#i do want to stay with him for a long time and like dating him

[jinjoohaa]

PROFESSOR TOJI X READER !!

Private Lessons

He said he wouldn’t tolerate distractions in his class—but you became his favorite one to fail, punish, and keep after hours.

You weren’t late on purpose — not really. Maybe just a little.

The last thing you expected was a new tutor. Let alone him.

You burst into the classroom, breath caught in your throat, winded from your sprint up the stairs. You hadn’t even fixed your hair before walking in, muttering an apology as you brushed past rows of chairs.

And that’s when your eyes landed on him.

He stood at the front — tall, broad-shouldered, built like a man who did more than just lift pens and scold students. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal thick forearms, veins like wires under taut skin. His shirt, fitted and black, clung to his chest in a way that felt unfair to existence. A hint of tattoo ink teased from beneath the cuff. And his eyes… cold, sharp, unforgiving.

You nearly tripped.

He didn’t flinch. “Seat. Now.”

You obeyed faster than your pride allowed.

“I’m Toji Fushiguro,” he said, not bothering with a smile.

“Newly assigned to handle criminology until the board finds someone better. You’re all in final year, so I don’t expect to babysit. You’re adults. Act like it.”

Silence.

One boy cleared his throat. Toji turned to him. “Got something to say?”

The boy shrank.

Toji’s gaze swept across the room. “I don’t tolerate cheating, laziness, or idiotic questions. Don’t waste my time — and I won’t waste yours.”

He didn’t look at you again. But you were already hooked.

Something about him — the deep voice, the no-nonsense glare, the sheer dominance of his presence — settled into your skin like a fever.

You were old enough, a college girl who’d dated enough men to know none of them ever made you feel. Not like this. Not even close.

The rest of the class? They hated him by week two.

He was harsh, brutal with his words, and didn’t hesitate to call people out for late submissions or low marks. But you? You adored it.

You found excuses to stay back after class. Asked questions that didn’t even relate to criminology. You leaned over his desk too often. Let your hand linger too long when handing in assignments. You knew what you were doing — and you didn’t care.

Toji barely acknowledged it. Sometimes he’d sigh and mutter, “Try harder,” like he wasn’t noticing how your skirt rode up just a little too high when you crossed your legs.

But behind that indifference, you saw it — the flicker in his eyes. The strain in his jaw.

You were testing him. And you were going to win.

You failed the mock test on purpose.

Every answer you bubbled in was deliberate — not completely wrong, but just enough to tank your grade. Everyone else passed.

Toji’s expression when he flipped through your paper was priceless — a mix of fury and disbelief. You caught it from your seat near the back. His eyes flicked up, locking on yours. You smirked. He didn’t.

The next day, right as class started, he tossed the graded papers onto the desk.

“Everyone passed,” he said, tone sharp. “Except one.”

The room went silent. You didn’t flinch.

“To the one who thinks this is funny — who thinks playing games is cute — congratulations.” His voice boomed across the classroom like a slap. “You just bought yourself extra time with me.”

He picked up your test, red circles and question marks bleeding over the paper.

“Y/N,” he called. “Front. Now.”

You stood, hips swinging just a little too much as you walked down the aisle. Toji didn't bother hiding the disdain in his face.

He held up your paper between two fingers like it was something foul.

“This? This isn’t a joke. You want to fail in front of your father, your future employers, and anyone with half a brain? Go ahead. But not under my watch.”

You bit your lip, eyes gleaming.

“Are you done scolding me, sir?” you said, voice just shy of mocking. “Or should I get on my knees too?”

The classroom gasped. A few students looked away.

Toji’s jaw clenched.

“Library,” he said coldly. “Tomorrow. Six PM. You’re retaking this in front of me. Don’t show up dressed like you’re going to a party.”

He walked back to the board, dismissing the room with a wave of his hand.

You’d never felt more alive than when you put on that little black crop top. Thin, clingy, low-cut. The skirt barely covered your thighs. But you wore a jacket over it — modest enough to pass the day unnoticed.

Evening fell. You walked into the library with your books in hand, your jacket zipped high.

Toji was already seated at the far end of a long wooden table, a mock test in front of him and a single pen beside it.

He didn’t look up when you entered.

“Sit.”

You obeyed, heart pounding.

He passed you the paper. “You have an hour. No bullshit.”

You clicked your pen. “Of course, sir.”

Thirty minutes in, the library had thinned out. Students packed up and filtered out as the evening darkened.

You kept writing — and slowly, slowly, you reached up and unzipped your jacket.

Toji didn’t react at first. But when the fabric slipped off your shoulders, revealing your tight top, bare arms, and the deep swell of your cleavage…

He stilled.

You shifted in your seat, chest rising as you leaned forward to write. The bounce was deliberate. So was the way you tilted your head just enough to let your lips part.

Toji’s eyes darkened.

You kept writing, pretending not to notice the way his hand dropped beneath the table — slow, rough — palming the hard bulge in his pants.

Minutes passed. You watched him from the corner of your eye.

“Sir,” you finally said, voice saccharine, “I’m done with the test. You can finish playing with yourself at home.”

His hand froze.

He stood abruptly, slamming your paper shut. You barely had time to smirk before he grabbed your wrist.

“Sir—?”

He dragged you between the towering library shelves, deeper, darker — where the cameras couldn’t see.

He turned on you, eyes blazing. “You think this is a game?”

“I think,” you said breathlessly, “you’ve been waiting to fuck me since the moment I walked into class.”

Toji’s nostrils flared. “You little—”

His hand slammed above your head against the shelf. “You’ve been teasing me all semester. Dressing like that. Talking like that.”

“I just wanted your attention, sir.”

“Well,” he growled, “now you’ve got it.”

His body towered over you, heat pouring off him like smoke. You could barely breathe with how close he stood — the scent of musk, the sharpness of cologne, the raw fury in his eyes as his arm caged you in against the shelf.

“You’ve got my attention now?” he echoed, voice low and rough, like gravel grinding between teeth.

“You think flashing your tits and failing tests makes you special?”

You swallowed, lips parted, trying to speak — but your throat was tight, your breath shallow. His hand dropped from the shelf and caught your jaw instead, thumb pressing into your cheek just hard enough to make your eyes sting.

“I should make you kneel right here,” he muttered, dragging your face up so your eyes locked.

“Let every fucking book in this place witness what a desperate little brat you are.”

Your thighs clenched. “Then do it.”

Something snapped.

His hand flew down, grabbing the back of your neck, and spun you around so fast your jacket slid off your arms. He bent you forward over the shelf, the hard edge biting into your ribs as your cheek met the wood.

“You don’t get to give me orders,” he snarled into your ear.

“You gave up that right the second you walked into class with those fuck-me eyes.”

You moaned — softly, involuntarily — and he laughed, dark and dangerous.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s what I thought.”

His hand slid under your skirt, fingers trailing up your thigh, rough palms dragging goosebumps in their wake. You gasped when his thumb brushed your soaked panties.

“So fucking wet already?” he mocked. “Whoring for your professor now, huh?”

“Only for you,” you whispered, pushing your hips back, begging for more.

“Say it louder.”

“Only for you, Sir,” you said again, voice trembling.

That earned you a slap — not to your ass, but to your cunt, right through the fabric. Your knees nearly buckled.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking for,” he hissed.

He yanked your panties down to your knees and ran two fingers along your folds, spreading your slick across your entrance. He leaned in again, pressing his chest to your back.

“I could ruin you,” he said, lips brushing your ear.

“Use you. Fill you so deep you won’t stop dripping me for days.”

Your mouth dropped open, a moan escaping.

“Please—”

“Please what?”

“Please do it.”

His fingers stilled at your entrance. You were shaking now — with anticipation, with heat, with the ache of being so close to something you’d craved for weeks.

Toji chuckled darkly. “Beg for it.”

You whimpered. “Sir—please.”

“That’s not begging.”

His fingers slipped just barely inside you — a tease, a ghost of what you needed — then disappeared completely. You almost sobbed.

“I want your cock,” you said shakily.

“I want you to use me, right here, right now. I want you to fuck me--- please.”

He hissed through his teeth.

“Good girl.”

He unbuckled his belt with one hand, the sound sharp and final in the quiet of the library. You heard the zipper next — felt the thud of something heavy against the back of your thigh. Then his fingers returned, this time rougher, pushing deep inside you without warning.

You gasped, hands clawing at the shelf.

“Fuck,” he muttered, curling his fingers, watching your body twitch.

“Tight. Of course you are.”

He pumped them in and out, quick and deep, until your thighs shook and your knees went weak. Then, without a word, he pulled them out — and replaced them with his cock.

You cried out. He didn’t give you time to adjust. Just bottomed out, one long, ruthless thrust that knocked the air from your lungs.

“That what you wanted, slut?” he growled into your ear, pulling back to slam into you again.

“Me fucking you like a toy? Is that it?"

“Yes,” you breathed, tears prickling at your lashes from the intensity. “God, yes—!”

He grabbed your hair and yanked your head back as he fucked into you, hard and fast, the sounds of skin slapping echoing between the bookshelves.

“You’re so fucking desperate,” he said.

“Acting innocent in front of your friends, but all it takes is one cock to make you fall apart.”

You could barely respond. The way he filled you — thick and unrelenting — made it impossible to think. He angled his hips, hitting that spot deep inside that made your whole body jolt.

You clawed at the shelf. "Sir—gonna—!”

He slapped your ass, hard. “Not yet.”

Your moan broke off into a gasp.

“You don’t get to come,” he said through clenched teeth, still pounding into you. “Not until I say so.”

Your legs trembled, thighs soaked and shaking under the force of each thrust. The shelf rattled with every movement, your cheek pressed to the cool wood as you whimpered for him, breath fogging against the books you’d long forgotten.

“Sir—please,” you sobbed. “Please let me—”

He yanked your head back again, forcing you to look over your shoulder at him. His expression was furious — not with anger, but restraint. His jaw tight, eyes darker than you’d ever seen, chest rising like a man barely hanging on.

“Beg like you mean it.”

You swallowed hard, voice cracking. “I need to come, sir. Please. I’ll do anything, just—please. I can’t take it—”

He groaned low, like your desperation hit him somewhere deep. “Fucking brat.”

Then he flipped you.

In one swift motion, he pulled out and spun you around, hoisting you up by your thighs and pressing your back to the shelf. Books toppled behind you, forgotten. He entered you again — deeper, somehow rougher in this new angle, forcing you to wrap your legs around him as he filled you to the hilt.

You cried out, hands flying to his shoulders.

“I should ruin you for this,” he growled, thrusting up into you with a pace that made your mind blur.

“I should fuck you so hard you forget your goddamn name.”

“I already have,” you whispered.

His head dropped to your shoulder, teeth grazing your skin. “Fuck.”

His hand found your throat, squeezing just enough to remind you who was in control. Not hard — not cruel — but commanding. Possessive.

“This cock,” he muttered against your ear. “This what you wanted, doll?”

“Yes,” you gasped.

He pulled back just enough to stare down at you, sweat at his brow, lip curled. “Then take it. Take all of it.”

And he fucked you like he meant it — brutal, deep, possessive. You bounced in his arms, moaning into the crook of his neck, nails digging into his back as your orgasm coiled like fire in your belly.

“I’m gonna come,” you whispered brokenly. “Please—please, Sir—”

“Come for me.”

That was all it took.

Your whole body tensed, then shattered around him — wave after wave of pleasure crashing down. Your vision blurred, mouth open in a silent cry as you clenched around his cock.

He cursed loudly, slamming into you once, twice more before spilling inside with a growl, his whole body seizing with release.

Silence.

Only your ragged breaths filled the air, your limbs shaking, your forehead resting against his.

Then Toji pulled out slowly, setting you down on shaky legs.

His eyes lingered on your ruined expression, the mess between your thighs, the flush on your chest.

“Library’s closed,” he muttered, tucking himself back into his pants.

“Let’s get you cleaned up before someone catches us.”

You blinked up at him. “That’s it?”

He smirked. “Oh no, doll. That was just the first lesson. And i'mma teach you a whole semester."

.

[strawberry-bubblef]

Hi! How's it going? I'm going through withdrawal. I need a dose of Lilia. Can you please write about a date with a reader? Something with the boys in Diasomnia, where Lilia goes somewhere without them for the first time in her life. I guess they're not used to him having a private life and are shocked for the first time, "Where are you going? To a cafe? Yay, we're getting dressed already. Why are we staying home...?"(help, I don't know how to describe the plot in English 😔)

A date With Lilia (and not them)

For most of his long life, Lilia Vanrouge had always been part of something larger. A general. A father. A guardian. A mentor. A watchful figure lingering in the corners of someone else’s story.

But lately… he’d wanted something different.

Not duty. Not tradition. Not the comforting, exhausting cycle of raising the next generation.

Just you.

So when he slipped into a neatly buttoned shirt crimson, did his most charming make up and combed through his hair neatly for once, the boys of Diasomnia took notice.

“…You’re dressed nicely,where are you going ?” Silver said with a tone neutral .

Lilia smiled, brushing a hand through his hair again. “Hmm? Oh, thank you! A café in town.”

“Where?” Sebek demanded, already rising. “Do you require an escort?!”

Malleus looked thoughtful. “I wouldn’t mind some tea. It’s been a while since we’ve gone out as a dorm.”

“I’m going alone,” Lilia said simply.

They all stopped.

“…Alone?” Sebek echoed, like the word offended him.

Lilia chuckled. “Yes. I do know how to walk unaccompanied, you know.”

Silver leaned forward. “Are you meeting someone?”

There was a pause. Then:

“I am.”

Silence.

Sebek went pale. “Are you being blackmailed?”

“Sebek, please,” Lilia snorted. “Can’t an old man go on a date without someone assuming extortion?”

“You said date?” Malleus asked slowly.

Lilia smiled,not teasingly, but soft, real. “Yes. A proper one. Just… me. And them.”

He left them behind with a wave, ignoring the anxious energy in the common room like it was static dust in the wind.

The café was warm, dimly lit, and mercifully quiet. You looked radiant in the candlelight, a comforting presence that grounded him in the now.

He took your hand over the table with a reverence you weren’t quite used to seeing from the ever-joking general.

“You really left them behind?” you teased, swirling your tea.

“Mm.” He traced your knuckles lightly. “Sebek looked like he was about to faint. I almost felt guilty.”

“You’re allowed a life.”

“That’s the part I’m still getting used to,” he said quietly.

There was a weight behind the smile he gave you, something that hinted at centuries of carrying others and never once wondering if he was allowed to keep anything for himself. But he had chosen you. This quiet moment. A world not ruled by duty.

Your thumb brushed his palm. “So… what do you want now?”

He leaned forward, gaze lidded, voice low. “You.”

The rest of the world dissolved.

Lilia rarely sat still for long, but tonight, he lingered. Every moment seemed stretched in golden thread,delicate, fragile, suspended in a space where time didn’t rush or claw at him like it always had before. You watched as he lifted his teacup with his free hand, pinky ever so slightly raised, elegant even in casual settings.

“I’m surprised,” you murmured. “You didn’t bring some strange, experimental food.”

He laughed, low and warm. “I considered it. Then I realized, for once, I didn’t want tonight to be about putting on a show.”

He said it with a smile, but his gaze was focused. Unflinching. Honest in a way that startled you a little.

“It’s just tea,” you said softly, lifting your cup in return. “But I’m glad it’s with you.”

“You’ve no idea how rare that is,” he replied, voice dropping, more to himself than to you. “To sit across from someone and not feel the centuries between us like a wall.”

You leaned on the table, elbow propped and eyes locked with his. “Then tell me something true. No teasing, no riddles.”

He hesitated, which was rare. Then he said, “I was scared to ask you out tonight.”

“…You?”

“I may be old, but even I have moments where I wonder if I've earned something or if I’m simply reaching for things that were never meant to be mine.”

Your breath hitched, but your hand never left his. “Lilia… you don’t have to earn this. You already have.”

A beat passed. Then he smiled, slowly, like spring breaking over frost. “You’re dangerously good at ruining my composure.”

“You can tease again now.”

He laughed, head thrown back. The sound wrapped around you like velvet.

Dinner came and went in a rhythm that felt natural,he let you taste from his plate, you wiped sauce from his lip, he muttered something suggestive and grinned when you rolled your eyes. The waitress brought dessert with a wink, clearly invested in whatever magic had bloomed between you. Lilia, true to form, fed you the first bite of cake himself, deliberately brushing your lips with the fork.

Later, when the café had thinned out and the tea had gone lukewarm, he stood and offered you his arm with such gallant formality that it made you laugh.

“Come,” he said softly, leaning close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Let me walk you home like someone who still believes in romance.”

You took his arm without hesitation.

He didn't look back once.

English is not my first language !

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Daddy - Venom x ftm!Reader

A/N: this is written for my wonderful 🎀 anon who requested it and my beloved mutual @worstwolverinesbf who got me to finish it

I hope you all like it :)

Written for this request

Dividers by @/kodaswrld

CW: possessiveness; monsterfucking; Venom uses it/its pronouns; mentioned Venom/Eddie; explicit sexual content; smut; Reader is dating both Eddie and Venom; Reader is a bit freaky in this, ngl; mild fighting between Eddie and Venom; Reader lives with Eddie; Venom has a dick; ftm trans Reader; kissing; making out; breeding kink; daddy kink; Reader’s parts are called dick and hole; fingering; Venom is in love with Reader; oral sex; cunnilingus; Venom has a prehensile tongue; multiple orgasms; overstimulation; ‘I love you’s; oviposition; Venom has a big dick; errr I don’t know how to tag this, so just take that last tag seriously; brief but descriptive (?) painful sex; penetrative sex; PiV sex; egg laying; Venom purrs; belly bulge; no aftercare; mild silly ending

2413 words

Venom was territorial. You’d found that out pretty quickly once you’d started dating Eddie. Venom had been wary of you at first, snippy and somewhat aggressive, even.

You hadn’t taken it personally. Eddie was the closest person Venom had to a best friend. Even more than that, sometimes. And it wasn’t like you were Mr Perfect when it came to possessiveness either.

But eventually, you both had come to be friendly. More than friendly now. You weren’t exactly as close to Venom as you were to Eddie, but they were a pair. Dating one really meant dating both, in their case.

So Venom was territorial. And you really didn’t mind. Except… it was suddenly getting worse.

Normally it would check up on you whenever you came home, but just a few days ago it’d sniffed you. Claiming it was making sure you still smelled like Eddie.

And part of you had liked it.

The other part of the issue… also came from Venom. Or so you suspected.

For the past week, all Eddie seemed to want to do was have sex. Which you definitely weren’t complaining about. But it was getting a little ridiculous.

He at least attempted to be subtle about it though. Sneaking in a smooth move here and there. Slowly feeling you up. But it kept happening. Day after day after day.

The last time he’d gotten like this, you’d had to leave for the weekend. Some stupid trip or whatever.

This time, it’s just you and him and Venom.

A shameful part of you likes it. Likes how much Eddie wants you. You’ve always had some more… daring ideas for a relationship. You just don’t want to tie Eddie down.

Especially not after everything that happened with him. You want to be a safe place for him, not something to run away from.

So you keep your ideas to yourself. You let Venom be as territorial as he wants. And you and Eddie fuck like rabbits.

Everything’s fine. Everything’s good.

And then you have the best fucking night of your entire life.

From the moment Eddie got home, it was clear something was up. He was muttering to himself more than normal, snapping “No!” at Venom. And Venom was growling back.

You’d seen them fight before. But this? This was different.

You stay out of their way for as long as you can. It’s your turn to make dinner anyway, so you hasten about to cook up something. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s good.

You wait for a while before finally interrupting their argument. “Uh… Hey…”

Both of them snap to you. Watching you with so much intensity… it’s kinda hot. You swallow, shifting your weight from foot to foot. Trying hard to ignore the thread of warmth in your core.

“Dinner’s done.”

Still they watch you. For a moment, no one says anything. Then Eddie swallows. “What if… What if we have you for dinner?”

You blink. Shift your weight again. “What?”

“Ven wants… It wants…” Eddie stumbles over his words. “Oh, for fuck’s—“

With a wave of black goo, Venom swarms Eddie’s body. Transforming into a bulk of a creature. It makes your mouth go dry and your boxers wet.

“We want you.” Venom growls, stalking closer to you. You back away from it, into the kitchen. It follows, blocking you in against a counter.

Its tongue snakes out, making you shiver. What you wouldn’t give…

What gives you pause, though, is the thing between Venom’s legs.

You’ve seen dicks before. But nothing like this. Venom’s huge. Thicker and longer than you could possibly take. You doubt you could even fit both your hands around it, let alone one. You’ve never wanted anything inside you more.

“Like it?” Venom leers. “We’re gonna make you take it all.”

You can’t deny the gush of heat between your legs at that thought. You can picture it now. You, fucked out on a bed, stretched beyond what you can take, crying as it fucks so deep into you it breaks you.

“Fuck,” you breathe. “That’s hot.”

Venom’s tongue trails up your cheek, probing at your lips. You’ve never kissed it before, only watched Eddie do it. But you part your lips.

Its tongue invades your mouth. It curls around your tongue and feels along your teeth. Filling your mouth until all you can do is suck on it and whimper.

Part of you wants more. Wants to really take it down. Wants to suck on its tongue and let it fuck your throat until it’s in your fucking stomach.

But it retreats from your mouth all too soon, leaving you clenching hard at your own thoughts with nothing to distract you. You pant for breath, your mind a daze of heat and need.

Venom brings its face right up to yours. You think you could lick over every one of its teeth and still not be satisfied.

“We’re going to breed you.” Venom growls. “Stuff you full of our eggs. Make you into a daddy.”

Fuck. If he doesn’t fuck you right now…

“Fuck yeah,” you gasp out. “Make me a daddy, Ven.”

You’re scooped up within an instant. One moment you’re in the kitchen, the next you’re in the bedroom, Venom’s hands ripping off your clothing.

You barely have time to register cool air against your skin before its hands are on you. Sliding up your sides, caressing your stomach, up higher. For a moment, the tension in the room holds its breath as Venom follows the movements Eddie’s done so many times in the past.

It removes your binder. Carefully. It tosses it to the side and gazes down at you, a low purr in its throat. You can feel its gaze roaming over you. Hungry. Needy. Reverent.

Your boxers are soaked. Plastered to your skin, wet and sticky. Venom’s tongue snakes out, the tip trailing oh so lightly over the damp fabric. It growls, hands coming to grip your thighs. Pushing them up till it can press its face to your boxers.

For a moment, it just breathes, the puff of warm air making you squirm a little. You’re dying for its touch, but you don’t wanna break the moment. Even though everything in you is screaming to grind against its face.

Still, a whimper claws its way up your throat and escapes. It pulls Venom from its thoughts, prompting it into action. It curls its fingers under the hem of your boxers, pulling them down. Slowly revealing you to it.

It makes you squirm. Under its stare, you feel so naked. So vulnerable.

“You are magnificent,” Venom growls, voice dripping with hunger. “We would conquer a thousand worlds for you.”

That pulls a weak laugh from you. “Only a thousand?”

It merely looks at you, then opens its mouth. Its tongue snakes out. You clench hard at the thoughts whirling through your mind. God, if only it’d get to it and—

“Fuck!” You arch up, hips bucking as Venom squeezes your dick between its fingers. You’d been so distracted by its tongue and words, you hadn’t noticed its hand creeping up your thigh.

All you can do is cry out in pleasure, especially when a thick finger slips into your sopping hole. It’s so big, stretching you out with ease. Long enough to press against the spot inside you that has you scrabbling at the sheets, babbling its name.

“Ven, Ven, Ven!” You’re panting, gasping. Desperate moans spilling from your lips. Another finger nudges at your hole and you clench hard. The coil in your stomach builds.

The second finger slips in. Stretching your walls. Curling just right, and—

You cum. Hard.

Venom doesn’t pull its hand away. Not even when your breath returns and you grin lazily up at it. It just keeps its fingers stuffed inside you, unmoving.

It’s panting. Taking in huge gulps of air, chest heaving. Eyes so wide it’s almost concerning.

“Ven?”

A low growl spills from its lips. “We need you.”

Its words send a shiver of desire down your spine. But also a splinter of worry. You’re not wet enough to take it, not with its monstrous size. But the way it’s looking at you…

“I need more first,” you whisper. Then, with as much daring as you can push into your tone, “Fuck me with your tongue.”

Venom’s eyes flash. One moment it’s gazing at you in desperation, the next its face is shoved between your legs. It eases its fingers out of you, tongue twisting and curling around to slurp up every bit of slick that spills from you.

And it groans. Low and deep and hungry.

The tip of its tongue teases your entrance. Circling and probing, making you clench around nothing yet again.

“Ven,” you whine, fingers locked in the sheets as you finally buck your hips up to get more. Its hands clamp down on your thighs, pinning you down with ease.

But its tongue slips inside you. Rubbing and probing, but mostly just tasting you. It’s purring, groaning, rumbling with delight as your body gushes with slick.

It’s so hot; the intense focus in its eyes. The curious but direct way it fucks you. It’s like being with Eddie for the first time again; if Eddie was a giant, sexy alien monster intent on—

All thoughts leave your head the moment Venom finds that spot inside you. Its tongue is long enough, thick enough, strong enough that it bullies that spot. Rubbing and curling and fucking. But it never leaves your hole, keeping you full even as it pulls screams from your lips.

You feel blindsided by pleasure. It’s everything, everywhere, making you writhe and squirm. Tears spring to your eyes at the intensity. You’re gone in an instant, lost to the crashing wave of pleasure.

It lasts, and lasts, and lasts. Until you’re so sensitive it hurts and you have to kick at Venom’s shoulders to get it to finally stop bullying that spot inside you.

It takes you a long moment to catch your breath, but when you do, you pet Venom’s head. Stroking and caressing. Too weak to sit up and kiss it.

You have no doubt you’re soaked. You can feel the sheets under you, sopping with slick and monster saliva.

Venom rumbles softly, climbing on top of you and looming over you. Hot breath puffing against your face. The head of its dick nudges against your hole and you shudder, still just a little too sensitive.

“Eddie says he loves you.” Venom nuzzles into the crook of your neck, large hands braced on either side of your chest.

“I love you too,” you say softly. Tugging it down to press a kiss to the corner of its mouth. “But I was promised eggs. And I am definitely not full of eggs yet.”

Venom growls, low and deep. It lines its dick up with your hole, hungry eyes never leaving yours. It makes your spine tingle; your body acutely aware that Venom’s a very dangerous predator with its focus all on you.

But you force yourself to relax. “Come on, Ven. Make me a daddy.”

The first touch is delicious, just the head teasing your hole. And then it presses in.

“FUCK!” You arch up, and it’s only Venom’s body forcing you back down that keeps you from squirming away. “Fuck, that’s—! It’s so big! It’s too big! Venom, fuck!”

You can barely think. Your brain torn between pain and pure pleasure as Venom pushes your body to its limits. Inching in bit by bit, coaxing your hole to open wider and wider.

You scrabble at its shoulders, clinging to it desperately. You’re pretty sure you’re crying, breaths coming in heaving gasps.

Venom growls. And then starts to pull out.

“NO!” You clamp your legs around its waist, struggling against its strength to keep it in. “Please, please, please! I’m okay!”

“You’re hurting,” Venom snarls.

“It’s fine! It’s fine!” You didn’t know you needed it before, but now that you have an idea of what you could have? You need more. Just the thought of you with mini Venoms, of Venom trusting you— loving you— enough to give you its eggs is enough to make you dizzy with lust.

Venom growls again, and then thick goo is sliding over your hips. Encasing your pelvis in itself and easing away the pain. Leaving only sickening, blinding pleasure behind.

“More, more, more, more, moremoremoremore—“ You’re babbling and you couldn’t care less. “Make me a daddy, make me a daddy! Please, god!”

With a low snarl, Venom thrusts in. Making you scream with pleasure as it splits you open. Your eyes roll back. Your body writhes and arches under him. You cum so hard everything whites out around you.

For what feels like ages, your body is nothing but syrupy pleasure.

Dimly, you’re aware of something sliding further inside you. Nestling deep inside your body, all oozy and warm. One… Two…

You start to come back to yourself by the third one. Venom’s growling softly above you, cradling you against it. You moan softly as another egg makes its way inside you. All soft and small and delicate.

Venom nuzzles against you, its growls turning into soft rumbling purrs. It feels like hours before the last egg slides into place, your stomach lightly bulging.

Slowly, Venom pulls out of you, quickly filling you up with its fingers to keep the eggs from spilling out. The loss has your body aching, sore in ways you didn’t know were possible.

You groan softly, and find yourself utterly unable to move. Venom purrs again, before melting away, disappearing into the body of your boyfriend.

Eddie looks just as fucked out as you. He cuddles up with you, pressing soft kisses to your neck and cheeks. You smile, appreciating the gentler stretch of Eddie’s fingers compared to Venom’s.

“So,” you murmur, lazy mischief in your tone. “When were you gonna bring up the daddy thing?”

Eddie flushes, ducking his head against your shoulder. “That’s… That’s an it thing, actually.”

“Really?” You smirk, lowering your voice to a more seductive tone. “Don’t lie to daddy.”

Eddie twitches and lifts his head. “Don’t say it like that.”

You laugh. Jostling the eggs inside you.

You glance down at yourself, and Eddie does the same. “So…”

“So.”

You both are silent for a moment. Then, “Who’s gonna tell Venom that I can’t actually hatch its babies?”

Eddie just snorts.

[theseventhdimension]

hi,

i have a rq for s!10 spencer reid, nsfw, the whole point is that he’s really sloppy while kissing. i have a dim restaurant on a first date in mind, really great chemistry, sexual undertones in conversation. they can end up either on one’s apartment or in the restroom

thanks so much, waiting xx

Loose at the Neck

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Top! Male! Reader

Word count: 2.1k+

DNI: Fem Aligned and Minors

Author's note: Ugh this is such a great idea oh my gosh. I'm.. gonna be so real with you guys, I'm only up to s!9 💔 I looked up some photos of him in s!10 for reference, saw the tie, and got this idea. Hope you enjoy!! :)

It’s times like these where Spencer has no idea if he likes wearing ties or not. Sure, he loves it when you grab it—fist curled tight in the fabric to yank him in for a kiss—but it also takes longer to strip off and just get to you.

But right now? Yeah. He thinks he enjoys them.

Dinner ended a few minutes ago. You’re both tucked away in the darkest corner of a booth at the restaurant Derek insisted was “classy but with potential.” Potential for what, you didn’t ask—but you’re starting to understand. So this is how he gets the girls, huh?

Thankfully, the BAU pays a pretty penny, so neither of you are sweating over the check. The only thing you have to worry about right now is if someone sees Spencer—unbuttoned, flushed—and you, clearly grinding under the low table.

You have him on your lap, his legs straddling your thighs in a position that would look ridiculous if it weren’t so hot. Both of you are hunched down just enough to stay hidden, trying not to rise above the privacy of the booth’s high back.

Spencer loves kissing you. He really does. But every time… he just gets so dumb for it. Can’t think straight. His brilliant mind fogs up, thoughts scattered like static electricity. All he knows is you.

It starts with a brush.

The corner of your mouth catches his when you shift, and that’s all it takes. Spencer freezes for a second—his lips barely parted, his pupils wide like he’s been hit with some kind of chemical high. Then he leans in again, chasing the warmth like he can’t help himself.

His mouth lands a little off-center. His kiss is open, wet, and just shy of desperate. He’s not neat about it—not at all. It’s like he forgets how to kiss with precision, all those sharp edges of his mind turned soft and unraveled under your touch. He sighs into your mouth, then hums, and then groans softly like the sensation is dragging something deep out of him.

It’s messy. His nose bumps yours. His bottom lip drags against your upper one. When he pulls back for breath, a faint string of spit stretches between you for half a second before it breaks, and god, he’s flushed everywhere. Cheeks, ears, even the tips of his fingers where they’ve curled into your shoulders, trimmed fingernails leaving marks through your dress shirt.

“Sorry,” he breathes, blinking like he’s just come up for air. “I—sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“You did,” you whisper, grabbing the knot of his tie again, pulling him back in. “You want to apologize?” you murmur, fingers sliding along his jaw to tilt his head up again. “You can do it with your mouth full.”

And he melts. You feel it—the way his spine gives, the way his mouth slackens and turns hungry, the way his long fingers clutch your shoulders through your shirt like you might vanish. He kisses you like he’s never kissed a man before. Or maybe like you’re the only one he's ever wanted to. He kisses like he’s never been allowed to want something this much before. Like it’s hunger, not habit.

And the thing is, you love it.

You love how he forgets himself. How he doesn’t care if it’s too eager or too much. How he falls apart with every touch of your mouth. Right here in the back of some overpriced restaurant, wrecked and panting. His tie’s already loose. His curls damp at the edges. And still—he doesn’t stop. He kisses you again and again, tongue against yours, then your cheek, your jaw, the space just below your ear.

The table creaks slightly as you shift, pulling him closer.

“This is…” he murmurs between kisses, “...probably not what Derek had in mind when he recommended this place.”

You laugh against his lips. “He never should’ve given us the booth in the back.”

Spencer grins, and then kisses you again—hot and open-mouthed, with more tongue than finesse, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Not even dessert, considering he's sweet enough.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are flushed and unsteady. His curls are wrecked from your hands, your shirt is tugged halfway from your waistband, and your lips—his especially—are red and spit-slick.

You thumb at the corner of his mouth, wiping a smear of your own lip balm from his skin. He licks instinctively, tongue flicking out—and it’s done. You’re lost.

“I need you,” he whispers.

The words are soft, but you feel them like they’ve been shot into your chest.

You barely manage to breathe: “Okay. Your apartment or mine?”

He doesn’t hesitate. His eyes flick toward the hallway.

“That’ll take too long,” he says, already climbing off your lap, tugging you after him. “I need you now.”

The tension between you snaps like a rubber band. In a blur, you're both standing—though calling it “standing” is generous when Spencer’s dragging you behind him by the wrist, half-hiding your joined hands in his suit jacket like two teenagers up to no good.

You slip into the hallway unnoticed, heart thundering in your chest. The lighting is dim back here too, golden and quiet, the music from the main room muffled like it’s been swallowed in velvet.

Spencer shoves the door to the men’s restroom open with one hand. It clicks shut behind you a second later.

You spin him and press him hard into the wall. He gasps, lips parted—ready—but you just look at him for a second. Let him feel how much control you’re holding back.

“Now?” you ask, voice rough, just to watch him nod.

“Yes. Please,” Spencer whispers.

You smile, dragging him in for another kiss—hard, hot, claiming. His hands scrabble for your shirt, but yours are already there, gripping his waist, grinding your hips into his until his knees tremble. You keep him pinned, kissing him like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

He moans into your mouth, needy and soft.

You barely pull away to mutter against his lips, “You’re gonna have to keep quiet for me.”

“I’ll try,” he pants, eyes wide, voice wrecked.

“You will.”

His knees nearly buckle.

Being a germaphobe, Spencer never imagined he'd willingly do anything in a public bathroom. But then again, he’s never had someone like you.

It's now you realise you haven't even made it to a stall.

It’s the wall. It’s always the wall—cold tile against Spencer’s back, your palms braced on either side of his head like you’re caging him in, devouring him whole, the back of his pants pull down slightly, with two of your very own fingers searching his insides for that spot that makes him go wild.

He's moaning and crying out, honestly a little scared that someone will walk in, but the pleasure from his lower half pretty much drowns it out, especially when you reach another hand around to his front to rub his very red tip.

"Mmmmph, fuckk.." He bites down on his lips. "S'mbody's gonna walk in.. in on us.." he moans breathily as you bite down on the junction of his neck.

His eyes cross a little inwards as your ring finger presses down on his walls, dead center on his prostate. Seeing his reaction as you put your head on his shoulder to stare at his pretty face, you know you've found it, and, admittedly, decide to abuse that spot.

Fuck, he wants to scream and cry and cum, but you told him to be quiet. So he will.

you gently run your hands over his torso, your fingers light touches contrasted the way your fingers thrusted into his hole, and it drove Spencer crazy, he wasn’t expecting you to be so rough and gentle at the same time, it was mind breaking and almost too much to handle — but he always handled it, he always took everything like a good boy and you made sure he knew that.

“m’gonna cum- oh fuck-” Spencer groaned, his eyes watering desperately as his hands claw at your wrist, blunt nails leaving little marks in their wake as he tries, and fails, to push your hand away from his leaking tip.

He’s so wet, the loud squelching sound causing his ears to go red, a constant reminder of just how horny you can make him — it’s a bit embarrassing really.

“please—, I can’t- fuck” Reid blabbers on, his eyes rolling back as his thighs quiver, ass clenching around your fingers. he’s close, he’s so fucking close and he’s sure you’re about to make him cum, hopefully for the first time that night.

“c’mon baby, can’t have you cumming this hard without my cock, hm?” you say, and by the time you finally, finally slow down and pull out your fingers, Spencer’s lips are wrecked—red and kiss-swollen, spit-slick.

His curls are damp with sweat and frizzing at the edges from where you dragged your fingers through them. His tie hangs off-center, rumpled and caught on one of the buttons you half-ripped open on his shirt.

He looks ruined.

And god, he looks good.

You keep him there for a second longer, body flush against his, your breath ghosting over his neck while he gasps softly in the crook of your shoulder. Your hand slips from his hip to cradle the back of his head, grounding him as his knees wobble.

Eventually, you pull back just enough to look at him.

Spencer’s eyes flutter open. They’re glassy and dazed, like he’s not entirely sure what dimension he’s in. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths. He licks his lips, blinks once, and then leans forward like he needs to kiss you again just to stay upright.

You stop him with a hand under his chin, thumb brushing his lower lip.

“Breathe,” you murmur. “You with me?”

He nods, but it’s lazy. Distant. Like his brain’s still playing catch-up. “Mhm.”

When you finally let him go, Spencer sags a little, head tilted back to rest against the cool tiles. You reach down to fix his collar, tucking the edges of his shirt in just enough that he looks barely decent again.

He watches you do it, eyes fluttering every time your fingers brush his throat.

“…You are dangerous,” he mumbles, voice low and hoarse.

You huff a quiet laugh, smoothing his tie. “You dragged me in here, remember?”

“I didn’t know I’d survive it.”

You lean in again, brushing your lips over his jaw as you murmur, “You did more than survive, baby.”

The word makes him shiver. You feel it all the way down his spine.

Spencer stares at you, lips parted, absolutely blissed out. “You can’t just call me that after—after that—”

You raise a brow. “After what?”

He whines, quietly, and thumps the back of his head on the wall once. “You know what. You know what.”

You chuckle and offer him a hand. “Come on. Before someone walks in and you have to crawl out the window to save face.”

He takes your hand but doesn’t let go when he stands. In fact, he twines your fingers together and holds on like he doesn’t trust his legs yet. When you open the door to peek out, he ducks close behind you, still breathing just a little too fast.

The hallway’s empty. You pull him out, keep walking until you hit the front of the restaurant again. The maître d’ glances at you both—then quickly looks away. Spencer’s tie is crooked. Your shirt’s unbuttoned at the collar, your hair mussed. You look thoroughly disheveled.

Neither of you says anything until you’re outside, the warm night air hitting your face like a wake-up call.

Spencer blinks up at you, flushed and glowing. “So…”

You smirk. “Still glad you wore the tie?”

He laughs—soft and breathless—and nods, squeezing your hand. “Yeah. Though next time I might just wear a collar and save you the effort.”

You raise a brow. “Careful, doctor. I might take that seriously.”

He shrugs. Innocent smile, flushed cheeks. “Maybe I want you to.”

You stop dead on the sidewalk.

He keeps walking a few steps before turning back, smirking now—full of mischief, eyes glinting in the low light.

You take one slow step toward him, then another.

“I hope you know,” you murmur, catching him by the tie again, “you’re not getting out of my sight the rest of the night.”

“I was counting on that,” he says, breath catching as you pull him close again. “Your place?”

[todayitwillrainblood]

★ kitten from a litter,

☆ masterlist!

⟲ synopsis;

sieun is [name]'s precious, and the latter would do anything to protect him. (this is very loose ended btw, i just wanted sieun to be protected by m!reader and have a make-out sesh(ish?) in the bathroom.)

★ "you(-ooh) and i-i, it's more that like (like)

what's after like?" ☆

— SIEUN HAS ALWAYS seemed fragile to [name]. someone he had to protect.

[name] has also believed that sieun was terribly incapable of holding out tasks, of any sort, really. picking a fight, cooking his meals, and even living by himself. naturally, prone to that feeling of protectiveness, [name] had started to push himself into sieun's life.

"eat more, veggies make you taller, you know!"

"c'mon! you can't just study all day, come outside for a little while."

"that's not healthy—"

"if you do that, you'll di—"

"hey! didn't i tell you to—"

"are you my mom?" sieun finally snapped. this was seriously getting out of hand now.

"that's not right!" [name] gasped, whispering right after, "we sleep toget—"

sieun shushed him with a smack, "idiot!"

he turned around, walking away with an angry huff, "i-i'm sorry!"

[name] chased after him, as one does. they made up that day, of course, i'll simply say that [name] is very good with his hands.

anyway.

today was awful, [name] barely got any sleep last night. And while he was snoozing off on his desk, he was harshly awoken by a nudge.

the uncomfortable silence present in the room told him now was not a good time to yell about it. a glance around him told him all he needed to know.

sieun was getting bullied.

oh, how could he let his love be tainted that way?

he got up and strode over to the guy whose name he didn't bother to learn.

"what are you doing?" he bumped shoulders with jeon yeong-bin while walking over to stand protectively in front of sieun.

[name] looked him up and down, and scoffed, "bullying? what are you, eleven?"

yeong-bin took a step back; pestering sieun was easy...as long as [name] wasn't there. or awake.

[name], put simply, was scary. once, he had broken the hand of a guy, back in middle school, because he had smudged bright paint all over sieun.

he had gotten a two-week suspension for that, but then broke the other hand because he came to school to find that no action had been taken against that kid.

his next month was spent at home and about 12 hours of community service.

if you ask him, he'll say it was worth it.

this was also before yeon sieun was dating him or even acknowledged him. the latter part obviously changed after that.

that was also when [name] had started to actively and directly pursue sieun. all the cheesy things, love notes, roses, even a dinner where he had to kidnap sieun because he refused to go the first five times. (no sieuns were harmed in the making of this.)

all in all, everyone and their momma was scared of [name].

yeong-bin did not want a broken hand, or hands, or any other bodily injury, so he retreated and rightfully so.

[name] sure is a menace, but you know what? in yeong-bin's eyes, sieun was too much of a pest to just let him go, and too easy, too. sieun also never would go and whine to [name], meaning he was safe as long as [name] wasn't there to see.

[name] spared one glance at sieun, then dragged his stoic self to a bathroom.

he locked the door, pulling sieun in front of one of the various sinks set up.

sieun stayed staring at [name] through the mirror, while his boyfriend washed the same hands that touched yeong-bin. admittedly, [name] was too late to wake up by the time filth had touched his precious.

[name]'s arms were around sieun, chest to back, leaning his chin on sieun's shoulder. when he was done, he placed a smooch on seiun's cheek, pulling back just slightly with a scowl.

"what?" sieun questioned him, finally turning to face [name].

"you smell like that jerk's cheap cologne." with that [name] pulled sieun into a rough kiss, biting harshly into his lips and grabbing his face.

"hmph...! slower..."

[name] kissed him feverishly, slipping in his tongue and practically eating him until lewd noises echoed in the quiet bathroom. [name] pushed sieun against a wall, his hands wandering and slipping under sieun's cotton shirt. daringly, he brushed his finger against sieun's sensitive nub, pulling out even sweeter noises.

"ah!...mmh..."

sieun coloured deeply, gazing at [name] with a hooded gaze, feeling vulnerable and melting.

they would have gone further, probably, if sieun allowed it, but the school bell ringing made both of them flinch back in shock, finally finding breath and realising the mess on themselves.

sieun, dishelved and nearly shirtless, and the various red smudges across and around [name]'s lips because of the blood on sieun's lips.

[name] looked away, flushed and embarrassed, "i'll...i'll fix you up," he mumbled, reaching over to begin buttoning up sieun's shirt.

"this is your fault."

[name] willingly nodded his head, "...yes."

sieun continued to stare at him, up, down, and around. he slumped against the wall, leaving himself to [name], like he often has grown to do. trusting him completely and utterly.

there was no reason to blame [name] completely, after all, it takes two to tango, but he enjoyed the look on his face. shy, red, and obviously aroused.

"class will st—"'

"come to my house," he snuck a glance up, "later."

"...okay." red ears and a beating heart.

thump.

a sigh and another kiss.

yours only.

[mereyapalais]

“Babe it’s so hard”. She said looking up from her anatomy and physiology book. More of a dictionary since the number of pages on that book was crazy. When she heard her boyfriend come in for the fifth time just to check up on her while she studied. She tends to neglect herself when that finals period starts.

“You’re doing great sweetheart, I brought you some orange juice and toast since you love to forget that you need food in order to function.” Ony said sternly but with a soft undertone. He knew very well how his lady could decipher any tone of voice and get in her head and in her feelings. He knew not to be too stern or too harsh with her. Although sometimes it was hard,especially in cases where her well being was neglected.

She watched him come closer to her with a smile on her face. “Awn baby, you’re too good to me.” She stated getting up but he reached her in no time with his long legs.

“Stand up for me mama.” He set the plate and glass of orange juice on her, technically his, desk since she was staying over for the weekend. With him taking more shifts at work and her being busy with school. Spending quality time has been hard. Which sometimes led to petty arguments. Both parties being so touch starved for one another. Dates being planned and canceled. Phone calls ending up with snoring in each other’s ears. It was a tough time.

She got up and he took her initial seat as she took her rightful place on his thighs. He was dressed in a pair of black sweatpants while she had on one of his boxers and a white tank top with no bra on. Her piercings were definitely winking at him. Not being able to resist any further, he buried his face in her chest while inhaling deeply. “Oh my god babe stop sniffing me. You’re so weird sometimes!” She said in a fit of giggles while scratching his head. She could feel him smile, head still buried in her chest. She didn’t have the most cushiest chest, her man knew how to make do with what she had and boost her self esteem.

“Excuse a man for wanting to be around his woman. What’s that shit you be sayin’ again? I wanna be in yo skin woman.” He said lifting his head and looking in her eyes with a lazy smile. There they were gazing into each other’s eyes. Tired eyes, bags under their eyes and all. “I really missed u though. Real shit ma’” He said tracing her thick eyebrows.

“I know I really missed you too. I’m sorry about our date night.” She said, sealing her apology with a kiss on his full lips. He took the opportunity by enveloping her lips with his and deepening the kiss. Hands roaming all over, she scooted closer to him as if she wasn’t already directly exchanging oxygen with him.

When they stared running short on oxygen, she pecked all over his face as he basked in her embrace and presence. “ I really should get back to studying Ony. I was supposed to do one chapter today.”

“And whose fault is it that you haven’t done all you needed to do?”

“Boy, It’s your fault! You the one who woke me up with your head-“ before she could finish her sentence, he kissed her nose softly. “ Baby i really need to get back, I’m all yours after. Plus you shouldn’t really be feenin since you had a feast earlier.” Umi said while sipping on her orange juice.

“Not my fault you like sleeping bare cheeked.” He responded with his hands roaming on her backside. Kneading it like it was dough.

“You know I be hot. Plus you I can’t open the windows since you love falling sick anyhow.”

“First of all you are hot. Second of all, excuse me for having a weak system. But it’s all good since you gon be my lil nurse right..?” He said while wiggling his eyebrows suggestly at her.

“Umm brother eww! Get out right now” she said scrunching her face while trying to get up from his lap. He locked his strong arms around her to trap her while laughing at her . She finally succeeded and started pushing him towards the door.

“ see I’m hot already. Got me sweating like I’m in a sauna.” She said fanning her self with her note book

“Lemme cool you down then”

“Boy get out!” The orange juice she had in her hand spilled onto her tank. Onys eyes immediately landed on her chest. He immediately went silent, she could see his pupils dilate, and his mouth open slightly.

“See nah, get out boy” she said snapping her fingers in his face and pushing him towards the door. Before he could register what was going on, he was already on the other side of the door. She quickly closed the door on his face before he could try to sneak in again.

She could hear him laughing on the other side. “You better eat that peanut butter toast though.”

“I will baby, thank you again, you’re the sweetest. Mwah!”

“You can always let me in and ‘mwah’ me forreal’” he said sheepishly.

“Just gimme 1 more hour babe and I’m all yours.”

“Aight mama, you need me to do something while you studying? I can get dinner started.”

“No thank you. But you can start dinner I’ll come join you when I’m done.”

“Coo’ dont be too hard on your self in there now.”

“I won’t baby, see you in an hour!”

Don’t forget to comment and reblog please. Lemme know what you liked, your favourite parts, everything! Thank you for reading. 💋

[tiredandkindaoverworked]

The Ways They Say

“I Love You”

(Listener edition!)

Angel: Washes, folds, and puts away their shared laundry, knowing it takes some of the mental load off of David.

Baaabe: Occasionally shows up at Shaw Security when Asher’s on paperwork duty to bother him. (David doesn’t mind as long as Ash’s paperwork gets done.)

Sweetheart: Loves to act as Milo’s personal paparazzi when they’re going out on the town. Takes tons of photos of him and showers him in praise.

Darlin: Goes on night runs with Sam in their wolf form and shows him new views they find during the day.

Freelancer: Sets up dates in which Gavin gets to try new things like pottery making or a pasta making class.

Dear: Helps Lasko grade papers so they can spend time together doing nothing.

Starlight: Prints out the pictures Avior sends them and puts them together in a photo album.

Treasure: Takes Porter to their favorite hidden grotto and stargaze together. Will occasionally make a flower crown for him. He’s not the Solaire blade with them. Just Porter.

Warden: Preens and grooms Vega’s tail. He flicks it in pretend annoyance, but he actually enjoys it.

Honey: Presses kisses to Guy’s body (hand, shoulder, neck, etc) when they think he’s asleep ((he’s not, but he has to use all of his willpower to stay quiet and calm when Honey gives him so much love))

Baby: Hides Ollie’s favorite chocolates and candies all over the apartment so he has a little delight when he doesn’t expect it.

Flyboy!Baby: Video calls every night when he’s in Dahlia for on-site work. Cooks him dinner every night when he’s home.

Lovely: Finds obscure things from Vincent’s childhood to decorate the new apartment they share. (Records, comic books, pressed and framed local flowers)

Freelancer (platonic): Lays in bed with Caelum and tells him about their experiences with the DAMN crew. Caelum loves knowing that his charge is thriving where they once struggled.

Bestie: Occasionally gives him kisses and reassurance throughout the day. Blake went through so much just for them and he should be rewarded for that.

Cutie: Has a note on their phone full of Geordi’s likes and dislikes. Reminders for themselves. They refuse to use their power on him and instead resort to memorizing what they can and writing down what they can’t.

Love: Grows the herbs that Anton can’t find in the States for his cooking. He claims they taste better when Love grows them for him.

Smartass: Massages and soothes Aaron when he gets home.

Sunshine: Teaches Elliot how to play various card games. Gives him tips on how to get the upper hand on Aaron.

——————————————————————————

A/N: A flipped post, I wanted to do one for the listeners too.

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 13/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : SMAU, Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : Angst

CHAPTER 13 :

Serie Masterlist

The sun had long vanished behind the cliffs, leaving the villa wrapped in honey-warm shadows and the flicker of golden lamplight. It was the kind of evening that felt weightless, full of laughter that lingered too long and glasses that refilled themselves.

No one wanted to go out. They stayed in.

Pietra made pasta barefoot in Pierre’s oversized hoodie, Max toasted garlic bread on the stove with a chef’s reverence, and Kika’s sangria hit with deceptive sweetness. The windows were wide open. The salt air clung to everything. A speaker hummed somewhere near the bookshelf.

The night was slow and soft, the kind that makes everything feel like it’s going to be okay.

Ariana sat curled beside Lando on the floor, tucked between his legs, her head resting lightly on his chest. She wore one of his old t-shirts, threadbare and hanging halfway down her thighs. Her skin still smelled faintly of sunscreen and salt. His hand skimmed her spine in slow, unconscious circles.

She felt like a part of him. Like something that had always belonged there.

It was a perfect moment.

Until it wasn’t.

Charles, three drinks in and too curious for his own good, leaned forward.

“Okay,” he said, slouching against the arm of the couch, “I’ve always wondered something about ballet dancers.”

Ariana turned her head lazily toward him. “Mm?”

“I mean… you’re dancing up close with these guys all the time. Shirtless. Sweaty. Ripped. Like, come on, isn’t there ever a spark?”

Lando’s hand stopped.

Max snorted. “Classic Charles.”

Charles grinned. “It’s a fair question.”

Ariana sat up slightly. “It’s work,” she said, breezily. “Technique. Control. You’re thinking about placement, not attraction. There’s no time for that kind of energy.”

“But it’s human,” Max added. “You’re human.”

Kika chimed in, her voice light, “You ever catch feelings? Or at least a crush? Something?”

There was a pause. Not long. But long enough.

Ariana’s voice was calm. Measured. “Sometimes people date. It happens. Like any job.”

Pietra’s eyes lit up. “So you have, then?”

Lando didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

Ariana’s tone didn’t shift. “Maybe. Once.”

The table reacted the way friends always do : teasing, laughing, letting the subject drift again like a leaf on the current.

But not Lando.

He was stone still.

Ariana felt it, the chill in his body where warmth had been a second before.

She leaned toward him, her voice low. “Hey. You alright?”

His answer was too fast. “Fine.”

“Lando—”

“I said I’m fine.”

It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

The whole room felt it.

Pietra tried to break the tension. “Oh, come on. Don’t be weird. You won, you’re the one she’s dating.”

But Lando was already standing.

“I need some air.”

He moved fast, not storming, not dramatic. Just leaving.

Ariana stood too quickly. “Wait—”

He didn’t.

The glass door slid closed behind him with a soft click.

The silence after he left didn’t feel empty.

It felt haunted.

Ariana stood near the couch, arms folded, staring at the door like she could will him to come back.

“I should talk to him,” she said.

“Let him breathe,” Pietra murmured. “He’s just… overreacting.”

Outside, the air was still warm, but Lando felt cold beneath his hoodie. He walked barefoot across the stone terrace until he found the wall overlooking the cliffs and sat down hard, elbows on his knees, staring out into the dark.

It wasn’t the sangria.

It wasn’t the long day or the teasing or the wine-soft laughter from inside.

It was the way she said it.

“Maybe. Once.”

Like it didn’t matter.

Like he didn’t matter.

And maybe that was unfair, he knew it was. He knew, deep down, that she hadn’t done anything wrong. But it didn’t stop the jealousy from curling like barbed wire through his gut.

He pictured her, in a studio, in someone else’s arms, her body pressed close to someone who knew how to lift her, how to make her laugh between takes, how to see her at her most focused, her most brilliant.

Someone who belonged in her world.

And worst of all someone she hadn’t told him about.

The door slid open again.

He didn’t turn.

Footsteps behind him. Then the soft sound of her sitting down.

She didn’t say anything at first.

Neither did he.

Finally, she tried. “Lando—”

“Was it recent?” he asked.

His voice was low. Measured. Controlled. But barely.

She paused. “What?”

“The guy. The one you dated. Was it recent?”

She didn’t answer.

Lando’s jaw tightened. “Is he still around? Still dancing with you?”

More silence.

She exhaled, clearly trying to stay calm. “I don’t think this matters.”

“It matters to me.”

She looked at him then. “Why?”

“Because I’m trying to understand what I’m walking into,” he said, sharper now. “I didn’t even know you dated a dance partner until thirty minutes ago. And suddenly I’m sitting there, hearing you admit it in front of everyone like it was no big deal.”

“I didn’t hide it,” she said.

“You didn’t say it either,” he snapped. “You’ve had so many chances to bring it up.”

She pulled back, expression cooling. “So what, now I need to submit a report on every person I’ve ever touched?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you’re implying.”

“No,” he bit out. “I’m implying that maybe I’m an idiot for thinking I knew you.”

A beat of stunned silence passed between them.

Her voice dropped. “You don’t get to say that.”

Lando stood suddenly, pacing a few feet before turning back. “You could’ve just told me. After everything we’ve shared, you couldn’t just say it?”

She stood too, arms crossed tightly. “It wasn’t a secret. It just wasn’t something I wanted to drag into this.”

“This?” He laughed, short and bitter. “What is ‘this,’ Ariana? Us?”

“Yes!” she snapped. “Us. You and me. What we’re building. That doesn’t mean I want to unpack every past thing that ever meant something and put it on display for your approval.”

“It’s not about approval,” he said, but his voice was rising now. “It’s about honesty.”

“No, Lando,” she shot back. “It’s about control.”

That stopped him.

Dead in his tracks.

She stepped closer, voice shaking slightly now — not with fear, but fury.

“I didn’t lie to you. But the second I didn’t give you everything, you turned cold. You walked out. You sat here and decided I was hiding something because you didn’t like that you didn’t already know it.”

Lando said nothing.

His fists were clenched. His breathing shallow.

Ariana shook her head. “You know what’s crazy? I wanted to tell it. I almost did. But I saw your face, the way you reacted before I even finished speaking and I knew if I told you the truth, it wouldn’t stay between us. You’d twist it.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“You already are,” she said. “And that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

Something snapped.

“You want to talk about control?” he said, voice sharp enough to cut. “How about the way you never let me in unless it’s on your terms? How every time I ask you to open up, you deflect. You disappear behind metaphors and silence and artistry.”

Ariana’s breath caught. Her expression shifted not to shock, not to sadness.

But to fury.

She took a step back. “You don’t get to weaponize my boundaries. Not because your ego got bruised.”

He blinked.

Because she was right.

But it was too late.

The silence between them now was filled with anger, or miscommunication.

Clean, cold, sharp.

She wrapped her arms around herself, stepped back another pace.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Don’t,” she said. “Not now.”

“Ariana—”

She turned and walked back inside.

Didn’t slam the door.

Didn’t even look back.

Just left him there, on the terrace, under the stars, breath still heavy in his lungs, hands still trembling from things he hadn’t meant to say.

Things he could never take back.

The villa was still. Quiet. Everyone asleep.

Everyone except him.

Lando lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, the sheets tangled around his legs. Ariana was asleep beside him, curled into her side, away from him.

He couldn’t sleep.

Not with the image of her dancing with another man playing on repeat in his mind. Not with the echo of her voice when she refused to tell him who it was. Not with the ache in his chest every time he thought of the way she look at him after their last talk.

He stared into the darkness for what felt like forever.

And then he made the mistake.

The stupid, cowardly, heartbreaking mistake.

He reached for his phone.

Tried to keep the light low so it wouldn’t wake her. His thumb hovered over the keyboard.

He typed:

‘Ariana Riverria boyfriend’

Nothing came up. Just a few old fan posts. Articles about her shows. A couple of ballet photos from the Opera Garnier. No press. No gossip. No tabloid headline. She had kept her private life just that, private.

But then he opened Twitter.

And that was when it started.

At first it was small, blurry fan-taken photos from backstage. Her in costume. Her smiling with flowers.

And then he saw them.

One by one.

The worst is that they weren’t old. He could tell. Her hair was the same. Her body looked the same. She wore the same rings, same necklace. It wasn’t some distant past.

@parisnightwhispers

the way marc looks at ariana is NOT professional.

and never was.

@balletfangirlunhinged

Ariana latest boyfriend Marc is the lead dancer in Opera House in London

@satinshoestories

New pictures of Ariana and her boyfriend @marcbertrand_official

His breath hitched. He searches the guys insta and opens the comment of his latest post.

@marcbertrand_official

Always light. Always movement.

@danseforever

this doesn’t look like just dance partners energy 😭

@tutusandtension

WHY is no one talking about how close they still are?? that second photo says everything omg

@balletwhispers

this feels… really recent. like last month recent 👀

@rosesandruelights

his hand over hers in slide 3 made me GASP

@nocturneandnails

don’t even care if they’re “private” they’re soulmates, you can tell

@curtaincallheartache

if they broke up, someone forgot to tell their bodies 😭💔

@opalgaze

how do you even date other people after being that intimate with someone on and off stage?

@glassslipperedgirl

can we get a timeline on this or are we all just guessing if they’re back together again

@balleteditsforyou

you’re telling me he posted this knowing exactly what it looks like?? yeah they’re still in love bye

@thepasdetwo

slide two. her body language. his hands. his face. okay.

Immediatly, he recognized him.

The man.

The same man from that night at the Royal Opera of London. The man who played the prince. The one who kept his hand on her lower back all evening. The one Lando had watched with a sinking feeling in his stomach. The one she had called just a friend. Like a brother.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

She had lied to him.

She had looked into his eyes, that night by the Opera balcony and said “they’re like siblings”.

She had said “it’s not like that”.

And now here he was. In every photo. Holding her. Touching her. Loving her, maybe. Or at least, having her, in ways Lando hadn’t even asked about, because he was too scared to hear the answer.

His hand dropped the phone.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his breath shallow, eyes burning, body cold.

Ariana stirred behind him. “Lando…?”

He froze.

“Come back to sleep." she whispered sleepily.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t look at her without seeing him.

He stood up quietly, walked barefoot across the room to the bathroom, and shut the door behind him. Locked it.

He stared at his own reflection.

Eyes red. Mouth tight. Hands trembling slightly.

And for the first time since he met her — since their gaze met in that stupid party, since their first kiss in front of a painting, since the balcony and the opera and the backseat of his car — he asked himself the one question he never thought he’d have to.

“Was she with someone else all this time?”

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @lilyofthevalley-09, @esw1012, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006, @stylesmoonlight12, @lilaissa

Let me know if you wanted to be added to the taglist !

[httpsdana]

Hey there... before saying anything I want to say that you are such an amazing and talented writer like your fics are amazing.. I think dint have the right words just to express how good they are. Would you consider writing a request about kenan yildiz x reader where they started dating and it is serious and everything and she has a hashimoto which is an autoimmune disease and she is tired etc. And he kinda gets frustrated then worried about her like not being that involved in things. And he finding out about it. Angst to fluff long fic. Like she is afraid to tell him because she thinks he will leave her or something.

Say Something~Kenan Yildiz

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

・❥・a/n: this is like a very old request I'm sorry it took a lot of time. enjoy <33

She had never intended to keep it from Kenan, not exactly. But every time she opened her mouth to say something, fear crawled up her throat and choked the words before they could leave.

Hashimoto’s. An autoimmune disease. Something she'd been battling in silence for months before she even met him. Fatigue. Mood swings. Foggy thoughts. Random days when her body just shut down.

She thought it would get easier to tell him once they were officially together. It didn’t.

Because Kenan was sunshine. Bright eyes. Energy and purpose. Golden boy. And her?

She was tired. All the time. Exhausted from pretending to be okay.

It started with small things.

Cancelling plans. Skipping dates. Taking longer to text back. Nodding along when he talked, even though her head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

Kenan noticed. He always noticed.

But she always smiled just enough, kissed him just enough, to make him believe it was fine.

Until that night.

“Okay, I chopped the garlic. What’s next, Chef?” Kenan said playfully, bumping her hip with his.

She smiled, barely. “Just throw it in the pan.”

Kenan narrowed his eyes. “That’s it? No kiss for your handsome assistant?”

She leaned in, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then turned back to the stove, ignoring the way her knees trembled slightly beneath her.

He stared at her for a beat, before his curiosity got the best out of him.

“So you're gonna tell me what happened?”

“What?” she asked, not turning around.

“The boat date I planned. You bailed last minute. Said you were sick again.” He walked closer. “Babe… what’s really going on?”

“I told you,” she muttered. “Just a headache.”

“You’ve had, like, five ‘just headaches’ in two weeks.”

She turned to face him now, arms crossed. “So what? I can’t be tired?”

Kenan frowned, confused and hurt. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying, Kenan?”

“I don’t know!” he snapped, frustrated. “I just… I feel like you’re not here anymore. Like I’m dating a ghost. And I don’t get why.”

Her chest tightened at his words. “Maybe this is all I have to give.”

Silence. He didn't say anything, just stared at her stunned.

She turned back to the pan, blinking fast to stop the tears from falling. “Just go. I’ll finish cooking.”

Kenan took a step forward. “Baby… don’t do that please. Don’t shut me out.”

But her hand was already on the counter to steady herself. The room was spinning.

“Kenan, I-I just-”

And then everything went black.

Her body gave up, and Kenan caught her before she could hit the floor.

“Baby? Babe, wake up! What the hell-no, no, no-hey, stay with me, please-please-”

He didn’t remember much after that. Just the ambulance lights. The panic in his chest. The way her fingers felt so limp in his grip.

The waiting room was freezing. His knee bounced restlessly. Then he heard two doctors talking outside the ER doors.

“She collapsed from exhaustion again?”

“Yes, her Hashimoto’s disease can make it difficult when not carefully managed. Seems like she hasn't been taking her medication lately ”

Kenan froze.

What the hell was that?

He pulled out his phone.

“Hashimoto’s disease…”

Chronic autoimmune thyroiditis… immune system attacks the thyroid… leads to fatigue, weakness, brain fog, depression…

His heart dropped with every symptom.

It was all her.

Everything clicked, why she was always tired, always brushing him off, why she looked like she was breaking and didn’t want him to see.

She knew. And she never told him.

He walked into her room slowly. She was still unconscious, hooked up to monitors, a soft beeping tracking her heart.

He sat down beside her and reached for her hand.

“Angel…” he whispered, voice cracking.

She didn’t move.

He brought her hand to his lips, pressing soft kisses along her knuckles, the back of ber palm, each fingertip.

“I didn’t know,” he whispered. “God, baby, i swear I didn’t know. I thought you just didn’t want me anymore.”

His eyes filled with tears. “You were probably scared to tell me right?”

Another kiss to her hand. “ That wouldn't have changed anything. Never.”

He ran his thumb along her wrist. “I love you. Even if you’re tired. Even if you cancel dates. Even if you don’t feel like smiling. I still love every version of you.”

She stirred slightly, eyelashes fluttering.

Kenan leaned forward instantly. “Hey…hey, sweetheart. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She blinked slowly, confusion in her eyes.

“K-Kenan…?”

“Yeah, baby. It’s me.” He smiled through the tears. “You fainted, but you’re okay now.”

Her eyes widened immediately. “The kitchen-oh my God-I didn’t mean to-”

“Shh, shh.” He cupped her face gently. “Don’t talk yet. Just breathe, yeah?”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, tears spilling before she could stop them. “I didn’t want to hide it. I just-I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought you’d think I was broken or too much or-”

“Stop,” he said firmly, brushing her tears with his thumb. “You’re not broken. And I’m never going to think you’re too much.”

She let out a sob. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

He leaned in, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth.

“You could never lose me, angel,” he murmured. “You’re it for me.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. “I was so scared.” she whispered

“I know,” he whispered, voice thick. “But from now on… you’re not going through this alone. We’re gonna figure this out together, okay?”

She nodded, her breath hitching. “Okay.”

“Good girl,” he murmured, kissing the tip of her nose. “Now rest. I’ll be right here.”

And he was.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha @universefcb @mariejuli (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[randomusingsofalovesickgirl]

BACK TO FRIENDS: DAYLIGHT

masterlist

a/n: can be read standalone, or as a blurb prior to the back to friend series! || also not fully proofread lol

🎶 daylight by taylor swift 🎶 if i'm honest by trousdale 🎶 friends by ed sheeran

When he invited you over for a cup of tea, the last thing you expected was getting dragged into his daily stream. 

“And today, we have a special, special, guest!” He exclaimed, drumming the table dramatically, before leaning in and reading the captions. “Chat, Chris is not special. He literally lives here, I can drag him in whenever.” 

You snorted, making George look in your direction and smile. Motioning for you to come in, you popped your head into the corner of the frame and waved enthusiastically. “Hey guys! Chris is safe today, I’m the one who got dragged today.” 

Most of your subscribers and followers know your feelings about Twitch: you respected the grind and the hustle, but you were not a fan. 

A tip came in, with the message: finally! 

Another one came in, she also joins u all the time tho

“She does, she does, I know,” George threw his arm around the chair you’re sitting in, “but what can I say? We just can’t get enough of her.” He pinched your cheek, making you roll your eyes and push his arm away.

George can u do smth else real quick we wanna talk to just her 

He scoffed, flabbergasted. “So, this is my stream, and you’re telling me to leave!” He turned to face you, “you’re stealing my spotlight! Leave now!” 

“Happy to!” Immediately, you stood up–teasing him and pretending to leave. His hand instinctively went to your arm, dragging you down back into your seat. “No, stay, stay, I’m kidding!” 

“I thought you wanted me to leave?” You retorted, arching your eyebrow. “Hey, maybe this is a sign I should start streaming…” Dozens of comments came in, supporting the idea. “I’ll stream at the same time as you as well, take away all your views…” You trailed off, teasingly. 

George dramatically put his hand on his heart, before you returned your attention to the chat. “Can you two watch this video, please?” George read out, navigating his mouse to the link. 

While George continued to entertain the chat, telling them about his day; you leaned in, curious—until the title loaded.

Your stomach dipped.

The caption read: “they’re fr dating but just not telling us,” followed with a series of hashtags including your names. 

It was a TikTok edit. Of course it was.

And then the music started. And you had to stop yourself from internally face-palming. 

Of course, it was Taylor Swift. No edit of anyone with Taylor Swift music could ever be just platonic. Ever. 

There were flashes from your own vlogs–your park walks, late-night food runs, gym sessions, dinner at yours. Snippets from friend’s videos; the two of you chatting to yourselves in a crowd of people, the video cropped to highlight the two of you giggling. It would cut to the game night he hosted, you sitting between his legs and him staring at you a little too long with a look you swore your roommate gave her boyfriend a million times. You, watching him, that same night and smiling. It ended on Arthur TV's stream, someone asking him where George was, only for him to respond that he was with you, "as always".

It played like a montage of a couple who just hadn’t admitted it yet, or a recap of a couple to be played at their wedding. A highlight reel of moments you didn’t realise anyone noticed. 

Your heart kicked in your chest.

“Wait, oh my gosh, what the fuck did you do?” you blurted, reaching for the mouse, clicking away on another video before George could properly see it. You forced a laugh, pulling your best “shocked by George being a dumbass” expression. The stream would see this as you getting distracted by a stupid video of George, a friend wanting to make fun of the other. 

Distraction was always the easiest weapon.

He looked up at the new clip. It was the football shoot—the one where he tripped and sprained his ankle.

“You knew about it!” he said, eyes lighting up. “That day was terrible.” He looked at you with a new look in his eyes, and you immediately had to turn away. You couldn’t give the fans any more ammunition. 

But still, you swallowed hard. He didn’t say it out loud, but you remembered it well. You got the call from Chris that George was being a baby, so you showed up to see George at home pouting like a kid who had all their candy stolen from them. You remember bandaging him up. How he insisted you stayed over. How you two watched a movie while you helped him iced his leg, with his head on your shoulder. The weight of him was so comfortable that it hurt a little.

He turned back to chat. “Why did you guys send us this? We literally lived it.”

You changed the topic before the stream could correct him. After all, they hadn’t sent that TikTok. You clicked on it, away from what they did send. 

You didn’t want him to see that TikTok. To overthink everything between you. 

And he hadn’t seen it. But you had. And you couldn't unsee it.

It suddenly felt like a spotlight was on you, burning you up; making you sweat. Your hands felt clammy, your cheeks felt flushed, and your heart felt like it was beating miles per minute. 

You tried to follow George’s voice as he kept talking to chat, but everything sounded far away. Muffled.

You were still seeing the edit. Still hearing the music.

“I once believed love would be burning red…”

Your throat tightened.

You’d been in denial because it was safer, funnier, easier. But sitting next to him now, while your heart raced and the chat erupted in chaos.

It wasn’t a joke anymore. 

You missed him when you didn’t see him. The day felt empty when you didn’t text him or see him at least once. Your mood depended on whether he laughed at something you said. You knew how exactly he likes his tea, his Twitch schedule, and the weird look of concentration he had when he was stuck editing. 

You realised your whole world was built around him without intending to.

And it’s crazy. First, he was that weird guy you met at a Sidemen video, doing impressions on stage. And now he was your lifeline. 

After seeing it played back to you, it finally hit you—

You liked George. 

And not just a little.

You liked him in a way that made your chest ache.

In a way you couldn’t laugh off.

In a way that scared you shitless.

And you don’t want to think about going home and rambling to your roommate about this realisation, who’d only say four words back to you: “I fucking called it.”

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

taglist: @rubyskies @edgyficuselastica @gmontaguesbitch @sundarksposts @canyouseethesainz @lovingaphroditesworld @maggie-readss @liz140569 @lmaowhathaha @moofilms @lalisasrealwife @courtjjade @bowielovesyou @raekensluver @cuntessaii @theresglittleronthefloor @isabelle-2934 @smzyyx @wroetominter @madforgeorge @megan-jane02 @lottiewills @cheesystylesig @suspicious-stain-in-spain @kneelforloki @wherethezoes-at @clarkey4life

[kjhbsies]

remus lupin x reader with the you look shitty prompt at the grand hotel, please! congrats!!!!!!

Now Playing: Just My (Bad) Luck

navigation | main masterlist | rules

join my 500 celebration!

Remus Lupin x reader

synopsis: She’s on a blind date. He’s the one who drove her there. Love, chaos, and one accidental confession later… well, they’re screwed. Spoiler: They’re both hopeless. And head over heels.

wordcount: 1, 719

note: Prompt: "You look pretty." "What did you say?" "I said you look shitty. Goodnight, Y/n!" + The Grand Hotel: helping them get ready for a date (that isn't you). Pure fluff, longing, and pining. Requests are open! Join my 500 celebration. Thanks to the anon who requested it ^^ this is in modern setting btw :>

It was a blind date, orchestrated by none other than Lily Evans. One thing she suggested, or rather, forced you to do, just to keep your mind from thinking of one person: Remus Lupin. As Lily had said, 'It was your time to stop moping about your feelings for the guy.' And 'It'll be the best date of your life', she swore, eyes sparkling as she envisioned what would happen.

You knew Remus since the very first moment you stepped foot in Hogwarts, when he helped you pick up your trunk when it fell to the ground. From that moment on, it was over for you. He was calm despite the chaos, still kind even on Mondays, and brilliant in the kind of quiet that didn't beg any attention, but absolutely deserved it. His eyes were enchanting, more so when he attentively listened to you while holding eye contact. And don't get even started on that stupid, worn-out sweater he always wears— it should be criminal to look that good without trying. You couldn't help but fall for him.

But "the best date" Lily had been promising to you was turning out to be the worst— and you weren't even in the place yet.

First, your dress felt too tight— like, suffocating kind of type. And, of course, you didn't even have the time to change because you had spent 40 minutes perfecting your eyeliner. Next, your hair wasn't falling into place like you wanted. It had one job: stay. One. Job.

And now— your shoes were left in Marlene's apartment. But she was busy cramming for a paper due tonight, so she couldn't go. And you have no choice but to call... him.

Oh, the irony. The man you were supposed to spend the night not thinking about was the very first person you thought of the moment your plans began to crumble. Of course.

Merlin's sake.

It wasn't even ten minutes when Remus knocked on your apartment door. You shuffled to open it, trying to ignore the fact that your heart was thrumming in your chest. You smiled sheepishly as you slowly pulled the door open, attempting not to cringe at yourself and the absolute chaos that was your night.

Remus, however, gaped at you subtly as his eyes scanned you from head to toe. It wasn't new to him seeing you all dolled up. But Merlin, did it never fail to knock the breath out of his lungs.

"Did I look weird?" You asked, looking down at your dress.

Remus blinked rapidly, clearly snapping out of his thoughts. "No, no!" He said, shaking his head immediately. He wanted to add something— a compliment that was threatening to fall out of his lips— but he had to mentally stop himself from doing so, for fear that it'd freak you out.

"Oh, alright. You kind of blanked out for a sec," You mumbled, stepping aside to let him in.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he settled the paper bag on your coffee table. "What's the occasion? You girls going out without Marlene?" He sat down on the couch.

"Uhh, no. It's just me." You replied, sitting on the opposite side of him and reaching out for the paper bag. "Lily wants me to go on this blind date. Says he was a great guy in her class. It's my first time doing this so I'm a bundle of nerves."

"Oh." He said, disappointment laced in his tone. The smile on his face fell.

"Yeah," You muttered, bending down to put on the heels. "I was kind of thinking of backing out, because..." You sighed, struggling to put the straps on your ankles. "Everything just keeps on failing tonight."

"Wait, let me—" Remus kneeled in front of you before you could protest. He gently took your foot and fastened the strap that made your heart clench uncomfortably. He did it on the other one, and you just couldn't help but stare at him. "There," He said softly, smiling up at you.

"Thanks." You smiled, immediately standing up to go over to the mirror, trying to busy yourself. You scanned yourself, smoothing every line of the dress you were wearing forcefully. "Shit."

"Why?" Remus asked, suddenly alert.

"I forgot my car's still in the mechanic's."

"I can drive you."

"No, no. It's fine. I'll just take a cab—"

"I insist, Y/n." His voice was calm, but firm. Your heart clenched in your chest.

"Okay," You nodded. You grabbed your bag and let him lead you down the stairs and into his car.

The whole car ride was silent, save for the radio that crackled mellow rock through the speakers, which absolutely made the awkward tension between the two of you even worse. Remus kept glancing at you through the rearview mirror, trying to play it cool, but failing to do so. His knuckles were turning white as he gripped the steering wheel so hard, jaw set like he was fighting every emotion all at once.

He hated this. Hated the idea of someone else sitting across from you in a fancy restaurant, getting to make you laugh, getting to know you deeper, when he already did. He hated that he had to keep his mouth shut. Hated how he tried suppressing all of his feelings for you, saying to himself not to ruin your friendship when all he wanted was to be with you.

"Thanks, Lupin." You said, quieter than before, when you two reached the destination. You gave him a small smile, one that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Really."

He smiled and nodded.

You stepped out of the car, heels clicking against the pavement as you walked slowly. A part of you had hoped that maybe he'd stop you. That he'd say something, anything. Tell you not to go. Tell you he liked you. Tell you you're beautiful.

But he didn't. Not one word.

Remus sat in his car, watching you take each step further away from him. The yellow glow of the streetlights cast soft shadows on your face, and even from a distance, Remus swore you were an angel in disguise. And before he could stop himself, the words came tumbling out of his mouth like they'd been trying to escape all night.

"You look pretty!"

You stopped in your tracks. Your head whipped in his direction, rapidly blinking. From where you stood, it felt unreal— like your mind was playing tricks with you. There was no way you heard that, right?

"...What did you just say?" You called out, brows raised, half in shock and half in desperation that you didn't just imagine it.

Inside the car, panic bloomed in Remus's chest. "I said you look shitty. Goodnight, Y/n!" He yelled hastily before throwing the gear into drive and zooming off like a coward he was. His tires screeched slightly as he turned to round the corner.

You stood there, stunned, unsure whether to feel offended or flattered. But the idiocy of the entire thing hit you like a bludger, nd you couldn't help but laugh softly. A wide grin broke across your face, and a giggle came out of your mouth before you could stop it.

"Bloody idiot." You muttered fondly, still smiling as you entered the restaurant.

Meanwhile, in the car, Remus was already spiraling. He turned the radio volume in full volume to drown his thoughts, but of course, fate had a sense of humor because the song playing just happened to perfectly describe his situation right now.

"Of course, of course, this is the song now." He groaned, slapping the steering wheel slightly. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid."

The guilt, the regrets, the what-ifs— they all came tumbling down. What if he had told you earlier? What if he had the courage to ask you out first? What if he hadn't just driven off like a coward?

He reached the red light and slammed the brakes harder than necessary, muttering curses under his breath.

"Bloody hell," He stared, staring at the road. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel as his thoughts raced. Would you be mad if he crashed your date? Would you think he was insane? Would you walk away? What if it was too late?

But you said earlier you wanted to back down. Maybe... maybe he wasn't being a complete lunatic.

...Right?

He groaned loudly, slapping the steering wheel again before making a sudden U-turn. Tires squealed in protest, but he was already speeding back into the restaurant.

He parked without thinking and leaped out of the car. His strides were quick, determined, practically rushed towards the entrance— until he saw you.

You were already walking out.

His heels halted.

"Remus?" You blinked, visibly startled. "W— what are you doing here?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shut it. Then opened it again. Finally, he sighed and closed his eyes tightly, grounding himself. "Y/n, I wanted to tell you something... and I don't want you to interrupt me."

You nodded slowly, heart thudding like a drum.

"I've liked you for so long. I mean, for years. Since our second year. And I was an absolute idiot for hiding it." He confessed, sincere eyes meeting yours.

You stared at him, absolutely silent.

"Remus," You breathed.

"I know," He continued quickly, half-panicking. "I know it's ridiculous, and I've probably ruined it by not saying for too long, and you should probably go back inside and forget this happened— wait..." His brows furrowed. "Why are you outside?"

You tilted your head, lips quirking into a small smile. "Because I'd rather eat greasy chips from a food stall with you than have caviar with someone I barely know."

He blinked.

And then his face broke into the biggest, dumbest, happiest grin you've ever seen.

"Wait— wait— wait— are you saying—"

“Yeah,” You said, stepping closer. “I like you too, Lupin. So much.”

Remus laughed breathlessly. “Merlin, I should’ve turned that car around sooner.”

“You should’ve just said I looked pretty instead of calling me shitty,” You teased, crossing your arms with a playful glare.

“I panicked!” He laughed, stepping closer and grabbing your waist. “You looked so stunning and I blacked out. My brain short-circuited. It happens!”

You two laughed softly. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close. It was him who broke the distance, lips enclosing with yours in a soft, warm kiss.

Finally, you two were exactly where you both wanted to be.

©kjhbsies

[tac-the-unseen]

Hey can you write some actually traumatized Simon Riley x reader Headcannons?

It kind of annoys me that so many people just sexualize him without addressing the actual trauma he went through for two years and beyond.

So I guess I'm really just asking for a non- hypersexual Simon x reader XD

Non-hypersexual Simon Riley x Reader 

CW: Trauma

•It would take years for Simon to let you get close to him

•And it would have to be you to ask him out because he sure as shit won't ask first 

•When you guys do start dating he wants to go over boundaries immediately 

•He doesn't want to set you up for failure so he wouldn't even consider a relationship until you've had this talk

•It’s a really hard talk for him to start and go through but he does it because he has to. He doesn't want you to accidentally trigger him or for you to get your feelings hurt

•He really does like you, and that's why he pushes through 

•The first thing he tells you is that he is in no way, shape, or form ready for a sexual relationship 

•He explains that he doesn't know how long it will take for him to be ready, but it will be at least a few months 

•Simon understands if that's a deal breaker for you, in this world he knows that sex is more Important in relationships then most people would like to admit 

•When you assure him that it's more then fine and you're willing to wait he lets out a very shaky breath neither of you know he owes holding in

•He goes through more boundaries with you with much cooler nerves 

-PDA to a minimum (an old therapist was killed because Simon was her patient. He's not letting someone who actually cares about be murder because you wanted to hold hands) 

-Make your presence known before you touch him, especially from behind (this is man who has seen war, if you run up and hug him without warning you will be thrown to the ground)

-Don’t pressure him to tell you ‘stories’ (with two years of torture, years in the military, and an abusive childhood there is so much he isn't willing to tell you or anyone)

-Don't talk about intimate details with others (If he wanted to tell them, he would do it himself.)

-He will leave if anybody starts talking politics (even if it's stuff he agrees with, he’s not going to waste his time like that. He has to talk about that at work all the time and he will not do it at home.)

•It takes a while for him to feel comfortable sleeping in the same bed with someone else

•He's paranoid. He stays awake thinking that someone might try and attack you two in your sleep

•Simon has to sleep with at LEAST a knife in his pocket to be able to soothe himself long enough to catch a few zzz

•Night terrors are a common occurrence

•There are several nights where you wake up to find yourself alone in bed

•Simon will pace around the house, making sure blinds are closed, doors are locked, and no one is in the house. Even then he will sit on a chair, armed, and simply wait for something that's not so unlikely to come.

•Asks you to limit and delete some of your social media posts. No one should know where you live other than close family and friends. He will scroll through all of your accounts and tell you why they may or may not be security risks.

•Simon does have social media accounts. they are just burner accounts he uses to keep up to date with the news and big events. 

•Simon knows that what he's doing can be seen as controlling and he understands if your family and friends don’t like him, but he’s terrified someone will gather all this information and kill you because you couldn't be safe online. 

•Asks if you’re willing to sign up for self defence classes and if you’d be willing to let him teach you basic and more advanced skills.

•Will show you where exactly to stab someone so that they can’t scream

•Pressure points and how to use them to your advantage

•He will show you how to use a gun,knife, Brass knuckles, and (if he can find somewhere that will let him) bombs

•Will tell 141 about you and they also look out for

Thanks for reading

[frequentlykit]

Helping Hand Pt3 - Bang Chan

Bang Chan x fem!reader

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

WC: 1.8k

Summary: Chris is torn about seeing Y/N again and looks to his members for help.

A/N: i'm sorry this has taken so long and please don't kill me for breaking this up but i wanted to get something out for you, i promise to update again soon

- kit <3

Part 1 Part 2

Though you hadn’t seen Chris since that night in the hotel, you had been texting with him pretty frequently. And more often than not it was him who texted first. Asking about your day, if you’d eaten, what your plans were or apologizing for not having time to hang out.

Your phone was almost knocked out of your hands as you slammed into someone else, also looking down at their phone, “Oh my god I’m so sorry I-”

“No, no, I’m sorry, my fault.” That voice… you knew that voice.

No way. No FREAKING way. This was not happening to you again. But sure enough, as you looked up, you locked eyes with Hyunjin.

“Jesus christ, you guys are everywhere. What is this?”

“Huh?” Hyunjin looked at you with his big brown eyes, confused.

“Uh, nothing, sorry. How are you, Hyunjin?”

He squints at you, “...good? Do I know you?”

You shake your head, “No… I’ve seen you though, I mean, not in a creepy way! I’m a fan.”

“Oh! You’re Stay?” He says with a small smile.

You nod.

“Well nice to meet you.” He smiles.

You laugh, shaking your head, “You too.”

“What?” He asks, again making that adorable confused face, like he’d been left out of a joke.

“Nothing, nothing.” You wave him off. “Where are you heading, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Convenience store, we’re out of my favorite ramyeon.”

“I am also heading that way,” You smile, quickly adding, “I swear I’m not just saying that to follow you around–”

Hyunjin laughs, “I believe you.”

CHRIS' POV

I never thought I could be friends with a fan, I always thought it would be too complicated. But I now realize that while I don’t think I could be friends with a fan, I could 100% have a friend who happened to be a fan. 

Or maybe more than a friend. 

I couldn’t stop thinking about her. About the way she looked at me. About that kiss.

I hadn’t mentioned her to the kids, I didn't want to try and explain myself. Though I did debate thanking Hyunjin for telling me about that dumb spa. Which, while very nice, I spent most of my time there thinking about her. Then that phone call.

I could tell right away that something was wrong. Though I thought it might have been a wrong number, I was glad I trusted my gut.

Y/N hadn’t answered my message so I set down my phone on the desk. I was sitting in the studio with Jisung and Changbin, staring off into space as the two of them debated which of two beats they wanted to use for the song Jisung wrote.

“Hyung? Hey Hyung!”

I blink, turning my attention to Jisung who was waving dramatically in front of my face.

“What?” I shove his hand away.

“What is going on with you lately?”

“Nothing is going on.” I say, less than convincingly.

“Come on, Hyung.” Changbin chimes in, “You’ve been spacy since the break.”

“I have not!” 

“Hyuuuung!” Jisung whines, shaking my shoulders.

“Stop! Nothing is going on, I swear!” I say, standing up and stepping away from the pair of them.

“Is it a girl?” Changbin said, obviously teasing.

I tried not to make a face, tried to scoff and act like that was ridiculous, but based on the face that Changbin made, I didn’t do a very good job.

“Oh my god, I was kidding, is it a girl!?”

“No…”

“God, you’re a worse liar than Felix.” Jisung grins, “So who is it?”

“No one!”

“Is it Jihyo-noona? You’ve been spending more time with her lately.”

While that was true, I had gotten lunch with Jihyo three times in the past two weeks, it wasn't for the reason Jisung was thinking. She had been kind enough (pitied me enough) to let me pick her brain about dating as an idol, especially a fan, as well as how I should go about things with Y/N. I'd even text BamBam who was, while insightful, unhelpful.

“No, god, no. Who are you? Dispatch? You know we aren’t like that.”

“Who is it then!?” Jisung insists.

“No one… no one you know…”

“Oh so it’s someone you met?” Changbin grins.

“Okay, this is ridiculous. Can’t I keep my private life private?”

“It’s like he doesn’t know us.” Jisung looks at Changbin who nods.

“See, you can tell us and we won’t tell the others. Or you can try to keep your stupid little secret and we’ll get the others to pester you about it too.”

“Are you threatening me?” I squint at the pair.

“No,” Changbin grins, “I’m just telling you how it is.”

“Wow, Minho is rubbing off on you.” I shake my head.

“Hyung!” Jisung whines again.

“Okay, okay, fine. I met… a girl, while I was in Japan.”

“At the spa?” Changbin asks.

I shake my head, “On the plane ride over.”

“Were you sitting next to her? How did it start? What does she look like? Is she cute? Does she-”

Changbin covers Jisungs mouth, “How did it happen?”

“She… caught my attention and then offered me an empty seat next to her when the people I was sitting next to were falling asleep on me. We got to talking and it was nice to just be and talk to someone without expectations. I… I gave her my number when the plane landed and then I left.”

“That’s it, that’s the interaction that had you all wrapped up.”

“Well no…”

“Spill! I’m glued to my seat!” Jisung grins.

I sigh, “She called me two days later and asked for help when some drunk guys were creeping on her, I picked her up and took her back to her hotel. We talked for hours, I've never been so relaxed with someone outside the group, and then… I kissed her.”

“Hyung!”

“Don’t even start!” I point at them, “You would’ve too if she looked at you like that.”

“So what now?” Jisung asks.

“I’ve been texting with her and it’s good, I’ve wanted to meet up but we’ve been so busy and honestly… I’m a little scared.”

“Does she live here?” Changbin asks.

I nod, “She was on a work trip in Japan, she lives in Seoul.”

“So plan a date with her! You’ve had time to see Jihyo, you can make time for her.”

“What were you doing with Jihyo-noona?” Jisung asks, suddenly suspicious.

“Asking her how to go about seeing Y/N…” I mutter, looking down.

“Oh my god, you’re adorable.” Jisung grins. “I’ll bet you called BamBam too.”

“Shut up!”

“Hyung,” Changbin steals my attention, “Ask the girl out, I promise it’s not as complicated as you’re making it.”

“Where do I take her though?” I groan, sitting back down on the couch.

“What did Noona say?” Jisung asks.

“The basic stuff, park, restaurant, cafe, but honestly I’m more worried about getting photographed. I don’t want her to have to deal with that but if I pick somewhere too secluded she might be freaked out or uncomfortable and I don’t want to come across that way andsinceshe’safanthere’sthatpowerimbalanceandIalreadyfeelweirdaboutkissingherwhenIdideventhoughshesaidshewanteditbutIdon’t-”

“Chan!” Changbin calls, interrupting my word vomit. “Calm down.”

“Did you say she was a fan?” Jisung asks, ever observant.

“...yes.” I mumble.

YOUR POV

“Do you frequent this convenience store?” You ask as you and Hyunjin peruse the aisles.

“Not really,” he shrugs, taking a few bags of ramen from the shelf and putting them in his basket, “But Felix and I were hanging out nearby and I wanted to pick these up before we left.”

“Felix didn't want to join you?” You ask, grabbing some candy.

“He said he didn't want to walk all that way.”

“How far did you walk?” You ask, chuckling softly.

“Eh, a couple blocks.” He walks over to the counter and sets down his basket. “Here,” he reaches his hand out for the candy in yours.

“Oh, Hyunjin, you don't have to do that.” You say, shaking your head.

He slips the candy from your hands, “I want to. You've been so nice to talk to.”

“Well thank you,” you smile.

Your phone suddenly buzzes in your pocket and you remember that you'd been texting Chris.

“Who are you texting? Your boyfriend?” Hyunjin teases, leaning his head over your shoulder.

“Uh…” You don't really know how to respond, or if he'd even believe you if you told him the truth.

“You don't have to answer, I'm just being nosy.” He smiles, handing back the candy you'd picked out.

CHRIS' POV

“Huh.” I chuckle as the texts from Y/N come through.

“What now?” Changbin asks.

“It's Y/N.” I answer.

“Ooo, what'd she say!” Jisung grabs my arm and leans over my shoulder to take a peek at my phone.

I shake him off, “She ran into Hyunjin.”

“For real?” Changbin laughs.

“How'd that happen?” Jisung asks.

“Don’t know yet, but apparently he bought her candy.” I shrug.

Changbin and Jisung looked at me for a moment and they were so quiet that I looked between the pair of them, “...what?”

“You’re jealous.” Jisung grins.

“What!?”

“You are!” Changbin adds, “Your shoulders got all tight when you said that.”

“I am not. Why would I be jealous?”

“Because he’s with her and you’re not.” Jisung pokes my side.

“Jisung, I swear to god-”

“Call him.” Changbin interrupts.

“Call who?” Jisung and I say together.

“Hyunjin.”

YOUR POV

“Uh, yeah, no, umm,” You aren’t sure how to start, making yourself busy by putting the candy in your bag. “Remember when I said ‘You guys are everywhere?’”

Hyunjin nods as the pair of you walk out of the convenience store.

“Well I said that because I met another member a few weeks ago.”

“Really?” Hyunjin laughs.

“Yeah, I-”

You’re cut off as Hyunjin’s phone starts to ring, he pulls it out and laughs again, “Speaking of other members.”

He answers, “Hey Channie-hyung… I’m just about to head back with Lix… uh…” He glances at you, covering the speaker of his phone, “I never caught your name.”

“Y/N.” You smile.

He nods, going back to the phone, “Yes I am… how in the world did you know that?”

“Hi Chris!” You call.

Hyunjin pulls the phone away from his ear and puts it on speaker phone.

“Hi sweetheart.” His voice rings through the phone. “I figured this would be an easy way to ask, do you want to join the kids and I tonight? For hot pot?”

“Oh…” You say, shocked at the invitation.

“No pressure,” Chris is quick to add, “It was Changbin’s idea.”

You laugh, “I’m flattered.”

“You should!” Hyunjin said, looking excited.

“Okay.” You shrug with a smile, “Let’s do it.”

“Great! You can come back with Hyunjin and Felix if you want, unless you want to change or something since you just got off work.”

“I’d rather go home and shower but I can meet you guys at the restaurant.”

“That works for us, I’ll text it to you.” Chris responds.

“Can’t wait.”

Hyunjin ends the phone call, “Well, small world.”

You nod, “You have no idea.”

“Well I guess I will see you tonight.”

“See you then.”

He waves before crossing the street and walking around the corner. Just then a text from Chris came through.

A/N: i swear i will post again soon, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. thanks for reading and don't forget to like and reblog (god i feel like a youtuber lol)

TAGLIST: @akindaflora @lezleeferguson-120

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 11 - Twice The Heart

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: field trip episodes i love you. Enjoy!

Chapter Title from Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 14k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Bucky makes a call, and you both go on a... friend date.

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff

Chapter 10 - Chapter 12

Read on A03!

Precautions were being taken. 

That had been the first, blatant, obvious attack. Not just cryptic letters to induce fear. An attempt to take Her.  

Hogan was upping the building security. Same-grade metal detectors they’d used at Stark’s compound, before it got blown up. Increased vetting on bags, and a panic button in Her office. Firm and thorough background checks into every single person who directly reported to Her, and new badges issued to select staff, allowing them up to Her office. If anyone else wanted an appointment, they’d have to do it online. 

It had been floated that they simply stop allowing Her to have meetings. Hogan, Sam, and Bucky had been sat around a table to debrief, Hogan had floated shutting down all non-vital appointments, and Buck hadn’t bothered to try and hide his snort. 

“Something funny, Barnes?”

Sam had sighed, and Bucky had just shrugged.

“Just how horribly that’ll work out for you.”

Hogan had said Her name with a glower. “She’s in danger. She’s afraid. If we tell her this is to keep her safe-“

“You think she’ll roll over and take it?” Bucky had raised his brows. “You’re just gonna be making more work for all of us. She won’t stop working unless we tie her to a chair, and I don’t think any of us want to do that.”

“You’re a super-solider.” Hogan had snapped. “And she’s got a big bark, but that’s all it is. If we don’t overcorrect then dial back, we might under correct and something will slip past us.”

Bucky’s jaw had clenched. “Nothing’s going to slip past me.”

“Not if we make sure she’s on lockdown, it won’t.”

“Hogan,” Sam had muttered, giving Bucky an odd look before he continued. “Bucky’s right. I’ve known her longer than either of you, and if you force her to sit on her ass, she’s gonna cut off her ass and keep going.”

Hogan’s nose had wrinkled. “That’s a… horrible and graphic metaphor.”

“But it stands.” 

“I’m not sure it does-“

“It does.” Bucky had grunted, and he could still almost feel Her in his arms. Shaking and small and nervous, not long after She’d snapped at him to stop telling Her what to do. She’d push it. She’d push it right to the edge, then a little over until She fell.

And Bucky would catch Her. He’d gotten pretty damn good at catching Her. He’d even gotten good at anticipating the fall. If they did put Her on lockdown, he’d be able to keep Her there. He was a super-solider. There was no situation where She’d get this physical up on him. 

But She’d glare and sneer and bite at him, if he forced Her to stay down. And whatever they’d been building, whatever had been making Her trust him, it would be smashed. She might never smile at him again. If She spoke to him, it wouldn’t be like some sort of loud, consuming cure.

Bucky was good at his job. And his mission was to keep Her safe, so he wouldn’t fail. Not for anything.  

That wasn’t what he said though. Hogan had been glaring at him, and Sam had been giving him an even odder look, but Bucky hadn’t wavered on his position.

He just kept the real reason he didn’t want to lock Her up to himself. Sam and Hogan didn’t need to know that half of Bucky’s thoughts now just circled around Her. All the things he could do for Her, to Her, with Her. How whenever he saw Miles with Her, even heard the asshole’s name, he could taste fucking bile. 

It might be that jealously he wasn’t supposed to be feeling.

He didn’t really care either way.

Bucky had bigger things to worry about than how—every time She looked at him, laughed with him, said his name or brushed Her fingers over his arm—he was made of a wildfire that burned only for Her. 

“If we try to lock her up,” Bucky had grunted, holding Hogan’s gaze. “We’ll just lose her. She’s smarter than us. She’ll slip out, and we’ll lose any chance of keeping her safe.”

“So don’t let her slip out.” Hogan had snapped, and Bucky had shaken his head.

“I’m not looking to let her slip out. But she’s quick, and even these are going to be hard to get her to agree with. Don’t push it.”

Hogan had scowled. “I’m not doing a negotiation, Barnes. This is for her own good-“

Sam had snorted. “Yeah, tell her it’s for her own good. I’m sure that won’t end with a stapler in your forehead.”

“I don’t care if it does.” Hogan had sat a little taller, glaring between Bucky and Sam with a tight sort of destress. “We already slipped up once. That guy was one of ours. Director of marketing. If he’d gotten her, that would’ve been on my hands. And I promised Tony I’d look after her. It was in his fucking will. That if she’s doesn’t live to a million years old with a hundred cats, he’ll rise from the grave and murder me.”

Sam had frowned. “That ain’t how wills work-“

“Didn’t matter to Tony.” Hogan had grunted. “She not allowed to get fucking killed-“

“They weren’t trying to kill her.” Bucky had cut Hogan off with low words. “That was a knockout gas. They were trying to take her. Whatever they want from her, they want it alive.”

There had been a long, taut movement of silence, all of them staring at each other as it sunk in.

“That’s… a hell of a lot worse, isn’t it.” Sam had muttered. “Hydra doesn’t do prisoners.”

Bucky had given a tight nod. “But I’m not going to let that happen.” He’d focused on Hogan, trying to do the raise your chin and leave no room for argument thing She did. It didn’t feel that effective, so Bucky moved all his command into his voice. “But if you make it so I have to keep her safe from herself and Hydra, it won’t end in our favor.”

Hogan had scowled, eyeing Bucky wearily. “You’ve been taking days off?”

“Sunday and Monday.”

“Fine. I’ll give up on some of the measures, if you either drop your rest-days, or get a substitute guard-“

“I’ll drop the days.”

That had been an easy decision. More time with Her. More reasons to see Her, and talk to Her, and look at Her. 

More chances to keep Her safe. 

Because She really was in danger. That was the one thing they’d all been able to agree on. If Hydra wanted Her alive, She was in a lot more danger than they’d thought. 

Bucky had never seen a case of that before. He’d done a lot of fucked up shit in Hydra’s name, but kidnapping had somehow never made its way onto the roster. The Soldat often scratched with memories of when Hydra wanted something, but they’d only ever wanted information. Information that would be on a hard-drive Bucky could steal, or in a head that Bucky could torture open, kill, and then report back. But they’d only been looking to knock Her out. That could be to bring Her to a secondary location, but if they just wanted information, Bucky couldn’t imagine what it would be.

They obviously had plants in Stark Industries. And She didn’t have any ex-S.H.I.E.L.D connections, or any access to the kind of Stark Technology that Hydra would want. She worked for the charity. And if Hydra wanted money, they’d be putting their efforts into getting it fast, instead of risking this exact scenario. Where everyone on Her side was on high alert, and they were going to have to work harder for what they wanted.

That didn’t line up either. When Hydra wanted something, they were never this sloppy about it. This desperate. In any other case, Bucky would’ve had a solid estimate for what all this meant. 

But he didn’t have a goddamn clue. None of the information he had was lining up. She certainly didn’t have that doomsdays weapons Sam had mentioned, or access to any previous Hydra projects. She definitely wasn’t Hydra herself—Bucky dreaded the moment She remembered he’d thought that, because She might rip him in half—and She didn’t really have anyone that would sell Her-

Miles. 

Fucking Miles.

Bucky needed to keep a harsher eye on Miles. He might still be unsure of when he’d have enough of a place to say something—about how Miles treated Her, about how She deserved better, about how when She was ready for better, Bucky was right fucking here—but this wasn’t about Bucky’s growing hunger for Her. This was about his mission. 

Keep Her safe. From Hydra, and Herself, and anything else. 

He had no evidence Miles was up to something. Just the boiling and twisting feeling in his gut. But he’d work on that.

For now, all Bucky knew was that whatever Hydra wanted, it started and ended with Her. 

And he’d been getting nightmares.

New nightmares. 

Where the face of whatever long dead person Bucky had tortured as the Soldat shifted into Her face, and he couldn’t stop himself for carving Her up. Where they were on the street, Bucky looked away for one fucking second, and then She vanished. Then Bucky would tear through crowds, but he could never fucking find Her. 

Worst, where Bucky did find Her, and all the life was gone from Her beautiful face. 

And She wasn’t dead.

She was just a shell. And Pierce or Rumlow or Karpov—no matter that they were all long dead—were wrapped around Her with venomous smiles. Touching Her. And She just stood there, a hollow void in Her eyes where the Moon used to be.

Bucky wouldn’t let that happen. He’d rip off his other arm before he let anything like that happen. 

So Hogan got almost all of his measures, save for the one’s She’d actively fight against. Sam was going to be moving all his efforts into working on the Hydra code. Bucky was going to keep by Her side. 

And Her secrets. Their secrets.

Bucky had somehow worked himself into a position where they had secrets. 

“I hate this.” She muttered, lying flat on the floor with a cute little scowl. “I feel like I’m in a fucking prison.”

“You wanted to be here, Butterfly.” Bucky drawled, letting his amusement creep into his voice. “You coulda stayed at home-“

“No. We- I’d rather be here.” She wrinkled Her nose at the ceiling. “Doesn’t meant I have to like it. And don’t,” She leaned Her head back a little further, narrowing Her eyes at Bucky. “Tell me it’s for my safety. I got the lecture from Sam and Happy. If you give it to me, I’ll throw you off the roof.”

Bucky chuckled. “I don’t think you could pull that off, kid.“

“I could. I told you, Buck. I’m wily. So don’t fucking test me.”

Her glower was adorable. All of this was adorable. Her finger pointed up at Bucky, the slight pout of Her lips, and how She wasn’t moving from the floor as She threatened him. Hogan really had been right about that. Her bark was loud and strong, but Her bite seemed to be limited to Her words. And whatever threats She was making, Bucky knew they were hollow. 

That didn’t seem to stop Her from making them.

And Jesus, it only drove him a little more insane. Made him imagine Her tackling him, and he’d pry Her off his body with ease before laying Her back down and pinning Her to the floor. Just like She’d been on the couch, during the attack. Just like She was now, only Bucky wouldn’t be keeping himself at a respectable distance. He’d be pulling Her apart with fingers deep in Her cunt, making Her shake with pleasure rather than fear, and She’d shine for him. Bucky would work Her until She was relaxed and glowing under him, and he’d take good fucking care of Her-

He needed to stop. He couldn’t think about Her like that. It barely made him better than the suits, or the men in his nightmare. She was more than that. She was a smart mouth and a lot of giggling.

But maybe She’d giggle under Bucky. Maybe he’d tease Her, and She’d giggle for him-

He was going to throw himself off the roof. 

“James-“

“No testing you.” He said, smirking down at Her because he couldn’t fucking help himself. “Got it.”

“Good.” She frowned up at him, and he didn’t break Her gaze. At least he had a good excuse to look at Her, now. “I’ve got the papers, by the way. Do you- Can I show them to you?”

He gave a short nod—looking at the papers was the whole point of the meeting, but She was too cute and nervous to correct or tease—and She let out a long breath, pushing up on Her palms.

“Have you-“

“Sam doesn’t know.” Bucky muttered, offering Her a hand. 

She took it.

She let Bucky help Her up. And he’d used the metal hand, but it was still spreading the fuzzy, aching warmth over his body. 

Christ, he was fucked. 

“Okay. I brought the papers. And Miles- Don’t make that face.”

Bucky scowled. “I didn’t make a face.”

“Yes, you did.” She crossed Her arms, raising Her chin. That was how the no room for argument thing was supposed to look. “You made the disapproving face.”

“I don’t have a disapproving face-“

“Yes, you do.” She took a step forward, and Bucky froze as Her hand lifted up to his face. “You get lines here, and your mouth does a line like that.”

She was touching him. Tracing over his nose and cheeks. This was worse than Her touching his arm. This was so much fucking worse. Bucky could only stare at Her with wide eyes, trying not to lick his lips when She was this close. He could smell Her shampoo again. And when Her feather-light touch moved over his brow—pushing it into a wrinkle as She kept talking about his alleged disapproving face—Bucky felt a little fucking dizzy. 

He didn’t know how to move away. He should move away. This wasn’t helping him hold onto control, and She had a boyfriend. A boyfriend they were talking about, right now.

A boyfriend who wouldn’t touch Her like Bucky could, if he grabbed Her wrist and crashed his lips into Hers. Miles probably didn’t give Her anything. Bucky would give Her whatever She asked for, then have Her begging for more—bouncing on his cock with Her tits in his mouth, and Her face open and fucked out as Bucky gave Her everything—and his cock was twitching in his pants, but he couldn’t think about his friend like that-

“I know you don’t like him.” She mumbled, still not drawing Her hand back. “Sam doesn’t either. Just please don’t make that face.”

Bucky just grunted, forcing down a shout of then why are you with him. 

It didn’t slip past him, though. How She wasn’t asking Bucky to give Miles a chance. Just to not make that face. 

He added that to his log. He wasn’t sure what to do with it, but he added it all the same.

“Bucky-“

“Fine.” he grumbled, keeping his eyes locked on Her’s. “What were you gonna say.”

She sighed, and—in both a mercy and a torture—drew Her hand back. “Miles thinks I’m here to do work. I still haven’t told him about this, and if he shows up, I need you to hide.”

Bucky blinked at Her. “To hide.”

“Yes, please.” She gave him a smile that was filled with sorrow. And he didn’t understand why, but the Moon was rolling around in Her eyes, She was slumping slightly, and there was something so soft and sad all over Her features, to the point it might drive him insane.

He could push it.

He could demand to know why the hell She was so sad.

But Bucky was already about to push it. To test his luck. And She was still so fragile. 

He couldn’t afford to break Her. It might be the worst sin he’d ever commit. 

“Fine.” He muttered, and Her smile grew. 

“Thank you.”

Bucky grunted. He didn’t want Her thanks. He just wanted to make things better. “Papers?”

She nodded, walking back to Her desk and pulling out a stack of loose papers from Her bag. “I, um- I didn’t think anyone else would be reading them. So they’re kind of in a shorthand, and-“

“I’ll figure it out.” Bucky took the papers, scanning over the top one. “Lotta numbers.”

“Yeah, um, most of it is numbers.”

Bucky hummed, dropping down onto the couch as he continued to read.

She was silent above him. Too silent. And still. When Bucky glanced up at Her, She had her hands behind Her back, Her head slightly bowed as she watched him, and Her lips were in a tight, nervous pout.

It made Bucky’s gut clench and twist. “Sit down.”

She blinked at him, but listened. In barely a second, She was right at Bucky’s side. Legs folded under Her, fingers rubbing at Her own skin, watching him with wide doe-eyes. 

Jesus Christ. 

She’d never listened to him that fast, without some sort of threat bouncing over their heads. The wildfire was searing, where Her knee was bumping against his. Bucky’s fist curled at his side—hidden from Her sight—because all he could think about was grabbing Her. Pulling Her right into his chest until Hydra was something blurred in the distance for both of them. Until She had to be safe, because Bucky was wrapped around Her all the time. The same way Miles had been in Sam’s kitchen, only he’d never shove Her away. And She’d be doing most of the talking, and Bucky would just kiss along Her neck, sucking little marks for everyone to see. To know She was under his protection, and they wanted to even look at Her in a way She wouldn’t want, they’d have to go through Bucky first.

Bucky was looking at Her in a way She might not want. He wasn’t any better than the suits, and all the men who’d been forced into bed with. He might be worse. She trusted him, and he was fantasizing about shoving his face between Her legs-

Control.

Bucky cleared his throat, making sure any lingering want was gone by the time he spoke. “Here’s the deal, Butterfly. You ready?”

She nodded, Her eyes still wide on his, and Bucky raised his brows.

“Words would be nice, sweetheart.” He made his voice a drawl. A taunt. Those always spurred Her on the best. “Where’d that smart mouth go?”

All he got was a fucking flush. She wasn’t making this easy. “I’m ready,” She whispered, and Bucky really wanted to know where this version of Her had been the whole time. 

It was a little like a bird. Sweet and beautiful, with an enchanting voice and so high above Bucky. Even if it landed on his shoulder, it could flutter away with one wrong move. He liked it almost as much as the feral parts of Her. Maybe he could blend them together, with the right touches and words.

He really was losing his mind.

“Alright.” He cleared his throat again, forcing his attention back to the papers. Focus. “We’re not gonna tell Sam. Business as usual, as far as he’s concerned. And it’s not cause we’re hiding it from him, but-“

“That sounds exactly like hiding it from him.” She said, a small, teasing smile back on Her face, and that was better. Bucky liked this version of Her too, even if it drove him insane. 

He’d been insane before anyway.

At least this kind of insane had Her. Felt good.

“It’s not.” He grumbled, and Her grin grew. “We’re just forgetting to tell him.”

“And if he asks?”

“He won’t.”

She giggled. “Solid plan, Sargent.”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Smooth-“

Bucky drawled Her name, narrowing his eyes, and She cut herself off. Fucking hell, She might actually just be a Hydra asset, sent Her to be beautiful and give Bucky a heart-attack. “You gonna listen?”

Her nod was small, and the doe-eyes were back. “Yes.”

“Good.” Bucky forced himself to ignore Her flush. Friends. “If Sam finds out, he’ll stop us from looking into this. He obviously doesn’t want you tangled in the actual operation, and I’ve been told to focus on keeping you safe-

“Awww.” She grinned at him. “You want me to be safe-“

Bucky covered Her mouth with a hand and shot Her a firm glare. He’d seen the nerves all over Her pretty face. Knew that if they were talking about Her personal safety, she wouldn’t want to hear it. He wasn’t even sure She could help herself from pushing it, from trying to squirm Her way out of the conversation, even if She’d started it.

But this was Bucky’s mission.

He wasn’t going to fail it for anything.

And She didn’t push him away. The look in Her eyes wasn’t afraid or angry. It was only the Moon shining, and a triumphant sort of pride turning with it. The wildfire was going to turn into a fucking hurricane of flame and need. Bucky was screwed.

“Of course I want you to be safe.” He grumbled. She wasn’t allowed to think anything else of him. “So listen. If Sam finds out we’re doing this, he’ll stop us. So, until we’ve got something solid, we keep this between us. Got it?”

She nodded, and Bucky sighed, pulling his hand down.

“Sorry.” He scanned over Her carefully. “Needed you to listen.”

She just shrugged, and Bucky wasn’t sure if that was another flush, or if he was going insane. “That’s okay. I wouldn’t shut up-“

“Don’t care about that.” He grunted, forcing his gaze back to the papers. “You were tryin’ to see if you could distract me.”

She gave a mock gasp. “I would never.”

Bucky shot Her an amused look, a chuckle escaping his chest before he could stop it. “Sure, Butterfly. Here.”

She frowned as Bucky reached down to his bag, but he’d come prepared for this. She wouldn’t try to talk her way around things if he distracted Her. Occupied Her with her order from the deli, and a cherry coke, and-

Her eyes widened as Bucky pulled out the paint pens, and shoved them into Her hands.

“James-“

“You can draw on my arm if you fucking listen. Deal?”

“But the tech-“ “It’s resilient. I’ll clean it after. Deal?”

She looked between Bucky’s set, determined face–he would get Her to focus, even if it fucking killed him—and the pens. Then She nodded, and Bucky grinned.

He won. She would listen.

Bonus—horrible, selfish bonus—She’d be touching him.

“Alright. Here’s what we’re gonna do.” Bucky extended his metal arm, and She hummed, tracing over the metal plates with too gentle fingers. 

He took it back. This was already a horrible idea. She trailed over the hook of his elbow, and he was going to lose his goddamn mind. 

Control.

Bucky coughed, and forced himself back into control.

“I’ll look over these, and see if I recognize anything. Then I’ll work out what we’ll do about Zemo, but I’m telling you now,” he said Her name, and She looked up to him with big doe-eyes again. 

Shit. 

“I, uh-“ Control. “I’m not bringing Sam here. And if it can be avoided, we’re not talkin’ to him at all. Got it?”

“Okay.” She nodded, looking back down to Bucky’s arm and drawing a little pink heart on it. “What else?”

“Uh.” Bucky cleared his throat, staring at the pattern She was starting to make around the black and gold of his arm. It was made of more hearts, and flowers, and strange little star shapes. It was almost half as beautiful as She was. “We need to have a conversation.”

“We’re having a conversation right now, Buck.”

Fuck. “No. I mean, yes, but-“ He could do this. He could push it, and deal with the consequences. “It’s a… personal. Conversation.”

She paused, blinking up at him with Her hand still on his forearm. It was a goddamn miracle he was thinking straight at all. “What kind of personal conversation?”

“We need to figure out why Hydra might be targeting you.” He muttered, holding Her gaze. “And I know you’re private-“

“No, I’m not.”

It was Bucky’s turn to blink. “Yes, you are-“

“No, I’m not.” She looked back to Her pens with a slightly softer voice. “We just weren’t friends. And I… I dunno. I how what you’ve been through. Bitching about how I tried to kill myself a few times felt... uncouth.”

Bucky could only stare at Her, even his head stuttering over words. All he could manage was a slightly dumb, “Uncouth?”

“Really rude.”

“Ah.” He still felt a little like his brain was doing a sort of scratching, uneven short-stop. Like a bad record on a player. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe Bucky was a cyborg.

“Are you-“

“I’m fine.” He grunted, forcing himself to find some words. “What- Uh- Does anyone know about it?”

“The killing myself?”

“Yeah.”

She paused, scanning over him carefully. “Do you want the real answer, or the comfortable one?”

“Real.” Buck didn’t hesitate before he answered. He didn’t care what She offered him, as long as it was real. And he didn’t back down, as She stared at him for another long second. 

She relented with a sigh. “My parents knew about two of them, when they were with me. Charlie knows about one. Sam knows about almost all of them.”

That was good. At least Sam knew. But- “Almost?”

“There was one during the blip.” She mumbled. “I just… Never told him. He’d get annoyed that I hid it for so long, then angry at Tony for letting it happen, and that wouldn’t be helpful cause Tony’s dead, and I never told him either. I was just lonely. In a lot of pain, and really- It was hard. And Sam shouldn’t blame himself for not being there.” She paused, frowning up at Bucky. “Please don’t tell him.”

“I won’t.” Bucky grunted, and he wouldn’t. She’d trusted him. He wouldn’t break that. He’d only file it that deep in his log, and highlighted safe from Herself on the bylines his mission. “I have a question.”

“I might have an answer.”

“Charlie is your… brother.”

“Sibling.” She pressed another flower onto Bucky’s arm. “Non-binary. That means-“

“I know what I means.” Bucky muttered. “Sam made me take a sensitivity course. Not that I needed it.” His words were quick, but if Bucky was going to stick around—and he wanted to—She couldn’t think that he wouldn’t be good to people. Bucky was angry and bitter at people, but he’d always tried to be good. Wasn’t much point in better if he didn’t. “But Sam still wanted me to.”

“Okay.” She hummed, offering Bucky a small smile that nearly knocked the air of his lungs. “What am I supposed to tell you?”

Bucky stared at Her for a little too long before he realized what She was talking about. The personal conversation.

The whole point of this. 

“Whatever you can.” He said carefully, watching Her for a reaction as he spoke. “Anything. I mean, I still don’t know how you met Sam” 

Bucky tried to offer Her a smile, and it came out too tight, but She didn’t seem to mind. 

She just hummed, matching it with Her perfect, artful smile and slow words. She was thinking, as She spoke. 

And it didn’t seem to be to hide something. 

She was just taking this seriously.

“My dad was an engineer. Air force. He specialized in experimental technology.” She gave Bucky a pointed look. “Can you guess something he might have invented?”

Bucky frowned, the pieces moving too slowly in his head, and- “Ah.”

“Yep.” She looked back to Bucky’s arm. “Sam and Ron were his favorites. His pseudo-sons. My cool big brothers who could fly, and my mom hated, because she hated everyone. Especially people my dad liked. Then Ron got blown up, and my dad took it… hard. Started drinking. Sam tried to help, but it wasn’t something that started with Ron. Just got worse, until it hit a breaking point. Then it was just my mom, and I’d only see Sam whenever it was too much, and he could help me slip away. After Hydra collapsed, I took my siblings on the run to avoid the government separating us, and he lost me for a while. Then Steve Rogers found my new contact in a notebook of some Hydra big-name, and he tracked me down. Took care of us until I turned eighteen, and I became by sibling’s legal guardian. And even then, he was still family.” 

Bucky nodded slowly, moving things around in his log. Sam was basically Her brother. Her parents were dead, and She’d taken care of her siblings. 

Sam had done for Her what Bucky had tried to do for Steve. 

She’d said Sam hadn’t known what She’d done, but Bucky was willing to bet Her name wasn’t in that notebook for reasons that didn’t make him sick. 

A few leads. Hydra big-names had hurt Her, and Her mom had been involved. But Bucky doubted the would’ve seen Her as more than just a body, or told Her anything of substance. And Her Mom had been dead since Hydra fell—Bucky needed to sit down and do some math later—so there would be no reason to strike Her now. He needed more information.

“What about your extended family?” He asked carefully. “They didn’t take you?”

“Nope. My mom burned a lot a bridges. On both sides.”

“How many siblings do you have?” This wasn’t going to help Bucky figure out the Hydra thing. He wanted to know anyway.

“Two. Charlie and Tommy. Charlie’s finishing up grad school, and Tommy’s in his second year of college. Neither blipped.”

Bucky grunted. “Do they know about your history?”

“No.” She mumbled, frowning at the flowers. “Charlie knows I had a job. They don’t know what. And- All the Hydra guys were before Sam found me again. I was younger. More desperate.” She let out a long breath. “Those are the only ones I wish I could take back. They hated me just as much as they… liked me.”

She was shrinking Her into Herself, and Bucky wanted this to be done. He had almost enough.

God, he wished it was enough.

“What about your childhood?” 

She sighed. “I don’t know. I- I don’t really remember it. There were long periods in the hospital. And these- Images. Snapshots. But they’re all glossy and-“ Her fingers curled on Bucky’s arm, Her voice suddenly a little urgent. “Have you ever seen like, a plastic plant? Or a person who’s done a lot of plastic surgery?”

“Yeah-“

“They’re like that.” She whispered, Her eyes wide on his. “I mean, some of them are. And they’re my memories, I know they happened, but I- I don’t know. It’s mostly just a lot of color and sound.”

Bucky’s jaw twitched, and he stored it in his file. 

But that was enough. 

“Alright.” He looked down at his arm. “Good job. I look like I got attacked by a pre-school.”

She flushed, tracing Her fingers over one of the flowers, and Bucky was going to break his teeth. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.” She mumbled, and Bucky couldn’t stop his grin.

“You can take it however you want, Butterfly.”

“I will.”

“I know.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Her flush deepened, and Bucky’s grin grew as the wildfire ripped through him. He was barely fucking better than a fucking dog. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

She gave him a confused look—pouting and teeth between Her lips—and Bucky was going to go insane. “Bucky, tomorrow’s Sunday-“

“We still doing the aquarium?”

He tried to ask the question carefully. Like it didn’t matter at all. If She didn’t want to go to the aquarium, he was a grown ass man. A war vet. And he was doing it for therapy, so Bucky didn’t need Her there at all. He wanted Her there. He wanted Her there so fucking much. 

He wanted to watch Her move around and talk like at the hospital, but it would just be them. Just Her and Bucky, and everything in his head would be quiet because She’d be there and beautiful, and goddamnit, he wanted to tease Her about the fish thing again and see if She flushed and played with Her hair-

“Yes, please.” She whispered, and Bucky nodded.

Please.

She wanted to be there. He wasn’t making Her. Bucky didn’t want to be in the business of making Her do anything. He’d toss Her around and hold Her down when it was about objective safety, and Her being insane, but even then, he’d find Her line and never cross it.

It wasn’t touching him. Or sitting next to him. Or looking at him.

She kept talking to Bucky all day, too. And She talked to everyone, but Christ, he wanted this to be different. He wanted Her to tell him whatever She wanted. He wanted to keep being safe for Her. 

Bucky hadn’t been safe for someone in so fucking long. And She had too much going on for that to be a light choice. She’d been hiding the Hydra code stuff the whole time—and he’d need to have a firmer conversation with Her about that, once he stopped feeling so dizzy when She smiled at him—and trusted Bucky to tell first. She’d asked him to help Her. No one else. Just Bucky.

And he was Her friend. That was getting bigger by the second. 

Being Her friend meant something. Maybe not what Bucky wanted it to mean—with his hands skimming on Her bare skin whenever he wanted, and his lips brushing her’s just for the hell of it—but something. She wanted to know about it. She wanted him around. To talk to, and joke with, and share things with.

Bucky liked sharing things with Her. He wanted to tell Her more and more about himself, because it wasn’t like with Raynor. He wasn’t trying to justify it, or pretend it didn’t scratch at the back of his skull all the time. He was just saying them because She was easy to tell. 

She tended to get them.

And Bucky was starting to really get Her.

All the colors and cracks and woven patterns that made Her up. 

Art. 

All of Her seemed to be art. And Bucky needed to get better at that stuff. For Her.

He wanted to start doing stuff for Her.

That was new. 

Bigger than a crush. 

He could never have Her—for some many fucking reasons, the images and ideas in Bucky’s head would have to stay fantasies—but he wanted Her.

His name was James Buchanan Barnes. She tended to wipe Her face with her hand when She ate, and Bucky wanted to grab them and clean them, then lecture Her about manners while She smiled at him. It was getting late, when he looked at his watch. And he wanted to stay with Her longer, but he knew he’d see Her tomorrow. 

He liked that She smiled at him all the time now. Bucky hadn’t been drunk in a damn long time, but he was pretty sure the closest he was going to get was Her smiling at him. About nothing but him opening the door for Her, or making a grumbling joke, or giving his thoughts on something. That last one always made Her fucking beam. Bucky wanted to make Her beam all the fucking time. 

He didn’t like that he had to bring Her back to Her apartment. Back to Miles. Back to someone who wasn’t going to look at Her with their full attention, and who didn’t care to try and catch Her as She bounced off the walls. Bucky wanted to have that job. It was one he was good at already, and maybe he’d get to throw Her down onto a bed, She’d giggle at him, and he’d-

Friends.

Control.

Bucky really needed to get himself under control. He wanted to be there for Her, however She needed, but he fucking couldn’t if everything She did made his skin warm and his pants tight.

He wanted Her. 

Almost all the time now, some part of Bucky was dedicated to wanting Her. His hands to doing things for Her like opening doors and catching Her. His eyes to watching Her. His skin to trying to brand itself with Her fleeting touch, and his mind to logging everything about Her he could, to have Her a little more.

Bucky was made of want. 

It was new. Strange.

Better.

Things were better. Really fucking impossibly, things were so much better. 

And he was still angry, but Bucky would be able to use that anger. It wasn’t made of pointless and bitter sorrow about Steve leaving and it’s not fair.

Nothing was fair. 

But Bucky wasn’t going to just roll over and take that. And if anyone deserved to have someone be really, truly angry for them, it was Her. Things were shit for Her too, but she was never fully angry about it. Not where anyone could see. Bucky had seen Her annoyed and hurt and shaking and furious, but never angry. She’d bitch about those dumbass lawyers, but never just fire them, because they had families. When Sam had shoved Bucky on Her at the start She’d been pissed, but She’d forgiven him too. When Bucky had made a face about Miles, She’d just sighed. 

Bucky had seen the Moon, rolling and shifting and swirling with Her moon.  During the Hydra accusations. It had been furious. A little terrifying, like it could rip into him and shred him apart. But even then, She’d pulled it back and forgiven him. Too fast. 

But Bucky could be unforgiving for Her. He could use the anger for Her. 

And he more than planned to. 

“You know I am quite busy, Sargent Barnes-“

“Bucky.” He muttered, glaring at the laptop She’d made him get. Handed to him. Insisted he take, or She’d set on fire right fucking there.

Bucky could’ve called Her bluff. It would’ve been really damn easy, because She really was all bark and no bite.

But She’d gotten him something, and if he didn’t take it, She might’ve been sad. Or offended. Or stopped giving Bucky things. 

So he’d taken it. 

But it was still annoying as hell. Shuri was in a little box, and Bucky was in a smaller box, and it had taken five minutes for Shuri to tell him how muting worked. 

“My apologies, Bucky.” Shuri grinned at him—eyes still dancing with amusement about the muting thing—and he sighed. “If your arm is experiencing issues, I can request that Mr. Wilson have it sent-“

“No.” Bucky sat a little taller, shaking his head. “The arm is great. Amazing. And Sam cannot know about this.”

Shuri raised her brows. “Are we keeping secrets?”

“Yes. No. It’s-“ Bucky ran a hand through his hair, frowning at the air. “I need a favor. And it’s one Sam’s gonna be pissed about.”

“What is a favor?” Shuri gave Bucky a firm look. “Is it a gun or a new addition to the arm? Because then I will do it happily. But there are other things that might not be as easy.”

Bucky braced himself, giving Shuri a grimacing look. “You’re not gonna like it. And let me explain, before you say no.”

“Bucky-“

“I want Zemo.” Bucky pushed right through the look of shock on Shuri’s face. “I know. But this isn’t like last time. I want him on a monitored call or in a secure meeting place. The Dora Milaje will be there. But I’ve got some questions for him, and I need them answered soon. It’s life or death.”

Shuri didn’t say no. She just studied Bucky through the screen for a long moment, before saying, “Whose life or death?”

“My- My friend.”

“You do not have friends, Bucky.”

He scowled. “You’re my friend-“

“I am a princess from another continent. We do not speak frequently. Your only other friend is Mr. Wilson, and you wish to keep this from him.”

“It’s our mutual friend. She’s known Sam a while, and if he finds out about this, he’ll be angry. But it’s really important, Shuri. Wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t.”

“Oh, I do not doubt that.” Shuri shrugged. “I will speak to my brother and Okoye and see what we can do. But,” the grin returned to her face, and Bucky swallowed. 

That couldn’t be good.

“Who is your lady friend?”

“She was Sam’s lady friend first.” Bucky grumbled. “Kinda like his little Steve. And it’s not important-“

“You do not get Zemo, if you don’t tell me.”

Fuck.

He was cornered.

Bucky had to grumble Her name, keeping his face perfectly fucking blank instead of covered in want. “She’s been getting Hydra threats. We think Zemo’s involved, and we have to check.”

Shuri frowned. “Why do I recognize that name-“

“She worked with Stark.”

“No,” Shuri shook her head. “It is not that. There is another reason-“

“She’s been talking about some Wakandan vaccines a lot.” Bucky said carefully. “Could be that.”

“That is it. I’ve been researching her office before I approve the bid.” Shuri’s face morphed back into the mocking grin. “I’ve seen some pictures. She is quite beautiful.”

Bucky sighed. Shuri didn’t know the half of it.

“And her bids are well written. Moving.”

“Yeah, well, she writes them all herself. Do I get Zemo or not?”

“You’ll get Zemo. I will want more information though, before I present it to my brother-“

“I’ll email you.”

“Do you know how to email-“

Bucky grumbled Her name, ignoring how Shuri’s grin grew. “I’ll have her email you. And-“ He paused.

It might not be worth it. 

He might be pushing it.

Shit, he was going to do it anyway.

“Could you toss in the vaccines, too? She’ll be good with them.”

“Alright.” Shuri shrugged, and Bucky sat up a little straighter.

He hadn’t made this for Her. 

It was still really fucking something. Something that She’d wanted. That Bucky had gotten for Her.

Shuri hung up after that, and Bucky was still sitting tall. With pride.

He’d done things for Her. He was going to get answers out of Zemo, somehow—he wasn’t sure yet, but he’d figure it out in the moment—and She’d be safe.

Things were getting better.

For the first time, Bucky could say things were better, and fully fucking mean it.

That was sort of terrifying.

He didn’t want it to stop.

——————

Weekends are Hell, when Miles is home. 

The Show never stops. Smile and sickly-sweet words, touch him like you want to and never speak out of turn. Move and move and freeze when you need to, rest only when it can be afforded because he’s busy.

Navigate the Labyrinth of whatever mood he’s in today, and know that—if you’re lucky—you’ll curl up with the Boy on the bathroom floor when the minotaur goes to sleep. 

If you falter one step, Miles catches it, and it ends in makeup and long shirts.

You’re trapped with him. 

Nobody knows how bad it is, so you’re locked in the cage with the monster you made, and there’s never been a reasonable excuse to escape. Miles wouldn’t stop you from going to work before—the less he actually sees you, the less he has to speak to you and hear your whiny, weird voice—but Happy would.

You don’t blame him. 

He doesn’t know by design. 

Nobody knows by design. You don’t want their pity. It’s the only other thing that you never tell people. And even then, sometimes you’ll pull out the prostitution card to win an argument. Nobody needs to know about this. There’s too much to explain. They’ll try to make you leave him, or they’ll get the cops involved, or Sam will throw him off a roof, and they can’t. It’s a matter of survival, that the weekends stay horrible, and you stay a little too alive on the bathroom floor, and you survive. 

It was supposed to be all about Survival. 

Secrets and the Show and no friends was for survival.

Keeping Bucky at a distance was supposed to be about survival. And this… Going to the aquarium with someone Miles has told you he doesn’t trust. Doesn’t want you near or around.

It will end badly, if Miles finds out your office weekend ban didn’t get lifted.

So you’ll just be careful.

If you’re being this fucking stupid about a crush, you have to be careful. 

It’s just the aquarium. Friends go to aquariums together all the time. And you’re really going because you get in free, and Bucky’s bad at name dropping. 

But he could make Sam go with him. Sam probably gets in free too. 

He asked you.

And it’ll be fine. You’ll be careful. 

You’re perfect and compliant, the whole morning. Miles is working today—he always works on Sunday mornings, something about them being good for business—so you make him breakfast and kiss his cheek and swallow your vomit. He tells you about how he’s made good deals, and how they’re going to affect global trade, and then reminds you that don’t worry your pretty little head about it, honey. You wouldn’t understand if you tried.

You manage not to scream that you do understand. Not how the Dow Jones works—nobody knows how the Dow Jones works—but how supply chain boosts can be good for the economy, because you’re not a fucking idiot. 

But that wouldn’t be careful.

So you smile, and take it. Then whatever he wants from you, you give. You just have to hold on a few hours, until Bucky gets here.

“I thought you were driving your bike?” You’d frowned at him yesterday, when he’d mentioned he’d grab you tomorrow.

“I’m driving whatever you’ll go in with me.” He’d muttered, glowering out at the road. “You can even drive the car, if you want. But we’re stepping up your security. No going out alone.”

You’d swallowed, and nodded. “Do you still get days off?”

“No.”

“James-“

“Would you rather have me, or some random assholes?”

He’d shot you a challenging look, and you’d stuck your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I-“

“I want a real answer, kid.” Bucky had smirked at you. “C’mon. You want me around.”

“Bucky-“

“Say it.” 

He’d been looking at you, and using the commanding voice, and you’re too far gone.

It’s not controlling you. You don’t think he even knows how easily you fold when he does that. How he’ll pierce right into that fluttering thing, it will burst fireworks over your ribs, and by the time the Mist has started to climb you’re gone. You just want him to keep looking at you like it’s something you want to see. Telling you things that you trust him not wield like blade against you later. Bucky wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t grab chunks of you then turn them into weapons to control you.

He doesn’t need to.

“Butterfly-“

“I want you around.” You whisper, and you’re rewarded with another Look. Only the nostril flare, and the stone-like neutral features.

His voice is rough, when he speaks. You want to hear it forever. “Good. Car or bike.”

“Do you want to ride your bike?”

“That’s not-“

“Bucky.” 

He’d shot you a glare—blink, nostrils, tongue-thing—and sighed. “Yes.”

“Okay.” You’d shrugged, turning your hair between your fingers. “Bike.”

He’d grunted, and the conversation had moved on. 

Bucky would pick you up in the bike, and that was it. 

You’ll be free when Bucky gets here. 

That’s a thought that’s dangerous to have. Lines have begun to weave together in your head, and they’re so dangerous.

Bucky’s tied to the idea of freedom. He’ll be here and you won’t have to put on the Show, and that’s freedom. He’s woven with the idea of comfort, as well. You’ll be able to eat more, and better, because you’ll be sharing the food with him. He’ll see you, and that doesn’t hurt anymore. You’ll just keep fluttering and smiling under his attention, and you’ll bite at him, but he’ll just chuckle and take it. Talking to you like you’re a person.

Listening to you and looking at you like there’s not anything ugly and burning in you. 

Grinning at you, and playing the game.

You’re losing. 

And winning. 

Your crush is starting to barrel out of control, slipping through your fingers into an intoxicating mist before you can stop it, and the lines and rules of any game are far too blurred. 

“Catch.” Bucky tosses your sandwich at you in the garage, and you squeak, flying back to avoid it.

The sandwich splatters on the ground, and you and Bucky stares at you. 

He’s grinning. 

It’s handsome and strong and shining in his eyes, and the Mist is building and building and building in your spine without relent. 

“What happened, Butterfly?”

“I- You didn’t warn me!” You glare at him, kneeling down to clean up the mess, and he shrugs.

“I said catch.”

“I wasn’t ready-“

“Obviously not.” You feel him grab the hook of your elbow, and when you look up, he’s right above you. 

Something in your body starts to go molten and loose, as you just stare at each other. Bucky’s doing the fucking tongue thing again, and it’s taking a lot of effort not to slump forward against his legs. But you just want to see what he does. If he tangles a hand in your hair and mutters low praise like in your dreams, if he kneels down so that you’re on the same, even ground. Then maybe he’ll wrap you in the heat you can feel from his body, if he picks you up and carries you to safety-

Safety.

The biggest thread making up Bucky is safety. From Miles—even if just for an afternoon, it’s more than you’ve been offered before—your own too loud thoughts, and Hydra. 

Bucky said he got you. 

And you believed him. In every way, you believed him. He was going to help you with the Hydra thing, and you’d be fine, and Bucky got you. 

You should be more afraid, after the Hydra thing. And you are afraid—although the tension and fear of longer shadows isn’t really anything new—but you’ve adapted. Hydra’s trying to kidnap you, and you don’t know why, but Bucky’s got you. He said you’ll be fine. He’d held you, you hadn’t felt like you’d been locked down. 

The crush is starting to really, fully bloom. 

The Mist feels like it’s spreading over your nerves.

Bucky’s still holding your elbow, and when you close your eyes you can see your dream from last night. Still hear his voice—a mimicry of the rough one, from the car ride yesterday—telling you to take it, babydoll. So fuckin’ pretty, sucking my cock. Don’t know what I did to deserve you.

Probably see you, and not run. Pull you to your feet with a vaguely amused look, while doing the fucking tongue thing and keeping you steady against his body. 

“I’ll clean it up.” He mutters, nodding over his shoulder to his backpack, resting against-

“Is that your bike?”

“Yeah.” He smirks. “You still want to ride it?”

Another image—a dream from a few nights back, where Bucky was on his back and his hands rested on your hips as you bounced on his dick and he groaned your name—flashes through your head, and you swallow. “Yes?”

He snorts, and in some small miracle, he mistook the softness of your voice for apprehension. “It’s not too late to back out, Butterfly-“

“I’m not backing out.” You snap, raising your chin. “It’s just new. And what if you drop me-“

“I won’t drop you.” Bucky rolls his eyes like the thought is insane, and you believe him too quickly. “Go eat your sandwich.”

“But you-“

“I made the mess. And I’m not that hungry anyways.”

You don’t believe him. Your eyes narrow on his, and he just gives you a flat look.

“If you don’t eat it, I’m throwing it in the goddamn trash.”

Fuck. “You suck.”

“I know.” He grins again, and you’re going to fall over. “Go eat, sweetheart. It’s in my backpack.”

You shuffle over to the bike, carefully opening Bucky’s bag as he deals with the fallen sandwich on the ground. There’s one of the metal forks you gave him, and the mug you gave him, and the laptop you gave him, and all the Hydra notes, and the sandwich.

It’s the same as your usual order.

It’s better not to think about that too hard.

“Any updates on the thing?” You ask as Bucky returns to your side, wiping his gloves with a small frown.

“Called with Shuri last night.” He shrugs. “She’ll see what she can do. Until then it’s just us, letting me keep you alive.”

“Letting you keep me alive-“

“Yep.” Bucky leans against his bike, his gaze never leaving yours. “No more keeping shit like that from me, Butterfly.”

You flush, but keep your voice bored. “I have no clue what you’re talking about-“

“Yeah, you do.” Bucky leans down, and suddenly he’s only a few breaths away. “We’re a team. It’s dangerous to keep information from me.”

You blink at him. “We’re a team?”

“Yep.”

Bucky says it like it’s simple. Obvious. You’re not the job. He’s not the problem or danger that’s going to end in a bigger mess for him to clean up. He’s your friend, and he’s helping, and you’re a team. Together. 

He’ll keep you safe. If you let him.

You really want to let him. 

He mutters your name—you’ve been staring too long—and you clear your throat.

“Are you keeping anything from me?”

Bucky’s lips twitch. “Not that I’m aware of. You keeping anything from me?”

Yes.

So many things.

But if you tell him about Miles, you’ll have to tell him about the bond. And if you tell him about the bond-

You’re not sure what will happen, if you tell Bucky about the bond. He might try to free you of it, like Tony would’ve. He might try to just free you of Miles, like Sam would. 

He wouldn’t try to take it, like Miles did. That’s one thing you’re positive about. He’ll be disgusted by the very idea of it. 

And things are so good right now. It’s not a secret that will do any harm. You’re doing Bucky a favor, by not giving him more reasons to worry about you.

So you just shake your head, and give him a wide, free kind of smile.

One blink, clenched jaw. That’s the Look that means he’s seeing through you. That he knows your smile is a fucking lie.

But he doesn’t call you on it. And his brows quickly furrow, followed by three more blinks before he sighs, shaking his head at nothing at all. 

“You ready?”

“Ready-“

Bucky pats the seat of his bike, and you swallow. 

“Oh.”

“We can take your car-“

“No.” You stand a little taller. It’s just a bike. Bucky rides it all the time, and if you’re a team, you need to be slightly matched with him. Not just the strange, annoying, feral girl he’s been saddled with to protect and work with. Useful. 

Even if your only use is letting him ride his bike, getting him into the aquarium for free, and cracking code during bought of insomnia, you will be useful.

“I can do this.” Your words are firm, and Bucky just grins at you.

“Sure-“

“Shut up.”

He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.”

There’s the flush, and the Mist, and Bucky’s standing so close. His arm is brushing yours, and leaving small fevers you don’t want to be cured from, all over your skin. 

“I’m gonna wear the backpack,” Bucky says—his words gentle and slow and fuzzy in your gut—and you glance up to find him looking right into you. “And you’ll sit in front of me.”

“Is that safer than behind you?”

“No. They’re pretty much the same.”

“So-“

“You’ll freak out less, in the front.”

You swallow, and he’s probably right. If you’re in the back, you’ll spend the whole time worrying about letting go of Bucky, and-

Letting go.

If you’re in the front, you’re not going to be holding onto Bucky. He’s going to be holding onto you. He’ll be all around you. Pressed against you.

This was a horrible idea.

It’s too late to back out.

“Alright.” You give a firm nod, and Bucky’s still just grinning at you. “Let’s do this.”

He looks far too amused. The whole fucking time, Bucky looks to be enjoying your torment, and God, it’s making you dizzy. It’s not like when Miles laughs at you. Where it’s cold and mocking. 

This feels soft.

Gentle.

Safe. 

Bucky helps you onto the bike with his flesh hand, big and calloused around yours, and he’s grinning at your scowl and pout the whole time, but it’s not hateful. You don’t feel like a problem. The light in his eyes is all focused on you, and it never moves away.

Bucky never moves away. You stumble a little, and he catches you with an even wider grin.

“You alright, sweetheart?” He drawls, and when you tip your head back to glower at him, your knees feel a little weak.

He looks like a fucking god from every goddamn angle.

It’s not fair.

“I’m fine.” You grumble, and he chuckles, the sound rolling through you and causing the Mist to spread.

“You seem it.”

“I hate you.” 

“Uh huh.”

His grin doesn’t falter for a second. He knows you’re full of shit. If anything, his whole face is lit up with something easy, and it’s intoxicating.

You’re fucked.

Bucky places you on the bike. Picks you up like you’re a sack of feathers and maneuvers you onto the seat, and he really needs to stop doing that. It makes the Mist glow, and it makes your face go dumb and slack because it shouldn’t feel so good. But his touch is always careful, and there’s never any tension in your body made of wrong—not what you want, not what you need, and there’s no choice so it’s wrong—because most of Bucky is really fucking right.

And he knows you. He’s climbing on the bike behind you because he knows you. He didn’t get pissed or grumpy about you saying you hate him, because he knows you. He’s always so ready to catch you because he knows you.

It’s a relief he can’t see your face, for the entirety of the ride. Can’t see how your eyes are already squeezed shut, before you even get out of the garage-

“Put your face in my arm.” He grunts in your ear, and you stare up at him.

“What?”

“Your face,” he mutters, and you can feel his attention again, even from behind his sunglasses. “There’s gonna be a lot of wind, Butterfly. Don’t want you to get blown away.”

You roll your eyes. “Smooth words, James-“

“Yeah, yeah.” His grin returns in a second. You’re going to explode. “Just listen to me, for once in your damn life.”

If the engine wasn’t revving, and your heart wasn’t loud in your ears, you would’ve argued that you do listen to him. All the time. More than anyone else, at least. 

But instead you just obey. He’s barely using the voice, and you can’t even see that glint in his eyes, but you turn your face and bury it in his arm before you can think too hard about it, and then you’re gone.

Maybe it was the smell of him—something rainy that might be cologne, and a little bit of mint—acting as anesthetic over your senses, making you to stupid and reckless things. Maybe it was how he’s the perfect kind of balanced warm, where he’s not suffocating and sticky, but comfortable, the metal arm acting as a kind of summer breeze. There’s a strong chance it’s how strong he is around you. How his muscles keep flexing around you as he drives, and you don’t feel trapped by it. 

He’s like a shield. Not a cage. You don’t want him to move away.

That might be it. 

You just don’t ever want Bucky to move away. The wind is rushing past you, and everything is sharp movements and a little unsteady, but you just keep your face tucked into Bucky’s arm. Nothing will happen, as long as you’re safely burrowed into him.

Bucky’s got you, so nothing will happen.

This isn’t helping stomp down the crush. It’s only making the Mist expand and move into your nerves. And he knows you, so when he pulls to a stop, he doesn’t move until you do.

“That was horrible.” 

Your words are muffled in his arm, and Bucky chuckles. “You know we’re gonna have to do it again, sweetheart. Unless you’re plannin’ on living here.”

You groan, shaking your head against him. “Can you knock me out next time?”

“No.”

“That’s not very team oriented of you-“

“I think it’s perfectly team oriented to not want you passed out.” Bucky still isn’t trying to move you away. If anything, his hand has found your lower back, holding you steady in the seat.

It’s just making you dizzier. 

Bucky doesn’t need to know that. 

“Maybe I will live here.” You mumble, pulling back with a challenging glare. “You’ll see. I’ll be one with the ocean. Maybe I’m secretly a mermaid, you don’t know.”

Bucky’s grin might knock you out on its own. His sunglasses are gone so you can see him looking at you, and his smile lights up his whole face. It makes you sit a little taller to hold his gaze, and gives you a strange, hot feeling over your chest about how he’s looking at you like that. No one else. You didn’t even know his face could have this kind of clear, simple ease and joy. 

It makes him look younger. Almost boyish. The smirk dripping with teasing charm and his gaze so focused you might as well be the only person in the world. 

You’re not. You’re maybe the person least worthy of being looked at like that.

But that doesn’t stop Bucky. And it makes you feel fucking invincible. 

“I don’t think you’re a mermaid, Butterfly.” Bucky drawls. “Mermaids aren’t real.”

You snort. “But aliens are?”

“Yep. There’s more science behind aliens. Far more likely than fish-people.”

He’s right. But he doesn’t get to win. “Okay, nerd.”

That just gets a laugh. A loud, full laugh that would make you fall over, if Bucky wasn’t holding you so tight. “You feel good about that one, sweetheart?”

“Yep.” You glance around the parking lot. It’s mostly full, and Bucky’s wearing his gloves and a jacket, but- “Are we just… going inside?”

“How else is it supposed to work?”

“I dunno.” You mumble, fidgeting with the cuff of your shirt. “I just don’t want you to worry about be recognized.”

Bucky shrugs. “I’ve got a hat. It’ll be fine.”

“A hat.” You repeat, giving him a flat look. “James, a hat isn’t effective-“

“I managed to stay on the run from Steve and the government for damn near two years with a hat. Don’t worry about me.”

“But-“

“Listen,” Bucky says your name firmly, and it’s not good how quickly your body relaxes. “People aren’t here to look for me. They’re here to see the fish. Trust me.”

You let out a long breath, and give him a small nod. “Okay.”

“Good g-“ Bucky cuts himself off with a cough, his eyes widening for half a second. So fast you almost don’t catch it at all. “I- Uh- How does this work.”

“What-“

“I dunno what we’re doin’.” Bucky glances past you, to the aquarium entrance. “Never done something like this. A public thing. Where I wasn’t-“

“Punching butts?”

He snorts, and looks back down to you with a small grin. “Sure, Butterfly.”

You whack his arm thoughtlessly, and try to form a slow, concrete plan to ease Bucky into this. It’ll be loud. And crowded. He’s here for his therapy and biology class, so you’ll just find a few exhibits he likes and roll with them. Avoid the places kids tend to flock, just because there will be less people, and that’ll probably be better for him. You want to see the otters, but this isn’t about you. If Bucky wants to just stare at the sharks, you can be down with that. Sharks are cool. Although you don’t really know Bucky’s taste in animals, and he might not either if he’s never been to an aquarium, so you might be taking a lot of gambles-

“Stop thinking.”

You blink up at Bucky. “I wasn’t-“

“Yeah, you were.” His hand is still on your back. You’re losing your mind. “I just need you leading the way, kid. We’re walking around, not invading a Hydra base.”

“Oh- Okay.” You swallow, shifting carefully against his body. 

His grip tightens, and all you get is the nostril flare.

Fuck.

“What’re you-“

“We need to walk, Buck.”

He coughs, his grip loosening. “Right. You need-“

“I’ve got it.”

And you do. You can climb off the bike all by yourself.

But Bucky keeps his hand on you anyway. And it’s grounding. Your brain stops circling around all the ways to make this easier for him, to make it as efficient and enjoyable as possible do maybe—just maybe—you’ll get lucky, and Bucky will want to do it again. It can only hone in on Bucky. 

Touching you. Walking with you. Talking to you.

And listening. He wants to talk to you and listen, because he’d tell you to shut up if he didn’t. You don’t doubt that for a second. 

But he wants to. 

So here you are.

“What ocean animals have you seen?”

“Fish.”

You give him an amused look. “That it?”

“Uh,” Bucky frowns at the air. “One shark. When I was the Soldier. Some scientist was keeping it as a pet.”

“As a- Were you working with a fucking Bond villain?”

“I was killing him, not working with him.” Bucky shrugs, scanning over the lot as you walk. Watching. Always watching. 

His hand is still on your back, and he’s matching your pace exactly. It’s secure. You feel like a nuke could drop on you and you’d be fine.

“And I don’t know what a Bond villain is.” 

“James Bond is a super-spy. 007.”

“Oh. I’ve never worked with him-“

“That’s probably because he’s fictional, Buck.” Before Bucky can glower at you and grumble about how there’s no fucking way for him to know that, you make a mock gasp. “Wait. Are you James Bond?”

“What.”

“You’re a super-spy. And your name is James. Maybe they based the character on you.”

“I don’t think that’s what happened.”

You smile at him. “But maybe it did.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Alright. Whatever you say.”

Whatever you say.

And he’s still touching you. 

For the whole day, there’s barely a second where Bucky’s not touching you.

It never goes past a hand on your back or your arm, but it doesn’t go away either. He whispers in your ear and grins at you like it’s nothing, and the crush is moving from one little blooming thing along your spine to a fucking jungle. Life and Mist and warmth all over your bones and nerves, lining the walls of your veins and making all your breaths so easy. The flutter is fucking wings, beating and crashing against your ribs whenever Bucky smiles at you, and the Mist is a haze that’s starting to shine all over your body.

If Bucky can seek it, brilliant and clean and maybe seeping through your skin, he doesn’t say anything.

But he doesn’t stop touching you either.

“What do you think is bigger than you, Sargent Barnes?”

Bucky’s nostrils flare—you really need to figure out what that means—and his grip tightens on your arm. “I don’t know.”

“Helpful.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning over you to frown at your phone. “They got otters here?”

“Apparently. Says so on the map, doesn’t it.” You grin up at him, and he scoffs, his lips twitching slightly.

“Smart mouth, Butterfly.”

“Shut up.” You raise your chin, holding his gaze. “Do you want see the otters, James?”

Bucky lets out a long sigh. “Yes. Never seen one before.”

Otters aren’t bigger than Bucky.

Most things aren’t bigger than Bucky. 

But if he wants to see an otter, you’ll punch and kick your way through the crowd until he does.

“They’re…” Bucky frowns, hanging slightly over your shoulder. “Fluffy.”

“Yep.” You scan over the little plaque, trying not to feel too dizzy from how Bucky is right fucking behind you. “What do we need for your biology class?”

“I, uh-“ Bucky coughs. “Nothin’. Was just another good reason to go Marine biology class. Thought I could test myself or somethin’.”

Just another reason to go.

He would’ve gone without you. You have to remember that he would’ve gone without you. 

“Alright.” You look back to the plaque. “How do otters get their food?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“Your fancy class, Buck. I’m testing you.”

He scowls, his voice dry. “We haven’t covered otter food.”

“Shame.” You hum. “They dive for it. Like penguins-“ You cut yourself off, your eyes widening. “Can we go see penguins?”

Nostril flare. Tight nod. “It’s a group trip, Butterfly. I don’t care where we go.”

“I care.” You snap. “We’re here so you can remember how small you are, Bucky.”

“Sure.”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, ma'am." A pause. “We’ll do the penguins. Never seen those either.”

“Awesome. And look,” You grin at Bucky over your shoulder. “Otters are diurnal.”

Bucky snorts. “You sure? Cause they don’t really seem to be up right now.”

“Have you never taken a nap?”

“No.” 

“Oh.” You blink at him. “That’s why you’re so grumpy all the time.”

He rolls his eyes, starting to guide you away from the exhibit. “I am not grumpy. I take things seriously.”

“Of course you do.” You can’t lean too close into his touch, no matter how fucking easy it would be. “All play and no work makes James a dull boy.”

“That’s not the quote.”

“Yeah, well-“ You pause, frowning up at him. “How did you know that? The Shining came out in the 80s.”

Bucky’s jaw twitches. “Sam made me watch it.”

You scan over him carefully. Tense. Glaring at the air ahead of him and pressing out his chest like he’s having an invisible showdown with the air. “You didn’t like it, did you.”

He shakes his head, and you grin at him.

“I told you that you needed happy endings.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “You did. Penguins?”

You keep smiling at him, because it’s so simple. You’re smiling to smile, and because it’s at Bucky, and he doesn’t really have anyone who smiles at him. 

Same as you don’t have anyone to smile at.

And when he glances back, there’s a flash over his features when he sees you, and he returns the smile. It’s a little cautious and tight, but it’s still starting in his eyes. 

He’s gotten better at that. At offering smiles, when they’re not being pulled out of him.

And from here—at least for the rest of the day—it seems to be only up.

“Why are they so round.” Bucky grumbles, frowning at a penguin, and you shrug.

“You tell me, Sargent Science.”

He shoots you a dry look. “You think I’m a lot better that shit than I am, Butterfly.”

“Sorry I believe in you.” You cross your arms, holding his gaze. “And you’re better at it than I am. You won us the whole trivia round.”

“I think you woulda been fine without me.”

“I thought peppers made dynamite, Bucky.”

“Maybe they do.” He gives you a small smirk. “Anythin’ can blow up if you try hard enough, sweetheart.”

You can’t stop smiling at him. I might be making you look like an idiot. “You know, I believe that.”

“Thanks. Means a lot.”

You whack him again, and his grin only grows. 

“You gonna tell me why penguins are round?” Bucky drawls your name, and you sigh.

“It’s so they can roll. On the ice. It’s faster than walking.”

“Alright.” Bucky hums, raising his brows. “And the rest reason?”

You flush, turning your hair between your fingers. “For warmth. The roundness is fat, and it keeps them alive.”

He nods slowly, does the tongue thing, and the Mist is warm all over your skin.

“What else do you want to see?” You ask—your voice far too breathy—and Bucky shrugs. 

“What’s good?”

Most of it. 

Bucky’s walking with you the whole way, and he’s trusting you to tell him things—where to go, what to look at, what to do—so most of it is good. 

There are big seals that seem to enjoy staring at Bucky—you understand that—and dead-eyed, sharks that enjoy starting at you.

“Why are they looking at me?” You whisper, the fifth shark in a row gliding past with its attention entirely following your movements, and Bucky shrugs. 

“I don’t think-“

“Don’t call me paranoid.” You snap, and Bucky gives you an amused look. 

“Wasn’t planning on it. They’re definitely watching you. I was gonna say that there’s probably no reason to it.” He shrugs. “Maybe you’re the best thing to look at they’ve seen in a while.”

You shake your head, falling a pace back so Bucky’s blocking you from view. “No. They’re gonna try to eat me.”

“That works too.”

Bucky grins at your glare, but picks up his pace, and keeps you hidden from the view of the sharks until you’re out of the tunnel. 

You linger on the turtles, and when you ask Bucky if he’d like a vibranium shell too, he just rolls his eye. The jellyfish are there, floating mindless through the water and a little enchanting, and the giant fucking crab is going to give you nightmares, but you’ll get over it.

You’re pulled to safety by Bucky anyway. 

And it hits you, when you’re watching the sea lion show from a safe distance, neither of you really all that interested in getting closer.

“You think they like doing that shit?” Bucky asks, nodding to the show. “Performing for treats?”

“I didn’t.” You mumble, and before you can hear yourself and take it back, Bucky shrugs. 

“Never got treats. Didn’t like it either, though.”

You hum, watching the animal build up to a flip. “Sea lions,” Your words are soft. Mostly for yourself. “Natures snakes.”

Bucky frowns at you. “What?”

“It’s reference. Don’t worry about it.”

“What movie?”

You shake your head. “You won’t like it-“

“You like it. Enough to quote it.” He raises his brows. “C’mon. Tell me.”

He’s looking at you. Into you. 

And the Mist is shining.

“Penguins of Madagascar.” You mumble, and Bucky nods.

“Alright. I’ll watch it.”

“It’s not a good movie-“

“I don’t care.”

That’s it. There’s a firmness to Bucky’s tone that tells you he’s not arguing with you about this, and it’s really not worth arguing about.

You want to know why, though. Why he’d be so resolved about something so dumb, and not waver on it, and if it’s you or he’s like this with Sam-

“Think it’s time to prove fish are real, Butterfly?”

You blink up at Bucky, and there’s the fucking grin again. And the tongue thing.

Jesus Christ.

“Fish aren’t real.” You pull out your phone, frowning at the map on your phone. “And it looks like we’re supposed to go, uh- That way, then that way, then there.”

You point as you speak, and Bucky leans over you to frown at your screen. “Two rights and a left.”

You’re not really sure you’re breathing. “That’s- Uh- I’m not-“

“Turn in this way,” he shakes his normal arm. “Twice. Then to the metal one once. Got it?”

You stare up at him, and it crashes through you like a wave.  

You’ve never done things like this with anyone. 

Talked this easy. Had someone know you like that, and be patient with it, and never balk at all the You that can’t be strangled or choked or smothered. You’re smiling because it doesn’t really feel like there’s another choice. You’re following Bucky because you want to, and having fun, and it’s not for money or foreplay or to keep the Show going for the sake of it. 

Miles doesn’t let you drive, because of the left-right thing. 

Bucky’s just flexing his arm whenever you forget, and letting you lead the way. 

You need to stop comparing them. It’s not helping. It just makes the fantasies of Bucky sweeping you away stronger, and your own heart turn bitter because that won’t happen. Can’t happen. It’s the kind of thought that would get you shredded apart, if voiced aloud, because you’re not supposed to be saved. You’re supposed to save yourself.

You don’t know how to save yourself. You don’t care enough about yourself to save yourself, because you—the real, angry, furious you that has sharp teeth and spits poison—don’t deserve to be saved.

That doesn’t stop the want though. The selfish, vile want for anything else but what you’re going to return to.

The hunger to stop being alone. 

And there’s a massive tunnel. Full of countless sea creatures, floating and drifting around you without a care in the world. All in a seemingly endless dark.

None of them seem to mind it at all. 

“Do you feel small?” Your voice is soft, and Bucky lets out a long, slow breath.

“No. Think I feel bigger, actually.”

You nod, and that’s it. 

You understand him. He seems to understand you.

And you might not be alone anymore.

You have Bucky. 

And if you don’t keep that in check, it will get you both really fucking hurt. 

“Huh.” Bucky frowns around the parking lot as he helps you onto the bike. “We’re close to Coney Island.”

“We’re in Coney Island, Buck. How- You drove us here-“

“I just studied the directions from your apartment. I’m not a fucking map.” Bucky’s features pull into a scowl, and you let out a soft laugh.

It earns you another nostril flare. And Bucky staring at you like you’re a specimen again, but with something softer in his eyes. It’s the same look from when he smiles.

And his voice is low, when he breaks the odd silence. “Used to go to the island all the time. Would like to go back. See how it’s changed.”

“Would you,” you swallow, trying to force the words out before you think too hard, and swallow them forever. “Like company?”

“Yeah. I think I would.”

“Alright.” You give him a nervous smile, he returns it so fast, and you want to tell him again.

The whole ride back to your apartment, and when he’s helping you off the bike, you want to tell Bucky. You want to tell him when your mumble strange and pointless goodbyes—you’ll see him tomorrow, but in feels like your lungs will collapse when the elevator doors close and he’s not at your side—and when you open your door. 

You want to tell him when you get the text, and everything flips and settles so fast.

Miles

heading back to korea

big deal

back when its done

behave

There’s not prior warning, but he’s done that before. Vanished without warning. 

And you really don’t mind, because it means he’s gone.

Miles is gone. Not forever—never forever—but for a while, Miles is gone. 

You want to call Bucky right there. Explain that you’re trapped in a show like the Sea Lion, and you’d like to keep smiling at him but it’s dangerous, and you’re starving for freedom and safety all at once. 

And right now, freedom and safety looks a lot like being known and not whipped for it.

And Bucky really looks like being known. 

But Miles will return. 

You’ll grow sick again, and Miles will need to come back if only to cure you, and he’ll take whatever price he pleases as penance. 

Until then is time you’re safe. Until then you’re grabbing out Bucky’s sweater from the back of the closet, and you curl up with the Boy on the bed. Turning through more and more Hydra code until the world starts to blur, and your head feels a little heavy, and-

“Do you feel small?”

Bucky groans, dropping his brow onto your shoulder. “You gotta stop askin’ me that while you’re on my lap, Butterfly.”

You giggle, leaning back into him. “Got something to prove, Sargent?”

“You know I don’t, babydoll-“

“No fucking on the ferris wheel.” You swat his hand on your thigh, but don’t really try to pry it away. It’s making you feel more secure than any seatbelts or safety bars could. “Sam could see.”

“He’s on the ground-“

“For now.”

“Better not be for now.” Bucky grumbles, kissing over your neck. “Or I’ll toss him into the goddamn harbor for-“

“No murder, James. You promised.”

“I promised I’d stop you from murder. Never said anything about myself.”

You sigh, twisting to drop your face into the dip of his neck. “But it’ll be such a bummer when you get thrown in jail.”

“I’d be fine. My girl would visit me.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

You sigh—he’s right, and you have no argument against it—and Bucky tugs on your hair until you lean back.

“And just for the record,” Bucky mumbles, just a breath from your lips. “I could never feel small with you, Butterfly. ’S why I keep you right here.”

The Mist is flowing, when you wake up. 

It’s not just a dizzying, soft feeling anymore. It’s something buzzing and turning and shifting in your fucking body, something building up your spine that trying to break out of your fucking chest, and you can’t breathe.

This sweater smells like a stale version Bucky, but the sheets still smell like Miles. And it’s becoming like a toxic, as the Mist presses over your bones and itches under your chest.

Miles has only been gone a night. But there’s a burning, sickening pain in your whole fucking body that feels like Death.

It’s another night that’s long and lonely. You’re too human, and it hurts, but the power trapped in your body is festering, and it’s fucking eating you alive. Sticky and crushing on all your organs, and the Mist just keeping fucking turning in your body. At some point you shuffle out of bed in a haze, crawling to the bathroom just to ground yourself on the cool tile. It’s just you, the Boy at your side, and a sliver of moonlight through the window, keeping you company until the dawn breaks.

But the dawn does break. The Mist settles after hours of bile on your tongue and scratching at your arms, and the dawn breaks. 

It always breaks. 

And you always adapt.

There’s still a feeling as if flowers are growing, all over your bones and under a few layers of skin.

Dawn breaks, and it brings a beating of wings deep in your chest.

You’ll see Bucky again in a few hours. 

And you won’t be alone.

End Note: Feelings are their number one op fr.

Thank you so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Buy me a coffee!☕️

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[kandyscorner]

i've been seeing stuff all over tiktok about guardian bells. idk if you know anything about them but its like a good luck charm that you hang on someone important to you's motorcycle for safety (i think? im not completely sure myself lol) but i was thinking about a fic or a short prompt where the reader gives one to jason for his bike. if you don't want to do this absolutely no biggie but i thought it could be cool. again no pressure. love your work!!

Okay, I actually had to look this up because I thought you meant like just some random trinket as a lucky charm, but then you specifically said Guardian bells.

For those who don't know, Guardian bells, also known as Gremlin bells, serve multiple purposes, most superstitious. The bells are a wish for safety while you drive from loved ones or other bikers. it usually hangs low on the bottom of the bike. The Gremlin name comes from the superstition of Gremlins getting into your engine and breaking things. The bell serves as a hiding place for them, but once you start driving, the bell rings, jarring them and making them fall off the bike. It was kind of fun doing the research. I didn't know bikers were superstitious like that.

Anyways, onto the request!

****

Jason looked like he was going for a ride. The handsome man all loaded up in his leather jacket and helmet in hand. 

He was staring at you and you were staring back, a silent conversation.

Going for a ride?

Yea

Without me?

Loser

You guff at his eye roll. 

“Give me ten minutes, please” you request sliding off the couch.

“You have five or I'm leaving without you.” He threatens but you know that's all it is. He won't leave if he knows you want to come with. You change clothes quickly anyways. 

Then you're rushing to the dresser and moving things aside to pull out the little box you'd been harbouring. You had felt anxious when you bought it online, anxious when it arrived in the mail and anxious the entire time you had it hidden in the drawer. 

Jason wouldn't shame you for it, or laugh at you but you worried what he might think. Was it too cheesy? Or would it be wrong? Jason wasn't exactly religious per say but then neither was this. 

You open the box and pull the little bell from the box. You stare at the silver thing with the blocky and cursive engraving, I fucking love you. It felt like Jason. 

You wanted him to know that you cared too. He was prone to going out on his bike when he got stuck in his head and that could be dangerous (his whole life was dangerous but that didn't matter). 

You wanted him to know that you cared about him and you loved him. You could do this. It had waited long enough.

“Sweetheart, I'm serious. I'm gonna leave without you.” You hear him yell through the walls.

“Liar,” you mutter before skipping out of the bedroom, little bell hidden in hand.

“What's wrong with you?” he eyes you uncertaintly even as he holds your jacket out for you. You answer as you slip your arms into it.

“Nothing's wrong.”

“You don't skip” 

“I just did”

“I know that's why somethings wrong.”

You huff and work your way under his arms for a hug. Sometimes, you didn't like dating a vigilante.

“I got you something.” You mumble into the collar of his shirt.

“Is that why you're being weird?” He asks, big hands skimming over your back in a soothing manner. 

You pull back to look him in the eyes, “I am not being weird.”

“Okay, you're not. What'd you get me that's got you so worked up?” You unwind your arms from him but stay close.

“I don't know if I understood everything about it but even if it's not about the spooky stuff, I just wanted you to know that I want you to be safe.” You say as you open your palm show him the little guardian bell you had gotten. He gingerly takes it from your palm. 

“You got me a gremlin bell?” he asks slowly, delicately like it wasn’t real.Your brows pinch at the question. 

“I thought it was called a guardian bell?” 

“It is, It is, it's both. Thank you sweetheart,” he drags you back into another hug, curling himself around you, pressing his nose to your neck. 

“Nobodies ever gotten me one of these,” he mumbles where he hides, “thank you sweetheart” 

You two stand there for a long time and you take up Jason's soothing strokes, hand smoothing across his back. Mostly because he's sniffling and you never meant to make him cry.

When he finally does pull away, he stops to look at the bell. A smile works its way across his lips.

“I fucking love you too, sweetheart. Thank you.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek and the corner of your lip. 

“Stop Thanking me, handsome.” You bring your hands up to face and thumb at the stray tears and pull him in to kiss him straight on the lips. 

“Now,” you say slowly, “let's put it on and go for that ride, yeah?”

“Yeah, let's find out if I have gremlins on board. Aside from you of course” His stepping away from your reach before you can smack him. 

“Jason Todd”

“Don't take that tone. It says right here that you fucking love me. That tone’s not allowed!” He shouts but doesn't stay for long, already racing out of the apartment with both the helmets.

“Unbelievable.,” you mumble before snorting, “you forgot your keys” you say in sing songy voice even though you know he can't hear you. You grab them from the ceramic dish and follow after him locking up the apartment. 

He’s lucky you did fucking love him.

****

Also for reference of what the bell looks like here

Masterlist

[madamechrissy]

When I said I had a lot to say I meant it 😮‍💨

I know reader loves gojo but imma enjoy nanami while he’s here 😚

‘Hey darling - he’s gonna hey darling his fucking face-‘ plus all the little comments towards nanami, sir calm down 😭

All the other guys getting to openly love/date their girls because they’re pornstars as well but gojo can’t is so sad.

Gojo getting hurt in a past relationship and doing the same thing to reader is giving duke gojo vibes (but nicer in a way). It’s how he got into the porn industry and now hes dragging reader into it even though she’s said multiple times she doesn’t view sex the same way he does. I already know somehow it’s gonna get leaked that she’s the one in gojo’s videos. She wants to stay hidden but the way she’s becoming popular someone’s gonna try and find out 😭.

Reader wanting to stay in gojo’s life any way she can is so sad!!! She’s changing herself and doing porn with him so he’ll like her and want to be around her😭. He knows he can’t date her but he’s still doing all these things with her. He’s gonna hurt her so bad, he already is hurting her so bad!!

Our bestie is a real one. This ‘relationship’ is killing us and is actively letting us know it’s a terrible idea. She wants to look out for us but it’s already too late🥲. I know she regrets taking us to the party where we met gojo.

I think I said everything I needed to. Sorry about the massive wall of text and ily 😘 🧡

ahhh yes it is really difficult because reader doesn't feel she's enough for Satoru AND reader is actually very jealous of anyone with him, so she feels this is how she keeps him around and interested. Not knowing that man is OBSESSED with her my god!!! 😭

He literally can't get his dick hard from just seeing this girl. And he feels he's not enough for her and is using the clear interest she has in sex as a way to keep HER because he doesn't feel adequate due to his profession.

The fucked part is they BOTH are accepting of each other but something has to give and it can't be just reader here. Satoru however is not intentionally hurting or changing her. This is ultimately her decision due to her obsessive love and personality in general 🥺🥺🥺 he is in a way repeating the cycle of what happened to him which ill get more into!

They could both avoid this with a decent conversation but then it would not be much of a story and I love to torture all of you with pining, longing and slow burns because I'm really mean 😂😂🫶🫶

Thank you for sharing all your opinions, I actually am gonna drop some Nanami headcanons soon to show who he actually is 🤭🤭💖💖