingertips lightly across his wings as you pass the couch and he glimmers under your touch. You hurry back to your room and open up the drawer you've dedicated to Keigo's things. He's stashed a few outfits - jeans, t-shirts and the like - in the space alongside some sweats, extra boxers, deodorant and a tiny bottle of his favorite cologne.

You scoop out a plain black t-shirt and his favorite pair of well-loved grey sweatpants. A few months ago, the back pocket tore clean off. Keito had been pretty bummed about it - this was one of the first clothing items he had bought himself after getting to leave the confines of the Commission. He knew it was silly to hold on to a pair of sweatpants of all things...but he struggled to throw them out and let them go.

In a fit of creative inspiration, you were able to spend some time after work watching sewing tutorials on YouTube. After an hour of content, you had managed to clumsily sew the pants back together. You'd also added a tiny addition - a small heart shaped patch that would be featured prominently on his right ass cheek. When you had unveiling your handy work to your boyfriend, he had gone absolutely mad with excitement. He had kissed your face all over and giggled at the tiny patch addition. He loved that you'd managed to make his favorite pair of pants even more special, and of course he loved the excuse to model his tight hero ass around the apartment for you.

You bring out the fresh outfit and toss it to him on the couch. He immediately gets up, untangling himself from the blanket, and starts to strip.

"Keigo! Dude! The window shades aren't closed!" You shriek at his indecency. He tosses you a wicked grin over his shoulder as he pulls off his shirt, shimmying it up and over his wings. If there's one thing you'll never get tired of - it's seeing your boyfriend naked. His chest is toned and his abs are well defined. His waist tapers down into a tight "v" shape that makes your mouth water. He unzips his jeans and then bends over to pull his foot out of one leg, then the other. He straightens up and turns so you can take him in fully - he's standing in the center of the apartment in nothing but his fitted black boxers. The thin material stretches across his thick thighs in a absolutely delicious way that makes you blush. And, oh, his goddamn package...you can't even begin to find the words to describe how good his cock looks half hard and cradled in that expensive underwear of his.

"I could just stay like this, babe. I don't need to put anything else on." He wiggles his eyebrows up at you suggestively. "Actually...I could lose the boxers, too, if that's what you'd want..."

"Kei..." You say breathlessly, looking him up and down. "I thought you'd want to go back to sleep."

He takes a step towards you, his deep golden eyes filled with a look of want. Suddenly he looks wide awake. Heat pools between your legs as his mouth pulls into a sly grin. He lets his gaze rake across your body, hovering across your breasts, your lips. He knows exactly what he's doing, the damn bird.

"How could I go to sleep when my amazing girlfriend needs to be taken care of?" He walks over to you, folding you into his warm embrace. His biceps flex impressively around you and once again you're in awe of how hot and fit your goddamn pro hero boyfriend is. He nuzzles his face into your neck and sits there for a moment, breathing in your familiar scent before placing a wet kiss on your flushed skin.

"My girl is so good to me...feeding me, making sure I'm cozy and well cared for." He starts to place a trail of hot kisses up your neck and behind your ear. When he reaches your hairline, he groans. "I want to return the favor before we go to bed. Gotta show you I can take care of you, too. Let me eat you out, baby?"

"Mmm, Kei." You can't help but moan at the offer. You shift your weight from foot to foot as arousal blooms in your panties.

"Yeah, baby?" He lets a hand drift lightly down your stomach and over your clothed pussy. He swirls his fingertips in a light figure eight motion around your clit - over and over until you let out a breathy moan. "You gonna let me take care of my pretty birdy?"

"Please."

It's all he needs to hear. A second later he's thrown you down on the couch and he's stripping you down. Your shirt, bra and jeans are instantly on the floor. He leaves your panties, throwing your legs haphazardly over his shoulders as he gets himself into a good position. You're already so turned on that there's a growing damp spot on the gusset of your white laced panties. Keigo breathes in sharply at the sight, biting his lip as he surveys your beautiful body. It's as if he's not quite sure where he wants to start.

"Keigo...I need you, baby." You moan out, bringing your hands up to cup his beautiful sharp face. He leans into the touch, eyes sliding shut for a moment as he just enjoys the way your fingertips feel against his jawline.

"I know, hun. I'm gonna make you feel so goddamn good with my tongue." He promises, reaching down to awkwardly push his boxers off and towards his thighs. His pretty thick cock spring free, kissing his toned stomach and leaving a messy smear of pre-cum on his abs. He takes his dick in one hand, stroking it slowly as he leans forward to kiss the soft plane of your stomach.

You inhale a sharp breath at the contact. His lips are hot and soft as they move across your belly, across your navel, and down towards the waistband of your panties. He takes his time, lavishing every inch of exposed skin he can find with his lips, tongue and teeth. He rolls the edges of his bite across the swell of your hips, and the sensation causes goosebumps to swell across your skin. When he runs his hot tongue flat under the waistband of your panties, you know you're done for.

He releases his cock from his grasp so that he can use both hands. It springs back into position, twitching lightly against his abs. You can't help but envision the snug fit of his cock deep in your cunt. It's one of your favorite feelings - the way he fits inside of you so well. The gentle lovemaking Keigo excels at that allows you to feel every glorious inch of his cock as he flexes and thrusts into you with steady rhythm.

"Time to take these off, I think." He says, hooking his thumbs under the lacy waistband of your panties and pulling swiftly down. The cool apartment air hits your pussy and you suck in a tiny breath at the change in temperature. "Don't worry, babe. I'll warm you up in a minute." He says knowingly, chuckling under his breath at your vague discomfort. He spreads your legs out a bit, staring down at your perfect pussy with an expression of awe.

"I'll never get tired of this view." He says, tracing a fingertip lightly around your folds. You bite your lip as you watch him play with you, zigzagging his fingers across your pussy without touching you in the spots that ache the most. He bends his head forward so he can start kissing up your leg, up your thigh, and into the crease between your leg and your pussy. You're dripping wet, now. Shit, you're so wet you'll need to clean off the couch later with carpet cleaner or something stupid like that.

"Keigo...Keigo please." You beg, staring up into his bright golden eyes with want. You're desperate for him - always have been, always will be.

He smiles down at you and the look is so open and genuine it makes you want to squeal. Keigo is such a damn romantic sometimes - when he fucks you, 90% of the time he wants to "make love." Rough sex is reserved for rare occasions - anniversaries, birthdays and needing to work through tension after hard missions. Keigo prefers to go slow and soft - he wants to make sure you feel his love in every thrust, every lick.

And so, when he finally brings his mouth down to your pussy to get to work, you're not surprised by the way that he takes his sweet time. He starts out at a glacial pace to let you acclimate to the overwhelming feeling of the flat of his tongue against your clit. He knows you're sensitive and get overwhelmed easily, so he likes to ease you into it as best he can. You're already overstimulated and don't think you can last too long - not when he's working at you so meticulously.

Keigo's tongue slowly swirls around your clit, trying to find the perfect rhythm to bring you to the brink of pleasure. You moan pathetically as he tries out a few different shapes - tracing the tip of his tongue back and forth across your clit and folds. After a few minutes, you relax into it, your butt sinking into the couch as he presses your legs further up over his shoulders.

He pulls his face away from your core and you moan at the loss of contact. He looks down at you with an intense expression, eyes smoky and filled with desire. For a moment, a thin string of saliva connects his face to your pussy, and you can't help but think it's the hottest goddamn thing you've ever seen.

"I'm gonna spell my name. Remind you who you belong to." He says in a low, husky voice. You stomach flips at that. He's never done anything like this before, and you wonder where he's taking inspiration from. He dives back in, and after a moment you start to decipher the "K" he's tracing over and over with his tongue across your pussy.

"Fuck!" You cry out when he licks an "E" and than an "I" across your poor, throbbing pussy. The "G" is no big deal, but the way he traces the "O" over and over and over across your clit has you bucking your hips into his face.

"Oh, you liked that last part?" He teases, repositioning himself a bit for better access. He leans back down and continues to trace the same delightful pattern across your clit until your legs start to shake.

"Kei...I'm so close." You say, trying desperately to get your limbs under control as they shake with pleasure. He doesn't stop what he's doing - he just keeps methodically swirling his tongue around you as the pressure inside builds.

He brings a hand down to grasp at the meat of your ass. He takes a cheek in hand and squeezes lightly, making you cry out again before slowly sliding a fingertip between your cheeks. He starts to circle your hole with a soft, wet fingertip as he eats you out. He's played a bit with your ass before - all just gentle touches and caresses up to this point. But now...now he's pushing and sliding and putting pressure on the spot in just the right way.

You feel your orgasm swelling inside of you, Keigo's fingers and mouth working in tandem to draw as much pleasure out of you as humanly possible. Your legs shake more than you thought was humanly possible, and Keigo's cock can be seen clearly twitching in response.

When you cum, you cry out his name (every form of it you know!). Keigo, Hawks, baby, wings, my love. You repeat each of these names with enthusiasm, worshiping the man who's head is between your thighs and taking no prisoners. The orgasm hits you hard and fast, ringing up from your quivering clit and deep into your core. You feel the release all over - in the twitch of your legs, the curl of your toes, in the way your eyes roll back.

"Keigo, babe, I love you." The orgasm rolls through you, making every square inch of you feel alive - you're practically pulsing with heat. Keigo licks you through it, keeping his face planted firmly in one spot as you rhythmically shift your hips to ride his tongue. You can't imagine a feeling better than cumming on Keigo Takami's pretty boy face. You groan out as you come down from your high. Keigo doesn't stop until you tell him to.

When you finally ask him to stop, it's because your clit is getting overly sensitive and needs a break. He nods and pulls his face away from you, grinning like an idiot. His cheeks and chin are damp with your slick, but he looks absolutely thrilled.

"Was that good, babe? Did you enjoy it?" He asks eagerly, shifting forward so he can join you down on the couch and wrap you in his arms.

"Kei, that was..." You don't have the words to describe the magic Keigo's just worked on your pussy. It was Transcendent. Magnificent. Life altering. All good terms and phrases to describe the way that you just ascended on the Number Two Hero's tongue. He nuzzles his face into your neck once more and pulls you close.

"Anytime you need, babe. I'll eat you out whenever. No questions asked."

"That's a big promise, Kei." You say, lifting a hand to his golden locks so you can scratch his scalp the way that he likes. "I might take advantage."

"Oh please." He practically begs, squeezing you lightly between his strong biceps. "I'd eat you out all day if I could. In bed when you wake up, in my office between patrols, in the bathroom at the bar when we're out with friends...babe, I wanna worship that pussy every second I can."

"You're crazy." You laugh, smushing a kiss onto his still damp cheek.

"Crazy for you." He sighs out, happy to feel your skin against his. The two of you are laying completely naked on the couch but it feels like the most natural thing in the world. He's still hard against you but doesn't put up a fuss about it.

"Want me to take care of that?" You ask letting your fingers skim across his half-hard cock. He shivers at the contact, his dick instantly pricking up at the feeling.

"Yes, please."

You smirk and bring your palm up to your mouth for him to see. You lock eyes with him - his golden irises shimmering as he watches you lick the palm of your hand up and down. You then lower the hand between the two of you and wrap it around his dick. His sharp intake of breath at the contact is music to your ears - you're going to absolutely tare him apart like this, you just know it.

"Does my babe like getting jerked off?" You ask softly, pumping slowly at his cock with your slick hand. He whimpers in reply. "Use your words, Keigo."

"Y-yes, Y/N. I fucking love it." He manages to get out between trembling lips. He slowly flexes his hips so he can thrust into your hand, but you cease your ministrations.

"No, Keigo. I call the shots with this." You say firmly, and his hips slow to a stop. Only when he's stopped moving do you resume jerking him off. After a minute, your hand starts to feel dry. You release his cock (much to his protesting) and bring it up to your mouth again. This time, you spit cleanly into the center of your palm. His eyes widen as he watches you spit twice more into your hand before bringing it back down to pleasure him. The saliva is exactly the lubrication needed, and he sighs gratefully as your small hand glides up and down his length.

"You know what this feels like?" You ask him, looking down at his hard cock admiringly.

"What?" He asks, breathless. He's unable to take his eyes away from your lovely face as you push and pull him through his pleasure.

"Feels like...Pro Hero material." You say, picking up your pace and spending a bit of extra time focusing around his tip. He cries out in appreciation - Keigo loves dirty talk. And praise. And essentially whatever you're willing to offer him in a sexy context like this.

It only takes another few good pumps to push him over the edge. You feel his whole body shiver in anticipation of his orgasm - his balls tighten, his cock is pulses. A moment later, he's splattering hot ropes of cum across your bare stomach. He's groaning out your name and giggling into the side of your neck as he spills his seed all over your soft skin.

"Fuck. You're perfect. So perfect, babe." He moans out as he finishes. He bats your hand away as his cock softens and everything gets a little too sensitive.

You lay there for a minute, wrapped up in each other on the couch as Keigo catches his breath.

"I wish you could come into work and do that for me between meetings." He sighs out, content. "That's exactly the kind of reset I need on tough days like this."

"Well your office door has a lock on it, right?" You grin - you love teasing this silly bird. "I don't see any reason why we can't just take a 'work break' together at your desk. And if I accidentally end up on my knees sucking and fucking you behind closed doors? That can't be the worst thing to happen at a Pro Hero agency." You say innocently, batting your eyes at him.

"Fuck. Stop being so hot Y/N. Now I've got an offfice kink or something." He chuckles, planting a wet kiss on your shoulder.

"Well, I'll break the illusion and be not-hot for a moment. I need to pee like a motherfucker." You try to say with a straight face, smirking as you curse.

"The mouth on you!" Keigo says, pretending to sound scandalized. But he releases you from his embrace, allowing your to scrabble to your feet and make your way to the tiny bathroom at the other end of the apartment.

You hurry off to pee and to grab a wet washcloth for yourself. You hastily wipe down your stomach - careful to smooth off all of the cum. After the quick wipe-down, you grab a fresh towel for Keigo and bustle back out into the living room. You toss him the towel and he uses a soft red feather to catch it mid-air. He cleans himself off and finally puts on the comfy outfit you had brought him earlier. The grey sweatpants hang comfortably off of his slim frame, the tiny red heart patch accentuating his juicy booty (or so you think, anyway).

"I think..." You say, surveying him with your hands on your hips. You're still completely naked, and the blinds are still completely open. But, fuck it. At this point if anyone has been watching you both through the window, they've already had a full fucking show. "I think that it's time for bed."

"I couldn't agree more, birdy." Keigo gets to his feet and plants a kiss on your forehead. "I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick and wash myself off, though. It was a long day at the agency and I think I could use a good scrub before I get in between those clean sheets of yours."

"Oh, good point. I appreciate that." You say, happy that you won't need to wash stickiness out of your sheets in the morning. You pad after him back into the bathroom where he flicks your shower to the perfect temperature with practiced skill. The room fills with steam and everything feels blissful. Your body feels loose and warm from your orgasm, and a long stream of hot water from your massage shower head sounds like heaven.

"Care to join me?" He throws you one of those devilish, flirty looks and you melt under his golden gaze. He throws all his clothes to the ground and steps into the shower, reaching out a hand to help you in behind him. He's so goddamn beautiful it makes you want to sing - you'll never tire of seeing Keigo naked. His toned body and honey gold skin shimmer in the low light of the bathroom.

You grin up at him, unable to picture a more perfect Friday night spent with your Pro Hero boyfriend. Soup, sex, shower, sleep. Honestly, what more could a girl want?

You step up behind him and into the hot, steamy shower.

"Always."

End.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

This one was inspired by a poll I ran recently...

Y'all voted for "He's Eating You Out" so obviously I had to make that happen!

Hope you enjoyed this smutty little fun about our boy Hawks!

Want more fun, smutty fics? Feel free to check out my 🔥Master List🔥 - there's plenty of more where this came from!

Stay safe and be good to each other <3

XOXO,

RedRiotUnbreakableHeart ❤️

[solxamber]

Leona romantic and here's the song!

https://youtu.be/nBteO-bU78Y?si=BNupz7ZfAHeIzMER

Dont forget to drink water and eat some food!

"Love me like I love you" || Leona Kingscholar

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: We're Still Underground by Eve

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 660

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship

Leona Kingscholar had never trusted happiness. It was a fleeting thing, a trick of the light, a cruel joke whispered on the wind before it was snatched away. He had learned long ago that hope was a losing game, that people only stuck around until they found something—or someone—better.

So when you came into his life, so bright and unwavering, so determined to love him without reservation, Leona didn’t know what to do with it.

You were everything he had convinced himself he wasn’t meant to have. Soft laughter in the morning, your fingers smoothing through his hair as he rested his head in your lap. Gentle kisses on the corner of his mouth, whispered words of affection given so freely it made his chest ache. You looked at him like he was worthy, like he was enough.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Because one day, you would realize the truth.

One day, you would see what everyone else had always seen—that he wasn’t worth staying for.

Leona had been waiting for that day since the moment you first called him yours.

Waiting for you to wake up and understand that he could never be the person you deserved.

Waiting for the moment you left him behind.

It was late when it happened, when the words he had spent so long dreading finally left your lips. The two of you were tangled together on his bed, your body warm beside his, your hand resting against his chest in lazy contentment.

“I love you."

He froze.

For a moment, the words didn’t quite register, like a foreign language spoken too softly to understand.

Then, his body tensed, and something heavy lodged itself in his throat.

“Don’t joke about stuff like that,” he muttered, staring up at the ceiling. His voice was calm, but the grip of his fingers against the sheets betrayed him.

There was silence, thick and suffocating.

Then—

"Leona."

His name on your lips was firm, filled with something unshakable. Before he could move, you reached for his hand, gripping it tightly.

"Look at me."

He did.

And you were watching him with something so raw, so devastatingly real, that it made his heart stutter in his chest.

"I mean it," you said, voice steady, eyes burning into his. "I love you."

Something inside him cracked, something deep and buried, something he had spent years convincing himself didn’t exist.

His breath was uneven, his thoughts a mess of tangled emotions. "Why?" he asked hoarsely.

"Leona, you're it for me." Your fingers tightened around his hand, grounding him, keeping him from slipping back into the shadows of his own mind. "I love you. Not some idealized version of you, not some fantasy. You."

His throat felt tight.

You weren’t saying this because you wanted something from him, or because you were caught up in the moment.

"You think I want the sun?" you murmured, your forehead pressing against his, your warmth seeping into his skin. "I don’t care where we are, Leona. I don’t care if we never leave the underground. As long as I have you, that’s enough."

His fingers twitched, then curled around yours.

For so long, he had been waiting for the inevitable goodbye.

But you weren’t leaving.

You had never planned to.

Slowly, hesitantly, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, could feel the quiet certainty of your presence beside him.

And maybe, he could believe in this.

Maybe love wasn’t about climbing toward something unreachable. Maybe it wasn’t about being enough for the rest of the world.

Maybe it was simply this—two people standing in the dark, hands clasped tight, knowing that neither of them would ever let go.

And for the first time in his life—

Leona didn't mind remaining underground

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[scoupsakakitty]

Please Don’t Leave Me pt.2 | idol!Mingyu x Reader | fluff

The phone buzzed against the car's dashboard, but the call went straight to voicemail—just like all the others before it. Mingyu let out a sharp exhale, gripping the steering wheel tightly before pressing the phone to his ear as the familiar automated message ended.

"Y/N, you're leaving me no choice," his voice was hoarse, exhausted. "I'm on my way to your dorm. I can’t keep waiting for you to answer. We need to talk. You can be mad at me, you can yell at me, but you can’t ignore me. Not anymore."

With that, he hung up and started the engine, his heart pounding against his ribs as he sped off towards the university. The rain drizzled lightly, the city lights blurring against his windshield, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were consumed by her. By them. By everything he was about to lose if he didn’t do something.

When he arrived, he parked haphazardly, not caring if he was in a student-only parking zone. He stepped out, pulling his hood up to shield himself, but it was useless. The moment he walked through campus, he could feel the weight of eyes on him. Whispered voices, subtle gasps—some had recognized him. But he didn't care. He had one goal.

Stopping in front of her dorm room, he knocked. No answer. He knocked again, harder this time. "Y/N, open the damn door." His voice was firm, unwavering. "I'm not leaving until you do."

A few seconds passed, and then—

The door swung open so fast he barely had time to react before Y/N’s hand gripped his wrist and yanked him inside. She slammed the door shut behind him, her eyes wide with disbelief and frustration. "Are you insane? Showing up here like this? Now people will definitely know you’re here! And then you knock like that? Desperate much?" Her voice was laced with panic.

Mingyu took a deep breath, stepping closer. "You left me no other choice. If you had just picked up the phone, if you had answered even one of my thousand messages, I wouldn't have had to come here."

She crossed her arms, her expression hard. "I don’t have to answer just because you call."

His jaw clenched. "Then I have to show up."

Silence settled between them, heavy and unyielding. Finally, she sighed, rubbing her temple. "What do you want, Mingyu?"

His brows furrowed, disbelief flickering in his eyes. "What do you mean, what do I want? Isn't it obvious? I want you. I want us. I can’t do this without you."

She scoffed, turning away. "Mingyu, wanting something doesn’t always mean you get to have it."

He ran a hand through his damp hair, frustration evident. "I talked to my management. I told them I want to go public with our relationship. I don’t care about the consequences. I don’t care about the fans who won’t support it. If they love me, they need to accept that I love you. That I can’t live without you."

Her breath hitched, but she remained silent.

"You’re not happy without me, Y/N. Just like I’m not happy without you. I know it. You know it. So why are we doing this?" His voice cracked, raw and pleading.

She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the hem of her sweatshirt. "Mingyu... the stress, the sasaengs, the threats—it’s too much. Even if we go public, that won’t change overnight. And you’re always traveling. I barely got to see you before, how will it be any different?"

"I’ll take you with me." His answer was immediate. "We’ll talk to your university. My management has connections—we can figure out a way for you to do your studies online. That way, you can be with me. I can protect you."

She shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. "I can’t afford online tuition, Mingyu. I can barely afford my fees as it is."

His heart ached at the helplessness in her voice. Slowly, gently, he reached for her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. "That’s what you’re worried about? Y/N, come on. How many times have I offered to pay for your tuition? Let me take care of you. Let me give you the life you deserve."

"I don’t want to be a burden to you," she whispered.

"You're not a burden. You're my life." His voice was thick with emotion. "Stop finding reasons for this not to work. I can and will fix everything, but I need you to fight with me. For us."

For a long moment, she just stared at him. At the exhaustion in his face, the desperation in his voice. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. Like he was drowning.

Finally, she exhaled shakily, placing her hand over his chest, feeling the steady, desperate thump of his heart. "Okay... you’re right." Her voice broke. "I’m sorry, Mingyu. I’m so sorry for making us suffer like this. Please forgive me."

A choked sob of relief escaped him as he pulled her into his arms, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around. "You won’t regret this, I promise."

She let out a watery laugh as he peppered kisses all over her face—her forehead, her cheeks, her nose. "Mingyu, stop! You're acting like a puppy."

He grinned, setting her down but not letting go. "Now that I finally have you back, I’m never letting go again."

His eyes flickered around her room, taking it in for the first time in person. "So this is your room, huh? I’ve only seen it on FaceTime. Cozy. I like it."

She rolled her eyes, nudging him playfully. "It’s small, but it’s mine."

"Not for long," he mused. "Once you start online classes, you’ll be moving out. Either to my dorm or, better yet, our own place. And when I’m on tour, you’ll stay with me. We’ll share hotel rooms, wake up together, fall asleep together. Doesn’t that sound perfect?"

Her heart swelled at the thought. "I always wanted to go on tour with you, to be honest."

Mingyu’s lips curled into a soft smile. "Then it’s settled. From now on, we’re always together. No more secrets. No more hiding. No more distance."

He cupped her face, his thumb tracing her cheek. "I love you, Y/N. More than anything. And I’ll spend every single day proving that to you."

Her heart melted as she whispered, "I love you too."

And as he kissed her, sealing their promise, she knew—this time, they were going to make it.

[justwonder113]

Drunk Chan confessing to you

Warnings: Cursing as always. Chan's Pov. Reader is gender neutral. Chan is whipped! Chan thinks reader is dating someone. Childhood friends to lovers. Misunderstanding with a happy ending. Chan is drunk but not that much, more like tipsy. word count-3.4k A/N- Sorry this took me ages to write but I hope you'll enjoy reading. Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated.

My masterlist.

If you like my work you can buy me coffee❤️

Chan felt like he was about to lose his mind and weirdly enough it wasn’t because one of the boys did something to either piss him of or to just to be a general menace. No his distress was caused by a whole another thing or better say someone. How in the world was it possible for someone look this gorgeous, so ethereal and breathtaking on a regular fucking Friday?  

He knew he was whipped for you. He made peace with that simple yet not so simple fact years ago. He also knew that he found you absolutely beautiful. Whenever he tried to think of something beautiful your image always popped up before anything else. It was simple as that for him, like the fact that the sky was blue, the grass was green and you were definition of a word bewitching for him. 

Maybe it was a little bit of alcohol he had drunk earlier affecting him, maybe he just fell for you even harder right now (if it was even possible). But right now, as he watched you talk with the boys about god knows about what, he thought that you were the definition of the word beauty. He didn’t know if he wanted to stare at you for as long as possible and bask in your beauty and presence of if he should go to Hyunjin and ask him to teach him paint so that he could capture just how beautiful you looked. But knowing himself, even if it was possible to capture all of it on paper... Chan liked to think of himself as a selfless person, or at least he tried to be, but he was an honest man. If it was possible to capture how captivating you truly were, he would just keep it to himself, he would become the most selfish man in the world. And maybe he was. All he could think about right now was that your attention wasn’t on him, that you paid your mind to someone other than him. It didn’t matter that that “someone” was his friends, the people he considered his family. He wanted all your attention on him, he wanted you to look only at him. God he was losing his mind. When did he become so needy and desperate for your attention? He felt pathetic, how would you even look at him when he acted this way? He reminded himself something he did for years now. That you deserved way better than him, you deserved someone who would give you the world, someone who would cherish you the way you deserved. Even though he would do absolutely anything for you, even though he would make impossible possible for you, even though he would let the world burn for you, you deserved someone who would do even more for you and more importantly always be there for you. He wasn’t worthy of you not with the relationship he had with his work. God, it killed him whenever he had to cancel plans with you and couldn’t be there for you because he had to work. As much as he loved what he did for a living, the same love turned into hate because it kept him away from you. There were even times when he considered to just fuck it and quit, but what would he even do in life? There was literally nothing else he could see himself as. Without a job without a passion what worth did he have? What could he do?  

God, he felt pathetic. He was thinking about all this as he stood a chance with you in the first place. You always had looked at him and saw him as a friend. Maybe there was a moment there and there where it seemed that there could be something more. But your relationship although the years had been strictly platonic. He had given up on hoping for something more years ago. 

He had come with peace with the fact that he couldn’t be something more for you. Maybe it was for the good. You could live your life to the fullest. He was fine loving you from afar. 

God all he could think about was how cute you looked. Your hair was still messy, because you rushed here when you noticed that all of them were quite drunk when you called to check on them, and you were wearing that way too big hello kitty hoodie with the matching black pants Chan got you as a joke that you kept wearing because it was really comfortable. Your whole look today screamed that you only cared about being comfortable and that you were grumpy that you had to get up in the middle of the night to get your silly friends. Still in Chan’s eyes you looked like you hung the stars yourself. 

 God he was obsessed with you. There was no better way to describe the feeling really. Even now the moment your gaze shifted to him and you gave him that sweet smile... He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His body felt warm all over yet he felt his lungs were frozen in place. 

“How are you feeling Channie?” You asked him with that sweet voice of yours. In seconds his mind was swarmed with all the possible lyrics he could use to write yet another song dedicated Soley for you that he kept hidden in his laptop.  Well, hidden was a nice word. All of the boys knew of that file and Chan was more than few times relentlessly teased for his crush on you. They kept pestering that he should just confess, or at least show you all the songs he had written for you and let them do the job for him, but he just couldn’t. 

“Better now that you’re here.” He slipped before he could even stop himself. What if he made you feel uncomfortable? You two flirted from time to time, but lately he had this rising suspicion that you were seeing someone and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. All he knew was that he would rather die than make you uncomfortable with his silly little crush. 

Thankfully for him and his heart you chuckled and immediately his whole heart was filled with joy. “Well, I’m glad. I’m here to bring you home, because little birdie here told me that you had been asking for me all night.” You mused all sweetly. Chan’s head immediately snapped towards Minho, who grinned at him all triumphant. He would have to have a word with him later. 

“God I will kick his ass later. You didn’t have to come. I had no idea he told you to get here. You must have been tired.” Chan only stopped rambling when he felt you place your hand on his shoulder. You looked at him with eyes shining brighter than all the stars combined. It was his words yes and he would stand by it. 

“Calm down Channie.”  Your voice was calm, soothing. If there was one thing he had to choose to listen to till the end of his life he would, without a thought, choose your voice. Your kind, beautiful, soothing voice. He loved whenever you showered him with affection and complemented him. Hell, love wasn’t strong enough of a word to describe how he felt, he was on the cloud nine whenever you said even something sweet to him. But the thing about your voice and presence to him was that, even if you weren’t complimenting him or just being sweet. Even if you were just telling him about how your day went, he felt this serenity, this calmness. Whenever he was with you his mind always just shut down. It went silent. And he could actually enjoy living in a moment and enjoy his life to the fullest. Would there even be time when he would be able to convey in words just what you meant to him? Maybe then he would actually stop and be proud of himself as a lyricist. 

“Do you want me to be here?” Your teasing tone quickly bought him back to reality. 

“What kind of question is that? Of course I do!” Chan was quick to protest which made you chuckle. God there it was, that beautiful sound. Suddenly everything felt all right. 

“Whipped!” He heard Minho cough into his fist. He would really have to kick his ass later. 

Chan was about to ask you about how you were, how your day went, mundane stuff like that when he heard your phone ring.  “Sorry Channie one second.” You quickly checked your phone. The slight furrow of your brows was quickly replaced by a gentle smile. You quickly raised your finger to give you time and went a few steps away to talk on your phone. He couldn’t really decipher what you were saying to that person but your voice... You sounded do genuinely happy talking to that person.  

The ringing in his ears raised in volume when he caught you call that person “babe”. Did he fully lose you? Did you really start seeing someone? Was the distance between you so big that you didn’t even tell him you were seeing someone? Did he mess up so bad that you didn’t even feel comfortable confiding in him? 

Too caught up with the turmoil in his head he didn’t even notice for a moment a figure approach you. When he brought his gaze on you, you were talking with some man. Sweet smile adorning your face, your eyes shining brightly. Was it that someone? You weren’t talking on the phone anymore. The way you were talking to him you clearly knew him.  It also didn’t help him at all that the man you were talking to was objectively really handsome. There was no way he could compete with a person like him. God, he felt like a joke. There wouldn’t even be a competition. He should be able to face reality now. He had spent years helplessly yearning for you. He should know by now that he didn’t stand a chance with you. God, he felt like crying. 

The rest of the night was a blur. He didn’t even remember how he got into your car. Or the road you took. The last thing he remembered was how he saw you hug that man goodbye. Good thing that man wasn’t accompanying you that day and he returned to his friend group shortly after. He wasn’t sure he was ready to be introduced to your boyfriend. Not that he would ever be. 

It was funny how one moment you could be having time of your life and the next second it could be ruined by one single thing. Chan barely felt like talking, let alone smile or anything of that sort. And as it turned out his mood was contagious. The whole ride was quiet. Chan couldn’t even remember the time where all of them were in the same space and it was actually quiet. 

However, why you were silent and didn’t talk at all was a mystery to him. Did that man upset you? If that was the case, he would gladly murder someone. No one got to mess with you, not on his watch. 

“Channie?” Your voice brought him back to reality. He must have zoned out again. That two extra shots he drank as you talked with that man really messed with his head. As if he wasn’t already tipsy enough. “Are you okay?” You sounded worried. Was it this apparent he was sad? What was he even supposed to say? 

“I’m just tired.” He managed to mumble out after a second or two. 

“What do you think about sleeping over at my house?  We haven’t hung out in a while. I can not be deprived of my best friend for too long you know that.” You whined all cutely making his heart flutter uncontrollably. But he quickly got reminded of the fact that you were not his. And the small smile that wanted to break through got quickly replaced by a deeper frown. 

“I don’t think we should.” It brought him physical pain to utter these words to you. 

Now it was your time to frown. “Why is that?” God, you sounded so sad. It killed something inside him knowing he was the one causing you pain. You quickly backed down. “I mean if you don’t feel like it it’s totally fine. We’re almost at your house too. We’ll be there in few minutes.” You laughed awkwardly. 

God he hated this. Since when did things get weird between you? When did things change? Would things get even weirder and would the distance between you two grow as your relationship with your new boyfriend progressed? 

“Wouldn’t your boyfriend mind?” He hated how he couldn’t ask one question without mumbling like a sad little kid. 

Without even saying a word you quickly pulled over and turned on hazard lights. 

“Channie what the actual fuck?” You tried to sound calm but your voice betrayed you. 

“What? What did I do wrong?” This was weird, he was the one (okay unfairly, yes, but) upset with you, how were you the one scolding him? What did he even do? He didn’t remember upsetting you. Did he forget something? Did he do something and then forget? 

“What did you do wrong? Dude what is up with that question?” You sounded so appalled like he asked the most ridiculous question ever. “What boyfriend?” 

“You broke up?” When did you even manage to do that? Weren’t you all lovey-dovey with someone minutes ago? Did you break up with him via text? No, you wouldn’t do that right? Also why would you break up with him? The dude seemed perfect. 

“There was no one to begin with?” You stared him for a second, you seemed unsure of something. “Is this why you were sulky all evening? You think I’m dating someone?” 

Did he misread the whole situation? He didn’t right? He didn’t just make an absolute fool out of himself right? 

God he did. He wanted to dig a hole to crawl into and never get out. He really felt like crying now. 

“I’m not dating anyone.” You sighed out after few seconds of numbing silence. “God Channie what even made you think that?” 

Chan hadn’t even noticed he started fidgeting with his fingers. He only stopped when you placed your hand on top of his, only then he was able to feel the sting or the small self inflicted  wound. 

Chan took a deep breath. Here went nothing. “You had been smiling at your phone and texting a lot too. You’re always busy too. And when you were on your phone you called someone babe. And the man at the bar too!” Really, how could he not think you were dating someone. 

“I’ve been texting my friends that’s all. We’re planning a birthday party and I guess I’ve been running around a lot for it. Now listen carefully before I smack your beautiful idiot head! I call my friend babe, you have seen me do it millions of times, you even joked about how you could get jealous about it!” You quickly ranted to him, elevating Chan’s worries bit by bit, word by word. 

“What about the Guy at the bar?” Chan didn’t back down. He had to know. He had to know the truth. 

“Why does it matter if I have a boyfriend?” You looked at him with determined eyes. 

“What kind of question is that?”  

“The kind I want answer to. What does it change if I have a boyfriend?” 

Chan felt his face get warmer, how was he supposed to answer that question? 

“Come on, you know it changes everything!” No matter how hard he tried to hold it in, the desperation in his voice clearly showed. 

“What Chan? What does it change?” You raised your voice. Why were you prying like that? 

He couldn’t take it anymore. 

“For fuck’s sake how will it not Change everything? How can everything stay the same when I have been in love with since I remember? How can I just watch you go to another man just like this? You’re everything I have ever wanted and loved. You’re my everything! How can you not see that? Every song I have written is about you, every thought I have is about you, my heart simply beats just for you! How will it not change anything? It will kill me to see you with another man. I would do anything in this world for you but not let you go. I could never let you go!” 

God, he said it. He really said it. He finally admitted just what he felt for you. Well yelled would be more accurate word to describe it. But yeah... He finally admitted his feelings. It was like weight got lifted off his chest but as the seconds passed in absolute deafening silence, maybe it was better to keep it in. 

He couldn’t even look you in the eyes. He was such an idiot. He should have kept it to himself. Why didn’t you say anything? Were you that disgusted? Would you stop being friends with him now? Did he just lose you? 

He couldn’t even fully grasp what happened. One second he heard a clink of a seatbelt opening and next second your lips were on him. The lips he had dreamed of tasting for years were now kissing him. Did he just die and wake up in heaven? 

Your lips were soft as silk and so warm and you kissed him so tenderly almost hesitantly. As if a dam broke inside of him, he quickly opened his seatbelt and brought himself closer to you. There was no way he could hold himself back now that he got to know how you taste. Biting down on your lip gently he could feel your lips part. He immediately deepened the kiss. God he loved it, how you tasted, how you clung onto him, how soft and pillowy your lips were. His whole mind was consumed by you, he was overwhelmed in the best way, all he could feel was your lips caressing each other, your warmth surrounding him, your cold fingers that held his face gently, your sweet scent that was making him go numb. God he could feel how he was slowly getting more and more addicted to you. 

When you leaned back for air he couldn’t help but as he tried to chase your lips but you stopped him giggling. God did you have any idea what you did to him? He was at your feet at your mercy, did you even realize that? 

“Since I have to spell everything out for you today you beautiful dummy, I have been in love with you for years! I just didn’t think you felt the same way. Okay, there were times I did, but like you always backed down! And today seeing how sulky you got over me talking with a coworker who was with his boyfriend by the way, I thought that maybe this was the day I could finally get to the truth. Thankfully You return my feelings because if you didn’t I don’t think I would be able to get over you.” Chan physically couldn’t  let you finish talking a he leaned in and captured your lips in another searing kiss. As much he loved your voice and listening to you talk he had just realized that he loved kissing you more. Also to think that you thought that there was a possibility that he didn’t love you... He just had to stop you. 

“Of course I love you. God I adore you! You’re definition of perfection, live representation of love and beauty for me. I don’t think there’s even a universe where I don’t love you!” 

Hearing you giggle made his heart leap in joy. “God you’re such a sap Channie.” Gently bringing him closer to you by his shoulders you gently pecked him. Chan couldn’t help but mirror your grin as he wrapped his arms around you, basking in your presence, enjoying living this moment with you. 

“You’re one to talk.” He couldn’t help but tease back before leaning in to quickly peck your nose which made your smile widen. 

“We’re a perfect match then.” You mused, clearly satisfied. 

“Yeah, we really are.” Chan smiled to himself and hugged you closer feeling finally at peace. Finally feeling whole. 

Reblogs and feedback are gretly appreciated^^

If you like my work you can check my Masterlist or you can buy me coffee ;)

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght @notastraykid @annie-boleyn

[mxtantrights]

Azriel is (secretly) in love with you

"If it were anyone else, you would let them go." you grumble.

Rhys sighs and sets down both his utensils. The table goes silent.

No one could get into a fight like the two of you. Perks of knowing each other since you were children. Rhys is like the little brother you never wanted, but really treasured. And you were like the older sister he never asked for, but really needed. Especially after his mother and sister were brutally taken from him and his father died.

Which is how you now that he's treating you differently. If it were Azriel or Cassian asking to go on this mission he would happy oblige. If it were Feyre he might hesitate but he would let her do it. Mor or Amren he would let them do it. Nesta, well he doesn't tell her what to do ever. And Elaine, if she wanted to do something like this you think he might watch in shock. Never mind the valkyries.

"So you understand, great." he says sassily.

You slam the table, "Stop being rude. I deserve to go on this mission. I deserve what I'm owed."

"What makes you think-"

"I'm owed the head of the man who massacred my family. I am owed Rhysand!" you shout.

"Maybe we can come back to this conversation-" Cassian starts.

You and Rhys look at him in an instant. "Butt out Cass."

Cassian puts his hands up in surrender. You grunt and apologize to him. He nods his head once and places his hands down. You look over at Rhys.

"I'm going. Whether you want me to or not. I'm not asking for permission." you speak.

You stand up from your seat and storm out of family dinner. Something you have never done before. You know how important it is to Rhys and it's important to you too. But you know that tensions are high and you might say something you can't take back.

Its a long walk to your room. And as you sit on the edge of your bed you can't help to think to yourself about the circumstances. If this were Rhys, if he could go after Tamlin you wouldn't stop him. You'd help him.

So why does he not want you anywhere near this?

Your door opens and you green yourself up for a fight, thinking it's Rhys. But when your eyes meet Azriel's you deflate a little bit. Actually a lot. You can feel the tears forming in your eyes.

"I'll ask him to put me on the mission. And then I'll winnow you in." he says.

You look at him in pure confusion. You can't believe what he's saying. Was Azriel...defying orders for the first time? You've never seen him do something like this. To offer you something like this?

"Az, you can't." you say.

"I can. If you agree." he says.

"Why would you disobey Rhys like that?" you ask.

He looks at you. His eyes are basically piercing into your soul. And while you look into his eyes you understand why he's not answering you. He's not saying anything but he's saying everything.

"You know why." he puts simply.

It doesn't surprise you. It doesn't come as a shock. You don't know why but with him standing there and looking at you, you feel it. What you've been feeling for a while underneath the surface.

And he doesn't say anything else. He leaves and shuts the door behind him. You sit there with nothing else to say either. You don't chase after him. You don't call out his name.

Azriel. It's Azriel. How have you been so blind this whole time?

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

I have poppy playtime brain rot and wrote this to clear my thoughts. This is also my first time writing anything for poppy playtime. If you have any constructive criticism, please let me know!

Fluffy Doey head canons because he deserved better!

★ Sometimes, when he's lonely or just needs to relax, he draws on the walls. His drawings often attract the smaller toys to join in. He likes picking them up so that the higher places are in reach. He can even be a staircase if a lot of people want to join! the more the merrier!

★ He would put everyone above himself, even Poppy. Despite everything that has happened, she is still his family. All the toys in safe haven are. Each and every one of them. They mean the world to him.

★ Kissy and him have sleepovers! they share a tent together and he makes up happy stories to pass the time. It's good for them both because Kissy sleeps better when someone she trusts is close to her. And Doey loves sleepovers because it reminds him of his old life. It makes him feel normal.

★ He can sew. It helps him cope, whether it's patching up old rips and tears or creating new pillows and stuffed animals. If they were to ask, he would teach the other toys basic sewing skills.

★ He willingly takes on extra tasks and responsibilities to lighten the load for the other toys. Whether it's cleaning, organizing, or running errands, he is always the first to volunteer. He doesn't know it, but it's earned him a lot of goodwill.

★ As mentioned above, Doey has a talent for storytelling. He often gathers the toys around for bedtime stories. It brings a sense of comfort and routine to the Safe Haven and allows everyone to feel involved.

★ When Kissy isn't feeling her best Doey guides Kissy through mindful breathing exercises, helping her feel more grounded. Doey's calm demeanor and reassuring voice helps Kissy feel more centered. They are certified besties!

[satellite-evans]

Hi! Could I please request a one shot where Harry is sick maybe during tour and his gf has to take care of him? Thank you! I love your writing!

a/n: thank you so much for liking my work, it truly means a lot! it's a little short but I still hope you'll like it <3

sick on tour

The hotel room is quiet except for the noise of the air conditioning and the occasional sniffle from the lump of blankets curled up in the middle of the king-sized bed. The curtains are drawn, shielding the bright city lights outside from intruding on the peaceful, dimly lit space. Harry has always liked his hotel rooms cozy—candles on the nightstand, his favorite hoodie draped over the chair, and the softest pillows he could find. But tonight, none of it seems to bring him comfort.

You stand at the edge of the mattress, arms crossed, watching Harry sulk into his pillow. His curls are a mess, sticking to his slightly damp forehead, his nose a little pink from the fever, and yet—despite looking absolutely miserable—he’s still trying to convince you he’s fine.

“I can do the show,” he rasps, voice hoarse and scratchy. He attempts to prop himself up on his elbows, but the movement sends him into a fit of coughing. You sigh and press a hand to his chest, gently urging him back down.

“Baby, no. You can barely sit up.”

He frowns, brows knitting together like a petulant child. “S’just a little cold.”

“You have a fever, a sore throat, and you sound like you swallowed sandpaper,” you point out, smoothing your fingers over his clammy forehead. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Harry grumbles something incoherent and burrows further into the pillows. You can tell he hates this—hates being taken care of, hates being seen as anything less than strong. But the thing is, to you, he’s always strong. Even now, curled up in a nest of tissues and blankets, he’s still the man you love more than anything.

Tour has been brutal on him lately. Night after night of performing, giving his all to the crowds that adore him, leaving every ounce of himself on that stage. He never complains—not about the exhaustion, not about the jet lag, not about the toll it takes on his body. But you see it in the way his shoulders slump when he thinks no one is looking, the way his voice is a little more raw each morning, the way he clings to you just a little tighter when he finally collapses into bed at the end of the night.

“I can’t cancel, though,” he whispers after a long moment, his voice laced with guilt. “They’ve probably spent so much money—flights, hotels, tickets, clothes and waited months just to see me. I can’t let them down, I just can't.”

You soften, understanding where his frustration is coming from. Harry has always carried the weight of his fans' happiness on his shoulders, always put them first. It’s one of the many reasons you love him—but right now, he needs to put himself first.

You take his hand in yours, rubbing slow, comforting circles over his knuckles. “Harry, sweetheart, I already spoke to Jeff. He and the team handled everything. They put out a statement, rescheduled the show, and made sure the fans know how much you care about them Not that they need a statement anyway. They know how much you love them.”

His brows furrow. “You—”

“I took care of it,” you interrupt gently. “So you don’t have to worry, okay? The fans love you, but they love you healthy and not sticky. You can’t give them the show they deserve if you push yourself too hard now. That is not what they deserve.”

Harry lets out a slow breath, his tense shoulders easing just a fraction. He still looks guilty, but there’s also relief in his tired eyes. “You really talked to Jeff?”

You nod. “Of course. Your health comes first, baby. Now please let me take care of you."

You slip out of the room quietly and return with a damp cloth, gently dabbing it against his forehead. The coolness makes him sigh, his tense shoulders relaxing under your touch. Then, you hold up a spoonful of honey-laced tea to his lips. He scrunches his nose but accepts it, swallowing with a soft grimace.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice slightly clearer now.

You smile and brush your fingers over his cheek. “Of course, my love.”

After making sure he’s warm enough, you reach for the small bowl of soup on the nightstand that you kindly asked form the hotel staff. “Just a little, H. You need something in your stomach other than medicine.”

"The fans would've probably ask for me to sing medicine tonight but they can't because I need it. The irony." He said, trying to lighten the room up with a joke but cough wave that crushed him once again.

"Drink Harry." You said sternly.

He looks at you like he wants to argue, but he knows better. You lift the spoon to his lips, and after a moment’s hesitation, he leans forward and takes a bite. A small, content sigh escapes him, and you can’t help but grin.

“You’re good at this,” he mutters, sleep beginning to weigh heavy on him.

“I'm just good at loving you lovie,” you reply simply, brushing back his curls as he lets his eyes drift shut.

His fingers reach for yours under the blanket, giving them a weak squeeze. “Love you more.”

You sit beside him, pressing a soft kiss to his fever-warmed temple. “Just rest, my love. I’ve got you.”

And with the way he sighs, relaxing into your touch, you know he believes you.

Tomorrow, he’ll probably try to argue again. Try to tell you he feels fine, that he’s ready to get back out there, to put on another show. But for tonight, he’s yours to take care of. And you wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

I'm happy that you liked the "angsty love triangle" because let me tell you, it took years off my life 😂

Oooh my God, poor Dean. 🫣 This is literally torture for him! lol

Yes it is. And I hated myself for putting him through that, but it had to be done lol.

I had a feeling this was why he insisted on her living in the room next to his, our big protective man, but now it's coming back to bite him in the ass. 💀

It really did. Man just wanted to be close to the reader, not hear her do the horizontal mambo with Ben next door 🤣

And the fanning gif is perfectly used. The Dean literally having a whole expirence thinking about laying on top of the reader 👀

Sobbbiiiiiingggg -- oh Dean. 😭😭

I put him through so much in this part- oh goodness, he kinda deserved it, but it was struggle bus the whole way. He loves the reader so much, and wants to be with her, but we all know he's so bad at expressing his feelings 😭

God Dean! You can only bury your emotions under assholery and anger for so long. He can hate the fact that she's a hunter and want more for her, but he has to accept that it's her choice, and he can support her and be honest with her rather than succumbing to his assholery. 🥲🥲 But of course, his "I'm not worthy" mentality crops up as well. 🙃 Makes you want to throttle him (if in more than one way lmao)!! The thought that he was suffering so much while trying to find her when she was in another world is also heartbreakingly on-brand for him. He'd so be tearing through every piece of lore and resource to try and get her back. 😭

EXACTLY! He hates this life for her, but it is her life. It's her choice to be a hunter and he has to accept that. Because on one hand I do see the side of him that wants to protect her, but he can't shut her up in a glass box. He has to let her live her life and be okay with it. And YES, he should not hide behind the "assholery" (lmao 🤣) instead he should be honest with her!

Oh yeah the "I'm not worthy" was really pulling overtime- It DOES make you want to beat some sense into him with an encyclopedia lol. But we both know how much he struggles with that and I had to include it in here 😭

I KNOW! It fits Dean though. I could see him having the same reaction to it as when Lisa and Ben got taken. Because he loves the reader and he thought that he 'lost' her. Dean would have been almost FERAL to get the reader back.

💀💀💀 Come on now, Dean, don't be petty. 🤣

Dean is so petty you could call him Tom. 😆

TELL HIM, SAM. SHAKE HIM UNTIL HIS GREEN EYES ROLL INTO HIS HEAD -- make him see how he's acting!! lol

LOL YES SLAP SOME SENSE INTO HIM!! USE THE BOOK! Continuing with the trope that Sam knows everything.

Gahhh pain. so very pain, even though it hurts so good. 😭😭😭

Told you... YEARS off my life lol

I also love the use of the office gif- and I really love the little bit that you highlighted about what it was like to kiss Dean vs. Ben. Because yes Dean can say that Ben "is him" but they really are two different men with different mannerisms. And I had this idea that Dean's kiss would be softer, but also more tentative whereas Ben has the confidence to take what he wants.

Omggg finally!! Finally Dean's being honest about how he feels without being a dick about it. 😪

Literally all it took was a slap and the thought that he was going to actually lose the reader to put him over the edge. It was so satisfying to finally give him a vulnerable moment with the reader, especially after all the shouting between the two of them. But I think that he realized that the only thing he had to lose was the reader and she is everything to him 😭

Ughhh such soul-rendering description, and the spice here is oh so delicious. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 But I have to point out that the reading is having a DAY loll. Two beefcakes in one night?? 😏 (Also, I'm afraid of how Ben is gonna take this. 😬)

Thank you!! They needed a few moments of spice to make up 😉 especially after everything the two of them have been going through lol. And really after everything Dean had to listen to through the wall 😳

And I KNOW lol. The reader is really living the life we all want 🥴👀

Ben will take it... like Ben... and also a little bit like Dean- pushing it all down 😒

Oh sure, pretend she meant nothing to you to spare your deep-down man feelings. 🙄

Mhmm. It is unfortunately on brand for him and he will not be the one to admit that he has feelings for someone else. Especially not after everything that happened with Countess. And I also think that Ben understands that this reader, isn't really "his."

That was the biggest decider in this fic when I was trying to figure out if the reader should end up with Ben or with Dean. And it really came down to that she's not from Ben's universe. She's a hunter and there are parts of her life that Ben won't be able to understand that Dean can. She might be able to understand Ben, but she needs Dean and Dean needs her.

LMAOO Ben vs. Technology -- I think we all know who's winning. 🤣 And Ben secretly liking therapy just so he just has someone to vent to for an hour? Be still my heart, honestly. 😭

It is the first fight that Ben has ever lost 🤣 And I literally was like, yes Ben would hate being forced to go to therapy, but he would love to sit there and just rant with someone who has to listen to him. Unfortunately, I think that Ben would also be the person who has an affair with their therapist LOL

OMGGGGG I'M WEEAAAAK -- and he's already clocking IT girl's cuteness, I'm dead. 😂💞 The way he's already starting to like her better? I see what you did there. 😉

He's already smitten! 😍 And I had to give him a happy ending too! I don't think I would have been able to live with myself if Ben got sent off without someone to love him 😭 I also know that we've talked in the past about Ben needing someone in his life that gives it right back to him and doesn't put up with any of his antics, but I am so intrigued by the thought of what kind of person Ben would be with a shy/anxious significant other. I love that idea and I'm literally adding it to my WIPs lol 💗

ahaha you charmer, you. 😂 A swoon-worthy line, even if we do know how sleazy this man can be lol. She really has no idea what she's getting into with this guy, but I love to imagine that with this nicely wrapped up ending! 💕💕

He's got a line for everything *sigh* and he knows just what to say. I hate to say that this would have worked on me 😅 She has NO idea, but I like to think that the two of them are very happy right now. Also kinda know because I am slowly plotting out ideas for follow ups with the IT Reader and Ben lol. But I'm so happy you loved it friend!! Thank you so much for all your kind comments!!!💞

Part 3: Why Is It A Big Deal?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader

POV: Dean POV, Reader POV, Soldier Boy/Ben POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Enemies to Lovers, Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST, Crossover

Word Count: 12.4K (I PROMISE I DIDN'T MEAN TO)

Listen While You Read: Treat You Better By Shawn Mendes

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing, Making Out, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Jealousy, A little homophobia (it’s Soldier Boy), Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It's finally here! I have loved the return to this universe more than words can describe. Each of the POV's are crazy in their own way. And again, don't forget to read the fic "Stranded" by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this series in the first place! ENJOY!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean POV

Dean leaned back on his bed at the bunker and jammed the pillow further down around his ears over his headphones. He was listening to a mixtape that he had burned forever ago, chosen because it had the loudest drum solos blaring through his Walkman. However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Dean had tried his best to get Sam on his side when he proposed the idea that Ben didn't have to come back to the bunker and instead should be sent be sent back to wherever the hell he came from right then and there, but Cas was still out doing whatever it was he was doing, which meant that Ben was going to stick around for a little longer.

And it meant that Ben was finally getting his wish… you.

Dean's teeth gritted together when he heard another moan over the sound of the cymbals and felt a white hot spike of something in the pit of his stomach burn through his body.

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you. But other than the time you stubbed your toe and Dean kicked down the door when he heard you yell with his gun drawn, there hadn't been an emergent situation that required his help.

Right now he was regretting the decision to have you live next door wholeheartedly, because it meant that he was having a front row seat to everything Ben and you were doing in your bedroom.

Dean sighed, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried not to imagine what was happening, but he kept having flashes skate across his mind. He didn't want to see what it looked like or sounded like to have Ben's name tumbling from your lips, all Dean wanted was to hear you say his name like that and to be the one making you fall apart beneath him.

Not some asshole from another universe.

The image of you laying under him back at the school came back to him in a wave, pushing away the revulsion momentarily. He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He hadn't even made love to you and you laying there on top of you felt more intimate than any experience he'd had in his life. Dean wanted to exist in that moment with you a little longer, to savor those last few seconds of you staring up at him as if he was the only person in the world.

The memory of Ben kissing you after followed. Dean remembered the way Ben's lips roughly took from you and the way he held on to your face and it snapped Dean out of it. It hurt him more that you let Ben kiss you after Dean had been the one to save you.

Fuck.

His teeth gritted hard together so tight that he heard them grind. He hated watching you with Ben, hated watching Ben do the one thing that Dean had wanted to do for years. And Dean also hated the way that Ben treated you, as if you were something to be possessed and showed off, as if you weren't smart or anything more than just beautiful.

Dean had known from the first moment he saw you in Ellen's bar years ago that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life. You were funny, kind, sarcastic, and had a hard edge that you'd developed after years of being a hunter, but there was something else, a softer side of you that you didn't let everyone see, something hidden beneath it all that you only allowed yourself to have whenever Sam was around, but never with Dean.

It made him hate his brother a little bit, seeing how effortlessly the two of you had developed a friendship, while Dean had to practically Heimlich you to talk to him.

Dean wanted to see that side of you so badly. He wanted you to smile at him the soft way you smiled at Sam, and wanted you to laugh at his jokes or tease him playfully about his hair or about what he was wearing that day the way he'd seen you with his brother.

He tried to find reasons to be in the same room as you, drifting to sit nearby while you read or watched a movie. You always seemed different then. Your body was relaxed, open, with just a hint of a smile curving on the edge of your lips that made Dean want to stare at you for the rest of his life.

He tried to make you laugh whenever he could and tried his best to impress you, but each time he did you'd only roll your eyes and make a sarcastic comment. You didn't like him, Dean knew that, but he wished you did.

Sure he was maybe a little harsh on you sometimes, but Dean didn't want anything to happen to you, he was trying to protect you, because he knew the moment he stopped caring so much would be the moment he lost you.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

He hadn't felt like this about anyone else ever, and he didn't know what to do with his feelings. Bottling them up only seemed to hurt him more, but whenever something happened on a hunt or you tried to split away from him and Sam, he panicked and said things that he shouldn't instead of the three little words that he'd been wanting to say to you for years.

That's what happened a few weeks ago on a hunt, when you went into a house alone and faced a poltergeist that threw you across the room and into a glass cabinet. Dean had stood there yelling at you trying to tell you how stupid it had been for you to go in alone, while biting back what he really wanted to say- that he couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you because looking at you was like watching the fireflies along a misty road at dusk, each one lighting a path in the darkness that showed him the way.

Yes he was angry, but all Dean saw was the bloody ripped sleeve of your shirt, and the way your face had contorted in pain when Sam picked you up and helped you back to the car. It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

The truth was he hated that this was your life, hated that you were a hunter and each day you put yourself in danger, because he believed you deserved more. You deserved a normal life with someone who loved you, maybe a few kids, a dog, and a life far from the world that Dean and you knew so well.

Of course the thought of you with anyone else made Dean want to put his fist through a wall. The problem was even though Dean wanted you, he believed that you deserved better than him. You deserved the white picket fence and suburbia, not a darkened bunker underground with a man who wasn't sure he still had anything good left.

It was the reason why he didn't want to tell you how he felt, that, and Dean believed you absolutely hated him and hated being around him in the first place. It's why he buried it beneath the surface for so long.

However, when he was looking at you Dean often forgot the things that happened to him. You made him want to keep getting back up to fight if not for anyone else, for you.

But then Ben had shown up.

When you'd gotten dragged to another universe, Dean had tried everything in his power to get you back. He'd screamed and prayed for Cas so loud and so many times he went hoarse, he'd looked through almost every book he knew of to find the spell to bring you back to no avail, tried several rituals that promised results but gave him nothing, looked at his computer screen for so long that it made him cross-eyed, and drank coffee so strong it made his heart race.

But all Dean knew was that you were somewhere else alone, where he couldn't get to you or protect you, and it made him sick. He hated the thought of you alone trying to fight your way to survival in a place like the Endverse. When Cas finally came five days later and helped Dean bring you back, Dean had been so happy to see you that he'd almost hugged you, but instead he'd made an off-brand joke and you'd run into Sam's arms for a hug that made his chest tight.

Dean thought that he was having a nightmare when he saw Ben, a man who looked so much like himself, stride into the motel room confidently and kiss you. Dean was waiting for you to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you didn't, you liked it. And judging by the sounds Dean was hearing through the wall he could see that you wanted Ben.

All it did was piss Dean off that another version of himself got to have you and he didn't. Not when he'd known you longer and you'd only known Ben for five days.

Five fucking days. She's known that asshole for five days and she likes him. She's known you for years and she can't even stand to be in the same room with you.

The thought made Dean's heart clench in his chest. He didn't understand what Ben had that he didn’t have, he was him after all as Dean kept saying over and over to you. But Dean knew that deep down the real thing he was telling you over and over was not that Ben was him, but rather was asking the question: "why not me?"

Does she really hate me that much that she can't stand the thought of being with me? That she can stand to be with someone who looks exactly like me, but can't stay in a room with me for more than ten seconds?

Dean gets out of bed, stomps out the door, and down the hallway towards the library to try and escape the sounds coming from your room. They vibrate down the hall after him, like a flock of seagulls, mocking him all the way and doing little to ease the anger and jealousy swirling beneath his skin.

Sam is sitting in a chair with a large volume in front of him and a piece of notebook paper scribbling furiously when Dean enters the library, but he doesn't appear surprised to see his brother.

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother.

Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

Sam gives him a sympathetic look, and pushes his long hair back behind his ears. "Sorry. I'm researching a case in Kentucky, but Cas said that he'd be back in a few hours-"

"He said that ages ago! I want that asshole gone now." Dean's hand tightens on the arm of the chair, so tight that his knuckles are white.  He was happy that the library seemed to be far enough away from your room to escape the noise, but he knew it was happening, which didn’t help at all. "I don’t understand what she sees in that dick."

Sam hesitates for a moment, tapping his pen against the notebook paper.

"Just spit it out Sammy." Dean sighs.

"He might be an asshole to you, but not to her." He replies simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Well you're kinda…" Sam shrugs and leans back into his chair trying to find the words.

"I'm kinda what?"

"You’re kinda a dick to her." He finishes. "She's getting fed up with it. The other day she told me that she's been thinking about moving out and going back on her own. I've been trying to talk her out of it-"

Dean's blood ran cold. He hated the thought of you leaving again, it meant that he wouldn't know where you were or if you were alive and he wouldn't be able to make sure you were prepared for a hunt or at least be there to have your back if something went wrong- because let's face it, something always went wrong. "What? What the hell are you taking about?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she hasn't made up her mind."

"But why?"

"Because ever since the first time we’ve been going on hunts with her, you’ve been rude and-"

Dean interrupts his brother with a shout. "What? Do you expect me to hold her fucking hand? We’ve seen experienced hunters get killed out there with one simple mistake! And she’s just some amateur-"

"Dean, she's not an amateur." Sam sighs as if he can't understand why Dean was being so difficult.

He was. Sam was used to it whenever the subject of you came up in front of Dean, but honestly his brother's stubborn attitude when it came to you was annoying him.

"She is!" Dean snaps back wishing that he had a beer.

"No, she’s not." Sam shakes his head. "She’s been doing this just as long as we have. You know who her mom was and you know that her mom was just as hard on her as our dad was on you-"

At the mention of their father, Dean can feel his jaw tighten, memories flashing across his mind that he wanted to forget. The cold feeling of disapproval begins to creep up his spine to his shoulders, but Dean shakes it off. "That doesn’t matter."

"I think it does."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, Dean you keep saying that he’s you, but I'm starting to think that she's you."

"You need to stop using all those hair products Sammy, they're messing with your head-" Dean scoffs.

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted."

But I do want her.

The thought rises before Dean could stop it and he wonders if you'd spent all these years thinking that he didn't want you around when it was all he thought about. Every decision he made was to try and protect you, to put you first, and the thought that you didn't see that hurt him.

"I'd never hurt her-" Dean's voice comes out a little softer and more broken than he meant it to, catching slightly on the words.

Sam shakes his head. "Not physically. But the two of you have been doing this for years and I think that she's sick of you treating her the way you do and then she met Ben. She met another version of you who appreciates her. I know that you’re a little jealous-"

"I am not jealous!" Dean says on instinct, but Sam knows the truth, he's always known the truth, and Dean knows it too.

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother. "You should talk to her. Take Ben out of it and talk to her the way you talk to other people."

"I talk to her like I talk to other people." Dean grumbles as he gets up out of his chair intent on going to the kitchen to get a beer or something stronger to take the edge off.

"No you don't. So go talk to her." Sam waves a hand in Dean's direction before his gaze drops back down to the book.

"She's kinda preoccupied." Dean mutters under his breath and the image of you and Ben tangled up in your bed makes him flinch.

Sam looks up at his brother again, sympathy flashing in his eyes. "Dean-"

"Just leave me alone Sammy."

And with that he turns and makes his way towards the kitchen, hoping that he won't be able to hear Ben and you, and wishing that you hadn't met Ben in the first place.

Reader POV

Ben mutters something in his sleep, rolling his body towards yours so close that his muscular right arm brushes against your bare shoulder. He was laying on his stomach, his face pressed into one of your many pillows, snoring softly, and taking up most of your bed.

It wasn't hard to. The full sized bed was hardly big enough for you, let alone two people, especially not someone as tall and broad as Ben. Which became more obvious when you noticed that Ben's feet were hanging off the end.

You sigh, laying on your back and staring up at the cracks in your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You followed each one with your eyes, tracing the shapes they made like someone watching the clouds on a hill bathed in sunlight. You'd thought that after everything Ben and you did for the past two hours you'd be able to fall asleep as easily as he did, but you couldn't because your mind was awake and roaming everywhere it could.

It wasn't that you hadn't had a good time with Ben or hadn't wanted to have sex with him. Ben didn't force you into anything. You wanted to have sex with him. You had missed him and it had been a while for you, and you liked Ben. The problem was that now, after, there was an odd feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, something that felt surprisingly like guilt.

I have nothing to be guilty about.

You chide yourself, hands curling and uncurling on the edge of the blanket the longer you stared up at the ceiling. But it was still there, bubbling up beneath the surface. Your mind kept slipping back into the memory of Dean and you in the broken auditorium.

Each time you closed your eyes you were back in Dean's arms, looking up at him while he pushed your hair out of your face and asked you if you were alright, his eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like worry. He'd never acted gentle or caring like that before with you and you still felt odd from everything that happened.

Fuck. What is happening to me? I just spent the last two hours with Ben, I shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else but-

You sigh again and shut your eyes, but it just brings the image back to haunt you.

You hadn't had any thoughts like this about Dean, not ever, and you didn't know why now. You'd spent years thinking that he was a big jerk who hated you, but the Dean you saw earlier today was far from that.

In the past, Dean had your back a few times, but it hadn't been like earlier. He'd never held you close, covered you with his body as if he didn't care what happened to himself as long as you were safe, and he'd never brushed your hair away with such tenderness it made your heart flutter in your chest.

No. Dean has been a total dick from the moment I met him, he hates me, he-

The thought stutters to a stop when the hurt and jealousy in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben comes flashing back through your mind.

Does he? Or did I just interpret that wrong? Maybe it was just the hatred he had towards Ben flaring but… why does he hate Ben? He has no reason to.

But despite everything that Dean had done to you over the years, you didn't hate him.

Even though he tap danced on your last nerve whenever he opened his mouth and often made you feel stupid you couldn't, not when you saw the way he cared so much for other people. Dean Winchester was selfless, he always put other people first and was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant someone else got to be happy and got to live.

You glance at the man lying in the bed next to you. Ben was handsome and strong. He possessed some of the qualities of Dean that you found attractive, but he treated you differently. It was what drew you to him when you got trapped in Ben's reality, not just that he looked like Dean, but that Ben joked with you, teased you, and he seemed to generally care about you.

Dean didn't act that way with you. At least, you'd never seen Dean act that way before today. Today was different than any other day and you wished that it hadn't been.

Ben mutters something else, and this time he leans more towards you, his arm coming up around your waist to hold you against his side. The warmth and weight of it was familiar, but it made the feeling of guilt grow larger in your stomach.

Why is this happening? I didn’t feel guilty the last time I had sex with him.

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Before he'd drifted off Ben had asked you to come with him when Cas sent him back to where he was from, said that he wanted you there with him. You had an inkling that it was the first time that Ben had asked something so serious from a woman. But you weren't convinced that it was because Ben wanted to have a relationship, rather that he didn't want to be alone.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't considering it. Ben was kinder to you, gentle (in his own way), and he seemed to appreciate having you around. But there was something holding you back.

At first you thought it was Sam. He was your best friend and you didn't want to abandon him, but there was another feeling, an ache deep down that you didn't know the cause of. Other than Sam there really wasn't anything in this universe that would hold you back from going with Ben, but obviously there was, you just couldn't figure out what.

Sure Ben's reality was fucked up… yours was too. Demons and Angels duking it out for supremacy while other creatures hid under beds and in the dark to kill people or worse wasn’t ideal either. But you weren't sure what your life could look like there. There wasn't anything to hunt which meant you'd probably be dealing with supes instead and the thought wasn’t appealing. You weren't sure that you belonged in his world.

Maybe I should have asked him to stay with me?

The thought made you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd been thinking about moving out of the bunker. Yes it was the only permanent home you'd ever known, but Dean was getting on your nerves and you thought that maybe you should get a little bit of distance from him. Moving out and Ben staying meant that he could come with you on hunts, but you weren't sure that was the solution either. Ben was strong and brave, but you weren't sure that he had the precision or the delicate side you needed when approaching a hunt to do well here.

It was these thoughts that were keeping you awake and you decide to get some water to clear them.

You slowly begin to slip out from under the covers, gently moving Ben's arm off of you as slowly as you can as to not wake him before you make your way to your dresser to find a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. Ben sighs and shifts in the bed, the sheets pulling down just a little bit so you can admire the expanse of his freckled muscular back.

You'd seen Dean shirtless before once. He had come running out of his room with his gun drawn when you'd stubbed your toe on your bedside table and yelled. He hadn't put on a shirt before coming into your room, just aggressively kicked down the door wearing only a pair of hotdog pajama pants that you did mock him relentlessly for afterward. You didn't know why he'd looked so frantic when you yelled. It was just a toe after all. There wasn't anything for him to be worried about. Sam had showed up maybe ten minutes later rubbing the sleep from his eyes not worried at all.

But you'd remembered how Dean had looked shirtless. Sometimes the thought came flying into your mind at the most inopportune times, when Dean pissed you off and stuck his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips and the warmth of his skin through he air. The thought of him shirtless with his pajama pants hung so low on his hips that you could see every single hard defined muscle of his abdomen including the ones that made smart girls like you stupid.

You slipped on the clothes, but stop before you open the door to cast one more glance at Ben.

Although you knew that Ben and your relationship was more physical, there was a part of you that believed it could grow into something more if you went with him, something that you'd been wanting for a little while. Not just Ben specifically, but with someone.

Yes you were lonely, and Ben lessened the ache whenever he was around, but sometimes you wanted more than this and being a hunter didn’t help at all.

You never met anyone or tried to have a real relationship with anyone in a long time. The last permanent boyfriend you'd had wasn't a hunter, but someone you'd met in a bar after a hunt with Dean and Sam. It lasted Four months. Four months of you missing anniversaries, dates, and his birthday. He'd accused you of cheating on him with Sam and you'd found him in bed with his work partner when you'd tried to surprise him one weekend. You hadn't been surprised. Surprising was when the guy had tried to follow after you and both Dean and Sam had blocked his path and told him to "get lost." That was putting it nicely.

Sam had to hold Dean back from breaking the guy's arm when he shouted over the two of them at you that you "weren't worth the trouble." You didn’t understand why Dean was also just as pissed at the idea of the guy cheating on you as Sam.

You shake off the thought and tiptoe out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

The bunker was silent, the metal floors cool beneath your bare feet as you walked down the desolate hallways. You glance at Dean's closed door for a moment as you pass and the feeling in the pit of your stomach tightens. A flash of the emotions on his face when you kissed Ben in the car and at the school flickers through your mind and you clench your jaw.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When you enter the kitchen you realize that you're not alone. Dean is leaning over the metal table his large hands braced on the top, his back to you, and his head bowed. A bottle of expensive whiskey sits on the counter in front of him next to a glass with the maple colored liquid inside. But the weird thing was that this wasn't the usual stuff Dean drank. This was the bottle that he had Sam hide from him for emergencies, the stuff that you'd only seen Dean drink when he was really upset and nothing else would cut it.

But what?

He turns when he hears you walk in.

You watch his eyes darken slightly as they skate over what you're wearing making your cheeks flush. You didn’t think he was still awake. If you had, you would have wore more than your favorite Metallica t-shirt that was worn soft from years of wear. Dean's gaze catches on the end of it where it hits mid-thigh, lingering a second too long, and makes something spark in your chest.

"Sorry. I was just getting some water." You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Romeo didn't get it for you?" Dean frowns as if the thought of Ben is an annoyance to him.

"No, he's asleep." You shake your head. "I thought you were asleep too-"

"Kinda hard to be sweetheart when the two of you are shooting a porno in the room next door to mine."

You feel your cheeks flush an even brighter pink. You didn't know that Ben and you were being that loud. The bed was a little squeaky, but you hadn't worried about the sound. The icky feeling in the pit of your stomach is back, the guilt rising in a wave the more you realize how much Dean heard.

Again? Why am I guilty? Ben and I had fun, he didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to have sex with him but-

"I'm sorry. I didn't know we were being that loud." You shake off the feeling and move around Dean to get a glass from one of the shelves.

"Guess he was making up for lost time huh? All those lonely months away from you fucking other women were hard I guess." Dean's words bite through the air and made your own temper flare up.

"He's not cheating on me. We weren't exclusive-"

"But you haven't been with anyone since you came back from his world."

Your hand freezes around the glass you reached for on the shelf. Why did he notice that? And why does he care?

The flicker of emotion in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben in the auditorium comes roaring back, jealousy and hurt. It makes the guilt worse.

You let out a breath to calm the anger that wishes to bite back at Dean's comment. "Look, I know that you don't like him, but Ben isn't a bad person and even though it's not any of your business, we had fun."

You don't know why you felt the need to justify what you'd done with, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Standing here in front of Dean felt awkward, and it never had before. And it wasn't just because of what you were wearing, there was something else charging the air between the two of you. You were expecting a giant purple elephant to appear in the corner.

Dean chuckles, his eyes dark. "Did you now?"

"Yes." You reply, but you can't hold his gaze, not when he's looking at you like that.

Dean takes a long swig from the glass in front of him, his lips curling on the edges in a cruel smirk. This was the Dean you saw more often, the one that made you feel like a failure and a bother, but it was the first time that you longed to see the soft Dean who protected you from the fallen debris.

"I could hear just how much fun the two of you were having sweetheart." He continues. "But the man who isn’t a bad person toasted a woman that he slept with without batting an eye. Imagine what he'd do to you."

"A woman who was going to kill me." You say to defend Ben. "And he wouldn't hurt me."

Dean's eyes flick down to your thighs, his gaze hardening. "What do you call those?"

You glance down at the place where your shirt meets your thighs and notice the bruises. There were five on each leg and each was a perfect imprint of Ben's fingertips. They didn't hurt and you certainly hadn't felt or noticed them before Dean pointed them out.

But you knew that Ben would never hurt you. He wasn't like that.

Sure he killed that woman today, but she was crazy and she was trying to kill me and-

"He didn't it on purpose. He's stronger than us and sometimes-"

"Don't you dare make excuses for that asshole." Dean growls eyes flashing. "I don't care if he didn't do it on purpose, he still did it. He knows how strong he is and if he can't control himself he shouldn't be sleeping with you!"

"You're being ridiculous!" Ice clinks against the sides of your glass as you make your way back towards the sink.

"No, I'm not. And I want him gone!"

"Oh really?" You snark while placing the glass under the running water in the sink. "I had no idea. You've been so calm and collected since the moment Ben showed up."

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but instead huffs out a breath and pours himself another glass. The amber colored liquid splashes against the sides of the cup as Dean violently picks it up to take another drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over the kitchen.

The water is cold, but you can't feel it when you take a sip, and you still can't quite look at Dean.

If he really is jealous, why can't he just come out and say it? Why is he being so stubborn and nitpicking someone else?

You sigh quietly to yourself and take another sip of water. The guilt was building again, prickling beneath your skin and bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of your stomach the longer you stand there.

Why am I guilty? Dean being jealous has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him!

You think about going back to your room and being done with it, but you can't something is keeping you in that kitchen with Dean just as something is keeping him there with you.

"He-um-" You swallow. "He asked me to back with him to his universe." 

Dean's entire body tenses as he explodes. "What? Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"No I-"

"Are you seriously considering that?" He demands looking at you like you're crazy.

"Yes. I am." You answer him honestly. There's something hidden beneath the surface that makes you want to tell Dean this. You're not sure if it's morbid curiosity or if it's something else, something that you can't quite place, but you want Dean to tell you what he thinks.

"But why?! You've known that asshole for five days!" Dean snaps back, but you can hear something in his voice, almost as if he's holding himself back from saying something else.

Dean please just say it! Don't keep it in!

"He's not an asshole, he's just rough around the edges." You shrug continuing to make excuses for Ben and thinking about the bruises on your thighs.

"Oh please." Dean rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head you wonder how they didn't get stuck on his brain. "If I took a piece of tree bark and ran it along his arm, he'd make it smooth."

"But-"

"Sam told me that you were unhappy here, but I didn't think you would throw your entire life away to be with that asshole!"

His words make you hesitate for a moment in surprise.

Sam told him that I was thinking about leaving? Why did he tell Dean that?

"What life Dean?" You shout, throwing your arms out to gesture to the entire room. "I don't have anything here! I can't keep a relationship because I let people down. I don't know who my dad is because he walked out on my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant. My mom died four years ago. I go to bed every night wishing for something else to happen but-" Frustrated tears were burning in your eyes now.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, but the urge to was overpowering everything else, the emotions you tried to keep down for so long beginning to curl and reform from the dark recessive parts of your mind where you buried them the night you met Dean Winchester.

"You deserve better than that asshole!" Dean shouts over you taking another step in your direction.

"Oh and what do you think I deserve Dean? Are you saying that I deserve someone like you?

Dean grits his teeth in frustration, anger blazing behind his eyes. "No I-" He finds his words. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”

"Oh good! That dinosaur. Falling back on something familiar, what a typical Dean Winchester move!" You gesture wildly with your hands sloshing water onto the floor. "I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it. We’re both consenting adults. He didn’t force me to do anything.”

You put down the cup to avoid throwing the glass at him.

“I just don’t see why you did it!” He towers over you, his body pulled taunt with his own anger and frustration.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping around with people like him!”

Is he out of his MIND?!

"Why not?" You demand, fists curling into balls at your sides because you know that it's not safe to put them anywhere else. The anger that was flaring in your chest was starting to rival how you felt the last time that Dean and you had an argument and you broke his nose. And it had just finished healing a few days ago.

"Because he treats you like a piece of meat!" Dean shouts it so loud you can hear the frying pans hanging in the kitchen clink together

"Do you even hear yourself? I have seen you in bars picking up women after a hunt-"

You had. Countless times. The bravado Dean had when the three of you were still floating on the adrenaline that was pumping through from a hunt you'd seen first hand in the bars where Sam and you sat at a one of the high top tables watching him weave through the crowds with the sound of classic rock blaring over the crackly speakers. You watched Dean find another woman for the night, saw how he tried his best lines and got what he wanted while you sat in the motel room next to his trying to read beside a sleeping Sam and avoid the noises coming from next door.

"This is different!" He fumes.

"How is it different Dean? I want to know!"

Is it different because he's jealous? Or did I just imagine that?

You didn't think that you did.

Dean's face is bright red with the force of his anger and you're sure yours must be too given how it feels like it's on fire.

"He's always touching you or kissing you, putting his fucking hands on you!" Dean's jaw is clenched tight.  "I've never heard him give you one compliment other than how you look-"

You laugh in his face, but it comes out crueler than you meant it to. "In contrast to how many compliments you give me? Because I don't think there's been any of those."

"I compliment you." He huffs back.

"Oh really?" You scoff. "When?"

Dean is quiet for a minute. His eyes drag over you again, but this time the sweep of them bring a heat vibrating against your skin and your throat gets tight. "I like your shirt."

"HA!" You shout triumphant holding up a finger. "That's looks based."

"You didn't let me finish!" He scrambles. "I like your shirt because I like that band too and you have okay taste in music."

"Oh wooowwww. I have "okay taste in music" let me just swoon right here." You wave your hand back and forth. "Fuck you. I have awesome taste in music!"

"That's not what I-"

"And who is it that should I be sleeping around with? You?!" You roll your eyes trying to take a step away from him, but he moves to intercept you.

His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles are white. “I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

His green eyes darken as he stares down at you, the fluorescent lights above the two of you catching the familiar hard lines of his face. Even though Dean looked like Ben, he still looked like himself in his own way. The familiar crows feet that graced under his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head, the rough stubble that pebbled over his chin and cheeks, the soft freckles, and the green eyes that you always found on you. There was a small scar just barely visible on the bridge of his nose and a few flecked on the edges of his face that made him more handsome.

You'd noticed how handsome he was in the past, but never like this. You'd never looked at Dean as other than someone who annoyed you. And yes he was annoying you now, but there was something else that you could feel threatening to explode, something you buried deep down and refused to unearth.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth Dean, I’m trying to figure out why this is such a big deal to you!”

Why is it a big deal?

“It just is!"

"Why? Because you're jealous?!" You hadn't meant to say it, but Dean's body goes taunt again.

"I am not jealous. I just don’t want you sleeping with him!”

“I think you are! And you’re not my dad Dean. You don’t get to decide who I sleep with!” You'd had enough of hearing him yell at you, of hearing him bitch about something that wasn't any of his business.

Who does he think he is? We're not together.

“That’s not what this is about-“

“Then what is it about Dean?! Why are you so hung up on something that is none of your business?!”

"It is my business!"

"How? How is it your business? Because you think that Ben is you somehow?"

"He is me!" Dean roars again and you wished he would stop saying it, because it was snagging on something in your chest.

A lie that you told yourself when you first started sleeping with Ben. You knew it. That you liked Ben because he looked like Dean and he appreciated you, that he didn't make you feel stupid, or ugly or not worth his time.

"No, he's not!" You shout back shaking off the feelings for what you hope is the final time. “Why do you care so much about this?!”

“Because I-“ Dean shouts, eyes narrowed at you. “Because I just do!”

“WHY?” You poke your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who you think you are. You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with!"

“I’m not trying to!”

“Yes you are! And I am so sick of your bullshit Winchester. This is none of your business. None of this is. It's my life! So why don't you just take your unneeded opinion and-"

The rest of your sentence evaporates into thin air as Dean grabs your shoulders so tight you're sure they're be bruises and pulls you in for a searing kiss.

Your body is frozen in shock, the warmth of his lips against yours holding a softness that you'd never known.

Everything about this kiss is different than the ones you'd share with Ben. You knew better than to compare them, but Ben kissed like he meant to devour you. He wasn't hesitant or afraid to take what he wanted when he kissed you, but Dean?

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

But just as he deepens the kiss you push him away and slap him across the face. The sharp sound rings through the kitchen and for a moment all you can do is stare at him shocked while the red mark on his face forms.

"What the hell was that for?" Dean shouts, but the emotion in his eyes wasn't anger, it was hurt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You shout back still out of breath. The ghost of his lips presses against yours and the taste of the whiskey remains on the tip of your tongue.

"I thought that-" He clears his throat, eyes widening.

"Thought what?"

"That you wanted me to-"

"To what? Kiss me?" The frustration was building again, because yes it had felt good to kiss him, but you hated that he was doing this now. That after years of him hating you, now when you had the possibility of being happy Dean was making this harder for you.

"Well-"

"No." You poke your finger into his chest, and this time you can't hold back the tears. They slip from your eyes, hot against your skin, as you feel every emotion that you'd kept bottled up beginning to surge up in a wave. "You don't get to do this Dean. Not now. Not after years of you treating me like shit."

Dean sighs and reaches for you, but you pull back from him. Hurt flashes in his eyes again and you can feel your own in the center of your chest. "I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. Damn it Dean, I'm not some shiny toy the two of you can fight over."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then why now?" You ask in a half sob.

Dean pauses. "What?"

"Why after years of you hating me-"

"I never hated you." Dean's voice is more of a whisper than anything else.

"Oh bullshit. Yes you do!" You raise your hand to scrub at your cheeks, the tears falling quicker now.

It was the first time that you'd allowed yourself to cry in front of him, and you were fighting the urge to run back to your room. Ben was still there and you didn't know how the hell you were going to explain to you why you were crying.

"Will you just shut your damn mouth for five seconds and let me talk!?" He snaps running his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to break your nose again if you do!"

"You need to because I'm trying to explain-"

"Explain what? Explain that you've completely lost your mind? Explain that all the years of you undermining me, making me feel like a burden, teasing me, yelling at me, making me feel like I was stupid, and driving me absolutely insane, has just been you trying to say that you love me?!"

You hadn't meant to shout that at him. Hadn't meant to say the word love, but now it was there hovering in the air between the two of you. Dean's eyes are locked with yours and you don't think he's taken a breath since you spoke.

Because love was a little word, only four letters, but why did it always seem so heavy? How could one word have the same weight as a loaded gun? How could something so small cause so much pain and so much hurt?

"Yes." Dean looks down at the ground, not able to meet your eyes. He looks ashamed and you can't find the words to fill the silence.

Because Dean Winchester was in love with you. The man who you'd always thought hated you, who you thought wished that you were never around, and who you thought believed you to be an annoyance.

Holy shit.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

The words strike you right in the center of your chest and it shocks you so much that you stop crying. You'd seen different sides of Dean before. Seen him angry, happy, annoyed, frustrated, sad… but Dean Winchester had never looked broken around you, not like this, and certainly not over you. Whenever something went wrong Dean would isolate himself from you in his room with a bottle of something to numb the pain. It made you feel like someone was gutting out your insides with a pitchfork.

The silence grows between the two of you again, and his head is still bowed and looking down at the floor in shame.

You exhale softly, controlled by something that you're not sure, and reach out towards Dean's face.

He flinches back from you, eyes rimmed red, looking at you suspiciously as if he believes you're going to break his nose. In hindsight, you supposed it was a reasonable fear to have since you'd done it in the past.

"What are you doing?" He asks, voice cracking. Dean's green eyes have dimmed, looking more like an aged jade pot that's sat outside in the sun for too long.

"Please shut up." You sniffle, the end of your mouth twitching into a smile, before you place your hands on the sides of Dean's face and pull him down to you.

The kiss is quick, only a brush of your lips against his to give yourself a taste and when it's done you pull back letting your hands fall to your sides. You're not sure why you did that. Maybe it's because Dean admitted to loving you and he looks like a lost puppy, but-

Dean steps forward into the space, his hands reaching towards your face, and you flinch.

“What are you-“

“Please shut up.” Dean murmurs, echoing the words you'd whispered to him moments ago.

His hands are rough and warm against your cheeks. Worn from years of carrying a gun in his hand and hard work he never shied away from. But they’re nothing but gentle against your skin as he pulls your face to his.

You could be standing on the surface of the sun and not feel as hot as you do now. A volcano could erupt and bathe you in lava and you would just scoff at it like it was a normal day, because kissing Dean feels infinite. It's all consuming. The scrub of his five o'clock shadow against your cheeks, the slide of his hands down your arms that bring goosebumps in their wake, the smell of his shampoo that you always catch when you walk into the bathroom, the nudge of his nose into your cheek, and the soft supple welcome of his lips that draw the breath from your lungs all take you somewhere otherworldly.

You couldn't stop. It was a compulsion, like magnets, like it was something you wanted to do for so long but buried it deep down to avoid the inevitable. Fueled by the belief that Dean would push you away, because Dean Winchester hated you.

But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Dean moans softly into your mouth and picks you up, his muscular arms fitting under your legs to place you on the counter, not pulling away at all and stepping into the space between them to fit himself closer to you. Your hands come to the back of his head, tangling in the short strands at the nape of his neck, shuffling your nails through his hair in a way that makes Dean shudder and pull you tighter to his chest.

Dean pulls back from you out of breath, but rests his forehead against yours, as if any further is too far from you and he doesn't wish to ever let you go.

"I don't hate you Dean." You whisper before he can say anything. "I can't. And I was only with Ben because I thought that this could never happen because you hated me-"

Dean's lips fall against yours taking your next words with it. "I don't hate you. I never did."

"Then why?"

He sighs. "I hated that you were a hunter, that this was your life, that you'd been doing this for so long with no one helping you."

"I'm okay."

"I know that, but I-" Dean hesitates. "I shouldn't have done what I did, but I didn't think that you'd want this-"

"This?"

"Me." Dean closes his eyes leaning further against you, almost as if he can’t hold himself up.

"Why?" Your grip on the back of his neck tightens.

"Because I'm-" He tries to find the word. "I'm not perfect. I'm a jealous asshole. I've done terrible things, made you cry.” He sighs. “You deserve better."

You kiss him softly. "There is no one better. I'm not looking for perfect, I'm looking for human. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake and being imperfect. The imperfections are what make you, you." Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Dean, you're not a bad person. You are the most selfless man I have ever met. And maybe you've messed up a few times, but I have too. Do you think I'm a bad person for the things I've done?"

There was a list of them that seemed to grow longer each day and it was difficult not to dwell on the things of the past. But standing here with Dean, watching the weight settle on his shoulders, while he told you that he didn't think he was enough for you made you throw it all away.

"No.”

“Do you think that I’m not deserving of love?”

“No. But-"

 You shush him. "Then don’t talk that way about the man I love."

Dean's eyes widen, but you watch the end of his lips twitch into a smile. "You love me?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "I think I always have, but I was afraid because you were-"

His mouth falls over yours so fast you don’t have time to finish the thought. "I love you too."

Your heart flutters in your chest with his words.

"Kinda hard not to." His thumbs stroke along your hip bone over the soft t-shirt sending electricity dancing along your spine.

You smirk. "You're right. I am pretty great."

"I think the word you're looking for is high maintenance." Dean smirks back at you.

"Aww… That means I'm out of your league and you're lucky to have me in your life." You giggle with a smile.

"I am." He murmurs, nudging his nose forward into yours moving in for another kiss.

Someone clears their throat from the other side of the room drawing your eye. Ben is leaning against the doorway dressed in his suit, watching where you're wrapped up in Dean's arms.

Any warm feelings you were having standing there with Dean immediately evaporate and the guilt comes roaring back. You'd forgotten that Ben was still here and you felt bad for him. You didn't want him to think that you used him.

"Ben I-" You begin to stutter, but he only shakes his head at you.

"You don't gotta explain anything doll, I know what this was." Ben smirks, but you see something flicker in his gaze for just a second before its gone.  "And I'm man enough to admit when I'm beat. Even if I don't like it."

"But-" You try to say again.

Oh this is so awkward.

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Cas walks into the room with Sam at his heels, who looks much too smug when he spies where Dean has you on the counter. You push Dean back and stand up, while Dean shoots daggers with his gaze leveled at Sam.

Sam isn't phased, but chooses not to say anything.

Ben rolls himself off the doorway and walks confidently to where Dean and you are standing, extending his hand towards Dean. "You take care of her." Ben's eyes flick to you for a second before focusing more on Dean. "She's special."

The hand of guilt on your throat tightens just a little more, because somewhere you wondered if Ben really was as aloof as he seemed or if he had started to care about you a little more than he let on.

"I will." Dean's smile is forced, and you see him squeeze Ben's hand a little tighter as he does.  It only makes Ben smirk wider.

Cas begins to write the symbol on the floor taking care with each intricate detail to open the portal, but you stop him at the last minute.

"Wait." You take a step forward and hug Ben tightly. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me for fucking you?" Ben snorts throwing a smug look in Dean's direction that makes Dean bristle. "Guess I am a gift."

"Shut up." Your cheeks blaze bright red and you hear Dean growl something under his breath. "No, just thank you. For being here."

Ben hesitates. He raises his hand to your cheek, fingers tracing along your skin before he brushes away some of your hair. It was a gentle gesture from him, one that you weren't accustomed to. The emotion in his eyes shifts to something else, but he hides it with a smirk. "You're welcome sweetheart."

"Maybe you'll meet the me from your reality." You say, because you're not sure what else you can say, not when Ben is looking at you like that.

The entire situation was again reaching soap opera proportions and there was only so much you could take before you drove your car off a cliff.

The truth was, you did like Ben. You thought he was attractive, bold, strong, but there was always something a little gentle that lurked under the surface he never let anyone else see.

But you loved Dean. He understood what it was like to be a hunter, understood what it was like to not be able to live up to someone's expectations, and he loved you. You couldn't see a life with Ben, but you could see one with Dean. Ben didn't belong in your world and you didn't belong in his.

Ben's smirk twitches. "Maybe. But she won't be the same as you doll."

Dean clears his throat and steps forward to pull you back into his chest possessively. "I think your ride's leaving." You don't have to look up into his face to know he's frowning.

Ben chuckles. "You know what kid? You're alright." His eyes flick back to yours. "You give me a call if you get bored with him."

"She won't." Dean snaps. “And don’t call me kid.”

Ben only laughs at him and steps closer to Cas as he begins to finish the ritual and when the portal finally opens, Ben goes through without looking back.

And you don’t feel guilty anymore, because you knew that Ben understood.

"Finally." Dean breathes a sigh of relief that makes you snort, dropping his head to your shoulder. It was so casual that you had to remind yourself that Dean loved you and you loved him.

Sam clears his throat. "Hey Cas will you help me with something in the library-"

"What do you have to do in the library?" Cas frowns at him confused.

"Just something come on-"

"But why-"

"CAS!" Sam shouts casting an obvious look in the direction of where Dean and you are standing.

Cas looks at the two of you. "Are they coming with us to the library?"

Sam huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs Cas by the back of his trench coat to drag him out of the kitchen so Dean and you can have a few moments alone.

You snort at the confused look on Cas's face when Sam drags him out, before you turn your body in his arms to look up into Dean's handsome face. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to be jealous of yourself?"

"I thought he wasn't me?" Dean smirks, his eyebrow arching with his tease. His fingers are resting resolutely on your hips, thumbs softly trailing in circles.

"He is a little bit." You admit defeated. "But don't look so smug Winchester."

"I think I'm allowed to be a little bit." His smirk grows and he leans his face down to yours. Instead of feeling angry at the appearance of his smirk it only makes you smile.

Standing here in the aftermath made you see Dean in a different light, made your heart buckle and jump in your chest the longer you stood there in the kitchen basking in the warmth that began to bloom in your chest.

"Maybe…" You gently touch the front of his buffalo print flannel, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingertips. It looked good on him, very little looked bad on Dean.

"Do you regret staying with me?" He mutters.

"What?" You glance back up to see his face and notice that he's not smiling, he's frowning at you, and his eyes aren't as bright.

Dean clears his throat. "Well you seemed like you were really going to miss him and-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, putting you everything you have into the kiss, hoping that Dean can feel how you have no regrets staying with him, that all you want is him.

"Dean Winchester." You breathe, moving your hands to cup his cheeks so he can't look away from you. "I do not regret staying with you, because I love you." You pull him as close to you as you can, his warm hands splayed over your back. "This is where I belong." You kiss him on the tip of his nose. "And this is where you belong. With me."

Dean's eyes warm the longer you hold his gaze. "I'm starting to believe you."

"Anything that I can do to convince you?"

"I can think of a few things…"

Ben/Soldier Boy POV

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

It had been two days since he'd left your reality, and he was trying his best to shove away the disappointment at the fact that you hadn't decided to come back with him. It wasn't that Ben wanted more than what the two of you had, it was that he liked having someone to talk to or try to talk to, and you were a good listener.

He didn’t like opening up to people, but there was something about you. He could trust you and Ben hadn't found anyone he could trust since he got back from Russia.

Ben also wasn't about to admit that he was lonely, he had plenty of women who were eager to warm his bed, but there was something about you that always made him feel different. He wasn't sure what that was exactly.

He'd also be lying if he said that he had wanted to explore it a little more if you'd come with him to his reality. The thought of you staying with him for an extended period of time in his apartment hadn't been unwelcome. Ben had never allowed other women to stay more than a day, but you… Ben would have let you stay as long as you wanted to.

Fuck.

He knew that he wasn't in love with you, but Ben knew he liked having you around. He liked being friends with you and he liked fucking you.

And yes he was disappointed that you had chosen Dean instead of him, but at the same time Ben didn't blame you. You had a history with Dean and when you'd been forced into Ben's reality, you'd talked to him a lot about Dean. Ben knew that you liked Dean more than you cared to admit.

But there was still an unwelcome feeling in the pit of his stomach that Ben wasn't accustomed to.

Ben huffed out a breath to push away the thoughts, while looking at what was left of the keyboard on his desk. The keys were scattered across the wooden top like bits of confetti, broken easily underneath his large fingertips when he'd tried to write an email

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had taken a job working for the Department of Supe Affairs, but he was "grounded" due to the "anger issues" that he swore he didn't have, and because he didn't listen to Butcher whenever he gave him an order.

I don't need to follow orders. I'm Soldier Boy! I should be giving the orders!

Basically it meant that he was stuck on a desk indefinitely until Annie January, the new department head, released him. She'd also ordered that Ben go to company mandated therapy sessions once a week. He'd refused to go, but after Annie threatened him with termination of his contract, which meant that Ben would have gone back to being someone who "looked like someone who used to be famous," he'd gone to therapy.

And he refuses to admit this to anyone… but he liked it. Someone who was paid to listen to him bitch for a whole hour about whatever pissed him off and actually kept their trap shut was just what he needed.

Sometimes it reminded him of when he would talk to you, but there were still things that he refused to tell anyone and some of those things he had told you.

Ben ran his hand through his hair frustrated at his predicament. He would have liked to go into the field and take out some of his frustration on another supe, but Annie refused to give.

Ben didn't like listening to women, but even he had to admit Annie had a set of brass balls and he respected her for it. She didn’t take shit from anyone and especially didn't listen to Ben's bitching over why he should be in the field instead of being chained to a desk.

"Oi you all right mate?" Butcher calls and Ben can hear the shit eating grin without looking up from his computer screen.

The error message was still displayed in bright red letters, mocking him.

Ben knows that Butcher doesn't give a shit, and is probably about to start teasing him about his inability to adapt to modern day technology.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Don't you have something better to do? Like fucking that little bitch that Annie is ploughing?" Ben spits back, clicking on the mouse but all it does is bring up another error message in another language.

"Oh mon ami, that doesn't look good." Frenchie walks by to stare at the computer screen that has now gone slightly fuzzy.

"I don’t think that's going to fix it mate." Butcher laughs. " But I called IT."

"I don’t need any of those four-eyed fucks helping me!" Ben snaps turning to narrow his eyes at Butcher.

He's holding a white cup of tea, wearing his usual long trench coat and Hawaiian shirt, with the shit eating grin that Ben knew Butcher was going to have when he looked up.

The last thing Ben needed was some nerd telling him everything that he did wrong. He was already on a first name basis with the director of the IT department, who was a little weasel of a man and who no longer picked up the phone when Ben called to yell at him.

"I think you're gonna want to listen to this particular four eyed fuck. She's new." Butcher gloats. "But don’t say I never did anything for you Soldier Boy."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben shouts at Butcher's back, but he's already gone.

Ben turns back to the error message that has begun to flash an even brighter red and now has a countdown.

"Fuck, fuck fuck-" Ben growled and to remedy the situation he puts his fist through the computer screen. It makes a high pitched electrical popping sound, showering his desk in sparks, while the overhead lights flicker, before the screen goes completely black.

Ben was not stupid, but he was a little slow when it came to modern day technology. He was doing better than he had initially, but it was taking him a longer time to understand using his desktop computer at work than his cell phone.

"Hi, I'm from IT. Mr. Butcher called and said that you might need a little help." The voice was small and tentative, coming from somewhere on Ben's left.

"I don't need any help. Especially not from a fucking four-" Ben started to growl, but then he looked up and the words died in his throat.

Because the person standing next to his desk was you.

This version of you looked different. Ben was used to seeing someone in old band t-shirts, worn blue jeans, and flannel shirts, someone who carried themselves confidently and had a hardness surrounding their outer exterior that simply said "don't fuck with me."

But this version of you was softer and a little gentle. Your hair was longer and pushed back from your face by a simple black headband, you were wearing dark framed glasses, an oversized cardigan sweater that covered a simple pair of blue jeans, a striped blouse, and a pair of dark blue converse. The converse made Ben smile. He hadn't seen anyone wearing Chuck Taylors in a little while and it was a welcome sight, something from the past that he actually recognized.

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield.

He thought it was cute.

As much as Ben liked the version of you he knew who didn't shy away from anything, Ben found himself smiling at this one. You were definitely more soft spoken and a little less confident, but Ben could see a sweetness and sincerity in your eyes that he hadn't come across since he came back to the US.

It was the thing that always made him trust the other version of you, the part of him that made him want to tell the other version of you things that he hadn't told other people.

"I'm sorry." You say, even though you have nothing to be sorry about. "I-"

"No. I'm sorry." Ben clears his throat awkwardly and for the first time in a long time he feels nervous. He wasn't sure why that was, not to mention he never apologized to anyone, ever, but he didn't want to scare you away.

"It's okay." You give him a soft smile. "Computers can be frustrating, but sometimes it’s better not to put your fist through the screen."

Ben chuckles. "Probably not my best work."

You shake your head, a wider smile on your face, the motion of it sending the smell of your perfume over him, something floral and a little old fashioned. You look at the remnants of the computer and bite the inside of your cheek deep in thought.

Ben found himself tracing the furrow of your brows and the scrunch of your nose. You were beautiful in every reality to him.

"Well, Mr. Soldier Boy I don't think-"

"Please call me Ben." He interrupts.

Ben wondered if you were this shy all the time and if you'd be just as shy if he took you to bed. He wanted to find out.

Ben had slept with many women in his lifetime and he was usually drawn to women who were more confident and outgoing, sure of themselves, but there was something about your shy attitude that Ben found attractive.

"Ben." You say it in the soft voice of yours, cheeks flushed a little bit as if you're embarrassed to say it. "I don't think that there's anything I can do for this." Your hand waves over the computer. "But I can go talk to my boss and tell him you need another one."

"I'll go with you." Ben stood up.

He didn’t want to let you out of his sight, not when a part of him worried that you weren’t really there or you would evaporate into nothing before his very eyes.

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to-" You stammer, shaking your head, and not quite looking at him as if making eye contact was a little harder for you.

"I want to." Ben smiles at you. He hears your heart beat quicken and can hear the small intake of breath you have when he smiles. "He's an asshole and I don't want him to chew you out for something I did." Ben explains.

It was partly true. The guy was an asshole. Not to mention, Butcher had said it was your first day and Ben wasn’t going to stand by and have the head of the IT department screaming at you when you had done nothing wrong.

"Oh." You clear your throat, cheeks blushing that cute pink color that makes Ben smile wider. "Well if you'll just follow me."

He hadn’t met someone like you in a long time. And even though he liked the other version of you, Ben was starting to like this one more.

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

And the longer he stands there watching you blush, Ben begins to feel an odd feeling flicker in the pit of his stomach racing up into his chest that he’d never felt before and for the first time in a long time Ben was curious to see where it could lead.

A/N: Alright we made it to the end and everyone got a happy ending! Thank you again everyone for all the love and support while I was writing this mini-series 💗

Reveal of the Poll:

🥫: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in a grocery store.

💻: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in the IT department.

Personally I liked the IT more, and the problem is now I really like the shy reader with Ben. They are so cute and now I'm hyperfixated on Ben with a shy reader so we'll see where that goes 🤣

Thank you so much for reading! As always likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, but are not required. I love hearing what y'all think!

Taglist For It's Not A Big Deal:

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[scoupsleftcheekdimple]

The Best Gift

starring: svt leader and husband! seungcheol x wife! reader

aus: fluff, angst if you squint

warnings: none

synopsis: after a day out with her friends, Y/N can’t help but notice how beautiful they all looked with their luxury jewelry and bags. she’s not sure that she deserves such things… but her husband knows that she does.

word count: 693

A/N: this stemmed from my own longing for the Clair D Lune Christian Dior collection…

The faint glow of the screen reflected against Y/N’s face. She let out a soft sigh while scrolling, the prices only becoming more and more absurd as she reached the bottom of the Christian Dior page. 

But I suppose… beauty is expensive, she mused. 

Her mouse hovered over the Clair D Lune necklace. It was a simple piece, a thin silver chain with the signature CD, studded with diamonds, on it. But the price… $540.00. 

She let out another sigh. She wasn’t usually like this, but, after spending the day catching up with her friends, Y/N couldn’t help but notice how seemingly all her friends had the most recent Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Celine, and Prada bedazzled their fingers, ears, and even their feet. As much as she was happy for them to be enjoying such things, there was a slight twinge in her heart as she returned home. Because a small part of her wanted to be able to find the freedom to just splurge as well.

She knew that money was not the issue… Seungcheol reminded her of that almost constantly. She simply wondered if she had the right to flaunt such jewelry, so openly. Even after getting married to one of the most famous and rich idols in the world, wealth was not something that Y/N was accustomed to. 

She had grown up witnessing her family working hard for all that they had, with her dad working long, odd hours, and her mother rushing to make sure the household was maintained. 

Before Y/N could delve deeper into her thoughts, the house lock beeped, signalling Seungcheol’s return home. She immediately slammed her laptop shut, not wanting Seungcheol to know what she was looking at. 

“Cheol! You’re home!” she exclaimed as she made her way towards him.

He was still taking off his shoes as she approached, but, as soon as he was done, his arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground. Y/N let out a giggle before gently slapping him to signal to him to put her down. 

“What were you looking at?” he whispered while nudging his head into her shoulder.

“Nothing, nothing important… taxes,” she muttered.

He hummed before following her into the kitchen but not before taking a mental note to check her laptop. 

—

As soon as Y/N fell asleep, Seungcheol snuck back out to the living room. He sat down and opened her laptop, adjusting his glasses as he did so. He chuckled as he saw what website she was open to. 

He had always tried to convince her to spend his money; now, he finally knew what she actually wanted.

—

A week later, Y/N made her way home after a long day of work. Her feet hurt, her arms ached, and all she wanted was to crash on the couch for a couple hours. 

To her surprise, Seungcheol was already home. She smiled softly at seeing his relaxed state. As she approached, she noticed a small smirk on his face before he suddenly stood up and ran to the counter. Her eyes followed him to see him grabbing a rather large bag. 

“Seungcheol?” Y/N mused with a small smile. “What are you doing?”

He simply smiled, both lovely dimples on display before grabbing her wrist and setting her down on the couch. 

“I have a surprise! For you!” he practically squealed.

Y/N rolled her eyes, exhaustion apparent. “Seungcheol, please. I’ve had a long day, and I haven’t even had the chance to change—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Seungcheol practically shoved the bag into her lap. As her eyes focused on it, she noticed the emblazoned gold ‘DIOR’ shining on the white bag. 

“Seung- Seungcheol? Is this…?” Y/N whispered.

“You deserve it. More than anyone I know,” he said with a soft smile.

As Y/N opened the bag, she noticed that it was more than one luxury item… Seungcheol had gotten her the whole collection: the necklace, the bracelet, the two earrings, and even a ring! But as she looked at him, she realized that the best gift? It was him.

tag list: @seungkwansflower @reiofsuns2001

check out my masterlist !

[grandline-fics]

For your Valentine's Event: Single Red Rose with Benn Beckman. ❤️

DESCRIPTION: Single Red Rose- When your date goes wrong, they come to your rescue

WARNINGS:  mutual pining but it all works out.

CHARACTERS: Benn Beckman

WORDS: 923

A/N: Thank you @thecrimsonacademic for this request for the Valentine's Event! I hope you like what I came up with for Beck. This is my second time writing for him so I'm still trying to get the hang of getting his personality down

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

————————

When you’d returned to the Red Force, Benn immediately noticed the extra bounce in your step and unshakable smile. His eyes always seemed to find you regardless of what was going on around him but when your mood was this good, it was impossible for him to not notice. You must have encountered something very fun to do on the island they’d stopped at. Still it didn't explain why you were back so soon. He was one of the few on watch duty. You were part of the group out exploring the island. Curious he stepped up beside you as you made your way to the kitchen to grab a drink. “What’s got you so upbeat? Yasopp get drunk and fall asleep in a flowerbed again?”

“No! It's too early for that, even for him.” You grinned, leaning against the counter while Beck grabbed a drink of his own. “I’ve got a date tonight.”

Not a lot surprised Benn much anymore but that declaration did make him pause and the once delicious mouthful of ale in his mouth seemed to become heavier and harder to swallow. While nothing ever explicit had happened between you both, Benn was very aware of his feelings that had been growing for you to be beyond just crewmates and friends.

You’d both flirted more times than he could count and been affectionate but nothing ever romantic or sexual since Benn believed letting things take the natural course to be the best plan of action. Seemed while he was on the ship and you were out on your own, someone caught your eye. He was a realist to know this wasn’t love for you and this random person. The ship would be setting sail in a couple days, this was just something to pass the time. Regardless of the meaning, the word ‘date’ twisted something unpleasant in him. 

“A date huh?” Beck asked, keeping an air of calm and lightheartedness in his words because the last thing he would ever do was sour your happiness. “Hope they’re able to show you a good time. You deserve it.”

“I hope so too.” You smiled warmly as you finished your drink and sighed with a light shrug. “But if turns into a bad time, I’ll not cry over it. They’re cute, but not that cute. I’m going to get ready.” You stepped away and walked towards the door only to stop and quickly turn to look at Benn warningly but still with a touch of playfulness in your stare. “And if Shanks asks-”

“I know, I know. ” Beckman chuckled, knowing the last thing you'd want on a date was for Shanks to lurk nearby or tease you and disrupt things. “I won’t say a word until we set sail.”

“You’re the best, Beck.” You beamed before disappearing down the hallway to get ready for your night.

It wasn't long after you’d left to go meet your date when Lucky and Hongo returned to allow Benn and the others remaining on board to go out and see the island and have some fun. Beck knew he wouldn’t need to search far to find at least someone in the crew, knowing their lively presences would make themselves known without any effort. He was right because someone in the crew did appear, he was just surprised to see it was you and even stranger still you were on your own and the bounce you had in your step earlier was gone. “Hey you.” Beck greeted, his voice snapping you out of your thoughts. “What happened?”

“Guy never showed.” You explained with a small shrug. “Left a message that had he known I was a pirate he wouldn’t have asked me out.”

“You’re kidding.” Benn asked with eyebrows raised and a disbelieving shake of his head, some people were so gutless. “I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologise, Beck. Like I said he was cute, but not cute enough to cry over. I just wish I hadn’t wasted my time getting ready for it to go to waste.” You shrugged, smiling softly at Beck’s sympathy. “Have a good night. I’ll see you on the ship.”

As you moved to head in the direction of the ship you were swiftly caught by Benn’s hand and stopped. You looked up at your crewmate and let out a sigh to see him looking at you with a serious look. Truthfully you weren’t in any way hurt by what had happened. You’d mostly agreed to a date with someone else because you thought it would take your mind off of your feelings for the man in front of you. Now you hated that he looked upset on your behalf.“Beck, honestly I’m fine.”

“Fine or not you look too good to let it go to waste. C’mon you wanted a date, you’re getting a date.” Benn instructed, leading you back towards the town. When you opened your mouth to protest he grinned at you. “Don’t worry I’ll make sure you have fun.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” You huffed out with a smile, finally letting him lead you wherever he wanted. “Fine, I’m curious now to see how Benn Beckman operates on a date. Show me what you got Beck.”

“Oh that’s a tall order.” Benn laughed, adjusting his hand to lace his fingers with yours. “Y’see to really get the full experience it’ll take a lot more than a single date. Could take a long while.”

“That so?” You grinned walking side by side with him. “I’ve got the time.”

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya @48daisies , @rosemary-lungs

[midnight-mourning]

Jelly Hearts

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 7💘💘

I FORGOT TO POST THIS AHHHHHHH, my bad all, please enjoy some self-indulgent jealousy hehe

Prompt: also I think that I'd put in a request for some really jealous dca time. maybe they see reader getting some other valentines or hears that they have plans the day of after they're off work and assume that they've got a date (rightfully or incorrectly idk) and they just can't let this happen. y/n is Theirs™️

Word Count: 1750

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

The flowers on the desk were a surprise, about a week before the middle of February, roughly. You weren't sure where they'd come from or what they were doing there, and found yourself very surprised to find it was in fact, a gift for you. The card stuck inside the bouquet had neat script, and was to the point. 

'Happy Valentine's day! From, Your Secret Admirer'

You'd asked the security guard if they knew anything about who had gifted it, but they had no clue either. It had been a common theme over the past few days, the kids had been gifting you early cards and treats, but this seemed to be a bit more than that. 

"What've you got there, Sunshine?"

You turn, confused smile on your face. "Looks like a gift! From a uh, secret admirer? You know anything about that?" You tease. 

Sun tilts his head sharply, rays and faceplate spinning from the force. 

"Hm, no. Don't think so!"

Your smile falls a bit, mainly because you'd been hoping it was him, and based on his tone he wasn't lying about it to mess with you either. "Oh, gotcha."

"But! I'll keep my eyes and ears peeled just for you, Starlight." He bends down quickly, coming eye to eye with you and booping your nose. "And if I do find out, I'll be sure to let you know."

He stands straight and walks off then, and it takes you a moment to process what just happened. You probably just imagined the edge to his tone. You shake your head, and glance back down to the vase. 

Huh. The card's missing. It must have dropped somewhere. 

But after a quick search you never did end up finding it. 

Not that it mattered much, as a day or so later you were sent another gift, this time jelly candy hearts and heart-shaped chocolates. Same message as last time, 'Happy Valentine's! Love, Your Secret Admirer'. You sat and enjoyed the sweets during nap time, just to keep from any little hands or pleading eyes from trying to snatch one for themselves. 

As you were snacking, Moon suddenly sat down beside you, hands folding into his lap and head almost snapping to look at you. 

You raise a hand to greet him. "Hey, Moon-man."

"Star."

You cock your head to the side, popping another candy in your mouth. "Need something? Or just come over to hang out?"

"Where did you get that?" He points to the half-opened box in your lap. 

You shrug, lifting the little slip of paper for him to read. "Secret admirer strikes again I guess."

"Seems so." He snarls out.

It surprises you, brows raised as you look at him again. "You alright?"

"Fine." He turns away from you and the card, facing forward to observe the Daycare. 

You don't speak again for the rest of the time. 

Similarly 'issues' arise throughout the rest of the week. Little gifts from that same person being sent your way, not to mention the growing number of cards and the likes from the Daycare kids. 

During all of this, the attendant pulled back from you, you weren't entirely sure why. They were shorter, blunter, not nearly as talkative or teasing with you. You wonder if it was because of all the attention you were getting compared to them, which made you feel awful. They deserved some appreciation too. 

It's not until the day of Valentine's that you realize who your 'Secret Admirer' is after all. Specifically, it was your best friend, who you'd been helping out with getting set up on a date the past couple of weeks. You'd laughed about it once you'd found out, getting on to them for 'leading you on' even though regardless of who your admirer was, your heart belonged to someone else. 

Specifically the two someone's who'd been avoiding you all week long. 

You planned to talk to them about it tomorrow, tonight you had to focus on holding to your promises and make sure your friend's date actually went well. You were going to shadow with another friend of yours to see to it the date proceeded smoothly. 

You sling your jacket over your shoulders, taking one last glance around the Daycare before you head to leave. Just as you turn to head to the door, your face knocks gently against something metal. You jump, stepping back to find that Sun is standing before you. 

"Going so soon, Sunshine?" He tilts his head, eyes uplifted crescents. 

You nod, smiling. "Yup! I have a date tonight—"

"A. Date?" 

You bite your tongue. You hadn't meant to say that at all. "Oh no, I just meant that—"

"You know, I think there's some cleaning up still left to do, friend." Sun takes you by the shoulders, and leads you back into the Daycare, you lose your jacket at some point in the process. 

You try to protest. "I, Sun I really should go—"

"Stay." He states, speech a bit garbled for a moment before uplifting into his usual cheer. "I really must insist! We can't have this place looking less than perfect when the kiddos come in tomorrow now, can we?"

You scan the play area, nothing seems out of place to you, so you say as much. "No offense, Sunny, but everything seems just fine—"

There's a crash to your left, over by the arts and crafts tables. Turning you're bewildered to see Sun lying amongst a disaster of spilled craft supplies, some of which leaks quickly onto the padded floor. You don't even know how he got over there, he was just right next to you moment's before.

You're not able to question it much before Sun's speaking up. "Whoops! I don't know what got into me! Could you lend me a hand with this, pretty please, Sunshine?"

"Of course but are you okay?" You ask, slightly hurrying as you walk over to him. "Don't need to go to Parts and Services or anything?"

Sun makes a noise similar to grinding gears, next words blunt. "No. It was just a simple mistake."

"I, right, right." You offer him your hand, which he takes and uses to help get to his feet. He doesn't let go once he is standing, however. Leaving you no choice but to hold his hand, lest you make this awkward. 

You think for a moment. You should stay and help clean this up, you know how neurotic he—and moon—can be when it came to messes. You did feel bad about not being able to make it up to them regarding their lack of gifts, this could be a good chance. Especially when the opportunity presents itself to you.

"And I'll tell you what, Starshine. If we clean up quick I'll make sure to it'll be worth your while. How's that?" His hand squeezes yours just a little tighter. 

Something about the way he phrases it makes your cheeks heat up. You cough into your hand with a nod. "Yeah, that um, sounds good."

"Perfect."

The next hour or two is a blur. After you cleaned up, the attendant had one activity then the next for you to do together.

Making a last couple of Valentine's crafts before putting the supplies away for the year, making puzzles, reading stories, acting out scenes, dancing to music. From one moment to the next it was something, something, something. You would have expected this out of Sun for sure, but the fact that Moon was just as active a participant was more than surprising. 

In a brief moment of a break, while sitting down to watch a movie, do you think to check the time. 

Twenty minutes before your friend's date. Shoot, you'd lost a lot more time than you'd thought. You peek up to Moon, who's focused on the screen in front of you both. He's got his arms wrapped around you as you sit—practically—in his lap. You think if you try to move you'll get trapped further, so you attempt with words first. 

"Hey, this has been, a lot of fun, but I really need to get going now, alright?" You put your hand on his. 

Moon's faceplate snaps down, hold on you instantly tightening. Not what you wanted in the slightest. "Why? Are they that much more important?"

"I, wait. Moon-man, are you jealous?"

He freezes, then looks away, hold on you slipping as he starts to shrink in on himself. "Yes. No. We both are." His next words are muttered, a mixture of static and, maybe another voice? "It's not fair. We've loved you for so long, but someone else gets to have you instead."

"You, you guys, like me?" You ask in the quiet.

Moon grips the edge of his hat, pulling it down over his eyes. You swear you almost see some of Sun's rays poking out behind his faceplate in the low light. "Not like, love. Too scared to say it until now."

"Even if I told you I cared about you both too?" You twist to face him fully, hands cupping his cheeks. 

He melts into your touch. "Even what?"

You giggle. "Would you still be scared to say it? If I said I loved you too?"

"Maybe, maybe not..." One eye peeks out from the hat. "But, you're taken." And again, that harsh tone comes back, resentment, you realize.

At this you can't take anymore and start to laugh. "No, I'm not. I've been, well not trying super hard, but I've been trying to tell you that since early."

You finally are given the chance to fully explain the situation, including the 'Secret Admirer' part of the whole deal. You watch the tension melt in the bot in front of you, quickly becoming embarrassed and flustered that they'd been jealous over nothing at all. 

Despite that, however, you end up having to text your friends that you can't help out tonight. As you've been told you have a lot of 'making up' to do for your 'awful' behavior. By both attendants, for that matter. 

You're still sitting in their lap, movie long forgotten and lights now raised just slightly. Yellow and blue hands trace patterns into your waist as they hold you tight, seeming afraid to let go despite your whispered assurances. Their rays flutter and faceplate clicks at every sound you make, intentional or not.

As you kiss and are kissed—over and over and over again—there's only one word they murmur back, consistently, without fail. 

"Ours."

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you @juukai for the request! I enjoy making jealous dca a lot hehe, just feels very fitting to me >:)c

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful @buzzybee3

[yikesdrama]

for one perfect moment 🩵 (ii) — Bucky Barnes

summary: bucky's birthday is coming up soon and you just want to do something special for him, maybe even take a time travelling trip to see his maa....

word count: 7k

warnings: fluff, kisses and lots of cuteness

a/n: please comment, like & reblog with your thoughts. this is the second part, there’s one more coming up next weekend!

masterlist | part 1 • part 3

previously— Winnie's gaze snapped to yours, her eyes narrowing slightly. "How do you know all of this? You've never told me who you are, or why you care so much about my James." You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. For the first time, you looked unsure, as though the question had caught you off guard.

But then you straightened, your gaze meeting Winnie’s with quiet determination. “I care because he deserves to have someone care. And I know because… I’ve seen him. I’ve spoken to him. I’ve seen how much he loves his life now, how hard he’s fought to be free of what they did to him.”

Winnie studied you closely, searching for any hint of deception. But there was none. Whoever you were, whatever strange circumstances had brought you here, you believed every word you said. And somehow, impossibly, so did Winnie.

“Why didn���t he come himself?” Winnie asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “If he’s alive, if he’s free… why hasn’t he come home to me? You came from the future, why couldn’t he?”

Your expression shifted, a flicker of sadness crossing your face. “I think… I think part of him doesn’t know how. After everything he’s been through, it’s hard for him to believe he deserves that kind of peace. And part of him is afraid—afraid of how much he’s changed, of what you might think of him now.”

“Think of him?” Winnie’s voice rose, trembling with emotion. “He’s my boy. My James. There’s nothing he could do, nothing he could have gone through, that would make me love him any less.”

You smiled faintly, a hint of relief softening your features. “I know that. And deep down, I think he does too. But it’s hard for him to see it sometimes.”

Winnie let out a shaky breath, her fingers brushing against the edge of the table. “He was always stubborn,” she murmured, her voice tinged with affection. “Even as a boy, once he got an idea in his head, you couldn’t talk him out of it.”

You chuckled softly, and the sound was warm, like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Yeah,” you said, your tone fond. “He’s still like that.”

For a moment, you both sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between you. Then Winnie straightened slightly, her gaze sharpening as another thought struck her. “You said Steven is alive too.”

You nodded. “He is. He and James are living together now, in Brooklyn.”

“In Brooklyn?” Winnie echoed, her brow furrowing. “You mean to tell me those two fools survived everything they went through and still ended up back here?”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “I guess they couldn’t resist coming home.”

Winnie shook her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips despite the tears still glistening in her eyes. “Of course they did. Those two were always thick as thieves. If there was trouble to be found, they’d find it together.”

“They still do,” you said, your smile widening. “But they’re good now. They’ve made a life for themselves—a real life. They’re happy.”

Winnie’s chest tightened, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. It was too much to process, too much to believe, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to doubt it.

Her boys. Alive. Together. Safe.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.”

You reached across the table, your hand warm and steady as it covered Winnie’s. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

Winnie’s fingers tightened around yours, gratitude and hope flooding her chest in equal measure. But before she could speak again, your expression shifted, a hint of nervous energy creeping into your gaze.

“There’s… something else,” you said slowly, as though choosing your words carefully. “I’ve been thinking about James. About what he’s been through, and what he’s lost. And I was wondering…” You hesitated, your eyes searching Winnie’s face. “Would you want to see him?”

Winnie froze, her breath catching in her throat. “See him?” she repeated, her voice barely audible. “You can do that?”

Your grip on her hand tightened slightly, a spark of determination lighting your eyes. “There’s a way. It’s… time travelling just like I did, and it might sound crazy, but I can bring him back here. Just for a week. For his birthday.”

Winnie stared at you, the words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. “You mean… you could bring him here? From the future?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady. “It wouldn’t change anything in the timeline—he wouldn’t be able to stay permanently—but it would give him a chance to see you. To have that time with you.”

The room felt impossibly still, the weight of the offer pressing down on Winnie like a physical force. Her heart raced, her thoughts spinning wildly as she tried to comprehend the enormity of what you were suggesting. To see her boy again. To hold him, to tell him everything she’d held in her heart for so long.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I’m sure,” you said firmly. “But only if you want it. If it’s too much, I understand.”

Winnie shook her head, fresh tears spilling over as a trembling smile broke across her face. “Too much? No. It’s everything. It’s more than I ever dared to hope for.”

You smiled, relief and warmth radiating from you like a beacon. “Then I’ll make it happen.”

Winnie let out a shaky laugh, her hands clutching yours as though you might vanish if she let go. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

For the first time in several months, hope blossomed in Winnie’s chest, a fragile but undeniable light cutting through the darkness. Her James was coming home. Even if only for a week, it would be enough. It would be everything.

As Winnie sat back in her chair, clutching her teacup as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded. Across from her, you watched her with patient, steady eyes, your hands folded neatly on the table. For all the warmth and kindness in your expression, there was a subtle alertness about you, as if you were bracing yourself for whatever might come next.

“So,” Winnie began softly, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her, “when are you bringing him here?”

You hesitated, your lips pressing together before you answered. “It won’t be immediate,” you said gently. “I still have to take care of a few things back home. Time travelling needs to be done very carefully.”

Winnie nodded slowly, turning the words over in her mind. “I see,” she murmured, though the concept was as baffling as everything else you had told her that day. “And it’ll be both of them? James and Steven?”

You tilted your head slightly, your brows knitting in mild confusion. “You want to see Steve, too?”

“Of course I do,” Winnie said, her voice firm now. “That boy… he was as much my son as James was. They were inseparable. Always running off together, getting into trouble. Steven was smaller, quieter, but oh, the mischief they caused.” She let out a soft, wistful laugh, her eyes shining with memory. “When James wasn’t pulling some prank, it was Steven. And when they weren’t eating me out of house and home, they were convincing Rebecca to smuggle cookies from the pantry. Those boys were mine, y/n. Both of them.”

Your face softened, your gaze warm with understanding. “I’ll bring Steve,” you promised. “He’d want to see you, too.”

Winnie leaned forward slightly, her expression serious. “You tell him he’d better show his face. I may be older now, but I can still box his ears if he’s too stubborn.”

You laughed, the sound breaking through the heaviness of the moment. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that felt less like avoidance and more like a quiet acknowledgment of everything they’d shared. Winnie sipped her tea, her mind racing with thoughts of James and Steven, of how different they must be now, and yet still the same in ways that mattered. She wanted to ask more—so much more—but she didn’t know how much more she could take before he brain began hurting.

You cleared your throat softly, breaking the quiet. “I’ll leave you something to help,” you said, pulling a small, unfamiliar device from your pocket. It was sleek, metallic, and fit neatly into the palm of your hand. You placed it on the table between you, your expression thoughtful. “This will let you know when we’re coming. It’ll turn green when we’re on our way.”

Winnie stared at the strange object, her fingers twitching with the urge to touch it. “And I’ll know it’s them?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Yes,” you said firmly. “When it lights up, you’ll know we’re coming in less than 2mins. But until then, it’s important that you don’t tell anyone about this. Not even Rebecca.”

Winnie nodded, though the request gave her pause. “Why not?”

“It could change things,” you said carefully, your tone deliberate. “The timeline is… fragile. Even the smallest change could ripple out and affect the future in ways we can’t predict.”

Winnie frowned but didn’t press further. She trusted you, even if your explanations left her head spinning. “I’ll wait,” she said finally, her voice steady. “Whenever you’re ready to bring them, I’ll be here.”

You smiled, relief flashing briefly across your face. “Thank you.” You rose from your chair, smoothing your hands over your strange, unfamiliar clothing. “I should go,” you said softly. “But I’ll be back soon. But please… don’t tell anyone else about this. Not until it’s time.”

Winnie nodded, though her mind lingered on the odd tension in your words. “I won’t,” she promised. “And thank you… for everything.”

As you stepped toward the door, you paused, “I’ll see you soon, Mrs. Barnes,” you said quietly before slipping out the door.

Winnie watched you go, the strange little device still sitting on the table, its metallic surface catching the light. She didn’t understand everything—perhaps she never would—but one thing was clear. You cared deeply for her son, in ways that went beyond mere kindness or duty. And while Winnie couldn’t quite put her finger on it, she had a feeling there was more to the story than you were letting on.

With a quiet sigh, she picked up the device, turning it over in her hands as a small smile tugged at her lips. Her boys were coming home. And no matter what secrets you might be hiding, Winnie would be ready.

The first thing Bucky became aware of was warmth—a soft, familiar weight pressed against his waist, accompanied by a flurry of something tickling his skin. His brows furrowed as his body stirred, torn from the haze of sleep by what felt suspiciously like lips pressing against his face. Again and again. Across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and down along his jawline.

“Doll,” he grumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep. “What’re you—?”

Before he could finish, another kiss landed on his chin, followed by a soft giggle that melted whatever protest he’d been trying to muster. He cracked one eye open, his gaze greeted by you perched on his waist, your legs folded neatly on either side of him, and face lit up like you’d just won the lottery.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” you chirped, leaning down to plant another kiss on his forehead. “Time to wake up.”

Bucky groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow. “It’s too early for this,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.

“It’s never too early to kiss your grumpy face,” you retorted, your voice dripping with mischief as your trailed kisses down the side of his neck. “Plus, I made you breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” he repeated, cracking his other eye open now. His arms moved instinctively to settle on your hips, steadying you as he shifted slightly. “What kind of breakfast?”

“Only the best for my birthday boy,” you said grinning. “Chocolate chip and caramel pancakes, strawberries, and an Americano. Your favorite.”

Bucky’s lips parted slightly, his mind catching up to her words. “Birthday boy?” he echoed, groaning again as the realization hit him. “It’s not my birthday yet.”

“Close enough,” your voice sing-song as you leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “It’s your birthday week, Buck. So, get used to it.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as his arms tightened around you. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Insanely in love with you,” you quipped, tilting your head to press a longer, slower kiss to his lips.

Bucky sighed into the kiss, his initial sleepiness melting away as he pulled you closer. One of his hands moved up your back, his fingers tangling lightly in your hair as he deepened the kiss, savoring the warmth of you against him. When you both finally broke apart, you were breathless, your cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

“Morning kisses are dangerous,” you teased, nipping lightly at his bottom lip before sitting back on his lap.

“You started it,” he countered, smirking. “Don’t blame me for finishing it.”

Your laugh was soft and musical as you traced fingers lightly over his chest. “Come on, lazybones.”

Bucky groaned in protest but sat up, leaning back against the headboard as he adjusted you so you stayed steady on his lap. He glanced around for his T-shirt, his brow furrowing when he didn’t see it where he’d tossed it the night before.

“Where’s my shirt?” he asked, leaning over slightly to check the floor beside the bed.

When he looked back up, he froze mid-sentence, his lips parting as he took you in fully. You were sitting there, looking as sheepish as you were smug, wearing his shirt. The fabric hung loosely on your frame, the sleeves too long, and the hem brushing against your bare thighs. It was unmistakably his, and you looked too damn cute for your own good.

“Doll,” he said, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Did you steal my shirt?”

You gave him an innocent smile, tugging lightly at the hem as though to draw attention to your handiwork. “Maybe.”

“You little thief,” he teased, narrowing his eyes as a playful grin tugged at his lips.

“You left it lying around,” you shot back, tone matter-of-fact. “And besides, it’s comfy. Smells like you.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he reached out to tug gently on the sleeve. “You’re lucky you look so damn cute in it.”

“I know,” you said, grinning triumphantly.

He leaned forward suddenly, his arms wrapping around you, as he flipped you both over onto the mattress. Your squealed in surprise, your laughter spilling out in a way that made his chest ache with how much he loved you.

“Admit it,” he said, pinning your wrists lightly above your head as he hovered. “You’re obsessed with me.”

You grinned up at him, utterly unrepentant. “Guilty as charged.”

Letting out a soft laugh, Bucky released your wrists so he could cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Good,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Because I’m pretty damn obsessed with you too.”

Your smile softened, eyes shining as you reached up to pull him down for another kiss. This one was slower, sweeter, a quiet promise exchanged. When you both finally pulled apart, you gave him a playful shove.

“Alright, birthday boy,” you said, sitting up and smoothing your hands over his shirt. “Let me get your breakfast before it gets cold.”

As you moved to get up, he caught your wrist, tugging you back toward him. “Wait,” he said, nodding toward the wardrobe. “If you’re going out there, grab me another shirt.”

Your brows raised, a mischievous glint sparking, “Why?”

“Because I’m not walking around half-naked,” he said, his tone dry.

You crossed your arms, tilting your head as you gave him an appraising look. “Why not? You’ve got a drool-worthy body, Buck. Let me enjoy the view for a little longer.”

Bucky groaned, running a hand down his face as he tried not to laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” you countered, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his forehead before darting out of the room.

When you returned a few minutes later, balancing a tray of food, the smell of coffee and pancakes wafted through the air. Bucky’s stomach growled at the sight of it, and you grinned, setting the tray on the bed between you both.

“Breakfast in bed,” you announced, settling cross-legged beside him. “Made with love.”

Bucky gave you a soft smile, his heart swelling at the way your eyes lit up. “Thank you, doll.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you teased, picking up a fork and spearing a piece of pancake before holding it out to him. “Try it first.”

He raised an eyebrow but leaned forward to take the bite, his eyes widening slightly as the flavors hit his tongue. “Okay, that’s good,” he admitted, his tone slightly muffled.

“Told you,” you said smugly, popping a piece of pancake into your own mouth.

You ate together like that, trading bites and teasing each other in between sips of coffee. At one point, Bucky fed you a strawberry, laughing softly at the way you wrinkled your nose when the juice dripped onto your chin. You were radiant, completely in your element, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by how much he loved you.

“So,” he said finally, setting his fork down as he leaned back against the headboard. “What’s the plan for today?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why do I feel like I should be nervous?”

“Because you should be,” you teased, leaning over to steal another kiss. “Now, finish your breakfast so we can get started.”

He rolled his eyes but did as you asked, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Whatever you had planned, he knew it was going to be perfect. Because you were perfect. And he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his day—and his life—with you by his side.

A hour later Bucky was leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping on the last of his coffee, his damp hair curling slightly at the edges from the shower. He was still trying to piece together why you had been so hyperactive all morning. Sure, it was his birthday week, but you were practically vibrating with energy, flitting from one room to the next like a woman on a mission. He’d never seen you this focused—and that was saying something.

“Bucky!” you voice called from the bedroom.

He pushed off the counter with a soft chuckle, setting his mug in the sink before making his way to you. “Yeah, doll?”

As soon as he stepped inside, you turned to him with those big, sparkling eyes that always managed to undo him. You were standing on you tippy toes, pointing toward the upper cupboard above the closet. “Can you get the suitcases down for me?”

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Suitcases? Why do you need those?”

You shot him a grin, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We’re going on a trip! For your birthday.”

That made him pause. “A trip?” he repeated, his brow furrowing slightly as he stepped toward the cupboard. “What trip?”

“You’ll see,” you said, clearly enjoying his confusion. “But Steve’s coming too.”

Bucky froze, halfway through reaching for the suitcases. He turned back to look at you, an incredulous expression crossing his face. “Steve’s coming? Why is Steve coming on my birthday trip?”

“Because he’s your best friend,” you said matter-of-factly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And it’ll be fun.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with amusement. “You’re planning a trip for my birthday… and you invited Stevie?”

“Yes, Do you have a problem with that?” you asked, hands on your hips.

“Not exactly,” he muttered, grabbing the suitcases and setting them down on the bed. “But it’s a little weird, doll. Most people don’t bring a third-wheel on a romantic getaway.”

You rolled your eyes, already unzipping one of the suitcases. “Who said it’s a romantic getaway? Maybe it’s a fun getaway.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips. “You’re up to something.”

“Maybe,” you said coyly, grabbing a stack of neatly folded clothes from the dresser and dropping them into the suitcase. “Now stop asking questions and help me pack.”

Bucky sighed but couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

He stepped closer, pulling open the drawer with his T-shirts and folding a few into the second suitcase. As he worked, he watched you out of the corner of his eye, the way his brows furrowed in concentration and the little hums you let out as you double-checked your packing list.

“What’s with all the jewelry boxes?” he asked after a moment, nodding toward the growing pile of items you was slipping into a side pocket.

“Accessories,”

“And the electronics?”

“Essentials.”

He raised an eyebrow but decided not to push. You was obviously on a mission, and he wasn’t about to interrupt the flow.

By the time you added a small bag of expensive makeup to the pile, he couldn’t help himself. “Doll, are we going to a luxury fashion show or something? Because this is starting to look like a lot.”

You shot him a playful glare. “It’s not a lot. It’s exactly what we need. Now hush and fold your socks.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for his drawer. “Yes, dear.”

A few minutes later, Steve wandered into the room, followed by Sam, who was munching on an apple and looking entirely too amused by the situation.

“What’s all this?” Sam asked, gesturing to the suitcases.

“Packing,” you said brightly, tossing another pair of jeans into one of the bags. “We leave tomorrow.”

Sam’s brows lifted, and he exchanged a glance with Steve, who grinned knowingly. “You didn’t tell him yet, did you?” Steve asked, his tone almost gleeful.

“Of course not It’s a surprise.” you said.

Bucky crossed his arms, leveling everyone all with a suspicious look. “You three are up to something. I can feel it.”

Sam snorted. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Shut up, Wilson,” Bucky muttered, though his lips twitched with the hint of a smile.

Bucky couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth settle over him. The easy banter, the laughter, the way you kept sneaking glances at him as though you couldn’t help yourself—it all felt so… normal. And for someone who’d spent decades trapped in chaos and darkness, normal was a gift he didn’t take lightly.

“Alright,” you said finally, zipping up the last suitcase with a triumphant flourish. “I think we’re good to go.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You didn’t pack the kitchen sink yet.”

Rolling your eyes, you stepped closer to poke him in the chest. “You’re lucky I love you, Barnes.”

He grinned, catching your hand and pulling you into his arms. “I know,” he murmured, his voice softening. “And I love you too.”

Your smile brightened, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. It didn’t matter where he was going, all that mattered was you—the way you looked at him, the way you loved him, the way you made him feel like he was finally, truly home.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Sam called, breaking the moment with a dramatic sigh. “Save the mushy stuff for the trip.”

Bucky shot him a mock glare, but his hold on you didn’t loosen. Instead, he leaned down to press a quick kiss to your temple before turning back to the suitcases. Whatever you had planned, he knew one thing for sure: with you by his side, it was going to be perfect.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t a fan of surprises, but he was even less of a fan of being blindfolded, especially when it involved Steve holding his hand like they were reenacting some 1940s screwball comedy.

“Stevie,” he grumbled, his voice muffled by the blindfold. “If I trip and fall on my face, you’re paying for my dental work.”

Steve snorted, his grip firm as he guided Bucky down what felt like an endless corridor. “Relax, Buck. I’ve got you. You’ve been blindfolded for what? Five minutes?”

“Five minutes too long,” Bucky shot back, his tone dry. “I’m a trained assassin! I could probably tell you how many steps we’ve taken, what direction we’re headed, and what Sam’s chewing on back there.”

From behind, Sam made an exaggerated crunching sound. “It’s gum, genius. Cherry-flavored. Want some?”

“No,” Bucky growled, trying to keep his balance as Steve tugged him forward again. “What I want is to know what the hell is going on.”

“You’ll see soon enough,” your cheerful voice piped up from somewhere ahead. “Stop being so grumpy. It’s your birthday trip!”

“Grumpy is my default setting,” Bucky muttered, though his lips twitched with a small smile. It wasn’t like he could stay mad—not when your voice carried that spark of excitement, like you couldn’t wait to share whatever scheme you’d cooked up.

“Just keep walking, Barnes,” Steve said, a smirk evident in his tone. “You’ll thank us later.”

Bucky let out a long-suffering sigh but kept moving, his enhanced hearing picking up the faint hum of machinery in the distance. The sound grew louder as they walked, and he could feel the air shift slightly, the faintest vibration underfoot giving away their location.

“We’re headed toward the back of the compound,” he muttered.

“Man, can’t get anything past you, huh?” earning a chuckle from Sam.

“Nope,” Bucky deadpanned, though his focus sharpened as they came to a stop. He could hear Tony’s voice now, low and clipped, exchanging words with you. Something about suits?

“Here you go,” Tony said, his voice dripping with his usual snark. “Try not to break my suit, lovebirds.”

“Suit?” Bucky repeated, his brow furrowing beneath the blindfold. “What suit?”

“Hold still, Buck,” you said sweetly, and before he could respond, he felt something cool and metallic snap onto his wrist.

“What the—?” He flinched as the sensation spread, a sleek, nanotech suit wrapping around his body in an instant. It clung to him like a second skin, and he had to fight the instinct to rip it off. “Why the hell do I need a suit?” he questioned.

“Because you’re going to need it,” you said cryptically.

“Need it for what—”

“Goodbye, Nat!” you called, cutting him off as you waved toward the direction of Natasha’s voice.

“See you back in a jiffy,” Natasha replied, her tone amused.

Bucky froze. Jiffy? His enhanced brain worked through the context in seconds, piecing together the sounds, the cryptic comments, and the tech now covering his body. His heart stuttered.

“Doll,” he said slowly, his voice low and worried. “Are we—”

Before he could finish, the ground shifted beneath him, and his words were swallowed by the rush of noise and light.

The Quantum Realm.

The pull of it was disorienting, like being dragged through a vortex, the world around him blurring into streaks of color and sound. He instinctively tightened his grip on Steve’s hand, though he silently cursed the situation. Why did Steve get to hold his hand? He wanted it to be you.

Seconds—or maybe mini seconds—later, the chaos abruptly stopped, and Bucky felt himself thrown forward. He landed with a thud, groaning as the impact knocked the breath out of him.

“Get off of me, Buck,” Steve grumbled from beneath him.

“Not my fault you’re always in the way,” Bucky muttered, rolling off of Steve just as you collapsed onto both of them in a fit of laughter.

“This is the best thing ever,” you declared, clearly unbothered by the pile-up. “We did it!”

“Yeah, great,” Bucky said, sitting up and rubbing his head. “Where the hell are we?”

You scrambled to your feet, practically bouncing as you grabbed his hands and tugged him up. “You’ll see. Ready?”

He raised an eyebrow, his suspicions deepening. “Not until you tell me—”

“Nope!” you interrupted, reaching up to untie his blindfold. “No spoilers. Just… trust me, okay?”

Bucky sighed, his irritation melting under your excited voice. “Fine.”

As the blindfold fell away, the world came into focus, and Bucky felt his breath catch in his throat. His surroundings were achingly familiar—the cobblestone street, the faint smell of fresh bread from the bakery two doors down, the little white house with blue shutters and a squeaky front gate.

It was home. His home. The one from the 1940s, where his ma had lived with his sister.

He stared, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. Every detail was perfect, from the worn brick chimney to the hydrangeas blooming by the front porch. It was as though he’d stepped back in time, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Doll,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Is this…?”

“Happy birthday, Bucky,” you said softly, your eyes shining with love. “Welcome home.”

His knees nearly gave out, the weight of the moment hitting him all at once. He turned to you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words. But there were none. What could he possibly say to this? To you?

Instead, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as his chest heaved with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. You wrapped your arms around him without hesitation, your head resting against his shoulder, holding him just as firmly.

“Thank you,” he choked out after a long moment, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, doll.”

Your smile was soft, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you pulled back to look at him. “You deserve this, Buck. All of it.”

For the first time in a long time, Bucky believed that. And as he turned back toward the house, his heart felt lighter than it had in decades.

The tiny gadget sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, its metallic surface catching the morning light streaming through the window. Winnie Barnes had made a habit of glancing at it every time she passed by, though she’d tried not to obsess over it. It had been a month since the young woman, with a quick smile and a strange, unworldly confidence—had appeared in her life, promising something that felt too impossible to believe.

But today, when Winnie glanced at the device, she froze. The tiny light on its surface was glowing green.

Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching as she set down the towel she’d been folding. Her fingers hovered above the gadget, trembling slightly, before she pressed it, feeling the faint warmth of the metal beneath her touch. It had turned green, just like you had said it would.

Her boys!

Winnie’s chest tightened, her heart racing as she stared at the device. You had promised—you’d promised to bring Steve & Bucky home, even if only for a little while. And now, after weeks of waiting and wondering if she’d been foolish to believe, it was happening.

A knock sounded at the door, sharp and purposeful, and Winnie’s breath hitched. For a moment, she couldn’t move, her legs frozen beneath her as her mind raced. Then, as if on instinct, she grabbed her apron and wiped her hands, hurrying toward the door. Her heart pounded with every step, anticipation and disbelief swirling together in a dizzying mix.

When she opened the door, her breath left her in a rush.

There he was. Her James.

He stood on the stoop, taller than she remembered, broader too, with his hair cut shorter than the boyish waves she’d last seen. He looked like a man now, with a shadow of a beard and eyes that carried a weight she couldn’t begin to imagine. But those were his eyes, her boy’s eyes, and they softened the moment they met hers.

“Ma?” Bucky said, his voice low and tentative, as if he were afraid to break whatever spell had brought him here.

Winnie’s hand flew to her mouth, tears already blurring her vision. “James,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Oh, my sweet boy…”

Before he could say another word, she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close. He stiffened for a moment, as though startled by the embrace, but then he melted into her, his arms coming up to hold her tightly. She felt his chest heave, the soft hitch of his breath against her shoulder, and she held him even tighter, as if letting go might make him disappear.

“You’re real,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “You’re here.”

“I’m here, Ma,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here.”

It was only then that she realized they weren’t alone. Just behind him, standing a step lower on the stoop, was another familiar face—Steven Rogers. He looked much the same as she remembered, though his shoulders seemed broader, his stance steadier, and there was a kindness in his gaze that she remembered and it made her heart ache.

“Steven,” she said, her voice breaking as she reached for him.

Steve smiled softly, stepping forward to wrap her in a hug that was just as firm, just as full of love. “Hi, Mrs. Barnes,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Stevie,” she said, pulling back to look at him, her hands cupping his face. “You look well.”

“So do you,” he said with a smile.

Her gaze flicked back to James, and she shook her head, tears streaming freely now. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re both here.”

James reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek, his hand trembling slightly. “It’s real, Ma. We’re here.”

Her gaze darted past them, searching for the one person who had made this miracle possible. “Where’s y/n?”

“Right here, Mrs. Barnes,” you called, stepping out from behind the boys with a wide grin. You were carrying a small backpack slung over one shoulder, your eyes sparkling with the same enthusiasm Winnie had seen the day she first met you.

Winnie let out a soft laugh, her hand pressing to her chest. “You did it,” she said, her voice filled with wonder. “You brought them home.”

“I told you I would,” you said, grin widening. “Happy early birthday to Jamie.”

James turned to you, his expression a mix of awe and gratitude. “You… you planned this on your own?”

You shrugged, your smile turning a bit sheepish. “Well, Steve and Sammy helped, but yeah. I thought you might like to see your mom again.”

Bucky stared at you for a long moment, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he stepped forward and pulled you into a hug, his grip firm and unyielding. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low and filled with emotion. “Thank you, doll.”

Your arms wrapped around him without hesitation, your head resting against his chest as you smiled softly. “You’re welcome, Buck.”

Winnie watched the exchange, her heart swelling as she took in the sight of her son standing there, alive and whole, surrounded by people who clearly loved him. It was more than she could have hoped for, more than she dared to dream.

“Come inside,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement. “Come in, all of you. I’ll make tea.”

James smiled, his arm still draped around your shoulders as he turned to follow her inside. “Tea sounds great, Ma.”

Winnie watched the three of them file into her modest kitchen, her chest so full it ached. James was here. Her James. He was alive, and standing right there in front of her. She’d spent so many months mourning the boy she thought she’d lost to the war, but now she couldn’t stop staring at the man he’d become. He moved like someone who carried too much weight on his shoulders, but there was something else in his posture, too—something lighter, steadier. A calmness she didn’t quite recognize but found herself grateful for.

“Ma, you don’t have to do all this,” James said, his voice soft as he reached for the teapot she was preparing. “We can handle it.”

“Don’t you ‘Ma’ me, James Barnes,” she shot back, swatting his hand away. “You just sit down and let me take care of my boys.”

Bucky blinked at her, clearly startled, before a small, sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And you,” Winnie continued, turning her attention to Steven Rogers, who was already leaning against the counter. “I’m not above putting you to work, Steven. You’ve got all that super-soldier strength—bring the bags in before your friend over there starts yelling.”

She nodded toward you, currently perched on the armrest of the couch, rummaging through a stack of photo albums you’d pulled from the shelf.

“I already yelled,” you said cheerfully, waving a hand toward the door. “You all just didn’t hear me. Stevie, come on, move those muscles. Make yourself useful.”

Steve rolled his eyes but pushed off the counter with a resigned sigh. “I liked you better when you were quieter,” he muttered, as he headed toward the door.

“You’ve never known me to be quiet, Rogers,” you called after him, your grin widening.

Winnie couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head as she turned back to the teapot. “She’s got quite the mouth on her, doesn’t she?”

“She always does,” James said, though there was no mistaking the fondness in his tone. His gaze followed you as you hopped up from the couch and began poking through a drawer, muttering to yourself about “how vintage everything is.”

“She’s… something else,” Winnie murmured, her lips curving into a small smile.

James smiled at that, his expression softening. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, Ma.”

The words hit Winnie like a wave, her hands stilling as she poured the tea. She looked up at her son, her heart swelling at the way his eyes softened when they landed on you. It wasn’t just affection she saw there—it was something deeper, something that made her throat tighten with emotion.

“She loves you,” Winnie said quietly, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “I can see it.”

James nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. “Yeah. She does.”

There was something unspoken in his tone, something heavy that Winnie didn’t miss. She set the teapot down, stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his arm. “And you love her.”

It wasn’t a question, but James nodded again, his gaze dropping to the floor. “More than I ever thought I could,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “She… she makes everything feel worth it, Ma.”

Winnie squeezed his arm, her heart aching with both pride and sorrow. She didn’t need to ask to know what he meant. She’d seen it in your eyes the day the you had come to her door, explaining everything James had been through—the torture, the brainwashing, the years stolen from him by Hydra. It was a kind of pain no mother could bear to imagine, and yet here he was, standing before her, whole and loved and somehow still her James.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I always have been.”

James looked up at her, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “Thanks, Ma.”

The moment was interrupted by a loud clatter from the living room, followed by your unmistakable voice. “This drawer is just socks! Who keeps a whole drawer of socks?”

“They’re not just socks,” Winnie called back, her tone amused. “They’re darning socks!”

“Darning socks?” you repeated, appearing in the doorway with one of the socks in question draped over your hand like a puppet. “What even is that?”

Winnie laughed, shaking her head as she reached for the teapot again. “It’s what we do when socks get holes in them. You’d mend them instead of throwing them out.”

You blinked, clearly baffled. “You can… fix socks?”

“People in this era did,” Winnie said, chuckling at the younger woman’s expression. “Though I doubt you’re one of them.”

“Definitely not,” you said, grinning as you tossed the sock back into the drawer. “But that’s cool. Vintage socks. Got it.”

Steve chose that moment to reappear, a suitcase in each hand and an expression of mild annoyance on his face. “Happy now?” he asked, glaring playfully at you.

“Ecstatic,” you said, beaming at him. “You’re such a gentleman, Stevie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve muttered, setting the bags down by the door. “Just don’t ask me to do anything else.”

Winnie watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and affection. It was chaos, but it was her chaos, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. For the first time in what felt like forever, her house was filled with laughter and life and love. And as she looked around at the people who had made it possible, she couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

“Alright,” she said, clapping her hands together as she stepped into the living room. “Who’s ready for tea?”

“Me!” you called, plopping down onto the couch and kicking your feet up. “But only if there’s cookies.”

Winnie smiled, her heart full as she nodded. “There’s always cookies, sweetheart.”

James met her gaze from across the room, his expression soft and filled with gratitude. She nodded back, her silent promise unspoken but understood: they were home, and for as long as she had them, she’d make sure they never felt alone again.

To be continued….